Caemgen

As I recall, we did the first two tasks... No idea how far in that is.

Well, that was fun! Nothing like (un)controlled chaos to get the heart pumping!!

I grabbed taunt figuring it may help our pulling a bit but, errr... I don't think I can use it til we're done! (oops, ah well, will be good to have in future.)

As you all know, I'm new to working with a team (well, to game even but *shrug*) so if I'm doing something wrong or could be doing something better, feel free to advise me.

Also, I know a couple of us put alts in to play during non-session times... Do we want to consider opening that up to others? Saw the thread about Virtues Supergroups and first thought no use posting us since we're basically closed but then thought "are we?" Just a thought....

Anyway, looking forward to Tuesday!

First thing I would try (if you haven't already) is that Verify All Files button you see when logging on. It doesn't take too long and maybe you have a corrupted file or something...

Then, like they said above, try the tech forums.

Real Life happens...

When possible, post and let us know but I think we all realize that won't always be possible.

Depending on just how far they are rp'ing the scenario you could just treat it as some outrageous claim they are making and rp the appropriate level of skepticism... If they are RP'ing it such that the "named character" is actually in the room agreeing about the relationship then it gets a bit tougher.

I live at Paragon Wiki

Just under 1.5 hours... I've never spelunked in my life but I'll give it a go!

btw, latest installment of Alpha's Story is up if you wanted to look... I had to make up Derrick's last name Typo, hope you don't mind (and if you do, I could always edit I suppose.)

Daybreaker Alpha: Bits of News

Teleporting back home into his apartment, Clayton Michaels was looking forward to a quick shower and then a couple hours of sleep. Having just finished his first patrol of Paragon city without the rest of the Daybreak Patrol as backup had been thrilling, exhausting and not just a little bit dangerous. He expected to hear complaints from his employer, Crey Corporation, since his contract expressly forbid unauthorized use of the prototype Daybreak Alpha Battle Armor outside of officially run patrols of the Daybreak Patrol but given the late hours and the fact he hadn’t heard anything from them yet he suspected his luck would probably last at least long enough for a nap if not until their scheduled visit after his regular patrol nine hours from now.

His luck changed in a different way when, after carefully removing his armor and plugging it’s components into their various docking bays and recharging units, he decided to check the online news feeds before hitting the shower. He was hoping that his exploits wouldn’t be big enough to catch the attention of any of the news agencies. Clayton didn’t fool himself into thinking Crey Corp got their information from the Paragon News Network, he knew damn well that his onboard computers were constantly sending data back and forth along the Crey Corp’s private networks, but he suspected his exploits would be easier to sooth over if there was no Public Image angle that had to be dealt with.

The first item that caught his attention wasn’t about him at all, but rather the Daybreak Patrol as a whole. Or, to be more specific, about their new base of operations. The headline, Daybreak Patrol’s New Base – A Gift to Paragon City, left Clayton scratching his head.

Since when do we have a base? He asked himself. Chief Bochco always just sends a signal to our armors indicating where we’re needed most when our shift starts and we all just gather there…

The first couple of paragraphs in the article sketched out some facts for Clayton. It seems that according to a statement released by the PPD, a mysterious donor had stepped forward with funds to construct and properly equip a base of operations for one of Paragon City’s newest superhero groups.

“I’ve always believed that the Paragon Police Department’s people are truly this cities bravest heroes,” the anonymous donor was quoted in the press release as saying. “The Daybreak Patrol is the latest and one of the most important steps towards giving those brave men and women the tools they need to properly do their jobs. As such, my small gift is intended to reward those volunteers who are putting their lives on the line in order to develop and perfect what I believe will be the future of policing in this city.”

Volunteers, Clayton though with a bit of amusement. The financial package Crey Corp was providing him for his volunteering to pilot the prototype Powered Battle Armor was definitely not unimpressive. The opportunities Clayton hoped the role would provide him were really what convinced him but the money was definitely welcome. He suspected the other volunteers were also being financially provided for by the companies which built and designed their armors but so far the topic hadn’t come up while they had been busting Skuls, tromping on Trolls or harassing Hellions.

The article went on to speculate as to the identity of the mysterious benefactor and just how large a donation had been made. It was known that the base was designed and built by Heroic Construction, probably one of the most trusted names in construction amongst the superhero community due to their reputation for not only quick, quality construction but also secrecy. Drawing from this fact, the article speculated about the role Mrs. Mary Jane Stark may have played in the donation. Mrs. Stark was sits on the Board of Directors of Heroic Construction, is the sister of PPD Chief Bochco and her son, Derrick, was believed to be on the design team for the new Daybreak Patrol Base.

Well, at least I’ll have someplace to go where I can avoid my Crey Corp handlers, Clayton thought. He was tempted to wonder if he could hide out there forever but knew Crey undoubtedly had some kind of fail safes built into the armor which was just one of the reasons he hadn’t taken off with it to hunt down Malfearance already.

It was with his thoughts of Malfearance burning their way through his head that Clayton spotted an article about the ghoul itself. Buffalo Brawler Battles Malfearance to Stalemate, the headline read. It wasn’t from any of the local Paragon news sources but Clayton had long ago set up a program to search all news feeds for any mention of the murderous [censored]. The first step was to gain the powers, tools and skills needed to defeat the creature which had killed his fiancé but after that was done he would need to be able to find him and using the news feeds to track his crimes was a key step to that.

The article was from a paper local to Buffalo, New York, Clayton’s home town and where he had his own personal run in with Malfearance. The article praised the Buffalo Brawler, a native superhero who generally stayed close to the city, and provided a detailed account of how BB (as he was known locally) prevented Malfearance from unleashing hundreds of zombies upon the populace of Western New York.

While the Brawler was unable to prevent Malfearance from reanimating the corpses in Forest Lawn Cemetery and a few other local graveyards, the article said, he did interrupt the ritual preventing the spell to spread even further and returning the walking bones and corpses to the former inanimate state. Malfearance was able to escape capture by the Buffalo Brawler by commanding dozens of what were described as fiery imps to attack the hometown hero and delay him long enough to allow the criminal to escape yet again.

“He’s still free,” Calvin said to himself, unsure how he should feel about that. True Malfearance had a growing body count to his name and was more unpredictable than a Rikti monkey but Calvin Michaels wanted to be the one to take him down and having the criminal behind bars would make it that much more difficult. It would also make his motives that much more questionable. Still, he didn’t like that part of himself which wanted the madman to remain loose until Calvin could hunt him down himself, however long that might be.

“Screw it,” Calvin said after having pondered the moral ambiguities he found himself beset upon by for long enough to realize he wasn’t going to solve them without at least a shower and the nap he had promised himself.

Finally under the hot streams of water, Clayton recalled the events of the previous night as he showered.

Clayton had been unable to sleep. He’d been finding himself growing more and more restless to don his Powered Armor the closer he’d gotten to a scheduled patrol and finally he had given up trying to sleep last night and had decided to do just that. Crey Corp was surely going to pitch a fit but even deciding to wear the armor and hit the streets had banished the gnawing buzz in his head.

First he carefully slipped into the electro-textile body suit which provided direct commands between his body and the sensors of the prototype armor. Next he climbed into the armors exoskeleton and made sure the sensors were working correctly. The shell, or skin, came next – this was the outermost layer of the armor, primarily composed of a mix of metals so secret Crey would not even hint at its components, painted on the outside with the distinctive colors and designs of the Daybreak Patrol and reinforced on the inside with a grid like mesh of impervium. After slotting the fine neural wires into the ports behind his earlobes and creating a direct link between his mind and the suits computers, Clayton was ready to hit the streets.

Tuning in to the local police frequencies, Clayton listened in for something he thought he could handle. He tried not to kid himself about the fact that he was just a guy in a suit and a prototype suit at that. It seemed every day Crey Corp was tweaking the designs or the chips or the programming and Clayton knew only too well how quickly a life could be snuffed out. True, his vital statistics were programmed into Paragon’s emergency medical transporter and they should suck him out of any jam he got himself into before he truly died.

In Clayton’s mind, ‘should’ was the key word there. He couldn’t but help laugh at himself realizing just how little he trusted the technology even while wearing a technological battle suit and using it to fight people more than willing to kill him just for showing up. Still, there were risks and needless risks and Clayton was determined to carefully tread the line between them.

It was with these cautions in mind that he hesitated when he heard the first call go out over the police frequencies calling for aid. An alarm had been triggered in the Steel City branch of Virtuous Bank. Details were sketchy but initial reports suggested that a gang of the Lost were robbing the bank and being led by Echidna.

