[center][h1][color=dodgerblue]Wards: Morning Training, A Sudden Emergency[/color][/h1]
[@BCTheEntity][@yoshua171][@solokolos][@Lugubrious][/center]

The minotaur-like form of Protean gave a mighty snort, warm nasal air blowing into Epsilon's hair from above. It was... Disturbingly moist. He flexed his muscles like a body builder posing for a competition, then answered the tinker's question with a throaty, booming voice. [color=darkgreen]"This is a minotaur. Greek legend, guardian of the Labyrinth of Crete. Now, little one, prepare yourself for my [i]six adam's apples, pecs on my abs, and fists for nipples![/i]"[/color] His boast came with a deep shout which shook the floor they stood upon. He flexed more, then took a pose associated with traditional English pugilism. He was ready to box the non-combatant into submission for failing a test of wit reliant on a language with which she had only secondhand knowledge. Nobody said that being good meant being nice, or easy.

Protean gave pause, as if waiting for something. Would Epsilon attack him first? Would he go on the offensive? Or would something else happen?

[color=darkgreen]"You've all failed."[/color] Protean dropped his guard. His skin bubbled and melted into ooze, which reformed into that of a normal human, though he looked nothing like what he had when they first entered the room. Now he was black, with a shaved head, and brown eyes. Clothing, thankfully, shifted with his body, so the kids' eyes were spared that affront. [color=darkgreen]"Everyone failed the test. How sad. Messiah, you will need to rethink how best to support your team."[/color]

The senior hero proceeded to let out a massive yawn, one which would have been more associated with the mighty animals he became, rather than a human being. He lifted a hand to scratch his head, then began to stroll toward the door. [color=darkgreen]"Think about it for a while. If any of you realize the answer, come find me. Maybe I'll give you a reward or something? How about ice cream? Yeah, ice cream sounds good."[/color]

Just then, the loudspeakers wired into the gym's ceiling jumped to life. A quarter second of static heralded Decoy's voice. [color=cyan]"Sorry to interrupt training time, babe, but we've got an all hands on deck situation. The prison transport went awry. Both Noble and Captain Morales have been injured."[/color]

[color=darkgreen]"What? How?!"[/color] Protean's normal lackadaisical attitude had taken a complete 180. Suddenly he was deadly serious.

[color=cyan]"We're still getting the reports in, but the equipment I monitor them with went crazy a few minutes ago. By the looks of things, the transport caravan was attacked by multiple villains, one of which has been detained. They're being brought in for questioning now, while our own are being transported for medical treatment."[/color]

Protean frowned, then turned to address the Wards directly. [color=darkgreen]"Alright, forget everything else. Meet in the lobby outside the interrogation room. If I know the old man as well as I think I do, he'll want you all to watch the interrogation then view the camera feeds of the incident. Get moving!"[/color]

[hr][hr]

[center][h1][color=gold]The Jacks: Highway Robbery Complete! Back to the Hideout![/color][/h1]
[@The Wild West][@yoshua171][@BCTheEntity][@Eklispe] and introducing [@floodtalon][/center]

Everyone piled on into Chatterbox's car, moving quickly as they could to avoid being caught by any reinforcements on the way. Hoo boy would there ever be reinforcements on the way, too. Three vehicles upended on the interstate? A dangerous prisoner sprung lose? Two Protectorate capes down for the count? Yeah, it'd be insane to stick around any longer at this point. Once inside, Gamble breathed a heavy sigh of relief. [color=gold]"Woo! I really need to thank you guys for getting me out of there. I take it you've heard of how awesome I am and want me for your gang? Yeah, I think I can swing that. I'll just need my old costume back. You can't get out there and Gamble without the style, y'know? Who goes out on the cape scene without the proper dressings? Heh, even I'm not crazy enough to bet against those odds!"[/color]

He quickly shutup, as sirens had gone off in the distance. A number of police response vehicles shot right passed the car, having been unable to tell that the passengers inside were exactly who they were looking for. It was a good thing for the Jacks, too. Not only did they not need to heat, but their presence managed to shut Gamble up for a few brief moments. The rest of the trip back to the Icehouse was... Difficult. The man wouldn't be quiet. Chatterbox's name felt underplayed and ironic when they had Gamble to compare him to. [color=gold]"-Didn't even lock the doors to my prison truck, can you believe that? Those dumbasses probably thought that locking it would make it harder to escape, so I'd be even better at getting out, but clearly they were wrong, thanks to you guys. I mean, I could have gotten out myself you know, I was just waiting for the right opportunity, but who needs to wait when you've got yourself a kickass team on your side, am I right? I had estimated the odds somebody would come to my aid to be 1,360,546 to 1, so [i]of course[/i] that meant it was a sure thing, and what do you know? Here you guys are! So anyway, not only did they not lock the door, but I wasn't even in handcuffs! And I had one guard who didn't even have a gun on him-"[/color]

