Silver Hawk/Ted Langham - Admelior
Brainstorm/Damien Alexander - Darren Woods
Dragoon/Percy Miller - Andy Mathews

Life couldn't have been better for Ted Langham, his Silver Hawk armor had performed better than he had expected in the field and after only a week he was responsible for stopping eight crimes on his own. None of them had been more than a simple mugging but it had felt good just the same. The only downside to the whole week was the armor had developed a glitch and he would have to spend at least part of the day tracking it down.

Noticing his gas tank was nearly on E as he drove to the research labs above the Olympians base, Ted pulled into a Circle K. He pulled up to the pumps and as he was getting out of his car noticed a commotion near the front door of the building.

(Jesus.) Ted shook his head. He hated this crap. He could see a Hispanic kid, well, he looked younger than Ted, anyway, leaning against the door, and what were probably two or three others inside. The kid outside was hassling some old man-'old' being relative, of course. The guy was probably only forty or so.

Moving with the confidence born of successful superheroing coupled with the surety of his place in the universe, Ted strode purposefully up to the door. The young Latino that had been hassling the middle-aged guy held out a hand to stop him. Ted ignored him.

"Hey, esse, you can't-hey!" The kid could keep both Ted and the other person out, and Ted simply walked past with only the barest shrug to loosen an already loose grip on his shoulder. Upon entering the store, Ted took in the scene immediately.

There were two guys near the door, both Latinos. Cuban, Mexican-Ted could not tell the difference. They wore loose button-up shirts over tee shirts and baggy jeans. Both wore bandanas over their lower faces. One kept his hands close in front of him. He was sweating and looked nervous over the dark-blue cloth. The other, a big guy with several inches and a couple dozen pounds on Ted, held an automatic pistol prominently in his hand, making no effort to hide it. He smiled when Ted walked in. His eyes were red. Ted thought (maybe they were both on drugs or something.) Of course, Ted had a tendency to stereotype, and young Latino thugs were always on drugs as far as he was concerned.

"Check this out, Lobo." There was only the barest hint of an accent. "This cabasa de guano decided to join us."

Another man behind the counter chuckled. He wore a leather coat over his shirt, and his jeans were black and not baggy. He might have been considered handsome had his cheeks not been pockmarked and pitted from a failed battle with acne. A female clerk stood nearby, looking as scared as the situation warranted. The leather-jacketed man ignored her and turned his dark eyes fixed on Ted. He did not looked hopped up on anything, he looked-intense.

"His loss, then." He smiled. "Our gain. Get his wallet, and anything else of value."

(Sonuva bitch!) Ted kept a tight-lipped scowl on his face as he berated himself. (I had to walk into a friggin' robbery!) Dragoon would laugh at him. They all would. He should have seen it. He was not a hero like the others. He needed that armor to be a super hero. He was not some kung fu expert, and he sure as hell did not know how to shoot a gun. He did not have super speed or invulnerability. He could not shoot fire from his eyes or lasers from his ass. In his armor, he was Silver Hawk, and without the armor, he was nothing. To tell the truth, he had been more than a little scared the first time he had gone out, even in the armor. It was not like the movies or the comics. No one mentioned the fear in the movies.

However, he had lived, and he had loved every minute of it once it was over. It was a high like none other. When he was in the armor, he was a honest-to-goodness super hero! However, when he was not in the armor--like now--he was just Ted Langham, and Ted Langham was, after all, only human.

He stood silently, fists clenched, berating himself, God, Fate, Life and everything else that had conspired against him to put him in this place at this time. His heart hammered in his chest, and Ted realized he was afraid.

A sound made him glance away from the robbers. There were two other people present besides the Latinos and the clerk. Ted had not seen them at first. One was an attractive woman in her early thirties, her soccer-mom style appealing to Ted despite the situation. The other one was likely her daughter, a girl of maybe twelve years who would likely grow up to be as pretty as her mother. Both were holding back tears. Ted loosened the hold on his scowl and managed half a smile. His mind was trying hard to remember what little he had learned this past week. Fear, intimidation, confidence...all the crap that big s.o.b. running the show tried to impart on them.

