Powers Division

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POWERS DIVISION

In a world full of people with superpowers - Powers, as they are called - it was only natural for the world to acclimate. Vigilantism is begrudgingly accepted and Powers get publicity agents to help them navigate working effectively with the police departments while promoting their brand. There's TV shows, comics, movies, and action figures dedicated to real people who actually fight crime... But for every Power who decides to become a hero, there's a villain... and for every Power there's an outcast... Not everyone is worthy of notoriety and media attention, yet the fact that they have powers still remains.

For this, the Powers Division of the police department was created. It collects and organizes data on all Powers - who are required to register their abilities and secret identities - as well as investigates all crime related to powered people. Since Powers are so used to operating outside the law, however, the relationship between the Powers Division and the Powers is less than stellar.

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Blake Hampton, also known as White, was a power who never got his five minutes of fame. Two years ago he lost his powers in a fight gone wrong. And last year he decided to join the Powers Division to still do some good. His bitterness has gotten the best of him, but he's given leeway as he is technically the first powered person to become a detective.


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Toni Reid, also known as Wildfire, is the first currently powered person to join Powers Division. Having received unprecedented fame for saving the president at 16, she is useful in improving relations between the department and other Powers. She has been paired with Hampton in hope improve them both, and the department, for the better.



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Will Reid be a capable officer of the law or will the extra attention that follows her be the Powers Division's downfall? Will she be a positive influence on the bitter Hampton or will his view taint hers? Will Powers and non-powered law enforcement ever be able to cooperate effectively?
 
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Vars

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My brain vomit.

43985728_471597013338988_4384957279690449713_n.jpg


Name: Blake Hampton AKA White
Powers: Regeneration, blowing out others' eyesight so they only see white (hence the nickname)
Age: 28
Bio:
Idolized superheroes; when he found his powers, he wanted to be one. He couldn't compete with others who had more useful and "showy" powers, and was never able to gain any notoriety. Some villian came along and sucked up his powers for themself about 2 years ago. After about a year of sulking, he joined the Powers division of the PD in order to still try to do good while putting "lower" Powers in their place as he was. He also secretly looks for a way to get his (or others') powers so he can become powered again. But if he can't? Then nobody deserves to be Powered.

2 years ago, Hampton fought TBD Villian and lost his powers. Joined PD 1 year ago and became a decent, if salty, detective.

Case 1: investigate night club with ties to drug and slave trade.
Have a NotPurpleMan guy convince people they want to be slaves to sell and/or totally not a female version of sabertooth for the furs.
Side plot1 : A kid does vandalism relating to White's powers with some sort of tie to TBDV. Various sites to investigate, but they can't actually locate kid.
Sideplot2: Media/ Wildfire's popularity gets in the way of investigating, making their lives miserable. Involve some spunky reporter character. Maybe not a reporter and just a pushy agent for wildfire.

Case 2:
One of NotPurpleMan's ex-slaves is a serial killer and turns himself in. Only because they claim they're innocent since they were effected by NPM's powers at the times of the killing. Interesting logistical questions about the law arise.

Side plot1: Vandalizing kid is found by total chance by White or Wildfire. Kid actually knows about White. Kid is creepy and doesn't seem very kid-like.
But there's little time to get questions answered because they disappear again somehow. But there's more sites to investigate maybe.

Side plot 2: Rising tensions in publicity of Case 1's shenanigans makes Wildfire hold a press confrence on behalf of the PD, hopefully to improve relations and inspire other powers to join the force. However, there is at least one reporter who is convinced Wildfire only joined PD to renew interest in her public image/move merch/etc and is actually shit at being a detective and a huge drain on the PD.

None of these are set in stone.

Trist = Power of suggestion dude
Mabe = female sabertooth?
Q = ex-slave serial killer?

1. BUD. Head of department who uses White as a proxy son and is convinced he can make White less bitter and be a good detective but fails miserably most of the time

2. Mortician / guy who does all the autopsies of Powers. And is essentially a copy of the show version where he hates life because science never makes any sense here but he is also somehow still good at his job.

3. A childhood friend (possibly sibling?) of White's who is some sort of antihero but not really a good one (as in, he's not good at being an antihero, not that he's a bad person).

4. The agency White got sponsored by and his old agent who is the guy who gets all the hopeless Powers who never get famous.

