Averick

"Praetorian, the task force command ship is sounding the ready call." The communications officer notified the captain from his station.

The captain, walked to the center of the bridge and sat down in the captain's chair. There were two helm stations in front of him, and he was flanked by standing stations for the tactical and executive officers. In the background two other bridge crew were working the scientific equipment as one guard stood near the side doors on each side of the bridge with a commanding view of all that went on in the tiny space.

"Signal that we are ready. Raise shields and take us out. Let us do the empire proud."

War-Bird rose from the ground and engaged his personal shield, which swept around him and caused his green hull to glow slightly under the armor plating. As he engaged his cloaking device, the light faded to a silhouette, and he began moving toward the rally point.

The tactical officer stepped from the bridge, ordering a junior officer to the panel as he left. His eyes met the captain's once, and he was in the lift headed down to main engineering.

The captain called for his Chief Weapons officer to meet him in his ready room off the bridge. After placing a junior officer in charge, the Chief Weapons officer complied. "Yes, praetorian?"

The captain initiated a scan for listening and recording devices in the room, green laser beams moved up and down the walls, as the Chief Weapons officer stood there, at attention. "How are the hull modifications coming? How soon will we be underway?"

"The modifications will not take much longer praetorian. Though it's doubtful they'll stand up to scrutiny at close range. We will have to rely on our ailing cloaking device." The Chief Weapons officer answered while waiting for the scan to die down.

"I believe there is a Tal Shiar agent aboard this vessel, and what I have to say isn't good news for the empire. Several ship systems have been going offline for no reason that makes sense recently. We have a saboteur. I want you to start preparing for the possibility of a mutiny. Your reward will be promotion to second in command." The captain stood to emphasize his agitation at the situation.

"What of the first officer?" The Chief Weapon's officer stared straight ahead.

"It is his duty primarily to detect and put down mutiny. If he is negligent in his duty, and you are proven capable where he is not, it is only fitting that he be… replaced." The captain raised an eyebrow.

The Chief Weapons officer nodded and saluted. "Yes, praetorian."

"You're dismissed back to station." The captain sat once more.

On the outside, War Bird was welding various armor parts to the outside of his carapace. Once he was done, he signaled to Gabe he was ready and moved to the staging area in preparation for the mission.

Bobby showed the tape to the sheriff. "Look here, he doesn't ever take them goggles off. Sure looks like he's trying to hide something to me. Brought these in." Bobby brought out the tray and showed the sheriff the remainder of the loot. The sheriff picked up a small figurine from the tray. It was of a crocodile looking creature, though without enough detail to fully get the feel for exactly what it was. The figurine felt cold in his hand, but it made him tingle like he had two cups of coffee in a row.

"Thanks, Bobby, if you remember anything else you call it in. I'm going to take this tray for evidence." The sheriff picked up the tray and carried it out of the door.

"Figured you would. Have a good one, sheriff." Bobby waved to Tanner as he turned back to his bookwork. Secretly he smiled on the inside for his find, and couldn't wait for the next special customer to come by so that he could make some more profit off the books. That's when he heard the voice that seemed to be coming from the bundle. "What? Who's there?"

Bobby moved to where the secret stash was kept, thinking he'd mistakenly put a cell phone or something in it. But what he had put there, was power. More power than Bobby Gunn was prepared to deal with.

On the street outside, Dennis was walking, head down through the town. That's when he saw Eugene. Black leather jacket, bald head, wild look in his eyes. As Dennis stopped, he noticed Eugene was not alone. There were some thugs loitering around, waiting for him.

"You don't fit in… no, no, not around here. So many nice people." Eugene made a motion as if he were tipping his hat at an old lady passing by. "Nice people. No, you don't belong. Or do you? Maybe you're here for the festival? Yes, you look like it. The festival. Maybe we'll make you the queen of the float! Oh, hey, I made a joke! The queen of the float, floaters, flotilla. Yes, yes, come along. Don't get squirrelly." Eugene turned his wild eye on Dennis as if to issue stern warning, then smiled and walked toward the heart of town, expecting Dennis to follow.

The mark of the cult was on Eugene, in more ways than one.

((OOC: No, War Bird is just a Crey Droid with a personality disorder fed to him by bored lab workers so he thinks he's a Romulan War Bird, to entertain them before he escaped. All the little people are holographic simulations inside his neural net and don't really exist as anything more than light. No one can see them, unless they peer directly into his visor at close range when he has the viewing panel "open". ))

War Bird took in all the details as the briefing continued. The captain took the briefing in his ready room, then called for all senior hands to meet him there. He laid out the plan for them with use of a star chart that plotted the Rogue Isles as a cluster of stars in three dimensions.

"We will be squawking enemy IFF and there will be hull modifications. Our hull silhouette is distinctive, so I suggest we try to emulate the Arachnos soldier. Cloaking will be helpful. What's the status on our cloaking device?" The captain turned to the main engineer.

"We're still working on it, praetorian, without the proper materials, it has been difficult. I'm hopeful that on a raid, we may secure the exotic materials we require to make it fully operational. For now, as long as we maintain some distance, we can avoid enemy detection." He looked worried. He should be worried, praetorians don't like to be told something isn't working.

"Make sure the helm is briefed in full as to exact ranges of effectiveness, I don't want to be a liability to this mission. Weapons chief, I want you to liaise with the other vessels tactical officers and inform them of our unique shielding capabilities. I want the admiral in charge aware of what our assets are, though I don't think we should mention our cloaking status. Showing any sign of weakness is not a good idea. Brief your men, keep the security teams on full alert for the duration of the mission. Remember that we are not a gunship, so follow the leadership of our admiral in terms of picking tactical targets."

Everyone saluted and when the captain didn't speak any more, they left.

The second in command took the chief engineer aside as they left the captain's ready room. "I must speak with you regarding your report to the captain. I am disappointed to find you have still not found a way to bring our cloaking device to full operability."

The chief engineer looked worried as they stepped from the bridge into the lift. "We are working extra shifts to try to work around the lack of materials, but without the exotics, there simply is no way to reach one hundred percent effectiveness."

Once the door shut and they were alone, the executive stopped the lift. "I told you I wanted it offline entirely. Partial can be seen as an obstacle that the captain can overcome. Offline entirely is required to prove incompetence. We had an agreement."

The engineer looked even more worried. "There are those loyal to the captain who would notice any deliberate sabotage. It's bad enough that the system worked perfectly before diagnostics testing and now it doesn't. It points to some tampering, and I'm having problems laying enough clues to throw suspicion on someone else. There are agents aboard this vessel who look for this very thing."

The executive officer stared into the chief engineer's eyes. "You let me worry about them. You do your job. This mission is the perfect opportunity for me to relieve the captain for his incompetence. I would hate to see it go by without a promotion." With that, he let the lift continue to the appropriate deck, where he opened the door and got off, leaving the chief engineer to think about his predicament on his way down to engineering.

Externally, War Bird simply sent a message on the coded frequency they'd been given, with low power so as not to go past twenty or thirty meters that explained his capability to extend his shields to other vessels and how his weaponry was capable of weakening enemy defenses. He also inquired to Gabe, "Where shall we acquire hull modifications for infiltration purposes? Can you upload those coordinates to us now?" He ended his transmission, "for the glory of the Empire!"