Clayton had read up on the Lost since they were a group he was likely to encounter on his patrols but so far had only limited experience with them. Most of their members seemed to be culled from the dregs of society, the mentally ill, the homeless and the poor who saw little hope in bettering themselves. They tended to look harmless enough, indistinguishable from panhandlers and the like but the truth was they had access to an endless supply or weapons, an almost religious fervor about them and strange mutagens coursing through their bloodstreams. The Lost had few qualms about killing innocents but were also known to take prisoners… Prisoners who if ever seen again were either Lost members themselves or insane shadows of their former selves.

Echidna he knew nothing about. Calling up a file on her via his Powered Armored Suit’s computer connection with the PPD database, Clayton winced at the photo that came with the sketchy data. She was horrific. Monstrous even. Trying not to even look at the grainy photo, Clayton skimmed the data to see if he thought he was up to the challenge. Reports said she was a skilled fighter, using barbs and spines for both immediate damage and a poisonous effect.

The Lost could be a problem on their own, Clayton thought. What’s Echidna doing with them? PPD profiles show no known link between them. PPD has her Threat Level a few pegs above anything I’ve tangled with yet but if I go in slowly… Try to thin the numbers of the Lost a bit before having to take her on…

Without having consciously decided to tackle the situation he found himself skidding to a halt just outside the doors of Virtuous Bank. A couple PPD squad cars had arrived already and the officers were just starting to set up a perimeter to try to keep the mayhem contained.

If I don’t go in there, Clayton thought as he watched the uniform officers pushing back the inevitable gawkers and spectators, they’re going to have to try and take her down.

Taking a deep breath, Clayton walked up to the doors and quickly stepped inside…




Next up: I try my hand at a fight scene and the return of a redheaded Field Agent…

And feel free to provide constructive criticism. I know I really should go over and edit these at least once before I post but I am just too darn lazy. I also know I have a tendency to let my tense wander a bit. I also know my technological/scientific/cyborg terms kind of suck since this is really my first attempt at tackling technology influenced story and I mainly avoid Science Fiction for Fantasy. Still, if you have more criticisms feel free to pile on!

I was actually joking in game yesterday about how when you sign up to become a superhero you envision epic sky battles, space fights and travel to exotic dimensions... instead I spen way more time in caverns, caves and sewers than even fecal matter should have to.

Yipeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!!!!!


((Looks around to see who made that noise and then slinks off to read!))

And we're up!

By the by all, Derrick the Designer ((Typo_Cop)) will be handling our base design. He assures me it will be something simple but cool... I'm personally looking forward to it having never stepped on a base in game yet. lol...

Regularly scheduled maint we forgot about...

If we have enough on after it comes back we'll try for the badge that was mentioned...

Fhorar, join in when you can... This is a change in plans so I by no means blame anyone who cannot join in or can't make the full time...

Dark_Respite, How'd you sneak in here?? (But you are welcome, of course!) There are a few reasons I think people enjoy your story so much:

1) It's truly a cut above (or three) of the general fan fiction or RP stories one finds in such forums. Your writing shows true talent, it is very polished and it's very coherent. I myself know I suffer from a tendency to ramble, stray off point and an inability to edit... I truly envy both your talent and your skill.

2) The content. Your use of a main character draws people in who may not normally read the rp forums. You give the reader everything they could want; romance, action, character development and just the right amount of humor.

3) The fact that you are generally so fast at providing more, I believe, also keeps the reader glued to the thread. If there is only new content once a week or less I think it easy to lose track of even a really well written, interesting story... Knowing there will be more tomorrow or the next day makes it much easier for reader to make your story "appointment TV" where they know if they look they will find entertainment...

I think the combination of all those is what truly keep your readers glued to your words. I also suspect you'd have even more dedicated followers with a different title... Don't get me wrong, I like the title and believe it very appropriate... But I suspect this game is largely younger male players who have a tendency to shy away from "chick flicks" or even "chick lit" and with Romance in the title I think a lot assume that your story falls into that category. It does indeed contain that but at the same time it also contains very well written action scenes which I think these people would love but may never see due to their inability to get past the title... (all in all, I would still vote to keep the title. Screw those afraid to move past their prejudices!)

[ QUOTE ]
I loved your stories so far - kind of inspired me abit :-) - as for the negotiator badge I totally want in!

[/ QUOTE ]

Well by all mens, any who desire should fel free to share their own backgrounds!!

Not sure what all these badges are about but I'm all for getting them anyway....

As for the stories how about I compromise and mention when there's new segments posted? They probably won't keep coming this regularly though...

By the by, I'm definitely creating another Daybreaker toon to run outside the group. I think it's (rp wise) going to kind of be Alpha after the story I am writing for him. I just really like the uni's and concept and want to be able to run it more regularly

Thanks, but if you want to see some REALLY good writing on these boards find The Course of Superhero Romance by Dark_Respite if you haven't already. The whole story (so far, sequal I hear is in the works) is HERE without the bother of the miscellaneous comments in between posts. Her writing does ot me exacty what you say my feeble attempts do to you!

By the by, while I shall make reference to other Daybreakers characters in my story, possibly even steal a snippet of RP chat if I think to save it and it's appropriate from time to time, I am not going to use them as main characters in the story. Not that I don't think they toons all look great or I don't like this or that about them... but the contrary. I'm too afraid to write somebody elses character for the huge fear that I will get it totally wrong from how they intended. Best to use my own imaginings and in game content (which I feel much more free to warp however I desire...)

Ok, at least half the team is down with friday for this week so we'll resume then. If the others cannot make it we'll advise how far we got up level wise and they can either catch up on their own, with help of whoever is available, or we'll help them along Tuesday...

By the by, in case anyone is actually interested in the story I've been writing about Alpha I decided it's best to give it it's own thread in the Roleplaying Forum rather than keep posting big chunks of stuff the group as a whole may not care about... (And no, that's not a subtle attempt to get praise for it or any such nonsense, just practicality about the fact that not everyone will care about my story.)

Daybreaker Alpha: Home from Day One
Daybreaker Alpha slipped into an alley and tapped the proper sequence of keys on his left gauntlet to trigger the teleportation protocols built into his powered armor. A signal was sent to the apartment Crey Corp had provided him and that signal triggered the teleport equipment which took up the entire spare bedroom to lock on to his location and recall him home. Its range was limited to just under a quarter mile but it was enough to save him from having to walk in and out of his apartment building in his armor. His identity wasn’t secret as such but he saw no reason to alarm his neighbors or to invite criminals to his home.

His exoskeleton froze for a good thirty to forty seconds as power was shunted from the armors strength and defensive systems and into the teleportation cycle. At these times right before teleportation Calvin Michaels felt trapped inside the suit and acutely vulnerable since he was for all intents and purposes just standing inside a metal can. This was just yet another reason this system was useless in the field but despite his complaints Crey Corp insisted on including it in the Daybreaker Armor but assured him that’s its range would be increased and the power issues solved as they garnered more and more data from the suits actual usage.

Finally a calm white light surrounded the exoskeleton, pulsed momentarily and then flared into a blinding mega-wattage before abruptly ceasing altogether and leaving Calvin in his spare bedroom surrounded by computers, docking stations and Lord only knew what else.

Once more Calvin Michaels tapped a sequence into the keys on his left gauntlet and this time his armor started powering down leaving just enough active juice to assist the wearer in the removal of the suit. Calvin began by taking off the bulky gauntlets as the other connectors required a finer touch to remove than the metal gloves would allow. Once those were removed he disabled the magnetic locks which held his helmet in place and after carefully unplugging the neural wires which connected his own mind to the suit’s neural etchings and BCI, he pulled the helmet off, sucking in a breath of real, true, actual, non-filtered air.

Calvin ran his hands over his brow and face sluicing off the layer of sweat and grit which had formed over the course of the day. Need to talk to them again about some air conditioning, he reminded himself. Hot as hell in there and whatever this metal is it sure doesn’t breathe enough for the sweat to dissipate. Felt like chunked tuna sitting around in a can of my own juices….

Disconnecting from and removing the rest of the powered armor, Calvin debated what he needed more; a shower or a beer. By the time each piece of armor war wiped down and slotted into it’s individual docking bay (for recharging and data collection) the decision had been made and Calvin headed for the fridge as he started removing the electro-textile body suit which was the data transfer medium between his body and the bulk of the suits systems. The Brain Computer Interface handled everything from data analysis to communications, sensors (external and internal) to systems power over-rides and even limited control over the nanites (which still freaked Calvin out) but the electro-textile body suit allowed the more mechanical systems to respond in complete harmony with Calvin’s movements and reflexes without even the milliseconds of delay that processing them through a computer would cause.

Bodysuit hanging open, Calvin leaned into the opened fridge and took a moment to enjoy the cooled air flowing across his body before reaching in and grabbing the plastic ring which held his last two beers together. Might as well celebrate a successful first day, he thought, closing the fridge and walking over to slump down into his recliner.

