DeviousMe

Both stopped in surprise, the cloaked man who'd just appeared around the corner having taken them aback, neither Hotaka not Acid having expected any further pursuit.

"Whoa now, we don't want any trouble." the reptilian stretched his hands from him, "We were just...wait a minute..."

His hands lowered a bit again, the Khelari's head moving forward a tad, reflexively squinting eyes. He couldn't actually see Death, but he could feel his presence, and the man's individual emanations definitely felt somehow familiar.

"I know you." he remarked, pointing a finger at Death, then shaking it between him and the ceiling, "I know you from somewhere."

"You do?" Hotaka inquired curiously, simply standing there. The man's chi didn't feel familiar at all, but then again, he'd never met Sombre Death or any of the other Horsemen.

"Yeah." Acid insisted with a nod, "James, is that you?"

Neither seemed to have even noticed the presence of the gas. It wasn't alive, colorless, and even Acid's nose couldn't pick up on something that didn't have a scent. Hotaka thought he noticed something for a moment, but then dismissed it as an effect of the pressure in his head.

Truth be told, neither of them had anything to fear from the agent. Acid's lungs were used to an atmosphere saturated with high-grade toxins, and thus configured to rebuke anything that wasn't supposed to enter the bloodstream - including the (for him) downright extreme oxygen content of Terra's atmosphere. Had that gotten through to him, he would've gone loopy in mere minutes.

As for Hotaka, he had more than enough 'experience' with toxins to have something up his proverbial sleeve against this. Well, that and he had a magic amulet around his neck...

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

"Nah." was Acid's response to Danny's conclusion of what he had built, explaining on the way to his residence aboard, "But if you're going to weld something, you need a welder. Okay, bad analogy, but you get the idea."

"And I don't know..." he remarked with a shrug on the way, "Malta tends to work alone because they like backstabbing everyone. Well, precluding that it's all just a Nemesis plot, but yeah."

As they spoke, however, Danny and Alyssa might very well have noticed that they weren't heading toward the cabins. Instead, he seemed to be taking them along the center of the ship. Up yes, but not to the periphery, where one would have expected his domicile to be...

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

Curiously enough, no one on board seemed to reacted to the fire alarm this time. Indeed, there hadn't been any.

Instead, the sections sprinkler system had apparently gotten a mind of its own, cleverly dousing the worst sections double-time, and then shutting off once everything had been extinguished. The gas line had of course shut off automatically once it had detected such a drastic pressure loss.

Those either in the immediate area, or the silent alarm that notified the ship’s official stations, would spread the only news about the fire. The general populace, however, remained blissfully unaware...

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

8000 m

A black-gloved fist rammed the overhead lever forward to its terminal position, then moved silently through the shadows of the cockpit, tipping two fingers to the copilot across the center console. Another hand came from the right, wrapping its fingers about the thrust levers, and barely luminous instrumentation steadied in the night. The pilot's hand moved on, tipping again a pair of fingers, but this time to the back, into the cabin, where two rows of pitch-black boots sat neatly upon the grated floor.

The team's leader nodded in acknowledgement, and subsequently turned the same gesture to her team, giving order to check their sneak suits one last time. Tricloptic goggles went online one after another as they slipped across the narrow eyes slits of face-concealing stealth masks, but gave no outward light in the process. Strong arms removed long, waterproof cases from beneath the benches, connecting straps where need be and checking heavy assault weaponry with the expert grips of long-trained experience. Thumb after black-gloved thumb went up, and then the leader gave the copilot the wave he'd awaited.

Harsh winds kicked up as the plane's rear ramp came open, the leader stepping securely across metal to survey the sea of clouds that hung in pale moon's light below, trying to sight their target through the haze. The rest of the team gathered, one at a time, forming the jump line with patient precision as they awaited the signal of the green light above the exit ramp.

It came.

