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6745 W Colfax. The address seemed very familar, but the specifics escaped James. Shrugging, he moved to the fridge. He passed the time as best as he could, grabbing a beer and watching a local news channel. Giving it about twenty minutes, he decided it was time to go. James crouched down. Preparing himself mentally, he focused on a gas station he had used a couple of times before. The image of the Diamond Shamrock's roof appeared clearly in his head, and he pushed against his power. The mental barrier was easy to overcome, and he was thrust into a world of nothing. Easy as two steps to the left, his shoes scraped against the roof of the gas station. Moving to the edge, he glanced around before teleporting to the ground, and beginning the short walk.

The Casa Bonita's tower was prevalent, and after a bit of considering James came to the conclusion that that was the reason the address stood out in his head. Curious. It was about a block's walk away, so he didn't even work up a sweat. Still, walking that far was unusual for him, his power had deprived him of that exercise in all honesty. Moving through the front entrance, payed the fee without thinking (despite some of the ill-gotten gains he lost during the plea deal he was still loaded), and got some Mexican food. It was quite the change of pace honestly, in a good way though. Once he was in the dining area, he glanced around. Despite the decor which bordered on gaudy in his opinion, no flashy superhero was visible. Sitting down alone at a two person table, he began eating. Furnace or no, the food was good.

The note was pocketed smoothly as James raised his other hand to scratch the back of his head. He accepted the condolences knowingly, shrugging in an exaggerated manner. Internally he was stunned, but the newcomer hero dealt with the situation as professionally as he could. Moving away, he waited unti he was out of sight to uncrumple the note and read it. James had to read it three times to actually process what was being said. It seemed so. . . Out of character. No not out of character, just contrary to the persona Furnace had propped up.

A breath he hadn't known he'd been holding in escaped him as he made his decision, decided this was wholly worthwhile. He moved his fingers so they were holding the very edge of the note, and moved his hand to let it catch some air. It straightened until it was parallel with the ground and then he teleported towards the nearest wall.

All but the edge of the note was destroyed. James teleported again, disappearing into the ether for a while, before appearing in his home. He changed out of his costume slowly, taking care to organize his clothes properly. No hero work would mean no costume for a bit, but he didn't need a costume to get things done.

Inkscape's stern warning reminded James his role here, taking the action he did was foolhearty. If there was an aspect of Shatterpoint's power yet undiscovered, if it perceived the future in some nature, he would've been seriously injured. James stopped the mental spiral with a quick exhale, letting the situation play out around him. Once Ceramix was captured, the hostages safe, he removed himself from the containment foam. The tongue lashing awaited him, but he shelved his worry. James approached Inkscape of his own accord, his posture steady, but something about his body language giving it away. Motioning towards the door, the signal was clear that he wanted to walk out with Inkscape. He regretted his rash decision, and was ready for the inevitable reprimand, but didn't expect it immediately.


The corner seemed like a great place for Epsilon, as she tried not to panic. The situation seemed momentarily resolved before Ceramix took drastic action. Hostages were involved now, and the frown Epsilon formed stayed that way as it played out. Just when the situation seemed lost, Inkscape intervened and saved the last of the hostages. Shatterpoint was still panicking, something very painful watch/listen to. That also got slowly resolved, and Inkscape started thanking people for their effort. Epsilon avoided eye contact, and stayed silent. She was Master infected, and she didn't know if it could spread. She felt so out of control, so helpless, it was-it was the situation with Chatterbox all over again.

The Visage

The ride back to the Rocker HQ was uneventful, Visage didn't even mind that the taxi stunk of cigarettes. The PRT was becoming less and less of a threat with every employee that saw her eyes. It wasn't quite enough for her to stop being patient, but it was a confidence boost. "Not like you need it." A giggle escaped her lips, drawing the cabi's eyes up to the rear view mirror. Visage didn't explain herself, she just kept looking out the window, not truly seeing the sights.

The driver slowed to a stop, looking a bit confused. "This is a pretty bad neighborhood, you do know that?" His accent was very thick, sounded like he hailed from roundabouts Virginia.

"I can take of myself just fine," Visage said, pulling out her wallet from her purse, and handing over the exorbitant fee. Opening the door, she slipped the wallet back into her purse. Visage started walking, quickly finding her way back into the Rocker's headquarters.

