Sovereign makes a slight noise of affirmation at her first statement.

"Now, we get you a burner phone with relevant numbers already saved, as well as your... milk and bananas. After that, you are free to go. Ms. Holt will be able to drive you where you need to go."

“Hmm?” Sovereign seems taken off guard slightly. Then he looks at the van in question and let’s out a quiet chuckle.

“Ah, that’s the van my men were transported in earlier. We’re currently under La Corte Regale, a neutral location for capes to meet in this city. The Court enforces it’s neutrality, so we often return here after an operation.”

He nods absentmindedly as he pulls out his phone, completely unnoticing of the tinker's worries. He places a call to a saved number, which only rings once before someone answers.

"Lucille, could you please send Ms. Holt to the loading bay with a burner and a..." Sovereign glances at the younger cape, "glass of milk. If you can find any, bananas as well... Yes... Thank you, we will be waiting."

“Hmm… there is a rear-facing door, as well as a utility door. The best option would likely be the utility door. The north-side alley should have a short stairway heading down. The utility door will be set into the apartment’s wall at the bottom of that stair.” As he speaks, he begins writing on another page of the notepad, before ripping it off and handing it to her. It has a normal phone number on it.

“If you’re worried, call this number before you arrive, any time after your first visit, and someone will pull a van around to block vision of the alley.”

The car pulls into a parking spot next to the van, which seems to already be empty.

The hiss of pain draws Sovereign's attention, garnering the girl a concerned glance. Up ahead, the van pulls into an alley, disappearing from view.

He waits for her to finish speaking before pulling a small notepad and pencil out of the back pocket of the driver's seat. The older cape takes his time writing something on it, before tearing off the paper and handing it to the girl. "That should be possible. Once you are able to, go to this location. If someone stops you at the door, inform them that you were sent by Lucille. The first floor is taken, but you may claim one of the basement units, as well as the basement storage room."

The car takes a turn down the same alley as the van, which appears to be the entrance to an underground parking garage, which is quickly proven true.

The paper, if read, contains an address. Specifically, for a four story apartment building located on Santa Fe Dr, just east of La Alma-Lincoln Park.

Even with his eyes hidden behind the lenses of his mask, one could almost feel Sovereign studying the newly revealed portion of Cruach’s face. He doesn’t focus long on it, however, nor does he comment.

“The information you have already provided is valuable. I have an interest in any similar information you could provide me regarding the area between La Corte Regale and the South Platte river. Specifically from the location of this gang,” he gestures to the folder, “down to the I70/I25 intersection.”

Sovereign pauses to take a sip from his glass of water. “That region, with regards to gangs or capes of interest, is of primary concern at this time.”

To even her senses, nothing is amiss in the surroundings. For all intents and purposes, this still seems to be a peaceful meeting between potential business partners.

Sovereign gives a single nod to the question. “Contrary to my previous position, I have decided that it is time for the Court to expand both in territory and manpower. As a professional curtesy, I will tell you that our parahuman membership has grown over the past two weeks, and is projected to continue growing at a steady pace.”

He brings hand up to the side of his head, pressing a button with a small click. Something in the mask unlatches, allowing him to remove the lower half. What is revealed is polite smile with well-trimmed facial hair- black with some grey speckled about.

“What I am looking for is information on any surrounding gangs, as well as information on the staff of the local police and sheriff’s offices.”

He tilts his head slightly as she speaks, muttering about healing factors under his breath. The car takes another turn, now properly downtown. Just down the street, the Daniels and Fisher clocktower can be seen.

"I assure you, cost is the least of your concerns now. Put your list together and get yourself back to full health. Anything else we should be able to acquire within a few days to a week, assuming the materials needed aren't too exotic."

Sovereign nods indulgently as the young tinker speaks. The car seems to follow the van as they head deeper into the city center.

"Good. The first step to gaining experience is learning how to grow from each encounter. Look through that data and use it to shore up your weaknesses and hone your strengths. Do you know what materials you may need?"

Sovereign brings a gloved hand up to cup his chin. "I see. While changes or upgrades to your arm blade may seem more important, versatility is even more so. I would work on a ranged weapon first if I were you, to cover some of your weaknesses. Other than that... I think I would like to see what your power tells you after another fight before coming to any conclusions. Perhaps Cambion or Bandersnatch would be available to spar with you. After your repairs and convalescence, of course."

"Hmm..." Sovereign sits silently for a moment as he contemplates. "Self-improvement perhaps. No matter, you will find it with time. Did this spar perhaps draw out any ideas?"

The car turns onto another street. About half a block ahead, a white van can be seen heading in the same direction.

He lets out a quiet chuckle as he signals the driver to start moving. Then he turns to "Now then, with that little spat out of the way, what is your cape name, child. And, presuming you are a tinker, your specialty."