War Bird hovered in the meeting room, decloaking once more as the door opened to let people in. He "docked" with the chair, aranging himself in the manner in which humanoids were intended to sit in chairs.

He scanned everyone that entered's City ID and matched it against the Crey database and the city database of heroes, believing he was accessing imperial records and registry codes from the IFF transponders the other "ships" were carrying.

War Bird's coms officer monitored the air for sonic transmissions or "com chatter" to report to the captain, who was called from his ready room once it appeared that the rest of the task force was assembling.

The sheriff moved away from the stairwell and back to the room with the open door. He shined the light inside what appeared to be a sewing room. It was the only room he'd seen so far that looked not entirely cleaned out. There was a full sized standup mirror in the corner, only the glass was missing and two small tables were pushed up against walls in the room. The only window was completely covered with it looked like a steel plate and more sealant. There were books open on the table and notepads with writing all over the exposed pages. There was a drawer open with pens and pencils and office supplies in it.

He walked over to the mirror and examined the parchment that was where one would suspect glass would be. It didn't appear like any paper he'd ever seen, rather a very thin leather with odd discolorations and cryptic symbols. He noticed that the notepad held notes that were similar to the symbols on the parchment and began reading.

"This will be the end of Whitedock. This event will remove all those who are not tainted by the Old Gods, leaving behind nothing but blood and foam. This will not be like Drentcliff."

"What do you mean, old man?" Tanner asked to the air. "What do you mean about Drentcliff?"

He thumbed back a couple of pages until he saw a heading titled "Drentcliff" and skimmed the page. One passage caught his eye.

"The first of them wasn't noticed. It wasn't until it was too late that strangers began showing up. They used the merchant's guild to organize and gather people to the cause, just as I fear they're using the neighborhood watch here. So far I think that Darren is the only one involved, the sheriff seems to dedicated and simple to pull off such a charade."

Tanner scratched his chin at that one, "simple and dedicated, yeah I guess I can't argue." Then he started to think about the implication. The town watch was somehow spreading the influence of an ancient cult? Leaf was really off. Darren couldn't be involved in anything like that, he grew up here. He knew these people. He'd never hurt them.

The rest of the book was a smattering of translations. "I'a Levrith, hail to the Leviathan. Mox eripio Levrith. Soon you will be free. From the ancient tongue to Latin to English is not perfect, but I believe that the original text indicates a desire to raise a great beast from the depths of the ocean. From what I can understand, it almost succeeded, but the beast required too many sacrifices, and only made it close to the surface. His very presence morphs man to sea creature and draws forth the very coral of the ocean as living creatures bent on the destruction of humanity."

Tanner stopped reading. "I've heard of those… they're real." He picked up several of the books and put them under his arm. Then he noticed that a corner of the wallpaper, though new, was loose. He reached over to smooth it back on, but first curiously peeked behind it. There were symbols painted onto the walls.

Noting that, he moved back out into the hallway, where the humming noise was louder. Down the hall to the door that lead to the basement it seemed slightly louder, but once he opened that door, he could hear it clearly. Odd that the basement door would have the same kind of doubled up weather stripping as the front, he noted. Once he arrived at the bottom of the steps, he could hear the engine that was making the humming noise he'd heard muffled by the house. He could also hear the ocean.

It seems leaf was somewhat of a survivalist, though in no way that the sheriff had ever seen. There was no water, no canned goods outside of what one might expect stocked in the basement, and no warm clothing. Instead, there were air tanks, a shark cage and several spear guns. Along with dive lights, a wetsuit and a raft, it appeared that Leaf was convinced his house was going to be washed out into the ocean. Then there was a grate that led out to the ocean itself, carved through the rock to a sea cave below. It was probably an old air shaft later used as a waste chute by the first family to build a house here. Leaf had rigged up some sort of mechanism involving a floater and chain to seal the grate with an iron hatch if, presumably if the water rose to a certain point.

There was an odd, smoky quality to the water that Tanner supposed might be linked to the lack of light beneath the water. As there was only a cave below. His reflection danced on the shifting plane below him and through the grate, which looked newly installed and sturdily built into the rock shaft. "Were you keeping something in or out?"

Bubbles rose to the surface of the water, and Tanner was reminded of the time on the boat instantly. His hand went to his pistol as he stared into the water. Another set of bubbles, Tanner didn't breath as they erupted from the surface, spreading his reflection to the corners of the shaft. His gun was out, pointed at the grate.

CHRREEEEK! The sound filled the room from behind him, causing him to spin around toward the generator. The engine had stopped, apparently running out of gas. "I'm out of this Stephen King funhouse." Tanner holstered his weapon and picked up the books he wanted to take with him.

Upon reaching the top of the steps he opened the door into the hall, then looked left to the stairs that went to the second floor. He just glanced, more because he knew he had to than anything else. He didn't want to, he just knew he had to. He had been dreading looking up those steps since halfway up from the basement. He was afraid he'd see someone standing on the stairs. He had pictured it in his mind and was worried that what he had pictured would come true. He'd come to the top of the basement stairs, look left and there'd be a form silhouetted in the stairwell.

When he got there, he snapped his head left, to prove to himself that there was nothing there. When no silhouette appeared, he started to look away. Then there was a slight glint from the wood on the stairs. Tanner found himself approaching the stairs, setting the books on one of them and pulling his flashlight. Six stairs up from the ground floor there was a tiny pool of liqiud on the stairs. Tanner pulled his pistol and started to look up, to where an infiltrator was holding his sword, poised to strike at Tanner's heart should he take notice of him.

"Whitedock one this is dispatch five oh four." The radio drew the sheriff's attention away, and he retreated two steps down the stairwell to answer it. This gave the infiltrator all the room he needed to get away.

"Go ahead dispatch."

"Sheriff, we have a call from Bobby Gunn's curiosity shop, regarding a suspicious character and maybe some stolen goods. I couldn't get a hold of deputy Wall."

Tanner looked puzzled, "you couldn't raise him on the radio?"

"No sheriff, I tried for about three minutes."

The sheriff shrugged, they're both supposed to be on call twenty four hours a day, but since there's only two of them for the whole community, sometimes things take you away from the radio for more than three minutes. "Well that's why there's two of us. Thanks dispatch."

Following that, he picked up the books and made his way out of Leaf's house, careful to lock up behind him, and uncertain why he was no longer curious about the house or the blood.

Leaf's house was boarded up, like he was expecting a storm. Sheriff Tanner got the keys from Mrs. Delany, who was selling the place. As he put the key in the lock he flashed back to her saying, "oddest thing, he didn't care how much he got for it, just wanted it sold quickly." The plastic was sealed over the windows to the house. That would make it a great deal of trouble for an old man like Leaf to unseal later.

"He must have been expecting some storm." Tanner mumbled as he turned the key. There was a hiss when he pulled at the door, but it didn't open immediately. He had to pull for a couple seconds before the weather stripping yielded and the door opened. The air inside smelled of office quality air conditioning and salt water. The place was immaculate.

Tanner stepped in and shut the door behind him. Noting that as soon as the light from the outside was cut off by the door, emergency lighting came on. The hardware store was selling these small emergency lights that detect when its dark and come on automatically. Many old folks kept a couple, but it looked like Leaf had evenly spaced them across the ceiling. That wasn't the only design change Leaf had made.