The leader flung herself from the plane in a quick, graceful leap, arms flat against her sides as she barreled down into freefall, her team not far behind. She barely felt the cold air rushing by her face, insulated well by the nearly skintight sneak suit that securely held her gear. Far below, she could by now see the clouds grow ever larger, the sea become an ocean. Above, the blacked-out plane had already vanished against the sky of night, barely a shadow against the star-filled firmament. Soon it disappeared entirely, swallowed by the clouds that took the moon's pale light, showing naught but black to those below. Though white churned with black in the sea, from high above the shadows cast hid all in their veils of dark tranquility.

She pulled her ripcord, the pitch-black cute rushing out her pack and into the air, yanking hard as it slowed her descent from one moment to another, the parasail's deployed steering lines now giving her complete control. Gradually, gracefully, she steadied her fall into a glide, the target's running lights now set clear in the green of her goggles' low-light amplification, standing perfectly against the nearly pitch-black waves upon which the gargantuan cruise liner so serenely rode. Wind and waves passed by below as she guided her glide into final approach, vectoring precisely to make a spot as difficult as possible, and drawing a beeline to a darkened, empty section of the upper deck. A short signal to her team, and then she pulled up a few mere arc minutes, slowing and guiding her final descent to her every whim.

The planks sat quiet, bereft, and in the silent shadows of the clouds above, devoid of presence or attention in the night. Sole and still, it likely stood as one of the most secluded spots aboard right now, alone and unbotherered, with only the gentle wash of waves below to hold.

Until they came.

Her boot hit the deck hard, but with nary a sound, its finely crafted sole cushioning the impact. The muzzle of her rifle swept from left to right, searching, inspecting for anything amiss as the rest came down around her, detaching their chutes and unlatching one of the cases, stuffing the synthetic fabrics into the meticulously prepared container, making every trace of their arrival disappear.

Nods went about as the latches clacked shut once more, and the perimeter dissolved, several sneaky shadows hushing under nearest cover with practiced precision, steady steps, insidious intent. A hatch was quickly found, and in they went where no one had yet come, to begin the second phase of the operation.

A ladder shook as the sole of her boot first fell upon its rungs, the second wedging itself against the shaft's far wall, and down into the darkness went the end of the rope, the small probe latched onto the top quickly rushing down into the abyss, scanning and sweeping for anything that might have been unwanted as the suited figures watched warily from above. Rifle sights and goggles alike moved to and fro, the team giving no assumptions that their arrival had indeed remained undetected...

((Just giving an opening. No one has to notice them if they don't want to. ))

Acid didn't seem to regard Danny's opinions of the infirmary as having great validity, taking the two in that direction anyway.

"The Malta Group is basically your standard clandestine conspiracy," he explained on the way, "but with the exception that not a lot of people believe they exist. Go figure. Either way, they formed out of paranoia about freelance metahumans after the Cold War, and have been working toward controlling the super-powered part of humanity ever since."

"Miss, please lie down over there." he interrupted himself for a moment when they reached the empty hospital, pointing to one of the examination stations against the far wall, "Imma see what I can brew up for your head."

He stepped to a counter and checked a few drawers, finally finding one containing high-tech medical instruments, and began to fish them out in order to arrange them on the counter, "Sometimes, they're successful, other times not, but so far they haven't taken enough of a beating to give up, mostly because at least the upper echelons fight for what they truly believe to be right. Hm, I need some...ah-hah."

Sparks and lights flickered flew as the reptilian's claws ripped a fluorescent from underneath the cabinets above the counter, taking the elements he needed from the lighting element and its former resting place. He looked to be constructing some kind of impromptu flashlight, but just what the thing was supposed to do quickly became impossible to tell due to its haphazard appearance.

"Anyway, we've got some of them aboard, so - mind you, this is purely conjecture at this point - I figure they're behind this psi bomb attack. Not sure why it looks to only rail on people with mental abilities, but..." he stopped speaking and looked to his left wrist in confusion, the fingers of his other hand not having found there what he'd been looking for, "Oh...right. Not wearing a watch. Fine."

