DeviousMe

Arek raised an eyebrow at this, the obligatory 'does not compute' running through the denim-hued draconian's head. If she remembered him, why didn't she remember Vharsuun?

"A chaos demon." he answered objectively, "But I think we may be getting ahead of ourselves. Take a step back - where do you know me from...?"

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

"What sort of something crazy in particular?" Drago wanted to know, his tone targeted but at the same time distant, not coming across with any undue force, "Do you remember?"

"Oh..." he tapped a finger on the bar, "Which reminds me: do your cameras cover that particular booth...?"

"Calm yourself." Drago placed a hand upon Harbinger's right shoulder from behind, seeming to take no note of the flames. He stepped around the large man on the same side, his helmet's many eyes all seeming to focus on the bartender, "And you...a fine weapon you've got there. How much does its ammunition cost? Because you know..."

He sat down casually in the stool right before the bartender, the arms of his backpack curling menacingly toward the array of fine spirits behind the man, "...it would be a shame if you suddenly found yourself unable to procure more for lack of funds. Arachnos does have a way of losing so much paperwork these days..."

The hospital-gowned being twitched at War's harsh manner, not to mention language, but decided that staying quiet was probably the best way to not getting shot. He didn't make any undue effort with the clothes, grabbing off the nearest racks the first pair of pants that looked about the right size - which just happened to be pattered in desert camo - snatched a pack of underwear, and slinked cautiously into the closest changing room.

"...I'm not really sure..." he finally started, "I...I guess I wasn't as dead as I thought. Um, I got shot I mean. At least I think I did...I remember wanting him to, but...my brain felt like it was on fire, so I don't know if he actually did..."

He stepped out of the booth again, leaving the hospital gown behind, thus now showing a rather impressively athletic build. This guy had a good many muscles - and judging by the fact that he'd torn a hole into the strong weave of the pants to get his tail through, they weren't just for looks. He knew how to use them. In fact, both War and Famine would likely recognize the trained shape of a soldier there...but the personality didn't match at all.

"Sorry..." he apologized meekly, keeping his eyes away from the mercs, while he grabbed a drab, olive, sleeveless shirt and tore slits for his wings into its back, "...I'm probably not making any sense...I'm still trying to figure out exactly what happened too..."

Draping over the shirt once satisfied, he then sought out some footwear, grabbing a pair of concrete-gray combat boots because they happened to be close, "All I know for sure right now is that whatever they wanted had something to do with a microchip and with my head. I think they wanted to put another one in, but I don't know for sure."

"Oh, um..." he finally looked to them again as he sat on the floor, lacing up the boots, "...by the way...you know, thanks. I never did really say that. Also, my name's Griffin."

"Yeah, I know..." he smirked in an embarrassed manner, "...a griffin named Griffin. Wasn't really my choice, though..."

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

Isabel was quite right. Indeed, the first VB officer to spot her even simply made an attempt to get her back into the crowd they were trying to keep at a distance.

"Miss, please keep behind the line." he told her, reaching a hand toward her to gently redirect the woman, "This is no place for you right now..."

"Paxtera?" the Drokar's head came forward to look at her closer, eyes a bit wider than before, "But...I thought Vharsuun kill you when you banished him? How...?"

"Right." he almost smirked a moment later, "Kheldian. Still good to see you made it."

With regard to the Rikti, Arek waited to see how the Hero Corps liaison's answer fell...

"As to you..." Kia looked to Akemi with an answer accompanied by a helpless shrug, "...well...I don't really know. All I know is last time I met a new human, he tried to smash me with a baseball bat. We only really know two, and they live on the island too, so I don't have enough experience to tell..."

((Cool.))

"I will be the judge of that." the denim-hued draconian retorted coldly, something about the human before him clearly bothering Arek, "What do...?"

He stopped as the woman joined them, somewhat perplexed by her manner, for he didn't recognize her. Spending most of one's time with about a dozen other species tended to do that, "...do I know you?"

Of course, that was when a Rikti Warmaster in blood-red armor arrived on the scene, the Sky Commander not sure what to make of him either. Not that he wasn't up to date on Rikti-human relations, no. It was more the Vanguard badge the man wore. Ever since Acid had severed all ties to the organization, Arek hadn't any developmental information on them.

"Arek." he therefore stated neutrally, sizing up the Warmaster in much the same manner, and then adding to both of them to break the ice some, "Glad I seem to be not the only one concerned about this..."

"Huh..." the Tornado couldn't help but blink in slight surprise, turning to her companion, "I guess Ace was right. Paragon City really is very different."

"And actually no, I didn't..." she seemed a bit sad at that, then added with a guilty smile, "I wish I would've."

"She's been fighting the urge to try and catch one of them." the other explained with a tad of a tease in her tone, regarding Sarah with a look that fit.

"...yeah." came the admission with somewhat of a sheepish shrug, though she relaxed a little more again when she answered in reference to the moisturizer, "Oh, and don't worry, that's just from the fireball. I'll be back to normal in a little while. Oh, and Jovi, by the way. Sarah Jovi."

"Kia Gray." the velvet-brown dragon now introduced herself too, smiling eagerly, the tension having finally dispersed, "Mountain dragon. Don't let the name fool you though; I live by the bay. Oh, and we'd love to. Wandering around without anyone who knows where's what does get a little old."

"Mhm." Sarah confirmed that in a manner that suggested she'd tried and failed to get an orientation around here, "This place is big. Oh, and you said we're going to a school? Is it a university? Maybe with a robotics lab?"

"Down, girl." Kia couldn't help but chuckle at the excited nature of her friend, "Sorry about her, she does that. She's majoring in biomechanics..."

"Please keep your hands inside the vehicle at all times." Drago didn't waste any time, warping the three directly to the casino the large red man had spoken of.

"That's an interesting feel you have there." he told the boy after they'd arrived, "Why so light...?"

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

((Gonna wait a little with Arek. Hopefully for more heroes to show. ))

Sarah was taken a bit aback by the question, answering the peacebringer with a confused, "No...Tornado...what's a Drokar?"

puzzling as it had been though, the inquiry had taken a good bit of tension out of the two, and Sam's proposal did even more thereof, though they still didn't quite understand.

"Really?" the velvet-brown dragon inquired, "We are? You're not going to like...scream and try to clock me with something heavy...?"

"Um...okay..." was the answer to Famine, feeling more than just a bit 'freaked out' at the gun being waved at him. Realizing he was still in that hospital gown and didn't have anything underneath it didn't really help that situation either, and his eyes got a little wider when the mercenary mentioned 'business', "Business? Please tell me you're not thinking what I think you're thinking..."