They seemed like a good group, he thought thinking about the rest of the Daybreaker Patrol. One had been late, one had departed early and one had been a complete no-show altogether but he wrote those problems off to mechanical issues, these Powered Armors were all prototypes after all. Working his way through the first beer he wondered briefly if he would be able to keep up with the rest of the crew: The first day had been a rush but had also been hectic as hell. And the others seemed so young but far more experienced at this sort of thing. Still, it was hard to tell much through the armor they all wore and he suspected they all had doubts and concerns about how it would all work out.

Before meeting them all Calvin had assumed they’d all basically be test pilots of the armor they wore, deputized by the PPD merely to allow them to put the suits through their paces in under true field conditions so that a determination could be made on which was most practical for use by PPD’s Powered Armor Division. He was still pretty sure this was the case with Daybreakers Gamma, Zeta and Omega but he wondered if perhaps Officer Kirby, Tac-Officer Hoplight (Hoppy, he reminded himself) and Officer J. Justice didn’t perhaps have actual policing experience. They hadn’t had much time for social interactions but he imagined he’d find out more about them as the days and weeks went by.

Officer Justice definitely seemed like she knew what she was doing, he thought recalling how she had taken leadership of the group for the day and had really run them at breakneck pace. First order of the day had been to help out the PPD in getting control of a contaminated neighborhood. Apparently some addicts had broken into a Crey facility and stolen whatever drugs they could find… And they found the wrong thing. Soon addicts across the area had increased strength, glowing eyes and a very violent attitude. The Daybreakers, under Officer Justice’s lead, had done themselves proud, subduing and containing well over a hundred of the poor lost souls and had even rescued Flower Knight who had gotten in a bit over her head when she tried to find documentation on the strange mutagen that had affected the addicts.

She’s a bit of a spitfire, that one, Calvin thought. She paused maybe a minute to accept the Isolator Badge they wanted to give us in thanks for our service before running us off towards our next task.

I wonder what she looks like out of that suit… But as soon as the thought crossed his mind he dismissed it. They were here to do a job, damnit. Besides, he refused to think of any woman except Wendy who he still considered his fiancé. Until Malfearance could be brought to justice there would be no other passion in his life. Period.

After helping out with the contaminated of the Hot Zone, Officer Justice had led the Daybreakers into the sewers. It was… gross. The fetid water they had to traipse through, the slime oozing down the walls, the fact that people actually congregated down there all had mad Calvin want to loose his lunch.

And those zombie like creatures, what the hell was up with that? He thought with a shudder.

Immediately after their tour of the sewers Justice had pushed them on to yet another mission and another. Somewhere in all the chaos and fighting Calvin had lost track of who he was even fighting and why. Justice just had to point out the villains, he already trusted her enough that he ran in and started knocking heads regardless of what they called themselves or how many of them there were.

He may not be able to put name to face yet (or even name to Powered Armor) but he already knew these people had his back when it counted, they had proven that time and again already. In a very real sense they were all working against each other: They were all there to showcase and demonstrate their individual prototype armor. When push came to shove though they all had really come together as a team.

Calvin felt a sense of pride rising up within him over what they had done and how they had worked so well together but rather than allow it to bask over him and enjoy it he forced it back down with a grimace and the chugging of his last beer. The rest of them were all the for the right reasons, be it to do the work of a cop or just to help better arm and protect cops, they were all there to do right. Calvin, on the other hand, was there for revenge. Once he was skilled enough with the armor, and once he figured out a way to slip it past Crey’s watching eyes, he was going after Malfearance. That was why he had joined the Daybreak Patrol. That was why he put up with Crey Corp, ignoring his dark suspicions about what they did in general and to him specifically.

Calvin Michaels had put his life on hold for twenty years after Malfearance had slaughtered Wendy and crippled him as they shopped for an engagement ring… But the dark light of revenge was starting to be visible at the end of the tunnel….




With a grunt, Calvin pushed himself up off of the recliner and headed into the bathroom. Stripping out of his electro-textile body stocking he set it to soak in the sink and started the water running for his shower. Before stepping under the water and washing off the grit his drying sweat had left him caked with he paused to examine himself in the full length mirror.

The first things to jump out at him, as always, were the skeletal robotic arm and leg on his right side. When Malfearance had attacked the mall outside of Buffalo, New York Calvin and his fiancé Wendy had been shopping in the ghoul had used his foul magic to attack indiscriminately. One blast of what research had revealed to be some kind of dark, netherworld energy had decimated the jewelry store the couple had been shopping in, killing her and leaving Calvin all but dead. For some reason Crey Corp. had sent a team of researchers, medics and scientists to try and save his life.

They made me a monster, Clayton thought for the millionth time. Robotic arm and leg, metal ribs, cochlear and retinal implants, reinforcement of my spine and internal organs changed in ways I don’t even fully understand… I’m a modern day Frankenstein’s Monster.

He didn’t have to look monstrous. Crey Corp. had provided him with flesh looking sleeves for his arm and leg padded to hide their robotic nature. Under clothes or out of direct sunlight they could just about pass for natural except for being a bit too smooth if touched. The false eye they had given him could pass almost any test when he had it in, moving in synch with the real one just like a normal eye would. In darkness there was the occasional shine, kind of a cross between the sheen sometimes seen in an animals eyes or redeye in a badly taken photograph but it did have its benefits as well. The only other outward sign of his cyborg-ness was the two jacks behind his ear lobes into which the neural wires jacked into but Calvin didn’t think he’d let anyone get close enough to see those except for Crey technical personnel.

Clayton didn’t wear the cover ups while in the Powered Armor because the suit was designed to plug into the preexisting modifications. They didn’t get much wear while he was at home either for Cal liked the constant reminder of what had become of him, liked how it kept him focused on his real agenda.

Running his skeletal hand through his short black (starting to go grey in a worrying strip just off center of the top of his head) hair and then over his stubbled jaw, Clayton tried to push all thoughts away so that he could enjoy his shower. His foot stopped before reaching the bottom of the tub. His augmented hearing had picked up the sound of the front door of his apartment opening even over the sound of the running water.

“Mr. Michaels,” a male voice said from the front room.

“Don’t you guys knock?” Clayton asked, walking out of the bathroom. He had considered grabbing a towel to cover himself with but quickly decided not to bother. These guys were intruding on him, too damn bad if they felt uncomfortable. As or himself, Clayton had lost his inhibitions around scientists, researches and other medical personal due to the years of treatments he’d been through which required far more indignities than mere nakedness.

“No, Mr. Michaels. We do not knock,” this from one of Crey Corps ubiquitous Field Agents. Two of them stood inside his still open front door. Black suit, tie and shoes, white shirt, dark glasses and a radio wire running out of their ear, Crey Field Agents looked every bit stereotypical Men in Black which had been the subject of many conspiracy theories before the Rikti War. These days Clayton suspect far more of those theories were true than he had ever before suspected.

“We most assuredly do not knock when the apartment and everything inside it belongs to us,” the Field Agent continued.

“I don’t belong to you, I just work for you,” Clayton pointed out with a distinct lack of impression upon either agent.

“As you will.” With that each of the Field Agents took a step away from each other and through the front door more people walked. The first two through the door were a Crey Corp Scientist and Researcher both wearing the rubberized looking protective laboratory gear which hid any trace of their identity and, Clayton often thought, humanity. Through those long, heavy lab coats, the thick protective gloves, the head and face protection and goggles it was impossible to tell even the gender of these Crey employees unless they spoke.

These two walked past Clayton with barely a glance and headed right to the spare bedroom and the Powered Armor stored within it. Right behind them into the apartment came a Medic and a Geneticist wearing almost identical gear as the first two. Behind them came a female Field Agent and Clayton started wishing he had grabbed a towel after all.

The Medic immediately approached Clayton and jacked some kind of medical device into the port behind Clayton’s left earlobe. The Geneticist very proficiently and very impersonally proceeded to first take skin samples, blood samples, hair samples and then running them through some kind of portable analysis device.

“Make yourself at home,” Clayton said with obvious annoyance. He’d been through this hundreds of times by now but it seemed much more oppressive now since they had come and intruded upon his apartment rather than him reporting to a Crey Corp medical facility.

“You have been drinking,” a voice said from behind him. Clayton couldn’t tell if it was the Medic or the Researcher as they were both behind him while he eyeballed the Field Agents who sedately stared right back at him.

“Two beers,’ Clayton answered. “It’s nothing.”

“Test subject shall refrain from consumption of any substance which could affect their physical or mental state post interface with the RHP Battle Armor Prototype, codenamed Daybreaker Alpha Suit 1 for these trials, and pre examination by Crey Corporation medical, scientific, research or other personnel designated by Crey Corporation to conduct such examinations as they see fit.”

“You’re quoting my damn contract now?” Clayton asked, turning his head to glance behind him. “It was too damn beers and I was thirsty. That tin can you have me interfacing with is hotter than hell. I was soaked in sweat by the time I got out of it.”

