An intense woman, a lizard man, and a dead girl sit down for lunch.
There's a joke in there somewhere, but she doesn't quite have the mental capacity to find it.
The woman's name is Sarah. Or, rather, she says that's what she'd like to be called; the distinction seems somewhat pointless, but she doesn't think it's worth arguing. The lizard-man (well, boy, really) is 'Neuter' - there seems to be a lot of drug use in this city, and she offhandedly wonders if his parents were high when they named him.
Conversation is mostly pleasant. Sarah asks her if she likes the tea - she does, thank you. Neuter asks where she's from, which is a bit of a dead end. Sarah asks why a decomposing copy of her body is lying prone in one of their bedrooms. This is also a dead end.
She snorts. Sarah gives her an odd look.
"Sorry."
Only the three of them are in the room, a cross between an eating area and a lounge. A kitchen area lines one wall. The rest of the space is taken up mostly by couches and coffee tables, high quality wood barely reflecting fluorescent light. They're sitting off to the side, at a proper table. There is easily enough space for another eight or so chairs. The unused seats and open, empty area (silent but for their conversation) makes her feel lonely, if only a little. There's enough space that some forty people could probably fit in here, and that lack of presence is almost a sensation in and of itself.
She doesn't comment on it, but Sarah seems to notice her idle contemplation of the empty space. "We don't make as much use of this building as we'd like. Not nearly enough personnel for that."
"Are you planning to expand?" Recruit more people for... whatever this was. A dance club with a luxury lounge, perhaps? With its intense, gun-wielding manager and her lizard-man lieutenant.
"It's hard to say, right now. Things tend to go that way, though, if you can avoid stagnation."
She nods, accepting the answer. It doesn't take long for conversation to turn towards a more detailed explanation.
Sarah is the leader of a group of parahumans - a 'cape team', as it were. She manages five people, including herself, all with superhuman powers. They don't consider themselves 'villains' or 'heroes', but instead they are muscle for hire - mercenaries, really. They own the Palanquin, but it's not their main source of income.
The information they provide during discussion is interesting. Parahumans with weird or unusual powers are actually fairly common. As much as one might hear about invincible or super-strong or flight-capable capes in the news, there are plenty of powered individuals who apparently have utterly bizarre abilities.
Newter ("I picked my name because I'm kind of like a newt, actually." "Oh, that makes sense...") secretes an incredibly potent hallucinogen through his skin. He says it has its uses both in combat and recreationally, although the idea of the latter is somewhat unpleasant to her.
Sarah can split things that she touches. A considerably more impressive power than Newter's, especially when she demonstrates: "We can always buy another table."
"Can I show off, too?"
"No."
"But-"
"No drugging the guest, Newter."
He pouts for a moment, then straightens up, eager.
Before he can open his mouth: "No drugging me, either."
She feels a strange sensation, and it takes her a second to place it. Happiness. These two suffuse the room with energy, and her lethargy seems to fade in reaction. The discussion is cheerful, light-hearted, with fascinating tidbits of information mixed in. They answer all her questions - more than she would have expected, at least.
The world of cape politics, especially in this city she's found herself in again, is intriguing. Being a cape isn't that dangerous, apparently, as long as you do the right thing. (Which isn't necessarily always "the 'right' thing" - an important distinction, according to Sarah.)
Sarah's team specializes in bringing out the strengths in weird, unique powers. The quiet girl she'd met earlier is a 'shaker', capable of bringing her dreams out into the world around her. Gregor the Snail, apparently occupied with some other task, can secrete a variety of chemicals and 'eject' them from his mouth. And their new recruit, Spitfire, is a pyrokinetic of sorts.
"Your team is very diverse."
"It's not unmanageable." Sarah glances at Newter. "Usually."
She plays with the pepper shaker for a moment. It has a stylized outline of a cape-wearing woman on it, striking a pose. Even with the minimalist design, the bare outline, it gives off an impression of extreme confidence. A comic-book hero, perhaps, stylized enough to lose that last remnant of humanity.
"Is this a recruitment pitch?"
The conversation pauses.
"I'm not sure. Quite frankly, you appeared out of nowhere. How should I trust you? But at the same time, I wouldn't want to let a potentially valuable opportunity pass me by." Sarah leans forward, just a little. "From what you've said, you don't remember much more than maybe your first name. You need a place to sleep; you need food. We can provide that, at least for a time."
Her expression is still friendly, but suddenly sharper, piercing deeper than before. She shivers. "Perhaps we can discuss things further, explore your abilities. We're always looking for powersets that augment ours; you seem to have a rather unique one yourself. I'd be interested in finding out what exactly you can do, what you're able to accomplish. If you're willing to work with us, that is."
Willing to be a cape, she was asking. Use her apparent superhuman powers.
"That's acceptable."