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[b]Date/Time:[/b] [i]November 11th, 2022. 6:14 PM.[/i]

[b]Location(s):[/b] [i]Redline Guardians Mobile Fortress[/i]
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They both made good points, of course, and both made a fair observation; there was no guarantee that the danger would be greater for either scenario, given the team was running blind either way. Still...For as much confidence Presidio could place in the rest of the team, Risen wasn't quite sold, either. Naturally, the two of them made obvious choices for going with The Wards, having what he would consider primarily defensive and utility-based abilities, which would serve well in safeguarding the untrained talent that would be those children. But, of course, that left the rest of the team mostly unprotected....

There was Jason himself, of course; he didn't worry about his own safety. Some may say he never does...Or maybe never did. Regardless, he was the least of his concerns. But the rest? Fenris was tough, sure, but she could be pierced by bullets, and the sizes where she'd be too big or tough for normal assaults to be a risk were out of the question due to how it can affect her psyche. Blaster's a competent young man, and not entirely unprotected with his self-designed suit, but it could still leave plenty to desire if he was put under serious duress. And TC? Well, that was hard to simply guess; you can never pin a single thing on him with a Power like his, but generally, physical confrontation would end poorly for him. 

There was supposed to be that newcomer, Avalon...But Risen hadn't heard from her since he hauled her sorry ass back to talk with the Director. [i]That[/i] had been a miserable experience. Back on track though, the facts were straight; his team, if pushed hard enough, could prove all too vulnerable without these two around. That was risky...He was fast, sure, and could stop just about anything coming his way, but there was no guarantee he could defend all of them while trying to actually put down the threat at hand. 

...Well, still, he knew it was best for The Wards. Regardless of general defenses, their absolute lack of training and experience left them more vulnerable than anyone on this team bar none. They needed protection. 

[color=ed1c24]"I agree, you two are best suited for the job. From the little I know about a few of them, it won't be the easiest to work together with them, but I'll put my faith in the both of you."[/color] A small smile came from Risen; a rarity to be certain. It dropped shortly afterwards though, as he now turned his attention back to Blaster and the monitors. [color=ed1c24]"See if you can contact Trump Card again. If he doesn't pick up...I'll look for him myself."[/color] The look in Risen's eyes spoke a thousand words...Likely none of which TC would want to hear. With a brief nod, Blaster started up the comms once more, for....What was it now, the tenth time today? Sheesh. [hr][hr]

Downtown Redline, filled with the scum of the city, as well as the disenfranchised. Usually, the two aligned more than anyone would like to admit...But, of course, we aren't here to scour the shady snow-filled alleys or view into the sad windows of the poor few making a honest living. No, there's a different locale in mind....

From the outside, you'd be forgiven for thinking The Devil's Eye was just any ordinary dive bar - with, admittedly, a pretty fancy name. However, behind the curtained windows and worn-down door, it was a hive of villainy. Quite literally. The Devil's Eye had always been a spot of interest for criminal enterprises in the city, even before Parahumans were on the map. Really, the only thing that'd changed over the years is that instead of mobsters and thugs, you had mobsters and thugs with superpowers. It made for a nondescript location for the ne'er-do-wells of the city to meet and talk (thankfully with some quite threatening enforcers to ensure the peace of the small infrastructure), away from the prying eyes of citizens or the PRT. Which....Made it quite odd that a well-known hero would choose to spend his time here. 

Enter Trump Card. He kept his heroic attire simplistic, but snazzy nonetheless, with a stylish white domino mask, an equally pristine yet loosely-kept white dress suit that ever-so-slightly exposed his chest, black dress pants that were cuffed off (presumably to avoid the potential embarrassment of tripping on them), silky smooth violet gloves, and last but not least, his polished-to-a-shine velvet dress shoes. Truly, he looked more like he was dressed for some gala than for hero work. Still, it certainly gave him a presence....Presence enough to avoid unnecessary scuffles even in an establishment such as this. 

He straightened out one of his golden locks, as Richter was laughing it up with two others, undoubtedly Capes; specifically, Rough & Tumble, an infamous(ly embarrassing) pair of 'villains' who were, more often than not, laughingstocks. That of course didn't stop them from getting lucky breaks every now and then, causing their fair share of trouble in the city. Rough was a lanky guy, which mirrored humorously with his more rotund companion. In comparison, TC was a bit more average in terms of build...Though he certainly had them beat in the looks department. 

