Hidden 6 yrs ago Post by Old Amsterdam
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@Miakoda


Artificer looked at Floris like he was seeing him for the first time, and like he was looking at an idiot at the same time. He shook his head slowly.

"To go? To go? I have everywhere to go, but I can't go anywhere and I can't stay here. You need to leave." he said with a certain kind of determination in his eyes. He grabbed the mostly intact neck of the vase and the wire and turned face and began walking away. "I don't know who sent you, but you and them can just leave me alone. I don't want any part of any of it anymore."
Hidden 6 yrs ago 6 yrs ago Post by Miakoda
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Dianthus - Nature VS Nurture

The Stormkeeper





The hell was that about... Floris thought to himself as he watched the kid walk away, vase and wire in hand. Still flabbergasted, Floris didn't even think about pursuing the boy any further. He simply stood there, hands in his pockets, staring as the kid turned the corner.
Regaining his composition, Floris shrugged his shoulders and turned around and left the ally.

"This is why I don't like people..." He quietly muttered to himself.

Floris continued on his way, walking at a leisurely pace. That way he could closely monitor as much of Denver as possible while walking. However, it wasn't long before his attention was drawn back to the ally.

"What the..." Floris turned his head back into the direction of the alleyway. Something felt off. Seriously off. He couldn't quite explain what it was, as the foliage was too thin in the area to get a clear picture, but that didn't mean he didn't feel anything there. And right now, what he felt, felt wrong. "Damn this kid. What the hell is he up to?" Wasting no time, Floris turned around, and headed once again for the alleyway. His pacing was slow. His nerves were tingling, and he was on edge. With every step he got closer, the uneasy feeling he had grew more intense. The street lights illuminated the path before him in an eery glow, overflowing with the combination of orange and black. The streets were all but empty, and the moon stood clear in the sky.
Finally, there was the Alley. Floris stopped just before the corner. There was no mistaking it; there was something seriously wrong. As he carefully looked past the wall, he was surprised to find...nothing. The alley was empty.

"The hell?"

Not one to be outdone so easily, Floris put on his best scowl, and proceeded into the alley, unaware of what may lie ahead.
Hidden 6 yrs ago Post by yoshua171
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Chatterbox


He spent much of the time on the way back in something of a daze and though it did not last terribly long, it was still frustrating. Luckily, by the time they had returned to base, he felt more himself, having recovered both from the exposure to his own power and from taking the invisible strikes. He was still sore though. Sore and unhappy.

Following the others in—and giving his duplicate a wide berth—he was somewhat relieved, though also confused, when the clone's voice had no effect on him...or apparently the others. The only difference was Broker's presence. His eyes narrowed slightly, but he said nothing...for a time.

As Heartless finished, he glanced to the bar and—though he too wanted a drink, he didn't trust the fellow to make him one properly. Instead, he made his way over and began making a relatively elaborate mixed drink. As he did so, he spoke, power off, but tone clear to carry to them all.

"I expected the worst from the very beginning. It's why I was so careful. Honestly, the rest of you should learn to accept that there will always be complications." He spilled a bit of wine and it was only then that he realized his hands were shaking. He pressed on, acting as if nothing had happened.

"Regardless, it was a mess. The Wards showed up. I don't know if they were tipped off and this was a test or if it was entirely unrelated, but regardless it was...not ideal. By the by, as you can see we still brought back what you required. What I think might be more pressing is..." he trailed off, finishing the drink and setting it on the counter, his eyes on Broker. Before he spoke again he took a long swig and swallowed, letting the liquid courage begin to ease his nerves.

"You interact with powers somehow," he said matter-of-factly. He was nervous, he was tired, but he was also curious. He found he couldn't hold the gaze and so looked down at his glass.

He considered how coldly the man had simply murdered the clones. If he hadn't already been somewhat desensitized by the events of the day, he'd be reeling. Why had he shot the clone of Sophia? He understood that a second one of her existence could cause problems, but still...that was. He took another drink. "I talked about it with Headhunter, but I think the others need to know the distinct feel of my power. You can nullify it afterwards I figure. Since you did so with the clone. I think it may help with identifying other troublesome masters in the future, but that's...that's less important right now." He glanced at the others, falling silent for a long moment.

Eventually he looked to Broker and spoke, "I'd like to know what we're actually doing here." He then looked away and fell silent. He didn't like this.

Evelyn Chambers – Tulpa


She didn't deserve the pay, she didn't deserve to be pardoned of her mistakes. This wasn't right. How could they stand by and just let them off for screwing things up so badly? Even with the tears falling already, her face screwed up a little—though the expression was hidden. Mask in hand, she decided to put it back on.

When they were dismissed she had almost made it out when she heard her name. Stopping in place—her being the last one out of the room—she found herself completely frozen as the Director's words slammed into her like a truck. Steadying herself with a hand on the doorframe, terror looming just like the 'shadow' of silvery light that had enshroaded Director Kens. She couldn't see it with her back turned, but she could feel it. She knew it was there, but was too shocked and terrified to banish it.

Hardness (bone), muscle(flex, stretch, strength, adaptability)—

"No," she whispered, but it didn't stop.

—fat(energy storage, cushion, soft, deformable), nerves(electricity, chemical impulse, fragility)— "NO!" She shouted, before falling abruptly silent, stunned by her own loudness. The 'shadow's' silver visage fled backwards through a wall and disappeared, but she could still hear it rattling off material information in her mind as it moved further and further away. She commanded it go upwards till it was in the air, where it had limited materials to analyze. She made it stay there and then, around the twisted knot of dread in her gut, she spoke.

Her voice came out quiet, but audible, "S-sorry. I...I'll try," she swallowed hard and didn't turn back to look at the Director. Her fingers were bent into claws where she was gripping the doorframe.

After a few moments she managed to move and when she did so she ran and didn't stop. Only once she nearly got to the exit did someone stop her and tell her she was still in costume. She'd somehow forgotten...despite the mask. Despite the fit of the clothes. Letting the woman lead her to a changing room, Evelyn waited and took the change of clothes. The woman, gently, suggested she shower. Evelyn couldn't work up the nerve or the will to say no so she disrobed and got in.

She could barely feel the water, instead she was more aware of whenever the 'shadow' of light moved faintly to try and return to her. She stopped it every time...and recoiled whenever she had to. Several times she almost slipped and hurt herself.

Once she had finished cleaning and dressing—the actions methodical and automatic, her mind on autopilot—she emerged to find that the woman had arranged a ride for her. There were tears in her eyes again at the kindness, but she couldn't thank her. Couldn't speak, because if she did it meant thinking...and thinking meant.

No.

No. No. No. No.

She wrapped her arms around herself in the backseat. For a few minutes the driver tried to make idle conversation, but eventually they decided to just turn some music on and hum quietly. It was only when they arrived at her house and Evelyn got out of the car that she realized she'd gotten a ride from them before. She realized that normally they were friendly despite her only been 17 and the man being much older. It was like talking to her grandpa, she remembered.

She felt a brief guilt, that then turned crushing. She blinked, now staring at the door of her house. She was about to knock, then remembered she had a key, but couldn't get it out, her hands clumsy.

The 'shadow' moved. She froze. After two minutes, frozen there, wrestling with her emotions...and her power. Her terrible, terrible power.

The door opened. It was her mom and before she could try to move or say anything, she was in a hug. Before she could register that, they moved to the couch and she suddenly realized she was crying. Again.

Crying again.

Stupid. Weak. Useless.

She could smell her mom's perfume...and her dad's cologne.

The thoughts drifted away, she felt detached from the warmth and the love, but also wrapped in it. Almost smothered, but it was good.

They wouldn't talk about what happened that day. They'd talk when she was ready. She wouldn't realize she'd fallen asleep in her mother's embrace until she woke in her own bed, feeling confused, but comfortable.

She'd have her favorite breakfast that day and ice cream...and just about anything she asked for. Normally her parents were less doting, but they knew what to do when she was sick or upset. She loved them for it.

Especially now, even when she felt so numb and useless and terrible. Even with the storm of emotions and turbulent deprecation in her mind, they gave her warmth and love...and she could even feel some of it.

Hopefully it would be enough.

