DeviousMe

I'm going to go out on a limb here and say that meant 'not on the computer I have CoX and/or my screenshots on'.

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well no one wanted it.. but the old retired man from Crey tech... that made the villian group "Grey Tech" ... is also done..


Old man from Grey Tech industrys

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Are you sure? There are some sick and twisted people around here, you know - like me. And they think it's great work.

I'll bite as well, heh. Got a pal with a pretty fun character, and he draws nicely too, but of course our starving artist is never quite satisfied with his own work. So maybe you can help me inspire him some. In any case, here's his charcter Player, the dragon guitarist, for your consideration.

Oh, and if you'd like some backstory to flesh things out, here it is.

((Hm...alright, I guess if Khell doesn't post by tomorrow, I'll move things along. I do really want to take the direction of his story here, but it'll have been a week then, and I understand it very well myself that being stuck isn't very fun. If I do this (still holding out for a Khellpost for now ), it may require me moving the timeline and/or people's characters. Would you guys be okay with that? Please send me your answers in PM.))

Leech is Dad!

Good grief, these things are hilarious! Soooo many funny quotes to take away. Brilliant. Simply brilliant.

Oooh, opportunity. Well, here's hopin'. 'Til then, holy smokes, them's some awesome 'sketches'.

Fast or not, I've definetely found another amazing art thread to watch. Definetely hoping there'll be another list in the future - until then, you've picked up another admirer. Truly awesome work there.

"You're worried." Wolfgang concluded matter-of-factly after his charge had clicked the receiver back into the seat's center console.

"Can't help it." Teivos smirked a tad unhappily, looking out the car's rear window at the passing streetlights, "Bad habit of mine."

"Well, now you have a slight idea what I feel like when you run off." the cyborg presented with an indicative motion of a hand, "Maybe this will teach you a lesson."

Vlasta grinned at his reflection in the window, "Don't count on it."

And the limo proceeded further through the streets. It would still take the vehicle a few minutes to Chiron MRC...

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

"We know because he does not need to." Kruger answered Isabel's question in a clearly unsatisfied, logical tone, not taking his eyes off the android, "If he wanted us dead, it would be a waste of his time to set up a trap. He has access to simpler means of killing us."

The Kommandant left open just what that meant, but considering that Toy had just warped in earlier with a small army, it was fairly obvious what it did.

"Get us Private Hastings." he turned to Valerie a moment, suspecting that she was probably the only one of his troops that could be trusted not to shoot an accused traitor on sight right now, then looked back into the round, specifically to Zeo, "If it is true, you would be right. As for Operation Coconut, we know of it, though not by name. We also thought it had been crippled. This presents some urgency...if it is true. Creating a sense of urgency to move a decision along is reason to lie."

He took a seat as well, staring at Toy intently, "But I do not know of a way to determine so at this time...which makes the question of the hour: what is your reason for telling us this, for coming here like this, now of all times? What do you seek of us, and why...?"

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

"Aeh, you talk swollen." was Hotaka's first comment, in quite the wry tone, "Just because I'm 800 years old doesn't mean you can't speak normally with me, you know."

"So..." he became serious once more, "I'm having a little trouble piecing this together, so stop me if I'm wrong: this is your world, not mine, another Earth from my point of view, and here history went another way and Hitler...no, Hirohito managed to get the atomic bomb first. Or at least use it on China first. Interesting. I would've thought America would be the first target."

Stepping out of his thoughts again, he continued to postulate, "And then this Dark Sovereign character comes along and takes China, Japan, and eventually the world. The world? Seriously? Someone actually managed to take over the entire planet? Hm...as scary as that is, I find myself impressed. Where I come from, people who are trying to rule the world are a dime a dozen, and none of them have even come close."

"Very well, you've sold me." he tossed his staff up in the air a little and caught it with a firm grasp before it could ascend more than a few centimeters, a gesture to mean he was prepared to move, "Normally, I try to stay out of the affairs of humans, but this character I want to have a word with. If you're going to rule the world, you can't just turn it into a horror land."

"Oh, and just to clear up." he mentioned as an aside, after what Sun Tzu had shown him having gotten the idea that the people here probably didn't like the sound of his name much, "I am not Japanese. I'm not really anything. Countries are something of your peoples' creation. Dragons...well, we don't really care about political boundaries..."

Nah. I think it's just a moderate to severe case of dementia.

What the-? Gimme that!

*steals BB's shovel*

You know, I have half a mind to beat you with this. But I think I'll just do this instead.

*digs up Blightlord*

Hey, BL? Look who I found musclin' in on yer territory...

((Ask and you shall receive. ))

The old man he knew as Meier, or just Klaus when they felt informal for a change, didn't spend much time at all online, his upgraded SLI nabbing the information he requested quickly and efficiently, and sending it to the laptop on the desk before him so others could see it as well.

"A little while ago, we received a call from a patrol in the north of the Citizens' District." he elaborated on the displayed map of what someone from Primal Earth's Paragon City would've easily identified as Atlas Park, "Seems a group of gangbangers came out of nowhere and attacked them. One of them pretended to be on fire, and when they tried to help..."

He recounted the events as they had taken place, though of course his account stopped when the CANINE unit had been destroyed. True, the car still sent a fine signal, but its camera didn't pivot, and nothing had happened in front of the vehicle since the mercenaries had struck.

"...and they believe they are from that world the Reichsmann got to." Klaus recalled what the regional commander had told him when he'd called the man, and asked for information as to why VB had been ordered to do nothing more than secure a perimeter and keep an eye out of the aggressors, "Technically, I suppose we really should let the military handle this, buuut they are a little slow when it comes to picking up evidence."

"Besides, those two mercenaries from who-knows-where?" he shrugged in a mockingly offended manner, "Even one of us could catch those guys at least twice as fast as they could, ja? So, sound challenging enough for you...?"

Was about time you joined us here, Sooner. Me like. Please, do continue.

"Hey, uhh..."

His sight gradually faded in from black at the sound of the voice: a wingless draconian, the black-scaled being's yellow eyes barely level with his own, despite the speaker standing at full height of nearly two meters. The slate-gray, overtunic-like robe he stood clad in didn't really seem to fit to him, though that could've been just the contrast to the cool, bluish-gray of the large hangar's metalplastic structure.

