#bigbst4tz

The most obvious example of this was BigB dying when Grian killed Ren, which wasn't an effect Grian fully realized until after the fact.

How many times would Pearl and Scott normally have killed each other if it weren't for the fact they would pay their own life in exchange?

design based off these skins by fruityautumn and kingfishingmike on twitter

a pair of nosy neighbors especially for you!

Jimst4tz if they served cvnt

Pearl wakes up an hour or so before dawn as Lilly nudges her, letting her know it’s almost time. She stretches before changing into her first outfit of the day, dark red hoodie and plain t-shirt and cargo pants. Her “henchmen” outfit, back when she worked in the background. Something bland and practical. Her mask and crescent earring stay, disguise and protection.

Her wolves pulled in for now, apart from Mailbox, as she walks out into the empty hallways of the base, Tango asleep, Etho maybe asleep. One last check of things here before she leaves.

The clock hits 5 and Mailbox teleports them away.

BigB stands in the middle of his apartment in a blue sweater over a white collared shirt and jeans, large “briefcase” in hand, waiting.

He still startles at her sudden appearance, but recognizes her quickly enough even in the dark.

“Ready?” Pearl asks, voice quiet in the early morning.

No. Let’s go. He writes on the whiteboard he’s apparently taped to one side of the briefcase , waiting the few seconds it takes her to read it before shifting forward.

“First things first.” Pearl says, pulling out one of the two boxes she’d requested from Doc after finalizing this part of the plan and passing it to her informant. “Here. It doesn’t work like mine, but it’ll hide some of your face without needing to walk in wearing a Commission mask and mark you as under my supervision.” She explains as B pulls out the moth mask, pale blue with darker almost indigo patterning. “It’ll fit under, or over, your other masks.” Pearl forces herself to stop there. Not overexplain and ramble anxiously as BigB looks over the mask with a hard to decipher expression before he puts it on.

Thank you. BigB writes out, mask perfectly fitted like she’d expected. And Pearl nods. It only made sense to give him a mask. Something other than the plain white of a Commission agent.

She shrugs the feelings off, focusing on the next steps.

“Alright, let's get this show on the road.” She grins and he nods, straightening his posture out just a bit. Mailbox takes BigB first, Aesthesia already waiting on the other end, and Pearl takes the seconds between to text the other person needed for her plan.

hey, you able to help me with something kinda important this morning it’d involve singing, so seriously, no worries if it’s a no

She puts her phone away as Mailbox comes back, and then she’s in the holding room with BigB, Speaker right now, and Aesthesia.

“One delivery of mole as promised.” She says, stepping away from Mailbox as the wolf retreats inside for now, rest a bit longer before the fireworks.

“Right.” Aesthesia says, watching B suspiciously, arms crossed. “Nice to meet you. You have your costume, Speaker? ‘Cuz part of this is you still need to look like a Commission agent.” He says and B nods, lifting up his briefcase.

“Alright then,” Aesthesia sighs, running a hand through his hair. “You’re staying here until we’re set up for the recording. Room’s soundproofed, locked, and watched. If this turns out to be some kind of double cross, me and everyone else are going to be pissed. That’s all the warnings pretty much, it’s not that I don’t trust you, I just don’t trust anyone.” The spymaster says, before turning to Pearl. “Anything I’m missing?” He asks.

“I’ll bring you some breakfast in a bit,” she tells B, “and don’t worry about changing or anything just yet, it’ll be at least an hour before stuff starts moving.”

Got it/no worries, and thanks. BigB writes, face calm even though they’re basically holding him prisoner despite the fact he’s been playing double-agent for them. It makes sense. And he probably understands it better than her. But she still feels bad.

She and Aesthesia leave him there. Door shut and locked just like he said.

“Can I borrow the kitchen to cook, or am I grabbing something from someplace close by?” Pearl asks as they walk down the bar’s back hallways.

“Nah, don’t worry about that, you can use the kitchen.” Aesthesia says, waving a hand. “Better to stay in anyway.” He continues, ever paranoid, and she nods.

“Are any of the others going to want food?” She asks. “‘Cuz if I’m making food already for me and Speaker, plus using your guys' kitchen to do so, I’m happy to make more.” Pearl offers, keeping half her attention on the spymaster’s face.

“I don’t think anyone would turn stuff down, especially not food they don’t have to make.” Aesthesia says. “No idea what we have though, so that might be interesting.”