The silver light, its form a thin veil over her house, said otherwise.
Hidden 6 yrs ago Post by Lugubrious
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Though seldom sporting an innocent smile or optimistic eyebrow uprising, Elliot found himself dominated by an expression as grim as it was morose -and it was very morose- upon hearing the Director's announcement. Rest and recuperation awaited him, as well as his peers, for the foreseeable future, though even as one perfectly pleased to slack off this news satisfied him not. Despite his uncanny brilliance in all matters seen and unseen, Elliot would be hard-pressed to boast a mastery in psychology, but he felt that having nothing to do but study and sulk for a few days might not help the kiddies out as much as the bigwig thought it might. Some activity to lose oneself in, or some opportunity to rebuild lost confidence for the sake of redemption from this night's failure—those struck him as worthwhile pursuits. As he stood up from the table following, Elliot opted to dismiss such thoughts. Even if time alone to think about the past brought pain back to the forefront, time to heal and maybe to forget would probably be best for the others. As for him, the unflappable anti-hero, veteran of a thousand wars, a recon mission with a shower sounded nice. A final glance, its striking recipe a bold mix of curiosity and rebuke, flew Lillian's way as the wounded Wards made their collective, lugubrious escape from the conference room. It told her, Whatever do you mean? There was never...any doubt in my mind. His movement robotic, Elliot wandered the halls until he found his destination in the Wards' quarters, stopping only to hurl his overcoat into his 'junk room' and listened to the now-enlarged items bang around. Before he knew it, his clothes were but a fleeting memory, and he stood beneath the looming nozzle with a hand on the smooth, cold handle.

Thirty minutes passed under the scalding cascade. As the steam billowed around him, and at a snail's pace he scrubbed himself with a bar of soap, his thoughts ranged far beyond the narrow confines of his stall. It sauntered across the isthmus that divided the vast, unfathomably deep, and worryingly similar-looking seas of good and evil. It meandered down forgotten yet familiar streets, peering in on images that still made a remote corner of its owner's darkness still darker. It wondered, and conjectured, at how people from another life might be living, if they still lived. Before too long the heavy yet distant images, weighing on him like the glinting eyes of a predator hundreds of feet behind on the savannah, all faded away into a haze. The hot water lulled Elliot into a sluggish, waking sleep—a gentle oblivion, no substitute for the real thing, but still altogether nice.

Eventually, he thought to glance at his digits, which by then had assumed the likeness of raisins in texture if not hue. Eyes still half-closed, Elliot cut off the embracing deluge and pulled on briefs, shorts, and a t-shirt. From there it wasn't long at all until he arrived at the place where he belonged, the only place he had to go: his room.

There, he drifted away in no time flat.
Hidden 6 yrs ago Post by BCTheEntity
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Raymond Haywood: Trainyard --> Icehouse Hideout

‘I knew he was a threat.’ Raymond’s words weren’t exactly unwarranted - whilst the drive back to the Icehouse Hideout hadn’t had much incident to it, he could feel Blabbermouth’s ramblings having some sort of effect on him even through the gag (now left in one pocket to be cleaned of saliva later). It was, he realised after the fact, an incessant niggling feeling, the sort of sensation that had gotten him to start ever so slightly regretting putting the gag on the alternate version of his companion.

Nonetheless, he hadn’t even realised it was there until it suddenly vanished, and Broker explained exactly why Blabbermouth was so dangerous: he couldn’t turn his power off at all. In a way, then, he felt quite justified in feeling a need to be brutish toward him at the time, even if Jason smacking him in the side of the head was perhaps mildly excessive.

Then came his death. His, and... well, he supposed the alternate Whimsy no longer needed a name. Headhunter remained unperturbed, minus the mildest of combat-instinct flinches as the initial unexpected shot went off, for he was quite sure she had her reasons for being slain too - excess baggage, if nothing else, or perhaps her power remained always on even with her eyes open, such that she could never eat or drink anything? In which case, her death was a mercy for her - yet the others claimed it was excessive. Well, maybe it was, without context to it.

‘For the sake of easing everyone’s minds, Broker,’ Raymond began politely, ‘would you mind explaining why the alternate Whimsy had to die too?’ Once an explanation had been received, and after seeing the box handed over and listening to Chatterbox’s statement that the Broker’s power interacted with other abilities somehow and the sentiment relating to what they’d agreed upon earlier, he’d simply nod and move over to where Heartless stood, as if to grab his own drink. And ah yes, he had his issues with him, too.

‘Since Mister Dwyer mentioned it, the original Overrun is dead, unless he can regenerate from being blown into giblets.’ Raymond’s mention of his murder was almost casual, and in a way, it was. He was a career assassin. Overrun was but one more kill to add to his tally. ‘It seemed a necessary matter to keep us alive at the time, but apparently failed to stop his power from functioning. As an addendum, I believe some clones were similar to the original power-wise, hence the original’s death not erasing them, whilst others varied in their abilities.

‘On an unrelated note, Ryan, you decided that bullying the Ward girl doing the scouting was the best way of shutting her up, instead of, say, tasing her unconscious? And then you went ahead and saved her life unnecessarily, after she threatened to kill us as a giant dinosaur. Dare I ask, why do any of that?’ Despite his usual whisper, his tone spoke volumes of his displeasure. He’d curbed his desire to actually strike the man, for it’d likely have no particular success if the man simply dissolved into shadows to avoid it. Nonetheless, his fists were tightly clenched, if only to give them something else to do.
Hidden 6 yrs ago Post by ProPro
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Epsilon: This is No Decoy

@solokolos


The door that Decoy had led Ira to was a highly advanced sliding steel door locked by magnetism. There was no handle, no buttons to press. The unlocking mechanism was a nearby combination retinal and palm scanner, holographic of course, projected from a small camera next to the door. If Decoy's word was to be believed, it was unlocked for Ira, and so... Yes. As soon as she applied her hand and held an eye to the scanner, the door rushed open with the signature "whoosh" of a vacuum replacing the air. It led to a small chamber large enough only to hold maybe four or five people, with another magnetic door on the other end. As soon as Ira stepped into the chamber, the door behind her sealed itself. From two cameras on opposite walls a holo-grid was projected, scanning the entire chamber from top to bottom, logging Ira's presence. After a second the grid vanished, the projectors shut off, while a computerized voice emanated from... Somewhere. "Ward: Epsilon. Access - Approved."

The second door opened with the same vacuum sound, granting Ira access to Decoy's personal room. A grid lined the entire place, which was about thirty feet in length as well as width. The entire thing was reminiscent of classic Star Trek episodes. The entire room was one big hologram projector. A single figure stood at the center, unseen, masked by dozens of holographic screens floating around simultaneously. With a wave of one hand, the screens were dismissed allowing the figure to walk toward Ira. Decoy was... Not as advertised. A tall 5'9" with slender, beautiful skin and a lithe soft body, she made for a gorgeous Japanese woman. Her brown-red hair hung just barely below the shoulders, and she carried herself with a measure of grace to match the flowery blouse and blue skirt she wore.

<"Riese-chan, I am glad to make your acquaintance in person, after all our tutoring sessions."> As she spoke, the door slid shut behind Ira. It was just the two of them, now completely alone. <"I apologize for ordering you to hold your tongue, Riese-chan. It was distasteful, to say the least. But necessary at the time. You all are required to attend therapy for what happened tonight. Imagine the psychological damage the other Wards would have suffered if they knew? That is assuming they wouldn't have become too distracted to survive. Please, make yourself comfortable, Reise-chan. We shall talk."

Decoy waved her left hand in an oddly specific gesture, which seemingly conjured a red sofa chair near Ira. Though it was a light projection, Decoy's tinker technology had made it quite real. Hard light. That was a new one she hadn't ever shared with the Wards before.







The Broker shook his head a little low at the sudden influx of questions. He was not used to being accosted in such a manner, and to be honest he cared very little for it. His first instinct was to dismiss it with a wave, but no. That would not do, would it? Instead he poured himself another glass, then began to speak with everyone. "You've all earned some explanation, I suppose, and a good chinwag never hurt anybody. Well," He glanced at Chatterbox with a knowing smile. "Almost anybody. Very good."

