[Other OPEN] Capes [M] [IC]

Ice1 · Feb 24, 2017

Capes
Rated M | GM'd by Ice & gimmepie | OOC | Character Information

Introduction
It's been over thirty years since the first parahumans, colloquially known as capes, appeared and since then the world has changed greatly. With superpowered people thrown into the mix, both crime and law enforcement reached new extremes. This is the world you will step into.

This isn't your typical superhero roleplay however. Capes, being based on John McCrae/wildbow's Worm, is a darker, grittier take on the genre injecting a dose of realism. There's no quirky villains with zany plans or ridiculously pure, loony heroes here. Villains take part in more traditional criminal activity; they're dealers, thieves and killers and heroes are either law enforcement or vigilantes skirting the edges of what is legally acceptable.

This is a sandbox RP. You're free to explore the setting, interact and create characters at your leisure for the most part and can create your own stories during the RP. However, there may occasionally be times where one of us introduce plot elements that may affect the RP at large.

Fallcliff
This RP is set in the city of Fallcliff, a large and extremely multicultural city with one of the highest cape populations in the country. Fallcliff gets its name due to the large cliff that divides the city in two with the majority of the city sitting on the lower half whilst the upper section is primarily home to wealthy families, parks and large properties. Those who live on the lower half are generally much poorer and live in either apartments or small homes.

Fallcliff has a continental climate with hot, dry summers and wet, rainy/snowy winters. From most parts of Fallcliff, mountains including dormant volcanoes can be seen in the distance a large volcanic event responsible for the city's interesting geography. Due to the volcanic nature of the area, there are many farms around the outskirts of the city whilst the interior is primarily industrial in nature. Amongst the farmland the sturdy structure of the Fallcliff Detention Centre can be seen.

Spoiler: Map of Fallcliff

Rules

1. All standard PC and RPT rules apply.
2. GM word is law.
3. Everyone is human. No aliens, gods, spirits, mages or ferrets.
4. Telepathy isn't really a thing in the Wormverse and we're not allowing mind/body control.
5. Rather than everyone having like fifty NPCs that nobody else uses, you're encouraged to share NPCs around and to interact a fair bit.
6. If you're capable/comfortable, we're happy for you to play as more than one character.
7. Rather than aiming to just make characters with really strong powers. Try to be creative with parahuman abilities.

Characters
Protectorate Heroes
Ice as Calvin Nanyemba (Animator)
Foxrally as Jeanne Coutelas (Medic Extraordinaire)
Esper as Agnes Holiday (Ditto)
PastelPhoenix as Reza Shirazi (Freefall)
engineer as Karl Janssen (The Mechanic)
Fen-Kun as Safiya Nejem (Florissant)
Sephear as Tiergan Cassidy (Godhand)

NPC - Gregory Marron (Moniter), Leader of the Fallcliff Protectorate and Triumvirate Field Commander
NPC - Sarah Jones (Papillon)
NPC - Farah Merci (Seraph)

Wards Heroes
PastelPhoenix as Maryum Sherazi (Bombshell)
AlphaLuxray as Alex Jones (Chrono)
Fen-kun as Clarissa Bevin-Jones (Aero)

NPC - Stephanie Peterson (Shift), Leader of the Fallcliff Wards
NPC - Fern Mables (Squire)
NCP - Julia Rodriguez (Reflex)

Other Heroes
Cutiefly!!! as Lilith Griffin (Cactus)

La Fenice Villains
NPC - Adalhard Scazi (The Fenician), Leader of La Fenice
NPC -Tommy Figazi (Tommy Gun)
NPC - Iain McStrave (Banker)
NPC - Luka Adams (Vacuum)
NPC - Alberto Adams (Vortex)
NPC - Samuel Garcia (Wipeout)
NPC - Camille West (Frost)

Fundation Villains
NPC - Martin Rodrigo (Null), Leader of fundation
NPC - Maria Ruiz (Flashback)
NPC - Veronica Ruiz (Sincere)
NPC - Bernard Williams (Armory)
NPC - Rosa Ruiz (Nightmare)

Darwin's Chosen Villains
NPC - Dana Black (Tempestuous), Leader of Darwin's Chosen
NPC - Fadlhan Ahmadputra (Delay)

The Curators Villains
NPC - Everett Hannes (Fiendfire), Leader of The Curators
NPC - Jie Yaling (Blink)
NPC - Marcus Octavio (Draw-Distance)
NPC - Susanna Adela (Sketchbook)

Gladiator Villains:
NPC - Marcel Lequin (Arena)
NPC - Nancy Trebault (Diamond Daisy)

Other Villains
gimmepie as Sebastian Medina (Hostage) & Anita Blaine (Jailer)
Strange as Damian Edgeworth (Mephisto)
Oddball_ as Edan Edgeworth (Brimstone)
Godzil as Edward Pierce (Master Key)
Dusty as Shaylee Thompson (Shade)
Fen-kun as Harvey Farrel (Vizier)

NPC - Alfredo Marzipal (Thunderrush)
NPC - Aldon Schwart (Messenger)
NPC - Yuri Delov (The Cosmonaut), S-Class Threat
NPC - Ryan Dube (Snatch Master), S-Class Threat

Rogues
Winter as Lyra Menura (Songbird)
(Drakath) as Kiro Irazuka (Drakath/The Speed Demon)

(Drakath) · Feb 24, 2017

Whoosh! The whine of the bullet train combined the rushing of wind and distorting sound as it cracks against Drakath's suit. Speeds like this are what Drakath lives for. He was doing promotional stunt for the incoming tourists on the train. He had to match the train's ever increasing speed as it traveled from the airport to the Fallcliff Main Station. Drakath smiled as the train came close to its destination, briefly overtaking the train in order switch sides and allign with an off-ramp. He activated a red smoke trail as the train came to a stop. Checking his vitals through his masquerade, Drakath pushed to his top speed of Mach 1 just before hitting the ramp, a sonic boom erupted throughout the Fallcliff as Drakath hit the ramp and went sailing through the air. As he hit the peak of his launch, he spread his arms and legs, making use of the wingsuit that'd been attached to him for this stunt to glide around the city, eventually passing dangerously close by through the cliff as cameras watched before circling back around and opening a parachute to aid his landing atop the train. Drakath looked at the red trail he left through the air before throwing his arms up as he and the crowd exclaimed at the top of their lungs, "Woo~!"

Kiro exhaled in a sigh of relief as he plopped onto his bed. That little "stunt" as "The Speed Demon" was a bit much. He got up and looked out his to see a view he has enjoyed his entire life. The tall Cliff beside the wide river was a sight to behold. After Kiro had eaten, he was playing a video game when he received a call on his delivery line. A minute later, the answering machine sent him a text with the details of the delivery. Kiro sighed, At least these jobs don't take long. Leaving the house, he ducked into a well placed alley and donned Drakath's signature masquerade. His "supersuit," as he liked to jokingly call it, folded onto his body much like Mystique's skin does. Dashing through the street at high speeds, Drakath soon arrived at the delivery pick up, where he received a rather large box. Curiously shaking it as there was no "fragile" sticker, he shrugged sped away to the drop off point. Papers, decorations, ect. were sent flying as Drakath arrived, torn from their previous placement. Annoyed he watched as everything scattered across the street. Making the appropriate gestures to convey his anger, Drakath yelled, "Sir! There is a warning on the poster for a reason!" Slamming the delivery onto the porch, he pocketed his pay, after an unpleasant exchange, and smiled when he saw some quarters amongst it before speeding to his favorite district in the entire city.

Looking over the lower half of the city, Drakath stood inside of a personal lift as it descended. He scanned the districts one by one to see if anything had visibly changed, even though he had a destination set in stone. His eyes stopped as he looked over the Entertainment District, focused on one street in particular as the lift neared the bottom of the cliff. The doors opened and Drakath sprinted into that sector of the city, stopping excitedly at a specific building he'd come to know very well. "The Fallcliff Arcade," a multi-story indoor amusement park that was focused more on games than actual rides. Quick on his feet, Kiro almost ran in but stopped when he remembered he still had his suit on. Going behind the Arcade, Kiro pulled his mask off, and with it, his "Speed Demon" outfit, before running in at a more realistically human pace for his nerd-like body type.

Desert Stream~ · Feb 24, 2017

The abandoned industries were a calmer place. It wasn't a nice place, but there weren't any of the usual city sounds.
Oops, my invisibility has turned off again... Lilith thought to herself.
It was easy to drift off a bit in such a quiet space. She hoped nobody would catch her on top of the abandoned warehouse. It was getting late though, and she knew she had to get home to prepare dinner. She looked down at her arm and touched a small blue circle on her suit. The flight attatchment lit up and she felt herself lifting off the building, until a strange noise sounded and smoke began coming out of the suit.
"Ugh, not again! I just had this fixed last week!" She said, before crashing through the roof.
She took off the suit and inspected her shoulder, which was covered in blood. She may have been invisible, but the crash certainly made a sound, and would be noticed if anyone was around.
Sure enough the police came, and a small crowd gathered outside the smoking building.
She turned on invisibility again, and dragged the heavy suit all the way back to her house.

PastelPhoenix · Feb 24, 2017

Reza Shirazi || Freefall
Male // 18 // Hero

A Typical Day I

Grabbing a seat at the group's table, Reza set down both his food trays and noticed the stares of his friends.

"Jesus Christ Rez," The man to his left, Mark, said, "how much can you eat and still stay that thin?"

Well, I often can't eat on patrol. Now is the best time to catch up on meals.

"I dunno," Reza replied, a little sheepishly, "I just have good genetics I guess."

"Bullshit! I've seen your dad and his beer belly. You know that's going to catch up, right?"

"Just drop it Mark," the blonde man across from him sighed, "just let the man eat his… three slices of pizza, burger, fries, cookies, coke, and milkshake. Okay, he's going to get fat as hell, but we'll be the hot ones in the group then."

Not very likely with the amount of physical training I do

"Yeah, just listen to Damien. You can finally not be the ugliest friend then." Reza ribbed, elbowing his buddy in the shoulder. "Anyway, what were you two talking about before I got here?"

With a quick "oh yeah", Mark reached under the table, pulling up his laptop from a beige backpack. Spending a few minutes powering it up and navigating to a website, he turned the computer around to reveal a Cape blog. The top post on the blog showed a scene from a few days ago, Freefall and Bombshell stopping a minor robbery. The top picture itself seemed to be a close up of Bombshell herself, talking to the on scene police.

"And what am I supposed to be looking at?" Damien asked, resting his head on one of his hands.

"C'mon," Mark began, pointing excitedly, "it's right there. Her jacket is ripped, you can see her shoulder."

"Holy shit, are you in Victorian England? This excited over a little bit of skin?"

"Hey! We know nothing about Bombshell under the costume, not even her skin color. At least we have one thing now."

While the two bantered, Reza continued to eat the feast in front of him, only halfway paying attention. He and Maryam never intended to become a mystery, but their costumes were quite concealing.

