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  #26    
Old March 2nd, 2017 (1:46 PM).
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Status
Just doing her job

Prognosis
See list

Treatment
Blood shot, 2 weeks of rest
Jeanne Coutlas, Medic Magnifique

Suddenly, a rather rushed looking woman entered Drakath's room, making her way past the doctors with a simple flash of her badge. She was wearing an open lab coat with a dark blue dress underneath, and a badge with the letters "PRT" written on top.

"Is this him?" she asked calmly, taking off her glasses and setting them on the operating table. She took the sterile syringe bag that was put on there, next to the other surgical instruments, and carefully opened it.

“Yes ma'am.” the doctor who had previously been tending to the young man lowered his mask. “Patient is a parahuman, with speed enhancement abilities, if that information's of any use.”

“It isn't,” Jeanne replied nonchalantly, jabbing the needle into a precise point near her wrist and slowly drawing out some blood. She felt absolutely no pain from the jab, as the nerves from the area had already been consciously numbed to the point it was as if she had pricked a dummy arm. “How long has he been like this?” she asked as she casually stabbed the needle into Drakath's neck, startling the nurse at the boy’s bedside.

“Fifteen minutes since we found him.” the doctor replied. “He is suffering from extreme head trauma, as well as-”

“-complete deafness in right ear, hearing loss in the left, monochrome vision, accentuated in right eye,” the medic interrupted. “broken nose, cuts across back, mild carbon monoxide poisoning, common cold, second degree burns on torso and right shoulder, and…” she stopped and closed her eyes, frowning. “...one of your people wasn't wearing gloves when they touched him.” She glared at the doctor, disappointed by the callous lack of standards.

“That’s… a much more comprehensive analysis then we could have hoped for, thank you.” the doctor quickly noted down Jeanne’s analysis.

“I can fix the hearing and eyesight problems, and any other internal injuries. I can accelerate the healing of the burns and cuts, bring him some bandages. I'm taking care of the clotting and disinfecting.” she ordered, sitting down next to Drakath. She looked at his face and sighed. It looked so young, - he was probably 15 or 16 - yet the young capes were always the ones who would turn out the worst of patients. All so reckless, so carefree in the use of their powers, and she couldn't bear to remember the countless times herself and her team had lost as patient to these very abilities. But again, it was her status as a parahuman that did allow her to save lives.

“Keep him put for a while, try to move him to a longer-stay room. I will try to phone the protectorate, possibly get him in with them- for his own good.” Medic said, standing up. “I have an important appointment to attend to.”

“Unfortunately, ma’am, we’re running short on them. Large influx of patients, and not enough space to fit them all…” the doctor said.

“Dommage.” Medic noted calmly, and made her way out of the room. As she exited the ER section, she noticed that one of the rooms, marked as long-term stay, was empty, with no sign of a patient. She raised an eyebrow curiously, stopping a young nurse as she walked by.

“Excuse me, but were you not meant to be out of long-stay rooms?” the medic queried.

“O-oh!” the nurse piped up as she noticed the PRT badge. “No, it’s just that we’ve closed this room off for safety purposes. Patient’s gone missing, but we can’t have anyone stay in there just yet, miss.”

“Mhm. Merci.” Jeanne thanked her and made her way out of the building. She didn’t have time to deal with mundane administration issues for now.
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  #27    
Old March 2nd, 2017 (10:54 PM). Edited March 13th, 2017 by AlphaLuxray.
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    Splinter

    Splinter was all ready to go. Night had fallen, and he was about to head out. He slipped his helmet on, and was quite literally walking through the door when the police scanner he had in his room crackled to life. ”All units, we have a break-in at the Museum of Fine Arts. Suspected Cape activity, Freefall and Shift are moving in. Over.” Splinter’s heart sank at the words. Someone had beat him to his mark. Weeks of planning, gone because some idiots thought a closed museum would be easy pickings. He angrily tore off the helmet, and sat down on his single bed, hard. Now what was he going to tell his client? ‘Oh, sorry, someone else took it before I could.’ He’d be looking at a bullet through the eyes if he badmouthed La Fience’s higher-ups like that. Everything had been perfect tonight… He should have expected someone else to realize that too.

    Not hearing anything else of import, Derek switched off the police scanner, and started removing his gear. This job was moot, a blemish on his near-perfect job record. He could expect more than one rude email in response, but he didn’t hesitate to sit down at his computer and notify his client of the recent developments, and his withdrawal from the job. Hopefully he’d get another job soon. Removing the last of his gear, derek collapsed in bed, and was quickly asleep. Tomorrow was another day, and there was always jobs to be had in his line of work.


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      #28    
    Old March 3rd, 2017 (10:40 AM).
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    Ditto / Hero

    - - - - - - - - -

    Agnes did not remember who had giver her the jacket. It draped over her shoulders like a blanket. She wrapped the sleeves around her chest as she sat in the passenger seat of the ambulance. The jacket smelled of cologne, a man's jacket, probably. She tried to keep her breathing steady and keep her power in check. One, breath in. Two, breath out. Her suit flapped around her legs and arms with each bump and turn of the vehicle, stretched out and torn in places. There were blackened holes up and down the sleeves. The skin underneath was red, raw, and the muscles sore, but otherwise unharmed. A moment too late and she would be stretched out in the back. Or worse.

    "Excuse me, you're the Ditto, right?"

    Agnes turned and looked back over her shoulder. One of the EMTs in the back had opened the window to the cab.

    "It's just Ditto."

    "They're calling for you over the radio. They want you at the PRT headquarters ASAP."

    - - - - - - - - -

    "I'm hearing reports that you saw someone else at the scene of the explosion?"

    "Yessir." Ditto stood stiffly. Being called into the leader's office after a major incident did not surprise her. She was a reliable cape. She followed the rules. She was a dutiful hero. The fact that she had to tell herself all this however meant she was worried nonetheless.

    "This Speed Demon? He's that delivery boy, right?" Chief Khadiji closed his eyes. There were at least three empty coffee mugs sitting on his desk. "Trying to escalate to villain? He's in the ICU now. Did you see him at any point prior to the bombing?"

    "No, sir, but." It was now or never. "I don't believe it was the Speed Demon I saw. I think there was someone, something else there. After the bomb went off."

    Khadiji gave her a hard stare. It was amazing how he never seemed to blink when he was asking you questions.

    "Agnes," the chief began. "You're claiming there was someone else at the site of the explosion, standing, unhurt. The Demon was lucky to survive. You, too, for that matter. How many others could stand next to a bomb and walk away?"

    "Blackout did." She hadn't meant to say that aloud. "Sir."

    "Your car took the brunt of the blast. What I'm saying is, all the capes we know of who could stand at ground zero are accounted for. I think," the chief touched the corners of his mouth as if trying to wipe away a bad taste. "You may need to talk to someone about this. Experiencing an event so similar to your trigger can be traumatic. Take the next few days off. I'll get all the full picture from Blackout and Speed Demon once they're recovered. You can stay home. I'll know if you don't. That's all."
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      #29    
    Old March 3rd, 2017 (3:30 PM). Edited March 8th, 2017 by (Drakath).
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      Damnit. They saw me. They definitely saw me. My mask wasn't on when I woke up and I bolted the moment I found it. Drakath sighed and leaned against a brick wall. Alright, how many saw me? Only a few right? Mostly doctors. One of the was probably a cape. I woke up in near perfect condition. No way any doctor did that. So who? Medic? Yeah, definitely Medic Extraordinaire. Wait, then that means... He shuddered at the idea of someone else's blood being inside of him. Even if it probably saved his life. Okay, so the medic saw me, but so did the doctors. Medic probably wouldn't but what if... Worry ran through him as he hurriedly checked his phone for any signs of use, but then dread filled him as he pulled it out. "Damnit!" Throwing the destroyed device on the ground, Drakath began to have a brief fit. "Psyduck! No~ so much data..." Nearly sobbing, he walked away and headed out of the alley with a distraught sigh as he pulled his masquerade off.

      Kiro walked into a net cafe wearing a somewhat long blonde wig paired with a red sports hat and sunglasses. Lower down he wore a colorful white shirt with a leather jacket thrown over it, and grey sweatpants to go with his bland shoes. This disguise was quickly thrown together with nothing really specific in mind, even if certain celebrities appeared in his thoughts as he threw it together. It pained him to have to ditch his favorite outfit, though not nearly as much as having his phone destroyed, but a few doctors had already seen him in it and he couldn't risk being recognized. Walking to an empty spot, Kiro tried to ignore how uncomfortable he felt wearing this. He powered up the computer and made seemingly random searches before began making
      intended inquiries. Most surrounded the bomb and those present. His identity hadn't been leaked as far as he could tell. There were no records of "The Speed Demon" having been hospitalized. However, there we're places that confirmed his presence there, and unfortunately for him many began speculating his involvement in the situation, some even considered it as his villain reveal. Kiro sighed once more and closed his computer. He decided to mull over his public image another time and let his partner company deal with it. Leaving the cafe he tried to come to terms with the fact that he would have to "lay low," refraining from using his powers and that he would need a disposal phone for the moment. Kiro headed to Piper Street in his temporary new persona to assess the damage, reminding himself to watch the news when he got home.
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        #30    
      Old March 6th, 2017 (5:59 PM).
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      Damian Edgeworth AKA Mephisto

      Damian's fingers tapped on the corner of his desk in sync with the clock. Tick, tick tick, the day seemed to drag on forever. His Physics teacher was lost in a passionate speech about some boring law or something which left Damian's thoughts to wander. Last night he had donned his mask and slipped out of the apartment he shared with his brother. Ever since they had moved out of their now burned down house and into their apartment together his brother had become more hesitant in allowing Damian to go on his villainous adventures at night. He really saw no reason why he should be so concerned with school like his brother insisted he be, he could run an exceptional business with his powers, making deals people were unable to deceive him on was only really useful for making deals with people who would normally deceive him, and that meant illegal activities.

      He hadn't really done anything too bad, mostly just overseeing deals between some people trading untraceable weapons. He got a cut of the pay as long as he made sure the deal went through without any problems, and by using his power it was literally impossible. Unless some rogue third party guy came along and screwed up the whole thing, it was pretty much guaranteed cash. Damian was pretty sure he should have gotten more than $200 but hey, he wasn't arguing with the guy who had the guns. Two hundred was plenty.

      The sound of the bell ringing snapped him out of his daydream. It was finally lunch time. He scooped up his papers and shoved them into his bag, not caring that they stuck out at weird angles and bent in odd places. As he went to leave the classroom one of his "friends" or "annoying pests" as he's started calling them, in his head of course, waved to him and started to walk with him out of the classroom. "Wasn't that lecture so interesting?"

      "Yeah I was so thrilled I closed my eyes so I could listen better." Damian replied sarcastically.

      "Oh." the girl said, sounding disappointed, "Well, I'm sure you'll have fun in English after lunch!"

      "Not likely." he replied bluntly.

      "Oh, cheer up! If you actually listened for once maybe you'd enjoy it!" she said, over enthusiastically. He shrugged, trying to get her to shut up and stop following him. "Well, see you later!" she sang, smiling at him and pushing the hair out of her eyes before skipping off to lunch.

      "Thank God she's gone." he said to nobody in particular.
      At lunch he pulled out his brown paper bag with a cheese sandwich and an apple. He set the apple aside and inhaled his sandwich, pausing only to take a drink from the water bottle in his backpack. The faster he finished eating the faster he could leave the cafeteria, and the less chance he had of running into-
      "Heyyyy! Damian! Over here!" the cheerful girl from earlier called out. He pretended not to notice her and kept eating, taking bigger bites and trying to chew faster. "Yooo hoooooo!" the girl called, now standing and waving with both hands from across the room. "Come sit with us!" she practically screamed in her sing-song voice. Everyone was staring. Damian went red in the face, looking straight down at his sandwich. He hated attention. He shoved what was left of his sandwich into the bag, picked up his apple and tossed the wadded paper bag into the trash before walking as fast as he could into the hall.
      It was in the hall that he ran into someone who made his face even more red. It was Shannon, his lab partner in biology and the only person other than his brother who he didn't hate. He cracked a slight smile and waved at her awkwardly. She didn't even notice him, too busy talking to her friends. His smile faded and he marched off to the library, finishing his apple on the way.

      When he got there he found an empty table, and pulled out the only thing in his backpack that wasn't a wrinkled mess, a bright green notebook with a black spine. It contained a meticulously detailed record of everything he did as "Mephisto," his secret villainous identity, which he planned to publish as his autobiography once he became as famous as other cape villains. He thumbed through the pages, skimming over past entries. The only thing that kept him sane in school was looking forward to when it ended and his life of crime and adventure began.

      When the bell rang to send everyone back to class he slid the notebook carefully into his bag and slipped out into the hall. He really wasn't feeling the whole school thing today, so he shoved his way through to find a narrow and crowded hallway. He slipped out of one of the doors, unnoticed, and walked along the edge of the building before sprinting over to the worn out bus stop, sitting down on a bench behind a couple who was standing and arguing. Pulling out his notebook he waited patiently for the bus.