There were metal poles going from floor to ceiling, about four that the sheriff could see. At first glance it looked as if they belonged there, all neatly worked into the floor and ceiling. The doors were all reinforced as well, with New York style burglar blocks designed to keep people from kicking in your door. Tanner wondered why Leaf thought that he would need to secure interior doors, as he ran his fingers along a maple table in the sitting room.

"An old fashioned sitting room, no television even." Mike Tanner was commenting to himself, but the house groaned back anyway, unaware of the rhetorical nature of the comment, evidently. Mike looked at the windows, boarded up and sealed on the inside as well. There was fresh spackle and caulking on places along the wall as well. Reflexively, he stopped and listened. He could hear something like a hum coming from deeper inside the house.

The floorboards creaked under his weight, and his keys clanked on his leather belt as he moved toward a door at the back of the sitting room. He stopped and listened at the door, but the hum wasn't any louder. He could hear what he thought to be breathing though, faintly and not regular like human breathing, the rhythm was wrong somehow. The sheriff leaned away from the door and pulled his pistol from his holster as quietly as he could. Realizing that there would be no way he was getting through that door if it were locked, he took a couple steps over to the hall door and looked to see if there was another access to that room.

Down the hall there was a door open. He tried to think back to when he came in, and couldn't remember any doors being open except the one to the sitting room. His flashlight was in his other hand without him thinking about it and he was stalking down the hall, gun in front of him and a beam of light illuminating the hall where there was no emergency lighting.

He approached the open door, and peered into the dark room beyond it, then turned back down the hallway. There was a rug that stretched twelve feet down the hall and past this particular door. It wasn't disturbed and showed no signs of passage. Tanner moved to the end of the hall, where another boarded window marked the end of the line. None of the doors were open, but when checked, all were unlocked. There was a stairway in the hall, however, leading to the second story. Tanner shined a light up the steps and saw a couch in the hall at the top of the stairs.

There were several pictures hung along the stairwell and at the top. Tanner thought he saw a lamp behind the couch, and nothing else in the stairwell or hall beyond. Then he heard a creak. The safety was off his weapon with a "snap", and his finger moved from the trigger guard to the trigger. "Hello? Sheriff's department. If there's anyone up there you need to tell me now."

His words echoed off the walls. The creak returned, short and right about where Tanner was pointing his pistol. "Hello?" Tanner took a step forward and shined his light up the stairs, searching for anyone near the top. For whatever reason, he couldn't bring himself to set one foot on those stairs. He could feel a presence up the steps. He could see a darkness taking over the light.

The sheriff shook his flashlight, thinking it might be the batteries, and panned it around more, but it just seemed to him the top of the stairs were getting dimmer. As if some approaching element of darkness were swallowing the beam of the flashlight. The creak returned, closer this time. Tanner held his pistol dead center of the stairwell. "Sheriff's department! If you don’t want to get shot, I suggest you call out now!"

Silence. Creak. Silence. The sheriff could hear his own breathing and his own heart beating in his ears. Then…

"Sheriff!"

BANG! A brass casing landed on the wooden floor, bouncing to a stop at the baseboard with hollow "ting"s along the way.

"The lab report came back and I think you're going to want to see this." Deputy Wall's voice came ringing clearly through the radio on the sheriff's belt.

"God damn it!" The sheriff put his flashlight under his arm for a moment as he turned down his radio then keyed the mic that was located on his left shoulder. "Yeah, Darren, I'm over at Leaf's place right now. Geeze you scared the crap out of me. I just put a hole in the old man's house."

"Oh, sorry. Did you want me to come up and file an ND report?" Darren's comment drew a small smile and look of annoyance from the sheriff.

"I'll file my own report, thank you. And it looks like I'll be up here later to patch a hole."

"Are you alright up there? Did you want me to come up?" Darren sounded unconcerned, but asking to be polite.

"No, I've got it, I'm just letting this be spookier than it is." Tanner shook his head at his own nervousness. "I should be back in about an hour."

"Alright, turn your radio down. I'm afraid after a while you'll start blaming me and I'll be fixing holes." He could hear Darren laughing through the radio.

"Don't worry, deputy, the only hole you'll need to fix is your pie hole, and I've got a lot of spare spackle for that. Tanner out." The flashlight found its way back into the sheriff's hand.

The flashlight made a "click" as the beam died out and it found its way back to his belt. The pistol took longer to get home, tarrying in trepidation of continuing the investigation.

[[Hey, I tried]]

Nothing helped shake off the sickness like killing. Sword had been doing just that. For the cult, for Arachnos, and sometimes for the enemies of Arachnos, Sword had been sneaking in and removing things that people wanted to hold on to. Like secret documents, powerful artifacts or sometimes important organs.

The names were getting bigger, the guards were getting more numerous with bigger guns, but without smell, sound or visual cue, Sword would slide past and directly to the target.

Thrust! The Soul Mage is impaled on his blade, grimacing as his heart stops beating. The guarding spirit turns to fight, to be met by a series of dark magic powered blows, then to be finished off by a repulsor beam supplied by the technocracy that dissipates the ectoplasmic entity in one shot. It happens like this a lot. With Longbow, there's a point where the running and the shooting happens. Once the first burst slams into Sword and he doesn't bleed, there's usually screaming and running, but the repulsor beam ends that with backbreaking force.

Sword is feeling stronger, more capable. He's regained use of some of his natural body control skills in addition to being able to perform the really necessary strikes. His body has become acclimatized to his surroundings, able to run, jump, heal and recover faster. All in all, it's the best Sword has felt in his life.

And then he lands on a roof. ((this really happened, I'm not making this up)) Three pale skinned human females lacking in heat signature sat on the roof with a large human standing watch. Sword landed to listen in, see if he could find out why they were there. Almost immediately he was detected ((and then warned later not to god mode before I even acted, oh the irony, seriously right after she detects the stalker behind her, I laughed till I cried.)) and instructed to drink saltwater.

"Go drink the water you!" The weakest of them still held a far more powerful aura then he. Though he was taken aback by their open hostility and lack of understanding of reptilians.

"I don't understand." Sword kept his distance, staring at them with his unblinking eyes.

They stood, the three of them, turning to face him with claws and fangs. "Let me drain him," one of them cooed. Sword turned toward that one curiously.

"Killing me is within your power, however, I do not believe you can drain me. You are welcome to try." Sword's hand went to the hilt of his Katana, and his other to the pommel of his newly acquired claymore.

"Get out of my HOME!" As one of them shouted and threatened, Sword stared at her.

"Your kind wishes war with mine?" Sword was genuinely confused by their stomping of their feet and hissing. Was he supposed to be afraid of them?

Seeing no more use in direct confrontation, Sword used his magic to melt into the night and disappear. He was more cautious in his approach the second time and listened in on their conversation, which seemed to be mostly about blood and sex and showering. As he continued to listen, Sword felt he was getting further away from understanding humans, not closer, so he leaped up onto the roof to announce himself again then made his escape into the night once and for all. (I swear to god I almost did the /me puts on his robe and wizard hat)

War Bird settled into a spot above one of the chairs and waited for the briefing to begin. The robot decloaked, but kept his shields up. So he was there, with a light green hue, swept point shoulders and a wide, light green visor marking where the "bridge" is. He was all compacted in a way that might look uncomfortable to a human, but since he was not a human, comfort was not a problem.

For some reason, instead of hovering completely still, he swayed slowly and slightly.

