_Essex_

Essex exhaled deeply.

Whew...Better put everything in order....

About half an hour later, the base was finally set up, all her gifts to her brothers and sisters and, in the unlikely event he reappeared, Dr. West, set out neatly. The little pink robot skimmed off to her room, changing...

...emerging in a skintight green bodysuit, a tactical belt and bandoliers, Curtis' familiar duster tipped low over her IR-goggled eyes.

She had a bag tucked into her belt, and was well-armed with guns, knives, and other weaponry.

Essex was off to the Isles to visit Marcus and her other blackmask friends.

-------------------------------------------------------

Rosalind grinned to Kathode. "Awh, hell, sure. I got nothin' else to do today anyway. And the number of times I've seen people in the D who've hit on me because they think -I'm- a catgirl - I mean, [censored], who can't tell the difference between cats and dogs? - You should have no trouble pickin' up a cute guy."

With that, she shoved her hands in her pockets and followed the catgirl along, chatting genially along the way.

-------------------------------------------

Truefeather's eyebrows raised slightly as the letter promptly deposited itself on top of everything else.

"Oh, my!"

She hesitated, shifting her grip to make sure nothing fell out of her arms, mostly concerned with keeping the letter from falling from its precarious perch.

"Oh, oh..."

True could feel her grip loosening, and she struggled not to drop anything, planting her feet carefully as she readjusted her grip.

"Oh, dear..."

With a clatter of boxes, her parcels flew everywhere, strangely falling in a perfect circle around her as she wobbled and fell to the ground, her platform boots sweeping out from under her.

"Oof!"

Almost lazily, the letter wafted down into her lap, seemingly exuding confidence that it was now the only one left.

"You cad." she murmured under her breath with a smile.

A short beeping, going at regular intervals, preceded a shuddering motion from Essex.

"Wha?"

She blinked momentarily, glancing around. Card stuffed with money and a gold brick, over a cute looking card. Hal was gone, and so was Reikoff. Delphi was nearby admiring her gear, and Experiment was still there, as was Salia.

"....<_< What happened?" she fretted, shifting your footing."

"You lost your [censored]." Delphi said cheerfully, slipping the gear on like a bracelet and admiring it for a moment, before her gaze turned sour and she slipped it off.

"Ahh..." Essex worried, her face turning to a frown. "I -always- freak out on Valentine's Day! T_T Aaaaaaah, now I've offended Hal-chan and the Commander...and I didn't even get to give them my gifts..."

She sighed, going over to Experiment and hugging him around the waist. "I'm glad to see you though, sir. Don't let me freak out all over you, too. Happy Valentine's Day."

Essex looked to Salia, tilting her head. She knew this woman. But...The name was eluding her for the moment.

---------------------------------------------

The border collie obligingly got off Kathode. She'd lost track of the other dog somewhere back there, but when she recognized who she knocked down, the dog's tail began wagging furiously.

A poof of smoke, and Rosie was back in her humanoid form.

"Heeeeeey!" she said cheerfully. "It's Kathode! What's up, cat?"

Folding her arms, she wrapped the scarf around her neck again, it having come loose in the transformation.

"I was just out chillin'. I hate Valentine's Day. It always sucks. <_< What're you doing?"

Rosie's tail was still waving easily. She was happy to see Kathode. If anyone would have a rational view of this stupid holiday, it would be her.

--------------------------------------------------------

"Oh, I...Oh, dear, I ...My goodness, how am I going to..."

Truefeather had changed into her heroing costume and was now in something of a fix. She was still smiling genially, but her eyebrows were tilted up ever-so-slightly in a very mild expression of distress.

"What in the world am I going to do with..."

In retrospect... she thought, Perhaps it was a bad idea to take the shortcut home past the Longbow base.

True's arms were full of little boxes and cards from various Longbow agents. She really had no idea why they liked her so much.

"Oh dear...Who are all these from... Scott, Jason, Chad, Dan, Keith, Matt, Rob, Drake, Shi...sh...Shigetsugu?, ...Melanie?"

True sighed again. "Oh dear, dear." she cooed.

((AWESOME post, Diov. <3))

"Yep, see ya Sal." Rosie said with an offhandish wave. She sat there on the park bench for a little while longer, sipping her hot cocoa and scowling at couples that walked by.

"That does it." she muttered, tossing away her cocoa with a poof of smoke. The next moment, there was a border collie trotting briskly down the road.

At least now I only have to look at them in black and white. she thought, turning down into an alley. A dumpster bath was all she needed right now.

But, of course, her dumpster was occupied by a pair of meth-heads making out. The border collie leaned over the end and growled angrily at the two of them, snarling and baring her teeth until they freaked out and left.

Finally, she had the dumpster to herself, and was just getting some good rolling in, when --

"...Woof. <3"

Oh, christ.

In mid-roll, Rosie glanced up to see a Great Dane/pitbull mix leaning over the edge of the dumpster and staring at her.

......[censored] VALENTINE'S DAY. she thought as she took off like a shot, scrambling out of the dumpster and booking down the street with the alley mutt in hot pursuit.

----------------------------------------

Essex slammed her hands down on the console, causing the monitor to blip.

"Would you just...for ONE day..." she said, an edge to her voice belying the fact that she was not the most stable little pink android in Paragon City at the moment. "....consider maybe...MAYBE GETTING ALONG!?"

Her tiny chest heaved with synthesized breath.

She actually looked kind of scary.

"It's Valentine's Day." she said, balling her hands into fists. "Hal, if you can POSSIBLY think that I want someone to shoot you on Valentine's Day of all days then I just don't know what to do with you!! And Commander, please don't provoke him because every time he's miserable I have to fix it and there's only so much I can do! And there's Valentine's cards to write, and cookies to bake, and visits to make, and...and..."

She stomped her foot in rage, shaking her fists. "CAN'T YOU SEE I LOVE EVERYONE!? DO YOU KNOW HOW STRESSFUL TODAY IS FOR ME!?"

Delphi trotted by behind her, offhandishly reaching behind the android's neck and flipping a small switch. Essex's eyes promptly dimmed, and she slumped forward in stasis.

"I'd leave her down for about half an hour until she chills out." the orange and green messenger bot piped up. "Oh, hey, Experiment, Pedoboy, Loose Cannon. How's it going?"

Delphi held up a random gear, tied with a pink bow. "Some technophile keeps mailing me crap. Not bad, huh?"

"Ah, Hal-chan, I'm here!" chirped Essex's voice over the RFP comm. "Sorry! Today's just been so busy..."

As Reikoff teleported in, he'd see the little android scurrying busily between monitors, from console to console, checking readouts, typing frenetically, watching surveillance monitors.

"So much to be done..." she sighed a little, taking a moment to rest her forehead against the file database.

----------------------------------------------

"HOLY [censored] [censored]!!"

Rosalind sprayed hot cocoa all over her tabloid at Salia's approach, her ears perked.

"Damn, woman, you scared the sweethearts out of me!" she laughed, tossing away the ruined newspaper. "How's it going, Sal?"

She was reduced to grumbles again upon seeing a young couple prance by, giggling and newly engaged, as she could tell by the disgusting way they were smiling and the way the woman was being led around by her ring.

"....[censored] valentine's." she just repeated, glaring off to the side petulantly.

----------------------------------------------

"The jury finds the defendant not guilty of first-degree murder."

Evangeline DiBella, or Truefeather as she was registered, loosened, her trademark smile unchanging. Good...another case won.

The pretty young woman turned to her client, seeing him race into the arms of his wife and embrace her tearfully, smitten all over again by the assurance of freedom. It was impossible to tell by her half-closed eyes, but she stared at them, simply allowing herself to enjoy the two of them as people.

"...I am glad that love and truth do not have to be enemies today of all days." she murmured to herself pleasantly as she repacked her briefcase.

Roses are awesome,
Violets are emo.
I got no date for Valentine's,
and you would be primo.

"Poetry is epic failure." Rosalind grumbled as she wadded up the piece of paper and flung it into the garbage can in her cubicle.

Valentines' day. Again.

Rosie hated Valentine's day. It was so squishy and mopey and stupid, an excuse for emo kids to suck face and those stupid Cherubim to get more attention than they deserve. The were-human snorted. Did these people ever even read the Bible? The Cherubim were the enforcers with gigantic [censored]' flaming swords!!

"...Now -that- would be [censored] awesome." she muttered to herself, doodling a gigantic angel eviscerating a pair of kissing people with a huge, flaming sword. "Screw this arrow bull."

Rosie let her head fall into her folded arms on her desk. St. Valentine's day was always a pain, because the Soul Police had to let that pansy Eros and his cronies run wild and free, spreading mass idiocy among the populace. Sure, Rosalind had her share of crushes - but V-Day? Pure sappiness at its worst.

Disgusted with the concept, she stalked out of the SPC offices, past the printing presses and the contract workers. The cover for the Soul Police building was a tabloid - the fun kind of tabloid that couldn't be arsed with celebrities, but instead focused on finding BatBoy in a jar of peanut butter that cured cancer.

Grabbing one off the press to read, she went out into the wintry day, tossing a scarf around her neck. She stopped at a nearby coffee stand for a hot cocoa, which promptly belched steam into the air in a heavy, satisfied cloud.

"[censored] Valentine's." she muttered to herself, sitting on a park bench and reading her tabloid.

((OOC: It's another one of Essex's often ill-fated holiday threads! What are your characters doing for Valentine's Day?))

((Wait, this guy's a dom? He's got to have at least marginal intelligence or he won't make it past level 12....

...unless...))

wen the rokit hits it blowd up hafl the zig too n let tout all mah h0miez!!!!

so sence I let u out of zig PL PLZ

n statesmen was liek HAX an died but nobdoy knows but the GROIN SMSNHERRRRR!!!!!!!1!!

Welcome!

Virtue is generally accepted to be the main RP server, but you know, a lot of the RP-Server boarders also are based on Protector, myself included. :3

As for the format of the threads, I suggest glancing through one to see how it goes down. I do not suggest Final Fight for this undertaking. <_<

Also if you need any help, just throw one of us a PM. We're generally nice.

"I'm okay..." Essex said, a little morosely, looking up at Hal and Solid. "I just don't know if I'm good enough for this whole fight thing. I don't even know if my wish is grantable."

Rosie, on the other hand, perked up upon hearing Solid.

"Oh really?" she said, her tail starting to wag. "Ghoulie-Ghoulie! Sweet! Later, small fry!"

With that, she trotted out to the 'punching range', tail wagging happily.

Yay! Hurrah! Good work!

Heehee, Sir Toy can do magic. :3 *happyEss*

"I told you, kid. Everything'll be fine."

"But I can't! She's out there. I can't..."

"So what if she won a match, babe? You've got a boyfriend."

"<.<..."

Rosie placed her hands on Essex's shoulders, scowling down at her. She'd marched the little android out back for a long pep talk after seeing her freeze up at the sight of Zealstorm.

"Now you listen to me, there's a whole building of people in there that are essentially here to beat up Zealstorm. Me included. Got it?" the were-human snapped.

"Technically they have to defeat me, too." Essex said quietly, biting her lip.

"That's an added bonus." Rosie muttered, shepherding her back into the building.

Zealstorm, in the meantime, relaxed against a far wall. This alliance....was good, she'd decided.

Come back here and take what's coming to you! I'll bite your legs off! D:

Well, I just have to insert here that Essex and Hallucinogen aren't really children. <_< I mean, they sort of are, but...

Essex is an android, and Hal is a...thing. >_> <_< >_>

But yeah. Given the appearance of Baby New Year, the thought of an infantile hero rocketing through the streets of Paragon City gives me the giggles.

((*Sits and enjoys story, free of chaos* :3))

((Hm...Well, if these were Malta...))

Essex quietly approaches the back door of the warehouse chatting cheerfully with the guards. Within four minutes she has the item and is gone.

((Just kidding. XD I'mma keep these short and sweet. ...Fairly short and sweet.))

--Essex--

Essex bit her lip as she quietly approached the back door of the warehouse. With a single sigh to calm herself, she adjusted the chestplate of her pink armor. She was helmetless, which was dangerous in most situations - but the little android knew that if the guards considered her no more than a child, things would go much easier.

Suddenly the air filled with a heavy, soothing hum, and the guards found their eyes drifting closed. The little pink android quietly edged into the building, the only sound the soft whoosh of air from her thrusters as she deftly skimmed inside.

Where she was promptly faced by a plethora of other guards.

All eyes were on the tiny android and she swallowed nervously, her wide green eyes regarding each in turn as they raised their guns to point at her.

"What are you doing here, kid?"

"I-I'm lost, sir." Essex said, meekly, her hands raised to show that she was unarmed.

"How did you get in that door?" one of the guards said curiously.

"One of the fellows outside said that there was a surprise for me in here. I like surprises..."

The soldiers glanced between each other. Half of them snickered, the other half looked marginally nonplussed.

