LeavesThe Wards: Fission Mailed. Time to Go Home.
@Old Amsterdam@Gardevoiran@Lugubrious@solokolos@yoshua171@BCTheEntity
The Wards and PRT soldiers made their way back to the tactical response vehicle, leaving behind a broken wreck of a building. The flames still roared with life, but weren't in any danger of spreading. The local fire department was already on the way, and nothing nearby was flammable. Perhaps it was best the whole thing went up in smoke. If the building remained standing, it could serve as an... Unfortunate reminder to the young heroes. A reminder of what had happened. Of what they had lost. At least one of them had a firm grasp on the true horrors that went down, but Decoy had all but given her the order not to speak up. The burden was no doubt a weighty one.
Before leaving, they had to ensure that the location was secure and locked down. A number of PRT vehicles arrived to aid the firefighters, mostly by setting up a perimeter. The sight had attracted a not so insignificant crowd. Civilians tried to get an idea of what was going on, to catch a glimpse of their favorite heroes, but found it was for naught. The Wards were secure in the van, and weren't coming back out. Lieutenant Reynolds had assumed command and ordered they hold their position. So the vehicle began the short, but still painfully slow journey back to PRT headquarters. The teens had been left alone with nothing but their own thoughts, unless they dared to make conversation on the way back. It would have been awkward though, with private Skeetz and Overlook strapped down on a fold out bed table between them.
Once they arrived, the Wards were marched up to the main conference room in order to debrief the mission. Master protocols were in effect, thanks to Lillian's warning, so each Ward was required to provide a predetermined password before entering. Meanwhile, Overlook and Skeetz were brought to the medical bay for treatment of their wounds. Once the teens had taken their seats, they were joined by Director Kens, and one of Decoy's holographic interfaces. Even though Protean had prepped them for the infiltration, he was noticeably absent. That was to be expected, as he had joined Inkscape and Hermes for their own assignment. Apparently it was still ongoing.
The director began to speak, circling around the room with his hands crossed behind his back. His mannerisms made it abundantly clear that the man was quite upset, and while the rage threatened to boil over, he never lost his composure when addressing the Wards. "The preliminary report sent in by Lieutenant Reynolds on your way back has not exactly been inspiring great confidence. What what I can tell, everything that can go wrong, did. The building has been burned to the ground, so we lost all evidence your team had been sent in to secure. One of you suddenly attacked your team. Somehow a noncombatant support analyst wound up in the middle of a firefight, and to make matters worse the villains that are responsible for hospitalizing both Noble and Captain Morales were on site, and got away. We were not expecting the additional party involved, and for that-" Kens paused to glare daggers at the Decoy hologram, which did not react in any manner. "I blame our initial information gathering. But something happened once your team arrived. Make no mistake, none of you are being blamed for anything, but this is a serious loss. Both in terms of law enforcement, and in terms of PR. God knows the Youth Guard will be jumping up my ass for this debacle. So tell me what happened, Wards. Speak up. Margrave? Tulpa? Messiah? I need to hear what you all have to say on this matter."
The Chatterbox duplicate laughed at Heartless's question. When he answered, he made sure to keep his power active in full blast. "My friend, why don't I dissolve your suspicions right now by simply admitting that I am the newcomer? The 'second' Chatterbox, the one not native to this... I guess you could call it a reality? Yes, this reality. Your Chatterbox setup that password system specifically to help identify against me, but it wouldn't have done any good if I had decided to play along. We share the same brain, the same memories, diverging only at the exact moment I was brought into existence here on this reality, so naturally I already know the proper response would have been 'Green Fever.'"
He released his Sofia's hand and urged her to open her eyes. The Sofia duplicate seemed to be cautious, but she slowly did so. As this occurred, the original Chatterbox was warning Headhunter of the dangers of his doppelganger. The duplicate narrowed his eyes a bit in frustration as he saw himself speaking with the mercenary. He could tell by the body language what was going on. Not the specifics of course, but he knew that it couldn't have been good for him and his Sofia. "Salutations again, native Chatterbox!" he called out, waving his arm. "If you are having any thoughts of setting up some sort of violent precautions, I should advise against such civil discourse."
To prove his point, the Chatterbox duplicate produced his pack of metal playing cards, completely identical to the ones Drake made use of. He pulled out one of the cards, and, taking a deep breath to brace for the pain, stabbed a metal corner into the back of his wrist. He broke the skin, drawing blood, but it was a shallow cut, nothing to be too bothered by. Yet simultaneously the original Drake Vettman felt a sharp pain in his own wrist. A single glance would tell him everything he needed to know. The injury reflected from the copy and onto him.
"You see, I am completely open about joining forces. My Sofia and I have been displaced from our own cosmos by one of those Overrun clones. As soon as we arrived we were given a mental directive, to kill our duplicates, but as you can see we haven't even attempted such a garish fiasco! That behavior would be unbecoming, would it not? So instead why don't we all go back to the hideout together, yet? Two Chatterboxes and two Whimsys are certainly better than one. The possibilities of expansion are, well, doubled. Wouldn't you agree?" Almost as if he had timed it perfectly, the getaway ride that Chatterbox, the original, had called for pulled in right next to the duplicate. He opened the door to the back and made an exaggerated gesture with his arm. "After you, dear Jacks."