The War Bird settled outside the Freedom Phalanx building, still cloaked. From the outside it appeared to be a Crey droid from the Urban Pacification project that was due to be turned into scrap metal, aside from the light green shiny armor with the glowing pattern through it and the giant black bird emblem on the chest. Of course, it remained cloaked so as to avoid undue attention and remained airborne to avoid making noise.

War Bird made radio contact with the front desk and inquired who would be leading the task force. The holographic coms officer inside War Bird's head made a note of the name of the "vessel" and requested frequency and encryption codes.

Then the War Bird sent the following message. "Message commander of Task Force, War Bird standing by at rendezvous point awaiting orders. My crew and ship are at the disposal of the Empire."

The holographic captain left orders to be disturbed when a response was issued. In the mean time, dozens of holographic crew began running diagnostics and prepping for battle stations.

The radio crackled, "Boxer six niner check in. Boxer six niner, check in." The Rikti soldier picked up the handle and stared at the radio before leveling his blaster at the base of the unit and melting it.

The low, sandbag wall on the side of the hill marked the observation post's location. Other than that, a few soldiers left their kits when the attack came, and the radio was left behind. Usually one doesn't leave a radio behind, but when you're trying to lure their communications officer into a kill zone, it's handy. Of course, in this case, the communications officer didn't get there before the radio got melted and set off the trap.

There was a bright flash and dust jumped off the ground for meters around the FOP. When it cleared, three Rikti were standing.

"Fire!" Master Sergeant Riley ordered as he cut loose with a sniper round that took down the communications officer. The other four soldiers he had with him were emptying their guns at the Rikti, with little to no effect.

As the communications officer tried to sit up, he was hit by a stream of fire that saturated the area from Riley's gun. The return fire slammed into the small rise they were hiding behind. Riley opted for the less tactically sound position in favor of taking them from an angle they weren't prepared for. When the Rikti set up, they paid attention to the high hill nearby and were watching it.

The communications officer went down and didn't get back up. Riley had to fire several more rounds to drop two of the other three. The last took what cover he could and returned fire, wounded. Even though the communications officer didn't open a portal, the response was quick and numerous. Six more Rikti swarmed up the hill into firing positions and soon fire superiority switched hands.

A beam slammed into the shoulder pad of one of the soldiers, sending him backward and down the tiny hill into a gully, screaming in pain. "Carlson! Young, get Carleson!"
Riley fired off his rocket into the enemy formation, then ducked down into the gully and rolled over onto his back. "We're pulling back!"

The master sergeant pulled a smoke canister and tossed it over the ledge toward the Rikti. Then he grabbed Mathers's OBA and yanked him down behind cover just as a plasma bolt whizzed through the area he was using for a head. Mathers screamed in pain and grabbed his face. "Get the [censored] down you [censored] ing idiots!" He reached across and pulled Hernandez down as well, just as dust and rock started exploding along their cover.

"Sorry sarge, didn't hear you!" Hernandez stared at Mathers as the young soldier screamed in pain and held his face, writhing in the dirt.

Riley grabbed him and pulled out his canteen. "Hold still!" He poured water onto his face. "That's all you get until we're out of here, now we need to MOVE soldier! Can you do that?"

Mathers hissed through his teeth as he made an effort to keep his hands from his face. "Yes sergeant! Ahhhh! Yes sergeant!" He fumbled for his rifle and followed Riley away from the enemy. Young followed behind, with Carlson over his shoulder.

"Move! Move! They're behind us, get into that ravine, keep going until you get to the LZ!" Riley stopped and took aim at a Rikti charging forward with a huge piece of metal. He let loose a round, which penetrated the Rikti shielding and slowed the advancing soldier, but not as much as when he ran over the spiked traps that Riley left for him and the following Rikti. Two more bursts later and the soldier was down, but there were more, and they were running out of ravine.

As was common with landing zones, it was a large, flat open space. That meant a lack of cover. Cover is an infantryman's friend.

Hernandez tossed green smoke onto the LZ and they hunkered down as Young applied a pressure bandage and burn patch to Carlson's shoulder. Soon they could hear the fire of plasma rifles, and Riley began returning fire, his M-41 making a distinctive report that rose above the din of M-16 fire. The ground around them splashed up with energy bolts and occasionally Riley rocked back from a direct hit. He kept directing fire though, through it, and positioning his soldiers behind himself so that he would receive most of the fire.

When the chopper was audible it was only two hundred yards away, the sound of fighting overshadowed its approach. The thing about the Blackhawk is that it doesn't have the downblast of some of the other helicopters its size, which means you can run to it as its landing. This is not advised under fire, but always seems to happen anyway.

The Blackhawk didn't even touch down before it was under intense fire from the Rikti forces. Plasma and energy bolts slammed into the fuselage and tail as the soldiers tried to pile in. Riley was facing away from the chopper when it went up. He skidded to a stop, face first in the dirt and rocks. Riley scrambled to get his weapon out in front of him and fire from a prone position, as flaming debris landed around him and soldiers screamed behind him.

He threw his last smoke canister toward the advancing enemy and rolled over to look down his body to see if he still had legs. One looked broken and the other was on fire, but they were there. Two Apache's curled in over the war wall and engages as close air support, suppressing the Rikti advance as a Blackhawk medical chopper landed near the crash site.

Upon standing, Riley found that his leg was merely perforated by shrapnel not broken, and though painful, he could walk on it. He reached into the flaming remnants of the first chopper and pulled free an extinguisher, to douse the bodies near him.

Two medics rushed out of the medical Blackhawk, under fire and started looking at the fallen soldiers. Mathers, Young and the door gunner were alive, the others didn't make it. Carlson burned to death while Riley was engaging the advancing forces. They simply picked up the wounded and muscled them to the chopper, which sustained four direct hits during the extraction. The pilot never flinched, he just kept the wheels barely touching the Earth, with the smoldering carcass of another bird right in his view the entire time, both pilots dead inside.

The Apaches expended the remainder of their ammunition and rolled out as Riley loaded Mathers. He turned and fired two bursts as the last medic tried to load the door gunner from the other chopper, but was hit in the leg. Riley pulled the medic up, and the other medic got the door gunner. Energy bolts slammed into the side of the chopper, hitting Young, Riley and the other medic as the chopper began to take off. Smoking and making all sorts of alarm type noises, the chopper hopped the war wall and headed for Peregrin Island.

No one said anything except one of the pilots, who was constantly talking over the radio. One of the Apache's flew close on the left side to assess the damage. The pilot only said, "understood". That wasn't good.

Riley pulled his sat phone from inside his armor and called General Hammond. When the general answered he simply said, "this is Master Sergeant Riley, we lost the crash site", then hung up.

Mathers held a bandage to his face and stared at Riley the whole way to the island. He never spoke once, even when Riley fell asleep somewhere over the water in the smoking helicopter.

Miliekah watched as they raided the vault from the hills above the portal. He noted the scrolls taken and entered the vault after they left, inspecting the carnage. He noted that the magics that would overwhelm most Arachnos forces completely failed to stop them, or even much slow them down. There was blood everywhere.

Other mages arrived later and he passed them as he was leaving. He stood on the hill outside the portal, surrounded by Thorns and Guardians. One of the Madness mages stepped up next to him. "What are they after?"