"Don't misunderstand, I'm grateful that you got me out of there, but um..." he looked uncertainly about the shop, which just happened to sell several manners of clothing, "...do you mind if I put some clothes on first...?"

"Gwwhhhh..." the creature indeed awoke, as he somewhat had been doing already from all the shouting, the very human-looking hands (aside form the short, almost feline fur) clutching at the red-maned head with suggestion of one hell of hangover.

"Why is everybody shouting?" he question groggily of no one in particular with a fairly average-sounding tone of a young male, and his head rose to look around, "Wait...where am I...?"

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

"Could be." the Krieger answered Egregore, having already taken said advice and focusing on the task ahead. Yes, they'd kidnap the Sovereign...after that, they'd just have to see, "Might be others too. That armor they call MPsomething has a cloak function that holds under most thermo-optic conditions. Hmm...I seem to recall you having one too. How does it fare? Could you sneak in there?"

Before the cyborg could reply, however, something happened.

The parade was attacked.

With a roar of power, and the characteristic purple of nictus energy unleashed, none other than Requiem himself materialized right in the middle of the soldiers that marched before the tank, throwing his arms out to the sides to knock them to the ground with gravitic emanation.

At nearly the same time, soldiers in the traditional garb of the old Axis military - much like Kruger's personnel, but with their faces hidden by the characteristic skull masks - appeared all about, engaging the forces of the Pozemaa Armada in vicious-looking fistfights, binding them there.

"Vlastislav Teivos, you great fool!" the dark man bellowed, surprisingly enough in English, as he stretched a hand toward the APTH-1, another redirection of gravity lifting the vehicle off the ground and turning its gun away from him, "I promised we would return! And this day, we do!"

Surprisingly, not a shot had yet fallen, the battle apparently entering close quarters far too swiftly. Of course, there was also the issue of the dense crowd all about, gasping for breath and mouths agape at this spectacle, VB officers pushing them back wherever they could. Moreover, the units on the rooftops weren't doing anything, and even the Comanches only came in gradually.

"Yah, I remember." came the reply from the caped Tsaigon's Slavic accent, the man standing tall on the crooked tank and throwing a pair of fingers toward Requiem, who had since been joined by none other than Vandal and Nosferatu, "And I also remember what I told you would happen when you did: I would kick your sorry [butt]!"

Kruger's face had gone chalk-white. What the hell was going on here?!

And if anyone had the capacity to notice, those gravity manipulations didn't seem to be coming from Requiem, but elsewhere entirely...

((Please don't currently take control of any NPCs at the parade. I have something very specific in mind here. Do what you like, but please let me have them react. ))

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

The dragons responded to Sun Tzu in the round, one after another. They had of course already studied this new arrival.

"He is indeed one of us."

"But he is of the earth. And of the shadows."

"He commands them both, but forces neither."

"He is of the old, but has embraced the new."

"He is poison to the land, a bringer of great plague and pestilence."

"He is peace to the spirit, harbinger of balance and growth."

"A contrary nature we have not seen...which we have never seen..."

((That's cool. By the way, what's J.W.'s? Oh, and Drago's not that big - just under 2 meters - and the backpack is the only Crab costume piece he has. The rest is Wolf armor.))

"Teleportation will be faster." Drago gave a curt nod to confirm acceptance of Harbinger's request, then turned to a nearby doctor, "I am checking out Patient oh-one-two seven; Harbinger Daemon."

The medical person nodded. She knew better than to question someone from Arachnos - even if, in this case, he wasn't here on their behalf.

"Take a hand." he then told the two indifferently, extending each of them an open palm, "Don't worry, I don't bite. Often."

It was his intention to teleport them directly where Harbinger had requested...

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

Atlas Plaza

A shadow of wings darkened the sky above Henry Peter Wong - which wasn't exactly unusual around here. A good many heroes had wings, many draconic, and even more came to see him every hour of every day to request information on so many topics.

The draconian being that landed no far from him, however, wasn't here for one of those.

Sky Commander Arek, better known here in Paragon under callsign: Spearhead Alpha had come to discuss a different issue entirely. Namely, the email the man before him had recently sent out.

It was an interesting picture, the denim-blue draconian towering more than half a meter over the average-sized human clothed in that blue-and white Freedom Corps uniform, while the scaled creature wore little more than a set of high-tech guards that could've belonged to Vanguard on his shoulders, lower arms, and the shins and 'toes' of his digitigrade feet. Purple, however, was nowhere to be found, replaced by a cool, alien gray.

A necklace with an odd-looking, broken stone of emerald green dangled in front of the draconian's light-auburn keratin chest plating, a natural defense mechanism that extended all the way from the upper throat across chest and abdomen, and along the ventral tail nearly to its slim-ended tip. Surprisingly, said tail was also the limb that held nearly all of the spikes one would have expected to find on such a being, and in the form of a series of small razors to boot. The only other examples sat at the heels of his digitigrade feet, each foot carrying one spike.

Horns, however, he did have, and four to boot - all jutting from the back of his head, one pair rearward straight, the other curling about behind his bony, inhuman cheeks. Aside form the limb guards, however, he did wear one more article of clothing; namely a harness that could've most equivocally been summed up in the term 'stealth', metallic pieces of cool gray connected by slate-gray straps. The 'belt' of said harness also held a pair of what almost appeared to be dark, smaller-scale lightsabers, though in reality they were little more than telecoping staves.

"I assume you are the one who sent this?" a deep tone questioned of Henry Peter Wong as Arek called up a holographic image of the email on his right arm guard, "What did you have in mind...?"

((Okay Cham, I'll take your word for it then. ))

That zone of improbability may have suddenly expanded, or perhaps not, for a still rather ticked-off young Scorcher broke loose from his Shocker charge, full of spite at this woman just mocking them like that.

He'd already been itching to give her a piece of his mind, after all. Thus Braden doubled back just into range and hucked a fire blast at her to teach that old bat a lesson. Unfortunately for him, Chad wasn't having that, and yelled a warning, "No!" before really rocketing off with the guy so whatever horror he already expected Elieen to afflict him with wouldn't come to pass.

The fireball, however, was already on its way, but before it could strike Ms. Troy, it burst against the back of someone else who'd gotten in the way.

Sarah.

A cloud of light-gray smoke enveloped the women, the latter having curled protectively around the former, and as it cleared again it was plain to see she'd done so with more than just a pair of arms - for Ms. Troy found around her now a pair of decidedly draconic wings, inner skins white as snow and outer hide black as night.