“Consumption of water or juice would be acceptable. Alcoholic beverages are forbidden. Also to be avoided are drinks with a high caffeine content,” the voice replied.

“You’re written report and personal observations were due for submission five minutes ago. Did they include your complaint about the internal temperature of the RHP Battle Armor Prototype in your submission?” the other one behind him asked, Clayton thought it was the Medic.

“I haven’t written the damn thing yet,’ Clayton snarled back.

“It was due five minutes ago. It is late. What caused the delay?”

“I was whacking off, what do ya think?” snapped back without thinking and immediately regretted it. Clayton paused for a moment and took a deep breath. These people had a way of pouring rubbing alcohol on any loose nerve he had but he needed to stay in their good graces. “I had the two beers and relaxed for a little while. My plan was to gather my thoughts and observations while I showered.”

“Noted. Complete report immediately upon completion of our exams.”

“Sure. Fine,” Clayton answered. “And do you have to stare?” This last was said as he turned to look directly at the female Field Agent. He’d been referring to his missing eye, arm and leg rather than his nudity, having man parts exposed was one thing but he was suddenly finding it hard to be exposed as just half a man in front of this agent. Without his fake skin sleeves covering his arm and leg and without his fake eye in he was beginning to feel very exposed indeed.

The female Field Agent, a redhead with a slightly upturned button nose but unremarkable from any other Crey female Field Agent in terms of style, tipped her glasses down and let her eyes roam over Clayton for a long moment before setting them back to rights. Besides that his comment got no response.

A long moment of silence passed as the Crey employees continued to poke and prod at Clayton, The two Scientists form the spare room left and returned with unlabelled boxes and the Field Agents stood by impassively. After a series of injections Clayton asked just what they were shooting him up with.

“It’s not steroids, is it? I don’t want my balls shrinking up or anything. I’ve got a few parts of me that work as good as ever and I’d like to keep it that way.”

“The injections keep you from rejecting your various implants as well as keep your body performing at peak performance.”

“You hear that?” Clayton asked the female Field Agent. “Peak performance!” Ok, no information out of the eggheads but at least that got her to smirk, he thought to himself.

Now the Scientists had gathered in the front room, apparently finished with up and/or downloading data to his armor and replacing whatever parts they saw fit.

“Your report is late. It is to be completed and transmitted immediately,” one of the scientists advised him.

“Yeah, we went over that already,” Clayton answered.

“Are there immediate observations you would like to provide before completing your detailed report?”

“Um, yeah. I suppose,” Clayton said and ran over things in his head. “Like I mentioned to your friends here, the suit is hot inside after it’s been running for a while. You need to install some air conditioning or something or I’ll be drowning in my own sweat.”

“Subjects comfort is not a priority but will be considered in future upgrades.”

“It’s not just comfort if I pass out from dehydration or heatstroke.”

“The RHP Battle Armor Prototype carrying designation Daybreaker Alpha Suit 1 monitors pilots physical condition and would shut down before such conditions could occur.”

“Shutting down could be even worse than passing out in the wrong situation” Clayton replied.

“Concern is noted and should be outlined in your upcoming report. Are there other observations?” the Scientist asked while making a notation on his PDA.

“Generally the armor worked great. In battle, some punches seemed to have less force behind them than others though. There was a bit of chafing under my arms and the protective mesh around my neck pinched a bit. The speed boost while running is a blast but will take some getting used to but I think that’s my issue not yours. The computerized tracking had a tendency to pick out targets which were too far away for immediate attack; it would help if it could be restricted to targets within arms reach.” Clay paused for a minute to consider what else he planned on including in his report. “Oh yeah, like I said the speed running is a blast but it would be nice if I had an even faster way to get from one area to another. Would it be possible to extend the range of the transporter?”

The scientist completed punching his notes into his data pad before returning his eyes to Clayton and responding. “Pilot should attempt to restrict their physical attacks to preprogrammed optimum tactics. We’ve uploaded a patch to include a two fisted overhand strike to your prior optimum tactics. These tactics are both programmed and hardwired into the RHP Battle Armor Prototype, codenamed Daybreaker Alpha Suit 1 and will result in the maximum force possible.”

“A temporary jet pack has been installed to facilitate quicker travel. It is of older and inferior design but was already compatible. Pilot can expect it wear out if put under constant strain. Use should be prohibited to emergency situations until upgrade is available. Teleportation will continue to be limited and plans for range expansion on this project are not approved.”

“Fine, fine… But what about the pinching and chafing?” Clayton asked.

“Minor adjustments of fit should be no problem at all. All needed adjustments should be detailed in your report and new measurements can be taken for adjustments sake.”

“Great! I could use more room in the crotch as well,” Clayton said, again glancing at the female Field Agent. No reaction. She must really have her game face on, Clayton thought. Or… Maybe I’m just not that funny…

“We’re done here,” the Scientist said and the Crey employees immediately grabbed up the last of there things and started departing. The two male Field Agents were first out the door, followed by the gaggle of brainiac types. Second last out the door, the one Scientist sternly reminded Clayton that his report was overdue and expected immediately, then quickly departed.

The female Field Agent was last to depart. She paused at the door to the hallway and turned back to look Clayton over once more. “Does it have variable speeds?” she asked.
Before Clayton could even think of a response she shrugged and walked out the door.





Report finally typed up, encrypted, emailed to his handlers and shower finally taken, Clayton called to have a pizza delivered and then wandered into the spare room to examine his armor. He could see that a few wires had been replaced and the neural etchings looked cleaner but they were too fine to tell if any adjustments had been made, otherwise it looked exactly the same. They had mentioned at least one programming upgrade, the two fisted overhand attack, and Clayton prepared to put the armor on knowing that any relevant programming upgrades would be revealed once he jacked the neural wires in behind his ears. Before he could plug in, however, he spotted a box sitting besides the door.

It was unlabeled just as all those the Crey scientists had carried in and out had been. Hesitantly, Clayton set the box upon a table and opened it. There was nothing shocking inside merely a few spare parts; two extra electro-textile bodysuits, several neural wires, and various and sundry other small parts which Clayton didn’t know the names of but knew how to install.

Clayton sat in a chair and stared at the box. The contents were each in their own individually sealed plastic bag with a sticker carrying the Crey Corporation logo and a barcode.

They can’t be spare parts deliberately left for me, Clayton thought to himself. Most of what’s in there isn’t what’s likely to break or suffer wear and tear. That would most likely happen to various parts of the outer shell first, probably the joint casings or some of the inner moving parts.

Did they just forget it? Was it some kind of test? Clayton considered the opportunity for what seemed like ages but he actually came to his decision rather quickly. Crey kept a very close eye on everything, especially inventory. The individual barcodes were some small proof of that. It was too early to give them any suspicions. Grabbing up his cell phone, Clayton used the speed dial to contact his handlers and advise them that a box was left behind during the earlier examinations. He was brusquely told that someone would be dispatched to collect the box and its contents and then hung up on.

Later, opening the door, Clayton was surprised to find that the female Field Agent from earlier had gotten there even before his pizza did. She had even knocked.

“I wasn’t expecting you,” he said stepping back and indicating that she should come in.

“I can tell. You’re wearing pants,” she answered and strode in to the center of the room.

“Um, yeah. Err, sorry about earlier,” Clayton said closing the door and sticking his hands into his jeans pockets. “It can be frustrating when they all swarm around like that and treat me like a science project. Sometimes I just feel the need to push back a little, you know?”

The Field Agent made no response, just stood there staring at him from behind her dark glasses.

“Yeah, anyway. I shouldn’t have targeted you. It’s the others who do the poking and the prodding. You were just doing your job, right?”

“My job?” she asked.

“Protecting the brain surgeons,” Clayton answered. “That’s why they’re always surrounded by you scary types, right?”

“Protecting them,” she said and her head tilted just a bit to the left. “That is one way of putting it.”

Clayton was finding this who exchange a bit off putting. Perhaps it was just because he’d never exchange more than a few words with a Field Agent before but he just didn’t seem able to find his conversational balance here.

“Well, ok. Let me grab that box for you,” he said before turning the words into action. “Would you like me to carry it downstairs for you? It’s not really heavy but I wouldn’t mind.”

“That’s not necessary. Do I need to inventory the contents?”

“Feel free,” Clayton said setting the box on a table near her. “I thought about snagging one of the body stockings so I didn’t have to wash mine each and every time I took the armor off but figured it’d be best to just request one through proper channels. The rest is just spare odds and ends. May be handy to have around for do it myself repairs but if Crey insists I wait for them why should I complain?”

“I don’t think you making self repairs is the concern,” she said. “Crey products tend to fetch high prices on the black market.”

“Ah. Hadn’t really thought about that. That kind of stuff really isn’t my thing.”

“No?” the female Field Agent asked. “But body stockings are?”