“Eh, I’ve worked with less.” Pearl waves a hand as she stops in front of the kitchen doors. “Thanks though. I’ll see you and the others later.”

“Good luck.” Aesthesia nods, leaving her to turn and walk into the kitchen, poke around its cabinets and fridge for ingredients.

Her rummaging nets her a package of bacon, a good dozen and a half of eggs, two/thirds a loaf of bread, some other assorted ingredients, and sixteen squash for some unknown reason.

She sets the squash aside for now, focusing on the more traditional breakfasty foods, eggs, bacon, french toast.

Her phone buzzes as she cooks, letting the methodical manner of food prep wash over her, and she checks it when she gets a free second.

1 what r you doing up so early???? and 2, yeah? probably what’s going on?

Oli’s texted back.

She exhales. Answers the easier question first.

cuz I have a terrible sleep schedule plus a big day ahead and its easier 2 explain in person

Pearl texts back, hesitating just a bit before sending two more.

& also kinda Big seriously, I can’t tell you much more, and if you want to say no, don’t worry about it, I have backup plans I can use take a minute to think about it

She sends as Oli’s dots bob up and down, and he listens seeing as how they disappear for a good couple seconds.

okay, freaky words, but yeah, I trust you.

He texts back, and it’s the period that confirms it for her. 

no need for backup singers when the Oli is in town! ;)

Pearl laughs, a short breathless thing, because a good friend wouldn’t be doing this, dragging him into this mess of heroes and villains, a friend wouldn’t, but she is, because it’s the easiest solution and she’s more interested in this being over than keeping civilians out of it.

okay meet me Here whenever?

She waits for the confirmation, coming in confused and puzzled, before slipping her phone back in her pocket and focusing on the pan.

One step at a time. The final dominoes being set into place.

Red light numbers slowly counting down.

 ☽  〇  ☾

Pearl making breakfast for everyone was rather useful it turns out. Martyn should have thought of that, but then they don’t usually have these kinds of meetings over food.

Almost everyone’s here now though and Speaker’s “recording studio” is set up and ready for the spy. Which means it’s time to move the guy.

He heads back to the holding room with Pearl, hearing off, just in case, even though it hurts like a phantom limb.

“Come on Blue Day.” Pearl says, possibly referencing the band though he’s no idea why. “Recording room’s all set up, so once you change, you can at least have a change of scenery and look over the script.” The double-agent and Commission employee nods, stepping forward to follow her out and down the hall, Martyn bringing up the rear.

It doesn’t take long to set the guy up, make sure he understands everything, and Martyn leaves him and Pearl to the rest of it. Pearl was more than competent and had enough at stake here it’d be fine, and his ears were starting to hurt.

He heads back to their normal meeting room, where Tango, Doc, and Etho were talking quietly about something and False continued to lounge next to Ren who’d taken over his 

Pearl’s not long behind him, heading over to her team, and it’s not much more time after her that Cleo comes in, outfit closer to her days as Ariadne than any of their Moirai identities. And very colorful.

“New costume, Lachises?“ Doc asks. And Cleo grins, eyes bright green, their skin’s odd blue-green tint stronger, gold stitch scars standing out further. It’s not a normal Cleo grin, brighter, more honest, and less sharp. Honestly a lot creepier.

“Oh you can call me Ananke for today!” Cleo says, voice slightly different than normal, sounding closer to how they did when she worked as a hero, when they stitched Ren’s head back on. A small echo that Martyn is really not trying to think about it. He does not want to know about the rumours of possession and ghosts and how close Atropos-Cleo actually is to death. They already make him dig up corpses too often for his liking.

“Necessity.” False says, head tilted as she regards their resident healer-necromancer who brightens creepily.

“Yes!” Cleo beams. “I thought it was rather fitting considering the task we’re completing today!” Oh this is just terrifying, Martyn would like the old Cleo back please. … That’s a thought he never should have had.

“We’re just waiting around for a couple last pieces to fall into place.” He interjects into the conversation before Ananke-Cleo does something like compliment Flase back sincerely. “Moon made food if you want any.” Martyn gestures to the covered dishes.

“Oh why thank you!” Cleo says. Without any sarcasm. Or snark. Martyn eyes his now empty plate suspiciously, before glancing at Doc who seems to be mirroring his emotions, which is concerning, and there are very few ways this day can get worse.

