[centre][h2]Tony’s House[/h2] [h1]Boston[/h1] [sub]21st January, 2011[/sub][/centre] “Well, Robby replied, “take your pick.” Holding out two envelopes, one was coloured in a deep red, with the other was a paler, platinum blue. “We’ve got a delivery to make to the Covenant via a little cafe Pipeline seems to think will be able to get them the message. Sickle-Cell made his debut in the Circus, about a year back. I think Pipeline wants to ensure he gets the chance to step back up, if he wants. Maybe we could convince him. He made Wonderland a small fortune last time.” “Alternatively, we have an invite bound for the Alverton Building. Probably just hand it to reception and ask them to make sure it gets to Maxwell.” A wicked grin spread over Robby’s face. “Unless you wanna try hand it to him personally?” He thumbed across a final envelope, of alabaster white. “This one is for the Protectorate, of all places. He wants it handed to the PRT base in Mission Hill. Although, there doesn’t seem to be one for Gladius. That’s strange.” [@Duoya] [hr] [centre][h2]Protectorate Headquarters: The Zenith[/h2] [h1]Above Boston[/h1] [sub]21st January, 2011[/sub][/centre] Gestalt cracked a smile as she fiddled with the mask in her hands. “Not half bad. Finally feel like I’m settling into this city.” Chuckling, Septima began to stretch her arms left and right, limbering up for the coming conflict. “The people here are… colourful.” Her eyes creased at the corners, only just visible behind her mask. “You might not always like it, but you’ll never be bored.” Taking stock of the Ward, she tilted her head. “Come to think of it, you haven’t been here too long, have you? We’ve never met. I’m Kairi,” she said, beginning to offer a hand before realising her mistake. “O-oh. Um… sorry. Damnit, this is [i]not[/i] the way to make a good first impression.” “I’m Nola!” Gestalt suddenly called out, as if to distract from the subject. “Kairi’s been a Ward here for almost a year. She’s a good person. A bit of friendly advice, though. Don’t even switch sides. Her power is [i]scary[/i].” Kicking her friend in the shins, Kairi grumbled. “Hey, it’s not like I picked it or anything.” [@Banana][@PlatinumSkink] [hr] [centre][h2]Gladius Border Territory[/h2] [h1]Dorchester[/h1] [sub]21st January, 2011[/sub][/centre] Liquid fire burned into the back of one of Askaryan’s legs. It instantly began to buckle from under him, although he kept enough control to pivot mid-fall. From the corner of his eye, the air was a faint shimmer, and a blade outlined with blood from his new wound arced through it. Using his power on his costume, it continued to drag him to the ground without slowing. The movement wrenched him around, and a second blow caught him straight in the face. A sick crack accompanied the strike, causing his power to falter and sending him reeling into the door of a nearby car. Whatever was keeping his assailant hidden began to fail, revealing a female figure bearing down on him - one he didn’t recognise. Blood coated one hand, and a blade held in the other. Pain radiated through his entire face, and his nose was bent at a crooked angle. Pressing it with a finger, he lazily smirked. “You [i]bitch[/i],” he laughed. “Definitely not one of the regular Gladius fuckwits. That’s [i]good[/i], I like a broad with a bit of fight.” As he tried to stand, the wounded leg slightly buckled, sending him back to the floor. “Nice shot,” he said, grabbing a handful of small pieces of concrete knocked loose from the conflict. “My turn.” Rising to a knee, he focused his power through the objects and hurled them at the girl. [@Lasrever] [hr] A few of the Gladius mooks, noticing the sudden display of power, turned their attention to the young girls and leveled their weapons, preparing to fire. “No,” the cape in biker gear barked at them. “She’s mine.” Taking off at a dead sprint, the chain from the end of each hand made a rasping sound as it scraped along the ground. Leaping several feet in the air, the cape spun and brought both of the heavy chains to bear on her target. [@knifeman] [hr] In the middle of the battle, a man strolled out of an alleyway. His browny-yellow cloak fluttered in the winds kicked up by the various parahuman abilities on display. Taking a single deep breath in, his exhale was long and drawn-out “Ah, there is nothing quite like the smell of chaos in the morning,” he proclaimed to no-one in particular. With a bit of focus, a glob of petrol appeared around his right hand, which he promptly threw atop the burning car. A vicious hiss sounded, before the flames coating the vehicle redoubled in a roaring bang. “Well. Time to have some fun!”