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The atmosphere in the base was electric, a mix of tension and frenetic energy. The dimly lit room they were working in buzzed with the hum of computers and the soft glow of multiple monitors.

They didn't have much time until Jordans self imposed banishment, so everyone was going full speed ahead on what needed to be done.

One of the back rooms that had been fully fitted before the build of the warehouse had ended, had been transformed into a command center of sorts. Desks were cluttered with maps, files, and one very large coffee machine - while a large whiteboard dominated one wall, covered in scribbles and plans in Mai's handwriting. Jordan stood off to one side, his eyes scanning the room with a mix of bemusement and resignation.

He somewhat regretted that he'd miss the beginnings of this, as Mai would grow his little gang without him there, in a way accomplishing her dream, even if not with superpowers - she made a pretty decent villain after all.

Begrudgingly Mai had agreed with him on his choice, especially after Tattletale had rattled off all the ways the PRT had to figure out the real killer of Miss Militia if they put their back into it. Which they likely would for this.

By morning it would be headline news. So he didn't have too much time. He expected to only have days before someone figured out the connection between him and dying capes in the city.

From there power thief wasn't a far off assumption.

Mai was at the center of the chaos, her sharp eyes constantly flicking between Tattletale, keeping an eye on her, and on him just watching him, while she spoke to a reporter using a burner phone. Tattletale had proved her chops again already, having a name for a reporter that was fairly well known - and likely to spread news far and wide online if no news media picked it up.

Not that any of them believed they wouldn't. The PRT wouldn't have time to squash this, not while already busy dealing with MM's death. By the time the story they were planting was out, it would be too late for Coil.

Tattletale seemed to know of a lot of assholes actually, her power really useful in picking up clues from simple things she'd read or run into in her life. It's how she'd learned about this particular reporter, just from observing him once.

Mai didn't care for his status or reputation and was brusque, direct, and speaking with little patience for nonsense, her voice cutting through the din like a knife. "This story will blow the lid off the PRT, I don't need any more arguments, you know how huge this will be," She said, her tone brooking no argument. "Thomas Calvert is Coil. We have proof."

Her eyes flicked again to Tattletale, without words saying - we better have proof…. Or she'd take it out of Tattletale if she made Mai look like a fool.

Tattletale was frantically typing away at a computer, her fingers flying over the keyboard as she pulled together every scrap of information she could find on Thomas Calvert. Her face was a mask of manic glee, her eyes alight with the thrill of bringing down someone who had tried to take her, no doubt to be a thinker pet, a fate she wouldn't wish on anyone. The glow from the monitors highlighted the intensity in her eyes, the faint freckles on her nose, and the smirk that never quite left her lips.

Jordan didn't need metaknowledge to know she enjoyed fucking with people. It was clear as day on her face.

"Almost there," Tattletale muttered, her voice a blend of concentration and excitement. "Just need to tie this piece in with the financial records... And... Done!" She swiveled around on her seat, a satisfied grin spreading across her face. "That should be enough to start an investigation." She practically purred out, her grin widening in a very smug look.

Mai nodded, her expression unreadable. "Good. Now let's make sure it gets to the right people." She turned back to the phone, her tone shifting to one of command. "This goes live within an hour of you receiving the package. No delays. Understand?" She cracked out, "If it's not out by then, I will give it to someone else, and you'll lose out."

The reporter's voice crackled through the speaker, hesitant but intrigued. "Got it. This better be as explosive as you say, if the proof is shit, it won't fall as you want it to."

"It is," Mai replied curtly, ending the call with a decisive click. She turned to Tattletale, her gaze piercing. "Keep an eye on it. We can't afford any mistakes."

She waved a hand dismissively, "He'll do it, I could tell, don't worry."

She'd likely end up out of it for a day or two if she kept using her power, the two hour nap she'd taken before they started this allowing her to try and use her power again, but Jordan could already see the small signs it was taking its toll.

Mai pursed her lips, giving Tattletale a look, "Keep an eye on it anyway." She ordered tersely.

They'd learn to get along, Jordan thought, eyeing them, feeling like they'd actually be pretty good friends if they could get over their own wariness. If Mai could get over her immediate poor reaction to the fact Lisa could read her with a glance. Mai was not a fan of that, for obvious reasons.

Jordan, standing by a large map pinned to a wall, glanced up from his own work as the ladies finished theirs. He had been studying news reports from surrounding areas, plotting his next moves with a cold, methodical precision. His plan was simple; get so strong, so quickly, that the PRT wouldn't be able to touch him. He traced a finger along the map, marking potential targets, his mind already calculating the risks and rewards of each.

With how circus like the whole hero and villain thing was - it actually helped him. Because villains tended to be in the news. Which means he had locations for a lot of them. Even if only what city they were in.

Heroes as well, although he wasn't as gung ho about killing them. But if a good power was available in a manner he could take it? Heroism wouldn't save them anymore. He'd still stay away from the wards as much as he could though… If he started going down that slope, he'd end up going through Brocktons wards like a grim reaper.

"What's the latest?" He asked, his voice low and steady, wanting more details on what Tattletale had achieved.

Knowing she'd be pleased that he asked. The girl loved showing off.

Tattletale looked up from her screen, her manic energy momentarily subdued, but she did end up preening slightly at his question. "Coil's as good as gone, he won't be able to stay in this city once revealed, he doesn't have the cape backing to handle going full out open villain against all the gangs and the Protectorate. The evidence isn't rock solid, but it's enough to tie him to some things - enough to make an investigation happen."

Since Jordan knew about his underground base, albeit not where, it hadn't been difficult to dig up information on fortress construction and the Endbringer shelters they'd worked on - including the one they 'never finished' that was 'filled in with cement'.

That alone would cripple Coil's operations in Brockton Bay once the Protectorate hit it.

Tattletales attention shifted back to her computer screen, her fingers dancing over the keys. "You know, it's kind of amusing," She said, her voice lightening with a hint of mockery. "Calvert's been a bit of a bad boy. How he managed to climb back up after everything is beyond me, did you know he was court martialed? Want me to dig further into that? There's bound to be more dirt we can use."

Jordan considered it for a moment, then shook his head. "We have enough for now. Once this is out, someone else can finish digging. Our focus needs to be on the immediate future."

He also didn't need her to make herself useless with migraines, just in case Mai had need of her soon, once he left.

Tattletale shrugged, her eyes gleaming with mischief. "Suit yourself. But if you change your mind, let me know. I loooove a good scandal." She stretched languidly, smiling like the cat that got the canary as Jordans eyes were immediately drawn to her.

Mai, who had been busy sending texts, rolled her eyes as she took in their brief interplay, and she turned to Tattletale, her expression a mix of skepticism and grudging respect. "You worked fast. I'll give you that." She acknowledged, kind of sort of, giving a compliment.

Tattletale smirked, leaning back in her swivel chair. "It's what I do. Give me more work, and you'll see just how useful I can be." She purred, having lost some of the nervous mien she'd held when this whole thing started.