"Looks like we're going to my room then." he decided, snatching the partially complete device he'd created from the counter, and headed for the door again, "Come on, you two, I need one more part for this..."

"Sure." Acid gave a nod, reaching his hand out to Alyssa again, this time for her to take. She didn't look too stable, and his nature demanded he make sure she got there alright.

He turned to Danny for a moment, "I'll take her to the infirmary then. You go see if you can shut off that...what did you say it was? A psi bomb? Hm, guess that makes shutting it off a problem. I guess 'make sure they don't detonate any more' is more fitting there."

If nothing else got in the way, he'd follow this up by getting the leafy woman to the hospital he'd initially wanted to reach anyway...

"...that's our theory right now, at least." Solid Shot had spent the last few minutes filling Cynic in – but only on what he thought the man should know. He may have been an android, but he wasn't dense. He didn't trust this guy as far as he could throw him, which was saying quite a bit; the armored man looked decently unthrowable if he didn't want to be.

"I see." the Commander remarked opaquely, eyes still following Trien and Rosalind. His mind, however, was entirely elsewhere. He too had forested through the logic Grey had not long ago, and found it sorely lacking in sense as well. His conclusion, however, had been greatly more straightforward: it was all a Nemesis plot. The brassen madman had put this up as a facade to confuse him. Well, he wouldn't be falling for it; but he'd sure pretend to. After all, if he could get them to let their guard down, he might just get a direct shot at the steam-driven lunatic sooner than he thought.

However, that also meant he now needed to take expressive care. If Nemesis was trying to fool him, then he was almost certainly on to the Commander's game. That meant he had channels, connections, and such could be very dangerous indeed. It meant he knew of him, knew of the Overwatch, and knew of World Three. Fortunately, it seemed he'd neglected to brief his underlings about all the details, for they'd taken his story at face value. He doubted they'd believed him fully, but they certainly hadn't called him on any of his lies. Had they known the truth, Cynic was confident he would've noticed at least a tiny detail amiss by now.

Trigen's raised hand interrupted his thoughts. The Aether Pilot had stopped, and with him the entire team. They'd reached the ruins of a truly massive structure, reminiscent of an oversized football stadium, and now stood not twenty meters from one of the towering arches that composed the exterior of its ground floor. For a moment, Cynic's thoughts wandered to Salvius. He would've loved to see this. The Captain had found the Rikti homeworld delightfully exotic thus far, and even though the structure before them had seen better days, the architecture still spoke volumes of the Rikti mind. Still, the troops had needed someone to watch over them; even once the second division arrived after Delta Team had departed - if only to fill them in without going through any communications that might've tipped Nemesis' goons off. Cynic especially didn't like the look of that walking skeleton.

"There's something here." the words of Penny Arcade redirected their attention to the woman, as well as the large mound of rubble she now stood at the base of. A piece of cloth, half red, half blue, stuck from the debris in a conspicuous fashion, clearly out of place amidst the colors preferred by Rikti in their building materials.

"Okay, now that's just a bit too obvious." Solid was the first to make a skeptic remark, though several others of course harbored the very same thoughts, "Still...I just wanna pull on that for some reason. It's just too tempting. Like a big red button."

He'd stated the last few words with a glance to Randall Grey, who seemed to be mulling over the idea. Acid wasn't known to set traps, but then again, he decidedly wasn't being his usual self. Had whatever corruption the crystalline energy had brought about changed his tactics as well? He couldn't deny the possibility beyond a doubt, that much was sure.

"I don't see anything dangerous." Toy Dispenser took the word before he could, the team knowing well that by 'see' the robotic mastermind meant respectably more than just an optical inspection, "What about you?"

"I can detect no insidious magic." the one he'd queried gave answer, Archlich sweeping his armored hand over the site as he turned to Cory Simmons, "I would however not deny the offer of a second opinion."

