American_Valor

Lt Jonahs looked passed Holman at Commander Burkholder.

"Dismissed Sgt"

Then he stepped to the table and stood infront of Commander Burkholder. Waiting as the others left. Commander Burkholder dismissed the others and then flipped open Jonahs file. Looked at it then back at him and finally spoke. "Can I trust you?" he said.

Jonahs face was like stone. "No Sir. However I am a man of my word. I've told the men we would be spending the weekend in Club Dokken when we won Sir, I fully understand that means a 48 hour pass, But Sir in return I can supply you with diamonds. I would be spending part of my time planning it."

Commander Burkholder scowled "What do you think I'm some kind of easy mark Jonahs. What do I need with diamonds."

Lt Jonahs remained stoned faced. "Sir I don't mean chessy I'm going to rob a store for you, I mean Industrial Cutting Diamonds, and I mean the type that FBSA prevented. But I do require the 48 hours Sir."

Commander Burkholder studied Ishmael Jonahs for several minutes. Both men stood out in the cold weather.

"OK consider it done, but make no mistake Jonahs, I don't like failure. You have your 48 hours. I'll see you in my office 6pm monday. Dismissed"

"Sir yes Sir." Ishmael turned towards his men. "Good job, Santos take them back and lets get loaded up."

He walked over and Manhandle Specialist Bellante as he spoke. "Your comming with, I processed your paperwork this morning. Grab your gear and meet us back at the barracks 45 minutes April."

Specialist Bellante presented herself and was slightly stunned at what Lt Jonahs was saying. "Aa Yes Sir." she stammered out at his unexpected touch.

"Welcome to the Devils Own. Hurry I don't like lateness it shows lack of respect."Specialist Bellante left to get her gear as Jonahs grabbed her cell phone and dialed a number.

[ QUOTE ]

She fumbled for the phone and answered on the third ring, heart pounding.

"H'llo?"

There was quiet stillness on the other end before a only slighty recongized voice spoke.

"Hello Prissy, bring your gear. Meet up NW corner IP, Club Dokken. Eight tonight, and don't be late."

His voice sounded cold and edged.

"I'll be there, sugar. With bells on."

Ishmael smiled for the first time since the fight.

"Fun later, be ready to work." it went completely quiet again.

The phone disconnected at the source.


[/ QUOTE ]

Ishmael strolled across the compound, back to hell to join up with his men. Soon they would all be in Club Dokken...


Elsewhere in the world...
The forces of good breathed a sigh of relief.....

(ooc note appearing every 10 post: Tales from the Council is a rp story involving a hero with guest starring heroes and setting up villains to be introduced into other storylines at a later date. It's not normally thought of but even villains have mothers, wives or other family members these tales have include them at times. New Question: If a Hero has the same powers as a Villain and they do the same things, Why is one a hero and the other a villian? Feel free to PM.)

Meanwhile....

On the field, all hell was breaking loose. Sgt Holman had begun shouting orders at the Devil's Own who had taken position between the bleachers and the two fighters. They stood unmoving, unresponsive to the drill instructor, weapons at the ready. Sgt Holman’s recruits had also drawn their weapons during his tirade.

The Commanders present had risen to their feet, with the exception of Commander Burkholder who watched events unfold with keen interest.

Having knocked Harrier over the cliff into the inlet, Jonahs now turned and smiled. He strolled over to where his men were and stopped, facing the table.

Commander Burkholder finally spoke quietly. "Lt. Jonahs have the men stand down." He fixed his gaze on Ishmael Jonahs and held it. A lesser man would have flinched.

Lt. Jonahs smiled a very predatory smile, locking eye contact with him. He gave the order, "Devil's Own, A-ten-hun... Order... Arms!" Then he sharply turned to stare at Ssgt Holman. "Sgt Holman, order your recruits to sit down. And report to me. Front and Center."

Ssgt Holman couldn't believe it! This punk was giving him orders! He swore he would kill him. "Recruits, as you were, sit down." Then Holman walked to where Jonahs now stood. He spoke through gritted teeth. "Reporting as ordered..."

Lt Jonahs stared at Ssgt Holman... waiting for it. Holman hissed out the last word through stiff lips. "...Ssssir."

Lt. Jonahs smirked. "Did you know that the man in your unit was actually a disguised Hero?"

Sgt Holman looked into Jonahs' eyes and lied. "No..." Lt Jonahs stared back, waiting once again. He knew how much this was killing Holman, and he was enjoying that, very much indeed. "Ssir." Earl hissed out once more.

Ishmael continued to smirk at him. "Well it doesn't matter now, does it? I beat him, you lost. This was supposed to be a friendly little competition. Sorry to say this, Sgt, but you brought your C-game to the A-table. But I'm gonna give you a chance to save face, Sgt. I'm tired and hurt.... How about you fight me? You win, I once again fall under your command as do all of my men. But if I win, you suffer the fate you had in store for them." He never broke eye contact. "Well, what say you, Sgt?" Either way he won.

What Ssgt Holman wouldn't have given for a sniper rifle at this moment! The silence stretched. Finally, through gritted teeth, he answered. "No, Sir. I am a working Drill Sgt. I commend your training instructions and will see about implementing some of those new things I've learned, Sir." Sgt Holman had somewhere manage to find the words to express his thoughts without getting nailed with charges. But he was going to kill Ishmael if for no other reason, for making him call him SIR.

They had locked eyes and neither broke contact, two dominant alpha males looking to lead the pack. Finally Commander Hamilton spoke.

"Well done, well done, gentlemen. That little suprise caught us all off guard. Good thing we had you hero killers on hand to take care of him." He smiled at the men. "I think we'll call it a draw, and since it was so outstanding and..."

Lt Jonahs didn't give him a chance to finish cutting him off. "Ready Arms, Aim!" The Devil's Own drew their weapons and aimed at the Commander who stopped in mid sentance. Lt Jonahs continued. "Sir, we still haven't completed the marksmanship portion of this contest, which I believe my men will win. Therefore it is not a draw. Sir." Lt Jonahs stated matter of factly.

Commander Hamilton was very uncomfortable staring at the 15 guns pointed at him. He was acutely aware that even if Lt Jonahs was shot, he himself would still be dead. This upstart Lt had extreme nerve and would go far in the Council if he survived.

"As you were." Commander Hamilton ordered.

Santos looked at the Jonahs for the nod of confirmation. It came slowly. Santos called out. "Order Arms."

The assembled Commanders were fully aware of who was holding whose collars.

Commander Burkholder continued sitting at ease with his hand resting on Ishmael Jonahs file.

Commander Hamilton continued, "As I was saying, Lt.... Where as I would have considered this a draw. You've shown us an outstanding performance. You and your men will recieve the twenty-four hour pass as well as the original bonus discussed. In that time I want to know which command you would like to switch to."

Lt Jonahs grinned slightly "Yes Sir. Thank you. As for the command, we would like to be assigned to Operation: Zenith Megamech under Commander Archon Burkholder. Sir"

Then he turned with a devilish grin directed at Ssgt Holman. "I would also like to point out to command what an excellent job Ssgt Holman has done in the past weeks with our prievious unit and his current unit. We could all use NCOs who know the drill as good as Ssgt Holman." He extended his hand. "No Hard feelings, Sgt."

Ssgt. Earl Holman had seen many things in his years with the Column and now in the Council. He reflected on his old Commander Helsinger who played people expertly, and even when things went badly for the man he managed to turn them to good fortune. He had learned a lot from Marx, but Jonahs could give that man a run for his money. He would make it a point to find out.

Sgt Holman smiled at Lt. Jonahs. He was going to enjoy destroying this man. He shook the extended hand. "No hard feelings, Sir." Holman looked into Jonahs eyes with hate and saw it refelected back. Both men clearly understood where they stood with one another.

[ QUOTE ]

Ssgt Holman grimaced while watching the fight. It was not going as planned he picked up his cell and sped dialed Sgt Nagle. The phone rang once and he hung up.

[/ QUOTE ]


Corporal Shaffer and Sgt Nagle were playing cards when Nagle's cell phone rang. Just once. He answered it anyway and nodded, then looked at Corporal Shaffer and frowned for a moment. Then he smiled, flipping the phone shut.

“Okay, Corporal. We need to get ready to stage that hero’s presence here. Let's head topside. Sgt Holman told me to tell you triple bonus, since you didn’t know this.”

Corporal Shaffer grinned. Triple bonus! He thought that for a black eye and not having to have it handed to him by the manic Jonahs, whom he had heard about, that life was good. “Okay, let's do this.” Corporal Shaffer was just beginning to stand up when the Crane kick caught him off guard, slamming into his midsection, stunning him and sending him into the wall hard. Sgt Nagle followed it up with a devastating Storm kick, breaking Corporal Shaffer’s neck and leaving him splayed out on the floor. Dead.

That done, Sgt Nagle stripped Corporal Shaffer. He took everything and left, making the next call. The phone rang once and he hung up.

Sgt Nagle wasn’t stupid, he got in the first jeep he saw and left the base, reflecting that Earl wasn’t anybody’s friend and anyone who believed otherwise wound up dead, even family. The next time he saw his brother-in-law would be for Sunday dinner with his sister, and that would be too soon. He didn’t care what happened to Earl Holman, and except for the fact his wife Jenny would be angry with him he would have told Earl to go to hell. Family was the worst thing that came with marriage, the one thing you couldn’t fix and you actually chose when you married. He grumbled to himself as he threw the uniform and gear bag into the incinerator as he passed it.

Sgt Nagle left for the day and went home.

The outdoor field in the center of the obstacle course was cold and hard with the inlet wind whipping across the field. The mud pit had once again begun to ice over.

The makeshift bleachers held many interested parties to the demonstration, Specialist Bellante was just one of them. She stood near the Devils’s Own with several thoughts going through her mind. One: she hoped Corporal Shaffer kicked the crap out of Ensign Jonahs, but she wanted Jonahs to win. Why she placed his bet for him she didn’t know, he was nuts. She had been drawn in like the rest and watched, mesmirized like a moth drawn to a brightly burning flame.

As the two men circled around one another, neither gave ground. As Jonahs feigned to the left he came at Eric with a high right hand,

Eric had seen this combat move a million times. Did this guy think he was a rookie? Big mistake. He blocked, his body moving now, and chi flared. He shoved the incoming arm away, delivering an open palm upward to Jonahs' jaw.

The blow came in fast and full of power, making a solid connection to the jaw. Jonahs’ head rocked back slightly to roll with it, using it to gauge the strength and speed of the Harrier.

Jonahs then telegraphed the spinning backfist which was straight from the Council's martial arts class and waited to see what was coming next. Jonahs was going to make it a good show. It was the least he could do since Holman had gone through so much trouble.

