"There will be time enough for that later."

"Yep!" Either way, really.

And now to return to the others?

Shatterbird gives her a nod. If any of the others were relevant they're not showing it.

She fixes a look on Cherish. That is a person she is going to kill, regardless of anything she may feel now or in the future.

That kind of professional rivalry isn't uncommon.
Everyone especially Cherish notices the look but no one seems to consider it urgent. Possibly because Ellie's power is still out of commission.

"Congratulations on that result, I think I can say. A very spirited response."

"De-spirited, we would call it."

Jack laughs more than the pun strictly deserved. "That too.

Mannequin's test is always a variation on the same theme, if you haven't been following us closely you might not have heard. You're going to change yourself, something that costs you."

He tosses her a piece of paper. It says, in neat handwriting, that since she's barely more attached to her physical form than Mannequin himself is, and making her cripple her power would be counterproductive, she is to interrupt the nearest news broadcast and introduce herself as Keres. A parahuman like any other and not any kind of mystical plural entity. 

"Will we be allowed to use our shades to accomplish this?"

Jack looks to Mannequin, who shrugs. Bonesaw tosses her a pill. "Antidote. Well, antibiotic, technically; it's a parasite not a poison. But this fixes it."

"Yes," Jack agrees, "showing off will make for a much better image. Might want to confess or commit some juicy crimes for the same reason, pretend to be doing this for the notoriety, but he left the details up to you."

The paper does include locations. None of them are likely to have capes defending, because why would they.

She takes the pill.

"We think we can provide a suitable spectacle. We will return when this is accomplished."

"Have fun."

So she leaves. She'll go to the nearest station, minimum of messing around. Is it as undefended as it ought to be?

Pretty much. As far as she's concerned it might as well be made entirely of unlocked doors.

Is it an hour when there is a broadcast to be interrupted?

Judging by the "do not enter" and "on air" signs, probably.

Excellent.

She enters from the back, accompanied by three shades, darkness swirling ominously around her. A blast of chaos obliterates the anchor's desk.

"Do not cut," she instructs.

If there's one thing that obedience is symptomatic of, it's weaponry. People talk themselves into thinking this is newsworthy even without the implied threat.

"Most of you do not know who I am, your Protectorate has not seen fit to inform you. I consider this an unforgivable oversight. I am the Keres." The shades are not echoing her voice. "I have killed many of your heroes: Edict, Lightscour, Cask," she lists off the shades she has. "I have fought Eidolon and Dragon, and yet walk free. I am not magic, only myself, a parahuman. If you are another such and think yourself capable of stopping me, come and find me. I will add you to my collection."

When she gets to the tinker from Toronto the cameras zoom in on the shade's face. Regardless of whether it was because the PRT wanted to affect the focus, that was big news very recently.

Anyway, singular personal pronouns, giving up the deal with the role, ought to satisfy Mannequin.

She sneers into the camera, then turns and departs the way she came.

Back to the Nine.

Mannequin signals his acceptance by extending a hand. It looks more like a length of chain being levitated than an arm.

After they shake, Crawler interjects, "My turn. I want to see if you can hurt me."

"That's it?"

"It's why I joined. Most can't. If you can't, you fail."

The armor plates where his foremost pair of legs meets his body shift around, a motion that was probably a shrug when he was humanoid. His motivation is pretty obvious; Crawler is famously immune to whatever once managed to hurt him.

"Very well." She reaches out a hand, touches, grabs-