Martyn stops thinking about it and turns back to keeping an eye on his scanners and bugs and ear to his marks.

“Orion’s here.” Pearl reports, looking up from her phone and standing to walk over to the door.

“Final check.” Martyn says, flicking his gaze around the room. Carefully evaluating each of them, the ones who have a stake in the secrets being revealed. No one speaks up and Pearl leaves with a nod, one of Doc’s boxes in her hands.

“Okay, two last things to get to and then we’re all set.” He says, continuing to watch the hero systems. Making sure no surprises pop up.

“Enigma says people have started arriving at the warehouse.” Etho reports some time later, and Martyn nods, getting up to go check on Speaker’s set up and grab Pearl for the meeting. He can hear singing as he gets closer, someone with a decent voice.

Pearl stands in the doorway watching both Speaker in the recording setup behind the glass, and the bleached blonde singer that sits on this side of the glass with thick headphones over his ears and a butterfly-like rainbow mask broken up with black patterns over his face.

He ignores both of them, tapping Pearl’s shoulder to get her attention, even though he’s pretty sure she knows he’s there.

“We’re about to start the pre-meeting.” He says lowly, even though he doubts either of the two men could hear him, as she looks back at him. “Everything running smooth?” He asks and Pearl gives a short wave towards her “resource”, a man who’s singing comes true.

“Verbal powers don’t affect me. I’m immune to Speaker’s lies. Just keep singing, change the key. Won’t be fooled by anything he implies. Ooooooo, yeah babe-y. Aaaall is true, no may-be.” “Orion” sings to himself inside the sound booth and Pearl sends him a questioning glance and thumbs up from the doorway that the strange man returns with a slightly panicked half grin. “Gonna get the secrets, not falling for the tricks. Falsehood powers beaten out by the mix.”

“He’ll be alright.” She says softly after closing the door, song muffled now. “Orion will let us know when Speaker’s done. I’d guess maybe 20-25 minutes?” Martyn nods. It’s about what was expected, and well within their slowly dwindling timeframe.

There’s not actually much need for the meeting, one last talk over a plan they all know practically by heart. Simple steps, with key points covered by more than one backup plan and room for some error and surprises.

By the end of the day The Commission should be cripled enough that the backlash from the civilians would ensure whatever’s left of them dies out along with all the major targets they were taking out today.

Or they’d all be dead and half the city would be flattened with the other half on fire.

Ren, Tango, and Pearl all head out at the end, the first two to drop by the warehouse and start giving out the roles there, the latter to finally go change into her outfit now that everything was well on its way.

“Uh, hi? Hello.” Orion says nervously from the doorway maybe five minutes later. Eyes skipping over the assembled group of villains. Scanning for Pearl. “Your guy’s done. Fully stuck to the script.” He continues, jerking a finger back down the hall. He looks a bit pale. Martyn’s not sure if it’s the villains or the script. Or both. “Was, uh, was that it?” He asks, fidgeting in abrupt, aborted motions. “Because I have a street corner to be busking in a couple minutes and—”

“You’re not going to want to be on the street in an hour.” Etho says matter of factly, blinking at the singer.

“Oh? Um, right, I’ll…” Orion trails off, looking vaguely sick as Etho stands.

“Come on. Part of the deal was your protection.” He says, moving towards Pearl’s “I know a guy”. “We have some where you can stay.”

“Wow, that’s really generous— I mean there’s no need for you to do that, I’m just a guy.” Orion rambles, backing up as Etho moves past him out the door. “I can simply go back to my apartment and maybe barricade the door, and windows. I’m sure you have—”

“It’s safer if you stay here.” Etho says, cutting off any more argument from the blonde.

“Right. Yeah, sure. Okay.” Martyn lets that conversation go as Etho leads him away, switching to his new task of double checking the recording, watching for any skips or issues in it.

Uploads it to the system, ready to be sent out and played.

“The file is ready and loaded.” He says, clicking into the group's comms.

A message pings on his screen from the heroes and Martyn quickly scans it over.

“Bonus points, the Mountaineers are meeting together for some reason. It is the Final Countdown folks, get ready.” Martyn adds, shutting most of his systems down and heading to Mailbox himself for transport to the warehouse.

