[center][h1]Blastmaster&Minutemen[/h1][/Center]

[center][@yoshua171][@Gardevoiran][/center]
[center][i]A whole lot of fun at the HQ![/i][/center]
 
This was not a good day for the Minutemen. First an evil and time-wasting ruse by Sabotage, then the attack on their apartment, the loss of all of their valuable tinkertech, the wound received by G4M3R - at least with all the bad luck and disasters that took place the situation couldn't get any worse, right?
 
That is a loaded question, we all know that. Let's skip right ahead to the part where it gets worse!
 
Mere moments after the brave up-and-coming freelancer heroes have taken in the ruin and damages wrought upon their livelihood and their comrade by the hand of a dastardly villain, the wall of their bedroom exploded. It was a beautiful explosion, precisely engineered and impeccably performed, flawless in all things but one - nobody was around to witness it, which was a great shame since if the eyes of a man well-versed in the arts of demolition fell on it, the hypothetical man in question would describe the detonation as nigh-on perfect, measured precisely to breach the wall without destroying the insides of the apartment or its inhabitants with the shockwave or collapsing the building itself.
 
On the other hand, hearing the explosion was not a problem at all! Everyone with an unruptured eardrum or two within the vicinity of a district or two could register a sound like a mighty roll of thunder, but with something considerably [s]off[/s] about it, resonating through the air yet not accompanied by any lightning. Those inside the apartment especially could enjoy the accoustics of the bomb in all of its minute, deafening and concussive details. The bedroom wall bursted inwards, with shattered brickwork, plaster and glass dust of the utterly pulverized windows demolishing the rest of the chamber like payload of an unusually big claymore mine. A particularly resilient brick that was previously situated right next to the explosion’s metaphorical “ground” zero burst through the bedroom's door and flew further into the flat, sturdily lodging itself in the ceiling of the living room. The Minutemen, miraculously - or maybe actually unsurprisingly - were mostly unhurt by this curious turn of events. Permanently, at very least. Safe for some minor lacerations of exposed skin by the splintering brickwork and a terrible mess made by the reddish-orange brick dust settling on their things and clothes, the biggest inconvenience they've experienced is a painful ringing in their ears and a considerably painful headache - a big stroke of luck where it could've been hearing loss and overpressure-induced rupture of internal organs!
 
However unlikely, within the minute during which the heroes could partially recover their bearings and prepare to defend themselves, things got even worse! Apparently, the explosion was not meant to maim or kill them - it was meant to attract their attention! As the tinnitus slowly, partially subsided, the Minutemen could make out a voice calling out for them! It was a giddy, high-pitched and childish, interlaced with hearty, shameless laughter like tinkling of silver bells. If one or several of the Minutemen were to make their way to the devastated bedroom, they would be able to see the source of the jolly voice adressing them, clear as a day. A wonderfully neatly dressed boy of eight or maybe nine years in a claw-hammer coat and a large domino mask was peering at the havoc wrought upon the Minutemen's base from the open window of a flat in a house across the street, waving and shouting in hopes that the heroes would notice him, his words still not exactly easily understood by the heroes' explosion-damaged ears.
 
"~ey! M...men! ..'s me! I ...nt to talk!"