Iris - A Parahumans RP (IC)

[Okayanos]

OOC | Theme | Roster

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I R I S

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Danger Zone

Tilikum Crossing Bridge

It was fucking raining. Scott Nelson had lived in Portland for a large portion of his life, and much of the remaining portion was still spent in Western Oregon, which remained a not-particularly-dry region. Rain was almost a constant in the winter months, a possibility in the spring and fall, and still not entirely off the table in summer. Scott was more than used to it. It formed a kind of monotony, a weatherly routine that he found equal amounts of comfort and boredom in. Of course, he did his best to find as many ways as possible to keep his life spiced up, to feel young and wild instead of locked in drudgery.

Which is why he, a 38 year old man, is wearing a spiffy suit and a rabbit mask in this weather. And also fighting another man of approximately similar age, except his counterpart is in a black and gold bodysuit with an elaborate, crown-like mask over his face. The man in the gold bodysuit- who had chosen the rather humble alias 'King'- produced golden globules of energy from his hands, globules which were flung with bullet-like speed. Scott doesn't waste his power trying to dodge or evade- the blasts aren't meant for him. They target the wet asphalt of the bridge behind Scott, spreading cracks in the same golden color, a spider-web pattern. Sizeable fragments of the bridge rip upwards, flinging themselves towards Scott with what almost seemed like killing intent.

Ah, now he can flex his power. Scott sweeps his arm behind himself, quickly, yet almost lazily. His power responds as faithfully as ever- a phantom limb, ten times the size of his arm but without weight, sweeps out behind him in a mimicry of Scott's movement. The oversized phantom limb moves at the same speed as his regular arm, but with more mass and more weight to anyone except Scott himself. It bats the asphalt chunks aside like baseballs, sending them soaring out over the Willamette river. A loud and satisfying sploosh confirms their descent. King is far from slow to react- flashes on the edges of Scott's vision alert him to further chunks, more rubble to be bothered about.

Scott plants the phantom arm's palm against the road, pushing down and lifting himself up in the process. More chunks soar past him, and he idly considers using a second phantom hand to swat them away before deciding to do a leg instead. He slams his phantom foot downward hard, hitting close enough to King that the villain holds his fire and takes the time to evade. Scott reduces his phantom leg's size, controlling his descent. He dispels the leg and uses his phantom arm to support himself back down onto the ground. "I think your age is showing more than mine, King." Scott remarks as his feet hit the ground once more.

"Hardly. This fight is only beginning, Chunk-" The villain begins, only to be interrupted by a raised finger from Scott.

"Chunk is only my alias for the PRT to use. I want to hear you say the real one." A full-face mask might've hidden the shit-eating grin on Scott's face, but the one he has shows it off brilliantly. He can feel the exasperation from King.

"...This fight is only the beginning, Big Chungus." The gold-masked villain says with much less enthusiasm than he'd had the first time. Big Chungus loved getting villains to say... well, his name in the middle of their over-dramatic ranting. With the fun had, Chungus and King both come to an understanding that it's time to return to their fight. King moves to ready more blasts as Chungus conjures a phantom arm- only for machine gun fire to rain from above. Vulture, taking a break from her aerial harassment of Duchess, who as far as Chungus can tell is occupied by Call and Response, the former swinging the latter around like an oversized flail. Even for an advanced regenerator, it'd hit hard enough to at least put them out of commission for a bit.

King is forced to split his attention between Vulture and Chungus, flinging rubble at both simultaneously. Splitting his ammunition costs him, and Chungus catches him in the grip of his giant phantom limb, holding King out over the edge of the bridge. Chungus' grip is iron, borderline bone-crunching. "You been tagged by Empress?" He asks King, almost too casually. King says nothing- then gives a brief nod. Chungus gives a small, apologetic smile and violently hurls King down into the Willamette. He figures King might survive and swim to shore, but it's not a problem right now. Metal limbs wrap around Chungus from behind, clawing at him- Duke androids, finally breaking past Shamgar's clone defense. Chungus reaches up and wraps his phantom hand around one of the bridge's suspension cables, swinging himself up, out, and around in an attempt to dislodge the android. The robot's grip slips and loosens as he swings, and is dislodged entirely once Chungus lands, sending the android tumbling.

All this because the Protectorate got a tip about the Royals bringing in a large drug treatment. Vulture, Call, and Response are keeping Duchess on her toes, and Chungus moves to help Shamgar sweep through Duke's mechanical minions. And of course Empress would be lurking around somewhere... not a bad start to the day, in all honesty.

[The Cyberiad Council]

As the water of the Willamette rushed up to meet him, King aimed his palms at his chest and fired his energy into his suit, trying to charge as much energy into it as he could in the short time it would take him to drop. Only feet from impact, King let his energy jerk him upward, rapidly slowing him down, though not as fast as the water would. Almost gently, he hit the river with a small splash. Duke's android wasn't so lucky, though the aluminum of its skeleton could withstand the rough landing, and sacks of gases inside kept it somewhat buoyant. It obediently began swimming for shore, determined to carry out its orders. King meanwhile kept charging his suit with energy. He launched out of the water like a rocket, overshooting the level of the bridge by a slight margin. Using his powers more delicately, he managed to land much like he had in the river, rolling to dissipate the force, he was soon back on his feet and charging Big Chungus from behind.

Meanwhile, in a broken heap on the Tilikum Crossing Bridge, Duchess was coming back together. Limbs crunched back into place, and bleeding quickly stemmed itself as bruises rapidly turned red, then black, then green before fading altogether. Just as she was about to get to her feet, a massive fist slammed her back into the pavement. Response was jerked backwards by Call, and spun in a wide arc that aimed him straight for a group of androids closing in on Shamgar. The southern man was a flurry of motion, swinging his staff in wide arcs and launching out lines of multicolored spectral clones that ferried his attacks to the horde. They were only armed with small blades and metal hands, but if they were allowed to get close enough, it wouldn't be good.

There was an almost unspoken coordination between the Call and Response duo. The pair knew every move of their partner, so when the tether swinging Response suddenly let go, he immediately knew something was wrong. The giant rolled over an android before jumping up to his feet. He looked over to his lover and saw her engaged in a brawl with Queen. Call jumped back, trying to disengage herself before unleashing ten small versions of her blue tethers from her finger tips. Like a swarm of living yarn, the tethers wrapped around Queen only for the villainess to vanish.

She reappeared on the front of Vulture's rig, the sudden weight not throwing the craft off like Queen had hoped. Instead, she didn't waste any time ripping cables out of the back of Vulture's helmet. Disappearing again she remained gone for a split second before returning to her perch on Vulture, ball so of string courtesy of Tzar gripped in her hand. Tossing the entangling fibers in the rotors of the carrying rig, Queen vanished again, reappearing in front of King who began saturating large sections of the bridge with his energy.

