Wynterfyre

Yeah, this is Small Arms, and all I've got to say is directed to the Clockwork King..

*clears throat*

WILL YOU PLEASE TELL THAT WALKING SCRAP PILE BABBAGE TO STOP, I REPEAT, STOP LOOKING IN MY WAREHOUSE WHILE I'M WORKING MY 'MONSTER GARAGE' FAN ENTRY'?

*clears throat again*

Look, King, that...son of yours keeps playin' Peepin' Tom when I'm in my warehouse in Skyway. I mention once while teamed up fightin' him that I'm workin' on my 'girl' at the garage. Heck, it was because we had an easy enough time takin' 'Junior' down for a spankin', so I was shootin' the breeeze with some of the team.

Now, every night I find his ugly mug hoverin' over the upper windows with this puppy dog look in his eyes...sensors...whatever. I swear, he keeps lookin' at the truck I've been workin' on like it was some kind of long-lost love.

I've managed to shoo him away several times now, but so help me Di Vinci, if that boy of yours doesn't stay away from my girl, I'm gonna shoot first and not bother askin' questions later.

*silence on the end for several moments*

Better yet, I'll take him out, and use the spare parts for my truck. Heh. How would you like that, King? Your boy bein' turned into a girl? The macho Clock King suddenly finds his 'son' is now a daughter. And without goin' to Sweden.

Oh, and while we're at it, if any of you see Countess Crey, tell that *censored* that Armstrong Armaments is NOT for sale, no matter how many times she tries to get on the Board of Directors. I might be a grease monkey, but I'm a grease monkey with a business Masters from Harvard.

Any way, look forward to kickin' yer keisters again in the future.

(OOC: Guys, I hate to do this, but I need to pull out of this, at least right now. Work's a nightmare timesink right now, and I'm barely keeping up with that. I hope to come back sometime in early or mid-October. Keep Small Arms around for comic relief if need be, just don't kill him off

Thanks for the fun, and I'll be back as soon as I can.)

(OOC: I'm going to have to hold off for a couple of days. I'm swamped at work and over the weekend I'm supposed to help a couple of friends move, presuming that the remain of Ivan don't put a kabosh on that. I'll try to read, but being able to post is going to be difficult. Ghost Small Arms and Terrie as needed. I'll try to read at home...between naps. )

"Terrie, you there?"

The initial response was a lud yawn that come over the radio, followed by "Sorry, boss."

"Quite all right, girl. Hell, I'd love to be asleep myself right now."

"You'd think after all this time, I'd have gotten use these hours you've been keeping."

"Terrie, I've been working in the lab on some concept or another at all kinds of odd hours years before I ever hired you. Why should I expect you to get used to my quirky schedule off the job in only a few months?"

"Well, I came to use about helping, not the other way around. I don't know what kind of help I am if I fall asleep on the job...either one."

"You know, if you don't think you're up to this, darlin', go ahead and get some sleep," Small Arms said gently.

"Oh no, you don't!" Terrie's voice was slightly raised in indignation. "You need me, Remington, and you know it. I'm not about to let you go out there and risk your life and not do my damnest to make sure you got back okay." Small Arms winced as he realized that as tired as she might have been Terrie still had her fires well lit, when it came to helping him. He just wished that she had a quieter way to show it.

"Geez, I'm sorry, okay?"

"Yeah, and don't you forget it. Now, you called me for a reason, other than to hear my remind you why you need me?"

"Actually, it's because we will need you. I want to you contact Emily Brown over at MacBeth Technologies. She's your counterpart to Conner MacBeth, and the person who had the information on the variation on the 'Dine that's appeared. Give her whatever information she might need and see about trying to get what you might need. If we're going to have to fight at least 2 factions, maybe more, I want our info as close to up to date and complete as possible. We've got too many lives, both hero and civie, on the line."

"Right." She sobered up almost instantly, a trait which Small Arms had to admire; there were morning where he couldn't do that before his third or fourth cup of black coffee. "I'll keep this frequency open, and see about trying to keep a second open on with her. Shouldn't be worse than the average confrence call at the board meetings."

"Yeah, except this time I've got more incentive to actually stay awake."

As the bears cappered around, sending heavy thuds on the ground which Small Arms could feel through his armored boots, he took a moment to try to absorb everything. For all of his relatively brief career as a costumed hero, Remington Armstrong had seen much in the way of oddities. Cyborg [censored]-wannbes. Alien warriors. Ninjas. Robed wizards.

Still, the image of the two housebroken (or house-breaking, depending out point of view) ursine goliaths scampering around their beloved master had to be the most unusual sight of them alll. Maybe it was simply that they seemed almost...normal, in an abnormal way, that prompted his view of the absurd.

As they made their way to the truck, Small Arms approached Erik. However, once he realized that he was likely to get stepped on if he stayed on the ground, Small Arms took to the air, flying beside the doctor like a hirsute tinkerbell (an image that he would likely shoot someone for, if they mentioned it out loud).

"Listen, Doc. While we were at the meeting, I manage to rig a tracker out of the radio that GG gave Harris. It's not perfect, but it'll give us a pretty good indication when she's close."

He looked at the two bears as they moved into the back of the truck. "I know they're likely good trackers, but in the sewers, scents can come from any direction, or be covered up completely. Harris has the tracker now, and I think in combination, we'll find everyone. But I wanted you to know, especially if...something happens to me or Harris."

He looked at the two bears as the back of the truck was secured. He gave a hearty laugh as he turned back to the doctor. "You know, if I had enough time, I could probably rig weapons platforms for those two. They're named for the sons of Thor, Norse god of Thunder, right? Heh! I could guarantee that they's make some real thunder with the stuff I give 'em!"

With a salute, Small Arms flew back to his own limo. After giving a series of gentle slaps to wake up his driver, who had apparently fainted after seeing the two ursines, Small Arms got in the limo, and the driver, still visably shaken from his realtively close encounter with tamed nature, started the vehicle and awaited the signal to head out.

Small Arms turned to see two massive towers of fur and muscle. These were the being that had created an artificial night in the darkeness. And both were looking at him, as they would look at a salmon swimming upstream.

Small Arms doubted he would have enough time to put out his rifle before they shreded him.

[ QUOTE ]
Crystal came out of the truck. The first thing she did - apart from raising a hand in greeting to Erik - was call, in a high, sing-song voice, "Where's a beeeeaaaaarrrrrrrr?"

Both bears whirled and immediately went for her.

[/ QUOTE ]

"No, lass!" he cried despirately. "Don't..."

[ QUOTE ]
The bears came galumphing across the yard like dogs anxious to see their owner. One of them jumped a little, putting its paws on her shoulders: Crystal, of course, had no chance of staying vertical. Once she was down, both bears moved in, anxious to lick her face and press their noses in her pockets, looking for treats.

"Hey! Ha ha ha ha ha ha! Cut it out guys! Tee hee! Eek! No no! Ha ha ha ha ha ha ha! I don't have any marshmellows! Ha ha ha ha! NO marshmellows.... Uh-oh, someone smells granola... ha ha ha ha... OK come on, lemme up - lemme up, go on - "

After a thorough licking both bears backed off.

[/ QUOTE ]

"Oh for the love of..." he muttered sorely.

[ QUOTE ]
"Good bear! Good bear!" She opened up the package of granola bars, something clearly exciting to the bears, though they didn't move. "OK, sit - sit - " She balanced a bar on Modi's nose, and the other on Magni's nose. "Sit - " She stood well back. "OK, SNATCH!" She called, and laughed as both bears jumped up at the same time, causing the bars to sail into the air, and then biting them with gigantic teeth, devouring them whole. Crystal laughed and clapped her hands. "Good bears! Good bears!"

Magni came to Crystal and butted against her with his head, then rolled over on his back. She fell to her knees at once. "Who needs their tummy rubbed? YOU need your tummy rubbed! Yes you do-"

[/ QUOTE ]

"Great! I was nearly ripped a new one by some damn teddy bears. At least, with right handler, they are." He suspected some of his reaction was from the hammering of his heatrt which had finally just started to settle down. However, he admitted to himself (and would not admit it to someone else) that some of his anger was from a case of 'male pride injury syndrome'. He had expected to be the rescuer and not the one needing rescue. And sure as hell not from a girl about have his age from two bears that look like they had been given nothing but steroids since birth. Remington had no real problem being resuced, be it by a man or woman, as needed. It went with the job of being a superhero; sometimes, you just got in over your head.