The rest of the formerly already ghastly pale woman had assumed the same shade of white, and though the fingers before Ms. Troy still looked very similar and still felt very much like human skin, the texture of the white, very small, fine scales was undeniable.

And indeed, the rest of her had made the jump as well. Sarah was now a dragon, complete with a horn on the nose and a pair of long ears that stretched back slimly from the sides of her hair, not to mention the sharp red deltoid that was the tip of her tail, swaying about uneasily. From the base of her horn, a fat black stripe ran over her head and down her neck to the black back (that also covered her outside wings, of course) and down the upper tail all the way to its tip, giving her a very monochromatic look, even in spite of her still deep-drown eyes and colorful outfit.

"Uh-oh." she immediately released Eileen as she realized the seeming was gone, having no how she should react now. Looking to her companion, it didn't take her half an instant to note there'd be no help coming from her, the shorter woman even more frozen than she - understandable really, as the last time this had happened to her near a human, he'd tried to beat her over the head with a baseball bat.

Unlike Sarah, this one stood but velvet brown, and in addition to the small horn on her nose had a pair that jutted from the back of the head, her hair running neatly around both them and the ear flaps below. She didn't have any stripes or other markings either, though the inside of her wing skins did stand just a bit lighter than the exterior lining. The red deltoid of her tail also stood just a tiny bit larger.

"Um..." the monochromatic one finally raised a hand in a ginger gesture of greeting, the look in her eyes very expectant of a scream or something when she said, "Hi...I'm Sarah..."

((Oh nice, Golden's back! ))

Black Heart Memorial Hospital
Port Oakes, Etoile Isles

"Yes." a neutral, male voice came from the direction of the elevator, "It would be very helpful."

An octet of crimson-hued glowing eyes sat in the twilight where the voice had come from, moving unhurriedly toward the two. The individual attached to them looked to be a rather tall, unusual Wolf Spider Huntsman - unusual because instead of the cape his rank tended to wear, a Crab Spider pack sat upon his back, painted in the same black-and-red scheme as his Wolf Spider uniform, the articulated limbs skimming listlessly about as he walked toward the boy and Harbinger Daemon.

In addition, the lower half of his Arachnos helmet had been enclosed as well, the uniform thus hiding every part of his actual anatomy, but didn't seem to be any obstruction to his tone as he introduced himself in a clear and polite manner, "Senior Operative Drago. I was part of the Arachnos detail that followed up on your incident. We had a few...rather strange occurrences in its aftermath. Any information you could provide would be greatly appreciated..."

[ QUOTE ]
I won't say his characters aren't anywhere from a little to ridiculously overpowered depending on which one you look at, because to be honest they are. It doesn't bother me. The only thing that really bothers me in an RP is people trying to railroad people into a situation they want to happen despite any and all attempts, whether successful or not, to get off the train. And you and Devious are both guilty of that at times, from my point of view at least.

[/ QUOTE ]
You are correct, I am indeed. I more than clearly saw what my behavior crated in PCU, hence my decision to stop there - because it had gone too far. However, this is something I'm trying to better myself on, so don't give up hope on me just yet please.

[ QUOTE ]
Hey look, if this is your freedom space, well, nothing I can do. Just explaining the premise that seemed to have been taken up by everyone from the beginning [that Paragon physics were the 'realism'], so that we don't wind up with the DC Ultimate universe where everyone's single power is set to Ungodly or everyone can be an ARAC [the thing that destroyed D&D, thank you very much].

[/ QUOTE ]
Actually, there is. Since the real Vyachslav is a lot more of a wise guy then his counterpart that I write here, he has suggested the following: I have been assuming. And he's correct. I have been assuming. Very much.

What I mean is that every time I see references to sticking to the game, I see literally that - levels, damage types, numbers - which maybe I shouldn't. So I'm going to toss out that assumption and ask you here, Harrier: what specifically do you mean when you say 'Paragon physics'? Please explain it to me thoroughly, because I'd really like to know. Maybe it's not what I had assumed after all, or maybe it is and we can find a compromise. We'll see.

[ QUOTE ]
Averick – you go sit in your corner, and Devious in the other. Do not speak to each other, don’t look at each other and do not make any faces. One peep and you’re both grounded!

[/ QUOTE ]
Peep?

Sorry, couldn't resist.

[ QUOTE ]
Devious – a lot of your characters come across as omniscient or all-powerful. If they have weaknesses – SHOW THEM! That’s what I love about your character Jade. I have seen – and more importantly, MY CHARACTER has seen – his weakness! That’s realistic.

[/ QUOTE ]
You know, actually, I'd really like to...but thus far, there just hasn't been a point in the threads for those other characters' weaknesses to come up.

For instance, something that will stop Cleave dead, and thus can be considered one of his greatest weaknesses, is a simple web grenade. A tier1 secondary power. In my context, those webs don't just 'wear off', they actually have to be removed somehow - and when Cleave can't get loose from the ground, he can't cut them. Essentially, while his 'health bar' is not depleted (which in my context doesn't exist), he is very much 'defeated' until someone or something frees him form the webbing - a 'rez', if you will.

However, it just hasn't come up. No attempt to 'stick the annoying sword to the nearest surface' has. And if it doesn't come up, how am I supposed to show it? Just in OOC? I don't know if I'm comfortable with that. I'm used to people asking questions about weaknesses during fights, and figuring them out IC, like:

"The hero knew Dr. Horrible's personal force field was nigh-impenetrable, and he had little chance of actually getting through. Still, it had to have a weakness. It just had to - but what was it...?"

Maybe I'm just some relic from the old days of this board section, I dunno. It's just what I'd gotten used to, so I have to admit I was kind of dismayed when many of the people who did this left, and most of the new people didn't figure and ask anymore...they just seemed to want to know my characters' weaknesses up-front.

I mean...if that's really what yalls want, I guess I can change that. It'd take me a while to get over probably, since IMO it takes a good bit of mystery and challenge away. Personally, one of my happiest moments with Vyachslav in the Whitmoore was when Wolffe figured out that the big guy could be detected by smell - something I hadn't even hinted at - and acted upon it with his character Fenris. I loved that part. I really did. Someone pitting their wits against what I presented them with, and overcoming through some common sense and street-smart brainpower.

But like I said...if you guys want me to put out weak points in OOC...I'll do it. I really don't want you to see my characters as insurmountable because, well, they're not. They're just different.

[ QUOTE ]
No one person should have to ask permission to do something with their own character, and no one should have to tell everyone their plans. The uncertainty of what might be coming is part of the enjoyment we all share with writing here. (At least, I thought we all shared it…)

And everyone should be able to adjust their plan just in case their post does go against someone else’s plan – whether or not it was previously disclosed.

