DeviousMe

"Was zum Teufel-?!" the Oberst's eyes went wide as the bike came in, the soldier who'd launched the rocket too stunned by the spectacle to even drop his TRV-150 before the Suzuki-turned-projectile turned him into a long, nasty smear on the pavement, only to explode against a nearby wall just after.

German went to and fro and all about as the Horsemen stood, everyone including the two that only now got back up seeming very confused at the appearance of this odd duo. However, the word "Reichsmann" fell at least once, and each example seemed to darken the mood of the cobalt-hued soldiers a little bit more.

But then the rebels opened fire again, having found cover from the catamaran-like tank, which made it clear in the mind of the Oberst, and even as the officer dove for cover he bellowed out his order, "Liquidiert Sie!"

Of course, War and Famine didn't need to actually understand German to know what that meant, even though it was easier said than done, what with the soldiers more occupied with finding new cover than taking good aim at the mercenaries they had mistaken for their enemy. Still, they did fire...

OOC:

Okay then, this seems like as good a place as any to distill what's happened so far into a casual synopsis, so here goes:

1) Axis America is back, and with a vengeance. A powerful dictator rules this version of Earth, and has sent forces to our world to both hunt down the escaped rebels as well as to seek the location of the Reichsman, of whom we of course know the story, but the people of 'his' world have no idea what happened. All they know is that he disappeared on our version of Earth.

2) Any characters at all are welcome, both hero and villain. They may be from our world, they may be from theirs (and if you want them to be from theirs and have specific details in mind, I suggest you shake me down for information; you don't have to of course, but it'd probably be to your advantage ), and have whatever aims you desire. Want to play the apathetic hero who got caught in the wrong place at the wrong time? Go ahead. Want to play the person who's a regular villain here, but sees this as an opportunity to take out a dictator and rule a world of his, her, or its own? By all means, go for it.

3. Standard rules of courtesy apply. Please no godmoding (taking control of other peoples' characters without their permission), autokilling, or calling shot to the nuts. That's just low. We're all here to have fun, so be nice...even if you're nasty, like me.

The Oberst grunted in exasperation, dropping the spent magazine from his PZ-5 and locking in another, the mass driver humming back to life with mechanical satisfaction. Using the tank as cover, he sighted again and sent a few AP rounds trailing one of the rebels, but was forced to duck behind the vehicle again before he could find his mark.

"Grossartig." he swore quietly, "Teivos wird uns alle umbringen. Blödsinninges Dimensionstor."

"Mannschaft!" he barked into the air, "Neuer Plan: Operation Kokosnuss hat soeben angefangen! Finded den Reichsmann! Alles Andere ist jetzt sekunär!"

"Jawohl!" came the shout in returned unison, the Unteroffizier in charge of their communications already giving word back through the portal that they had arrived, the portal was stable, and that they had engaged the enemy and would likely soon require backup...

Welcome

Do not attempt to adjust your monitor. We are now controlling the transmission. Let it be told, and let it be true, for what may have been has come to pass. Beware; take heed, for there may be more than meets the eye in this conspiracy of forces from beyond the veils that bound your world.

For many years, there has stood fate unknown, of what became of where that spawned the great Statesman's equal when and how, thought lost and gone to naught, remembered only in the annals of curt history, between events whence where and gone. But this day, let there be more, let the tale be told of one who came, who saw, who conquered. Let it be known what has transpired beyond the curtain, what events have since shaped the world we know so little of.

Take a journey, take a trip, and see firsthand what fate conceived, what time has forged with patient fingers, what those that did not heed the tree's fall allowed to become of Axis America.

Standard RP rules and common courtesy apply...

Booting registry. Please wait.

People often ponder the question: if a tree falls in the forest, and there's no one around to hear it, does it make a sound?

Registry loaded. Please enter search term:

The conventionalist will tell you that yes, of course it does. How could it not?

delta zeta 24-10_

The quantum physicist will tell you that it does and does not, for until the event is observed, neither the state of sound nor the state of silence actually exist, but rather form a mixture of possibility.

Search complete. 1 match found.

The pragmatist will tell you he doesn't care. The tree fell, end of story, and you should leave well enough alone already.

display synopsis_

Regrettably, all three fail to realize the core of the issue at hand: namely, that the tree fell.

Delta Zeta 24-10:
Current State of Local Affairs: Unknown - Suspected Hostile
Travel Status: Restricted
Access Status: Unreachable

Trees are big things. When one falls, the consequences are widespread, not to mention immediate more often than not.

display full file_

So what tends to happen in the wake of a large event with widespread and immediate consequences?

Full file displayed:

In this sinister dimension, the Axis powers won the war and now the United States (and probably the whole world) are under its control. This dimension is militarist, hostile and dangerous, and even worse is the fact that it has its own metahuman champions, a fact that the Portal Corp. explorers first and the whole Paragon City later would discover.

This dimension won an important place in the dimensional exploration history, being the place where the discoverer of dimensional travel and founder of Portal Corp, Dr. Webb, found his death after being captured and tortured by the nazi counterpart of our Statesman: The Reichsman.

After learning the secrets of dimensional travel, Reichsman and his Nazi supersoldiers tried to invade Paragon City, only to be confronted and defeated by the Freedom Phalanx, who proved to be superior to the Nazi supersoldiers. The battle destroyed Portal Corp.'s installations, and Reichsman was captured and imprisoned. Nothing is known about his soldiers, who could have escaped or have been captured as well.

The dimension vanished without a trace when the Council took over the 5th Column following the war between the two groups. The dimension was no longer accessible, but instead a new one opened: that of the Council Empire.

Change.

Change that spreads to a far greater area than just what the tree had once occupied...

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

Staetlov Military Research Insititute
Axis America

"Deckung!"

A cacophonous explosion rocked the hangar. Concrete, steel, and all manner of aircraft components rocketed in all directions. A dense cloud of dirt and dust obscured the numerous muzzle flashes from the hangar's other side. Unfortunately, it did not do the same for the bullets coming from just there, accompanied by the characteristic chatter of heavy semiautomatics.

"Verdammt nochmal, hab' ich nicht gesagt Köpfe runter?!" the Oberst barked again, shaking his fist at one of his men across the way, the shamelessly grinning soldier only slowly getting back to his feet, having been virtually blasted from the heavy construction barrier he'd been leaning over to use as a vantage point.

"Verzeihen Sie, Sir!" he retorted bashfully over the gunfire, causing the Oberst to sigh with relief. The man's gas mask may have been gone but at least it seemed to have prevented any damage to the man himself. Well, the physical kind, at least. The mental sort, of this the Oberst wasn't quite so sure, "Nächstes Mal hau' ich's zurück!"

The Oberst repressed a growl, but kept his mind on the mission, peeking out from behind his cover at the swirling rings of the portal generator at the hangar's other end. They had to get at that, come what may. If necessary, they'd die to capture that.

Lucky for them, it wouldn't come to that.

Another explosion thundered through the hangar, adding blinding fire to visibility conditions that any pilot with even a lick of sense would've considered soup. Fortunately, the tank that rolled its way in through the hangar door's freshly minted and barn-door-sized hole didn't really have to care. Sparks flew as dozens of bullets pinged uselessly off its thick armor, and the Oberst smiled sinisterly once the vehicle crew returned fire. They opened up with their tank's secondary fifty cal., laying into the rebels without mercy, sending them to scatter from the long lines of suddenly appearing pockmarks right in the center of their formation.