It went on like this. And on. And on. If anybody were to be polite and hint at his annoyance, it went completely over the man's head. If anybody actually asked him to stop talking, he'd just go off on another tangent about how that reminded him of a time when this or that or the other thing. However, the journey finally, [i]finally[/i] came to an end. After being stuck in traffic for nearly an hour, the Jacks had arrived back to the Icehouse. 

The ground floor had been closed, but each member of the gang had their own key. Upon entering, they found their employer, the mysterious Broker, enjoying a glass of Brandy at the bar. Nearby was another man they had not seen before, someone wearing the costume of a cape. This man wore all black, an ensemble consisting of a leather jacket, jeans, and a motorcycle helmet with strange glowing eyes.

[color=purple]"Oy! You're all back, good on you!"[/color] called out the Broker in his Northern English accent. He lifted his glass as a toast to their return, then downed the rest. [color=purple]"And I see you've brought along my acquisition, just as requested. Fantastic! I had heard that Love Craft was apprehended, though. Very unfortunate. Good thing I thought ahead enough to have an understudy ready, eh?"[/color]

[hr][hr]

[h2][center]The Minutemen and Others - Denver Skyline, About to Rock the Warehouse[/center][/h2]
[center][@Banana][@The Wild West][@Nattook][@yoshua171][@Spiffy][@PlatinumSkink][/center]

The file only took a few milliseconds to send, and a few seconds after that Celia received another message from the user that had locked her out of the PRT systems.

[color=cyan]TheRe@lD3c0y:[/color] Interesting. We've gotten reports of a bounty on a girl matching this description, but nothing so first hand. You're clearly exceptionally skilled to get into my system like this, and all you want to do is pass along a file? That could have been accomplished much more simply to leave an anonymous call, drop off, or email. Not to mention much less illegally. 

[color=cyan]TheRe@lD3c0y:[/color] I like your style, but I don't trust you. I've already uploaded a virus to your system to keep tabs on your work. I tell you this because you're far too skilled not to notice it. Don't try to get rid of it, though. You will fail. Switching to a different computer will also prove fruitless, just so you know.

[color=cyan]TheRe@lD3c0y:[/color] Is there anything else?

With everyone now having their own form of transportation, or sharing with someone else, the Minutemen, now bolstered by two more, began moving. G4M3R had been keeping tabs on Rocker activities, so it wasn't that difficult to get a general idea of where they had to go. Once they had actually arrived in the proper district though, that was another issue altogether. He signaled for Artificer to take them down on his fly, adjusting his mechanized ears. The tinker was listening in for any kind of signal that might have indication as to the whereabouts of the Rockers in the area. He flipped through signal after signal, picking up radio shows, private phone calls, and... Wait, what was that? Some kind of static, like he was really close to the source. G4M3R had to soften the volume so as not to blow out his own ear drums. Once that was done, he looked around. They were still moving, so he should have moved away from the source. He tuned back in, but hte static was still present. What was that? It had to be moving with them!

The leader of the Minutemen focused his ears, attempting to locate the source of that signal, and came to a startling conclusion. The source was the second passenger, the other one sharing a seat aboard Artificer's fly. It was Celia. The signal was coming directly from her. Realization set in. She had displayed inhuman speed, but he had assumed her to be a mover at first. She was also quite sturdy and strong, but that only meant she was also a bruiser. She seemed to show very little in the way of emotion, which just meant she was damaged in some way. Maybe. Or maybe all of that meant something... Very different. G4M3R turned back to face Celia, and gave her a wink before refocusing on the task at hand. 

After nearly an hour of scouring, G4M3R directed Artificer to land atop a nearby warehouse. [color=92278f]"I've got an internet signal coming from over there. Sounds like there's a video feed patching through to somewhere in Boulder, where the Rockers are headquartered. Sounds like the right place to me!"[/color]