It had been a little more than two weeks since that strange, terrible incident in the PRT interrogation room. Love Craft had survived the ordeal, even woke up without too much in the way of injury, but they were definitely not talking again. Whatever had happened to them, it had them utterly terrified. So the villainous teenager was being held in a temporary holding cell, under the watchful eye of their therapist Dr. Jackson. Ever since then though, things had been pretty quiet for the Wards. These mysterious Jacks hadn't struck again, and other than having to deal with all the PR insanity, they didn't have a great deal to do. Even their patrols were cut down, leaving more time for primary education.
Most of the Wards had been enrolled in Cherry Creek High School, the best that the city of Denver had to offer. It wasn't a bad setup, actually. The higher level staff worked directly with the PRT, so if an emergency arose and the Wards had to leave without warning, the school would always look the other way. That was the situation for most of the Wards, at any rate. The lone exception was Ira. The tinker of the group was given special permissions to be tutored directly by Decoy, on account of them both being Japanese immigrants, Ira's difficulty with English, and their shared tinker aptitude.
In any case, there was significantly less battles with the forces of evil and a great deal more battle of the books. Even their training sessions had been cut short, as the senior Protectorate members had been short staffed since Noble and Captain Morales were hospitalized. Sure, they had new backup in the form of Overlook and Hermes, but Overlook was strictly an observer, while Hermes was... Well, he wasn't allowed to go gallivanting without Inkscape personally watching over him. It was peculiar, but the Wards likely paid it no mind unless they had been particularly observant. Still, the fact that Denver was strapped for heroes and the Wards weren't being allowed out to do their duty? It could definitely stir up some cabin fever...
Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock. 2:55 pm. The day was nearly done, and it was Friday! Maybe after this hiatus they'd actually be allowed to do some patrolling? Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock. 2:57. This week was simply dragging oooooon, when would something interesting happen? Well it would all be worth it. It had to be. Decoy promised a special present for each of the Wards when they reported in after school. Almost there. Almost the-Hey is that kids wearing a licensed Messiah hoodie, and playing with the trademarked Margrave action figure? Cool! Better not get caught, or the staff would confiscate-
Riiiiiiiiiiiing! 3:00 pm. Finally! Escape!
Meanwhile Ira performed her studies in an empty room that currently was not very empty. The image of Decoy stood in front of a whiteboard, but instead of drawing and writing material on the whiteboard, the needed images and words simply appeared. That was the beauty of the room that Decoy had custom built: The entire thing was one big holographic projector. Currently they were going over calculus, when the image of Decoy stopped in his tracks, then checked a watch. It was a peculiar behavior, to say the least. Decoy had to be operating this room from the most advanced computer rig in this half of the country, so there was no way he didn't have a timeclock setup at his station. Unless the way his holograms worked was that they actually projected his actions, and he really was looking at a watch? Huh. Maybe that was something to ask about?
<"It would appear that schooling hours are over. Your fellow Wards should be arriving within the next several minutes."> he spoke to her in Japanese.
A little more than two weeks had gone by. The Jacks didn't have a job in all that time, but the Broker was a man of his word. Their next mission was indeed in the basement meeting room, exactly where he had said the details would be. Unlike their first outing, which they had barely a day to prepare for, this time they had had two weeks. Two gorgeous, beautiful weeks to enjoy the bountiful amounts of money that Broker had paid for Gamble's release. There was a lot that they could get done in that time. The weapons Headhunter could commission, the people Chatterbox could influence, the stuff Heartless could steal! Oh it was amazing to have preparation before a mission. Hopefully that would be the new normal.
In any case, the mission was nearly upon them. The details had been clear. On Friday, September 18th, the Community was supposed to receive a shipment of several large crates in a shipping container by railroad. The contents would be transferred from the freight train to a protective storehouse in the ghettos. The goal was to obtain one of these crates and abscond with it, by force if necessary. The instructions stated that the storehouse would be the best time to go for the goods, as it would have only a skeleton crew guarding it. There was supposed to be a major rally in the Community that night, something big that most of the members had to attend. Where did Broker get this information from? Well, as long as it was good, that's what mattered, right? The shipment should arrive at 7:00 pm sharp, and the Community rally was to be held at 8:30. Until then, the Jacks had all day to gather together, formulate the plan, and entertain themselves however they'd like.
The Minutemen - We Need A Bigger Office!
G4M3R tweaked the finishing touches on a new device he had been working on. Anybody with an appreciation for the classics would instantly recognize it as Mario's winged cap, but for copyright purposes he tweaked the wings to have a slightly different shape, colored it purple instead of red, and gave it an extra "M" so that it stood for "Minutemen." Ever since they had laid the beat down on those Rocker thugs, they had a bit more recognition in the area. More people viewed G4M3R's let's plays, which brought in some ad revenue, and they had even hired two new members, almost instantly after Celia and Outsider! Things were pretty great, but... The apartment G4M3R had rented for use as an office just wasn't large enough to accommodate everyone. Hell, G4M3R's shop took up more than half the property by itself! With the living room converted to a lounge, there wasn't much room for the others to enjoy themselves or have their own space. As it happened, they were in a spot they could reasonably be comfortable with the donations they received, but didn't have enough to expand operations. If only they hadn't hired those new members, blast it!
Well, it's not like that Rockers mission was a total success. They'd been hired to find someone specific. Wisp. Yet they had found no trace of her. G4M3R... Didn't advertise that part. He felt bad enough as it was, making a profit off of a technically failed mission. As he wired the last bit of circuitry into the flight cap, G4M3R forced himself to concentrate on his work. Nothing was going to throw him off balance, nothing would rob his attention. Not the television playing in the background, not the conversations his team would be having, and definitely not that knock at the door. Wait, knock at the door?
The Minutemen founder dropped what he was doing and practically tripped over his work stool to get to the door. The young hero flung it open and began a well-rehearsed greeting.
"Welcome to the Minutemen High Command Center. For just a dollar a day, we can guarantee your safety!""Why, aren't you the dashing spokesperson?" spoke the flirty voice of a woman.
She stood about five foot eight inches, with shoulder length bright red hair. She wore a black spaghetti strap with blue jeans, and simple running shoes. A lilac purse hung from her shoulder.
"I have need of some heroes, but I can't go to the Protectorate, and then I saw your ad online."
Leaves