"Listen, kid, your parents never talked to you about goin' with strangers, did you?"

"Don't you like surprises?" Essex persisted, her small lips turning up into a mischevious smile.

The next moment, such a ringing erupted through the warehouse that every soldier dropped to the floor in agony, holding their ears. A few of them had burst eardrums with the sheer energy of Essex's piercing shriek, the shockwave reverberating off the walls due to the echoing acoustics.

Amidst the ringing, Essex quickly made her way over to the small lockbox. Pulling a small wire from the back of her audioreceptor, she coaxed the electronic bits of the lock to give up their information as she listened the subtle clicks of the machinery. The lock soon obligingly gave way, and she reached in to pull out the small piece of tech.

Turning to the guards, still agonizing on the floor, she shook her head.

"It wasn't very nice of you to steal Dr. West's astrascope." she chided gently. Though it really made her twitchy to see them writhing on the floor, holding their heads in abject agony. On her way out, she flooded the area with a burst of nanites...and then flew out on her way quickly.

Stave Four: The Last of the Visitors

The shrouded figure slowly approached Bear, but the man stood his ground, his teeth clenched. He didn’t want to admit the dread that this creature seemed to provoke in his heart, and his eye was fixed determinedly on the black shroud. Indeed, he couldn’t see the figure’s face, and although physically it was smaller in stature than he, it still seemed to manage to loom over him. It said nothing, but Bear could feel a palpable malice from the figure, and the air around him turned dark, as if to envelop and welcome it.

Bear waited for the being to introduce itself, but it did not. It merely stood there, almost expectantly, glaring at him imperceptibly with its invisible gaze. As it drew near to Bear, he felt the air chill ever so slightly with the cold of an eon’s worth of winters, both before and beyond his current state.

“…So you must be Christmas Future.” Bear finally spoke, secure in the knowledge that his voice would not quaver.

The figure said nothing, just began past him, pointing forward with a single finger. He could not see the hands of the being, so long and enshrouding were his sleeves.

“…And…you’re going to show me shadows of things that haven’t happened yet, but are going to happen.” Bear persisted. “That’s right, isn’t it?”

The figure paused, turning its head to face Bear. He could feel the withering glare, even though he couldn’t see it, as the figure just inclined its head slightly in response. He received no further answer.

The Wyvern agent had seen countless things in his years. Demons in his time as a Skull. Villains of every shape and size in the Rogue Isles. Heroes in varying degrees of ridiculousness in Paragon. And yet, when he beheld this being, the uneasiness he felt was annoyingly potent. So much so that he did not trust himself even to step forward to follow the shrouded figure without quivering, so he merely stood, regarding it with hardened, false confidence. This false confidence soon gave way to anger, however, simultaneously the best and worst of fear’s cloaks.

“Listen, buddy.” Bear snarled, perhaps a bit more harshly than he meant to. “I’ve been touted around by two other freaks tonight. I know I’m supposed to be learning something from this, but it’s awfully damn hard to learn anything from someone who won’t even tell me their [censored] name.”

The air around the figure was thick with exasperation and a foreboding sense of repressed rage, but it did not reply, just continuing to point forward with a calm sort of insistence.

“Fine. Whatever.” Bear muttered. “Let’s get on with it, then.”

The figure moved along, almost hovering about the ground as the long trail of its black shroud extended out behind it. Bear followed rather stiffly and with a dark scowl on his face. This being, whatever it was, made him uneasy – and he hated the feeling.

As they walked, Bear became aware of the city rising up around them. They had not so much walked into the city as the city itself had grown to meet them. The figure led him, slowly but surely, through the streets until he had reached the docks at Talos Island. Here, it paused, and turned to face him expectantly.

Bear began forward, hesitating as he recognized a handful of figures fishing off the docks. A young man with shock-orange hair and large rectangular spectacles, a deep-maroon-skinned boy who seemed to have horns and white hair, and a third with blonde hair and sunglasses, a slight frown on his face. All of them were heroes that he had seen in passing, and he had even snapped at the horned one at one point.

“You should have seen the reports about it!” the maroon-skinned boy was saying, looking to his grim companions with wide-eyed honesty. “It was all over the TV!”

“You know I don’t watch that thing, Kaloa.” said the redhead, scowling as he adjusted his glasses with one hand and kept a grip on the fishing pole with the other. “It rots your brain.”

“They didn’t tell us much about it anyway, Mr. Pariku. I just know he’s dead. How about you, Mr. Reginald? Didn’t you read about it or anything? Or hear any details from anyone?”

“I actually have not had a chance to see the newspapers. And I find the company of most other heroes in this city to be on the mundane side.” said Reginald, the blonde-haired man looking neutrally at where his fishhook drifted in the water of the docks. “When did he die, anyway?”

Indeed, it looked as though the other two men were only there to appease the horned boy, Kaloa, as he certainly had enough excitement in him for all three of them.

“Well.” Kaloa pouted, crossing his arms after resting the fishing pole beside him. “Last night, for your information. In Bloody Bay.”

“I thought he’d never go.” Pariku muttered, listlessly watching the gulls circle. “Unpleasant fellow to say the least.”

“I wonder who’ll take his place now.” Kaloa mused, his feet dangling off the dock.

“I wouldn’t do it.” said Reginald simply. “Not even if they gave me his weapons. And they were quite impressive.”

The three of them chuckled at that very slightly, and then there was a lull in the conversation. After a moment, however, Kaloa picked it up again.

“Are they going to have a funeral for him?” the boy asked.

“Quite honestly, Kaloa,” said Pariku distinctly, “I don’t believe anyone would go.”

At this point the horned boy was appalled at the notion of no-one attending someone’s very funeral, and frowned, a grim look upon his face.

“Then we should arrange one for him!” he declared. “We at least should go and mourn for him!”

“I didn’t know him very well, personally.” shrugged Reginald neutrally. “And by the way, Kaloa, you’ve got a fish.”

“Huh?” Kaloa cried, just in time to see his fishing pole slip into the water. Furiously, he dove in after it with a great splash and scrambled to catch up with it as it floated along, unwilling to let go of his catch as the two older men chuckled.

When the boy finally emerged, sopping wet but triumphant with a noteworthy little fish on his line, Pariku shook his head.

“Well, it can’t be helped anyway. All we can do is learn from it at this point. I know it sounds terrible, but he really never did us any favors, and now that he’s dead it wouldn’t benefit him any to do him one in turn.”

Kaloa shook the water out of his white hair and sighed. “Well, if you are going then I’ll go. Maybe they’ll have a free lunch or something. After all, he did yell at me once not to run in the street! I could have gotten hit. Maybe we could have been friends.”

Pariku and Reginald chuckled afresh at this, and the blonde-haired man turned his eyes back to the water. “Maybe…but, to tell you the truth, I really would have very little interest in attending that particular funeral.”

Bear observed the group with a slight frown. He didn’t know the men very well, but he did know them, and glanced at the shrouded figure for some sort of explanation. Instead of offering one, though, it turned to go.

The Wyvern followed him with a slight growl as he led towards a pair of teenagers that were patrolling. The two met at a corner and nodded to one another – Bear recognized them, as well – members of a small city squad that had been put together for extra credit by Golden Eagle, the superhero high school. These were two girls, one who he knew as a Warshade registered under the name of Nightrayne, the other whom he recognized from a previous vision – Jenny Ballard, the younger sister of the hero Experiment 2.0.

“Hey Rach.” greeted Jenny with a wave.

“How’s it goin’?” the other answered in turn.

“I’m pretty good.” Said Jenny. “Did you hear the Beast got whacked?”

“Ah heard that, actually.” mused Nightrayne in her slight accent. “Dang, ‘s a cold day t’ die, though.”

“I like it this way around Christmastime.” Jenny grinned. “You wanna go ice skating after this is done?”

“Nah, I gotta go shoppin’. Thanks though.”

With that, the two waved and continued along their patrol. Not another word was said, and the two parted without further incident.

Bear raised an eyebrow. “What the hell does that have to do with anything?” he asked the shrouded figure incredulously. He was growing less afraid of the figure, bit by bit, but at the same time he wondered at the significance of what he had been shown. Since Christmas Future didn’t seem to want to speak for itself, Bear resolved to figure things out himself, and thoughtfully began to go over what he had heard. He couldn’t imagine who the groups could have possibly been speaking of. But whoever they were, they must have had some lesson that he was, undoubtedly, supposed to learn in an emotionally humiliating and painful fashion. Oh well. he thought. I wonder how I’m getting along around this time.

But the phantom was leaving him behind, and Bear picked up his steps to catch up with him as they moved towards the bar where he usually had his dinner. Bear looked around with some interest to see if he could find himself, but strangely he didn’t see himself anywhere. There was another person, a Longbow, in his corner, which would usually be a capital offence resulting in severe berating and being thrown out the front door with a few extra bruises to show for it. Bear frowned, but thought little of it; since there were times when he ate at home anyway…but he couldn’t shake the feeling that the figure was staring at him. He could feel a malicious aura of sadistic glee appraising him, but resolved to stay strong, just nodding to the shrouded fellow when he was finished observing.

At that, the phantom began leading him off, and the scenery melted away into the dismal surroundings of the Rogue Isles. It was a dirtier corner of Port Oakes than Bear usually cared to go to, panhandlers, drunks, and Infected milling together in a sort of fellowship of the unfortunate. Cockroaches thrived on the heaps of garbage and the cry of seagulls far above expressed an unwillingness even for those least choosy of birds to land.

The figure led him into a little, tucked away area, where a strange-looking fellow that looked like a cross between a rock and a frog splayed out, yawning. There was junk piled everywhere, half-built inventions, several assembled engines, and even a tiny Clockwork gear tumbling about.

Before his eyes, a woman, slight of stature but grim of face, ducked into the small would-be shop. She had a cybernetic eye much like himself, but it shone with a strange, pinkish-purple ultraviolet light that flickered in the dimness. She wore a ragged labcoat and was accompanied by a small spherical drone that clicked and whirred and cheeped, happily poking through the piles of rubble until the tiny Clockwork confronted it.

“An’ a Merry Christmas to you, Kreigg.” the woman said, her hands on her hips in a businesslike manner and her voice thick with a Scottish brogue. “I’d ‘eard that ye’d come across some new parts for me.”

“Well, if it ain’t Ultraviolet Nessie!” the creature, Kreigg, seemed to sneer up at him, not bothering to stand. “Yeah, I got new parts. Just came in this morning, in fact. Knew you’d probably have a good use for ‘em and I can’t use ‘em myself, so. I’d be willing to offer them to ya at a pretty decent price.”

“I’m listenin’, lad.” Nessie said back with an air of contained patience. “Ye’ve done me right before, I’d be bloody stupid not to take that into account, aye. And I know ye’ll cut me a fair deal. Won’t ye, lad.”

The last statement was not so much a soothing placation as a slightly menacing assurance that if such was not the case that violence would likely be the result.

“Heh.” Kreigg sneered back, unfazed. “You always were too smeggin’ confident. This crap is gonna go from one [censored] to another, I’m telling you.”

With that, he began to bring out some pieces of technology, the first a handful of cybernetics. They were of good quantity, but seemed to have taken some damage.

“Why, those may come in a touch ‘andy.” she said thoughtfully. “I dinna know where the whitemasks get their engineers, but it seems they’re either bloody canny as ‘ell or as inept as a newt.”

“That’s the truth.” Kreigg snorted. “But check out what else I’ve got.” With that, he began pulling out a bundle of arrows, sharp and straight, showing them off. Nessie crouched down to examine them appraisingly, but frowned.

“Well…” she said, “I canna say I use arrows very extensively.”

“But you have to look at the nanotech on these.” Kreigg said, straightening up slightly to point out some features on one of them. “Look how compactly they’re able to get all their tech in there.”

“I s’pose.” Nessie mused, stroking her chin. “Per’aps I’ll pick up one or two for research. But is that all ye’ve got.?”

“No way.” Kreigg leered up at Nessie, one of his large insectoid eyes seemingly cocked at her conspiratorially. “Check this out.”

The final thing he produced was a cybernetic eye that looked as though it had been roughly ripped from its housing, the way the wires dangled and sparked still.

“Ye bloody ‘ad someone take the eye?” Nessie queried, a single nostril raising in slight disgust. “Well, nae matter. It’s quality workmanship, I can tell ye that. And it’s nae my problem. ‘E won’t be needin’ it to see any more.”

The two of them laughed heartily at that, even as Bear listened in disgust. Whoever this unfortunate person had been, they just tore the cybernetic body parts off him without a second thought. Bear was a harsh person, but this was just unnecessary in his eye.

“Well now.” Nessie said. “I may as well take all of it, aye? It bein’ Christmas and all.” She leaned over and slapped the creature’s shoulder a few times before removing a small PDA-like device. “I’ll give ye 60 thou. No’ a mark more.”