But this? This was downright humiliating.

[ QUOTE ]
She loved on each of the bears, scratching their tummies and rubbing their ears as they nuzzled her. "OK, guys, heel," she said to the bears, and the both lined up as if it was the most natural thing in the world, and followed as she went to talk to Dr. Sanstad.


[/ QUOTE ]

"Great. The two trained guard bears are nothin' more than Yogi and Boo-Boo on stilts," he muttered through gritted teeth. "This day just keeps gettin' better, every bloody second." Arms tightly to his side, the diminuative hero marched into the house, following the wisp of a girl and her two domesticated killer bears.

Suddenly, Small Arms got a brief, vindictive (and petty, as he knew) smile as he thought about something. "Housebreakin' them must have been a nightmare." Feeling better, at least briefly, he gave a low, jaunty whistle as entered the house, looking to finally reunite with its owner.

(I swear, you all are some seriously early risers or insomniacs! )

By the time, Remington made it to the car, he was removed everything but his pants. And that only reason he had left those on was he would have tripped while running, trying to take them off.
Normally, he would have been much more concerned with his modsety. Despite his height, he had the over all physique of man a decade younger. He trained physically everyday and practiced a bit of yoga on the side. He was not a true brawler, but again any average joe, he was likely to come out on top. Rarely, though, did he ever fight an average joe, anymore.

However, with several innocent lives on the line, he could not worry about his modesty. Besides, the driver would not be able to see him change once the limo's privacy screen was raised.

The driver already had the door to the back open and the engine running when elevator doors opened to the outside. In fact, the driver had pulled the vehcile so close, Remington dove from the elevator entrance into the limo. The door was closed by the time Remington had landed on the seat. By the time he had removed his pants, the limo was speeding away.

~You know, I've really got to perfect that insta-change device I've been workin' on~, he thought as he struggled to get his battlesuit on. ~This duckin' in the limo bunk is for the bird.~

The driver, true to his orders, did not stop for a single stop light. Thankfully, the streets were all but empty. The wee hours of the morning had seen to their vacancy. Still, Small Arms found himself being tossed occassionally as the driver hit a hard turn or shifted lanes, barreling past another vehicle.

Nevertheless, by the time they had arrived at the given address, Small Arms was armed and presentable.

The driver started to get out to let his employer out, but Small Arms flipped the handle to the door and kicked it open. Rifle over his shoulder, he jumped out and took in the level of destruction to the household.

"Dear Lord..." Small Arms shook his head to clear it. Homes could be repaired and possessions bought again. However, lives could not be replaced. "Dr. Sanstad!" he called out. "It's Small Arms, the guy you met with Harris in the sewers!" He turned to look at the driver, who shrugged at the lack of response.

A brief period of heavy thumps, almost like something galloping, sounded behind him. Small Arms saw his driver blanche and pointed behind his employer. Whatever he was seeing had terrified the man.

Though it was still a few hours from sunrise, it suddenly got darker around him. He was in the shadow of something...no somethings that were much taller than himself. Much taller than the average human. And if the growling he was hearing before he turned around was any indication, much less human...

(OOC: Sorry, Pal. I figured if you could take a little liberty witn one of my NPCs I could do the same with one of yours. Besides, the image was just too grand to let slip by. )

[ QUOTE ]
"I'm on it." Harris put his hand over the phone. "Dr Sanstad needs picking up and he said bring a truck, a big one. Needs to hold 8 to 10 tons. Drive it down to 1515 South Claredon in Atlas Park and quick. We are wasting time."

[/ QUOTE ]

Remington reached into a a pants pocket and retreived a cel phone of his own. After hitting a single button, he got a nearly instantenous answer. "Get the engine runnin'. We'll be down in less than a minute," he told his driver gruffly. "We need to head to 1515 South Claredon, Atlas Park. And don't bother with the red lights." There was a brief response on the other end, which caused his bushy eyebrows to knit together angrily. "Screw it, if he cops wanna ticket up for runnin' the red, let 'em follow us. Probably for the better anyway. Just try not to hit anyone on the sidewalks." He did not bother to wait for a response this time, and turned the phone off.

[ QUOTE ]
"I wish you had told me you were going to take this thing apart before you did. Now we will never know what is happening to her"

[/ QUOTE ]

"Sorry, given the time and equipment I had with me, I don't think there was much else I could do. But it'll say us a lot of time looking in the wrong directions."

Remington grabbed the mini-comp and toolkit, stuffed the latter in the breast pocket and cradled the former in both hands. He headed for the door, not bothering to see if Harris followed him. Knowing that he would have to change in the limo, he was glad that he had practiced quick changes into his costume from street clothes. By the time he reached the elevator back down, he was already begining to unbutton his shirt.

(( Bah! I did that intentionally, figuring that someone might pick up on a similar idea. )

Remington narrowed his eyes dangerously. The man might have learn a few lessons, but minding his manners was not one of them.

Remington took the heasdset, moved over to a table in the room and jumped up into one of the chairs. Settling himself, he placed the headset, mini-comp and toolkit on the table, then began to examine the headset.

"Oooo, if she built this, she's good," Remington quietly cooed. "Almost a shame to take it apart."

But, admiration for another engineer aside, he did start disassmbling part of it. His intention was simple: he wanted to turn the radio from a receiver/transmitter of audio into a tracker that worked by using a pulsating transmission. The problem would be that it wouldn't receive any audio transmissions, nor could it actualy send any. However, when slaved to his mini-comp, and that slaved to the electronics in his suit, the coordinates would be narrowed to within a hundred yards on the surface, and probably less underground. If he had more time and better equipment, he would probably have been able to narrow the location down even more, but given the alternative of wandering aimlessly in the sewers, it was better than nothing.

Nevertheless, it took a little longer than he expected to get it started. He was forced to jury-rig a few connections, since it was not immediately compatible with his own equipment.

And that lead to the problem that he encounter.

He called over to Harris, who seemed to be still in conversation on his phone. "Well, the good news is that it works, from what I can tell. I'm getting a signal, though the strength varies at times. Might be the distance or the fact that she definately underground somewhere. I can't be sure right now. And it is definately showing a constant location. Wherever she is, she's not moving.

"Now for the bad news. First, I can't tell from the signal whether...whether's she still alive or not." He swallowed hard before continuing. "To do this, I had to eliminate the ability to get or transmit and voices on either end. And if she's still alive, all she'll get right now is an intermittant static pulse. To her, it'll sound like the radio's gone dead. The only advantage to that is if anyone else finds her radio, it'll seem as if she's not getting any kind of signal.

Also, because my technology is not the same as whoever designed the headset, there's a good possibility that we could lose the signal at any time. I did my best with what I had, but without more time to look at the schematics of the radio, I can't say how long it'll hold out."

He sighed deeply closing his eyes for a moment. "And that brings me to the last problem. To make sure that the signal stays constant, someone basically has to manually hold down the send button. I know it's voice-activated, but there's also a manual override built-in, just above the mike. I'd tape it, but I don't trust tape to hold up in sewer. The button can be let go for brief periods, maybe ten seconds or so, but any longer, and the chance of losing the signal rises."

He held out the headset to Harris, his thumb over the button he mentioned and a deadly serious look on his bearded visage. "You'll have to hold it, Harris. I wouldn't be able to fight effectively having to hold the button down constantly. Same with Dr. Sanstad, when he gets here. As of this moment, you get to be her lifeline to us."

[ QUOTE ]
"I do." He took it out of his pocket and held it out. "But we already know where that base is. We just have to back track the way we escaped."


[/ QUOTE ]

"Heh, leave that to me." He opened his jacket and pulled out a small tool kit. " 'Never leave home without it'", he said, deadpan. But a smille was almost immediately back on his lips.