"I think I know. I think I know, but I hope I'm wrong." Miliekah teleported into the chantry nearby, some Arachnos mercenaries were raiding through the halls near the Shark'sHead entrance, but he didn't pay it any attention. Later they would go through looking for survivors, it was a constant give and take on the Rogue Isles.

He approached one of his own mages, one who specialized in illusions and asked for a favor.

"You have a purpose with this? An important purpose, I hope, for what you ask you cannot undertake lightly." The mage only received a nod from Miliekah. "Very well." With that he began casting a spell that removed Miliekah from the fabric of the universe, making him unable to affect anything, or be affected. "This will only last so long."

"I shant have need of it for long." Miliekah floated out to an ancient vault, past the guardian demons, and his brothers in the Circle. He waited near the entrance to the vault.

The entrance was a small chamber with steps leading up from a rock floor to a ziggurat with ancient glyphs all over it. There were five of the most powerful Madness mages in the high tower guards watching the vault, though only three were there at any one time.

One of them arched his back and gurgled blood suddenly, as the demons sworn to protect him turned to see a reptile creature withdrawing its claws from the mage's back. One swipe, two swipes more as the mage's magical robes absorbed the brunt of the blows, but still he was mortally wounded.

Then came the missiles, exploding directly in front of the demons even as they launched flame from their hands at Slayer. Black energies streaked from the wraith and Death Knights. Slayer just turned toward the other mages and withdrew his claws into their scaly sheaths as flame and death rained down on the garrison. Mu lightning danced through the group causing demon and human forms to twist and burn and spirits to tremble with the impact.

Eviella laughed cruelly as she hurled a potion of resubstansiation to Slayer. Her gadgets and inventions and potions making her neigh on invincible, she walked through the carnage, occasionally blasting some poor schmuck with her rifle. The Avatar walked near her, breaking Thorn swords with his powerful blows and sending bodies straight to the floor with one strike, or holding them in place with his poisons.

Miliekah was terrified by the display. Arrows, knives, swords, flame, nothing had any effect. It was as if a wave of death were descending on the Circle. As the Circle would gain the upper hand on one combatant, the others would move in to assist, often negating the effects of the spells and simply killing all in that area. For the first time, he wondered if he'd die. He wondered if his soul would not make it back to another form. He saw the Avatar pulling spirits from the air and from bodies being used as vessels. He hoped his magic would be enough to keep him hidden.

When the battle was over, they stepped inside the vault. As the odd assortment passed by, one with glowing eyes stopped and scanned the area near the mage. He quietly leaned behind a rock, hoping to stay out of sight. It worked, he wasn't detected. The group walked into this vault and there was more screaming. This time, a burning mage came staggering out, flailing wildly and screaming. He made it ten feet, before darkness followed him and his screams ended. The sickening stench of burned flesh and spilled blood filled Miliekah's nostrils, along with the odor of Lacerta scales and seawater. Were he not already mad, he would have been gibbering from what he was witnessing.

When the Lacerta and human worshipers exited the vault, they had with them a simple wand. Miliekah's worst fears were realized. He was visible and tangible by the time more powerful mages responded to the battle. He knelt there as they arrived and asked him what did this. When he didn't answer they moved past him. Other mages arrived, "what did this, what did this" over and over again.

"Madness," he finally answered, "they mean to awaken it…" He stared off into space. Even in the rage filled and power hungry haze of his own megalomania, he would never consider doing something such as this. They were assembling what was needed to raise the Leviathan. "… soon."

"Sir, it appears there is a distress call on the Imperial channel. A mission of intense importance is being organized to go deep behind enemy lines and rescue a downed vessel." One tiny holographic crewman stood before his captain on the bridge of his "vessel".

"Alert Imperial command that we will be assisting. Set a course for the rendezvous point and make best speed. Alert the crew to stand by for combat. The Empire will be proud of her flagship this day." The holographic captain stood and headed to his office off of the bridge, to muse over charts and plan strategies.

The holographic communications officer signaled Freedom Corps. "This is designation War Bird transmitting on encryption channel four two five niner, Imperial command, do you read?"

"Oh, this guy again. Yes, War Bird, we 'read' you. What can we do for you today." The Longbow radio operator was simply thrilled to receive another transmission from this whacko.

"Our captain wishes to inform you that we will be answering the distress call sent at fourteen hundred hours marked Xray, Foxtrot, one, Alpha, six…"

As the communications officer prattled off the bulletin ID number, the Longbow agent scrambled to find what the heck he was talking about. "You want to join the task force to the Rogue Isles? Oh! OH! Why, yes War Bird, you're um, authorized to dock with our.. um… space station and Rendezvous with Captain Kirk or whatever. By all means! Yes, we'd love to have you along. Do… um, do the Empire proud! We're counting on you!" With that the Longbow radio operator released the mic button and turned to the guy next to him. "That ought to get rid of that freak. I swear, why can't he just talk like a normal guy?"

War Bird took to the air and cloaked, heading for the Freedom Corps building, hoping to rendezvous with the other vessels and start their infiltration of the Rogue Isles sector of space.

Paralytic darts slammed into the Thorn, freezing him in a stupid looking pose with both of his hands in the air trying to create a barrier of flesh between his master and certain death. The Avatar smashed him aside with a two handed blow, sending the paralyzed Thorn to the ground roughly, where he stopped breathing.

The mage began a spell, but it never made it to his mouth. It stopped at the Avatar’s hand, which was around his throat and now pressing the back of his favorite head against the wall of rock. “Where is the Eye?”

The mage knew what the Avatar was looking for, and was having a brief internal dialogue on whether or not he should comply with the request for information when he realized he couldn’t. Not only was his state of mind worse than usual, he couldn’t breath. That’s when he really started to struggle, he wasn’t being interrogated, he was being devoured.

“Give me your soul, Death Mage.” And with the Avatar’s words, he could feel darkness rising around him. He could feel the dark magic that the Avatar wielded tearing his vitality from the form he’d stolen and devouring it.

Another Thorn came racing around the corner, and the Death Mage was momentarily relieved. It was just a flick of the Avatar’s hand and Mu lightning lashed out and surrounded the Thorn, creating a cage that prevented him from moving in any way other than the throws of agony. With that, the hope of escape or survival left the Death Mage’s eyes, and so did any signs of life.

There was a sickening thud as the second Thorn’s body hit the ground at Slayer’s feet while the magic that kept him from sight abated momentarily, revealing his green scales and priestly vestments covered in human blood.

Moments later, one of Overstrike’s less powerful droids drew the guards into an ambush. Outside of the Eye of Mu’s cell, a Thorn went running by, chased by a bolt of dark energy from Wrath. Then, the Avatar struck at the door with his full power, and his dark minions assisted with the dark energy he had given them, and the barrier relented.

Unafraid and unaffected by the gaze of the Eye, the Avatar stared at the previously captive prisoner. His own undead returning the red burning gaze, though with far less intensity. “Your distraction was helpful. The Dark God still has use of you.”

It was Warden Myers that arrived with the QRF to support Rider. The regular garrison had already posted guards at the front door and swept the building. They found one catatonic technician and a computer screen blinking “Files Deleted”, but other than that, they had no idea what was going on.

Myers asked for a location but the best they could do is recount from memory the location scoped out by the Legacy Chain believed to be the Circle of Thorns vault. It was an untimely distraction that pulled Myer’s men away from chasing after the Cult of Mu. Myers responded to his radio, and moved his men toward the other side of Cap Au Diablo, away from the mountaintop gateway that was currently being used to gain entry to the Circle of Thorns vault.