*Telegraphing, telegraphing...* Eric saw the reversed blow coming, and merely intended to intercept. This guy was toying with him, and that was bad. It meant he had something up his sleeve, he wasn't going all out. Two forearms rose to block the incoming fist... but the blow was strong. *Check that, not strong: powerful.* Even with the spin, Eric shouldn't have stumbled back a step as he did. It was like blocking a casually swung telephone pole. Was this guy augmented somehow? Juiced with supradyne or something? It was possible. His arm had struck Eric's forearms with enough force to have at least made the other guy wince; lesser men might have even come away with a broken bone.

Jonahs dropped back into ready stance.

Eric began to worry. To put this out of his mind, he feigned a returning punch, and switched to a sudden Thunder-kick...

The Thunder kick came is low and fast catching Jonahs in the chin. Eric used the momentum to push himself into the air and send a follow up Storm kick. It was coming in perfect...

Jonahs went for the low block on the jab, and wound up with quick kick in the face. He saw the Harrier push off and send a spinning roundhouse Storm kick at his head. That wouldn't do at all.

He reached up and snatched Harrier’s incoming foot in mid-kick, twisting it and slamming him into the mud, but his hand released at the last second, allowing the deadly impact to be avoided as Harrier ate dirt and tumbled across the ground.

Eric flopped like a rag doll, shaking his head to clear it, and rose from his hands and knees. This guy was strong. Eric had canceled his hovering power, trying to add to his own mass and interrupt the throw of his entire body weight, but Jonahs had followed through as if that detail were unimportant.

Jonahs smiled and wiped the blood from his lip. "Play time's over, Harrier. Time for school, first lesson: Pain 101." He stood to his full height and slammed his fist into his palm. Taunting and jeering the Harrier into action.

The Harrier grimaced, giving an almost-staged kung fu grunt of surprise. *He knows who I am? Damnit!* His eyes narrowed beneath the goggles.

"That's it, punk. I'm gonna punch your face and steal your girlfriend!"

Several Council jeering in the front row laughed; a few others paused, perhaps familiar with that phrase somehow… As several who'd not heard Jonahs' growled taunt clearly scratched their heads, Eric charged in, arms weaving as he came. The initial blows flashed past Jonas' face, as the bigger man dodged easily, grinning. He blocked another fist forcefully, then swung, beginning his own combination. It was Eric's turn to dodge, his head fading backward, back farther... one of Jonahs' meaty hands glanced across his jaw, and as the Harrier grunted in pain at the strike he leaned back farther and farther... soon, Jonahs was swinging at an opponent almost supine in the air, whose feet were still planted firmly on the ground. The Councilman was almost overreaching himself, swinging at a head beyond his reach and missing angrily.

With the Harrier's body laid out before him like a table, Jonahs changed tactics. A feinted kick was intercepted by the Harrier, who redirected the huge foot with a block, so that Jonahs stomped the ground with such force it made a noise, then missed the mark with his overhand smash as, in a near panic, the Harrier had spun away and lifted slightly to complete another turn in the air as dust clouds rose, and landed on his feet.

Harrier extended a hand, turned it around, and beckoned: Just bring it.

As Jonahs stepped up, though, Eric dropped and attempted a Dragontail sweep....

Always with the fancy kicks and spins, Jonahs was never interested in the fancy moves other Martial Art styles taught, he liked the commando training he specialized in. The Harrier was good and fast, two qualities he probably figured he had the advantage with. Jonahs planned on showing him he was wrong. When the Harrier came in with a lightning fast sweep, Jonahs leaped into the air flipping over him and landed with a massive foot stomp, sending shockwaves across the ground and causing the Harrier to lose his footing. Before the Harrier could move, Jonahs nailed him with a quick punch followed by a monster jab. He smirked, “You think you got what it takes?”

Ssgt Holman grimaced while watching the fight. It was not going as planned. He picked up his cell and sped dialed Sgt Nagle. The phone rang once and he hung up.

Eric's head was ringing as well. It was clear to him now how Vengent had fallen to this man: he was the Council equivalent to some kind of meta. This wasn’t merely drugs, this was more. The strength, the leaping, the thunderous power of his legs... no drug he'd ever heard of in Paragon provided that kind of boost. He didn't appear to be a Warwolf, and was no Vampyr - although by now the sun had set and the sodium lamps for the small arena had come on.

One of Jonahs' shots had cracked one of the lenses of his goggles; he'd have to lose them soon or risk glass in the eye. No way he'd let these scum see his-

Wait. Mask in back pocket.

And he still owed Holman a little something.

Eric attacked, leading with a flurry of punches. Against his hope, fewer than half connected, Jonahs blocking and weaving like an accomplished boxer. Jonahs himself returned the favor, but this time, Eric used rising legs as well as his own arms to block. For nearly a full minute, both men traded blows that landed very few real impacts, and for awhile the cheering of the crowd around them rose gradually in volume, louder and louder. The table of commanders sitting stoically off to one side, officers remaining stone faced for the most part, each with his own calculations and machinations going on in the silence of their thoughts...

Then, Jonahs landed a combination. A tight jab struck Eric's ribs, and as the disguised hero leaned into the blow, Jonahs struck into the opening on his opposite side with a great downward strike to the side of Eric's face. A cheer erupted from the appropriately-aligned watchers, as the smaller man in the ring spun with the blow and fell to his hands and knees once again.

Jonahs remained where he was, gloating it appeared, while his opponent reached into a back pocket, for what appeared like a kerchief. He yanked what were obviously smashed goggles from his face, shaking loose glass from his hair, and cast it off to the side, bringing the kerchief up to wipe his eyes so fast no-one saw what he looked like.

Until he stood up.

The black domino mask over his upper face lay beneath a shock of blond hair, quite different from what the crowd had expected of Holman's man. Eric had peeled off the Council helmet. The crowd, some expecting that Shaffer had pulled a hidden knife or shank and was about to end Jonahs' career Council-style, were disappointed to see instead the Dark Harrier revealed before them.

Grinning, Eric flipped his helmet directly at Holman, who raised two hands and took the impact awkwardly. The Harrier then turned to the table of Council officers, and did what any good New York hero would do.

He flipped them the bird.

The crowd was in an uproar now, and several recruits had drawn guns. Jonahs held up his hand and looked at the Devil’s Own who drew their own weapons and moved to intercept anyone foolish enough to interfere in the fight.

Then Jonahs dashed at the hero revealed, his massive arms a whirlwind of incoming force. Eric only managed to stop one blow before a solid jab was followed by a devastating punch. The punch to the chest lifted him off his feet and knocked him across the field to land on his back in the cold dirt. The crowd was screaming for his blood.

The Dark Harrier got back up.

Ensign Jonahs nodded. This fight had gone on too long, He had so much fun playing cat and mouse with Harrier he forgot he had to... had to...

Jonahs shook his head and shuffled stepped to Harrier in a ready stance prepared to pummel him fully.

Eric's eyes jerked open for a second. Though he hadn't landed anything while he'd been essentially blasted by the Council fighter, Jonahs suddenly shook his head as if dazed. Chi flared and the Machine took hold. All inner conversation snapped into silence as white and indigo flared around the Harrier. He leapt, accelerating at Jonahs and delivering a high axe kick, the heel of his boot flashing over the top of his own head and dropping onto Jonahs' shoulder. The man's flesh was like iron covered in a pillowcase.

The hero dropped to the ground after completing the kick and shouted "Shirt.. RIPPA!" as he completed a favored combo, His cobra-fanged hand strike tore a jagged imprint from Jonahs' shirt as he stuck open-palmed at the man's solar plexus, and Eric could see the big man stagger.

The big man’s eyes glazed over for a second and then became clear. There was a tint of sadness in them as he moved forward, left hand disappearing into his tactical belt. He pulled out a small wrapped device and forced it into the Harrier’s shirt disguised as a quick stomach jab, the powerful blow causing Eric to buckle over. He knew he couldn’t explain, there was no time, he had to trigger Harrier’s EMT device. He gripped Harrier by the throat and picked him up off his feet. He looked Eric in the eye while holding him fully extended at arms length, his right hand cocked back in a wind up. He knew the Knockout blow was going to be devastating, and could feel his control slipping once again.

“I’m sorry.” He whispered as his eyes clouded over…

"Wha-?" Eric choked out.

Jonahs wasn’t sure what was going on, but the Harrier was in his grip. This hero was dead. No one took what was his. Not now, not ever. Not his Command and not his Prissy. This was the last time the Dark Harrier would ever say, ‘I'm gonna punch your face and steal your girlfriend!’ Jonahs had only one single thought rushing through his brain.

He snarled, “Never!” as a small circular bruise formed just over his left eye and began to bleed.

Then he swung forward with the Devastating Knockout blow, following through with every iota of strength and skill. And connected….

The impact may or may not have produced another peal of thunder, but in Eric's consciousness, thunder and pain were everything.

.... connected with the Harrier, missing his head but connecting solidly with his upper chest. This had three effects. The first sent the Harrier flying out of the compound through the air off the cliff towards the inlet, Secondly the thundering boom from the blow thankfully knocked out the Harrier so he didn’t feel his bones break from the solid impact. The last was unexpected but served its purpose, the jammers in place inside the Council base would have prevented Harrier's EMT device from working. Inside those bounds, his hero tag emitted its customary ID marker, but could not have sent it's request for teleport.

He had hoped that once the Harrier hit the water he would be out of the jammers range and would get grabbed by the emergency system. He never would have guessed about the new small elfin heroine sensing Eric eminent danger and teleport him across the Isle all the way to a patch of grass she was passing by.

***

Z had sensed the deadly drop in Dark Harrier's reading. Before even his name could be cried out in alarm, she had jinked the fallen hero to her side. One look at him and conscious thought took over. Moments later they were in the Atlas Park emergency room. Harrier out on a table, Zenitheon started a repeat performance of the boat raid at his head while doctors scrambled to set up their monitoring equipment and lay plaster and fiber framing around his massive crush injuries.






((OOC: Tales would like to Thank our Special Guest Star: The Dark Harrier, Excellent Work ! ))

((OOC: Tales would like to Thank Zenitheon for a Special Guest Appearance. ))

You can follow both in their further Adventures in the Whitmoore Apts. Once again Tales Thanks You.

A short while later~~~~~

The competition was fairly balanced, running the drill formations.

The completion of the 'O' course belonged to the Devil's Own who took it by Storm. The entire unit finished with nearly identical time, with the last man crossing in a tenth of a second difference. After the expert execution of the climbing wall challenge, it was obvious that the training that Ensign Jonahs struck the Command Staff as particularly impressive.