"I'm going to use her radio as a reverse tracker, like I had intended to do in the sewers before out two playmates went ballastic. And now, with this mini-comp, I can use it's map to pinpoint it's location."

He extended a hand, waiting for Harris to hand it over. "Come on, boy! Time's a wastin'!"

"We've got hundreds of miles of sewers in this city, and that just counting the areas that can normally be accessed." Small Arms pulled out a small pocket computer he had been carrying in the breast pocket of his suit. Opening it up, he used the built-in stylus to bring up a map of the sewer system he had begun to compileearly in his costumed career. "But I seriously doubt that they'd put a base for something like this in an easily accessible area. All it would take is one hero coming through on another mission and the jig's up."

He zoomed in an out of various areas, shaking his head occassionally as he discarded ideas. After nearly a minute, he sighed. "We need some way to narrow it down by a hell of a lot." He closed eyes, trying to think. Then, suddenly they shot open. "Hey, Harris, you still got that radio that GG gave you?"

Remington stroked his long beard thoughtfully as he listened to Emily's theory. He turned it over in his mind before he spoke, looking for flaws. "It makes sense," he said finally." Or at least as much sense as you can get from tryin' to understand that bag of nuts."

He was silent for a few seconds more before continuing. "All right, so we've got a whole bunch of factions involved so far, some voluntarily, some not. Given that only a 40% chance of successful mutation- as in it doesn't kill the user outright- exists, normally it would make sense that the Vaz would have no problem kinapping potential victims to test the stuff out. After all, when the Doc was tryin' to conquer death, it's not like he was above taking people off the streets to experiment on. Nor is particularly picky about what he does to them, as long as it furthers his research.

"As for the Lost, they've taken homeless individuals off the street; people who, for the most part, no one would likely miss anyway. And they've been mutated by...something down in the sewers, from everything we know. The Rkiti definately have been known to be down there, and they're suspected to be involved in some way.

"You know, I'm beginin' to wonder about something. What if the Rikti developed this to some extent and the secret got out somehow, be it to Dr. Vahzilok's people or the Lost? Everyone gains something out of an arrangement like that. The Lost and Vaz get new and more powerful members. The Skulls and Hellions get more superpowered footsoldiers, even if it might cut into their ranks. And, as for the Rikti..."

Remington turned and faced everyone, scanning their faces. "With the large number of heroes that have been poppin' up since their invasion got put down, the Rikti get the one thing that they need more than anything else.

"Shocktroops, who can take us on, possibly weaken our forces and, in the long run, leave us damned vulnerable to what forces that they have remaining."

He shook his head sadly. "The others do all the work, make all the sacrifices, and they can get ready to march in when the time is right. Damn, this is not lookin' good."

Remington groaned mentally, as the individual named Jack berated Harris for his apparent dislike of mutants. As much as he hated Harris' tactics and certainly his opinions, this was not the time or place to air grievances. Thankfully, someone came to his rescue, at least in reining in Jack. Otherwise, the kid was likely to get a beat down. Even with his weapons, Small Arms was quite capable of defending himself. And he had learned quite a bit about fighting dirty when training as a youth.

Nevertheless, all that smacking the kid down would do is create more chaos than they needed right now. And given the chastised look on Harris' face, it might have done some good after all.

As things began to settle, the woman named Emily began to relate what they knew so far about what he had come to consider a new type of Superadine. However, according to the report Emily gave, it was not really 'new' at all. He went over the original formula as he remembered it in his head. It would take a hell of a lot of manipulation to change the drug but still keep the 'superpower' effects.

Or did it?

[ QUOTE ]
The Vahzilok have recently conducted a series of uncharacteristic raids, as follows: approximately six weeks ago, there was a successful Vahzilok raid on Terra Volta. A quantity of reactor-grade nuclear material is now known to be missing. From the quantity and type stolen, it is not believed to be suitable for traditional nuclear weapons. In addition, within the past forty-eight hours, the Vahzilok have made additional raids. One was to the home of Dr. Erik Sanstad. No one knows what happened, but Enid and Cassie Sanstad are now listed as missing, and their home is currently being treated as a crime scene. Another, that you apparantly are already aware of, was on a hospital, where a comatose woman named Amy Harris was removed. Apparantly great care was taken in the raid not to harm her at the time. A third was to the university where Dr. Sanstad works as a professor. Though there were no deaths, a bunch of students were taken hostage and later freed. Two additional people, Daniel Roberts and Sarah Emmerson, have been added to the missing persons list as a result of that raid.

Emily sat down. "According to my reports, Dr. Sanstad is an expert on nuclear radiation, and is supposed to be extremely fond of his family. Our current theory is that they may have been taken to compel his cooperation in something that the Vahzilok want him to do. The question is what."


[/ QUOTE ]

Something about the radiation and the original formula seemed to click in his mind. He could not place it immediately, but it tugged at him just beneath the surface, like an itch one could not scratch. And it was just as annoying.

[ QUOTE ]
She looked around. "Does anyone have any additional information they would like to lay on the table that will fill out our bare-bones analysis?"


[/ QUOTE ]

"I can tell you what got me started on this," Remington began, frowning in frustration at the thought that he could not seem to access. "A few weeks ago, I got a call from Laurance Manfield, a coroner over at Altas Park. I don't patrol there as much as I used to, but he knows that I like to keep a eye on what goes on there in general. And he came across something that caught his attention.

"Every now and then, he come across the body of a Hellion who's OD'ed on whatever designer drug is out that week. But this time, he was brought the body of a Hellion. Or more correctly, what was left of one that could only be indentified by the tatoos they use. It had been grotesquely mutated, bones and muscles grown rapidly out of proportion. I won't describe the rest, for those with delicate sensibilities." He could not supress a shudder than briefly ran threw him.

"He suspected Superadine, given the results that he had seen in several Trolls and Outcasts that had been brought to him in the past. But the body literally fell apart into a dust before he could so much as get a tissue sample. A few more showed up the same night as the first, while I was there, again, all Hellions. And each one probably more mutated than the last. And he did get a sample off at least one, but at that point, I figured that I knew enough to figure I had seen a bad batch of Superadine in action.

"I spent about a week looking for some of my old Hellion 'buddies', and finally got some success this past evening. One, after suitable persausion, 'fessed up what he knew. Basically, the stuff hit the streets about the same night the first load of deaths from it began. No one's laying claim to being the creators of it, but the stuff's addictive. And, unlike before with the regular stuff, even those in the Skulls and Hellions who normally never touched the stuff are taking it now.

"And now you tell me that the stuff's designed to mutate it's user, granting them powers. But it's unstable."

There was one more piece of the puzzle left that he needed, but he couldn't quite get it made out of what he had just said. He shrugged and went on. "Any way, while I'm speaking with my 'friend', two partycrashers literally bust out of the street not far away. And both were from groups I'd never seen together before. One was a Headman Swordsman from the Lost and the other was an Abomination from Vahzilok's little social group. And the latter was the biggest of its kind I had ever seen. The Swordsman was larger than usual as well, and both seemed damn near invulnerable. I'm guessing they must have taken some of this stuff." It was nearly there. He could feel the answer.

"They were beating the stuffing out of each other, ignoring me at first. Well, after getting my contact and a few other...unexpected guests out of the line of fire, I helped them take their battle back underground. That's when Harris here, along with this Dr. Sanstad and another heroine by the name of Girl Genius made a rather spectacular entrance. The Doctor was seriously injured, and Harris was in shape to handle these kind of thugs. Unfortunately, we were forced to leave the lady behind. It sounds like she was captured by more of Vahzilok's goon squad."

Then it finally came to him, what had been eating at his mind the entire time.

"You know, it's interesting. If those two gonzos fought had taken that new drug, they didn't seem effected badly by it. If anythiing, they were a lot more powerful than their usual types. Yet the Hellions and, presumably, Skulls taking it seem to be dying more often from it. You know, I don't think the genetic structure it works on is the only thing that it loose here. Both the Lost and Vaz are already mutated in some way, yet a normal person seems more likely to die from it.

"And radiation is a known cause of mutation in most living things. The Vaz kidnap several individuals, including the wife of a doctor specializing in radiation. And the attack on the university...