“Oh, heh,” Clayton sputtered a bit and could feel himself blush a bit. “They’re required to pilot the suit is all. They transmit date from me to it and vice versa.”

“Isn’t it odd?’ she asked as she picked up the box, not bothering to have inventoried it. “Being connected to a computer like that? To a machine.”

“I’ve been connected to machines and computers for almost twenty years now,” Clayton said, lifting his right arm and flexing his robotic arm and opening and closing his robotic fingers. “But yes… It is odd. Sometimes I hate it but I always need it.”

A silence fell between them and Clayton felt himself feeling even weirder than before. This was almost like having a real conversation with a Crey Corporation employee.

“Is it cold?” she asked, finally breaking the silence.

“What?” he asked, feeling as if he’d lost the track of the conversation.

“You’re err… bionics,” she said. “I’d imagined that they would be cold.”

Rather than answer, Clayton stepped a bit closer and held his right hand out to her. She stared at it for a few moments but then finally shifted the box to one arm and reached out and took his hand. It was a bit cold, she noted. Colder than flesh anyway. But even in that short time in which she held hands with him she noticed the robotic fingers warmed up to match her own temperature.

Slowly letting go of his hand, the Field Agent walked to the door and opened it. Clayton watching her the whole way.

“I can’t picture you in a body stocking,” she said from the doorway, her back still to Clayton.

“Have you tried to?” he asked, not entirely sure what he meant.

She half turned to look at him. Without replying, she reached into the box and then tossed him the package she had taken out.

“It won’t be any trouble for you?” Clayton asked catching it smoothly in his robotic hand, his retinal implants having perfectly tracked its trajectory.

“I can take care of myself,” she answered and walked out the door.

Clayton stared at the door for a long time after she left, thoughts racing through his head far too quickly for him to catch. Truthfully, he didn’t try too hard. The thoughts were all questions – Questions he didn’t have the answers to. He knew he’d eventually have to sort through the questions and figured out which ones he did want answered and how to go about getting them but for now he was content just to stare at the door until the pizza delivery guy rang his bell and knocked him out of his reverie.

((I won't be going day by day or writing up every mission nor every aftermath but I do have a storyline set... Wether that gets ahead of or falls behind the Toon itself will depend on how fast I write and how fast the team levels...))

Daybreaker Alpha - Backstory

It’s not easy harboring a dream you know you can never realize. It weighs you down like a wet winter coat, it eats away at all your other hopes and goals as if by having just a little bit more room perhaps that dream could somehow become a reality. For Calvin Michaels that dream had been a dark one – a dream of vengeance.

Justice, he thought as he gently rubbed the dry cloth over the cold metal of his uniform. That’s all I ever wanted.

Even as he thought it he knew it wasn’t true. Justice, real justice, is a thing of intellect, fairness and compassion. What Calvin Michaels wanted was a thing of passion, red anger and black pain.

Once satisfied that he had wiped the chest plate of his blue and gold armor clean of any fingerprints or smudges he may have left when he had tried it on for the second time in an hour, he set it aside and picked up his helmet to give it the same tender treatment. Paying special care to the data strings inside the helmet which plugged into the ports behind each of his earlobes, Calvin carefully cleaned every wire, connector, magnetic seal and each of the dozens of other technical doodads and thingamajigs whose names he had allowed himself to forget once he had actually passed all the tests, undergone all the analysis, submitted to all the surgeries and signed all the waivers and finally gotten the job. He even made himself polish the little silver logo of the company to which he had signed away his life in order to wear the armor though he didn’t try to stop himself from scowling as he did so.

Hell, I can tear down this suit to its base components, run diagnostics and rebuild it faster than any of those lab geeks at Crey Corp who can name the parts and explain how it works, he thought to himself. I’ll run this thing through it’s paces for them. I’ll field test this thing in one of the most dangerous cities on the planet until their win their precious contact. Once I’ve upheld my end of the bargain they’ll just have to deal with me borrowing their precious technological wonder for a little field test of my own.

The name slipped into his thoughts unbidden but once there he couldn’t help but remember it all…

They had been bystanders, nothing more. In the wrong place, in the wrong time and too damn stupid to run when they’d had the chance. They had been there to pick out an engagement ring and a small piece of Calvin still blamed himself for not being able to afford something better than a ring from a chain jewelry store in the local mall. He’d been saving up for three months and had planned at least another three before he could buy the ring he had picked out and properly propose but when she’d told him with a nervous smile and worried whisper that she was pregnant he had immediately dropped to his knee, taken her hand in his and while wearing bright yellow Bermuda shorts, a Flogging Molly T-shirt and a pair of Chuck Taylor’s he had asked her to be his wife.

After all this time he still cannot understand why she said yes.

Less than 48 hours later they were at the mall listening to the salesperson explain the differences in cut, carat and clarity of the two rings his fiancé just could not decide between. Each was out of his price range but watching the glow on her face Calvin knew he would make it work somehow. She turned to him with a smile on her face and told him she couldn’t believe how perfect everything was. She leaned in to give him one of those little kisses she teased him with in public and just before their lips met the first explosion shattered the window of the store and most of the display cases.

Tackling his fiancé, Calvin held her protectively under him as he heard screams start and the last of the glass tinkle down to the floor. The baby! He thought immediately but she was saying “I’m fine” at the same moment.

A second explosion, this one a bit further away, rocked the floor of the third floor mall store. Then a third. Looking over his fiancé one more time to assure himself that she was alright, Calvin rushed out of the store and to the railing to try to see what was going on. Floating in midair about level with the second floor of stores was figure of insanity the likes of which Calvin had never seen.

His flesh, where it could be seen, was more than pale, less than white. It was very nearly translucent. His hair was long and a dark gray and didn’t seem to float around his head so much as writhe. His eyes… His eyes all but glowed the color of insanity.

The man seemed very tall and emaciated thin but it was hard to tell due to the dark green robe he wore, hood thrown back, which had sickly yellow symbols which seemed to be moving across and through the fabric in an intricate pattern Calvin would never understand. Around his two outstretched hands this man, this floating nightmare, seemed to be gathering up some kind of smoky dark energy and when the mass of energy around one first seemed to reach it’s maximum levels it was hurled like a baseball by the laughing ghoul, hurled with explosive and deadly results.

To just further the horror of it all, the floating ghoul did not appear to be alone. On the ground floor of the mall, moving amongst the fleeing, panicked shoppers, there was dozens of small, monkey like shapes which seemed to be wrapped in flames. Whatever they were they seemed intent on clawing and biting and spreading chaos.

“We have to get out of here,” Calvin called out as he turned and rushed back to his fiancé. “If we take the fire steps we should be able to…”

She grabbed his hand and thrust it onto the bloody mess which was the salespersons leg. “Keep pressure here while I check the other customers,” she said.

“We’ve got to get out of here,” he said even while following her instructions. “I think they’re coming this way!”

“I’m a nurse, I have to help them!” she answered while checking out a woman who seemed to have merely fainted.

“Love, between us and them, I choose us!”

She paused and looked at him, her expression a mix of shock, surprise and disappointment. “Cal,” she said, her voice sounding… well, he could never quite decide if she sounded sad, angry, or what. He didn’t have a lot to base it on as it was then that one of those balls of dark, pulsing energy struck the back wall of the jewelry store and Calvin lost everything in his life.

I should have dragged her out when I had the chance, he thought but immediately he answered himself that there had never been time to do so anyway. There was no escaping that day. Not even now, twenty years later.

In many ways he was a new man when he woke up to find himself in a hospital room; It took some time for him to find out, even more for him to comprehend, but he had a new right arm, new left hand, a new ribcage (on the right side at least,) a new right eye, several new organs and various enhancements and “structural supports” in his legs and his spine.

“I’m the freaking Six Million Dollar Man,” he thought with a mixture of amusement and despair.

As it turned out, all one needed in order to survive such catastrophic injuries as he had suffered was an organ donor card, a waiver signed by next of kin (he’s still not sure if he has anything to forgive his brother for or not – or if he’s ready to) and for the Crey Corporation to take a special interest in your case.

At the time he had of course heard of some of the more controversial accusations against Crey but he had just assumed they were looking for a guinea pig to experiment upon.

Later, as he was going through the tests and trials required for consideration of acceptance to their Powered Armor Pilot Program, he began to get suspicious about just how easily the prosthetics and bionics they had equipped him with almost two decades earlier in extreme life saving measures seemed to mesh and interact with their newest high tech equipment being designed for Paragon Police Departments new Powered Armor experiments.

Still, no matter what Crey was up to he had to jump at the chance to get his hands on a tool, any tool, that would allow him to seek out fulfillment of the dream he’s had ever since that day when he first laid his eyes upon that ghoulish, wraith looking floating [censored].