5. The TBD villain, of course, who either has some sort of X-men rogue-like powers or is a mad scientist with tech that can do the same

6. Villainous character that White has ties with, probably a former gang leader type. Ultimately the root cause of the reason White hates other Powers?

7. Someone White permanently blinded who has since overcome the blindness and now sees more success than White does somehow.
OHHH Plot point. Said person becomes a new famous hero??

8. White's last partner?
 
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Vars

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Mark's hands moved around wildly as he animatedly signed, his old hands easily understood against the contrast of his bright green apron. Unfortunately, Blake Hampton, the customer at the counter in a wrinkled suit and tie he'd obviously slept in, was not having it today. He nodded along for a few seconds before becoming irritated and waving his left hand dismissively, "Shut up man, I just want my coffee."

The barista's hands stopped, his face frowning. His eyes narrowed before huffing, the white overgrown roots of his poorly dyed green downed mohawk becoming most visible when he turned his back to get the coffee Blake had ordered. Mark had been working there the past five years, the most proficient barista at the coffee shop, and also the oldest - somewhere around 65. Profoundly deaf, the man communicated primarily through sign language.

Most of the customers had picked up enough to understand Mark in his time there. Blake, however, was better than most and could have full blown conversations with the elder man - who was more than eager to "talk" every morning. Blake was probably the highlight of that guy's day, but today he wasn't having it. His grey eyes were sunken and swollen. Having not gotten much sleep last night, he was long overdue for his drug of choice.

Once that cup of caffeine had finally been delivered, he laid the exact change for the purchase on the counter and walked off, completely ignoring any further signs from Mark. Blake was already late to work anyway. He could be rude and short a lot of the time - okay, most of the time - but there were moments when he wasn't, and those moments gave others hope that there was a nice person under all that unkempt, unshaven, poorly kept mess of black hair of a detective. Was it really his fault when everything else in the world seemed to piss in his cheerios?

Walking out of the Starbo's and across the street to the Powers Division Police Department, he'd already downed about half the coffee in the precious few seconds it took for a boatload of paperwork to be smacked onto his desk. He had, of course, burned his mouth on the interim, thus rendering all sense of taste - literally, figuratively, and philosophically - useless. Behind that stack of paper stood Moby, one of the other detectives.
"You're lucky she's even later than you are,"[/b] they stated, dry-washing their hands of the paper and walking off to their own desk.

Blake rolled his eyes and took a sip of his coffee before opening the top folder and glancing through the case file.

Today was his partner's first official day. Yesterday she'd been sworn in on live TV. There was a long press conference about it and the whole thing had been a giant publicity stunt. Wildfire, pretty much the country's saving grace and most famous superheroine, had decided to join the Powers Division and of course, that situation simply couldn't be wasted as an opportunity for ratings, likes, and shares. Bud was hoping some of that attention would go to the Powers Division, maybe get some new recruits or better relationships with the powered citizens in the precinct. Blake had his doubts, of course. Wildfire's real name was Toni Reid. And Reid was going to be a big old boring detective like everybody else.

Or at least that's what she claimed. Hampton had his doubts about that, too. He was almost positive he'd have a camera in his face at all hours of the day and he'd be unwillingly subjected to some paparazzo, thus making work even more impossible than it already was. What Power ever wanted to talk to a cop? None. And even less than none wanted to associate with Powers Division - the cops of the Powers, specifically.

Hampton was only a little late - maybe 5 minutes. He suspected ms. Wildfire was going to need her own bodyguard and have a bunch of flashing cameras in her entourage as she walked through the PD's doors. Picturing said scene in his mind, he leaned over to the watch the door briefly from his desk, sipping on his coffee once more. Getting nothing in his mouth, he frowned and turned his attention to the cup, taking off the top of it and peering in the now empty beverage.

With a sigh of resignation to his still-tired fate, he sat down in his office chair in a huff and tossed the cup in the bin near his desk. Flipping through the pages of the first report on the pile, he was already getting an idea of what they were going to do today... But he wasn't going to wait around for her for long.
 
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Toni did not recognize the woman reflected from her mirror.

Gone was the hero get-up, the flashy red and black body-suit designed for Wildfire. Gone was the gaudy fashion she was often forced to wear to events. Being a detective called for wearing business-casual clothes, and she had done so, done to the letter. Toni met her eyes once more in the mirror, scanning her mask-free free face.