“Sixty?” Kreigg scowled. “A hundred. My girl Leeni scrounged Bloody Bay for those parts. I gotta give her somethin’ for her trouble, you know?”

Nessie’s eye lifted to meet his. “…Eighty or nae.”

“I always was too nice to girls.” Kreigg grumbled as he nodded reluctantly. Before Bear’s eyes, the transaction was complete, and Nessie bade Kreigg goodbye as she scooped up her tiny drone, relieving the Clockwork of its playmate.

“Hey, jackass.” Bear said, suddenly turning to the shrouded figure. He seemed somewhat defensive, and nervously angry. “I see what you’re doin’. This could have been me. [censored], like I don’t know it. I do dangerous missions. I risk my life every day. And I – uagh!”

Suddenly, his words were taken from his mouth as he felt himself back up into a table, and his face paled as he looked around distractedly. The figure was still in the same place, though now he got the distinct feeling it was smirking at him. But their surroundings had changed, quite drastically. They were now in the dark, cold sterility of a hospital morgue. There were drawers which Bear knew to contain corpses, but one, resting indeed on the very table he had backed into, had not been tagged or put away yet. Bear swallowed uneasily as he looked upon the figure, covered with a sheet. There were large splotches of blood here and there, where blood had flowed until it could flow no more, and then had oozed in a desperate dying cry before succumbing to final stillness.

Alone it remained in the morgue. With none to care for it, weep for it, worry over it, and its own body plundered as loot, Bear knew that this was the man that all had been speaking of. He glanced at the phantom, and its hand was now extended, finger pointing with an air of taunting, sadistic glee, at the head of the corpse. Now that Bear could see it, the finger seemed to be skeletal – though it was uncertain in the dim light.

The Wyvern agent swallowed uneasily. He knew it would be a simple matter to raise the sheet and reveal the face of the man lying there. But somehow, he couldn’t bring himself to do it. Somehow his hands remained frozen at his sides and he remained, staring down at the covered corpse as if it would curse him if he looked away. Not a sound interrupted the deathly silence…not a man, woman or child’s cry for this unfortunate man.

“…I get the point.” Bear said, his angry voice softened just a little. “Let’s get out of here.”

Still the slim finger pointed towards the head of the corpse.

“Listen, I can’t do it.” Bear swore. “If these are shadows, I can’t touch them, right? Right?” He desperately hoped this was the case.

The empty hood of the shrouded being seemed to regard him contemptfully.

“If there’s anyone, anywhere, who feels any emotion for this poor [censored]’s death, I want to see them. Show them to me.” Bear demanded.

With a rustling of fabric, the phantom extended its arm to the side, the long trail of its black robes seeming to fill Bear’s vision for a moment. When retracted, he saw a barracks, a young boy sitting idle. It looked as though he was expecting someone, and indeed he stood eagerly when he heard the door open.

“What did you hear, Syd?” he asked eagerly.

“Well, bad news, I’m afraid.” Syd answered, rubbing his head. “…See, they found his corpse in Bloody Bay where he’d gone after that fugitive. He looked infected by some sort of disease that’d eaten him from the inside out, and someone’d swiped all his tech.”

The other boy’s eyes widened. “Are you serious? [censored], he told me that I’d have to get my evaluations up before I could go with him to Bloody Bay, and I thought he was just saying that to get me to quit Wyvern. But I guess I’m not strong enough for that place after all if even he got whacked.”

The two boys looked away from each other, but the next moment they were both shaking with uncontrollable snickers.

“Well, now that the Beast is dead, Jack…” said Syd, slapping his friend on the back. “Maybe things’ll go a little better. After all, now that he ain’t our superior any more, he’ll stop sending [censored] reviews to the high-ups. Besides, I heard he was sent there to take out some rogue kid – but it was a huge trap. Doesn’t he always rail on us for not checking for traps? And now he’s the one who got caught in one. Oh well. He’s probably satisfied, wherever he is, that the trap killed his target, too. The old [censored].”

Bear watched the two of them with a frown. They were happy about this man’s death. The only emotion it had caused was pleasure. He shook his head and turned to the specter once again. “Isn’t…anyone mourning? At all?” he said, his voice hushed.

The phantom turned from him but a moment, and the scene changed. Bear instantly recognized the house of Burning and his family, though something had changed. It was silent. Danica stood at the kitchen counter, her back to the rest of the apartment as she slowly packed some sandwiches. Rachel sat at the table, her head buried in her arms and her breath unsteady, by the rise and fall of her back.

All at once, Danica let out a shuddering sigh and brought a hand to her face. “…The lights on the Christmas tree are a little too bright.” she murmured a quavered apology. “I wish we could turn them down. They’re making my eyes water…and I don’t want your father to think that I’ve been crying. He should be back soon.”

Rachel sat up a little, her head resting morosely in her hands. “…I don’t blame him for being a little slow.” she barely whispered. “But then…Remember how excited he’d be when he’d come home with some news of--”

“There’s your father at the door.” Danica said quickly, straightening as Burning came in the door with a sigh, closing it firmly behind him. Rachel instantly stood and rushed to him, embracing her father tenderly and burying her face in his chest to sob afresh. Burning just dully raised a hand to stroke over her back with a mirthless smile.

“You should have come along, you two.” he said. “It might have done you good to see him. You wouldn’t have known he’d spent so much time with Blightlord. Especially considering…you know, it was the incident in Bloody Bay. Blightlord having him do his dirty work to the last, even using him to detonate a disease bomb. But …at least…at least he’s finally home. At least he’s finally home…for Christmas.”

With that, Burning sat down shakily in a living-room chair, assisted by his daughter as Danica again turned her back. “You’ll never guess who I saw today, either.” he said, a bit of a sad smile on his face. “Hallucinogen. Essex wasn’t with him; I guess she and her father and the whole company of them are off across the country this month, but he noticed that I was looking a little down. So he asked what was wrong, and, you know…I tried not to tell him, but…”

“…Hal doesn’t do well with not knowing when something’s wrong.” Rachel managed to giggle out, a little sadly.

“Yes.” Said Burning with another sad smile in turn. “So I told him, and he was really sympathetic. He said that if there was anything he could do, he’d be glad to do it.”

“What a nice kid.” said Danica from the kitchen. “You go to school with him, don’t you Rachel? I wonder if he couldn’t help you around the city. Maybe he’d even let you in on some missions in Brickstown or Peregrine.”

“My little girl in Peregrine.” Burning said with a smile. “I don’t have any doubt you’d do quite well…and I know that your brother would be proud to have you as a sister.”

Rachel bowed her head a little, and her father kissed her forehead, holding her gently as if thankful for what he yet had.

Bear turned to the phantom, whose arms were crossed in seemingly self-satisfaction.

“Listen, whoever you are.” He said, his voice shaky. “I know that we don’t have much time left. Answer me one question and I swear you won’t have to say another thing. Tell me who it was that was killed in the trap. Who was the man that nobody mourned? Tell me.”

The spirit regarded him for a moment, and a single word emanated from the empty darkness of the hood. The voice sounded dusty and ancient, gravelly with the weight of eons.

“Come.” the phantom said.

The two of them began to walk, through Steel Canyon suddenly. Bear looked about as time seemed to move forward around them, until the neighborhood became his own, his eyes falling on his own apartment. “…Hey, wait, that’s my place.”

A dry chuckle emanated from the figure. “Not any longer.” it said with an air of disdain. “Soon it will belong to a young civilian couple whom you do not know.”

“What the hell are you talking about?” snapped Bear, suddenly shaken. Without explanation, they were now walking through Dark Astoria, the mists hanging low to the ground. The graves lying in crooked disarray, the grey sky, everything seemed infinitely more dismal.

“...You wished to learn the name of the dead man.” came the voice again. “…It is…there.”

The skeletal finger pointed towards a fresh grave, where grass had been planted. The mist had condensed on the new gravestone, the resulting frost obscuring the name. The grass had not taken root, and was very clearly already dying, as if the vegetation itself refused to be near the dead man.

Bear hesitated, glancing back. “…Before I do this… These are only the shadows of the future, right? Things can change. They aren’t set in stone, yet.”

The finger didn’t falter.

“It’s like traveling on a road.” Bear pursued. “If a man changes his path, the ending result will be different. It’s common sense.”

The figure sighed in exasperation. “Mortal. Wipe away the frost on the stone before I grow tired of your excuses.” With that, a cold blue fire began to form where the eyes would be, and the hood fell away, revealing a skull, completely skinless and wearing an arcane-looking circlet, regarding him with all the disgust a pair of empty eye-sockets could muster.

Bear caught his breath, but said no more, leaning over to wipe away the frost. The name revealed was his own: William Bear.

“…So I was the man in the morgue.” he uttered.

“Yes, fool.”

“…that can’t… No. No, no, no!”

With a shouted protest, Bear whirled, fists clenched, to face the skeletal phantom. “Listen to me. You wouldn’t show me these things if I was beyond all help, right? This won’t happen if I change.”

“I don’t care.” the skeleton snapped. “That is indeed the case, but I care nothing for your welfare.”

“Well, I’ll show you then.” Bear said through grit teeth, a fire in his eyes. “I’ll show you what I can do. I’ll show you how I can change, how I can avoid this fate. I’ll be a more understanding person…if only just to spite you.”

With that, he flung out a fist to strike at the now-laughing skeletal head, but found his fist meeting only the hung-up clothes in his own dark closet.

Stave Three: The Second of Three Visitors

Bear found himself startled awake once again with his face half-embedded in his pillow. He pulled himself into a seated position rather groggily, his thoughts swimming halfway with the visions he had seen previously and half with the deep mist that sleep always used to dampen the minds of men. He did not need to look at the clock to know that it was near two in the morning, and the icy chill of the wee hours of the morning made the simple collection of blankets move closer about him as if to ward off the winter’s bite in the air. Bear knew that he had been awakened just in time for the second messenger to arrive, and so resolved to mentally prepare himself for anything that may appear.

The Wyvern agent sat upon his bed, his eye cold and serious. He hated being taken by surprise and off-guard, and would be damned if it happened again. However, Bear soon found himself growing increasingly uneasy when instead of something, he was faced…with nothing. He allowed himself a quick glance at the alarm clock, which was proclaiming 2:15 in its red blare.

“…Just my luck.” he muttered to himself. I’m finally ready for anything and whatever it is, it’s late.”

At that moment, his eyes fell on the small space between the door and the carpet at the entrance of his room. His bedroom door was closed, quite assuredly as it always was, but the strangest light was showing through the crack under the door.

“Did I leave the hall light on?” he wondered near-silently. As if in a daze, Bear stood, approaching the door, hand outstretched to take the knob – but froze. He hadn’t left the hall light on, and his eyes hardened with the realization. There was someone else in his apartment.

At that moment, a voice sounded from the other side of the door.

“Come on in! Sheesh, it took you long enough.”

Bear didn’t quite know what to make of this, and before he could come up with a retort, his hand was on the doorknob and turning it carefully, taking him into the greater part of his apartment.

What he saw surprised him. It was definitely his living room, but it had been decorated in a festive manner; Christmas lights blinking around the small windows, a wreath on the inside of the door, a Christmas tree in the corner, and similar adornments. On the floor was laid out a feast – a huge Christmas dinner with hams, turkeys, casseroles, hearty potato dishes, salads, noodles, every kind of pie, and even things that Bear couldn’t identify but certainly smelled good.

In the middle of it all was a quadrupedal being, a lizardlike fellow who looked rather like a dragon, if not for the fact that he was only the size of a Great Dane. A blue gem around his neck twinkled gaily with the reflection of the Christmas lights, and he was casually in the middle of munching on an entire turkey, bones and all. Before Bear’s eyes, he swallowed the entirety of the bird, and then looked expectantly at the man.

“Well, are you going to just stand there gawking or come in and introduce yourself?” the lizardlike being said good-naturedly.

Bear took a step forward, but raised an eyebrow, looking around. “What the hell did you do to my apartment?”

“You humans are always so unappreciative.” the being chuckled, his words holding no real malice. “The name is Vern. Though for all symbolic purposes you can call me the Spirit of Christmas Present. That is to say, the Christmas that is currently manifested in the immediate stage of the temporal timeline, not a gift or anything.”

Bear just stared, his eyebrow seemingly fixed in its raised position.

“…Oh, that’s right. You’ve never seen anything like me before, have you.” Vern sighed. “No-one ever has.”

“Uh. I don’t think I have.” Bear managed to mutter, still regarding the being incredulously. “Well, whatever. If we’re going to get going, let’s do this so I can at least get some sleep tonight.”

Vern straightened up, stretching in a decidedly feline manner to loosen his back, and smacking his lips. “Well, then. I suppose we should go. We do have a lot to get done today.”