"Okay, so you know one thing. You don't even know her body type, hair color, or what her face looks like. She could still be ugly as sin underneath all that."

"Hell no! Look at her name: Bombshell. She's gotta be super hot."

"What's your fascination with Bombshell all of a sudden? I thought you were a Papillon man?"

"Okay, yes," Mark countered, sounding a little defensive, "but the entire straight male population is a Papillon man. Plus there's the sense of mystery with Bombshell, ya know? Like, she pushes you down on the bed and says 'How about these Bombshells?'. Then she unzips her jacket and BAM! Double Ds right there in your face!"

Reza then realized that now was probably the worst time possible to take a drink from his coke, and he suddenly found it going down the wrong pipe at the image.

"You alright?" Damien checked.

"Probably too much mental stimulation for our little Rez here." Mark teased, slapping him on the back.

"I'm okay. Just… wasn't expecting that." Rez managed to say between coughs.

"That's hot and everything," Damien continued after Reza's reassurances, "but I think he most likely choked on how awful that joke was."

Remember to keep Mary from these two perverts, now more than ever.

"That joke wasn't that bad," Mark defended, "She cracks jokes too."

"That was a Freefall joke. Bombshell is at least funny."

"Hey!" Reza interrupted, breathing now back to normal, "Freefall is funny too!"

"No he's not, Rez. You just find everything funny."

Returning to his meal after being shut down, Reza noticed the other two had finished some time ago. Thankfully, none of them had anywhere to be for some time, so he could take his time.

"You know who she kind of reminds me of?" Damien asked, taking the reins of the conversation. "Reza's sister."

"Because we're brown?" Reza started, having to put down his food again, "That's kind of racist."

"Yeah, a little messed up Dame. But I can see where you're coming from."

"How the hell do you guys even know what my sister looks like anyways?"

"Facebook." Both chimed in simultaneously.

"I'm going to have to ask you to refrain from stalking my underage sister on social media, please."

"Please," Mark responded while closing his computer down, "everything is public there anyways. Bikini pics and all."

Well, I'm going to have to ask her to take that down now.

"How come you've never introduced us anyways?" Damien inquired.

"She goes to a private school, the kind with a dorm. Plus you two are perverts."

"Like you're much better."

"I guarantee you that I am."

A sudden tone from Mark's phone caught his attention, and his face soured from reading the text. Lifting up his bag, he put away his laptop and gathered up his trash.

"Rach wants us at the library, Dame. Says we're lazing out on the project. She also sounded pissed."

"Proper spelling and full names?"

"Yup."

Suddenly quickening his pace, Damien picked up his trash and grabbed his bag also. A look of panic on his face.

"Sorry to do this Reza, but we've got to go," he explained, although Reza knew their other friend's fury first hand, "I would kind of like to keep all my body-parts intact."

"No problem. Just don't die."

"See yah Rez. Say something nice at my funeral!" Mark called out as he practically sprinted out the dining hall.

Suddenly alone, Reza could finish his now cold food in peace. Thankfully, he avoided that class, so he can remain on Rachel's good side.

Also, thank God Mary can't read memories.

gimmepie · Feb 24, 2017

Hostage
AKA. Sebastian Medina

College Entry

Hostage walked casually up the alleyway behind the large, brick building. A few paces behind him, Jailer was repeating the same question she'd been asking since earlier that morning.
"Remind me again, why are we robbing a university in broad daylight? College students… hell college professors aren't that wealthy." Hostage chuckled, giving the same answer he'd been giving all morning.
"Because, dear Jailer, we can."

His response was the truth, he had no real motivation for the very public stunt other than his own amusement. There was not going to be a big payload, but something like this attracted attention and there's few things as exciting as a race against the clock to try and get a job done before a bunch of Wards or a member of the Protectorate showed up. Hell, there was every chance one of either group could be inside the very building they were heading up behind.

The pair of criminals soon reached their destination, a nondescript fire exit. The door had no handle on the exterior but that wasn't going to prove much of a problem.
"You definitely got the alarm?" Jailer asked, more to patronise him then out of genuine concern he'd made a mistake.
"No, I thought I'd just come hang out here for kicks and say I did." Hostage replied, shaking his head at his partner. He'd snuck into the building the previous day disguised as a maintenance worker to case out the place and cut the alarm. It was a bit of a cliche, but it was a trick that worked surprisingly often. For the occasions it didn't, they'd just skip hitting the target.
Now the fun begins

"After you." Hostage said with a wave of his hand, his tone forced to formality.
"Such a gentleman" Jailer relied as she stepped towards the door. Even as the young woman did so, a bulge could be seen forming in the side of the door as a force field begun expanding in the crack between the door and the war. Within seconds, the door was bent nearly completely out of shape. The alarm didn't sound.
"See!" Hostage said, feigning indignance as he pulled one of his swords from the sheaths on his back and jammed it into the now much wider gap between door and doorframe. Using the bladed weapon like a crowbar, he forced the door open and stepped through. No longer pretending to be polite.

"I see the facade has dropped."
"Of course, I'm being the big bad supervillain now." Hostage said, a wry smile concealed behind the dark, expressionless helmet he wore.
"Where are going, big bad supervillain?" Jailer asked, taking Hostage's typical mannerisms in stride.
"We follow this hallway and turn left. There should be a Parahumans 101 class operating right next to us then."
"I'm sorry, did you say Parahumans 101? As in the class that all the prospective PRT, Wards and Protectorate have to do?" Hostage resisted the urge to burst out laughing. That reaction was exactly why he hadn't mentioned that little tidbit to Jailer.
"Does that really surprise you at this point?"
"It really shouldn't but I keep letting myself imagine you've grown at least a little sense." Jailer sighed.

The pair turned left, and sure enough there was an open door to their right that led to a lecture theatre. An elderly man in a brown suit could be seen talking to packed rows of tiered seating occupied by tired and bored looking college students. Without checking to see Jailer was ready, Hostage strode through the open door, still wielding the sword.
"Good morning class!" he called out "It's time for your practical examination. Please remain seated unless called upon!"

The room fell silent as Hostage continued.
"Hands over your heads, we can't have anyone cheating now." Jailer hadn't come in with him, but that was part of the plan. He knew she'd gone to erect a force field that would prevent anyone interrupting them too easily having left one behind at the fire door also.

With practiced, theatrical ease Hostage twirled his weapon in his hand.
"Now, my friend will be back here any moment. When she gets back, here is what you're going to do. Row by row, you're going to drop any valuables that are not mobile phones into a pair of bags that two lovely volunteers are going to donate. So, hands up if you want to volunteer."

Surprisingly enough, a few hands did get raised. Hostage ignored those, figuring that they were most likely to be Wards, PRT or Protectorate. Instead he took a pair of backpacks from the more terrified members of the class and was in the process of removing anything that he couldn't sell (and the pairs phones) when Jailer walked back in.
"A few people saw me when I was putting the barriers up. It won't be that long before capes or PRT show up."
"Time to get started then! Bring your bags down with you, we'll decide what's worth taking and what isn't. Front row first, you can join them professor. No hasty moves and do not lob your bags at Jailer here because I can guarantee she won't catch them. Quickly now, no stalling!"

Esper · Feb 25, 2017

Ditto / Hero

- - - - - - - - -

"Alright, alright. Duty rosters. Listen for your name because I don't like repeating myself." The sergeant took a sip from a deep mug of coffee and began. "Melkumyan, Miner, Jalali, Hopton. You'll be on the Piper Street case. The warrant's been signed. You'll be assisted by our friends from the PRT."

The sergeant's arm extended and heads turned to the back of the room where the two PRT members, Ditto and Blackout, stood. Blackout, wearing a metal studded jacket and high leather boots, nodded. Ditto shuffled uncomfortably under the attention and her skin-tight uniform.

"We've had some scattered reports of a couple of villains in the neighborhood so they'll be your backup in case you run into anything."

Blackout leaned over to Ditto. He was one of the tallest people she had ever met, a giant at over 6-foot-seven, and he always leaned over people when he spoke to them.

"You wanna get coffee after this? 'Cuz I'm thinking," he raised both hands and pointed his index fingers up in the air. "Pew! Pew! Done in fifteen minutes, or less."

Ditto had never worked directly with Blackout before, but she knew him by reputation: a hot-headed, careless man who would probably already be dead now if he wasn't as powerful as his ability made him.

"No thanks," Ditto replied. "I'm not much of a coffee drinker." Not a lie, but it would be enough to reinforce her own reputation among her fellow Heroes. Ditto the Ditz. Frigiddo Ditto. Married to the job, never seen outside work.

"Okay." Blackout scratched his near-bald head. Some of the police officers they were to work with came over and they began walking out of the briefing room. The shortest of them stopped at the doors. He looked young, like a teenager. Black hair cut short and the face of a cherub. Ditto guessed he was fresh from the academy.

"Ma'am," he said with a nod. He had held the door open for her. A gentleman, at least. They had a job to do so Ditto walked through the door and he followed close behind.

"You and your partner," the young officer began.

"He's not my partner. We're both independently assisting because we've both got experience with Piper Street."

"Okay."

"You shouldn't need us though. We're just insurance."

The morning was cold and quiet. The sun was still an hour away. Good little criminals would still be in bed, or stumbling into it after all nighters. A pre-dawn raid on some low-level burglar's lair. She hadn't lied when she said the police wouldn't need her. They were normal criminals, armed with normal weapons like normal handguns and normal automatic rifles. Sticks and stones compared to capes, but still easy enough for the police.

Ditto blew into her hands to warm them. Her suit didn't do enough to protect her. It was just for show, for modesty. There were two more in the trunk of the car, spares for her to change into when she inevitably tore the one she wore. She had, everyone assured her, a phenomenal ability, but it had the most embarrassing weakness she could imagine. Only works when naked.

Blackout took the driver's seat of the car and she sat down in the passenger's seat. She touched the key ring on her arm, counting the objects like a repentant Catholic with a rosary. The shapes were human, the way gingerbread men are human. All steel. alloys of iron, chromium, tungsten, titanium. They were tough, nearly unbreakable. She'd done the research.

"What are you doing?"

"Praying."

"For good luck in battle or something?"

"Sure."

But she hadn't heard him. Her thoughts were elsewhere.

Dusty · Feb 25, 2017

Shaylee Thompson // Shade // Villain

Shaylee Thompson grimaced slightly as she brushed her forearm against the table, reminding her of the bruise she had gained last night, adding yet another miscoloured patch of skin to her collection. Brushing the momentary pain away, she took a small sip of her coffee, pulling her tablet out as she did so. The tablet to outside observers would appear to be perfectly normal, but in reality it was anything but. Shaylee, being blind, was unable to view any sort of screen, despite her ability to sense her surroundings through shades of black and white. That didn't apply to screens unfortunately, and so the tablet had the ability to create braille imprints on it's screen while showing an image that would look completely normal for anyone else.