Today she did not have to be Wildfire. All she had to be was Toni Reid. Not the hero. Not the icon. Not the celebrity. Simply Toni Reid---the detective. She could not have been happier.

And perhaps a little bit nervous, even if she didn’t want to admit it.

She needed to hurry. She was already running late, and, given how much media coverage the affair had been given, dodging the press would eat up a significant amount of her time. She was just passing through the kitchen when a note on the kitchen counter caught her eye. A message had been written on it in neat penmanship. She looked up instinctively towards the empty coat hook by the front door.

Ethan wasn’t home. He’d suited up hours earlier to go meet with the press. Now that she’d done something “historic”, every wannabe reporter and journalist were frantic to know what her fellow celebrity Powers thought about her recent union with the police force. And none were more keen to share than her fiance, a.k.a. “The Man”.

She was curious to see what he’d left written there for her. A love poem? No; that was expecting too much of him. He used to leave her little of messages of endearment when they first began dating, but, she supposed he’d grown illiterate now since they’ve been engaged, in addition to being indolent. Still, she could not help but feel her heart beat quicker as she leaned in to read his note. Perhaps...

”Smile for the cameras.”

Huh. Good to know where his priorities were. With a bit of sarcasm, Toni scrawled on a “Love you too” on the bottom of the note. With any luck, he would see it when he got home. But knowing him, he’d probably toss it in the trash without even looking. Her mouth twisted up.

Whatever. She shrugged on her trench coat and left out, locking the door quietly behind her.

Smile for the cameras? She’d see about that.


Cameras, indeed.

Every single news outlet in the country must have sent their reporters to come sniff the Bureau out. Her view shot to the prim man sitting beside her, her publicist Michael Lop. He met her eyes readily, as if he knew exactly how upset she was. Still, he said nothing. Her lips pursed.

“You said there wouldn’t be a lot of press.”

Mike’s immediate shrug was unapologetic. “I said there’d only be a few cameras, nothing--”

“A few?”

Someone must have tipped the vultures off to what car she was in. Outside, the clamoring of the paparazzi grew louder as their driver pulled up alongside the curb. They pressed up close against the vehicles, their cameras flashing incessantly. Toni swung her head around to speak to Mike, but the older man was already in the process of getting out of the car, expertly angling his body away from the crowd. Even still, the reporters managed to swarm him, until she could no longer see the black of his ill-fitted toupee. His assistant, a young blonde woman named Anna, sat in the front seat, and she twisted around to face Toni. Her voice was the chirpy song of a bird.

“Remember. You’ve only got 2 minutes.”

Avoiding news hounds was like running the gauntlet. For someone like her, it was a mastered art. While Mike was used to some degree of exposure with his other clients, dealing with Wildfire was another issue on an entirely different level. Toni could not count the many times they’ve had to slip out back doors, switch vehicles, wear disguises, or think up elaborate ruses, all in the vain effort to avoid the mass of journalists who seem to swarm to Toni’s every social engagement. It was tiresome. It was time consuming. And frankly, it made Toni want to retire altogether.

But that was before Mike hired Anna.

As Anna smiled cheerily at her, her face began to morph, spinning and flickering until Toni was faced with an unsettling copy of herself. The now Toni-Anna tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and winked at her. “You’re welcome,” She replied in a voice identical to Toni’s. And without further ado, she sprang from the car, descending into the surrounding mass with more courage than Toni has ever had in her entire life. For two minutes, the press would have “Wildfire” at their disposal--until they didn’t. Hopefully by then Toni would be long-lost within the bowels of the police bureau, a place even the paparazzi--for all their lack of scruples--would be hard pressed to enter, unless they were shopping for an excuse to be arrested.

While Anna hammed it up out front, her driver pulled around to the side entrance. Toni counted the time as she hurried inside. One minute, 22 seconds. She stood by the elevator impatiently, checking her watch the way self-important businessmen did. 58 seconds The doors opened, and she ran into the empty carriage. It was deliberately slow moving up. She checked her watch again when she reached the 3rd floor. 30 seconds.

Sweet Jesus.

She accosted the first police officer she encountered, a man slouched against the help desk who’s eyes were glued to his tablet. She tried to smile politely.

“Hi, I’m looking for--”

“Down the hall, 3rd door on the right, second desk from the exit.”

