solokolos

Capes of Denver: A Worm RP

Nora

Broken Shilling, and briefly Denver Streets

She stood, the stool tipping a bit as she did so. The bartender set the drink in front of her, and she told him to keep it ready for when the business concluded. Walking to the stairs, she took them at a measured pace, peering around the cramped space. It had been made almost cozy, the small space being taken advantage of fully. An attractive, yet dangerous man sat behind the desk. Attentive, and dressed better still than what she assumed to be his employees in the lower floor. Wary he watched her entrance, as Visage moved to stand in front of him. ”I'm here to speak with Purge. I assume you're one of his employees?" She said, her tone respectful, yet still tight. A no-nonsense tone, that she hoped he'd be able to relate to. She mirrored his arm movements, keeping them at her side with full confidence.

"Very direct, miss," Benito replied with an easy smile. "I'm afraid I'm not familiar, and I might have missed your name. Introductions are always preferred."

Holding out his hand, he continued, "Benito's the name, Benito Buceli, the pleasure is all mine."

Visage took note of his response, smiling slyly under her mask. She had tried to establish control of the conversation, trying to lead in this dance, but he had slipped the lead. "I didn't realize you were that high up in the organization, my sincere apologies. You can call me Visage, and I'm just acting as a messenger right now." She said, her voice conveying an honest apology. Her eye stayed on his as she shook his hand firmly.

Benito flashed a charming smile, gesturing for her to take a seat in the relatively comfy looking seat across the desk from him. Once both parties were seated, he opened his hands in a welcoming way. "I am the direct line up, if I may be so bold. I decide if a cause is worthy of attention, or if it is a waste of precious time. So, my dear, please pass along this message of yours so that I can help the both of us."

Sat gracefully, Visage considered the man across from her. She saw no harm in informing him, though there would of course be a caveat. "If I relay this message, and you deem it in the boss's interest, it can be assumed I can relay the message to him myself?" She asked, learning forward so as to entice him with more than just the offer. Her voice was sultry, a contrast lay between the tone and the words. Her eyes were curious things, watching his whole form with interest.

"Given the nature of yourself, yes. Parahuman contacts are.... Priority, generally speaking," he replied as he leaned back in his chair. "This is the system we have in place, a system that works. And I only even tell you as much because my gut tells me this is going to be good."

Visage relaxed too, seeming comfortable with this arrangement. "I've been sent by the Rockers as an ambassador of sorts. I'm here to extend an olive branch, and help set the stage for an alliance between our two organizations." She said, her voice friendly now.

Benito nodded slightly, thinking. "I feel that would be worthy to talk about. But there's a slight catch..."

He tapped the desk with a finger before continuing. "The Rockers have a reputation of being... Less than perfect, shall we say, in looking to not sound insulting for no reason. With all due respect to you and yours, I would suggest you aim to impress." Here the man paused, frowning slightly. "Given the special nature concerned, I feel confident in letting you take your proposal to Purge directly. Say, tomorrow? I do suggest bringing any information of note with you. A friendly suggestion."

The villain did not react at all to the insult, and nodded when he noted that they should aim to impress. ”Tomorrow will work fine. Would you like to meet here, or do you have another location in mind?" She asked, looking like she was ready to leave.

"Across town there's a bank called 'Denver Banking, Inc' with a crisp sign saying as much. Several stories tall. Tell the front desk Mr. Benito sent you and you'll be taken care of," he replied without hesitation. "I wish you the best of luck, Visage."

With that he stood up and walked around the desk to offer his hand again. "It was a pleasure."

As Visage stood, she repeated the instructions in her head a couple times. Shaking his head, she kept eye contact. At the back of her head, her power nudged her on. It constantly reminded her whenever she could make a node that she should. ”It was nice meeting you too, I adore the thought of seeing you again.” She said, moving to leave with lithe steps. Taking the stairs at the same measured pace, she walked back to the bar. The bartender had heard her approaching, and went to retrieve her drink. She lay payment on the table, retrieved from her back pocket, before picking up the drink and moving a few steps from the counter. She slipped her mask up, downing the burning liquid quickly, before letting her mask fall back down. Turning, she set the glass back on the counter, and left the establishment.

Epsilon:
The Misery of Multiplication

@BCTheEntity@Eklispe@Lugubrious@Old Amsterdam@ProPro@yoshua171

Iron filled her throat, choking her, The smell had finally reached her, and now it was fight between the iron pushing down her throat, and the bile pushing up. Ira's eyes burned, the tears collecting on the goggle-like frames of her mask. A crisp voice cut through the noise, finally someone speaking a language she could understand. Decoy. He was sticking to his guns, defending his decision in a roundabout way. If her teammates hesitated in killing the clone-the people. If they didn't fight with full intention of winning, they would die.

After this though, did they deserve it? Was it okay to kill civilians who were mind controlled to save your own skin? It wasn't their fault, they were given a command from Martyr. She remembered that from their talk. The name; Martyr. Oh god. She reached up to pull her mask off, and was pulled suddenly by the soldier accompanying her. The sudden lurch tore a burning sob from her lips, the tears splattering against the hard concrete. Gunshots kept splitting the air, making her flinch. "My mask isn't in my hands anymore," the thought passed quickly, fleeting and forgotten soon after. She kept moving forward after Reynolds stopped, before the wall fell apart. Blinking, she pushed past some kid, and breathed air that wasn't suffocatingly stale. In English she said to her live transmitter "What the fuck Decoy?"

Capes of Denver: A Worm RP

Nora
Denver Streets

The sun was still high in the sky as Visage departed from the Rocker's headquarters. So much work done in one day, without so much as a second wasted. It was a very refreshing feeling, though she had no time to revel in it. That would ruin her streak after all.

She moved, drifting from one alley to the next, as she retraced her steps. Ducking down after a few minutes, she made sure she was alone before she continued. Hidden where two buildings meet was a black canvas bag, sharp bits of rough clothing visible from where they poked against its edges. It was slightly damp on the bottom from where she had stuffed her jeans. Again, Visage glanced around, before slinging it over her back, and continuing her walk though the Rocker's territory.

She wanted to laugh, to giggle and hug herself, it was just so damn exciting. Restraint had been so difficult, the urge to plant a node on Furnace, on Protean, on anyone and everyone ever present. But no, she had to do this right. A master power demanded control, not just of others, but of one's self as well. Detecting if someone had been compromised by a master power was just too easy, as the precaution taken by Director Kens had proven, but there was an out. Dormant master powers were very hard to detect, and weeding candidates that were compromised by that sort of power out of potential missions was near impossible to preform with 100% certainty.

Her power could turn into a virus, with compromised individuals unknowingly spreading nodes. It was a bit of a giveaway that they couldn't see while she was preforming her limited clairvoyance, but it was still a useful tool. For a major amount of time, she had considered countering perfect responses to her powers, assuming that a full swat team would be going against her, equipped with tinker-assisted vision.

That wasn't the standard fight however. She would slowly become a known entity as her career continued, leading to more and better responses to her presence at any given fight. That's where the importance of misinformation came from, investing in security by obscurity. From the simple stuff, like keeping information about her powers off parahumans online, to interfering with Watchdog.

The city had melted around her, her thoughts consuming her. Steps and countersteps ran parallel tracks in her head. In all honesty, her minute predictions weren't very accurate. Visage was willing to accept that too, but her broader insights weren't particularly bad. She knew, for a fact, that caution would help her more than recklessness. If the specifics escaped her, so be it.

Thinking about it, the Vegas capes were the ones to emulate, with all the ones worth noting being largely poorly understood. Fighting unknown entities was very difficult, and so she had to adapt to that lifestyle. The largest disadvantage villain groups had were resources. When push came to shove, it was easy for the hero side to ask for favors. From the villain side, letting fellow teams lose encounters also meant less competition, and a good chance of gaining territory.