[/ QUOTE ]
My opinion too, and sorry again for crashing in like that with you and Wolffe and not having an exit prepared. But I learned from it, made sure I had an exit for the next time it happened, and now that Harrier has told me that I was interrupting his plans with Zeta, I made use of it.

[ QUOTE ]
*looks around*

I don't see any realistic setting if we've got people possessed by dark spirits, angels trapped in crystals and metal dragons.

I can see how the character's personality can be portrayed realistically, but how can any of the other stuff be real? We're superheroes in a fictional city that was ravaged by aliens! Go us!! ^_^

This isn't me ganging up or asking for you to constrain your characters or anything, but maybe leaving the word 'realistic' out might be a good idea. *winks*

[/ QUOTE ]
Oh no, I understand where you're coming from perfectly there. And I really wish I had another word for it. But 'realistic' is the closest thing in the English language that I've found to convey what I mean here.

I really don't know how else to say 'acted upon in the manner of the general trends obeyed by the physical world that you and I occupy'. Gravity only attracts, action-reaction always come in pairs, heat flows from more to less, etc. To me, following those guidelines is what 'realistic' means.

If you can suggest another term though, I'd sure appreciate it. That little word always seems to cause the biggest ruckus.

Averick, considering you've never bothered to try and figure out one of my characters, I'm not surprised you take that kind of attitude. Frankly, to me you appear like the kid who says he doesn't like something before ever trying it.

I don't define characters in levels, 'power', or anything else of that nature. All I consider them as is people. If you can't deal with people as they would be in a realistic setting, then I truly feel sorry for you, but...wait no, you've repeatedly said you've made your peace with that, so I'm not going to bother anymore.

Cool. Thanks for your feedback. I'll take it into consideration in my writing.

PCU you're definitely right. Now that that part's over, I can say that I was originally working on a plot with Jennifer that would both advance her character's recovery from what she'd encountered, as well as reveal what Pacem was, and get Samhein a little closer to Portal Corporation to advance his mission if he chose.

Yes, it didn't work out, and you're right it was because I chose a much too static environment. That much I've already figured out, and if I do ever do something like that again, it won't be for a long, long time.

As for mind-wiped, not really. I just haven't gotten around to summing up events that would've brought them back in a way that's ambiguous enough for people to see who did what without me directly controlling anyone. Actually, I'm not at all comfortable taking control of other peoples' personal characters to begin with, but this time things were really going nowhere, and I'd already had people requesting an end already.

You're right that it wasn't the right kind of setting to put there, and was much too heavy-handed. I completely understand your frustration, and I do apologize for causing it. I have no excuse. I thought it would be cool, it wasn't, end of story.

As for the Whitmoore...

Harrier, seriously - why didn't you just say so? If you'd just given me a heads-up that this was to be just between Zeta and you, I could've invented any number of reasons for Big V not to be the protective teammate.

I think my edit time on my last post with him may not have expired yet, so let me go check on that and we'll see what we can do.

As for sticking to just the context of the game, there I have to disagree though. I do try to write things in terms of 'powers' as often as I can, but I write here to not be restricted by the game's mechanics. My characters all have multiple weaknesses, but they're not quantified by 'damage type X', and I have no intention of changing this. If this upsets you, then I'm sorry, but I prefer to keep things more as they would be if this were a real-world environment.

Edit: yup, button worked. Harrier and Lobo are sun-eater-free, so at least I could do that much.

Okat, let's see then...well, it's been a while since I put up my main for one of these, so for your consideration here's Acid Zero, my bots/FF. Also a full body sketch. I know it doesn't show up that well, but I'm afraid to color it...and yes he does have feet, and they're not digitigrade - I just can't draw feet for jack squat.

He usually wears combat boots anyway when he's 'in uniform' - black pants, white T-shirt, black leather jacket, and of course the black boots. I just caught him on vacation. So if you like, have at him.

"Okay, but why do I have to carry all the groceries?"

These were the words of one young woman to another as the two approached the tram station from the direction of Icon. Both stood reasonably tall and slim, though the left had a few centimeters on the right, but from there the similarities already ended.

The taller's skin stood pale as a ghost, though her dark brown eyes clearly indicated she was no albino, nor did she seem expressively bothered by the bright sun in the sky today. She wore a long pair of blue jeans, a red T-shirt with short sleeves that proudly proclaimed 'I (heart) Robots' in snow-white lettering, and a pair of comfortable tennis shoes of much the same hue. In stark contrast to her pale, almost white skin, her long, curly hair hung coal-black from the back of her head, falling all the way to the back of her neck, though front and sides had been cut relatively short, extending only a few centimeters, just barely down to her eyes.

The other carried much the same mane, but long and straight, letting it drop as nature would down to and a little past her shoulders, her skin in turn a deep, almost unnaturally earthen tan. Hazel-brown eyes only added to the hue, and she dressed quite differently than her counterpart too: namely in a miniskirt of neutral gray, an alizarin sleeveless tank top that ended just below the ribs, and a pair of high-heeled, lace-up boots that reached nearly to below her kneecaps, their hue the same neutral gray.

She also carried a plump-looking, dark-gray backpack, filled nearly to bursting with the items she complained about, fingers curling about the straps that ran down from over her shoulders like some manner of hiker.

The taller one, however, carried something even larger on her back, and in much the same blue as her pants, which bore faint resemblance to the sort of bag one might keep golf clubs in. In the manner of a travel bag, however, a zipper sealed it off at the top, and the carrying strap over her left shoulder wasn't going anywhere with her hand holding onto it.

"Because it was your idea to come here." she told her very earthen-toned counterpart with a sardonic smile, "You wanted to see what James was always talking about. Besides, I'm already carrying the space bazooka."

"And me." a tiny voice piped up from one of the large bag's more sizeable outer pockets, sounding like some kind of leprechaun due to the only partially open zipper, "Though I wouldn't mind riding in the grocery bag for a while."

The women giggled at this, the shorter quickly stating as she distanced the backpack protectively, "Not a chance, Johnny. We know you better than that."

"Women." came a disappointed huff back from the pocket.

"Men." the one who'd replied smirked to the taller in response, but then her look became a bit more concerned, "Say, Sarah...do you think the guys will be okay here on their own? You know what Ace always said about Paragon City..."

"Oh, I wouldn't worry." came the gentle reply with a headshake and smile in the same manner, "Billy might be a super-nerd, but he can take car of himself. And he's got Pik with him..."