Smiling slightly, she moved her way through several menus till she came to her secure messenger. A single new message was available from a contact labelled "Dominion". She opened it and quickly read the short message, only a handful of words: "Well done. Payment sent as promised." At that she quickly closed out of the app and switched over to her bank account app. Where once the account had read only a few hundred dollars, now it was a healthy amount over three thousand, bringing a slight smile to her face. She may have gotten a bruise from the encounter, but she was walking away in a much better place than those other guys…

-Last Night-

A soft breeze blew through her hair as she sat atop the flat roof, waiting for her prey. Her contact had hired her to sabotage a drug deal that was supposed to be going down tonight in the alley below her, and for the cash she was more than happy to comply. An unfortunate turn of events for the "Razorbacks", the gang going through with the deal who had tried to hire her just the day before to run as protection for the deal. Too bad their idea of adequate compensation was just a slight bit lower than her current employer. Not that the job was paying all that much, this was pretty minor all things considered.

A slight sound alerted her from her hiding place and she cast her shadow sense ability outwards, trying to determine exactly where the sound was coming from. Her scanning was rewarded with the image popping into her mind of a grey figure on the rooftop on the other side of the alley, holding what she assumed to be some sort of stick, perhaps a crowbar. At that distance it became a bit hazy trying to tell exactly what some things were.

Grinning she pulled her goggles down over her useless eyes, as much for intimidation as they were for anonymity. Next came her neck scarf covering her mouth and nose, then over her head to hide her hair. And then she was ready. In the darkness of night, she was completely in her element, and coming out of her kneeling posture behind a vent, staying low as she moved closer to the building edge. She could have just used her teleport ability, something she dubbed "Shadow Step" from behind the vent, but it was much easier to teleport shorter distances, and her momentum would be preserved through the teleport as well making her attack all that much more sudden and dangerous.

The guard on the top of the roof saw only the briefest flashes of light, the glint of something on the roof across from him before the woman seemed to materialize out of the shadows before him. He swung his crowbar in an attempt to knock his assailant out of the way, but his swing went high as the attacker ducked underneath, the weak attempt at an attack completely wasted.

Shaylee felt her elbow strike the man's chest hard, perfectly at the sternum to get maximum efficiency out of the strike. She followed up the attack simply grappling the man and using her momentum and his lack of balance to topple the man backwards, his head striking the hard surface of the roof with a crack. She lay atop him for a moment pinning him before she was sure that he was truly unconscious, then winced as his crowbar hit the rooftop with a sharp metallic "clang". Stupid, she should have tried to grab the crowbar, or at least done something to stop it from making any noise. But as she lay there silent for a moment she heard nothing out of the ordinary. Or at the very least, the sound of several men down in the alley conducting their shady dealings. Apparently none had heard. Yet at least.

She pulled herself up, checking the man whose head she had bashed's pulse. Not that a pulse would mean much. He could have a pulse and still have brain damage, but feeling the back of his head she didn't feel the slippery feeling of blood either, so it seemed the man was simply unconscious, not dead. If she could avoid it, killing was one thing she would prefer to avoid.

Creeping closer to the edge of the building so her shadow sense could get a better picture of what was happening down in the alley, she was able to make out four figures. Two she recognized, as well as she could recognize anyone with her somewhat accurate senses, as members of the Razorbacks, the other two she assumed were their buyers. Or sellers, she really wasn't sure who was dealing to whom, nor did she really care. Taking note of their positions carefully, she jumped off the roof down towards the alley about thirty feet below. About halfway down she heard the startled gasp of one of the gangsters, and then she hit the ground. Or less hit it and instead phased through it, reappearing from one of the walls and slamming into the largest looking gangster with her knee leading. When it came to traveling through her teleports, all her momentum was maintained. Meaning the man she crashed into was greeted with a padded kneecap traveling fast enough to knock even the largest of men to the ground with little trouble.

He slammed backwards into the opposite wall and collapsed to the ground in a heap, and Shaylee quickly regained her own footing now turning to face her other three targets. The two from the Razorbacks rushed forward, one brandishing a baseball bat and the other with a dagger, but both were easily dispatched. The first went down with a simple leg sweep followed by a sharp kick to the face, and the other managed to get a couple of stabs off before an elbow to the face dropped him as well. She checked her abdomen briefly where one of the stabs had gone through, but was pleased to see that while the dark leather jacket was ripped, the moderate body armor she begged off one of her past employers had paid dividends.

Finally she turned to the last man, who so far had just been watching with what looked like an amused expression. "Impressive!" he said with a big toothy grin, "Three of my esteemed colleagues defeated within a handful of seconds, and I see you are no worse for wear as well!" He leaned casually against the wall, running his well muscled hand through his short dark hair. "An impressive display for sure, but I wonder…" Suddenly the man moved quickly, rushing towards her with a savage grin on his face.

Before she had a chance to respond he had closed the half a dozen feet between them and she struggled to duck under a punch, then caught a right hook by blocking it with her own arm. Despite the padding in the motorcycle jacket, the blow stung, significantly more than it normally would, and she immediately became more cautious about the man. Something about him made her suspect not everything may be as it seemed, and this man could very well be another cape.

Her next thought was cut short as a fist slammed into her gut knocking the wind from her, sending her flying several feet backwards. Instead of landing on her back, she vanished the moment she hit the concrete, reappearing an instant later from one of the alley walls as her body collided with that of her enemy's, which felt more like striking a rock than another person. Unfortunately with no way to change the direction once she teleported, she hit him back first, then dropped to the ground where she rolled away and quickly got back to her feet, struggling to catch her breath. The other man was pulling himself off the ground, and he casually turned towards her once again.

"Heh, impressive. Not that you could beat me but, " he shrugged, "there aren't that many who can. Think I've heard of you too. Shade, right?" He dropped his hostile stance, once again casually leaning against the wall.

Shaylee refused to lower her guard, but lowering her voice slightly grunted, "Yeah, what of it?"

"Oh nothing," the other man replied, "just curious. Look, I don't know who hired you for this job, " he said cockily as he gestured back to the three unconscious bodies, "and honestly I don't really care. I was only the protection for my guys here anyway. Normally I would beat you within an inch of your life and drag you back to my boss, but I don't really feel like it tonight. What do you say we call it a draw for now?" He pulled something out of his pocket and flicked it over in her direction, and a small piece of paper, a business card landed at her feet. "Gimme a call sometime, we can schedule a rematch. Or if you're looking for more work, either or works for me!" With that he turned his back to her and raised a single hand as a goodbye, and then turned the corner and disappeared.

She picked up the paper which only had the name "Fracture" on it, presumably his alias, and a phone number. She shrugged, pocketing the piece of paper, then turned back to the gangsters lying on the ground. Taking a small device out of her pocket, she clicked the single button on it and a red light began to flash on and off dimly, then she dropped it at the feet of one of the unfortunate gangsters. Almost as an afterthought she grabbed one of the pouches of cocaine from the dealer's trunk and pocketed it. Not that she would use the drugs, but she knew several people who would be interested, and there were always buyers.

-Present Day-

She nursed her coffee for a little while longer, enjoying the busy cafe and reveling in the noises surrounding her, then sighed as she put her belongings into her backpack. She drained the rest of the now somewhat cool drink in one gulp, and pulled her pack onto her shoulders. Walking out onto Piper Street, she paused, enjoying the warm feeling of sun on her face, then donned her sunglasses and started walking towards her apartment, about a thirty minute brisk walk from the cafe. She yawned, tired from her nightly activities despite the caffeine rushing through her system. She had stashed the bag of cocaine at her apartment, but should she deal with that today or tomorrow? She decided she that either way she would take a nap first, then probably decide later.

Joining the rest of the city in their daily lives, Shaylee walked down the street, just another person enjoying the bright morning.

Ice1 · Feb 25, 2017

Calvin Nanyemba A.K.A. Animator

The lights were so bright that Calvin struggled to see the live studio audience hidden in the darkness of the studio. As he walked out onto the stage floor, people started to clap, the host rising to shake his hand. He joined the other two guests on the couch. One was Jamie Mallick, a comedian whose material Calvin found to be thoroughly unfunny. The Convo had the habit of bringing on a comedian, and keeping them on for the whole show. It was an awfully unwell kept secret that they were just there to deliver the funny remarks the host failed to make. He was just there to look good, draw people in with his unnaturally white teeth during the commercial breaks. Besides Mallick sat a more familiar face. Amazon was a cape from New York. Her powers weren't anything special. Flight, and punching, to sum it up. What made her a talk show attraction was how incredibly good-looking she was and how much skin she showed while in costume. She didn't wear a mask either, which helped to make her approachable, human. Calvin had been amazed multiple times at how much of a difference glasses and a small hunch could make.

"Everyone's favorite Animator," the host yelled out, as he grabbed Calvin's hand. "Good to have you here, I'm so happy you could come by."

"You know I'm always happy to come on the show, Jason," Calvin said as he said down. Amazon gave him a friendly nod, Mallick a wide smile.

"And we love you for it. Now, funny story, but backstage Jamie told us he had never heard of you. Never. Can you imagine that?"

Jamie laughed one of those laughs people only made while on camera. "I thought like a gangly hipster working for Disney would walk in, instead I get 200 pounds of muscle shoved in front of me." Some laughs from the audience. They would add a laugh track over it in post.

"I don't really mind. I don't expect everyone to know me, especially when they're not from Fallcliff. World's a big place, man, lots of capes to keep track of."

"Well, he knew who Amazon was," the host said.

"I think every man knows who Amazon is," Mallick said. Amazon gave a side-eyed smile. She was amazing on camera, always knew how to react.

"So, if you're not aware of Animator, Jamie, you might not know of Freefall either," the host continued.

"No, I do know him. That's that park ride they shut down in Disneyland, right?" Silence from the audience.

"No, no, Freefall, also from Fallcliff. Real fun to see in action. See, Animator here's got quite a nice arrest record. The Smiling Man, Epidermis, and most recently, a group of robbers called the Moneymakers. You have to see the footage of this, Jamie."
Animator's eyes met with Amazon's. It was typical, showing the footage of unpowered arrests. It was all they could really do and talk about it. Sometimes, a cape might have something interesting to mention, but it wasn't like they could just babble on about their personal life.

The footage started playing on the big screen behind them and a smaller one attached to the host's desk. There was no sound, as there never was with security cameras.

"So, talk us through it," the host said.

"Okay, so these guys are in the building, it's night, hour of four, there's nobody there. They carry some sort of modified blowtorch. Tinker-tech, I'd guess," Calvin said. "As they're through the vault, Freefall and I enter, who immediately turns everything sideways."

The camera perspective rotated, as the people in the fight suddenly started walking over the wall.

"They're done right there, but they aren't giving up. The gun that guy there is holding, that's a shotgun. I need to take that out. That's the reason the thing folds itself up into a frog and hops away. Remember that frog, he comes back."

Through the bank doors, an overly excited mailbox enters, dropping to the wall as the gravity shifted. It almost hit a robber, but the gravity well pulled him aside.

"I like mailboxes a lot, because they can hold a lot of stuff. They're also easy to fix up afterwards."