"Oh, sure." the villainous arcanist's counterpart agreed, doing what he could to try and detect any would-be trap in there. Like the lich, however, he found nothing meant to do them harm.

"Well, just in case." Randall now moved forward, layering the earth's protections about his large body as best he could. He played it smart, however, not employing his armor of granite boulders, favoring flexibility over raw resilience in the wake of the unknown, "Everyone, stand back."

A great hand reached around the fabric, then pulled upon it most softly. Grey immediately noted the resistance to his applied force, and began to dig into the rubble as an alternative, shoving bit by bit aside until he'd exposed that which the tiny speck of color that did not belong stood attached to.

Penny's eyes widened in shock as she saw the thing, almost gasping, "Is that...?"

Statesman's head!

Indeed, she wasn't the only one as Grey pulled the thing from its resting place amidst the wreckage. She was however, the singular individual whose gasp had been that of surprise and great interest, and not of someone appalled in one way or another. Moreover, she flocked to what had once been part of Statesman's very own Nemesis Automaton almost immediately, ripping it from Randall's hands to begin her studies upon it.

"Um..." the tanker wasn't quite sure how to react for a moment there, "Miss Arcade?"

"One moment." she shot out quickly, yet politely, then sank into the mumbling of technobabble as most of the team gathered about her. She'd connected some manner of diagnostic station to the severed mechanical head, having whipped the device from who knew where, and already seemed intent to disassemble the incriminating thing after she'd gotten done with her current doings.

"You think we can get it?" Sheldon Wallace joined her in only a few seconds' time, the team's inventive technologists having already skipped multiple steps ahead of the team, seeking the proof Vanguard so desperately needed.

"I'm not sure." she admitted with a grunt after a bit of silence, then slipped into more robotic jargon along with Wallace. Grey left them be. He was fairly sure he'd gotten the idea of what they were after - and if not, Sheldon would explain it to him in all detail later on anyway. So he turned back to the stadium's archway, figuring he'd be more useful looking for anything else they might be able to use.

And then he saw Acid.

Shouts rang out as the reptilian bolted, Toy's entourage already rushing after him nearly the very next instant, the roar of their rockets echoing loudly through the dark, lifeless halls that had once served so many people. The chase didn't last long, and quite soon they'd cornered the Khelari in a larger hall. It appeared to have once held the purpose of a materials depot, but now lay utterly barren, only one of the large doors in its four long walls open and accessible. In response, the reptilian had of course put up a wide-spanned shield, but even that wouldn't help him if they all went for him. This both sides knew.

"Just stay calm, okay?" Balsk was already in the process of trying to talk the Khelari down, his experience in the SPC having given him a decent level of familiarity in the art of negotiation. Of course, generally it took place at the point of his sword, but this time he'd chosen to leave the weapon in is sheath, "We don't want to hurt you..."

"I do." Cynic growled quietly, but didn't receive any attention for it.

"...and you've nowhere to go. So just come with us. This doesn't have to get violent."

"Oh, but what if I want it to?" the reptilian grinned nastily, a demented chuckle coming over his lips. Even with light from multiple sources now, the chamber's gloom permitted the vile green iridescence in the Khelari's eyes to stand out harshly against his much darker hide, "What are you going to do then?"

"Beat on you until you don't get back up." Toy Dispenser took the word, his tone solemn and direct, but not entirely threatening. He was simply being perfectly honest, "Since when do you want things to get violent in the first place, huh? Acid, this isn't you. Something's controlling you, corrupting you. Don't give me this 'I was being mind controlled, I didn't know what I was doing' junk. I know you better than that. You're stronger than this. Now get your old self in gear and fi-"

A bout of psychotic laughter from the reptilian overpowered the mechanoid's words, the Khelari's jaws wide open at what he seemed to think was the most hilarious thing in the universe right now, "Oh, poor Toy. You still don't get it, do you? None of you do. This is the old me! This is what I was before I came here; before I went soft! Well, not anymore. Acid Zero is back, and he's going to bring the house down. I'm going to stop Nemesis and make sure no one can ever do what he tried again - and if you keep trying to get in my way, I'll do the same to you."