"...you awake?"

His voice, however, was decidedly not dissociate by contrast, carrying neither hiss nor growl, and may well have belonged to the average, middle-aged human male. Bereft of undertones grumbling or guttural, his tone stood instead clear and sharp, with a confident, commanding presence behind it.

I am now.

Most people knew him as the frightful presence they ascribed his name to; the Dark Dragon. Vyachslav knew him as Ken. Just Ken. Vyachslav also knew him well capable of perceiving his own soundless 'voice' - a direct sending of thought from one mind to another. A form of telepathy, if one would. It was a good thing too, for Vyachslav had no vocal cords. He couldn't have spoken a word even if he'd wanted to.

"Oh..." Ken glanced to the side, seeming uncomfortable. With him, Vyachslav couldn't really tell, the draconian's surgical alterations not permitting broadcast of his surface thoughts as was typical with most people, "Sorry. It's...I can't really tell with you. Lack of eyelids, you know."

I do. And don't worry. It's probably time to get up anyway.

Ken's head fell away from his view as Vyachslav rose, the long, almost skeletal, black-lustered frame of what a human may have called a pseudodragon stretching to his full height; just over twenty meters from the partially pterodactyl-like head with those unblinking, pupilless, burning-orange eyes to the somewhat curved tridactyl arrangement of claw-toes that formed most of his plantigrade feet.

Briefly stretching his single pair of long, lanky arms to loosen their joints, Vyachslav then let himself down on the large claws of his four-fingered hands and performed a like stretch of his tail, the length of the fifth appendage measuring nearly him all over again, though sans the legs.

So, what did you want to talk to me about? Or did...what is that?

Ken couldn't help but grin sheepishly upon noting the curious tilt of Vyachslav's long head, the metallic, immobile visage unable to express any such notions by shifting of the ridge-like facial features. Even the lipless mouth possessed only a simply articulated jaw, large, dagger-like teeth bare in perpetuity.

"Oh, that?" the draconian asked rhetorically with a glance at what he held by the silver, mechanical tail that curled over his shoulder: the robotic velociraptor that hung behind his back, looking like it had run into something decidedly unpleasant and disliking of machines, "I was just taking that to Vern. I...seem to have broken it."

Nooo, ya think? Dare I even ask where you got that?

"I know a guy." Ken returned with a light smirk, placing the machine down beside him. He already felt more at ease now, even before his large conversation partner lowered himself to the floor sideways, supporting his torso by flat-laid elbows, tail curled partially about, to gain a conversational relation that wasn't quite so stark in the vertical.

"But..." his expression became a little more uncertain, "What I wanted to talk to you about...not really sure how to say this..."

Then just say it how it's in your mind.

"What's it like?"

Vyachslav's head rose a bit. The draconian imagined he saw a blink in his eyes.

Pardon?

"What's it like?" Ken repeated, trying to find words, "I mean...being you. One of you. I know that to you I'm the outsider around here, but to me...well, you are. Acid, Vern, Allen, them I met long ago already. I don't know you. I don't know your brother."

What about the Doc and his brothers?

"That's..." Ken sought words again, looking about for a place to sit or something to the like. Unfortunately, the hangar Vyachslav slept in had been designed to house fightercraft, not provide a rest area, "...different. They...well, they..."

Live on a planet.

The draconian thought a moment, then confirmed with a nod, "Exactly. You two, your whole people, live in space. It feels kind of weird to admit it, being everywhere that I have, but I've never met anyone else who does that. I mean, I know the basic physics behind it, but just the lifestyle itself is..."

Vyachslav interrupted with the motion of a hand. His unmoving visage seemed to smile.

I understand. You want to know what it feels like. What it means to not have to be in a contained atmosphere, like a spaceship, or even a shield, always separated by that barrier you can't pass - but actually a part of space itself. Well, to be perfectly honest: much as you feel when you're in water.

"Water?"

Water. I don't need to tell you that space isn't as empty as it looks. There's all kinds of things around - flows, currents, streams - just like water.

"Huh...water. Strange. I would've thought more like air?"

Water. Air is much too thin in comparison. No, liquid water, that's an acceptable analogy. Or ammonia, but in that you'd freeze.

This now really caught Ken's attention, "You mean it's not cold?"

I wouldn't know. I don't have a sense of hot and cold like you do. I register temperature, and heat transferred in and out of my body, but that's about it. Or do you really think I could go from vacuum to the surface of a sun and back if I had the same temperature sense as you?

"Now that I think about it, I guess not." Ken couldn't help but shrug, "So...do you really eat suns then?"

Not per se. Just the coronal plasma. And sometimes a little bit of surface, if we don't expect to eat for a good while. But even a whole flight couldn't take significant mass from even the smallest stars. I hope that doesn't offend you.

"Me?" the draconian was taken aback, "No. Why would you think so?"

Aren't stars considered holy in Drokar religion? I thought the belief that all things are born from the stars was the reason your people built the world-ships in the first place - to be close to them. Or did I misinterpret something there?

Ken couldn't help but smile, "No, yes, and yes. We do consider stars the source of all life, and therefore sacred, but I think you've spent too much time around humans lately. No Drokar would ever be angry about someone making contact with something sacred to use it to fulfill its purpose: in this case, to further life. No, that's the whole point of a star. That's why we consider them as we do. Though it does bring me to a question: why coronal plasma?"

Hydrogen metabolism. Where you use oxygen, we use hydrogen, and since we don't breathe, personally I think taking in plasma is a very efficient way.

"You don't store it as plasma though, do you?"

Of course not. The converters take care of that, just like if I were to eat a rock, just in the reverse direction.

"You eat rocks?"

We'll eat anything. Matter is matter. True enough, just taking energy directly from radiation works fine too, but I find actually eating something is a much more satisfying way of taking in energy.

"I bet you do." Ken grinned at the 'food is good' implication, something he very much believed as well. From one moment to another, however, his expression became quite solemn once more, and he looked intently at his conversation partner, "Big V...is that any different now?"