      Later that day his brother arrived home, a pair of voices echoing through the apartment. Damian knew Edan was going to be occupied all night. Whenever he brought someone over he was oblivious to anything Damian did. As long as Damian stayed quiet long enough for Edan to get in his room he wouldn't notice him for the rest of the night. At the sound of the door to Edan's room slamming shut, Damian started planning. Tonight he was going to do something more thrilling than aiding an arms deal, it had to be something exciting, something he hadn't done before.




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        #31    
      Old March 7th, 2017 (3:49 AM).
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        Reza Shirazi || Freefall


        Male // 18 // Hero






        Smile for the Camera I




        Freefall slipped inside the training room and removed his mask, letting loose a small yawn before locking the door behind him. Early morning training sessions were the worst, but it was the best time to work with Maryam outside of weekends. Speaking of which, his sister stood with her back to the door, facing down the long corridor used for target practice. It appeared that she hadn’t noticed his presence yet, muttering something and firing off a grenade that went wide.

        “Your aim is off,” Reza said while cracking open his water bottle, flicking his finger to redirect the projectile’s gravity towards the target. “You could have made that shot with your eyes closed normally, what’s up?”

        “You scared the muk out of me,” she said after nearly jumping a foot in the air. “How the hell do you manage to sneak in like that?”

        “Hey, I yawned and everything. You’re just too busy in Mary-land to notice. Also, I’ll say it again, what’s up?”

        Removing her own mask with a sigh, she tossed it to the side and took a seat, motioning to the spot next to her. Plopping down in the seat, he took a large drink of water.

        “Say, do you go to the Cape forums a lot?”

        Reza then realized that now was probably the worst time to drink anything, as yesterday’s lunch conversation flashed back in his mind. He managed to avoid spitting the water everywhere, but had a violent coughing fit from the water sliding down the wrong pipe.

        “Hey, are you okay? You still remember how to drink water, right?”

        “Sorry,” he managed to say between coughs, “bit of a drinking problem. Now, what do you mean?”

        She rolled her eyes in response to his deflection. “You know, the video of me getting hit by my own grenade that’s everywhere.”

        “OH! That!”

        “What did you think I meant?”

        “Let’s not talk about that.” He deflected once more, hoping his embarrassment wasn’t showing on his face. “That’s not too bad, y’know? There’s the time I got hit by that coffee table I didn’t even notice I shifted. I thought I’d never live that down, and everyone forgot about it in a week’s time.”

        “Yeah, but this was Hostage. I don’t think there’s a comparable situation for how one sided this should have been.”

        “Tell that to the giant bruise I had on my ass.”

        “So that’s why you couldn’t sit still in that PRT history class! I thought you were just trying to keep awake.”

        Anyways,” he said, trying to move the conversation away from his injuries in embarrassing areas. “All you need to do now is good PR. I had a great day that looked good on cameras and owned up to the situation in that interview. The more you fight it, the worse it gets.”

        “I guess that makes sense,” she admitted, looking down at her own feet. “You know how bad I am at those, right?”

        “Not really. Apparently people find you funnier than me for some reason.”

        “Okay, you can’t even argue against that. But I meant the interviews and stuff. In the moment is different, y’know?”

        “Yeah, yeah,” he said, hatching a plan in his mind. “Listen, we both have patrols later today, right?”

        “Same time, different places.”

        “Look, I’ll request an exchange, get you transferred to my patrol. After that, we’ll have a kick-ass patrol that’ll make both of us look good.”

        “Won’t that just make you look good?”

        “Ah-ah-ah,” he said, wagging his finger and smirking, “you didn’t let me finish. I have an appearance on some small late night show tonight. I can use that time to talk you up, maybe even get them to show some clips back from our time in the wards.”

        Everything in her head clicked together, and Bombshell’s eyes lit up. “That will probably work! People really like you on air.”

        “See, I’m more clever than you give me credit for. Now, put that mask back on and let's get to work!”


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          #32    
        Old March 7th, 2017 (10:41 PM). Edited March 13th, 2017 by AlphaLuxray.
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        AlphaLuxray AlphaLuxray is offline
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          Chrono


          Alex snapped awake to her blaring alarm, early as ever. A quick slap of the snooze button silenced the damn thing, for a time. She knew she had to get up for school, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t enjoy these last few minutes of bedrest. Rolling out of bed, Alex shoved her way into the bathroom to get ready. Honestly, why do I have to go to school when I’ve got freaking superpowers, she thought as she brushed her teeth, this’d all be a lot easier if I didn’t have to worry about who ruled Rome 2000 years ago.

          A few minutes later saw Alex all dressed and her bag packed, and she quickly scarfed down a breakfast of toast with jelly. She then headed out the door, walking the few blocks to the bus stop. The ride to school was uneventful, and the morning flashed by in a blur. Before she knew it, it was finally lunch, and Alex was at her usual spot in the cafeteria. Across from her was basically Alex’s only friend, a tall blonde named Christine Avery. Where Alex was gangly and thin, Christine was supple and curvy, and it was undoubtable that she was probably the prettiest girl in the school. Not only that, but Christine was also the top of her class, and extremely smart. Alex still found it shocking that she wasn’t super popular, but she was glad they were friends.

          “Hey Alex, you did last night’s homework for bio, right? Mind if I see it? I want to make sure I got everything right.” Christine’s voice was quiet and mature, even though she was a sophomore like Alex. Alex snapped out of her thoughts and nodded, pulling her bag from under the table.

          “Yeah, got it right here,” she replied. Alex pulled out the biology homework and passed it over before continuing, “but even I wouldn’t use my homework as an answer key.” To Christine, anything short of an A was torture, so she took even the pettiest assignments seriously, as though they were the sole difference between her graduating or not.

          “Yeah, I know,” Christine tittered, “I just have to make sure I didn’t pick the answers you did and I’m sure to pass!” They both broke down laughing, but their joke was interrupted by someone yelling across the cafeteria. The target, a boy sitting by himself, was red as a beet, most of the cafeteria looking at either him or the girl calling to him. Poor kid, she thought, can’t imagine how embarrassing that must be.

          Yet it seemed luck was on the boy’s side, as the bell rang just then. Christine handed Alex back her homework with a smile, and strolled off towards her AP lit class, while Alex took a different hall to history, her most dreaded subject. She caught that boy from the cafeteria in the corner of her eye as he slipped out one of the exits, but she didn’t blame him. She’d probably have done the same thing. Coming to her history class, Alex took her seat, and waited for the late bell to ring.

          The teacher was an old man, white hair and beard with glasses thicker than any pair ought to be, who had been teaching 20 years past when he should have stopped. It was no secret that Dr. Peterson hated his job, and his class basically boiled down to him either reading from his worn textbook or grading papers while the class worked on problems from the very same textbook. It was honestly one of those classes one dreads going to, and it was not uncommon for more than one person to sleep through the teacher’s boring lectures.

          Class couldn’t be over soon enough, but once it was, Alex was finally free. She made it back home without a hitch, not surprised to find the house empty. Ever since her mother had died, her father had been pouring more and more time into his job, to the point where Alex often didn’t see him for days at a time. She’d grown used to it, and besides, she had her own job to occupy her time. Quickly stuffing her suit from her backpack to another, more lightweight bag, Alex skipped off towards the nearest main road to hitch a cab. Her destination: the massive PRT headquarters, where she could actually make a difference in this city as her hero alias Chrono.



          ((Gonna edit in Splinter later))
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            #33    
          Old March 8th, 2017 (10:20 AM).
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          Mechanic

          Over the years, Karl had assembled and fixed almost all sorts of everyday things. From broken pencils to jammed irradiators, dirty weapons to crashed vehicles. Where normal humans and capes struggled, for him was all just a matter or knowing where the parts would go, and they would go there. All with a few thoughts. But he certainly wasn't all-knowing yet. Sometimes he had to quickly learn new things. Like this tense afternoon, when he finally entered battle with the infamous Expresso.

          The Mechanic eyed his enemy skeptically through the visor. The lighting was dim, but the opponent's armor glimmered in the faint lamplight. There was no hiding now.

          "So we meet, at last."

          The resistance merely gurgled in response. No sign of intelligence, from what Mechanic could tell.

          "If you-"

          "Silence! That noise might have been a warning sound. Stand back, civilian."

          "I'm not a civi-"

          "I am here to save you. Now, please let me do my job." No sign of intelligence from his audience either. His job wasn't an easy one, he thought. But somebody had to do it.

          With the tendril of a thought, he grabbed his chosen weapon for the day and slowly lifted it up from the case on the floor. The audience gasped, as they always did at any display of his power. You'd think they'd grow bored after a few times, but he supposed it didn't exactly bother him that they hadn't.

          Taking a deep breath, he stepped forward. His enemy stayed put, as expected. The Mechanic raised his weapon intimidatingly over his head.

          "It is time," he said solemnly. "Prepare to be-"

          "Are you still not done?"

          The rest of the lamps in the ceiling flared up. The hand on the switch belonged to a PRT official whom Karl had always seen as particularly grumpy, today no less so than usual. The audience began to murmur and disperse around the break room, trying to avoid getting pierced by the dark glare from the stout african american woman. Luckily, she couldn't see Karl's eyes. Nor his grimace.

          "You were supposed to be on your way back to the Protectorate an hour ago," Superintendent Malrossa grunted.

          "Clearly, that didn't happen!" The Mechanic replied, accompanying it with a thumbs-up.

          "We are not paying you for overtime."

          "You're paying me?" he said, but instantly saw he had gone too far and held up his hands in apology. His levitating screwdriver was forgotten and dropped down onto the floor with a bang. "Hey now, relax. I've finished my tasks, I just found an extra that I don't mind fixing as well. Or maybe Mrs Superintendent doesn't quite care for coffee in the morning?"

          Several worried eyes turned her way at the question, and Karl could almost see her fuming as her own eyes darted between them before they came to rest on Expresso 5000V. Possibly the most advanced automated coffee-machine in Fallcliff. Probably not, Karl thought, but the PRT men liked to think so and he wouldn't be the one to ruin their pretty picture of reality.

          "Just get on with it," Malrossa said darkly, and left as quickly as she had arrived.

          Not much sign of intelligence there either, Karl noted. Easily manipulated. Good. However, the afternoon was getting long. He should probably take her advice, even though he wouldn't dream of letting her know he did.

          "Sorry folks, show's over," he declared. "And you..."

          He reached out, focusing his gaze on the machine and sensing the parts he could see, and how they were connected.

          "You may be the first coffee-maker I have had the honor of picking apart, but I will find your fault, and I will fix it. Prepare to be de-wrecked."

          Somewhere behind him, a PRT officer eagerly clapped his hands, now enthralled again as the boss had gone on her merry way. Karl sighed inside the helmet and went to work, at last. Karl the repairman. Well, no. Mechanic, the repair hero. Later, he would get back to the Protectorate and hear about what the patrols and missions today had yielded for the others. Who got shot, what villains got a good beating, what hero was responsible for saving the lives of a hundred civilians etcetera.

          At least he wasn't going to be responsible for giving caffeine addicted officers withdrawal symptoms in the morning.
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            #34    
          Old March 8th, 2017 (5:27 PM).
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          (Drakath) (Drakath) is offline
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            Unsurprisingly, Kiro wasn't able to enter Piper Street. In fact, the entire block was closed off. From what he could see from behind the roadblock, they were still in the process of cleaning up the area for the probable investigation, if there was anything left of the destroyed delivery destination worth looking into. Some time later, Kiro arrived home, clearly spent from the day's events, and turned on the the television. This was one of the very rare occasions where he actually decided to watch the local news channel. He gave it a good hour whilst he got ready for bed before giving up and deeming nothing else of particular importance, as he had already gathered most of the information that he cared about in particular at the internet cafe. Plopping onto the bed, Kiro tossed his unpleasant thoughts away and fell asleep, dreading what may come the next day.

            Not even a second passed after the loud alarm clock went off before Kiro shot up and slammed his alarm shut. He sighed disapprovingly, God I hate that thing. Pausing, a smirk came to his face as he took his statement literally and questioned the point of telling God that, only to fall back into a full-faced frown as he remembered that it was a school day. Nothing ever happened at school to incite his distain however, he just hated the place, the idea, the setup, the fact that he was forced to go. He went through all of his morning tasks at a normal pace, he didn't need to use his superspeed to rush through everything. As he reached for his backpack he remembered that he hadn't done his homework. Even though he could, and always did, superspeed through it, it still annoyed him that it was homework. Why couldn't they just make it an in class assignment? You'd still be doing it and learning the material. Why did it have to intrude into his free time? Regardless of his disapproval, he finished his homework at such a speed that the pencil was literally smoking by the time he finished. Ignoring the horrible smell of burnt lead, he packed his bag and headed to school.

            It was something that Kiro had gotten accustomed to after gaining his superspeed, being early or at least on time for almost everything. He walked into the empty class room and waited for class to start, watching as everyone entered. One student, Lisa Ormanni, flinched and stopped as she locked eyes with Kiro. Most would take her for a nerd were it not for her well formed body. She was Italian, fair skinned, lightly freckles, long, dark auburn hair tied into a ponytail that fit well with her soft brown eyes protected behind a pair of thin metal framed glasses. Her cute, gentle face was distorted by a shocked expression, almost as if in disbelief. As for her clothing, a grey sweater hid her blouse underneath while a pair of form fitting jeans covered her lower half. She attempted to casually approach him but failed to pull it off. She sat down next to him, in a seat some of the boys would kill to be beside. Kiro was immune to her unwanted visual charms and saw her only as a best friend, she was technically the reason his Trigger Event even took place. Wondering why she was acting so out of character, Kiro he turned to Lisa.