"Give it over, homes," the big Latino said. Ignoring him Ted took a slow look around the room like Dragoon had been teaching them. With a glance, Ted noted that the camera on the opposite wall had been turned completely away from the door. Likely, the one behind the counter had been similarly disabled.

Ted eyed the guy and assessed his odds. He was not a hero like some of the others. He relied on his armor to even the odds. This sort of crap was not in his contract.

The big Latino took a step forward, putting himself within inches of Ted and forcing the smaller man to look up. "I said, give it over." His smaller partner laughed. The pockmarked bastard behind the counter went back to pulling money out of the register. Ted saw him pocket a couple packs of cigarettes, as well.

Ted eyed him with extreme distaste. Who was this asshole to rob him? Him! Ted Langham! Silver Hawk, for Christ's sake!

'Well,' Ted thought, his rational mind fighting to exert itself. 'For starters, he's the guy with the gun.' Ted glanced again at the soccer mom and her scared daughter. Two more reasons not to be stupid. Not that he needed more. He was not a hero. He had had second thoughts from the first meeting, but the thrill of actually using the armor had driven the doubts from his mind. He had busted half-a-dozen lowlifes like this already. More! He had even been shot at, but the bullets had bounced harmlessly off the armor as expected. When he was Silver Hawk, he was a true superhero. As part of the new Olympians, he was nearly invincible. Without the armor, though, he was not anything. He sure as hell was not a hero.

With evident reluctance Ted reached into his back pocket and withdrew his wallet. He wasn't worried about the contents-credit cards could be canceled and replaced, and a hundred dollars or so wasn't worth getting shot over-but the gall of the situation made his stomach knot.

The big Latino laughed and snatched the wallet from Ted's hand. He stepped back and began flipping through it, letting out a short bark of pleasure at seeing the money.

"Get the senora's purse," Pockmark said from behind the counter. "We've got to go soon."

The smaller of the two men by the door flicked his eyes to just about everyone in the room before deciding it was safe to move. He stepped over the woman with a series of quick, nervous steps. Ted could almost see him lick his lips before speaking. The woman clutched her daughter closer to her and gazed at the man with wide-eyed fright.

"Your purse." He held out his hand, jerked it a couple of times. "Your purse!"

"H-here!" The woman hurriedly removed one arm from her daughter and shoved a handbag at the kid. "Please don't hurt us!"

"Shut up!" The kid raised his hand as if to strike her, a revolver apparent in his grip.

"Easy, Paulo." The man behind the counter spoke in reassuring tones. "Easy."

The kid backed up to take his place beside his larger companion. He looked like he had just run a race; he was sweating so much. Neither the big Latino nor Ted had moved since their own exchange.

The man behind the counter appeared to finish what he was doing. He smiled at the clerk. "Thank you for your time, chica. We'll be going now." Ted almost did not see what happened next.

The leather clad man behind the counter raised his hand quickly as if to strike. Naturally, the woman flinched. No blow landed. Not a physical one, anyway. There was a snapping sound like a piece of wood breaking, and a small yellowish-spark leapt from the man's hand to the woman's forehead. She yelped in surprise, jerked once, and collapsed. Ted tensed as his two companions laughed. He noted a movement out of the corner of his eye and jerked his head around.

"Michelle, no!" The three robbers turned their heads as one. The little girl was running for the door. The next actions appeared to move in slow motion for Ted.

The woman lunged forward, trying to catch her daughter. She missed. The big man stuck out a foot to trip the girl, a smile spreading across his face. The man behind the counter scowled and began moving their way. The kid-the kid looked with a mix of fear and hatred at the woman and, seeing her lunging forward, jerked his hand forward.