Nevertheless, even the heavy automatic's pulsing thunder didn't stand a chance against the clap that shook the entire hangar only moments later. A wave of pressure threw the Oberst to the ground with such force that he felt a shoulder blade split.

The portal had gone active...

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

Portal Corporation
Peregrine Island

Two scientists walked into a lab.

"Two scientists walk into a lab." one said to the other, "One says to the other..."

The man's cheerful smile gradually disappeared, previously gesticulating arms going solemnly to his sides. His coffee mug left his hand unceremoniously, shattering upon the floor, released by fingers gone weak at the sight of what now flashed red on the monitor of the very terminal he'd been working at not two minutes ago, "...what is that?"

The other's eyes narrowed in determination behind her glasses, "Trouble."

And as she stepped to the nearest wall and drove a fist into the alarm, the first scientist couldn't help but rub his eyes, stalking to the terminal in disbelief at what it said.

Delta Zeta 24-10:
Current State of Local Affairs: Unknown - Suspected Hostile
Travel Status: Restricted
Access Status: Attempting Access_

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

Constellation Row
Galaxy City

Adjutant Morrison practically leaped from the warehouse door, turning fast as he could and slamming the thing shut behind him mere instants before the dull thump of another fireball sounded from the other side. The Council Adjutant sighed in relief, pocketing the keys. What was wrong with the world today? All you had to do these days was steal a few weapons from the US military, and before you even knew it the city sicced some half-baked powerhouse of ice and fire at you to immolate however she wished. Where had the days gone when everyone had been afraid of the Council?

Almost makes me want the 5th Column back.

Morale of the story: be careful what you wish for.

The shockwave blasted his back against the wall before his ears even registered that there had been a clap of raucous thunder, but through his swimming vision, he nonetheless saw it clear as day: the bright, swirling countenance of the portal sphere, partly above, partly within the street before the warehouse, rocking the whole area with its quaking pulses.

To his great surprise, out stormed a battalion of uniformed men, garbed in uniforms of gray urban camouflage, wearing heavy helmets and bulging backpacks, and wielding rifles that didn't look at all familiar. Indeed, hadn't it been for those weapons and the way they moved, Morrison very much could've mistaken these soldiers for marines...but they were not, this was sure. So who were they? Either way, before he could even think to ask and toss the notion away as having bad idea written all over it, they opened fire - but not on him.

They targeted the portal!

Momentarily confused, the Adjutant very soon saw why, for a cobalt blue and decidedly high-tech-looking tank rumbled through after them like some manner of overdimensional steamroller, taking them on with heavy automatic fire and a prematurely fired high-explosive shell that blasted a sizeable chunk out of the warehouse, not to mention all remaining coherent senses from the unfortunate Adjutant Morrison. A small mushroom cloud rose low into the skies above Galaxy City.

But before his vision swam away completely, the Council man did catch sight of those that the tank apparently belonged to: clad in uniforms of the same hue as their tank, and sporting armor pads that almost resembled some sort of exosuits. Indeed, their balaclavas and orange-tinted blast goggles only reinforced this notion, as did the oddly shaped gas masks that covered the lower halves of their faces.

Morrison couldn't help but pass out with a smile on his lips.

They're back...

An interesting take. Me like. Nicely done.

Heh, and BlueBattler's at it again.

I'm liking this already - and not just because it's another take on a timeless classic. Please, do continue.

Oh my.

I don't remember there ever being one, but to be absolutely sure, the simplest way would be just to PM Posi, or maybe even better, War Witch.

Nah.

This rocks. So hard.

Heh, can't believe this escaped me for so long. Me likey - especially the way you worked ingame elements like Boris in. Where's the next update?

After Action Report H19
Final Assessment Complete
File Report Form FORMS 0227-B
_
_

<List Personnel>


Writing Contributors:

DogmaoftheBwerp (Paradigm Shift)
General Fang
Jennifer8
Khellendrosiic
Mnemonyev
Mr. Grey
MrKrAzY
Sabre Vern
SENECA
Soviet Strike (TheSoviet)
The Dark Dragon
The Doc
Vyachslav


'Liberi Fatali' by Nobuo Uematsu

'What I've Done' by LinkinPark


Thanks for the use of their faces:

DogmaoftheBwerp (Paradigm Shift)
- Aether Pilot Trigen
- Captain Salvius
- Commander Cynic

_Essex_
- Rosalind

Jennifer8
- Penny Arcade

Khellendrosiic
- Archlich
- Balsk
- Solid Shot
- Toy Dispenser
- Warmaster Cher'tak

Mr. Grey
- Cory Simmons
- Randall Grey
- Ryat66
- Sheldon Wallace

MrKrAzY
- Jake Walsh

Soviet Strike (TheSoviet)
- Samuel Reikoff
- Gunslinger Curtis
- Many More Malta Men

City of Heroes/Villains original characters:

- Borea
- C'Kelkah
- Gaussian
- Incandescent
- Levantera
- Lk'Onik
- Sah'Teece
- Serpent Drummer
- The Lady Grey


Special thanks to our developers for this game, these boards, and all the creativity they inspire, my loyal crew and all my other friends who helped me with this project and allowed me use of their characters, and all those who provided feedback during its development.


Dedicated in loving memory of our good friend Mark, a.k.a. Kerat-Kalom Adrussan (1986-2007)
- "There is no fate but what we make; and if fate has a problem with that, tell it to come talk to me."


Thank you for participating in this exercise of the literary arts. We all dearly hope you have enjoyed your reading. You have expanded your horizons. Well done. Goodbye.

He sat there, at the edge of the platform, letting his legs dangle listlessly over the abyss of steam below. Things had gotten quieter again. For that, he was glad. Still...a part of him held such peace in no high regard. Whenever he had nothing to do, he had time to think...and sometimes, like right now...thinking hurt.

"So..." he heard a voice beside him, cause a few meters away and to his rear, "This seat taken?"

He turned his head to the man that was not a man. To the lifeform that stood composed of what most considered but dead matter. And he smiled.

"Not at all." he told Toy Dispenser, the mechanical mastermind moving to sit alongside him after a sharp 'glance' at his entourage; particularly the large Combat Toy, who retorted with a wordless nod, a certain struggling battle drone locked securely in the his metal arms. Even Mini Bot's excited chatter didn't make it past as more than muffles, barely audible against the hiss of steam below. Indeed, for quite some time, it was the only sound about, for not a word emerged.

Finally, the colorful mercenary turned a faceless head to him, almost seeming to draw a breath before he spoke, "...there never was any corruption, was there?"

"No." Acid answered with a long blink and single chuckle, slitted pupils wandering to Toy, "What gave me away?"

"You just did." the robotic mastermind almost seemed to smirk a moment, "I didn't think that one would get you. You're usually not that easy to trick."

Seconds passed in silence.

"So..." Toy turned his sights to the caldera's rim, "...he's really gone then."

Acid only gave a solemn nod, "Yeah."

"Sorry." the mechanoid's voice had become a tad sheepish, "I thought it was all part of the scheme..."

"Not this time." the Khelari shook his head, "This time, things went completely out of control...or maybe I should say went into it."

