[center][h1][color=dodgerblue]The Wards:[/color] The Day is Over, Time to Relax[/h1]
[@Old Amsterdam][@Lugubrious][@solokolos][@yoshua171][@BCTheEntity][/center]

Director Kens listened intently to what each of the Wards had to say. The underlying rage seething through his pores slowly deflated, lessening and lessening until it had vanished completely, leaving only the forlorn image of a sad man. His body language never altered though. He was a solid stoic through to the end. Not once did he interrupt any of the teenagers. Instead he let them vocalize what they needed to. They were still kids, after all, and he had one hell of a soft spot for the kids no matter how berating he was known to be to the adults. They needed an outlet to express their feelings.

Once each had had their little outburst, or lack thereof, the director picked up where he had left off. [color=brown]"I am terribly sorry you've experienced such a traumatic event. If we had known you were going to run into the Jacks, or that the Community had... Dean... We wouldn't have sent you. It would have been an all hands on deck situation for the Protectorate, not something to send the Wards into. I'll expect your official reports by 5 pm tomorrow, and the entire event will be under thorough investigation. Until further notice, the Wards will be suspended from active duty, with full pay. No training, no patrols, you will only focus on your school work. And we'll need to... Assess how you've been affected by this event."[/color] For the first time since they entered the room, Director Kens took his seat. He folded his hands together in front of his chest as a bead of sweat slowly rolled down his nose, but he appeared to be unbothered. [color=brown]"You'll have mandatory therapy sessions with Dr. Jackson Odin. First as a preliminary, then he will determine if any continued treatments will be necessary. Don't worry about your work, or the city. Noble and Captain Morales should be fully recovered from their injuries within a few days. Don't make any public appearances or statements, let the PR team handle that. You focus on you."[/color]

Kens turned to face the hologram of Decoy, which reciprocated, and waited to be addressed. [color=brown]"Decoy, it goes without saying, but we will be going over your information sources very carefully. The Community was clearly expecting this raid. I don't like it one bit."[/color] Even the most distant Ward could tell he was restraining himself from screaming at the adult hero.

Decoy's hologram nodded in acceptance. [color=cyan]"I understand, Director. This is most troubling to me as well."[/color]

Rather than continue the discussion openly, Kens turned back to the kids. [color=brown]"It's been a very late night. Get some rest. Go home to your parents. Blow off some steam with some recreation. Do whatever you need to do to feel good and refreshed. Your preliminary appointment with Dr. Odin will be set for-"[/color] He took a moment to pull up a holographic interface, checking some time tables. [color=brown]"6 pm tomorrow. Tulpa, later this week we will need to schedule additional tests for your powers. We need to determine if what happened was master interference. You're all dismissed."[/color]

The director stood up and opened the door for the Wards, personally holding it for them as each one took their leave. Where would they go? How would they reflect on this night of horrors? That was up to them, but for one young Ward, her destination had already been established.

[color=cyan]<"Riese-chan,">[/color] came Decoy's voice through Ira's headgear. The hologram nearby hadn't moved. [color=cyan]<"I am ready for you. You will not go to the room you are used to. My personal quarters are on floor 47. Suite 4718. I will leave the door unlocked.">[/color]

[hr][hr]

[center][h1][color=red]The Jacks:[/color] Well That Just Happened[/h1]
[@yoshua171][@BCTheEntity][@Eklispe][@floodtalon][@Old Amsterdam][/center]

The plan had worked. Naturally Sofia, whether she be clone or original recipe, couldn't possibly dodge or recover from a kick delivered by a man so disproportionately larger than her, trained in the science of death dealing. Just as well the Chatterbox clone couldn't compete with a trained brawler like Thunderbolt. His protection was dealt with swiftly, and he could hardly fight back before being clocked and gagged. Clearly he was pissed, but the man was hardly in a position to do anything about it, was he? He fought through the gag, mumbling inarticulate ramblings and threats which, thankfully, wouldn't be having nearly the save level of effect as if his words had gone unhindered. Thus they were off in a mad dash to avoid getting boxed in by PRT response vehicles, the van peeling away as Thunderbolt jumped majestically through the air, like a pegasus pack-mule carrying the two Sofias. 