When Vern straightened completely, Bear was conscious of a momentary flash of light before his apartment vanished from around him. The food vanished, his room vanished, the darkness vanished, leaving the two of them outside in the street. It was morning, and the meager snow was drifting along the ground even as a sprinkling of new fellows drifted down to engage in cheerful, though frozen, fellowship. Children ran through the streets, tackling each other affectionately in the new snow, and loudly proclaiming to each other the spoils of Christmas morning. Young women bustled about together happily, and whole families hurried through on their way to church. Countless heroes walked, flew, and leapt the streets identical in Santa costumes, identical in their lack of creativity.

Lights were on in all the windows, and inside Bear and Vern could see more children and young people bustling about, playing with toys as rich smells of Christmas dinners being prepared wafted out onto the street in an intoxicating aural stew. Despite the light snow, the sun was trying desperately to push its way through the clouds and sending rays to peripherally warm the rosy, frostbitten cheeks of the populace.

A snowball flew past Bear’s head and he could see a group of students laughing and jeering at each other, dressed warmly even as they pelted each other with the cold missiles. A catgirl was easily getting the better of them, laughing and talking without cease as she dodged around, easily evading the flurries of snow and kicking those with any degree of accuracy out of the air with a show of surprisingly dainty force. A pair of young adult heroes, one boy and one girl, happily flung snow at each other by the handfuls though they were both wearing full plate mail. Bear could barely hear the young man shouting through his helmet about the freezing chill of justice forcing crime to turn up the thermostat of self-introspection as he hit the laughing, red-headed girl in the face with a loosely packed snowball. As he looked on, she pouted and attempted to retaliate with a poorly thrown projectile of her own, but it glanced off his already icy armor.

The stores were a glow with color, lights blinking, displays in every shade and hue screaming out for attention like an angry newbie in broadcast. Food looked almost more delicious, and objects more desirable as people flocked to gaze at the displays or inside to purchase whatever had grasped at their fancy.

Vern led Bear through all this calmly, walking right through people sure of the knowledge that they would not notice a compact dragon and a man with no coat. Out of the business districts they wandered until they reached a small apartment building, and it was here that Vern stopped, looking up at a second-floor window appraisingly.

“Up there, then.” he said simply, and Bear felt himself lifted as though by a large, invisible hand, to look in the window.

“Don’t get into the habit of that.” the Wyvern agent snarled down at Vern, secretly unnerved at being handled casually in this way.

Looking in the window, he could see a woman hurrying about, her long brown hair pulled back to be out of her business as she rushed around preparing food. She chopped potatoes with the speed and strength of a machine, and she had a simple beauty about her – Danica Brawler, Bear remembered. Burning’s wife. Sitting on the floor was a young girl with black hair, enthusiastically playing a handheld gaming system in a pair of jeans and a pink sweater. Bear knew this to be Pstorm, or Rachel; Burning’s teenaged daughter. Dressing the turkey, Danica sighed with the irritation of a woman kept waiting.

“Where in the world is your father, Rachel?” she asked with a rhetorical weariness. “He’s been out all morning and most of last night. I do this once a year, and if all he sees of it is turkey sandwiches for a week and a half afterwards I’ll be a little upset.”

“I’m sure he’ll be back, Mom.” Rachel assured Danica. “He always comes back in time.”

As if on cue, the door opened, and Burning himself entered, closing the door behind him with a sigh. “Merry Christmas, girls.” he said, his blackened face turning up into an easy smile as Rachel got up to hug him and he kissed Danica on the forehead. “Something smells great. Did they let you back into the kitchen so soon, hon?” he joked. Danica smirked and gave him a soft whap on the back of the head at that.

“Come on and sit down. Dinner’s just ready.” the heroine said. And the small family bustled about for an intimate Christmas dinner, Rachel setting the plates happily as Burning eased himself into a chair at the head of the small table.

“You didn’t see him, did you?” Danica asked quietly, stirring at the mashed potatoes to properly circulate the seasonings.

“Actually, I did.” Burning murmured, looking over to her. “He didn’t see me, because he was still mostly asleep, but I knew better than to get close to him. Heh…he’s a smart kid. I left his Christmas present a little ways from him, where I knew he’d find it. I just wish…”

“…Dad…” Rachel said, looking at Burning with sympathy in her eyes.

“I just wish that he would come home.” The man said simply with a light sigh.

“I know, sweetheart.” Danica murmured. “One day we’ll get him back from Blightlord. One day we’ll be all together again. And then what a Christmas we’ll have.”

Bear frowned a little, inquisitively. Glancing aside to Vern, who was floating beside him as if it were something no more remarkable than the time of day, he spoke, his voice hushed. “Who are they talking about?” he asked.

“The fourth member of the family. Void Brawler.” Vern answered quietly. “He’s brainwashed by Burning’s nemesis and is eking out a life as an assassin. The boy thinks his parents are dead.”

“Why don’t they go get him back then? Or at least show him that they are alive?”

“The boy won’t believe it.” Vern continued sadly. “Blightlord, Burning’s sworn enemy, is a powerful master of the arcane. He’s got so many wards up on that kid, it borders on the unnecessary. Burning just wants to save Void from a life of crime…and a death to match the life.”

Bear swallowed uneasily, but was interrupted by Burning’s voice from within.

“To Lieutenant Bear.”

“Hold on, what?” Danica frowned, smacking the palms of her hands on the table. “You’re toasting that stuck-up hard nosed jackass of a Wyvern on Christmas? The one who kept you out so late that you were out all night looking for Void? The one you’ve been patrolling with the past few weeks and has kept you so busy that you barely have enough energy to say ‘good night’?”

“Honey, Christmas…” Burning said nervously, glancing to Rachel. Danica’s wrath was not something that was provoked without consequence.

“The fact that it’s Christmas makes it all the worse!” cried Danica, reddening. “I wish he was here. He could sit down to dinner with us and I’d give him a knuckle sandwich to eat. I hope he’d have a good appetite for it. It MUST be Christmas if you’re drinking HIS health.”

“Honey, Christmas…” Burning merely repeated, a hint of mild despondence entering his voice. Danica begrudgingly sat back down and raised her own glass of eggnog.

“To Lieutenant Bear.” She grumbled. “That he’s happy today putting all sorts of jaywalkers in prison I have no doubt.”

Once this distasteful moment was over, Christmas dinner proceeded rather more merrily than it had before, despite the absence of Void. Burning remarked on what a young lady Rachel was becoming, and informed her that she was now of the correct age to be carrying some of his more powerful wards and learning some of his stronger spells. At this point she grew very excited and nearly swept the gravy boat off the table in her glee, causing Burning to go scrambling for the wayward dish and Danica to laugh heartily at her husband and daughter.

Bear had a thoughtful look on his face throughout the proceedings, even as the family faded from his vision. Burning hadn’t even gone home the previous night, but stayed out to search for his lost son on Christmas Eve. His thoughts were suddenly brought back to the present as a cold wind assaulted his cheek, slashing past it like an assassin’s blade. Suddenly aware of the cold, Bear scowled, pulling his shirt tighter around himself.

“What now?” he grumbled to Vern.

Vern just regarded him with a shrug, pointing him towards an alleyway. Bear glanced around, recognizing the area as Mercy Island of the Rogue Isles. Garbage was stacked in every alleyway, but there were strange markings of the season adorning it, as though Christmas was embracing it anyway. He could see villains tucked away of all shapes and sizes – a skinny girl with bright green pigtails exchanging gifts with another who looked rather demonic, but both with bright smiles of friendship and charity. A brightly-colored small army of robots gleefully trotted through the streets, the red one in the front singing Jingle Bells at the top of its figurative lungs and the huge black one in the back discouraging anyone from stopping the carol. Before Bear’s eyes, a normal silver robot nearly identical to the red one trotted up to the group, a large red bow tied smartly on its back. The two drones began chattering excitedly, the second one in a higher female tone, before she went off with the large group, her voice raised in song with the red drone’s.

But Vern led Bear past this, and into a small alley where a single boy lay curled up, almost completely unnoticeable among the trash and rubble. He had tousled blonde hair, and seemed to just be waking up as the two approached.

“Who’s this kid?” Bear asked, not looking to Vern.

“Void Brawler.” was the only reply.

Void wearily tossed the collection of newspapers and ragged clothing off himself as he woke up completely, shivering slightly in the cold. He was alone, and Bear could hear the boy’s stomach growl with the feral hunger of a starving wolf. The Wyvern agent could see that the boy was suffering from a fever of some sort, sweating despite the cold. But Void looked past the invisible shades of Vern and Bear at a small parcel just behind them. Bear watched as the child moved forward slowly, lifting a small parcel wrapped up in the comics section of a newspaper and simply labeled “From Santa.”

The boy cautiously opened it, recoiling from it as if he expected it to explode…but what he saw made his eyes light up behind the small mask he wore. It was a small bundle of food, wrapped up in a warm blanket. Instantly the blanket was around Void’s shoulders and he was wolfing down the food. Bear watched him with a grim air of familiarity. He remembered those days.

Vern’s voice interrupted his thoughts. “…I find it quite likely that Blightlord will take the blanket from him later. It is comfort from his family, and I can’t see old Blighthead liking that very much.” came the being’s objectively calm voice.

“But why …It’s not like a blanket is going to ruin his entire stupid scheme or anything.” Bear muttered darkly, his voice barely audible. “…Especially since that kid has obviously got a cold or something. Who the [censored] takes care of their employees like this?”

Vern shrugged. “Not Blightlord. In fact, from what I can see, from within and outside of Father Time’s schedule…This time next year, I believe this boy will no longer be among the living if nothing happens to change the situation. I see a rather morose Christmas in store for the Brawler family. It’s a shame, you know. But then again…”

Vern turned to Bear and regarded him with a toothy grin. “What was it you said? ‘If he gets killed, so much the better. We don't need any more useless supers cluttering up the damn city.’”

Bear said nothing in response to this, his expression sullen. But nonetheless, he focused his eyes on the young Void Brawler, the boy sitting with his meager dinner and the blanket gratefully pulled about his shoulders, until he faded into smoke and darkness.

“Humans never really were good at being thoughtful about each others’ welfare.” Vern said, almost cheerfully. “And by the way, cheer up. Things could change before the future…all things considered. Father Time is almost as fickle as Mother Nature after all.”

Bear was conscious of a light building around him and a warmth enveloping him as Vern moved them in his curious way. Suddenly, Bear was aware of noise, and a very familiar laugh.

“Hahahaha. I still can’t believe he said Christmas was a waste of time.”

Suddenly Bear found himself in a rather familiar room; the large meeting room of Repliforce Paragon. The meeting table was flush with food of all kinds and different types of motor oils, too, for the reploids who weren’t able to enjoy normal refreshments. There was a large, colorful crowd, and at the end of the table was gathered Hallucinogen, Essex, and a handful of others while people laughed and socialized all around them.

“I swear he said it!” the boy insisted, a large grin on his face. “And believed it, too.”

“That’s terrible, Hal-chan.” Essex said with a concerned frown. “What a shame.” The little, girlish android was dressed in a pretty little mint-green Christmas dress, being loath to wear red as it clashed with her pink hardware. Her cheeks were rosy with laughter, though her cute face was drawn up in a little pout at the moment, and her large green eyes wide in sympathy.

“Eh, I thought it was funny.” Hal continued, his grin not subsiding in the least. “He’s always so serious and bitter. But, y’know, that’ll come back to bite him in the end, so far be it from me to complain about it.”

“He’s certainly very strong, though.” Essex said. “At least, from what I’ve always seen. He’s so very confident and capable.”

“And so what if he is?” said Hallucinogen. “His strength is really of no use to him if all he does is use it to make people miserable. He doesn’t really do any more than his duty, and he’ll certainly never use it for your or my benefit.”

“Eh, I don’t have any patience for him.” shrugged Solid Shot, also in attendance and quite contently nursing a tall tumbler of fine oil, a straw sticking out of it just the right size to go in his face-grating. “He’s a pain in the [censored], and when I say so that’s saying something.”

“Oh, but I have.” Essex cried. “I feel so sorry for him. I feel terrible the few times I DO get upset with him. Who’s the one who always pays for his unpleasantness? Himself, you know? He keeps alienating people, and he won’t even come to our party. But here we are, having a great deal of fun without him, and he’s the one alone on Christmas.”

“You always worry about people who we’re better off without.” Solid teased, poking Essex and making her squirm.

“Well, he sure is missing a great party.” said Hal, looking around with a contented smile. “There are so many people here. And the food is great, too. Wouldn’t you say so? Hey, Experiment! Wouldn’t you say so?”

Experiment 2.0, the young hero’s red armor adorned cheerily with green holly leaves by his younger sister, was otherwise engaged, however, blinking distractedly at one of Essex’s own ‘sisters’ – an ebullient, sassy-mouthed reploid by the name of Arc Jump, who was currently showing what looked like a pair of Trolls and a huge undead fellow exactly what one needed to spike motor oil. Her silver hair combed back behind her audioreceptor, it was quite fetching with the light blue clip she had used to hold it back. Noticing he was being addressed, however, Experiment cleared his throat and nodded over his shoulder to Hal.