The Broker downed his drink in one go, set his glass back on the bar, then continued. "I don't interact with powers. Not directly. I interact with the source of powers. Your... Passengers, you might call them. Every parahuman has this thing that gives their powers, and I control those things directly. But that's enough about me. I hate talking about myself, worst sodding topic." He took the box that Heartless had produced and gently caressed it on the bar top. "Whimsy, would you be a good lass and dispose of the... Extras? Like you did a few weeks ago? Apologies for the mess, but the second was defective as well. You see, her power didn't function at all. A non-functional Whimsy was no use to us, and on the streets would have been a liability. I don't deal in loose ends. If Love Craft still had a functioning brain, you could ask them."

At this point he stopped his caressing and keyed in a small code on a number pad the case had. It popped open with a small hiss as the insides of the case repressurized. "Hm. Nice to see the bloody wankers haven't changed the master code." he mumbled. The boss man then lifted up the top of the case, revealing its contents: six colored vials. "Since you've earned it, what we are doing here has to do with these. None of you are aware, but there is another way to gain powers beyond a trigger event. There are people out there who sell powers. A secretive group, like a real world Illuminati." He closed the case once again, a smirk of satisfaction across his face.

"The more information you have on them, the more danger you're in. You've heard rumors of the Bogeyman, right? She works for them." There seemed to be a certain amount of venom as he emphasized that word. "It seems we have stopped the Community from bringing in six new parahumans into their organization. Capital work gentlemen, and lady. Capital indeed. One step closer to taking down that thick sod Patriarch."

The Broker stood up from his bar stool, taking hold of the box. It was just about time to take his leave. "The money is in your accounts. Thank you for your services tonight. I won't have another task for you for another three weeks. Until then, relax, assist one another on any jobs you'd like to get done amongst yourselves, and prepare your silver tongues. It's about time to call all the villain factions to neutral territory for a meeting to discuss The Community. Anything else I can do for you before I pop off?"
Hidden 6 yrs ago Post by Old Amsterdam
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Jason



Jason frowned, shaking his head lightly. If he was going to be honest with himself, most of this was beyond him. It didn't really make sense to him, especially when all official statements claimed something about a virus or genetics or whatever that junk was was the source of the Parahuman abilities.

But he did recognize and understand that Broker was dangerous. Very dangerous. Directly controlling the source of their abilities, playing with effects as he pleased.... Disabling brains by his own admission.

There was some conflict brewing between the others, and Jason's initial instinct was to step into it before he remembered he still had a hand on Sofia. Idly he considered his options before deciding to stay with the girl. Watching herself die and then be told to remove the body? Unless she was truly an emotionless robot, he didn't want to imagine how she might be fairing beneath surface.

The possible argument.... Jason didn't want to get involved in it exactly. The girl had seemed.... Suicidal? Definitely pissed, but the way she threw herself into things suddenly.... It didn't sit right with him.

"Equipment. Can we request new equipment." he spoke up in regards to Broker's final question, attempting to distract himself from his thoughts.





Lillian sat - well, laid with her back propped up - in a surprisingly comfy bed thingy with her eyes looking unfocused at the ceiling. Her side had stitches, her leg had lots of stuff, and the medical people had said something about a 'possibly severe concussion', whatever that meant. There was something about blood and scans and honestly she didn't know what most of this stuff was.

Why did she have to keep being in these confusing, complicated, scary situations? She just wanted to be curled up somewhere warm and safe, like that time she'd fallen asleep in Alessa's room.

Her cheeks flared red at the thought, calling forth a confused batch of emotions she didn't really understand.

She really did need these mandatory therapy sessions, didn't she?

"Lily! Are you okay?!"

She looked up - well, more like down - at the exclamation.

"Oh, shi - uhhh, what are you doing here Mom?"

"They called me. What the hell happened to you?"

"Uh.... Bad guys?" she replied cautiously.

"Where's that director? I'm going to - "

"Mom, don't. Stop. Okay? It's not their fault. I- I had a relapse during a mission that got complicated. I messed up and got hurt and it's just been so emotional and I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry." Lillian broke down into a jumbled of sobs and apologies, curling into her mother's arms as the woman sat down beside her.

"Oh, luv, why are you apologising?"

"I promised I'd be better..."

"Shhh.... It's okay, Lil, calm down..."

With her mother's soothing voice and all the events of the day, it wasn't long before Lillian found release in the endless abyss of sleep in her mother's arms.
Hidden 6 yrs ago 6 yrs ago Post by yoshua171
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Chatterbox


Surveying the room despite his own nervousness, Drake noted the displeasure of his teammates. Whimsy didn't appear to be in good shape...and yet Broker asked her to dispose of what was--...no. He refused to think of them as the same. He gritted his teeth and then took another drink. He absorbed their employer's explanations, both of powers and reasoning. There was more to it. That description was too brief. No power was that damned simple and without hang-ups.

Every power had weaknesses...and every power had underlying mechanics, or he supposed that whatever gave them those powers had such. He shuddered, the idea of some alien passenger interacting with his mind and body to fascilitate his power giving him the creeps. Of course, on another level he was grateful to it. The thing had changed his life and even with his trigger event being what it was, he felt better off than he had been before.

Finishing his drink--probably far too quickly given its alcohol content--Drake set it aside and stepped out from the counter, his gaze briefly firing between Broker, Headhunter, and Heartless. He moved across the room and turned a seat towards the situation. His hands were still shaking, but he clasped them before him, crossing one ankle over the other as he stared at them from where he sat, head tilted slightly. He considered the dinosaur girl and the thoughts that came to mind were simple, logical.

She had been a threat, a fair bit unpredictable. He agreed, Heartless should have simply tased her, but the reality was he hadn't. To go about trying to save her afterwards. It was an act of emotion. One of guilt or compassion perhaps. His gaze narrowed and focused in on Heartless. "Counter to your title, you've got quite the streak of empathy, Heartless" he said the name with utter disdain. His power was tuned all the way down, not affecting any of the members of the team and certainly not Broker--who he figured would be immune anyways, a shame. "I hope you don't intend to make a habit of helping the enemy. I only have orders to not use my power on members of the team. Allies, that is. If you endanger us or our mission, you're not an ally. Correct me if I'm wrong boss." All he really needed was a reason after all. A reason and assurance he would not be rendered brain dead or worse due to use of his power on Heartless. Of course, there was a chance that Broker would say he was wrong to set a precedence. A precedent that would allow the man to handle Heartless himself.

It meant that either either response Broker gave might serve to drive fear into Heartless and fear was control. It as the mind killer and oh how he loved laying the psyche to rest. He smiled faintly at the thought.

'How pleasant.'
Hidden 6 yrs ago Post by Eklispe
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Sofia Stien - Jacks Headquarters


Sofia listened. She was to... Dispose of them. Sofia closed her eyes and breathed out slowly. Let it all fade away. Let the whole world fade away. Jason's hand slipped through her. For a tranquil moment there was nothing to feel. Nothing to hear. Nothing to be scared of, or confused about. Nothing at all. She opened her eyes again and the world came rushing back again, painfully fast and real. But she could disassociate from it now. Feel events happening from an emotional barricade. Make them go away. And go to her room. Simple. Sofia walked towards the two objects carefully, only faltering at the last step as she knelt down to touch them. Just objects that needed to go away. And they did. Faded through the floor, out of sight out of mind, just like they should be. Sofia only wobbled a little when she stood up. "I'm going to my room now." she said calmly, not letting her thoughts show in her voice and she began doing just that. Not thinking about how Broker could disable her power at any time. Not thinking about how if she wanted to leave she would be another liability and vanish just like the other Whimsy, unable to use her power. Not thinking about anything.
Hidden 6 yrs ago Post by Flood
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Ryan Dwyer-Jacks Headquarters

@Old Amsterdam@ProPro@BCTheEntity@Eklispe


Ryan frowned as both Raymond and Chatterbox grilled him over his actions involving the dinosaur girl, but he waved it off easily as he took another sip of his beverage. "Let's walk you through the situation step by step. I have a girl with an unknown power on my hands, I have no idea whether tying her up would do any good. Which it wouldn't have by the way, unless you're stupid enough to think that rope can hold a rampaging dinosaur." He set his drink down on the counter as he continued his explanation. "And no, I couldn't have just 'tased her into unconsciousness', that would've only lasted a minute at most. So yeah, I try to use some psychology to make her run away or something. Sure it backfired, but my other option was to tase her so hard that she wouldn't wake up for hours on end. So unless you wanted me to give her permanent brain damage, I think I made the right call. Unless you wanted me to, I'm sure the PRT would love to find out that the new bad guys on the block are open to those methods." Heartless paused for a moment to collect his thoughts before he continued.