I don't understand.

"To before. I mean now that you're a cyborg. Having machines replace what your body used to do. You know, eating, feeling things..."

Flying?

"...yes."

I don't really know how to answer that. I've never noticed much of a difference. I know that part of what I take in nowadays is stored in the plasma fuel cell for my reactor, but even that I don't consciously notice. It's just something my body does now.

"You really don't feel any different than before?"

Well, being able to tuck away my wings completely is doubtlessly a nice addition. I can sleep very comfortably on my back now if I want to. But I suspect you mean more the wings themselves. The way they fly.

"I do." Ken gave a nod, licking his lips, and looked between Vyachslav and his reflection in the hangar floor, "See, for a long time I didn't want anything to do with prosthetics. I found the idea of stabbing machines into me...creepy. And gross. Actually, I still do. But...ever since Groul lost his arm and tail and we had to replace those with cybernetics for the time being...I'm not so sure anymore. Especially now that Acid explained to me how to make wings out of energy...you know, not completely metal or something. Wings that I wouldn't have to get an engine shoved up my...ahem..."

Vyachslav rose again though only into his usual hunched-forward stance.

I see. In that case - I still don't know how I could actually describe it to you, but I have a feeling I know a way to get you just the answer you're looking for.

He stepped - or mayhap waddled would have been more accurate; Vyachslav's feet were designed for perching, like a bird's, not walking upon flat ground - to the blast door that led to the ship's interior, and with one extended fingertip carefully and precisely manipulated the holographic keypad next to it.

A curt warning echoed through the hangar, a hollow drawn-out quack to signal caution at the opening exterior hangar gates in the vessel's hull. Of course, the stretched-in secondary shield prevented depressurization, though it did free the view to the twinkling points of light in the blackness outside. Ken almost didn't notice Vyachslav's large hand next to his person until he 'spoke' again.

Turn on your pressure suit and then hang on tight. Since I can't tell you what it's like...I'm going to show you...

Kruger couldn't help but involuntarily copy Valerie's glance at Isabel. Unlike the woman's, however, it was more one in the manner of questioning the heroine's common sense, as he didn't quite get the context of the question. To him, Toy being form another world was understood. He worked for Teivos after all, whom everybody knew had been flung here from a different universe...

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

War's romp through Chiron Medical Research Center indeed worked out just as planned, the facility's security systems unable to detect his form of 'teleportation'. Furthermore, he was of course smart enough to stay out of sight of both personnel and security cameras, though the latter ones seemed few and far between. Apparently, no one was really expecting any trouble here. This the conversations of VB officers and soldiers alike supported.

Furthermore, those of the former gradually revealed exactly what War wanted to know, the chatty humans more than curious about the new being that had joined their world. Sure, they'd gotten used to the different species from Teivos' homeworld by now, but this new patient was something different entirely. The doctors especially couldn't seem to stop bringing up theory over theory, and War heard it all, peeking around corners and furniture, observing those conversing near counters and vending machines, scribbling upon notepads and drinking little cups of coffee.

"...I still can't believe his physiology. Warm-blooded. Can you believe he doesn't overheat...?"

"...head took some kind of real beating. I'd hate to meet whatever did that kind of damage..."

"...probably why they moved him to the research center right away..."

"...all I know is that if I had wings like that, coming to work in the morning would be a whole lot easier..."

"...really doesn't seem to like us much..."

"...and the genetics don't make sense. You think he could be come kind of bioweapon...?"

"...all I know is the microchips have to be in really deep..."

"...well, he is from a place called Dragon Isle, isn't he...?"

"...didn't seem to like section 4 at all. Like it reminded him of something bad..."

"...open his head up and do some digging in there. But I'm not sure it should be done this soon..."

"...hope they know what they're doing. Those chips have been nothing but trouble..."

"...in the brain, yes. Don't ask me, I'm no neurosurgeon..."

"...going to need you to hold still! I can't emphasize that one enough. Just hold still a little longer, and it'll be over before you know it."

Wait - that last one had been some kind of speaker, and it had come from right next to the mercenary. No, not right next to. From the door just down the hall, the one with the porthole in it.

War looked about, quickly finding the labels he sought. Research wing, section 4. That was the place, alright. So behind that door had to be...

The mercenary smiled. Jackpot.

But after sneaking his way up to the door and taking a cautious look through the round window with one eye, that smile faded to make way for an entirely different expression in response to what he saw. A part of it he'd already expected, namely the blank-white clean room with the large window making up one wall, several doctors in the dark, control-room-looking chamber beyond, as well as the operating table that jutted from the floor in the center of the first room.

The collection of long, large robotic arms that hung below the ceiling wasn't such a great surprise either, nor the numerous surgical tools they terminated it. Heck, even that the creature they hung over, strapped by wrists and ankles to that table, wasn't human he'd expected. But heck, he'd already expected something scaly and monstrous, some kind of dragon.

War blinked. That was definitely not a dragon. That was a griffin...well, something that resembled one, anyway. It had the head and the feathers at least, the latter in some kind of bronze-copper-brown hue, but its anatomy was a whole lot too human-y to conform to the norm there. It had plantigrade feet, no eagle claws or lion paws, and though the fire-red tail tip and like-hued head hair resembled the large cat well, this was positively no griffin like mythology had ever presented.

In fact, this thing looked a whole lot more like someone had gone wild and mashed a human and griffin together - some kind of chimera maybe? Was that why the doctors had speculated in regards to a bioweapon? The being's build was certainly very athletic, this stood plainly visible even through the slack hospital gown it had been dressed in, and though one couldn't describe it as overly muscular, there was certainly some healthy strength beneath that hide.

In any case, whether chimera or not, it had a set of molars behind its beak that pressed quite prodigiously against one another, in tandem with a very expressive pair of brown eyes conveying a distinct picture of fright and panic. It was no wonder either, as one of the robotic arms had extended a very long, ridiculously thin needle that it had pressed into the creature's forehead, and apparently to a fairly decent depth. Yeah, that was generally something to be nervous about.