Nora reviewed her knowledge of Purge, from the many message boards she had visited. He had a mafia aesthetic, but it wasn't 100% confirmed he was from any actual mafia family. At least not personally confirmed. Taking information found online with a grain of salt was important. The amount of salt she had to take to weigh against information about his power was very small, however. His power seemed to be a thinker, specializing in hiding his presence at a crime scene. Any crime that was known to be associated with his gang lacked any and all evidence. Gone without a trace, every time. The lack of evidence lead to a lot of speculation, with the most popular theory agreeing with Nora's current view at the time. All-in-all he was a careful B-lister at best. Then again, many people might call the Rocker's B-listers. It'd be hard for Nora to make a counter-argument to that, honestly.

The world filtered back into focus as the bar loomed in front of her. Mask still clinging tightly to her face, she walked forward, already having planned out her entrance. The street was clear of cars when she crossed it, sprawling out into dinghy streets in both directions. She opened the door swiftly, letting it close from its own weight behind her. The bar had few people this early in the day. The place looked barren, the thin chairs scattered around the tables not helping that aesthetic. There were seven tables, by Visage's count, and not a single person sat at any of them. The bar held two people, gruff, strong men. Their clothes were nicer than the shitty beer in front of them. Probably old vices, like the menthols one of them smoked.

She stuck out, plain and simple. She sat next to the one on the right, and only her confidence stopped them from trying to sate their curiousity about her immedietly. She orderer a martini, and the bartender couldn't be hassled to ID her. She turned towards the men, eyeing them directly. "Are you Purge's lieutenants?" Visage aeked, her voice steady.

Hermes:
Laying the Groundwork

@Old Amsterdam

An audible groan escaped Herme's lips as Protean made his quip. Pushing forward, he took a step before teleporting to two of the most active guards. He grabbed their sleeves, and focused on one of the cells. Pushing past the mental barrier, he teleported again, and stayed suspended for longer than he expected. Just as he wondered how far he had actually pushed himself, he appeared in the stark white cell.

That was farther than he remembered.

He teleported again, as soon as he could, choosing the safe position he had watched from before. It seemed to take less time on this one, but he tried to ignore this fluctuation in his power. He reappeared, and again focusd on the room. One had been trying to escape in his direction, but the mover grabbed him by the collar. Dragging him back, he threw him against a wall, before kicking him in the face. Out cold. He walked forward, looking nonchalantly upon Protean's work.

Epsilon:
The Misery of Industry

@BCTheEntity@Eklispe@Lugubrious@Old Amsterdam@ProPro@yoshua171

Everything was happening so fast, Epsilon was feeling overwhelmed. It was Martyr, she was sure, The Community had twisted him, and she felt a similar grief to losing Sonar in the field. Everyone fought back so damn readily though, working together while she just watched from afar. She shut off her nullification field, gazing over the large number of Deans. Then something caught her eye, a Dean surviving a car being thrown at him, as if he had a different power than the rest. She pulled out her goggles, the white noise of everyone around her getting louder and less intelligible. A sea of green met her, every Dean glowing as brightly as. . . Messiah. As Protean. That wasn't right though, the goggles didn't react to squirrels, it didn't react to rocks, it shouldn't react to Master minions.

Epsilon collapsed onto her knees, bile burning her throat.That doesn't make sense, that doesn't-they're meat mush, they're-they're not. She remembered a passing moment, talking to Dean about his power. He was so uncomfortable throughout, and when she proposed testing the clones he seemed appalled at the idea. The noise was reaching a crescendo, and Epsilon was struggling for breath now.

""They're people." She mumbled, her voice too low for the live mic to pick up.

Capes of Denver: A Worm RP

Nora
Protectorate Headquarters and Rocker's Headquarters

Collab with Eklispe

The chair felt weird when mixed with her wet jeans. Nora had slipped when she had left the house she was staying in. and landed butt first on a freshly watered lawn. It was uncomfortable, and hadn't gotten better as it dried. At the time, she considered going back in and changing but decided against it. She was regretting that decision now. Earl, the receptionist, kept eyeing her strangely from across the counter, but that was to be expected. The security guard, one Alfred Renstolf according to their short conversation, had begun staring as well. They had been so nice, introducing themselves and explaining their job, but now they seemed to find it difficult to avert their gaze. It probably had to do with her power. She had made herself seem almost identical to Siberian, in everything but skin tone. Instead of the Siberian’s white and black stripes, Nora was a pale, more human tone. She was also stark naked, from their perspective. There was a good chance that was related.

"How much longer do you think this is gonna take? The director is not that busy is he?" She asked, her voice pitched higher, sounding slightly impatient. Honestly, Nora didn't mind the wait. She was kind of nervous, having rehearsed what she was gonna say many times before coming here. "Oh and tell Decoy I don't mind if he has the swat team armed and ready, I understand perfectly the need. He might even know me by now." The thick clothing she was wearing was very visible on the security cameras, and would serve to only further obfuscate the information.

She was wearing a bandana around her mouth, with another covering her forehead. Only her eyes, and the sides of her face were visible. A thick padded jacket covered the rest of her upper body, the fluffy hood resting on her head neatly. Her hands were gloved, thin fibrous gloves that could hardly be used for warmth. She smiled at the security guard, a sly expression only visible to him. It was almost predatory, but not in a threatening way. Maybe sexually threatening.

A familiar sight to most people that came into the building, one way or the other, was Jackson: who came strolling into the lobby leisurely. His usual attire of a rather faded looking gray suit with three buttons in the front over a white dress shirt matched his dress pants. The only thing that stood out was his tie that had distinctive hotwheel-reminiscent flames all over it."Let's see here, Null was it? A little overdressed for the occasion are we? No matter, if you'll come along with me we can have a nice chat and then see about you meeting the director. After all, he's a very busy man you know." Jackson said with a chuckle and turned away, walking back the way he came, expecting her to follow. Given that she did she'd be lead into one of the fairly standard interrogation room. Quite plain really: two chairs, one table, one pane of one-way glass. "Now then, what did you want to talk about again? Oh and you can call me Jackson."

A dramatic over emphasized sigh escaped her lips as she stood up. She moved forward, giving a small wave at the security guard as she passed. Partway down the hallway she glanced back just in time to see him quickly look away. She giggled quietly to herself, muffling the noise with her hand halfway through. She almost skipped as she entered the room, sitting down in the chair opposite the new man. Quickly, she responded, her voice barely showing how awkward she felt. "Well, mister, um. . . Jackson. . . May I know your last name! I don't want to call you Jackson, after all you are my superior!" Her voice was normally pitched, though it went up a bit the more she said in one breath. Which was most thing. For a few seconds Nora considered using her power on the man, but decided against it. She didn’t want to get arrested so soon, after all.

This wasn't quite everyday Nora. Though she did feel awkward, she was instead going for a certain look. A person who recently gained powers, and didn't know what to do with them.

Jackson smiled in amusement at her response. "Well aren't you polite. I'm not much of a superior to anyone though, so just Jackson is fine. Relax a little, we're all friends here, or at least I hope we can be: if that's alright with you?" Jackson asked in an endearing fashion. Not in the creepy hitting on you way, more in the 'aww that dude is super nice' way.

A frown crossed Nora's lips, creasing her brow slightly, though that would be almost impossible to see. Her soft blue eyes darted up to look at the security camera in the corner, before returning to Jackson's. She took a small breath before speaking, not big enough to warrant her following his recommendation to calm down. "Well Mr. Jackson, I'd like to talk to the director about some illicit activities. Not mine, no um. They aren't his. I guess his lack of? Not in a bad context, more in a-it's hard to explain. The director is good man, and it's very important that we discuss bribes. I don't want to give him any, I don't have the money anyways, but-" She took a deep breath, thinking to herself as she sat there, as if trying to rephrase it in her head.

Jackson laughed again at Null's awkward attempts to explain herself. "Alright alright, let's calm down a little there youngster. You want to talk about someone getting bribed and I'm guessing you want the PRT to do something about it."

Instantly she shook her head. "No, I'm only talking about Jackson. He doesn't take bribes. He's a good man, and we all know that. But I want to talk to him about how he doesn't take bribes, and the function of bribes in a political system, I think he knows, but I want to help reinforce it a bit, the role it plays." The glasses he was wearing were starting to annoy her. He couldn't see her eyes, so she couldn't manipulate her appearance at all. If she could just get a glimpse then this would be a lot easier. "Am I supposed to mention if I'm a parahuman or not by the way? I'm not legally obligated, right, regardless of my 'parahuman status'? I don't know how most of this works. Oh you probably have thinkers or tinkers that detect that! Never mind." She said the last part quietly, sounding interested, before embarrassed as she corrected herself.