"What do you mean?" Toy wanted to know, turning curiously back to the reptilian. Behind them, even Mini Bot had now ceased his antics, wanting to hear this. Combat Toy let down the battle drone.

"There was a prophecy." Acid explained, imitating the mastermind's earlier, seeking look to the caldera's rim, "About Ken...the Dark Dragon. He was supposed to die today. By the hands of Armand Thysthe. That was what fate...what destiny said. And it almost happened. In one day, somehow, some way, he crossed half a galaxy and a crossworld barrier, and ended up right next to him before any of us even knew what was going on."

"Didn't Mnemonyev...?"

"Ken's mentastabilized." the reptilian interrupted Toy's interjection with one of his own, "No, to a telepath the guy's practically invisible - and until he blew his cover, none of you guys thought about him either. Yeah, it was a pretty big shock. Heck, I was ready to just drop in and grab him then and there."

"But then we would've figured it out."

"Then you would've figured it out." the Khelari confirmed with a somber nod, "And to Kerat...well, that just wasn't acceptable. So he locked me in a medbay and went in instead, wanting to make it look like everything really was the way we'd made it to appear. And he died for it. He died for the plan...and I know I shouldn't feel this way...because he died for what he believed in...but I just can't help it..."

Had he had a throat, Toy could've sworn there sat a lump in it now. This was it. This was the point he'd been waiting for.

"What did he believe in?"

"Change." Acid told him with a direct look into his technically nonexistent eyes, "Changing people. Changing fate. That we have the power, not some predetermined cosmic order. That's what he died for. That's what he died doing: changing things that people say cannot be changed."

"Evidently they can." the robotic mastermind retorted, almost feeling a chill at that, "That's...that's pretty heavy. But if this was all about change...what was the point? Almost everybody lost their memory, Nemesis is still at large, probably plotting to take over again already, and Vanguard...why did you make it look like you were betraying them?"

"Because they didn't need me to be there anymore..." the Khelari chuckled darkly, "...actually, I should say because they needed me not to be there anymore. See, they probably still don't even realize it, but I had about as much to do with vanguard getting to where they are today as the guy who lights the fuse in a quarry. All those other people, geologists, engineers, blasting technicians, they do the real work - but the guy who pushes the button gets the credit. They felt like that. They felt I was controlling stuff, even though I...well, I just lit the fuse. Everything else was already there. I just gave it a little...push. But they couldn't see that."

"So you decided to separate yourself from them." Toy concluded, quite correctly, "To take away that belief. Hm. Couldn't you have just told them 'I quit'?"

"No." Acid smiled genuinely for the first time in a good while now, "I did look at the idea. Sadly, there was a good chance the feeling would persist...among other less than desirable possibilities. No, to truly get back to its old self, Vanguard needs an enemy. An enemy who knows the organization inside and out, who is a constant threat that needs to be watched for. An enemy..."

"...like you."

"...like me, yes."

"Well, okay - but did you really need to kill Lady Grey?"

This time, Acid laughed, for a few seconds not even managing to get out in words, "Oh, Toy...sometimes, you confound me. You really do. No, she's not going to die. She never was. That serum I kept giving her? No such thing. Now yes, originally she had a condition - but that was more from 'eating some bad years' than anything else. Probably tried to drain some undead villain or something, I don't know. It was just really convenient to abuse. So I did."

"Sometimes, I don't know whether to be ashamed or scared of you." Toy already had the palm of a hand on his faceplate, shaking his head, "So, aside from that, what else changed? Unless you're telling me this was Nemesis' first step toward becoming Si-?"

"No speculation." Acid stopped Toy with a raised finger, "Speculation never leads to any good. But no, Nemmy wasn't my primary target. Humans were. See, I've got plans for them. I can't say much more just yet, other than it's a pretty long-term plan - well, for them; not so much for you and me - and that it had reached one of its critical points. At this point, I needed to know something. I needed to know if they were ready for the next stage...and thanks to Kerat, now I do."

"Can you tell me?" the mechanoid's faceplate almost seemed to be waggling eyebrows that weren't there, "I promise I'll keep it a secret."

"Yeah, the boss never tells us anything!" Mini Bot burst into the conversation, only to receive Combat Toy's arm on the head in response. Acid couldn't help but chuckle again...then gave Toy his answer.

"Remember, now." he told the robotic mastermind, "You promised."

"I know." Toy nodded, raising his hands, "Don't worry, I won't. But...where's this leave Nemesis and the Dar-I mean Ken then?"

Acid looked to the caldera's rim once more, then turned slowly back to Toy.

"You really want to know?"

One sat on a throne, amidst a hundred churning gears. Machines they were, and so much more, and all for him they worked, all for him their toil. The Prussian Prince of Automatons they called him, and this image he certainly conveyed. Yet as he sat there, at the center of so much creation for the purpose of destruction, he could not help but return once more from whence he'd come, once upon a time.

The toy maker.

The other had no throne, at least not in the physical sense. Most of the time, he didn't even occupy the command chair of the ship whose corridors he wandered now, alone and undisturbed, the reflection of his scarred body staring back at him from so many a surface. The Dark Dragon they called him, evil and without a conscience, and this he had no doubt become. Hate had taken hold, hate had forged him, turned him into what stood this day from as what he had so humbly started.

The freedom fighter.

Fighter and maker, prince and rebel, this they were and thus they wondered. They wanted to remake, to change, to create what should have been but wasn't. But time and again, the obstacles in their way bore down with weight monstrous, requiring sacrifice after sacrifice, compromise upon compromise.

But did they really?

At least one of them set to find out. And maybe, just maybe, they weren't really worlds apart...

"Heeey! Sam, what'cha do that fer?"

The index finger of a black, fingerless glove released the key it had depressed, hovering briefly above the keyboard and in front of the Operation Engineer before returning its owner's side. Then the TacOps Commander gradually turned to the Special Qualification Marksman who had voiced his protest, and even in the gloomy, murky shadows of this room his eyes seemed visibly alight with an unearthly fire.

"Sourpuss." the Gunslinger complained with a scowl beneath his mask, crossing his arms and looking back to the table he'd been sitting on, "Jes' when i'was gettin' good, too..."

"You think so, hm?" the TacCom queried, tone low and solemn. He for one had heard enough. They'd been played. They'd all been played.

"Well yeh." the Gunslinger spread his arms, not giving the impression that he cared much at all, "I mean sure, we got fleeced...but Sam, ya gotta admit: i'was cool."

'Sam' found himself cocking a light smirk at this, taking a long blink with a curt sigh, "Curtis...you know, when you're right...you're right. At least we weren't the only ones. Soldier."

"Sir?" the Operation Engineer at the terminal came to attention.

"I want this thing wiped. It's none of the Directors' business. Are we clear?"

"Yes Sir, Commander Reikoff." the man gave a nod and immediately set to work. The TacCom smiled again. It was good to have people one could trust. In today's world, they were an asset far too precious...something he knew only all too well. For a moment, he didn't even notice the tremble of his fist.

Marcus...one day, you're going to pay.

"Done and done, Sir." the Engineer's words returned him to the real world as he handed his superior a mini CD, "All that's left."

"Thank you, soldier." Reikoff nodded, then crushed the data carrier with one swift contraction of his hand, letting the thing grind to pieces in the fist of his armored glove. Silence hovered for a good few seconds, until he was satisfied, and then he let the remaining fragments rain gently to the floor.