The tan woman looked at the sidewalk, "It's him I'm worried about..."

"Nonsense." Sarah declared stoutly and with confidence, "Look, really, what could happen? There are superheroes all over the place here...it's like having...well, you-know-who at every corner. The only danger they could be in is from Bill, and since I've got all his stuff, what trouble is he going to cause?"

"Try to take apart one of those Clockwork things?" Johnny interjected with a snicker, causing the taller woman to scowl.

"Hey, I restrained myself at the last second, so I don't want to hear it." she pouted back, "I know better than to actually touch anyone here, and I'm sure they do too. Bill may not always listen well, but considering how many times Ace told him exactly how these things work and what not to do, it has to have gotten through even his thick skull."

"I guess you're right." the shorter woman sighed lightly, "I really do worry too much, don't I? Okay. What else do we still need to pick up?"

"I think we have everything, actually." Sarah remarked thoughtfully, producing a list from her pocket, "Yep, sure do. Now I just want a picture of Positron."

"Okay...and where do we find him?"

The taller woman's face assumed a very painfully aware expression, "Um...I don't know. I forgot to ask. Now what?"

"I guess we ask for directions...can we do that? We...did talk to she shopkeepers, and none of them said anything weird. It should be okay, right?"

Sarah's shoulders shrugged curtly, causing a grumble from the bag, "Looks like we have to try. There are some kids right over there. Let's see if they know anything."

But as the two (actually three) approached, they could clearly see something was amiss, and the women quickened their step a bit, the taller speaking first, though quite timidly, "Um, excuse me...um...did something happen...are you guys okay...?"

Smooth, madame Jovi, real smooth...

Yeah, fly she definitely couldn't. But that was okay. That's what parachutes were for. Or in this case, a parasail. In fact, it made the descent toward the impressively large, and very modern-looking yacht in the bay of that crescent-shaped tropical island down there little more than a walk in the park, a direct landing on the beige-white ship so very easy.

Maybe a little too easy.

She could struggle all she wanted, but it was already too late. Before she knew it, she'd ended up in the rear deck's pool.

A grumble of bubbles came to the surface, disguising curses under their benevolent veil, followed by her balaclava-covered head and of course the pair of high-tech goggles. True, the sun smiled from high in the sky, but they served other purposes than just night vision too. It was too bad that descent trajectory tracking wasn't one of them.

Thus she may have been wet, but at least she was here. Having already unclasped the now-useless chute, she lifted the goggles from her eyes, letting the emerald-green irises in that small slit of Caucasian skin take in her surroundings unobscured, seeking her target.

She found him at the edge of the pool, sleeping in a lounge chair: a tall, lanky, 'humanoid reptilian' (though she'd never call him that to his face; he plain-old hated that term, about on par with 'anthropomorphic', which he could stand even less) who didn't have much resemblance to either of those roots. Verily, compared to the general picture, he was pretty damn weird indeed. While his hide was deep-green, it hadn't a hint of a scale, instead carrying a tough, leathery texture, and though his feet carried claws, they were plantigrade, and held them in the same manner as his fingers: in the fashion of nails, not full components of their respective digits.

Still, the head and tail were at least comparatively similar, resembling those of a Velociraptor - or was it Deinonychus? Whatever - his mouth filled with a myriad of razor-sharp teeth. He wore a pair of light-gray swim shorts, an open shirt hued in Prussian blue, and of course the black digital watch on his left wrist. A thick book with a title she couldn't read had been propped over what she knew were ice-gray, slitted eyes, now closed in the shade of the literary work.

He was her target. The one she'd come for. The wearer of the fictional name Acid Zero.

Quietly as she could, the woman pulled herself from the pool and onto the smooth wood of the deck, the skintight soles of her sneak suit making barely a sound despite the dripping water. Good thing this garb would at least dry quickly. She didn't really like the idea of feeling like she was in a wetsuit all day.

Gradually, cautiously, she crept closer in near-total silence, stealthily drawing her field knife from the sheath wrapped to her left upper leg: a fulcrum bayonet. Slowly, carefully, the blade crept closer to the rhythmically rising and falling chest of the reptilian, glinting in the sun above the exposed hide between the thrown-back seams of the shirt.

"Don't."

She froze, then pulled away at the sound of the reptilian's voice; a voice that stood clear as any human's, and could've come from just about any man in his early twenties. To be sure, to a layman that tone didn't fit the tooth-filled maw that had uttered it at all.

"Don't." he said again in the same curt, casual, almost bored manner as she moved closer again, only to pull away once more and repeat the approach another time.

"Don't." the reptilian spoke again, and over did she take the procedure of knife back, knife in.

"Doooon't." this time he picked up the book and looked to her intently, though she didn't let this bother her, going through the motion just one more time and causing him to mutter, "Now you're just trying to annoy me, aren't you?"

She didn't reply, just pulling down her balaclava to smile, and then he spoke again, this time with pleading eyes, "Do you really have to stab me?"

"Oh, come on you." she pouted back, hands on her hips, "It doesn't even hurt you. You barely even feel it."

"Lies and untruths." he sat up with a pout, swung his legs over the side of the lounge chair and crossed his arms, looking away with closed eyes, "It hurts me on the inside. You know I'm a very sensitive individu-nyah...!"

"Quit it. Quit it. Quit it. Quit it." he protested rapidly against her present action, namely poking him in the side repetitively with the tip of her knife. The reptilian's hide did not break, but still he twitched back a bit each time, "Seriously Mel, stop that already."

The woman couldn't help but giggle, slipping the knife back where it belonged, "Yes, very sensitive as in very ticklish. Sorry, but you're just too much fun to torture."

"Pffff." he exhaled sharply toward her, scratching the side of his abdomen lower abdomen, "I don't know what ever possessed me to tell you that. So, anyway - what do the Knights of Malta want me dead for now? Seems like every month they come up with something different."

"Oh, I'm not here for them." she now completely removed the balaclava, letting her wavy, auburn hair fall to just above her shoulders. She picked up a towel from the lounge chair next to his and began to dry it, "I'm here for you."

"Ohh, really now?" he grinned back seductively, moving chose to her, then moved back with an expression of mock disappointment, "Then I am terribly saddened my dear, but I am already in an ongoing relationship. I am afraid your urges toward my person will just have to-"

The next second, he had the wet towel in his face.

"Fair enough, hah hah." the reptilian laughed, smirking maliciously at her reddened face once he'd removed the cloth, "Sorry, but you're just too much fun to torture."

She scowled back at the reptilian, causing him to add a chuckle.