Sovereign smoothly enters the car, only needing to take off his top hat. Leaning his staff up against him, he looks over at the girl, silently watching as she struggles to get in the vehicle.

Sovereign opens the rear passenger door and beckons for her to take a seat. "By all means. If your... costume damages the vehicle, it is of little consequence. The car will need to be replaced anyways, as I'm sure someone has filmed this." He raises his voice slightly, turning his head towards one of the few stragglers who stuck around to film the fight. Then, he walks to the opposite side of the vehicle and opens the other rear door, preparing to take a seat.

Sovereign acknowledges the girl's strong grip with one of his own. His voice takes on an amused tone as he signals the man in the car. "And I have my day job. Allowances will be made where necessary. As for your concerns, I will not make a murderer out of a child, do not worry. In regards to drugs, we as the Court do not deal in such things. We are a higher class of criminal."

The collections car pulls up next to the pair. "Perhaps we should vacate the area before any enterprising young heroes get any ideas."

“I believe that you could benefit from such an arrangement, as I could benefit from having you as part of my operations.” He holds out a hand to her to shake, making sure to choose the same side as her broken arm to avoid hurting it more.

“Perhaps, with time, you will see that not all things we do are villainous, and even fewer could be considered evil.”

If one were to be paying close attention, they would notice that Sovereign’s attention while pacing has been split between scanning the ends of the street as well as the rooftops.

“If your foe is a cat, would you rather be a mouse or an elephant? Those who choose hatred will continue to hate, but such hate become irrelevant when you are too powerful for them to so much as scratch.”

Sovereign’s pacing begins to slow as he comes to a stop in front of the girl. “Someone will always be hurt,” he says, shaking his head. “It is up to you to decide if that person is you, or your enemy.” The older cape looks the younger in the eye. “Perhaps if you become strong enough, you can limit that hurt to a broken limb and a damaged ego, but such a thing requires experience. Experience that I have and could impart to you.”

“Your age is showing, child,” he states with a slightly admonishing tone, walking back towards her.

“Power and money are interchangeable. They both may breed hate in some people, but enough of either makes the hatred of others irrelevant,” Sovereign explains, staff tapping against the ground with each step as he starts to pace.

“They open doors, provide options. Power in all its forms is the only true freedom that exists in this world. If you need something, power and money can acquire it. If you hate something, power and money can destroy it. If you fear something, power and money can protect you from it.”

His head tilts slightly as listens to the girl’s questions, the mask’s ‘eyes’ directed towards her injured arm. Letting out a small “hmm” as she speaks, he steps around her and strolls to where the motorcycle lays on its side.

“I could speak on the nature of criminality as a weed that never truly goes away, and how heroes are too limited by morality, law, and reputation to truly keep those weeds in check. But, in truth, I am a man fit for the title of Villain. I desire money. I desire power. And I have the strength to obtain both, while maintain a relatively peaceful status quo.” As he admits this, he bends over and places a business card on the damaged motorcycle.

"I have been Sovereign for, perhaps, half the years you have lived. In that time, I've seen many evils far darker and far greater than what you would consider me to be. Mass murders, madmen and psychopaths, Endbringers... Against such monsters, only cooperation will see humanity through to the next day." Sovereign glances at the watch on his wrist, then makes a hand motion that causes the armed men around them to start moving back towards where they arrived from.

"That is, in part, the reason for my existence. I told you before that I seek to limit the chaos that lesser criminals can create. While I and the Court remain, we can temper the harsh edges of crime in this city. Push out those who would cause chaos, put down those who bring death and destruction. We bring order to the unlawful- a reflection of the PRT, cast in darkness."

The man with the water bottle, Williams, arrives first, slowing down to cautiously approach the injured girl. When he’s close enough, he twists off the cap and holds out the bottle. “Here, sip slowly. I’m going to check your arm if you’ll allow it.” As he is talking, the man with the first aid kit approaches and places it next to him, before heading back towards the car.

Sovereign waits for Williams to finish talking, then responds to the young cape’s question. “You’re still but a child. Broken bones can have far reaching consequences, and though we are enemies at this juncture, we may stand side by side in the future. In such a situation, I would rather have a whole and healthy you by my side than one crippled.”

As the girl cries out in pain, Sovereign lets out a weary sigh. He raises a hand to the side of his head, tapping something on his mask next to his ear. “Jensen, the first aid kit, please. Williams, a bottle of water.”

The words prompt motion from the goons. The one in the car hops out and searches around the back seat for a moment, before pulling out a first aid kit the size of a small briefcase. He starts jogging towards the pair of capes. At the same time, one of the men from the group of gunmen breaks off and jogs into the nearby store, returning just as quickly with a bottle of water.

