LeavesWards: Battle of Fists Over, War of Attrition Begins
@BCTheEntity@yoshua171@solokolos@Kafka Komedy@Lugubrious
Martyr spoke to reassure the first hostage he approached, then lifted his sword in an effort to swipe at the hostage's bomb collar. Before contact could be made, Sonar held up his hands to stop the teen hero from what would have been a terrible mistake. "Stop! Stop!" The younger Ward moved between Martyr and the hostage, just in case. Even though his eyes were hidden behind the visor of his helmet, anybody could tell from his lips and cheeks that Sonar appeared to be horrified. "We don't know how brute force will affect these things, Martyr. You could make things worse and blow it up by jostling it the wrong way! But I can tell you that Eyeblight revealed he has a dead man's switch installed. The others are dealing with him right now. He's on the ground, not moving, so they must have him pinned in some way that doesn't make sound and they're trying to get the detonator away from him. Just hold off." The kid hero glanced over to Epsilon with a knowing look on his face. "Can you do anything with that information?" As soon as he had finished speaking, Sonar's lips moved again. Neither Martyr nor Epsilon could hear his words, meaning that they had to be designated for someone else only.
Meanwhile, inside the drainage piping the others had Eyeblight at their mercy. Or he had them at his mercy. It was a difficult situation to read, with each party desperate to gain just a little more leverage over the other to come out on top. The Wards could not afford to slip up, just in case Eyeblight wasn't bluffing. If they did, too many people would be dead, including three of their own. By the same token, Eyeblight himself couldn't move lest he be set aflame, truly a most pressing matter for the certified psychopath. For the moment however, it had appeared the ruse setup by Messiah was proceeding as intended. The man made of straw twisted his head around, looking directly at her, despite the aura of light emanating from her being. The gesture was not returned though, as she avoided directly gazing upon him in an effort to minimize his own aura: that of abject terror.
"Sounds good, little missy," he spoke, softly. The tone he carried would have been disturbing even without the effects brought about by his power. "Let me go, spare the sheep. Oh you little heroes, you should already know that I will get all of my demands. Thanks for offering, though." The straw and mask smiled in a most unnatural, grotesque manner. It simply shouldn't move that way. Like a jagged dagger crossed with a crescent moon turned on its side, the grin of Eyeblight could plant a pit in the stomach of the most fortuitous of men. His eyes narrowed into a similar shape as his mouth, made all the more wrong by the burlap sack of a mask. Then he spoke again, beginning in the same soft almost-whisper. "I have one more demand, little failed Messiah. I want you to do the one thing nobody has ever been able to do my entire life. I want. You. To LOOK AT ME!"
He cried out in a chorus of voices, all his own but several different pitches, each one offset from the others by just a fraction of a second as though he were not a single man but a dozen all attempting to shout at the same time. "Look upon my face! Take me in! See what this world has done! See what this world has created!" Eyeblight had lost it, focusing entirely on Messiah, completely ignorant of Margrave nearby and utterly unaware that something else currently occupied his same space.
As the psychotic gangster made his irrational demands, Margrave heard a voice within his head. "If you can pull yourself away, I think Epsilon can really use your help getting these bombs removed."
Tulpa's projection scanned Eyeblight's body thoroughly, sending all the information it could back to Tulpa. The first detail she had noticed was the one she was looking for: a small remote-like device located near the center of the scarecrow man's chest. Plastic casing, copper wiring, radio transceiver, there could be no mistaking that this was the detonator. With a little extra probing the shimmer also discovered that the detonator had an active radio signal. He wasn't lying in the least. The thing was definitely setup with a dead man's switch. As the projection shared a space with the parahuman, Tulpa could not help but pick up more details of the man's unique biology and his powers than she had previously been able to receive. Individual movement of his strands was in fact possible, but he had left out some details, probably to maintain a position of power. No matter how his individual strands of straw moved around, he more or less had to maintain a humanoid shape. Not only that, but the process was messy, and difficult to manipulate. He couldn't control single strands with the same dexterity or skill as controlling his entire body. That little trick with straw tied to the knife was probably extremely taxing and difficult just in itself. Still, that didn't mean he would have much problem pressing the detonator's trigger whilst it remained inside his chest.
"Perhaps instinct has something to do with that?" Decoy suggested, then shrugged it off. "Once you have met Director Kens, we may be able to arrange psychiatric treatment, if you consent. Who knows what we may be able to help you recover? Ah, but I ramble. My apologies." The holographic being lifted his hands up, then began to mime the act of typing. That was unusual. Or at least it would be, if Ruben's power hadn't kicked in to tell him that Decoy was simply typing something wherever his real body was. Fascinating that the hologram would project only his body and not any props or objects within sight around him. The technology would truly be something to admire, if he ever got the opportunity to observe it.
A second after the hologram ceased its air-typing, the door opened up and the PRT squad stepped inside again. The team leader approached, somewhat bemused at the situation, and kneeled down. As he reached out for the hologram projector, Decoy gave Ruben a little wink. "I look forward to setting up your meeting with the director. Maybe we'll be able to meet in person? Keep an eye out for my message. Until next time!" Decoy waved goodbye rather enthusiastically. It was the last image Ruben saw before the projection shutoff as the soldier retrieved and pocketed the little device. Signalling the others to head out, the squad leader turned as well, but turned his head to address Ruben just before exiting.
"This whole situation smells funny. I'll be keeping my eye on you."
The Russian villain had the right idea to remove herself from airspace. Unfortunately she was too late and had already been seen. Suddenly Sonika felt a rushing heatwave, her movements through the air began to falter, but how? Sonika maintained absolute control over the air itself! Regardless as to the answer, she was losing altitude, and the only way to save herself was to make an emergency landing atop a nearby office building. It was the tallest structure for at least a mile in every direction, with a spacious roof. Lucky for her it was here, or she might have had a long fall punctuated by a sudden stop.
As Sonika recovered her footing, another figured approached from behind. Some sort of hang glider swooped downward carrying a costumed figure. He released the hand bar as he touched down, running to a slower momentum, and the hang glider itself folded back and retracted into the back of his red armor. Sonika recognized this man from some recent news reports. He was a hero independent from the Protectorate. No tinker, but highly intelligent in his own right. This was the man known to the city of Denver as Furnace.
"Good afternoon, miss. Sonika, was it? Word on the street is that you have ties to the Bratva. Much as it pains me to say this, I'm afraid I'll have to take you in. Allow me to introduce myself. My name is Furnace. I'm just a guy who loves his city."