[centre][H2] Thinker Cup Cafe [/h2]
[h1]Downtown Boston[/h1]
[sub]21st January, 2011[/sub][/centre]

Whetstone sat. “Welcome to Boston, my dear. There [i]are[/i] no reputable establishments anywhere in this godforsaken rathole.” She noted the eye-colour changing with interest. Just what exactly did this girl do?

“Well, to business, then.” Placing Toxic’s letter on the table, she looked at her expectantly. “Correct me if I’m mistaken, but your power controls, what, bacteria? I might be in the market for a bioweapon - one designed to cause insufferable pain without killing, that uses blood as an infection vector. Is that something you can do?”

[@Old Amsterdam]

[hr]

[centre][h2]Gladius Border Territory[/h2]
[h1]Dorchester[/h1]
[sub]21st January, 2011[/sub][/centre]

With a look full of scorn, Sickle watched as a ghostly hand stretched across the street to strike him. There was no sense in dodging it, the shards would shred it to pieces before it got anywhere near him. Knight had taken down her shields, the [i]idiot[/i]. Admittedly, it was probably his fault for using them as a tool for ending the gangland scum she’d thrown skywards, but it was leaving her open.

And then she stood and pointed a sword at him, at which point he decided that she was utterly adorable. 

Knight was giving orders to the Wards, although he couldn’t make out exactly what she was saying. However, the brief distraction served to allow Dragon to leap behind him and throw a gout of flame at Vegas. Spotting the beast bearing down on his underling, he turned to unleash his full might against her.

Except he couldn’t.

The ghost hand had passed through the shards as though they weren’t even there. Uppercutting him, the world shifted. Not just in terms of motion, but the colour drained, augmenting the shadows and highlighting the blood. For a brief second, Sickle simply stood at the heart of the destruction he’d caused in the last half a minute. 

Concrete was streaked with blood, all around him. The bodies of several gang members had been entirely sliced to pieces; several more lay taking their last gasps. Suddenly, all his insecurities pushed to the forefront again. They highlighted the one thing in the world he was actually scared of. 

Himself.

Of losing control.

Something he [i]consistently[/i] did. 

How many of these people did he actually remember killing? The answer was one. That single, unlucky sod who had been hit by the stray spear early on. Every other victim became a statistic on instinct. As an afterthought. 

That was what stayed his hand, while watching Dragon. Goons ran for the hills, even in their drug-addled state, no-one was stupid enough to challenge him. Why would they? Inside of a year, he’d become an almost mythical figure. The embodiment of death himself. Yet all that suddenly meant nothing in the face of overwhelming fear. 

[@Banana][@PlatinumSkink]

[hr]

Vegas had mere seconds to react when the metallic [i]thing[/i] came back. As it unleashed a fearsome gout of flame, she dropped her shield, spinning in place. When she turned completely around, she refocused and the barrier reformed. This time, though, it wasn’t a faint pink dome but a crescent of ardent energy. The intensity was staggering, and held back the oncoming flood of fire.

Sweat began to bead on her forehead, from both the effort in holding her shield in place, and the torrent of heat washing over the area. This wasn’t something she could keep up for long. Had it only been her, turning and taking the offensive would be the obvious choice - but the two girls beside her would almost certainly become barbeque. Instead, she planted her feet and prayed to the Sky-Queen that Sickle, Gubbins, Backdoor or even the bloody heroes wouldn’t be long in doing [i]something[/i]. 

[@knifeman][@Kiddo]