As Freefall punched a robber, making him stumble back, the shotgun-frog leaped forwards. Slipping over the steel animal, the criminal fell over, and the mailbox swooped in, swallowing the man, leaving only his head and an arm visible. The footage cut out there.

"They surrendered before they even got a chance to use that tinker-blowtorch. Crime doesn't pay, I'd say." It wasn't exactly true, as the criminal holding the blowtorch had tried to retaliate but had burned his hand instead. It was a gruesome sight, and one Calvin didn't wanna share with the world.

"So, I've brought something fun," Calvin said, as the shotgun frog jumped onto the host's table.

---------------

Calvin never was unhappy when he got to leave New York. He sat in first class, scrolling through a discussion thread on the parahumans wiki about his appearance on the convo. It was mainly positive, as it tended to be. He had a fun power for TV. He could cute it up, as Jason had said. There was always this undercurrent that disliked seeing heroes on TV. Especially shows like the Convo, where they would sometimes even play a game afterwards.

The comments distracted him from the conversation he had after the taping. The director had appointed him to possibly recruit a New York villain. It had been obvious why he had wanted him. Gregory had been supportive of the decision, but Calvin doubted his ability to think like a human anymore. There was too much information floating around that head of his, all influencing his judgement.

Fallcliff didn't have an Airport, instead relying on a bullet train system to get people to and from their plane and into the city. The trains were generally so crowded that first class wasn't even a comfortable place to sit. Calvin was already planning on how he would fake some delay, so he could request a speed up trajectory in the shuttles underneath the tracks. They were exclusively for government workers needing to make important appointment. Generally reserved for heroes and politicians. Patrol was a good enough reason to request one, he felt. He'd sent a message to Papillon already. She'd vouch for him, purely because she didn't want to be the one to patrol with Squire instead.

The landing was turbulent. Calvin held onto his seat, squeezing his hands into fists. He didn't enjoy flying at all. As he left, he could see Mistress fly over. She wasn't part of the Fallcliff protectorate, coming from another city that used the Airport. Most people wouldn't recognize her, as it seemed like there was just a cloud passing over. During the airport duties he had sat out, Calvin had come to recognize her tells though.

"Speaking to Calvin," he said, answering his phone before it had even rung once.

"You're not going to let me patrol with Squire. You're just not," the voice on the other end said.

"I'm sure you'll manage."

"I'm forcing Greg to get you a shuttle now, because I'm not putting up with that kid for more than once a week, okay. I feel like he's staring at me!"

"He's always staring at everyone, don't worry about it. And if you get me a shuttle, it's fine."

"You underestimate how difficult it is to get one during rush hour."

"Which is why you're forcing Greg to do it, right?"

"Which is why I'm forcing Greg to do it, yeah."

"Well, hurry up then, because every minute that I am late, you're going to have to take over."

"Okay, you've got one, but I've probably made some friend of my dad very angry by doing so. Make sure to act like it's real important, okay? I've gotta hang now, have a good landing!"

"I'll try and manage. Bye," Calvin said, as he walked towards the shuttle-elevator. It revealed a lower floor, a lot less busy for the moment, but filled with men in suit. He wouldn't stand out at all. He straightened his tie, and sat down, waiting for one of the shuttles to ask for mister Nanyemba.

gimmepie · Feb 25, 2017

Jailer
AKA. Anita Blaine

In the Sights of an Angel, Run Away from Here

"Thank you for your kind donations! We'll be on our way. Be smart and don't follow us." Hostage said to Jailer's right, his voice cutting through the silence and his theatrical mannerisms hitting a stark contrast to his costume. They'd been working together for a long time now, but the sight still brought a smile to her lips. Sometimes he seemed more like a kid playing villain than an actual criminal. It made him endearing.

Jailer zipped up her stolen bag, several equally stolen valuables and a few textbooks ruffling against each other as she hoisted it over her armoured shoulder. Without a word she followed her noisier companion out the door. In one direction was the short hallway they'd originally come down, in the other a second, longer hallway dotted with doors leading to other lecture theatres eventually opened out into the building's lobby. Jailer was acutely aware of the force field bubbles blocking off each path of escape. Now came the part of the plan she really wasn't looking forward to. She released both force fields, Hostage taking off the way they'd originally came as she sprinted towards the lobby. In truth, she knew it made more sense for Hostage to take the longer route. He was a faster runner than she was by quite a margin. He was also a thrill seeker with not enough regard for his own safety though, and Jailer would be damned if she conceded to the whims of her adrenaline addicted friend and he got hurt, or worse caught, in the process. Besides, it was more likely to get into a fight in that direction and without her barriers to protect him, Hostage's own power would probably be more of a hinderance than anything.

Jailer sprinted through the electronic double-doors at the front of the lobby, noting that it was completely empty on account of her being sighted earlier. Without stopping to look around, she immediately headed for a space between buildings directly opposite her. At the end of the space, a chain link fence separated her from a carpark. She was definitely not as athletic as Hostage, but she knew from experience she could easily get over the rickety construct, which she did. She gave the assembled vehicles a brief glance, her eyes settling on a non-descript white sedan.

"It's not a sports car, but it'll do." Jailer said to herself as she jogged over to the vehicle. She tried the door first, but it seemed the owner had the brains to lock it. That was hardly going to be an issue however, as she drove her elbow through the side window and reached down to unlock the door - pleasantly surprised to not hear the irritating screech of an alarm. Jailer climbed into the driver's seat and set about hot wiring the vehicle - a skill she had learned in her father's employ. It took her more time than she'd have liked, but eventually the motor sprung to life and she was able to pull out of the carpark and onto a somewhat busy street. Still quite calm considering the adrenaline that should have been setting her heartbeat into overdrive, she headed towards the Innocence District where her own car was parked. The plan was to ditch the stolen vehicle and change out of her costume, then walk to her own car and drive back to her and Hostage's home in the Divided District.

A slight problem with that plan soon appeared however, Jailer saw the figure with the glowing wings in the mirror behind her and in an instant later a barrage of hard-light feathers hit the road in front of her, forcing Jailer to turn to avoid being hit by the projectiles. Her pursuer, a Protectorate member that the young criminal knew to be Seraph, followed her.

"Well that's no good." Jailer remarked, keeping an eye on Seraph using her mirrors. "What do I know about Seraph?" she continued "She's a tinker with a knack for anything hardlight. That armour of hers is sturdy as hell and can shoot constructs or generate a shield that might even be better than mine. Oh and she can fly faster than I can drive. I'm going to be having words with Sebastian about risk and reward in the future…"

Foxrally · Feb 25, 2017

Status

Mildly Amused

Prognosis

Sérieusement?

Treatment

One Verbal Warning

Jeanne Coutlas, Medic Fantastique

"Take a seat. So, Fern, you've been reporting, ah..." Jeanne squinted and looked at her tablet with her patient's information. "...abdominal pain. Hm." she raised her eyebrows suspiciously and looked at the boy, unimpressed.

Young Fern Mables, or Squire as he was known on the field, shifted uncomfortably in his seat at her gaze. "Uh, y-yeah..." he mumbled, avoiding eye contact and turning to look at the spotless white office. Multiple posters lined the wall of Jeanne's study, some showing detailed diagrams of the human body, along with others describing the symptoms of common illnesses. The one right behind her desk, which Fern was facing, showed a picture of a PRT field medic carrying the body of a civilian: "Not on my watch: Become a field medic today!".

The shelves at either side of the desk were lined with bottles and books, and underneath them were white cupboards, each labelled with the name of some instrument or substance. The doctor's desk itself was neat and organised, with a computer in the corner, stacks of paper sorted by purpose in the other, and a bouquet of roses in a white vase beside them. A jar of cookies labelled as chocolate lay next to her computer.

"Care for a cookie?" the doctor motioned towards the jar.

"Oh, thank you!" Squire gratefully accepted, taking one and stuffing it in his mouth.

"Oh, apologies. The label on this jar is outdated. I bought raisin cookies this week. They're much healthier." Jeanne smiled. "Now, how long have you been feeling pain?" Jeanne asked, setting down the pad and putting on her gloves.

His satisfied expression soon changed to a disgusted grimace as his chewing slowed down. Fern swallowed the cookie and cleared his throat. "Th- um, four days, I think. Yeah."

"O-kay," Jeanne sighed through her nose, playing along with the boy's not-so-subtle ruse. She picked up her stethoscope and put it on. "Shirt up, please." The doctor placed its chestpiece on the boy's chest, listening closely. She nodded slowly, turning him around and placing it on his back. "Mhm. Take a deep breath for me, cheri?" she requested. As Fern did so, she continued to nod knowingly.

"Why did you not come to see me earlier?" she asked, taking off the stethoscope and putting it around her neck.

"I thought it would go away. Like, on its own. Yeah." Squire mumbled.

The doctor raised an eyebrow. "Don't I recall you coming to my office once for being stung by a bee? I never imagined you would be so hardy."

The boy began fidgeting nervously with his shirt. "But, I, um, yeah, it does hurt, and- I-"

"Either way." Jeanne interrupted. She reached inside a drawer by her desk, pulling out a small red pill. "You know the drill- please take one of these." Fern took the pill and swallowed it, wincing at its slightly metallic taste. After a few moments, Jeanne nodded again.

"We have a very serious condition on our hands." The nervous look on Fern's face suddenly dropped as his eyes grew wide in surprise. "This really is quite a problem, Fern. You should have come earlier." She picked up her tablet, and quickly typed in a few notes. "You seem to suffer from..." she paused for a long while.

"What?! What's wrong with me?" the young boy asked, beginning to panic.

"...a case of eating too many candy bars." Jeanne finished casually, setting down the tablet. She hadn't been writing an actual prognosis, simply writing off Fern as yet another false alarm. She turned and glared at him. The boy cowered in his seat, looking as if he wanted to melt on his spot. "You were just in Physical Training class, Fern. And yet, your blood sugar level is quite high."

"I-"

"Is is, in fact, higher than it was last time we met, non? Did you forget our agreement?" she asked slowly. "You did not follow through with the dietary plan I gave you, Fern."

"I tried, I really did!" the boy exclaimed, dropping his shoulders defeatedly. "I'm sorry..."

"And, knowing that, you nevertheless attempted to jump your PE class by feigning injury. And coming to me." Jeanne eyed him with a look of disappointment. "You do realize this means you have broken two rules of the Medical Unit, yes?" Squire nodded slowly.

"I will let it slide. If you insist so much on missing physical training class, however..." She walked across the office to a shelf holding a bunch of papers and cards. She took a card, and handed it to Squire. "Here you go. I've signed you up with a weekly, personal one-on-one fitness trainer. He will be replacing your PE classes."

"What? But-" Squire looked at the card. In bright red text, it read 'Coach Gerald Morrison: Personal Trainer'. The boy went pale. "N-no, miss, please! Not coach Morrison, please! I can't be with him!" he pleaded.