Ted jumped at him, the word "No!" forming on his lips even as he reached out to hit the kid's arm.
A shot rang out. The woman screamed and jerked back, spinning to land face down in the aisle. The little girl skidded to a stop, her face a mask of fear. Ted crashed into the kid, the two of them landing hard on the floor. The gun went skittering. Ted rolled off and reached for the gun.

The big Latino looked from the woman to Ted and fired off a hurried shot. The bullet hit inches from Ted's outstretched hand. He rolled away and tried to scramble to his feet before he was shot at again. At this range, even the big Latino could not miss. His heart was beating so strongly he was surprised it was not working its way out of his chest.

The woman rolled over, holding one hand to her bleeding shoulder. "Michelle, run!" She made a shooing motion with her injured arm. "Run to Daddy, Michelle! Run!"

"Mano! The girl!" Both Ted and the big man glanced over to see the girl again moving forward. "Don't let her get out!"

The big Latino made a grabbing motion for the girl. He caught her by one arm and jerked back. The girl went flying into his chest and he tried to hold her with one arm, keeping the other one with the gun-loosely trained in Ted's general direction.

The little girl kicked, screamed, and punched. She tore down the mask and there was a brief moment's respite as the fact that they could now see his face registered.

"Dammit!" The leather-jacketed man was looking for the gun while the small Latino got to his feet. "No witnesses!"

The big Latino paused only a moment, then raised his gun slowly. The girls kicking resumed, and apparently, Fate and Luck were on her side. One childlike foot connected with the big man's most prized possessions. He grunted in pain and surprise and momentarily loosened his hold. The girl slid out of his reach and bolted for the door. In the midst of her sobs, Ted heard her scream for her daddy.

The big man reached for the girl again but missed. She ran straight at the door. Cursing in Spanish the big man quickly raised his gun and leveled it at the girl.

"NO!" Ted jumped forward as the gun went off. He felt a tiny prick in his back as he slammed into the girl, propelling her out the door. He landed hard on the walk just outside the door. The concrete drove the wind from his lungs. He flipped himself over and scrambled out of the way. Or tried to.

He managed to flip himself over, but his legs were not working right. He dimly noted that it was later than when he went in. The sun seemed to be setting earlier than usual. It was practically dusk. It had gotten cold. One of the doors was busted, stuck in the open position. The other swung slowly shut.
The big Latino stepped into the open doorway, a snarl on his face. He leveled the gun at the fleeing girl and took a shot. He swore and fired again. Ted could not do anything.

Ted opened his mouth to speak, coughed instead. He didn't get it. Nothing was working right. A friggin' robbery! He was Silver Hawk! He was supposed to be a super hero! How was it going to look with him getting his ass kicked by a bunch of friggin' Latino lowlifes knocking over a friggin' convenience store? He would be the laughing stock of the team.

He turned his head, looking around him. The older guy was wrestling with the kid who had been hassling him. Ted's head rolled the other way. The girl was running flat out across the lot, pass the gas tanks. (You go girl,) he thought.

He managed to focus again on the big Latino again. Still cursing, the man looked down. He pointed the gun at Ted.

"Fuck you, caffron," he snarled. "You shouldn't have tried to be a hero, man."

Ted tried to laugh, coughed again. "Fuh-fuck you, dipshit," he rasped. He managed a smile. "I am a hero."
The big Latino spit once and fired.

(Wonderful, a stick up at the Circle K!) Damien mused bitterly (How wonderfully upscale.) Angling his approach towards the side of the store to avoid being seen from the window, Damien reached out with his senses, trying to gain an idea of what was happening.

Brainstorm reached the side of the building just as his questing senses began returning information. There were nine minds in and next to the building. Several were aggressive, three were very frightened and one was odd. Odd in the fact that it was familiar to Damien, though he could not quite put his finger on it. Just as he was about to focus more tightly on the aggressive minds, a shot rang out, followed quickly by another breaking his concentration.