The few goons that were present paid her no mind, her power putting the mask on her face that she was too lazy to actually wear. She found herself at the room with Shatterpoint's laptop, and waited in the doorway. Quickly, she recalled a node that she had recently set, an officer on scene at the charity event. She stole his eyes for a moment, and got a clear image of how bad it was going for the bosses. Shrugging, she sat down at Shatterpoint's laptop, propping her legs up, and disconnecting the headphones before placing them over her ears. A smile was stuck to her face.

Decoy was right, there were more pressing matters, but it seemed a bit dismissive. Maybe Epsilon was becoming too jaded though, after all it was a small thing. Once the citizens were evacuated, she turned her attention to Ceramix. but the situation had changed substantially since she had left the building to help remove civilians. Shatterpoint had been targeted by Hermes, while the heavy hitter of Outsider was targeting Ceramix. It was quite the battle, but it seemed to be over, at least for Shatterpoint. "I don't have the power nullification generator, so I can't do too much to help." She said into her comms. "Also I misreported earlier earlier, it was a master/stranger hybrid. the parahuman appears to be gone, but I can't fully confirm that as I am affected. The power affect made me think that Protean was present, but that's all I know about it."

The news that he wouldn't have to push himself to the point of disability from Decoy was well appreciated. He did the long range teleport again, and was struck by how much the situation had changed in the time he was gone. Slowly, the stone golem buckled, being torn apart by a (seemingly) well coordinated attack by various heroes.

Taking a breath, as pain made it hard to stand, he glanced over at the remaining Rockers. A blink of the eye, and he was outside the containment vehicle. Another blink, and two thugs tumbled into the back of the containment space. "Just stay down. If you move too much, my next teleport might merge your buddies head with your sternum. On accident of course." He wasn't going to teleport into that van again, but it was a good way to keep them still.

The battlefield had shifted again, and now Shatterpoint was here. God damn. The man was an intimidating combat thinker on a bad day. There were more Rocker thugs, but Hermes didn't want to take a pawn when he could mate the king.

Standing, he examined the various players. It could be said that it was only a matter of time until Shatterpoint was captured, but the risk of serious injury was still unreasonably high. Glancing down at his belt, he smiled. It was over. He removed a containment foam grenade, as some creature from the black lagoon looking girl covered the villain's hand in tar. He removed the pin, counting down in his head. "3 Mississippi, 2 Mississippi." He chose a position right behind Shatterpoint, and was now staring at the thinkers back, his hand extended with the grenade held within. He let go, pushing it slightly towards the combat thinker. Here was hoping.

Seeing the figure of the Ward Epsilon rising above the crowd, Nora turned her camera towards her. She was scanning the crowd with something on her head. It looked like welding goggles, but with an extra bit on the top. Very strange. It wasn't actually digital or anything like that though, as Nora's power notified her of the possibility of activating it. Looking at her through the camera, Epsilon's eyes were on her now. Raising her head above the camera, she activated her power. Thinking quickly, she chose to look like how she had last seen Protean. In her place, a bulky Minotaur now stood above the crowd. Gross. Now it was time to leave though, she couldn't keep this up forever.

Moving to the side, she joined a group of civilians who were taking cover behind some of the PRT soldiers. After a bit, they allowed them to exit, and Nora smiled as she left the hall. This was a productive event.


Epsilon shook her head, practically face palming. The person she had thought was the stranger was just Protean. They were still out there, but she couldn't see them. "I don't see the Stranger Tulpa. They might've left. Moving to evacuate civilians." She said into her comm, before pushing herself off the ceiling, back towards the entrance.

Quickly she drifted back to the ground, taking a few steps before deactivating her flight pack. Epsilon had landed just past the protectorate soldiers, and started talking to some civilians. "We're gonna get you out of here don't worry. I can take people one at a time." She said, her voice confident. Being given orders had definitely helped. In the midst of her speaking, she heard Protean respond in the comms saying he was enroute. But she had just seen him. . . "I have been affected by the Stranger, I think. What do I do?"


Always the same orders. He loved it, it was simple to do. Activating his power, he pushed himself back into the group of Rockers, grabbing two of the thugs, and leaving instantly. As floated, suspended in his power, his thoughts raced. This distance was too far, he might suffer permanent injuries if forced to do this another time. Arriving, he dropped them and teleported just beyond the door of the cell.

"This distance is too far. Anywhere else I can bring them?" Hermes asked into his communicator. An intern had dropped some papers in surprise, and Hermes did his best to not embarrass the man.
I vote for Retcon because you can't always win @ProPro.
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