There was no plan, no discussion, and no special strategy employed on the Circle. Once the Cult of Mu arrived there was just death and flame. Bodies froze in place, were pummeled, burned alive, and robbed of their vital essence left and right. It was a bloody melee. It was blunt force trauma.

Slayer attempted to be stealthy, but the Circle and the Cult were too tied together with magic, and he was easily detected in their structure. As the mages stood around the body of the fallen Slayer, robots and zombies tore into their flanks, followed by Lacerta and their human worshipers. It was an amazing battle, shifting back and forth, both sides taking casualties, but the Cult would not be denied. It took overwhelming force and an impulsive decision by a key player to cause the Cult to be wiped out to the man by Longbow, and that wasn’t an option here.

Soon the tunnels leading to the vault were inhabited only by the Cult and corpses, either moving or not. The Avatar opened the door, and ordered the attack on the demon that guarded the vault.

It was covered in flame and some twenty five feet tall. It smashed anything that got near it with its powerful limbs, and fired flame at anyone else in sight. The combined force of the Cult tore into it mercilessly, as zombies exploded in all directions, scattered by the impact of its powerful, misshapen limbs. Droids were torn apart or melted, and others had to be activated and sent into battle. Other Circle of Thorns mages, killed in previous battles, were being raised and sent into combat against their own demon. The Liegioness of Flame and Insidious stood right up against the beast, pummeling it with their full force. Slayer slashed impatiently at the beast, not waiting for a perfect strike. The Lacerta priests unleashed flame, frost and death from a distance. Soon, the beast succumb, and collapsed.

From the vaults were taken artifacts, and these artifacts were quickly secreted away by Slayer in the Temple, while the rest of the Cult of Mu moved toward the distraction keeping Longbow from following them.

As the Avatar flew directly toward the scene of the distraction, he placed one of the artifacts not taken by Slayer on his neck, and faded from view.

Psht, Dollhouse doesn't know what she's talking about. The best roleplaying is done on Bravery.

If it doesn't load in your list of servers type /showallservers in your chat window, hit enter and relogon. Keep doing that for about an hour, then email me and tell me how helpful I am.

I swear I'm going to win an award or something for being helpful.

“Back so soon?” Michael looked pleased but a bit confused as the female interrogator came back into the room and set her pencil and paper down.

“It seems I’ve got more time to spend with you.” She opened his file again and thumbed through it. He poured her a glass of water and slid it toward her as she ignored him.

Finally, he breathed in, while still regarding her with one eyebrow raised. “No questions? You must not be happy about it.” He watched her shoot him a look that he was waiting behind the plate for. “C’mon. We’re both just here playing our parts. You can’t seriously think that some magical bad thing will happen if you and I should end up liking each other, can you?”

“I don’t think you and I will become friends, Mr. Helsinger.” She stared coldly at him, letting her pen go limp in her fingers.

“What a horrible approach to interrogation you have. So you’re basically going to drag me into a room, a room I don’t get to go into often so it’s a change of pace for me and therefore exciting, and just order me to tell you what you want to know? Seriously? Do you think that will work? I mean, if you’re going to go about this in a way guaranteed to be nothing more than proving that the idiot who thought of this was wrong, we may as well chat, don’t you think?” Michael folded his hands in front of him.

“That is not how this works. You see, if you want to see the light of day again, you’re going to cooperate. If you want privileges while you’re here, you’re going to cooperate.” She pointed the cap of her pen at him.

“But I don’t care about those things, and neither does anyone else. The Zig isn’t for purse snatchers or people who’ve set the garbage bin on fire with petrol, it’s for mass murderers and armed robbers and rapists. These aren’t people who are going to help you out for a chance to watch ‘The View’. They’re going to tell you what they want to tell you to suit their purposes. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not attacking you, it’s not your system is it.” Michael smiled.

“It works,” she retorted.

“Really?”

“Yes.”

“When?”

“Excuse me?” She flipped her hair out of her face as she leaned forward toward him across his folder.

“When does it work? When has it worked? Do you know if I’m lying about what I’d seen? Do you know if I made it all up? What if I saw her shoot fire out of her eyes and burn him up, then turn to me and threaten to do the same if I didn’t keep quiet?” Michael got comfortable in his chair and refolded his hands in front of him.

“Is that what happened?” She tapped her glasses twice with her pen, then put it to some paper.

“Not at all.” Michael leaned in. “Further, I didn’t see the fight, Fist did. He told me all about it, and I believe him to be incapable of making things that complicated up.”

“So you lied to me.”

“Of course, I’m a villain. But then I also told you the truth.” Michael smiled.

“Why?”

“To establish trust. It’s the cornerstone of any successful relationship. Don’t they teach you that in psychologist slash interrogation school?” Michael shrugged. “Now, your turn.”

She quirked an eyebrow. “How?”

“Drink the water.” Michael indicated the water he poured for her.

“Why, what did you do to it?” She tilted her head and looked at the water.

“You see, that is entirely the wrong way to go about it. You just accused me.” Michael feigned a hurt look.

She looked at him for a moment, then sighed. “Did you do something to it?”

“Could I? How many people are on the other side of that viewing panel? Would none of them warn you?” Michael indicated the mirrored panel on the wall.

As she started to pick up the glass, Michael stopped her by holding up his own hand, careful not to make physical contact with her. “Wait… maybe I know something you don’t. Maybe I slipped something in that they wouldn’t see. Maybe I know that they’re not watching for some reason. Maybe they’re all dead on the other side of that glass because I paid Coyote Bear in cigarettes to clear out that room so I could drug you and [censored] you. Are you sure you want to trust me?”

She considered all he said, then put the glass to her lips and drank, her eyes never leaving his. She set the glass down on the table. “There, satisfied?”

“What’s your name?” Michael smiled at her.

“Linda Smart.” She tilted her head as he laughed at her name.

“Of course it is. I’m Archon Steele, but you may call me Michael.” He held his hand out to shake hers, and she looked nervously at the glass.

Commander Rider ordered his QRF to suit up. “Lieutenants, brief your men, we have an unknown threat approaching. It could be one of those bands of villains, so I want combat loadouts. We aren’t going to have long after we hear the first siren.

It was one fatal corridor that the big battle would take place in. On the second floor down into the complex, one small group of Longbow held the doorway. “Steady men, we’ve lost the front and it looks like they’re on their way here.”

Laser fire and gunfire erupted from the Longbow squad as they spotted zombies and bots coming around the corner. The Cult of Mu engaged them heavily and quickly brought them down. Poison weakened them, slowing them in airborne clouds as they were bunched up behind cover. Legioness of Flame broke bones and burned flesh with her fiery aura. Wrath twisted darkness around them that was burned through by Overstrike’s bots as they rained laserbolts of death on Longbow’s head. Insidious smashed and tossed agents and wardens alike about like rag dolls.

Slayer and Flame grabbed the technician and made directly for the machine upstairs. Once upstairs, they were met by a huge force of Longbow waiting, and cut down under heavy fire.