Jackson could only listen to the women in bafflement as she proceeded to attempt to explain herself further. "That's... nice. You don't have to tell us you're a parahuman at the moment. If you want perhaps getting a piece of paper and something to write with would make this easier?" Despite Jackson's utter bewilderment at what was going on he was still cordial.

She looked equally, if not more baffled. "What do I need paper for?" She asked, sounding almost insulted.

"Well you'll pardon my candor but you seem to have some trouble expressing your ideas concisely."

A long breath escaped Nora's lips, and she took the opportunity to stand. She removed her hand from her pocket, the motion completed with her hand rested on the table, empty, as she thought to herself. "I'll say it once more. I want to talk to the director about the role of bribes in a political environment. Concise enough for you?" The question had the slightest bit of venom, as it seemed she had been at least a little offended. "I was much more prepared to talk to the director. I memorized a speech, and everything. I should've expected this honestly, it's not your fault." She paced back and forth behind the chair, her hands crossed to clutch her biceps in a way that spoke of discomfort.

Jackson tilted his head slightly in confusion, mostly oblivious to her attempt to draw his eye, literally. "And is there a particular reason you have to give it to the director?"

"Well he is the most important person to bribe. I feel it wouldn't have as much of an impact coming from an inferior. In the hierarchical sense, not literally. I don't know if I'm a peer, in the direct sense, then again. She spoke, thinking to herself, It was clear she was dead set on talking to the director, for better or worse. It was also clear she had not considered the possibility of his lack of interest. Her voice was more muffled through the bandana this time, and she adjusted it, pulling it up to rest higher on her nose. The wet pants were annoying her less now that she was standing.

"Hm I can certainly see your point but wouldn't it be possible to record your message or simply email it instead?"

"Not to the same effect, no."

"Well it seems to be very important to you so I suppose we can give you a brief visit. I'm sure your speech will be very nice." Jackson said respectfully and stood up, opening the door and leading Null to a door. "Go ahead." Upon Upon entering the room she'd be faced with the man himself, a strict looking fellow who gave her a critical examination upon her entry. He gave off the air of someone very serious and very busy. "Jackson says you need to give me a speech. Speak." He said curtly. The room was fairly spartan, there was a desk in the center and the wall behind it was made of glass, the walls were covered in filing cabinets and nothing else. The only furnishings besides the desk were the two chairs closer to Null and the one Kens was sitting in. On the desk was nothing besdies the computer and associated wiring.

Despite her delusion of meeting the director, she was at least a bit surprised that he had given in when he had. He led her through the building, before opening a door that lead directly to the director. It was more than a bit of a rush for the young girl as she entered the room. The second her eyes met the director's her shard gave a denial. No eye contact made. Nora frowned a bit underneath her mask, sitting down across from the man. She decided to keep up the ruse, however. What game were they playing? Did they think her game was over? "Pardon my attire, director. I've come to clear up a misconception you may have about bribes. Bribes are abhorrent things, and I personally know you have never taken any. You're a good man, however, that is to your disadvantage in every sense." She paused, gathering herself and watching his reaction.

Kens waited, merely raising an eyebrow at her pause.

"Being a respectable, honest man is only an appearance. One that most can adopt, however that doesn't matter as much as someone good like you actually being in office. If someone else who accepts bribes works against you, then your honor means nothing, That person has an advantage and you do not, the game's sum being plus one for them, or more accurately, minus one for yourself. This goes for all maleficent deeds performed to gain an advantage, The optics need not matter if you lose regardless." She paused, rethinking phrasing it seemed. This time it she wasn't waiting for a response, and so she kept talking. "You might think it undermines your morals, you might think it undermines your authority and makes you a hypocrite. That doesn't matter as much as you having the power you do. Is it more wrong for some evil individual to have this position, or for you to have it after having committed evil while still being able to do good?"

"Is that all?"

The question was like the splash of cold water, threatening to drown her, causing her already striking blue eyes to widen significantly. "I was more here to discuss what I just said, than to actually say it. The information is important, but my presence was needed solely for the step after saying what I just said." Her voice was strained, again sounding vaguely offended, but not including a direct accusation. Her eyes read his face, trying to absorb any hint about his thoughts.

"I was told you came here for a speech not a discussion. Much less a discussion you can have anywhere with anyone. I'll be blunt." No surprise there. "What do you want from me?" Kens leaned forward with his elbows on the table and his steepled hands just in front of his mouth as he stared at her with a slight frown. It was easy to see where the lines on his face came from. He seemed to have... No interest in her.

"I wanted a reason to not invest in the other guys. Truly, a reason to keep believing. You're not that, it seems." At that, her affect on all of the people in the building disappeared, the nodes in her mind representing each person disappearing. That was how she thought of it at least. Her expression hadn't changed, but she was honestly kind of surprised by his question. A direct inquisition to her intent, he was indeed as blunt as they say.

A short sigh of exasperation. "I apologize if I somehow failed to meet your expectations but my job is not to sell myself to every teenager with a dream. Given that I suspect you are a parahuman, the PRT has a vested interest in making sure that you're either with us or remain a rogue but I can not force you to do either. It is better for me to have done evil and continue doing good then for an evil person to continue doing evil. Is that sufficient?"

"I can't tell if you believe it, but it doesn't actually matter. This was all for appearances too. There's a power gap in Denver, caused by the Bravta leaving, and the various vigilantes. Jaunt has disappeared, and in his place your new teleporter has greatly assisted in taking down other crime syndicates. The rockers can't fill this void, so you better know what you're dealing with. You're gonna need ample resources to combat all of these things. I'll get out of your hair, so you can fix the problem you probably already knew about." She stood and turned away from him in a flourish, opening the door for herself, before leaving him with parting words that weren't as grand as she'd like. "Tell Decoy he shouldn't relay information he's not sure of. He doesn't even know if I'm a Parahuman.

Jackson was waiting for her, cheery as ever. "So, how'd your speech go?"

She smiled despite herself at his question, her eyes reflecting that in the way they crinkled at the edges. They were expressive enough in-it-of-themselves it seemed. The best part of the meeting, Nora reasoned as she began following his lead to the lobby, was that she had gotten the dramatic last word. Despite that, these things never went as well as she hoped they would. Well, it's time to put some actual plans together. Shame I had to shore up my enemies defenses, but it's no fun if they break too easily. Nora thought, tucking away a lock of red hair back under the do-rag covering the top of her head. Nora answered the question posed to her as they approached the security guard. Strangely, he was nowhere near as interested in her as before. "It went better than expected. Nice to meet you all!" She said, moving towards the exit. A small lie, the first part.

"Be safe young lady. And if you ever want to help out we're always hiring." Jackson said, his lightheartedness present as always, though he didn't seem to expect his offer to be taken up, not now at least. Just another day working for the PRT. Jackson thought to himself as began walking back towards his office.

Exiting the building, Nora grabbed hold of the man standing outside. A large man, tattoos adorning his features. He had been waiting patiently, and now he smiled at her, though he still looked nervous. "We can go now! I'd like to get changed, but you can doublecheck I don't have a wire during that process." She said, grabbing his hand and leading the way deeper into the ciuty.

---

Collab with Old Amsterdam

The gang member led the way, holding her hand tightly. Visage's mask rested snug against her face, material warming her face by trapping her breath. Her power gently reminded her of the node attached to the man every time she looked at him. If she focused, a visual representation of her current form would appear in her head. Right now, she was his girlfriend, who had convinced him that she had to meet his boss. At first these deceptions had seemed wrong, but Visage had become desensitized the more she had used her power. It was a very enticing thing, the want to use here power nagging at the back of her head. They were approaching a door now, the alley they had just entered shadowing by two large, dark buildings.