Mai's eyes narrowed, her voice lowering to a dangerous whisper. "Just remember, if you dig into me like you did with Calvert, I won't be pleased." She warned.

Jordan wanted to sigh as he slumped slightly, they'd seemed to almost get along there for a minute. Women… He thought with some exasperation.

Luckily, despite the uncanny sensitivity both women possessed, they were too busy staring down each other to notice his thoughts, or body language.

Tattletales smirk widened, a glint of challenge in her eyes. "Noted. But don't worry, I'm on your side, I can do many things that will make you a happy girl."

Mai's lips twitched, and she immediately turned away, Jordan having to hide a chuckle. She hadn't wanted Lisa to realize that she found her amusing at that moment. Or course Lisa couldn't be stopped by such a small thing as a turned back, and she raised her hands in mock victory, meeting Jordan's gaze. He gave her a thumbs up.

Despite the tension and the high stakes, there was a sense of camaraderie forming. It was tenuous, but it was there, or maybe he was projecting. But he'd like to think he was seeing it correctly.

"Sooo. I've been thinking, in-between digging into Tommy boy..." Tattletale said, leaning back in her chair, hands behind her head. Jordan made sure to keep his eyes on her face, earning a pout from the provocateur.

She had settled in unnaturally fast after her short nap, powers really were bullshit. Or was this just her? Jordan supposed it didn't matter, as long as she kept loyal for the next few months.

Mai's eyes narrowed, although her posture had loosened slightly, as she half turned, eyeing Tattletale. "About what?"

"About the next steps for the boss," Tattletale said, her voice gaining a hint of nerves. "If you want to get strong fast… I think you need to pick your targets carefully. Go for Damsel of Distress first. She's nearby, she's alone…" She pursed her lips, giving him an almost hesitant look, "You think your powers negate any negative traits of the powers you get, right?"

Jordan eyed her thoughtfully, "To a certain extent, maybe. It's not something I can know for certain, but so far it seems to have ended up that way."

Mai nodded slowly, "She's not wrong, it's a good target, it's on the list." She sent Tattletale a sharp look, "If it works like that, or he'll be stuck as fucked as that crazy bitch is!"

Tattletale held her hands up, "Hey, that's why I asked, it's bad for me as well if he runs into problems you know?"

Jordan didn't remember much about Damsel of Distress, but he did remember there was supposed to be a problem with her power, one Bonesaw had fixed…"I haven't looked through everything you both gave me yet, why her specifically?"

Mai and Tattletale exchanged a look, Tattletale actually keeping her lips sealed, giving Mai the floor with a small nod.

"There isn't a lot about her power that we had available in such a short time, but she can fire something out of her hands that deletes or completely eradicates what she's aiming at." Mai said, giving Tattletale a nod of thanks, as she was the one that dug up the information.

Although most of it was literally from cruising PHO so it wasn't like it was detective work in this case. Damsel had fairly public incidents and had plenty of things posted about her online apparently.

Jordan could already probably do something similar using Miss Militia's power as what Damsel could do. But as far as he was aware, MM couldn't hurt someone like Alexandria with her weapons. Even a nuke wouldn't stop her.

If Damsel of Distress could delete what was in front of her, that sounded enough like the Siberian that perhaps it would add another anti- triumvirate card in his deck.

"So there's something wrong with her powers?" He asked. He wished he had a perfect memory, but Damsel hadn't exactly been the main character, he barely remembered her at all.

"She can't control it, that's why she's a minor villain hiding out in Stafford, instead of a big shot like she should be." Tattletale murmured, looking briefly commiserate, no doubt imagining if her power went completely out of control.

"It's a risk." Mai brought up, crossing her arms under her bust. "If you gain the same disadvantage…" She trailed off.

Jordan didn't think he would, not with how his powers all seemed to settle in with each other. Grue and Shadow Stalker's powers shouldn't work together after all, but they did in him. This would be the same, surely.

Worst case, he could get a biotinker not Bonesaw, to fix him up.

"I'll likely go for her, she's close by." Jordan said, nodding thoughtfully. "And Boston?" He asked, already sure of his answer, but he wanted Lisa's perspective.

Tattletales expression darkened. "Stay away from Boston. Accord's there. If anyone can plan around you, it's him. He'd figure out your power the moment you killed a Boston cape. He's too dangerous." She sniffed slightly, "Even if he isn't as good as me, of course."

Jordan's eyes flickered with understanding. "Got it. Damsel of Distress first, then I'll steer clear of Brockton and Boston and head out of the area."

He wasn't as afraid of Accord's reach as she apparently was, but he also didn't really need to be around when the PRT inevitably began to realize his threat level.

The room fell into a brief, contemplative silence, each person lost in their own thoughts. The flickering lights and hum of the computers created an almost surreal atmosphere, a stark contrast to the life-or-death decisions being made. With one conversation, Damsel of Distress had been sentenced to death.

Mai broke the silence, her voice firm. "What about the gang? How do you want me to build it while you're gone?"

Jordan's gaze softened as he looked at her. Knowing he was making things harder for her, in a way. "You'll have Tattletales intel. Use it to keep a low profile, but make sure people know we're not like the others when you do make moves. No forced prostitution, slavery or forced addiction. Protect the people, and they'll support you." They'd already talked about it, but perhaps Mai wanted comfort, and just couldn't ask?

He stepped up and gave her a one armed hug. Mai growled lowly in her throat and punched him in the kidneys. But she looked more settled when he stepped away.

Jordan allowed himself a small smile, knowing Mai had what it took, and with Sun Hee and Tattletale as back up, she'd be fine to fly under the radar. "You two will be fine. Just remember, the goal is to build something better. Not just for us, but for everyone stuck in this city."

For Jana.

Mai's gaze softened, and she reached out to squeeze his hand. "We'll do our best, Jordan." I will make sure she's safe, she expressed through the look.

Tattletale's expression was more guarded, seemingly uncomfortable suddenly, but she nodded in agreement. "You can count on us, boss."

He idly played with Miss Militia's power, wondering if a portal gun would be possible, so he could come back if they needed him.

Food for thought.

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An hour later,

Jordan was alone, sitting in one of the finished small apartments, he had just finished reviewing plans for their next move when Sun Hee walked in, followed closely by the blonde girl they had saved, the one who they'd told him had spoken up for the others.

She was a vision of classical beauty, her appearance a blend of almost aristocratic features and a waifish charm. Her face was a perfect oval, framed by a cascade of golden hair that tumbled down her shoulders in a slightly disheveled yet stunningly luminous manner.

Her eyes were her most captivating feature - large, almond-shaped, and a deep, clear blue. They sparkled with intelligence and fierce determination. Her high cheekbones added a touch of elegance, and her delicate nose further emphasized her classical look.