"Folks, I think we've been looking at this the wrong way. We've been presuming that these attacks seemed oddly random. But with the pieces now, I think I can guess at what at least the Vaz might want. Stability. If they're the ones responsible for this drug, a drug that seems to work well enough on them, but doesn't interact as well in a human, what if they wanted something as a catalyst to make the structure into something that stays stable in a user, rather than destroying their bodies? And, if they could coerce a specialist like Sanstad to work for them, they might just get it."

[ QUOTE ]
[ QUOTE ]
Jack dropped down into one of the chairs around the table. There was something about the man with the Remington man that Jack recognized, maybe from TV.

[/ QUOTE ]

Connor raised his eyebrow at the sight of Steven Harris. "I have to assume that you brought him here for a reason, Mr. Armstrong. If you must be at this meeting, I will have to request that you turn out all your pockets and show that you have no hidden microphones on you. I need to be sure that this all remains off the record."

[/ QUOTE ]


Remington narrowed his eyes. His frown, though, was lost in his long beard. "I brought him," he drawled, "because he was a witness to some activity this evening which might have some bearing on this new Superadine." All pretense of being a down-home, easy-talking 'trigger happy midget' had vanished. The boardroom mask, the visage he used when dealing with those who weren't either villianous punching bags or were members of the wider buisness community where sounding like he came from Kings Row would not be appriciated.

"If it will make you feel any better, I'll even empty my own pockets." He did so, though he had not had much to put in there, given he had only put the suit on in a rush. He stood there, pockets turned inside out on a suit that was worth several thousand dollars, even before considering the extensive modifications for his height and girth.

Looking like a wealthy panhandler, Remington said brusquely "I hope that meets your satisfaction, because right now, I've got one man back at my medical center that nearly died this evening trying to save this man, and another young lady that we"- he pointed to Harris- "intend to save because she's nearly sacrificed herself to the zombies trying to save him. And my patience is about equal to my stature right now"

(OOC: Sorry if he comes across a bit snippy here, but considering what he's been through, his temperment seemed to fit. No insults were intended. )

(OOC: Sorry about not posting over the long weekend. My girlfriend was out of town and this was the best weekend for me to get some stuff done around the house, as well as some looong playtime on CoH. This post is to get Harris, Small Arms and Erik to the medical facility that Small Arms uses, and to get the first two to the meeting at MacBeth.)

(OOC Part 2: My posting may slow down a bit in for this month and early next month. I order for the Federal Government, and this is the end of the fiscal year, where all your tax dollars go to waste…I mean, we use up the rest of our budget. I usually post from work [I did say your tax dollars going to waste, right?], but the number of orders I do usually skyrockets in Sept and early October [the latter because everyone tries to order things they couldn’t fit in the previous fiscal year], so I might only get the chance to post early in the morning or when I get home. You’ve had your warning… )

The limo moved rapidly but smoothly through the streets of Paragon City. Though Remington normally was driven places as the CEO of Armstrong Armaments- though he did drive a car with a few modifications for his height- it sometimes became necessary for him to be picked up. If it was just his suit’s flight capabilities having been damaged, he would normally just find his way to the nearest train station, and work his way back to his office/condo. However, if he was severely injured, or his hospital recall tag was damaged, he often would call for a pick-up. And on occasion, even after exiting the hospitals around the City, he was in no real shape to fly, so he would call for a ride.

This time, however, it was someone else who was in need of the ‘limo ambulance’, as he jokingly called it. The back of the vehicle had cushioned bench seats that faced each other, much like any other high-priced limousine, but in addition to the mini-wet bar, there was also added a section for treating injures that Small Arms often incurred.

Dr. Mari Morgan was one of Paragon City’s top surgeons, but she also had degrees in engineering and physics. After the Rikti invasion, she had found her medical skills pressed to their utmost limit, trying to save the savaged bodies of both civilians and superheroes alike. Far too often, however, most that came to her were too far gone to save. Even with those that she had been capable of saving, many were so hurt that she had stopped counting the number of limbs she had removed when she hit one hundred.

“That was the point at which she gave me a call,” Remington was telling Harris as she continued her triage on the other hero. “She wanted to make a difference. Not just by saving lives, but by helping to prevent those injuries to begin with. Her specialty in physics was superheated gas or plasma…”

“Yeah, I just can’t seem to get away from that term,” Morgan interrupted, smiling slightly, though she never looked away from her unconscious patient.

Remington snorted. “Anyway, she wanted help in designin’ a costume and weapons that would utilize plasma. She had the engineering knowledge, but not the practical experience in buildin’ that kind of thing. She knew I was one of the leadin’ weapons and defense contractors on the coast, as well as playin’ hero myself.”
“So we worked out a deal. He would help design the weapons and equipment I needed…”

“While she would provide me private medical help, when necessary. I even sweetened the pot by fundin’ a state-of-the-art medical facility for low-income residents. However, there is a nice little area set aside for me, so she can treat me when necessary.” He chuckled lightly. “I might be a gun nut, Harris, but I can still be a nice guy.”

__________________________________________________ _

The rest of the trip was past in general silence, as everyone stayed immersed in their own thoughts, or in Mari’s case, treated Erik’s injuries. Despite the chaos that the three men had encountered only a short while ago, the streets above ground seemed surprisingly placid. The occasional hero or heroine was visible, going about their own personal patrols. But overall, it seemed to be a more subdued night for Paragon City.

The facility was in the area known as Kings Row. Though much of the area had become a rundown manufacturing district over the last couple of decades, there were some signs that the City was trying to revive the area. The most recent of which was the Karen Armstrong Memorial Medical Center. Though not as large as the district’s local hospital, Crowne Memorial, it was still capable of handling a sizable number of patients. In addition, where Crowne had been refurbished recently to treat the heroes who protected Paragon, The Karen Armstrong Memorial Medical Center- named after Remington’s late mother- treated the people of Kings Row almost exclusively.

Almost exclusively…

Several orderlies came to take the injured hero away, and Mari went with them, after giving assurances that she would have him up and running in short order. However, another young woman approached as they left. Just over five feet tall, Terrie Porter was taller than her boss and younger by nearly two decades. Slung over her shoulders was a garment bag, which caught his attention. Given the later hour, he was not expecting any business meetings that he needed to attend.

“Was that him?” she asked in a low voice, as she approached the two remaining men.

“Yep. Damn shame, though. Fought like a man possessed when we had to escape. So did Harris here.” He stuck a thumb in the reporter’s direction.

When Terrie recognized the man, her eyes narrowed dangerously. Though she was more akin to a daughter in age to her employer, her defense of him was almost motherly in its extent. She looked up a Harris, a defiant gleam in her green eyes. ‘You hurt him, I hurt you’ seemed to be the implied message. If Harris was smart, Terrie figured he would figure it out. If he was not that smart…

Remington restrained the smile that threatened to break loose at the sight. He had seen Terrie at work on the phone, blocking Harris’ attempts at getting interviews and was the one that gleefully called security when, after all but barging into Remington’s office, the smaller man tossed Harris out. She did not bother to hide her dislike of the man, and though Remington doubted that he was cowed by the display, he was certain Harris would have doubts about trying to pull another stunt like that again.

“Peace, darlin’. For now, he and I are on the same side.” He put a hand lightly on one of Terrie’s arms. Firm enough to let her know he was serious, but gentle enough to remind her that he understood why she was doing this. “And what’s with the monkey suit container?” he asked, pointing to the garment bag.

With one last look of defiance, she looked down toward at her boss. “There’s been a call for you to attend a meeting and I think you’d better go.”

“What? Now? We’ve gotta start makin’ plans to rescue Girl Genius.”

“I think this and her situation might be involved. There was a call from earlier, while you were dealing with the tailgaters you had.” She shot Harris an annoyed look, but left it at that. “MacBeth Technologies called. They said they need to speak with you about that little…project you’ve been researching.”

“Terrie, for the love of Mike, just act as if you can tolerate Harris for now. Like it or not, he’s involved in that little project, even if it was the hard way.” His personal secretary’s attitude toward Harris was wearing on Remington’s nerves, even if normally he would very much appreciate the level of interference.