The Field Commander noted one major difference between the two units. Ssgt Earl Holman directed and ordered his men while watching them. Ensign Jonahs and the Devil's Own, as his unit was called, operated as one. He wasn't just giving orders, he was leading them, and more important was that they were following him.

Ssgt Holman truly didn't have anything to worry about. He always produced results, he was a drill instructor. They liked shaking him up now and again just to keep him on his toes.

Now, Ensign Jonahs was someone to watch. He had the makings of leadership potential and Command staff was always watching out for the up and comers. They looked at Commander Burkholder, who had already managed to snatch him up, but anything was possible within the Council.

"You realize, of course," Eric chimed in at one point, "that I don't shoot guns. That's not gonna be good for your little team's score. I hope this hand-to-hand contest comes before that?"

Ssgt Holman scowled at Harrier, "Don't worry, pretty boy you're next, and remember... you don't win, no antidote."

Unarmed combat display was next and the Command Staff was highly interested in the outcome. Rumors abounded of ringers, changes in commands, of old style command challenges. Bets had been placed across the base for those in the know of who was going to fight whom. After the display in the mess, bets had been changed. So it came to Ensign Jonahs as no surprise when he was ordered front and center.

Commander Hamilton addressed the assembled units.

"Well, it seems that Corporal Shaffer and Ensign Jonahs are to be paired off. Since this is the Self-Defense Unarmed Combat Training Exercise, it only seems fair to make sure Ensign Jonahs understands that Ssgt Holman only recently brought Corporal Shaffer into his unit yesterday for the sole purpose of this event. As a Junior Officer I will allow you to forgo this if you so chose. What say you Ensign Jonahs?"

There was an audible gasp punctuated by sighs as everyone anticipated his reply.

He let them wait for a moment, savoring the timing. "Sir, I'm looking forward to taking down the reigning Golden Glove champ. Oh... and can someone place 20k bet for me, for the win." He smirked, then turned and faced Harrier. He'd take it easy, but it was time for a bit of cat and mouse.

*Golden Gloves champ* Eric thought. *Something else this [censored] didn't tell me.* Well, that cinched it. Somehow, Eric was going to sabotage this. How, of course, was the question, as he and Jonahs stepped into the cleared area and prepared themselves for what was coming.

Eric didn't care whether the horse stance he dropped into was Council regulation for their hand-to-hand. At this point he'd stopped caring entirely about any pretext. He hoped with some vain hope that the milk he'd chugged would work against the poison, put it off, leave him with his senses intact and his body responsive as long as it would. Weren't you always supposed to drink a lot of milk if you swallowed poison?

No time for that line of thought; as the rather imposing Jonahs came at him, he exhaled, and rushed to meet him.

Harrier hung from the chains in basic darkness for what seemed like forever. The only thing that he could hear was the steady breathing of the Corporal. It was the only way he could tell he wasn't alone.

Finally he heard the creaking of the door as bright light filled the room. Standing before him was Sgt Holman with a gear bag and two large boxed lunches the smell of food issuing enticingly.

"Morning Harrier."

Eric groaned. The 'little trip' Holman had taken had lasted all night, several hours anyway. Eric had not been put up in a bunk; he'd been literally left hanging. His arms were killing him, he'd gotten little real rest, and Shaffer snored like a bear. He'd taken a few turns at hovering to take the strain off his body, but his ribs remained unimproved and after awhile, even hovering became taxing. He’d resigned himself to sleep in position, and not gotten much out of it.

"This wasn't the five-star accommodation I was expecting. Listen, hanging like this all night isn't going to help me take down your pal Ishmael. I took a few anti-aircraft shells to the body. I think it scratched my elbow." He stifled further noises as his manacles were finally being undone.

"Oh, I thought you were a serious hero. 'The Dark Harrier', not the Lazy-Boy," said Ssgt. Holman. He dropped the bag and one of the boxes in front of Harrier, handing the other box to Shaffer. "Eat up and get dressed. I want us to get to the chow hall so you can catch a glimpse of just who killed your friend."

Once free, Eric crouched down onto one knee, curling in over himself. As he'd expected, the long-overflexed ribs leaped together; he actually felt the painful, slithery movement beneath his skin, and it nearly made him yelp. A few minutes in this pose was what he really needed....

Corporal Shaffer took his box-lunch meal and began digging into it. He smiled at Holman, “Thank you, Sarge.”

Holman had spent the night calling in a few markers. He finished reading the reports and found that Ensign Jonahs was being reassigned to Project Zenith Giant. If for some reason the Dark Harrier couldn’t defeat Jonahs and/or was discovered he already set his plan in motion to cover up his involvement.

Harrier put on the Council uniform. It was a bit larger, but it fit. With little ado he was able to slip the jacket sleeve over his wristphone. Though it might have been shot and no source of contact with the outside, he had it on him, and its stored info was safe. He tucked the sleeve down and thought no more about it for a while. He then turned his back to his captors and quickly switched his mask for the largish goggles and helmet, turning back once he was convinced his face had been recovered. He slipped the black leather mask into a back pocket.

The food in the box lunch was prepared and hot. and included a sealed water bottle. He wasn’t so sure he could trust the food, but the sealed water bottle was a different matter. He twisted off the top and drank deeply. He contented himself that he wouldn't be trying any food Holman gave him, convinced it might be poisoned, and thought himself a clever hero. “Aahh, good water.”

Until Holman grinned. “So Harrier, new plan,” he said with a smirk. “You can pretty much do what you like as part of my unit now. If you try to escape, you will die. I’m sure you’ve heard of Iocaine powder, odorless, and tasteless, well it’s real. And you just drank it. It’s not as fast-acting as the movies say, but it is as deadly.” Holman paused while Harrier considered what he was just told.

Eric stood still a moment, flushed with cold sweat. "Goddammit," he said aloud, not caring who heard him.

Holman laughed, “Don’t worry Harrier, WHEN you defeat Ishmael my medic will give you the antidote. If you lose…” he laughs, “It won’t matter anyway, will it? So eat up the foods safe it was the water that was poisoned. You shouldn’t feel anything until sometime afternoon. So we have plenty of time to make sure you get the antidote.”

Eric's teeth gritted together, making his jaw stand out in square outline. Many possibilities flew through his mind, one after the other: he was being tricked, he'd been poisoned, he was doomed to die anyway even if he won, he would perish from the poison here and no-one would ever know, he would perish and the Council would drape his body somewhere public and crow its victory.... he turned a steely gaze at the Councilman. *Oh, Holman.. if there is any way in creation, I swear I will take you with me. If I am doomed, you will most certainly die for this....*

Not hearing this internal monologue, Holman said, "Corporal Shaffer, you will be waiting here, as the Harrier will be taking your spot. Sgt Nagle will be keeping you company. No wandering Corporal, or Harrier could have problems, and that would mean extra duty for you. Stay put and you earn a double bonus.”

Corporal Shaffer smiled, “Yes, Sir.”

“Ready when you are Harrier.” Ssgt Holman looked at him and waited for him to join him and the guards once they exited the building Harrier fell into formation with the other men. They headed to the mess….

As Eric followed behind, his body tense and stiff, his normally glib mouth silent, he stepped in behind the Council, following them out of the door and up a concrete stair to ground level. As he left the building, his medicom signal suddenly reappeared on the grid...

He marched into the loud long mess hall behind the others. It was teeming with men, since it appeared to now be late morning or early afternoon, and the place rang with sounds and stank of assembly-line food, bad aftershave, and other odd smells. Holman seemed to have his own table; looked like the other kids in the lunchroom knew him for one of the bad ones and left his crew's chairs empty. Holman put his jacket on a seatback then led them to the chow line.

Holman was smart enough to intercept an approaching Council member and blind him with small talk while the rest of the crew and their disguised captive strolled the line with the rest. Eric took a tray, allowed a few things to be slapped wetly down into the grooved placeholders, accepted a pair of milk pints, then walked woodenly to sit with the cadre.

He did not eat the food; his stomach, perhaps quivering with anger and fear for the poison, or, perhaps just at the possibilities of the day, did not seek to be filled. Some banter was made as if this were all in good fun, but Eric sat, gradually calming himself, until at last his goggled face rose up from the tray and he considered Holman directly.

He was trapped; if these guys didn't shoot him dead in the eye or pop a gun barrel into his mouth, there would have been little they could have done to him.. save, perhaps, turning a Vampyr onto him... or poisoning him with an ingestive. They could have shot him full of tranq darts all day, and unless they fired up one with nonobots or laser-tips, it wouldn't have penetrated his skin deeply enough to make any difference. But, make him swallow the poison... the Harrier's fists clenched in borrowed gloves under the table.

His rushing brain would have driven him to spout off at Holman, to fall into that monologueing trap so many of these villains seemed to, but, instead, he kept his cool.

His voice was flat, and the other men paused in their eating. "Which one's Ishmael?" he asked.

Holman looked up. "You see that empty table in the middle? That’s his table over there he just walked in and claimed it like he was king. The Devil's Own should be here anytime now." While Holman was talking, a crisp dressed unit entered the mess. The Devil's Own didn't bother looking where they were heading, they marched right into the chow line and the others just stepped out of their way. Ensign Jonahs walked right over to the table and stood at the head waiting for his men.

"Speak of the devil, that’s him alone. I hope everything I read about you is true, or I will be disappointed." Holman said.

Holman hadn't even finished talking before Eric's chair scraped back, he stood, and with his head oriented on the targeted table, stepped around Holman's men and started walking.

A few ideas crossed his mind as he closed the distance. Starting with the guy right here and now was a bad idea, simply because the room would respond en mass and he'd be finished. If there were a planned gathering, he could do what he needed in the ring and no-one [in theory] would interfere. So, the matter fell to what to do here, now. Slug the guy? Knock his tray over and glare? Punk one of his underlings and rub Jonahs' face in it? Just walk past him and give the old shoulder-check?

As the Harrier walked the gauntlet of Councilmen on either side, and Jonahs' details became clearer, Eric was impressed. This guy was big. Chiseled, too. It was no wonder the ubernuts here made him a leader. The guy was made for their archetype. His dark hair was perfect, his jaw square, his eyes.. well, his eyes were odd. Deep, outwardly serene in his security of command but, something was off. Perhaps the Council life did that to you; he was an alpha wolf, but he knew there was always someone hunting him. That's the impression Eric was getting. There was... caution in this one. Maybe he felt that this kind of day, when the Council tossed men into a pit to see who'd come back out, was the kind of day the lieutenants actually dreaded, because this was the chance for their underlings to show them up, take a clean shot at them with no repercussions....

The thought took too long; Eric was right on top of the guy now. Well, in a figurative sense; he had to look up, a little.