There aren’t many people left there. A few vigilantes and villains waiting for transport or staying here, Tango closer to the cracked doors and one of Pearl’s wolves, keeping an eye outside, and Enigma and Quandry seemingly having an argument off in a corner. Unfortunately his goal.

“Enigma. Quandary.” Martyn greets the vigilante pair, neuterally, before shifting his attention to the leader. “We’re about to start.”

“Very well then.” Enigma replies cooly. “Quandary.” She says, no longer with the aloof tone. What almost sounds like an order, but is really a goodbye.

“I should be going with you.” Quandary argues back. “I can help.” He insists and the shadow wielder hesitates, possibly shooting a glance towards him before shifting forward.

“I need you here.” She says softly, before dropping her voice even quieter. “Safe. Please, Little Light.” Probably quieter than most anyone else could hear, not that he’s going to mention it, and Quandry deflates slightly.

“Fine.” He says, before turning to Martyn and straightening to his full height, only a little shorter than Pearl and Doc probably.

“If she gets badly hurt the rest of your lives will be miserable ones.” The unknown-powered vigilante states threateningly, crossing his arms. “Where am I going?”

“Blood Moon brought in a civilian specialist.” Martyn explains, directing him away from Enigma, who he can feel watching him, and down to Mailbox’s current station. “They’re at a safe house now, but better to have at least someone with field experience nearby in case things go really south, you know?”

“If this is something to placate me, it’s not working.” The vigilante says scornfully, sounding like his partner.

“No. Just better division of resources.” Martyn maybe lies, but the deal was Enigma uses her powers to their full extent (whatever that was) and Quandry isn’t in the final fight. So he’s going to the safehouse-apartment and then Martyn can go to his position for the fight.

Last tasks, last preparations.

Last minutes.

 ☽  〇  ☾

There are too many targets over the city to be able to stick together. Their one recent consistency finally coming to an end.

All the heavy hitters, them, vigilantes like Enigma, a couple other villains that are strong enough, have individual targets, while the rest are spread out in carefully balanced groups. Placed in strategic spots across the city to maximize their efforts. Directions clear and focused.

“Everyone ready?” Aesthesia checks in, to a variety of sounds of agreements, Doc’s own included.

“Alright then. Showtime,” he says, and Doc breathes calmly, “in three, two, one.” Doc presses the first button.

The main power station explodes, more show than not really, and Doc presses the second as their double-agent starts speaking across most of the screens in the city. Locking the broadcast in place.

“Hello. My name is Iris. Some of you will recognize me as a Commission hero, and I was.” The former Commission agent begins. “You could call this a sort of resignation.” A small quirk of the lips, humour to help humanize and relate the man to the civilians. Even though they’ll be inclined to believe him anyway. “I’m not really here as a hero though, but as a whistle-blower. Someone to tell you the truth. Because The Commission hasn’t. The Commission won’t. Since its beginnings The Commission has killed two thousand eight hundred and twenty two people classified as villains, seven hundred twenty five as vigilantes, two hundred sixty six as civilians, and ninety seven as heroes.” A strong start, the more reactionary information delivered quickly but efficiently before getting into the finer details to ensure the best results from the city. “This includes heroes such as Decia, torn apart by Commission Agent Whirlwind during a multi-villain battle to create a martyr. Juniper, assassinated for questioning orders and letting smaller-time villains off with a warning. Lupus, original death faked to give The Commission time to torture her for investigating the crimes I’m telling you now before murdering her four months later. And twice more unknowingly when she came back to life via a secondary aspect of her power.” He tunes the rest out, the briefing something he’d assisted in creating, information know well beyond what they had cut down into the rather short in his opinion video. He would have also liked to test just how much influence Speaker’s power has via recording, but sometimes field testing was all they got.

Doc’s tasks are straightforward. Kill The Commission’s main power station, done. Continue to monitor and jam the hero communication lines. Keep the power station under their control. Draw attention and remove anyone who fights against them, fights for The Commision from the playing field.

He has a few personal goals, knows now the names and faces of everyone involved in the decision to kill Ren, to imprison him, but those are secondary, and tertiary to the main ones. It’s far more important that The Commission be brought down.

His machines will take care of much of the area, mainly Creeper Bots programmed to target white-mask Commission agents (and not screens) along with anyone who attacks them. An imperfect system, but one with as slim chances of error as he and the Hivemind can produce. New ones being released just often enough they will appear endless, though he only has a couple hundred. Number over speciality having won out in this case.