"Ace!" Rosalind barked out, almost literally, despite being in her human form, "Snap out of it! The Rikti are just innocent people, you know that!"

"Innocent?" the Khelari chuckled again, declaring with devilish tone, "There is no innocent. You're either part of the problem, or part of the solution - and if you're not fighting to solve the problem, you might as well die with it."

Sage's scales grew just a tad lighter at these words, a lump forming in his throat.

"Guys, I really don't think this is going anywhere." Randall reluctantly admitted, letting a sigh into his beard, "Let's get it over with."

"Good idea." the Khelari replied bemusedly, and the very next moment disappeared in the hole that had unexpectedly appeared in the chamber floor. No, not a hole - a crack. A long, straight crack that formed when a pair of large base plates came apart, continuing to slide and retract until they'd cleared a hollow square that covered almost a quarter of the chamber's floor space. Even before it had opened to full extension, however, what lay below was clearly visible: a wide and decidedly tall tunnel, constructed of metals belonging to Rikti architecture. Moreover, a multitude of narrow, luminous rods filled the space below the chamber with soft orange light, almost like a European highway tunnel back on Earth, and judging by the mad rush of 18-wheeler-sized vehicles that roared by in an almost constant stream, that's exactly what it was.

"A container street." Sah'Teece put in plain words, seeing well the question written on many of the group's faces, "I had no idea this one still operated. I thought it destroyed in the initial assault."

"So that's what that line of orange lights was when we came in overhead." Sheldon mumbled, fascinated by the 'containers' roaring by, "They're hovering. How fast are these things going?"

"Average speed: 4300 kph." the Rikti Warmaster replied, "Some: give-take."

"So why-?" the inventor reached into the hole, but yanked his hand back in alarm the very next moment, having felt the rabid rush of highly accelerated air against the palm of his glove. With hasty breath, he concluded that if he had reached in there with his bare hand, more than one layer of skin would've been flayed right off, "Okay, I see. So...how do we get in there? Force fields?"

"We could, but Acid Zero would receive too great of a head start." the former diplomat retorted, pointing to another plate in the floor at the far end of the chamber even while he walked to one of the other doors, "No, we will need something faster to catch him. And we shall employ that access ramp to reach the street. Randall Grey, I require your assistance please."

The large man gave a nod, helping Sah'Teece wedge open the doors he'd indicated. Beyond sat another chamber, much like this one. The key difference, however, stood out immediately: that one wasn't empty. Several large containers sat inactive within its walls, and though they looked a bit older than those in the tunnel below, these vehicles were doubtlessly of the same type: large, box-like machines that carried a pair of thrusters attached to the sides of one end, and what looked like a raised wedge at the other. However, the most notable difference only appeared once Sah'Teece had wiped his hand across one of them, thinning the layer of dirt and grime that had collected over the years.

"That's a nice color." Toy Dispenser remarked at the vehicle's green-and-gold paint job, "But I don't see where this is going. Is this thing here faster?"

"What lies inside is." Sah'Teece proclaimed, almost with a twinge of humor in his tone, while he climbed atop the container and manipulated something behind the front end's wedge. The container powered up with the characteristic hum of energy, rising a few centimeters above the floor, and then a ramp at its rear rolled to the floor, allowing view of its interior.

"This one was mine." the former diplomat introduced, the sleek, aerodynamic vehicle in the container, the machine reminding the members of Delta Team of a crossover between fighter plane and race car - partly due to the fact that the latter described it almost perfectly.

Only now did Gaussian's words ring within Randall's head once more; the ones he'd heard so long ago when the man had described Sah'Teece to him: "Apparently he was a Rikti sports hero before he became a diplomat. Some kind of racing, I guess."