"Speaking of the PRT, let's talk about PR. Public Relations that is. I save a Ward, how does that look to the public? What do the common citizens think of the Jacks, we steal from the Community, we save little girls from burning buildings, are we really the bad guys? And if the public thinks we're just keeping the peace, how is the PRT going to look if they go after us?" This was all a load of bullshit of course, but it was well crafted bullshit. In reality, Ryan just wasn't willing to let an eight year old die. That's fucked up, even for him. "If you have any other complaints, you can shove em up your ass." With that being said Ryan listened to Broker answer everyone's questions. His frown only grew deeper as he listened to Broker explain why the other Whimsy needed to die, she just wasn't useful. This lead to a lot of questions about his own worth that he just didn't want answered. He didn't care so much about the Illuminati business, as long as they didn't fuck with him they could take over the world for all he cared. But the thought that the last guy he replaced was now functionally brain dead was...

"I think I'm gonna go to my room too. This has been a night I would like to forget about forever." It was only by the time he got to his room that he realized how much he was shaking, just like Chatterbox had been. Ryan had a lot to think about that night, so he opened up his laptop and hopped on the forums. Looks like tonight was going to be another sleepless one.
Hidden 6 yrs ago Post by BCTheEntity
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Alessa Heather: PRT HQ

A lot happened in the next few minutes. First off, Evelyn attempted to take the blame from Alessa, when there was really no point to her doing so, for she couldn’t have known what her projection would wind up doing. She... lost control of it, apparently? And not in the sense of losing control of herself, either; if it was literally out of her control, then she couldn’t be held to fault for that matter. Not the way Alessa could.

Apparently, though, Director Kens wasn’t punishing them for any of it. Or at least felt he wasn’t. To Alessa, being barred from patrolling was certainly punishment, though perhaps not the sort she was looking for - and sure, she understood that her mental health needed to be kept track of, but if that meant crime could just happen, without any possibility that she could stop it? That was just torture.

...was it worse than the memory of that blood, though? Maybe not, when she considered it. She didn’t want to keep going back to that. Why was she still going back to it?

She was jolted out of her trance by Lillian. And, well, the younger girl’s speech got through to her. Sure, okay. Maybe she was putting too much blame on herself for events that, in hindsight, couldn’t really have been avoided. Could they have predicted there’d be villains there? Could they have predicted that... that Dean would...

Everyone else began to filter out. First Lillian, then Ira in tears, then Elliot with a grim expression... Alessa might’ve stood there for a little while yet, if Evelyn hadn’t exclaimed out loud about something before apologising to the director and taking off at a sprint. Which reminded her... she needed to go home herself. Yeah, that’d be... yeah, she ought to do that. She had foster parents. She ought to see them sometime.

‘See you tomorrow, Director... and I am sorry about the warehouse, I am,’ she ultimately insisted, taking her time to eventually step out of the room. She didn’t really want to be on her own, at the moment. Everyone was splitting off, and yet she needed to do something to distract herself... maybe she’d get on with those reports when she got back.




Raymond Haywood: Icehouse Hideout

It made sense that the Broker had some interaction with parahuman abilities. That was, perhaps, evident in how he was literally immune to them. What made less sense was his ability to interact directly with their source. “Passengers”, he called them. And apparently, control over a passenger gave one control over the host’s power - not to mention their brain. What a shame about Love Craft. And, in hindsight, about the alternate Whimsy, but then she couldn’t have been helped to begin with.

But, it couldn’t be helped. What could be helped was Ryan’s point-blank refusal to accept fault for his actions. Even a minute of inaction from one of the underaged would-be heroes could have led to a far, far smoother mission; instead, her presence allowed Overrun to draw them all back in, as she’d managed to delay them all long enough for him to appear. Equally, of course, it allowed him to remove Overrun as a threat permanently, or so it would seem. Not to mention, what PR? Surely he knew full-well that the entire thing would be twisted to make out like they had burned down the warehouse? Did the Protectorate even know anything had been stolen? Not if they hadn’t predicted they’d be there to begin with, for certain.

But no, of course Heartless had to justify himself, then storm off to avoid being criticised. Was he being petty about that? No, as the on-field leader, he had to make sure they kept up to standards. Saving potential future threats was not up to standard, something Drake clearly understood very well.

‘You certainly aren’t wrong,’ he clarified once Heartless had vanished. Best to let those who were in the right know they were in the right, it was good for morale. Speaking of which, Sofia seemed... listless. Apparently, he had to offer her morale as well. Well, why not? She’d let herself become a more useful asset in the future if she felt she could trust her allies; that was how it always worked in the army, after all. As she passed him, he put a hand on her shoulder, and merely uttered ‘You did a good job today. Well done.’ Simple, to the point. Something to make her feel good about herself.

By contrast, he didn’t feel good at all. He was still angry with Heartless, still angry about how the mission had barely avoided going off the rails. He needed to do something else... he had some spare money, didn’t he? Maybe he’d ask Matrix about some way of improving his gun some more. Maybe he’d figure out exactly what Matrix’s specialty was, and capitalise upon it... yes, yes, that appealed to him greatly.




Alessa Heather: Home

‘I’m home.’

The house wasn’t the most exorbitant in the world. The walls were mostly painted a singular sky blue, and the furnishings were fairly standard for a middle class family, all things considered. It was, however, more than sufficient, considering the family that lived there: a couple who had never gotten around to having kids of their own, and of course their foster child. Herself.

‘Hi, Alessa!’ her foster mother called from the kitchen, bustling in to greet her. In her forties, she was, with fair skin and dark hair, and surprisingly spry for her age. Perhaps that came with not having one’s own children, not having to deal with the difficult early portions of raising them properly. Her own mom certainly hadn’t been that perky when she was still alive. ‘I was just wondering if you were alright. I’ve been told what happened, dearie, and I’m SO glad you’re okay!’

‘Yeah. Me too.’

The woman who had claimed her as her child frowned then, clearly distraught by the blunt response. ‘Ah... listen, I know today might’ve been tough-’

‘Yes.’

‘...and, well, perhaps I don’t know in full exactly how difficult the work itself is. I know I couldn’t be a crime fighter, after all, ahaha…’ She coughed as she realised her joke had fallen flat. ‘Well, in any case, you know that whatever you need, if you want to talk about anything, ah, sensitive, then I’m here for you, my sweet.’

Her foster mother’s smile, somehow, was entirely genuine. Alessa ought to respond in kind. It’d be good for her to chat with her once in a while.

‘Not right now. I have reports to do.’

Alessa turned away from her mother’s somewhat distraught face and headed up to her bedroom. It’d be best to ensure the mission report was done by the time she got back in the next day, after all. That way, she wouldn’t forget to hand it in until it was too late, right? Or, for that matter, get caught up in.

In the bodies.

...she started putting pen to paper then. It was a distraction. Not much of one, but a bit of one.
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Hidden 6 yrs ago Post by solokolos
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Ira:
Protectorate Headquarters

@ProPro

The young tinker stayed silent for longer than was normally expected, trying to process this all. Half of her wanted to leap forward and say something obvious like ""You're a woman?!" but her heart wasn't in it. Instead she gathered her thoughts before speaking, the flame of anger still burning away deep inside. "Why did you let him use his power?" She chose Japanese this time, as Decoy was the only one she could speak to in her native tongue. It was strange though, connecting this person with Decoy. The image she was used to was not present, replaced by something theoretically more solid.

Before Decoy could speak, she spoke again. "You knew, you knew and you let him use his power while he was with the Wards. We're supposed to be a force for good, and you decided his life was forfeit in every dimension but this one? Who are you to make that decision?" It felt wrong to be questioning her teacher's authority, but she was pissed, and not quite thinking straight.
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Epsilon: Private Talk

@solokolos


Decoy considered Ira's words for a moment, clearly mulling over the best way to address the situation. To address Ira's concern. This whole event would be pivotal in the young woman's development. If not handled with the utmost care and concern, Denver could potentially have the worst villain it has ever seen running amok... The woman showed clear concern as she spoke back. <"Few knew about the true nature of Dean's power. The Director, of course. He authorized everything. I knew because nothing happens in these walls without my eyes and ears. But please, do not mistake my acceptance for approval. The decision was Dean's alone."> With that bit of information provided, Decoy wandered to one of the walls of the room and placed her palm on a holographic sensor. A small compartment slid to the side in the wall, revealing a coffee dispenser of all things. The machine seemed to funnel the black liquid from elsewhere in the building, giving the impression that Decoy's room truly was entirely self-sustaining.