            "Why are you so surprised to see me here?"
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              #35    
            Old March 8th, 2017 (11:24 PM).
            gimmepie's Avatar
            gimmepie gimmepie is offline
             
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            Jailer
            AKA. Anita Blaine

            The Court of Public Opinion





            Anita woke up at six, like clockwork the same as every other day. She blinked the sleep out of her eyes, slowly rising up and stretching her arms above her head. She wouldn’t have minded staying in the warmth of her bed for a while longer, she didn’t have any pressing engagements. That wasn’t going to happen though. Anita was too disciplined for that. She made a habit of always being up, washed and fed by seven, half past at the latest.

            She showered, dressed and put coffee on before setting about preparing breakfast for one. Sebastian wouldn’t be awake for another several hours and it was doubtful that he’d drag himself out of bed for at least another half hour or so after that anyway. Anita made a point of looking out for her friend, but she’d be damned if she’d mother him to the point of waking him up with a hot meal. If Sebastian was going to laze around, he could fend for himself when he eventually resurfaced into the outside world.

            Settling down at the small dining table between their lounge area and kitchen, Anita flicked the television onto the local news and took a bite of a slice of toast. Unsurprisingly, the image of a middle-aged anchorwoman whom Anita suspected was more plastic than human flesh at that point appeared on the screen. Behind the walking advertisement for cosmetic surgery, a large image of what used to be a building was displayed. The anchorwoman concluded her brief summary of the situation before cutting to a reporter on the scene; a young and well-groomed man with slicked back hair and finger to the speaker in his ear.

            The reporter spoke in an excitable tone that just didn’t seem appropriate for the gravity of the situation he was in. Especially when he revealed that several people had died during the blast and then many more had been hurt or killed during the rescue efforts. The blast had reduced the building it had occured in to rubble and had rather severely damaged those in the immediate vicinity. Piper Street had been shut down whilst investigations occurred and Protectorate, Wards and police took shifts in clearing the areas the investigators were done with. The reporter cut back to the anchorwoman who very insincerely gave her condolences to those who had lost loved ones in the bombing. Then, she moved on to the next story which was, much to Anita’s dismay, her and Sebastian’s robbery and the subsequent fight - including the two videos that had been circulating around the internet since the previous night. The story was brief but covered their supposed escalation (on account of Anita threatening civilians), the need to better train Wards for combat (on account of Bombshell’s supposed loss to Sebastian… even though he’d barely escaped and in much worse condition than the heroine had been in) and final the duo’s potential link to the bombing.

            “Wonderful, now the news is being run by tinfoil wearing conspiracy theorists. We’re going to have to lay real low for a while until they find some actual leads.” Anita said to herself as she switched off the television, enjoying the sudden blessed silence. Anita couldn’t believe that in a city practically run by La Fenice and with a plenty active criminal underbelly, it was she and Sebastian of all people that the news was homing in on… well them and the poor delivery rogue. Suddenly possessed by a compulsion to see the sight of the blast herself, Anita grabbed her keys and headed out the door - being very sure to lock it.




            It was about an hour later when she found herself standing among a crowd of onlookers. All around her was a throng of other people being held back by a wall of tired-looking cops. Most of them were just curious teenagers who wanted to skip class or nosy housewives, but peppered among them were the obviously pained faces of those who had yet to find out if their loved ones had been caught up in the explosion. Anita found it hard to wrap her head around the fact that several of them probably thought she was in some way responsible for the atrocity.

            Anita continued watching the officials going about their business for another hour before finally peeling herself away. She wasn’t completely sure what had drawn her to the site in the first place, but she suddenly regretting giving in to the impulse. She had gone from being wide awake and looking forward to a relaxing day to tired and emotionally drained in a matter of hours. It wasn’t even lunchtime yet. Her stuff joints and bruises ached harder the more she thought about the terrorist attack, as if her body wanted to remind her that between he baseless suspicion now on her, the video of her fight the previous day and the fury she had probably elicited from Seraph, she was likely to be in for a rough time of things soon. Her phone buzzed, displaying a message that all but confirmed her worries.

            From Sebastian (9:15am)
            someone is looking for us
            check capesonline

            “So much for a day of relaxation and recuperation. What the hell is this about?”

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              #36    
            Old March 8th, 2017 (11:47 PM).
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            Oddball_ Oddball_ is offline
            Magical Senpai and god of the closet.
             
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            Edan Edgeworth AKA Brimstone


            Tires squealing. Gunshots ringing. People screaming.

            The masked figure in the clanking wooden plates slowly appeared on the edge of the cloud of thick smoke that had begun to roll in a few moments before. The volcanic landscape on the mask seemed to almost shimmer with fiery heat as the figure stepped towards the several red and black cars and vans that were parked along the road.

            “Not this ese.” A shaved Latino man sporting the signature tattoo of street gang known as Los Diablos. “You Brotherhood locos don’t know when to quit.” He continued before firing several rounds towards the smoke covered figure.

            The figure that was Brimstone quickly became shrouded in the shadowy smoke mist once more as the bullets flew into the gaseous abyss. Suddenly the smog began to pulsate and swell as it slowly reached forward in tendrils of dark vapor that reached towards the gang member ahead of him.

            A rumbling in the ground shook the entire street. The cars began to beep and screech as their alarms began to go off all at once. Suddenly a thick green vine erupted from the ground beneath the balding Los Diablos member, wrapping around his leg and dragging him to the ground.

            Several more bullets rang out as the other members of Los Diablos began trying to fight their unseen adversaries. Screams began to ring out as tendrils of smoke began to fill the lungs of anyone who got near the growing mass of smoke, and strange plants began bursting from the ground and taking those whom weren’t currently assailed down.

            From the cloud of smoke, Brimstone peered around the street. There didn’t appear to be any civilians, but he knew that they were all around hiding from the gang violence. (“Have to be careful. Can’t let anyone see-“) Brimstone began to think before a stray vine stabbed downwards through the chest of a nearby Los Diablos.

            “Muk!” Brimstone hissed, his entire swirling aura dissipating as he dashed forward towards the floristry where he knew his accomplice would be hiding.

            A bullet lodged itself in the wooden plate on his knee, the impact knocking him to the ground as the wooden plate split down the center and clattered to the ground. As he rolled he crashed next to another Los Diablos whom was about to have their jugular torn apart by a strange vine. Throwing his hand forward before it could pierce the man, Brimstone’s fingers touched the plant and it began to quickly grow grey and dry as it began fall apart. The strange disease spread along the vine wrapping around the gang member, slowly freeing him from his temporary prison.

            “Heh, you’re going to regre-“ The gang member began before having his lights knocked out by a stray elbow from Brimstone.

            (“What the hell is this idiot thinking.”) Brimstone thought to himself as he started for the floristry again. (“He can’t just go around killing people! No matter how much these bastards deserve it!”)


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              #37    
            Old March 9th, 2017 (11:22 AM).
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            Esper Esper is offline
             
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            Ditto / Hero

            - - - - - - - - -

            Agnes stood before an open refrigerator, its cold white light the only glow in her dim apartment. The curtains were drawn, stapled shut, letting in no outside light. Day and night had no concept within these peeling walls. She opened a takeout box of... something... from the shelf, sniffed it, recoiled, then threw it in the microwave, setting the power to high. She stood watching the timer count down, listening to the electric hum.

            She had been suspended, yes. They could call it a medical leave, but she was taken off duty when she was still able to perform, to act, to fight back. Who didn't have trauma in this line of work? Those officers who had died. The people who would be at their funerals. All those somber people, the grief-stricken faces, the weeping, the grim air. Agnes did not weep, did not show her pain. Would she be expected to attend, and if so to join in their grief? She did not even remember the names of the officers who had died.

            Would their friends blame her for their deaths?

            The microwave beeped. Agnes opened the door and a cheese- and soap- scented steam filled the air. She grabbed for the box and jerked her hand back. She ran her hand under a stream of icy cold water from the sink, letting it soothe the burn. Maybe she was not right in the head after all.

            Her phone rang. It was a song she had chosen a while ago that she thought she had liked. It wasn't anyone from the PRT, their calls had different tones, so she let the song play, trying to remember what about the sugar-sweet bubblegum she had liked until the music cut off at the line "When are you gonna...

            She took the nuked leftovers to the small table by the curtained window and began to eat. It tasted like nothing and she put her fork down after a few bites. She picked up her phone from the counter. There was a message.

            At first it was quiet, an inaudible murmur like water running through pipes. Then she heard the voice and made out the words.

            "Baby sister. My busy... baby... sister. Do you want to know who gave that kid the bomb?"
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              #38    
            Old March 9th, 2017 (4:00 PM).
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            (Drakath) (Drakath) is offline
            The Champion of Chaos
               
              Join Date: Nov 2014
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              She hesitated before answering, "Um, I just... Didn't think you'd be here." Kiro wasn't buying her response but decided to go with it, "Why?" Lisa fidgeted and brought her voice to a whisper, "Um, weren't you injured in the explosion?" Kiro whispered in kind, "No. Why would I be?" She looked at him in confusion, "What? Wasn't there a bomb in that package." His heart nearly stopped as his eyes widened with suspicion as he nervously responded, "How do you know that?" Lisa went beet red as she looked away. She psyducked up. The conversation just started and she already psyducked up. Hiding her shame in silence, she waited for his response. Kiro started Shia LaBeoufing as panic set in, "You? No. It can't be you. Why? Why did you set me up? Why? Tell me god damnit!" Lisa cringed and prepared herself for the worst of reactions, "What makes you think I planted the bomb?" Anger set in as he responded, "You said that as if the blast was inescapable. I have superspeed for psyduck's sake. You knew that I had to open it in order for it to explode. The news hasn't even figured out half the muk you've said. And you haven't said much. And don't say the internet either. No one knows I was harmed except for the doctors and maybe a cape. And neither party shares that information freely." Kiro had known Lisa long enough to know that her silence was all he needed to know that he was spot on. His heart sank as tears came to his eyes. "That was pathetic. You know for a cape, you're very bad at hiding things." He gathered his things and heard a "sorry" as he left the classroom, resisting the urge to punch her. As soon as he was outside he tossed his backpack into a hidey hole out of sight and donned his masquerade. He and the La Fenice needed to have a talk.

              Drakath supersped through Fallcliff with vengeance on his mind. He had texted Lisa not too long ago and just now got a response which read, "You might be able to find at least one of them here. Apparently they had something to 'deal with.' Are you sure this is necessary?" Of course, I need to know why. The location she gave led him to a warehouse somewhere in the Abandoned Industries he looked through a broken window to see that it was in fact abandoned. He could see someone struggling in a chair with a tall figure standing over him. Still burning with rage, Drakath braced himself as he prepared a dramatic entrance.
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                #39    
              Old March 11th, 2017 (6:43 PM). Edited March 21st, 2017 by Fen-kun.
              Fen-kun's Avatar
              Fen-kun Fen-kun is offline
              An RP Hermit
                 
                Join Date: Dec 2015
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                Safiya Nejem aka Florissant

                With energy in her step and a smile on her face, Safiya seemed very eager to start the day. She was meeting one of her friends for tea and breakfast. The friend was one of the first she made moving here to the United States. From Safiya’s house in the Indonesian-Dutch District, she boarded the 8 bus going down Van Ness Avenue to the Cultural District. The commute was quiet and uneventful, with Safiya humming along to music streaming through her earbuds. After the short commute, she deboarded the bus and walked the short distance from the bus stop to the cafe.

                She opened the door, with a little ring of a bell hanging near the door. Safiya smiled and waved at the waiter, “Hello! Table for two, please.” Certainly Safiya’s English has improved from both her school days in Tunisia and first coming to the US, but she still spoke with a very noticeable accent.

                The waiter guided her to a table by the window and started to thumb through the menu, responding to the waiter asking for drinks with an order of jasmine tea and hot cocoa. While she was looking what she felt like eating today, her friend walked in and found Safiya. Safiya stood up and hugged her friend, exclaiming, “Hey Taylor! How are you today? Still doing good, my friend?”

                Taylor returned the hug, “Yes yes, I am doing good.” She laughed a little as she added, “Heh, for someone who just saw me two days ago you sure know how to hug tight.”

                Safiya replied, “Yes, yes, I know. Comes with me being me, yeah?” She sat down across from Taylor and sipped some of her tea. “I am very excited today.”

                “When aren’t you?”

                Safiya laughed, “Never.”

                Clearly not a morning person, Taylor remarked in mock exasperation, “Don’t you ever get tired of using all this energy?”

                “Nope! Come now, be more awake. It’s already 20 minutes past seven. The sun is out, and people are busy.” Safiya teased, “What’s your excuse?”

                Taylor replied in a deadpan tone, “I’m lazy.”

