Well, she certainly was coming. Or at least, she was now that she had seen the initial news coverage on the television. Contrary to what was slowly becoming popular belief, the new superheroine on the scene didn't have some complex base of operations, unless an ordinary one-bedroom apartment in the process of preparing for adopting a cat counted these days. The news was on a constant stream in Marjorie Shen's apartment these days, a habit she had adopted once officially getting used to her role as the Prism. Unfortunately for her, that also meant keeping the television on until the final moments before bed. She had been in the middle of brushing her teeth when the hostage situation hit as breaking news. So much for regulating her sleep schedule. Practically tearing off her pajamas, she had donned the familiar blue and purple suit that was starting to gain media attention. Personally she could have done without the news anchors trying to play fashion designer, but no superhero career was perfect.<br/><br/>The moment Marjorie made her way onto the fire-escape outside her window, she took on crystal form, her skin and hair hardening and crystallizing into glittering blue and purple all across her body. A mask had never been necessary to conceal the identity of the Prism. The crystal turned her face into nothing more than a vaguely feminine mask, no unique features were ever discernible, every flaw hidden and taken by her mutation. The crystal form used to only manifest upon impact, and it still liked to pop up whenever she so much as stubbed her toe, but now she could call upon it at will. Now if only she could fly, then her job would be much easier. It would have been nice to not have to run to her destination all the time. And less conspicuous. Already she could spot windows in which people were turning on their lights to get a better look at the Prism racing down the street at full speed out of the corner of her eye.<br/><br/>Sure enough, the present media went wild upon her arrival, though jumping onto one of the station vans might have helped with that. Occasionally Prism liked to make an entrance. She did a quick assessment of the situation. Barricade and blacked out windows. No telling where the criminals were or where they were keeping the hostages. If they were making threats to kill the hostages, then that would pose a problem. If she could convince them to shoot at her, however, then they would be getting somewhere. Always nice to be bulletproof, but then she would either have to hope they were stupid, hadn't been paying attention to the news, or didn't recognize who she was. All three were unlikely. Upon catching sight of the detectives, she leapt onto the ground, ignoring the mics in her face on either side from the news stations.<br/><br/>"You look pretty pleased considering the circumstances," she remarked upon seeing the detective's smug face, placing her hands on her hips. "Anything in particular I should know? What they are? What they want?"<br/><br/>Prism was certainly no big fan of E-Corp herself, given their knack for sweeping "unpleasant" matters and accusations under the rug. That didn't justify murder of its employees and scientists. She had known a few doctors and pharmacists, most of them thought the dicey media coverage was worth the change to change the world of medicine, maybe even finally crack a few medical mysteries. You couldn't really even blame the pencil pushers just trying to make a living. The higher-ups though, those were some damn guilty parties. But punching one or even a few corporate business men wouldn't fix the situation. More would just take their place. It was a nearly hopeless endeavor to take them down with a hostage situation. Maybe collect the right evidence while she was in the building however, then there might be some changes in ethics.<br/><br/><a class="username" data-user-id="1551" data-username="@Lycaon" data-xf-init="member-tooltip" href="https://blackdahliaroleplaying.com/members/1551/">@Lycaon</a>