"Excuse me," he said in a clear voice. The others nearby stopped talking and spun to look as Jonahs turned to face the newcomer. Some of his unit were arriving at the table already and put their plates down, but didn't sit.

No bluster, no shove, no overturned plate of food. Eric yanked the glove from his right hand. Staring wasn't going to happen much from under his borrowed goggles, but that was just as well.

Jonahs looked at Corporal Shaffer, His uniform was too big, and he didn't fit, recognition filtered in the back of his mind. *Harrier, what the hell?* He listened to make sure.

"There will be some fighting matches here today. The only one worth paying attention to will be between you and me." He tapped the guy, just once, with the drawn glove, right on the big barrel chest, then tossed it down on the table. It landed clear of food, a nice meaty slap on the veneer, and you could hear it over the now-total lack of conversation.

Jonahs smiled at Holman and actually gave a nod in his direction. April had told him that Holman had found a ringer, the fact that he scored a hero.... Well, that was now between the three of them. The fact that Holman didn't know he knew only made beating Harrier even sweeter. He turned back to the table and picked up the glove. Santos placed Jonahs' plate before him, while Burnett and Burke stared for a long moment after Corporal Shaffer.

Alright: one bit of bluster. Eric looked down at the guy's boots, then all the way up to his head, then turned and walked back.

The Devils Own ate like a timed machine, and were done in five minutes. They got up in unision and Ensign Jonahs looked at the men sitting at the table to his right. "Extra duty, clean the table."

The men nodded, "Yes Sir."

"Devil's Own to the field and make sure the O course is clear. I'll be there in a minute."

"Yes Sir!" They resounded loudly. Then they turned and filed out.

He smiled never taking his eyes off the Harrier. Jonahs new conscience knew things, his new body was stronger, he didn’t understand what had happen but he didn’t care either, soon his own powerbase would be reestablished, and his enemies would tremble once more.

"Thank you recruits, stop by hell to pick up your bonus."

"Sir Yes Sir!" The recruits responded.

Ensign Jonahs smirked, then turned sharply and exited.

Holman didn't say a word and smiled when Jonahs looked at him. When Harrier returned, "Gutsy move, Corporal, I should have given you a little better information. See those men at the table over there? Those are our commanding officers who authorized this little event. As fun as that was to watch, drawing there undue attention makes my life hard and that's not good for anyone. Our units are supposed to compete in standard drill, running the O, unarmed combat and the range. When we leave here we will be heading to the field. I hope you can take him." Ssgt Holman stood up he looked annoyed.

Eric stood up once Holman was on his feet. In a quiet voice, he remarked, "I suggest then, that you tell me everything else I might need to know about this. Now. Every detail. You should be seein' now that playing it off and letting me know things after the fact is a dumb-[censored] move. That's at least twice now your smarminess has screwed things up a bit. And I should add now that, the more this happens, the more you chuckle about something after it's gone wrong is just gonna make me decide to do this in a way that doesn't give you what you want. I'll deliberately screw this whole thing up in some spectacular way, just to get back at you. You dig? I have nothing to lose, buddy. You've got it all to lose. D-"

Holman cut him off. "We're done. Lets move it, Bravo clean up, and muster outside Now."

Holman escorted Corporal Shaffer out front of the mess where the rest of Bravo formed up in a minute. As they went, some observers noted the uppity Corporal chugged back two pints of milk as he went, leaving the tiny cartons behind on the tables of others.

***

Specialist Bellante realized that she was as good as dead in Jonahs' eyes. Her only hope at this point was compliance and to come clean. To hope for mercy, the time for playing for position and points was long gone.

" Yes," she whispered. She took off the necklace with the electronic bug in the pendant and held it out towards Ishmael with a trembling hand. "I was scared. I thought maybe...." His eyes, something moved in them, something unreadable.

Ishmael glared at her, but the gun weighed so heavy in his hand. The voice in his head told him she could be useful. *Yes useful* Ishmael focused once more looking at the athletic form of April Bellante.

"Burke, Burnett dismissed." He tossed her pistol to Burke. "Make sure she get that back before she leaves."

"Yes Sir." They both smiled and left, he was after all, their commander.

April counted her breaths and good fortune. The implication that she would actually be leaving... yeah, that was good. Real good. Better than she'd expected when she'd looked into his dead but still churning eyes.

Ishmael sat on the desk and stared at her. "Okay, this is your lucky day, April. I'm in a generous and giving mood, so I'm going to give you a choice, a rare thing indeed. First, though you are intel, so make me understand what value you have. Then I'm going to want an answer, your choice. You can take your chances in the Pit... Or you can take your chance with my men.... but it will be your choice, April."

Specialist Bellante nodded at Ishmael. "Sir, permission to speak freely?" April was terrified at the moment. She hoped maybe depending on what she told him maybe she could prevent having to take either of those choices. She needed him to listen for her to have any chance at all. "Permission to continue with your previous order, Sir? While I brief you on Ssgt Holman's recent activities, and your New Commanding Officer, Commander Burkholder?"

*Play for time, girl. Information is life.... And one man, even this one, is sure as heck preferable to a unit of them.* As the last garment hit the floor, even Jonahs had to recognize that, right? And it wasn't like she wasn't easy on the eyes. She was.

Ishmael had been contemplating what to do with April while she yammered at him, still trying to talk her way out of the grave she'd dug for herself. She was too smart for her own good and wasn't Prissy.

What about Prissy? Why was he thinking about her? She had value… but why? He had started thinking about Prissy when ... What did she say? His earlier orders... then Holman and Burkholder...

His eyes came back to her. Far more impressive and compelling than the view (Not Prissy, the voice reminded him, rather pointedly, as if that should somehow have mattered... but somehow it did) , were her words. The woman was a font of information. Holman. Burkholder. Goings-on behind the scenes and beyond "official".

April once again grabbed, and this time held, his interest for the rest of the day. She had value, information was power, and He had been right. April was smart and used to be dangerous and he would use her for she was still very dangerous to others. He smirked while she briefed him on the different base operations, for now he would withhold her punishment. He recorded the data into compresses dvd straight into storage.

His men, thinking they knew what was going on behind the closed office door, didn't interrupt. For the Devil’s Own it was business as usual for the rest of the day…..

Javier looked at Ishmael who was now watching Specialist Bellante with mild interest. “Belay that order, Bellante”.

Ensign Jonahs turned and stared at Corporal Santos. He pulled the hammer back on Bellante’s pistol and pointed it at Him. “Are you challenging my command, Javier?”

*Oh, crap!* April thought this just was getting too surreal all of a sudden. She had only just begun to unbutton her blouse when Santos stopped her. Sweat had begun to form on her brow and she had stopped breathing and moving.

Across the room Javier stood frozen. He was going to die, he just never thought it would be like this. Memories of Maria and his girls flashed through his mind. He was never going to see them again, and all because Ishmael was a degenerate.

He would not beg. He had lived his whole life trying to be a good father, husband, and man. So he stared at Ishmael and waited for the hammer to fall.

Jonah's voice barked, “BURKE, BURNETT, AND TURNER, MY OFFICE! NOW!”

Ishmael swung his feet from the desk, still holding the gun, and stalked over towards Santos, towering over Specialist Bellante. There were scrambling noises coming from the other room as the men tumbled into the office in a rush to comply with Jonah's orders. Burke was still carrying the weapons cleaning towel in his left hand.

Jonahs stared at Santos for a long moment. During that moment his mind was wrestling with something, the internal conflict reflected on his face and the tension in the air as thick as gravy. No one dared speak.

Ishmael held the weapon steady, pointed in a direct bead at virtually point blank range at Javier’s head. “Why?” he said roughly through gritted teeth, the muscles of his arms and torso flexed with strain.

Corporal Santos stood at attention. A last hurrah. “Sir permission to speak freely.” He continued without waiting for a reply figuring that even if it wasn’t okay he could only be shot so many times. So far everything he had experienced in the last week had warned him not to be involved with Jonahs. Yet he kept being drawn to him like a moth to a flame, and he was trying not to get burned. Santos chose his words carefully.

“I don’t care about Specialist Bellante, but your actions could be construed as unlawful and unjust to our new commander, Sir. I wasn’t challenging your command so much as I was acting in the best interest of your command and this unit. Sir.” Corporal Santos finished hoping it was enough and that he wasn’t going to get shot.

Ensign Jonahs stared hard at Santos while he was speaking, a tiny muscle at his left temple twitching throughout although the rest of his face could have been carved from beige-hued ivory. Something very... unusual... was going on inside of Jonahs, unknown to anyone there. Even him. He heard a small voice in his head. That voice had prevented him from pulling the trigger and putting one through Santos for his impertinence.

A voice of reason.

*He's right you know. Commander Burkholder would not like having to try to explain away your mess, it would reflect badly on him, which in turn will prevent us from achieving our goal. *

Ishmael didn't question the goals, but the voice caused him to pace back and forth across the room in agitation like a caged animal, long legs swishing back and forth beneath the flapping and almost insufficient issue towel. Midway across the room on the third go-round he lowered the pistol and placed his hands behind his back, looking at the floor as he walked, thinking about just who should be shot.

Then he stopped, turned, and raised the gun, pointing it back at Santos. Calm and resolute.

“Specialist Bellante," His words addressed her though his eyes were locked on target, on Santos, sharp in both voice and gaze. "You have not answered my question or followed my order. Why did you come back, and why are you still dressed? If I don’t like your answer, or if I think you're lying, I’m shooting Corporal Santos instead of you. Is that understood Corporal Santos?”

Javier hadn’t moved and now his life hung in the balance for this woman. “Yes sir I understand.”

Specialist Bellante couldn’t believe it, the man was crazy!

*Get a grip, girl!* If he shot him with her pistol, well she didn’t want to think about that. She would just answer the question to the best of her ability. “Ensign Jonahs, I came back because I,… um, I agreed to return with the disk as ordered, Sir. I am stilled dressed because Corporal Santos interrupted your order with a counter order. If you’ll excuse me now, Sir, I’ll be going.”

Ensign Jonahs grinned, Specialist Bellante was gutsy, but she was also too smart for her own good. “No, you are not dismissed, Specialist Bellante." He addressed the men, "Burnett, Burke I need witnesses. You two stay. Santos and Turner, dismissed. Oh... and Santos if you ever countermand my orders in public again, I will shoot you on the spot. Is that understood?”

“Yes Sir.” A relieved Santos and Turner exited the office.

Now Jonahs turned once again towards Bellante.

“Specialist Bellante. Your life depends on this answer. Are you wearing a wire?”