“Uh, sure, Hal.” he said, tossing another glance towards AJ. “Though, y’know, I’m not really that great a judge of food, since I have to choke down Jenny’s often enough.”

At which point his younger sister backhanded his shoulder in a brief fit of fury, and those in the immediate vicinity laughed as Experiment scowled down at her, all wounded pride and wondering what exactly he had said that had been inaccurate.

“But finish what you were saying.” Essex teased, leaning to the side and resting her head on Hallucinogen’s shoulder. “You never finish what you’re saying.”

“I was just going to say,” said Hal, “That the fact that he’s suddenly decided not to like us and not come to the party just means that he’s losing some potentially good times, you know? And that couldn’t do him any harm. I bet he’d have more fun here today than wandering around Paragon making some poor thief miserable for trying to steal a bit of Christmas dinner from a grocery store. But, heh, I won’t give up on him. He can scoff at Christmas until he dies, but I’ll keep after him, year after year and asking after him. If only for your sake.” he teased Essex back, putting an arm around her affectionately. Catching a distantly analytical and subtly murderous look from Dr. West across the room, he nonchalantly gave her a quick squeeze and then retracted his arm, yet keeping his good humor.

At that point, the music started, Ginstar expertly piping a series of holiday mixes through the speaker system, and the room was filled with people singing along involuntarily as one often did with Christmas Carols. Essex had a sweet little voice, and Bear begrudgingly admitted to himself that she sang well, for a doll. Bear thought that it wasn’t quite as nice as Commie’s music, but it was nice in its own way – the cacophony of laughing voices singing in various tunes to the songs that everyone knew well by heart.

But it wasn’t all singing, and soon they all agreed to play a game, and Bear watched with an air of bemusement, despite himself, as they all played at Marco Polo. The Wyvern could tell that Experiment, whose turn it was to go first, was quite obviously not as blind as he should have been as he quite consistently and diligently went after Arc Jump, who objected quite loudly how unfair it was that he was following her around. At which point, Hallucinogen loudly and laughingly accused Experiment of being too strong a technophile, to which the red-armored hero tacitly bade Hal to take a look in the mirror before making any accusations, which resulted in a stifled wave of snickering and an overwhelming hope that Dr. West had not heard that.

Essex was not a part of the game of Marco Polo, because she had not liked being chased quite as close as she had been by Solid, and preferred to sit quietly with a few others, a multicolored android, what looked like a pair of Maltans, one Gunslinger and one Tactical Commander, a strange, shrouded mercenary whom Bear recognized as one Rulaag of the Osh'Kan, a fellow who resembled a wolf with a large sword strapped to his back, and a young girl with blue skin and a scar over one eye, who was sitting next to Essex and ruffling her hair affectionately. Bear migrated over to this calmer group, and overheard them playing a few rounds of twenty questions. Before long, he found himself actually enjoying himself, since even though they could not hear him he would quite often call out the right answer before anyone else had thought of it.

Vern smiled upon seeing Bear having at least a little fun, but contented himself to chew upon a full can of motor oil that had been left unattended and watch, as the game of Marco Polo drew to a stop and Hallucinogen returned to the calmer group to sit, rather exhausted for the moment, next to Essex once again. “Whose turn is it?” he asked, grinning.

“Well, we’ve all gone once.” came the voice of the colorful android. “You can go now, if you want.”

“Okay, thanks Toy.” said Hal. “I think I’ve got a good one, too.” he added with a grin.

“Well, is it animal, vegetable, or mineral?” began Rulaag, with a thoughtful, observant look on his amphibious face.
“Definitely an animal.” answered Hal impishly.

“Is it a nice animal, like a kitten?” asked Essex.

“Certainly not.”

“Does it live around here?” asked the blue-skinned young woman.

“Sure does.”

“Is it bigger than Ess’x?” the Gunslinger questioned thoughtfully.

“Oh, heck yeah.” was Hal’s response, grinning from ear to ear.

“That doesn’t narrow it down much.” called Solid from where he was carrying on a conversation with an orange and green female reploid.

Here, the game was momentarily interrupted by another wave of snickers and Essex looking falsely hurt, sticking her tongue out in the steel assault bot’s direction.

“Do you see it often?”

“Often enough.”

“Is it a dog?”

“No.”

“Cat?”

“No.”

“A bear?”

Here, Hal paused. “Well now.” he pondered. “In a matter of speaking. Well, more than a matter of speaking. Yes. Yes, but it’s a specific type of bear.”

“Black bear?” “Grizzly bear?” “Polar bear?” “Teddy bear?” the questions came hard and fast.

Hal couldn’t stop laughing. “No, no, no, no. Hahahaha, and I thought I’d given it away!”

At which point, Essex clapped her hands together once. “I know who it is!” she cried. “It’s Lieutenant Bear! Poor guy, he’s not here and here you are making fun of him!”

The group laughed lightheartedly and Hal shook his head, smiling afresh. “Well, you know, I’ll toast him and wish him a Merry Christmas, though he won’t accept it from me.”

“To Lieutenant Bear.” Essex said, raising a glass of antifreeze with a little smile. The rest of the group raised their glasses in turn, and they all drank his health, even as the man stood watching them outside of their realm of comprehension.

Bear shook his head as their figures faded. He couldn’t find words at the moment. Normally he wouldn’t have given a second thought to the idea that the group would be thinking of him beyond a bit of contempt, but…

“Well, hope you had at least a little bit of fun.” said Vern with a grin, walking up beside him as the surroundings suddenly became a great open field. “You know, putting aside a little time every year just to relax and remember the good things of life is important. You humans are always so busy rushing around with your noses to the ground that you forget the image of the skies, the stars, the things that lie just off your little self-forged temporal path. If you’re not careful…” said the lizardlike being with a toothy grin, “…you’ll end up running yourself into an early grave.”

Bear glanced around at the surroundings, his hands shoved in his pockets with a neutral frown. He had enjoyed the party…but now a palpable air of unease was hanging around him. As he glanced down at Vern, he was somewhat surprised to see that the being was fading slightly.

“…You know you’re fading, right?” the bowman asked with a raise of his eyebrow.

“Sure.” said Vern. “Like I said, Father Time is fickle. I’m not usually supposed to do stuff like this, and it takes a lot out of me. My ability to project myself is nearly gone, and I’d really better get back before I lose it completely. So, guess this is where I hand you off.”

“Uh…You’re leaving me here?” Bear muttered in a nonplussed tone.

But there was no-one left to answer him. No-one but the figure, shrouded in black, that had suddenly appeared not three feet but his shoulder.

Stave Two: The First of Three Visitors.

When Bear awakened, it was so dark that he could barely see the foot of his own bed. A harsh beeping was ringing in his ear, and the Wyvern agent was groggy and lucid as he wearily glanced around for the source. Red light assailed his vision as the alarm clock on his bedside table flashed the hour like a warning beacon, filling the air with its outcry of the late hour.

One o’clock.

One o’clock.

One o’clock.

Bear’s hand slammed down on the alarm in a groggy temper, stifling its screeching complaints once and for all. Subdued, it obligingly became silent, though the flashing still cast a red shade upon the room.

A strange feeling began to build in the man’s chest, however, as the words of Truefeather echoed calmly in his mind.

“Expect the first visitor when the bell tolls one.”

Instantly the red light flooding the room was replaced with a pale silver as the clouds parted, suddenly exposing the moon. The brilliance was accompanied by a sound that rather resembled the striking of a single key on a computer keyboard.

“Ah, Pharaoh. My apologies for disturbing you at this late hour.”

Bear started, and glanced up at the figure that had suddenly appeared on the opposite end of the room. A slim man with blue robes returned his glance with a polite smile. He had deep, black hair and round glasses that obscured his eyes, and reflected the moonlight that poured in through the window.

“…Who the hell are you?” Bear muttered, sitting up in bed. “And answer quickly. I don’t like guys in my room.”

“I am registered under the name of Moonscribe…but for the purposes of tonight, I can be considered, effectively, the Spirit of Christmas Past.” the man said with an elegant, sweeping bow.

“So you’re the one who’s supposed to come berate me for not having enough Christmas cheer.”

“Now now, Pharaoh.” Moonscribe said with a matching polite grin. “I am not here to berate you, no. But yes, I am the one whose coming was foretold to you this very night.”

“And why exactly are you here?” Bear asked suspiciously. “What purpose do you serve? And how the hell did you get in here?”

“Why, your welfare, of course.” the man replied. “And as for my method of transportation…it is really of no importance.” The moonlight seemed to flash and glisten off his spectacles as he said this.

“Whatever.” Bear said, still glaring at Moonscribe with an air of mistrust.

“Well then, Pharaoh.” Moonscribe said, walking up to the window. “Come along, then. There is much to do.”

Bear stood, but raised an eyebrow at the blue-robed fellow skeptically. “…You do realize this is the eighth floor, don’t you? I ain’t no flying super. And I don’t jump out of high windows for my health.”

“That is a matter of a single simple equation.”

Moonscribe raised his hands into the air, typing rather quickly. Bear regarded him like a man gone mad, folding his arms impatiently. “Just what the hell are you doing?”

“Nothing, Pharaoh. Again, I assure you; it is really of no importance.” he replied with a small grin.

The next moment, Bear was surprised to feel a …lightness about him. His feet had left the floor, and he found that he could control his movement as simply as if he were a sentient hovercraft.

“...Okay.” Bear said, shrugging and running a hand over his face. “Fine, I get it. Lead on.”

“How very reasonable of you.” said Moonscribe, himself rising into the air. “Come then. We have much to see.”

The blue-robed man deftly flew out the open window, waiting only briefly for Bear to follow before turning his flight towards the east, where the moon was high in the sky. Bear found himself almost involuntarily following him, towards where a bright light was building on the horizon. Paragon City lay before the two of them, cold and dark with the exception of the bright twinkling of Christmas lights and the few windows that still remained lit. The light of the horizon approached frightfully quickly, and soon became a mist, washing over the two of them and obscuring their vision of everything, so it soon felt as though they were not moving at all.

Suddenly, Bear felt his feet gently touch the ground as if he had been carefully set down. Moonscribe stood beside him, typing quietly in the air. The mist began to dissipate, and Bear caught his breath.

“Where is this place?” he murmured.

“It is the past, Pharaoh.” Moonscribe replied neutrally. “Do you not recognize it?”

The area around them grew white with snow, a schoolyard. The main building was far off, but the yard was a great field. Fencing was around it to show that construction of a new playground was imminent, but in the meantime, children ran, frolicking and laughing and shouting, throwing snowballs and rejoicing at the advent of Christmas break. Young boys affectionately tussled with one another and shouted “Merry Christmas!” by ways of goodbye.

“…My school.” Bear breathed, his eye taking on a boyish gleam. “I could never forget this place.”

“Indeed…” said Moonscribe enigmatically. “It seems that there is yet one child who has not begun home for Christmas vacation. Might you, perhaps, know who he would be?”

Before Bear could answer, a boy’s voice called through the air. “Will!!” it shouted. “Will, Merry Christmas!!”

A lone boy stood out in the field, his eyes squinted in concentration. He had short black hair, and was bundled up…and yet, still managed to be pulling back the string on his small toy bow quite effectively. He had made a target of piled snow, roughly shaped like a large, blobby humanoid. With a whir of wind, the small toy arrows thunked neatly into the chest of the target, and the boy nodded appraisingly before hurrying forward to collect them for another volley.

“Will, you still out here practicing?” the other boy called out. “Come on, it’s Christmas Break! We’re all going to go sledding out at Scotty’s!”

“Nah,” the young Bear called out in reply. “I’m gonna stick around here and practice some more. I gotta get good at vanquishing the Kraken before I can move on to Lusca!!”

“Whatever Will.” The other boy said dismissively, trotting off.

“What an admirable child.” Moonscribe said in a calm, neutral voice that had just the slightest hint of an underlying meaning in it. “It is rare to see such devotion and discipline in children so young. You always did prefer the company of your arrows to your classmates.”

Bear said nothing, his face in a sullen frown, though his eyes resting on the boy that had been him, once, diligently peppering the snow-Kraken with arrows.

“But come.” Moonscribe continued, lifting his hands to tap on invisible keys once again. “We must move on.”

The white fog brushed past them again, and in a whirlwind of light and the instant muting of sound, Bear and Moonscribe reappeared in what seemed like a large warehouse. It was decorated in only the most eclectic of Christmas decorations, and indeed, looked as if the Freakshow had been responsible for the interior design. Nonetheless, it was crowded with people, and Bear brightened considerably at the sight.

“…Holy [censored].” He muttered happily. “This is one of old Feliks’ Christmas parties, the old Commie dog. These were always the best, when I was in the Skulls – all the upcoming villains would attend.”