[Ceannairceach]

Pat-pat-pat-pat-pat-pat-pat-pat-pat-

The rain was gently smashing itself against the composite plastic visor of Stinkbug's suit-integrated mask, creating rivers of flowing droplets as they fell down the smooth, transparent surface into the small ravines where the material attached to leathery fabric. A hand, similarly covered in the scaly-smooth fabric, reached up to wipe the drops away, but the bumps and ridges of the suit and the tubing hidden within it left much of the liquid where it was, though smudged some. With a short, sighed breath, the young girl pulled the thick hood forward with both hands, tightening it around her head. The wind, coming in from the water, undid her work quicker than she could fix it, leaving her resigned to the somewhat-obstructed vision through the pin-pricks and lines of rain that was accumulating on the visor. "Wipers," she absentmindedly noted to herself, adding it to the long mental list of suit improvement ideas that she kept, even knowing how busy Vulture was with her own rig. She had forgotten since the last time it rained that it was already on her list several times.

A fist-sized chunk of concrete flying past her brought Stinkbug back to the present. She followed its trajectory best she could, and saw Big Chungus, blocking bits of road as King utilized his power to send them flying in his direction. Another deflection sent one on a high arc above the tallest buildings around them, only to come crashing down like a failed rocket, straight towards the distracted young hero. She dove as quickly as it registered that she needed to move, and seconds later the makeshift boulder embedded itself into the asphalt, half-submerged. Pulling herself up and checking for any leaks, Stinkbug noticed that her vision was growing cloudy, and decided quickly that the suits integrity was maintained. Kicking herself for being so inattentive, she diverted all her attention towards the battle playing out in front of her.

Chungus had been dueling with King, but it seemed that the would-be monarch had retreated, or forced out of the fray - Stinkbug hadn't seen which. Regardless, he was back on the bridge, and it seemed that the Royals were regrouping - King had flung himself behind Chungus, distracting Portland's senior hero as his partners Duchess and Queen engaged Call and Response, though Queen disappeared as quickly as the heroic duo was able to respond, reappearing again on Vulture's rig, who was buzzing about the bridge providing aerial cover. Stinkbug couldn't see from her position on the ground what Queen was doing, but it didn't seem good. Another flash and she was gone, only to return again and drop something into Vulture's rotor system before disappearing once more.

Stinkbug didn't wait to see the results of Queen's sabotage. Pulling two cylindrical metal canisters from the tube-belt at her waist, she heard the short fizzle of pressurization as the nozzles closed themselves, releasing only the fainest wisp of her gas with the action. She looked at one, and saw through the thin, clear plastic line that the color was nearing a greenish hue. Satisfied, she took off running in the vague direction of Vulture, who had apparently dipped down towards the ground as the rotors began to seize up from whatever Queen had done to them. When in range of her meager pitch, Stinkbug tossed one canister towards the bridge, and then the second, with both landing some feet apart a third of the way down its length, between the regrouping villains and Chungus. Thick "smoke" poured out of the cylinders, first pooling on the ground, but slowly rising as it consumed oxygen-rich air.

Stinkbug had no time to watch her power in action, as she fumbled with the suits triggering mechanism within her glove. Finding the correct switch between her index and middle fingers, she opened the vents on her suit, and much like the gas grenades she had thrown, it began to billow out the greenish vapor, leaving a trail of the noxious fumes in her wake, like the burnout of a stock car. Unlike her grenades, however, there was no limit to the gasses that poured from every inch of her costume: as she ran, the gas spread itself, leaving whole sections of the street invisible beneath the thick smog she was producing. Through gasped breaths, she was able to choke out a message into the integrated headset of her mask. "heh Vulture huh crashing huff Stinkbug heff moving in." The awkwardness of running in her suit took the girl's breath away as she sprinted towards the slowly descending heroine, but she was athletic, and overcame the difficulty with great effort, which in turn allowed her power to billow out more and more gas. By the time she was beneath Vulture, she was nearly surrounded in the fog herself, though Vulture's rig was acting to disperse the gas into the surrounding area as it dropped to the ground.

Not wanting to lose her power's only real useful quality, she began running in a loose circle around the falling Vulture, adding to her exertion, and thus the output of gas from somewhere deep within her. She could only hope it would be enough to give Vulture the cover she needed to make repairs...

[Jade Confederacy]

North East Portland, near Troutdale Airport

Far from clashes between capes and cowl at the heart of the city, another sort of fight was taking place. In a secluded warehouse near the city’s airport, muffled crashes can be heard followed by periodic silences. Inside the building, it was near pitch black, with the only source of light coming from the little sunlight sneaking in from the rafters above.

At the center of a clearing, flanked by stacked crates and shipping containers stood Fazel, better known by his other name as the Tremor. Behind, his mask of cracked ceramic, Tremor focused, trying to catch the tell tail signs of movement. His quarry leaped from one stack of containers to another with deceptive agility and skill.

There has been a streak of burglaries at the Brookland Street’s Gang’s properties in the area. Whoever was doing it was looking for something, something the Gang did not wand found. The gang has sent its primary enforcer to catch the thieving rat, but to the Tremor’s dismay, the rat was a hell of a lot bigger than he expected.

For something so huge, the bastard sure was quiet. He only got one look at the thing before it took out the power for the lights in the warehouse. Around 8 ft tall, muscular and lizard looking with a large crest on top of its head. Could be some sort of mutant or a pet some bio tinker grafted together. It wasn’t fully animal since it defiantly knew him and what he was capable of and so stayed off the ground.
He heard a dull thump to his left and quickly dove. A second later something whizzed past where his head used to be and punched through the metal container next to him. That thing's damned tongue! Like some overgrown chameleon, it was trying spear him with its tongue from the safety of the containers above. Well if it thinks its safe up there than it’s got another thing coming.

“Enough!”

Tremor felt his well of power drain as he invested a portion of it into the ground surrounding him. Seconds later, like a stone dropped into a pond, the ground rippled as waves of earth spread out from where he stood. As the waves impacted the containers, the boxes of metal were pushed out towards the walls. This would create a clearing and force the mutant to land on the ground if it wanted to get close enough to strike him. After the roar of metal crashing and collapsing against one another subsided, a hiss can be heard coming from a nearby pile of collapsed containers. The hiss was less like that of a snake and more akin to glass being dragged on concrete. Moments later, like a typical armature, it burst from the pile of collapsed containers and charged straight at him. In the darkness, he didn’t even need to use his geolocation to track him due to the sheer amount of noise it was making.

Concentrating on the concrete floor blocks that lay between him and the charging beast, Tremor flipped sections of the floor upwards to create impromptu walls to buy him time to fully invest in his next strike. The barriers did not do much as the beast either climbed up over or else smashed right through them. Super strength too huh? Then it wouldn’t be too unexpected for it to have regenerative abilities as well to round out the trifecta of a frontline Bruiser. That would mean that he had to finish the fight quick as a protracted skirmish would only drain him of his reserves rather than hurt the beast.
Tremor raised a section of the floor to shield himself as he felt the beast pause. Sure enough a second later he felt the impact of the thing's tongue into the concrete shield. It had dug in deeper into the rock than he thought and would have gone cleanly through him if he hadn’t seen it coming. He collapsed the areas of the concrete near the embedded tongue, fully anchoring the rock to the flesh. After the thing tried and failed to retract its tongue, it gave out a gargled bellow and resumed its charge.