"Tsk." Jeanne shook her head sternly. "He is an exemplary coach, and you will most definitely get results with him." She returned to her desk and sat down. "But, if I ever hear from him that you have not attended a session... I can assure you I will not let it slide that time. D'accord?" Fern nodded slowly, sighing.

Jeanne checked her tablet. "Looks like your PE class is over. Just in time, I suppose. You have a patrol session with Animator scheduled. Off you go. Be sure to send him my regards." she instructed, smiling.

"Mhm..." the defeated boy mumbled, pocketing the card. "Thank you, miss."

As she watched her (now much more distressed) patient walk out, the pager in Jeanne's pocket let out a small beep. The doctor pulled it out, curious and slightly confused. The pagers were barely used anymore ever since she'd implemented the much more efficient tablets for the medic team.

"800-446-2279. call asap."

Ice1 · Feb 25, 2017

Calvin Nanyemba A.K.A. Animator

Calvin tolerated Fern. The kid was nice to a fault, but so completely unsuited for heroship. He at least had some practical powers that made him somewhat useful, but the kid's desire to do everything in his power to not get in shape wasn't a big help. He seemed to be happy as he could be that he was going on patrol with Animator though.

"Ready to go, Squire?" Calvin asked, as he put on his mask, attaching the straps on the back of his head.

"Ready to go, sir!" Fern said, straightening himself and saluting. Calvin shook his head.

"No need to- You don't have to salute, you know that, right? You can just say yes, and it'd be fine."

"Yes, sir, will do!" Squire blurted out.

"The… the sir isn't really needed either. Just nothing, or Animator, please." God, he would've rather had Shift or Reflex on sidekick duty. "I saw you leaving Jeanne's office? Anything I need to know?"

Squire shook his head, his cheeks turning even redder than they already were.

"N-no."

They left the PRT office through the back entrance. Neither of them had innate mover capabilities, so Calvin had to make mounts. There were always some big chunks of iron, brick and other useful material in the back, specifically for Calvin. A big sheet metal horse formed. It was crude and simplistic, but it worked. Squire took seat, trying to heave himself onto it. The beast slyfully lowered it's legs, tricking Squire into thinking he got on himself.

Calvin himself just formed two iron legs, like those of a goat, and stepped in. He didn't like riding on anything in costume. It chaffed. He was certain Squire didn't either, but it was just so much easier to put the kid on a mount instead of having him really on his physical ability.

Shooting forward, the horse had difficulty keeping up with Calvin. The legs moved propelled themselves, combined with his own motion, and he suddenly became quite quick. Squire and the horse were as a bit slower, but that was to be expected. He didn't want Fern to fall off and crack open his head.

"So, how's training going?" Calvin asked, trying to make conversation.

"It's going good, but, but, if you want me to do better…"

"Just asking how it's going. No judgement here." Fern was this way with everyone in the Protectorate. The only exception seemed to be Medic, who seemed to fear almost. He never seemed that confident when talking with Calvin either, but it was clearly a different fear. He somehow suspected it had to do with the fact that Medic was way more likely to say the kid should eat more apples.

Small talk didn't work out, as it never did with Fern. The kid would just fawn over whichever hero he was with, unable to utter anything meaningful. The relief Calvin felt when he spotted a ruckus up ahead was indescribable.

"Spotting some disturbance at Barnevelt Street. Squire and Animator engaging," he spoke into his com. Squire's eyes went wide, and the kid suddenly looked very focused.

As they neared, he spotted two figures fighting. Civilians, unarmed. He pushed Squire forwards.

"C'mon kid, you can handle this one."

Squire expanded his chest, and activated his power, two shields forming on his arms. He pushed his way through the onlooking audience

"You two," he said, staring right in between them. "Stop fighting!" He pointed his finger at one of them, punctuating his sentence. "Please."

Please. Please stop fighting, guys. That wasn't the best way to deal with such a situation.

Fern got hit in the face, before Animator retaliated. The horse morphed, forming a long, rigid snakelike creature that wrapped itself around the legs of one of the combatants.

"Okay, please tell me what's going on here, and then we'll see if we're going to press charges for hitting a minor." He took a notebook out. This cop-ish behavior was normal for the slow days on patrol. He'd call in actual cops to deal with the details though. None of his business. "And a federal officer," he added.

As two cops arrived, Fern and Calvin moved on.

"Are you okay?"

Fern nodded a bit too long and a bit too eager, turning away his face.

"Cape fight just started in Orange Street, request for Protectorate intervention," a digitized voice spoke over the communicator. "Perpetrators are Thunderrush, Diamond Daisy and Arena."

"Animator and Squire are nearby, Monna, over," he spoke to the A.I.

-------
The street had luckily emptied out already, but it wasn't a nice sight. The long stretch of road was covered in fizzling electric barricades, surrounding a small dome inhabited by Diamond Daisy and Arena. Besides the dome stood a car, burning.

Animator ran in, Squire following closely behind. The sheet metal horse had frozen at the start of the street, blocking it from entry. It had unanimated there, giving Calvin the chance to use other beasts.

He touched the burning car. It would be useless at this point to safe it anyway. It wasn't him dealing property damage, right? The car reformed into roughly the shape of a gorilla, tires for hand and feet. The rubber was what he needed to get through Thunderrush's electric barriers. Hopefully.

Thunderrush was a mover, a speedster who could run short bursts and leave behind electrical walls that would shook whom- and whatever would try to pass through it. They took a good while to actually disappear too.

Squire was ideal for combatting him, luckily, as the two shields he could create blocked almost anything. Forcing it through the barricade made him able to pass. Calvin tried to see if his beast would be able to follow, but the rubber tire started to burn and smoke as he made contact with the electricity.

"You keep out of this, Animator!" Thunderrush yelled. "This is a private matter these kids and I need to privately resolve."

Diamond Daisy retorted, the sound not passing through the forcefield-dome that was erected. Her arms waving made her message clear, however.

Arena was the originator of the dome, a forcefield that was so far they knew completely unbreakable. Nothing passed through it, getting in or out, unless he wanted it to.

Diamond Daisy was in battle mode, her whole body being made of a crystalline material, her fists being gargantuan maces she was ready to clobber someone with. Spikes were slowly emerging on those maces. This dispute was clearly something serious.

The electrical barricade in front of him started to dissipate, but Thunderrush shot forward, creating a new one it it's place. Arena took the chance to move, dispelling his dome, and Diamond Daisy shot her arm forward, piercing an electrical barricade, hitting Animator. He stumbled back, seeing the crystal on her arm melt.

He glanced around, leaping towards a lantern post, forcing it to crumple into a small monkey-ish figure. The car-gorilla picked it up, leaping it towards Squire, who almost caught it as he tried to make his way to Arena. The dome erected again, capturing the monkey and Squire.

Arena was a big, burly fella, more muscle than anything else. It wouldn't be a fair fist fight with the chubby and overweight Squire.

Diamond Daisy forced herself through one of Thunderrush' barricades, melting her crystal. As the barricades near Animator started to fade out, Calvin and the car-gorilla moved forward.

"Not going to be the victim of a hero-villain team-up," Thunderrush said, as he shot away, leaving a trail of electricity behind.

Daisy took a swing at Animator, who ducked and dove back. The car-gorilla punched her head, toppling her over, and denting the asphalt.

Calvin gave a quick glance to the Arena, spotting Squire cowering behind the shields on his arms. The dome itself blurred the light coming through, so it was unclear as to what was happening exactly, but it seemed like Arena was trying to punch around the shields.

Squire was quite strong defensively. His shields were strong, durable, reflected incoming attacks, and wear transparant. The edges were hard to perceive. Arena stumbled back as his fist graced the outer rim of Squire's shield, reflecting the damage of the punch into his arm. The lamppost-monkey jumped onto the man's head on Animator's command.

He had to duck as Diamond Daisy, who had risen up again tried to punch Calvin's head off. The spikes on her maces were still growing, and currently similar ones started to grow on her back. The car-gorilla hit it with full force, breaking a chunk of the crystal off, before grabbing the villain in a chokehold.

Inside the arena, Arena was cowering, as both his hands were broken. Squire was still hiding behind his shields, but the Arena dissipated. The lamp-post monkey sat on the man's chest, the weight refraining him from moving.

He felt the loss of control over his car-gorilla, though, as it was torn apart, one of the arms being stuck to Diamond's mace hand. She was running off. Calvin could chase her, but he'd rather have one villain captured for sure, than two potentially. He couldn't trust Squire to keep an eye on Arena, anyway. He wouldn't do anything if the villain somehow managed to escape and run, not without someone from the Protectorate watching.

"Animator reporting in. Fight broken up, small damage to the streets, and a car has been destroyed. Arena has been arrested, we will attempt now to bring him into custody."

PastelPhoenix · Feb 26, 2017

Bombshell ~vs~ Hostage
Female // 16 // Ward ~~ Male // 21 // Villain

JP with GimmePie

Bomb le flambeur

Hostage, stolen backpack containing his loot from the day's outing ran down a sidestreet. He was meant to get a respectable distance from the college campus, find somewhere to change and then catch the bus back to the neighbourhood he lived in with Jailer. He resisted the urge to whoop as he ran, on an adrenaline high from the broad daylight raid. He knew he wouldn't be making much money off of this particular excursion, a couple of hundred dollars at best, but this wasn't so much business as it was pleasure. The last real heist that the pair had engaged in earned them enough for at least a week or two.

Hostage slowed from a sprint to a jog, not wanting to completely burn himself out in case it turned out he was being followed after all. Which, of course, he was.

"Move out of the way! PRT business!" A shout rang out from an alley connected to the main street, headed towards Hostage. Just a moment later, a small, gasmask-clad figure peeked it's head over a building into the alley, catching sight of the runaway villain and hopping down in front of him.

"Stop, thief," the hero shouted at Hostage, "Drop the goods and surren- Oh my god, Hostage?!"

The hero let loose a loud chuckle, popping her weapon open and grabbing another grenade shell, a containment foam round, from her bandolier. Loading the launcher, she snapped it back into one piece and took aim.

"I don't know if you know me. Name's Bombshell, and I'm going to make your life a living hell right now."

Hostage didn't even attempt to hide the audible groan that escaped his lips. Yes, he was familiar with Bombshell. Out of all the possible Wards or Protectorate that could have come after him, it had to be the one that specialised in launching all kinds of god-awful projectiles. This was one of those moments where Hostage wondered if his power attracted misfortune as well as bullets - not that he truly believed such a miserable power could exist.

"You know, Bombshell is such an egotistical name. Doesn't it hurt your precious PR to look arrogant? Although, it probably wouldn't hurt as much as the blow to your ego and rep if you actually lost to me here. Can you imagine that? I think it would be in everyone's best interests if you just let me go. I'll even throw in one of these lovely watches as a thank you." Hostage said, his tone casual and chatty, giving no indication of just how much he was lamenting his misfortune.

"Wouldn't you like to know if it lives up to the name?" Bombshell teased, "Unfortunately, I'm not into older men, especially not the kind who are more likely to hurt themselves than complete a halfway decent robbery. Like, seriously, college kids? Why not a bank or something like a normal villain?