[color=fff200]"Ah, you two're a right riot! Ever considered getting on the telly?"[/color] Richter was being absolutely sarcastic, but it wasn't like that occurred to either of these two. [color=f6989d]"Pfft! Nah, pal. We got the skills to pay the bills; we just gotta make some [i]real[/i] players realize that first, ya dig?"[/color] The scrawny 'brains' (hard quotation) of the operation spoke up with his rat-like voice, getting a nod (was it a nod? Hard to tell with him, frankly) from Tumble. For his part, Trump Card merely offered an assuring nod. 

[color=fff200]"I can feel ya. It isn't easy hitting it big, is it? Ah, well..."[/color] His casual, playful demeanor changed sharply to a more serious edge, though somehow not coming across outright threatening. [color=fff200]"You two know how this plays, yea? After the last stun you lot played, Pops PRT isn't gonna let it set. And, well...You know how it is."[/color] A few other patrons spared a glance towards this conversation now; perhaps slight concern on this hero's sights being turned towards them? Or perhaps confused on what exactly these two bumbling buffoons did to receive such direct attention? It was hard to say, but eventually, they all turnt away. 

[color=f6989d]"H-Hey, man...We're pals though, aren't we? Maybe just let us slide this once?"[/color] A wily, but equally scared grin now graced the face of Rough, plying for any kind of mercy. TC just sighed. [color=fff200]"This'd be, like, the third time, ya blighters. But hey, don't take it too personal; just business! 'Sides, if you come in of your own accord, it'll be a lighter sentence. Ain't like you two murdered someone. Whazzit ya did again? Stole some dumb necklaces from a jewelry store? For God's sake boys, you can at least [i]try[/i] and think bigger..."[/color] 

Rough groaned. Not like anyone in the Eye would stand up for the two of them, and as tough as he though he was....He knew better than to really piss off Richter. That's what had founded this strange friendship anyhow. Tumble just had to open his big fucking mouth though...[color=bc8dbf]"...This about us scuffing you up the last time?"[/color] The flash of irritation was unmissable even behind the mask, and his voice showed it too. [color=fff200]"Course it is, ya twit! Unlike you two, I have some [i]reputation[/i] to uphold. Gettin' run over by a living wrecking ball isn't part of that image..."[/color] Rough just gave his partner a sharp jab with his elbow, though it barely elicited a response from the nigh-spherical man. [color=f6989d]"Well, if we gotta walk, we will, but uh....One more drink, for the road?"[/color]

His attitude shifted back, all smiles and sunshine once more. [color=fff200]"Aw, why not? You blokes're my pals, one way or the other, jails bars or no. 'Sides, not like I got much better to do tonight. Oy, bartender! 'Nother round for my table!"[/color] It was of course, at this time, he could hear that incessant buzzing in his ears again; another goddamn call. Could they seriously not trust him for thirty minutes? This time, the one groaning was him. [color=fff200]"Aight, don't wanna hear a word from either o' you while I'm on call, you hear?"[/color] A sharp glance is shared between himself and the two C-List villain, who nod vigorously in response. Reluctantly, he picks up the call...Which, unbeknownst to him, is reaching the entirety of the Guardians. He's just lucky The Devil's Eye is pretty quiet, all things considered. 

[color=fff200]"To what do I own the pleasure, O Glorious Leader?"[/color] Those present could visibly see Risen's eyes narrow, however subtle it was. [color=ed1c24]"We're getting called in for a mission."[/color] A long silence followed, with the only confirmation that he was still on the line being the screen itself saying so, until he spoke up once again. [color=fff200]".....And?"[/color] [color=ed1c24]"From the top of the chain. The Director."[/color] 

[color=fff200]"...Aw, fuck. Fine, I'll get back, alright?"[/color] 

[color=ed1c24]"It'll be within the hour. If you aren't back in twenty minutes, I'll pick you up myself."[/color] 

....Well, the Glorious Leader sure knew how to put a damper on things. A 'tsk' escaped from TC, unable to conceal his irritation. [color=fff200]"Yeah, yeah, I'll be there, ya cunt. No need for a bloody curfew."[/color] With that, in spite of definitely hearing Risen ready to reply to that remark, he hung up and turned his attention back to the two twits before him. 

[color=fff200]"Sorry lads, duty calls. Still don't mean you're off the hook though; if you aren't in a slammer by the time this sitch is up, y'know what I'll hafta do, yea?"[/color] The pair of them nod all-too-knowingly, to which Trump Card gives a grin, playfully patting them both on the shoulder. [color=fff200]"Grand! Well then, I'll be off; you two oughta enjoy the night before that deadline."[/color] With that, without having to raise a finger, Trump Card had snared up two eventual villains for the PRT's cells. Simple enough; ought to get that bastard Fukuda off his back for a moment, at the very least.

With that, begrudgingly trotting his way out to the sleet-slick road, he called an Uber. Like hell he was walking in this weather.