                Safiya shook her head in mock shame, “And this is why you should really work out with me on Thursdays. Maybe then you would not come in and complaining of waking up for your morning job.”

                Taylor responded, “Please, work tires me enough without adding workouts to my day.”

                Safiya asked, “Surely your new job isn’t that bad?”

                Taylor sighed, “It’s not it’s just...it’s my damn manager. She’s a real rattata. Expecting me to pull some goddamn miracle with the reward cards. Not my damn fault they suck.”

                Her Arab friend offered, “Well, I know how much working retail can suck. Especially at that shoe place around where I lived. Just hang in there, and I’m sure it’ll work out. Maybe the manager will be fired when the numbers don’t rise or something.”

                The waiter came back, asking what the two ladies would like to eat. Safiya replied, “Give us a few minutes.” She laughed a little as the waiter tended to another customer, the excitable woman exclaimed, “Wow, I got so caught up in talking that I forgot to get what I wanted. Let’s see here uh...ooh, how about the chocolate pancakes?” She let her friend pick out what she wanted and called the waiter to get their order. They continued chatting, talking more about work (Safiya of course had to fill in with all the experiences of her cover job, the owner of a tea shop in the Indonesian District) and enjoyed the breakfast.

                After the pleasant interaction with Taylor, the Arab woman left the cafe and walked towards the Governmental District to the PRT offices. She walked in to clock in for duty, suited up and was met by Sergeant Davids. The sergeant greeted her, and proceeded to delineate a special provision for patrol. She was going to accompany another Wards member, an excitable newbie. Even with her own occasional zealous moments and excitement with the job, Safiya was more than glad to be a team player and help this person out. Who knows, maybe they’re a fan of some good mentoring camaraderie and a zeal for chatting up a storm.
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                  #40    
                Old March 12th, 2017 (8:50 PM).
                gimmepie's Avatar
                gimmepie gimmepie is offline
                 
                Join Date: May 2012
                Location: Australia
                Age: 23
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                Hostage
                AKA. Sebastian Medina

                @Hostage Plz Reply





                Sebastian was laying down on his bed, the blinds on his window shut tight to prevent the morning sun getting in. His room was in its typical state, which was to say it was filthy with his belongings strewn all over the place. His desk was particularly terrible with piles upon piles of belongings he almost never touched sitting on top of the wooden frame. On top of the piles of what Sebastian affectionately called his “crap” was an expensive laptop - which invalidated the need for a desk in the first place.

                Like many did he imagined, Sebastian sighed and reached for his phone to check the time. It was a little after nine. That suggested he could probably get away with another hour of sleep before Anita physically dragged him out of his room but he doubted if he closed his eyes again it’d only be an hour before he woke up again. His body was still faintly sore from being tased by Bombshell the previous day and was feeling even stiffer than it normally would in the morning.

                “Psyduck it.” Sebastian said to nobody in particular and forced himself to climb out of the warmth and comfort of the bed. Foregoing the effort he would put into his appearance if he was going out, Sebastian elected to remain in the old grey sweats he wore to sleep and grabbed his laptop, heading out into the open kitchen/dining/lounge that made up the majority of their appartment.

                It appeared that Anita had gone out for something or other, so Sebastian also forwent any semblance of a healthy breakfast electing to instead grab a can of Red Bull from the fridge and lounge about on the sofa with his laptop, browsing CapesOnline for anything interesting. Even before he’d Triggered, Sebastian had followed the cape scene at least a little. However, after becoming a part of it himself it took on a whole new life to him and he went full cape geek. He had never understood why non-capes became obsessive over it all but when everything pertained to you in some way, how could you not become more interested?

                Scrolling through the boards, Sebastian made a point of checking up on the threads about the bombing and the recent one about he and Anita. The former didn’t contain anything new apart from a body count (which differed wildly depending on the source). Either way it looked like the original report of no deaths was way off. There was further speculation about the Speed Demon’s involvement. The latter was a bunch of the geekiest of cape geeks arguing about he and Anita much to Sebastian’s amusement. Depending on who was speaking, they were either useless or a sleeper threat that was actually involved in the bomb plot.

                Sebastian decided to run a search for the alias “Hostage” to see if he was being talked about anywhere else and was surprised to find there was another thread where he’d been mentioned. Weirdly though, it was in the section where people left messages for capes. It would be stupid to openly leave a message for a known villain though. His curiosity very much piqued, he opened the thread.
                SuitAndTie
                H&J, looking to meet up re: FallU and related. Contact me with [email protected]
                -VcmLF

                Truther
                This is for Hostage and Jailer. I psyducking called it. @KoolKape3.

                KoolKape3
                not this muk again ffs. don’t psyduckin tag me.
                Sebastian couldn’t help but laugh. This Truther person might have been a lunatic conspiracy theorist, but it seemed like he was at least half right. The only interesting thing to happen at Fallcliff University recently, or likely ever, was his and Anita’s raid and “H&J” seemed to indicate the message was directed at them. The fact that the ironically named TraxMail, an untraceable email client that even Monitor hadn’t found a way around was being used cinched the deal that another villain was looking for them for some reason. Judging by the initials at the end of the message, Sebastian had a pretty good idea of who it was also.

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                  #41    
                Old March 13th, 2017 (3:10 PM).
                AlphaLuxray's Avatar
                AlphaLuxray AlphaLuxray is offline
                Serious Punch!
                   
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                  Chrono

                  Alex stepped in through the main lobby of the PRT offices, nodding politely to the secretary there. Instead of heading straight through to the offices though, she hooked a right and strolled down toward the heroes' lockers, where she quickly slipped into her tight-fitting costume. It wasn't her most favorite thing in the world, she reflected as she slipped on the coat that went over it. If she'd had any input it would have definitely been much cooler; alas it was as it was, not that it looked bad. At least she'd been able to pursuade the costumer to drop the mask she had intentionally planned.

                  Finally changed, Chrono stepped out of the locker room, nodding to a couple other heroes standing in the hall talking. Making her way to the training area, Chrono stopped to check the routes on the bulletin there. To her exilharation, she saw that she'd finally been placed on sidekick duty; in the two weeks she'd been here she'd only been going out on simple patrols with other Wards. This was her first chance to see what it was really like to be an actual hero! Strangely enough, Chrono didn't recognize the name of the hero, Florissant. She took a stab in the dark and guessed they were a plant-manipulating hero--names weren't all that complicated here in the Protectorate--and she smiled. It had just enough of a foreign sound while rolling off the tongue to give it a mysterious vibe.

                  Tearing herself from the daydream, Chrono headed inside the gymlike training area. Several other capes and wards were already here, and Chrono headed straight over to an open area where she could practice sparring. Her powers may be helpful, but since it didn't affect people she had figured she'd better be ready to fight. Of course, due to her thin frame, the fighting style she'd adopted was more reactive: a mix of jiujitsu and taekwondo, with a bit of Bruce Lee thrown in for good measure. She worked up quite a sweat as she shodow-boxed, imagining she was facing down a massive hulking villan with bulging muscles.

                  Her opponent swung down at her, looking to squash her in one blow. Chrono dodged left, giving the overgrown baddie a good right jab to the nose. Blood splurted as it broke under her fist, but it only seemed to make the behemoth angrier. Several more massive punches came from him, easily telegraphed, and Chrono grabbed the last fist, flipping her oponent over her shoulder with his own momentum. Once on the ground, Chrono gave him a swift kick to the head, knocking him out and ending the fight.

                  To anyone watching, it would look strange to see someone fighting by themselves, but Chrono was too lost in her own imagination to notice. She turned as her previous opponent's older, much larger brother came to challenge her, and she grinned.

                  <><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><>

                  Splinter

                  Derek awoke to a rather dimly lit warehouse. He hadn't remembered moving, but as he came more to and felt his hands and feet bound to the chair below him, he made a guess as to what had happened. He cursed himself for not hiding himself better, and grimaced as he tested his bonds. Tight, too tight to undo on his own. Whoever had been sent to do whatever to him knew what they were doing.

                  Speaking of, a masked figure stepped out of the shadows into the nearest beam of sunlight filtering in through a window. He could tell they were probably a cape, based on the mask and suit, but he didn't recognize them. He cursed himself for not reading up more on them.

                  "Mister Gutierrez, so good of you to join us." The italian-tinged voice was singsong, almost playful. He knew Derek couldn't do anything to him. Not yet anyways. Derek grimaced as he continued, "I hear you've gone against your word? Too scared of running into capes or something like that? The Fenecian doesn't like being so disrespected."

                  Derek finally figured out what was going on here. His dropping of the job had been seen as an insult, and now this man was probably going to "convince" him to take the job back, most likely without pay. Derek closed his eyes for a brief moment, collecting his thoughts, before replying, "you want me to do the job? Fine. No promises everything's there still."

                  The man scoffed as he pulled out a long, thin dagger. It looked razor sharp, if he was to judge by the hair's breadth edge, and an involuntary flashback to the Professor's lab made him twinge. He could only assume the man was grinning under the mask as he stepped closer and said, "oh, we know... This isn't about the job. This about you paying us. In blood if necessary."
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                    #42    
                  Old March 14th, 2017 (2:57 PM).
                  Strange's Avatar
                  Strange Strange is offline
                   
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                  Damian Edgeworth AKA Mephisto

                  Another thud on the wall between Damian's room and Edan's broke Damian's train of thought. At least he knew Edan was still distracted enough for him to sneak out. He had packed a small backpack with some snacks, a few kitchen knives in case of emergencies, and a map of a large abandoned warehouse. He had contacted someone from his and his brother's group and found out about an adventure he couldn't pass up. The Space Marauders, a group of cape villains which had tons of money even before becoming thieves, had offered the gang a job, but the details were vague and they insisted a meeting in person before they would get any more specific. The group believed it was a trap, but Damian decided he'd go anyway, after all, he was great at making deals.

                  He pulled his fox mask over his face, pinned his demon tail onto his jeans, and thrust open his bedroom window. He heard another thud on his wall, this time accompanied by the faint sound of mumbling voices and laughter. He slid through the open window, balancing on the ledge outside it, then sidestepped over to the fire escape and lowered himself down to the ground with a rope he had tied there days before. It had made his escapes much easier, especially since he could climb back up after and sneak back in his room, as opposed to trying to sneak in through the front door.

                  He ran down a few side roads, dark enough to hide from anyone drunk enough to be wandering the streets this late, and finally stopped when he came to the edge of the Industrial area. He checked his map, plotting out the best way to get to the warehouse, when suddenly a large disk of concrete, about the size of manhole cover, flew down the street and stopped in front of him, floating inches above the ground. No doubt sent by Saucer, one of the members of the Space Marauders. He stepped onto it, thinking he could ride it like he'd seen the villain do on news clips, but he was very wrong. The disk took off at an insane speed, wobbling and knocking Damian onto his stomach, he gripped the sides of the disk tightly as his legs dangled off, scraping the ground occasionally as the disk hurtled down the street. He wasn't sure how long it took but when he arrived the force of the stop threw him onto a hard floor.

                  He grabbed his arm, which had taken most of the hit, and rubbed it. It wasn't broken but it was almost definitely bruised. He pushed himself to his feet, only then noticing the intimidating trio in front of him. To his left stood Saucer, floating on a metal disk which glimmered from the moonlight that leaked in through the decaying roof, his mottled gray space suit seemed to have the opposite effect, appearing dark in contrast to his shining disk. On his right stood Cosma, in her white and gold space suit which was lit up like a Christmas tree with various strips of lights under each joint of her suit. And directly in front of him stood the most intimidating of all, The Martian Madman, a bio-kinetic who created eerie plant and animal hybrid creatures which, had he not known their true origins, would have made him think they were aliens. The man's dark black suit was large and heavily armored, with giant bulky shoulders and black armored plating. The only part of his suit that wasn't black was his silver helmet, which had an eerie white glow.
                  "Hello." Damian managed to squeak out.

                  "I was expecting your leader." Cosma said bluntly. Her voice ringing throughout the warehouse.

                  "I, uhh, well, my power is to make deals, so we, kind of..." he trailed off, intimidated by the Madman who had clenched his armored hands into fists.

                  "I see," Cosma replied, "Well, as long as you're here we might as well explain the job." Damian smiled a little. "As you can see, our fourth member, Scanner, is not with us. We have reason to believe he's joined up with a small group of vigilante heros, sold information on us in exchange for a spot on their team. It's really rather inconvenient to have a team of heros that knows every detail about us, although luckily their egos prevented them from leaking the information to anyone else. We wanted your group to take out their little team. Their base of operations falls within your gang's territory, and with them knowing how to exploit our every weakness we're powerless to take them out ourselves. If you take them out and bring Scanner to us, preferably alive, we can pay you ten thousand dollars."

                  Damian's eyes were wide. Their most famous team member had turned on them? And on top of that they wanted him to catch him and bring him back to them? He was stunned. "Deal!" he blurted out, before he could stop himself. He held out a hand, then hesitated. "My power works best when I touch your actual hand, with no barriers between." Cosma carefully pulled at one of her armored gloves, which hissed and popped off her suit, revealing a slender pale hand with long nails painted gold. "Deal." she said, shaking his hand.