Terrie took the mild admonishment seriously and nodded to Harris. “Sorry,” she said, her tone slightly more subdued. “They seem to have something about the new Superadine on the street, and needed to speak with you, ASAP.” She held the bag out before her. “I figured you could use a change of clothes.”

She unzipped the front, showing a charcoal gray suit. It was not as fancy in appearance as his normal business attire would be, but for a meeting like this, she realized that going in a dust-covered sold black costume was not helpful in being taken seriously. Despite all his past deeds, there were those who only looked at Remington Armstrong’s height, not his heart or mind, when it came to taking him seriously. Though it came to an advantage in being underestimated in the business world, as a superhero, it was not always as easy to be seen the way he needed to get the job done.

“I’ve also seen to it that one of your spares is being included in the limo, in case you need it.” Her tone turned more serious. “Remington, if what they’re saying is right, they might have a good lead on not just where it’s coming from, but who’s behind it all.”

“Now, someone figures it out,” Remington grumbled. “All right, I’ll get changed. Harris, I’ll meet you back here in ten. Then, we’ll see what MacBeth’s gotta say.”

__________________________________________________ _

When they arrived at the gates to MacBeth Technologies, they were let in almost immediately. Apparently, Terrie had called the facility while the limo was en route. They were given directions by a gate guard where to park near elevator which would take them immediately to where the floor where the meeting was to take place.

As the elevator took them up, Remington wondered if it was a wise idea to bring Harris along with him, much less leaving their wounded compatriot behind. Still, Harris had been instrumental, in his own bumbling way, in finding out what was happening in the sewers. And Small Arms had left instructions for Terrie to inform the other man of the meeting, as soon as he was able to walk, with a second limo on stand-by to take him to MacBeth, if needed.

Still, Harris’ reputation would most likely precede him, and being a reporter, he might not be welcomed by those attending the meeting. Remington groaned mentally at the irony of being a character witness for a man known for his character assassinations. But, there was nothing to be done for it now.

As the elevator let them off, and another guard indicated where they were supposed to go, Small Arms mused over his participation in the life of a superhero, where irony was not an uncommon occurrence.

But, then again, neither was redemption.

Okay, there's a lot of information here, and I've tried search and scanning the the responses (granted, my head feels like it's going to explode looking at it all), but I can't seem to find what I'm looking for.

I'm trying to discover if there is a way to do a pause or countdown effect on activating a power.

As an example, let's say I want a bind to give a warning that teammates have 5 seconds before I activate Accelerate Metbolism. I'm trying to find out how to make a bind that will:

1) Warn them that they have 5 seconds to gather before it goes off;

2) Counts down 5 seconds (either a silent countdown in game or a countdown and the announcing of each number for teammates to hear) and then:

3) Activates AM at the end of the 5 seconds.

I'm not new to the game, but I've never gotten the hang of binds or macros (in game or out )

Any help will be appreciated!

Thanks in advance!

[ QUOTE ]
“Fire…” Erik growled at the gun-toting individual. “Fire at them.”

Without waiting himself, Erik pulled at the protons again… calling them to him and firing a massive wave at the foes. Both were knocked off their feet, both could feel their flesh being ripped open, but now… now the wounds inflicted did not heal… if anything they slowly opened more.

“FIRE AT THEM! HARRIS, THROW SOMETHING!”

[/ QUOTE ]

[ QUOTE ]
"I have to get her, now." Harris shouted. He was not thinking of the danger. He was not thinking of his own life. He was not thinking of the stupidity of the act but he started to run down the tunnel. He had to get her, he had to see her.

[/ QUOTE ]


"Why can't life ever be simple?" Small Arms growled.

He flew after Harris, who had gotten a surprsing good lead, prompted on by whatever demons assailed him. And, although he probably could have caught him running, it would take more time. And time was not a luxury at the moment.

Using the rifle butt, he knocked Harris out. The man would have a large knot when he awoke, but at least he would awaken. Provided, of course, that Small Arms and the glowing hero managed to elude their pursuers. Or in this case, bury them.

Small Arms knew that all the fire power that they had right now was not going to make a difference if those two could heal as fast as it appeared. So the alternative was delaying tactics.

Why the controlled nuclear storm hammered the Abomination and the Headman, Small Arms aimed over their heads. He fired round after round of large caliber bullets into the roof above them. Then, when he hoped that he had weakened it enough, he lobbed a M30, so that it would pass directly under the weakened area.

The grenade exploded just about where he hoped. He was surprised to discover just how much the structure had been weakened, as a large section of the ceiling began to crumble, then with a deafening roar, collapsed on top of thw two. In fact, it broke through to the street, bringing over a hundred tons raining down in a lethal hailstorm of asphalt and concrete. Thankfully, though no cars or people.

Scooping up Harris, Small Arms did not bother to look back. The monstronsities either survived or they did not. However, for the moment, they were not coming out again - at least for a time. He flew back over to the other hero and did a literal flying tackle. This tackle, though, was aimed upward, launching the three of them back up onto the street.

And just in time, the limo, which had stopped when it saw the street collapse, came up near the hole. The driver and Dr. Mari Morgan, the latter a fiery redhead with round-framed glasses came out and without a word, helped Small Arms get the two inside. Though the other hero protested loudly, he had drained much of his strength into the fight, and could only struggle in vain as they three put him in the car, climbed in themselves and took off.

"Terrie, we're out. But as soon as we can get ready, we're going back."

His eyes narrowed as the looked at the two craters disappear in one of the rear view mirrors.

"There's a issue of some payback that needs to be handed out," he said, a low threatening growl in his voice.

(OOC: Sorry, Erik, if I stepped on your character's toes. It was the quickest way I could think of to get everyone out of there until you get back.)

[ QUOTE ]
"No." Harris shouted. "Its to late. They've found her. We have to do something."

[/ QUOTE ]

From the sound of things, Small Arms was about to right off Harris as having gone over the deep end. He was a reporter, not a warrior. At least, that was something the Small Arms would have thought about the Harris who had approached him several days ago for an interview. The Harris who cursed Remington Armstrong in very colorful terms when the small man all but threw the reporter out on his backside.

Now, he was not so sure about his interpretation.

[ QUOTE ]
"I don't care what you say. I'm not going to leave her down here. Beside, who died and made you king. No one invited you to this party."

[/ QUOTE ]

Small Arms nearly scooped the man up by his lapels. Instead, he gritted his teeth and waited.

[ QUOTE ]
"I'm sorry..... look........ I can't get her back by myself. I need your help. I've been stuck in this hell hole for hours, I know the layout. You need me if we are going to get her back." He looked over at Erik. "We can hide Erik somewhere he will be safe till he wakes up or we come back."

He looked at SmallArms, "The more time we spend arguing about it the more time we are losing."

[/ QUOTE ]

Letting out a heavy sigh, he still glared at Harris a moment before activating his radio.

"Terrie, darlin', you still there?"

"Yeah, boss. Mind telling me what the heck you're doing? The emergency frequencies are jammed with people taling about sewer explosions."

"I'll explain later, girl" - Assuming I'm alive and in any shape to do so - "But for now, I need a massive favor."

"What is it" The concern in her voice was pleasant to hear, given the horror around Remington at the moment.

"Prep the lab and medical center. And get my private limo down here with Dr. Morgan in it."

"What about the ambulance that's supposed to be getting to pick up those two Hellions?"

"They're going to have enough on their hands. I'd rather this one get handled personally. Mari's used to puttin' me together after a bad night."

He looked down at the bleeding form at Harris' side. "And this guy's looks worse than me on my most off night. Also, have her standby because she might need to take care of more than just one person, me included if this goes wrong."

"I'm already calling her up, Remington."

Small Arms looked at Harris looking at him. "Dr. Mari Morgan. She's a heroine in her own right, though she doesn't do much currently. She's been too busy patchin' up bodies to put the hurtin' on the baddies these days. She'll be able to take your...friend here to a fully stocked medical center I use. The hospitals here are good, but given his condition, I'd rather let Mari take a look at him. She's one of the best."

Small Arms stood up, though his cloaking device was still operational so there was not much Harris could see. "Terrie, how long from my location till the limo gets here?"