Specialist Bellante had not been wired earlier when she had confronted Ensign Jonahs, she had planned on being naked... back when she thought she had control. She was wired now, in an attempt to regain control. Not that she had ever truly had it.

She wasn't thinking properly, earlier out of arrogance and now out of panic. If she had been she would have taken the time to research her target, and being smart enough to know better, would have never have tried this. Instead she was thinking that if she was in for a penny, it might as well have been for a pound.

If only she had researched him... she would never have considered wearing a wire. Commander Jonahs of the Peoples Free Liberators Army had held a reputation for feeding people who doublecrossed him to his cats.

He no longer had his great cats, lions and tigers and jaguars, oh my... but on Striga, there were always other options.

The jeep rolled to a stop. She looked at her watch, five minutes left. She was here. She smiled and took her time. He could wait. Sure, he was smart, but she was smarter.

The 'Devils Own' was lounging around, some working out, others studying combat scrimishes and rules of engagement. Santos saw her approaching and shook his head.

"Chica, you're late." Santos smiled as he blocked the doorway.

Specialist Bellante hadn't figured on this type of juvenile crap. It was the mark of a clumsy player and she began to think she had simply let Jonahs rattle her, that she'd nervously overreacted. That was going to change. Her voice took on a hard edge.

"I have important business with Ensign Jonahs. He's expecting me. Move it Corporal."

Santos looked her in the eyes. "You left without your weapon. What kind of soldier leaves without her weapon? I'd give it back but Ensign Jonahs has been holding on to it for you. Fondly. Follow me." Santos once again escorted her to Jonah's office.

She didn't fail to notice the men in the barracks watching her and her heart began pounding in her chest, a primal recognition of danger, and she looked at her watch. *Damn* Santos had stalled her long enough that she now had two minutes left. He was taking his time bringing her to the office, but she was not going to break and there was no way she was going to let them think she was even remotely worried. About anything.

Again, Specialist Bellante leaned upon professional military bearing. *Jonahs is nothing more than a common with muscles, abeit nice muscles.* The tables would be turning as soon as he opened his mouth.

They were at the office now. Santos knocked on the door. "Visitor, Sir."

Jonahs was still garbed solely in the towel, only now he was sitting at his desk with his feet up and her pistol on the desk.

He didn't even look at her, but was staring at the clock on the wall.

"Strip."

Javier stared at Ishmael. Had he heard correctly? Did he just tell her to strip?

Specialist April Bellante didn't flinch, nor did she move. "Excuse me, Ensign Jonahs, But I believe you are mistaken. I'm here right on time. As told Sir. One hour and don't be late." She stood at parade rest and stared at him.

Jonahs finally directed his attention to Specialist Bellante. His gaze was hard. "I gave you an order, Bellante, It wasn't a request, something that I think would be nice. It was an order. I believe you have a package for me, is that correct?" His hand had slid over to her pistol.

Javier hadn't moved, fun was fun, but he didn't like the look Ishmael had. Now his hand was resting on her pistol. It reminded him of when Ishmael had threatened his entire family. Javier thought of his wife Maria and watched Ishmael with a growing uneasiness.

Specialist Bellante looked at Jonahs. "I do not recongize that as a reasonable or lawful order, Sir." He was just trying to rattle her again thats all. It wasn't going to work. She stood her ground.

"Why did you come back, Bellante? I'm still waiting for the delivery and for you to comply with my order. If you don't produce the delivery in the next 30 seconds I'm going to shoot you with your own gun. Is that understood?"

April Bellante had frozen like a deer in the headlights. He knew, he had to know, but how?!? If she didn't hand it over she was as good as dead. Maybe there was still a chance. She smiled and called on her resolve.

"I have it right here, Sir." She reached into her shirt and pulled the disk out. "Here it is." She placed it on the desk.

She took off her jacket.

Javier looked at Ishmael who was now watching Specialist Bellante with mild interest, "Belay that order, Bellante."

Ensign Jonahs turned and stared at Corporal Santos, and pulled the hammer back on Bellante's pistol and pointed it at him. "Are you challenging my command, Javier?"

*Yes Sir, I understand. One hour.* was all she thought about as she ran.

Specialist Bellante's heart was racing, she was slightly out of breath and stood outside the office trying to calm down.

His image swam into her mind, his twisted, leering insinuation, mocking in its gentleness. "You better hurry, or you could be late... and that would be bad." She shook her head *Okay, April, calm down* she thought. She took several deep breaths, fixed her hair, and entered the office.

She expertly made her way to the archive room. Grabbing a defective disk from the testing bin, she continued to the disk files. She flipped through the disks in seconds, grabbing the one she was looking for. *Smooth sailing* she told herself as the exchange went flawlessly.

Then she started heading to her office. She looked at her watch, she only had twenty-five minutes left. Her heartbeat quickened and she increased her pace. She could hear his whisper in her ears. *late... bad* Someone called out to her she waved and pointed at her watch.

A short time later, the disk safely tucked in her bra, she exited the office and saw the answer to her prayers. A jeep.

With the jeep she could make it, she didn't bother to check whose it was, it was a company jeep. As she took off she ingored the private yelling after her, "HEY THATS MY JEEP!"

She had ten minutes left.

Meanwhile, across the base a different story was still unfolding....



Ssgt Holman sat stone-faced watching the hero’s reaction. * Very good the hero was a friend of the dead hero. Typical they were all friends. * He thought.

"Well, it will require you to basically go undercover for you to get your chance at Vengent’s killer. I'll arrange for you to get a uniform to conceal your presence. In the morning we have a competition, unit verses unit. He's arrogant enough that he will compete in the unarmed combat himself, and that’s where you'll get your shot."

Ssgt Holman looked seriously at Eric waiting for the regular hero rhetoric.

"OK," Eric replied, "I'll do it." The willingness with which this guy handled this letting him have a Council uniform and masquerade as just another henchman encouraged him. At the very least he'd be allowed to wander and see things few if any other heroes ever saw.

But Eric could see cleverness behind the flat eyes. He knew this guy wasn't just some grunt; he had a plan and probably figured in a few contingencies in case his captured ringer got ideas of his own. So, he would float along until the very end, and see what opportunity brought.

Ssgt Holman though about the eagerness of the hero, “Well now as long as you don’t do anything foolish between now and the time I come back with your uniform you should be fine. But, and I’m sure you understand this, should you try to escape or attempt to hurt, trick or deceive my posted guards, Corporal Shaffer here will simply electrocute you. That would be bad, because I’ll have to shoot him, whether you escape or not will not matter. Do we understand one another?” He grinned slightly.

"Yep. Sho nuff," Eric returned. By the time this guy got back from his PX, or whatever passed for around here, with the uniform, several of the most egregious wounds he'd sustained in his attempted escape might be nearly healed. As long as the electrified brillo pads stayed over there on Heinzt's forceps and not pressed to his chest, the Harrier would do just fine. "Buddy," he added, to seal the deal, "you put me in a pit fight with the guy who killed Vengent and I'll give you a show you'll never forget." Whether that was true or not remained to be seen. If these guys made one mistake, Eric would milk it for all it was worth. To know the name of Vengent's killer was already a win; if he could get word out to one of the big hitters, this place would turn into a Ground Zero and the invulnerable Dark Harrier would waltz out of the wreckage with a nice badge for his chest. Sure buddy, hook me up with a uniform and free access to your grounds. Striga won't be the same when I leave here. You think my arrival was a party? Eric felt a flush that recalled his earliest days from New York, and wondred if these Rhode Island supremecists knew what they were getting themselves into....


Ssgt Holman nodded, "Trust me Harrier, I plan on holding you to that. By the way we haven't talked about your payment. You win you live and will be given a 10 minute head start to get off the island if you lose, well, don't lose." Ssgt Holman turned and walked out of the cell leaving Corporal Shaffer and two armed guards to watch the Harrier.

When the steel door boomed closed, Eric grinned at the indicated Corporal for a seond. "You get shot if things go poorly, huh? Bet the recruiter didn't include that little tidbit in his pitch," he chuckled. Shaffer encouraged him to be silent, with some other bits best not reprinted.

Meanwhile, Eric was thinking.

OK, play it cool, no need to just bust out. Let's see where they pack em away for the night. I can't imagine they'll just throw me a bunk for the evening. Will they? How much do they have to play off my membership in Holman's squad so I can get into the ring? Or will they just toss me in without any preamble? He would at least have an interesting report to carry out to the others with him to add to the growing database on the Council's lore.

As Shaffer and the other goons were speaking among themselves as if they might use the shock pads on him before the boss got back, Eric took a moment to thank the stars they'd left his gear on him when they'd trussed him up. Although it didn't seem like it was functioning after all that he'd been hit with [he tilted his wrist once to see the unreactive little screen], his wristphone at least was still there, it's collection of hero phone numbers and personal notes intact and unexamined. Also, and of importance to him; his mask was still on. No more dark glasses though, and his red powered monocle, detector of Crey clones, was gone forever.

His side still ached like nobody's business, but he knew relief would not be coming until Holman got back. The skin on his left side stung as if burned, a remnant of the artillery impact. Other than that, he felt pretty sure that he'd be ready for a good pit fight by the morning.

(ooc note appearing every 10 post: Tales from the Council is a rp story involving a hero with guest starring heroes and setting up villains to be introduced into other storylines at a later date. It's not normally thought of but even villains have mothers, wives or other family members these tales have include them at times. New Question: If a villian is already dead why does his victims still suffer? Feel free to PM.)



The Devil's Own, as the unit was begining to be called, was actually running drills next to the barracks when the all-male squadron took note of the female tech specialist carrying a small bag heading towards the barracks. Santos was sitting by the door working on a schedule when she stopped.

"I'm looking for Ensign Jonahs," she stated. Javier looked up at her, annoyed.

"He's busy, chica, drop it off and breeze."

"I'm sorry, Corporal, but I have to deliver this personally and it requires his personal attention." She stated it forcefully, maybe a bit too much based on the expression on Corporal Santo's face.

"Oh sure, you can disturb him, I didn't realize it was personal. That's the first time you told me why you're here, Specialist Bellante. Follow me to his office." Santos dropped the clipboard loudly as he got up and escorted Specialist Bellante to Ensign Jonahs' office.

He knocked. "Permission to enter, Sir." Someone to see you about a delivery, Sir. A Specialist Bellante... SHE has a package for you." Santos smirked.

Specialist Bellante waited in a fully professional manner for Ensign Jonahs to respond, her bearing the result of her time in service. She had plenty of experience dealing with misogynistic attitudes in the Council, and she very much wanted to slap Santos for his attitude towards her, and smiled. If she got her way, and she thought she would, maybe Ensign Jonahs would allow her to do it. Her train of thought broke when he stepped out of the shower area wrapped in a towel. This time she was the one smirking, if only mentally.