Once it came to within 15 meters of him, Tremor stomped his feet into the ground, investing a sizable portion of his power. The concrete ground seems to momentarily bubble before dissolving into a vast pool of sand. As the thing ran into the sand, it found its momentum rapidly decreased as the sand clung to its feet and actively attempted to drag it underground. Tentacles of sand erupted from the pool and wrapped themselves around the thrashing beast as it futilely tied to break free. Some of the tentacles began to harden back into concrete, further limiting the things movement. Soon enough only the top portion of the beast’s head remained above ground at which point Tremor stopped and began to solidify the sand pool back into concrete, permanently entombing the beast’s body. This went on for some time as the solidification process always took longer and drained him more besides. He was careful to begin the process near the things entombed body first as he did not want it to dig itself out halfway through. You could never be too careful when it comes to supers.

After the process was mostly done, he took out his phone and used its’ in-built flashlight to get a full look at its half-buried head. From the beady look the things two turreted eyes gave him and the angry huffing of its silted nose, it was defiantly part chameleon. An eight-foot-tall half man, half chameleon mutant with super strength and an extendable tongue that can punch through steel. He would like to say that he’s seen stranger, but this is pretty strange.

“Care to tell me who you are freak? ... No, guess not. Well, we’ll find out eventually and then you’ll regret trying to mess with the Brookland Street Gang”
He turned off the flashlight and made the call.

“Yea its Tremor… No, no I caught the rat. There was only one and it’s a lot bigger than we thought….yea, at the warehouse and bring a crew and a forklift. I made a mess trying to catch it and I’m sure as hell not cleaning it up. “

From the residual light of his phone, he took another look at the things turreted eyes. What a freak.

[Okayanos]

Vulture was having a pretty bad day. Cables ripped from her helmet cut off her diagnostics, so it takes her a moment longer than usual to realize how much the string's mucked up her rotors. "Fuck, fuck, fuck, son of a shit-sucker-" Through the lens of her helmet, she sees a cloud of smoke gathering below her. That'd be Stinkbug, giving her cover. The leg attachments of Vulture's flight rig make contact with the ground first, points digging into the asphalt. Vulture instinctively lets herself buckle downward, dropping to her knees. She almost tips over from the weight of the rotors on her back, but a quick touch to the throttle gets her back in control. "Stinkbug, remind me to swap to lethal rounds next time we go after Queen." She says, only partially joking.

Vulture frees her left arm from the control system of her rig, feeling behind her helmet for loose cables. It takes her a second or two to find them and plug the fuckers back in. Diagnostics immediately light up, giving her the proper status of her stalled rotor. She revs it a couple times, messing with the angle and speed of the blades- and then the string’s finally shredded. “Alright, I’m airborne again.” She leaps up from her knees, firing up rotors and stabilizing jets alike. Her rig rises steadily without some bitch trying to clog it up. “Keep yourself out of trouble. I’m going to help Big Chungus.” Vulture shoots upward, taking a trip around the bridge to fire off a small hail of homing micro-missiles at the horde of androids advancing against Shamgar before rounding back towards Big Chungus.

As for the absolute unit of a team leader, he’s holding up as best he can. Big Chungus flexes the Mover rating he’d officially earned a few weeks ago, launching himself upward and striding on forcefield legs as tall as a house. At 6’4” and somewhere around 200 pounds, he’d been able to beat back King in a physical fight, forcing the gold-suited Blaster back to his current position, bathing large sections of the bridge in his glowing energy. Big Chungus drops down with a giant phantom fist to cushion his landing, aiming at Queen instead of the more masculine monarch. Once he lands, however- a second forcefield arm manifests, being used to sweep across the bridge like an outraged spouse sweeping everything off the table.

[Talchyon]

Crimson (aka "Danielle Calavan")

There were people who thought of capes and particularly, good capes, as glamorous. Saving the day, protecting the city, taking down dangerous threats, not to mention the glossy promotional materials and glitzy talk show interviews, life as a cape seemed to some to be the height of envy. She used to be one who thought like that. But standing in the rain, watching the scene enfold, made her think again.

Danielle Calavan, or "Crimson" at least for now, was always more than a little nervous going into fights.

The fifteen year old brunette dodged some of the androids who were on the scene, secretly thankful that part of being a Ward meant athletic training. She was using it here, as she ducked under a claw aimed at her. She wasn't breathing as heavy this time, which meant that the endless series of exercise the Wards put her through was helping to shape her be more fit.

As a Ward, she and the other teens on her squad had been called in to back up the Protectorate. That was what she was going to do. Despite all the noise of the fight, Crimson saw the Protectorate's leader. Big Chungus, having his hands full with the droids as well. So, to help back him up, she got one of her plastic vials out that had been held on to her suit with built in elastic. Popping the top, she poured a bit on the ground, and covered the vial back up. With it still in hand, the donor's blood she had carried with her was now growing into a complicated matrix of hardened webbing. Of course, this out of anything should slow those droids down, even for a few more minutes. Then, putting the vial back in place at her side, Crimson got ready for what might come next.

[The Cyberiad Council]

Vitri hurried along a pathway of her mirrors she'd made spanning the open air next to the bridge. It gave her a unique vantage point to monitor her team and make barriers as necessary. Stinkbug was towards the middle of the bridge, her power was going to start hampering King and Queen soon if they didn't move. Near the end of the structure, Shamgar was holding Duke's army at bay; however, they didn't disappear after he hit them like 'Skelter's clones tended to. Crimson was trying to help, but the androids were far from stupid. Duke managed to either control them, or build them in such a way that they were a well coordinated force. Several had been smashed into scrap metal by Response, but Vitri noticed that there weren't as many laying around as there should have been.

"Guys, keep an eye out. I think Tzar is in play," She called over comms. Using her power, she began to create several mirrors strategically around her and the bridge. They gave her views of almost the entire battle without turning her head more than a few degrees.

Back in the heat of the fight, King had almost been ready to unleash his onslaught when a blinding light from somewhere out over the water caused him to blink. in the fraction of a second where his eyes were shut, Chungus unleashed his attack. Queen was quick to vanish from her love's side while he was plowed over by the massive sweeping limb. Instead of being knocked off the bridge, he was forcefully rolled under the attack, tearing portions of his suit against the asphalt and possibly breaking a few bones in the process.