There was a pause as she checked something. "I'd say less than five. Mari's all set and the driver hustled her in."

"All right, let them know I'm going to leave the patient at this location." He described the spot on the surface, not far from the manhole, but hopefully out of the line of fire. "I won't be there. I've gotta damsel to rescue."

"Ever the white knight, boss," Terrie added with a nervous laugh.

"Don't you know it. I'll be in touch."

"Good luck"

"Thanks I'll need even more this time. Small Arms out."

He looked down at Harris, and took down his cloaking field. "Let me have him. He'll be okay, I promise," he said, trying to sound much calmer than he actually felt.

Girl Genius. Small Arms had heard the name mentioned in passing. The staff of Armstrong Armaments was well aware of their boss' status as a literal card-carrying hero of Paragon, but that never stopped them from admiring other heroes as well. Only of them was Girl Genius, who's website had been one that had caught the attention of many of the younger workers. Small Arms had never actually gone to the site, much less encountered the woman before, but word of mouth had it was competent, if still a little inexperienced. Then again, Small Arms had never really considered being a hero until after the Rikti invasion, so other than life experience, he did not have as much on the heroine as he might have originally thought.

However, that was something to wait for later. Right now, he had to deal with a homicidal zombie who had survived a direct collision with a subway car and somehow getting two...no, three wounded individuals out of the line of fire. It didn't help that one of them was someone he was just as likely to shoot, if given half the chance.

[ QUOTE ]
His train of thought was suddenly broken by another terrifying roar from out side the broken train.

[/ QUOTE ]

"Oh, you've gotta be freakin' joking..."

The Headman Swordsman was nearly free of the debris that had covered him from the collapsed wall and metal torn free of the wreckage that had been a old subway railcar. Now, both of Small Arms' erstwhile opponents were more or less free of their improptu restraints. However, there was one thing in favor of Small Arms, which realized instantly.

"Stay here, Harris. I've got to make a couple of distractions before I can try to get to Pen...er, Girl Genius. And those two are going to be each other's distraction."

He activated his invisibility circuits and called the drone back to it's housing. Though there were still dust particles in the air, Small Arms counted on his diminutive size to get into position before either of them figured out what he was doing. And all he needed was one good shot...

By the time he had gotten behind the Swordsman, both had more or less freed themselves and were looking around for someone to attack.

Time to give them something to look at, he thought with a mental chuckle. He switched his rifle to sniper mode, and standing just behind the Swordsman, lined for the shot.

Can't rely on the drone for this one. The sound might give me away before I make the shot. But this one's gotta count more for accuracy than how much damage I do.

He held his breath and fired only when the Abomination looked away from both where Harris was and the Swordsman stood. Without bothering to wait, he activated his flight circuits, using them like a quick boost for a jump he made from behind the Swordsman toward where Harris was.

The shot struck the already nearly-destroyed face of the Abomination. Its body, already been twisted by Vahzilok, was almost unrecognizable as human by the collision with the car. Yet, Small Arms had already recognized the signs of its body's attempt to heal the damage when it had torn its way free of the concrete and metal covering it.

What he had also seen was that the Swordsman still held his gun out, rather than his Rikti weapon. In fact, the Swordsman was the only visible individual holding a weapon.

And the Abomination had no way to tell the difference between a rifle shot and a pistol. All it knew was that it came from the direction of the Swordsman, who had completely missed when Small Arms had behind him.

The Abomination narrowed what was left of its eyes as its death-addled mind recognized one thing: its temporary ally had betray it.

The Swordsman, though more intelligent, realized that arguing with the zombie was fruitless. Besides, he had planned on killing it later anyway.

And the combat that had apparently begun down in the sewers then spilled to the surface, had now returned to its former battleground.

With roars that echoed for miles, the two launched themselves at each other.

At Harris' incredulous look, Small Arms quipped "Bein' small doesn't mean being stupid, buddy. It just means you learn how to let the bigger lugs beat themselves for you. In every sense of the idea, in this case. Now, come on, if you can climb the ladder, I'll fly your friend here out then come down for the lady."

It became apparent very quickly that Harris was reluctant to leave without Girl Genius. "Damn it, man, I can't carry all of you, and I need to look through the wreck. I don't know how long those two meatheads will pound on each other before they either kill each other, kiss and make up or stumble on us or GG. The sooner I can get you out of here and come back to get her, the safer all of you will be."

And that's not considerin' that I need to still finish those two off before they destroy the sewers, much less the city , he thought but refuse to say aloud.

(Three points: First, he was a Swordsman, not Blaster.
Second and Third: Congrats, Jennifer! Good luck, Palaquinn!)

When Small Arms had dove into the what was left of the manhole, he had no concept of what to expect. Granted, he had spent more than his fair share of time sloshing through the sewers, hunting down creations of the infamous Dr. Vahzilok, like the Abomination following him. Paragon's sewers were as llabyrinthine as any hedgerow maze he had ever seen pictures of. Those mazes did not possess undead being seeking either to kill you or add you to their army- by killing you.

The Abomination came through first, dropping to the floor, the sound of which reminded Small Arms of a wet sack. The Headman followed, his massive sword of Rikti manufacture held in both hands. Neither looked like it was in any mood to negotiate.

That's when Small Arms realized the sickening truth.

He had come down into the sewer looking for a way to lead them off the streets. Unfortunately, he had also come down into a dead end. The one passage was currently being blocked by both forms. And despite his size, he was not going to get around them without a lot of pain.

He briefly thought about turning invisible, but ignored the idea as quickly as it came. If he vanished now, it would give the two the perfect excuse to go ahead and take their fight back to the surface. There might have been more room up there, but there was also the chance for more casualties.

And that presumed that he could stop either of his opponents, much less both.

With a feral smile, Small Arms unslung his rifle and stood his ground. "If you want me, boys, you're going to be in for a fight. It might not last long, but you'll remember it. Well, at least you might," he added, pointing at the Headman.

The rumbling he began to feel reminded him of when the zombie and Swordsman had appeared from underground. And with a quick look around, he could see the amount of damage the two had done. But this was different somehow. There was a metallic ring in the background. It seemed to come from one of the walls of the tunnel, by the best of his knowledge.

Fearing another wave of zombies or Lost, he brace himself for an attack.

What he got instead was both a relief and a new fear.

[ QUOTE ]
The car barely made it through the fourth and final wall. Made of thick concrete, it exploded outwards in a shower of dust and rubble.

[/ QUOTE ]

"Holy Shi..." was about all Small Arms got out before he was force to duck. An old railcar had shattered the wall where Small Arms had felt the vibrations. Showering concrete and metal, it continued through the hole.

[ QUOTE ]
The small figure was quick enough to dive for cover. The headman wasn't. The car plowed into the next wall in a cacophony of noise and sparks and dust. The wall cracked in every direction, and pieces burst out of it, revealing its reinforced structure: but in spite of all of this, it held.

For a long moment the car hung suspended there by its own momentum, and then it crashed to the floor in a pile of rubble and steam.

[/ QUOTE ]

A great cloud of dust and debris was thrown into the air, blanketing the surrounding area in a thick, choking gray fog. The tunnel echoed the death cry of the railcar and parts of the wall still tumbled lazily to the floor.

If the Abomination survived, Small Arms was not looking foward to seeing its condition. He was not sure where the Headman was in the cloud, but this was the perfect opportunity to try to finish him off.

Or it would have been, had it not been for the fact that he heard coughing, then saw two figures trying to make their way out of the cloud. More accurately, one of the figures was dragging the other. And one of them he recognized. Any anger Remington Armstrong had felt toward the form evaporated when he saw the condition of the other man he was aiding.

"Harris, you and I are going to have a long talk later." He looked over the condition of the other man. "But first we get you two the hell outta here. Are you two the only ridin' that thing?"

The creak of metal being shifted put a chill in Small Arms' blood. If it wasn't another survivor, he knew it had to come from one of two sources. But only one had been buried by the car.

Metal tore like paper and despite its deafening volume, was somehow drowned out by the unearthly roar of the Abomination.

Looking heavenward, Small Arms frowned. "You really must have it in for me today."