Ishmael had been examining the impact points from the recent battle, mulling over his observations. Okay, the dyne made him stronger, but he had been solidly hit several times and he barely registered a scratch. He heard Santos calling him and wrapped a towel around his waist at the last second since some one was here. It was a woman, over-dressed at the moment in a uniform. Playing soldier. He sighed.

"I'm busy, so this had better be important, Specialist Bellante." He didn't even attempt to hide his annoyance and scorn.

"Sir, this is for your eyes only." She once again stated, enjoying the view and her expectation of the conversation to follow. He may have been an officer... barely... but she was Intel. Brains trumped brawn every day of the week, if one applied them properly. And she did. It was all the easier for how often the male chauvenist pigs so common in the Council made it for her, and Jonahs definitely numbered among their ranks.

"Santos, close the door on your way out and stand guard. Specialist Bellante, please turn over your service pistol to Corporal Santos. Now or you can get out. No one goes armed in my command except for my men." Not that, that was his sole reason, even if true. The woman's value was diminished in direct proportion to the amount of clothing she wore, and by what it might conceal... like wires and weapons. But most of all, he did it to humiliate her.

Specialist Bellante paused for a moment then slowly took out her pistol and handed it to Corporal Santos. Javier took the pistol and left the office closing the door behind him.

"Okay, Ms. Bellante, you have 5 minutes I'm on a schedule."
Ishmael scanned her up and down. Her uniform probably added 10 pounds to her frame which made her an athletic build, he mentally undress her, she was on the slim side, not bad... 8 out of 10... he wasn't really paying any attention to what she was saying until she got to the point.

*Blackmail.*

Just as he converted her address from proper form, diminuzing her by language, so did she. She'd played this game many times, to her profit over the last couple years. Sometimes for money, sometimes for favors or commodities. Sometimes for... other things. She enjoyed the power of it above all else. It wasn't only the men of the Council who were into the mind and power games. She excelled at them. And oh so enjoyable to turn the tables on someone who would eagerly do the same to her. The greater the risk, the greater the thrill of victory.

*Brains trump brawn. Always.*

"... Anyway Ishmael I think you need to see this." she said smoothly. She removed a small disk and placed it in the player so the images appeared on the screen. He watched with a growing grin the video of himself and Prissy, no sound except for the tinny sounding music coming from the TV that had been in the room.

"So... You have a copy of my surveillance, that's classified material. How many copies are there?" The tone of his voice pleasent and drawing almost compelling her to answer.

She was flushed once again, watching the recording, and answered without thinking. "Just the one was all I needed." She realized her mistake instantly. She'd been doing this for so long, she'd gotten careless. Just one copy.....

Ishmael stopped the movie. "So, you came in here to blackmail me with classified material which could make me a small fortune." This time he was the one smirking. "I wonder just how many other copies of different people's surveillance you have in your collection, what you've gotten from it. All this just so I would sleep with you. Thats pathetic."

He stared at her and she flinched under his gaze, realizing the other, much more serious mistake she had made. Jonahs wasn't caving. He wasn't at all bothered by the idea of any exposure.

Jonahs loomed over her, the bulk of his muscles no longer nearly as appealing as before when she had thought herself the one in control.

"This is how this is going to work. You are going to bring me back the original disk, putting a blank one in it's place, preferably a damaged one so they think it was defective. Or I'm going to have you thrown into the pit after my men are done with you. Oh, and it will be recorded on disk, distribuited around the world via the internet and delivered to your family so they won't have to guess what happend to you or your body. Have I made myself clear?"

She knew just how possible that was. And his eyes... he meant it.

He continued to glare at her. "You have one hour, starting now."

Specialist Bellante stood there dumbfounded for a moment before she could find her voice, and made a pact with the Devil's Own. "Yes Sir, I understand. One hour."

Tears began streaking down her face as she turned. He stopped her and wiped her face with his hand, a twisted, leering insinuation, mocking in its gentleness. "You better hurry, or you could be late... and that would be bad."

Specialist Bellante exited Jonahs office didn't even bother retrieving her gun from Santos as she ran out of the barracks and across the compound at full speed. She had less than an hour or she was worse then dead. He had been very clear, and with all the rumors floating around the base she knew he wasn't bluffing. She believed him. Brain and brawn. Jonahs had both.

She ran hard all the way back to her office.

In his own office, Jonahs smirked. When his men won tomorrow he was going to call Prissy and there would be a party, but not here. No, in IP. He knew just the place....

The Commanders were impressed by the quick thinking and even quicker response to the call for help. Before they had been fully escorted back to the main base, Corporal Jonahs had been promoted once again to Ensign Jonahs. This was based on several things, one his fast actions, two the report from the Captain who felt wronged out of command during the rescue op. They were unimpressed with his report, and both were recommending Ensign Jonahs to command school.

"Sir with all due respect thats nice but I don't need to go to command school. I'd be happy to teach at command school, as Captain Parker their could sure use a refresher course in tactics." Ishmael smiled.

Commander Burkhold was highly amused by the suggestion.

"Well then Ensign Jonahs I think that your unit might wish to transfer to my command. This way we will know what to expect from one of our newly comissioned officers. If you win tomorrow you'll be a Leiutentant." He paused, he already knew just who Ishmael Jonahs was from his file.

The half-trak pulled to a stop letting out Ensign Jonah and his Squad. Commander Burkhold exited and called up formations. Before addressing the assembled men.

"Ensign Jonahs, my command doesn't lose. Understood. You men have the rest of the day as downtime, I want you all at peak preformance tomorrow. Make it happen Ensign."

Commander Burkhold and Commander Wydr were driven to Burkhold's bunker office to continue discussing what had gone wrong.

"Yes Sir." Jonahs replyed. He spun on his heel and looked at his men.

"Job well done, Bonuses all around. Prepare to fall out, fire team leaders, make sure all weapons are stored. We want clean uniforms, and sharp looking teams tomorrow.

Also tomorrows competion isn't just about bonuses, It's also about a 24 hour pass, and Our call to do what we want with in reason. Santos, Burnett, and Turner, In my ready room once everyone is dismissed."

He looked over all the men. "Fall Out!"

"Sir Yes Sir!" they responded. The teams moved into the barracks area and began field striping the weapons.

Burke, Stover and Allen walked over to Jonahs. Burke held out his hand. Ishmael smiled and passed his rifle over to him.

"You all did good work today. Get cleaned up and relax."

Burke passed the rifles over to Stover, both he and Allen returned to the barracks weapon cleaning area. Burke continued, "Sir about the Captain if you want I could pay him a visit for you."

Ishmael smiled "No that won't be nescessary Burke. However, Your responsible for taking care of the challenges." Jonahs took out his dagger and placed it in a weapon cleaning towel. "Here it will make things go quicker if you just give them the dagger and then I'll take care of it." A gleam came to his eye.

Burke smirked. "Yes Sir."

"Dismissed Burke." Ensign Jonahs watched him as he left moving to join the others cleaning weapons. Then he walked towards the barracks and entered his ready room. Closing the door behind him, he began going over the competion and who was going to do what....


*******
Elsewhere...

Dark and sinister forces gathered on the horizion still in search of their prey. Not knowing that different plans were being hatched even as they searched......


Once more the winter wind blew a little colder.....





((ooc:edited for minor corrections))

The world moved in slow motion as the Dyne Ishmael had given Allen and Stover took effect. The three of them moved in unison towards the Council Commanders.

“G…e…t…D...o…w…n…!” They shouted. Gunfire erupted from Able-1, striking the Mek-Men, as the Commanders scrambled out of the way.

Proto-1 turned and scanned the attacking men, processing the identity of each in it’s database. “Destroy the intruders,” he commanded the other Mek-Men.

Allen and Stover reached the Commanders and grabbed them dragging them out of the room while firing blindly at the Mek-Men.

Corporal Jonahs's actions had attracted the attention of the Mek-Men and Proto-1. Using his tactical manuvers, he caused the robots to engage him, leaving the others to drag the Commanders to safety. As he flipped over one of the consoles, Jonahs grabbed the small Rikti device attached to the computer and yanked it free. It momentarily left him open, and he felt the impact of the laser beam from Proto-1 catch him in the back and knock him the rest of the way across the room.

The robots were closing in on Jonahs as Turner and the rest of Charlie-1 entered the room, catching up. Turner paused for a second thinking, *These robots could finish the job we started and solve our problems with Jonahs and Holman.*

Then Jonahs stood back up, turning to face the on rushing mechanical menaces and spotting Charlie-1 standing there. He made eye contact with Turner as Proto-1 and the remaining Mek-men closed.

Turner grinned…..

Proto-1 raised his laser chain-gun and began firing. Jonahs moved and fired his own machine gun.

The laser beam rounds struck all around Jonahs, one of them catching him on his left leg, another in his rifle and right hand.

Charlie-1 opened fire. Grenades, chain-gun, and cryo-rounds struck Proto-1 knocking him off balance. Jonahs stood up and leapt for the door. Charlie-1 retreated while still firing, clearing the path before him. Stover prepped the ordinance satchel and threw it at Proto-1, just as planned.

Before Proto-1 could react, the Mk1 Zenith Mek-Man fired at the satchel. The ensuing fireball destroyed everything in the room shinning Jonahs in the process as the flames licked his heels and the concussion of the blast threw him the rest of the way clear.

As smoke billowed from the room, Ishmael stood up taking the offered hand. Turner smiled again.

"Report." Jonahs said.

Turner snapped a smart salute; "Sir base is secure, Primary took no casualties, secondary forces took six. Failure to excute commands given."

"Ok collect the wounded and lets escort the Commanders topside safely." Jonahs said.

The commanders watched as the men reported to Corporal Jonahs, and carried out the wounded. Commander Burkhold nodded while Commander Wydr tried to explain what happened....

and for once Ishmael felt a little lighter.

bump, lets hear about more music choices....

Heroic/Villian: Ishmael Jonahs: "I'm too Sexy" by Right said Fred Or Charisma by Kiss

Elsewhere....

They hung the Harrier from his arms above his head, both feet chained to a metal bar in the ground. Sgt Holman ordered the men to throw water on him to wake him up. They were going to have a chat, and at least one of them was going to enjoy it.

"Wake up Hero!" he said.

Eric gasped as anyone would with water entering their mouth during unconsciousness, then sputtered the cold, stale stuff back out. He was immediately aware of the awkward position he was hung in, and also once again acutely aware of the broken rib he'd felt during the brawl. With his body stretched by its own weight, the fracture could not heal; the hairline fracture's segments were pulled slightly apart. Eric's healing mutation always tried to 'reset' to his base physiology, so the rib would not be forced to heal out of kilter. It would simply sit there aching until his torso was allowed to collapse back in on itself for a sufficient amount to time.