Doc walks through his meandering swam of Creepers, keeping watch of the area he’s been assigned through his systems.

There would be heroes arriving soon enough, there were already a few agents that had emerged from the wreckage of the power station and a handful that had hit his border. But none of any true threats.

Not yet.

But they would.

And he was more than prepared.

 ☽  〇  ☾

False strides through the halls with a bloody sword and a steely focus. The “research center” she’s slowly making her way through is far closer to a long-term version of the labs Pearl had been held in. A prison but for the fact its residents hadn’t committed any crimes to get here. Not really.

A handful of the guards and scientists had managed to put up a decent fight, but not quite as many as she’d been expecting. Might be the challenge would come from when she loops back to the locked exits.

The “prisoners” she releases or puts out of their misery, telling them to make their way to the cafeteria for now, what with the exits locked and outside a minor warzone anyway. They listen to her, or not, False just passes along the information and moves on. It’s only if they attack her that she kills them. Most don’t.

She’s making good time too. A little over two-thirds through, and no real injuries to speak of. The new area she’s made it to is clearly more important, more guards, larger, individualised cells and experiment rooms. She turns a corner, sword half raised and in front of her the next room’s guard blanches.

“She’s in there!” He cries, throwing his weapon down and raising his hand in fearful surrender. “She’s in there! God please don’t kill me!” False has no idea who the heck he’s talking about, but she knocks him out as requested. Probably. He should get back up some point later down the line. The group had said it’d be fine to leave one or two alive for possible future trials if they surrendered.

There’s no real indicator of who’s beyond the previously guarded door, nothing around its border, only warning signs of authorization needed and danger. Specific.

False swipes her “master key” Tango and Doc had crafted together for all of them across the scanner to disable any remaining triggers. Then she kicks the door down, sword at the ready, just in case.

There’s nothing in the bare room apart from a metal rectangular box a little over her height with a red H alongside two triangles and a rather large X. Cautiously she walks around it, every side equal and blank apart from the first, metal dull and grey like it’s the back of something, almost invisible hinges on the corner.

False stands back at the front of the container, staring at the only identifier on the thing and trying to figure out just what, who, was inside. The symbols are familiar-ish, but she’s not sure if she should ask for assistance or not.

Pearl, Aesthesia, and Etho had gone over all the basic symbols and codes The Commission uses with everyone, but that’s not where she knows these triangles from. It’s from somewhere else.

And then it does hit her.

“Ananke, I’m going to need a medic at my location asap.” False calls in over the comms. She should have killed the guard.

“Disparity? What’s wrong?” Aesthesia asks, a trace of worry in his voice. No matter, she can do it now.

“I found my sister.” She says flatly, moving back into the hallway to finish clearing out the building. False would make sure there was no one around by the time Cleo got here. Half her job done early because she had slightly more important things to focus on now.

 ☽  〇  ☾

Jimmy was having a very cursed day.

He already knew it was The Day, thanks to Lizzie being fairly in with the villains and their plan to bring down The Commission.

But then Lizzie had forbade him from going out with her, which had clearly been her plan from the beginning, and yes his power isn’t as useful in an active fight (especially one this big), but being put on the sidelines sucked, his sister was out there! Fighting! He should at least be able to watch her back!

But Lizzie was going to need to be fully focused on the fight, of doing just enough to hold up her side of the deal and enough to take down The Commission, but also try to keep from causing any unnecessary damage or injuries. He already knows she’s going to be using her murder eyes, which she hates doing, and it leaves her more vulnerable, so she can’t also be focused on him. Already going to be worried with Joel on the same field, probably not fighting against them but who knows.

So he agreed to stay behind, apparently watch over someone Blood Moon had brought in, and got teleported by a wolf to an apartment-ish looking place.

And then Oli popped out with a butterfly mask on and Jimmy’d been so surprised he’d given himself away (see this is how he knows it was his powers working against him), which turned into a back and forth of arguing about secrets and who exactly brought Oli here, Pearl or Blood Moon, that had thankfully(?) been interrupted by a fairly distant explosion sound and the radio and tv both turning on to some hero/Commission agent named Iris reading off a list of crimes, mainly murders and experimentation and pushing laws, that The Commission had apparently committed over the years.

So Jimmy got to learn a lot of terrible information despite already knowing some of it because of his mother and Lizzie, and have it confirmed by Oli who was apparently there to confirm it all as true using his power, which meant a long time sitting down and Thinking.