Kaemgen's journal just totally went the wrong way and will be retconed once my inspiration for him gets back on track... Meanwhile I'm much prefering to write about Daybreaker Alpha...

Quick background to the Daybreak Patrol:
The Daybreak Patrol is the brainchild of Meg Mason, a civilian under contract to with the Paragon Police Department. Noticing a distanct lack of superpowered volunteers during the early morning hours, and impatient at the best of time, Mason proposed the concept of a new task force of Powered Armor Cops dedicated to patroling the streets, skies and sewers of Paragon during the wee hours of the morning.

Chief Conrad Bochco saw the need for beefed up patrols during these dangerous hours but knew he lacked the funding, the manpower and the equipment to do anything about it. Brainstorming with Mason, they came up with the idea of forcing volunteers to come forward through potential future monetary incentive.

Chief Bochco opened bidding for the design and manufacture of PPD's next model of Powered Armor. Specifications required that the new armor be versatile, adaptable and upgradeable so as not to become obsolete. The bids, as expected, poured in from all corners of the globe from companies looking not only to get a piece of the lucrative contact and the prestige of defending Paragon City but also for the chance to experiment with their latest designs. Aeon Copr, Crey Industries, Hero Corps, Lockhart Aerotech, Portal Corp and a plethora of lesser and unkown companies and individuals submitted bids.

In truth, there was little funding for such an upgrade of the cities beleagured police force but Chief Bocho knew that with such intense competition to land the fictional contract, he could push the companies even further. To be considered for the contact, Chief Bochco required that each company supplied the PPD with a field ready prototype of the design as well as an operator of the armor.

With this demand, many companies dropped out of the bidding war but those that remained provided the PPD with both more fire and manpower, both free of charge. Chief Bochco knew he wouldn't be able to keep this sham running forever but in the meantime he would be able to make the city that much safer...

The prototypes varied greatly in design, style and capabilities. The most common resembled PPD's current Shell, Hardsuit and Assault designs but a few went a step further than the typical armored suit to include implants, bionics and robotics and nanotechnology. Chief Bochco knew a few of the designs would never be accepted in a million years due to the radical procedures they would require his officers to undergo but in order to clean up the streets of Paragon City he had no hesitation in taking advantage of those who already had volunteered and had it done.

On July 8, 2009 the first eight of these company supplied volunteers were deputized and organized into the first squad of the Daybreak Patrol. This alpha squad was tasked with putting the prototypes through their paces under actual conditions, to stretch their abilities to the limit to see which would break down and which should be given due consideration. To this end the Daybreak Patrol was given the freedom to act independantly of the PPD power structure and answer only to Chief Bochco himself. In truth, the police chief was eager to limit their contact with the PPD for fear that the lack of funding to actually order any of these high tech units would become known to the deputized, company paid operators.

On July 14, 2009 the Daybreak Patrol first hit the streets of Paragon City... The success or failure of the prototypes, as well as how long Chief Bochco can continue swindling the various companies into supplying these armors, has not yet been determined.

I could do tommorow, not sure of the majority...


Ah well, if you're bored you can always read what I did when bored at work last night...

Daybreaker Alpha slipped into an alley and tapped the proper sequence of keys on his left gauntlet to trigger the teleportation protocols built into his powered armor. A signal was sent to the apartment Crey Corp had provided him and that signal triggered the teleport equipment which took up the entire spare bedroom to lock on to his location and recall him home. Its range was limited to just under a quarter mile but it was enough to save him from having to walk in and out of his apartment building in his armor. His identity wasn’t secret as such but he saw no reason to alarm his neighbors or to invite criminals to his home.

His exoskeleton froze for a good thirty to forty seconds as power was shunted from the armors strength and defensive systems and into the teleportation cycle. At these times right before teleportation Calvin Michaels felt trapped inside the suit and acutely vulnerable since he was for all intents and purposes just standing inside a metal can. This was just yet another reason this system was useless in the field but despite his complaints Crey Corp insisted on including it in the Daybreaker Armor but assured him that’s its range would be increased and the power issues solved as they garnered more and more data from the suits actual usage.

Finally a calm white light surrounded the exoskeleton, pulsed momentarily and then flared into a blinding mega-wattage before abruptly ceasing altogether and leaving Calvin in his spare bedroom surrounded by computers, docking stations and Lord only knew what else.

Once more Calvin Michaels tapped a sequence into the keys on his left gauntlet and this time his armor started powering down leaving just enough active juice to assist the wearer in the removal of the suit. Calvin began by taking off the bulky gauntlets as the other connectors required a finer touch to remove than the metal gloves would allow. Once those were removed he disabled the magnetic locks which held his helmet in place and after carefully unplugging the neural wires which connected his own mind to the suit’s neural etchings and BCI, he pulled the helmet off, sucking in a breath of real, true, actual, non-filtered air.

Calvin ran his hands over his brow and face sluicing off the layer of sweat and grit which had formed over the course of the day. Need to talk to them again about some air conditioning, he reminded himself. Hot as hell in there and whatever this metal is it sure doesn’t breathe enough for the sweat to dissipate. Felt like chunked tuna sitting around in a can of my own juices….

Disconnecting from and removing the rest of the powered armor, Calvin debated what he needed more; a shower or a beer. By the time each piece of armor war wiped down and slotted into it’s individual docking bay (for recharging and data collection) the decision had been made and Calvin headed for the fridge as he started removing the electro-textile body suit which was the data transfer medium between his body and the bulk of the suits systems. The Brain Computer Interface handled everything from data analysis to communications, sensors (external and internal) to systems power over-rides and even limited control over the nanites (which still freaked Calvin out) but the electro-textile body suit allowed the more mechanical systems to respond in complete harmony with Calvin’s movements and reflexes without even the milliseconds of delay that processing them through a computer would cause.

Bodysuit hanging open, Calvin leaned into the opened fridge and took a moment to enjoy the cooled air flowing across his body before reaching in and grabbing the plastic ring which held his last two beers together. Might as well celebrate a successful first day, he thought, closing the fridge and walking over to slump down into his recliner.

They seemed like a good group, he thought thinking about the rest of the Daybreaker Patrol. One had been late, one had departed early and one had been a complete no-show altogether but he wrote those problems off to mechanical issues, these Powered Armors were all prototypes after all. Working his way through the first beer he wondered briefly if he would be able to keep up with the rest of the crew: The first day had been a rush but had also been hectic as hell. And the others seemed so young but far more experienced at this sort of thing. Still, it was hard to tell much through the armor they all wore and he suspected they all had doubts and concerns about how it would all work out.

Before meeting them all Calvin had assumed they’d all basically be test pilots of the armor they wore, deputized by the PPD merely to allow them to put the suits through their paces in under true field conditions so that a determination could be made on which was most practical for use by PPD’s Powered Armor Division. He was still pretty sure this was the case with Daybreakers Gamma, Zeta and Omega but he wondered if perhaps Officer Kirby, Tac-Officer Hoplight (Hoppy, he reminded himself) and Officer J. Justice didn’t perhaps have actual policing experience. They hadn’t had much time for social interactions but he imagined he’d find out more about them as the days and weeks went by.

Officer Justice definitely seemed like she knew what she was doing, he thought recalling how she had taken leadership of the group for the day and had really run them at breakneck pace. First order of the day had been to help out the PPD in getting control of a contaminated neighborhood. Apparently some addicts had broken into a Crey facility and stolen whatever drugs they could find… And they found the wrong thing. Soon addicts across the area had increased strength, glowing eyes and a very violent attitude. The Daybreakers, under Officer Justice’s lead, had done themselves proud, subduing and containing well over a hundred of the poor lost souls and had even rescued Flower Knight who had gotten in a bit over her head when she tried to find documentation on the strange mutagen that had affected the addicts.

She’s a bit of a spitfire, that one, Calvin thought. She paused maybe a minute to accept the Isolator Badge they wanted to give us in thanks for our service before running us off towards our next task.

I wonder what she looks like out of that suit… But as soon as the thought crossed his mind he dismissed it. They were here to do a job, damnit. Besides, he refused to think of any woman except Wendy who he still considered his fiancé. Until Malfearance could be brought to justice there would be no other passion in his life. Period.

After helping out with the contaminated of the Hot Zone, Officer Justice had led the Daybreakers into the sewers. It was… gross. The fetid water they had to traipse through, the slime oozing down the walls, the fact that people actually congregated down there all had mad Calvin want to loose his lunch.

And those zombie like creatures, what the hell was up with that? He thought with a shudder.

Immediately after their tour of the sewers Justice had pushed them on to yet another mission and another. Somewhere in all the chaos and fighting Calvin had lost track of who he was even fighting and why. Justice just had to point out the villains, he already trusted her enough that he ran in and started knocking heads regardless of what they called themselves or how many of them there were.