"So, back to my question..." he then wanted to know, but the trail of wet footprints from the pool caught his attention first, and he looked at it quite incredulously as it consumed his mind for the time being, "Did you come out of the pool? Why would you...you know what, on second thought, I'm not going to ask. You people are weird enough as-is."

"Hey, you're the one with water on top of a ship that's already in water."

"Like I said." the reptilian presented his open palms along with another grin, "You people are weird enough as-is. It's not my boat. I'm just stealing it."

"Figuratively or actually?"

"A bit of both." he shrugged nonchalantly, "Kind of playing watchdog for the bad guys and their mercs from Tomb Raider. Only they couldn't afford mercs, so I said what the heck, I'm not doing anything important right now. And in case you're wondering, they're all on the island."

"Good." this time, she was the one to smile, and wryly so, "Because what I want to know from you can stay between us. So, what's up with you and dragons lately?"

He raised his head back somewhat, confused, "Huh?"

"For about half a year now, everything you get involved with seems to involves dragons in one way or another." the woman folded her hands before her, "You know I've read your log. So what's going on? Dragons on the brain or something?"

"Heh." he smirked back, "Sort of. It's a long story. But why do you want to know? Aren't you supposed to be completely loyal to the Knights or something? Doesn't seem to me like-"

"I want to know what it's like."

The quick, frank nature of her answer took him aback, and he couldn't help but inquire, "I beg your pardon?"

"I want to know what it's like." she repeated, "I want to know what it's like to be around them, be with them. I want to know what they're like."

The reptilian considered this a moment, wagging a finger toward her, "They sent you to kill Hotaka, didn't they? Yeah, after the garbage on the cruise ship, it's that they'd do. Let me guess: he talked you out of it, and now you've gotten attached to him. But you're not sure. You want to know more."

The woman nodded.

"Hm." his head gave a bob to the side, "Okay. Let me tell you a story then. Actually, it started more than a year back, when I ran into the Dark Dragon again."

"That's Ken, right?"

"Right. I know, 'Ken the Dark Dragon'. Trust me, it sounds a lot more intimidating in Lemurian. But anyway - you already know what happened there, but what happened after is the real deal. See, we hadn't been seeing eye-to-eye for a good long while then, but when he saw me acting like him...well, it broke a hole into that wall he'd built around himself. After that, well, I'm still not sure exactly what happened, but somehow I think I brought him around to my view. Not that I wasn't entirely not-trying to, it just..."

"...happened very different from what you expected."

"Right." he gave another nod at her completion, "So then, with Ken, I met Groul and Arek, basically his command crew. There's also Balkor Tars, but he's a Haluu, and thus has squat to do with me having dragons on the brain."

"Wait." she interrupted with an outstretched hand, not quite connecting one end to the other here, "So why didn't your log really start with dragons a lot until last summer? Or did that all just take that long?"

"Oh no." the reptilian smiled again, "It's just that last summer was when I met Jade."

"Jade?"

"Jade." he gave another nod, "Jade Blackwind. Guy, by the way. Well, guy turned into robot by mad crazyperson four hundred years ago, and of course on a planet X-thousand light years away, but anyway. Real nice guy. Diiiidn't used to be, but he turned it around just in time...before he got shot and the whole robot thing happened. Well, we became pretty good friends. He kind of can't die now, which really pulls him down a lot because where he's from the Terminator thing happened and everybody's dead..."

"You think I'm kinddin' ya." he couldn't help but grin at her skeptical expression, "Nope, all happened. No, they didn't call it Skynet, and there's more to it of course, but with me being in my state and him in his, we just kind of connected. Oh, we spent hours just talking about everything and nothing, and eventually he directly shared his memories with me. Well, in those I found that he'd met his double once."

"Double? As in twin?"

"Sort of. Parallel universe. So I wanted to meet him too. Decided to revive my dark gate project, go find out where this guy spooked about. In doing that, I crashed into Poseidon."

The woman raised an eyebrow, "Greek god of the sea or another dragon?"

"Neither." the reptilian smirked in response, "He's a griffin. From a place called Lanerbalan. And wouldn't you know it, that was exactly the place where I'd find Babe."

"Who's Babe?"

"Oh, right. Jade's double. Yeah, you think Jade was bad, try being named that. Anyway...oh, right..."

He suddenly stood, motioning for her to come with him to the glass-walled superstructure of the boat, "C'mon, I've got a picture. Anyway, along with him I met everybody else they hang out with, including James, Pik, Kia, Sarah, Bill, Shaun, Gareth, and another Ace - and that was before Babe introduced me to Teivos. But that's another story. Here, this way."

She followed the reptilian through the luxuriously furnished main living area, which more resembled a party room than anything else, and down into the ship to one of the staterooms that lay along one corridor or another. The reptilian entered first, and began to rummage about in the suitcase on the bed, which looked decidedly untouched. Then again, she knew he didn't much like sleeping in places like this, probably heading to the island each night to seek out a tree.

She couldn't help but sigh. Acid sure was a strange one. Briefly, she wondered about this girlfriend of his he always lauded so for her viciousness. She had to be some piece of work to put up with that.

"Ah, there we are." he finally produced what he'd been looking for, showing her the contents of the sizeable picture frame, "Good thing I didn't have a chance to unpack after I got back, huh? Anyway, that's mostly the band and then some. Yes, I said band. They play rock. Really well, too."

"All of them?" she questioned with uncertainty, sliding a finger over the glass, "They look almost...human. They even dress like us."

"No, not all of them." the reptilian shook his head, "And yeah, they do, don't they? Not quite the wild, claw-you-apart beats you tend to imagine, huh?"

She didn't reply, merely watching as he explained moving the assembled individuals, "The orange one with the white throat there. With the unicorn horn? That's Bill. Doctor Bill - which is creepy because I already knew one of those before."

"Hm." she nodded absent-mindedly. If not for the glasses, and lab coat, she wouldn't have been able to tell. For a doctor, he had a surprisingly well-built physique.

"The big green one in the leather jacket, that's Player, also known as 'James, no'...he can be a real handful...the hand-sized one on his shoulder is Johnny, and no, he's fully grown, just a really small species...that one with the really long black hair and the massive sweater is Babe..."

"It's paint." he added after noting the confused stare from her, having expected something silver and/or metallic instead of the velvet-brown face there, "He used to be a Mountain dragon, and his head still looks a lot like he did. The parts that are missing missing, Sarah - that's the Tornado there...er, the white one with the black hair and the big gray stripe on her face...see the black on the back of her wings? The one wearing the lab apron and the T-shirt covered in binary code. Yeah, her - just paints on. They're married, by the way."