"We're done here." the TacCom told the other Malta Operatives as he stepped toward the door, turning back once more, specifically upon the soles of his boots making contact with the heavy door they'd blasted out of its frame.

He sighed again, feeling very much like that - a tough and sturdy piece of hardware foreigned for purposes it had never been meant to carry out. He didn't like that feeling. But he liked not knowing even less. Well, at the very least, now he knew the most part. The rest he could piece together on his own. After all...the fact that the Lady Grey didn't lie six feet under right now was a pretty damn decent clue...

The Lady Grey

"At this point, the ladies and gentlemen of the Security Council are likely to wonder why none of you have any recollection of these matters. Rest assured, We shall explain in due time. To be precise: now. Yes, the root cause was indeed Lord Nemesis, but very doubtfully in the manner you currently suspect. Relating to the matter at hand, all of us quickly realized this was a battle that could not be won upon a physical front. Rularuu, a being you may know to wield power beyond the imagination of many a man, merely mocked our feeble efforts to do him harm, let alone defeat him, not even personally engaging in the battle into which he pitted the forces of his armies against Vanguard, the Nemesis Army, and the Lineage of War. At the time, this of course made for a rather hopeless situation, but in retrospect it seems that the overconfidence of Rularuu very much worked to our advantage."

"Allow Us to restate at this point that we held no physical means with which to defeat this foe. However, such were neither required, nor do they to our knowledge even exist. As such, the idea of using the metaphysical against him was the natural next step, but nonetheless we had no means thereof, for while several personnel - including Sheldon Wallace, Penny Arcade, and Toy Dispenser - toyed, no pun intended, with the idea of using the combined might of the Rikti mental network to carry out an assault on the mind of Rularuu, the proposal itself was found flawed by Warmaster Cher'tak, as even the entire Rikti populace simply stood insufficient to provide the required magnitude of mental strength. It was at this point that we today owe a...measure of gratitude to Lord Nemesis, as his research provided the basis necessary to realize the suggestion of the Dark Dragon to include the humanity of our world in this scheme as well."

"As you have likely by present guessed, the plan worked. However, it was by no means executed with any means of ease, drawing consequences in both the form of the sacrifice of the Hro'Dtohz Automaton - a fact that Our person is still not entirely confident was not premeditated in some form or fashion by that...ahem...excuse Us - in addition to a severe drain upon the psionic substance of the entire Rikti populace as well as, at least so We believe, all intelligent beings on our Earth at the time of the execution, including the ladies and gentlemen of the Security Council. Granted, We know such a tale is difficult to accept, and may very much seem akin to a convenient excuse in regard to the failure of this expedition. You are correct in interpreting these words as meaning that Lord Nemesis was not brought to justice, as per the original parameters of the mission, nor that a lasting peace with the Lineage of Science could be procured in the aftermath. However, each and every person in this room, and furthermore every man and woman who stood as part of the expedition team can attest to the truth of what We have disclosed to you this day in the forms of both..."

Bravo. A well-written, most moving tale that holds a true lesson at its core. Magnifico.

Far from the bustling center of the spiral grandiose, cast into the distant reaches of heavens' arms, so detached form the turmoil of the core, there sat a small little sun with a small little planets, naught but specks of dust in the abyss. Yet one of them, that third tiny rock from the little yellow sun, a shining blue world that from a distance looked so serene and tranquil, had for the past several thousand years been one of the noisiest places in the general vicinity, its inhabitants never stopping, never resting, always squabbling, always barking, always shouting this, that, the other, never giving the illusion from above a single chance such that it might be real. Today, around six billion of the little beings stood dotted on the surface of that blue world, that planet with appearance so serene, but nature so very not, and just as always it floated so very stoically through space. But though it was the same, today was also different - oh, so very different - for that little blue planet far out in the spiral of the Milky Way.

For it had never been so silent.

Across the land and across the seas, those whose voices had filled the skies so long stood quiet, in their cities and their homes, in their streets and in their squares, there they stood to contemplate the Ravager's proposal. Even in the normally so hectic midst of New York City, upon the crossing paths that formed Times Square, below the massive monitors that broadcast the countenance of Rularuu, the crowds stood silent and unmoving, the sheer magnitude bearing down upon each and every one of them.

Some wished acceptance. Others spat upon the very notion. Still others had no idea what the bloody hell was even going on. But one thing they all held in common, one thing now united them, one thing made them all the same - human, mutant, Kheldian, hero, villain, or Joe and Jill Everyday - their silence. Should they speak? Should they voice? If they did, would others follow? Or would they hate them for their choice? Did they have the right to condemn another people to all-but-assured genocide? Was it really their decision? And if so, what consequences would their decision draw? Would it be accepted? Or would it leave them most divided? Might their world not even have need of the Ravager to sunder? This none knew. So they stood. So they waited. Waited for that sign; that guidance.

Upon the homeworld of the Rikti, the situation stood much the same, though for different reasons - and there, it did not last. Here, it began with one thing, and turned into another, a certain burly, bulky, bearded, and decidedly besieged tanker wrapping the large fingers of a hand around the dented arm of the nearest wrecked HVAS unit he could find, and in one smooth motion hurled it at the Ravager, holding no heed for his great size. He didn't care. He'd fought big things before. He was ready. Regrettably, it seemed that others were not, both Sheldon Wallace and Cory Simmons reaching to grab the arms of Randall Grey while the HVAS stopped dead in the air, locked down by a detention field.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa..." came the familiar voice of Acid Zero, the toothily smiling reptilian emerging from the passage beneath the Ravager's floating form, an outstretched hand laxly urging for calm with a most passive wave...though the robotic henchmen at his side spoke volumes to the contrary. He let the Vanguard mechanoid crash against the ground once more, the heroes holding onto Randall shaking their heads to the leader of Grey's Army - they'd had nothing to do with that.

"Randall, Randall, Randall Grey." the Khelari mused in his devilish grin, "Seriously...what's the matter with you? There you guys help us with all this stuff, and then you just wanna go an'...ruin the ride. No. Not cool. Putting the big guy here back together was a lot of work, and getting him to play along with this even more so."

"My servant speaks the truth." the Ravager thundered from above, "Great efforts have been made, and they will ensure the safety of your world. You would truly waste them?"

"Yeah, that the boss said." Acid added, thumbing up at the gargantuan being, "So c'mon already. Get outta here. Think of all the Rikti've done to you - and not just to you. Everyone. The people in Paragon. The people in Kingdale. Your friends. Your family. They've all suffered because of the Rikti, haven't they? Don't you wanna get back at 'em? Seriously - just go. It's a simple matter of the survival of your species. No one's going to think any less of you for following the very first instinct your God put into you. Just let it go. Give it up."

Another chuckle echoed forth. But this time, it was not the Khelari's. This time, it hung morbid, ironic, sardonic, and unequivocally human - for it was that of Randall Grey.

"Never." he growled, teeth clenched, "Not even in the face of destiny, damnation, Rapture, or Ragnarok, never blink, never flinch, never compromise, never surrender."

Brutal determination burned within the hero's eyes, the innermost flames of his very soul. At that moment, he cared not for the thoughts of others, not for the objections of his friends, neither wizard nor inventor, and paid no regard for those who knew of Rularuu's true power; for even if the Ravager had mashed him to a pulp right there and then with one great fist would Randall Grey not have thought any different in regard to his decision.