Back in the corridor, Commander Rider ordered twenty more men into the fray. The battle raged on, bullets slamming into reptilian flesh and drawing a milky white substance that must have passed for blood. Longbow agents littered the floor, their faces burned, twisted with terror or smashed beyond recognition. The Avatar literally sucked the souls out of the wounded Longbow to heal his own wounds. Finally, however, the living Longbow pushed them back. The Avatar and Insidious the only one’s alive, they fell back to the elevators and went back up a level.

But the Longbow onslaught continued, and finally overwhelmed Insidious near the elevators. With no one between him and the attacking Longbow, the ten remaining agents pummeled the Avatar until his body gave out and he fell to the deck.

“Clear! We’re clear here!” Warden Michaels reloaded her rifle. The flamer operator leaned against the wall, panting and several of the riflemen tended to their downed comrades.

“We’ve got wounded! Carlton is still alive! Jennings and Adisu are alive as well.” Cried one of the Eagles.

“What the heck are these things?” A rifleman toed the corpse of Insidious.

Then the lights went out, and the emergency lighting kicked in. The Dark God’s power returned to his vessel, and the wounds disappeared.

“Where did they go?” The flamer stood from the wall, noticing the corpses of their enemies were gone.
“Michaels, report!” The commander’s voice was strained over the com.

“Uh. We have… a problem. Smith, Trexler, Jackson, get the wounded…”

“CONTACT!” The sound of gunfire erupted over the com.

Commander Rider turned toward his flamer in the emergency lighting and said, “Burn the bodies”.

The flamer saluted then turned and froze. “Sir…”

One look confirmed what he had suspected, there were only Longbow on the ground. “Tell the medics the area isn’t secure. Call for another QRF.”

“Over there! Use the elevators for cov-augh!” The com was briefly alive with screams then nothing. They could hear the muffled sound of gunfire coming through the elevator, then silence.

Rider had only ten men left at the bottom of the elevator, most were wounded. He himself was shaky from some kind of venom and felt a strange chill from the dark magics that had ripped at his soul. When the elevator doors opened, three Longbow stepped out and shambled toward his men. “Fire!” But it was too late. By the time they realized what was happening, the contents of the other two elevators had emptied into the chamber, and the battle was lost.

Rider never ran, he never called a retreat, he stood there, brass hitting the deck next to his feet and screamed with hatred and terror, until he was washed in flame and darkness. When the corridor was quiet once more, the Avatar spoke. “We proceed.”

Overstrike stood on the hill with four of her droids, their power signatures about a tenth of max. “I freakin hate this. This is just plain stupid. We’re going to get killed.” She looked over at the Lacerta who had been standing there with her. Her station had earned her a certain amount of candor with those she served.

“Death is nothing, success is everything. The Avatar has power over life and death, even his own.” Wrath swayed as if in a trance. His red and black scales hidden only slightly by his priestly robe. Flame stood next to him, a fiery red and also garbed in the priestly robes of the cult. Slayer, green and dark, with his reptilian wings and sharp claws lurked nearby in his priestly robes. It was quite a sight, were there anyone to see it.

Insidious showed up amongst them in a flash from the Lacerta teleporter. The hybrid regarded the rest of the group with reverence and a submissive bow followed. When the Avatar arrived, Slayer began going over the plan. There was a vault which held enchantment spells and secret technology that the Circle of Thorns had gathered. This was to be the target.

“I’m confused why we’re going in underpowered.” Overstrike was one of the few who dared look the Avatar in the eye who was not Lacerta.

“The mission must not attract a great deal of attention. This must happen without Arachnos’s knowledge and without the trespassers (read: Circle of Thorns) becoming aware, or they will increase the guard on the vault that we are after.

Legioness of Flame knelt on one knee, her tall and muscled form mostly visible, with nearly Roman style armor scattered across her, revealing much of her beauty. Her long, black hair hung down past her face as she waited for the order to rise. Once given, her body ignited, signaling that though she was bound by the Avatar’s order to limit the use of her power, even if death were upon her, she was going to put all her available strength into completion of this mission. “The reason does not matter, we are to serve. Death is not important.”

Overstrike nodded and muttered under her breath, “cultists, no profit in it.” She longed for Professor Eviella to come keep her company on this fool’s errand.

The Legacy Chain held the first part of the clue in a building in the center of Cap Au Diablo. Boy were they surprised to see reptilians and humans boiling in. Their primary guard were in that building, unbeknownst to Mu. The fighting was hard and fast, with many powerful artifacts unleashing magical death on the Cult of Mu. Several of the attackers were killed in the fray, but either by the hand of the Flame of Mu or the Avatar himself, they stood again.

“We cannot kill them, they get right back up!” Cried one of the Legacy Chain wizards.

“We must protect the charms!” Another cried.

But it was no use. The first information and components were gathered. Of course, there was a problem with that. It pointed to where much of the information was turned over to Longbow. This would require a second raid, with an increased chance that they would be aware, as information from the first almost certainly was leaked already.

Meanwhile, Longbow was made aware, and rallied extra troops to their base to defend against immanent attack.

Dennis’s mind and the eye’s mind left regular space instantly. They floated in a black void beneath the oceans of many planets simultaneously. They could feel the presence of creatures swimming in a panic past them, suddenly completely terrified at finding themselves not where they were moments ago. They could feel the presence of the Old Ones washing over them, like a scouring tide and accompanied by the horrid screams of billions of creatures being devoured at once.

Low, rumbling voices spoke of cold, calculated and specific plans involving Arachnos and gaining power for the cult locally as if they were laying out secrets of the universe. The words weren’t in English and the Eye wasn’t in the translating mood, but the symbiotic relationship served to get most of the purpose across. He was to infiltrate Arachnos, gain power and prestige and use it to leverage the Cage Consortium to push the workers to continue their project.

When the ordeal was over, he was left standing on the platform once more.

Miliekah looked out at the hallway filled with spirits, mages, behemoths, hoardlings and thorns. He had nearly 100 combatants there, ready to storm the dark hallway. The order was given and the stone moved aside. The spirits sailed into the blackness first, followed by the behemoths and their fiery auras.

They managed to exit the hall and enter a large chamber, much like a reverse pyramid before they had to split up. Several went into a small building that was home to a glowing crystal. Others went up steps and into other hallways. It took a while to find the reason they’d lost this hall.

Sword struck from the darkness, skewering the mage in charge of the small group that broke off down a corridor. As that scream raised their alertness, another scream from a small building. Reports began coming back that they were engaged on the fringes of the group, but no enemy had been spotted. Mages began sending spirits out to find the enemy, but they began slowly disappearing.

The Infiltrators did a good job of keeping the Circle off balance until Force Tech could arrive with re-enforcements. Slayer had suffered several major wounds, but he faded away into the darkness and withdrew from combat. Sword would not have fared as well, were it not for Overstrike’s timely intervention. The circle, maddened by the death of their mage leader, swarmed him, and he nearly succumb to his wounds before red beams of death began slicing through the enemy.

A few of the mages noticed that battle had been joined by fire and ice mages, as well as several robots. They turned to try and flee, but Force Tech appeared in their midst and spun with a powerful fist, as well as activating his jamming device, which each of the mages found extremely irritating. Two were stunned, one ran.

The hoardlings tore at Force Tech as he pummeled their mages with his glowing red gloves. As the last went down, Force Tech felt a burst of healing energy from Wrath of Mu keep him from losing consciousness.

Miliekah watched the single, orange robed mage come up the hallway, bleeding from his left side, and his right totally caved in.