The man she hadn't bothered to learn the name of knocked twice, and a slide opened on the door. What Visage assumed was another gang member peered through the opening, and her power latched on immediately. She shifted a bit so the fact that her hand was being held wasn't visible, and forced him to see her as Shatterpoint. "Just stepped out for a bit." She said, startling her companion, though her subtler powered calmed his confusion. The man nodded quickly, opening the door, and allowing the two of them to enter. Visage shifted herself again, appearing as the same thing for the both of them now with no dissonance caused. The man justified in his head why he let this complete stranger in, not realizing he was even doing it. Soft footfalls accompanied further progress into the Rocker's headquarters as he led her to his leader.

Shatterpoint was sitting in front of a computer, his head leaned back, headphones on as an old cassette player sat running beside him.

The goon froze at the doorway. He knew better than to interrupt the boss, especially when the headphones were on.

Looking past the man, she looked at Shatterpoint, sat in his chair. A broad smile formed underneath her mask, and she hugged the gang member's arm suddenly, resting her head on his shoulder. She shifted her feet to a more relaxed position, standing on one, while tapping the floor with the toe of her other foot. Soundless she watched him, feeling the man she was attached to move his arm every so often.

Shatterpoint's head tilted slightly, his eyes snapping on the foot tapping.

"Who are you, and why have you intruded upon this building without invitation?" he asked quietly, his voice colored with what could be irritation, seeming to take in every detail on the intruder and the goon with her. He pressed a key on the keyboard and the monitor turned off. Another movement and the headphones were removed with a careful measure.

"I just wanted to meet someone as renowned as you." She said, her tone light and airy. "I'm not here to threaten you. In fact I'd absolutely love to work with you" Visage's phrasing was careful throughout, noting that he was renowned, however at the same time saying she wanted to work with him. Implying, it seemed, she wanted to work as his equal.

Shatterpoint glanced back to the goon, making a motion for the man to leave immediately.

"Many would consider it unadvisable to simply intrude upon another's abode," he said quietly as he turned the chair sightly to more properly face her. "However, I am willing to overlook this... Interruption. What do you look to gain from such arrangements?"

Twisting her body, she let the man's arm go, removing her power in its entirety from him, before facing Shatterpoint again. "I'd like one thing in abundance, and one thing in small amounts. The thing I want a lot of is presence. I want every one of your gang members to know of me. A little cash on the side won't hurt, but I'd like to make it worth your while. Take what you pay your other superpowered rogues and reduce it by 90%. For that I'll do odd jobs, anything requiring a scalpel instead of a hammer." Visage said, leaning forward a bit, but not getting too much closer to him. Similar to what she was asking, she knew of Shatterpoint, but the more specific details escaped her. "I'm Visage, by the way." She ended with, waiting for a response to her requests.

His eyes roamed over her again before moving towards the door briefly and settling near her feet. "The pay is acceptable, and simple enough. Your other request... Can come in time. I am not willing to grant you access to all of my subordinates unproven, new to the fold. Prove yourself worthy, and that can change," he said as he bridged his hands momentarily. "Is this agreeable?"

Giggling slightly, she nodded in response. "I don't want to meet them! I want them to know of me!" Visage said, phrasing it specifically again. Though outwardly she seemed perfectly relaxed with his responses, she was trying very hard to read him. If he wanted to hurt her it wouldn't be difficult, but she could be a lot more valuable working with him, than not. At least, she was counting on that. "Do you have any jobs in mind? Or would you like a demonstration of my power?" She asked, trying to take back control of the situation by reestablishing the question and making him respond.

He made a slight tsking sound in response. "A demonstration is not necessary, Visage. As for 'jobs', I do indeed have a perfect beginning for our newfound joining. I want you to visit a certain cell underneath a Parahuman called Purge. Reach out to them as an Ambassador of the Rockers, and build the beginnings of an alliance between us."

Eyes visibly lighting up, she nodded in response to the mission. "Should I approach Purge in a similar way to how I approached you?" Visage asked, seeming more interested by the second. "I'm also gonna need an address. I can handle the rest, though"

Shatterpoint made a so-so gesture with his hands. "I would advise against simply forcing your way in. Others are not so understanding as I... As for an address... You can often find his lieutenants enjoying their free time in the Broken Shilling."

"Sounds like a plan" Visage said, offering a bow. It was more than a little indecent, considering her choice of costume; it was clear from the way her eyes lit up afterwards that that had been her intent. Without another word, she left, waving goodbye to the gang member standing nearby who Shatterpoint had dismissed.

Shatterpoint watched her leave with a slight smile, turning back to the computer and entering several keys before engaging with the task in full force.

Capes of Denver: A Worm RP

Visage

Visage

Name: Nora Lavigne
Alias: Visage
Age: 24
Alignment: Villain
Loyalty: Independent
Appearance: Ms. Lavigne has red hair that ends at about shoulder level, with most locks ending around her chin. Straight, and thick its color definitely stands out; you can be assured it is not her natural color. A bow can often be found in her hair, with the color changing based on her outfit. The next thing most people notice is her striking bright blue eyes, with fair skin drawing a beautiful contrast. Conventional beauty is a hallmark of her appearance, with her figure filled out well throughout. She normally sticks to thinner clothing, with hot pants and light airy blouses being a common sight; she does have enough of a closet to fit most occasions, and most themes. Nora is decidedly feminine, with every stride, and every word driving this home.

This is wrapped up in a rather light 5' 7" (170 cm) package, with little muscle mass to speak of. Her legs are well toned from jogging regularly, but that is truly the extent of her physical training. She eats healthy to keep her stomach flat. She switches from trying to be 'cute' to being 'hot' rather well, while still occupying the middle ground of that spectrum well.

Nora's obsession with appearances extends to her costume rather well. She stole most of the items that make up her costume from various costume shops around Loveland, Colorado. All of those crimes remain unsolved due to conflicting witness testimony, security camera footage, and general incompetence by the local law enforcement. Currently, her costume consists of tight dark blue clothing, with padding inserted in certain places for decency. Her top has a hole cut in it, purely to show off a bit of cleavage. She doesn't wear a cape, but she does wear a mask exclusively for the front of her face. The top half is split off, rubber set against the places where the sharp bits would touch her face. A utility belt hangs loosely off her right hip, while attached snug on the other side, purely for aesthetic reasons.

History: Born and raised in Loveland, Colorado, the bustle of larger cities was always normal for Nora. Her father was a white collar worker, while her mother was dead set from the beginning of the two's relationship to become a stay at home mom. Born in November of 1981, appearances were important even during her very early years. Nora's mother put in her many child beauty pageants starting at seven. A disagreement with Nora's father prompted her mother to stop putting her in the pageants that had defined her earlier years. Middle school saw Nora become the stereotypical popular girl in her classes, often attempting to ostracize those who she thought were disrespecting her.

Despite her healthy social life, Nora suffered from bulimia and depression throughout middle school and high school. When her bulimic tendencies were discovered freshman year, a rift formed between her father and mother. Her father, who had never been a fan of the pageants Nora had been exposed to as a child, was now convinced that his wife had caused the disorder his daughter was suffering from. Considering it, Nora thought it made sense, but never came to a definite conclusion on the matter. A year after discovering their daughter's condition, she still wasn't going to therapy, as her parents seemed to be focusing more on the political side of their own relationship than their daughter's well being. Why fix the problem, after all, when you can just turn it into ammunition to attack the other side with. A catharsis was found by Nora in bullying her fellow classmates, and her spot at the top of the social ladder afforded her a great position to do so.

During Nora's senior year, a common victim of hers took revenge. The young sophomore girl mixed some supplies from her favorite class. She dumped glitter into a bucket of glue, and threw it on Nora while she was eating lunch with her friends. The girl got more than she bargained for in that Nora even threw up, because the sticky substance got in her mouth. Her friends abandoned her, and with a majority of the people at the school knowing about the various bullying instances, when looking for help in her peers she only got the contempt which she had once given. Idle comments passed between loose enough lips, noting how she "should keep to throwing up in the bathroom," and that "maybe that was too much makeup, even for her." Her own lack of self awareness didn't help either, not being able to understand how they could see her as they did coloring a large part of the experience.