Her body was slender and graceful, almost ethereal in its delicate proportions. Despite her waifish frame, she carried herself with a poise that drew his attention. Her limbs were long and elegant, giving her movements a fluid, almost balletic quality. Her skin was pale and added to her otherworldly beauty, giving her an almost porcelain-like appearance - like a perfectly crafted doll.

He moved his eyes away, not wanting to openly gawk at the pretty girl, not with what she'd experienced lately. She was likely not very fond of men at the moment.

Despite the needle marks visible still on her arms from her forced addiction, she was definitely still a pretty one, albeit slightly waifish looking, a haughty look to her, a classical beauty. There was no need to wonder why the ABB had taken her. She looked European though, which made him wonder how they'd gotten her, or had she been a tourist?

He didn't want to offend her by asking, she had recently 'volunteered' to join, and he didn't want to push.

He wasn't an idiot. They'd all been given a choice of course, they hadn't been press ganged. But when the choice was plague or cholera so to speak - it didn't necessarily make people happy with the choice.

Jordan glanced at Sun Hee, his surprise evident in his eyes at the interruption she'd brought along, as the new girls were all supposed to be under Mai's purview. He was only an hour or two away from leaving, and he'd already said his goodbyes, including to Sun Hee… "Sun Hee, what's going on? Why is she here, Mai couldn't deal with it?" He grumbled out in question.

Sun Hee's usual bubbly demeanor was tempered with a seriousness that caught Jordan off guard. "Jordan, this is... Well, she's cool. A bit weird, but cool. And I think we could use someone else with powers, since you'll be gone, it would help, right?"

Jordan raised an eyebrow, his skepticism clear. "You think I'm a damn vending machine for superpowers now?" In a way, sure… But I don't know this girl.

Sun Hee grinned and pulled a crumpled dollar bill from her pocket, waving it teasingly. "Gimme a power or we start shaking the machine." She lightly threatened/joked.

The aristocratic-looking girl stood there, looking somewhat bemused. Despite her disheveled appearance, she carried herself with a certain air of dignity that was hard to ignore. Jordan wondered if the aristocratic look had some actual weight behind it. She was definitely European, he thought. So it was possible.

Although he couldn't fathom why anyone like that would ever want to visit this shit hole.

He seriously doubted the ABB had enough reach to traffic girls all the way from eastern Europe. They'd have to move through way too much Gesellschaft territory for that. And they wouldn't sell to the ABB from their stock.

Jordan crossed his arms, giving the girl another once-over - this time concentrating on her face. "What's your name, and why do you want powers?" He asked bluntly.

He hardly had time to get to know her, but you could tell a lot by why someone wanted power. And Sun Hee wasn't wrong in the fact that another power would be useful. Sun Hee had a very useful Master/Stranger combo, but it wasn't nearly as useful against a group or more then one cape at a time. And Tattletale was a thinker, not a fighter.

The girl straightened her back, her voice adopting an over-the-top aristocratic tone, it just added to his suspicions, as it was so overly faked it was almost real, in a way - it sounded Eastern European to him, but he couldn't twig if it was Russian or other. He was hardly a linguistic expert. "I am Lady Anastasia Anna Kournikova Romanova the third, but you can call me Anastasia. I wish to protect the people here, the ones who had been slaves with me. And for that, I need power." Her gaze was fierce, as she in no way begged for power, she demanded it.

Jordan blinked, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips. "That's obviously fake, did you just pick all the Russian names you knew?" He asked, bemused, "Although I suppose you managed to get a smile out of me at least. And you seem sincere… You're serious about this?" He asked, double-checking.

Really, what a ridiculous set of names she'd picked for herself, he thought. And why a tennis player in the mix of names? She didn't have the excuse of powers making her weird, not yet. He tilted his head, although she could possibly pull off looking like her little sister, maybe that's what she's going for?

Anastasia nodded, her eyes burning with determination. "Absolutely. You took responsibility when you saved us. Now you need to finish what you started and give me the means to protect them." She stated haughtily, her lips in a firm line as she crossed her arms, "Take responsibility." She said again, firmly, fire burning beneath those perfectly blue eyes.

This one had willpower in spades. She hadn't been broken by her experience, she'd been tempered. He could work with that.

Jordan turned to Sun Hee, his expression questioning. "Does Mai know about this?" He wanted to know. If only I could have been there when this girl introduced herself to Mai…

He hid a smile, the thought of Anastasia rambling off that whole list of fake names in front of an unimpressed Mai tickled him something fierce. He so rarely got to see her flabbergasted.

Lisa and this Anastasia, were both definitely people that didn't enjoy bending their necks. Mai would have her hands full with them, but if she'd given permission… She seemed a good fit for powers.

Sun Hee nodded enthusiastically. "Yep, she's on board. Thinks it's a good idea, actually."

Good idea? He doubted she thought that. A worthwhile gamble, perhaps, she would think.

Worst case Sun Hee could master the girl if she turned out to be a problem. And Tattletale could suss out any issues. In fact, he realized… That was probably what Mai had already done, hence the permission.

With a sigh, Jordan rubbed the back of his neck. "Alright, Anastasia the third. If that's what you want, then let's do this. But first, tell me what you think you'd be good at." He did have several different powers he could hand out.

He could even give her two… if in a worst case situation they'd have to kill her, he'd just get them back.

Anastasia's demeanor perked up slightly as she considered the question. "I've always had a lot of anger, a need to fight back. After what happened… I want to be able to protect and to be able to hit them back, to be strong enough to make sure no one can ever hurt m-us again." The longer she spoke, the more passionate she became.

Jordan nodded thoughtfully at her fiery attitude. "I think I have just the thing. Let's get you set up."

He led Anastasia and Sun Hee to a smaller, more private room in the back of the apartment. The room was sparse, with only a single chair and a table, but it served its purpose, it had less for her to ruin. Jordan gestured for her to sit, while Sun Hee leaned casually against the wall, watching with a mixture of excitement and curiosity.

Jordan took a deep breath, focusing on the first power he intended to transfer. His mind was a whirlwind of thoughts, but he pushed them aside, concentrating on the task at hand. A faint glow enveloped his hands as he reached out to Anastasia, who watched him with wide eyes, an eager smile on her lip.

He just had to trust that Mai and Tattletale had the right idea here. Because he wouldn't be here for the outcome.

"This might feel a bit strange," Jordan warned, his voice steady. "But it'll be over quickly." Last time he'd done it to someone who was unconscious, so he had no real idea what it would feel like.

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Anastasia nodded, bracing herself. The glow intensified as Jordan placed his hands on her shoulders, a rush of energy flowing between them. Her eyes widened further, her body tensing as the power took hold. The glow slowly faded, leaving her breathless and trembling.

Jordan stepped back, observing her carefully. "How do you feel?" He queried, wondering if the lightshow was due to the power he'd chosen, because it hadn't been quite like that when he'd given regeneration to Sun Hee's grandfather.

