10:00pm, late enough to keep the alley dark as she crouches, watching and waiting for any change in the number of cars outside the police station. Unfortunately, it seems like there was no such thing as "down time" for the cops, which, thinking about it, made a good bit of sense. It didn't help her much, though. Her left hand, hidden beneath a dark cloak, grips tighter to the thin manila folder of evidence she'd put together over the past week.

She didn't have all night and there was no more time to wait for the building to clear out if she wanted to get any sleep. Standing from her crouch and stepping out of the alley in one fluid motion, she quickly glances around the area to make sure she was alone. Leaving the shadow of the apartment building behind, she darts across the street, heading straight towards a section of the station with no door or windows, and more importantly, no cameras. That she can see at least.

With the onsetting darkness it is hard to see the black and white costume Marceau wears, the colours blending a little bit into the surroundings.

They observe, eyes roving over the police station, mostly waiting for something interesting to happen, when a dash of movement grabs their attention, moving towards them.

Marceau slinks even further into the shadows, ducking behind a Dumpster, careful to not have his weaponry collide with his surroundings. He cowers there, looking for a reason why anybody would dart around the police station at this time of night.

Before she can take two steps off the street, a car pulls around a corner and starts heading down the road towards her. Just as the headlights are about to illuminate her, she drops straight into the asphalt as though it were water. A fraction of a second later, her cloaked figure can be seen rising out of the street just behind the car, which continued on oblivious to the cape's actions.

"God, thats soooo cool." A slight mutter can be heard from behind the Dumpsters. Then the upper parts of Marceaus Mime Mask peek out, as well as the Beret he is wearing. He continues to observe, absentmindedly scribbling on a paghe of his notebook, sketching the other cape. The sketch is not good, but still kinda gets the general appearance right.

She shakes her head vigorously, quietly muttering about rotten luck before starting back towards her original target. This time she takes it at a more cautious pace, moving at a slow jog. She'd chosen her spot the day before after taking nice, innocent jog around the block without her costume on.

She takes just one more glance over her shoulder and sees no one around. Focusing back on the dumpster set against the building, or more specifically the section of wall it partially obscured, she continued her approach. With the cloak's hood cutting down on her peripheral vision and the black veil that ensured her face appears as nothing more than shadow, she managed to get within a dozen feet of the dumpster, not seeing a thing out of place.

"WHOA THERE! Do not be Afraid!" Marceau jumps up, realising to late that jumpscaring a Cape behind a Police-Station might not be the wisest of choices. "I mean no harm." He lifts his hands as if Surrendering, showing his hands are empty except for a notebook, even if he already has a few weapons readied in case he needs them.

What is visible is a Mime, White Gloved and with the classic black-and white striped shirt, holding a notebook in one of his hands. "Please don't send me to the Shadow-Realm!"

A mime... heck, anyone popping out from a dumpster and shouting is the absolute last thing she expected tonight. A high-pitched squeak escapes her as she jumps back in fright. She fails take into account the length of her cloak and a foot finds fabric, ending with her flat on her back, cursing softly and rubbing her hip.

A little in front of her lies a manila folder, a handful of papers falling halfway out.

"Oyoyoy! That looked like it hurt a lot!"

The mime keeps his distance, mostly keeping their eyes focused on the other cape. "I am dorry if I startled you. I was... hangingout here, but then you came closer and I was getting scared you might attack me or something if I made myself known later."

Only then he realises that he spoke, and he slaps his hands over his mouth.

The sound of his voice snaps her attention back into place. She scrambles back to her feet, body in what seems to be a martial arts stance beneath the cloak.

"Who are- eh ehm -who are you?" She questions with a youthful, feminine voice before catching herself and continuing in an obviously forced raspy whisper.