"Please calm down." the voice said again through the speaker system in the operating room, one of the doctors behind the window in the darkened annex speaking into the connected microphone, "We're almost done. Just a little bit more. The more you struggle, the more this is going to hurt, so please. Do. Not. Move."

The creature didn't seem to like this idea at all, War clearly observing the swallowing of a lump in its throat, fingers having grasped the edges of the table as far as the restraints allowed, clinging fretfully to them. The being's eyes darted about, and in random chance locked with those of the mercenary for a mere instant - and then came to stay.

There could be no doubt about it: it had seen War spying through the porthole, and now looked directly at him. Moreover, however, that look in those eyes conveyed not surprise at his presence, but solely one word, one single, anxious plea.

Help...

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

Xu Guan couldn't help but scowl at this superior's remarks. Sun Tzu may have outranked him in the CPSR, but what gave him the right to insut him - insult a Jiang?

"Careful with that, young man." the towering Oriental wagged a finger in a cautioning manner, leaning against his staff with his other arm in a crooked manner, "I call myself Ryuu Hotaka these days. I would appreciate you address me as thus. Now then..."

He turned to Xu Guan again briefly, poking the man up to stand with his staff, "Didn't I say no 'clean my garage' business? What is this fight people nonsense?"

"Honorable Sir, he speaks his heart." the sorcerer placed the palms of his hands together as he spoke with a curt bow, "This is no mere garage. It..."

"Yes yes, Celestial Kingdom, I got that." Hotaka preempted the man, looking to Sun Tzu again, "From the look of you, I'm guessing China, not the Mormon third heaven...which is...odd..."

He turned to look nowhere in particular, musing a little more quietly to himself, "...who the heck could start a fight with China and not get overrun?"

"Very well, you have my attention." he focused back on Sun Tzu, "Please, tell me more. Or better yet: show me..."

Say, that's a pretty neat style. Not sure if we have people around here representative of it, though.

Kruger's eyes nearly came out of their sockets. He didn't quite believe his ears. What had the android just said?!

He didn't even know how to respond to that. Not that he stood upon the viewpoint of it being such an obvious trap that the android had to be kidding - after all, Toy Dispenser had no need to lure anyone into a trap here; he still had the upper hand, and both he and the rebels knew it - it was just so...well frankly, the Krieger didn't know what to call it.

Eventually, he did manage a reply, but it didn't amount to much more than a truly incredulous, "What...?!"

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

Wolfgang's hand was the first to the receiver as the car phone in the rear center console rang again, the cyborg swiftly answering and then looking to Teivos on the other seat, handing the thing to him, "It's for you."

"Yes?" Vlasta wanted to know once he'd put the phone to his ear, and listened to the news, "You have? He has? That's...nevermind that now. Get Combat Toy on this, please."

Once the assault bot reported in on the other end of the line, Teivos proceeded to inquire, "Has he done anything like this before? What are the chances of this being part of some plan of his?"

Candidly, Vlasta was worried, but not with respect to anything sinister. His concern was for the android. The rebels knew how dangerous he was, and thus knew better than to try and capture him - so the loss of his signal may well have meant his termination.

On the other hand, a long time ago Teivos himself had become stuck behind enemy lines and cut all his signals to lessen the chance of being detected by hostile forces. The Molvia's pilot had informed him that the rebels had gotten away. Did this mean Toy may have been with them aboard their train, hiding for reasons Teivos couldn't currently see?

He certainly hoped so. He very much disliked the idea of Toy being dead. He may have been a mechanoid, but to Vlasta being made of metal didn't make one any less alive...

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

Xu Guan's anxiety gradually ebbed away as he approached the shape in the mist. More and more, the obscuring vapors cleared with his proximity, and the closer he got the more the shape looked like a dragon. The sorcerer couldn't help but tremble. Had he done it? Had it actually worked? Had-?

The sudden crack of something against his nose and forehead chased away all such thoughts as but flitting phantoms, and before he even knew it Xu Guan found his butt sitting on the ground with his hands behind him, preventing the sorcerer from falling over flat.

Sadly, that didn't do anything to diminish the frightful countenance of the unusually tall, satin-robed, elderly-looking bald man that now stood before him, for the towering fellow brandished a scowl so piercing beneath his gray fu manchu beard that Xu Guan's blood ran cold. The fact that the man's bamboo coolie hid his eyes completely in no way added anything reassuring to that sight.

"Don't even think about it." the old man practically hissed, keeping his tone in a whisper, the gnarled wooden staff in his right hand wobbling about threateningly. Xu Guan quickly realized that had been what struck him, "You have no idea of the effort I went through to finally get that beast to sleep. Undo that, and I'm going to shove this thing so far up your rear that your descendants will have perfect posture for generations to come."

Xu Guan blinked in surprise. Sleep? What was this guy talking about? Wait...

He tilted his head to look around the man, and sure enough there it was: a sizeable dragon with fire-red scales and silver-black plates running down its throat and belly. It looked to be the western sort, its body not very serpentine, and each foot holding but three claws, also of that intriguing silverish, lustery black hue.

Combined with the large wings whose velvet-brown flight skins connected to the dragon's side from upper shoulders to tail's base, not to mention the long line of crimson spikes that ran down from atop its head over neck, back, and tail - connected by a majestic silver membrane, no less - all this probably would've been added up to quite the impressive sight if the creature hadn't been laying there on its side like a very large and very lazy-looking cat.

Indeed, even the long pair of horns that started over the eyebrows and jutted rearward from its head (in the same silver-black, of course), nor the like-hued smaller set of plates atop its snout could detract from that look. The towering old man spoke true: that dragon was very much asleep.

So now what? Xu Guan knew well that waking sleeping dragons was generally a bad idea - even just saying the phrase sounded bad; seriously, 'wake the sleeping dragon' didn't quite roll off one's tongue with ease, even if one put a 'don't' in front of it - and he didn't really like the old man's proposition much either. Where was someone of higher rank when you really needed them?

"Well, are you going to tell me what you want or not?" the towering elder broke the silence with his whisper once more, "Or do you not speak English?"

"I...I do." the sorcerer hushed back, not quite sure if he was more or less surprised now as he got back up, "What...what do you mean tell you what I want?"