The ostracization Nora experienced started that day, and continued for longer than she could handle. Three days later, alone at home, she found herself in an endless loop of reflecting on what she perceived as an injustice she had suffered. The harsh words were stuck in her head, magnifying their viciousness with each second. They had judged her guilty, and she couldn't understand that. They couldn't see her side of it, what she was going through, and now she was more isolated than she'd ever been. Nora triggered. After that, she tested her power on her parents first, and her peers second.

The large amount of attention she attributed to aesthetics only increased from this point on. Nora's high school experience took a turn, and ended up being basically perfect. She kept her grades up, and kept her peers below her. A bit of irony could be found in that she never became a better person from this, even though the root problem was her shit treatment of others. Manipulating them was all the easier with her newfound power, so she didn't have to learn that lesson.

Three months after her trigger event, Nora graduated from high school with remarkably better grades than she had had during the rest of her scholarly career. For some reason. Turning a small time hobby of hers into a profession was the next stage of Nora's life, as she delved further into photography through college classes her parents paid for. During this time she also committed a couple of small time robberies, marking the first illicit use of her power. A couple of the pictures she took during college caught the attention of various news organizations before she graduated college. These news organization's interest, along with almost all of them being based out of Denver, lead to Nora moving to the bigger city.

Her interest in the 'uber celebrities,' that were the top tier of capes, was piqued further at this point; she she offered her services to many of them over the next couple years. As a rule for herself, Nora has never used her power on any of the capes she has photographed, never able to know the full extent of their powers; A hidden aspect of the power could easily give her away, after all.

Personality

Motivations: As is mentioned in her derangement, Nora wants to be the center of attention. A more specific goal would be that she wants to be renowned. She wants to build a rapport, and eventually become a household name across the world.
Sexuality: Bisexual
Likes:

• Photography
• Crafts
• One-on-one interactions

Dislikes:

• Snakes
• Bureaucracy
• Tedium

Derangement: Where before Nora's obsession with appearances was relatively minor, the events revolving around her trigger have greatly magnified this. She is almost always going for an aesthetic, trying to be flashy, bright, and the center of attention. Nora can normally suppress this during her freelance work, but a sort of catharsis is wrapped up in any illicit night time activities.

Parahumanism

Skills: This stranger has a knack for remembering things! She's great with faces, and can read a room pretty well. Nora absolutely loves theatrics, owing to her pageant background. Freelance photography is a passion of hers, and barely pays the bills. Keeping up with the cape knowledge of surrounding cities has been a hobby for a while.
Classification: Master, Stranger, Thinker. (Note: The sum is 12. I double checked.)
Details: The powers Nora has can be broken down into three unique powers that influence each other in peculiar ways. Arguably her most versatile, Nora's first power changes how others perceive her visually. Once she has seen someone's eyes, or they have seen hers, the primary power creates a node for that individual. Nora can mentally dismiss these nodes, but until she does, she can indefinitely alter how the affected person views her. She can also choose how much the affected person notices this change, with the dichotomies spanning "high dissonance" and "no dissonance." The person will not notice the change until they see her, and if she is on the "no dissonance" setting, her shard will iron out any difficulties they may have with this change almost instantly.

Looking back on the experience, they will not recall her looking any different from the last form she decided, though their memory isn't updated if she decides to change forms during the period she is out of sight. Technically Nora has an infinite capacity for nodes. Anyone Nora has a node for will automatically be recalled upon being seen, either with a photo or directly. At all times Nora knows if her power is affecting each node, and what the 'disguise' she selected is.

The second power Nora has is directly related to her first. Once Nora has established a node she can choose to see through that node's eyes. The node she is presently taking the sight of cannot see. Her first power of establishing nodes can trigger through this second power, that is to say if she has taken over someone's vision, and can see other's eyes through their vision, she can establish a node.

The third power Nora has is more to do with her first power than her second. As a general rule, Nora is not very suspicious. This isn't Nice Guy levels of mind fuck, but it's still pretty powerful. It would seem strange to a jury if a key witness was testifying against her. If she chooses a disguise matching someone else in the room, it'd be hard to convince yourself outright that she isn't the original, without a password system established beforehand.

Though I wouldn't consider it a unique power in-and-of-itself, Nora has one more ability. A couple of her senses are slightly enhanced, specifically her sight, taste, smell, and hearing. This is nothing to write home about, though the boost in sight does still apply when she is using her second power.

Limitations: It can be a difficult process to locate the node corresponding to a person Nora hasn't seen a while, or isn't familiar with in general. Any limitations applying to seeing her eyes, also apply to seeing someone else's eyes, when it comes to creating a node. Any reproduction of Nora's eyes doesn't count, but obscuring them does not affect her power. So colored contacts wouldn't stop her from creating a node, but a picture of her eyes, electronic or physical, would not create a node when seen. Her powers work through binoculars, but not through thermal goggles. Nora can change her appearance once per second per node.

Nora is limited to seeing through the eyes of one node at a time, and cannot see through her own vision during that time. Anything obscuring their vision, excluding eyelids, also obscures Nora's vision. If they go to rub their eyes, for example, she will not be able to see.

The third power is limited by the fact that it doesn't affect primary thinkers. At all.

Equipment: Inside the pockets of her utility belt are various small tools she threw together, such as pepper spray, random things taken from a first aid kit, and a bit of make-up for touch ups on the fly. A flashlight is strapped to her utility belt on the right side. She also has a small, tacky folding knife tucked away in one of the pouches.

Capes of Denver: A Worm RP

Zach Kozel:
A warehouse

@Eklispe@Gardevoiran@Old Amsterdam@Spiffy@t2wave@Xandrya

Focus shifting, Zach looked over at the newcomers. Ignoring the angel, he moved forward, picking another gun off a twitching thug. He fired into the air five shots ringing off before the clicking of an empty magazine reminded him of its limited capacity. ”I'm perfectly keen on the idea of knocking every fucking one of you unconscious. Just throw down your weapons and leave." He shouted, with no bullets responding to his call. It was mostly over then, that was good. He unclipped his baton, staring at the newcomers. ”You two should probably evacuate, and you, girly, don't know shit about us. It's already a bad day, lets keep it from getting worse" His voice trailed off near the end as another unintelligent individual rushed him, knife raised. He ducked under the cut, letting it go over his head as he extended the baton; it caught the man's arm, making him release the knife.

A voice called out from above, the string girl it seemed. He shrugged at her, not getting the full conversation, and therefore not knowing how to react. His power would prevent any real danger from appearing from those strings, so it didn't particularly threaten him. The derangement he had been given was also in full force, with his shard encouraging the fighting as well without his knowledge.

Hermes:
Laying the Groundwork

@Old Amsterdam

A simple nod was elicited in response to the warning, and another for the order. Soft footfalls accompanied their ever so lonely presence. Hermes motioned to go first, going silent for this part of the mission. Pushing on the double doors, he peaked inside, clearing the room, before motioning to Protean the all clear. He teleported forward, into a spot that covered him from the hallway, letting him lean further in as his larger teammate followed. Peaking around the corner he could not only hear music, but muffled chatter. The silent approach was working so far. Almost under his breath, he conveyed the situation to Decoy. "Twenty individuals, hard to tell how many are armed. I can take out two before they're alert. Advice? Or a holding cell I can place an armed individual?"

The channel he was on connected solely to Decoy, with instructions to pass on relevant information to his teammates. He leaned back around the corner, taking a stressed breath. Though he wasn't supposed to be giving orders, he still motioned for Protean to take a complimentary position to his on the safer side of the hallway. It was habit, being control of the operations he conducted, and his power offered such scouting abilities that he was more often than not the one with a lot more information than everybody else.

Capes of Denver: A Worm RP

Epsilon:
The Misery of Industry

@BCTheEntity@Eklispe@Lugubrious@Old Amsterdam@ProPro@yoshua171

There was a certain amount of dissonance, that now even Chatterbox's power couldn't overcome. Thinking over sentences again, they were worded specifically, but they sometimes were contradicted by knowledge already gained. Chatterbox made the claim his team was prestigious, but at the same time Epsilon, one of the biggest cape nerds present, didn't know any of them off hand. His power would push back, covering odd phrasings like that just enough to still affect her, but still. It was a strange mix of emotions for Epsilon, and she was tempted to report it.