Anastasia took a moment to collect herself, then stood up, a new sense of confidence radiating from her as she stared at her hands. "I feel... Powerful. Like I can actually make a difference now." She smirked, eyes glittering in excitement, a healthy flush to her cheeks, "I can set things on fire!" She whispered excitedly, at least having the sense to not immediately go spewing fire everywhere.

Jordan had given her pyrokinesis. As they lacked firepower. And like his own powers, she'd immediately gotten the deets on how to use them downloaded in her brain.

Sun Hee clapped her hands, her excitement bubbling over. "This is going to be awesome! Welcome to the team, Ana!"

"Anastasia the third, not Ana!" She snapped back at Sun Hee, but without any heat behind it.

Jordan couldn't help but smile at Sun Hee's enthusiasm, glad that the killings hadn't completely brought her down. He turned back to Anastasia, his expression serious. "Do not practice in base, you did well to not immediately let loose. I will be giving you a secondary power as well…" His eyes narrowed, "You betray us, and I can get them back over your dead body, do not make me do that."

It needed to be said. The fact she was a sex slave and wanted power to protect the others, and to fight back, using them specifically to eradicate that trade eventually in Brockton Bay - made him feel at least somewhat sure of her intentions. And if not, he felt sure that she wouldn't be able to hide from Sun Hee and Tattletale for long, let alone him when he returned.

He'd toss in some of the skills he'd stolen with Victor's power to ensure she wasn't completely incompetent in regular fighting skills too. "I'll be giving you flight as well." He said, wanting to give his people some more versatility, since he wouldn't be here to protect them.

Sun Hee and Anastasia both jumped for joy, one in the honest excitement for the chance to fly, the other just excited that a new friend was happy. Anastasia immediately flushed and put on a haughty look again, daring them to say anything about her break of composure.

He didn't say anything, but he could see on Sun Hee's face that the girl wouldn't be dropping it, her mischievous look telling him there would be some teasing in the future.

It wouldn't be his problem, hopefully.

Flight and pyrokinesis, two powers that would mix together well. Since she had no special durability, she needed the maneuverability instead. And he refused to give out invulnerability, he was saving that one. This would really work out well, if she was on the up and up, he thought.

With Tattletale and Mai running command, Sun Hee able to master people and stay hidden in the shadows, and Anastasia able to be a flying flamethrower. They would have options.

He doubled down on his earlier thoughts on making a portal gun work, because he was now even more sure he needed to check back every few days just to make sure everyone remembered to behave…

That everyone realized he was still able to reach out and remove them if they became an issue. He wasn't expecting betrayal. But Mai had no powers. Refused them. So he wouldn't take too many chances.

There was always the possibility Tattletale had lied about Anastasia being on the up and up to attempt to use her to get away or take over the gang. He doubted it, she feared him still. But it was a possibility.

Unlike Pyrokinesis, Anastasia couldn't wait to try flying. And she was soon zooming across the warehouse they called home, Sun Hee laughingly following her from the ground.

Jordan exited the apartment, meeting Mai's eyes as she stood there, watching the spectacle.

Mai tilted her head slowly, telling him without words that she'd handle it.

Jordan left, heading to spend the last hour with Jana.

He could have dragged things out for another day or two maybe. But he didn't want to risk it.

It was time to go.

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Jordan approached the row of parked cars with a calm, measured stride, his eyes scanning for the right target. He needed something nondescript, reliable, and easy to hotwire. His gaze settled on an old sedan, a model notorious for its lack of advanced security features. Perfect. He glanced around, ensuring the coast was clear, then slipped a slim piece of metal from his pocket. Within seconds, he had the door open and was crouched beneath the steering wheel, his hands moving with practiced efficiency as he worked the wires.

He really needed to kill a flight capable cape at some point. But for now, stealing a car would work well enough. He'd take another once he was done in Stafford, where his first target usually hung around.

The engine roared to life, a sound that filled him with a mix of satisfaction and urgency. He slipped into the driver's seat, closed the door, and took a deep breath. Leaving Brockton Bay wasn't just about escaping the immediate danger; it was about growing stronger, faster, and becoming the force he needed to be to protect his sister and his gang. The thought of his sister, lying in her coma, vulnerable yet protected, tugged at his heart. He was doing this for her, for their future.

As he drove through the desolate streets of Brockton Bay, he couldn't help but feel a pang of guilt. Jana was safe for now, under the watchful eyes of Mai and the others, but leaving her behind went against every protective instinct he had. Yet he knew it was necessary. The city blurred past him, its crumbling buildings and graffiti-covered walls a stark reminder of why he had to leave. He needed to gain power, and fast. Brockton Bay was his battleground, but the world outside held the resources he needed to win.

If he was entirely honest with himself. He likely could get away with healing his sister now. Panacea couldn't stop him from taking her, New Wave couldn't stop him from killing her.

He wasn't strong enough necessarily to prevent a full PRT response, but he could still lead them away on a wild chase after healing her.

Except… The thing he'd avoided thinking too much about.

He was almost positive that Cauldron would take Jana the minute he approached her to heal her. Or even just minutes after he'd healed her. He was well aware she was the perfect leash on him.

So this little trip to get stronger had more reasons than he'd stated to Mai and the others. If Contessa was pathing him, it was doomed to fail anyway, but he had to try. But if she wasn't doing it constantly, if, as he thought, his path changed too much with each added power…

He might be able to slip through the cracks, and become powerful enough Cauldron would negotiate with him, or leave him be, instead of going for a hostage.

Or if he was supremely lucky, he was a blindspot and none of these thoughts mattered.

He doubted he was that lucky, so he'd just have to become so strong, so quickly, that even Alexandria wouldn't dare be a bitch. A difficult goal to reach, but not insurmountable.

The journey out of the city was both a relief and a burden. With each mile, the weight of his responsibilities seemed to lessen as he left it all to Mai, but the gravity of his mission loomed larger - he couldn't afford to slow down, or to fail.

As the city gave way to the open highway, Jordan felt a strange mix of freedom and resolve. The landscape changed, the oppressive atmosphere of Brockton Bay replaced by the vastness of the countryside.

He stopped for nothing, and just continued driving until he reached Stafford, willing himself forward, wanting Damsel out of the way before the manhunt began. The PRT wasn't going to stay fooled for long, and with their best thinkers on the job, he would likely be outed any day now.

'Grue' would be known as a power thief. And once that was out there, things would become dicey.

Stafford, New Hampshire, was a stark contrast to Brockton Bay. The small town was quaint, almost picturesque, with its well-kept houses and tree-lined streets. It felt like a place untouched by the chaos he was so accustomed to. Jordan drove slowly, taking in the details of his new surroundings. The town was quiet, almost serene, but he knew better than to let his guard down. Even in a place like this, danger could lurk beneath the surface.

Damsel of Distress might not go around and bully people quite the same as the Empire or ABB, but she could practically erase him if he ran into her. And her power was one he didn't want to test his shadow intangibility on.