Queen suddenly appeared in front of Chungus and delivered a wild haymaker in the blink of an eye before vanishing to harass Call again. She wasn't there for any longer than a strike or two before appearing in front of Crimson and backhanding her and vanishing from the fight completely. Duchess had put herself together enough to be a danger again and charged Shamgar. Response, guided by Call's power, slammed down in front of her and delivered a punch that would incapacitate most people. The Royal only seemed stunned for a spit second before swinging at the giant with her sword. The blade struck him, but didn't to much more than leave a red mark. Call grabbed Duchess from behind with her tether and flung her back and up, towards Chungus.

"Batter up, boss!" she called as she piloted the villainess towards the Protectorate's leader.

King didn't immediatly get up from his blow, instead he feigned unconsciousness, an area of blue and gold light spread from his body to connect with the large portion of the bridge already saturated. He was going to force everyone off the bridge. One way or another.

[Ceannairceach]

Stinkbug awkwardly snapped off a stuttered salute as Vulture took off to the aid of Chungus, fumbling with the switches between her fingers to shutter her suit's vents in the process. She saw Vitri was moving in to the battle, deploying her mirrors around the bridge, likely giving herself total battlefield awareness, or something akin to it. Stinkbug realized that her power would only give Tzar cover to try something, if he was even still around, and as such she reasoned it was best to let the senior Ward take him on. The gas canisters she had deployed were slowly fizzing out as they emptied the last of their contents onto the bridge, the greenish-gas pooling out and even falling down into the waters below, a slow-moving fog that was quickly dissipating in the open air.

With the villains gearing up for another push, Stinkbug was forced to beat a hasty retreat to the back of the line: with no mover applications to her power, it was a slow jog out of the immediate fray, but more than worth it, as the combat applications of her power were minimal on such open terrain. The rainy conditions were no help either, as pools of water collected in every fold and flap of her costume, often streaking down from her hood in waves over her visor, making navigation difficult. It had taken her only a few wrong steps to nearly crash into Crimson, who was preparing her 'bloodwebs' on the ground. One of those creations attached itself to the bottom-side of Stinkbug's boot-tread, and extended in a long, gooey string with her as she continued to retreat a few more paces.

Turning back on one heel, almost losing her balance in the process, Stinkbug released the stored gas within her suit in a massive cloud, which spread out around the one end of the Tilikum Crossing. Managing a half-wave at her fellow Ward, Stinkbug pushed a few words out of her mouth in way of explanation, processed through a small internal microphone and projected out at a similarly timid volume: "C-cover for your, uhhhh," she pointed at the ground, "those."

[Aidannadia]

What a way to inaugurate Impression's addition to the Portland Wards.

The strapping young hero had only been in town for a few short days, and his first mission involved the Royals, a gang of old school command and conquer type villains. He had seen these sort of fights on the news, usually with heroes from his hometown in Seattle rather than his current station in Portland. He looked on as the local protectorate, led by the ireverant Big Chungus, was handling the group with relative ease. The group synergized so well together, and nowhere was that more apparent than in the interaction of Call and Response.

Ollie wondered about that. How much of their relationship was just for the eyes of the media? They certainly seemed to get along. They also worked well together, even their powers synergizing almost perfectly. Every slight shift in weight was a predetermined motion, years of understanding the decision-making of the other. How could they do that? He supposed growing up in the PRT together had made sure they hadn't grown apart, but it seemed like that would have been more of a strain than anything. Maybe they just don't have the time to think about it. He nearly shrugged to himself beneath his round, one way glass visor.

For most of the fight, he'd taken to sitting towards the backline, occasionally supporting Shamgar's struggle against an onslaught of bots with the larger cast of his old classmates in an identical, if not often resized, version of his own costume. He silently thanked himself that he'd figured out how to change the clone's outfits. At first, they'd been almost exclusively naked; the experience was both jarring for him, sensing those cool breeze unencumbered by the trapping of modern fashion, and feeling the nervous glances of the observing scientists that'd helped him push the limits of his power in the Wards. A few bots were disabled by his Imprint, a disguised form of the gardener down the street from his old house, but soon he'd fallen too, returning like a ghostly apparition back into Impression's form.

"Guys, keep an eye out. I think Tzar is in play," That'd be Katelyn, the senior member of the wards, and de-facto leader of the squad. With that comment, he turned his attention to his teammates. Katelyn, or Vitri as she was known to the world, had set up a matrix of mirrors on the battlefield within moments, no doubt trying to spot the Tzar. He remembered reading up on this gang as he was on the road to Portland. Tzar had a screwy power that could catch you off guard, but if you had your eyes on him, there wasn't much he could do.

He briefly turned his attention to Danielle and Ziva, Crimson and Stinkbug respectively. Ziva's title was among the less elegant examples of a cape's identities, though Impression doubted that she had much say in the matter. Crimson, in contrast, had a rather nice name considering her less that clean abilities. Making stingy webs of blood was hard to market, he was sure.

1.2 seconds always seems like forever. He said, this time defaulting back to his most common Imprint. The white coats realized early on that people he was closer to seemed to last longer. They made a whole chart plotting the time he could have each person active for based on this bizarre exercise similar to speed dating, only with some of the interfacing lasting close to three hours and the shorter times seemed like the buzzer sounded just as the timer began.

Either way, the Imprint was much more versatile. He looked aroudn the Tikka-whatever-its-called bridge, trying to figure where Tzar could be hiding out before he'd formulated an idea. His imprint turned and jumped from the bridge, the form's visor scanning beneath the underpass for the villain. Everything the clone felt, he did. The wind. The light water churning, lapping at the bridge's supports deep below.

It wasn't long before he hit the water, the pain instantly disappearing and her form floating slowly back into his own. She'll be out for a while.

"Under the bridge is clear, but I saw some glowing spreading underneath there. I think King is making a play." He spoke in Vitri's direction, but didn't take his eyes off the fight, occasionally trying to look in a mirror to get a better angle.

[Talchyon]

Near the bridge
Crimson (aka "Danielle Calavan")

The first blood webs did little to nothing. Trying to trip up the droids had been a waste. Their programming was advanced, as you might expect from tinker tech. They had dodged Crimson's attempts to slow them down. The heroine in red sighed, and was about to try again when she heard the warning from Vitri. It was not surprising that the Tzar would be here. It seemed like all the Royals were out tonight.

Visibility was poor, thanks to the gas Stinkbug had produced. It didn't make shooting bloodwebs easier when she kind of had to see what she was looking at. A wave of the gas drifted by her, and Crimson almost gagged. "Yeaachh. That was nasty." Her comments made little impression in the overall battle, what with energy charging, melee combat, and possible teleporters jumping in and out.

But visibility was about to get worse. Especially as Crimson had just gotten jostled in the midst of creating another web.