Cursing quietly at the fact that he now had no time for reconnaissance, Brainstorm moved towards the front corner trying to get a glimpse of what was happening. Using the ice machine as shelter, Damien glanced towards the doors just in time to see them crash open. Two people came flying through the door, a young girl probably around twelve or so screamed as she scrambled to her feet, running towards the far gas pump where a blue suburban was pulled up. Another pistol shot rang out and Damien could see sparks fly from the cement inches from the girl's foot.

As Damien returned his attention to the doors, the scene seemed to take on an otherworldly aspect. Everything moved slowly, each sound, each color was crisp with sharp edges. He saw two figures struggling near the door, and older man probably slightly older than Damien was, and a young Latino. The second person who'd crashed through the door was just flipping onto its back, Damien could see that it was a man, and by the way he moved he could tell the man was already injured, probably shot in the back as he went through the doors.

A second figure stood over the downed man, a large man, another Latino. Some sort of bluish cloth hung around his neck and he gestured angrily with pistol of some sort in his hand.

Damien watched, frozen, somehow unable to move as the tableau played out in front of him. The large Latino cursed and leveled his weapon at the figure on the ground, some muttering wafted through the air, and Damien could discern every word as if he was but inches from the speakers.

“Fuck you, caffron,” the towering Latino snarled. “You shouldn’t have tried to be a hero, man.”
Ted tried to laugh, coughed again. “Fuh—fuck you, dipshit,” he rasped. He managed a smile. “I am a hero.”

As Ted Langham's voice registered in Damien's mind, realization hit like a ton of bricks. Gypsy had been right after all. What he had seen in flashes was actually happening and there did not seem to be anything he could do to stop it. (BULLSHIT!) He screamed in his mind, as he watched the big thug spit. Damien marshaled all of his mental strength, and reached out with his mind, just as the trigger on the automatic pistol was pulled.

Bullets thudded into Ted's body with a dull thud as they drove through his body, deep into the cement beneath him, blood sprayed up and his body spasmed as the pistol tracked upwards from Ted's stomach towards his head.

Damien's mental dagger drove deep into the unprotected mind of the armed thug, causing his body to twitch, every pain receptor and neuron firing instantly. The resulting system shock sent the man reeling into unconsciousness just as quickly as the shots he had fired ended Silver Hawk's life.

Brainstorm strode quickly from behind his shelter towards the door, just as the middle-aged man, cold-cocked his young assailant. As he moved towards the door, the black-clad mentalist scanned the interior for targets.

Moving with a purpose, later described as predatory, Brainstorm moved towards the doors, his gaze fixed inside the convenience store. He saw yet another armed Latino drawing a bead on someone on the floor. Enraged that he was unable to stop one death, Damien reached out yet again with his mind, damning the consequences as he fired all of the thug's sensory neurons.

The pain that ripped through Damien's mind was excruciating. He rarely exercised this talent and when he did, he paid for it dearly. However, Damien was beyond caring at this point. He focused through the pain as he watched the thug tumbled backward, his balance lost, falling to the ground with a heavy thud.

Just as he reached the doors the last of the gang stepped into his way. The leather clad figured raised his hand, and Damien could smell the ozone of electricity. Sidestepping quickly to his right, Damien heard the snap and crackle as the yellow energy dart whizzed by his ear, narrowly missing him.

A predatory grin crossed the dark mentalist's face as he casually reached out with his mind, shutting down the man's sight and hearing. Ignoring yet again the pain that sheared through his mind, Damien watched as the leather clad burglar clawed at his eyes and ears, flailing his arms.

Ducking a wild swing, Damien kicked out solidly, connecting with the man's groin, dropping him instantly to the ground. As the leather clad man writhed in pain Damien clipped him behind the ear with another solid kick, rendering him unconscious.

Moving further into the store, Damien scanned the area. Seeing no other targets, Damien casually reached out with his mind and sunk a mental dagger deep into the second thug's mind ensuring he would not shrug off the effects of Damien's sensory scrambling quickly and become an annoyance.