He may not be able to put name to face yet (or even name to Powered Armor) but he already knew these people had his back when it counted, they had proven that time and again already. In a very real sense they were all working against each other: They were all there to showcase and demonstrate their individual prototype armor. When push came to shove though they all had really come together as a team.

Calvin felt a sense of pride rising up within him over what they had done and how they had worked so well together but rather than allow it to bask over him and enjoy it he forced it back down with a grimace and the chugging of his last beer. The rest of them were all the for the right reasons, be it to do the work of a cop or just to help better arm and protect cops, they were all there to do right. Calvin, on the other hand, was there for revenge. Once he was skilled enough with the armor, and once he figured out a way to slip it past Crey’s watching eyes, he was going after Malfearance. That was why he had joined the Daybreak Patrol. That was why he put up with Crey Corp, ignoring his dark suspicions about what they did in general and to him specifically.

Calvin Michaels had put his life on hold for twenty years after Malfearance had slaughtered Wendy and crippled him as they shopped for an engagement ring… But the dark light of revenge was starting to be visible at the end of the tunnel….




With a grunt, Calvin pushed himself up off of the recliner and headed into the bathroom. Stripping out of his electro-textile body stocking he set it to soak in the sink and started the water running for his shower. Before stepping under the water and washing off the grit his drying sweat had left him caked with he paused to examine himself in the full length mirror.

The first things to jump out at him, as always, were the skeletal robotic arm and leg on his right side. When Malfearance had attacked the mall outside of Buffalo, New York Calvin and his fiancé Wendy had been shopping in the ghoul had used his foul magic to attack indiscriminately. One blast of what research had revealed to be some kind of dark, netherworld energy had decimated the jewelry store the couple had been shopping in, killing her and leaving Calvin all but dead. For some reason Crey Corp. had sent a team of researchers, medics and scientists to try and save his life.

They made me a monster, Clayton thought for the millionth time. Robotic arm and leg, metal ribs, cochlear and retinal implants, reinforcement of my spine and internal organs changed in ways I don’t even fully understand… I’m a modern day Frankenstein’s Monster.

He didn’t have to look monstrous. Crey Corp. had provided him with flesh looking sleeves for his arm and leg padded to hide their robotic nature. Under clothes or out of direct sunlight they could just about pass for natural except for being a bit too smooth if touched. The false eye they had given him could pass almost any test when he had it in, moving in synch with the real one just like a normal eye would. In darkness there was the occasional shine, kind of a cross between the sheen sometimes seen in an animals eyes or redeye in a badly taken photograph but it did have its benefits as well. The only other outward sign of his cyborg-ness was the two jacks behind his ear lobes into which the neural wires jacked into but Calvin didn’t think he’d let anyone get close enough to see those except for Crey technical personnel.

Clayton didn’t wear the cover ups while in the Powered Armor because the suit was designed to plug into the preexisting modifications. They didn’t get much wear while he was at home either for Cal liked the constant reminder of what had become of him, liked how it kept him focused on his real agenda.

Running his skeletal hand through his short black (starting to go grey in a worrying strip just off center of the top of his head) hair and then over his stubbled jaw, Clayton tried to push all thoughts away so that he could enjoy his shower. His foot stopped before reaching the bottom of the tub. His augmented hearing had picked up the sound of the front door of his apartment opening even over the sound of the running water.

“Mr. Michaels,” a male voice said from the front room.

“Don’t you guys knock?” Clayton asked, walking out of the bathroom. He had considered grabbing a towel to cover himself with but quickly decided not to bother. These guys were intruding on him, too damn bad if they felt uncomfortable. As or himself, Clayton had lost his inhibitions around scientists, researches and other medical personal due to the years of treatments he’d been through which required far more indignities than mere nakedness.

“No, Mr. Michaels. We do not knock,” this from one of Crey Corps ubiquitous Field Agents. Two of them stood inside his still open front door. Black suit, tie and shoes, white shirt, dark glasses and a radio wire running out of their ear, Crey Field Agents looked every bit stereotypical Men in Black which had been the subject of many conspiracy theories before the Rikti War. These days Clayton suspect far more of those theories were true than he had ever before suspected.

“We most assuredly do not knock when the apartment and everything inside it belongs to us,” the Field Agent continued.

“I don’t belong to you, I just work for you,” Clayton pointed out with a distinct lack of impression upon either agent.

“As you will.” With that each of the Field Agents took a step away from each other and through the front door more people walked. The first two through the door were a Crey Corp Scientist and Researcher both wearing the rubberized looking protective laboratory gear which hid any trace of their identity and, Clayton often thought, humanity. Through those long, heavy lab coats, the thick protective gloves, the head and face protection and goggles it was impossible to tell even the gender of these Crey employees unless they spoke.

These two walked past Clayton with barely a glance and headed right to the spare bedroom and the Powered Armor stored within it. Right behind them into the apartment came a Medic and a Geneticist wearing almost identical gear as the first two. Behind them came a female Field Agent and Clayton started wishing he had grabbed a towel after all.

The Medic immediately approached Clayton and jacked some kind of medical device into the port behind Clayton’s left earlobe. The Geneticist very proficiently and very impersonally proceeded to first take skin samples, blood samples, hair samples and then running them through some kind of portable analysis device.

“Make yourself at home,” Clayton said with obvious annoyance. He’d been through this hundreds of times by now but it seemed much more oppressive now since they had come and intruded upon his apartment rather than him reporting to a Crey Corp medical facility.

“You have been drinking,” a voice said from behind him. Clayton couldn’t tell if it was the Medic or the Researcher as they were both behind him while he eyeballed the Field Agents who sedately stared right back at him.

“Two beers,’ Clayton answered. “It’s nothing.”

“Test subject shall refrain from consumption of any substance which could affect their physical or mental state post interface with the RHP Battle Armor Prototype, codenamed Daybreaker Alpha Suit 1 for these trials, and pre examination by Crey Corporation medical, scientific, research or other personnel designated by Crey Corporation to conduct such examinations as they see fit.”

“You’re quoting my damn contract now?” Clayton asked, turning his head to glance behind him. “It was too damn beers and I was thirsty. That tin can you have me interfacing with is hotter than hell. I was soaked in sweat by the time I got out of it.”

“Consumption of water or juice would be acceptable. Alcoholic beverages are forbidden. Also to be avoided are drinks with a high caffeine content,” the voice replied.

“You’re written report and personal observations were due for submission five minutes ago. Did they include your complaint about the internal temperature of the RHP Battle Armor Prototype in your submission?” the other one behind him asked, Clayton thought it was the Medic.

“I haven’t written the damn thing yet,’ Clayton snarled back.

“It was due five minutes ago. It is late. What caused the delay?”

“I was whacking off, what do ya think?” snapped back without thinking and immediately regretted it. Clayton paused for a moment and took a deep breath. These people had a way of pouring rubbing alcohol on any loose nerve he had but he needed to stay in their good graces. “I had the two beers and relaxed for a little while. My plan was to gather my thoughts and observations while I showered.”

“Noted. Complete report immediately upon completion of our exams.”

“Sure. Fine,” Clayton answered. “And do you have to stare?” This last was said as he turned to look directly at the female Field Agent. He’d been referring to his missing eye, arm and leg rather than his nudity, having man parts exposed was one thing but he was suddenly finding it hard to be exposed as just half a man in front of this agent. Without his fake skin sleeves covering his arm and leg and without his fake eye in he was beginning to feel very exposed indeed.

The female Field Agent, a redhead with a slightly upturned button nose but unremarkable from any other Crey female Field Agent in terms of style, tipped her glasses down and let her eyes roam over Clayton for a long moment before setting them back to rights. Besides that his comment got no response.

A long moment of silence passed as the Crey employees continued to poke and prod at Clayton, The two Scientists form the spare room left and returned with unlabelled boxes and the Field Agents stood by impassively. After a series of injections Clayton asked just what they were shooting him up with.

“It’s not steroids, is it? I don’t want my balls shrinking up or anything. I’ve got a few parts of me that work as good as ever and I’d like to keep it that way.”

“The injections keep you from rejecting your various implants as well as keep your body performing at peak performance.”

“You hear that?” Clayton asked the female Field Agent. “Peak performance!” Ok, no information out of the eggheads but at least that got her to smirk, he thought to himself.

Now the Scientists had gathered in the front room, apparently finished with up and/or downloading data to his armor and replacing whatever parts they saw fit.

“Your report is late. It is to be completed and transmitted immediately,” one of the scientists advised him.

“Yeah, we went over that already,” Clayton answered.

“Are there immediate observations you would like to provide before completing your detailed report?”

“Um, yeah. I suppose,” Clayton said and ran over things in his head. “Like I mentioned to your friends here, the suit is hot inside after it’s been running for a while. You need to install some air conditioning or something or I’ll be drowning in my own sweat.”

“Subjects comfort is not a priority but will be considered in future upgrades.”