"Randy, please..." Cory attempted to stall him one last time, "Trust me when I say this is not a good idea right now. We don't have a way to fight this thing. Randy, you know. I don't like it either, but right now there's nothing we can do."

Sheldon found himself in related straits, and saying that the team's rest did not would have been an outright lie. But the one who not stood torn most of all was none other than one who not a week ago would have wasted not a thought about such a seemingly most logical decision: that the only verdict was vengeance, and that the Rikti should pay for what they'd done, their reason for doing it be damned. His insides churned, and he almost felt physically sick just by being here right now, wishing he'd never made the trip back from the Jade Moon. He thought he'd had no fear to hold, but seeing this, this cold, uncompromising reflection of himself...that simply scared him.

"Then you leave me no choice." Acid sighed, slipping a shell into the chamber of his weapon, the bladed rifle giving a satisfied clack, "I'm just going to have to remove you then. Sorry Randy, but the Rikti have to go. They aren't innocent, you know. There is no such thing as the innocent - only those who aid the cause, and those who stand against it - and those who stand against it have no place to live."

"No!" the Dark Dragon finally burst out, still-bandaged form limping to the front, and if it hadn't been for Penny he very likely would've topped three times over, "Ace, don't do this! Please, don't throw away everything you've worked for!"

The Khelari only threw his head back in psychotic laughter, eyes flaring with the venomous green iridescence of the unknown vile element within his veins, "Oh my dear Ken, what's the matter? Can't take looking in the mirror? I'm only doing what you wanted: following your way. With us or against us - weren't those your very words? The words of your hate?"

He knew not what to say. It was true. Like so many humans hated the Rikti for their actions, so did he the Concile for theirs. Worse, it had been necessary - his hate had taken him in when there had been nothing and no one else, allowed him to go on when he had naught but to cling to, taught him how to sleep, how to eat, how to breathe. It had imprisoned him, absorbed him, and he hadn't even realized, even all those years back when Acid had told him that very thing; that one day, his hate would suffocate the man.

"Not anymore." he shook his head, chasing away the shadows of the past, "You were right, and I was wrong. I know, it's a stupid way to put it, but I just don't know how else right now. I should've listened. I can see that now. Please...fight it. Bring back your old self."

"Alright." the Khelari gave a solemn nod, then thrust the muzzle of his weapon dead at them all, "Rikti or both, yay or nay? Choose."

"Yes." Rularuu shook the air above, "Choose now."

The Dark Dragon closed his eyes. He couldn't believe this. How...how could it all have gone so wrong, so utterly awry? For the first time in a long time, he just didn't know. He just didn't have an answer. And for the first time in a long time...he felt a tear run down his cheek.

There was a sound of thunder.

"IIIII saaaayyy naaaaaayyyyy!!!"

"Nemesis?!" half the team gasped as all whirled about, the balls of no less than three dozen Storm Rifles crashing against the side of Rularuu the Ravager, prompting an instant rain of soldiers from the skies - and indeed, at the brassen form on none other than Lord Nemesis.

"Fight for me, my Nemesis Army!" the metallic man bellowed to the skies, his fist raised to challenge come what may as gunfire erupted all about, "Fight for all of us!"

For a moment, Randall but stood there, mouth agape. Was this really happening? Was all of this really happening? When had the universe gone mad and just not given him the memo? Moreover, when had he gone mad? Now that it had started, now that what he had wanted to do with every fiber of his being just seconds before, now of all times, there came...doubt. Was this really what he should do? After all, Nemesis may have been spoken of as the greatest mind of all time, but even assuming this wasn't just another of his ploys, did they really stand a chance? Wasn't he just condemning humanity if he chose to fight? Did he even have the right to make such a decision? Was his responsibility not the saving of lives? Should he truly not give in here?

"No!"

It was so distant, so far away. But at the same time, it felt so close, so tangible.

"No!"

He felt it. He felt it in his heart, his soul, every cell, every molecule. He felt their resolve, their united cry, despite them being a whole universe away.

Humanity!

"No! No! No! No...!" they chanted in Times Square, they chanted in Beijing, they chanted in all corners of the world that the message of the Ravager had reached, and no matter the distance between them, they stood as one. Someone had started it. They didn't care who or how, but someone had, that was all that mattered. Now they had someone of like mind, and with every passing second they found another someone, then another, and then another, until the whole mass of someones found itself without a plural, people swept up in a single drive, as a single entity, proclaiming loudly their answer to the skies, to the universe; to Rularuu.

And that small blue world was no longer silent.

"All right." Grey cracked his already stone-covered knuckles, "Bring it on..."

((Heeey, I remember this. So it's actually back? Awesomesauce!))

Wow, nice job. Note on Wyvern, though - I think their other stuff gives just a little more xp too, but it's been so long since I fought them (curse them only appearing in the lower levels ) that I can no longer confirm this.

On an unrelated note...does anyone know what a Burn Protector is and where it can be found? I've never seen one, and I'd really like to.

The Unit

Harken, for the skies, they sundered, and tore with thund'rous rage in envy at the splendor of their better, unable to accept the magnificence that belonged in the celestial realms: the glory of Lord Nemesis.

"Hold." his commanding perfection spoke with such flawless calm as it raised a hand, halting the march across a platform of the Forgotten Sanctuary, glorious visage looking to the skies to give them pause with the might of its expression. For there, high beyond the clouds and amidst the stars, there gaped the tear of worlds for all to see, the sundering's sheer might having ripped away the veils that might shield the eyes of those from the horror it spewed forth. For there, upon the very edge of this world, now peered the lusting eyes of one whose vast knowledge may have even rivaled that of the insurmountable Lord Nemesis.

Rularuu the Ravager!

He came from the skies like greed incarnate, and his forces rained upon the land like a plague of scripture. Strike, however, and most surprising all this found, that they did not. At least not yet. They awaited his command. Nay, all awaited his command - the twisted creatures that composed his hordes, the brave soldiers of the Nemesis Army, the stern fighters of the Lineage of War, the magnificent thinkers of the Lineage of Science...and even the misguided valiants of the Lady Grey's Vanguard, who stood gathered upon their tower as the Ravager descended to speak unto them his purpose.

"Hear me..." he proclaimed with force that shook the very air, and hear they did as he made known his ultimatum - but they were not its sole recipients. Nay, the Ravager proclaimed across this world and the next, the brave men and women of the Nemsis Army relaying to our glorious leader what now transpired upon Primal Earth, where the Ravager's announcement had appeared upon every manner of receiver, an uncountable number of monitors and screens proclaiming his words to what had to be the majority of both worlds' populace. Indeed, even if it stood not so, the reporters of the public service by now passed his words on to where they did not reach before, the scene of Times Square in the spell of Rularuu the Ravager making rounds about the Earth like a beam of light.

"...and as you have set me free and made me whole once more, I cannot help but feel a measure of gratitude toward you all." the Ravager's words trembled through both air and aether with ungodly force, "However, I cannot overlook the numerous pas efforts to keep my prison whole. Thus. I make a compromise with me. I make humanity this offer: interfere no longer, and I shall spare your world. Remove yourselves from the path I take, and our ways shall never cross again."

the magnificence that was Lord Nemesis commanded move. We did obey, though we did not know why. But we knew better than to question the infallible, and move we did, with pride and vigor, with strength to lead us where alone none of us could ever hope to tread. Moreover, however, he commanded listen. Thus we did. And we heard.