"Now back to those two knuckleheads", Small Arms said, grinning slightly, as he watched the truck round a corner and leave the area.

The two beings were literally trying to choke the life from each other. Being already dead, it was having far less effect on the Abomination. And though, as he manuvered his way behind them, he could hear gagging sounds from the Swordsman, he seemed just as determined not to fall as the zombie. They were so preoccupied in trying to kill (or re-kill, as at the case may have been) each other that they totally ignored the smaller figure moving toward the gaping hole where there had once been a manhole cover.

The targeting drone that he had used to shoot the two Hellions earlier still circled him, like a small humming moon. Small Arms used it so often that it was only when he thought about it did he usually realize that it was or was not there. Now, he was glad he had launched it all ready.

He knew what he needed to do, regardless of whether he was likely to survive it. But he need to land his shot just precisely to ensure gaining the attention of both of them. Tricky, when both beings were rolling on the concrete, trying to strangle each other.

Raising his rifle, Small Arms hit another switch, activating his M30 grenade launcher. Though firing a grenade was in no way similar to firing a sniper rifle, patience, in both cases, was a virtue.

The drone fed wind and distance information, among other things, to his goggles, which were as much for shooting purposes as just eye protection. Their movement was what made things difficult. It certainly was not because they were small targets by any stretch of the imagination.

At least not relative to a four-foot tall man.

"Come on, come on, you big bastards...Give me that one open shot..."

He pulled the trigger, firing the grenade with an explosive pop of air. The grenade made a shallow arc, since the distance was not that far, but it was on target. It passed right between the bodies and exploded before going all the way.

Though he was not close enough to be harmed by it, Small Arms felt the rush of heated air from the explosion. For the two targets, however, the full brunt of the blow hit them dead in their chests. The Headsman, who had been on top, choking the Abomination, was thrown clear of the undead warrior by a good ten feet. The Abomination, on the other hand, was actually blasted down into the ground slightly and skidded a bit backwards.

However, neither one seemed that hurt.

More importantly, both were now well aware of a new adversary. And more than a little angered that their dance of death had been interrupted by a new partner.

Defiant as ever, Small Arms yelled at them, "Come on, you bastards! Hit me right in the nose!"

The Headsman Swordsman and the Abomination briefly looked at each other, seeming to communicate silently and came to a similar agreement. At almost the exact same moment, they got to their feet and began firing on the little man, the Abomination with it acidic projectile vomit while the Swordsman used a more mundane pistol.

"There are times like these I hate bein' right," their target said, just before he jumped into the hole He didn't need to turn around to see that they followed him. He could hear their thunderous footfalls as he activated his flying circuits.

Now that he had their attention, he just had to figure out what to do with it, though running away seemed like a damn good start.

When none of the other men started to leave, Small Arms gritted his teeth and marched up to the pair of reporters. “What you waitin’ for?” he snarled “Your head to be chopped off or to burn from zombie upchuck? Get out of here!”

Still neither moved. The one with the camera continued to film, seemingly oblivious of the danger he was in by remaining. The other seemed to be rooted to the ground in terror. And looking at the ground near the man, it was not hard to figure out who had thrown up earlier.

Mauro, on the other hand, seemed all too eager to leave the area. Small Arm realized that he might have been a gang banger and tough when dealing with the normal pedestrian. But throw him into a situation like the one he had found himself in suddenly, and like all bullies, his cowardice became all too obvious.

“Uhm, guys, you might want to really leave now,” he began quietly, then raised his voice to just below a shout “because my snitch is just about to steal your truck!”

That seemed to get their notice, as the both turned to see what was happening near the unmarked panel truck. As Small Arms had said, the Hellion was working his way to the truck. He was only about halfway there when he heard the bellow of the small hero. Breaking into a run, he scrambled to get to the driver’s side.

The one with the camera lowered it slightly and looked at his companion. “Sean, man, please tell me that you took the keys out of the ignition.”

Sean began patting down his pants pockets in vain. “I didn’t get a chance. When those two guys had guns at our heads, I never turned off the truck.”

Small Arms palmed his face in frustration with a gloved hand. “Great,” he said under his breath with clenched teeth. “Fine, follow me. Now!”

Despite his order, he never bothered to look back as he broke into a brief jog to close the distance with Maruo. Despite his diminutive stature, Small Arms was a trained athlete, and, even for him, closing the distance was not a problem. Granted, he helped himself by lobbing a web grenade which landed right at the would-be thief’s side. It exploded into a mist of fine white sticky threads, which held Mauro fast to the ground. He could move in them, but not out of them. They would last only a short time, but it was time enough to make sure Mauro went no further to the truck.

Only when had made sure that the man was stationary did Small Arms check on the other two. And although not surprised, he was definitely now angry. Neither had moved more than a couple of feet backward from their original spot. The cameraman was still filming and the other, probably the producer, was giving directions.

“That bloody tears it.”

Activating the anti-gravity circuits in his suit, Small Arms flew quickly at the two men. By now the two massive combatants had torn up much of the landscape near them, between fists, alien swords and projectile vomit. The two reporters were safe for only so much longer.

Without bothering to announce himself, he grabbed each by the collar of their shirts. With a sound of surprise from each of them, Small Arms arced back toward the truck, then, about 10 feet from the ground, dropped them as he landed on the top of the truck.

“Listen to me, if you don’t get the hell out of here right now, I’m goin’ to forget that I’m suppose to be saving your sorry hides and shoot both of you in the kneecaps, right here, right now! What part of ‘this place is dangerous’ do you two geniuses not understand?” When Sean started to speak up, Small Arms brought his rifle around. Even without aiming it at the man directly, it was more than enough to silence him.

“I don’t give a damn if this is a story in the makin’, and you two think you’re gettin’ a scoop.” He looked at the cameraman. “And if you want to film me holding a weapon at you, screamin’ at the top of my lungs like some lunatic, go for it. I’ll send the camera back to Harris with a wreath of flowers and a note of consolation, telling him I feel sorry that he had idiots like you on his staff.”

He waved the muzzle at them. “Get your butts in the truck in the next 5 seconds or so help me…”

Unlike the two Hellions from a short time ago, Small Arms never even needed the time to start a countdown; both men were all rushing to get into the truck. Small Arms smiled and jumped off the back of the truck. He turned to see that there was a lock on the outside of the rear doors. With a single shot from his rifle, he blew it off. Then after walking around to the driver’s side, he found Mauro nearly free. Without missing a beat, he drove a fist into the larger man’s groin. With a whimper, Mauro fell to the ground, clutching his groin. Scooping him up and throwing him over his shoulder, Small Arms marched back to the rear doors, yanked one open and threw Mauro inside. Other than the sound of the air being knocked out of his lungs, followed by another whimper, the Hellion made no other sound.

“Since you two owe me a favor for bothering to save your lives, take Mauro here someplace quite a distance away. It’ll be a little while before he can do much other than hold on to his family jewels, so he shouldn’t give you any problem.”

“Wait, what about you?” Sean asked.

“I’m the hero, remember? I’m supposed to remain behind and fight the bad guys. I’m goin’ to try to get them back into the sewers before the ambulance for your would-be carjackers gets here.” He raised his rifle. “Now go!”

There was only a brief hesitation on Sean’s part before he revved the engine and took off. In that brief time, Sean finally recognized that under the gruff exterior, the seemingly unrefined manners and rather unusual methods of the small man dressed in all black, there was a person who deep cared about others. Enough so, that he was willing to do whatever it took to keep them safe.

And for the first time, Sean started to understand what motivated these so-called ‘heroes’.

“Godspeed, Small Arms,” he whispered, as the truck took a corner and disappeared from sight.

The Headman stood up just in time to see his undead opponent charging at him with a witless growl. The Headman pulled the Rikti blade he had somehow managed to hold through the attack that had launched him into the street into a defensive posture. Neither one of the creatures noticed the small gathering of humans which had been present when they had made their surprise entrance.

“Oh Lord, this is just what I don’t need!” Small Arms said under his breath.

“What was that?” Terrie asked. “I can hear some kind of fighting going on, but you don’t seem to be directly involved.”