She suddenly leaped out of cover again, sprinting to help intercept the villains who had moved further into the building, her gun almost slipping out of her hands at one point. The soldier followed her dutifully, his automatic rifle at the ready, armed with nonlethal rounds. Epsilon glanced back, meeting his eyes again with a quick timid glance. Refocusing, she narrowly avoided running into a forklift. Her face flushed under her mask, as she continued in the flanking direction.

Zach Kozel:
A warehouse

@Gardevoiran@Old Amsterdam@Spiffy@t2wave@Xandrya

The victim Zach had been assaulting had gone limp, and he looked around. The numbers had dwindled. He heard yelling overhead, and couldn't quite care enough to look up. He tucked away his baton onto his belt, before picking up a gun the man had dropped. It was a glock variant, loaded with actual rounds. They intended to kill or maim it seemed. He raised the gun, firing into the air above three times before it clicked with dissatisfaction matching his own. The catharsis was interrupted by a lack of bullets.

”It's over. You lost." He said in the moments of silence following. Another gunshot sounded, and pinged off his shield, before creating a cloud of dust beneath him. Another barrage of gunshots were fired at not Zach. He glanced in the direction some of the guns were pointed to see a quite intimidating figure. Pristine, an angelic figure in the most literal sense. Yellow hair floated around her, an unseen wind supporting strands just enough to make her seem all the more holy. Next time I should listen to the mission briefing. Didn't expect to fight literal Angels.

Hermes:
Laying the Groundwork

@Eklispe@Old Amsterdam

He readied his elbow, throwing it backwards with some force before teleporting up onto the catwalk. He reappeared, and a moment later his elbow had broken a Community member's nose. Hermes reached out to grab the man's shirt, and teleported him down to the ground floor. He let him collapse onto the hard floor, the still conscious man trying to stifle the heavy blood flow as he got used to his new surroundings. Hermes pulled back the hammer on his empty revolver, standing straight up and pointing it at the goon. "Lets keep it nice and quiet. I don't want to give you a concussion." The man opened his mouth to speak, and Hermes by tightening his grip on his gun. Instantly the goon raised his hands, letting blood splash over his clothes and drip down his chin. His lips quivered, detaching more droplets of blood from his bruised lip. "We don't need this anymore, so lets just talk." The mover said, tucking the gun away in his holster. In response the criminal yelled out, and Jaunted kicked out. The second his foot touched the man, he teleported them to the nearest police station.

A long breath escaped his lips as they arrived, the screaming continuing throughout the void he was sure. He threw his handcuffs attached to his belt to the nearest officer, motioning towards the very silly man. Focusing on the previous location, he teleported back to the warehouse. He arrived amidst Protean and Inkscape, the two heroes treating him the same way they always did. A caution surrounded the orders they gave him, always something they could double check later. It would be so much simpler if he could just do 99% of the work. "He didn't cooperate. Next one coming up." He eyed the man on the cat walk far above, gauging the speed at which he was walking. Raising his foot, he kicked out at about chest level, midway through tripping the little trigger in his mind. He appeared out of thin air, a couple feet off the ground as his foot connected with the man's face. He reached out to keep his balance with the handrails, before moving forward to grab the man's leg.

They appeared at the top of a twelve story building, the man struggling backwards as the world reformed around him. "Now for fucks sake, just talk-" The man wasted no time screaming out. How stupid are these fucking-GAH He grabbed the man's leg, and teleported them to the police station again, right next to the man he'd already teleported here. "Another." He said, teleporting away almost instantly.

The hero appeared again, his body language screaming of agitation. "Why do the gangs hire such dumb pricks?" He mumbled, looking between the two heroes. His costume choice hadn't been much of that. He wore black, tight clothing over various bits of body armor. A PRT communicator was inside his right ear, barely visible underneath the thick helmet he wore. It covered the back of his head better than the front, covering only his eyes with a dark blue visor. A thick belt sat on his waist, tightly pressing against his skin, in the places it didn't dig in. A holster sat there, with an empty revolver present more for intimidation than anything else. Two flash grenades hung on the left side, along with a small medical pouch filling out the back.

"Wait-yeah, they also hired me at one point." He admitted, a long breath escaping his lips, holding back a laugh.

Capes of Denver: A Worm RP

Epsilon:
The Misery of Industry

@BCTheEntity@Eklispe@Lugubrious@Old Amsterdam@ProPro@yoshua171

Talk talk talk talk. Did this guy ever love the sound of his own voice. When he yelled shame, Ira flinched at the loud noise. The soldier next to her kept her steady with his presence and his unflinching resolve. He kept going, talking about an eventful escape. The kind of thing Epsilon absolutely loved the sound of spoiling. She shifted slightly, pressing herself against one of the warehouse shelves, large boxes blocking view of her from the other side. He continued on and on, and words seemed to stick in her head. It was a subtle thing, hardly noticeable. Shame, not eventful. She kept her eyes on the soldier, watching his reaction. Nothing. They were fine, they were fine. Barely audible, Epsilon heard the sound of footsteps drawing closer, though the sound stopped soon after. She shifted the grip of her gun in her hand, trying to calm her unsteady breaths. Her hands were clammy, the grip unsteady. The steps played out again, and this time Epsilon picked out that there it was a pair of steps. Retreating, maybe. They might've stepped into the field, but the young tinker filed that down in her head as unlikely. Now that Epsilon replayed his words in her head, she noted the word escape again. It was doubtful they had full coverage of the building, and that was not good news.

Moving quickly now, she motioned for the soldier to follow her in a pretty obvious come on motion. He responded immediately, watching their back while moving backwards at a decent clip. She wanted to put herself in a position best suited to stop their escape. Just the smallest fraction, Epsilon slowed down, dread clawing at her with glancing blows. They couldn't stop them, especially Epsilon. Powers. Powers implied power, but it just wasn't the case for Epsilon. If anything she felt just a powerless now as she di-back then. She saw Margrave just as a door opened on her right. Epsilon shifted, pulling her gun up, before recognizing Messiah's costume. She had missed some of the conversation, it seemed, but now Messiah gave a simple command. Move in on them. Epsilon nodded, her resolve hardening once again. Lifting her left hand, she activated the comm piece, and spoke to her teammates. "I'm gonna try my best to make them literally powerless, guys. We can win this,

Despite the brave front, only being employed because of her position as second in command, she didn't quite believe it. She moved to a location in the opposite direction of where she had been running earlier, slipping between two shelves, and quickly crossing the empty space where no shelves were standing. Time to flank them as safely as she could without getting shot, and crossed another gap before stopping to throw them off. If they had been leading her, she would have a moment of confusion. It felt like she was trying to predict fifty moves ahead, without knowing if her opponent was even at the table.

Zach Kozel:
A warehouse

@Gardevoiran@Spiffy@Xandrya

The young man stood in the middle of the sidewalk in front of the store, patiently awaiting Farce's confirmation. As soon as the radio flicked on, he moved, not waiting for actual words. Confidence in his safety was obvious in every step, in how he took in the situation. This was the simple stuff; his shoulders were rolled back, his back straight, his breathing steady. He pushed the front door of the building, letting it open a bit too hard and slam against the wall inside. Instantly the people inside were hostile, hands hovering above, or readying weapons. More than one pistol was aimed at the ground in preparation of a fight. When Zach extended his baton, they responded by raising their weapons and shouting commands. "Drop your weapon", "The fuck are you thinking?", "Who the hell are you?", Why couldn't they ever have creative responses to his presence.

He moved towards a large group of the thugs, shifting to a sprint once he was close enough. Their inability to use guns was broken all at once as a shot rang out, then three more. His power stopped one, the two other bullets too far off course to hit him. He reached a man who was steadying his pistol. Zach didn't hear the bang, his power blocking it off in anticipation, and didn't even see the bullet as it was deflected off to the right side. His baton came down hard just above the man's ribs, eliciting a yelp of pain. He hit the ground hard, and Zach hit him again in the shoulder, seeing it instantly turn red with a small amount of blood looking from it. This was going to be a long fight.

