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"Pulse, do you copy? I said the ship's already sent out a distress call five minutes ago. Within fifteen minutes the Coast Guard--"

"Yeah,yeah, I heard you, Warden," War-Pulse responded, surveying his work to make sure he had sent enough of a message with the assassination of Teddy Williamson. "I heard you the first three times you said it...just had to make sure I finished the job."

"You could have finished it much earlier and we both know it."

"So I like to have a little fun while on the job, sue me." Pulse made a few brisk steps to the edge of the boat, the water now down to his knees. "If you can't have a little fun, why bother, right?"

The only response on the other side of the communicator was a low growl, presumably Warden was not in agreement on the subject.

"Ah, whatever, I'm goin', I'm goin', keep your shirt on." Pulse said, hopping in to the water. Already he was all too aware that if he took flight or leaped his way out to the mainland, he would be spotted immediately. Not that he would care, but he had already annoyed Warden enough, and it was time to play it safe for now. He submerged into the cold ocean water, a burst of energy rocketing him far below the salty surface. Even with the kinetic shielding protecting him from the atmosphere, he still got chills as he launched himself through the water, the icy blackness seeping into his clothes. It took him roughly 10 minutes to get back to shore, it turns out the freighter had made some significant headway before Pulse ripped a hole in the hull, and he did not want to make too many ripples on the surface, lest he get the direct attention of the pursuing coast guard. Hopefully if any radar did detect him under the surface, they would consider him some kind of large fish, though Pulse heavily doubted they would. This is Maine, after all, the biggest thing swimming these waters had two claws and was delicious with dipped butter.

As soon as he reached the coast of the French Quarter, he hopped clean out of the water like a dolphin with one expulsion of energy from his feet, sliding along the docks to the astonishment of a few petrified dock workers at this time of night. As soon as he shook the excess water off of his body, he simply offered the workers a shrug.

"What? You haven't seen a costumed dude hope out of the water like a fuckin' flying fish?" He asked "It's like you guys don't live in a city with a Museum dedicated to superheroes or something." He gestured to them. "Knock it off!"

The men did not give an audible reply, some still fixated on him with awe-stricken expressions, while others desperately tried to ignore him, in the way most would try to ignore a mugging happening in their vicinity. 

"Pft, that's what I thought." He replied, skirting past the bare bones crew and making his way into the city. He made his way into the French Quarter on foot, to the confused stares of people wondering what a man in a silver long coat is doing wandering around at this time of night. Pulse's brow furrowed as he observed this section of the city, he had only been in the French Quarter once before on a different job, and he thought the same as he did now. Rich folk, coddled and refined, inheritors of fortunes and companies, the French Quarter was full of them. He could see the fancy restaurants almost surround him, the cafes lining the little wharf, presumably to be filled with these investors of greed and profit the next morning. These were the kind of people who would need his services one day, as they would have no idea how to deal with any problem on their own without throwing money at it because none of them in a day in their life ever had to learn what it was really like to live without the assets handed to them before they could even learn to walk. That was not to say Pulse did not like these people or this area, but he had seen enough of the world to know that most of these people were here because of sheer dumb luck, and would live in the life of luxury for the rest of their days.

Until they need him, that is.

With one kinetically charged leap, he bounded up to the rooftops, hopping from one roof to the next as he surveyed for a place to regain some strength, as he had expelled quite a bit during the assassination of Teddy. After hopping a few more rooftops, he found himself a generator powering a warehouse North of the Lost Haven University, probably just storing sports equipment or something, they did not really need the lights going 24/7, so Pulse figured he might as well get a recharge off of that. With absolutely no hesitation, he plunged his hand right into the generator, ripping away the metal platting to grab a handful of wires. He grimaced, watching as the sparks flew off of his hand, the brief smell of his glove burning slightly before his powers began to take hold. Despite not actually causing him any permanent damage, the act of absorbing energy this way always started as a little painful. One could compare it to a series of pinpricks on Pulse's hand, his pores opening up and letting the current flow through his skin, where his organs would be able to process the electrical energy into something more usable. As common as having a midnight snack, Pulse watched as his power absorption took its toll on the warehouse, the lights inside flickering and shattering at the fluctuation of power going through them. Another minute or so passed before Pulse felt relatively full, and he released his grasp, moving on to another nearby rooftop of what looked like an apartment complex that covered the same block as a rather ornate looking cathedral. Pulse slowly dropped to a sitting position, his legs dangling over the edge, before the mercenary expelled a soft sigh, his hands running along the building's concrete ledge before Warden's voice came squeaking into his ear.

"War-Pulse? War-Pulse, are you there?"

"You act like I don't have the damn communicator in my ear all the time." War-Pulse abruptly replied. "What's up?"

"Finishing our report; the money was just wired to the offshore account for the elimination of Teddy Williamson."

War-Pulse let out another sigh, tossing a pebble down on the pavement below. "Sure, great." He replied.

There was a silence on the other end, but from what War-Pulse could tell, the communication had not stopped.

"...This is the part where you hang up, Warden." War-Pulse sneered.

"Normally I would, if I didn't hear the disappointment in your voice."

"What, you care for my feelings now?" War-Pulse joked. "Are you going to tell me you have a crush on me too?"

"No, I'm concerned it'll affect your performance when we have another job."

"Oh, when I have to murder or break some other small-time nobody?" War-Pulse quipped "Oh no, what if they [i]shoot[/i] me?!? It's not like I'm friggin' [b]bulletproof[/b] or anything!"

"...So that's the problem, then." Warden responded. "You were looking for something big-time."

"Yer god damn right I am!" At this point War-Pulse was standing on the ledge, his voice increasing in volume. "I didn't come to Lost Haven to chase down people who aren't paying their protection money or small-time gangsters, I came for the excitement of battling against other superhumans!"

"Those jobs are easy money."

"So? Maybe I'd like to think I'm more than just a glorified debt collector." 

"You're being ridiculous."

"No I'm not, Warden, I'm serious. I don't take the jobs we do now seriously, because they don't deserve my full effort. Teddy I could've killed when I got on the boat, but that would've been boring."

"And easier."

"Dammit Warden, maybe for once I'd like to feel like I'm actually [i]working[/i] for my--"

"...For your what, War-Pulse? Trent?"

It was only now that War-Pulse caught sight of the glowing red fireball in the distance, something was happening up near the Sherman Square. Something big, considering War-Pulse was at this point miles away, and he could visibly see an unnatural light coming from the area. He could even feel a tinge of energy from it, his powers reacting to the light as if it was an energy source, and that does not usually happen at this kind of distance.

"Uhh....lemme just...call you back, Warden--" He flipped off his communicator, crouching down slightly and lowering his hands to the ground, firing a large energy blast to rocket himself into the sky, a crater being left in the rooftop. He rocketed towards Shermen Square, the view getting a little better in time.

He could see fire, a lot of fire, stretching all over the buildings and ground, places one wouldn't even assume fire could burn. The rest was chaos, madness, the sounds of people screaming filled the mercenary's ears. From what he could guess he would have to put his money on some kind of riot or terrorist attack.

It was when he saw the winged humanoids that he realized just how wrong that guess was.