The reptilian couldn't help but burst out laughing at just how big her eyes got at that, staring blankly at the picture, and before either knew it, he was already rolling on the bed.

"You're just going to keep springing this junk on me like this, aren't you?" she finally scowled his way, earning but an innocent grin as he sat back up.

"Yyyup." he added, then moved to the edge again as she sat down as well, "Okay, where were we? Oh yeah. The other Mountain there, that's Kia. She's with the red one without the wings there, that's Pik. He's an amphibian, hence the spiky fin on his head there..."

"Actually, that's something I'm a little unclear on." she interrupted, moving her finger along the glass, "Okay, so some having no wings I get...I assume um, Babe there doesn't because..."

"Oh no, his just fold up and store." the reptilian interjected with a lax shrug, "Robot thing."

"Okay..." she continued, "So why do they all have hair then? Except for that big one there? And why do the woman have...well..."

"Jugs?" the reptilian couldn't resist, grinning devilishly as he became a tad red again, "Geez, you Americans. Especially you. You need to get out more. But to answer your question: I ain't got a flippin' clue. Oh, and don't think you're alone there. That took me a good while to get past, and you know how I am. Heck, I've met people that look like spidersquids, and with those I didn't have any problems whatsoever. Personally, I eventually just kicked it under the collective 'dragons are shape shifters' and left it at that. As long as I don't start growing boobs, I'm perfectly fine with them."

She raised an eyebrow at that, wanting to know, "Where did that come from?"

"You don't want to know." the reptilian gave her a sideways glance, "All I'm going to say is it involved a little pink reploid, a pencil, the number seven, and waaay too much room for a mind to wander."

"I see..." she nodded slowly, sensing she should probably switch subjects, "So who are the griffins then? Poseidon..."

"Yeh, he's the brown one with the red hair. The gray one in the death metal T-shirt, that's Ace. Yes, so he has my nickname. It's pretty common. And no, nothing happened to his wings or anything. He's just the wingless variety. Let's see, did I miss anybody...oh yeah, the purple one's Anna. She's Bill's wife, and together with Sarah his voice of reason. It's just too bad that the voice of insanity in his own head is a good deal louder."

She turned to him with a suspicious look, "How so?"

"Oh, he's a bit of a mad scientist." the reptilian shrugged innocently, "Which I had nothing to do with. That spaghetti machine was a vicious killer long before I ever got near it."

"Riiight..."

"It's true." he insisted with crossed arms, but quickly returned to normal, "Between you and me, I might have made a suggestion here and there, but trust me, this guy's as unstable as they come. He dumps liquid oxygen on the barbecue to make the steaks grill faster. And don't even get me started on the carrot rocket."

"I'll take your word for it." the woman replied in a curt manner after a few moments of silence, and handed the picture back to him, "So...that's who you spend a lot of time with these days, hm?"

"Now and then." he retorted, standing up and placing the frame back where he'd found it, "Usually when the guys are doing stuff over in Andromeda and I get bored here. So yeah, with their crazy plus mine, of course I've got dragons on the brain, heh. Aaand I haven't even told you half the story yet."

"Oh?" she wanted to know, having noted him digging through the suitcase for something else now, "So what's the rest?"

"Oh now, that would be telling." the reptilian grinned devilishly as he produced from the suitcase a clunky, oversized gun that bore striking resemblance to an assault bot's plasma cannon arm - but with a lot more stuff on it, like some manner of bazooka gone mad, "Besides, it wouldn't answer your question of what it's like to be with them. So...pack your bags and hold on, Dorothy. Because Kansas...is going bye-bye..."



((Wow, this got a bit long, haha. My bad. Well, still hope you enjoyed. ))

Cool, heh. In that case, if you like, have at Professor Peter Guggenheim, or as he's more often referred to, Gunslinger Pete. Yes, I stile a trigger-happy scientist from the Malta Group - I just couldn't help myself. The first time I ran into a Gunslinger in-game, I knew I had to have one.

As you can see, I couldn't find a tan-skinned one with black-gray hair in-game, so that's what I'm going for here. More references about Gunslingers in general can be found on paragon wiki, just in case you didn't already know.

Oh, and before I forget: I've got a bunch of non-human characters in my sig down there, most of whom aren't mine, so if you'd like practice, I'm sure their owners wouldn't mind. Not that I'm in any way trying to coerce you into doing anything there, you understand. Now excuse me, I'm late for my 'Jerks with Space Lasers' meeting. We're discussing proper ransom demand manners today.

Phh, and you keep saying you're not good. Better than what I can produce, that's for sure.

If you'd like some feedback, I'd tighten up the lines and add some shading, but then I've never drawn with a tablet, so I don't even know if that works there.

Either way, I'm going to take a guess that you're more comfortable drawing humans, huh? In that case, permission to request one, or you busy enough as is?

"What are you doing?!" the head doctor's voice came through the speaker system in a veritable panic, the elderly man looking like his bald head was about to detach from his body in the shock of the moment, "Stop! No! This is a very sensitive procedure, and-!"

War's guns spoke then and there, sending a flood of cracks to spider through the bulletproof glass, their cacophony drowning out the speaker for the new fractions of a second it took the mercenary to find the noisy thing and shoot it to pieces instead.

The griffin-like being had in turn responded with a hasty nod, and though he clearly had difficulty moving (likely due to some kind of drug in him), did as War told him. Not moments after he'd managed to get the soles of his feet to the floor, however, the blare of an alarm already howled through the medical center...

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

Several Hours Later...

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

Halfmoon Bay, Stewart Island
New Zealand

05:59

06:00

The alarm clock sounded.

The covers of the bed next to the black wooden nightstand stirred with a groan, an orange hand feeling forth form beneath them, fingering for the offending noisemaker, but succeeding at naught but knocking it onto the floor and out of reach. A drawn-out curse drawled through the bedroom.

With a huffed, semi-sighed exhale, Teivos threw back the covers and sat with half-open eyes, supporting himself with hands behind him and wondering briefly how he'd gotten out of his clothes and into bed. Last thing he remembered he'd been in his office in Paragon City, trying to somehow get a lead on the people who'd kidnapped Poseidon.

That thought got him awake. He grit his teeth. War and Famine, Famine and War. What a fool he'd been to trust them. They probably weren't even from Primal Earth to begin with, apparently having been sent to just grab the wayward griffin and amscray. Well, he'd throw a wrench in those works or his name wasn't Vlastislav Alexandrovich Teivos!