While they’re moving, Sovereign is studying the girl’s arm from where he stands. “You’re injured, and not in a way that you can continue fighting without consequence. One of my men has basic medical training. Stay calm and let him see to your arm.”

The world seems to tilt more and more with each passing second, until it stops and reverts to normal as Sovereign taps his staff against the ground. He walks over to the supine cape at a slightly hurried casual pace. Coming to a stop a couple feet away, he looks down at the girl with his expressionless mask.

"So you chose pain. I was hoping you would be somewhat more calculating in your response." He glances at the damaged frame around one of her arms. "You are still young, and I do truly dislike harming youth. I will ask you again, with an additional choice. Repay your debt to myself and the Court through pain or service. Or, I will give you the option of running if you swear to remain out of the Court's business for the entirety of your time in this city. Of course, if you run but go back on your word, you will never have such choices again, only a debt of pain."

"Excellent choice," Sovereign states. He glances at the waiter, quickly placing an order for a veal dish, his menu still unopen on the table. He gives the man a subtle nod of thanks before turning back to Cruach.

"The PRT have their headquarters for those of a heroic inclination to meet. We of the underside of the city had none, so I chose to carry the burden of enforcing a neutral meeting location. I am sure that had I not, some other entity would have declared a similar location at some point."

"Now, your reputation being what it is, I would assume you understand the purpose of the Court, and what it offers to those in good standing. If you so wish, I can provide details on anything you require while we wait for our food."

As she starts her dash, Sovereign takes a half step to put the floating motorcycle between the two of them, and turns to fully face the younger cape. Then, he taps the base of his staff against the ground, and the world tilts.

Gravity snaps back into place, but wrong, no longer drawing things towards the ground, but pulling everything in the area towards some point about 45 degrees between the ground and the direction Sovereign faces. The motorcycle itself slams back into the ground and begins sliding towards the girl.

“Then I welcome you to the Court. Repay your debt, serve well and with dignity, and you will find that few door remain closed to you.” Sovereign turns his head to look straight at the other cape. “And do not go running off and abandon us. The Court takes a dim view towards traitors.”

“Wonderful,” Sovereign exclaims as he watches Gremlin flap around. “Before we go further, a few things to note. The Court does not deal in drugs. We may supply them to client gangs, but we are not dealers. Similarly, we do not murder and vandalize wantonly. We are a higher class of criminal. Now, let’s allow Mr. Lin to finish closing up his store.”

Sovereign begins walking towards the front door, the rifleman waiting until Cambion follows. While he walks, he begins muttering to himself.

“Perhaps I should have you meet with young Bandersnatch. The girl needs to meet other parahumans who are at least less than twice her age.”

“I fear that a ‘gavel shaped light’, as you put it, lacks the detail or subtlety that we would require,” he responds, a hint of amusement in his voice. “No, our methods of communicating are far more mundane. Williams, if you would.” He holds his hand out to the side, and the remaining rifleman pulls a smartphone out of his pocket and passes it over. He then holds it out towards the younger cape, inviting him to take it.

“This will be your connection to the Court for now. If you are in need of better living arrangements, that can be addressed as well. You will receive a call if an urgent matter arises, or text messages for general tasks or duties. If you prove your loyalty, you may eventually be placed in charge of operations of your own, with men and money at your command.”

Sovereign lets out a weary sigh. “I see.” He pulls a card out of his breast pocket and hands it to the rifleman to his left. “Inform Mr. Lin of the damage and instruct him to contact Lucille for whatever is needed to fix it.”

He sends the man off out the front and turns back towards Cambion. “If you join me, money will no longer be of issue to you. Loyalty and competence are well compensated. Likewise, the cost of repairs and replacement of stolen goods is not of real issue to the Court. Rather, it is the damage to our reputation that must be repaid. Show that we will protect those who pay for it and enforce the rules we have put in place, and your debt will be considered repaid.”

Sovereign makes a small waving motion, and the men with handguns pull back and leave through the front door.

“The Court is the pinnacle of this city’s criminal underbelly. We provide services- smuggling, asset protection, forgeries, money laundering, and more. Through those services, we exert our control over the unaffiliated criminals of the city. To serve the Court is to ensure that the Court’s operations are safe from outside interference, to put down those who cause undue chaos, and to maintain control over those who do follow the rules.” Sovereign leans forward slightly, both hands on his staff.

“The length of your service will depend on the value of your service. You, fortunately, have kept collateral damage to a minimum in my territory, but you will need to pay off the value of the goods you have stolen. Speaking of, have you damaged this store in any way?”

“Extortion is such a… harsh word. We provide protection for a price.” He pauses to inspect the motorcycle. It’s an old thing, long past it’s best days.

“The money we require is used to stop lesser criminals from causing too much chaos. Manpower and firepower are not free, after all.” Sovereign reaches down and tugs upwards at the seat of the motorcycle. It lifts up off the ground and begins slowly floating higher.