Moonscribe remained silent, smiling, as Bear moved about, looking excited at the people he recognized. Here there was one old friend, there was another, and he called out to them. “Look, it’s ol’ Redd! And ain’t that the other commie, that Ramier [censored]? And the man himself, ol’ Commie! Damn, he always threw the best parties. Hey, Commie!!”

Bear yelled up at the man in the smart military uniform, but his call wasn’t acknowledged. Indeed, it was as if Feliks had not even heard him.

“These are but the shadows of your past.” Moonscribe’s calm voice sounded from beside him, cutting through the loud noise of the party most eerily. “They can neither see nor hear us. But do walk around and see who else is currently in attendance.”

The Talon agent walked around, shaking his head at the sheer number of villains and antiheroes. There was a young lizard-girl in a skinsuit, smiling broadly and toothily as she discussed business with a wild-haired scientist who really looked more annoyed than anything else that he was at this party. As the young man set his drink down seemingly in thin air, a single robot scurried hurriedly to hold it for him, professing what an honor it was to be chosen to hold the honored drink of THE Midas Phillis. Another fellow, skeletal and swathed in black, muttered darkly about how some people got all the chicks, even as he scratched at the blindfold on his eyes.

Just as a figure in bright clothing with deep purple skin began to strike up some music on a large stereo system, Bear saw another group of figures enter – a handful of Skulls. Ivory masks on, they were grinning happily and greeted their fellows with loud cries of “Merry mother [censored]’ Christmas!” and banging knuckles and slapping backs good-naturedly. Bear himself was in the front of the group, dressed in the black clothing of a Bone Daddy. The Black Bear, he had been called, and he was one of the more formidable members of the gang.

“…Damn, but we had fun.” Bear said wistfully, as he followed his past self through the flashing colored lights and listening to conversation peppered with the solid, pounding bass line of the music. Everyone was dancing now, and the darkness made the contorting figures into little more than silhouettes, backlit by a dozen blinking colored lights at once in a frenzied flurry of rhythmic motion. The countless villains of every shape and size almost made it look like a gathering of specters and demons, brought under the spell of cheer and unbridled happiness only once a year by the irresistible spell of Christmas.

One of the figures, however, startled Bear quite soundly by going directly through him like a ghost, an incorporeal reflection of the past. And his breath caught in his throat when he saw who exactly it was.

Rosalind, looking identical in those days to her present state, with the exception of her clothing style, had just phased through him on her path to the refreshment table. Bear watched in surprise as she poured a glass of punch that the Vahzilok crew had brought (no-one else but the undead or necromancers dared touch it) and tipped it down good-naturedly. She wore a punked out green dress and red jewelry, her short black hair pulled back into two stubby pigtails, even as her snow-white bangs hung in her face. Her canine ears were perked as she listened to the music, but the expression on her face was one of boredom.

“I remember this Christmas.” Bear murmured.

The group of Skulls approached the refreshment table just as Rosie began to fidget slightly. Without warning, the canine were-human whirled about, regarding the first person she laid eyes on with a serious, accusatory frown.

The young Black Bear blinked in surprise as he suddenly had the dog girl glaring fixedly at him. His hand was halfway to a star-shaped cookie, but he froze.

“W, what the hell’s your problem?” he scowled down at her, though with an air of apprehension.

Rosalind didn’t answer him right away, just grabbing his hand and dragging him towards the dance floor.

“Hey, what the…Leggo, you crazy bit-“

The young Bear was promptly surprised as Rosie grabbed his opposite hand and planted it on her waist, holding his first hand. “Dances are freakin’ lame when you don’t have anyone to dance with. Dance with me!”

Black Bear looked helplessly back at his comrades for support, but they just shook their heads with wide eyes. The Skulls, in all their dabbling with death and the demonic, knew the tales of the Dread Trio well – the spiritual task force was formidable and a force to be feared. Rosalind was rumored to be the most violent and uncontrollable of the three, and as such a situation like this was most unexpected. But Bear didn’t have much time to think as Rosie pulled him into a dance the next minute, her movements accented by the pumping bass.

The were-human wasn’t an entirely perfect dancer, but she certainly knew how to carry a rhythm as Bear watched his younger self slowly begin to get into the dance himself. The two of them began to talk and laugh together amidst the deafening music, talk of blood and carnage, which they soon figured to be their favorite common subjects. Bear was acutely aware of his own face, breathless with the quick dance, growing slightly more red as Rosie twirled about in his arms.

The purple-skinned deejay, the colored lights dancing off his whimsical costume like circus lights on a harlequin, grinned as he began to transition the music.

“Oh God.” Bear murmured. “This…this song.”

A single Hellion raised his lighter in the air as a slow song began to emanate from the speakers. It was a ballad of destruction, but it was slow nonetheless.

Rosalind twirled closer to Black Bear, affectionately tucking her head under his chin as he moved a hand to her waist. There were, understandably, not many couples in this gathering of crazed ravers, and those that were attending pre-attached had already found dark, lightless corners in which to engage in intimate nothings with minimal risk of discovery and embarrassment.

So it was nearly alone that the two of them moved together on the dance floor, Rosie and the young Skull tucked together under the glitter of lights and the echoing music in the warehouse. Soon, perhaps, too soon, the song was over, and the music began again afresh, re-energized and pounding with the fervor of a hundred drug-quickened heartbeats. Bear watched as Rosalind stood on her tiptoes and murmured something into his ear. He couldn’t hear it, but he remembered the words.

“See you around sometime? You ain’t half bad.”

He watched himself blink in surprise as she kissed his cheek, and the spell was broken, the were-human trotting away happily to chat with a young girl with a pair of katana strapped to her back.

“…Not half bad…” Bear repeated to himself, absently rubbing his cheek as if he could feel it again through the haze of years. As if from nowhere, Moonscribe was suddenly beside him, watching the party as well with his neutral, enigmatically serious expression.

“A memorable Christmas to be sure.” the robed man smiled. Despite the colored lights flying around the room, his glasses still seemed to glisten with the silvery sheen of moonlight, unaffected by the rave. “But there is another Christmas where you met again, was there not?”

Bear’s face darkened. “…I don’t want to see that Christmas.” he muttered, averting his eyes from Moonscribe.

“Honestly, Pharaoh,” the man said with a theatrical sigh. “I am afraid that if you wish to get well, you must learn to take your medicine.”

With that and another set of keystrokes, the party vanished and they were surrounded in darkness. Bear swallowed uneasily as he felt around, feeling the walls of the old office building he and his particular gang of Skulls, the Spinerippers, used as a base. A faint light glimmered from the center of the floor; illumination granted by the cautiously allotted luminosity of a few candles. Figures moved in the darkness, and Bear could hear a voice – his own voice, aged a few years from the last manifestation, muttering incantations. The darkness around them was palpable, mystical, and the group was gathered close about a secret, dark ritual.

“I, the Black Bear, summon you forth, Malebranche…” his husky voice came from the group. “Shower us in the blessings of death and give us the power to curse those who stand between us and the ultimate reality of the grave…”

A dark explosion ensued, throwing the Bone Daddy back against the wall and making the rest of his group recoil in surprise. Bear could see his young self, dazed, but hidden under the cover of darkness even as a figure began to emerge, pulling its demonic form out of the arcane circle that they had formed from stolen artifacts of the Circle of Thorns and the Hellions.

“I am Malebranche.” a slithering voice hissed from the clawed beast, eyes glowing a malevolent violet. “Who has summoned me? Tell me what I must do.”

“No…” Bear muttered involuntarily.

A crack of white light disrupted the form of the demon even as a hole formed through its torso. It howled and screeched with pain even as the white energy crackled outward from the wound to consume it.

“If you play with demons you’ll get sucked into the abyss.” a dead calm voice cut through the darkness.

From the shadows emerged three figures – their features indeterminate in the darkness, but easily identifiable to Bear. One tall, his eyes glowing red. Another a bit smaller but deathly thin, the whites of her eyes seemingly independently luminous and framing her tiny pupils. And a third, whose vermilion eyes were violent and playful all at once.

The Dread Trio.

Bear watched, again, as the three went to work on the Spinerippers. Bullets, explosives, claws and teeth. Pools of blood everywhere, limbs, now free of their fleshy burden, soaring off to begin life anew on their own only to be immediately reminded that they had no source of central direction. Bear could barely see his own shivering form watching the carnage with wide eyes, dazed and unable to assist his comrades as they desperately fought off the three attackers. Skull after Skull fell to the Dread Trio, their bodies littering the floor, disrupting the magical ritual.

Hidden in darkness, the young Bear watched in horror as the last of his Gravediggers fell. By some fluke, or odd chance, the Trio didn’t seem to take any notice of the Bone Daddy shrouded in darkness.

“Good girl.” he heard the tall leader say; Emry Farwood, the serious, formidable leader of the Trio. There were rumors that the magnolia tree his spirit was bound to was somewhere in Perez Park, surrounded by a number of buried skeletons of men who had used his strong branches to hang themselves.

Bear saw Rosalind run up to him, her face a mess of blood, but her eyes still bright with the simple excitement of a happy dog, sitting at his feet and wagging her tail eagerly as he stroked her hair and scratched behind her ears. He could see the admiration, the adoration in her tangerine eyes as she looked up at him…and reflexively glanced over at his younger self. He remembered the feeling of his heart dropping into his shoes, even though it pounded emphatically with the residual fear of the encounter.

“Come on, Dog and Stick.” the third figure, tossing the long strands of her brown hair impatiently. “Let’s blow this joint. There’s a Christmas special at Selbie’s place on all the bloodcakes you can eat.”

With that, the three exited, leaving Black Bear alone in the carnage. Bear turned to Moonscribe, his eyes angry.

“Why the hell did you show me this Christmas!?” he snarled. “Just to remind me what excuses I have to despise it?”

“Nothing of the sort, Pharaoh.” replied Moonscribe neutrally, even as he typed in the air. “But I believe you should also recall that your brother had invited you to spend Christmas with him at a party. Was it not you who remarked that celebrating Christmas was a waste of time? Though perhaps such a recollection is, in the end, of very little importance.”

Bear was silent and sullen at that.

“Take me home.” he growled. “I don’t want to see any more.”

“Very well.” came Moonscribe’s voice. A soft sound of typing, and the mist fell away from Bear as if it suddenly had become a cloud of lead.

He was alone in his bedroom once again. Bear suddenly felt his strength leave him, and he collapsed forward on his small bed, asleep again nearly instantly.

((OK, everyone, this is it. This is the project that I had promised and asked permission for. I really do hope you enjoy it.

I'll be posting it one chapter at a time. Sorry for the delays; it turned into something much longer than I originally expected. @_@;; HAVE MERCY ON ME PLZKTHX!

Oh, and as always, comments are welcome in thread because I'm an attention 'ho. Merry Christmas!))

Stave One: Warning of Truth

Christmas Eve.

Paragon City.

"One ticket to Santa Claus Conquers the Martians, please."

The short, rather slight man stood in a relaxed pose outside the box office, looking with an easy expression at the clerk under the wide brim of his coolie. Raising an eyebrow at him in turn, the clerk sighed, handing off a ticket even as she brushed a small lock of brown hair out of one eye and back into her ponytail.

"That'll be 7.50."

"Right then." the man said with a grin, "Actually I'm going to be putting that on credit. The name the account is registered under is Kairai no Ken."

"Right....found the account." the clerk said, gesturing him inside. "Enjoy the movie, sir."

"Thank you..." he said charmingly, eyes searching her chest perhaps a little too long for her nametag. "...Penny. And a Happy Christmas to you."

Penny watched him go past with a dry expression, when she was suddenly surprised to see a small contigent of ninjas trail past her in turn, wearing cute antler headbands, and accompanied by a massive Japanese oni wearing an elf hat.

"Hey, hey, HEY!" Penny called out, hanging out of the box office momentarily to flag down Kai. "They with you?"

"Huh? Oh, yes." Kai responded, raising his hands placatingly with a grin. "They're only puppets. See?" He snapped his fingers, and instantly the ninjas and oni were in two rows, with caroling books open and endearing puppy-eyed expressions. "You don't charge for puppets, do you?"

"A seat's a seat." the clerk said in a nonplussed tone. "Your new price is $52.50--"

But she was interrupted suddenly as a ball of flame fired past her, scattering the group of ninjas immediately.

"Stop right there!" a confident male voice called out.

The hero known as Burning Brawler stood just across the street from the theater, his hands blazing with arcane fire. His eyes were fixed on Kai, who just seemed to turn about lazily and regard him with an uncaring, yet secretly sharp expression.

"Kairaishi, registered Mastermind of the Rogue Isles, you're under arrest by the authorities of Paragon City!" Burning called out, releasing another wave of flames from his hands. Instantly the ninjas moved into position, two of them charging forward to flank the blaster on either side, another leaping into the air to come down on him from above. Two more
vanished into shadows, beginning to throw shuriken at him out of the shadows, and the oni loomed, ready to attack the hero who had been such a fool as to confront his master.