Stinkbug awkwardly snapped off a stuttered salute as Vulture took off to the aid of Chungus, fumbling with the switches between her fingers to shutter her suit's vents in the process. She saw Vitri was moving in to the battle, deploying her mirrors around the bridge, likely giving herself total battlefield awareness, or something akin to it. Stinkbug realized that her power would only give Tzar cover to try something, if he was even still around, and as such she reasoned it was best to let the senior Ward take him on. The gas canisters she had deployed were slowly fizzing out as they emptied the last of their contents onto the bridge, the greenish-gas pooling out and even falling down into the waters below, a slow-moving fog that was quickly dissipating in the open air.

With the villains gearing up for another push, Stinkbug was forced to beat a hasty retreat to the back of the line: with no mover applications to her power, it was a slow jog out of the immediate fray, but more than worth it, as the combat applications of her power were minimal on such open terrain. The rainy conditions were no help either, as pools of water collected in every fold and flap of her costume, often streaking down from her hood in waves over her visor, making navigation difficult. It had taken her only a few wrong steps to nearly crash into Crimson, who was preparing her 'bloodwebs' on the ground. One of those creations attached itself to the bottom-side of Stinkbug's boot-tread, and extended in a long, gooey string with her as she continued to retreat a few more paces.

Turning back on one heel, almost losing her balance in the process, Stinkbug released the stored gas within her suit in a massive cloud, which spread out around the one end of the Tilikum Crossing. Managing a half-wave at her fellow Ward, Stinkbug pushed a few words out of her mouth in way of explanation, processed through a small internal microphone and projected out at a similarly timid volume: "C-cover for your, uhhhh," she pointed at the ground, "those."

The greenish gas cover did hide her webs. That at least was helpful. The only problem was, the gas was making her gag even more. Crimson couldn't form the words to answer Stinkbug, because she was trying to breathe shallowly in the midst of that stench. She kind of waved her off as she struggled to get out of the gas. Staggering to the bridge to escape, Crimson was thankful her suit had protective goggles so that gas wasn't getting in her eyes.

She saw clearly the energy flowing from King to the bridge. And nearby, Duchess, bleeding. And she had an idea.

Suddenly, ziplines of webbing shot out from Duchess' wounds to the bridge beside her. More webbings bound King's foot to Duchess. Some more jumped and connected King to the bridge, even the sections he was pumping energy into. With about 20 webs in a short amount of time, it looked like Duchess and King were both securely attached.

If King was planning to throw the energized bridge, he and Duchess would be going for a ride.

[Okayanos]

Big Chungus' rabbit-eared mask is deceptively tough- and yet, at the same time, Queen is deceptively strong. Chungus reels a bit from the hit, finding some part of himself that admires the villain- any man should like a woman with a killer right. He sees little cartoon stars orbiting around his head for a moment until Call stays true to her name and calls out to him.

"Batter up, boss!" She yells out. Big Chungus obliges, conjuring a huge forcefield arm. Chungus uses it to swat at Duchess, open-handed like going after a fly. He's had a lot of practice with his giant limbs, and he's realized a few things about them- most notably, that they move at the same speed as his normal sized limbs. The same speed with many times the mass results in punches and swats that hit like a literal freight train. And Duchess just got tied up on the tracks. The regenerating villainess gets hit with a resounding SMACK that almost seems to reverberate, and she's sent flying like a 999% character in Smash Bros. Chungus would've had to pull his punches with someone who couldn't regenerate the way Duchess could.

Vulture spies King beginning to glow up, launching several canisters from the shoulders of her flight rig that arc over towards the villain, then detonate in bursts of containment foam, hopefully keeping him from activating the part of his power that would shatter the structure. "Eyes on King! He's lighting up the bridge!” She calls out, before having to turn back towards the other end of the bridge to pepper the incoming androids with machine gun fire.

Moda Center

In an area of Portland where the sounds of combat are too distant to pick out, cape action of a different kind is happening. Two individuals, something like detectives by nature, investigating the Moda Center. Formerly known for being Portland's best indoor sports arena, now known for being the center of some odd goings-on. Strange noises, banging on glass and walls, monsters killing people who get too close, the usual. The first of the investigators is a woman, dressed in a fancy white coat with a hood pulled over her head. Pale blue crystals accent various bits of her costume, placed in aesthetically appropriate areas strategically enough that one wouldn't be blamed for thinking that they're part of her costume rather than an effect of her power. Her companion is a man, in a more utilitarian brown costume, also hooded- though not entirely without its own flare. He has a slightly darker brown scarf wrapped around his neck, and the tail of it trails and flutters behind his movements, in the way a cape would. His face is concealed behind a full metal mask, one that strikes a balance between approachable and intimidating with a yellow-white glow in the eyes.

Shimmer and Shine, the ever-intrepid private eyes. "No signs of anything living." Shine states. His sight is high in the air, looking down over what used to be the central field. Tumorous, tentacle-like growths weave an intricate pattern all along the center, discolored by death and decay.

“Plenty of signs of stuff that used to be living.” Shimmer replies, jostling her partner’s shoulder to signal him to snap back to reality. He’s pulled away from his bird’s eye view, back to the corridor wrapped around the central arena. The place looks borderline post-apocalyptic to Shine- evidence of all the times that one aspiring hero or other had tried to reclaim the place from the clutches of the crazy bio-tinker who’d turned a sports arena into something out of Resident Evil for no reason Shine could figure. But then again, he’s not a supervillain.

His eyes search for a moment behind his mask, until he finds what Shimmer had brought him
back for- a mangled corpse, more limbs than body, inhuman in its shape but very clearly formed from human flesh. Shine can pick out seven distinct limbs, all longer than a man’s leg. Each one is tipped by a mutated human hand with six fingers and two thumbs, one on each side of the hand. The central torso is rounded, longer than it is wide, small and smooth with only some rudimentary sensory organs marring its surface. Shine gives himself a moment to be grateful that the hand spider... thing isn’t moving.

“At least it looks like it died peacefully. This guy’s monsters have a tendency to go boom when they expire.” Shimmer’s voice cuts through the eerie silence. Shine doesn’t reply, staring through the air at motes of rust suspended in the air. He fixes a thousand yard stare at a patch of gloom that looks too much like it’s moving for his comfort.

“Let’s check the center of the arena. That would’ve been where the work was centered.” He finally speaks. The two detectives leave the corridor of corpses (corpsidor, Shine imagines far too late to be clever) and make their way into the main arena- or what’s left of it. It doesn’t take a clairvoyant to notice huge numbers of seats missing, replaced with vats, human-sized glass tubes, and everything else a bio-tinker would use. Shimmer and Shine split up, committing the cardinal sin of horror movie characters. While Shimmer steps carefully over the decaying tentacle growths down towards what used to be the basketball court at the center, Shine focuses more on the overgrown tinkertech left where the seats used to be.