He never once looked up. Toni squinted at him hard, wondering how in the world he could possibly know where she wanted to go if he wasn’t even looking at her. But, after some length, she heaved a sigh and moved on, muttering a “thanks” under her breath. Who knows? Maybe he was secretly a Power too. The psychic, know-it-all asshole kind.

But as fate would have it, the man had been right. Toni hovered in the entryway to the Powers Division suite. It was her first time seeing the department during active hours. Although small compared to the other divisions, the space teemed with activity. She slipped in behind a young intern carrying folders and trailed him, looking out for her new desk. It wasn’t hard to find; there, seated across her desk, was her partner. Blake Hampton--she’d met him briefly before, at the tour she’d been given of the department some weeks back. She approached him quietly from the side.

“Good morning. It is good to see you again.” She hesitated, before adding, “A pleasure to begin working with you.”
 

Vars

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“Good morning. It is good to see you again.”

Hampton looked up, his fingers dropping the corner of the paper in his hand as he stood up to face his new partner.

“A pleasure to begin working with you.”

He looked down to her hands, expecting an outstretched one in offering, but not seeing it, he quickly launched into his own greeting.
"Oh good, you're here."

It wouldn't have mattered if she wanted to shake his hand, anyway - he wouldn't have reciprocated. Quickly flipping the folder closed on his desk, he started walking toward the building's garage. "Let's go." He paused, looking back to make sure she was following before he continued on.

"Surprised your entourage isn't here," he muttered, unenthused as the caffeine hadn't fully taken effect yet. He'd order another cup once he was in the patrol car, he mused. Maybe he should get a thermos and be done with it. But then he'd miss the conversations with old Marky. Also laziness.

It wasn't long before they reached the underground garage, exiting the building from a fire door and taking the dark cement stairs to the lot. Turning a corner , he fiddled with the digital lock on a metal box containing the keys for the fleet. Some digital beeps and an all-clear later, his index finger ran through the rows of mounted keys with numbered keys before he came across #24. This one he grabbed off the hook before slamming the box's door shut and continuing their journey to the car that matched the key's number.

Idly circling the key on his finger while he walked, his legs long ago having memorized the route due to muscle memory, he went straight to business: "There's some suspicions about an unregistered mind-controlling power at this Night Club for big Powers. Eowan Bold. You ever heard of it?"
She was a "big Power." He wondered how many of those high brow clubs she frequented, or if she was really as dull and straight-laced as she tried to play it.
 
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Blake Hampton was all business. Straight to the chase, with no bullshit strung along. Something she’d been told repeatedly by his superiors, but it didn’t quite sink in until the very moment he opened his mouth.

“Oh good, you’re here.” Then, in lieu of a greeting, he added, “Let’s go.”

There was no trace of awe in his eyes that her appearance usually inspired from others. Her mind accepted the fact with hidden glee; at least with him, she would not have some fan-fueled expectations to try and live up to. Not to say that working with him wouldn't prove to be daunting. As Blake moved away, Toni was quick to follow, her legs pumping to keep up with his long stride. She just barely caught the comment he made under his breath.

“Surprised your entourage isn’t here.”

No, no entourage. Another thing she had battled long and hard for. Toni wasn’t one to argue; verbal sparring never quite took to her like it did to others. It always left her feeling raw and vulnerable, like an exposed vein. But in the span of a week before joining Powers division, she had fought with both Mike and her fiance vehemently about the parallels between her role as a celebrity and as a detective. At some point the others had conceded the battle: no glamor squad, no bodyguards, no paid cameras. Just her and her fiery fists--if it came to that. As they approached the squad car (she assumed), Blake mentioned something about a night club in the area. Her expression flattened at his question.

“Eowan Bold?”

The first image that sprang to her mind was not a pleasant one. She eyed her partner wordlessly for a moment, pensive. Her first and last visit there had been short and solely instigated by her fiance. He thrived off the club scene; she, on the other hand, despised it. The things she’d seen that night had only further fueled her distaste of it. But to get involved with it herself...She wondered if that was what Blake was really getting at. Eowan Bold. You ever heard of it? Meaning: do you know what goes on there? Was he wondering if she’d been involved herself? No; she looked at his stern expression and dismissed the idea instantly. This isn’t a stupid interview, Toni. Relax. It wasn’t like he was going to run to the tabloids over every little thing she said.

