In an old junkyard, piles of overgrown, ruined cars and vehicle parts left strewn in every direction, dogs of all type and breed lounging, running around, playing, sleeping, whatever it is that dogs do.

Mica sits cross-legged atop an old school bus, all the internal seats thrown out and left out to serve as makeshift dog beds. The bus itself has been messily spray-painted black, covered in an assortment of different chaotic designs in various colors. Mica is eating a sandwich- one she stole from a local deli- while a big rottweiler lazily rests with her, its head comfortably in her lap.

She looks out over her 'pack' from her vantage point, enjoying the evening.

Towards the street, the sound of a car coming to a halt and doors shutting echoes out. Not long later, the sounds of a group picking their way through the junkyard could be heard. If any were to see them, they would immediately pick out the well-known image of Sovereign at the front, vintage suit and top hat somehow remaining unruffled even in this particular environment. His steps are stable, supported by a shoulder-height staff topped in golden ornamentation- the same gold that his almost bird-like mask was made of. Behind him, a trio of young men in sharp black suits followed, hands near, but not on, the pistols holstered at their hips.

Before Sovereign even steps foot into the junkyard, Mica has already heard his car, his footsteps, she smelled his foreign stench and how it clashes with the familiar smell of her home.

Mica stands, her dogs reacting. Not in a show of aggression, but defensive, the dogs watching the every move of the men, analyzing and preparing for any shows of hostility.

Mica bristles. "Who the FUCKSHIT are you?" She calls down from her vantage point on the bus roof, her stature similarly defensive. She didn't want a fight, but she wasn't going to be pushed out of her home, either, if that's what this was all about.

Sovereign comes to a halt, planting his staff in the dirt before him, while his right hand goes out to the side, signaling his men to remain calm. The dark, squared eyes of his mask settle on the girl.

"I am Sovereign, lord of The Court. Would I be correct in assuming you are the cape causing the unusual behavior of canines these past few days?"

"Never heard of you, or that. Nothing words."

She crouches down, holding her face in her hands. "That's me, Sir Topham Hatt. There a problem?"

With a wave of his hand, the three unpowered men pull back, heading towards the entrance of the junkyard.

"You will find that I am quite amenable to my fellow parahuman. There will be no problems from me, though if you remain here for much longer, you may find that the PRT and it's little soldiers will bring their own problems to your doorstep. I decided to search for you first and offer you other options, as opposed to the likelihood of the PRT forcibly recruiting you and separating you from your dogs. "

Mica jumps down, landing right in front of Sovereign, kicking up a plume of dust around her as her boots meets dusty earth.

"If those snotguzzling shitbrains come near me or my dogs I'll rip 'em apart," she says matter-of-factly. But her confidence wavers a little.

"... But y'know, what are the options...?"

Sovereign lets out the slightest of sighs at the girl's choice in vocabulary.

"You always have the option to send me away and remain here, though that would run the likely risk of being stripped of your options by the PRT. The remaining options I can provide you with are these-"

"The first would be to allow me to relocate you and your dogs to a safer location. One that is less likely to draw the attention of the agents of the law. Of course, if I do so, I would ask that you avoid joining forces with the PRT or other parahuman gangs in the city, as a condition for my aid."

"The second would be for you to enlist our aid in the defense of this location. This would, unfortunately, be quite expensive, as it would bring us into direct conflict with the PRT. There is also no guarantee that this place could be successfully guarded at all times of day if the PRT knows of it's location."

"Lastly, you have the option of joining me. Such conditions are below one such as yourself," he states, glancing around the junkyard. "As a member of the Court, you would never need to worry for the safety or care of your dogs again. It would be a trivial matter for us to provide for your pack, just as it would be to provide you with a proper home. Close to your dogs, of course."

"Hmmmph."

Mica stuffs her hands into her hoodie pockets. "So what's the catch? Option one sounds too good to be true and three is so vague. Do I need to wear a stupid tophat too? What's up with that."

"The catch, as you say, is what you may expect. To join the Court is to protect the Court and its ideals. We offer a great many services to villains, rouges, and heroes, and on occasion, the act of fulfilling said services requires a bit of extra work. Most often, I must defend my people as they carry their cargo into the city. Such acts of smuggling are rather frowned upon by the law, unfortunately. Of course, if such actions are counter to your desires, there are other tasks that need doing within my empire. Meeting with associates, collecting dues from the businesses we protect, training new, unpowered recruits. If you join us, I will find a place for you that we both find acceptable."