"Oh wait," She added with mock surprise, "there are cops with guns and stuff in the bank! I guess weapon free zones like the university are the only safe place for you. Thanks for the offer though, unfortunately I happen to own a little invention called a cell phone, so I don't really have much need for a watch."

Pointing her gun straight up in the air, she fired the containment foam round. Lob shots like that were always fun and impressive when they hit. And when you consider the poor bastard attracted every projectile, she didn't even have to really aim.

"By the way," She added, keeping her eye on Hostage and ignoring the grenade, "Freefall was a PR hog enough for both of us. A little bragging won't really hurt too much."

"I can say with complete honesty that you're definitely not my type anyway. As for the col-" Hostage didn't get a chance to continue the banter on account of a grenade flying towards him - which was not an entirely unfamiliar situation at that point. Thankfully, Bombshell had decided to be flashy (and more than a little cruel) by shooting straight up, which gave him a small window of time to work out how he was meant to get out of his miserable situation.

As the projectile closed in on him, Hostage took the first option that crossed his mind. He stood completely still, letting the grenade get as close as he dared before suddenly diving forward. Even as he moved, the projectile begun to alter its trajectory, but gravity won out due to its velocity and closeness to the ground, the grenade hitting the concrete and exploding into a mess of containment foam just short of Hostage. The villain managed to scramble out the way of the rapidly expanding foam, acutely aware of how unlikely it was for that tactic to work a second time.

"You know, that reminds me." Hostage said, rather obviously stalling for time "I know you Wards brats have to follow around the real heroes a lot, but you show up with that Freefall guy a lot. What is it? Siblings? Lovers? Siblings and lovers? The rumour mill is rife amongst your adoring public!" Truth be told, Hostage actually had no idea if there was any kind of relationship between the two at all, he'd just happened across speculation on a capes forum whilst browsing aimlessly and was hoping hit a nerve. As he spoke, he drew one of his swords in preparation for when he was hit in turn... probably in a way that involved a lot more pain.
Swords versus grenades... that follow you. What could possibly go wrong?

"It should surprise me that you read that trash," she spat, a little upset her trick didn't work out, "but honestly it doesn't. It what we call a "working relationship", you know, two powers that compliment each other? We mesh well: both like jokes and fun, that sort of thing. It's kind of like you and that woman, Jailer. Except, in our case, one of the members isn't having to completely cover for the other."

Snapping open her launcher again, she allowed the spent shell to clang to the floor. It was a little annoying having the Cape tabloids and forums trying to find any angle to make a scandal between the two, like two capes can't just happen to be friends and enjoys each other's company. No, they must be secret lovers! She reached for another containment foam round before pausing and reaching further down. He did have a sword that could bat it away. Grabbing a round containing electrified wires, she popped it into her weapon and took direct aim. He did just draw a weapon after all, she could get by with a little shocking.

"Alright, no more soft throws. Let's party!" She shouted with a small fwump of the launcher firing.

Completely unaware that the Ward had already anticipated him doing so, Hostage swung at the container using his sword like a bat and found himself pleasantly surprised when actually managed to make contact with whatever she was shooting at him. However, that more positive feeling was soon replaced with one of instant regret as an electrical charge ran up the length of the blade and the proceeded to follow the path of least resistance to the ground - the path that took the current through him.

Hostage's body was racked with an intense pain that made his muscles spasm involuntarily and caused a unpleasant prickling sensation across his skin. He was deeply thankful for the partial insulation his costume afforded him or he suspected that he would have been completely unconscious. Although, that could have been a blessing considering he'd dropped to the ground writhing in agony. Then, as if to add insult to injury, the container that he'd batted away collided with his head having changed course to head straight back for him, delivering a second residual charge that compounded the effects of the first.

"God damnit" Hostage groaned, lying still for several moments before using the sword he still gripped tightly as a crutch to push himself back onto his feet. "That shit is really unpleasant. What kind of fucking parties do you go to?! Jesus. I am deeply sorry I exposed the truth about your brotherlover, please don't do that again."
So of course I continue to piss her off. Anita will kill me herself if she ever finds out about this.

"Shit," Bombshell groaned, watching Hostage get back up, "just stay down man. Catching villains is supposed to be fun, y'know. I feel like I'm Michael Jordan playing an elementary school team. And you've never attended a shock social? Maybe if you surrender now, I can leave you an invite to one while you're still conscious. Just don't go to the same ones I do, okay? Also, maybe don't go smarting off to the person who you literally can't touch right now, and can shoot high powered explosives at you."

Unfortunately (maybe fortunately for Hostage), she only had one of those electric rounds on hand. Running a finger down her bandolier, she stopped at a simple net round. Loading her launcher once more, she took aim and fired.
The guy just got tazed, no need to waste more foam on him.

"If I didn't engage in witty villain to hero banter, what kind of supervillain would I be? Even walking targets have principals damn it!" Hostage cried out in mock passion, the display of bravado losing effect somewhat as he found himself spluttering as aftereffect of being electrocuted twice. For his efforts, another grenade-thing was launched at him.

This time, seemingly abandoning all common sense, Hostage turned tail and ran in the opposite direction to the bomb, as though he'd suddenly forgotten that it would follow him anywhere he went anyway. He hadn't gone more that a few feet before he turned back on himself, ducking directly under the projectile and sprinting towards bombshell. The net grenade immediately changed directions and flew after Hostage as he closed the distance between himself and the Ward, jamming his hands down on the vertically-impaired hero and leap-frogging over her head as the net exploded out.

The net wrapped itself around its maker, very nearly ensnaring Hostage and trapping him inside with her - an eventually he was very pleased didn't come to be. Instead, he hit the ground on post-electric shock jelly legs and fell flat on his face, thus destroying any chances of him getting in any real gloating.

"I think I'll give your creepy S&M parties a miss." he panted before taking off down the alleyway again, completely oblivious to the fact his bag of stolen goods was still lying on the ground where it had slipped off during his electricity-induced thrash session.

Bombshell struggled in her net from a few minutes, the secret unlatch stuck behind her. Finally managing to get the small panel, she typed in the unlock code and watched the net withdraw itself into it's condensed form. Lying on the floor in shame, she took a few minutes to reflect on her position. The chirping in her ear of command asking for a status update eventually broke her daze, and she noticed the bag of goods when she sat up to answer.

"Bombshell here," she answered, pressing the talk on her suit, "Hostage got away, but all the stolen items are here. Coming back to fill out the report now. Any updates on Seraph?"

Oh man, she is going to criticize me so hard for getting hit with my own invention.

Winter · Feb 26, 2017

Prelude

It was quite a quiet night, which was not bad, but not that great either.

It's been a while since I've been out. Lyra sipped on her vodka martini, gazing at the cityscape, the lights an array of blurry dots in her retina. It could be a good thing or a bad thing, I suppose.

But this momentary tranquility would soon pass. Lyra could feel it; she had been through times like these. After all, the money was not infinite and she could not stay in one place. She couldn't do that to her friends, to the community that supported her, to her family. Which was why she had to leave tonight. She could not let herself get attached to a place. It proved to become a liability and something the Protectorate as well as any other intelligent capes could use to cage the Songbird. The bar had been a lovely home for the past few weeks, and the owner was a really old friend. She'd miss her space up in the loft of Andante.

She left in the deep of the night, hiring a private cab with her luggage stuffed full of clothes.

"Aria Heights please," she said to the driver. The cab eased off the side-street onto the highway.

Backseat, Lyra felt something vibrate at her bum and the faint ding of a notification tone. She slid the iPhone out of her back pocket, her fingerprint instantly unlocking the screen. It was an email to her encrypted account. The one only capes used to try to get in touch with her.

"The caged bird sings with a fearful trill of things unknown but longed for still and his tune is heard on the distant hill for the caged bird sings of freedom."

"The free bird thinks of another breeze and the trade winds soft through the sighing trees and the fat worms waiting on a dawn bright lawn and he names the sky his own."

"What would our beautiful bird say to crashing a party?"

"That would depend on what kind of party it is. ;)"

"Oh, you know, some fun, some music, some drinks. Nothing unusual."

The sender forwarded her map coordinates that she booted up in Google Maps. It was just a neighbourhood away from her apartment.

"I'll be there."

She spent only a few minutes in the Aria Heights apartment, unpacking her luggage just to take out her costume. It had been a while since she felt the familiar texture of the costume, the cinched corset around her waist, the white dove wings that unfurled in the night. Other than being on the stage, Lyra never felt more alive. Songbird made her way to the party, allegretto.

She heard the party from down the road, a deep bass seeping out onto the dead-silent street. It was some sort of masquerade party, and from the looks of the attendees, Songbird would bet that they were all college kids. She found a rooftop opposite that gave a good vantage point into the house and climbed her way up. From there, she noticed what made the party special. People were all over the place, so relieved of their inhibitions even their clothes were gone (except the masks, of course, but she doubt that they would have behaved differently without any on). She could smell the alcohol in the air, mixed with a deep odour of sex... and something else. Something concocted, something hynoptic, something from a parahuman. She found the source–the only person to be dressed in that debauchery. He wore denim jeans, with no shirt but a lab coat, with the rims of vials peeking out of those pockets. And a Renaissance-styled gold mask. He took out a vial, swishing the pink liquid inside around, before pouring it into a glass, offering it to a couple by the balcony. Another vial, this time citrus orange, was emptied into a jug that was passed around the dance floor, many lips sipping on the straws. She had no idea what the vials did but they clearly had some sort of effect on the guests. There could only be one reason why someone from the Protectorate led her here. Her target was a cape, likely a Trump or a Tinker or a combination of both. She had no clue how she would be a good matchup but there was no harm in trying. As long as the money rolled in, of course.

From where she perched, the Songbird opened her beak to sing. The cape stiffened as he heard wailing police sirens, immediately trying to slip through the crowd towards the exit. People started to snap out of their trances and realised that they might be knee-deep in ****. They all started to panic; some hurriedly putting on their clothes and making their getaways, others trying to hide. In the sudden chaos of movement, Songbird lost her target while keeping up the sonic illusion. The party scattered like a trail of ants disturbed.

That was it? Not even a fight?

The Songbird felt disappointed. Her iPhone beeped as a text message came in from one of her offshore accounts. Someone had wired her money.

"Pleasure doing business with you, chanteuse. Adieu, till next time. xoxo"

It was puzzling. But for making siren sounds, she guessed it was worth it. Lyra had a gnawing feeling that she would hear more from this anonymous client down the road.

(Drakath) · Feb 26, 2017

Kiro's phone buzzed twice. Once more. Another two times. Okay I get it, what! Kiro accelerated his brain while keeping his body normal. This was to help him multitask between the multiple texts he just received and the acrade machine he was playing on. Each text was a delivery request from the same person, the same package, and the same destination. Piper Street. Something told him he shouldn't take this delivery. However, in the interest of pay he took it anyway. Just a delivery, can't be that bad right? Kiro let himself lose the game, ending his ridiculous high score, though he planned to stop short of the world record anyway. Pocketing his phone and inputting KRO into the machine, Kiro left the "fun house" and donned his masquerade out of sight.