The Mime visibly ponders for a few seconds before visibly making a decision. "Doesn't matter anyhow now, that you hear me speak. Name is Marceau. Like the Actress... And the Mime." His voice is that of someone beyond their teens, maybe early 20s, with a notable accent of french intonation. He shrugs, the extends a gloved hand towards the woman. "Pleasure to meet you. Like I said It was not my intention to startle you." He looks at the folder on the floor, without moving closer. "You seem to have dropped something..."

"Marceau," she nods slightly. "I need that folder." She starts inching forward towards it, never taking her eyes off the mime's, not that he would be able to tell through her veil.

"Hero or villain?" Her voice remains forcibly raspy, but otherwise sounds like that of a local, maybe in their mid to late teens. At this distance, its easy to tell that she's short. Perhaps not even 5 feet tall.

While most of the papers in the folder are obscured by the folder itself, the couple that are falling out seem to have pictures and text on them. The pictures seem to be of a group of rough looking older teens and young adults. The text seems to be dates and names.

Marceau steps a few steps backwards, as if giving the other cape space.

"Small time hero. Haven't gotten much big picture and to be honest I like to stay out of the limelight as much as possible."

He shrugs.

"I do work as a detective occasionally. Finding things, investigating cheating spouses, the usual PI thing."

He hold up his hands, grabbing what seems to be air, and a business card appears. He hold it out, arm out reached by still good 10-15ft away.

The girl relaxes slightly, hearing that the mime is a hero, but immediately tenses again upon hearing that he primarily does detective work. For a long moment she doesn't speak and doesn't move. As if coming to a decision, she nods to herself and picks up the folder, taking a moment to stuff the rogue papers back inside.

"You do stuff like that, huh? Take this, its evidence. A new gang is forming near Chaffe Park High School. They're trying to recruit and people are going to get hurt." She steps closer, holding out the folder intending to trade it for his card.

Marceau visibly recoils at the mention of him taking the case.

"Listen, I am a low tier hero with a shitty power. I am less well equipped to handle a whole gang of people than the police. I am just a guy."

He looks around unsure of what to do.

"Keep the folder or don't, but I am the wrong person for the job. I have no friends in town, no help or support. I just try to survive out here!"

Her arm, still outstretched with the folder, sags under the weight of disappointment. Then, she pulls it back and holds the folder close.

"Really?" Her voice showing how unimpressed she feels with his response while losing the forced rasp. "It's like a dozen people, most of them kids. Aren't heroes supposed to be able to handle stuff like that?" She shakes her head and tries to walk past him, heading towards the wall of the police station.

"I could beat them up, but would that solve or just expedite the problem? I don't see you, a cape, doing more than me, and my power is not made for sweeping actions."

His voice is raised now.

"I have to deal with these powers all day long, there is no off switch, so I try to fo some good, but beating up unpowered teenagers wouldn't mske me a hero. Sure I can cuff them up in a tree for police to find, but I have a higher chance to just be bonked on the head and drowned in a nearby ditch."

She freezes as Marceau's voice grows louder and throws a worried glance over her shoulder. Looking back at him, she lets out a weary sigh.

"I- damnit, look, I'm sorry for losing my cool." She struggles with the next part, almost forcing it out. "I'm really new to this," she gestures to her costume, "and I'm really close to this." She gestures to the folder this time.

"I'll just put this on someone's desk in there and then we can forget that all of this even happened. You know, let the cops handle it."

"Listen, I understand you. If you need help, I can try to help with this in a way outside of the law, because frankly, I am not someone who does things by the book. My power is good in under the hand business." He looks up and down the alley.

"I can turn things invisible."

Her eyes widen as she listens to him and she goes over her recent memory, grip loosening slightly on her folder.

"That's where your card came from, isn't it? You pulled it out of some kind of invisible bag? I didn't even think about it earlier." Her hood snaps side to side as she scans the area around him, trying to somehow pick out any trace of an invisible object. "Does it require touch, or, no, you said it's always on, so it must be some other mechanic. Otherwise your costume would be invisible too, I think."

