[centre][h2]The Zenith - Medical Isolation Ward[/h2]
[h1]Above Boston[/h1]
[sub]21st January, 2011[/sub][/centre]


Dr Yamada nodded. “I read your file before coming over. It was… hard, I’ll admit. Some of the cases I’ve dealt with have been severe ones, but the worst are usually Case 53’s. Those parahumans who’s power has completely warped their physical - and usually mental - shape. None of them had the sheer impact or sense of betrayal I felt from yours, though.”

She smiled while handing the shivering girl her lab coat. “Take it. They are surprisingly warm, and I have more than I really should have.” Whispering, she looked around with mock-secrecy. “I stole quite a few from the PRT technicians. Who doesn’t love a lab coat, am I right?” 

“What happened in your past was awful, but venting usually helps people. As an additional plus, it’ll help you get all that anger out of your system, and we can get you out of here that much faster.”

“If you want my personal opinion, most people would have went completely off the rails with what happened to you. The incident would have proved, in their mind, how they couldn’t trust anyone - how they were better off on their own. Most would have turned to villainy. Why didn’t you? What drives you to be a hero and help people out?”

Her warm smile complimented her features. “Don’t worry about the answer, by-the-by. I’ve heard everything from ‘I don’t know’ to ‘The money is better’.” 

[@Banana]

[hr]

[centre][h2]The Circus Maximus[/h2]
[h1]Victory Road[/h1]
[sub]21st January, 2011[/sub][/centre]

Maxwell was the next to arrive. He did so without fanfare, and wearing his usual suit. He wasn’t a cape, and had no reason to hide his identity.

The entire city knew about the Consortium’s underworld dealings, even if they wouldn’t or couldn’t act on those suspicions.

His entourage consisted of Nightlight and Zabaniya. As combinations went, it was a good one. Nightlight could absorb and fire off blasts of light, while his female counterpart manipulated and melted into the shadows. Together, the made for an almost unbeatable combination, with one powering the other.

But no-one who had arrived could have anticipated the next arrivals.

A man, wearing a white and ice-blue suit of spandex. The gloves and feet were black, and his face was uncovered, save for a very basic eye mask of blue. His hair was platinum blonde, and he waved and gestured to the crowd on arrival. He was perhaps the most popular cape in Boston with the general populous, and a local celebrity - Cold Front.

On the other side was a girl dressed in a fabric costume of orange, green and white. Her hair was covered by a hood, and her mask was an elegant way to hide her eyes which resembled with wings of a Phoenix. Her eyes darted warily around the room, drinking in all of the threats and possible problems and escape routes on offer. This was Foxfire, popular but not nearly as well-known as Cold Front.

Although they both commanded the room individually, their presence was positively dwarfed by their companion.

Praetor himself.

The room was utterly stunned to silence as he simply stood on the platform, in front of the pristine and crystalline white chair. His eyes - and his scorn - fell on each of the faction leaders in turn, lingering on the Covenant the longest. 

Pipeline broke the silence. He laughed. “Praety! I so hoped you’d finally come this year. Was confident you would, too, it’s why I put out a chair and everything.”

As Praetor sat, Pipeline rose. “Finally, everyone is here. Well. We’d best get the festivities kicked off, eh? Lot of bad blood to clear after this morning’s escapades.” He turned to Poker Face. “My good man, if you’d kindly do the honours, I think it’s high time we watched some bloodshed!” Winking at the Protectorate leader, he added “with moderation, of course.”

[@Migyudon][@Duoya][@Lasrever][@Old Amsterdam][@SkinnyTy][@PlatinumSkink]