[H3][color=gray]The Dreadnaughts[/color][/h3][hr]

That day, on normal circumstances, they would be a flurry of limbs trying to keep up with the rush of children leaping and bounding to get a taste of the Candy Shack’s soft served ice cream. With the comings and goings of all affairs sordid, many parents sought to lock their children up in their houses forever if they could have it their way. Those who did come came solo, whether it be by skipping school or grabbing a cone and hanging out by the van to finish it so their guardians wouldn’t know they made a detour on the way home.

But even those were few.

The rain was ever-pouring, and at this rate, beginning to flood the streets with an inch or two inch deep pool, prompting the Candy Shack to take its drives ever so slowly, so that they wouldn’t hydroplane into the nearest telephone pole.

The three Dreadnaughts kept themselves busy, however, in helping Eyes analyze new data from recent events. Including all that was covered by the news, and the ones that weren’t. Whatever that metal-faced, electricity shooting thing was, either NEST or the press didn’t want its information being released. The last thing the people needed to hear was that there’s a meta-human super weapon. Baron would love to sit down and have a session with it, to get an idea of how their psychological state was. Isaiah was on the fence whether he wanted to learn all of its capabilities or simply destroy it. Grit just thought it was awesome that there was a robot fight.

Between it, the battle in the middle of the city, and the non-stop rain, there was definitely some work to be done. There was light that had to be shed. So far, most of what could be gleaned from the weather was that it wasn’t natural. Anything more than that was up to speculation, because the field of meta-humans was none of their specialties. That said, forcing weather patterns in an isolated location, keeping it raining, is bound to have devastating after effects of the region’s climate. Without a doubt, after this all blows over, they better take in as much water as they could. They were predicting a severe drought.

There was of course nothing that could be done about that. Not like what could be done with NEST’s battles. While mostly unconcerned with their matters, it did take some restraint from lending a hand. Especially the battle with Hands of Science super weapon, whose origin they were currently trying to track.
A phone began ringing.

Washe, with a pen weaved through his fingers, pinched his brows even tighter. Grit didn’t even budge, since an open book was placed over his face and he was already fast asleep. Baron reached into his pocket with a sigh. Looking at the caller ID, he immediately frowned.

“It is agent Lihua Vuhong.”

“Fuck her, let’s get back to work.” Washe muttered.

“She never calls.”

“Good, let’s keep it that way.”

“She only knows this as an emergency number, Washe.”

“Good fucking God, you want to leap to her rescue?”

“I didn’t intend to. What I can do is lead her to believe I’m unavailable, and at least answer questions if she has any.”

Washe rolled his eyes and hit a button by the radio interface, and immediately, the atmospheric sound of chatter was played. Café life. Baron cleared his throat and answered the phone, “Bonjour, comment allez-vous? Jean Montague.”

“Mr. Moreau, can we arrange for a meeting? I need to talk to you about something.”

“Oh, ma chéri! I’m sorry, I am in France at the moment.” Baron fibbed. Washe just watched Baron work his magic, always impressed, but also disgusted with how smooth of a liar the man was. “I will be, ah, [i]assessing an archaeological dig.[/i] We’ll be delving into a historical breakthrough, and general Jean-Pierre Bosser will be present at the event, who’ll be [i]personally[/i] providing security.”

The way Baron stressed his words indicated that he may have been speaking in code. That perhaps this dig wasn’t looking for bones and rocks, but working together to perform a surprise blitzkrieg upon whatever hostile force that may have been plaguing France at this time.

In reality, it was a total farce; but Baron could play anyone like a fiddle.

“I do have some time to answer a question or two though, mademoiselle.”