“And if I have any say, I won’t be.” He gave a rapid account of what had just happened as he got to his feet. “But if they continue with this up here, I’m not about to get a chance to get out their way.” He winced as he watched the sword nearly disembowel the Abomination. Some one definitely threw up, though Small Arms did not have time to spare a glance for the person with the weak stomach.

Another surprise happened then. The Abomination came to a stop, as had the Swordsman. Everyone, including the Swordsman, gaped as the wound on the Abomination closed rapidly, the rancid organs that had been exposed drawn back inside and the wound closing in an almost zipper-like fashion.

“Oh, this is bad, Terrie. Normally, it takes a pretty long time for a zombie to heal a wound, if it can at all. That Abomination had its gut cut open, but the wound just completely disappeared.” Small Arms’ mouth suddenly became very dry. “I’m getting these guys outta here. If I need to fight, I don’t need them getting’ in the way.”

“You want me to put out a call for whatever heroes are available?”

“Not yet. I’m going to try to see if I can get them back underground. At least there, they won’t have a chance to hurt as many civvies. But get the cops to secure the area.” He threw his rifle back over his shoulder. “I’ll probably be busy for the next little while, darlin’. I’m turning off the radio for right now to keep from being distracted.”

“Okay. Boss…Remington, be careful. I really don’t need to look for another job right now.”

Small Arms gave a brief chuckle. “Don’t worry. I’m not looking to make it any easier for Crey to buy me out by getting myself killed. I’ll be back as soon as I can”

“Good luck. Terrie, out.”

Small Arms felt that he was going to need all the luck he could muster. He knew, despite what he said initially, he would have to try fighting the two of behemoths. It was not something that he was looking forward to, as he still doubted his chances of success by himself. Still, first things first…
“Gentlemen, and I used that term very loosely, I suggest that you get outta here as quickly as you can.” He looked at the continuing fight. The Abomination was struggling with the Swordsman for control of the gigantic blade. “It’s about to get a lot worse around here before it gets any better.”


(OOC: My email's wynterfyre2002@yahoo.com )

"Now, where were we, before being so rudely interrupted"

Gathering what remained of his bravdo, Mauro said "That's pretty trite, even for you"

Small Arms pained look lasted a moment. "I'm sorry. How about this? Before I head out next time, I'll hire a professional scriptwriter to, you know, spice up my quips. In the meantime, though, how about those answers you promised. Each moment that you delay, your friends might end up bleeding to death."

"Right, boss. I've all ready called for an ambulance."

The smile Small Arms wore was genuine. Depsite any doubts that he had when he began this arrangement, they had been quickly elminated when Remington realized just how well the younger woman seemed to know what he needed.

"I'm listening, Mauro."

__________________________________________________ _

Morton recovered faster than Sean had. He had run back into their truck, grabbed the camera, which had still be running. However, the camera had been on the seat during the entire hostage 'crisis', and so there was no visual record of what had happened, only audio.

Still, Morton did not let that stop him from filming the two men writhing on the ground near Sean's feet. He zoomed the image in, hoping to get their faces but was surprised to see that, although the collarbone was broken on the one, there was no entry wound.

"Sean, Small Arms used non-lethal ammo! No wonder they're still alive."

"Sean?"

Morton looked up from the camera eyepiece to notice that Sean was still quivering. His breathing was still raspy. If Morton were a psychologist, he'd probably call it 'shellshock'

"Sean, man, look at me," Morton said, just loud enough to be heard over the noises of the evening. "It's cool, Sean. No need to be afraid."

Sean looked over slowly. Morton could see that his eyes were wide, and his pupils opened all the way, probably more than necessary for the lack of ambient lighting. There was also a dark stain running from down the front of one of Sean's pants legs.

"Sean, it's me, Morton." He approached slowly, with all his moves taking exaggerated time. Sean was as about as skittish as a doe. And the last thing Morton wanted to do was chase the producer down if he ran.

Thankfully, he seemed to be coming out of it. His body did not seem as tensed and his breathing became more regular.

"Sean, you okay?"

"Yeah. Yeah. It's just....I've done a lot of stories over the years, but I've never come as close to being killed as that. I...nevermind." He tipped his head toward where the two men still seem engrossed in conversation. "You still filming that?"

"Yeah, but I can't make anything out. We'll have to get closer to have any audio."

Sean seemed reluctant to respond, but after a deep breath, he said "Okay, but slowly. And once you think you've got the range for audio, we'd better stop."

Morton only nodded, then started walking foreward, listening intensely for any scraps of the conversation.

__________________________________________________ _

"I don't know where the Superdine is exacly coming from. I know it just hit the streets about a week ago." Mauro sneered as he continued. "You guys have pretty much destroyed every lab of the normal stuff we made, so someone had to work from some place new. I'm not sure where, but I know it ain't in any of the buildings that any of the gangs use."

"And what about the makers?"

"That's the odd part." Small Arms detected honest (or at least as honest as Mauro could be) confusion in his voice. "Despite the fact that it's been out for over a week now, no one's stepped up and laid claim to it. I figured it was 'cause no one wanted to have their place suddenly infested with masks. But at the same time, none of the gangs have been fighting among ourselves like we normally do, even when being partners."

"You mean, you all aren't killing each other for a cut of the profit"

"Call it what you will. The stuff's apparently damned addicitive and even more potent than the original."

"Yeah, I've seen the results of a few regulars. It ain't pretty. I'm surprised anyone's willing to take the stuff, with the kind of side effects it creates."

Mauro tried to shrug under Small Arms' weight but could barely move, so he gave up trying. "Hey, I don't use it myself. The Trolls are bad enough. Strong but dumb as a post. But more of the Hellions and I'm being told the Skulls as well are taking it." This time, he did manage an involuntary shudder. "And I thought their Bone Daddies were bad before..."

"All right, if it ain't you three, what about the Family or the Tsoo?"

"As far as I know, those two might know about it, but they ain't makin' it. Actually, now that you mention it, I'm surprised that they haven't tried to muscle their way in."

Small Arms felt a rumble in the ground beneath them. He ignored it initially, thinking that it might have been the subway trams rumbling by. However, the overhead rail did not run anywhere near where they were. And Mauro seemed to notice it. Then Small Arms followed the Hellion's line of sight.

"Just what the hell are you two idiots still doin' here? Get going! You can thank me later. Right now, I'm a little busy here."

The two did not back off, and when he looked at this this time, he noticed that one of them was carrying a video camera. *Great, just what I don't need*, he thought. *They're not stupid enough to be tourists that just want a picture of a hero to take home with them. Those type would have burned rubber just after I dropped those two punks.*

"Oh, no bloody way! Turn that damn thing off, you bloodsuckers. I told Harris once before I wasn't givin' him an interview." He stood and stepped off Mauro's chest. However, just before the man could attempt to squirm away, Small Arms put one small foot back on his chest, then leveled the rifle back at him. "You and I ain't finished with our teaparty," he said without bothering to look down.

The two new men were going to reply, when the ground seemed to shake violently. The reporters fell on their backsides, with Morton barely able to save the camera from smashing onto the concrete. Small Arms still managed to stay up, as his center of gravity was fairly low to the ground. Mauro rolled slightly, before Small Arms pushed down harder with his boot.

The blast of a manhole cover, concrete and sewer water caught everyone by surprise. The body that rapidly followed the manhole cover was a greater surprise, especially since the manhole was less than a dozen feet from the group. Unfortunately, unlike the manhole, the body landed right in the middle of them.

This time, Small Arms did jump away from Mauro, tucked into a roll, and came back on his feet, only a short distance away from the body. And a quick glance at the form and weapon which it held brought nearly a dozen questions to his mind. The first of which he spoke aloud.

"What in the world's a Headman Swordsman doin' here?"

The answer that came from the shattered manhole prompted more questions, which he knew would have to wait to be sorted out later.

Beacuse the Abomination that rose from the hole was far larger than anything that Small Arms had ever known Dr. Vahzilok to make.

Yet it ignored the group of humans and went directly for the Headman, who had somehow survived a blow that would have crippled, if not killed, most men.

"Uh, someone want to explain just what we got in the middle of?" Sean asked.