                  Their handshake burst into flames, Damian's eyes glowing blood red. The fire was warm, but not as hot as fire should be. It faded after a moment, and just by their body language Damian could tell the trio had been caught off guard. He smirked, then informed them "You should know that my deals always happen no matter what. If I bring you Scanner, alive, you have to pay me ten thousand dollars. There's no way to stop it. If you try to get away without paying, the money will find its way to me one way or another." He pivoted on one foot, turning to the door, then walked out. This was going to be more fun than he thought.




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                    #43    
                  Old March 14th, 2017 (6:44 PM).
                  PastelPhoenix's Avatar
                  PastelPhoenix PastelPhoenix is offline
                  A Princely Birb
                     
                    Join Date: Mar 2016
                    Age: 23
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                    Reza & Maryam Shirazi || Freefall & Bombshell


                    Male // 18 // Hero Female // 16 // Ward






                    Smile for the Camera II



                    Icarus13 ⋆VERIFIED CAPE⋆
                    and that’s all folks! I’m actually on patrol right now, just stopped by to answer a few quick questions

                    burn0ut
                    So much for upholding the law lol. Someone is probably robbing a bank next to you while you’re dicking around on your phone.

                    shadde
                    making it awful easy for us to find who you are. all we need is the patrol schedule now.

                    Clover♣Clubbs
                    wait, u mean this isnt the real icarus?

                    Icarus13 ⋆VERIFIED CAPE⋆
                    good luck shadde, there’s a whole lot of capes on patrol tonight. I can guarantee that. also lol, I’m clever enough not to make my screenname my cape name, give me a little credit here guys.

                    Shadde
                    youre a dumbass clover. of course hes not icci, pick up a damn book once in awhile
                    Reza chuckled to himself and signed out. He should resist playing around on the forums, especially at work, but it was just too fun. It was another boring patrol, and anything to ease some of the boredom was welcome. He’d probably have more interesting patrols if he stopped signing up for sidekicks all the time, but working with the Wards was fun in it’s own way. Not to mention he had to help out dear sis tonight.

                    Speaking of which, his sidekick for the evening just couldn’t relax. He had spent the entire break watching her pace around. Not that he could blame her; he would be nervous if he embarrassed himself in front of the entire internet too. He didn’t want to say it aloud, but getting ass-rammed by a table was less embarrassing than getting caught in his own invention. Not that he could invent anything to save his life, but the point still stands.

                    “Relax,” he said, “they’re gonna have to replace the sidewalk before long if you keep storming about like that.”

                    “Please,” Maryam said, rolling her eyes behind the mask, “if me committing the crime of walking on a sidewalk is enough to break it, the city needs a better construction crew. Plus, anything could happen on patrol.” She imitated an old instructor of theirs on the last part, a paranoid old man who seemed convinced every patrol was a new death sentence.

                    “You’re with me, so sooner or later something will happen here. All else fails, we could start something.”

                    “Okay, you aren’t insinuating we start a fight, are you?”

                    “What,” he said in mock offense, “No! I meant like create a dumpster fire or something, and then put it out. You have those extinguisher grenades, right?”

                    “Wow.” Bombshell sighed and put her forehead in her hand. “That’s real psyduckin’ heroic isn’t it? I was on the fence about this girl after she made an ass of herself in public, but did you see how she handled that dumpster fire?!”

                    “Okay, you do know I was jok-”

                    “Hey, isn’t that dumpster on fire? Muk, it is, should we call the fire department? Nah Tom, I’ve got Bombshell on speed-dial, she handles dumpster fires like a god damned champion

                    “You’ve made your poi-”

                    “And here we are so gathered to present the key of the city to Bombshell. Boy were we lost in that dumpster fire. Thanks to her we avoided damaging the metal, fire resistant box. She saved us a grand total of maybe a thousand bucks. Thanks to her we are under budget and can afford the puppy orphanage, assuming the cruel dumpster fires don’t take that away too.”

                    “Okay, but admit it, you smiled.”

                    “Dammit,” she admitted, chuckling, “you’re right. It was kind of funny.”

                    “Great, now we can address the robbery behind you.” Freefall chuckled along, point at a small convenience store being held up at gunpoint.

                    “Son of a rattata!” Bombshell turned around suddenly, pulling out her weapon. “Why didn’t you interrupt me?!”

                    “I tried. You looked like you really needed to get it out of your system.”

                    The two rushed towards the storefront, announcing their presence. Upon seeing two capes suddenly outside, the three robbers decided to bolt with what little cash they had. Two headed out the door while the third decided to risk the window, his thick clothes thankfully preventing him from cutting himself on the thousands of glass fragments now flying through the air. The two had to look good for the cameras now likely on them, and perps bleeding profusely didn’t look great out of context.

                    “Toss me some rounds,” Reza shouted at his partner, it’d look best if all the capture methods came from her tech. To show she knew her stuff.

                    With one hand Maryam tossed three grenades from her capture bandolier over her shoulder, firing her launcher with the other. The grenade bounced off the ground a few inches in front of her before starting to unfold. Within moments the shell had completely unfurled into a small wall, complete with peep holes to fire from. She wasn’t going to take a chance with a gun in play. It wouldn’t take heavy fire, but it was more than enough for most anything a civilian could acquire in for a short gunfight.

                    Freefall adjusted the gravity on the tossed grenades, making them orbit in front of him. He was glad Mary sat him down and drilled him repeatedly on how to prime the grenades when he did this trick, it was now second nature. He also had to thank her for making the priming sequence work with his gravity manipulation, launching the rounds without even touching them was a hell of a lot more impressive than having to awkwardly prepare them by hand. The sound of gunshots and bullets impacting metal made him tense, but he trusted enough in his sister’s shield to focus on the guy in front of him.

                    Unfortunately for him, Mr. Flashy Exit seemed to either not have a gun, or forgot he had one. The jacket clad man just booked it down the street, shoving aside a few slowly fleeing citizens. With a flick of his wrist, the white marked grenade launched itself into the air. There it stalled for a moment, before flying at the suspect like a homing missile. The sound of something hitting the floor came a moment later, and a large cloud of containment foam filled the street. Freefall didn’t particularly like how much it spread, and how someone other than the intended target could get caught in it, but he didn’t trust launching anything else into the crowd. Last thing he needed was to net some poor citizen by mistake. As the crowd cleared, Freefall saw his aim was true. The robber was caught in the foam, with only his head and a single arm free; apparently he turned around just before impact, as the man was glaring daggers at Freefall.

                    Behind him, Bombshell had successfully nailed one of her targets with a small impact shell, designed to burst into an extremely strong gust of air. The man was now sprawled across the sidewalk, the wind knocked out of him from the sudden impact with the ground, and his gun quite a distance from him. With less qualms about containment foam than her brother, she finished subduing the target and adjusted her aim to the other thief. Apparently deciding that the fight was lost, the woman sprinted like her life depended on it, before having her legs tied with a well placed bola and finding her grip on her pistol failing.

                    Noticing the last perp was now contained, Freefall opened a line with the Protectorate’s AI to report the crime. A sudden flash of light from the containment foam caught his attention, however, and the window guy had his arm extended toward Bombshell. Acting off adrenaline, he pulled his partner towards him just as a small missile flew from the man’s sleeve and impacted the grenade barrier. Shifting the gravity of the man’s arm, Reza pushed it into the foam rather roughly, before moving to catch Maryam. The man would likely have a sore shoulder from it for a few days due it suddenly being shoved into an uncomfortable position, but Reza couldn’t find it in him to care.

                    “Hey,” a voice below him said, “I appreciate you saving my ass, but does it have to be like this?”

                    Looking down, he noticed the position he caught her very much resembled a groom carrying his bride.

                    “Well, lets just say that’s for the shippers.”

                    “Great, can I stay off the forums for a single week? Is that too much to ask?”

                    “Nope, you know how this all goes.”

                    With a sigh she let herself down, storming over to the man who shot the missile at her. A chirp in his ear reminded Freefall that he had opened a line and not provided an update. Quickly describing the encounter, he got reassurance that transport for the criminals would arrive soon before he was called over by Bombshell.

                    “Hey Free, this guy had tinker tech.”

                    “Only a missile?” He asked, taking the small wrist clamp from her. The thing was extremely small, almost mistakable for a bracelet at first glance. The actual barrel was hidden well by the sleeve, and it didn’t seem like it had an easy reload method. The thing was simple for tinker tech, he would wager he could figure it out in a few minutes of study.

                    “Nothing else I can see. The guy claims he bought it from someone, but wouldn’t give a name.”

                    “Who the hell is selling tinker tech? It’d explain why it’s so… simple though, assuming anyone is supposed to be able to use it.”

                    “Yeah, I dunno how many think like I do, but I make muk complicated so no one could use it but me or someone I trust. This is stupidly easy to use. High-tech, but next to no security measures on it.”

                    “Wait,” he said, spotting a small symbol on one of the corners. He snapped a few times, trying to jog his memory of where exactly he saw it. “Money Makers! That blow-torch had the same symbol! They wouldn’t explain where they got it, from what I heard. We just assumed they had a mukty tinker.”

                    “Either way, someone better dig some answers out. I don’t like random crooks having something like this.”

                    “I’ll raise hell when we get back. That’s twice now someone nearly got killed by tech with this symbol.”




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                      #44    
                    Old March 16th, 2017 (5:24 PM). Edited April 9th, 2017 by (Drakath).
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                    (Drakath) (Drakath) is offline
                    The Champion of Chaos
                       
                      Join Date: Nov 2014
                      Location: Mount Doomskull
                      Age: 16
                      Gender: Male
                      Nature: Rash
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                      A loud boom echoed throughout the warehouse as Drakath pushed his arms forward at superspeed, tearing the steel doors from their hinges as they were sent flying. Each door slammed into a suited guard on either side of the entrance. "Yo Fenician!" His voice boomed throughout as he projected it. Giving a dramatic pause as he pointed at the man standing in a pin striped suit, fedora, and black mask atop a platform, "We need to talk." The man turned, facing Drakath, "Sorry but, I'm not the man you're looking for." Drakath slowly began walking towards the man, "Doesn't matter to me Tommy. You're close enough to him to get me the answers I need." Tommy Gun looked out of the corner of his eye before shrugging as he brandished a dagger, "Look, I'm busy kid. Let's do this another time." Drakath stopped and closed his eyes as he mumbled, "Fine, if we're gonna do it that way..."

                      Drakath dashed forward, wind howling through the empty building, his fist raised, ready to unleash something between a right hook and a jab. Tommy Gun blasted the floor with his power, sending concrete flying as he rolled out of the way. The man he was dealing with in the chair fell behind the destroyed platform, now out of sight as Drakath spun through the debris, catching a chunk and slamming it into Tommy Gun's mask as he rose from his dodge. The black mask cracked throughout, seemingly reinforced, as the momentum of the strike carried through him and slammed him into the floor. Drakath could see a little bit of blood, but at this point, he didn't care. He needed to vent, answers would come afterwards. Or so he thought before he was grabbed from behind and put into a full nelson. The voice that spoke sounded like an Italian Sesshomaru to Drakath, "My men aren't punching bags. You might think you're all that, walking in here like you own the place. But you're just a kid. A kid who needs to be taught a lesson." Drakath lifted his leg to setup for a kick, but this was a mistake, as it only made the suplex that followed easier, though with his weight, it wasn't that hard to begin with. Drakath's vision flashed white when his head hit the floor, but it was nothing compared to the explosion, and that fact drove him to keep fighting. With the same push he used to open the doors, Drakath threw himself out of the awkward hold and landed on all fours. Spinning around, he eyed the newcomer. Similar to Tommy Gun, suit, fedora, and mask, except this man was balding. Fenician... "Your men might not be punching bags, but you are." With this, Drakath rushed The Fenician, weaving through multiple explosions of debris from Tommy Gun. By accelerating his mind he was able to seamlessly meld improvised attacks together into a flowing combo. A superspeed punch was enough to launch him, however due to the Fenician's trained stance and a solid block, it only pushed him back a few feet. A flying side kick followed, which was sidestepped and used to force Drakath into a backflip. He used his superspeed to turn this into a high degree spinning kick which, upon landing, flowed into an uppercut that setup another flying side kick that lacked momentum. The Fenician took advantage of the awkward last attack and spun him by the leg. Drakath tried to kick but only ended up with his foot in the wall. He panicked as the incoming elbow would surely break his leg. In a last ditch effort, he pulled his mask off for a split second and immediately put it back on, freeing his leg during the brief change in footwear. The elbow still connected however, sending Drakath to his knees. He vibrated at superspeed to escape a choke hold and grabbed The Fenician by the wrist, shoulder tackling him into the wall. With this, Drakath supersped along the wall, dragging The Fenician across the rough concrete before slamming him into the corner. "See Fenician? Like I said, with your healing you make the perfect punching bag. Now, if you don't mind, I only have one thing to ask. Why?"