Still, Toni’s response was carefully scripted. “Yes, I’ve heard of it. Nothing about a mind-controlling power though.”

She wanted Blake to like her. She wanted Blake to respect her, not just as some cartoonish public figure that had joined the police force, but as an actual, hard-working detective. There was an innate need in her to be highly-regarded, and she did not dare share what went on in her private life, especially the more wanton parts.

Before ducking into the car, she instinctively drew up the collar of her jacket to shroud the edges of her face. When her eyes met Blake’s again, she gave him an embarrassed smile.

“Try not to drive by the main entrance. They...might still be out there. Sorry.”

She didn’t need to specify who the they were in order for him to know. She was sure that he was more than aware of the huge media presence she tended to draw. In fact, it was a small wonder Blake wasn’t already irritated by it. If he wasn’t now, he would soon be.
 
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Vars

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OOC: [spoili]Let me know if you can't see this font color.[/spoili]

Yes, I’ve heard of it. Nothing about a mind-controlling power though.”

Hampton lightly scoffed as he unlocked the #24 patrol car and opened up the driver's side. "Right," he spoke, not-so-quietly under his breath, "You're too good for that." It was sarcasm, of course. He didn't like her, and had decided that the moment she'd saved the president however many years ago.

Closing the door and starting the car, he didn't meet her eyes again until he'd buckled his seatbelt. He noticed her embarassed smile and her high collar. They? Her paprazzi entourage, he assumed. He subtly rolled his eyes and turned his attention to the road.

Back in his heyday, he'd been to tons of clubs. Not Eowan Bold. Never Eowan Bold. He'd tried a couple times, but the bouncer would never let him in. He wasn't a Power anymore, so now he had even less of a reason to be there. Eowan Bold was the symbol of everything he hated. Everything he couldn't have.

With an air of contempt, he silently drove out the parking lot.

... And right into the drive-thru for Starbo's. At the speaker, he ordered one large black roast. The clerk on the other end askked him if that was all. "Yeah, that's it.." He reached his hand into his back pocket to get his wallet ready. "Oh shit." he muttered, finally remembering Reid existed again. He turned to her. "You want anything?"
It was more out of obligation than actually caring if she wanted anything, but nevertheless, if she did want something, he'd let her order whatever it was, and he'd pay for it, and they'd move onward.

He'd let the coffee sit for a few minutes while he drove, trying to let it cool down while he staved the need for his drug of choice.

"You can't tell me you've never been in there," Hampton pushed, bringing them back to Eowan Bold, both figuratively and literally, as he made his best efforts to parallel park while sleep deprived. It was good enough for government work. The car stuck out a bit, but the traffic on this road so early in the day was so light it likely wouldn't cause an issue.

He turned the keys to the off position and sat back in his seat, reaching for his coffee and finally taking the first sip of it.
"You know it has occurred to me just now," he said, taking his cup away from his mouth just enough to speak, but not enough to actually see his mouth, "That if there really is some mind controlling Power in there, we're fucked."

He said it so casually, yet simply. He'd loosened up just a tad, but the statement was still finite. He took a much larger drink of his coffee - the man drank his coffee like booze. It was fairly peculiar, but it got the job done.

Seriously, though - why would a mind controlling Power let themselves be known? Especially if they were evil? The guy could mind control them to forget about the whole case... Or whatever.
Even moreso: What if they guy had done that already? That'd be some Jessica Jones shit.

Despite the finality of the comment, the detective let it roll off his shoulders just as easily as the hot beverage sloshed down his throat.
Maybe his real power was still having a functioning esophagus after burning it so often with his beverages of sin.

He dropped the now-empty container into the cup holder and unbuckled the seatbelt, letting it quickly slap back to its starting position.

"Time to play detective," he exhaled, opening the door and getting out of the patrol car.
Placing his hands on top of the roof, he looked toward Reid. "Can you do that? Play detective?" he mused. "Or is boring hero the only thing you know how to do?"
He wondered how outrageously rude he could be to her before she complained and they assigned her to be somebody else's partner. Because he was confident he wasn't going to get fired. Like. 90%. At least.

He'd fully take in her response before remembered he'd left the keys in the car. Gruffly, he'd bend back in the car and get them out, shoving the keys in his pocket as he left the car again and closed the door. Walking around the back of the car, he'd stand to the right of his partner and walk into the front door of the infamous Eowan Bold.
 
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