He'd have Miss Militia's power for long and mid range, and Damsels for close quarters, as what information was available on her put her as only able to fire cones of destruction within 15 feet or so max, usually less. The control issue hopefully wouldn't be an issue for him, but her power was worth the risk.

It held enough comparisons to the Siberian and other such powers. Powers that worked on even high end capes like Alexandria. With Shadow Stalkers powers he could likely hurt her as well, especially coupled with Miss Militia's power. But that would have to have him fast enough to actually hit her. Damsels power wouldn't fix the speed issue, but it would allow him to stop her approaching him, as he could simply fire and force her back if she tried.

It was simply one more tool in the arsenal, a valuable tool, but not a complete game changer. All in all, a good first pick for this quick power gathering tour.

If only he could break into the Birdcage… He wouldn't even have to feel bad about killing the people in there too…

He found a secluded spot to park, away from prying eyes. The stolen car, now just a tool for his mission, was hidden in an alley, a dumpster blocking its view from the street. Jordan took a moment to gather his thoughts, pulling out a worn notebook filled with scribbles and notes. Tattletales intel was his guide, and he reviewed it meticulously. Damsel of Distress had regular sightings in this area, often frequenting a few specific spots. He needed to see her, to understand her movements and habits to line up for the perfect shot, without drawing attention to himself.

He didn't want to risk going up close to her to ambush her. He was going to be using Miss Militia's power to take her down from long range or mid range. Depending on how his tests with a sniper rifle would go.

The first location was a rundown industrial area on the outskirts of town, the town close enough to Brockton Bay that they too had seen industry die once the port in Brockton did. Jordan approached it cautiously, staying in the shadows and observing from a distance, getting up on rooftops in his shadow form to scout. The buildings were old and dilapidated, remnants of a time when industry had thrived here. Now, they stood silent and empty, a perfect hiding place for someone like the Damsel who couldn't control her power properly and regularly did damage to her surroundings. He scanned the area, noting any signs of activity. It was quiet, too quiet, but he knew better than to underestimate her.

He didn't expect to see her right away; this was reconnaissance, not confrontation. Patience was key, although he couldn't take too long either.

A day or two. Then he'd move on, even if he didn't find her. He was too close to Brockton and Boston, the two Protectorate teams most likely to bay for 'Grue's' blood soon. He was fairly certain he could take any of their heroes one on one. But for the whole group? He'd probably have to pull on some annihilation tactics, like a mini nuke launcher from Fallout.

He only thought of it as a laser pistol from the same franchise had worked already, so he was surprised and freaked out when his power put said weapon in his hands, a miniature nuke football locked and loaded in the large two handed launcher. His eyes were fixed on the nuke launcher he held in his hands, the device, a bulky and menacing piece of machinery, felt cold and heavy against his skin. Its dark metal exterior was marred with scratches and dents, and looked slapped together, paint almost fully scratched off.

The launcher's 'barrel' was long and wide, making it cumbersome to hold, it was designed to hurl small devastating nuclear footballs over short distances - it was insane to want to launch nuclear weaponry at short distances... But it held true to its design. He'd certainly used it enough playing the games, it felt heavier holding it in his hands, his heart beating fast in his chest as he realized what exactly he was holding.

He immediately switched the power to a simple combat knife, sweating profusely and catching the breath he'd choked on as he did, when it really caught up to him that he was holding a nuclear bomb.

That was dangerous.

So very very dangerous.

It was good to know he had it in his back pocket if all else failed. But by god was that not something he felt comfortable carrying. He was nuclear capable. It certainly made him more of a threat, but it was eminently dangerous to himself as well, he doubted the fact you could stand thirty feet away in the game and walk away fine translated to here.

If he fired that, he'd be standing in ground zero, and shadow intangibility or not, he wasn't keen to test that.

Jordan stayed in the area for hours, yet he found nothing conclusive. It was frustrating, but he knew he had to be thorough. He couldn't afford any mistakes. As dawn approached, he decided to call it a night. He had searched enough of the area to at least be sure where she wasn't, and now he needed to rest for a few hours and regroup.

He'd found several places at the end with suspiciously damaged walls and floors, so he might be getting closer to her area. So he'd get some sleep, get some practice in with the sniper rifle outside town, and then come back and finish his survey, hopefully locating his target.

He returned to the car, using his knife to rip the backseats apart, fastening the leather against the windows, to give himself some darkness so the sun wouldn't keep him awake.

Then he settled down in the front seat, leaning it back as far as it went, and fell asleep practically immediately, the stress and mental exertion over the last 48 hours having led to significant exhaustion.

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A few hours later, Jordan drove out of Stafford, the quiet hum of the car engine blending with the early morning tranquility. He needed to practice, to perfect his skills before facing Damsel of Distress. His destination was a secluded rural area, far from prying eyes and the curious ears of townsfolk. The rolling fields stretched out in all directions, dotted with the occasional tree and fenced pastures, providing the perfect backdrop for his training.

After driving for half an hour, he found an abandoned farmstead. The house, a weather-beaten structure with peeling paint and broken windows meant no pesky people that could hear him. Surrounding it were vast, empty fields, with no signs of life or habitation for miles. Satisfied with the isolation, Jordan parked the car behind the barn and stepped out, stretching his limbs and taking in the fresh air.

He walked through the knee-high grass, the morning dew dampening his boots, until he reached a suitable spot. Using a few old fence posts and some discarded wood, he set up makeshift targets at various distances, ranging from fifty to five hundred yards. The crude targets stood stark against the backdrop of green fields and blue sky. Easy enough to pick out, not that he was an expert on how to do this.

Jordan took a deep breath, focusing his thoughts as he activated Miss Militia's power. In his hands, a sniper rifle materialized, sleek and deadly. The cold metal felt solid against his skin, the weight reassuring. He adjusted the scope, peering through it to ensure the crosshairs aligned perfectly with the distant targets.

He didn't know enough to mess around with it, but with his power he didn't need to, it arrived fully loaded and set for immediate use. Which meant he didn't need to be an expert, he just needed to learn how to shoot it, and get used and familiar with the weight and idiosyncrasies of the weapon.

He started with the closest target, taking his time to familiarize himself with the rifle's mechanics. The first shot rang out, a sharp crack that echoed across the fields. The bullet missed the target by a wide margin, embedding itself in the dirt. Jordan frowned, adjusting his stance and grip. He needed to get this right.

He hadn't expected to get it perfect, but he hadn't expected to miss so badly either.

With each shot, he made slight adjustments, learning to control his breathing, steady his aim, and compensate for the rifle's recoil, learning how to keep his body and mind still. Slowly but surely, his accuracy improved. The next few shots hit the target, albeit not dead center - eventually he began getting it right well enough and he moved on to the further targets, the increased distance adding a layer of complexity to the task. He had to account for wind, bullet drop, and other environmental factors, all while maintaining his focus.