Capes of Denver: A Worm RP

Decoy, my man~

Capes of Denver: A Worm RP

Ira Riese:
The Misery of Industry

@BCTheEntity@Lugubrious@ProPro@yoshua171@Old Amsterdam

The HUD inside the PRT's vehicle had a slight delay. Ira had been staring at it since they had set off, and had noticed it once they had gone over a bump. The camera was late in displaying that, and had to take a fraction of a second to refocus. From there Ira had kept her eyes locked onto the display, watching the path they were taking. It was a bit disorientating to feel the vehicle turn on a busy intersection, and have the camera not display that acceleration immediately. The display showed the vehicle turning onto a less populated, poorly maintained street, and Ira-er-Epsilon refocused. She traced her eyes across everyone present, taking each of them in as a whole, and trying to judge their body language. Epsilon wasn't very good at it, and so got very little information. Her team members just seemed generally tense, all in their unique ways.

The young tinker shifted from leaning forward on her knees to leaning back, but felt the metal of her nullification device hit the wall behind her. It was bulky, and had changed quite a bit since its first inception. What had once been a suitcase was now spherical, and awkward shape to pack, but great for keeping a high ratio of volume to surface area. On the top it had a small handle molded into it that it could be carried with. It had a longer battery life, though the distance hadn't been changed. Decoy had insisted on a remote tracking device and satellite controls built in, which Epsilon had immediately agreed to. It was near impossible to hijack the device, for after three minutes without access to a satellite it would shut off. All of that had been the easy part.

Epsilon sighed, going back to leaning forward as the vehicle came to a stop, her eyes focused on the floor. Some unknown signal from those around her caused Epsilon to glance up at the HUD. As she did, a man ran through a door with a smaller individual on his shoulders. Parahumans. The tinker's mind raced, recalling the news from the last month or so. It was a mover-or stranger-or brute-or breaker. It could be a lot of things, actually. Ira defaulted to Stranger breaker, and extrapolated. It seemed really inconvenient to carry someone on your shoulders like that, so either the girl had a very strong power that facilitated her entry, or she was the one with the stranger breaker powerset. At least, that was her first impression. Gunshots sounded from within the building, breaking Epsilon out of her spell. She had been sitting farthest from the door, and she moved now a bit late as the rest (sans Tulpa) exited the vehicle.

Tiger Lily had run off already, and a worried look crossed Epsilons face beneath her mask. That girl was very reckless, and it twisted Epsilon's stomach a bit. The masked crusader listened to the information provided by Tulpa, nodding to herself as she surveyed the outside of the building. She unclipped the goggles strapped to her belt, positioning them over her mask's eye slits, and 'enjoyed' them even further restrict her vision. She scouted again, the digital interface reminding her of the van's HUD. Tiger Lily popped up green as she crested the building, and the harsh green of those close to her distracted her a bit. Everyone started moving out of sync, Margrave talking to Overlook, who's voice elicited a pang of regret in the back of Epsilon's mind. She shook her head, her hands brushing against her white mask's hard exterior as she removed the goggles, reattaching them to her belt, Tiger Lily and Messiah had immediately separated, leaving Epsilon to decide who to follow, or if she wanted to further break the plan. Thinking quickly, she motioned to the lieutenant set to stick with her to follow.

She walked up to the door that the bulky man and young girl had gone through. First she tested it, pressing her hand against it to see if it would allow her to pass through as well. No luck. Next she undid the leather strap holding her pistol down in its holster, pulling the gun (loaded with nonlethal animation) into a safe-but-active position pointed at the ground. Epsilon motioned with her head at the door, the second time more exaggerated. She wanted him to open it. He hesitated momentarily before nodding, approaching and kicking the door directly above the handle. As the door fell inward he shifted to be on the opposite side of Epsilon while she took up a modified weaver stance, her gun pointed at the inside of the building. "Immediate area around the door two of the unidentified para's entered from is clear." She spoke, moving to safety before fumbling with the device on her back. "Activating nullification field in T-minus five, She said quickly, flipping the activation timer. She didn't actually know what T-minus was supposed to mean, but it sounded right.

Epsilon moved her entire head to focus on the soldier. He looked back at her, constantly studying her it seemed. She mouthed the words "Two. One before moving forward, the nullification field blossoming out around her. Those teammates within range would feel it wrap around them, snuffing out their connection to their passenger. He followed close behind, making use of his height along with the fact that she was crouching down slightly to give him a better angle. The rifle he was holding whipped off to the right side as she cleared the left. She was thankful that it was a small alcove, the various shelves and boxes forming a blind spot around them from everything but the catwalk high above. She glanced up, scanning quickly for any threats, as the Lieutenant went about the business of making sure they were completely safe from surprise assaults.

Zach Kozel:
Strip Mall

@Gardevoiran@Spiffy@Xandrya

Zach sat, hunched over the counter, his eyes glued to his hands. He felt like he was stuck in a loop, not able to move past the spiral his mind had entered into. Troll was no joke, and despite Judah being an empath, he was quite shitty at comforting people. Zach statement about the girl being alive had been more to reassure himself than anyone else, and now he was trying to consider the fact that three people may have died because of his actions, or lack thereof. A rapping on the windows elicited a small head movement from Zach, and he slowly stood as Judah entered. He eyed the dog, SpFrarce, and the newcomer as they entered, before moving to follow without question. He seemed even more separated from reality than normal as he climbed into Judah's vehicle. He finally noticed his phone vibrating, and checked it to see the missed text from the twins.

Within a few minutes they had arrived, Zach not one for considering his actions nodded in response to the words Judah said, without absorbing any of it. His emotions were so tangled together, he would be very hard to read with or without powers. Zach climbed out of the vehicle a couple beats late, as the new girl asked if they were prepared. He nodded in response, actually considering those words. Without a mask, he removed the baton attached to his belt and flicked it outward. He mouthed let's go and began walking towards the building indicated by his teammates body language.

⊰Manifest Anima: Planes Divided⊱

Sarah Reiter

Killer Lessons and Killer Looks

Arc 2, day 1
Time: 12:00 pm
The words “Exeo” and “Dead” in the same sentence were like a punch to the gut. The young woman froze, her every feature rigid. The eyes that were so expressive before communicated cold understanding. This wasn't something that happened, it wasn't unlikely, it was hard to believe period. Now that Sarah was looking (or maybe because she was) everything screamed the death at her.

Amana.

Understanding, not in an abstract way but in a deeply personal way. It wasn't just that it was that way for everyone, it was a literal direct understanding. She knew, the god-queen truly knew her. The science behind it was insufficient to mask the great understanding contained within her. Reverence wasn't the word. The ability to go against Amana's will made absolutely zero sense.

The door latched behind Sarah before she realized she was home. It was like the ten minute walk had disappeared, the surroundings a blur. As if trying to detach the thoughts from her head, Sarah shook her head. It helped a little, and she moved to sit down at the kitchen table. An Exeo was dead. It was like a broken record, skipping, repeating the phrase over, and over, and over until the words meant nothing. A roar of white noise, a roar of the impossible, and the roar of nothing.

A knock at the door roused Sarah, and with no light in her eyes she walked to it. It swung open to reveal a human man, graying edges creeping in faster than he'd like. His prime was more than ten years ago, and his eyes spoke of a gentle life. He was wearing a full suit, appearance pristine in an artificial way. He spoke, his voice sounding equally artificial; it was fitting. ”It's time to train, come on, go get ready. Can't mope around all day. Lose the mask too, it's creepy.” Sarah nodded slowly, hardly processing the words all the while. A sarcastic clearing of the throat roused her, and she moved back into the apartment, heading for her room.

The door shut behind her quietly, trapping Sarah with her thoughts again. There isn't time anymore for focusing on the dead. She thought, but not quite believing it. She unbuttoned the skirt recklessly, throwing it onto the bed. She pulled open a drawer, collecting flexible shorts from within, and sat down to pull them on. With a hop in her step, Sarah stood and moved to the next room. The man looked up at her, and the name Alex echoed in her head.