“Now, I give you an option. You can pay for assaulting my men with service or pain. To serve is to become a member of the Court, and work towards its goals. I believe pain is rather self explanatory.”

While he speaks, his power continues to expand another half a dozen feet.

"No tricks, no trap," he placates, one hand raising in a calming gesture, before falling back to his side. "Times are, unfortunately, changing, and so the Court must change in turn. It seems that every week now, a new parahuman pops up out of the woodwork, causing their own brand of chaos in our beleaguered city. I seek to maintain a... healthy balance, whether that requires elimination of the more egregious of the criminals in this city or the taking in and raising up those lesser criminals who are still able to learn."

Sovereign gestures at his men, and the two standing on the shelves hop down, the drop taking far longer than gravity would normally allow. When they land, he taps his staff against the ground. "Were you to join me, you would no longer need to commit such lesser crimes. Instead, you would work towards the Court's interests, and in doing so, pay off the damages you have already incurred."

Sovereign lets the seconds drag out as he contemplates silently. Then, seemingly coming to a conclusion, he nods slightly.

“I am not normally fond of second chances, but I will present you with one nonetheless. I give you two options. Pay with pain, or pay with service. You may leave here crippled, and perhaps one day be able to walk again. Or you can pledge your loyalty to myself and the Court and break the shackles of your lesser past.”

Sovereign's head tilts in curiosity as the other cape slides the folder across the table. He lets her finish speaking before reaching out and pulling the folder to his side of the table. Trusting his guest, he flips it open and scans over the documents within.

"Information of this type is a generous gift. Both the detail and presentation speak strongly to your favor." A few moments pass as he sits in silent contemplation. "Perhaps we should discuss the specifics of such a working relationship over our meal." As if on queue, the silent waiter from earlier returns, this time with a notepad and pencil.

The head of the Court gestures to Cruach. "You are a guest of Sovereign today, order anything you desire without worry for cost."

“Hmm… in a manner of speaking. This place is owned by one of my subjects, who pays tribute to me in return for protection from lesser criminals such as yourself. As for recognizing you, your recent exploits are well recounted by the Ward you fought.”

“Now, as you are harming the livelihoods of those under my protection, you will have to be punished in some way. Not just for this night, but also for the convenience store three days ago, the smoke shop last week, and the other pharmacy a week before that.” Sovereign tenses slightly, only noticeable by an experienced eye, preparing for a possible retaliation.

“Damn indeed,” Sovereign steps forward another couple feet as his boundary grows.

“Cambion, is it? New to the cape scene save for a single battle with a Ward.” His head turns slightly towards the man closest to him. “If I remember correctly, he has, presumably, a projection type minion. If it gets within ten feet of us, shoot the boy.”

He turns his head back to Cambion. “As for you, perhaps you can tell me why you are robbing my subjects.”

As the employees file out of the building, two of the men with handguns break off to lead them back towards the cars. The remaining men file into the building, rifles first. Sovereign follows at a sedate pace, mindful of his shaker boundary, which has expanded about five feet further into the store.

The first two riflemen take advantage of the lower gravity and hop up onto the first row of shelves, giving them a better view of the back of the store. The other four men spread out, one rifle and one pistol to each side.

As Sovereign enters the door, he taps his staff against the floor. “Come out, come out, where ever you are, little thief,” he says, loud enough to be projected through the entire store.

Stepping out of the car, Sovereign lifts a cell phone to his ear and begins to speak. “Mr. Lin, it seems that an issue has arisen. Please gather your staff and make your way out the front of your building…. Yes, with haste. And use caution as you near the door.”

He and his men get into position as he speaks to the pharmacy owner. Sovereign is in the middle, closer than the others and not far from the front door. The four riflemen, the driver and passenger from his vehicle, and the driver and passenger of the van are arranged in a semicircle around him, weapons up and trained at the store as well as its rooftop.

Already, Sovereign’s gravity field is creeping into the pharmacy, only reaching about ten feet past the door and reducing its strength by half.

Three times. Three times in the last two weeks, Sovereign's men have failed to arrive on time to stop the rogue parahuman burglarizing stores under his protection. This time, however, he is going personally, with advanced warning thanks to a network of lookouts he'd set up specifically to find this lesser villain.

The time of day was somewhat of a blessing. Being just after closing hours, most of the civilians in the area had already cleared out. Unfortunately, the particular family-owned pharmacy currently being robbed still has the owner and a couple workers inside, or so his informant claims.

Sovereign adjusts his hat as his vehicle parks just across the street from said pharmacy. The driver exits and trains his pistol on the building while the passenger opens the rear door for the crime boss. Just behind them, a utilities van comes to a stop, rear doors opening and allowing another four men out, each of these with a rifle.