Hours passed, the sun climbing higher in the sky, casting long shadows across the fields. Jordan's concentration never wavered. He fired shot after shot, each one bringing him closer to his goal. His shoulders ached from the repeated recoil, and his eyes grew tired from peering through the scope, but he pushed on. This training was crucial. He couldn't afford any mistakes when facing Damsel of Distress.

He wouldn't be so lucky as to have her stand still for long periods of time, posing for him, so he needed every drop of skill he could squeeze out, to ensure he took her out. He did not want to have to get close to her. Even mid range was dangerous as he could think of several ways someone with her powerset could close in quick.

By mid afternoon, he had developed a rhythm, a sense of connection with the rifle. His shots were more consistent, hitting the targets with increasing accuracy. He adjusted his grip slightly, leaned into the weapon, and squeezed the trigger. The bullet flew straight and true, hitting the target dead center. Jordan allowed himself a small smile of satisfaction. He was getting there.

It did help that for all the weapons skills he'd stolen from old folks' homes, and handed out to the small number of people in his gang, he'd retained a small percentage of the knowledge, giving him a base to work from.

He practiced different positions, from prone to crouching, simulating the various scenarios he might encounter. Each new stance presented its own challenges, but he adapted quickly, his body learning to work with the rifle rather than against it. He fired from behind cover, over obstacles, and while moving, each drill designed to prepare him for any situation.

The less said about how shit his shots were when moving, the better. Obviously sniper rifles were not meant for it, but he'd tried anyway.

As the day wore on, Jordan took a brief break, wiping sweat from his brow and drinking some water. The physical exertion combined with the mental strain was exhausting, but he felt a sense of accomplishment. He had come a long way since his first clumsy shot. His confidence grew with each successful hit, each target struck down.

He wouldn't be able to match any professional by a mile, but from a rooftop within the same block? He felt confident he'd be able to do it.

Soon enough Jordan returned to his car, the sniper rifle dissolving back into a combat knife that slotted into the holster on his belt. He drove back to town, his mind already strategizing the next move. The training had been a success, and now it was time to put it to use. The hunt was on, and he was ready.

He would go through the rest of the industrial area tonight.

If Tattletales information was correct, Damsel was more active at night, less people to get in her way, or to notice her… Issues.

He took a deep breath, acknowledging the fact he was about to commit another murder. Accepting it. Moving past it.

Compared to the likes of the ABB or the S9, his addition to the crapsack nature of this world was hardly even worth mentioning.

He didn't enslave anyone, didn't torture or break people. He simply killed them.

With how this world was, with how Damsel couldn't control her power, couldn't live properly.

It was practically a mercy.

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The sun had set by the time Jordan arrived at one of the rooftops overlooking the industrial area he had scouted earlier. The night air was cool, a gentle breeze rustling through the leaves of the sparse trees that dotted the outskirts of the dilapidated buildings. The industrial area was a labyrinth of old warehouses, crumbling factories, and abandoned machinery. It reminded him of Brockton Bay… At least the rest of the small town wasn't as crappy, yet.

Probably the lack of Nazis and sex traffickers…

He could feel himself getting close, there wasn't much area left over to be searched - and she had to be here - if she was in Stafford at all. Her lack of control wouldn't allow her to stay in the well lived areas for long.

Jordan moved with silent precision, his footsteps barely a whisper as he climbed to another vantage point. His eyes scanned the area below, alert for any sign of movement. He quickly turned shadow and began moving over the rooftops. The place was a ghost town, devoid of life, but Jordan knew better than to let his guard down, remaining careful as he moved. His patience paid off about thirty minutes later, when he finally spotted her - Damsel of Distress.

She stood in the middle of a wide, open space between two old factory buildings, her posture exuding arrogance and confidence. Even from a distance, Jordan could see her striking appearance. Damsel, or Ashley as he had learned from the information packet, had an arrogant air about her. Her pale skin and platinum blonde hair made her look more heroic than villainous, her hair cascading down in wild, untamed waves - even though he could tell it was slightly unkempt. Her eyes were a piercing pale blue, filled with a mix of anger and disdain. She wore a black dress that looked both out of place and perfectly fitting in the desolate industrial landscape, its tattered edges fluttering in the breeze.

He'd arrived almost too close, climbing over a rooftop and ending up close enough he could see her facial expressions. He'd have to back up a little to use the sniper rifle properly, and to have enough cover, as he saw that she wasn't alone.

Because of course she wasn't.

Two figures stood opposite her, their postures tense but non-threatening. Jordan quickly recognized them as heroes just by their outfits and their coloration, though he didn't know their names. They seemed to be trying to talk her down, their body language more diplomatic than combative. The taller of the two was a man, his dark hair neatly cropped and his costume a sleek, armored design in shades of blue and silver, with several pouches attached. The woman beside him was shorter, with a less athletic build, her costume less cape-like, but the bright colors still indicated a hero.

From his perch, Jordan strained to hear their conversation, the distance making it difficult to catch every word. He shifted slightly, positioning himself to get a better view and listen more closely. He wanted to know the situation before he proceeded.

He already knew he'd kill her tonight. He didn't want to risk following her after this confrontation, or risk anything else going wrong. Better to deal with it while she was distracted, but he'd prefer to know a little more about these heroes, and what they were about first.

In case they managed to chase him down after. Although neither looked like a speedster thankfully. Although if they were… Might have been worth killing.

Except he wasn't taking the risk right now of killing two people closely together. He didn't want to know what kind of mishmash of powers that would lead to with something as dangerous as Damsels powers.

"Ashley, calm down," The male hero said, his voice carrying a tone of authority although rife with impatience. "There's no need for this to get out of hand. Just step back, and we can talk."

"Call me Damsel of Distress!" Ashley's voice was a sharp retort, laced with fury. "Stop interfering with my plans. You have no right to be here!" She raised an arm slightly, from where she was holding them pointed downwards, "This is my territory!"

The female hero stepped forward, her hands raised in a placating gesture. "Ashley, we don't want to fight. Just tell us what you want, and we can figure something out. There's no need for anyone else to get hurt tonight."

Ashley's eyes blazed with anger, and she took a step forward, her movements aggressive. "I don't need your pity or your patronizing words. I am Damsel of Distress, and you will respect that!" One of her hands now pointed forward, albeit still sloping downwards, "Edict… Licit," She ground out, looking from one to the other. "Get out of here, now!"

The female hero, whom Jordan heard being called Edict, tried to defuse the situation again. "Ashley, we're just trying to help. Please, let's talk this through, stress isn't good for you."

"Damsel of Distress!" Ashley screamed, her voice echoing through the empty industrial complex. Her anger seemed to reach a boiling point, and Jordan watched as she raised her hands, the air around her shimmering with an almost imperceptible energy.