“It’s not just comfort if I pass out from dehydration or heatstroke.”

“The RHP Battle Armor Prototype carrying designation Daybreaker Alpha Suit 1 monitors pilots physical condition and would shut down before such conditions could occur.”

“Shutting down could be even worse than passing out in the wrong situation” Clayton replied.

“Concern is noted and should be outlined in your upcoming report. Are there other observations?” the Scientist asked while making a notation on his PDA.

“Generally the armor worked great. In battle, some punches seemed to have less force behind them than others though. There was a bit of chafing under my arms and the protective mesh around my neck pinched a bit. The speed boost while running is a blast but will take some getting used to but I think that’s my issue not yours. The computerized tracking had a tendency to pick out targets which were too far away for immediate attack; it would help if it could be restricted to targets within arms reach.” Clay paused for a minute to consider what else he planned on including in his report. “Oh yeah, like I said the speed running is a blast but it would be nice if I had an even faster way to get from one area to another. Would it be possible to extend the range of the transporter?”

The scientist completed punching his notes into his data pad before returning his eyes to Clayton and responding. “Pilot should attempt to restrict their physical attacks to preprogrammed optimum tactics. We’ve uploaded a patch to include a two fisted overhand strike to your prior optimum tactics. These tactics are both programmed and hardwired into the RHP Battle Armor Prototype, codenamed Daybreaker Alpha Suit 1 and will result in the maximum force possible.”

“A temporary jet pack has been installed to facilitate quicker travel. It is of older and inferior design but was already compatible. Pilot can expect it wear out if put under constant strain. Use should be prohibited to emergency situations until upgrade is available. Teleportation will continue to be limited and plans for range expansion on this project are not approved.”

“Fine, fine… But what about the pinching and chafing?” Clayton asked.

“Minor adjustments of fit should be no problem at all. All needed adjustments should be detailed in your report and new measurements can be taken for adjustments sake.”

“Great! I could use more room in the crotch as well,” Clayton said, again glancing at the female Field Agent. No reaction. She must really have her game face on, Clayton thought. Or… Maybe I’m just not that funny…

“We’re done here,” the Scientist said and the Crey employees immediately grabbed up the last of there things and started departing. The two male Field Agents were first out the door, followed by the gaggle of brainiac types. Second last out the door, the one Scientist sternly reminded Clayton that his report was overdue and expected immediately, then quickly departed.

The female Field Agent was last to depart. She paused at the door to the hallway and turned back to look Clayton over once more. “Does it have variable speeds?” she asked.
Before Clayton could even think of a response she shrugged and walked out the door.





Report finally typed up, encrypted, emailed to his handlers and shower finally taken, Clayton called to have a pizza delivered and then wandered into the spare room to examine his armor. He could see that a few wires had been replaced and the neural etchings looked cleaner but they were too fine to tell if any adjustments had been made, otherwise it looked exactly the same. They had mentioned at least one programming upgrade, the two fisted overhand attack, and Clayton prepared to put the armor on knowing that any relevant programming upgrades would be revealed once he jacked the neural wires in behind his ears. Before he could plug in, however, he spotted a box sitting besides the door.

It was unlabeled just as all those the Crey scientists had carried in and out had been. Hesitantly, Clayton set the box upon a table and opened it. There was nothing shocking inside merely a few spare parts; two extra electro-textile bodysuits, several neural wires, and various and sundry other small parts which Clayton didn’t know the names of but knew how to install.

Clayton sat in a chair and stared at the box. The contents were each in their own individually sealed plastic bag with a sticker carrying the Crey Corporation logo and a barcode.

They can’t be spare parts deliberately left for me, Clayton thought to himself. Most of what’s in there isn’t what’s likely to break or suffer wear and tear. That would most likely happen to various parts of the outer shell first, probably the joint casings or some of the inner moving parts.

Did they just forget it? Was it some kind of test? Clayton considered the opportunity for what seemed like ages but he actually came to his decision rather quickly. Crey kept a very close eye on everything, especially inventory. The individual barcodes were some small proof of that. It was too early to give them any suspicions. Grabbing up his cell phone, Clayton used the speed dial to contact his handlers and advise them that a box was left behind during the earlier examinations. He was brusquely told that someone would be dispatched to collect the box and its contents and then hung up on.

Later, opening the door, Clayton was surprised to find that the female Field Agent from earlier had gotten there even before his pizza did. She had even knocked.

“I wasn’t expecting you,” he said stepping back and indicating that she should come in.

“I can tell. You’re wearing pants,” she answered and strode in to the center of the room.

“Um, yeah. Err, sorry about earlier,” Clayton said closing the door and sticking his hands into his jeans pockets. “It can be frustrating when they all swarm around like that and treat me like a science project. Sometimes I just feel the need to push back a little, you know?”

The Field Agent made no response, just stood there staring at him from behind her dark glasses.

“Yeah, anyway. I shouldn’t have targeted you. It’s the others who do the poking and the prodding. You were just doing your job, right?”

“My job?” she asked.

“Protecting the brain surgeons,” Clayton answered. “That’s why they’re always surrounded by you scary types, right?”

“Protecting them,” she said and her head tilted just a bit to the left. “That is one way of putting it.”

Clayton was finding this who exchange a bit off putting. Perhaps it was just because he’d never exchange more than a few words with a Field Agent before but he just didn’t seem able to find his conversational balance here.

“Well, ok. Let me grab that box for you,” he said before turning the words into action. “Would you like me to carry it downstairs for you? It’s not really heavy but I wouldn’t mind.”

“That’s not necessary. Do I need to inventory the contents?”

“Feel free,” Clayton said setting the box on a table near her. “I thought about snagging one of the body stockings so I didn’t have to wash mine each and every time I took the armor off but figured it’d be best to just request one through proper channels. The rest is just spare odds and ends. May be handy to have around for do it myself repairs but if Crey insists I wait for them why should I complain?”

“I don’t think you making self repairs is the concern,” she said. “Crey products tend to fetch high prices on the black market.”

“Ah. Hadn’t really thought about that. That kind of stuff really isn’t my thing.”

“No?” the female Field Agent asked. “But body stockings are?”

“Oh, heh,” Clayton sputtered a bit and could feel himself blush a bit. “They’re required to pilot the suit is all. They transmit date from me to it and vice versa.”

“Isn’t it odd?’ she asked as she picked up the box, not bothering to have inventoried it. “Being connected to a computer like that? To a machine.”

“I’ve been connected to machines and computers for almost twenty years now,” Clayton said, lifting his right arm and flexing his robotic arm and opening and closing his robotic fingers. “But yes… It is odd. Sometimes I hate it but I always need it.”

A silence fell between them and Clayton felt himself feeling even weirder than before. This was almost like having a real conversation with a Crey Corporation employee.

“Is it cold?” she asked, finally breaking the silence.

“What?” he asked, feeling as if he’d lost the track of the conversation.

“You’re err… bionics,” she said. “I’d imagined that they would be cold.”

Rather than answer, Clayton stepped a bit closer and held his right hand out to her. She stared at it for a few moments but then finally shifted the box to one arm and reached out and took his hand. It was a bit cold, she noted. Colder than flesh anyway. But even in that short time in which she held hands with him she noticed the robotic fingers warmed up to match her own temperature.

Slowly letting go of his hand, the Field Agent walked to the door and opened it. Clayton watching her the whole way.

“I can’t picture you in a body stocking,” she said from the doorway, her back still to Clayton.

“Have you tried to?” he asked, not entirely sure what he meant.

She half turned to look at him. Without replying, she reached into the box and then tossed him the package she had taken out.

“It won’t be any trouble for you?” Clayton asked catching it smoothly in his robotic hand, his retinal implants having perfectly tracked its trajectory.

“I can take care of myself,” she answered and walked out the door.

Clayton stared at the door for a long time after she left, thoughts racing through his head far too quickly for him to catch. Truthfully, he didn’t try too hard. The thoughts were all questions – Questions he didn’t have the answers to. He knew he’d eventually have to sort through the questions and figured out which ones he did want answered and how to go about getting them but for now he was content just to stare at the door until the pizza delivery guy rang his bell and knocked him out of his reverie.

Hmph, I missed the CST... So basically this is scheduled for our playing time minus the last hour...

Do we want to just call today off?

According to the Annoucements page there will be server downtime Thursday 7/16 from 8am-10am with, of course, potential earlier up...

So, our start time will be pushed back til 10am tommorow. If the server is up early and we only have a few around I'd suggest radio missions until 10am.

OMG, my total bad. Cannot believe I failed to tell Justice she did a great job ages ago!!!

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Err... does that mean... you liked it?

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Oh hush and get to work on book 2!

I lucked out not having to suffer withdrawal while waiting for each new chapter like everyone else during book 1... Now I know you are going to make me suffer and yearn, crave and tear my eyes out waiting for book 2.