Moving outside, Brainstorm knelt beside Langham's body, careful to stay out of the slowly spreading pool of blood. He shook his head sadly, still numb and in shock from seeing his vision happen.

**Brainstorm to Olympians...** Damien's voice cracked as a shudder passed through him. ** Man Down, repeat Man Down at my location. I need EMT and police assistance, and... ** He paused, his voice breaking again, his throat contracting in shock. **You had better send the coroner as well. Silver Hawk is gone. ** He finished his voice barely above a whisper.

**Brainstorm - is the location secure?**

As Dragoon's cold and professional voice crackled in his ear, Damien focused again on his surroundings. He'd been momentarily lost in foreign emotions. Shock, grief, regret, nothing he'd ever felt before. Scanning the area, he could see only moments had passed, nothing about the grisly tableau had changed significantly.

**Dragoon- Secure? If you are asking if there are active hostiles, then yes, the scene is secure. The assailants ... ** Damien paused briefly as he made sure the thugs were where he dropped them. **have been dealt with.** the last two words of his sentence were delivered with icy precision.

Damien reached out with uncharacteristic tenderness and gently closed Langham's eyes against the blank stare of death. Rising to his feet, Damien made a visual sweep of the area, and moved into the store. The gentleman who had assisted Brainstorm was knelt over a sobbing woman, wrapping a piece of cloth around her arm trying to calm her down. A wary glance as the black clad mentalist was all the attention the man spared him.

Damien moved to behind the counter, nearly tripping over the clerk. He knelt quickly and examined her. A scorch mark across her forehead was the only apparent injury, as if she'd been burned by electricity. Checking her pulse he determined she was alive, but in need of more care than he could provide. He glanced around and spotted the outdoor intercom system. he quickly activated the speakers at all of the pumps and keyed the mic.

"May I have your attention, please." he said his voice as warm and reassuring as he could make it. " My name is Brainstorm. I'm a member of the Olympians team. I know we've all had a bit of a shock, but I am going to have to ask everyone to remain calm and where they are until the police and emergency crews arrive. If anyone is injured, please let me know, assistance should arrive in moments. Thank you for your understanding."

Switching off the mic, Damien quickly moved through the store, looking for something to secure the thugs. Finding some Duct tape, Damien secured the assailants as best he could, wrists behind back and legs bent to secure wrists to ankles. Two rolls of tape later, they were as secure as he could make them, only then did he turn his attention to the man and woman in the store.

"How is she?" he asked, his voice again warm and gentle.

"I think she'll be ok. Who are you?" The guy's face was pale and his voice trembled slightly but he looked Damien in the eye as he spoke.

"They call me Brainstorm. I'm a member of the newly reactivated Olympians. I'm here to help." he replied, his own voice warm and reassuring despite the coldness in the pit of his stomach. "And yourself? Are you injured?" he asked.

"No, I'm all right. I'm sure glad you showed up." The man's voice was shaking and he could barely get the words out.

"I've called for Police and EMT assistance Ma'am,” he said, turning his attention to the distraught woman. "If you'll remain here until they arrive we'll get you treated."

"Michelle, my daughter. Is she ok? Did she get away?" The woman was hysterical and Damien could barely understand her.

Damien paused to organize his thoughts. "Michelle? A young girl, around twelve? Was she the one that..." he stopped his mouth suddenly dry. A quick swallow allowed him to continue. "was pushed out through the doors?"

Seeing her frantic nod, Damien's mind froze the images of his first view around the corner replayed themselves unbidden. As Langham's ... no Ted's... last words echoed through his memory, Damien at last realized their true meaning. They weren't just a defiant challenge snarled in the face of death; they were Ted's affirmation, that by sacrificing his life for a child's, he WAS a hero. In every sense of the word. Damien didn't know what it meant, in the end, that he couldn't say he would have done the same thing.