Speeding up the horrendous path to the top of the cliff, Drakath arrived at the Service Industries, and picked up a rather heavy package labeled "Fragile." Seriously? How could something this heavy be fragile, that's just poor craftsmanship. Packages like this made traversing the cliff a pain, as he would often lose time being forced to take a lift, where normally he would just jump off and land on a slanted portion of the path to avoid injury, or he could just run straight up the cliff, but he never tried that as it wasn't exactly flat and previous attempts at running up walls only made him weary about trying it again. He also couldn't take the jagged path as it was too rough to smoothly traverse and any paths that went inside the cliff suffered from the same problem. He considered running on water along the river, but it was too difficult for him to consistently pull off. Smacking himself for letting his mind wander as he remembered he didn't even need to bother with the cliff for this delivery, he sped off to Piper Street.

With 13 seconds to spare, Drakath arrived in front of a generic looking building that, for some reason, gave off a bad vibe. Going inside, he climbed a flight of stairs and knocked on the door, just barely making his "One minute or it's free" policy. When no one answered, he had his phone take a picture with the appropriate timestamp and send it too the customer through his delivery service answer machine. Huh?It said he'd be here for the drop off. When no one came after a few minutes, his curiosity got the better of him. Drakath opened the package, "Oh fuck..."

Esper · Feb 26, 2017

Ditto / Hero

- - - - - - - - -

"Police! We have a warrant to search the building!"

Ditto and Blackout stood beside their car. Ditto leaned against the open door, her gloves clenched in one hand, flicking the key ring on her arm. Her temporary partner rubbed his hands together, tiny sparks of light flickering between his fingertips. His teeth flashed with energy like electric spittle. What a child. She rolled her eyes.

"You know--" Ditto began, but she never got to finish her thought. In the moments after she thought to herself: I didn't see it coming.

Smoke blew everywhere. Fires burned. Something like snow, white and delicate, began to flutter to the ground. In her hand she held the door to the car, but it was no longer attached. She was also no longer her normal human self.

Her transformation to a steel golem, identical to the tiny figure on her key ring, had been unintentional, a reaction. She blinked her eyes when a bright like shone, she flinched at a deafening bang, and with the figure in her hand she had activated her power and turned herself into its copy when the building exploded.

She let go the door and it clanged on the pavement. It was happening again. She raced forward, her heavy metal legs slow and bulky, leaving cracks in the ground with each step. She ran through the darkened doorway, knocking aside the fallen wooden beams as easily as curtains. Valentine was inside. She was home sick. The flu. Agnes, that little girl, had walked to school alone that morning.

Ditto looked around. Through the smoke she saw bodies. They were covered in dust and soot and ash, but hints of blue poked out. So did pools of red. The officers. This wasn't her home. At all.

"Blackout?" She shouted, but the golem body did not make more than a gurgling, rasping clang like sound of rusted doors refusing to open. Movement in the smoke caught her eye. A figure came ambling toward her.

(Drakath) · Feb 27, 2017

"Shit, shit shit shit! Oh shit!" The sound was deafening, like being sucked out into space. One second you hear all of the air being instantly drained from the room. Then, it all goes quiet and you're floating, lost and confused. Only this time, it's all in slow motion. It starts with an intense burning sensation as your eardrums shatter and begin to bleed, feeling the force of a rocket lift you off your feet as you're slammed into a paneled window, destroying it and whatever feeling you had left in your body as you're flung outside, ragdolling through the air. Then... It all just stops. Goes white... You feel weightless, drifting through the aether, all of your panic and dread fades away as peace sets in, but only for a moment as everything rushes back to you, only to realize... You, are falling.

Sky, ground, building, air, fire, people. Drakath's hyper accelerated mind booted up once more as it assessed the situation. What led up this moment? Games. Buzzing. Four, no, five texts. Speed. Uh, a package, suspicious. Speed. Building, discomfort. Stairs, hallway, dim. Knocking. Waiting. Curiosity. Open. I opened the package, yeah. Something, clicked. Circuit board, wires, plastic. Flashing red, now beeping. Bomb. I ran, panicked. Someone yelling. "Warrant." Last thing I heard before... "Oh shit!" Not even a second passed as everything came back before Drakath accelerated again. OK. Calm down, use this time to think. Check your surroundings. Police, cars, guns. Whatever the hell that growing thing is... Building's fucked. Wait. Where am I gonna land? He whipped around, Brick wall. No, stone slabs. Uh, dirt, behind it. Okay, superspeed plus explosion force... Wall's fucked, I'll be in the dirt. Buildings above it. Hope the foundation's good. Don't need a landslide, not while I'm in there. Okay uh, fuck. Best way to land? Alright, Toribash, let's put those joints to work! So, bend knees, feet first. Wait, do I really wanna risk my legs? Hm, maybe if I extend my legs as soon as the momentum is absorbed? It'll send me flying, I won't have to stick in dirt, but... Landslide, fuck! I don't know what to do! "Ah! Fu-

Following his brief plan, Drakath slammed into the wall extremely fast, sounding like a secondary explosion. Facing the ground and landing on the balls of his feet, he tried to extend his legs once he felt his body stop compressing, but their smoking grip slipped, sending him back first into the wall as it sunk into the dirt, causing him to lose consciousness only to wake back up due to immediate choking. Drakath clenched his chest as gravity slowly pulled him out of his imprint in the dirt/stone mesh that was once a wall with the metal on his suit literally glowing from the extreme heat and friction. Gasping as he fell to the pavement, his vision pulsing in and out of darkness and color. He found himself unable to accelerate due to his extreme physical disorientation as he tried to breathe. Attempting to stand in his poor condition, Drakath stumbled through a discolored world. It was like the area had switched color palettes due to the explosion, except for Drakath's vision in particular. The blood sloshing around in and on his skin tight suit made walking more difficult than it already was. His equilibrium was nowhere to be found, replaced by a deafening ringing in his ears. Somehow alive, he ignored the pain as more blood dripped down his face and ravaged hair, trying to get anywhere as he heard the rumbling of multiple collapsing structures, but to no avail. Try as he might, his attempts at limply walking came to a stop as he himself collapsed due to physical and acceleratory exhaustion...

gimmepie · Feb 27, 2017

Jailer
AKA. Anita Blaine

Attack from Above

Jailer swerved again, turning the sedan into a narrow street that was probably one-way. She hoped it wasn't one-way in the other direction. Behind her, more hardlight feathers collided with the ground. Jailer had only narrowly avoided having had her route down this street blocked off, but she would be in trouble if another hardlight fence was dropped on in front of her, leaving her trapped between the two. Jailer jammed her foot even harder on the accelerator.

The car rocketed down the street, exiting it and moving onto a main road. Jailer felt a bump as the hardlight Seraph dropped clipped the back of the stolen vehicle, once again she'd only narrowly avoided being trapped. This was the third street this problem had occurred on, but now at least there were too many civilian cars around for the hero tailing her from above to shoot at her. Unfortunately, she was left with a whole new problem: she couldn't do much without risking hurting anyone. Not to mention, there was exactly nowhere to hide and no way of losing Seraph.

"This isn't good." Jailer spoke to herself, her tone level. Speaking out loud to herself helped her think and work out how to make do with situations. "I need a tunnel, or at least a bridge." Thankfully, Jailer had been in Fallcliff for a while at that point and knew the main roads like the back of her hand. She was only about ten minutes tops from a reasonably large bridge. The villainess sped up as much as she could without becoming a risk to the other drivers, noting that Seraph was flying quite high above her, outside of the range at which she could produce force fields. "Someone's been doing their research."

Soon enough, the bridge came into view. As its shadow came over Jailer's car, she spun the wheel and hit the break. Jailer's car skid off the road and onto the emergency lane besides it, her car slamming into the concrete support of the bridge. Bruised by the impact, but otherwise fine in her protective costume, Jailer ripped off her seat belt, climbed across the car and burst out the passenger side. She'd bought herself a minute or two at best before Seraph realised she'd never appeared from beneath the bridge. Taking a deep breath to keep her adrenaline from getting the best of her, Jailer looked around for an out.

She didn't find one. Instead, she found Seraph hurtling at her from the other direction. Jailer didn't have time to react, taking a full on tackle from the armoured woman. With the wind knocked out of her, Jailer was carried out from under the tunnel and onwards several feet before she was rudely dropped in a carpark out the front of a nondescript, brick building.

"Fuck!" Jailer found herself exclaiming, even her cool breaking as she hit the asphalt hard and was sent rolling across the ground. Seraph, on the other hand, merely carried on her momentum several feet before rotating mid air, halting her flight. The wings were still open though, which meant another hardlight volley was incoming.

Sure enough, just as Jailer's head cleared, she was nearly blitzed by the shimmering missiles. She only managed to avoid harm by summoning up a force filled bubble between herself and the incoming hardlight feathers. In a bright pink flash, both the feathers and the barrier were annihilated, sending Jailer sprawling along the ground again. It was times like that she wished she could make force fields around herself too, maybe it would have softened the impact. Seraph made to take to the sky again, but Jailer was not letting the troublesome hero get out of her range. She formed a force field around the Tinker, Seraph's head hitting the top causing it to bulge slightly as her momentum ceased.

"You've got a bit of a problem here, Jailer." Seraph's voice said, conveyed in part by a microphone below her helmet that gave it a metallic twang. "You can't go too far away without letting me out and you can't wait around here, otherwise reinforcements will arrive. You can't win. Either you try and run and I catch you again, or we wait patiently for Bombshell to finish up with your friend or the PRT to get here."

It had to be Bombshell of all people. I hope Sebastian is okay. Jailer thought to herself, not bothering to respond to Seraph. There was no point in letting the hero goad her into a panic. It was better to think. She could easily just run from where she was and have the force field containing Seraph follow her, but that wouldn't solve the problem of getting away from the Protectorate cape. Seraph was right, this was a problematic situation.

"I'm not giving you time to think." Seraph continued "Let me help you make up your mind." Seraph's wings closed, switching to her suits Gloris mode instead.
She can't be serious Jailer thought to herself, watching as a pink-purple barrier formed around Seraph, forming another shield between the Tinker and Jailer's own force field. Seraph's barrier rapidly expanded, pressing against Jailer's and forcing it to expand outwards. There was a limit to the size of the bubbles that Jailer could make before her force fields simply shattered and it looked like the Tinker knew that.

Jailer fought back, using her power to constrict the bubble around Seraph. She suspected her power was stronger than Seraph's hardlight generator and that under just about any circumstance this tactic wouldn't have worked. Unfortunately, the move had been so completely unexpected that it did. Jailer couldn't retaliate appropriately in time and her forcefield burst, shattering into a million pieces and fading away. Before she was able to make another one, Seraph's wings had already flared open and the Tinker had propelled herself just outside of Jailer's range. An instant later, another hardlight barrage flew towards her.

