Sure enough, there's the audacity. Conversations and callouts split the silence and, from the rafters, Warper remains completely silent. The only sound from him for the entire period is a series of clicks and clacks as his metallic gauntlets shift their grip on the edge of the rafter. He ignores everyone's statements, of course. Their business is their business. He's here for the guy at the center.

Sure enough, eventually, the bastard of the hour speaks up.

His head tilts as Ghouligan speaks. His gaze shifts to the side of the room and, quick as a whip, he's there, back leaned against the wall. Silent as a phantom with his arms crossed, Warper seems contemplative for a beat. Then he huffs, clicks his tongue, and shrugs.

"'Kay. I'm in." He finally speaks, voice carrying about as much passion as one can expect from someone who's remained silent and still for the meeting thus-far. "You can call me Warper. Transportation and engineering specialist. I move fast, and make things faster." He taps his visor with the clawed edge of his right gauntlet. "Made this gear myself, for example. Not the best at it yet, but my gear's passable. Guarantee you that it's better than any of the hand-me-down knee-pads and tape-wrap boxing gloves some vigis wear." He takes a second, rolls his shoulder, but keeps his gaze on Ghouligan.

"I'm not much of a tech developer on the coding side but, if you give me enough time, I can probably set something up for us to talk through. A way to secure lines for when we need each other, that way no heroes track us while we're down." He glances to the other vigilantes, violet slits on his mask going from person to person, then back to Ghouligan. He returns back to his lax position against the wall, arms crossed and gaze fixed on the person who called them all here.

Of course, his wording is to be noted. There was not an 'if' they needed each other. It was a 'when'.

He believes, genuinely, that they'll end up needing each other eventually... But, with how loud the crowd has been, he's also curious to see if anyone's stupid enough to get pissed at the notion of needing help.

fear is non-existent. suit up and swing through the city.

[attr="class","likedotitle2"]Profile Adjustment

[attr="class","likedosub"]Precedent

[attr="class","likedosub"]Current

It wasn't as though he wanted this to happen. He didn't set out for the day with the goal of getting the shit kicked out of him, but it comes with the job. A firefighter doesn't ask to get burned, they just get burned. A vigilante doesn't ask to pick a fight a bit bigger than them. That fight still comes knocking, though, and they still decked a few times.

His muscles ache. His knuckles are busted under his gauntlets, which will need their own bit of repair later on. Worst of all, his mask is barely functioning. It's giving him directions, that much is decent; he's counting his lucky stars that no one called the cops. If they had, he wouldn't have been able to tune into any police scanners while running, and he'd be up shit's creek without a paddle.

The fight, he recalls, was over his more recent activity. Or, more aptly, the mere idea of it. Warper isn't a massive vigilante, he's known in only his neighborhood - so one can imagine his surprise when people not from his neighborhood showed up, told him to stop while he was rooftop running, and things went downhill from there.

Frankly, the specific nature of the encounter is blurry at best. Concussions, he reckons, will do that to you.

There's an upside, though. Somewhere in Shinjuku, there's a cafe with an illegally practicing doctor. At least, that's what he's heard; communication through the vigilante networks, for him, is sparse and sporadic, and the information can rarely be fully trusted. That being said, he knows he's got bad bruises, a few sprains, and there's no way he can show up to work tomorrow with all of his injuries without getting questioned by his boss.

He could quit. That thought crosses his mind as he warps from rooftop to rooftop.

No, He tells himself, I need the pay.

His glance shoots down to the earth below, and his feet strike it a moment later. Rumors say that the cafe is around here and, given the late hour, it'll be a miracle if it's still open. Still, if he can catch it during closing, that'll be enough.

In the safety of the alleyway, Warper shrinks his gear back down, and does his best to look not so beat up. He pulls his jacket on tight over himself, hoping to mask the slouch that comes with the aftermath taking a gut punch or two, and gets walking.

About half an hour later, he's right in front of a particular cafe... that seems to be closed.

He could break and enter, but if this is another vigilante's turf, then it probably isn't wise to do so.

With that knowledge in mind, he raises a hand, and knocks against the door a handful of times.

"This is so stupid," He mutters to himself, but knocks again anyhow. If he wants to go into work tomorrow without arousing suspicion, he needs this - and if he wants to keep being a vigilante, then having a doctor on the list will certainly help keep him alive in the long run.

fear is non-existent. suit up and swing through the city.

[attr="class","likedotitle2"]CHARACTER APPLICATION