[center][h3]Anonymous[/h3][/center]

Listening to his two bodyguards, Collin couldn't help but give a small chuckle, one he allowed nobody to hear. That was just for himself, and breaking the image he had cultivated amongst others was a big nono in his book. "Your feeling is accurate, Taser," he said, speaking only to the two capes. "Mr. Puppet regularly disrespects me and believes that I am a minion of his esteemed group, when in reality I am an independent information broker. The Consortium simply pays me best. Still, he continues to refer to me with a lack of respect, and so I show equal displeasure. That being said, whilst I am certain he'd be relieved to have me spirited away for good, his superiors likely would not share the sentiment."

[i]Lousy Coke machine stole my dollar. Won't anything go right today?

I'll bet you $20 you can't beat me two out of three in the latest Smash game!

Call an ambulance! This man's been shot! Someone help![/i]

Collin twirled the wooden fork around his fingers, now more out of habit than to get an understanding of the tactile feeling. He was growing bored of the environment. He needed new voices, new secrets. "Marco," he began, speaking directly to his personal assistant. "Begin heading toward Allston. Take whichever route you find most pleasing to the eye for your own sake, and feel free to wander aimlessly once we reach the area. If I catch wind of anything important you'll know when and how to change course."

"Certainly, sir!" Marco gave a salute to the rearview mirror, not that his employer could tell, and took the nearest street toward their destination.

"Miss Taser, Mr. Fodem, I shall be relaying directions for you in order to keep you within reasonable distance. I appreciate your professionalism in this matter, and understand how difficult it is to work under my special circumstances. Please, take your next left."

So it began. Information gathering on the most dangerous villain terror group Boston had ever known. It wouldn't be out of the question to suggest that the Slaughterhouse Nine would love to recruit some of these psychos. Collin could hear his blood pumping faster. No, he could [i]feel[/i] it. Bump. Bump. Bump. Bump. Bump. His heart rate accelerated. This was exciting. Even if he weren't being paid top dollar by the Consortium, he'd have been on his way to the exact same thing. He needed to keep himself safe from these capes too, after all. Plus with absolutely everyone and their mother looking for Sickle Cell's organization, the opportunity for the biggest pay day yet was too good to pass up.

[i]A diamond ring? Oh Johnny, this is too good to be true![/i]

[@Sickle-cell]

[hr][hr]

[center][h3]Replicant[/h3][/center]

"A cure to the common cold? That's positively miraculous!" Replicant feigned excitement, but it looked the same as his normal excitement. After all, he was always excited, so why should now be any different? "But there's one small problem, miss. The CDC doesn't work with Director Underwood. They work with me. Personally."

The hero shivered as the woman ran her hand along his skin. He got goosebumps from the experience. Not because he was uncomfortable, far from it. This was far too intoxicating. Trembling slightly, he pulled out a syringe from his tattered lab coat. She was so perfect. So beautiful. He [i]needed[/i] a sample! "You know what friends as well as I do, you [i]gorgeous[/i] hive of microbes. I've never seen something so... [i]Enthralling![/i]"

Forgetting her own question for him, Replicant carefully extended the syringe toward this magnificent specimen, this mind numbing courtesan of a hive queen. He intended to draw blood from her for analysis. "I... I think I [i]need[/i] you..."

[@Old Amsterdam]