She leans towards him. "Unless you're wearing something beneath and that's invisible. Body armor?" Its obvious she's off in her own mind as the last question trails off into the night, spoken to herself rather than Marceau. She suddenly shakes her head violently. "No, no, I'm getting distracted..."

"Yes, I need to touch things to turn them visible, but I won't bore you with details. You wanted to plant some evidence?"

He smiles under his mask.

"If you want to hide it, I might be helpful, but I can't keep it invisible for more than a minute. Do you know where you want to plant it?"

He suddenly seems much more game than before.

"Right, right. I didn't really plan past 'get inside and put it somewhere'. TV isn't really the most reliable when it comes to how police stations are actually laid out, ya know? I thought I'd just slip inside and leave it on a desk somewhere and hope they find it by morning. Do you have a better idea?"

Then she jolts slightly, remembering something. "Oh, uh, sorry, by the way. I don't have a cape name picked out yet, but my PHO handle is Peek-a-Boo, so you could call me that, I guess. Didn't think I'd run into anyone day one," she mutters absentmindedly to herself.

"Well, sounds good so far, planning wise. Do you know whst actually is behind this wall?"

The Mime seems to ponder for a second. "Because you don't want to end up in a room full of Policemen..."

"Let me check." Peek-a-Boo melts into the wall, and almost immediately walks back out, a few feet away. "Looks like a big, open room, a handful of offices, and what seems to be a janitor's closet. I can't tell what's in the big room, but its probably not empty. Two of the offices have someone inside, the rest seem empty, but I'm not positive. Closet's definitely empty though."

Marceau just stands there dumbfounded.

"Your power looks really useful..."

He sighs. Do you think you can reach the place you are looking to reach within a minute? Actually that wouldn't do all that much. I'll just wait here, and how do you feel about something to eat afterwards? I am hungry and I think you can explain a few things about why these guys are so close to your heart. Or you don't want to, in which case imma just eat by myself again." He shrugs. "See you in a minute?"

"It's not too bad. Can be uncomfortable sometimes though." Peek-a-Boo digs a flip phone out of a hidden pocket and checks the time. "I'm not sure I can do food tonight. Its pretty late and I have school in the morning. Maybe we could reschedule? I want to hear more about what you do, too. Well, I want to hear more about what its like being a cape at all, to be honest."

She leans back against the wall. "I'll be back in just a few."

"You know how to contact me, given that you have my card."

He extends his arm, once again materialising a Business card out of thin air.

"Be careful not to get caught tonight."

His Masks Smile is everlasting, but you get the feeling he actually means it.

"See you soon, I guess."

Peek-a-Boo grabs the card with her free hand, then brings it to her forehead in a mock salute. "I'll see you soon. And you're definitely not gonna be the one surprising me next time." With that, she plunges backwards into the wall, stepping out into an empty office about forty feet away and placing the folder on the center of the desk. Immediately, it feels like a weight has dropped off her shoulders, and for the first time since she got her powers, she feels like she can start to relax again.

She slips the mime's card into an internal pocket before stepping into the wall again with an impish smirk, attempting to pop out part of the surface just outside of Marceau's vision to hopefully jumpscare him this time.

Just as PB leaves the wall something hard brushes up against her, immediately breaking contact as it touches her.

The mime turns towards her, mask unmoving as ever.

"Didn't expect you to pop out there. Nearly scared me!"

He chuckles, unaware that that was the intention.

A surprised squeak escapes her at the unexpected contact, but she manages to avoid flinching this time around. Rather, she settles for glaring at the mime as she takes in his words and chuckling, only to pause as realization hits her. Her head cocks to the side in interest as she glances from where she felt the object touch her and subsequently move, to where the Marceau is standing now.

"You've got an interesting power..." she mutters to herself before turning her full attention back to him and giving a thumbs up. "All set Mr. Mime." There's audibly less stress in her voice now than just a few minutes before.