"Ai-yah, you simpleton." the old man huffed, throwing a hand into the air, "You just used a scroll of summoning dragon, didn't you? Well, here I am. What did you call me for? And it had better be important. No 'clean up my garage' business, you got that?"

Xu Guan nodded hastily. Now really now what? Was this guy really a dragon? He sure sounded forceful enough. So maybe the sorcerer had still succeeded. Only now what was he supposed to do? Come to think of it, he hadn't really thought of that beforehand. This was the first time he'd tried to summon a dragon, after all. He hadn't much considered what he'd say to one if it actually came.

So he thought. What should he say? Of course, he just as much wished someone else would come and take charge of the situation, but he knew he couldn't on that. So unless someone came...what should he say...?

((Okay Cham, in case you didn't catch it, that's your cue. ))

Whoa! And you call that 'okay'? Dude, that's flippin' awesome!

((Okay then, let's see if this makes a little...inspiration. ))

Zeo and Legion alike had a very wrong view of the rebels. 'Making use of valuable information' that Toy Dispenser might divulge was at this point the last thing on Kruger's mind. In fact, he stood at completely the opposite: he didn't want the android talking.

Worse yet, it looked like Toy Dispenser knew this, sitting there with that nonexistent smug grin on his blank faceplate, just listening quietly, taking in the conversation and smiling that smile that wasn't there. The Krieger could've jumped at him! The mechanoid probably reveled in his apprehension!

Still, he knew better - which was more than could be said for the bulky man and drone, who so casually discussed disposal of the android. Didn't they realize that it wasn't they who had him, but he who had them? If he really had that dead man's switch he'd spoken of, there was no logical reason he couldn't hit it at any given time, even with his head still attached. Then what? Boom, that's what.

And even if not, hadn't they noticed that he'd teleported in with a whole crew earlier? If he'd wanted to, the guy could've just warped his henchmen in and started things all over. True, that wasn't so much a 'you're dead' result as the reactor going, but it still wouldn't have been pleasant. No, Zeo and Legion took the mechanoid far too lightly. He had them all at gunpoint, and those two didn't even realize it.

But why? Even through all his worries, the Kommanant couldn't help but wonder why. Logically, he should have pulled the trigger, so to speak, shot them dead. But yet...he just sat there; listening, observing. What was he up to? What was he waiting for? or was he just amusing himself, taking delight in the debacle as well as Kruger's inner panic?

No. No, that couldn't be it. The Krieger knew a great deal about Toy Dispenser. Everything he did had a goal, had a defined, concrete purpose to further his objectives. There was something more sinister at work here, that stood beyond any doubt.

Finally, Kruger gave himself a push, addressing Toy merely with, "Go on..."

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

Whether mercenary, biker, commando, or robot, it probably didn't take much to note the VB now gradually sweeping in from a few blocks all around. The patrols were loose and easy to avoid however, having merely the purpose of securing the general are and ensuring no civilians came to harm. Police were police, after all.

For the Horsemen, this presented an opportunity to find out more about their newest employer, especially since they could likely tell that the hospital a ways down the street stood a little more guarded than was usual. It wasn't a far-flung theory that this place was the one Teivos had spoken of; namely where his friend had been taken to.

Who knew, perhaps the mercenaries desired a little insurance policy, just in case. After all, one never knew. Vlasta had told them they hadn't to worry about any sudden 'contract cancellations', but could he be trusted? Maybe having an ace in the hole wasn't such a bad idea.

On the other hand, going after the people as they'd been assigned may have gotten them into knowing more as well, but of course came with its own attached risk. Whether it was less or greater, however, only time would tell. Right now, it all depended on which decision War and Famine would make.

Actually, if they chose to try and grab a little insurance, he guys they'd been sent to bring in might make decent scapegoats. Find them, play the part, go in, grab this friend of Teivos', then kill them to make it look like they did it? Sounded like a pretty smooth plan. Delivered the best of both worlds.

If it worked.

Solid Shot, on the other hand, was likely more concerned with puzzling together how to sort this all out. Still, he and Rezyin very probably had seen the Molvia touch down on that building, and from the radio chatter about at the time that helo had to have been carrying someone or something from another world - and someone or something very important to 'the Sovereign' (whoever that was), for that matter.

Thus possibilities abound. But which path would fate take...?

While the Caldoks in general didn't much care for the mannerism of Combat Toy - after all, from where they stood they were the 'good guys' - none of them brought it up for contention, not regarding the semantic as important enough at this point. They would however take Large Toy's recommendation, at least once the more pressing things were done.

By now, for instance, they'd managed to get Sombal out of his block of ice, the man having to take a few comradely snarks for getting stuck like that, but the almost glued-together MPDAS panels of the Kazbeks damaged beyond repair would still take some time to wedge off.

Block Bot was in luck however, for one of the eight-man squad's tech pair hadn't been in the line of the fireball. Sure, he'd been crunched down on by a dragon and smashed through a wall, but it wasn't any kind of pain he hadn't experienced before. His training had made sure of that.

Better yet, Large Toy of course followed common sense and got to him first (the squad's medic was still being peeled out of his ZUB) since he could in turn help Block Bot pull himself back together, so to speak. Naturally, that didn't help the chuckles and remarks the latter mechanoid received for his troubles, and if Sombal could've shared his freshly heated MRE with his partner-in-suffering, he probably would've...

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

((Edit: try reading the following with a Jet Li accent. It comes out oddly funny, at least IMO. Also a point for those who catch the references. ))

Jiang Xu Guan cursed. What a day. And it wasn't even over yet. Seriously, what else could go wrong today? Wait, scratch that, he'd rather not know. Asking that question was practically begging for it, and things had already gone miserably enough for one day.

First the retrieval team - or rather, what had been left of them - had reported back with failure. That alone was already bad. With all they'd brought along, they should've wiped the floor with those pathetic Axis soldiers. But nooo, an operation with that much overkill was practically asking for it. Xu Guan knew that well enough, but he also knew it hadn't been his place to speak. Those kinds of decisions were for those of higher rank, the leaders of the Chinese Peoples' Socialist Revolution.