Through a combination of blind luck, a confusing driving route, and pure skill, the Jacks made it back to their headquarters without picking up a tail. Through it all the cloned Chatterbox made his displeasure quite well known. How dare they do this to him? He had been completely cooperative! They were pissing away a great opportunity, just [i]pissing[/i] it away! Broker would see things differently. Broker was a smart man, a man of business who looked at a situation with a certain cold objectivity. He'd be ecstatic at the opportunity to have two Chatterboxes to manipulate Denver to his whims! And speaking of whims, Whimsy! The moniker they'd assigned to Sofia! Her ability doubled could create such great opportunity. Yes, the Broker would see how his Jacks had been paranoid idiotic rubes. 

The villains entered their joint home to find the Broker already sitting and waiting at the bar. He had poured himself a glass of cinnamon rum, sampling it in small sips. Soon as the shadows of the Jacks crossed over to his stool, the man turned round to face them in earnest. He looked somewhat displeased, but as soon as he laid his eyes on the duplicates, his expression changed to confusion. Only a second passed and he seemed to have garnered some sort of understanding of the situation. The Broker set down his glass and approached the second Chatterbox, but spoke to the Jacks as a whole. [color=purple]"The job should have been simple. A quiet retrieval. But the police scanners tell a different story, eh?"[/color]

Once within arm's reach of the duplicate he pulled out the gag, finally allowing the newly dubbed "Blabbermouth" the opportunity to speak unabated. [color=#357302]"ARGH! Many thank yous, Broker. If I could trouble you for a spot of that rum, I'd very much like to. The taste should be more agreeable to my palate than what currently resides there."[/color] Those who had felt his power working on their minds previously no longer felt that subtle influence. The copy of Sofia said nothing, instead trying her very best to blend into the floor like a lost piece of lint. The Broker made no motion to retrieve a drink, and so Blabbermouth continued. [color=#357302]"We're just like the originals. We were made by some freak called Overrun to kill them, but we want to join you!"[/color] Blabbermouth's words and tone became more and more desperate as he saw the unfeeling look in Broker's eye go unchanged. [color=#357302]"Two Chatterboxes! Two Whimsys! We can do so much for you, and I won't need to be paid as much as the original, boss. Think about that?"[/color]

The Broker shook his head, seemingly relenting as he reached back to grab his glass of rum. Blabber looked hopeful as the Broker raised the glass in front of him, but his hopes were dashed as Broker drained the glass himself and placed the now empty vessel on the countertop. [color=purple]"You're a quantum duplicate, the two o'you. Near identical copies of the originals created from a theoretical shift in spacetime. An alternate version that never should have existed, right mates?"[/color] Blabbermouth seemed contemplative of the idea, following along but unsure where Broker was going. Duplicate Sofia didn't understand any of it. She just wanted to go to bed. [color=purple]"But that's the thing, right? 'Near' identical. I'll bet fifty pounds you don't even know that your power has been active since the moment you were made. You can't turn it off, y'see."[/color] Judging by Blabber's expression, he genuinely hadn't realized it. [color=purple]"An' that's the thing. I can't use you if you can't turn it off. No good to me at all. Quite the opposite, really. A massive detriment. Because the damage you can cause could attract 'her' attention, and I've no intention of letting her find me. So-"[/color] 

[i]Pew! Pew![/i]

Out of nowhere the Broker had produced a small silenced pistol from his jacket and quickly put a bullet in both of their heads. The two fell to the floor, instantly slain by the weapon. Thankfully, it did not reflect back onto the originals. Drake and Sofia had been spared.

[color=purple]"Funny thing, that."[/color] The Broker cleaned the muzzle of his gun's suppressor, then pocketed it once again. [color=purple]"I see there were complications, but hopefully nothing you lot couldn't handle. Did you find the box?"[/color]