As it was, he growled around the invasive pain, the aches in his stretched limbs, and the foul taste in his mouth. He took in the Councilmen leering at him, and the dank nasty concrete-lined room they had him in. He had no indication how much time had passed, nor what time it currently was.

He spat again, growling once more to hide his pain. "You guys really didn't just throw mop water on me....

Ssgt Holman smiled sitting in the wooden chair and adjusting the cap on his head. He looked Eric in the eyes and then let them trail to the generator sitting off to Erics left, just within his vision. The towering Cor Leonis smiled behind his mask and turned it on. The electrical current crackle-sparked from the metal pads he held in his hands.

Ug. Electricity. It's always gotta be electricity... Even as one of the invulnerable heroes, with some developing energy immunities, electricity was certainly one of Eric's banes. Whether the jolt did alot of damage to him or none at all, he still would feel the pain of the current. He was not immune to pain. It also concerned him that the Council goon would just get annoyed that normal torture-grade current wasn't doing all it should, and up the voltage enough to penetrate and give him a heart attack.

"I have a problem only you can solve, I need your help Hero." Ssgt Holman continued to smile.

The chains holding him rattled as Eric shifted. He would expect little mercy from these Council guys, and was in no position to immediately escape. He was no super-strength hero, so simply busting out and muscling his way clear was not in the immediate future. But escape he must.

Best to let the guy talk and see what the entire situation really was.

"Um, well.. OK buddy, shoot. You need help, I don't enjoy being trussed. What's the idea?"

Holman grinned, " Look I'm just a guy trying to finish his time and get to my retirement. Well, you see I have this itch named Jonahs. He an upstart problem-making S.O.B. He just got promoted and now outranks me in a matter of friggin days. I know... what do you care about my problems? I really just want things back to normal, me marking my time and and getting out, maybe even to Hawaii. Here's the problem. He doesn't like me and that will probably get me killed. You might have even heard of him his whole name is Ishmael Jonahs, I just found out he was a warlord in Central America, killed lots of people, Oh and two days ago he helped killed a hero, I think his name was Vengent, in Eden, they even gave him an award plus a promotion. I don't like hero killers, it makes my job dangerous."

He paused to gauge Harriers reaction.

The guy who killed Vengent.. Eric had to look at the ground, feigning some minor discomfort, because this piece of information must have made his eyes bug right out of his head for a second.

Here he was, alone and with no contact with his teamies or anyone he knew, he'd had his [censored] busted and then captured by the Council, and yet... he was being handed a chance to lay his hands on the guy who'd killed Vengent.

This was an odd situation, though, and he had to pause to think. These Council men must know he'd been in Eden when Vengent had been killed. Didn't they? Yet, they were treating him to this request as if they didn't connect him to that day. Or, they were playing it all cool and knew he'd been there, and wanted him to swallow this proposal to the reel. They were being very cagey.

He needed to hear more about this, but needed to keep his own mouth shut as much as he could.

"A hero killer... OK, OK, you have me interested. Ishmael Jonahs.. What can you tell me about him, what do I expect? Just how am I going to get this dream-shot at him, exactly?"
The guy who killed Vengent The guy who killed Vengent The guy who killed Vengent .....

Jonahs had broken the squads up further, so they were Able 1 & 2, Baker 1 & 2, Charlie 1& 2, and Drake 1 & 2.
Jonahs rewarded his Fire teams by allowing the leaders to place their seconds in charge of the other team, slightly weakening the original fire teams but hopefully strengthing the newly formed squadrons.

Jonahs was leader of Squad 1 and Santos of Squad 2.

One of the junior officers had buckled at this. Burke pointed to the dagger at Corporal Jonahs's belt. " If you want to try to take his command, just take his dagger. But since we are on a rescue mission he might just kill you to make a point, but Sir, your welcome to try." Jonahs scowled at the junior officer, nodded at Burke, and flipped out the dagger holding it out for the officer.

Ishmael glared at the officer waiting for a few moments. then, "Get back in line then unless you have information we could use."

The Junior Officer then directed them to the supply closet, where they restocked weapons and munitions. Burnett's team had picked up slight radio chatter from the machines dealing with movement.

Able 2 under Burke had gotten the bunker layout. This in turn allowed Turner's Charlie 1 to shine.

Jonahs was happy with the intel in place and plan formulated. They were ready to take back the compound.

They entered the large underground bunker area, Squad 1 from the main entrance waiting on the diversionary tactics from Squad 2.

Squad 2 entered from the eastside circling around. Baker 1 & 2 coming in with guns blazing, forcing the machines to try to redirect their tactics, followed by heavy assault weapons from Charlie 1 & 2. The air was filled with laser blasts, explosions, and machine gun fire with tracer rounds lighting up the targets.

As the Hoverbots and Mekmen moved to engage Squad 2, Squad 1 punched through the robotic defensive measures using the bunkers and corners to catch the metal menances in a crossfire.

In moments the air smelled of burnt electrical devices and fried components. Squad 1 and Squad 2 continued decimating the Rampaging Robots.

Meanwhile....

Able 1 signaled Drake 1 they were breaking engagement leaving Burnett in command of Squad 1. Able 1 continued to the Command Bunker.....

Able 1 move with the speed of a jungle cat, they were short a man. Burke's replacement on the team had strayed into a Hoverbot's missle, he wasn't coming back anytime soon.

Able 1 was at the entrance of the command center where they saw one of the biggest Zenith Mek-Men prototypes yet standing with two smaller versions. They were preparing to attack the Base Commander and his Commanding Officer.

That wasn't what caught Ishmaels attention. It was the Rikti device, the stolen one from somewhere,... he couldn't remember, but he needed it.

Jonahs gave the hand signals to Allen and Stover making sure they understood what he wanted. Stover prepared the ordance. Rescue first, engagement second. They would scuttle the room once the Commanders were safely out.

They all gave the ready signal.... and entered the room where everything went into slow motion......

Half the base had been cleared and they had gone from 16 to 32 men now, each Fire Team Leader redirecting the new Council soldiers they picked up to follow through with taking out the rampaging robots.

Jonahs smiled and looked at one of the security cameras. He pointed to Burnett and the picture went black. The men were now moving along the walls, 16 on each side, everyone taking orders from either Jonahs, Santos, Turner, or Burnett.

One of the Council soldiers told them that an experiment with AI caused the problem. Ishmael didn't care, it was an excuse for him to shine. They continued further into the complex, taking down all mechanical menaces.

***

Ssgt Holman couldn't believe his luck, the answer to his prayers a frigging hero blasted out of the sky and dropped at his feet. Heros were expendable, and this one was injured so control would be fairly easy.

"Carter and Mead, bind him and bring him with us, move it or you won't see the light of day for months because of extra duty."

The two men and the rest of the unit grabbed the unknown hero and packaged him with ties, bindings and finished him in several passes of plastic sheet wrap with his arms and feet hogged tied to prevent movement.

Ssgt Holman had spoken to the medic that had treated Jonah's men. He had not liked anything he had heard.
But with this hero he would change the playing field and maybe comeout smelling like a rose. If not and the hero was one of those hard heads, he'd be given to Herr Doktor in the 'PIT' and he'd find out what real injury was. For the first time in two days, Ssgt Holman laughed....

As his men dragged Dark Harrier away into the darkness of the Council base......



(OOC Note: To read the further mis-adventures of Dark Harrier stay tuned to The Whitmoore Apartments RP and the Tales of the Council Story thread....)

((OOC note: Written by Dark Harrier in the Whitmoore Apartments Open RP, Roleplay forum))

Things were getting dangerous.

A huge number of Council had come out of the buildings and bunkers to repel the Sky Raiders. Most were oriented on the chrome-clad aerial foes, but a goodly number had realized that a hero was down in their midst, and were flooding over walls and barricades to either jump into the fight, or take potshots or call encouragement to those scrapping with the Dark Harrier.

And Eric was flagging. While he might not be succumbing to the blows and was shrugging off most of the small arms fire he was intermittantly taking, the dark blasts from more than one Galaxy now combined with the sheer physical exertion were taking their toll on him. Behind him on the ground were more than a dozen Council soldiers, out of the fight for good by his doing, but the waves more coming were keeping him from reaching the dark-energy users, and because of their draining stunning attacks, his normal physique and that provided by the Machine were switching on and off allowing too much harm to get through his defenses. While the Machine held sway, blows were dodged and devastating combinations dished out to drop those foolish enough to get inside his perilous reach; when the light flickered and was put out momentarily by the dark blasts, Eric took the blows, gave back with his best, and slowly felt his ability to stand this onslought be whittled away.

Then, a brief respite; one of the Sky Skiffs, oblivious to whom it swept above as it circled, lobbed a pair of bombs down at the crowded melee below. The first splintered the long line waiting to get at the Harrier as they packed along a long stairway; the second landed within a dozen feet of the Hero in Black. He and his immediate foes were seperated permanently, the hero being thrown completely clear to land in an open space atop the wall which for a brief moment held no standing foes.

Coughing, chest heaving in pain from the exertion and two broken ribs, Eric clasped his own body with one stinging arm, and took no more time to think; he simply lofted into the air at a stagger and tried desperately to get clear of this entire debacle.

He rose and soared across the space, passing above an open courtyard that looked to him like some insane prison riot scene. Searchlights swept the area, showing a writhing sea of bodies, some in dark uniforms and partial helmets, some in silver helmets and blue clothing, clawing and slugging and blasting at each other. Men on the perimeter walls fired down at foes within.

His attention was held long enough that he did not realize that one of the far towers had an odd shape on its summit, and that this shape was not only moving, it was in fact tracking his progress across the sky.

As Eric crested the far wall and saw before him the sloping hills leading downward to the sea lanes across which lay the lights of Paragon, seeing his escape before him and smiling over split lips and a cracked tooth, the quad mortar emplacement fired one volley. The thunderous choochoochoochoom! echoed over the melee and lit the walls with white stobes.

On the other side of the wall, smoke plumes rose from a spot in the air from which plummeted a spinning figure. Emiting a contrail of smoke once again, the Dark Harrier spiraled downward and crashed to earth in a cluster of buildings farther down the hill. He impacted back-foremost into a tall hurricane fence, tearing out some of his hair as it snagged in the flexing aluminum wire ******, then rebounded facefirst and tumbled into a smoking heap in a Council supply yard.

His fading consciousness barely registered rough hands scrabbling over him, unable to resist them, turning him and wrapping parts of him in something tight and painful, and draggin him away. Shortly thereafter he lost all thought and knew no more for some time.