Getting a closer look, Shine can get a clearer picture of what this place would’ve been like in its prime. The human-sized glass tube... thing is broken, shattered glass and small chunks of dead flesh dotting the floor around it. "Probably the source of the hand corpse..." He mutters. Shine wipes a bit of dust and grime off of what was probably a console for controlling or monitoring whatever would've been in the tube. The control layout of buttons, dials, and displays is incomprehensible to him, in no small part due to the fact that the labels had rubbed off long ago. Except for one small button- round, black, with a small LED light in the center, a light that's steadily flashing with the dull red of a dying bulb. Shine knows that pushing it might be a bad idea. He really does. "Shim, come over by me... A bit of this tech is still active." He goes with the bad idea and pushes the button anyways.

They wait for a long, tense moment. Shine keeps his fists clenched and his muscles tensed, and throws his sight back up on the ceiling for a bird’s eye view. He can see pale blue lights sparkling around his partner, reminding him why she’d chosen the alias she did. Crystals from the ground around her and along her body- the kind of armor that only a Brute could wear. He’s almost jealous. The two of them stand ready, prepared to pounce at the slightest sign of motion. They wait, and then stand slightly less ready. Shine feels darkness pushing in on the edges of his vision, and snaps back to his regular sight before his power starts hitting him with headaches. "Must've been a false alarm." He mutters.

"That tinkertech had to have been on its dying breath. You probably just put it out of its misery." Shimmer replies.

"If you two want time to figure it out, I can wait." A third voice contributed. Shine and Shimmer both whipped their heads toward the sound, each making their own quick scan of the room to search for a source of the voice. They find it coming not from a person, but from one of the screens above the center of the arena. Shine is able to make out the person who, assumingly, decided to chime in. Only visible from the shoulders up, he can see a dark hood drawn over their head, and a cloth mask that covers their entire face and head, with only the smallest light spots over where the eyes should be.

Hypermania, Portland's resident mad tinker.

"No need. This was one of your old labs, wasn't it?" Shine asks, now staring at the villain from behind his mask.

"Is. It is one of my old labs." Hypermania answers, in a tone of voice that would be deemed entirely too casual. "I'm gonna go ahead and give it a little reboot, since people have been showing interest in it. Hope that's 'kay." Hypermania shifts behind the screen, and Shine can see that the villain is sitting in a chair, probably in his more up-to-date base. Just outside the boundaries of the screen, it's obvious that Hypermania is using some sort of machinery or other. As he sits up, it becomes clear that Hypermania's costume includes more than just the hood and mask- he also has some sort of elaborate necklace, and the hood is part of a full, flowing robe- expensive fabric, as far as Shine can see. Hypermania's efforts don't seem to have any results- until the tentacles on the floor, the ones that were supposed to be dead, start to move.

The tentacles start to bind together, forming bodies of sorts. They're not exactly fluid and bendable like a regular tentacle would be. Instead, they bend like they're split into segments with dozens of overly-flexible joints between each part. The bodies they form are masses of coiled limbs forming a center, with longer ones sticking out to serve as mobility. The central masses are bound together tightly enough that some of the coiled tentacles are coiled too tightly, bent beyond their limits with a crack of bone. It's done almost strategically after the first few- broken off ends of white sticking out from the fleshy tone of the center body, like a hedgehog's spikes. Shine backs in closer to Shimmer, the two of them standing with their backs together.

A loud crunch interrupts the anticipation. Hypermania's pulled his mask up just enough to expose his chin and mouth. The villain's clean-shaven with thin lips, and found the time to grab some snack food. "Okay, so. Those arm-legs are old and their only real use is gonna be suicide runs." Hypermania monologues around a mouthful of Cheetos. The Flamin' Hot type, Shine notes. "And I'm gonna have about half of them blow the Moda up to get rid of evidence and shit. They're also gonna start trying to kill you two, because that's what they do. So if you try and run away, some amount of 'em go outside and then end up taking out a building or two when they go boom. You stay, and you can get caught in the Moda center going boom. Classic sadistic choice, am I right?" Hypermania swallows, and takes another eager bite of overly spicy snack food. "You have until my Cheetos are gone. When they are, I'm setting the arm-legs to blow up. Enjoy making hard decisions."

"Fuck that guy." Shimmer says as soon as the monologue is over. "Let's deal with this."

[The Cyberiad Council]

Vitri watched as Duchess soared cleared of the bridge until she disappeared behind the Portland Opera building. "Lost visual contact with Duchess, I'm going to try and get eyes on her," She called out, forming new mirrored steps for herself. It was strange to be dozens of feet above the ground with nothing but a thin pane of... glass? Well, it looked enough like glass, keeping you from falling to your death. Once Vitri made it over the building, she spotted a perfectly circular hole in the parking lot. The building blocked the view of it from the bridge, meaning Tzar could work his magic unhindered.

With a silent order, Vitri summoned several more mirrors around the hole and caused them to light up as bright as she could manage. Inside the hole, she spotted three figures: a perfectly healed Duchess, Empress, and Queen. "Guys, there's a Tzar-tunnel over here!" As soon as she spoke, she heard a sound like concrete grating against stone. Whirling around, the Ward spotted several tooth-like shapes partially emerged from the Willamette. The tallest were already at least twenty feet tall, and the second she took her eyes off one, it grew every so slightly. "Guy's, Tzar is doing something to the bridge pylons! I'm trying to keep an eye on them, but I can't watch everything."

Suddenly, her vision was obstructed by a woman with blonde hair an a black leather outfit. Queen gave the startled Ward a quick wink before shoving her backwards. Vitri tried to create a mirror underneath her, but the momentum was too much. The creation shattered, doing nothing to stop her fall. Luckily for her, Call noticed her distress and whipped Response towards the teen. Carefully and quickly, she piloted the brute under Vitri, allowing him to break her fall. They landed with a thump, Response's weight cracking the ground. Call unfurled another tether from her free hand and grabbed Vitri separately before reeling them both in.

Then, the bridge shuddered slightly. As if they all received simultaneous instructions, Duke's androids took advantage of the lack of Response to attempt to run past Shamgar. The southern lad was able to strike a few more down, but they were agile enough to jump out of the way of most of his attacks. Some more were struck down by Vulture, and others trapped by Crimson, but they annoyingly didn't show any signs of fear or panic. They hadn't made it free of the heroes yet, but it was clear where they were headed: the hole Vitri had seen.

King was almost completely covered in a mixture of containment foam and red threads, but he still had his hands in contact with the surface of the bridge. Not that it mattered, the glowing seemed to have stopped spreading. Rays of gold and blue light shone from the material under his power, almost like corpuscular rays shining through clouds. They weren't aimed straight up, however. They were slightly tilted off to the side...

[Talchyon]

Near the bridge
Crimson (aka "Danielle Calavan")

Damn. Her stunt hadn't worked. Not all the way. King - and particularly King's hands - were webbed to the bridge. If he was planning on throwing it, he himself would get thrown. Was that even proper according to the laws of physics? Crimson didn't know. All she could see, through the green stench of gas that Stinkbug had made but was thankfully dissipating, was that something else was going on. King's energy shot up in the sky. For what? Danielle didn't have a clue, but all the other bad guys were heading for the hills.