Then again, maybe he should've said something. Maybe then they could've avoided drawing the attention of the Dark Sovereign's elite forces. Perhaps then they could've captured the c...no, it was not worth mulling over. Done was done, they had, and everything had gone to hell. Even worse, they'd lost Wulong! Not that Xu Guan considered dragons holy or anything...but the passing of one was sure to bring all manner of ill fortune upon the middle kingdom, not to mention that his death dealt a severe blow to the CPSR's forces. They had only four, after all.

Well, had had. Now there were three, which in turn was the instigator for Xu Guan's presently very stressed state of mind. It was his job to summon up another, which wasn't anywhere near as easy as it sounded - and it already sounded hideously hard, this anyone who'd read even the first sentence of the procedure knew: 'if you are going to attempt this, you had better be blessed with an unearthly amount of luck'. That had been the job assigned to Xu Guan.

And now his chalk had broken. Perfect. Just perfect.

Xu Guan raised the cracked stone up in front of his nose and before his eyes. He cursed again. In fact, the broken chalk was the reason behind the first curse as well. Why did that one stupid circle require that its characters be drawn in chalk anyway? Ink was just as good. Actually, ink was better, so much easier to work with...which now that he thought about it was probably the reason. Sometimes, the universe just loved to do that.

With a sigh, Xu Guan sat back and looked to the ceiling of the cave, where a large, grass-rimmed hole allowed in the last rays of the setting sun that managed to reach this secluded part of the mountains. He didn't like that. But what could they do? The CPSR wasn't exactly the most loved opposition movement, even here in their own nation. In fact, most of the Chinese population would've sold them out without a second thought, this Xu Guan knew only too well. He still bore the scar on his face from the last time it had happened.

Regardless, he had to get back to work. True, he could've just told one of the other sorcerers to draw this circle, but he knew he still had the steadiest hands here. If he drew it, it would reduce the potential error further, and every single reduction counted, no matter how small. After all, if they screwed this up, instead of a dragon they might get some demented cynic from another world who'd then be very upset and start beating people over the head with a gnarled old cane just out of sheer spite.

By all that was holy, Xu Guan hoped that wouldn't happen.

Thus he snatched a new piece of chalk from the box on the floor and began to draw again, in tandem with the other sorcerers spread out across the floor of the large cavern. Yes, that was another thing he could be thankful for. The dome of rock was at least large enough. More than large enough, in fact, which was good. Dragons tended to get upset if the ceiling hung so low that they kept bumping their heads.

It took much time and more sweat, but eventually the work came to completion. Xu Guan rose, satisfied at the many glyphs that now covered the smoothed cavern floor. Yes, with these it would work, he was certain...at least if held the scroll at just such an angle. He couldn't help but peek over the bamboo a few times, rotating the thing in this way and that to be sure. Needless to say, he still had his doubts, but they'd done the best they could, so they'd just have to try and hope nothing went kapow in the process.

It didn't take long for the first chants to rise, the sorcerers' minds in harmony with one another, their voices giving rise to a compendium. Xu Guan couldn't help but think back to the strange man from America with that beautiful chanting voice. What had his name been again? Xin Ken? Jen Kin? Xu Guan could not remember. Besides, he had to focus on this now.

Soon, a low, underlying hum wafted up from the earth and worked its way into the chants, the power of magic responding to their call. Again Xu Guan checked the symbols on the cavern walls. Best described as stealth wards, their purpose was fairly straightforward - and extremely vital. Xu Guan didn't even want to think of what might happen if they failed, even for a moment. They were calling up a lot of power here, and if the Sovereign traced something like that...

Xu Guan gulped. He'd rather not spin that thread any further. He just hoped they'd hold...and now that he thought about it, that the strike force had employed all the necessary precautions upon their return here. He didn't like the thought of being attacked just because someone else had been tracked here.

Those thoughts were soon swept away however, and the chanting reached its peak, the magic now rushing through the cavern almost tangible. Then, from one moment to another, it all came together, and thunder cracked, wind roared. Xu Guan threw up a hand to shield his eyes.

Once the wave of pressure had passed, he slowly dared take a first look. Regrettably, it wasn't very enlightening, as the summoning spell had filled the cave with a dense, soupy mist. Xu Guan scowled just slightly. What was it with ancient spells and smoke effects? Did everybody just have a really big budget back then? Or did they just like the suspense of it? Xu Guan, for one, didn't much care for the stuff.

But still, his heart beat faster as he spied a shape within the mist, and a large one at that. Still...it wasn't quite the right size. Then again, dragons were known to be shapeshifters...and more importantly...

It moved...

((Aiight, guess it's been long enough. Hope I get this plausible enough for Sovs to be okay with it. ))

No one was quite sure just what happened when four objects collided in midair at roughly the same time, the particulate cloud obscuring all view of the events in the air above the street, but the results spoke for themselves: CANINE came back down like some sort of meteorite, trailing the smoke of the bomb still attached to its frame, which in turn of course prompted a certain biker crew to hot-foot it and turn their walk into a run so the thing wouldn't be coming down on top of them.

In retrospect, running was probably the better idea anyway, for walking away from a pair of Horsemen of the Apocalypse generally didn't work out too well. Yes, running was definitely smarter, and the bikers had a good amount of common sense. So they ran, which in turn resulted in enough distance between them and the car that when CANINE rammed a new crater into the pavement, the billowing particulate ended up between the bikers and mercenaries, conveniently covering their escape in virtually the best manner possible.

However, it was probably a good idea for them to get off the street as well - though Solid Shot was likely to tell them just that in the next few seconds anyway - for just because the Horsemen couldn't see through the smoke didn't mean they couldn't get out of it. Moreover, judging by the manner in which War had struck, 'surrender' probably wasn't in their best interest...at least not to a pair of warmongering psycho-killers...

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

Kruger only nodded jerkily, the Kommandant still overcome by the abruptness of what had just happened. Something that had never happened before. Quite frankly, he had no idea how to respond to the situation.