He pauses for a moment of contemplation.

"And no. You do not need to wear a top hat. Though I would prefer if we acquired somewhat more appropriate clothing for you. After all, child, if you want respect, you must have power, and you must have style."

Mica shifts her weight from foot to foot.

"Yuh-huh. Am I gonna have to hurt people? I don't like hurting people unless I absolutely have to."

"There may come a time when it is necessary. The Court promotes order amongst the villainous aspects of the city. On occasion, we must fight others to protect what little stability this city clings to. But, rest assured, we do not go searching for battle. And if it must take place, you will not be alone. I and the Court would stand by your side."

Mica huffs, taking a step back and wandering around Sovereign, thinking. A few dogs get up to lazily follow her in the rough circle.

While she liked her setup, she realized it wasn't sustainable, and her dogs went hungry too often than she'd like. Stealing from the local corner stores was going to get some heroes to root her out sooner or later.

"Alright," she says, stopping in front of Sovereign again. "I'll join your little richboy club, I guess."

Sovereign remains still as the girl paces, utterly at ease even surrounded by dogs and a their parahuman master.

"Then I welcome you, child, to the Court. While such an occasion would, perhaps, call for ceremony, I will settle simply for asking your name."

"'S Mica," she answers. "Mica Hirsch."

Sovereign lets out an aborted laugh as he listens to Mica.

“Not your civilian name, girl, your cape name. Keep your true name close to your chest.” He shakes his head in mild amusement.

“I will make a call and have my men bring a few vans around. Can you keep the dogs calm enough to travel, or will we need to bring cages for the drive?”

"Bandersnatch," she says. "Like the one from Alice in Wonderland."

She nods a little at the question. "They'll stay calm if I stay calm. And I'm calm. Hungry, but calm."

“An interesting choice in name. I approve,” he nods. “Excellent. In that case, let me make my call, and perhaps have someone bring by something for you to eat.”

He pulls a cellphone out of an interior suit pocket and begins dialing a number.

The mention of food seems to cause the girl to perk up, if only a little. Some of the surrounding dogs, too, suddenly seem a little more excited as well, as though pinging off their master's hunger.

Mica nods, teetering back and forth on her heels, impatiently waiting, but in silence.

It doesn’t take long for Sovereign to finish his call and move back towards Mica.

“Food and vans are on the way. You may eat, then we will pack up and find you a new home.” He looks her over once again.

“Tell me, what do you know of the unwritten rules?”

She grins at the confirmation of food.

"Uhhhhhh... the pawns can't go diagonal on the board unless it's taking another pawn. I learned that the hard way," she explains, very clearly not on the same page.

“You… are not incorrect. But the unwritten rules I speak of carry far more weight than any rule of chess.”

As he speaks, two of the men from earlier return, hauling large bags of dog food.

“I expected there may be a need for food, so I brought these along. If you would like, we can speak while we feed your dogs. With any luck, your food will be here by the time we are finished.”

The dogs immediately begin to swarm the men, happily collecting around their legs, anxiously awaiting to be fed.

Mica watches her dogs, not moving, then looks back to Sovereign. "Uhh sure okay, we can do that." She nods. "Talking is good, I can talk."

“Wonderful. Now, the unwritten rules. Before we begin, you should know that they specifically apply to us, capes.”

As he starts speaking, the third man from earlier shows up with an armful of dog bowls. Sovereign takes a pair and hands them to Mica, before turning and grabbing another two.

“First, a parahuman’s identity while masked and their identity while unmasked are two separate things.” He puts down the bowls and gestures for one of the men to fill them with dog food.

“You do not search for a cape’s civilian identity, and if you do learn of it, you do not act on it. No attacking them in their home, no harming their family or friends, and certainly no sharing of that information with others.”

Mica nods slowly. "That makes sense," she hums, leaning down the two bowls she was handed. "What makes them unwritten rules? Wouldn't somebody have written them down by now, if they're super super important?"

He lets out a quiet chuckle at the question.

“I fear I can’t answer that. I suspect that they began as unwritten rules, and became known as the unwritten rules. Something for you to keep in mind. You can change what you do and how you do it, but if you are well known enough before that change, everyone will still believe you to be the same.”

He directs his underling to fill the bowls near Mica.

“Speaking of how you do things, let us continue with the rules. Respect truces and any meeting under said truces. Avoid lethal damage when fighting. Avoid harming civilians as much as possible. Do not use guns unless your power specifically relates to their use. And no assault of the perverse kind.”