"Then shoo shoo, off to bed you go. Don't want to be late for school, do you? You can call me when you have time."

He has an amused tone to his voice, seemingly enjoying the banter.

"If you need anything, you gog my number."

With that he theatrically bows.

"Toodeloo!"

He turns around seemingly about to walk away.

She takes his words with a good natured chuckle. "I'll be in contact." She returns his bow with an exaggerated one of her own, and as he turns away, she melts slowly into the ground. Around a hundred feet away, at the base of a neighboring building, she pops up out of the ground, angling herself towards that building's wall.

A couple days later...

After finishing up her homework for the weekend, Peek-a-Boo pulls out her burner phone and the card Marceau gave her. He seemed like an okay person, definitely more experienced than her, and probably more familiar with how capes are supposed to interact with one another. She adds his number to her contacts and gives him a call, intent on setting up another meeting.

Marceau wakes up to the sound of "For Elise" in a bad midi version, being the calling tone for his loud cellphone. Drowsy still he crawls over to his Nightstand and picks up.

"Marceau's Detective Service, the Pleasure is Mime.

Who am I speaking to?"

A snort of amusement pops out of Peek-a-Boo as she shakes her head at the mime's pun. "Hey, its me, um, Peek-a-Boo, I guess. You mentioned getting something to eat and talking a bit the other night. If you're still up for that, I'd also like to know more about what its like being a cape."

There is a long groan of disappointment, followed by shuffling on the other side of the Phone, before a less... troubled tone takes over. "I mean, I got a bit of experience, being a cape for a few years now. Got any special place you wanna meet or should we do... Los Cuates near Fletcher Park? I could get us some food and we meet on the roof nearby? That way the Mime doesn't need to be seen getting Tacos."

There is a short chuckle before there is a loud thud and some swearing.

"You can be the best mime, the biggest enemy is still bending over under the sink and then hitting your head."

She lets out an amused chuckle as he swears. "Yeah, I can walk through walls and I still manage to stub my toe on the nightstand every morning." Theres a moment's pause. "And don't sell yourself short. A few years is a heck of a lot of experience compared to three days."

The sound of typing filters through the phone.

"Los Cuates works for me. I'll even pay for the food, since I'm the one asking for help."

An hour later a Mime hangs out on one of the rooftops near Fletcher Park, waiting for the other cape to appear. Marceau sits on a lawnchair that inhabitants of this place must have dragged to the rooftop for chill parties, and is seemingly reading a Book, lounging.

Peek-a-Boo rises slowly out of the edge of the building, quickly spotting the mime in a lawnchair facing away from her. She takes a step onto the roof proper, then melts back into it. A moment later she's directly in front of him, a dozen feet away, crawling from the ground like a b-movie zombie.

Marceau seemingly does not react, reaches below his chair and gets out a glass of ?lemonade?. He turns the page, puts the glass back again where it was. Just when he puts it down it becomes obvious that it is not a glass of lemonade, only the lemonade itself is visible, seemingly hovering above the floor.

Her shoulders drop when Marceau shows no reaction. Holding back a sigh, she sits down cross-legged on the the roof, careful to stay around ten feet from the mime. She glances at the floating lemonade with a slight tilt of her head before looking back to the other cape.

"Good book?"

Marceau looks up.

"Middling, but it's less atrocius than my last one. Omegaverse just doesn't cut it."

He gestures for her to get closer. "How you been doing? Anything interesting?"

He seems mainly bored.

PB nods sagely at his judgement of the book.

"I'm a little less stressed. I'm not sure if the police actually did anything, but the others are giving me a lot more breathing room."

There's a pause with a sharp breath. "Erm, uh, by not doing gang stuff in my territory or anything," she quickly adds on, before changing the subject. "Anyways, I've been doing some research on capes. Like, what makes someone a hero versus a vigilante or villain and things like that. I'm not sure where I wanna sit on that scale yet."