It took him nearly three seconds to lower the barrel of his rocket launcher, having only then realized that firing that thing in here probably wasn't such a good idea, and in the meantime several more rebels switched to incendiary rounds. They weren't quite sure whether that would actually help or not, but it was more of a psychological factor anyway. Placing ammo into a gun tended to have a calming effect on many a solider, and it was no doubt a lot better than doing nothing while they watched and waited to see what would happen now...

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

As the 34th Panzers turned back, those in the back of the Molvia weren't idle either. The Caldok Combat Toy had rescued wasn't the only one whose Kazbek was now charred black and useless, and while half of the Pozemna Armada soldiers struggled their way out of what had once been their armor, the other half either helped or was in the process of being defrosted.

In fact, the latter - Sombal - was probably the only one who'd gotten away without one major injury or another, for just because one was in a suit of armor didn't mean blunt force trauma suddenly had no effect. Cracked ribs were especially plentiful for obvious reasons, and thus even the warlike Caldoks were for the moment glad to catch a break.

Of course, that didn't mean they were no longer on call. Though the ensemble of white sleeveless shirt, like-hued shorts, and black belt they wore underneath didn't provide any sort of armor value whatsoever, just the fact that each of their left-hand black boots hid a collapsible field knife inside perfectly illustrated their general mindset: as long as they could fight, they would.

That meant should Toy and crew need them, all they required was the word...

Sweat beaded on the foreheads beneath several rebels' helmets as their mechanical foe closed in for the kill, their fire unable to stop or even slow him down. Now they recognized him, the Iron Fist of the Overmagus, and though some began to swap out regular AP magazines for incendiary rounds, the bulk of them assumed that like the Dark Sovereign's combat cyborgs, Toy Dispenser had access to MPDAS armor - and with that, an EM shield more than capable of deflecting projectiles subject to electromagnetic forces.

Kruger, however, felt quite different about this, having by the time had finished his sentence located his launcher, and presently loaded a rocket. If he was going down, it wouldn't be happening without a fight, this was one thing he was sure of. Hopefully, he'd be correct.

But before he could even take aim, a certain wave of electricity surged about outside. What results did it bring...?

[ QUOTE ]
15..deviousme..

[/ QUOTE ]
Grabbed Ken and got the following out of him: the Dark Dragon can be found just about anywhere, from the bridge of his flagship overlooking a planet below to the gloomy caverns of a hidden lair in the depths of a volcano. On Earth, the villain group he tends to run into most is the Malta Group, what with them being conspiracy nuts and him an alien, but also often Arachnos when he's in the Paragon City/Rogue Isles area. He enjoys the night, and clear starry skies, as well as high mountains because seeing the clouds below him brings back fond memories of the time before he lost his wings.

Hope that helps. Basically, it seems to be a 'take your pick'.

((Gonna wait on Soviet before taking an action with CANINE.))

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

"So?" Wolfgang wanted to know in a curious manner as Vlasta returned the receiver to the center console of the limo's back seat, still wearing the sly smile.

"Once." he answered, "After that, he started calling me Sovereign again. So the bet's a tie. Neither of us gets the money."

"Mhf." the cyborg crossed his arms with a counterfeit expression of despondence, "I was on a winning streak too."

Teivos couldn't help but chuckle. It was true. Wolfgang always bet that Toy Dispenser would never actually call Vlasta just by his name during their conversations, and more often than not he came out on top there.

Before either could say anything else, however, the car phone rang again, and soon after the Tsaigon had picked up, another smile crossed his face. This one, however, hadn't a hint of malice to it.

"Dirver." he spoke forward, "Course change, please. Chiron Medical Research Center."

This in turn caused the cyborg's head to snap around, and receive a confirming nod from Vlasta in return, "Poseidon is awake..."

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

They said ignorance was bliss. The Dark Sovereign's forces respectfully disagreed. They preferred preparation - such as radar and communications links. Neither was exactly hampered by a cloud of murk, even if it had been called into being by a spell, and a certain large force bubble very neatly kept the wind away. After all, it was called a force bubble for a reason.

The frigid temperature, however, they really had summarily ignored. The same idea that kept the cold off the half-naked humans running around here allowed them to manage inside their heavy suits of powered armor. There was an old saying about that as well, but at this point it really didn't matter anymore, considering that Toy took the force bubble with him when he 'followed' the train.

Unlike the Kazbeks employed by the Vesmeerna Pekhota, those of the Pozemna Armada were not programmed to attach themselves to the surface 'below' them, as was for instance necessary on the hulls of starships in space. As a result, the ongoing gale that had turned the tunnel into a wind tube now made prodigious use of the increased surface area of the shields Toy Dispenser had given them, and those whose shields hadn't been crushed by the dragon found themselves elsewhere with due haste. Naturally, this included the ones thrashed around as well, which reduced the number within firing range to four, at least for now.

Whether or not the other half could make it back depended on exactly where the dragon had bitten into their suits. After all, just because they'd remained combat-capable didn't mean there had been no damage. Even people dressed in impervium knew that, for while impervium was resilient to the point of ridiculousness, someone wearing armor made of the stuff still stood far from invincible.

The remaining quartet therefore assumed those four as 'non-combatant' until their status could be confirmed, and while they clung to whatever had been closest - which incidentally created the interesting case of an armored soldier riding down the tunnel on his newly acquired Amazing Flying Rock (TM) - two managed to attach their soles to solid surface and stand again. The third just fired from where he clung to the wall.

Suspecting their by all means quite 'normal' plasma cannons wouldn't do much to the dragon, they instead took under fire its sorcerer support, though whether or not they actually got any before having to deal with the ice wolves they didn't really know. What they did know was that ice, even given form by magic, didn't stand up well against sun-hot plasma, and of course that a giant ball of fire coming at them was a bad thing - especially for a Caldok.

Thus the wallbound soldier didn't get much time to enjoy his regained footing once he found it, for as several thousand degrees vaporized the ice wolves, the upper layers of his Kazbek experienced much the same fate. The lower maintenance layer just couldn't regenerate the armor fast enough to sustain it against that kind of assault. Thankfully, it did give it enough time to recall to the Molvia, where it would take a while to peel the three out of their charred and partially molten armor.

Whether or not the fireball would make it far enough down the tunnel with enough energy left to get the other five, however, was another question. Of course, an even more interesting one was what this meant for the dragon, which had been sitting in their veritable middle at the time...