Shaken to his core, the man stood quickly. (I can't breathe; I've got to get out of here.) He muttered something about seeing her run across the parking lot, and that he would check, and he staggered to the door, not looking at Silver Hawk's corpse. Making his way in the direction the little girl had run, he forced his mind into some semblance of order. Several deep cleansing breaths, allowed Damien to regain his composure, to pull on the mask of civility and genteel behavior that was second nature to him. Though his hold was tenuous at best, he was able to think rationally again.

As he approached the blue Suburban, he could hear the gentle soothing sounds of a man trying desperately to calm a frightened child. (This would have been perfect for that Beresford woman!) He thought, the bitter animosity usually present in regards to her was unusually blunted. Shrugging mentally, Damien approached carefully, unwilling to startle the pair any more than necessary. Clearing his throat loudly, he spoke up. "My name is Brainstorm from the Olympians. Is Michelle here? Her mother is concerned for her safety. I wanted to ensure she was unharmed..." he paused, his gentle voice dying out as he waited for a response.

The voice that answered was not directed at him but the relief was evident, "Oh, Thank God, Sarah's ok. Did you hear that, honey? Mom's ok, she's worried about you." The man looked out the window at Brainstorm, "Yes, she's here and she's not hurt. Sarah, my wife, where is she?" He started to get out of the van intending to find her himself.

"She's in the store," Damien replied, his voice soft and gentle as he continued. "She's been wounded, but doesn't seem to be seriously hurt, the Paramedics and Police are on their way." He debated a moment, and then continued on his voice still soft, with a slight edge to it. "There WAS a fatality, though. Since this is a crime scene, I can't disturb the area too much. Once the authorities get here, everyone can get together. Please take my word for it that, she's beyond danger and you can see her soon."

Damien was sure the man was going to push past him to see for himself when the girl's cries drew her father back, "Daddy, don't go. Please stay here, you could get hurt too."

The man turned back to the van, "It's ok, baby. No one's going to hurt me." When he turned back to Damien there were tears in his eyes, "You're sure my wife is all right?" His voice was pleading.

Damien nodded. "As far as I can tell. Her arm was bleeding but it's been bound. She was distraught, and word of Michelle's safety will calm her. If you listen, you can hear the sirens now. As soon as the EMT's take a look at her, you can bring Michelle over." Damien lowered his voice, so that it carried only to the father. "She's been through enough. To have to..." he paused, his voice beginning to crack. He swallowed quickly, "To have Michelle see what's over there would do more harm than good. I assure you; your wife is as well as can be expected and will be fine. It won't be long." Damien patted the man on the shoulder, a reassuring touch that seemed awkward yet sincere. "Let me go reassure, Sarah, you said? Let me go reassure her that Michelle is fine so that she can relax and stop worrying."

With that, Damien strode back to the store. Mindful of contaminating the scene any more, He again avoided looking at Ted's body, as he reached the store entrance, and moved carefully through and into the store.

Kneeling down next to the wounded woman, Damien laid a reassuring hand on her good shoulder. He forced a smile behind his mask and into his voice. "Sarah? Michelle, your daughter is fine, she's with your husband right now. He says that she's ok and not hurt, though a bit scared. The medics will be here in a moment. Once they make sure you're ok, I'll bring Michelle and your husband over to you, ok?”

The distraught woman nodded and gripped his arm with her good hand. "Thank you," she whispered.

"You're welcome." He replied, his voice haggard with repressed pain and shock. "Sir, stay with her please, I need to check on something." Damien stood once more, checked briefly on the clerk, who was still unconscious but breathing a little better.

He moved outside, as he heard the rumble of a large vehicle approaching outside. His head was throbbing and his hold on his facade was deteriorating rapidly with the enforced calm necessary to deal with the survivors. (Dragoon and the others had best get here soon!) He thought raggedly as his control slipped moment by moment. He went outside to stand near the ice machine, hoping that the fresh morning air would help clear his head.