                      -----

                      Derek involuntarily flinched at the exploding doors, nearly grinning at the witty remark of someone who didn’t quite know who they were dealing with. Of course, the moment Tommy Gun was looking the other way, he began struggling against his bonds with a quick, firm determination. He mostly blocked out the commotion, but barely managed to brace himself as he was thrown to the ground by one of Tommy Gun’s explosions. He had yet to get a clear look at the aggressor, but he didn’t have much of a choice, even if it was possible for them to recognize him. He began to split, grimacing in pain as he tried to fit two bodies into bonds made for one, but with a satisfying series of snaps, Derek was free.

                      Standing, Derek finally saw what was happening. A cape he didn’t recognize was beating on who appeared to be The Fenician (figures he’d be here to witness his humiliation in person), while Tommy Gun tried futilely to hit the attacking cape. The cape was male, for certain, though he did sound young. Speed powers. Derek’s trained mind filed all of this an an instant before springing to action himself: Tommy Gun’s back was turned, a perfect opportunity.

                      Derek #1 rushed straight for Tommy Gun while #2 hooked around to his left side; as planned, Tommy Gun noticed #2 first, more so when #2 said, “what, forget about me already?”

                      As Tommy Gun turned to attack #2 though, #1’s fist slammed into the small of his back, the air wooshing out of his lungs. A swift kick to the back of the knee brought Tommy Gun to the ground, where #2 was waiting to deliver a swift kick to the head. It was over as fast as it had begun, and both Dereks turned towards where the mystery cape had backed The Fenician into a corner.

                      -----

                      Drakath watched as, in that small opening, Tommy Gun, through his concussion, shot two kinetic blasts in the vague direction of the twin Dereks, sweeping the ground out from under them. With the former captive down, and the speedster distracted, The Fenician's wounds ignited and a firm push threw Drakath to the ground, where Tommy Gun began blasting his power with reckless abandon, launching Drakath, not giving him a chance to stand. The building continued to rumble as the repeated launching stopped when Drakath managed to land feet first, where he grabbed a piece of rebar and rushed The Fenician, who had ducked behind Tommy Gun, still "spraying 'n praying" like his namesake. Then, out of nowhere, the concrete floor rose into a three-way wall that formed between him, the two La Fenice, and the disoriented Dereks.
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                        #45    
                      Old March 21st, 2017 (9:51 PM).
                      gimmepie's Avatar
                      gimmepie gimmepie is offline
                       
                      Join Date: May 2012
                      Location: Australia
                      Age: 23
                      Gender: Male
                      Nature: Adamant
                      Posts: 18,130
                      Jailer
                      AKA. Anita Blaine

                      Employment





                      Anita climbed the stairs, moving at a far slower pace than anyone who could hear her thoughts would expect. Outwardly she was just a young woman returning from a morning outing, inwardly however she was a storm. This wasn’t the first time that another Cape had tried to contact them, but they had never received a message like that the day after they had been in a skirmish. She was worried that it was either a trap from the Protectorate, the heroes having deemed her a problem after she threatened civilians, or - arguably worse - it was a villain who wanted to hire them for some sort of violent job that sat well outside their ethics. Or rather, her ethics. Sebastian would be easier to coerce if he thought that the thrill would be worth it.

                      Anita opened the door to their apartment and walked in to see Sebastian, still dressed in his sleepwear, laying on the couch browsing the internet. He didn’t even look up when the door opened, which at the very least meant nothing terrifying was happening. Anita breathed a sigh of relief.

                      “Oh, welcome home.” Sebastian said as though he hadn’t told her to come back, finally realising she’d arrived. His voice was casual, but a fiendish expression had formed on his face that sent alarm bells ringing in Anita’s head. That face normally meant he wanted to do something that was a very bad idea. “Long story short, we got a message from someone who I’m thinking is probably Vacuum. He wants us to meet him somewhere and left a Traxmail address for us to contact him with.”

                      “Vacuum, from La Fenice? What would the biggest criminal organisation in Fallcliff want with us?” Any relief that Anita had been feeling had been snuffed out in an instant and replaced with unease. She prided herself on her ability to remain cool under fire, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t going to react appropriately to a concerning situation.

                      “No idea!” Sebastian said, still grinning mischievously “I suppose he’ll tell us though. What time do you want to meet him and where?” Anita wished she could say she was surprised that her friend was actually entertaining the notion of a meeting with a member of La Fenice, but she’d known him long enough to know better.

                      “Absolutely not. We are not meeting with him anywhere, at any time.” Anita said, her voice firm like a parent’s “The kind of work La Fenice are likely to be involved in is not the type of work we want to be a part of.”

                      “I doubt that La Fenice, the biggest and baddest criminal organisation around with a membership including some of the scariest capes in the city, is going to want to use us for anything particularly violent. I’m a bullet magnet and you make shields. Why would they want us when they’ve got Vaccuum, Tommy Gun and a legion of mercenaries they could hire?” Anita knew that he had a point, but she’d been involved with her father’s operation long enough to know that even a minor job could turn extremely violent when these crime syndicates were involved.

                      “I don’t care how you try to reason it, my answer is still no. Under no circumstances are we involving ourselves with La Fenice.”




                      It was several hours later that Anita pulled her car into the empty parking lot and got out, grabbing the backpack containing her costume before heading off in the direction of the meeting place. Slipping into an alcove in a nearby alleyway, Anita changed into her costume. Incredibly, she’d once again been worn down by Sebastian’s persistent attempts to reason with her and goad her until she finally caved and agreed to at the very least meet Vaccuum. After all, it wasn’t like they had to take the job after it was explained. At least, that was what they were telling themselves. Deep down, Anita was fairly certain that saying “no” to La Fenice wasn’t really an option and that they were in for whatever job this was whether they liked it or not now.

                      It was later in the afternoon now, the already grey sky becoming steadily darker. It was far from being late enough that a cape could move around easily though. This was something that she and Sebastian had decided on easily. It might have made it harder for them to get around, but it also made it harder for Vacuum. If it came down to running from him, they knew the area better and any hero capes attracted to the commotion would certainly prioritise La Fenice over them. At least, she hoped that was still the case after the previous day’s excapade.

                      It took a little longer than it normally would have to reach her destination, a location that Sebastian had picked out for the meeting. Surprisingly, Vacuum had been happy to meet anywhere they chose. In his case, a rundown parking facility in the Abandoned Industries district. Sebastian had assured her nobody ever went there ever since it had been closed for maintenence that it never received.

                      “What took you so long?” Hostage said from off to her side as she walked in. In the gloom of the structure he was barely visible in his all black costume. “You kept this poor, impatient, man waiting a whole ten minutes!” he added his voice thick with mock incredulity. Hostage hadn’t been waiting for her alone, not far away another figure was leaning against a cracked concrete pillar. Vacuum was definitely a member of La Fenice. The young man, only a few years older than Jailer or Hostage, wore only a pale grey suit and a vibrant green mask for a costume. At least it appeared that way, he likely had kevlar or something similar underneath. Atop his head was a black fedora.

                      “Someone told me my route was quicker than it actually was.” Jailer replied cooly, not taking her eyes off of Vacuum. It wouldn’t do well to show how concerned she was, so she was happy to banter with Hostage as per usual, but she wasn’t going to give Vacuum any opportunity to try anything sneaky either.

                      “I guess it’s true that you bicker like a married couple.” Vacuum said, his voice smooth and neither too deep nor too high-pitched. The villain moved closer to Jailer and Hostage, slipping his hands into his pockets, his demeanour completely relaxed and it seemed not artificially so. Despite being outnumbered, Vacuum seemed completely sure of himself. As though he knew that if they tried to attack him, he’d win anyway. Jailer figured that was probably because if they decided to attack him, he would. “I saw some interesting video footage of you two last night and after showing it to the Fenecian, we agreed that we should contact you right away. The people of Fallcliff have clearly been underestimating you.”

                      “You don’t need to flatter us, Vacuum.” Jailer said “It won’t change how favourably or unfavourably we look on any job you have for us. I’m pretty sure it’s a job anyway, I can’t see a La Fenice big shot wanting to see us socially.”

                      “Does he have to stop flattering us? I rather like getting some praise for a change.” Hostage chimed in. Jailer ignored him and instead waited for Vacuum to answer.

                      “Fair enough, although if it makes no difference I see no reason to object either.” Vacuum said, a hint of amusement colouring his voice. Jailer got the distinct impression that he was inwardly patting himself on the back for that bit of wit. Vacuum’s personality was eerily similar to Hostage’s, although the La Fenice villain’s character was somewhat more refined. “You’re right of course, we have a job offer. A simple heist not that different from what you normally do. There’s a small research company based here, we want you to break in and steal some documents. If you succeed, we’ll give you twenty thousand dollars in cash.”

                      “I could go for that.” Hostage said “Let’s hear some details first though. Surely there’s a catch here.”

                      “There’s no catch. The employees are usually all gone by nine at night and there shouldn’t be too many heroes overly close at that time either. So you hit the place then. Grab anything you can relating to trigger events and then get out. Nice and simple.”

                      “Trigger events? Why?” Jailer said, although he was fairly certain she already knew the answer to that question. There was only one reason for La Fenice to take a interest in trigger events.

                      “I think I’ll keep that information to myself.” Vacuum said, the inflection in his voice making it clear that was the end of that line of discussion.

                      “Nine at night, what day?” Jailer said, already resigning herself to the fact that between Hostage’s thrill-seeking and La Fenice’s insistence, she was taking the job. Vacuum laughed audibly at that.

                      “Tonight. After you're done, meet me back here for your payment. The place you’re hitting is Future Science Laboratories.” It was at that point that Jailer understood everything. The reason that La Fenice was giving them the job was because they needed a group that was competent, expendable and that was unlikely to be linked back to them in any way. The message for them on CapesOnline had probably already been deleted for good measure too.

                      “Oh.” Hostage said, having apparently come to the same realisation as Jailer had. “We’re robbing Tempestuous.”

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                        #46    
                      Old March 22nd, 2017 (9:31 AM).
                      Ice Ice is offline
                       
                      Join Date: Aug 2014
                      Posts: 3,412
                      It was a morose darkness inhabiting his view. Lack thereof, if he was being honest. Memories lunged up like snakes charging for a prey. Blood, death, violence. To say he relished in it would be an exaggeration, but it was where he did his best.

                      He was never a musician but there was a musicality to everything he did. He never touched a string or a key. He couldn’t even whistle. The only music he had ever made was the steady beat of his heart drumming, rising to a crescendo, falling in pace, building with the moment. He knew the terms, the lingo, the jargon. He could describe music to its finest details. It made him appreciate it more. Mozart was only showed its inner beauty when the tempo wasn’t just the tempo, it was andante, the pace of a small creak flowing. The notes weren’t just notes, they were played with feeling, meaning. The loneliness of a sole note being played staccato, unconnected, solemn, it was incomparable to the stream of notes played legato.

                      The human heartbeat was staccato, its rhythm ticking away in voiceless thumps that were that existed in pure isolation. Humans were legato, ever moving, influencing each other, each step just a single one in an ongoing walk.

                      He considered the biggest sin in music to be the fade-out. Repeating endlessly while the volume lowers until the song becomes too faint to listen to. It showed weakness and fear. The fear of endings, and the weakness to commit.

                      Sadly, humans, if left alone, undisturbed, faded out. Some songs lasting only minutes while others lasted years, but fading out nonetheless. To him, though, there was no greater ending than a knife between two heartbeats, replacing the final one with a rest. An interval of silence.

                      The Smiling Man stepped out of his cell, as a guard pushed him through the compound.
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                        #47    
                      Old March 22nd, 2017 (9:45 AM). Edited April 9th, 2017 by Fen-kun.
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                      Fen-kun Fen-kun is offline
                      An RP Hermit
                         
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                        Chrono and Florissant

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                        Chrono had been practicing hard for a while now. Sweat dripped from her forehead, but she was still engrossed in her own imagination. While any onlooker who knew anything about martial arts would realize how much of an amateur Chrono was, in her imagination she was unbeatable. She was currently facing down 5 enemies at once: highly trained ninja assassins sent to take her out. With each strike, Chrono grew more and more confident, and before long she had beaten these opponents as well.

                        Deciding enough was enough though, Chrono stretched, snapping back to the real world. With a respectful bow, she left the circle she’d been practicing in, and grabbed the water bottle she’d set out before starting. A quick swig, and she headed over to the showers. A glance at the clock told her she was just on time for sidekick duty, and she quickly stripped and switched on the cool water. As she showered, her thoughts began to wander as to who this “Florissant” person could be. She finished up her shower quickly, eagerly awaiting the opportunity to rub elbows with the pros. After getting out, Chrono went over to her where she was to meet her senior partner. After only waiting around a few minutes, a young olive skinned woman with reddish hair and decked out in a black body suit with plant motifs on it and a green carnival-style mask. The older woman smiled widely and waved at the blonde, saying, “Hello! You must be Chrono, yes?” She held out her hand.

                        Chrono grinned widely, a giddy feeling in her stomach. This was an actual hero, one she’d be working with! Florissant’s costume was intriguing as well; she had guessed correctly as to the plant powers it seemed. Excited as ever, Chrono replied, “Yep, that’s me! You’re the Florissant, yeah?” She had probably butchered the pronunciation of the name--she wasn’t that great at foreign languages if her Spanish classes were anything to judge by. She took the woman’s hand in an emphatic handshake; she couldn’t wait to get started.