The next moment, a deafening noise filled the air, a sharp, high-pitched sound that seemed to cut through everything. A cone of destructive energy erupted from Ashley's hands, obliterating the stretch of pavement in front of her, the heroes jumping back, even if they hadn't been close enough anyway - probably by design if they knew her. The sheer force of the blast threw her back ten feet, as she cackled.

Jordan's eyes widened as he took in the display of power. The cone had eradicated everything in its path, leaving a gaping hole in the ground like the matter had simply been deleted from existence. He could feel the reverberations even from his rooftop perch. Damsel of Distress was powerful, more than he had initially anticipated.

Something like that could kill almost any hero or villain that got within reach. He wanted it.

Licit and Edict, quickly recovered from the shockwave. They stepped forward cautiously, their expressions a mix of concern and determination. Neither one of them seemed to be fearing for their lives, nor did they seem to blame her for the act either.

"Ashley, you need to stop this!" Edict called out, her voice firm. "You're only going to hurt yourself and others. Please, let us help you."

Ashley struggled to her feet, her eyes wild with rage. "I don't need your help! I can handle myself. I am in control!" She emphasized her last words, though the blast that had just thrown her back suggested otherwise.

Jordan observed the scene with growing want, hoping the heroes wouldn't chase her away. The heroes seemed genuine in their desire to help, but Ashley's volatility made the situation precarious. He knew he had to act quickly and decisively. He began setting up, floating back in shadow form, finding another rooftop with a good sight, a little further away.

He soon lay prone on a rooftop, the sniper rifle materializing in his hands, its cold metal a familiar weight. He adjusted the scope, peering through it to get a clear view of Ashley. She was pacing back and forth now, her anger still palpable, but there was a momentary lapse in her aggressive stance. Edict and Licit continued to talk to her, their voices a barely audible murmur from Jordan's position - although he knew they were almost shouting at each other, or he'd have heard nothing from his new perch.

"Ashley, think about what you're doing," Licit was saying, holding his hands up. "You don't have to be alone in this. We can help you control your power, or at least help you live with it, your stubbornness has gone on long enough, let us help."

Ashley's laugh was harsh and filled with bitterness. "Control? You think you can help me control this? You're delusional. I'm better off without your meddling."

Edict's tone was softer, almost pleading. "Ashley, please. We've seen what you can do. We don't want to fight you. Just let us help, you almost killed someone today, is that what you want?"

Ashley's response was another blast, though this one was less powerful, more of a warning shot than an all-out attack and only covered about 5 yards all in all. The heroes dodged away from it easily, even if they hadn't needed to, but the message was clear - she was not interested in talking.

Jordan steadied his breathing, his finger resting lightly on the trigger. He waited for the right moment, his eyes never leaving Ashley. He needed her to be still, to stop moving just long enough for him to take the shot. He watched as she continued to argue, her gestures dramatic and wide, her anger making her careless with the position of her hands.

Edict and Licit tried again, their voices calm and measured, but Ashley's rage was a barrier they couldn't breach. She finally paused, standing with her arms crossed, glaring at the heroes with an air of superiority. Almost posing haughtily.

Jordan's heart pounded in his chest as he lined up the shot. He mentally thanked her for being a drama queen, for giving him the perfect opening. He exhaled slowly, steadying his aim, and then… He squeezed the trigger.

The rifle cracked, the sound echoing through the night. The bullet flew true, though not perfectly. He had aimed for the spot between her eyes, but the shot went slightly upward. It still struck her head, blowing her brains out in a gruesome display, his own head erupting in pain as power flowed in, his body tensing as it settled in, the pain rushing through him.

Ashley's body crumpled to the ground, lifeless, the heroes reacting instantly, their eyes widening in horror and disbelief. They looked around, trying to locate the source of the shot, but Jordan was already on the move, his sniper rifle dissolving into his knife setting, even as he turned shadow and floated down the rooftop, immediately making his way away from the scene.

His head ached tremendously, a full blown migraine pounding at him as Damsels power settled in, he wanted to lay down and just rest his head somewhere, but he couldn't afford to. If the heroes had any brains, they'd be looking for exactly someone like him - new to the town, skulking about on the outskirts.

Jordan made his way back to the car, keeping to the shadows and avoiding any open spaces. He reached the vehicle without incident, sliding into the driver's seat and starting the engine. He drove away from the industrial area, his eyes constantly scanning the surroundings for any sign of pursuit.

The roads were empty, the night quiet save for the hum of the engine. Jordan felt a mix of relief and tension. He had taken down Damsel of Distress, but the heroes' presence meant the incident would draw attention. He needed to put distance between himself and Stafford before the authorities got involved.

They likely wouldn't place it at his feet yet. But by the time the thinkers tied Grue to MM's death, someone would clock on that Damsels death by sniper rifle was tied to him as well. Right now he still had the time to get out clean, the heroes having no reason to believe the sniper shot was a cape.

The night stretched on as Jordan navigated the winding roads, leaving Stafford behind. The mission had been a success, but there was no time to rest. He had more power to acquire, more battles to fight, and a sister to save. The journey was far from over, and Jordan was ready for whatever came next. He'd head out of state now, draw eyes away from Brockton Bay and the surrounding areas…

And lucky for him, just from what his aching head was telling him, he did not have control issues. Saving him having to go find a biotinker to kill or threaten into fixing him.

Although unfortunately the recoil and the awful noise would persist from what he could feel. He'd have to test it properly to see by how much, but the recoil wouldn't necessarily be bad, it would be instant movement if he used it properly, almost a mover rating on its own.

And who didn't want to fly back and forth using fuck off and die fields? It wouldn't be easy to go into a melee with him now. Not that it was before really either.

As soon as he'd put some miles between Stafford and himself, he'd test it out. The more tools he had against triumvirate level threats, the better.

Well… As soon as his head didn't feel like someone had taken a sledgehammer to it, anyway…

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2 days later, Brockton Bay.

Armsmaster's workshop was a haven of order and precision, a stark contrast to the chaotic nature of his thoughts at the moment. The room was lit by a series of bright, overhead lights, illuminating the various tools and projects meticulously arranged on the metal workbenches. Shelves lined the walls, filled with spare parts, weapon prototypes, and armor modifications. The faint hum of machinery provided a steady background noise, a reminder of the continuous work being done.

Colin sat at his workbench, his focus on a small device he was tinkering with. His fingers moved with practiced precision, but his mind was elsewhere, replaying the events of the past few days. The death of Hannah had left a void in the team and an even deeper one in his sense of duty. The revelation that Hookwolf hadn't been the killer, after all, gnawed at him, adding to the frustration and anger simmering just beneath the surface.

Finding that out, had confirmed to him that his emotional knee jerk reaction had been a faulty response. If he'd gone with his usual modus operandi, if he'd performed a deeper scan and forensic investigation, he wouldn't be in the situation he was now. The incident had confirmed he should never let emotions rule his actions.

The news reports about Coil… That had further created issues for them at a time when they had no time for it. The director was practically frothing at the mouth, demanding they found Calvert immediately.

