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[hr][I][b]June 19, Protectorate HQ
Ward Quarters
8:12 AM[/b][/I]

Val hummed quietly, tugging on his arm guard with maybe a little more force than strictly necessary. It was nearly torn to pieces by his power before he managed to make it still. It was taxing, like trying to rein in a rabid dog, but if he couldn't do this, it'd only get harder. He took a momentary pause, restless energy buzzing underneath his skin without direction. He allowed a single breath to steady his hand and then started to pull the straps across, tightening them one by one by one. Easy enough. No pressure, no–

Something snapped.

Val sighed. He finished securing the straps and turned his arm over, taking in every curve and contour of the covering. They'd implemented his suggested designs on one side and left the other blank. No one knew what the symbols meant. Not even him. Sort of.

The glove chaffed oddly against his skin, every part of his costume did, actually. It was a sensation he was experiencing for the first time in a while.... There were a lot of things he hadn't felt in a while now. An incessant buzzing noise filled his ears and his lips tugged downward in a frown. It stopped.

That was annoying.

He stared down at his hands, wondering. How much did they know? Truly know. Certainly not much, considering they were letting him around other people without a shock collar on, not to mention the access they gave him to certain equipment. His lips quirked upwards slightly. Only time would tell if that was a mistake on their part.

Maybe he could make a more personal request. See how much access he had.

But that would come later.

Val flexed his fingers, watching as the sheaths around them shredded into useless strips of fabric. They never should have bothered with making it like that anyway. Then again, he couldn't blame them too much; he hadn't given them a lot to work with.

A ghost of a smile graced his face as he clenched his hand into a fist. Much better.

Putting his mask on came last, and here, he hesitated. Only for half a second, but that was already too long.

He knew better. Hesitation was a killer.

The mask itself was split in two, and Val opted to only wear the lower half this time. Enhanced vision was nice, but the novelty wore off pretty quickly. And he didn't need it yet. 

His eyes scanned the interior of his room one last time. It was normal.... almost disconcertingly so.

Val pressed the palm of his left hand to the wall, closing his eyes to focus. There was an odd "hum" within the walls. It was quiet, barely there. Anyone else likely wouldn't have noticed it, but his power was useful like that.

He smirked and drew his hand back. Well, maybe they weren't that stupid, after all.

Or maybe, he just didn't know anything about construction.

Fully donned in his Cape costume, Val pulled out his Ward-issued phone to check the time. 8:25 flashed across the screen in neon red. After admiring it for a few seconds, he grabbed his door handle and stopped.

Richter stared at his hands again, and he saw red.

He smiled.

[hr][I][b]June 19, Protectorate HQ
8:45 AM[/b][/I][hr]Richter arrived at the meeting room exactly on time. Not a second earlier.

There was already another Ward in the room when he got there. He briefly spared her a glance before moving on.

The others waiting in the meeting room were full-fledged members of the Protectorate. Nightstalker, Axiom.... and Grandmaster. The leader of the Protectorate, in the flesh.

He looked quite different from the last time Val had seen him. Then again, he [i]was[/i] delirious from blood loss at the time.

A slow smile spread across his lips.

[colour=silver]"I am a big fan. I leave myself in your very capable hands."[/colour] The words slipped from his lips almost convincingly. Not that they were [I]entirely[/I] untrue.

Val walked further into the room after his simple greeting, dropping into one of the couches and taking up most of the available space without a second thought. Just because everyone else was standing around didn't mean he had to. He pulled out a silver coin from one of his pouches and flipped it between his fingers, his attention focused completely on his hand.

On the outside, at least.