The room shifted, but not truly. He had moved the two of them to a white walled training area. Red lines cut the room into neat squares. The sides of every square were 10 feet long, the ceiling not even visible. Lighting came from nowhere in particular and yet lit everything equally well. Her teacher stood thirty feet from her, his position not that of a fighter. The weight of the jacket was comforting for Sarah, and her confidence rose when she met her tutor's eyes. His eyes spoke of a respect earned, not through power, or through wealth. Respect earned through deeds. Respect earned through understanding.

A slow movement brought Sarah's right hand off to her side, the halberd appearing as her hand closed around it. Vis flowed with purpose through her body, tripping gates on its path. The mask was removed, the change happening from bottom to top. Hard black edges climbed her legs, the markings thinly reaching out to her fingertips from where they were visible underneath her sleeves. The contrast between her fair skin, and the black lines was striking. Every hard line on Sarah's face was accentuated by a darker design. Two of them framed her beautiful blue gem, meeting its middle at a 45 degree angle, and forming a faux tiara in the process. It broke off from that angle right above her eyebrows, framing her cheeks.

The challenge was simple, she just had to land more than a glancing blow. As soon as she did, the sparring session would be over. The first time, almost a year ago now, had to be ended because of her own exhaustion. She had slowly whittled him down over the months of training, and was now at the point where she could hit him within the hour. In her head she repeated the rules that he had instated: No Vis sense: Go at it blind, as a good enough magic user will be trying to mask their vis anyways. If they're not, it's just another advantage for you. No lethal attacks: There were a couple safeguards in place just in case someone went too hard, but it would hinder future training if either of them were dead. No using vis to increase your own stamina. The fight could last a very long time if they had access to that, and it would be a shame if either weren't fit to protect themselves in the time it took to recharge their stores. The final rule was simple: Give up when too tired to fight.

With a defensive stance Sarah approached Alex. The range that his bare fists provided was not even half of the range Sarah's halberd provided. Her right hand clasped the halberd lower than her right hand, the left meant more for guiding than providing force (though it did). For Sarah it was a truly unwieldy weapon, only manageable because of the Vis imbued into it. When she couldn't apply enough force, she could simply make it go a bit faster. When it was knocked aside by shield or parry, she could stop its momentum that much easier. When it wasn't long enough, she could give it the extra inch or so that was needed. She twisted the halberd, haft over blade in a small spin, while cautiously watching her teacher. Back to the normal position Sarah waited another step before swinging the blade forward. The haft settled on the right side of her leg, her feet bracing as soon as they landed.

Another step was enough, and Sarah thrust her halberd forward-Alex instantly struck it off to the left with his right hand, leaning forward while favoring his left side; his legs were positioned to better take the hits she was dishing out. Quickly recovering from the unexpected force, Sarah took another step forward, and swung the halberd like a pole axe. This time he took a step back, rotating so his left shoulder was farther from her than his right. Hesitantly he raised his hands, crouching down a bit. The axe barely missed, and Sarah made the effort to stop it. He moved forward now, trying to rush in to land a blow. With a burst of speed Sarah swung the halberd back, the weapon's blade coming within inches of his chest before he thrust out a palm to deflect it upward. Thinking quickly, she guided the weapon over her body with the force, before letting it go. It sailed over her shoulder, and Sarah ducked out of the way of his punch. Except he hadn't thrown a punch, he had kicked out at her chest, which was now where her head was.

The force of pulling herself down didn't do much to reduce the dizzying hit to her temple. She rolled hip-over-hip, before scrambling to stand. Holding her head with her left hand, she used vis to steady herself. Small things to correct her position, as Alex kept approaching. She raised her head in time to see a punch coming towards her, and she barely had time to duck underneath the blow, reducing the distance. The blow still scraped the top of her head, pushing her a bit off balance. Her hand became engulfed with fire as she pushed vis into her jacket, the oppressive heat filling the air. She pushed it at his stomach, as he grabbed her hair with his left hand. It was a game of chicken, and Sarah had to perform one motion while he had to do two. The fire pressed against his stomach would've burned her too if it hadn't been for her jacket protecting her.

They were back in Sarah's apartment instantly, and while Alex kept his balance, Sarah fared worse. She fell to the floor, barely catching herself with one hand which wasn't quite enough. Rolling onto her side, Sarah stared up at the ceiling, her hand still pressed against her face. With loud footfalls, Alex reached down to Sarah. He didn't offer a hand up, but instead touched her forehead. The Vis didn't reach his eyes as he healed her body. She let it happen, feeling things rebalance themselves. It was like the slow disorientating recovery of stepping off a rollercoaster.

As the world was rebalanced, Alex removed his hand and moved a step away. A large burned area on his exposed stomach was being healed quickly, fabric restitching over it. "Nice work, though you're still a bit predictable with that halberd-" the weapon appeared in his hands as he spoke, and he handed it to her with two hands, "-just keep practicing. You'll make a great fighter, given enough time. Luckily you have plenty of that, dontcha?"

Sarah nodded in agreement, her face flushed from the effort of the fight. She stood up, moving to get a glass of water, as Alex moved towards the door. ”I'm heading out then. I'll see you again, same time Wednesday.” He said, letting himself out.

”See you Wednesday.” Sarah said without looking, the tap filling a glass of water noisily. She drained it quickly, before filling it again, her breathing labored in the interim. The door closed softly, and after another beat it latched. Sarah set the glass down on the counter, before reconsidering, and beginning the process of washing it.

Finishing, she moved to her room, removing the rune jacket. She stared at the patch near the left pocket, focusing the vis in her body on the task. Slowly she crafted runes into her lower back, the act made more difficult by the thoughts of the dead Exeo at the back of her mind. It took a couple minutes, but soon flawless black lines sketched out a will on her back. In Sarah's mind it was the purest expression of the laws of physics. The will of a universal energy made legible. In this intricate, beautiful writing she had written a ward and some illusionary magic. It changed less, removing the markings across her body, and the gem from her face, but not changing the shape of her features. If one knew the particular racial differences between Prae and human, then they could make an educated guess, but even then there were humans born with Prae like facial structure, not the norm, but still within the standard deviation. The ward was the same as always, replicating a non-magical human's vis.

The rough texture of the material grazed her hand, and she drew in some of the reserves of vis within. It energized her, and gave her a bit of a rush like a child with candy. With a bit more of a pep in her step, she moved to her closet, looking at the dresses hanging there. The first couple starting from the left were more formal, with the collection growing less formal the further you traveled down the row. Her hand brushed the shoulders of each, drifting across the material, stopping every so often to take in a particular dress and frame it in her mind. After a minute she decided, removing a dress carefully from where it hung, and holding it against herself.

It draped across the bed as she set it down, before moving on to take of her clothes. She changed quickly, taking care of the mess of her clothes immediately by putting into a hamper. The undergarments were switched from white to black, and the dress came next. Without bothering to check how it looked in the mirror, Sarah moved on to her hair, brushing the tangled mess it had become into something more manageable. Makeup was next, not too much, but enough to highlight her eyes and lips. The cold tile didn't affect her too much through her socks, which she slowly switched out for leggings ending just above her knees. They wrapped up on the outside a bit more, secured with silver thigh chains.

The next thing to be draped was a shawl over her shoulders, the bottom hem an eye catching white. It mixed with purple as it went higher, the gradient evening out to a black around her neck where it was secured with a choker. Now she looked in the mirror, quietly studying her reflection. The actual dress was a mix of purple white and blue, with black tears running across it at an angle. It reminded her of space. Satisfied with the dress and shawl, she moved on to putting on her heels. Sarah wasn't particularly tall, and heels helped a lot in that regard.

Looking back on the experience in Victorius Secret, it was strange that Sarah had stayed as long as she did considering how timid she could be. Though the shopkeep was a comforting presence, he had (basically) called her Prae. In retrospect, she could have brought it up to Alex, but at the same time he had never been one for idle conversation. She stood smoothly, looking again in the mirror. She was lost in thought as she headed out of her apartment, planning on getting something to eat before the grand (re)opening.