--------------------
The Legendary Dark Harrier, the Hero in Black. Member of the Whitmoore Apartments Tenants Association Superteam!
[L30 MA/Inv Scrapper {Victory}, L13 {Pinnacle}]
Enjoy my further adventures with other worthy heroes in the Whitmoore Apartments Open RP, Roleplay forum.

(OOC: the next several post have happened in the Whitmoore Apt thread, and are happening at the same time as the events dealing with Jonah's mission. I would like to thank the Dark Harrier for his writing and guest appearence in tales. So without further ado'..... )


Meanwhile....


The Harrier dropped down near several Council buildings, on a crested hill in the middle of Striga's main island. The volcanic cone of the island chain smoked sullenly off in the middle distance, it's grumbling cone capped by the Council during their earlier incarnation as the 5th Column. Buildings and bunkers also built by them lay scattered all across this archipelago, and they'd raised a more castle-like series of structures here where the Harrier had come to ground. He was badly beaten, his costume once again tattered in places, and the Sky Raiders had not seemed to be detered by the brief distance Eric had put between.

The Harrier settled down behind a small rise, within sight of a long battlement wall. He could see dark figures along the length of it's top, patrolling perhaps or just standing. His mind was not trying to make assumptions or draw conclusions; all he knew was that there were potential enemies within sight of where he'd landed, he was injured, he needed to crouch down for a second and give himself a moment to repair. As he hunklered there, his mutant stamina and health were reknitting his hurts rapidly. In a few minutes he would be, not good as new perhaps, but certainly ready to take on this cluster of persistant Raiders and fight clear to fly back across the sea lanes to Paragon.

Some of the Council figures back on the wall seemed interested in the area where he'd gone tog round; he could see them gathering in pairs, moving along to see if they saw what they thought they'd seen, some object come to Earth in their general territory. Eric had temporarily released the Machine once he'd realized he was trailing light like a flaming firework, but his invincible alter-self had reasserted once his feet were on the ground, in case there were guards he didn't catch in the dark.

He was almost ready to get going again, when the phalanx of Wing raiders came screaming down from the sky and the Council, reacting to what they thought was a suprise attack on them, sounded their alarms.

Suddenly the Council facility lit up like Steel Canyon. As klaxons sounded from atop poles all over the hill, several searchlights came on, sweeping both the filled sky and the ground. One crossed over then turned back and pinned Eric in its gaze, and shouting voices told him he'd been seen. Nothing for it, he stood up, as small groups of Council warriors came boiling from opening doors.

The problem was the Wing Raiders were after the same target, and had no qualms shifting their fight to the Council if it would clear their way to get at the intruder hero.

The Sky Skiff had switched ordinances again; it came down lobbing bombs, seeding the top of the long wall with bright explosions. Machine and beam fire responded, and the dark shadow energy of at least one Galaxy-type Councilman rose up to greet the invaders. The Wing Raiders did their part, firing as they came on. The top of a watchtower shattered into splinters, Councilmen falling out amid smoke and screams. A clutch of the Raiders dropped to ground and engaged a kneeling formation of Council at mere yards, each group blasting away at each other, both with an attending commander figure standing to the rear, each shouting absurd encouragement as he men traded rounds danger-close to their enemies.

It would have been a perfect moment for eric to simply shoot upward and get away amid the fuss, except that a group of Council knew he was there and charged at him guns blazing. The Galaxy among them hit Eric with a blast of shadow powers, and Eric reeled back, momentarity stunned by the blast. The Machine was forced out, the indigo wisps fading, and the Cor Leoinis accompanying him shot the unprotected Harrier with a full volley. He shouted in agony.

Somewhere in oe of the Council towers, a radar scope bleeped alert; a flight of Sky Skiffs, sent from Terra Volta to intercept the fleeing hero thanks to radio chatter from Striga, had seen the explosions over the Council zone and had turned to participate. Orders where shouted, and a series of rooftops across the Council compound were grinding open; a battery of anti-aircraft turrets were now active.

Eric had trained a bunch of Sky raiders into the Council, and sparked a full skirmish.

He was paying for it though; The Cor Leonis men had closed with him and looked to beat the hero to a pulp, with the Galaxy standing off firing misty energy blasts, but the Machine had come back for more. Flipping several tabs from a utility belt pouch, Eric popped a succession of tabs into his mouth, glowing briefly green, then blue, then purple, then red, all swirling around his invincible indigo. Without a sound, he bolted upright, tossing off the dogpile of Council, then started an heroic counter-beat-down of his own...

Elsewhere.....

Maria Santos was done crying, this was her home but not any longer. It had taken all night but she had finally finished the letter. She read it once more.

<translated from Spanish>

Dear Javier,
I refuse to be married to a criminal. I am taking the kids and leaving. I took all the money you left and burned it. We will have nothing to do with your blood money. I called the police and Freedom Corp If you try to find me they will lock you up. I told the girls you died in the accident on the docks as a hero saving people. Thats how I want them to remember their father. As a good decent and honest man.

good bye Javier,
Maria

Tears began falling from her face once again as she placed the note on the empty black bag the money had once been in.

She hurried to the ferry with the girls and began the long trip back to Independence Port where they met up with Dr. Mythos a Freedom Corp Auxliary member who took them to the airport safely.


******

Back across the isle Corporal Santos was preparing to enter the bog with the three other fire teams to clear out the dead husk.

He though about his family only once as they were standing at the front of the concealed entrance Duke had just opened.

Javier was unaware his family was flying across the country, he was hoping the girls would have nice dresses the next time he saw them.

He heard Jonahs command and signaled his men to begin the overwatch as they moved down the hallways in leapfrog fashion, he grinned like the rest of them, their was robots to dismantle .....

(ooc note appearing every 10 post: Tales from the Council is a rp story involving a hero with possible guest starring heroes and setting up possible villains to be introduced into other storylines at a later date. It's not normally thought of but even villains have mothers, wives or other family members these tales will include them. New Question: How evil does one need to be to to no longer be a hero? Feel free to PM.)

The turbine whine finally subsided and the 16 chaingun barrels were smoking hot. There wasn't a thing left standing in the area of the bog they had just finished clearing.

Corchado heard the buzz from the field phone he was carrying. "Sir, incoming call listed as general distress."

Jonahs was still smiling while looking at the few trees still standing in this last clearing. He looked up at Corchado, "Okay where?"

"I have to gps location, but the signal is dead now Sir. I'm not sure if it has gotten through past us, it looks like the signal was killed at the source."

"Ok Well what are we standing around for, this is what they plan on paying us the big bucks for. Let's roll"

The unit jumped into the halftrak and took off across the bog.

"Okay, redistribute ammo and weapons, two chainguns each team, one grenadier and one rifle man each. Able/Drake Squad one, Baker/Charlie Squad two. If there's trouble bounding overwatch, and if it's nothing, we still treat it as a live exercise. Lets look alive were almost there."

*****

The Haltrak came crashing through the trees and slid to a stop in front of the concealed door. The two squads moved in unison. Duke opened the locked panel and the door slid open. Two council soldiers came running out yelling "The Mek-Men, watch out!"

"Run!" yelled the other.

The Squads looked at each other and smiled.

"We're live. Disable all robots," Jonahs ordered.

They nodded and went to hand signal mode.

The men ate in quiet thinking about what they had been told, The Medic patched up Charlie team. Once Turner was patched up he joined the other two Santos and Burnett in Jonahs Office.

"Sorry I'm late Sir." Turner said. Burnett passed him a cup of coffee with a nod.

"Understandable how's the hand?" Jonahs said, while eating exactly what Santos was eating.

"Good Sir, the Medic reports the team to be fit and ready for duty."

"Very good, It looks like it's going to be lousy weather today. So were gonna hit the range, then I'm gonna see if we can pull a patrol. We need live combat training I'm thinking we hit the Bog or Boney Moss. I'll make sure we draw several chainguns." Jonah smiled.

They all grin, nodding in agreement.

*****

Ishmael laided in his bunk thinking of Prissy as he heard the cries, and wails coming from the blanket party being thrown in the main barracks. He let it go on for about ten minutes before he got up and stood in the doorway of his office.

"I said punishment at 0505 hours. You've made your point. Don't make me make mine. If you need Ice or a shower get it now." Jonahs stood there for a moment longer. Until only the sounds heard were of Turner and his men heading to the ice machine and showers.

*****

At 0500 Ishmael was fully dressed opened the barracks doors allowing the cold air to enter the building and turned on the lights.

"FALL IN AND LOOK SHARP!" Turning to Santos, and Burnett "I want them outside in two."

He walked out front and waited in the freezing cold rain.

The men scrambled out of their bunks and into formation Williams and Fields assisting Turner and Rawson.

"As we all are aware there appears to be a discipline problem in this unit. Some of you are concerned in being sent back to where you came from. I will tell you right now This PIT is where you will wind back up in if you don't preform as ordered. I was challanged to put together a unit to out preform Ssgt Holman. His idea is that you guy would rather follow his lead then mine I don't care what Holman thinks."

He looked around at all the men shivering in the driving cold rain.

"If your my men and your with me then we will win, and there will be bonuses all around.

If you are his men then we will all wind up in the 'PIT' and If you think it was bad before you have no idea how bad it will be with me and with all of you."

"Turner front and center." Jonahs called out.

John Turner limped out of line the blanket party thrown in his honor had been brutal. He wasn't about to show weakness to this pack so he limp marched to stand in front of Jonahs.

Jonahs watched him once he was in front of the unit Jonahs spoke.

"About Face. Squad Leader John Turner, Please explain last night."

Turner looked straight ahead. "

Sir, Last night I showed poor judgement and attempted to challange your command, I..." looking at Williams, Fields, and Rawson. "issued false orders putting my men at risk to further my own gains and accept full responsibility for their actions and the punishment that goes with it."

Jonahs supressed a grin but looked at the Charlie Team for reaction. The three men suddenly stood taller under the gaze of both men. It wasn't planned but it worked fine as far as Jonahs was concerned.

"Gentelmen last night I told you that anything that happend in that barracks stayed in the barracks. We are untouchable when we are in their. Unless I order it there will never be another blanket party. Is that understood."

"Yes Sir" echoed around the base early morning.

Ishmael turned towards Turner looking at him and allowing a small nod of approval. "Turner, punishment..... suspended."

"Everyone fallout back inside the barracks. Burnett send two men to fetch a medic. Santos take Baker team and bring back hot breakfast for everyone. Lets move it. I want to be at the range at 0700 hours."

Able and Drake teams assisted Charlie. While Baker grabbed a jeep and headed to the Mess returning shortly with breakfast and the others who had gotten the medic.