"On a Scale from Hero to villain it usually is a good choice to stay in the middling parts, cause both ends of the spectrum, the extremes, usually end bad. In my experience at least." He puts his book go the side. "As for the police, I heard a bit of commotion about your entrance to the police, but they seemed more intrigued than anything else. Apart from the dangers a wall-ignoring cape can be they seemed interested in pursuing your lead. Also please don't ask about drtails, a Man can only listen in on police comms do much before it becomes suspicious."

He chuckles. "So..... did you bring the food?"

"Oh, right." She sinks into the roof from her seated position, and about thirty seconds later, reappears in the same spot, this time with a bulky pair of bags.

"I wasn't sure what you'd like, so I got one of everything," PB admits as she walks with the bags over to Marceau.

"Good to know about the police. You'll have to tell me how you tapped into their comms at some point. Sounds like it could lead to a lot of fun." She chuckles lightly.

"Speaking of fun, have you ever met any of the wards? Refraction seems like a hoot. Actually, how many capes do you know around the city?"

"I Don't know all that many. There is like a small scale villain called Starving Artist, but their Art is not all that great, Zipdash, and there seems to be another cape it seems, looks like a teen, blond hair, looked homeless. And then there is you. "

He shrugs. "As for the information on the police... asking pointed questions you know the answer to works wonders. Especially when nobody knows you are a cape."

"Oh, I've gotten into drawing these past few months. Maybe Starving Artist and I can trade techniques!" PB reaches up towards her head and unfastens something in her hood. Then, she pulls it and the veil back, leaving her identity to be hidden only by a black domino mask. The girl herself has straight, blonde hair and pale skin, and she looks young, probably 15 or 16. She grabs a burrito from one of the bags and starts to eat.

"Soo, are you a cop when you aren't caping?"

"Not a Cop, just know who to ask and when to listen. There's a Dive Bar close by this Precinct that gets occasionally visitors from the precinct, like a nice beer after your shift at work. And people start to get a little out of inside voice when they drink."

Marceau takes off his mask, revealing a domino mask in black and white. " Usually I don't eat in costume. So this is not my standard outfit."

"Hoods are easy to pull down. I wear this all the time just in case," she points to her own domino mask. She takes another bite. "I don't think I'd be able to get any info that way. I think I look too young." She gestures vaguely towards herself. "I am like really, really good at finding stuff though. If I know the general location of whatever I'm looking for."

"You gotta cater to what you can. You probably would look weird in a dive bar at shifts end, yeah, especially with being underage for drinking. I'm at the edge there, but I get you."

He grabs himself a second burrito, and wholeheartedly bites into it. After chewing a bit he smiles for a few seconds, clearly enjoying this, before he turns to PB again, his eyes now inquisitive. "So you wanted to learn more about the Heroism/Cape Business? How can I help you get answers. I have been a cape out of site for quite a while now, popping up all across america to find a place to stay, and I might stay here at least for a while, so ask away."

"Yes, please," she nods her head furiously. "Do I need to register or anything? With the PRT? Or would that be the Protectorate? Are there any rules that independent heroes have to follow?" She pauses to take a breath and another bite. "Have you ever fought another cape? What's it like? Do capes have some sorta secret code of honor that normal people don't know about? Is there anything you think I should know?"

Marceau thinks for a second.

"In order of your questions... If you want to get on with the whole heroism thing under some sort of official approval you are somewhat expected to... Well Register is the wrong word, as far as I understand. You gotta get a meeting with the PRT/Protectorate, kind of tell them what you are able to do, in broad strokes. The Protectorate doesn't really 100% like vigilantes, who do not disclose such things, but as long as you stay out of their hair and don't cause all that many problems they sometimes, as with me, don't bother you all that much if you don't. I have not reached out to them, yet, might do so in the future, but I also don't really engage much with other capes, if possible and also only occasionally leave them or the police some presents with a signed note. They are aware of me being around, and probably want to have an extended talk with me, but nobody seems to have tried to force me to come in, yet."