"I require nothing further from humanity." the Ravager spoke with honesty most great, answering the concerns of Vanguard's champions. He had no need to lie, "Only that you do not interfere as I consume this world. This does not make you glad? Do consider: the Rikti, the scourge that brought so much pain and misery to you, removed forevermore...and all you need do...is nothing. Your greatest enemy, gone forevermore, never to return to threaten you again, nevermore to cause you suffering and hurt. This does not appeal to you? No...it does. I feel it in your hearts, it does. Your hate for them, your desire to see them...pay."

"Take me by my word, for I speak true." the Ravager rose toward the skies again, "Interfere not, and I shall take their realm, remove your pain, and leave yours bereft of my touch, now and forever. Oppose me yet again, and I shall consume your worlds both, to the very last of their essence. Your hearts, they cry, your minds, what do they say? Speak now. What say you...?"

Damn you...now I'm really on the edge of my seat.

Her fists slammed against the table with the force of frustration. Still, the glass-like obsidian surface of the block of stone and metal yielded no response.

"Why won't you work?!" Penny Arcade barked at what may well have been called some kind of screen before her, the wide slab of reflective black set into the wall rising to nearly five meters and sitting more than half as wide. Indeed, the entirety of the large, circular chamber seemed to hold these slabs in regular intervals, the domed ceiling supported by heavy arches just about giving the place the look and feel of an alien cathedral.

"I don't get it." Sheldon Wallace muttered quietly from his corner of the 'table', having removed a side panel to study the crystalline workings inside the strange device, "I just don't get it. This thing's the control system. Has to be. Why isn't it working? Why isn't it doing anything?"

He just couldn't wrap his head around it. What was going on here? There didn't seem to be any damage. He knew what modern-day Rikti tech looked like - in fact, he was a veritable expert on the subject - and this stuff was at least similar enough to make reliable judgment calls...so what the hell was wrong with it?! It was like this junk was mocking them!

"Physical violence: ineffective." Warmaster Cher'tak conveyed his assessment of Penny's behavior, requesting she keep her calm, "Deductive reasoning: necessary. Emotion: causing distraction."

Sheldon sighed. The Rikti was right. They had to focus. Still, it was maddening: Vanguard forces crawled all over the tower, securing it against any would-be attempts by the Nemesis Army to retake this part of the Forgotten Sanctuary (the fight was far from over, after all), not to mention sending technician after technician into its bowels to look for something no one was even really sure existed.

No. It has to exist. There's a defect here somewhere, otherwise this would be working.

Wallace just knew his thoughts stood correct, though he didn't know why. It was just a gut feeling, but one that felt so strong it couldn't be anything less than fact. The only problem was finding it...and that was a big problem. The tower was large, no one could deny this, and...no. No, the solution had to be in this room, somewhere in this chamber that sat just above the structure's very center, filling almost the entirety of the building's circular cross section with its floor space. Hell, the pillar in the center virtually gave it away. This was a control center, no doubt about it. But how to make it control?

"Fools - all of you." the dark tone of Archlich strode through the trapezoidal entryway in the same haughty manner as the skeletal arcanist himself, the dim light of green skies outside adding even greater gloom to his already sinister armor.

"Oh yeah?" the inventor couldn't help himself, "I'd like to see you get this thing going."

Archlich's eyeless sockets turned toward the man, and though his lips had long since disappeared, leaving only the bare teeth of his skull, Sheldon couldn't help but see the grin upon his face as the magus stretched his hand toward him, speaking but a single word.

"Granted."

Before anyone even knew what happened, thunder clapped and a bolt of oddly-hued lightning cracked across the chamber, sparking into the table directly beside Sheldon, the shocked inventor scrambling back with a string of hasty curses, already setting to return the favor when Penny's shout to stop arrested all motion in the room.

"It worked." she quietly added all that needed saying - for in the bottom right corner of the slab before them, a pair of neon blue glyphs now glowed without fail.

SYSTEM READY.

A moment later, they shifted from left to right, and from glyphs to words. Jake only scowled at the occurrence, mumbling a distasteful, "Magic...feh."

"Do not be so quick to judge." Archlich warned, but not in a personal manner. Interestingly enough, his tone conveyed caution much more than threat, "I too had looked down upon this combination. However, this was before I saw it for what it truly is. The Architect did not merely add science to magic or vice versa. No. Her creation is something entirely different. Something even I cannot achieve. But I have seen things like it. I have done my part. It is time for you to do yours."

"Right." Penny gave a nod, turning back to the slab-screen-mabob...and found herself quite unsure of what to actually do now, "Um...anyone got any ideas?"

"Sure." Solid Shot's shoulders shrugged humorously, the grey mechanoid leaning lazily against his oversized rifle, "Just tell it there's a giant rock of doom headed our way that we need to be not headed our way."

"What?!" had Toy Dispenser had eyes, they likely would've popped from their sockets now, "You have got to be kidding me. Listen, I'm all for simplicity and common sense, but do you seriously think if we just say 'there is a giant meteor coming this way that will wipe out all life on this planet', it'll-"

DIRECTIVE ACCEPTED.

A sudden hum of energies cut off the robotic mastermind, the slabs all about filling with squares of light in seemingly random patterns, strange streams flowing between them in ways that confounded virtually all but Cory Simmons and his undead counterpart...who were, in turn, just as lost to the tower's workings as everyone else when it began to speak.

"If you bear witness to this message, then know of my gratitude." the ancient voice of the Architect reverberated through the chamber, a phantom of her countenance appearing before the table, "You have restored the walls of my Sanctuary, empowered my creations. Now they will empower you. I bid you well. May you prevail."

INITIATING PRIMARY SEQUENCE.

A slight tremor shook the chamber floor, quiet thunder rolling in from all about. A long, drawn-out claxon sounded, almost like that of a foghorn, repairing in a slow, gradual alert pattern. Once more, a voice spoke, but this time it was not that of the Architect. Instead, the synthetic female tone of Vanguard's system echoed throughout the Forgotten Sanctuary, its warning words ringing all about in hollow speech, "Attention all personnel: the meteor has accelerated. Commence final evacuation immediately. Repeat: commence final evacuation immediately. Meteor impact in eight minutes."

And things just wouldn't stop. Several of the slabs wiped their displays, instead showing projections of the planet and its continents, including several sets of orbital data that cycled too quickly for most to make out. The dots of light that formed a second sphere around the globe, however, stood clear and for all to see, resembling the nodes of a soccer ball's skin - a skin placed protectively in orbit around the Rikt homeworld.

Randall Grey gave a satisfied nod. Now he understood. The Forgotten Sanctuary wasn't the Sanctuary the Architect had spoken of. It was the entire planet. The 'walls' were her creations: the converted clean-up satellites, placed about the Rikti world like a guarding shell, to ward off any that might threaten the safety of her people...and now, thanks to the magic of Archlich, they were active once more.

"Mr. Grey, come in." the Lady Grey's voice had come into the team's communications channel, "What is happening? The meteor is getting faster, and we have detected a tremendous energy spike on the surface of the planet. It seems to be attracting the asteroid, and all our efforts to slow it are failing."