“Simple, dear, you became predictable,” he drawls out as he starts meandering towards a motorcycle parked along the side of the road. “Show up in the area, cause issues for well-intentioned criminals, drawing eyes to yourself, then follow our collections crew multiple times while masked up? You’re either new and naive, or you’re a fool not to realize the trail you’ve left for us to follow.”

In the background, the gunmen have collected their fallen comrade and two have broken off to carry him back to their van. The two riflemen and the other gang member seem to be more concerned with watching the surrounding streets, alleys, and rooftops than pay any real attention to the cape fight.

"When you're as old as I am, you will come to realize that conversation can be just as stimulating as a good battle," he stalls as his ability's boundary grows closer to her. "Perhaps you'd be interested in sharing just why you've chosen to target my men."

Sovereign braces himself with his staff as the nausea hits him, then turns to follow the cape as she flies over his head. He begins following after her at a walking pace, years of experience helping him estimate where she will land once she flies past his boundary.

"A sound based power? Perhaps a minor brute rating considering your stature and the armor you wear," he muses loudly as he stops a couple feet from the edge of his shaker power.

Much can be gathered from his entrance. The most blaring detail is that of his own ego. He seems utterly at ease, completely calm despite not having met with or spoken to the mercenary cape before this point. The actions of the waiter are barely noticed- more so expected. The outfit is noticeably tailored to fit his physique, which seems to be that of a fit, somewhat well-built middle-aged man. A closer look at his suit reveals the chain of a golden pocket watch coming from a low pocket on his suit and disappearing between two of it's buttons, as well as a golden watch on his left wrist. His hands are gloved, the black leather seemingly new. A faint whiff of blood and a stronger scent of gun smoke can be picked up if one has good senses.

Sovereign watches the cape closely as she speaks, making no moves to check the menu or offer a handshake. Though his eyes are hidden behind the lenses of his mask, it isn't hard to determine that he is both studying and measuring her. As he hears the question in her words, he lets out a good-natured chuckle.

"Please, think nothing of it," he says with a hint of amusement. "I always have time to meet with an experienced and respected parahuman such as yourself, and La Corte Regale can more than afford the early arrival of an important guest." He clasps his hands in front of him like an old Bond villain. "As for the issue, well, I'm sure you've seen how those from the underside of society can behave. I simply had to remind a few of my neighbors that such depravity is looked down upon in the Court's territory. At risk of sounding cliché, we represent a better class of criminal."

About a dozen seconds before the meeting time, a keen ear could pick up footsteps in the hall outside the door. Exactly five seconds before the meeting time, the waiter finally moves, opening the door. A few seconds later, a man walks in, dressed in a fine vintage suit and top hat, with a vaguely avian mask made of what appears to be solid gold. In his right hand is a staff topped in golden ornamentation that he is using almost like a long cane or walking stick.

He strides into the room with the same confidence as a king entering his own throne room. "Cruach, if I am not wrong? Forgive me if I'm late, there was a slight issue to address with one of my more visible operations." His words are smooth and seem to be tinged with a charisma borne of age, experience, and professional training. He waits for the waiter to pull out his seat before sitting, then hands his staff to the man, who leans it against the back of the chair.

"I am Sovereign, lord of the Court. It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance."

The moment before the other cape crosses his still-growing boundary, Sovereign takes two steps to the side, preparing to raise his staff if needed. Then, he chooses to speak.

"So you are the one who has driven themselves like an errant thorn into the sides of my men." The words are slow, measured, and he doesn't let his guard down once, even as his shaker power takes hold of the cape.

Sovereign comes to a stop as the meddlesome cape bursts out of their hiding spot, standing with his staff held in front of him. He watches silently as she quickly approaches the current border of his shaker power, about 25 feet from where he is currently standing. Behind him, the other man is getting back in the car and starting to slowly back it away from the impending cape fight.

On the street to Emma’s rear, parallel to the street she is watching, a van’s doors being slammed open and then shut can be heard, followed by a cascade of footsteps.

Not long after, the source of those footsteps comes into view from the nearby alley. A group of five men, all in suits with black Kevlar vests overtop. Three have handguns while the other two have what appear to be assault rifles of some type. The way they are positioned has the cape placed roughly between them and the collections car.

Opposite them, a single pair of footsteps can be heard slowly making their way away from the car and towards her position.

"You are never too early at La Corte Regale. Please peruse the menu on the table at your own pleasure. All items on the menu have already been covered by your host, so do not hesitate to enjoy whatever dish catches your eye. I will inform the wait staff to bring bread and water," the shorter blonde says before turning and leaving the room, shutting the door behind her.

To a particularly well trained eye, or perhaps an eye with the right kind of power, one might notice that there is a hidden exit to the room. It seems to be a sliding wall section opposite the door, right next to one of the decorative light fixtures adorning the walls. There is, otherwise, nothing of note in the area.