The tinker poured two cups and offered one to Ira before continuing. <"The information I'm about to tell you is confidential. I will be fired if anybody learns I shared this with you. Dean, the one you knew, wasn't the first Dean."> She took a sip, not too big so as to avoid burning her tongue. <"The power steals alternate versions of the user from variant timelines. Parallel realities. To compensate for the paradox, the extras break down on a molecular level, as you witnessed. The very act of summoning his alternates was a death sentence. That said, if the user of that power dies, the power passes itself on to the alternate that is closest to the one that died. The original Dean Ryder was a Ward known as 'Spawn.' He... Didn't make it, but he had summoned another Dean. The Dean you came to know. That event was when the PRT really discovered the full ramifications of his power. Spawn had kept it from the organization, didn't want it to get out. Everyone did their best to make the new Dean at home. He chose to join the Wards himself, under the name you're familiar with: Martyr. Despite the consequences, he wanted to be a hero. Maybe with such an awful power that was never going to be possible. I can't say. But in the end, it was his own decision. Just as it was the decision of Spawn, before him.">

She finished drinking her coffee and deposited the cup into some sort of dishwasher looking equipment built into the wall. With that done, she continued. <"It was foolish to think that you of all people would never figure it out, Riese-chan. For everyone's sakes, and on Dean's request, we kept silent not only to the public, but to his friends. I hope you understand. But he... He made his choice tonight. Like he always made his choice. Like you have to make your choices.">

Again she took a seat and urged Ira to do the same. <"I've come to trust and even admire you somewhat, Riese-chan. You're an excellent student. I'd like us to be able to work face to face from now on. What I told you before is confidential because it will get me fire. What I am about to tell you now is confidential... Because it can get either of us killed. Riese-chan, I have determined that this office has a mole. Someone planted here by The Community.">







The Broker stood in one place as he listened to his employees bickering. Amusing as it would have been to someone else, he found no joy in it. First he would address Thunderbolt's question, then quash the argument. "Yes, Thunderbolt. In the basement you'll find the ledger and contact information for my people, the same way the rest of the Jacks made their requests before you joined on. As for the rest of you..." His tone rose as if preparing to give a big speech, but when it came time he spoke rather quietly. It did nothing to diminish the command in his words. "Heartless is correct. Your entourage already has too much attention from the damage you caused Noble and Captain Morales. His method looks much better to the public, and convinces the PRT you aren't enough of a threat to warrant their full attention. Which is exactly what I need them to think. Have a capital evening."

With that, the Broker took his leave. Each of the villains were left to their own devices, with nothing official to work on for another three weeks or so. This could be interesting...
Hidden 6 yrs ago Post by Gardevoiran
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Testing the Tarry Waters

A collab between @Old Amsterdam and yours truly to act as an interlude



Kendall sat in a well-lit room, a hospital gown on as-per normal testing criterion. She didn't know exactly what was going on at the time, but she didn't question it. A few of the officials from the PRT had come to apparently record her powers and observe the attributes of said powers. She didn't understand what that meant, but she was willing to do whatever as long as she had some water. It was provided, thankfully.

"Thanks for coming, Miss Banks. There's no wrong answers here, so don't be nervous," a woman in a lab coat and a friendly smile said as she came over. "I'm Alina Brestoff, and I'll be conducting this exam. We want to help you get a better understanding of your abilities, alright?"

"Okay!" Kendall cheerfully says as she sits in her seat, looking up at the new woman in the room. The friendly smile was definitely something that helped her feel welcome. "Has anyone told you that you're pretty?" The smile sold the prettiness to Kendall, if she was honest.

"Not during an examination, but I've heard it before. But thank you. The compliment is appreciated." Brestoff made a few marks on the clipboard she carried, glancing back at the door. "Think you're ready?"

"Yes ma'am!" Kendall said as a small slice of her hair turned into tar. The slice quickly reverted back to her hair as she acted like nothing happened.

"Was that intentional?" Brestoff asked with a smile. "I hope you won't hate me for all the questions I'm about to send your way."

"I won't, but was what intentional?" Kendall tilted her head as she looked at Brestoff.

"The small transformation of your hair just a moment ago, dear."

Kendall shrugs as she sits there. "I think that just happens sometimes before I transform my body, that's all."

"Interesting. Can you do a full body transformation?" Brestoff asked as she motioned for Kendall to follow her into the wide, open room that would serve as the training area.

Kendall nods before walking over and standing in the wider space. Her entire body melts down into a puddle of black tar with a ruby shine, the puddle spreading out on the floor as a small tentacle rises from the tar. It looks like it is giving a thumbs-up.

"Well done. Now, can you still understand everything I'm saying?"

Kendall's upper body reforms out of the tarry mass, looking at Brestoff. "It's like you're speaking through radio static, but yep!" Kendall's hospital gown is visibly the same at her shoulders, but it does turn into tar as it approaches below her chest.

Brestoff nods. "And how thin can you make yourself? Can you move in this blob form?"

Kendall gives a quick nod as the tarry mass engulfs her again, moving fluidly through the environment as it weaves around the area. It stops to try and stretch vertically before it gives out at about 4 inches in diameter.

Brestoff watches avidly throughout the display, making notes as she goes. "Why don't you try to describe everything you're able to do?"

Kendall reforms into her normal body, slightly tilted as her left arm and left leg are switched. "I can turn whatever body part I want into this... tarry mass... it regenerates when I'm hurt a lot, and... I think there's one more thing about it but I don't know if I ca-" Kendall notices her arm and leg and blush hard. "U-um... whoops, heh-heh..."

"It's quite alright, dear. What were you saying?"

"I-It's really hard to explain," Kendall says as her arm and leg turn into tar, fixing positions before she returns to talking. "I guess I can demonstrate it... but I need someone to do it with..."

"Mhmm. Well, we have some rats we use for some of the Master tests... Let me just..."

After a few moments she came back, carrying a cage with a plain brown rat inside it. "I don't need to let it out, do I? I hate these things."

"No you don't..." Kendall walks over to the cage and sits down in front of it. Her face falls into a slight frown as she closes her eyes, a tentacle grabbing the rat and lifting it up with a firm, but not harmful, grip. "S-sorry..." Kendall mutters as her other hand contorts into another tentacle, stuffing itself into the mouth of the rat and filling it up with tar.

It is placed back down as Kendall stands back up, her left hand reforming and with a lack of all five fingers. Still with her eyes closed, Kendall speaks. "T-the rat..."

Observing the rat would prove it is now moving in ways that it normally would not do. Instead of scurrying around the cage frantically, it is now slowly trotting backwards in the cage, its mouth leaking black tar and its eyes dilated beyond belief.

"Mhmm. That's interesting. Do you control it directly, or did you implant a command?" Brestoff appeared nothing if not interested in the ability.

"I-it's a bit of both..." Kendall sheepishly admitted as the rat began to walk side to side, sometimes displaying pain with it's movements. Finally, the rat began to curl and contort before spewing the dark tar onto the floor of it's cage, Kendall's head buried into her lap. "I-I don't like controlling animals..."

"Controlling anything is a weight that shouldn't be carried lightly," the examiner said quietly. "Do they always vomit the substance back up like that?"

Kendall nodded slowly before the rat seemingly went unconscious, furthering the guilt that Kendall had. "I think the tar is... indigestible. It makes you sick if it stays in too long..,"

Brestoff nodded again taking the small cage away.

"Moving on.... Are you able to regrow missing tar? Can you throw it? Can you produce more?"

Kendall nods as she throws her arm towards the wall, the entire hand being flung as a ball of tar that splatters against the same wall. "I can regrow missing tar and produce more, but it’s really specific. There was one time I can think of that caused it immediately."

"Is that something you're able to talk about, or would you prefer not to go into details?"

Kendall looks at Brestoff as the tar from the wall slinks back to her stumped arm. “I can explain, but it’s reeeally really complicated,” Kendall says as she begins walking around in a circle. "My arm got caught in a tough spot a few months after my power came to me. It was too tough for me to just... tar my way out of, so I broke free from my arm. It began to regrow as soon as I noticed my arm was gone, and it grew actually pretty fast."