"I don't think we need to worry about it anymore." the broad-shouldered man returned, a smirk in his beard, "We found the defense system. It's a little...strange, but it looks like it'll get us clear."

He smiled. Things were finally looking up. Even Acid wouldn't be able to stop a whole shell of defense satellites. Dormant ones yes, but now that they were active again, the tables would turn - and active they were.

Or so he thought.

PRIMARY SEQUENCE MALFUNCTION.

What?

UNABLE TO CONNECT TO SATELLITE NETWORK.

Randall's eyes grew wide in horror as he watched the dots of light bout the globes fade away in rapid succession, one by one, each unceasingly following another.

ATTEMPTING TO RECONNECT . . . FAILED.
ATTEMPTING TO RECONNECT . . . FAILED.
ATTEMPTING TO RECONNECT . . . FAILED.
ATTEMPTING TO REROUTE THROUGH SECONDARY STATIONS.
UNABLE TO DETECT SECONDARY STATIONS.
UNABLE TO DETECT SATELLITE NETWORK.
SATELLITE NETWORK NO LONGER EXISTS.
ABORTING PRIMARY SEQUENCE.

That was right...the records had told of her creations falling to the Battalion. Had they really destroyed them all? Sheldon swallowed the lump in his throat, turning to his friend, "...now what?"

INITIATING SECONDARY SEQUENCE.

"Hold on there." Toy Dispenser urged for patience with the gradual downward wave of a hand, "Miss Architect obviously wasn't stupid. If she can build something that can speak English two seconds after being turned on, I'm betting it's nowhere near out of the game."

How right he was.

UNABLE TO DETECT ANY REMAINING SATELLITES.
SOLUTION: DEPLOY MORE.
LAUNCH SEQUENCE INITIATED.

A staccato of thunderous detonations echoed from outside, vanguard soldiers on the tower's exterior ring holding their collective breath as the bridges connecting this structure to the others vanished in fiery caterpillars, dropping away into the mists of the lava-filled caldera below. However, an even more astounding sight was what emerged from there: a trio of cylindrical extensions, spaced evenly about the tower, rising from the steam with a gradual, yet steady purpose at the end of thick, triangular supports that held them firmly to the structure, yet kept them at a distance at the same time. The Rikti could hardly believe their eyes, recognizing the things despite their stone components, despite their centuries of age.

Storebeam thrusters.

00:05

It explained so much.

00:04

The sleek, cylindrical forms of the towers.

00:03

The empty rings Commander Cynic had observed in the caldera.

00:02

The tower didn't hold a satellite.

00:01

It was one!

00:00

In stark contrast to a rocket launch, the tower rose smoothly, majestically toward the heavens, propelled by three thick streams of pure-white luminance that sent the mists below to scatter. The lava boiled and bubbled even more vehemently than before, the locks that had anchored the tower for so long now releasing their charge as it set its sights toward the sky, thundering up and out of the caldera only seconds later.

"Okay." Solid Shot remarked, inspecting his hands and feet, as if to find the very noticeably absent push of g-force that he had expected, "This just rocks."

"For once, I completely agree." Toy Dispenser placed a hand on his counterpart's metallic shoulder, "Block, I'm assuming we don't have to worry about pressure loss, right?"

"I think so." Block Bot replied in his usual moody manner, but with a strangely positive undertone, confirming more of the mastermind's suspicions regarding the Architect. It would've been just silly to launch the people who'd turned her work back on into space to suffocate - and he knew that when the normally so fatalistic protector bot thought nothing bad would happen for once, he was usually right. Indeed, the barely-detectable energy field Small Toy found encasing the tower just seconds later left not a doubt about it.

And still they were wrong.

A raucous snap echoed through the entire structure, through bone and marrow, metal and wire, like the sound of some overdimensional circuit breaker throwing out a connection. Not an instant later already came the alert, both visible and audible this time, the tower having hijacked the female electronic synthotone of Vanguard's system.

"Launch sequence malfunction."

The sensation of falling made itself known.

"Primary capacitors depleted. Switching to backup capacitor feed."

It did not stop.

"Backup capacitors depleted. Switching to emergency capacitor feed."

And would not cease.

"Emergency capacitors depleted. Main propulsion offline. Firing emergency booster engines."

Another tremor shocked the structure as several ventral sections blew out, streams of bright-yellow energy lancing into the clouds all about and finally arresting the fall that had persevered for too many terrible seconds.

"Warning: emergency backup power in depletion zone. Rerouting all available power. Warning: total engine shutdown in six minutes."

"Don't look at me." Archlich retorted with detached manner as a great many eyes turned to him, "It should have had more than enough energy."

"He's right." Sheldon confirmed, in tandem with Penny already studying the diagram of the tower that had appeared on one of the slabs before. He ran his finger down the schematic, "Something's screwing with the power transfer. Could be anything from a busted line to a corroded written spell somewhere. We're going to have to search the whole tower, and do it fast."

"I don't think we have the time for that." Penny shook her head, redirecting the inventor's attention to the table, "There have to be more backup paths. They're just not connected. That's why the automatic isn't using them. If we can reroute things manually, the system'll take back over."

Randall gave Cory a questioning glance at this, but the wizard only shrugged. The magic the Architect had employed was beyond him as well, and it was anyone's guess which approach would take what amount time. All Grey knew was that he needed to make a decision, and he needed to make it now.

"Wallace, Miss Arcade, you get on this end." he quickly had a basic plan, pointing them to the table, "Archlich, Simmons: see if you can find any magical interference. Toy, Solid, and anyone else who can scan for energy and such: look for a leak. The rest: help me keep the soldiers calm. Also, look for anything else that might be suspicious. It might still be a Nemesis plot."

God, I hate that guy...

And the seconds ticked by...

Nearly a minute in, no one had found anything. Or at least, nothing they could fix. Tension across the tower rose with every swing of the pendulum. In the main chamber, an inventor and a test pilot worked feverishly, taking apart, disconnecting, restructuring, switching, and reconnecting. No dice. For once, they didn't have any indicators on where to go, how to proceed, and this made even the rock-steady Randall Grey nervous. Already fearing the worst, he'd ordered the present Vanguard troops to set up the portal generators they'd brought with them. Of course, this by no means meant he'd given up. Randall still very much tried all he could think of, headed where he could, where he thought anything might be amiss. He ran through the corridors, checking chamber after chamber, hoping desperately that he or someone else could discover what had gone awry.

"Hey, Grey." Solid's voice came across the channel, much to his surprise, "I think I found something. Get over here."

He changed direction almost immediately, knowing that when this mechanical hero spoke seriously, it was important, and probably dangerous. Still, he had no idea just how right he was until he reached a respectably sizeable entryway on the tower's lower ring, the trapezoidal opening large enough to accommodate a fighter craft. But its size wasn't what seemed so threatening. It was the pitch-black darkness - unnatural darkness - and the heavy sounds Randall heard within. Then Solid Shot came flying, sailing from the shadows in a ballistic arc that ended at the tanker's feet.

Feet. Yes, the steps of feet were what he heard. And he knew those steps well. He knew, knew even before Mnemonyev finally came to light, the large being advancing on the heroes as a predator. Even while the tanker still helped the grumbling Solid stand, the two retreated before the massive creature, the mechanoid calling for more backup now that he had the chance. They knew they couldn't stop this guy alone, and the large coil of cables in his massive teeth of metal gave no doubt they'd have to. This was it. This time, he'd bring it, of this Randall Grey stood sure, stood focused. He barely perceived the five-minute warning. But Mnemonyev only dropped the coil and stretched a finger behind them.