A few minutes later, a man in his twenties in a waiter's uniform enters the room with fresh bread and a glass of water. He then steps back and stands with his hands clasped behind his back next to the door.

Inside the room, a table is set for two. The seats are well made, with comfortable-looking cushions and carved wooden frames inlaid with gold. Both seats are positioned in a way that neither has the door to their back.

From behind, footsteps can be heard before they come to a stop about ten feet away.

“Welcome to La Corte Regale. I see you have found the Venetian Room. Please feel free to take a seat until the host arrives. If you would like to join us for lunch, but your mask does not allow you to eat, we have a selection of masquerade masks that you may choose from- all unused -as well as a private room to change masks. If you would rather not, we may prepare a dish to go, of your choice,” a young lady in a maitre’d tuxedo states in a well-practiced manner.

For a moment, nothing seems to happen. Then, the driver exits and walks around the vehicle to open the rear, passenger door. With that finished, he begins walking back to the driver's side and pulls out his phone. Without getting back in the car, he begins dialing a number.

From the now-opened back of the car, a well-known figure steps out, one hand steadying his top hat while the other holds a staff made of polished wood with a top ornamented in gold. The figure himself wears a well-kept vintage suit with a vaguely avian mask seemingly made of solid gold.

The few civilians walking the nearby sidewalks immediately vacate the area when they notice him, putting a large distance between themselves and the infamous gang boss. A couple stick around, still a distance away, holding their phones up to try to earn their five minutes of internet fame.

Unlike normal days, where two would exit the car and one would stay, ready to drive away, only a single gang member exits the car, dressed in casual clothing. The other two remain in the vehicle. Nothing seems out of the ordinary with the driver, but the one in the back seat is too obscured by the slight tint of the window and the car's headrests to make out any details.

The car is parked just outside the store, perhaps sixty feet from where Emma hid. The man entering the store is slightly closer, maybe fifty feet.

Sovereign remains seated, calmly sipping his glass of water.

"Yes, while it is unfortunate you do not wish for any form of relation with my Court, your company was certainly not disagreeable."

He raises his glass to her with a minute nod. "Good day, Mechakoloss."

"Oh, you've already encountered the girl? And confirmed her status as a master? Inviting you here today truly was fortuitous."

He pauses to pull out another business card.

"If you happen to encounter the girl once more and you judge her to be stable, pass on this card to her, would you?"

Six seconds after she fully disappeared, she reappears on the opposite side of the roof, crawling out of the ground like a zombie from a B movie horror flick. After getting to her feet, she strikes a classic karate stance then pauses as she looks at the cape and the orca.

"You're still over there?" She questions, head tilting slightly.

Peek-a-Boo’s head snaps towards the dolphin as it begins to shift forms, hesitantly taking a step back as it grew and grew.

From the darkness of her hood, quiet muttering can be heard as she analyzed the situation. “Right, multi-form minion. Master has flight-type mover abilities. Master first, hope the minion disappears.” The words are soft, barely whispers.

With a resolute nod she looks back at Powerplay. “Let’s do it,” she confirms, her voice steady. Without waiting for their first move, she sinks down into the roof and seemingly disappears.

Sovereign shakes his head in the negative. "No, there is nowhere else in the city that can be considered properly neutral. Perhaps given more time, additional locations will arise. There will certainly be a greater need for them with the influx of new parahumans these past few weeks."

"As for individuals of interest, I will give you a few to keep an eye out for for free. On the side of the heroes, you have the Protectorate captain, Zipdash. She is an established tinker with a handful of years of experience on her side. Should you come into conflict with the law, she will be a major threat. At her side is a new transfer to the city, Cylynx. I've heard tell that she has already been out building her heroic reputation in the short time she's been here."

"On the other side, there are a number of minor independent villains. One of the more known faces in the city is that of Starving Artist. The child is, as seems to be common here, also a tinker. Her focus, however, seems to be in the creation of drugs and their like. She is generally harmless so long as you do not give her reason to fight. Less benign is the girl known as Julia Hendricks. My men believe her to be a type of master, potentially with control over humans. She has been seen commanding a police officer who had recently gone missing. Until the mechanics of her power are better understood, I would avoid that one."

"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."

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?"

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.

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?”

“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.

“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.”

"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."

"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."

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.”

“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.”

“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.”

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?”

“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.

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?”

“I will be sure to. Louis will be quite flattered. On that topic, please feel free to use the restaurant if you ever need a safe place to meet with another cape.”

“While I and the Court use it often, it is not, in truth, one of our own holdings, and amongst the general cape community, coming here is not a signifier of one’s allegiances. Also, meetings between capes have their meals discounted by half, as it helps promote the use of this neutral area.”

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."

"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."

"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."