"That sounds pretty terrible, if I'm being honest. Do you still feel in the altered state?"

"It’s... fuzzy. I can still... feel the arm, but it doesn’t exactly feel like anything is there. Radio static," Kendall reused the term, as if she lacked any easy way to describe it. "It grew back, and the tar stayed where it was where my arm detached."

"Can you grow more by will or is it only during that automation regeneration state?"

"Latter." Kendall was brutally honest. "I tried it later with my dad. There were a few gallon bags used, but we did find a way to store it in our freezer. The leftovers didn’t want to come back, so we just kept it if I needed it."

"Didn't want to come back?"

Kendall points at the tar that is currently slinking up her leg. "This isn’t me doing this."

"So it automatically returns to the source. Interesting. And the other samples didn't. Could you merge with them manually?"

"Yes ma'am. It’s a lot more... uncomfortable to fuse with the gallon bags though." Kendall’s hand turns into tar as it takes the shape of a standard hand. "It’s like taking a shower, but it’s not the nice clean shower. It’s like a cold, sticky, awful shower. I don’t like to do it unless I have to."

"Mhmm. I can imagine it's unpleasant. Anything else you can think of that's.... Different?"

"No ma'am," Kendall hesitantly says. She took a moment to think of mentioning the form shifting but she didn’t want to mention it. That’d be her little secret.

Unknowingly, Kendall starts to drift closer to Brestoff very slowly.

"Mhmmm. We could perform some stress tests to see what the Limits of your form is, but I think I've got enough to go off of with this." Brestoff nodded to herself, smiling. "Yes, I think that's enough. Thanks for coming in today, Miss Banks. I hope it wasn't too terrible," she said with a small wink.

Kendall wraps her arms around Brestoff and pulls into a hug. "It wasn’t! I’m glad I could be of help!" Reluctantly, the girl forces herself away from Brestoff as she wanders to the restrooms to go and change back into her normal clothes.
Hidden 6 yrs ago 6 yrs ago Post by PlatinumSkink
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Hidden 6 yrs ago Post by ProPro
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Interlude 2: Shatterpoint


Dim lights focused on a single seat where a particular individual person sat, draping the office room in relative darkness, save for the computer this person typed methodically upon, and the desk at which he sat. The sights and sounds of the office threatened to overwhelm his senses, despite being quite tame. The wall had a grainy texture to it but was otherwise quite bland, not at all visible in the specific lighting he had chosen for the evening. The sounds too were unremarkable. Save for the gentle chatter of his minions elsewhere in the building, the light hum of his computer’s cooling fan, and the ventilation that ran throughout the whole building, there wasn’t much of which to listen. Still, he kept a pair of earbuds plugged into his ears, not just to occupy himself with the music coming from his 1987 cassette player, but to drown out the near inaudible sounds around.

He wore his costume despite being in utter solitude. One might be forgiven for hypothesizing that it was a habit he had picked up since gaining the employment of not one but two strangers that would be capable of sneaking in undetected, but that simply wasn’t the case. This habit had been long-standing for the last two years. Ever since he had originally triggered and gained his powers, ever since he had agreed to make the Rockers with his friend, ever since his friend made the suit for him… Specially tailored just for him… It only came off when he had to go out in public. In his civilian identity. Of course, there wasn’t much need for that these days.

The super villain known to the public as Shatterpoint continued typing away methodically. At 92 words per minute he compiled data presented by the Rockers that scouted the streets, brought to him by Creep, divulged to him by Visage. Every angle had to be postulated, every detail accounted for. So much to work through, so much to consider. It was overwhelming, burdening, a bothersome feeling growing growing growing growing stop it stop it stop it right now brain! Beeeeeeeeeeeep, rang the alarm Shatterpoint had set to his digital watch. Without looking at his wrist he shut it off.

The young man opened the desk drawer, working quickly to produce two pill bottles from their neat and organized spot. The bottles were set on the desk next to the computer mouse while Shatterpoint slid back in his chair and approached the water cooler near the door. The styrofoam cup felt like poison against his hand despite wearing gloves, the texture bleeding through. If not in reality, then in the core of his mind. He could feel it. It wasn’t any easier to ignore as the water dispensed into the cup. His eyes fixated on the liquid held within the container, taking in all the bubbles rising to the top as the water source was disturbed. Tiny particles, unseen by most human eyes. No, not unseen. Ignored by most human eyes. He couldn’t ignore them. The tiny particles, the bubbles, the styrofoam cup, it was overwhelming. Thankfully he need only take a few seconds to get the water he needed.

That chore done, Shatterpoint took his seat once again, following the exact same path he had taken to the water cooler, his feet stepping in the same indentations his feet made in the carpet the first time. Shatterpoint breathed a heavy sigh, the same sigh he always gave before this daily ritual. With quick, dexterous hands the caps popped off the pill bottles. In only two more seconds, he had downed a number of pills and chased them with a single gulp of water. As he had done so many hundreds of times before, the young boy let out his post-pill sigh, then gently set the styrofoam cup into the trash bin placed beneath his work desk. When he looked up his eyes met with the labels of the two bottles: risperidone and aripiprazole. The irritation he had been feeling before began to melt away as he reached to put the bottles back in their resting place.

“Boss Shatter!” cried a voice just outside the door. He hadn’t had a moment to react before the door swung open with far too much force, slamming against the wall. Shatterpoint cringed as the ruckus interrupted the flowing melodies playing through his cassette.

“Boss Shatter, I’ve got news I need to tell you!” rambled the man, speaking quickly and gasping slightly for breath. He opened his mouth to continue, but Shatterpoint silenced the man with a single palm gesture.

The villain took a moment to tap the stop button of his cassette player. He then very carefully and methodically plucked the earbuds from where they had been secured, and draped the long wire around his neck. The minion, no, the thug could not see the glare his employer shot at him through the tinted goggles built into his helmet. Shatterpoint examined this interruption with intense frustration, analyzing the hundreds of ways he could break the man’s bones. A little force applied in the perfect spot, at the perfect angle, it could do wonders. He mused for a moment as the mosaic of this thug constantly changed, shifting as the man shifted his own posture and stance. Countless points he could strike for countless results. Number 4473 was Shatterpoint’s personal favorite: using a nearby pen to completely shatter the interloper’s fight femur.

”I despise interruptions,” Shatterpoint stated simply, keeping his tone as neutral as he could.

“I know boss Shatter, I know, and I’m sorry,” the thug pleaded. The tone in his voice showed he was genuine, but his boss didn’t pick up on that. It was just another annoying change to his routine. “But you’ll want to know this. Really, you will.”

”Be quick,” Shatterpoint ordered. ”It’s almost time for me to report to Big Boss.” Yes, Big Boss. His only friend in the world.

“Of course, sir.” Though the man had to be at least twice Shatterpoint’s age, he recognized his place in the pecking order and gave a bow of respect. Once he recomposed himself, the thug dropped a bombshell. “We’ve been invited to a meeting with the other players in Denver at neutral ground. We just got the message, everyone is going to meet on October 8th at Casa Bonita. One of the big names already rented the place out for a private party, and they want us all to show up at 9:30 in the morning.”

Shatterpoint frowned beneath his goggles, uncertain of how to process this information. He had just put in a great amount of effort in order to create an alliance with Purge’s mafia, no small task considering how little respect the Rockers had in the villain community, and now they were getting invited to a meeting setup by some bigwig? He didn’t… Didn’t like it. Times like this he wished his power worked on things that weren’t just physical.

”Who is setting this up?” he asked, growing more and more curious. If it had been Purge, then wouldn’t they have been given prior notice? Maybe not.

“It’s the Jacks. You know, that group that’s new to town who broke Gamble out of prison transport and duked it out with the Wards and the Community?”

Now that was interesting. The Jacks had shown up in town a week and two days after he had brought half the Rockers down from Boulder. By all accounts, the Rockers had a stronger hold and more territory to call their own than the Jacks did. Yet the Jacks did seem to have a measure of success in their endeavors… Whatever those endeavors actually were. It was still a mystery to Shatterpoint. One he didn’t like. Surprises, details unaccounted for, they drove the villain mad.

”That’s the same day the heroes have the charity event,” Shatterpoint mused, thinking.