As for Duchess, the blood webs would have worked fine. She would have been in danger. Only... Danielle knew her webs were no match for the strength of Chungus who had smacked her hard and broken the blood webs that had been spun. So when the thin cords snapped and then turned back into a long bloody trail, Crimson could only sigh.

Looking around, she saw Impression closer to the hole Vitri had been talking about. Shouting out to him, Crimson yelled, "Impression! Maybe check the hole?" In the meantime, Crimson was going to spin more blood webs around King. In her head, it was as if frustration met a sense of daring as she thought, "Let's see if you can breathe when these start wrapping around your mouth..." And her webs began to wrap around King's mouth and nose, with his hands still bound to the bridge...

[Aidannadia]

"Impression! Maybe check the hole?"[---]

Well, what do you think I was doing? He snapped back without uttering a word.

Impression stepped had already begun heading towards the tidal wave of bots, trying to prep the best target to send to scout. With any luck, he'd be able to spot Tzar and buy more time to secure King.

He settled on Johnny, a smaller framed boy that was on the track team with him. Sure, Johnny wasn't as fast as himself, but he could definitely sprint like a champ with the rest of them. Not far from the frontlines against the bots, a wispy form shot forward, passing through the lines and solidifying not far after, the frame and build of Johnny but still in the Impression costume. The form sprint across the bridge, trying to close the gap on the hole.

Meanwhile, Impression's main body was trying his best to hold off the drones with Shamgar.

[The Cyberiad Council]

King had been trying to play possum, but Crimson's continued attack made that impossible. He was still bound by her strands on top of the containment foam courtesy of Vulture. The androids were dancing around Shamgar and Impression, trying to disengage instead of fight. Vitri was already creating more mirrors,trying to get a visual on the hole, but with the range and adrenaline from nearly falling to death it was slow to create at that range. It was really more of an instinct than conscious thought.

The bridge trembled as Tzar's powers started digging into the pylons. Cracks spread out as a result of the twisting and bending as Tzar warped the area to his will. King was rapidly approaching unconsciousness as he failed to draw in air. The small rays of light extending from the glowing area of King's powers tilted, focusing towards a single point. Again, the bridge shook as huge chunks tore themselves free, soaring over the heads of the heroes. "Look out!" Vitri yelled as she ducked behind Response who rapidly pulled Call close to him. King didn't trigger all of his power at once. The initial blast caused the bits of bridge to break apart once they were airborne, still glowing. King used his powers again, sending them raining down like missiles.

King himself was still trapped by the containment foam, which has resisted tearing itself apart under the forces of the blast, and Crimson's webs. Fortunately, he had plenty of time to aim exactly where he wanted. The chunk of asphalt and concrete that carried the foam cocoon sailed over the Portland Opera and landed with a thump next to the hole Tzar made. Some of Duke's androids had made it to the entrance to the tunnel and picked up the mass of foam holding King, not concerned they were getting themselves stuck in the foam. Like pallbearers, they hopped down in the hole and Empress touched a section of the wall of the tunnel. Nearly instantly, the hole closed, her power undoing the effects of Tzar.

Duke's remaining androids scattered like rats, each running in a different direction, disappearing as they ran around a corner long enough to be cut off from view for even half a second.

"We need to get off the bridge!" Call shouted, sending out various glowing ribbons of energy from her finger tips, grabbing Wards and Pros alike, moving them to safety. "What do we do now, Chungus?" Response asked, looking to their leader.

[Okayanos]

Big Chungus isn't any kind of Thinker, but he can read a situation. He throws a massive hand up, an umbrella over the heads of himself and his nearest teammates to protect them from the stone rain. He checks the positioning of the Wards before anything else- and leaps off the side of the bridge. A pair of gigantic forcefield legs catch him, just barely holding him up at bridge level. Chungus can feel his power straining- this'd be close to the limit on size, apparently. He extends another giant hand upward, palm towards the bridge. "Call, get everyone onto my hand. Wards first if you have them. Shamgar, Vulture, go for each end. Evacuation takes priority over chasing the Royals."

Every second that passes while Chungus holds his hand out is another second he spends mentally kicking himself for not bringing Ground Zero along. The Trump hero had been assigned to keep watch over Ghostbuster on the East side patrol. Stupid.

Vulture flies out over the east end of the bridge, the same direction King had hurled himself. The Portland Opera building is just in her field of vision, but positioned in such a way that Tzar's work is blocked from her sight. Typical of the bastard. Duke's androids are fleeing that way as well, forgoing any amount of self-preservation. She blasts a few down before they make their way out of sight as well.

"Royals are fleeing, boss."

[Ceannairceach]

Stinkbug pulled herself up off of the ground, slightly dazed from the whiplash of being tossed by Call's power. She heard a ringing in her ear, and for a brief moment feared that she might have sustained head trauma. Stupidly, she put her hand to her hooded scalp, and brought it in front of her face, expecting to see blood. There was none on her gloved hand, and she smacked her visor in realization. The ringing wasn't a ring, it was a muted beep, whining at her from her earpiece, warning of a breach in her suit. She hadn't remembered being hit with anything sharp She patted herself down and twisted her head in an attempt to find the hole, and after a few moments, she did, spotting the thin wisp of gas jettisoning itself from her enclosed system by means of a pin-sized hole on her thigh. She didn't have the time, nor the inclination to suture the wound in the field, and so pulled a thin rubber bandage from a pouch at her hip. Pressing it over the geyser of noxious gas, the material bubbled at the center, but the edges held firm, a suitable enough repair for the moment.

Collecting herself, she saw that Chungus was organizing the retreat, his massive forcefield hand offered to his fellow heroes as a means of escape. Stinkbug had no delusions about the fight: nothing she had done had put a stop to any of the Royals, and based on the looks she thought she was getting from Crimson after her attempt at 'helping,' the young heroine was certain she had in fact done more harm than good. Disappointed in her own performance enough as it was, all she wanted was to get back to HQ and out of her suit, into the comfort of her sealed room. She didn't need Call's help climbing onto Chungus's ghost limb, though she imagined it was only slightly more dignified-looking than the alternative. She offered a hand down for either of her fellow flightless Wards to haul themselves up with.

"Royals are fleeing, boss," Vulture's voice cracked over the comms, and Stinkbug was thankful for the news. This had been her first time fighting the majority of that team, and it had hardly been a positive experience for her. and yet... "If they ran, that means this is a win... r-right?" Stinkbug ventured the question, to no one in particular, unsure if it even carried out of her suit. The thought certainly raised her tired spirits as she helped pull the next person onto the Big Man's hand.

[Talchyon]

Crimson (aka "Danielle Calavan")

She was going to have to remember that move. The one where her blood webs whipped around the mouth of King, taking his breath away. That, and the protective PRT containment foam that should have kept him here, and yet somehow did not. Someone above her pay grade was going to be pissed at that.