Colin seriously doubted the man was even in the state any longer, his base had already been empty by the time they'd been able to hit it, over a day after the news was released. Bureaucracy was the death of heroism, Colin thought with irritation.

At least Calvert was the Director's problem more than his, he had other things on his mind.

The monitor on his desk flickered to life, drawing his attention. Dragon's familiar face appeared on the screen, her expression warm and sympathetic. Colin had asked her to keep an eye on the investigation for him, the Guild involved now that the man in question had gotten a kill order.

"Colin," She began, her voice softening the harsh lines of his tension. "I have some updates from Watchdog about the investigation."

Colin nodded curtly, setting aside his tools. "Go on."

Dragon hesitated for a moment, choosing her words carefully. "They've determined for sure that the villain known as Grue is the real culprit behind Miss Militia's death. Forensic investigations have shown that the cuts and injuries were all wrong for Hookwolf's style. Coupled with the other information gathered, and the thinkers able to see the past of objects - it appears it was all staged."

Colin's jaw tightened, his eyes narrowing as he absorbed the information. "So, Hookwolf wasn't responsible. It was Grue all along." His voice was laced with barely suppressed anger.

The confirmation was the nail in the coffin of his perfect reputation.

"Yes," Dragon confirmed. "Watchdog's team found discrepancies that led them to this conclusion. The staging was almost perfect for a cursory inspection, but the details didn't match up upon closer inspection."

Colin's hands clenched into fists, the metal of his gauntlets creaking under the pressure. "I killed Hookwolf based on the evidence we had. The PRT may have quietly approved of it even with no evidence it was me, but now that it's clear he wasn't the one... I'm unofficially going to be in the doghouse." Normally he wouldn't even reveal this much, but Dragon already had it figured out anyway.

Dragon's gaze softened with understanding. "I know this is difficult, Colin. The PRT's approval of retaliation, however unofficial, was conditional on the belief that Hookwolf was guilty. This revelation changes everything." They both knew there would be no official reprimand, certainly no charges laid.

It would all be swept under the rug. But his superiors would know that Colin got it wrong.

Colin's anger flared, but he kept his tone controlled. "Hannah's death and its aftermath will no doubt put me on probation of sorts - even if not framed that way." He groused.

He was still angry and upset she was gone, but this hit to his reputation over it, took up his focus at the moment.

Dragon nodded, her expression serious. "I understand. I assume you're not letting it go, I know you, Colin… Watchdog has confirmed that Grue has left Brockton Bay. What are your plans now?"

Colin leaned back in his chair, his mind racing. "I'll gather as much information as I can first. Assault mentioned investigating a black man that fits Grue's profile. He found an apartment building he'd rented not long ago. He also described an accomplice, an Asian teenage girl with a scarred face."

No one knew names, as usually for the area. But he had descriptions, and it shouldn't be too hard to find such a girl.

Dragon's eyes widened slightly. "That's a solid lead - someone with an injury like that should be easy to find. Do you have any more details on this girl?"

Colin shook his head. "Not much. Just the description Assault provided. I'll need to dig deeper to find out more." If Piggot will let me…

Dragon's voice took on a more concerned tone. "Colin, I know you want justice for Miss Militia, but please be careful. Although it's not official yet, there is a suspicion he can copy or steal powers. An incident in Strafford with a sniper rifle is suspected to be a possible use of her powers…"

Colin's expression softened slightly at her concern. "I know, Dragon. I won't act rashly. But I can't let Hannah's killer go unpunished." Or let them get away with tarnishing my reputation, catching them will bring me back up, maybe even further.

Dragon nodded, her eyes reflecting her worry for him. "I'll support you in any way I can. Keep me updated on your progress."

Colin nodded in acknowledgment. "I will. Thank you, Dragon."

Dragon's image flickered slightly as she adjusted her connection. "Have you considered the possibility that Grue might have more allies than just this girl? If he's capable of staging such an elaborate scene, he might have more resources at his disposal."

Colin frowned, considering her words. "It's possible. I'll have to factor that into my investigation. But first, I need to follow up on the leads I have."

Dragon's voice was gentle but firm. "And if you find him? What then?"

Colin's eyes hardened, his resolve clear. "Then I'll bring him to justice, one way or another." He knew what she was asking. She was asking if he was going to go as far again as he had with Hookwolf.

He wouldn't make that emotional mistake again. If he died it would be because Colin had already evaluated all other options. The man had a kill order, so if in the end he was forced to use lethal force, he would.

But never again would he go for it as the first response.

Dragon sighed softly, understanding the depth of his determination. "I know you will. Just remember, you're not alone in this. We all want justice for Miss Militia."

Colin's expression softened for a moment, a flicker of gratitude crossing his features. "I appreciate that, Dragon. It means a lot."

The connection between them remained silent for a few moments, both lost in their thoughts. Finally, Dragon spoke again, her voice steady. "I'll continue to monitor any new information that comes in. If anything changes, I'll let you know immediately."

Colin nodded. "Thank you. I'll do the same."

The screen went dark, and Colin was left alone in his workshop once more. The anger and frustration still simmered within him, but now it was tempered with a renewed sense of purpose. He stood, pacing the room as he reviewed the information Assault had provided.

He remembered the details Assault had shared about the black man who fit Grue's profile. The apartment building he had rented was a starting point. Colin knew he needed to approach this methodically, gathering all available information before making any moves. The description of the Asian girl with the scarred face was another piece of the puzzle. He needed to find out who she was and how she was connected to Grue.

Colin's thoughts were interrupted by a soft chime from his computer. He walked over to the desk, tapping a few keys to bring up the new message. It was a report on Shadow Stalker Dragon had requested earlier - sending along its results to him as well as the rest of the PRT in Brockton, detailing the latest findings on Grue's activities across Brockton Bay and matching it with areas Stalker had frequented. Colin scanned the document quickly, noting the key points.

Colin's eyes narrowed as he read the details. If he really could steal or copy powers, as Dragon and Watchdog suspected. Shadow Stalker was a likely victim. Now that he was focused on the issue, it seemed unlikely she would have fallen to simple gangsters.

She had a history of violent altercations and didn't have many issues in fights, except her propensity for going overboard. Her powers also made it very unlikely she'd die from a bullet.

He hadn't bothered investigating very deeply when it happened, Shadow Stalker seemed like someone who was always going to have a violent end, the director waving the matter aside. And with how busy Brockton Bay was with them so outnumbered, it hadn't been a priority, especially with the cover story that she'd transferred.

Colin would need to look into who else on the cape scene might have lost their lives lately since Grue's appearance. Perhaps those rumors about the Empire were true?

As he prepared to leave the workshop, Colin took one last look at the monitor where Dragon's image had been. Her support and concern were a reminder that he was not alone in this fight. With renewed determination, he stepped out into the night, ready to follow the trail and bring Miss Militia's killer to justice.

His reputation was on the line.

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