Oh no, my dear Grey. It's not me you should be so concerned with. It's them.

Sure enough, the howl of engines sounded from behind, not one, but two of Acid's dropships coming over the ring's rim in tandem, hovering menacingly just out of reach. With a rush of wind, Mnemonyev spread his wings again, taking to the air with a decisive beat, joining the craft at the center of their formation. Like them, he just sat there in the air now, letting the image sink in, each beat taking him up a tad before he once more sank a little, trying to prod he heroes to stand down.

You know, it's not too late. You can still leave.

Randall only answered with a scornful huff. Solid's rifle clicked. For endless seconds, the three of them remained exactly where they were. No, they weren't sizing one another up - they stared each other down. Each side knew that by now, each knew where they stood, and each knew they would not stand down. This time, the decision would fall, this time only one could win.

Very well.

As Mnemonyev ascended, so did the dropships, splitting formation and moving into attack position to begin their runs. Missile chains cycled, rack covers retracted, munitions were prepared. The first loosed a volley. A series of explosions rocked the tower, one after another. The second loosed a volley. Another staccato shook the structure as detonation followed detonation.

But the tower held. Constructed in part of stone, the fields that maintained its integrity very much still operated. It would take more than a few missiles to dispose of it. The problem, however, was that the dropships without a doubt had more. Again one fired, missile detonations shaking the structure to its core. Again the second joined, rocking the tower with a demolition ladder. Tracers, beams, bolts, and all manner of other firepower lit up the clouds as Vanguard and Rikti forces fired back, joined on foot by those of Delta Team, those capable of flight quickly seeking to engage the circling dropships on their own terms...but to no avail. All manner of incoming fire disappeared before it even touched their hulls, structural tears hurling the offensive means out of this continuum and into hyperspace, where they could do no harm.

"Warning: total engine shutdown in four minutes."

Balsk, however, took this as a personal challenge, the bronze-scaled draconian rushing skyward, quick motions of his wings allowing him to skirt about the missile strikes, intending to get close enough to use his sword. With a roar of power, he split his broad blade in twain, and close he got, with all his strength unleashing a vicious assault against a dropship, striking again and again, each time with more vehemence. Still, he seemed to have no hope, the dropship finally taking offense enough to counter, and deployed the turret beneath its nose, quickly charging a particle beam. Balsk barely had time to block before the bright-blue lance speared him against the tower wall.

From the main ring, Randall gave his orders, observing the battle as best he could since its aerial nature denied his direct involvement. Thus his attention turned to Mnemonyev, who didn't seem to be doing much at all. But like others of the team, he knew different; he knew that the circling being was the attack's coordinator, and the fact that he paused every now and then to physically point out the next spot to attack only gave the tanker further evidence. The final piece, however, came from Toy Dispenser, the robotic mastermind having arrived at the same conclusion, but taken it another step - his entourage chasing dropships, he had quickly discovered their transparent cockpits to be empty. In other words, Mnemonyev controlled them directly, and in his opinion through his primary method of communication: telepathy. Thus while Grey redirected forces to chase the creature through the skies, those bound to ground went to work to cut his connection to the dropships, constructing jammers from what they had available. They wouldn't last long, but if Penny and Sheldon couldn't get power back to the main engines, it wouldn't matter anyway. Technicians built and spells flew as the sky filled ever more with fire, the attack relentless and showing no signs of cessation...until they got it right.

"Warning: total engine shutdown in three minutes."

Mnemonyev seemed downright shocked as the jammers went up and on, the dropships ceasing fire virtually at once. The being that controlled them, however, decidedly did not, locking eyes with Randall Grey and diving at the tower, his target clearly the fragile jammers they'd only now gotten running.

"Not on my watch." the stoutly built tanker took off with a good bit more speed than one would have expected, especially from a man that now coated over with large slabs of granite, rooting himself to the stone of the ring platform with all the resilience he could muster, and stretched his large hands toward Mnemonyev as the creature speared down right at him.

It was over in mere moments, those moments a mere blur, Randall's monumental strength not only stopping the metal jaws from clasping shut on him, but using himself as a fulcrum, hefting Mnemonyev over and about, ramming the much larger being into the tower wall with all the force of his flight. The structure shook again, and though Grey refused to release his adversary, Mnemonyev proved more than flexible enough to wind his jaws back out of the tanker's grasp and get a bit of distance, now on the ground before him.

Impressive. Let's see you do that again.

"Sure." Grey grunted under the strain of the expected, but still frighteningly fast strike, barely able to stem the tide and keep the teeth from clamping shut, "You know...I've had...just about enough today!"

With a mighty twist, he wrenched Mnemoyev's jaws sideways, causing the whole being to kilter over to his left in response, shaking the tower yet again, but this time with a tremor of triumph. Unfortunately, it would be his last, Mnemonyev taking another approach not a few instants later and simply cutting the ground out from under Grey with a terrifying swipe of a massive clawed hand, propelling the man, along with a sizeable chunk of stone and metal over the rim of the ring. Not moments later, the jammers their efforts had so painstakingly put together already met their end, and the dropships resumed their assault, Mnemonyev taking off again as Grey sailed into the clouds below - or rather into a large chunk of flying metal.

"You are not a hero." Combat Toy declared in a rather strange fashion as his foot thrusters kicked into overdrive, taking Randall back up to the tower, "I defeat heroes. I do not save them. You are not a hero. I defeat heroes..."

The tanker couldn't help but smile, though said smirk quickly vanished once he'd linked up with Toy Dispenser once more, the rest of the robotic mastermind's crew already after Mnemonyev again, and the mechanoid himself seeming more than concerned with the situation.

"He's holding back." he told Grey coldly, analytically, "Randall, he's holding back. He said he wouldn't. Something's wrong. Something's terribly wrong here."

Too late.

In the main chamber, things sat remarkably quiet, Penny and Sheldon working feverishly, reattaching this here and that there, then shoved the last cell back into place with an empowered hum. Small lights came online again, and once more power flowed to whence it should, all spells and systems once more in their prime.

ALL FUNCTIONS NOMINAL.
MAIN ENGINES TO POWER.

The storebeam thrusters once more poured out their streams of energy, blasting the tower skyward and into the high atmosphere, venturing rapidly beyond the reach of the attackers. The clouds soon fell behind, and from the view of the rapidly approaching meteor, a new star came into being in the heavens, setting an immediate collision course. But this was not the Architect's intent, her satellite instead sending streams of golden light into the void, an uncountable number of man-sized drones streaming for the asteroid like the fluid fingers of some titanic organism, surrounding and enveloping the rock outside its shield perimeter, and then finally dove in. They pierced its shields in swarms, each drone striking the surface and embedding itself deeper, line upon line, series upon series digging themselves into the surface of the wayward meteor.

And as the streams ebbed away once more, a myriad of lights gradually covered the entire rock, the glowing mass growing brighter and brighter with each new addition - and once all had arrived, they became even brighter, forging from gold the purest white, their simultaneous detonation a miniature sun...

That tore the skies...

Is this still alive?