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

Isabel climbed back into the train to find Kruger completely out of the house, spraying a stream of German curses into his walkie to Legion for leaving Flashpoint Zeo behind. When the collective retorted dismissively that the man was more than capable of catching up to the train, not to mention presently doing so, the Kommandant naturally felt quite sheepish for a moment.

Once Legion informed him that the train had received a Klingon, however, the Krieger's mood lifted yet again, and he ordered the rear door opened and said pursuer taken under fire while he went looking for his bazooka...

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

((Note: due to possibility of misinterpretation, allow me to clarify that Kazbeks are not impervium armor. They use MPDAS (Mikrobotovy Pantsier Dynamitsky Adaptovatelyny podlya Situatsie - Microbot Armor Dynamically Adaptable to Situation) armor. In some ways, it is superior to impervium, in others it is inferior. Raw physical stress, for instance, it can take better due to the microbots' limited ability to gather at stress concentrations. High temperature, on the other hand, impervium is better.))

((I dunno, I kind of like Ice Knife better. And yes Dogma, please do.))

Solid's shot indeed sent CANINE through the car's back and into the pavement, luckily before the cannon attached to its arm could put a slug through Bear's head. The man really shouldn't have been so overconfident. If Solid had sniped a nanosecond later, CANINE would've fired. There was no reason it would've held back instead and 'struggled' against the man's grip. That simply wasn't logical when it had such a perfect opportunity to get in some headshot.

But while the mechanoid hadn't been fast enough to avoid that round, it was far from out of commission. CANINE's armored chassis could take a significant enough beating to survive the impact with full functionality.

Optic connection failure.

Well...mostly.

Scanning all systems. Damage severe. Optic sensor malfunction. Thermal sensor malfunction. Radar malfunction. Hydraulic pressure decrease. Section B sealed. Auto-repair started.

Of course, that wouldn't help it dodge Solid's next round. It was only logical he fire one, after all, and without being able to see it, CANINE knew well that its chances of avoidance were quite low.

Luckily, its communications suite still ran just fine.

CANINE wasted no time accessing an imaging satellite in geostationary orbit above North America, redirected one of its cameras to its own present location, and it didn't take but a few milliseconds for the mechanoid to get its own location as well as everyone else's. Now that was something it could work with.

The instant Solid fired the follow-up in response to seeing the machine stand up, CANINE thrust off the ground and leaped skyward, veritably in tandem with the geyser of pavement dust loosed by the android's shot, and directed a few of its own at the offending sniper in the process, peppering his position with a burst of 20 mm shells. Even if none of them struck, at least it would prevent him from getting off a third shot right away.

Regrettably, that didn't seem to apply to a certain sword-slinger that entered the scene so quickly that the satellite almost got him too late. Not that it mattered, however, for apparently this one could fly - and since it had no air control of its own, CANINE could do nothing to avoid the sword of Operative Rezyin before it got its feet on solid ground again.

Not that it tried, that was.

After all, CANINE's AI considered a sword no threat, and thus the machine attempted to grab the blade and clamp into it, and then use its new anchor as a fulcrum in order to tear Operative Rezyin limb from limb. Needless to say, what would actually happen was likely very different, especially if the Russian's sword could cut through CANINE's armor...

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

"Dakujem." the Kazbek-armored soldier got off a quick word of thanks to the protector drones after he'd gotten into cover behind a fallen chunk of concrete tunnel ceiling, having been more than surprised when Isabel's energy blast had punched through the shield Toy had given him. That woman had some kind of power there - she'd blasted the Kazbek's chest plates clean off!

Now, the Caldok underneath didn't much appreciate that, but he had orders not to fire in the train's direction, and he knew better than to disobey a, especially the Iron Fist of the Overmagus. Naturally, before he could request permission to do so, things went bad and a pair of dragons appeared on the scene - and that changed everything.

Regrettably, it wasn't quite in the way the CPSR expected. While it was true that the Odcarovats in their suits weren't able to annul their magic anymore - let's face it, jamming an arcane source's energy transfer when it was right up in your face just...didn't really work out - but helpless this made them by no means.

Even with Toy's protective barriers apparently rendered null and void, their Kazbeks were still the current pinnacle of the ZUB program, and tearing them in half wasn't was easy as it sounded. Dragon teeth they could handle nicely, and being armed with plasma cannons, they did what came naturally to a pair of Caldoks in such a situation: pump a load of energy into the face of the dragon...which in turn of course showed itself less than impressed. The soldiers had formed imprints in the tunnel wall before they even really knew what had happened.

The frozen soldier stood even unhappier. It was Sombal - and unlike the Caldoks with him, the human wasn't so at home with the cold. Even with his Kazbek, it would take him a while to break free simply due to his lack of experience in this particular department. Thankfully, his team knew this, and thus a pair of the infantrymen attempted to make off with their officer and get him into cover to defrost the man.

And as fate, or perhaps coincidence, would have it, this left three to do what they'd been told to do if they ever encountered a dragon, griffin, or relative of the two.

Inform the Dark Sovereign.

Naturally, two covered while one made the call. The train, however, had no such ideas, and once Kruger arrived back in the rear car and saw what headed toward them, he wasted no time giving Legion the go. At the same time, he of course bolted for the rear door and threw it open, yelling to Flashpoint and Isabel that they should get aboard. After all, he had no idea there was another dragon in front of the train, and that either one might be giving the other a mouthful in the next few seconds...

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

"Oh, don't take it so hard." Wolfgang returned with a sigh to Vlasta's unintelligible, halfway-growled mumble, which had probably been a short string of curses in response to the cyborg opening the rear door of the high-tech limousine, "You'll see, everything will be better in the morning."

Teivos mumbled another grumble, but didn't quite manage to finish before being just slightly started by a sudden transmission from a certain regional CO he knew as Mark. His eyes quickly went wide, and not a few seconds into the conversation he ordered he be put through to Toy Dispenser with utmost haste.

If Vlasta got through, he wouldn't waste any time telling the android just what he imagined now.

He wanted that dragon.

Alive...