Grey found himself wearing a sudden smile in his beard as the former diplomat brought the racer's engines to life, machinery thundering with the satisfied roar of high-powered turbines. Now they had the edge...

The Pilot

He smiled. This was good. A little unorthodox, but good. Cynic's actions had secured friendly (if most likely not actually trusting) relations with Delta Team, and Captain Salvius had by now shaken off his paralysis as well. True, describing him as groggy right now would've been a titanic understatement, but considering he didn't carry the bodily modifications of the Overwatch Commander, it was no stretch of the imagination that he'd feel a bit stiff for some time to come. Aether Pilot Trigen had been out of range when the paralyzer wave had come down, which just about qualified him as the only fully functional member of the Overwatch around at this point. Not that Cynic accepted this - for the Commander was coming along, whether Delta Team thought he was able to or not, this was clear for all to see.

The resulting argument was rather obvious as well. Couldn't be helped, really. The Overwatch division hadn't exactly performed too well back there. They'd jumped the gun, and if circumstances had been different, would've paid dearly for it. Grey definitely didn't want something like that on his conscience. He had enough of an issue feeling responsible for the people with him already, and the proposition of two more who appeared vastly outclassed here didn't sit well at all with the man. Still, Cynic eventually managed to convince him, if only because Trigen was an expert tracker and Rosalind could really use the help. Khelari carried extremely little scent (unlike so many people with their perfumes and such, they didn't like smelling like anything for most of the year), and even in her original form, the were-human wasn't having the easiest time following their pursuee. And with that, Cynic and Trigen set out with Delta Team.

Good.

He tapped the side of his head, the contact signaling the deep-blue hologram across his eyes to disappear, effectively 'putting away his binoculars'. They'd get here soon enough, which meant he had to get ready with the proper welcome. He leaped from his vantage point - a pylon of the large, stadium-like building he'd chosen as the site for this phase of the plan - his boots giving a satisfied crunch against the loose rubble, but he checked the placement of everything one more time, just to be sure. Yes, everything was securely in place.

The Khelari smiled in a most toothy, sinister manner as he guided his steps into the closest archway of the battle-damaged stadium, looking back one more time. Yeah, they didn't have a chance in the galaxy of going around here if they wanted to get to him. They'd run into it no matter what...

"Good grief, what a jerk." Acid remarked as Hotaka and he finally stopped, though it didn't seem to be to catch their breath, "You run into people like that often?"

"I used to." came the answer with a shrug, "Hasn't happened much in the last hundred years though, so I have to admit, it brought back fond memories."

"You're nuts too, you know that, don't you?"

Hotaka only smiled, "Look who's talking, Mr. Terrorist. At least I don't go running right into the lion's den and biting the thing in the tail. Just how tall's that money stack on your head these days?"

"Okay, I deserved that. Fine, so we're all deranged."

"Some more than others. So, you're sure about that door then?"

"Yeah. That vault's got to be the brain child of a cousin of mine with that level of paranoia. Armor thick as my skull, dampening field, anti-phase, anti-psi, anti-everything."

"So how'd you get i-waaaait a second, I remember the last time I asked something like this. You gave me a waterfall of math and physics. On second thought: you: quiet."

"Fair enough." the reptilian grinned innocently.

In any case, Hotaka's worries had been dispelled. The only way through that door (that wouldn't take out half the ship too, of course) was to wait for the time lock to expire, and then have both a correct key card and pass code on at least the fifth try. Apparently, the towering man wasn't too worried about anyone coming after him for his card and code. Brushstalker didn't strike him as smart enough to have figured out that he had those.

Of course, there were several more people who held cards and key codes the door would open for. After all, that crate wasn't the only thing aboard the ship's passengers had secured, and while said people were few and far between, they did certainly exist. Henteko, for instance. Then again, nearly no one knew just who they were, but that probably wouldn't stop someone with enough intel to make himself a rhyme on it.