He crushed the alarm clock beneath his bare heel and made for the closet, passing a hand over the holopanel that controlled the functions within the bedroom's window wall, depolarizing the darkened panes and displaying current information such as news, tide, and weather against the background of Halfmoon Bay.

"Ah, I see we are awake." he heard Wolfgang enter as he tied his boots, the cyborg leaning laxly against the doorframe, throwing a despondent glance at yet another destroyed alarm clock, "You know, I brought you back here to get some rest, not run yourself ragged again. You're not an infantryman anymore. You haven't been for a long time. You know I worry about Poseidon too, but staring at a screen all night long isn't going to help anyone find him any faster."

Vlasta nodded. He knew the Caldok to be right...but this was just how he was. His nature. He couldn't just leave something like this alone - especially when he felt personally tricked. Hell, War and Famine had by all accounts taken off with the criminals he'd sent them to bring in, and taken down a good few VB officers in their wake.

Still, he considered his guard's logic. He did have a point. He just...Vlasta exhaled again. Satisfied with his boots, he completed the ensemble of combat footwear and military fatigues with a black undershirt.

"Breakfast." he stated to Wolfgang while he put on his watch, eyeing the timekeeper carefully, "I'm going to take my morning as normal until after breakfast. If they haven't found him by then, I got back to it. Agreeable?"

The cyborg gave a nod. It was more than he'd hoped for. After all, sometimes Teivos just skipped breakfast entirely after his morning run...

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

Perez Park, Paragon City

Kommandant Krieger Kruger stole surreptuously through the back alleys, cautiously eyeing the spectators (and security forces) that lined the main road that ran around his world's version of Perez Park: an idyllic retreat from hectic city life. The sun smiled down from high in the sky, and since there was no park wall here like in Primal Earth's version, he could see the crystal waters glisten in the gentle light.

But that wasn't what he was here for.

"It looks like the robot's information was accurate." he told the assembled strike force once he'd joined them again. He'd composed it of Flashpoint Zeo, the Egregore Device, Isabel, and of course a small amount of soldiers, which included Valerie, "The parade is going to come right along the main road. Security is heavy, but with you along there should be no insurmountable problems."

The plan Toy had proposed was relatively simple: kidnap the Dark Sovereign and force him to do what they wanted. Naturally, the task was harder than it sounded (which was just common sense), but the android had informed them that the person whom he stood underneath, the Overmagus himself, could make this work if the rebels could just get the dictator to him. He knew much of the old ways of magic, and Toy had firmly laid down that if he could get Teivos alone, even the Dark Sovereign would be victim to his skill.

Of course, that didn't mean any of them actually trusted the mechanoid, especially the Krieger. Still, at least for now, working with him was the best chance they had to get at Teivos in a long, long time, and perhaps even the best they'd ever have. Thus they'd eventually taken it, and the android had gotten them back into the city to execute the operation. Whether or not he would join them personally later on remained to be seen.

How the Egregore Device had finally come around to tolerating Flashpoint Zeo Kruger didn't know, having not been present at the time. However, to tell the truth, he didn't really care. He remained at simply reminding them it was coming down to the wire and that any more problems now could well kill them all, as the parade gradually approached.

They could hear it already.

The rhythmic steps of marching soldiers and musicians soon mixed with the music itself, the military parade proceeding at steady pace down the main road. It presented a picture that somewhat harkened back to the days of Nazi Germany, or perhaps the Soviet Union, though instead of a monotonous crowd of saluters, a colorful amalgamation of all manner of peoples had gathered to see this, crowding thickly along both sides of the parade route, clapping in unison with the Radetzky March of Johann Strauss (as was tradition), the excited masses sometimes held back only be the evenly spaced VB officers.

The parade itself consisted mostly of footmen, the only vehicle in the long line of both military and civilian personnel being a long, open-air limousine that held the centerpiece of the parade, the Tsaigon waving to the crowd. He donned a long, black cape and a simple baggy outfit underneath, likely to hide whatever kind of body armor he wore beneath that. A plasma pistol sat in the double-strap holster wrapped around his upper right leg, and the gloves and boots looked solid enough to deliver some decent pain if used in violence, just as black as the rest of the outfit.

Of course, that wasn't counting the Comanches that hovered overhead every now and then, but stayed out of reach far enough to not disturb the music. They fulfilled more of a relay role anyway, the VB officers along the parade route forming the true backbone of security here. Armed with Steyr AUGs and tactical sidearms, as well as some decent body armor of their own, Verejna Bezpechnost definitely wasn't to be taken lightly - though chances were that for an actual superhero, they wouldn't be much of a match.

The Gerlach-armored soldiers probably wouldn't be either, their weapons real and loaded, but also merely projectile weapons, even if they did hold armor-piercing rounds. No, chances were the only true threat was the quartet of Kazbek-wearing bodyguards that flanked the limo, the plasma rifles on their backs powered and ready for use at any time...

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

At another spot in Perez Park, a certain group of 'outsiders' had taken refuge in a shop closed down for the duration of the parade. The griffin-like being one of the Horsemen had brought in lay out cold in a corner, a narcotic dart from one of the hospital guards having gotten him in the neck during the escape.

But what an escape it had been! Bare-knuckle, seat-of-your-pants, skin-of-their-teeth hellacious and chaotic, it had turned the Promenade into a virtual warzone between VB (and a small military division) and the 'aliens' from Primal Earth. Eventually though, they'd been forced to flee, but had managed to do so without being tracked. True, just about everyone and everything was looking for them now, but for the moment they'd found refuge.

Whether or not they'd managed to subdue Burning Brawler beforehand - and if they'd used the man as a hostage to actually make their escape - this the creature in the corner hadn't gotten any wind of, nor what had happened to Solid Shot in the firefight. Perhaps he'd been captured, perhaps he was just lagging behind a little, but whatever the case may have been, here at this moment he was not...

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

OOC:

Okay then, my sincere apologies to Khellendrosiic, but over a week is a little much. I've tried to put your characters in neutral states so if you want them back in, it's a simple matter of few words, so I hope that's okay. I also hope I got an acceptable resolution for everybody else that lacks just enough detail to fill in the blanks with plausible behavior of your characters.

BB, I'll leave it up to you whether Burning got nabbed, defeated and left, or kicked people so hard they ran off, so you can place your character where comfortable.

Cham, I'll leave the same to you with Hotaka, as I have no idea what Tsu would have told him during the missing hours, so if you could get in a summary there with your next post, I'd sure appreciate it.

Okay then, here we go again. Carry on.

Oh no, it is the art-hungry Niviene. C'mon bud, you gotta do this one now.