And then his wings and tail disappeared, which they never do while he's in costume because Lizzie never lets them, and he suddenly cared a whole lot less about staying put and "guarding" Oli.

That had been eight minutes ago.

Five minutes ago Oli had caught up with him and started arguing with him before singing them out of the sudden immediate danger, following him still arguing, and singing.

The city is a mess of fighting, and Jimmy is purposefully not paying too much attention but there are definitely corpses scattered about. He has to only be focused on finding Lizzie, not ending up a body himself and pulling Oli through the warzone as well.

“Singer with a question, searching high and low. Keen eyes to find an Enigma, no matter where we go. Commission’s falling in the city, vengeance sitting pretty. Blood Moon’s on the rise, got justice in her eyes.” Oli sings, rambling uncertainty as they run through the slowly worsening streets. “This is still a terrible plan!” He hisses between lines.

“Then sing something better!” Jimmy bites back, and he’ll apologize later, but it's Lizzie. He has to find his sister, she has to be okay.

“Running through the streets, cuz a brother always knows. Something, something, Enigma, hair like a rose.” Oli sings, and Jimmy’s gut tells him left suddenly. “I’m coming up with this on the spot, you know!” His friend yells again, somehow not out of breath. “You try rhyming while getting shot at! Reflexes like a big cat! Perfect dodge, terrible aim! Orion, Quandary, out of frame!” Oli sings, bullets hitting anything but them as they duck around the corner and away from the group of Commission agents.

He keeps the singing up, small things about speed and stealth, sometimes telling a person they’re going to be okay, and Jimmy keeps heading towards Lizzie.

It’s been maybe fifteen minutes since Lizzie’s powers left him and they are not in an area that would normally be fifteen minutes away, but Oli had been singing them to “get there quickly”.

There's a box of light and Jimmy knows the figure on the ground inside it is Lizzie, and he nearly curses Joel-Illume a thousand times over, except he's in the box as well holding it up against on onslaught of other powers and bullets and is having a screaming match with The Commission soldiers shooting at them.

“Oli just make sure I don't get shot.” He tells his friend and doesn't wait to hear the answer, rushing forward and pulling on his power harder than he ever has.

He’s cursed. Bad luck following him, directed to those around him if he chooses.

Jimmy chooses to damn everyone who’s shooting at his sister.

 ☽  〇  ☾

Joe was actually rather pleased with how the day was progressing when everything was wholly taken into account.

He was, of course, wildly stressed and anxious but Joe had been expecting that and had been sure to give himself as much proper rest and preperation as possible beforehand. They both knew the plan, they both knew all the backup plans, and they had had a long discussion over the ethical dilemias and moral quandaries (not the vigilante Quandry of course) that might arise in today’s fight. Or, really Joe had rubber-ducked his way through them with Cleo providing helpful commentary and facts at key points.

And surprisingly, or possibly not, something to think about later, the actions of “not”-heroism came back a lot like the analogy of riding a bike. Not quite instinct, and a little wobbly at first, but Joe knows this. Remembers how to do this.

Which is great!

It’s also useful Joe and Cleo’s role is overseeing a small group of zombies and string “traps” to create a bottleneck area elsewhere, as well being on hand as to heal anyone on their side. Or the civilians they came across.

Which was also going well, he’d like to mention.

The only “call-out” they’d gotten was for Disparity’s twin and she’d been unharmed (physically), no healing required!

Moving through the streets was stressful and chaotic and they’d gotten shot at more times than he’d prefer (0), however there aren’t as many Heroes fighting them, most civilians have either been evacuated from the hot spots or barricaded themselves inside and mostly out of the way, and there wasn’t quite the level of overexsagerated conflict and mayhem as Joe had been mentally preparing himself for.

“This is Illume, I’m with Enigma on 17th and Mayview. We need a medic now!” Their comms flick on with the sound of gunfire and power clashes. “Whatever you’re guys’ plan is, The Commission just got their act together!”

“Things are also looking rough in my position, if anyone’s free to lend a hand.” Ethos chimes in sounding just a bit winded.

Joe starts heading quickly towards Illume and Enigma’s location, Cleo mentally smaking him for tempting fate. He really should have known better seeing as how he’s dressed as the ancient greek deity of inevitability and the mother to the Fates.