“What are they?” The blue robed mage called out.

“They are… Orenbregans!” The orange robed mage moved toward Miliekah, but the order to reseal the tunnel had already been given.

“Most disturbing news. Most disturbing. I will need a few more resources to deal with this. We’re leaving.” Miliekah turned and walked down a tunnel, flanked by his honor guard of two Behemoth Overlords and Velum.

“I have the cell right across the way, don’t you want to interrogate me? I saw everything.” Michael lied as they were taking Penny away. The guards turned toward him quickly.

“I didn’t see nuthin.” Fist quickly commented, holding his hands up.

“Step away from the door!” Both Michael and Fist stepped back and put their hands on the wall. Seconds later, Michael was shackled and on his way to an interrogation chamber.

He sat in the chamber and told them everything he saw. Then he told them everything Fist had described to him as if he had seen it with his own eyes.

“So how did he get burned if she was using Karate on him?” His interrogator took less time than he thought she would to get to the point.

“That’s a good question.” Michael told her plainly. “I don’t have an answer to that. Isn’t this the section you put the non-superpowered criminals in?”

She just flipped through her file while she sat opposite him in the steel walled room. He noticed the bidirectional gas vents on the floor and ceiling. He noticed the slide panels on the walls, and the re-enforced transparent aluminum one way viewing pane. He noticed her business suit, and her wedding ring. He noticed her perfume, and her four inch heels. He noticed she wasn’t talking.

“I’m no expert at interrogation, but is your not speaking supposed to urge me to fill the silence with some sort of confession? Would that work? If I were to confess to incinerating this man from my cell with the forcefields up, would you punish me for that? Would you tell other inmates that I was capable of such a thing? That would really help my reputation.” Michael forced a wicked smile.

“You didn’t see her exhibit any special powers or abilities?” The interrogator looked directly at him, adjusting her glasses and pushing back a lock of curly, golden hair.

“No, ma’am.”

“You’re sure?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“You certainly are well mannered for a psychopath. What are you in here for?” She opened his file and started to peruse it.

“I needed to find Fifth Column soldiers for my army. I intend on finding them here and then breaking them out so we can return the Column to its former glory.” Michael didn’t see any reason to lie.

“And you don’t mind telling me about your secret plans?” She leaned forward and put her chin on her fist.

“Well, you are an exceptionally good interrogator.” Michael smiled charmingly at her.

She rolled her eyes. “I’m going to talk to the girl, I will be back.”

“Please, be easy on her. She’s had a rough time of it in here. Besides, she’s innocent, she told me herself.” Michael looked pleadingly at the interrogator, who snorted once and then left the room with a look Michael read as indecision as to how to take his comments. Then he sat back in the chair and drank from his water cup, while waving at the people behind the viewing pane.

[[Good luck to you! I took the liberty of ignoring you so that I won’t accidentally respond to any of your posts. I suggest you read all of the posts on RP etiquette, they may assist you greatly. Sorry things didn’t work out.]]

The first book was about a Greek named Astocrates who documented the first trade route to Atlantis. Of course, the time he chose to read it was when the storm blew in off the ocean. He read of daring sea adventures to bring fruits and vegetables from India to this Island of strange men with a strange culture. It wasn’t the first time he’d heard the legend of Atlantis, but there was something quite different about this telling.

In the other stories, Atlantis was fanciful science fiction of flying cars and strange technology that begged the question, “why didn’t they just take over the world?” In this telling, the Atlanteans seemed wary of humanity, and slow to react or act. Astocrates took many liberties with them in terms of trade. He demanded when he should have begged. He lied when he should have spoken the truth. He insulted when he should have praised or even flattered. All this time, he bragged about it to other sailors while showing off the coin that he acquired selling strange metals or dyes that could not be reproduced anywhere in the world. He was growing rich from nothing more than trinkets from the bottom of the ocean, where no man could go.

The author of the tale was clearly no historian, storyteller and definitely not Astocrates himself, as his fate is gruesome in the end. Even the author didn’t know his true fate, only that he was taken into a coral room and the roaring of some animal could be heard while Astocrates screamed for hours on end, each scream more terrible and blood curdling than the last. Finally, the author could take it no longer, and ended the tale with “for as long as a human being could stand it I listened, and then had to depart to salvage what remained of my soul.”

The story wasn’t exceptionally well written, but at three in the morning he realized he’d sat down and read the book straight through in one evening. There were disturbing images of this island of Atlantis, boats that moved under the water, people disappearing, and creatures of unimaginable horror.

As Tanner stood out by the windows, looking into the night and the rain and drinking his freshly brewed cup of coffee, he thought on the book. Then he saw Darren’s truck pulling up the driveway. The huge headlights were his first indicator that it was Darren. He illuminated the front of the sheriff’s department as they swept by on their way to a parking space. Just as the flash passed, Tanner saw something beyond the headlights, out in the ocean. At first he thought it was glare from an internal light off the glass, but as he peered out he could see something moving.

Darren pulled his jacket tightly around his neck as he ran in under the heavy rain. He closed the door quickly behind him, stomping off the water as he went. “I started thinking about it and I just couldn’t stop. I was hoping the forensic report would have come in already.” The deputy took off his jacket and hung it up, then moving toward his desk. “I was narrowing down the list of suspects by how many people could pound those spikes in, physically. God knows I don’t know how they could do that emotionally. Personally I can’t even imagine how… Sheriff?”

Tanner was watching water pour off of cliffs in the ocean, a tall tower gleaming like a lighthouse stood on the forward part of the cliff. Seawater was dumping down into the ocean, and the cliff was getting closer to the island. Suddenly there was some large reptile directly in front of the window. The scaly hand of the creature slapped against the glass, causing the sheriff to drop his coffee, and reach for his gun as he stumbled backward over a chair.

Darren drew his pistol as well, rushing for the front door. “NO!” The sheriff yelled out, no longer able to see the creature. Tanner rushed to the front door to drag Darren back in.

“What? Don’t you want to go after them?” Darren stepped back inside and wiped off some of the water.

“You heard that?” Tanner looked slightly confused.

“Yes, of course, it was loud. Sounded like someone slapped the glass.” Darren holstered his pistol and moved back toward his desk to get a towel from his gym bag. “It’s not a good night to be playing pranks on the Sheriff, if you ask me.”

Tanner moved back to the window, where he saw seaweed, matted against the outside window, and rain slowly washing away what appeared to be sand. “What if it wasn’t a prank?” As he watched, the inhuman hand print was washed away, leaving only the steamy print of a human hand on the inside glass. The cliff was gone, the tower gone, the lights gone, the night was dark and stormy. He began to doubt what he saw.

“Did you see them? You must have been right there.” Darren dried his neck. “Did you get a look at all?”

Tanner didn’t answer at first, but when Darren started to walk toward him he quickly turned. “Oh, um, no I didn’t. It was probably a prank.”

“What were you saying earlier? What if it wasn’t, what does that mean? Do you think the killer would do that? I’ve read that sometimes killers will mock the police, or dare them to catch him. Maybe we should go out there.” Darren ran the towel over his head.

The sheriff looked out the window once more, finally putting his pistol away. “No, I didn’t get a good look, but I think it was a kid. Probably just a prank. I’m going to get a mop.”

The deputy shrugged and walked over to his desk to start collating the evidence with the lab report. “It’s a bad night for pranks.”