Kai, for his part, ducked his head slightly, and a soft snoring could be heard from him as his puppets went to work.

"I don't think so." Burning smirked, releasing a circular blast of fire outward from himself. Embers began to fall from the sky, catching the puppets ablaze even as they engaged him in direct combat.

For her part, Penny sighed, sitting with her knees to her chest in the box office with a World War II era army helmet securely fastened on her head. "Didn't think I'd need this this year." she muttered to herself as a stray fireball sent shards of glass flying down. "But then again, at least it's better than falling down the stairs in an exploding office building."

The fight continued, Burning working hard to shatter the puppets one by one. When the final one finally lay on the ground in a smoking heap, he began to malevolently approach Kairaishi. The snoozing man roused himself, regarding Burning lazily beneath the brim of his hat.

"Why in the world did you burn my puppets?" Kai asked, shrugging. "I merely was taking them to a movie on Christmas. Is that a crime now? I do apologize."

"You're a villain!" Burning declared, his hands flaring hungrily.

"Villain is such a close-minded term." Kai brooded. "I'm registered as a hero as well, you know."

Burning hesitated at that. "That's not true."

Kai wagged his finger. "Sure is. Look it up, genius." Spreading his hands with an easy grin, the puppetmaster tilted his head placatingly. "And my criminal record is spotless in the PPD computer systems."

Burning lowered his hands, gritting his teeth. The hero knew there was nothing he could do to Kai at this point.

"I was really looking forward to seeing this movie..." Kai muttered with a faint sigh. "Oh well. I guess there's no time." Before Burning could protest, Kairaishi had slipped into the shadows.

Almost a split-second later, an arrow thudded into the ground where Kairaishi had been standing, and Burning recoiled slightly. "Look away!" he called out to Penny too late as a flash of light shredded through the air with the violence and painful brilliance of a supernova.

"You let him go." came an icy tone from in front of Burning as the hero furiously rubbed his eyes. "You. Let. Him. Go."

When Burning's vision returned, a tall figure stood before him. The man glared down at him, onyx black hair neatly combed back and facial hair in a rough goatee. A cybernetic eye regarded Burning with disgust, even as the man shouldered a huge composite longbow, the most technologically advanced piece of equipment money could buy.

Lieutenant William Bear, Wyvern Talon Agent, scowled at Burning with a withering stare. "And you call yourself a hero."

Burning looked aside with a frown. "Well, first of all, he wasn't really doing anything. Second of all...it's Christmas Eve." The flames now gone from his hands, the hero sighed. "...I'm sure even all but the most heinous villains are home with their families for the holidays. And....sending someone to jail on Christmas?"

Bear snorted, regarding Burning with an expression of disdain. "...Tch. Christmas. Just an excuse the weak use to get out of paying for their crimes."

Burning sighed, shaking his head. How I got assigned to patrol with this guy I'll never know.

The two of them patrolled the streets, Burning's hands ablaze to keep him warm in the cold. There was very little snow, but the winter's chill had manifested in the form of an icy, bitter wind, sweeping through the streets and alleys without regard for hero or civilian. Bear turned, glowering at Burning. "Turn that off." he ordered darkly. "You're wasting your energy and getting rid of any semblance of stealth we'd have by doing that."

"It's Christmas Eve, and I'm cold." Burning returned.

Bear was about to snarl back something in reply, when suddenly a streak shot across the sky, a lurid green accented by glittering gold, like a gaseous shooting star. Before the two heroes, a figure touched down neatly from the series of grand leaps, smoke trailing from his figure.

"Merry Christmas, Lt. Bear! Merry Christmas, Burning!"

The hero known as Hallucinogen grinned at the two others sunnily. He was dressed for the season, a red and white scarf tucked neatly around him for warmth accenting his normal green coloration nicely. The radiation pouring from the hero seemed to match his cheerful attitude, and indeed he seemed to be in a wonderful mood.

"Tch." Bear cursed under his breath. "Christmas. Waste of time."

"Christmas a waste of time?" Hallucinogen raised an eyebrow. "You can't be serious."

"I'm always serious." Bear said, glowering down at the diminuitive boy. "Why the hell are you so happy? You're always whining about something."

"Why the hell are you so unhappy?" Hallucinogen returned with a grin. "You never seem to whine about anything."

Bear didn't respond for a moment, just glaring daggers at him while Burning tried to stifle a laugh.

"Oh come on." Hal followed up with a grin. "Don't get worked up."

"Worked up?" Bear repeated icily. "I'm not 'worked up.' It's just disillusioning to realize that the more people I see, the more I realize that the world is populated by lazy and sentimental idiots. Merry Christmas? More like an opportunity for looters and theives to capitalize on the unnecessary sympathy that seems to dump out of everyone like vomit from a Vahzilok. A time to realize you've wasted another year on the ridiculous and unnecessary and that crime is even greater for it. Tch, if it were up to me..." the Wyvern agent said darkly, "Every idiot who spouted off a 'Merry Christmas' should get his [censored] tackled, detained, put in a Longbow costume and shipped off to the Rogue Isles to see what a 'charitable' time of year this really is!"

"Oh, come on!" Hal pleaded again.

"Listen, kid." Bear snarled. "You do Christmas your way and let me do Christmas my way."

"And by that you mean not at all." came the dry reply.

"Then let me ignore it." said Bear. "After all, a damned lot of good Christmas has done you. You're still weak, sentimental, living off hero credit and making your own imaginary friends. You're security level 50, but you're still a weak, immature child."

Hallucinogen just chuckled at this. "You know, there are a ton of things that I'd consider good that haven't benefited me in a physical sense. Christmas is one of 'em. I don't know if you know just how important hope is, but dangit, Christmas time is the time of year when almost everyone is brimming with hope, regardless of their situation, hero or villain. Christmas is when everyone seems to come together and things are just happier all around. People are doing things for other people out of the kindness of their hearts, limitations are surpassed, mankind has faith in itself and each other for once, and for just a little while everyone treats each other like human beings instead of statistics and nuisances. And so, even though Christmas hasn't done my Security Level or status any good, I say bring it on."

"Damn straight!" Burning involuntarily agreed, eliciting another cold glare from Bear.

"I wasn't talking to you." the Talon agent said dryly. "And you, kid, where'd you learn to talk? Law school? You're damned good at spewing out a [censored] of pretty words that don't have any practical application in the real world."

"Don't be an [censored]." Hallucinogen said engagingly. "Come on. Repliforce Paragon is having a Christmas party for all their friends, and I came to invite you. You'll come, right?"

Bear's response was a dry frown and a raise of a single ebony eyebrow. "...I wouldn't come if you paid me."

"But WHY?" Hal yelled, stomping his foot in a sudden expression of frustration.

"Why are you spending all your time with a child's doll that can cry on its own?"

Hal's face darkened a little as Bear spoke of Essex in that regard, but ignored it in the interest of Christmas. "Because I fell in love." he answered tacitly.

"Because you fell in love." Bear growled. "That's the only thing more ridiculous than Christmas. Get out of my face."

"Oh, come on." Hal said for seemingly the umpteenth time. "There are gonna be other people there, and that's a stupid excuse not to show up."

"Leave."

"Her feelings are gonna be hurt. She just wants to be friends with you, and so do I! Won't you come? Come on, it's not like we're asking you for the moon."

"Go."

"Fine." Hallucinogen said resolutely. "I'm sorry that you have to be so stubborn. But you know what? You can be as big a jackass as you want, but it's still Christmas, and I've done everything I can with respect to the season, and I won't let you ruin my mood. So Merry Christmas, Bear."

"I said leave."

"And a Happy New Year!" Hal finished.

"Now."

With that, Hallucinogen turned to leave without another word, still with a determined smile on his face. He paused to nod to Burning with a grin, who returned his greeting with a small smile and a warmth that belied the weather. And then the small hero was off, leaping through the sky in a streak of gold and green once again.

"I'm surrounded by morons." Bear muttered offhandishly to Burning. "This hero schmuck agreeing with a Merry Christmas when he's got an entire contigent of villains on his tail."

As the two of them walked towards the tram, they were approached by another pair of figures, these two who seemed to be arguing heatedly. One of them was tall and rather well-built, though still obviously a teenager, sunglasses on his eyes and a scarf around his neck. He had a scruffy little goatee and long, dark hair. His companion was quite smaller, but seemed to be at the pinnacle of his physical condition, as if he had trained every day of his life. His expression was cold and he looked as though he was barely tolerating the taller boy, his eyes a malevolent violet. Strangely, the smaller boy didn't seem to be wearing any protective gear against the cold, and it didn't seem to bother him. When they saw Bear, the two of them began to hurry forward to greet him.

"You're that Wyvern Talon guy, Lieutenant William Bear, right?" the taller one asked, his voice confident and cheerful.

"That's me." Bear said, turning towards the two of them. "Thanks for blowing my cover. Any other favors you want to do me?"

"Smooth, Billyboy." the smaller boy muttered, folding his arms. "I TOLD you he was undercover."

"Shut up, Ian." Billyboy shot back. "What was I supposed to say, huh?"

Ian rolled his eyes. "It doesn't matter WHAT you say, it's that you broadcasted it to everyone instead of keeping your voice down. Sheesh."

"If you want something you better stop wasting my time." Bear said. "I'm on patrol, you know."

"Uh...right." Ian said, exchanging glances with his companion. "Listen. I'm Ian and this is Billyboy. We're from Golden Eagle high school." The boy flipped out his student ID with a swift motion, and then slipped it back into his pocket quickly.

"Oh, you're Rachel's classmates, then." Burning piped up.

"Oh hey, Pstormie's old man." Billyboy said with a grin. "Cool! Anyway. Uh...We were told to go find someone over Christmas Break to speak to the whole school about what it's like fighting crime in the Rogue Isles. And y'know, since you're with Wyvern, and you're here --"

"Aren't there a [censored] of other Wyvern agents?" Bear snapped down at them.

"Well, yeah." Ian responded, raising an eyebrow.

"And the Legacy Chain. Aren't they still in business?"

"Sure." Billyboy answered. "Far as I know."

"And Longbow hasn't pulled out of the Isles or anything, have they?"

"Well, no, but..."

"Oh, good." Bear said in a display of mock concern. "I was afraid I was the last hero around who'd been to the Isles. Glad to hear there's plenty of OTHER choices for you."

"Well, you know, they're all kinda busy and located in the Rogue Isles." Ian said, looking up at Bear with a slight frown. "Much as I'd like to go over there and ask them myself, ol' Bennyboy here would get eaten alive."

"Oh, shut up, Ian." Billyboy said, rolling his eyes behind his sunglasses. "I could waste most of those lame villains and you know it. You're the one who would get your stick broken and come crying back to Paragon."

"Well, then, in that case." Bear said with a false fatherly smile. "I wish you'd go over there and get your [censored] handed to you in the REAL world. Because quite honestly, you weak excuses for fledgeling heroes, I've got better things to do than to play storytime with your silver-spoons preschool. If you're going to learn about the Rogue Isles, in fact if you're going to be effective heroes at all, you better go out and experience things yourself. And if you get killed, so much the better. We don't need any more useless supers cluttering up the damn city."

Billyboy and Ian paused, glancing at each other. The rage was evident in each of their faces, and they seemed to be on the verge of attacking the man who was regarding them with a condescending smirk. Ian's hand twitched closer to the hilt of his bokken, and Billyboy's hands began to glitter with energy.

"Boys..." Burning warned. "It's Christmas. Come on..."

"R-right." Ian said through his teeth, glaring daggers at Bear. "Come on, Bennybob, let's go ask a -real- hero."

"Yeah." Billyboy muttered, looking for all the world like a snappy comeback was only barely losing the fight to shoot out of his mouth like a heat-seeking missile.

Once the two had left, Bear and Burning continued on their way. The night was growing colder now, and dark, and the freezing wind made many a passerby turn a frostbitten cheek to the cold. The wind whistled and howled between the buildings of the city, and the pale, golden lights of candles in windows were the only comfort. A deep fog began to settle on the city, and the bright lights of the radio towers and the glittering windows of the inner-city condos were obscured by the presence of the curious clouds. Even through the cloud, a single figure moved briskly through the streets, dressed in black and shivering, but in good spirits nonetheless; his white hair blowing in the freezing wind and winding about the thick circles of his earmuffs. The boy came across Bear and Burning, and offered the Talon agent a small business card.

”…Ozell, huh.” Bear muttered, looking at the card.

”Yes sir.” The boy said cheerily. “Merry Christmas!” Clearing his throat, he began to sing rather happily, his voice clear and cheerful in the cold night.