Noticing Chungus' large spirit limb shielding her from the raining concrete and debris, she stirred to get on board. And she saw a hand reaching to help...

Stinkbug pulled herself up off of the ground, slightly dazed from the whiplash of being tossed by Call's power. She heard a ringing in her ear, and for a brief moment feared that she might have sustained head trauma. Stupidly, she put her hand to her hooded scalp, and brought it in front of her face, expecting to see blood. There was none on her gloved hand, and she smacked her visor in realization. The ringing wasn't a ring, it was a muted beep, whining at her from her earpiece, warning of a breach in her suit. She hadn't remembered being hit with anything sharp She patted herself down and twisted her head in an attempt to find the hole, and after a few moments, she did, spotting the thin wisp of gas jettisoning itself from her enclosed system by means of a pin-sized hole on her thigh. She didn't have the time, nor the inclination to suture the wound in the field, and so pulled a thin rubber bandage from a pouch at her hip. Pressing it over the geyser of noxious gas, the material bubbled at the center, but the edges held firm, a suitable enough repair for the moment.

Collecting herself, she saw that Chungus was organizing the retreat, his massive forcefield hand offered to his fellow heroes as a means of escape. Stinkbug had no delusions about the fight: nothing she had done had put a stop to any of the Royals, and based on the looks she thought she was getting from Crimson after her attempt at 'helping,' the young heroine was certain she had in fact done more harm than good. Disappointed in her own performance enough as it was, all she wanted was to get back to HQ and out of her suit, into the comfort of her sealed room. She didn't need Call's help climbing onto Chungus's ghost limb, though she imagined it was only slightly more dignified-looking than the alternative. She offered a hand down for either of her fellow flightless Wards to haul themselves up with.

"Royals are fleeing, boss," Vulture's voice cracked over the comms, and Stinkbug was thankful for the news. This had been her first time fighting the majority of that team, and it had hardly been a positive experience for her. and yet... "If they ran, that means this is a win... r-right?" Stinkbug ventured the question, to no one in particular, unsure if it even carried out of her suit. The thought certainly raised her tired spirits as she helped pull the next person onto the Big Man's hand.

"Thanks," Crimson replied. She didn't know exactly what to think of Stinkbug. The girl was a Case-53, who always were a little abnormal. And her power didn't exactly portray itself for the best of PR. But still. She was on her team. In some ways, the girl couldn't have an easy life. The least Crimson could do was to be a good teammate. "Hey, I mean it. It wasn't our day to bring the Royals down, or even help the PRT to do it. But, we did our best. You did, too." Crimson's tone of voice was sincere, and she hoped it was received that way. She didn't want to think about their losses, or what strategic value the Royals would have in destroying a bridge of all things...

[The Cyberiad Council]

Katelyn Newman aka Vitri

Miraculously, Call had managed to move Response fast enough to save her from becoming a Pollock painting on the sidewalk. Still they couldn't stop the Royals from getting away. Call put her powers to work again. Blue strings snaked their way from her fingertips and found her team and the Wards scattered around the bridge. Once Call had found everyone not already on the enlarged phalanges, she stepped down on the over-sized hand herself. She knew Chungus' powers weren't well suited to prolonged use, and she didn't want tax him any further, so she kept everyone pretty much weightless with her powers while their leader lowered them safely to solid ground.

"What do you want us to do, Sir? Are we going to go after them?"

---

Meanwhile, across town, the landmark Hollywood Theatre was putting on a film festival celebrating the history of art. On this particular day, they were still working their way through classic 70 mm projection. The faces of the crowd were illuminated only by the black and white scenes of Humphrey Bogart acting his way through Casablanca. One man near the middle of the sea of seats wasn't enjoying his time, though. His wife tried to keep him calm, but it wasn't enough to cajole the man.

"Hey you!" the man hissed to the person sitting in front of him, his attempt at keeping his voice low failing spectacularly. "Take off that damn hat!"

The target of his rage was indeed wearing a tall top hat, and turned to face his antagonist. All at once, the pugilistic man's vision began to swim and blur as the light slowly faded. Everything around him distorted till it bore no semblance to reality. He never did manage to get a look at the man with the hat's face, but the last thing he heard before his vision turned black was a faint, refined, "My apologies." Panicked, the man tried to yell, to scream, to tell his wife something was wrong, but he couldn't.

With his distraction dealt with, the hatted man returned to watching the movie, occasionally sampling a piece of popcorn from a classically large bucket of the buttered confections. He couldn't help but be a fan of the old mode of movie storage and viewing over the more modern digital medium. Perhaps the performance didn't quite measure up, but it had so much more than that going for it. It was soaked with history and significance. The fires of time had only served to forge it stronger in the nostalgic of the American consciousness. How novel was the idea; a series of images strung together faster than the eye could tell they had ever been separate. It had built an industry, and shaped society. Entire buildings were built for its visual consumption, and opinions made for its digestion.

By now, people were starting to murmur, looking around at each other confused. Most of them had seen Casablanca before, but this was different. Something had gripped their souls, and not in a benevolent way. Ordered by some hidden compulsion, they stood. This was unacceptable and they didn't know why. Their fists clenched in rage and they didn't know why. They were compelled to stare at the screen incessantly, unblinking. And they didn't know why. And then suddenly, they did. Rage poured into them like a monsoon's deluge over a barren desert. Every corner of their being was gripped with the most primal urge to kill and survive. Yelling fire in a theater would bring disaster and panic. This was neither. It was frenzy.

The hatted man stood and made his way to the exit of the theatre calmly and without being accosted. The film wasn't over yet, but he knew how the entertainment would end. Perhaps he was just a nostalgic old fool pining for something from a bygone era, but he would always love old style projection. Nothing could beat true, physical images whisking by. Images that could be... altered.

To be frank, his purest love was the written word, but maybe that's what pictures were...

Merely words given flesh...

[Okayanos]

Big Chungus feels his power weakening as he carries his teammates to shore like a handful of baby ducklings. By the time he sets them down on shore, his breaths are short and shallow and his limbs feel strained, as though he'd been carrying a heavy weight for too long. When he lets himself down and plants his normal-sized feet on terra firma, he has to take a moment to keep himself from falling over.

"What do you want us to do, Sir? Are we going after them?" Call asks, as laser-focused on the mission as always. Chungus looks up at Vulture, circling overhead like her namesake bird. He’s silent for a time, and keeps his arms and legs rigid, as if that’d help the aching. “Leave them for now. They’re running, and we can be more ready for them when we show up to beat them further. Bring GZ along, we could’ve used him here today.”

Chungus looks over his bedraggled teammates- specifically the Wards. Someone's going to have to get the kids home, and sit out the fun part of filing mission reports and planning another raid on the Royals. "Hm... Eenie, Meenie, Miney, Call. Escort the Wards back to headquarters and debrief them. Shamgar, Response, Vulture, with me. I want to get some surveillance on the hole that Tzar made, see if any threats are left behind."