By the time Dragoon had arrived, Damien had regained some of his composure. He was emotionally exhausted and his head echoed with throbs of pain. While the adrenaline and shock had allowed him to work through the pain before, now it was becoming more than bearable.

When Percy pulled up; he saw Ted's body. 'Put it aside. There's nothing to be done for him.' "Brainstorm -- is anyone else hurt? What happened here?"

Damien glared momentarily at Dragoon, his temper lost in the combined shock of watching Langham die and his 'vision' become reality coupled with the pounding migraine that was a side effect on several of his abilities. "What's it look like?" he snarled, his voice filled with rage, grief and pain. "The boy tried to play hero, unarmored against thugs with guns. He paid for it with his life!"

Before Percy could reply, Damien's vision blurred as the pain increased momentarily with the sudden rise in his blood pressure. A wave of dizziness dropped the black clad mentalist to his finely dressed ass. He sat for a moment, his head hung between his knees, one hand pressed against his temple. the surge passed and Damien regained his composure again.

Dragoon looked at his teammate and knew his feelings. A teammate, someone Percy wanted to call friend was down. He was angry and more than ready to take it out on someone. But, if there were living to attend to - those needs came first. He prepared for Damien to punch him, but, the blow never came. He placed his hand on Damien's shoulder for a moment, but said nothing.

"I heard a gunshot as I was passing by the store on my way to the base." he started again, his voice was tired, drained of emotion. "I pulled into the next parking area and made my way to the side of the building, trying to reconnoiter mentally on the way. Several more gunshots rang out, breaking my concentration, I looked around the side of the building in time to see two shapes hurl through the door, one was a young girl, the other was Silver Hawk."

Damien stopped, his throat contracting against the unwanted emotions arising as he remembered the scene. He took a deep breath, forcing everything below the veneer of professionalism. "The way he moved, I could tell he'd been hurt already, probably shot as he went through the door. The big thug, stood over him, cursed and opened up on him with the automatic before I could stop him."

Damien shook his head his voice barely audible. "Just like I saw and I didn't believe her."

Dragoon looked to the girl and her mother, she appeared to be in no immediate danger. Ted had given the girl the chance to escape; no doubt trading his life for hers - maybe others. "Ok. Thanks." He got ready to move away. If Damien were younger, less jaded, he would have tried to say something inspirational. But, he knew that it would just land on deaf ears.

When the others had walked away, Percy got down on one knee. "Before the police get here, I need to know - did you kill either of the two gunmen?" The question was not accusatory - in fact, Percy thought that they should be killed for what they had done. But, with the police on their way, he needed to know exactly what their liability was here. How exposed was Brainstorm? How exposed was the team.

Damien looked up, his movements lethargic, drained of energy. As he met Percy's gaze, Damien's eyes were glazed with pain, yet unreadable emotion flickered deep in them. "No." he replied, his voice tired, yet edged with light disdain. "I simply... incapacitated them." Damien shook his head gently, mindful of the splitting headache he was enduring. "They'll have a particularly nasty headache. A couple may actually have concussions from impact with the floor, but I do not believe I caused any lasting harm."

Damien sighed and hung his head as a wave of dizziness momentarily overwhelmed him. Once it passed, he continued. "The guy just inside the door, in leather.. he may be some sort of meta, perhaps an electricity producer of some sort. I've secured them as best as I can, I leave the rest to you."

Damien glanced longingly towards where his car was parked. He needed to rest. His head throbbed with the sharp pain of a violent migraine, caused by use of his sensory affecting abilities. "With the team here, the scene is as secure as necessary. I do not wish to linger. I will file a report in absentia and debrief you fully later. There are plenty of witnesses here, my presence is superfluous." As he finished speaking Damien rose unsteadily to his feet, and began walking towards the parking area where he left his car.

Percy offered his hand up, "Go home, or the base - whichever suits you best. Call me if you need anything." He walked him over to his car and then once Damien was in, he turned back to the crime scene.