                        “So, where are we patrolling today?”

                        “Correct. Though, no need to say the Florissant. Just Florissant will be good.” Florissant thumbed through the briefing for today’s patrol, “Let’s see...we will be going to Nouveau Toulouse to patrol.” Her pronunciation of the district indicated some knowledge of French herself. “But...before we get started, I’d just like to say it’s always a pleasure having a sidekick tagging along. She, how you say, flavors- no, spices up a patrol. Come, we’ll get to introduce ourselves on our way and have a grand old time!”

                        Chrono was barely fazed by the accent of Florissant; as her father was an academic, and a good one at that, she was quite familiar with all sorts of accents. She just couldn’t reproduce them for the life of her. She dutifully followed Florissant as they exited the building, the breeze blowing through Chrono’s short mop of hair, still damp from her recent shower. It then occurred to her that they had no means of transportation… Not unless Florissant had some magical flying plant seeds in her pocket. Deciding to enquire, Chrono piped up, “Hey, so, how are we going to be getting there? Whenever I’ve gone out with other Wards the patrol route’s usually been right close enough to walk. Unless you want to call a cab?”

                        Florissant laughed. “Oh, a cab won’t be necessary. We have the PRT transport.” She gestured to a bus located on the premises. The two got into the transport, and were driven off towards Nouveau Toulouse. She exclaimed, “Oh yes, I forgot to ask. What are your powers, Chrono? Something with time?”

                        Chrono had always wondered what those busses had been for. It made sense that there’d be transportation for capes that couldn’t transport themselves, Chrono just hadn’t thought about it before. In response to Florissant’s question, Chrono cracked a grin and replied, “yeah, not very subtle is it. I can create areas in which I can control the speed of time. Doesn’t affect people though. I’m guessing you can control plants?” She gestured to Florissant’s costume as she finished. It was more a rhetorical question than anything, but this conversation was thrilling Chrono to the bone. To think she’d be in that position in only a few years, teaching Wards to be the best heroes they can be… It was the dream.

                        Florissant gave her junior partner a nod. “Yes, that's what I do. I can mutate them too. Turn them into quite the beastly creatures. All sorts of things to make the enemy go fleeing into the shadows!” She grinned in delight at that thought. “I've come to think of my creations as pets. Nice to me, dangerous to villains.”

                        “Sounds really cool! I look forward to seeing it someday.” As the bus pulled to a stop near where she and Florissant would be patrolling, Chrono stretched and walked out into the sunshine. Her goggles gave the world around her a slightly blue tint, acting like sunglasses. The busy street was full of people walking from place to place; she remembered Christine saying it was very similar to France, the very place this district was modeled after. Chrono wondered if she’d spot her friend, but pushed the thought away quickly. She had to focus. She was on the job.

                        As they walked down that street, Florissant kept her eyes peeled for anything suspicious, which rarely happened. She told Chrono, “Usually, we start the Wards off nice and easy with assignments like this. Get them in the swing of things. Now tell me, what have you learned up to this point in your Wards training?”

                        Chrono was vigilant. So vigilant, in fact, that she almost missed her supervisor’s question. She quickly thought, and replied from what seemed rote memorization, “Always be watching, anyone can be a threat. Our primary objective is to incapacitate any threats to civilians. Back off if the opponent is too strong; there’s more of us than them and we can call for backup. I can recite more of them if you want. I memorized the entire packet they gave us.”

                        “No no, that's fine. I was Wards hero myself. I was just trying to determine how much of a beginner are you. I remember how much I was scared when I did my first patrol, and well, could have gone better. Had a sewer line burst in the Historical Heart and me and my supervisor were nearby. Oh the amount of perfumes I had to make.” She laughed lightly.

                        Chrono couldn’t help but chuckle, even if she felt somewhat remorseful for it. She did hope her own first patrol would go better, no offense to Florissant. Yet she was itching for some action… Alas the streets were calm. People bustling along from street stalls to markets to bakeries; Chrono made a mental note to come back here with Christine, it seemed like the perfect place to unwind after a long day. She was more than content to walk with her supervisor, nodding to the occasional passerby with a smile.

                        Florissant said to her Wards companion, “No need to worry. You're doing great. It's gonna be slow at first, but I always there's ways to liven up even a slow day’s patrol. A little bit of ‘PR’ stunts here and there.” Her smile had a mischievous edge to it.

                        Chrono grinned at Florissant’s quip. She’d seen those sorts of things before. Of course, she hadn’t ever had the opportunity, but she definitely perked up now that she had something to look forward to, uneventful patrol or no. “By the way, your accent? You aren’t from the states are you?” Chrono was intrigued with all sorts of world culture: she planned to travel around the globe sometime in her life, seeing all the different places and people of the world.

                        “I'm from North Africa. Fled some unpleasant things to get here in the States. And I have to say, I'm pretty glad with how my life has turned out despite that.”

                        “That’s good. I heard it was kinda scary over there, since they don’t have anything like the PRT. Is that--if you don’t mind me asking--what caused you to trigger?” Chrono knew some capes didn’t like talking about their triggers. It was usually something traumatic; take her for example. She had quite literally watched her mother die in her arms. She shook the thought from her mind, using the techniques her psychiatrist had taught her. Thinking of it wasn’t going to do any good, especially since she needed to be focused.

                        Florissant’s face went serious and she said, “I’d...prefer not to talk about it.”

                        “Yeah, I understand. Hard to talk about. Have you ever been here in Nouveau Toulouse before? I have a friend that lives around here. Seems like a nice place.”

                        Florissant’s face lit up again without a hitch. “Oh yes, very nice. Très magnifique. It’s a very fun district to go exploring through, going in those cute boutiques, taking long walks, bringing a significant other for a date or living here.” She sighed wistfully. “I love it when I get to patrol here, but I usually have to fight crime in other parts.”

                        “Seems like fun. I’ll have to keep that in mind.” She was glad this seemed to be the ‘dream patrol.’ While she was sure there was still crime here (it was Fallcliff after all), her mentor’s reaction didn’t put in such a crime-filled light as some other districts. Chrono got to thinking though, as she was wont to do, and seemingly out of nowhere said, “So, random question, what do you do if you see a crime and you’re out of costume? And you have to use your powers to stop it?”

                        “You have t-” Florissant began her answer before hearing a voice coming in through her radio. An armed robbery at Bordeaux and Biscay. Perpetrators are non capes armed with Tinker tech, with a request for backup for any available capes in the area. Immediately, her mind went into gear as she replied, "This is Florissant and Chrono, we are in the area and on our way.” She sighed as she said to the taller girl, “Well, I guess things are a little more interesting than I thought. And just when we were talking about this area being peaceful too…”
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                          #48    
                        Old March 28th, 2017 (2:38 PM).
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                        Edan Edgeworth AKA Brimstone

                        With a single touch, the vines barricading the door to the floristry began to dissolve into dust. Several red blooms began to wilt and fade as Brimstone forced his way into the store.

                        “What are you doing? The Los Diablos are out there!” A young teenage man with brown hair and amber eyes ranted as he moved his hands in varying motions

                        “Well I have to wonder why. More importantly, why some of them are dead from causes that are very much cape oriented.” Brimstone wheezed through his strange voice filter as he stepped into the store and the vine barricade slowly began to reform, this time in some sort of thorny bush type amalgamation.

                        “They found out who I was. Well partially. I don’t think they expected I was a cape, but I couldn’t just let them kill me could I. They thought they were coming up against a simple target. Basil Stevenson, member of the Brotherhood. But no. Their target was a cape. They know that now. I can’t let them tell anyone else, I’ll never be safe if I do.” The boy choked a bit, clearly running through the scenario in his head.

                        “So, you thought you would have to kill them? You think that will make you feel safe? You’re going to bring the Protectorate down on us. You think Los Diablos is scary? Think about what people who are equipped to handle enhanced people are like. We work from the shadows, we work on an intricate balance of trust. We may hate each other, we may want each other dead. But people like you and I are cursed to be the ones who very much can do something about that, but also be the ones who shouldn’t.” Edan explained as he tried to take the metaphorical gun from the loose cannon in front of him.

                        The boy shook his head. “No… We can’t just wait around for the old methods. That… We lose so much every day. This stupid gang war could be over in a matter of minutes!”

                        “I can’t let you do anything stupid Basil.” Brimstone said as he began rushing towards the boy.

                        ”What’s your problem! Why on earth are you stopping me! You of all people-” The brown-haired teen growled as a sickly-looking sprout began growing out of the bullet hole of Brimstone’s kneepad and attempted to tie his legs together.

                        “Because you’re being an idiot!” The masked figure echoed, the voice distorted within the mask. Brimstones fist struck forward and connected with the hazel eyed boys jaw and caused him to fly across the wreckage of the interior of the floristry.

                        Brimstone slid his fingertips along the vines on his legs and the plant matter quickly began to melt away into an extremely dry ash.

                        “I came here to help you.” Brimstone hissed. “I came here, because you’re one of my brothers.”

                        “They deserve it! You know that better than I do! Don’t you Edan!” Basil fumed looking around desperately for the location of Edan.

                        “Shut up. I’m taking you to the boss. She can decide what to do with you.” Edam stated plainly as he raised his hands and began throwing punches into the side of the plant based cape.

                        Basil began coughing, and Edan watched as several red splotches began to splatter across the floor.

                        “You want to come with me now? You don’t look like you can take much more of thi-” Edan stopped mid-sentence as he felt the jagged piece of glass cut through his thigh.

                        “Heh. You know. You’re lucky that you’re probably immune to most spores that I could possibly create…” Basil said as he stepped away from the now prone Edan.

                        “How-“ Brimstone grunted as he felt the glass digging itself deeper into his leg.

                        “Faked you out. One of the more interesting abilities I have. I created berries inside my own body. Its gross as hell, but a useful trick.” Basil explained as he began to dig through one of the cabinets in the back of the room.

                        The quiet sounds of police sirens had been growing louder at a steadily increasing pace, however they suddenly grew in intensity.

                        “Well, I guess our funs over.” Basil sighed as he threw some gauze and a needle and thread over to Edan. “Don’t say I left you for them. Fix yourself up and then go tell the boss I’m going to fix everything.”

                        “Basil…” Edan growled as he watched the boy escape through a back door. “God damnit Basil!” Edan gritted his teeth and hissed as he tore out the glass and began to rapidly patch himself up.

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                          #49    
                        Old March 28th, 2017 (4:23 PM). Edited April 9th, 2017 by AlphaLuxray.
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                          Chrono and Florissant

                          JP with Fen-Kun

                          Florissant and Chrono sprinted to the site with great haste. The site was only three blocks from their position. Florissant told her partner, “Well, you said you wanted to see my powers in action. I guess you’ll get to see now.” She flashed Chrono a smile, still cool and seemingly not bothered.

                          Chrono sprung into action as she heard her superior’s radio crackle to life. Something was happening--something she could stop. She raced along after Florissant, too excited to tire even if it was such a short distance. When they came to a stop across from the boutique, Chrono stepped behind a waiting car to scope out the situation. The storefront was empty save five figures. All were armed, from what it looked like. And was that…

                          “Muk, they have a hostage! Get down!” The urgency in Chrono’s voice barely masked the shakiness of fear that tinged her words. She couldn’t help but think of that day… She took a deep breath, using the strategies her therapist had taught her to clear her mind. They had to come up with a strategy.

                          The bank robber was unperturbed. “We don’t want any trouble lil’ missy. Stand down, and this young man will be spared.”

                          Florissant turned to Chrono, whispering, “Chrono, you stop these men from firing their guns, and I will subdue them.”

                          “Yeah, I can do that.” Turning back to the building, Chrono stood and focused. She took one small step forward, followed by another, raising her arms. To any onlooker it would appear nothing was happening, but Chrono could see the forming time-pocket thanks to her specially tinted goggles. She finished it with a flourish, encapsulating the storefront and everyone inside. Of course, her walking into the open did nothing to ease the burglars, and one yelled something incomprehensible before firing his weapon.

                          At least he tried. With a click, the trigger pushed the firing mechanism into motion, but it was several seconds before the hammer even hit. All five were bewildered as they watched the muzzle flash in slow motion, the bullet not even having left the barrel.

                          “Go now!” Chrono shouted, cueing her partner behind her.

                          Florissant took the opportunity to summon some vines and twist the guns out of their hands. She quipped, “Gun problems, boys?” She smirked as the vines wrapped themselves around their hands, tying them together. These robbers seemed to be real pushovers, something that an ordinary cop could handle. The robbers, surprisingly, rebounded fairly quickly. They too smirked, one laughing hysterically.

                          Confused, Florissant asked, “What's so funny?”

                          “We ain't the guys-or I should say girls-you should be worrying about.”

                          From the back of the boutique out emerged some other robbers, armed with an assortment of Tinker technology. Rudimentary compared to stuff she's seen by the likes of other gangs, but powerful nonetheless. These robbers were armed with what appeared to be laser guns, grenades and a specialized combat knife.