“God rest ye merry gentlemen, let nothing you dismay-”

Ozell found himself staring down the business end of an arrow the next moment, and the boy froze, bowing politely once before sprinting off down the sidewalk in a panic.

Soon, the time of night came about for the two patrolling heroes to return home. Burning sighed and rubbed his eyes wearily, looking over at Bear.

“I guess you want to go home.” the bowman muttered with a disgusted glance at the fire mage. “And you’ll be taking tomorrow off, I assume?”

“Well yes.” Burning said. “It’s Christmas, after all.”

“Whatever.” Bear grumbled. “Christmas is a pretty damn sorry excuse for giving criminals free reign of the streets for a day. But I guess I’m outnumbered in my opinion by useless weaklings. I’ll see you the day after at 6 AM for patrol.”

Burning sighed. “Whatever. See you then.”

With that, the mage made a small sign with his hands and muttered an incantation, and in a flash of arcane fire he was gone.

Bear was alone. Bow on his shoulder, he shook his head and turned his steps for home.

The apartment that the Wyvern agent stayed in was located in Steel Canyon, a rough and out of the way corner of the city. He’d often have to shoo the Lost away from his doorstep with curses and threats of physical force, but he didn’t pay it any mind. About to head into his usual bar for dinner, he glanced up only to notice that it was closed for the night.

”…Christmas. Pff.” he scowled.

As he reached the building he lived in, a strange feeling began to come over him, as if something wasn’t quite right. Glancing over his shoulder and seeing nothing but the thick fog, Bear shrugged, putting his hand on the doorknob.

He recoiled suddenly, glancing down at it. It didn’t look any different, but had a soft consistency, as if he had just gripped a handful of goosedown.

”What the hell?” he murmured.

Tentatively touching it again, he felt nothing but cold brass. “Whatever.” he muttered, turning it and beginning up the stairs.

The inside of the building was cold and rather dark, but Bear didn’t mind much. It was useless to waste resources when he already knew every inch of the area. Reaching his apartment was a simple matter of instinct, and he unlocked the door as he always did.

The interior of the apartment was bland and utilitarian; a beat-up easy chair and an old TV in the sitting room, a tiny kitchen and bathroom, and a bedroom with just a bed and a nightstand. Bear went to his refrigerator and began to dully prepare a sandwich, perhaps loading a bit more lunchmeat on it than was entirely necessary, and sat down to watch the news with a rather neutral expression.

Until a warm wind blew past his cheek.

Bear didn’t jump. Instead, his eyes narrowed, and his senses focused and sharpened almost immediately. “Who’s there.” he murmured.

No response.

Glancing around his apartment, it soon became apparent that the fog from outside seemed to be slowly migrating inside. Without warning, his television turned on, the static from it cutting through the silence like a knife.

Bear’s head jerked to the TV in silence, his one good eye narrowed. He made no outward signs of being disturbed, but try as he might he could not stop his heart from pounding just a little harder in his chest.

”Do sit down, won’t you?” a calm female voice came from the set.

In any other situation Bear would have immediately sent an arrow directly through the screen and thought no more of the incident. But something about the voice was familiar to him…and he slowly lowered into the easy chair as the image on the screen began to take shape.

The form of a slim, but curvy woman formed, leaning forward slightly as if to tap on the inside glass of the screen. Her long, black hair hung lightly in her face and she had a light, amused smile on her face that pushed her eyes into a mostly-closed position. The image was black and white, and seemed to have an ethereal quality to it even as it slowly gained more clarity.

”Why, hello, Lt. Bear.” the calm voice cheerfully greeted him.

”Holy [censored].” Bear muttered, squinting at the screen. “…I know you. Aren’t you that lawyer chick that all the Longbow morons are hot for? You go after the Skulls, right?”

”Why, I can only speak for myself.” The girl answered cheerily. “But yes. We have met, sir Bear, at least on a peripheral level.”

”Truefeather, right?” he frowned darkly. “What the hell are you doing in my TV?”

”Why…I am here to warn you, my friend.” Truefeather returned with a smile. “Now, if you will give me a brief moment…”

Before his eyes, her hand reached out of the screen, soon followed by her other hand, gripping the frame carefully. Before he could protest, the ethereal figure had pulled herself out of his television set and stood before him, smiling enigmatically down at the man. She was dressed in a long white gown, bands of gold on either arm and a large golden collar-like necklace adorning her neck and upper chest. A golden circlet decorated her forehead, and a mantle of feathers trickled down her back.

”Warn me?” Bear asked. “And what the hell is with the getup?”

”Oh, my apologies.” Truefeather chirped. “This is, perhaps, not how you are used to observing me. And yes…I am here to warn you. You see…”

Her eyes opened slightly, and Bear could see a beautiful mix of brown and green coloration in her eyes. They were full of calm concern.

”…It is my duty…” she murmured pleasantly, “…to regulate the natural order and law. My true identity is not something I can disclose to you, but…I have been observing you. Observing how you represent the eternal concept of justice and truth. You, my friend, are in danger of being judged…in a most unfavorable fashion.”

”Bah.” Bear scowled dismissively. “You don’t know me that well. I do my job.”

”Yes…” True said sadly, her eyes slowly migrating closed once again. “You do your job in a heavy-handed fashion, with no mercy or concern for the weak. True justice must take these things into account…and mercy and concern are most manifest now, at Christmastime. Now is the time where allotments must be made for the unfortunate.”

”And you?” Bear suddenly snarled at the girl. “You are a prosecutor; you put people in jail every day. Murderers, thieves, rapists – are you saying you make allotments for them?”

”I see many people every day who are judged before their time.” Truefeather replied sadly. “People whose lives have been so full of biting hatred that it overflows from their spirits and tempers their deeds. People who, if a little mercy had been shown them, would never have found themselves in their position.”

”Tch.” Bear snorted. “That’s their problem. I just put them away.”

”You are in grave danger of being judged the same way, my friend.” Truefeather murmured, her enigmatic smile growing weary and concerned as she regarded Bear. “And as you are dear to many in this place, I would not wish to see this fate befall you.”

An image began to melt into view around her, of many men, their eyes staring forward unseeing. Their groans seemed to fill the small apartment, and Bear felt the hairs on the back of his neck prickle despite himself.

”These men have all been judged unfavorably and have been sent to the underworld by fault of their overarching hatred.” True continued sadly. “At first many of them had good intentions, but their misanthropy and bitterness soon swallowed this and turned it into a simple lust for violence and personal justice…which is not true justice at all. They had no mercy shown them, and in turn no mercy was shown to others. Those who are at fault for their fall suffer an even worse fate…”

Bear was relatively speechless as he regarded the specters. “…What are you saying? That I’m damned?”

”If your path does not stray from its current course, your hatred will send you to a deeper hell than I can show you.” Truefeather responded. “Those who consider you a friend are concerned for you, and it is on their behalf that I come to you tonight…to show you the error of your ways and give you a chance to correct them. Your hatred is forming a heavy chain about your neck… and I, as well as your friends, do not wish to see you pulled into the abyss by it.”

As if on cue, Bear could feel a choking sensation about his neck – he could almost feel a huge shackle forming about it and sinking him farther into his chair. He swallowed uneasily, regarding True.

”A man who will not look to the poor and needy at Christmas…” True said, shaking her head, “…has very little hope of a favorable judgement. Now do listen, please, as my time is nearly gone.”

”…Get to the point.” Bear muttered, regarding her with as hard a glare he could muster.

”You will be visited tonight by three beings.”

”I think I’ve had enough company tonight.”

”Without their help, you cannot hope for a favorable end.”

Truefeather’s form began to fade, and the specters around seemed to reach for her as though begging, begging once again for her to take a look at their lives and give them the slightest comfort.

”You may expect the first visitor at precisely one o’clock.” Truefeather’s voice echoed through the room.

With that, the room was empty and silent once again, the sound of static on the television the only indication that anything had happened.

”…[censored] this.” Bear muttered, slightly shaken, as he stood to go to bed. “Knew I shouldn’t have made a sandwich so late at night.”

Zealstorm instantly straightened, her face hard.

Now that someone knew where she was, she could not afford to show weakness. No; not now, even in the most tender of seasons.

"Topaz." her voice returned icily over the comm. "So good to hear from you. And what exactly are you doing in this area?"

-----------------------------------------------------------

Lyden would soon observe another partygoer approaching the small house in Siren's Call - long, straight black hair rippling down between her shoulderblades and a warm coat, cute fuzzy boots, a muffler and earmuffs protecting her against the cold.

Just before she reached the door, she paused...and turned.

Towards Lyden.

"Why, aren't you cold?" the young woman called up. Her voice was soft and calm, but amazingly Lyden could hear her perfectly. "Do come down from there and join us, won't you? The party promises to be...most diverting."

Truefeather held her hand up towards Lyden where he sat on his rooftop, more symbolically than anything else, regarding him with her inscrutable gaze and enigmatic smile.

Oooh, a Laz story!

*Gets popcorn, gets ready for some good tellin'*

OK, PMs for the major parts have been sent out.

I am still trying to decide on someone for one of the major parts...must...work out story...in brain...

But if you didn't get a PM, don't despair. I'll try to include at least one character from everyone who posted a permission in this thread. I want to include everyone. XD

Again, this is still open as I will need people for minor speaking roles here and there, so if you haven't posted permission and suddenly feel the urge to, now's the time. :3

"Big Bear!" Rosie yelled out, happily wagging at the sight of the Wyvern agent. "Good to see you!!"

She was instantly distracted, though, by the tumbling of Anna and Cobalt into the middle of the room through the fireplace. She stopped, and stared at them, before her tail slowly began to wag again.

"Holy crap..." she said, "That was the COOLEST THING EVER!!"

Kneeling down to help them up, she grinned widely. "Come on and join the party! Grab some refreshments or something. We're gonna have a dance in the basement later, so better stock up on energy now."

Glancing over her shoulder, she saw that Acid had entered, and grinned, giving him a quick nod. Rosie knew how far he had to travel...and it meant a lot that he'd made it.

------------------------------------------------------------

"Kyaaaaaaaaaaaaaah!!" Essex squeaked in surprise and alarm as Rulaag popped up and surprised them. Her feet quickly swept out from under her on the ice and deposited her quite neatly on her bottom.

"Oh, h-hello, sir." she mused a little, looking up at him with a sheepish grin. "Merry Christmas! Will you be caroling with us?"

Glancing over at John and Jenny, she smiled again. "Doesn't anyone have a suggestion for the next song we should sing?"

-------------------------------------------------------------

Deep below, in a solitary lab, a single figure sat with her head in her hands. Her eyes were level but narrow as she stared down at the desk in the darkness.

"...Another year." Zealstorm muttered. "Mein Gott...what a waste."

"Dunno, but man, if Dramabot IS coming then I freakin' quit." came Rosalind's voice as she sauntered up to the group. "Sup Ghoulie. Sup Schizo and Pedoboy, Gunbot '06, Reverend Moon. Who's the loud kid, the kung-fu chick, and the biker dude?" she asked, missing Kairaishi for the moment.

As Rosie approached, she drew close to Ghoul, knocking knuckles against his broad forearm, and examining her claws. "This seems like there might be some pretty good smashing going down."

"Golly, I hope not..." Essex's voice quietly piped up as she skimmed up to the group. She was wearing her power armor, an overprotective measure to be sure, the armor glowing brightly with energy. The double-shielded helmet was tucked under her arm as she approached.

"Hello everyone." she said, drawing near to Hal and Solid and away from Schizophrenias. "Gosh...there are a lot of people here already..."

Hallucinogen's radiation began to pick up another presence, just slightly before it faded into view.

"Ja...but I am glad to see that you, at least, are here...liebchen."

Zealstorm sneered down at Essex rather threateningly from where she sat, legs crossed, on a ledge overlooking the group. Her eyes were narrowed and a malicious grin was spread over her face as she eyed the smaller android.

"This ...will be fun."

[EDIT: Missed Term's post. *facepalm*]

Hi all.

So I've got a Christmas project bouncing around in my head, that I kind of want to do for a lot of people on the forum. Originally I wanted to make it a comic, but I know myself, and it's a daunting project - So likely I wouldn't finish it.

Therefore, I'm thinking of doing it in the form of a story, with an illustration every chapter or so, like a storybook sort of thing.

The only question I have is this. I would like this to be something for everyone, something they can see their own characters in. I will not be claiming intellectual property rights on anything and this is purely for our amusement as friends.

I will be sending PMs to people whose characters I wish to put in main roles to make sure everything is all right, but I would also ask that anyone who would like to give permission for their characters (any specific ones or just a general statement) to be used to post here. I'll need people to fill secondary roles and make appearances. Just let me know.

I will NOT use a character without your permission.

If permission is granted in this thread, I will NOT use it for anything besides the project itself.

If you do give permission and want your dialogue checked, I would be happy to send it to you for proofreading before public posting upon request.

Just want to make sure my bases are covered here.