"Well, I was already planning to avoid all of those, so, sounds easy enough," she says with a grin. "These unwritten rules are so easy."

"You would think. But, good, the fact that breaking any of those rules was never in your plans shows you've got a good head on your shoulders."

He checks his phone, quickly reading a message.

"Lastly, is the rule on Endbringers." Sovereign's voice seems to grow cold at the mention, any earlier warmth now gone.

"Pray you never find the occasion to face one of those abominations, child. When one appears, if it isn't in your city, don't cause issues while the heroes are away. If it is, and you can't run away, then know that there's no such thing as good and bad anymore. Just capes versus them. Until everything is over, you do not harm other capes, no matter who they are, and you do not take advantage of the situation for your own gain."

"Those who break the rules- especially the first and the last- will find themselves hunted down by both heroes and villains, with nowhere for them to hide."

Mica nods slowly, the more grim topic taking her by surprise, but even she understands the weight of it.

"I understand."

"Good," he nods firmly. His hand raises slightly as though to pat the girl on the shoulder, but then it drops back to his side.

A moment later, two new men enter the junkyard, this pair carrying a folding table and a pair of plastic folding chairs. Behind them, a third new man carries a large tray of food. The pair of men quickly unfold the table and chairs, giving Mica and Sovereign a place to sit. The third places the tray on the table. On it, there is an assortment of breads, cheeses, deli meats, and soup, as well a two glasses and a carafe of water.

"Eat slowly. I worry that if you don't you will make yourself sick."

Sovereign guesses correctly, stopping Mica in her tracks from just gorging herself after sitting down.

She pauses, squinting at Sovereign. She takes some bread, cheeses, and meats to slowly assemble a monstrosity of a sandwich. "This is all too nice," she says. "Is there a second catch somewhere?"

“Perhaps start with something slightly smaller. If you’re still hungry, there will still be food.”

“As for there being a second catch, there is not. Everyone always believes that villains must have cold hearts and ill intent. I am simply a man who desires more and acknowledges that legal means will not suffice. And, you are of the Court now. I take care of my own.”

Mica begrudgingly takes some cheese and meat out, before taking a bite of the unholy sandwich. "You're the first time to be nice to me in a very long time," she says through a mouthful of food. "But my dogs are getting fed so..."

“The first time of many, I would hope.”

He grabs a glass and pours water into it, then places it on her side of the table, then repeats the same for himself. Reaching up to the side of his mask, he hits a button which causes the bottom half to fall into his hand. Beneath, one could see a short, dark beard, barely longer than stubble. It is peppered with grey, and does nothing to hide his slight smile.

The man showing half of his face seems to put Mica a little more at ease, if only a little.

"Yeah, well, we'll see," she murmurs, carefully taking another bite of sandwich. "But I hope so too."

Sovereign hides a grin with a sip of water.

“Once you’re finished, we can move the dogs to vans. Is there anything else here that you would like to take?”

"Uh. There's some stuff in the bus I still have since I lived with... my family. Before they kicked me out." She takes another bite.

After a moment of silence, he nods. "We can pack it into my car. There will be enough room."

He finishes his glass and gestures to one of the underlings. They begin to pick up the now empty dog bowls, handing them to one of the men who disappears out the front of the junkyard once he has them all.

Mica finishes her sandwich, and snatches a few more pieces of meat for the road, sliding out of the chair and scarfing down the snack on her way into the bus.

A few moments pass, and Mica comes wandering back out with an old gym back that was definitely dug out of a landfill. She holds it close in her arms, making her way back towards Sovereign.

"That's all of it."

By the time she leaves the bus, the tray, table, and chairs are gone, along with the three men who brought them. Now, just she, her dogs, Sovereign, and two of his men remained. He gives her one final smile before reattaching the bottom section of his mask.

"We have three vans out front. The dogs will be divided up between them while you and I will take the SUV. Do you need to be within a specific range to keep them calm?"

"About as far as this junkyard," she explains.

"Then the SUV will be in the center. Marcus, inform the others of the distance limitations." One of the men, the shorter of the two, nods and responds with a 'yes sir' before jogging off towards the parked vans. Sovereign then turns to the girl.

"Once the dogs are secure and we begin traveling, you are Mica, not Bandersnatch. If we're attacked, stay out of the fight and find cover. Once you have a proper mask you will be Bandersnatch again."

Mica nods slowly. "Okay," she says softly "I can do that." She smiles weakly.