                          Chrono inwardly cursed. She didn’t know about lasers, but that knife was definitely beyond her control. She glanced around, for any sign of anything that could help… Her eyes were drawn to the still firing pistol as it lazily tumbled through the air. It would have to work. She waited. Longer. Not quite… THERE! With a thrust of her hands she dropped her time pocket, speeding things up again. The pistol, suddenly working again, unloaded its round directly into the knife-wielder’s knee. She heard the scream of agony as she ducked behind cover again, pulling Florissant down with her. “I’ve dropped the time field, I need time to set it back up again! Can you distract them for long enough?”

                          The shorter woman nodded. “My pleasure to do so.” She used the vines to whip the regularly armed robbers into the Tinker armed robbers. Florissant quickly summoned another plant, this one resembling a mix of a pitcher plant with legs and a venus fly trap for a “mouth” about seven feet tall. “Say hello to Aisha.” The creature growled, and started hounding the robber with surprising speed. Before they could aim the laser guns at either Florissant, Chrono or Aisha, Aisha ensnared one of them, allowing Florissant an opening to unleash some bullet seeds on the rest of them.

                          As Florissant’s plants sprung up, Chrono closed her eyes and focused. She had to make it even slower than last time if it was going to affect those lasers, should they fire this direction. She formed it with a thrust of her arm, and once again it was sealed. She doubted the robbers would realize exactly what was happening, as Chrono wasn’t even known to many. She decided to use this in her favor as she sprinted out toward the shop. She had to get that hostage free, especially with that knife wielder.

                          The plants continued to restrain the robbers and Florissant continued to barrage the robbers, pinning them down towards some counters with undoubtedly expensive goods. One of the criminals who wielded a laser gun, however, managed to get an opening and shoot a laser beam. The beam narrowly missed Florissant herself thanks to rolling out of the way. She summoned more plants to help shield herself from the lasers as a way to bide time before searching for another opening.

                          Chrono had to think, and fast. She only had one chance to save that hostage, thankfully the one with the knife was currently on the ground unconscious. The one holding the hostage had thus far seemed untargeted by the plants; for the safety of the hostage, Chrono could only assume. He and Chrono both spotted the knife lying helplessly on the ground at the exact same moment. The burglar hefted the woman with him as he began moving toward it, Chrono pouring on as much speed as possible. She had to do something or it was going to all be for naught. She couldn’t let someone die on her first mission… Think how she would be seen. A quick scan found a decent sized chunk of glass. She snatched it up as she walked past, trying to ignore it digging into her fingers, took aim, and let fly. By the time it hit her time pocket she had already formed a smaller one within, with faster than usual time. The glass shard hit the barrier to the smaller bubble and shot forward, piercing the man’s hand as he reached for the knife. Chrono dove as he recoiled, screaming, and snatched up the dagger, tossing it out of reach. One swift punch to the bridge of the man’s nose was enough to send him recoiling, and Chrono caught the hostage woman as he pushed her away.

                          With the hostage safe and the robbers secured, Florissant called to her partner, “Get the hostage to safety, I’ll handle these guys.”

                          Chrono nodded to her partner, helping the woman out through the broken door. She talked gently, trying to calm her, but was distracted as a cheer went up from the spectators as they caught a glimpse at Chrono and the hostage. Chrono couldn’t help but swell with pride as she crossed the street to where Florissant was standing. She had been successful. This was her first step toward being a full fledged hero.

                          With the now injured robbers without a hostage to levy against her or Chrono, Florissant was free to easily subdue the non superpowered humans and handed them over to the police, disarmed and for all intents and purposes, harmless. Florissant went out to the cheering crowd, which became more numerous as they recognized the more senior cape. She shouted out to the crowd. “Hello, citoyens de Nouveau Toulouse! Me and my partner are so glad to be of service to such wonderful people and to stop these lowlifes!” She flashed the crowd a winning smile: wide, natural and exuberating vitality. The crowd cheered, snapped photos and Florissant did her usual PR crowd pleasing. Another job well done for the both of them, and an introduction of Chrono to the world.

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                            #50    
                          Old March 28th, 2017 (4:31 PM). Edited March 28th, 2017 by (Drakath).
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                            Her rough breathing and pounding footsteps was all someone would need to know that she had far from just started running as she sprinted towards the slightly echoed commotion. She gave a mental sigh as the noise confirmed her fear, God damnit Kiro. She stopped just outside of the doorless doorway as she could hear that much of the loudness was just Tommy Gun living up to his namesake. Seeing as how most of the area was of a similar substance, she leaned with her hand against the wall. Activating her power, an inward pulse could be seen flowing from the wall into where her hand was placed and being sent across her body, changing her costume, hair, and eyes from a mirror to various stone based shades of color. An audible pop could be heard as her hand snapped off of the wall. She exhaled, steeling herself as she entered the warehouse, her hand sliding around the doorway. Muk! She made the concrete floor rise into a three-way wall to divide up the combatants, while also catching the moving debris from Tommy Gun strewn throughout the area. The battle stopped for a moment as they all looked towards her. Her plain, skin tight costume was segmented into various greys that appear to form thigh highs, and opera gloves over the top of it. Her mask, physically similar to Drakath's own masquerade, though more elegant, also paired with the same ninja-like mask for the lower half of her face. Meanwhile, her long cape following the same color scheme along with her flowing hair. She took the time within the pause to analyze each of the capes in the warehouse, though it wasn't long before the fight resumed.

                            -----

                            Derek was surprised by the sudden wall in front of him, but he was quick to associate it with the figure that had just entered. Now that he had a chance, he looked around the warehouse for anything he could use; it was bare, empty save for some piles of rubble from the more unstable parts of the building. The only door was right past this new person, whom he had no clue what their powers could entail. Shaping a stone wall seemed like only one facet to this mysterious character.

                            His train of thought was interrupted by the shaking that confirmed Tommy Gun was still conscious. Derek figured that meant his mask was tougher than he thought, but it would make sense if it was some sort of tinker tech. La Fenice wasn’t known for being modest with their spending money. Figuring since the wall next to him was still partially intact, he was in the clear, Derek decided to chance it with the stranger. From behind him, #2 sprinted directly at this person, aiming for the door behind her. Whatever happened, #1 would see it from where he was hiding against the cover she had made. If #2 got out, all the better.

                            Drakath looked in shock as the rebar that he was holding sunk into fresh concrete. He tried to pull it out but the wall's grip on the improvised weapon seemingly tightened. He let the rebar go, deeming the effort not worth the pain in his hands, even with super speed. Whipping around, he assessed the situation near instantly with his accelerated mind, his eyes settling on a familiar figure donned in 50 shades of grey, OK more like six, struggling to keep her hand raised. Lisa... Well, that explains the wall and why the debris is frozen in midair. Wait she just made a wall and Tommy Gun- Drakath's thoughts stopped as he rolled out of the way to dodge the exploding wall's debris, looking up only to find the stone chunks held in place just before they would've hit him. Suddenly, before he could react, the wall quickly lowered back into the ground, the force cracking The floor throughout, making everyone lose their balance and fall over.

                            Simple tremors weren’t going to stop Derek that easily though. Though #2 stumbled, he was back on his feet in an instant, still rushing toward the door. His wall gone, however, #1 found himself face to face with Tommy Gun. The Fenice criminal was enraged, and Derek could see some skin beneath the city cracked masked. Barely a second passed before Derek reacted, smashing his fist directly into his mask. Finally having taken enough beating it cracked, falling off and fizzing on the ground. Tommy Gun’s face was angry as ever, at least before Derek punched him again, finally knocking him out.

                            Drakath propped himself up onto the jagged ground, Well, okay then. Turning only to see Tommy Gun get taken out of the situation with one last punch. Exhaling, Glad that's over with, he looked back towards the doorway before doing a double take, Wait why are there two? The psyduck? One man, having just knocked out Tommy Gun, at the same time also rushing the costumed Lisa. When she reacted, this time a shorter wall, more like a ledge, rose in front of #2. The moment he was in the air to leap over it, she had the ledge sink into the ground forming a pit which he quickly fell into at the will of gravity. While at the same time another wall rose as The Fenician threw a punch, still slightly inflamed, that went straight through it, grazing Drakath.

                            #2’s stomach churned as the abyss opened up below him, but a quick reach managed to snag the ledge. Hanging there, Derek realized he was probably not going to get out. Not like this anyways. As #1 stood up, he caught the lady’s costume in the corner of his eye. Was it just his imagination, or did the color seem less sharp, its surface more reflective? Sure enough as he watched she made another wall, compounding the effect to her costume. A slight grin broke on Derek’s face as he split once more. He’d only have this one chance, so he may as well take it.

                            Both #1 and #3 began running toward opposite sides of the pit where #2 was currently attempting to climb out. If he read the situation right, he should be able to slip past with at least one of his selves, and that was all he needed. He did look back though, and felt pity for the boy. He hadn’t properly thanked him. Fixing a mental image in his mind, Derek made a note to find him later, if the boy somehow survived. The Fenician was not a good person to piss off, that Derek knew firsthand.

                            She could feel her power ebbing away faster and faster as the debris that she held floating in the air got seemingly heavier. A quick look at the edge of her mask was all Lisa needed to confirm this. She could use the last of it to throw the debris at her twin attackers, but that would still leave a chance for them to get past her and escape. The Fenician wouldn't approve of them getting away on her part, although neither would he of her defending Drakath. The clones closed in, outing her first idea and leaving her to improvised as second. Police sirens could be heard, probably a noise complaint. Deciding to solve both problems at once, Lisa relaxed and turned around, using the last of her power to throw up a wall to seal the doorway as she was tackled by #3, ruining her aim, to clear the path for the original #1.

                            Drakath spun to his feet, only to trip on the shattered surface of the ground as The Fenician freed himself from Lisa's fresh wall. Drakath superspeed vaulted over the wall as the villain went around it. Hooking the top of the wall, the rogue swung behind The Fenician and landed on his flaming back with both feet. This was his chance, after the villain was pushed to ground, Drakath spun on his left foot, still grinding against the muscles flesh that the ripped suit revealed, and sent a fast kick with his ignited right foot straight to the side of The Fenician's head. Just when he thought it was over, the two combatants were both suddenly pelted with falling rocks from the aftermath of Tommy Gun's rapid fire. It only lasted a second however; as Drakath was ripped from the rubble and held up by the would be collar of his costume, stretching the material. Staring down the man, the teenager watched as he readied a fist and wound up a fierce jab.

                            Derek felt the ground shift behind him, and knew he was free. He had #3 tackle the lady for good measure, just so she didn’t try to stop him bodily, and he was out in the open air. His clones vanished into thin air as they returned to him, and Derek found himself face to face with a PRT officer. “Hey, do you know anything about the two in the car? Wait, what's going on in there Derek?”

                            “Officer… Gutierrez? What are you…?” Derek instantly knew this was going to be a problem, as he recognized the officer. Simon Yeates, a fellow in the academy and a partner before his capture by the Professor. He had no choice… His fist collided with the confused man in a heavy-hitting right cross, knocking him out cold.

                            “Sorry Simon, it’s better this way. Enjoy the PRT before they forget about you too.” Derek took a deep breath before dashing down an alley, home free. Well, not really… He’d have to check his apartment to see if La Fenice’s goons had been kind enough to leave anything, then he had someone to meet with to set up a new hideout. Honestly it was such a pain when your enemies knew who you were. He almost wished he’d trusted his gut when he first took the job that had landed him in this mess. His train of thought was interrupted as he was suddenly knocked over and engulfed in thick grey smoke.

                            Drakath supersped to cover for his lack of upper body strength and used the momentum to backflip out of The Fenician's "bully hold." Landing in a 3 point pose, simply for effect, he looked up to see the man with an arm broken at the elbow, forced to look up at the ceiling from a fierce kick.

                            With quick rush leading into a fierce punch to the chest was followed by a sonic boom as Drakath sent The Fenician flying through the wall, snapping through what seemed to be a steel beam inside the wall. Pebbles rained down from the ceiling as the warehouse began shaking, gradually getting more and more violent as those outside could see the foundation cracking under the weight and those inside seeing the wall do the same. He knew he had to get out, the building was coming down. His accelerated brain assessed the situation as he devised a plan. A loud snap crackled through the air as the windows shattered and the building began collapsing. He'd just chucked Tommy Gun's unconscious form at his boss and had only just arrived in at Lisa. Pushing his limits as he continued to break the sound barrier, Drakath ran through the hole that The Fenician's body had made and scooped up a large clump of dirt along the way. Stopping to put Lisa down in front of the two La Fenice, he smacked the dirt into her hand and yelled "Wall!" Her suit turned brown as the series of events registered within her mind. A loud crash could be heard as the building hit the ground, forming a that gray cloud was fast approaching the group as his friend quickly threw her arms up and caused a rocky dirt wall to rise out of the ground, shielding the group from the blast.

                            Damnit, now that's two buildings. Drakath found himself still accelerating as he checked his vitals through the mask's HUD. His body still hadn't slowed down as he was engulfed in head level smoke. He was hit with an extreme wave of vertigo as he passed out against the wall, Too much… Speed~
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                            FOOL. YOU CANNOT KILL WHAT IS ALREADY UNDEAD. "My mistake..."
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