At this point, Sovereign is openly smiling, though the smile is still restrained to a polite degree.

"I do believe we may be somewhat more similar than you may have originally expected. I've cultivated my Court to be something of a referee in this city as well. No one benefits from such monsters as the Fallen or those who would otherwise cause instability in society. I simply have taken a more proactive approach."

He takes a deep sip from his glass of water.

"Ah, yes, I have a similar issue with my own power, as shakers often do. Nothing like flipping gravity on its head to turn a city street into a mess."

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."

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. "

Sovereign shakes his head, frowning for the first time. "It truly is a shame. This little game of cops and robbers so rarely allows for parahumans of your persuasion. So many mark those on the other side of the coin as their mortal enemies, seeing neither the necessity of their opposites who play by the rules, nor the difference between their opposites and those who break said rules."

He takes another bite of his pasta.

"Very well. I said I would not attempt to coerce you, and you seem to have a good enough head on your shoulders to know not to cause chaos in the city. Let us enjoy this meal as friendly acquaintances, as opposed to business partners."

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?"

He nods, watching the girl's actions closely while carefully swirling his pasta around a fork. "A respectable state of being." He turns his attention to his dish.

"Not all I've met wish to be involved to even the slightest degree with my Court. It is regrettable, but I will not begrudge them- or you- of that choice. Just understand that the offer remains. Even the most capable may need a helping hand here and there."

He takes a bite once he finishes, seemingly savoring the flavor of the pasta.

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.

For the first time, Sovereign breaks from his regal demeanor and lets out a short laugh. As he begins to speak, his voice has lost a degree of its refinement, instead taking on a hint of amusement.

"You aren't wrong. My answers are generic because there is little information available on you. And the option of recruitment was always just that, an option. My earlier comments were the truth. The primary reason I invited you here was to sate my own curiosity. You are a new face in the city, one with little information attached to you. This meeting has led me to know far more than what I did before it began, so it's purpose was met."

He touches the side of his mask and a slight click echoes out. The bottom half of the mask falls away into his hand, revealing a short, slightly graying beard adorning a slight smile.

"The plans you state for your near future do not clash with my own, so we have no quarrel. If you are in need of the Court's services now or in the future, you may message or call the number here." He pulls a business card out of his breast pocket. "The price is monetary, nothing more. There are no strings attached to any purchase of materials, weapons, fake ID's, or just about anything else you could possibly desire."

As if it were timed, the door opens as Sovereign finishes speaking, the waiter walking in with two plates of food.

Sovereign cocks his head ever so slightly to the side, studying the cape in front of him. "Hmm... What do I think you want?" One hand comes up to cup his chin.

"To live. To survive and thrive in a crippled society beset by monsters both man and not. Unfortunately, a single, short meeting and a PHO page bereft of any particularly useful information precludes the possibility of a more profound reading." He clasps his hands back together, leaning forward.

"As for what I believe you are going to do... Attempt to find a niche for yourself in society, whether here or not. Perhaps build up a base of power. Some say your mech is a projection of sorts. Others say you are a tinker. If the former, you are strong in your own right, and potentially a valuable part of whichever segment of society you choose to join. If the later, I believe there are relatively few limits to what you will eventually be capable of, provided you have the materials needed to sate your power. Materials that I can provide."

Sovereign places his own order just after her, not having to check the menu.

“The PRT does a respectable job on the surface, keeping the public assuaged and dealing with the various threats that crop up like weeds over the years. However, they have neither the reach nor the ability to truly maintain order in a city of this size. That is where the Court steps in. Unlike the common two-bit thug one may be accosted by in the streets, we hold ourselves to a higher standard. Counterfeits, forgeries, smuggling, asset protection. These are but a few of the services we offer. We aim to control the lesser villains of this city by providing- or denying -access to these services. And when that fails, we remove those that would destabilize the region through force.”

He pauses for a moment. “As for where you come in, the Court always has room for aspiring parahumans. However, I will not attempt to force you to join, nor will I coerce you in any way. I value loyalty more than temporary strength. Simply keep within the unwritten rules, do not cause undue chaos, and our services will remain open to you. Even if you join the side of the heroes.”

“Please do. The chefs here are quite talented.” He snaps his fingers twice and the door opens, followed by a young man entering with a notepad.

“As for questions, if you have any of your own, please do not be afraid to ask. This is an exchange between friends, not an interrogation.”

He takes a seat opposite of her, carefully bracing his staff against the back of the chair, clasping his hands together and leaning back in a way that’s reminiscent of a Bond villain.

“Right to the point, I see. Very well. I am Sovereign, lord of The Court. I have chosen to invite you here for a handful of reasons. The first, is that of simple curiosity. A parahuman does not live for as long as I unless they stay well informed of their peers.”