“I know,” the thug replied, completely unaware his boss was only thinking out loud. A couple seconds later and the Rockers’ second in command gave his executive order.

”Return to duty. My meeting is now overdue. I will bring the matter up with the Big Boss.” As he spoke Shatterpoint took back to navigating his computer desktop, readying a voice chat program.

“Gotcha, boss Shatter,” the thug acknowledged. As he turned to leave, something caught his eye. Rather than departing as signalled, the ruffian moved even closer to his employer’s desk. His eyes had become enamored with the two pill bottles sitting in plain sight. His sudden entrance had interrupted the process of putting them away.

“Hey, boss Shatter? Are you uh… Doing ok? You’re not sick, are ya?” He cocked his head in confusion, trying to pronounce the medication in his head.

Something snapped in that second, followed by something else snapping in the next second. Shatterpoint had completely lost his patience with this buffoon, this nitwit who dared to mock him for his disability! Shatterpoint threw the mouse he held in his hand, striking the thug’s shoulder ever just so. He didn’t even apply any of his increased strength to the blow, but the way the computer mouse hit ensured the thug’s shoulder had fractured three times.

“AAAAAAAAAAGH!” he howled in pain, reeling back.

”Go!” Shatterpoint commanded, keeping his voice low. The man wasted no time in departing, holding his broken bone the whole way. He even remembered to shut the door behind him. A wise decision for his health.

The villainous boy took a deep breath, attempting to quell his anger and frustration. The medication hadn’t actually taken effect yet, so it was proper breathing exercises until he was calm enough. Once a minute had passed, Shatterpoint took the time to put away his medication, and clean up the crushed mouse pieces. All the while he kept nagging himself in the back of his head, don’t keep him waiting, don’t keep him waiting, don’t keep him waiting.

Hurriedly, Shatterpoint checked his watch: 11.41 pm. He was eleven minutes late. No. No no. No no no no. Practically hurling the destroyed computer equipment into the trash bin, the young man took his seat and operated the computer using keyboard commands and shortcuts. Once hte voice chat system was pulled up, he carefully took the earbuds from his cassette player and jacked them into the computer. A second later and the call began.

Calling Rokkn’Beets21…

He hated that screen name. The spelling was far too poor, it bugged him tremendously.

”Hey Dexter! It’s not like you to be late, man, you doing alright?”

Dexter breathed another sigh, but rather than as preparation for something uncomfortable, it was one of relief.

”Yes.” His answer was short, simple, succinct. How he preferred to communicate.

”Well whatever was going on, I’m sure you took care of it, hahaha. You can do anything, buddy.” That made Dexter smile. He couldn’t help it when his friend complimented him like that. It almost made him feel like it was true.

”Yes.”

”Alright, well don’t overdo it, buddy. Haha. Are all the preparations ready? I’m still on schedule, so you should be seeing me in three days.”

”Everything you asked is done, Brock.” The young man nodded, despite there being nobody to see the motion. ”But more has come up.”

”Oh? Like what? Has anyone been picking on you? Do I need to crush some skulls?”

”No, no, nothing like that. It’s just… Things are happening. Changes in Denver.”

”What kinds of changes?” Brock was definitely curious.

”Hired another parahuman. Stranger. Named Visage.” Dexter’s words were curt, but not uncomfortable.

”Hot damn! You got us another stranger? That’s kickass, little buddy! What else has been happening?”

”Alliance. Visage talked to Purge. After information exchange, he agreed to cooperate.”

”Another groupie to add to my collection of fans. Fuck yes, you just keep dropping those sick beats, buddy! That’ll be a great asset for when we rob the shit outta that Protectorate charity event!”

”There’s more,” he replied, sounding a bit unsure of himself. ”You see, we were uh, invited to a villain meeting on neutral ground at the same time we were planning to rob the charity event. I think we should check it out, and uh… Maybe attacking the event is too big for us?”

Dexter braced himself for his friend’s flippant dismissal of concerns. When Brock got an idea in his head, nobody could break it. Not even Shatterpoint. Some skulls were just too thick…

”Nonsense! Come on Dexter, we’ve got this! It’s you and me against the world, like it’s always been! If any of the assholes that work for us get their shit knocked and tossed in jail, no Biggie Smalls, but you and me? We’ve always got each others’ backs. Nobody can stop us. The plan goes forward.”

... Ok.” He didn’t like this. Not one bit. Too many heroes. Too many big names.

”But I think we do want to stay informed about that meeting… Tell you what little buddy, have Creep or the new guy-”

”Girl,” Dexter corrected.

”Right, have Creep or the new bitch sit in as our representative. Then when we get back to the hideout richer than ever, they can fill us in. Pretty fuckin’ great plan, right?”

Dexter paused, unsure how to respond. He loved his friend more than anything in the world, but Brock was… Well, Brock was to reasonable situations as he was to social situations: completely inept. But Brock knew stuff he didn’t, right?

”Sure,” he answered. ”Pretty fucking great plan.”
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Hidden 6 yrs ago Post by Old Amsterdam
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Old Amsterdam Coven Witch

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Alessa&Lillian

Forming Bonds



Hidden 6 yrs ago Post by Old Amsterdam
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Old Amsterdam Coven Witch

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LF Collab



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Hidden 6 yrs ago 6 yrs ago Post by ProPro
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ProPro Pierce the Heavens with your spoon!

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Nearly three weeks had passed since so much had gone down, throwing the status quo of Denver into question. The Community had been growing larger still despite its losses, the city was in a panic over rumors of Patriarch's power having been revealed as the most dangerous kind of all: mind control, and the Wards had been placed on mandatory leave for therapy purposes. Still, life moved forward, and it was now on this day, September 18th, that the Wards had made their first public appearance since the unfortunate incident many weeks ago. And they weren't alone, either!

A charity fundraiser had been setup months in advance, something they couldn't cancel on such short notice. The all day event was scheduled to begin at 10:00 am promptly, while citizens were being admitted for two hours prior to that. Once the clock hit ten, the festivities could begin in earnest, with many scheduled events across multiple showrooms, ranging from auctions to lotteries to plays, and children's games as well! All this in order to raise money for the PRT to improve equipment, get better response times, and properly instruct independent heroes for a better brighter Denver. As for those two hours prior to the main events in which citizens were still being admitted, it was the prime opportunity for good publicity.

The Wards and the Protectorate were mandatory to appear, of course, and they would be having photo ops with local citizens, signing merchandised toys, comic books, and the like. Fulfilling meet and greets for their fans. Independent heroes had RSVP'd for the event as well, with the biggest attraction having been Denver's favorite hero, Furnace. Such was his draw that he was given a seat at the Protectorate table as well, right next to the newest recruits Hermes and Sylph. Excitingly, Noble and Captain Morales had been able to make it from the hospital, and earned their full bill of health! The only one not present was Protean, having volunteered to keep patrol around the premises in case any villains dared to strike. Even Decoy was participating, in a manner of speaking, projecting his usual image from a hologram projector setup at the Protectorate table.

At 9:37, there was almost half an hour before the main events would begin, starting with Director Kens' speech. The Wards and other heroes had been taking photos, giving autographs, and performing the meet and greet for just a little over an hour and a half at this point. Things seemed to be relaxing, if only a small bit, so they could keep up the good work, or check around and meet up with anybody they wanted. It was a free time, so to speak. A time they could relax and have fun, maybe try their hand at one of the game booths that had been setup nearby? Nothing bad was going to happen where so many heroes had been gathered together.







The Cruise Room, a bar that was well known and quite famous in Denver. Today it was completely rented out for a private party, nobody allowed without a special invitation. Unless you had an invitation you wouldn't have wanted to show up on this special day. The event had been setup by the Jacks, with thorough instructions of how exactly to do so from their generous benefactor, and the purpose was quite clear: The Broker wanted to take down the Community. It was not unheard of for all the villains of a town or city to have neutral territory they can go for negotiations, and today this was that territory. Rules were simple. No violence, or everyone else gangs up on who started it. Never use a meeting to gain an advantage over anybody else present in the meeting, that gets you labeled as someone that cannot cooperate fairly and gets everyone against you. Don't speak out of turn, or else negotiations can break down and everything falls back to rule one.