Jailer created another force field bubble in the space between her and Seraph, this one stronger and able to take the volley instead of being obliterated along with the projectiles. It didn't matter though, Seraph could just move to another location and shoot from there. Jailer let the force field vanish. She wasn't entirely sure what her upper limit was, but she was pretty sure there was one, so there was no point in leaving useless barriers floating around.

"You're making this a desperate situation." Jailer called out, trying to make peace with the direction that the fight was likely about to take. "Take my advice and leave me be. I'd rather not make this into a situation where civilians - or even you - could get hurt." Jailer felt herself sigh as the only response she got was something that she thought might have been laughter and another hardlight attack. She created another barrier, blocking the aerial strike once more. Seraph had caught on this time though, and was already shooting to the side, beyond the width of the barely visible barrier. She let loose with another barrage, forcing Jailer to block with another force field and then repeating the process. "Fine." Jailer said, sighing once more. She truthfully hadn't wanted to do this, but she'd already found a way to really fight back.

Jailer banished her now numerous force fields, at the same time forming another around the closest small parked car. She then moved the force field, essentially throwing it towards Seraph. She couldn't reach the Tinker with her barriers, but Newton's laws were pretty easy to exploit. As the barrier reached the limit of her range, Jailer banished it. With nothing resisting it, the car continued its trajectory and hurtled towards Seraph. The hero let loose with a much more powerful barrage this time, the flying car being struck hard and torn to shreds, exploding when one of the piercing constructs hit its fuel tank and falling to the ground.

"Don't say I didn't warn you!" Jailer yelled out to Seraph over the sound of the remains of the vehicle hitting the asphalt "I hate doing shit like this." Two more of the smallest available vehicles were encircled by Jailer's force fields before, like their predecessor, they found themselves launched like missiles towards Seraph. Once more Seraph fired off the more lethal variant of her hardlight attack, obliterating the two cars in another explosion that sent debris raining to the ground. Jailer ensnared much of the falling Debris in smaller barriers, turning them back around and shooting a barrage of her own towards Seraph. Seraph easily destroyed the mangled remnants before they reached her.

"Stand down or you're going to get hurt, Jailer!" Jailer wasn't paying attention to Seraph and was already in the process of lifting up another ensnared car. There was absolutely no way that she was getting caught and leaving Sebastian alone to fend for himself again. He was self-destructive enough as it was and it would only get worse without her to look after him. Jailer shook her head, moving the force field, and by extension the car within it, to be in line with the top story windows of the building besides them.

"Here's how this is going to work." Jailer said, noting that Seraph wasn't making any attempt to shoot her or the barrier containing the vehicle. "You're going to turn around and fly very far away. No other Protectorate, or Wards or even PRT squads are going to come after me and you're going to kindly forgive the damage I've just caused since you insisted on making a big fight out of a petty little robbery. If you don't, I'm going to launch a car through every building on this street until I run out of cars in my range or buildings." Seraph started to say something, but Jailer cut her off. "Don't try and call a bluff that isn't there. Yes, I absolutely despise hurting civilians and, quit frankly, I'm not a fan of doing too much to heroes either. I have priorities though and escaping and getting back to my teammate trump everything else."

That was when the third explosion rang out, far louder than when Seraph had blown up the three cars. Smoke filled the skyline behind Seraph. Seraph whirled round as both women looked at the billowing cloud in complete astonishment. Then, apparently deciding there were more pressing matters to deal with, Seraph launched off towards the direction of the sudden explosion. It didn't take long before she was all but out of sight.

"What was that?" Jailer breathed, slowly lowering the floating car and releasing the force field around it. She dropped to her knees, shaking. She doubted she would ever have actually done even a fraction of what she implied she would… but even thinking about herself making such an evil move didn't sit well with her. She wasn't good and she knew it, but she didn't intend to ever cross the line into evil territory. "Right. No time to rest here. I've got to meet up with Hostage and then I want to know why something just blew up. It's never a good sign when a building or two are obliterated."

Her calm having returned to her, Jailer picked herself back up and made to return home as planned.

Oddball_ · Feb 28, 2017

Edan Edgeworth AKA Brimstone

The smell of burning rubber was a wonderful sensation, or so Edan thought to himself as he sped down the highway. He was about five minutes from Fallcliff proper when he started to slow down and pull over at a nearby Gas 'N Go. He popped the gas cap off and inserted the hose and began to tap numbers on the screen before sliding a twenty-dollar bill into the machine. He could probably have just kicked it a few times and gotten the same result, the machine was an old battered piece of crap, but just because he was okay with breaking the law didn't mean he always had too.

Casually strolling over to doors of the convenience store Edan pressed them open with a singular gloved hand. Stepping inside he was greeted by the smell of microwaved burritos and cheap pizza. Strolling over to the grill, Edan reached into his pocket and pulled out a crisp and clean twenty-dollar bill.

"Give me a mix of whatever's deep fried, take out a large." Edan stated as he pointed and strolled over to the Slurpee machine. He grabbed a large cup and started pouring in cherry and coke flavoring.

"Is ready." The employee said from the counter, setting an oily paper sack on the counter and ringing everything up on the cash register.

Sliding a lid onto his Slurpee and stabbing a straw into it, Edan walked back up to the counter and grabbed his bag of cholesterol. He grabbed a taquito from the bag and started scarfing it down.

"Thank you, come again." The clerk said simply without looking over at him.

Edan walked back over to his bike and set his Slurpee into the cup holder attached to the handlebars, before opening the compartment beneath the seat and setting his bag of heart attacks inside. He turned to pull out the gas hose and hooked it back into the slot on the machine. With that, he shut the compartment and hopped onto his bike. Turning the key the bike roared to life, the engine making a very quiet purring noise as Edan twisted his hand and began to speed down the highway once more.

"Ring! Ring!" The sound of his phone ringing caught his attention. Quickly tapping the answer button on the device attached to the dash a familiar voice began to echo in the speakers inside the helmet.

"Edan, we've got issues. Los Diablos are going after one of our boys over in the university district. Can you head that way and deal with these fucks?" The female voice echoed over the headset.

"Always happy to get some revenge on some Los Diablos bitch. Send the location to my phone." Edan responded, flipping a very illegal turn and very nearly spilling his drink.

"Sending it to you now. Oh, and try not to hurt them… too much." The woman replied as an alert with an address appeared on the phone.

"No promises." Edan said truthfully.

Songbird · Feb 28, 2017

A post where nothing happens at all.

One day, a boy named James wondered if there was a limit to how much bad luck someone could have in a day—chiefly, himself. This was the first time in a while only one thing had broken the entire day (at least so far): the lamp at his bedside. For some reason, the gap between his bed and nightstand felt shorter than usual. But after that, nothing had happened, and he was expectant to say the least. His fork didn't slip out of his hand while he ate some scrambled eggs in the morning, precariously positioning on the edge of the table, only to fall and stab him in the leg when he tried to grasp it. Yes, that's been done before. Just another day for the Unluckiest Man Alive.

It wasn't the first time he wanted to take his chances, either. There was a new ice cream stand near the school, and he was hoping to try it after lunch. Some of the students greeted him with an umbrella in hand readied to deploy, once a bit of a joke that turned into a necessity, but nothing happened today. James was able to do his work in an abnormal peace. It made it harder to do any work, actually. Instead, he focused on what was going to go wrong later; in fact, he already knew, but he didn't want to admit it to himself.

Then came the moment of truth. James stood in a short line leading up to the modest mobile stand, equal parts eager and fearful, paying for a double scoop of cotton candy-flavored ice cream. Before he left, he took a sizable bite of the top scoop, soon feeling a chill rush to his head. Nothing unbearable; the frozen confection was pretty damn good, too. Whatever was going to happen, he didn't much care anymore, so he thanked the man behind the stand and stepped aside for the next person.

His good fortune suddenly ran out as if on cue. A gust of wind blew by after a few management licks off the side of the cone, and the top scoop had fallen onto his shirt, sliding slowly and shamefully until it dropped on the pavement. Not nearly as bad as expected, he thought, and James continued on his way until his back foot caught some of the slippery treat, sending him falling to the floor. Luckily (sort of), he was always perfectly prepared for an unexpected loss of balance, and braced himself. However, he failed to realize that he was still holding onto an intact scoop of ice cream, which promptly splattered over him like whipped cream pie.

"Haah," he breathed, face down with his face full of ice cream. "There it is." The living jinx then stood to brush himself off, using the napkins around his cone to wipe away the ice cream that he didn't already lick off his face. Out of the goodness of their heart, the vendor offered him a new cone after bringing him a few more napkins. All in all, better than usual.

AlphaLuxray · Mar 1, 2017

SPLINTER
Derek Gutierrez

Another day, another job

Derek was currently in his dimly lit apartment, the only light coming from several computer screens in one corner. The table in front of him was filled with various things: primarily his suit and helmet, along with a modified sniper rifle, a revolver loaded with rubber shot, and several nonlethal grenades. There was also his various break and entry devices, whether that be complicated electronic hacking systems to basic thermite charges. All of this was carefully and meticulously organized by Derek, who now stood over the table taking inventory. He had another job to get to.

The hirer had been quite secretive about his identity, but his outfit instantly gave him away as La Fience. It wasn't like Derek had any issue with them; this certainly wasn't his first time being hired by them. The job, however, was a bit concerning. It was a simple enough heist job: get into a museum in the Cultural District, bag a few pricy items, and get out. Of course, they weren't about to let him walk in there. Security was no joke, especially in this town, and even more so around valuable items. He would have to quite literally pull this job off perfectly to avoid tripping any alarms and bringing in PRT. He'd already carefully studied the floor plans, along with scoping out all the security he'd be dealing with. He'd even already had all 5 of his routes planned and memorized. It was just a matter of waiting for the cover and solitude of nightfall.

In the meantime, though, Derek had some time to kill. He dimmed his computer, and left the apartment, locking the deadbolt before heading down the stairs to ground level. He knew it wasn't much, should anyone want to get in, but as all of the other, identical looking doors were locked in the same way, there wouldn't be much reason to suspect that one room. Derek exited the abandoned motel's lobby, and slipped into pedestrian traffic after donning his usual sunglasses. He was making his way to the entertainment district, where he could not only stop at his cafe of preference, but also look at the route he'd be taking up to the museum: straight up the cliffside.

A 10 minute cab drive later, Derek found himself at his regular spot at the Cliffside Diner, which contrary to its name was actually across a two lane road from the buildings lining the cliff. This did give Derek a perfect view of the cliff's surface from a windowside table however. He sipped on a chocolate milkshake as he studied the cliff's face in the bright daylight, planning his route. That patch was too smooth, that crevice stopped halfway up… After staring for nearly half an hour, Derek finally had his route. It was rather roundabout, but since he was free climbing, there wasn't much else he could do. Setting down his empty shake, plus enough cash to cover the bill and tip, Derek began walking back toward the abandoned industrial district, where his home was located.

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