[h2]Alessa Heather: PRT Headquarters[/h2]
Well, that was certainly going to be awful for Ira. She reminded herself that, yes, the girl needed to practice, but wasn't this going a bit far for somebody who was in essence an unskilled fighter? Not to mention utterly human aside from her usual powerset - there was no way for even a highly-trained human to so much as fend off a powerful Brute such as Protean unarmed, let alone a Cape whose primary power had nothing to do with battle whatsoever.

But for the sake of the testing, she attempted to wrestle down her urge to leap in and assist Ira, continuing her run at a much more rapid pace than before. There was hardly room to intervene, and if no powers was still in effect, well, her training in Krav Maga was as good as useless anyway against such a beast. And what a pity that was...

[hr]
[h2]Raymond Haywood: Highway Robbery[/h2]
After much cutting and sawing, Raymond finally emerged from the steel net, largely unscathed but nonetheless alive. Whilst various portions of his body did still ache, he figured he'd recover soon enough... more relevant to the present situation, though, was the man he'd just knocked unconscious. That did need to be dealt with, unfortunately, and he didn't have the anatomical knowledge to just... get rid of a specific portion of his brain with a bullet. Even his smallest caliber weapon would at best put the man in hospital, and at worst... either way, he imagined shooting somebody in the head would make him an instant target for the Protectorate.

Speaking of which, that is technically exactly what he'd just done. And as far as erasing evidence went... well, the unwritten rules suggested that revealing another Cape's identity was out of the question. He'd just have to hope that Morales' concussion would help eliminate most of his memory of the past few minutes, alongside the hope that the damage to the helmet could be attributed to blank rounds... but it wasn't like that matters when there were several live bullets scattered around the place. Well, sometimes you just had to say "screw it".

As events played out down below, Headhunter first put his weapon back in its holster, then gathered the few shell casings he'd left behind, first from around his current position, and then back up at the top of the hill to gather the three larger casings, that being a short enough climb anyway. Then, he headed down toward his teammates. From what they and their target, Gamble, was discussing, it sounded like they were planning on getting out of there reasonably soon. But, they ought to leave a calling card of some sort... and as it happened, there blew a scrap of paper. Snatching it out of the air, Raymond used the tip of his knife to quickly scratch a note reading "Courtesy of The Jacks", before folding it neatly and tucking it into a pocket on Noble's outfit, sticking out just far enough to be noticable when she awoke.

And at last, chancing one final glance over toward what may as well have been Love Craft's tomb- he reminded himself to figure out what the hell had happened there, or at least to ask Broker about it- as well as what appeared to be Arsenal's vengeance against an unconscious PRT soldier, the cold sniper followed after Chatterbox, ensuring he had his eye on Gamble the whole time, just in case the punk tried to do anything... unwise.