He stops to take another bite.

"As for rules, there is the unwritten rules, which also still are kinda written, but nowhere in particular. They are roughly:

• Respect secret identities. Especially don't fuck with people's family.

• No violence or using powers in a meeting with multiple parties

  • Try not to use lethal force. Try not to maim people.
  • No widespread attacks against civilians. (Taking some hostages is 'okay', poisoning the water supply of the city is not.)
  • Don't enslave others with mind control.
  • No rape or sexual assault.
  • Don't use guns. If you absolutely must use a gun, be careful with it. They escalate and cause too much death.
  • When dealing with a major threat, a few additional rules take effect:
  1. Don't attack people who volunteer, set your beefs aside.
  2. Don't take advantage of the situation. Don't set people up to die. Even if you're not in the fight, don't use the situation to make major plays.
  3. Everyone gets medical care, regardless of what they've done.

  If people break the rules, anyone whose willing should work together to punish the rule breaker."

Another bite.

"I have fought a cape or two, probably more, to be fair, but always minor altercations. Generally the unwritten rules are how you go about that. Non-lethal, no maiming, don't do skeevy shit like mind control, although some human masters have been known to do such things still. Most important part for anyone without an actual damaging power, like blasters and such: don't use guns. Most people are not trained enough to use them, and guns are automatically lethal."

As Marceau answers, PB's general carefree attitude disappears, replaced by an intense stare with sharp eyes as she takes in the information. The longer he speaks, the more her head tilts inquisitively to one side. Each time he stops to take a bite, she mirrors the action. As he finishes, she lets herself relax back into her carefree persona, dropping back into a grin.

"Wow, that was a lot. Ya know, for a mime, you're pretty chatty," she giggles. "I really appreciate it though. I've heard a thing or two about unwritten rules on PHO, but never actually found out what they were. Seem pretty important though." She pauses in thought, one hand rising to cup her chin. "I think I might meet with the PRT at some point. Just, like, introduce myself and all that, so they don't just assume I'm a villain or anything. Maybe you could come too, since you've not met with 'em yet."

"You know, don't tease me for the speaking part, I usually don't talk around cape business, but ever tried to tell someone they are not supposed to be afraid by writing a note. Doesn't work, and since I talked in your vicinity on accident anyways, why keep the Mute Mime charade up longer than needed. I prefer you don't tell people I talk much, although i am sure someone saw me talking before, but it's supposed to be rare, still."

Marceau smirks under his Mask.

"As for the second, prt related part, hard pass for now. I have enough trouble with Capes as is. I don't intend to interact with them more than explicitely necessary. Especially the PRT/Protectorate. They just make things complicated for me."

Peek-a-Boo shrugs and pulls a bottle of water out from somewhere in her cloak. "Fair enough. Just thought I'd offer. Really though, thanks for taking time out to talk and help me figure things out. If you ever need help with something, text me. I owe you a favor," she grins before opening the bottle and taking a long sip.

"As for the mute mime shtick, my lips are sealed. No promises that I won't laugh though if I see some other cape getting frustrated by your mime-ly charades." PB lays back on the ground, splaying her arms out to the side and looking as relaxed as one could be.

"I was actually planning to go the whole 'mysterious, silent ghost' type, ya know. Didn't even last past the first minute of my first cape encounter," she grumbles good-naturedly

"Going the Silent route is harder, no quips, people treat you like a hatman... I don't think it is for everyone. "

He takes his final bite on his burrito.

"Anything else? Don't want to seem rushed, but there is much to do and I don't want to keep you from your life alltoomuch."

He taps an imaginary watch. Of maybe it's just invisible, who knows.

She pauses for a moment before answering. "I think that's all I've got for now. Thanks again for meeting with me."

"I'll be around, doing cape.. uh.. stuff, but if you ever need an extra hand or someone to help find something, feel free to text me."