It was no coincidence the meeting had been called the same day all the heroes would be present at a charity event. Less chance of them getting found out. Invitations seemed to have been sent out to everybody, from Purge's mafia to independent mercenaries like Sabotage and Retcon, and even to the most questionable of invitees: Lethal Force. Of course, anybody was more than within their right to decline attending. Such a gathering was dangerous indeed, and who knows what the ultimate result would be? But a great many did show up. Purge was the first to arrive, timely and professional as ever in his white suit and white mannequin mask. He was escorted by his right hand man, Benito, known to have no powers but a highly skilled and intelligent man regardless. The two sat in a corner booth, but not before Benito wiped the entire thing down with wet wipes.

Sabotage arrived next, wearing her black leotard costume and fiddling with some sort of contraption she had stolen from the now defunct Minutemen. She took a seat at the bar, ignoring everyone else in favor of her little toy. Next was Retcon, or maybe he had shown up first? It was so difficult to tell with that little jester's power. What even was his (her?) power anyway? Well the point is, Retcon arrived as well and sat in the middle booth. Nobody noticed as Macavity entered, just as he liked it. He was given a wide berth as nobody came near the seat he had taken, whether due to his power or by sheer coincidence. The Rockers had been invited as well, but Shatterpoint nor his boss came. They instead delegated the order to their two strangers, Creep and Visage. Perhaps the girls would grace the meeting with their presence as requested? Time would tell.

Amidst it all, drinks were being served by a single bartender who, to the Jacks, would look quite familiar indeed. His purple suit, North English accent, and complete lack of disguise in general betrayed his presence to those who knew of him: The Broker. Of course, only the Jacks knew of him, so it wasn't a problem. To everyone else the villainous mastermind was simply "the help."

Once everyone had arrived and it was time to conduct the meeting, a few in the crowd began to show how thin their patience could be. In particular, Sabotage spoke. "Can we get started here? Time is money and I've got a client waiting to pay me for this little trinket."
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Hidden 6 yrs ago 6 yrs ago Post by Gardevoiran
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Gardevoiran The Forbidden One

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The First True Appearance

Mastar stepped into the limelight, smiling at the crowds of people she could see in the room. Unfortunately, nobody really... knew of her antics aside from rumors and such, but that was about to change. She had her own booth set up for her fans to meet her at, though she wasn't really aware if she had any of those. Her first use of her confirmed name was on the new forum board that launched, and she was unaware if anyone actually liked her handiwork aside from that Haxstar guy and the few fans she signed things for so far.

Still, it was good PR. Ryan had mentioned how she needed that if she was gonna get into the PRT as a cape someday, she needed a positive light in Denver's crime-fighting overlord's eyes. Obviously, the curved horns and the seductive facade was doing just fantastic at that job. God, why did she have to go with the more imp-like facade? She could've gone with a more pure face and stuff, but she had to make sure her parents didn't catch on to her dee-

"Hello? Is this Mastar?" A voice caused Mastar to turn around and face a teenage boy, no more than 16 at best, and with a series of dreadlocks to accompany his features. Mastar's mask contorted into a smile as she sat in the air, tar rising up from underneath her as a way to support her body. "Ah, someone who has seen my work! To what do I owe the pleasure?"

The teenager awkwardly brought his bag around and showed it to the hero, handing her a marker in the process. "Could I get you to sign my bag?" He was rather awkward, but it still kept an odd charm. Nodding, Mastar stretched her arm to the pen and took it, writing "mASTAR" on the bag right on the front before flipping where she stood, now facing the boy in a laying position. "T-Thank you so much!"

"It's no problem, sweetie. Tell your friends that Mastar is slick!" The teen began to walk away as another teen came up to the booth, a smug grin on his face. "Mastar is slick indeed."

Mastar leapt back a bit in shock before she found her composure once again. "... Ryan, was it? Weren't you the guy I met in that alleyway after that one job?" Her body language was slightly agitated, but her tone stayed the same as she addressed the lad. "What brings you here to the event, Ryan?" Mastar asked, putting extra emphasis on the name. She knew Ryan in real life, and he knew who Mastar really was, so him taunting her like this was rather annoying.

"I came to see the heroes, meet a few, get autographs, that sort of thing. You know how it goes, right?" Ryan smugly grinned as he looked off towards the PRT Hero booths, namely eyeballing the Wards individual booths as he leaned against a nearby pillar. "Have you ever met the Wards, Mastar? Word is, you can get an autograph from 'em right now."

Mastar leaned towards the kid, looking him down with an inquisitive gaze. "Oh? I don't suppose I could join in that action and get an autograph from someone like Margrave, or someone like Messiah..."

"You'll need something for them to autograph, though. Fortunately for you..." Ryan passed a licensed 'Denver Wards' poster to the hero, a note secured to it under the rubber band that kept it rolled up. "I figured you should be paid for your deeds to saving this town."

Ryan began to walk towards the booths as he waved goodbye to Mastar. "I'll bring something for you to autograph later. Good luck with the heroism!" Mastar smiled as she waved the kid on, pulling the note out of the poster with a spare tentacle and holding it up to her face.

Don't worry about paying me back. Risking your life is enough. We'll think of a story for why you aren't home when we get back together after this.

With a nod, Mastar flipped the 'Currently Out' sign up in her booth as she walked through the crowds, heading towards the Wards booths with an intent to get a poster signed by the Tiger Lily. That, and maybe Epsilon. Epsilon was pretty cool too.



The Final Appearance in Denver

Despite recent events surrounding the Minutemen's misfortunes, they were still invited to the charity event hosted by the PRT. Kyoshi's father was originally heavily against Kyoshi being a hero, but there were reasons why Kyoshi was actually able to be here for G4M3R and the Minutemen. The first reason was that this was a PRT event, and Kyoshi's father was fine with it so long as his daughter didn't go and fight crime in the middle of the event. The second reason was that G4M3R had a conniption and spoke personally to Kyoshi's father, saying a myriad of things all leading up to how Kyoshi needed to serve the Minutemen, at least for a little longer. The final event was... well.

Kyoshi got a job offer for Nickelodeon.

Mascots were a big thing, and when you managed to roll such a perfect set of powers to combine with your favorite show to the point where you actually begin to use it as your identity, the executives of the company of that show notice you. As such, Kyoshi was messaged on PHO and given an opportunity to work with them as a mascot, at least for a while. The idea hadn't crossed Kyoshi's mind, but it was great for her to have that opportunity.

She already discussed details with G4M3R about it, and she was there at the event as a sort of 'last mission' for her. She was gonna give the group the good PR they needed by showing up, then she was going to leave the group and go to Nickelodeon HQ for her new job. Her flight was this weekend, she was fully packed, and her dad actually supported her in this endeavor. All she had to do was this.

Kyoshi had been signing autographs all day so far, being happy to meet fans of all shapes and sizes, and it was great! She enjoyed being a face for heroism! Hopefully being here meant a lot for G4M3R, who was currently busty shilling out as hard as he could for the Minutemen. It was reasonable, considering a lot of the fallout of the group had happened recently. Artie left, that domino girl left, Rend was somewhere, she felt like she and Outsider were the last two real members of the group, since G4M3R never went out like this anymore. Not since his tech busted from that one cape. It was refreshing to see him out and about again, even if it was as sell-out as this. Heh.

In any case, she was happy to man the booth for the group as long as she needed in case G4M3R needed to go. This was her last time being a member of the Minutemen, after all, might as well end on a good note!



Villains? Please.

Sparce walked into the villain meeting, his face obscured by the familiar moon mask he wore. He didn't understand at first why Lethal Force was invited to it, but he wasn't complaining. This was a way for the group to get into some form of know with the local villains of Denver, and what better way to do it than meeting them face to face on an even field. When the team got the invite, it had been agreed that Sparce would be the one to go at first for the group, even if he went solo. Standing up a bunch of criminals wasn't exactly the best idea.

Walking into the area, Sparce calmly waked over to the table reserved for his team and he sat down at it, staring at each villain as they came in and sat down as well. In his head, Farce was just going over the names of the heads of crime as they each showed up. She had a mental notebook where she kept track of everything going on. As for Sparce's actions, he just waited. His gun was holstered, should he need it, but he didn't expect any violence to occur when Purge was there. At least, not for a while anyway.

"... I've got a bad feeling."

"Same. All these criminals in one place? It's gonna get ugly.

"At least Retcon's here. He may be willing to help us get out if we need to go."
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