[h2]Alessa Heather: PRT HQ[/h2] Emergency mission...? Huh. Well, this was a good time for it, wasn’t it? But, if it was so crucial, maybe it’d be worth investigating. And Lily was the one providing the details, at that. Alessa could only wonder what was going on there. But, no mentioning it out loud; she wasn’t one to mull over details like that with nobody to chat about them with, anyway, so best to get to the point. [hr] [h2]At the Little Owl[/h2] Jogging to the cafe designated by the alert, dressed in blue jeans and a fairly frilly light grey shirt that, she felt, didn’t suit her overmuch, she entered to realise she was actually one of the later arrivals there. Lillian was there already, as were the newest recruit Kendall- Mastar, in her guise as a cape- and Elliot, in... well, his usual state. She never had gotten to properly apologise, had she? Not for lack of trying, but because he’d promptly brushed her off as insincere. She’d settled for telling him that when he was ready to talk about how he felt, she’d be ready to receive him, the same spiel that she’d essentially given Evelyn - but no response on that front, either. It was like he was actively avoiding her. Even so, she smiled to him, despite his closed eyes, and to everyone else present; went up to the counter and purchased a latte; and then took a seat next to Lillian. Her girlfriend. Gosh, had it really been two weeks? And already, she was getting closer to her, by the day if she looked at it that way. Enough, as it happened, to recognise that Lillian squeezing her hand was a bit too tight to be a simple gesture of appreciation. She was worried about this mission, actually, if her expression was anything to go by. ‘Well, this is nice, isn’t it?’ she asked, an effort to break the tension. ‘A morning out before school, breakfast coffees, and in such a lovely place. I don’t think I could ask for better.’ She wasn’t sure how well she did there, but... well, it was a start. [hr] [h2]Raymond Haywood: The Airport[/h2] Funnily enough, when it came to missions, fifteen days was a lot of time. Time to plan, time to prepare. Time to get his weapon and clothing into the airport. Time to stock up on the right sort of ammunition. Rubber bullets, in his case; they could still be lethal, of course, but there would be an active show of minimising the force he was using. And besides, he decided what shots were and were not lethal. And in civilian clothing, with Drake’s thralls opening the way, entry into the area was an almost casual affair. The reason: to stop an A-class villain. How the Broker knew: there were obvious options, even without using a Thinker to divine the future. On the other hand, whilst their civilian get-ups meant they could get inside the building and to their designated meeting point more easily, it’d be getting into costume in such a way that they could remain inconspicuous until the attack began that’d be the kicker. He hoped those thralls had placed his gear somewhere suitable. [hr] [h2]Chad Belton: Home[/h2] It was, to be frank, a bit terrifying how true the expression rang: “the more things change, the more they stay the same”. On the one hand, he had been reunited with his best and only friend, and he was a parahuman now. Wherever he looked, his mind made it clear that he was no longer normal. With a thought, rock turned to superheated goo (even if he wasn’t looking at it, he’d eventually realised), and this let him assist Sheila in ways he’d never dreamed plausible before. And on the other... school was still something he had to attend. He was mostly ignored. Mostly disliked. He got his gym sessions in regularly, of course, until his muscles screamed at him most days. A lot of the time, he had nothing better to do after school anyway. Homework wasn’t especially difficult. Boring, one might even say. He’d expected more action as Salem. Almost craved it. The thought of melting somebody’s flesh from their bone was a thought that had gone through his head many a time in the past two weeks. But not this early in the morning. Right now, he was in the middle of breakfast. Honey Nut Cheerios. Tasty stuff. Sugar-loaded, too. Probably not the best breakfast for helping develop muscle, but he had a banana each morning too. That was nice, yeah. ‘So, Chad, big day today?’ his mom asked. She was nice, honestly. Brown hair going grey, getting on in years a little so to speak, but ever-friendly. Nicer than he deserved. She meant well, obviously. She just wasn’t... helpful, so to speak. ‘Not really,’ he said once he’d swallowed his mouthful, shaking his head even before that. ‘I’ve just got, uh... classes and stuff. Might go out to the gym again today, might not. I... I might try going out somewhere else, too, honestly. I’ve been thinking that might be...’ He didn’t really get to finish his sentence, as his dad suddenly petted his hair from behind with a hearty ‘Hey, that’s great to hear, son! It’s good that you’re starting to get out more, you know?’ Rambunctious, was probably the way to describe him, only just starting to show his own years in his hair despite being, what, seven-odd years older than mom? His lifestyle was pretty active. He was a bit more extraverted than either Chad or his mom, so that probably contributed to it. And yet, he didn’t even think to ask where he might be going. Good for Chad, since he didn’t really want to say anyway, but still a bit disappointing. Again, a nice person. Just not [i]helpful,[/i] given Chad’s particular issues. He’d probably be more helpful in a bodybag, frankly. Just cut apart and tossed in, like so many- ‘Er, thanks, dad,’ Chad managed to get out, blinking lightly as he reset his hair. ‘It’s not a big deal, anyway. Gotta start thinking about seeing new people, is all.’ ‘Well, I’m very pleased to hear that,’ his mom uttered, smiling gently. ‘And you know what? You’ve gotten more sociable in general recently, I’m realising! Well done.’ Platitudes. She never really believed in him, did she? He considered over another mouthful of cereal that he could probably generate a pool of lava under her right now, and she wouldn’t know who killed her... Oh, shit. He could just kill them both on a whim, as well, couldn’t he? It wasn’t just Sheila who was at risk with his power. It was anyone he happened to get upset with. And that... that could be the case with anyone right back at him. He’d learned the basics of the Unspoken Rules, one of which was essentially “don’t fuck with people’s real identity”, but if somebody came along who decided they really liked not obeying those rules... if Mire had a moment and decided to hunt his family down... He blinked a few times as the reality of how much danger his parents could be in hit him. From him. From another cape. Maybe from a disgruntled teammate, if they felt he’d slighted them. Hell, if he thought about it, it could be from some total rando on the street, too. Or a car accident, or... ‘...yeah, that is probably good,’ he mumbled, frowning slightly. ‘Hey, what’s up, sport? You doing okay?’ his dad asked, patting him lightly on the shoulder. He was very touchy-feely. Not in the bad way, but sometimes Chad would rather he wasn’t at all. ‘Yeah. I just... you know, you two are...’ He struggled to put the sentence together for a bit, but eventually managed to phrase himself: ‘Thanks for helping raise me, mom, dad. I think sometimes I don’t appreciate you enough, is all, so... you know. I love you guys.’ And there was the bear hug from dad. ‘Aww, you know we love you too, Chad,’ his mom replied, joining the hug more gently. ‘If there’s ever anything we can help with, you’re always free to tell us. Okay, sweetie?’ There was not anything they could help him with. ‘Okay. Thanks, mom.’ They broke the hug off, and with a slightly lighter heart, Chad kept on eating. He had school today, after all.