“The second reason is to ascertain just where you stand in our little game of cops and robbers we enjoy in this city. The remaining reasons will be contingent upon your response to the second.” His manner of speaking holds the tells of experience and professional refinement.

“Of course ma’am. Water and bread will be brought to your table in just a moment.” She leads them through a doorway, beyond which is a room large enough to comfortably seat a dozen. At the moment, it only has a table large enough for two. The seats are particularly nice- well cushioned, made of carved wood, detailed with gold.

“Please feel free to take a seat. Your host is just now arri-“

The door opening once more cuts the girl off. “Thank you, Lucille, I will take it from here.” The smooth baritone voice comes from a man of stately stature. He wears a well-kept vintage suit and tie with accompanying vest. His mask appears to be solid gold, covering his entire face, with squared eyes and an almost bird-like ridge down the center. On his head is a short top-hat, and in his hand is a staff that comes up to his shoulders, topped in golden ornamentation.

The interior of the restaurant is somewhat dimly lit. Not enough to hamper vision, however. The decor exudes the feel of wealth and class, and the scent of fine Italian cuisine wafts through the air.

“Welcome, ma’am. A table has been prepared for you in the Venetian Room. If you would like to join us for lunch, but your mask does not allow you to eat, we have a selection of masquerade masks that you may choose from- all unused -as well as a private room to change masks. If you would rather not, we may prepare a dish to go, of your choice.” A young lady in a fine maitre’d tuxedo greets her. “Ah, and before I forget, payment for whatever you order has already been covered.”

The case opens without resistance. Nothing out of the ordinary happens, and if one were to look inside, they would find a CD, as expected, as well as a folded piece of paper.

Once unfolded, the paper looks instead to be a short letter. It reads:

‘Mechakoloss,

Welcome to the parahuman scene of the city of Denver. I would like to extend to you an invitation. A meeting, and perhaps the beginnings of a fruitful business relationship, if not a friendship, one might call it. The location is La Corte Regale. It has long been a neutral location for those of our standing to meet. If you find that you are interested, you may find it on Arapahoe Street, just opposite 16th Street Mall. You may enter through the front, however there is also a rear entrance for the more discerning customer. There is no need to call ahead, the staff will know to expect you.

To new opportunities, Sovereign’

His grins widely at her. "Hey, hey, I hear ya. If you do ever come by with your card or some more cash, hit me up. Stay safe out there." He winks, then turns his attention away from the cape and back to his cart. He seems to be organizing the various items and straightening out his displays.

The text on the back lists mishmash of songs from different well-known bands and styles. The songs definitely don't seem to fit together in any noticeable way.

The young man grins and shrugs his shoulders. "Who knows, there's a lot more for sale besides what I've got here. Take that with ya," he gestures to the case in her hands, "and check it out. Ya might like it more than you think."

"Hey, you're a cape, aren't ya?" The young man speaks up as soon as she's near. "I've got just the thing for ya," he continues on without waiting for a response while holding out a particular CD case. "Free of charge, I promise you'll like what's inside."

"Yeah, the cape's leaving now. Headed this way... Yes sir... Yeah, I can take care of it."

A young man in trendy clothes puts his cellphone in his pocket and turns back to his cart. Amongst the various pop-culture referencing trinkets and cd's bearing the music of obscure artists is an empty cd case. Empty, save for the note hidden within, prewritten after the cape in question was spotted entering the PRT HQ.

He holds it close, keeping it away from the occasional passerby perusing his wares. This particular item wasn't meant for any of them, but instead, for the cape growing ever closer to his little section of the sidewalk.

"Chain-smoker?" Peek-a-Boo blurts out, forgetting to disguise her voice. "I don't sound that bad, do I?" She shakes her head vigorously. "Uh, forget I asked that." She glances between the parahuman and the dolphin before she steps forward, teetering on the edge of the roof.

"I've not had a chance to test myself against the locals yet. Wanna be my first?" she asks with a playful lilt.

Peek-a-Boo's head tilted to the side in thought, almost imperceptibly under her hood and veil. As they got closer, they could see that the "brooding" figure is short, though nothing else about her person is visible under the dark, tattered cloak that she wears.

"Particularly badly. No one ever mentions how boring it can be," the figure admitted in a young, feminine voice, obscured only slightly by an obviously forced, raspy whisper. "But now that you and your... projection," she glanced at the flying dolphin, "are here, maybe we could have some fun."

Peek-a-Boo lay on a rooftop, legs hanging off the edge as she sprawled out, staring into the sky. Reaching into her tattered cloak, she pulled out and checked her phone, then sighed and put it away again. She sat up slowly, twisting from side to side to crack her back, only to pause as she saw two figures flying towards her general direction.

With a grin, she stood up, silhouetting herself against the sky and turned towards the other parahuman and their... pet?

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."

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

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."

"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?"