However, there existed another way through as well, and this one could be applied well before the time lock expired: Acid's method of teleportation. Of course, the mere idea of someone catching him and managing to get him cooperative sounded so ridiculous that they didn't even consider it...

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

"The latter." Acid told Danny, "And no, not really. Then again, I don't recall saying I was. As for Malta, no. If I was, I would've called a Sapper team by now. Anyway..."

"Whoa now." a rough, leathery palm against her forehead stopped Alyssa's progress, the tone of the reptilian calm and passive as he removed his hand again, "What's with me tonight? Can terconium be magnetized all of a sudden and I just didn't get the memo? Oh, and howdy..."

"Acid." the Khelari smiled, still a bit more toothily than he intended, as he wrapped his fingers securely around Danny's hand. His claws here doubtlessly sharp as razors, yet he left the boy without a single scratch, "And can't say I have. Heard of him, though. Hasty guy, I'm told. Kind of like you, huh...?"

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

"Whoa there, big guy." Acid stretched his hands from himself as the Operative barreled to the ground not far from him, backing away from Brushstalker, "I don't even want it. You-"

He didn't get any further, for the man swung, and the reptilian had no intention of getting hammered this early in the night. Though the crimson blast took the predicted ninja, the Khelari was long gone by the time the mace swing through the temporary vacuum his jump had left behind.

"Wow, this guy's more nuts that I am." he quietly told Hotaka, whom he'd rematerialized next to in zero time, "And yeah, I'm sure about the door. I've got experience."

"Good to know." the towering man replied in the same quiet tone of voice, seeming calmer now, "In that case, let's run, shall we?"

"Do let's."

With that, the two took off for the nearest exit, hoping that the Operative's desire for the crate would keep him from chasing them...

"Semi, but I figure I've got enough noodlebots running around in my head to deal with just about anything." Acid remarked casually to Danny's first question, but quickly changed his mind after the boy's sudden scream.

"Okay, so worse than I thought." he concluded matter-of-factly, trying to get a hold of Danny to take him back to the infirmary he'd told the Khelari of, "C'mon, we'd better get that head of yours taken care of before you go rushing off into the sights of someone's gun..."

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

Again there echoed a fervent clash of metal against metal. Once more the mace came to a crashing halt against the flat of a Jounin's pitch-black blade.

"How perceptive you are." Hotaka remarked, again so close to the mace the distance would've been far too close for comfort for most people. Though his statement could've been taken as sarcastic, the tone certainly wasn't. Indeed, the hunter's words about the head of the best had given the towering Oriental an air of concern.

"Zilch!" came the sudden shout from below and ahead, Acid now standing before the thick, armored door that led from this hold to the mysterious crate's repository, "I don't think there's anything that can open this door that won't destroy everything on the other side too until that timer expires. And yeah, no way to open it from there either 'til then..."

And up four the very next moment.

No, they hadn't drawn their second swords - the ones they held had cleaved off the legs of the Disruptors come to block their cu...cleaved off the impervium-reinforced legs?!

Right about now, Brushstalker would've had to be above and beyond the term single-minded to not take note of the strangeness of these completely black ninja. He may have missed that black swords generally weren't just a fashion statement, he may have missed the Jounin jumping in and out of patches of cast shadows, but there shouldn't have been a way in hell he didn't connect the dots as their swords cut through impervium reinforcements with nary more effort than butter.

And if that didn't do it, the sudden vaporization of the one ninja struck by the a Disruptor's (formerly) fourth claw had to have done it: these guys weren't human. They were shadows. Living shadows, animated by some force beyond sight. Their swords had no width. If the blades came into contact with matter, they could splice its molecules apart with the greatest of ease, so long as enough force backed up the strike - and there was no question these ninja had said force in their unnatural arms.

On the upside, they didn't seem very sturdy at all. Nimble, quick, and apparently resistant to low-grade impacts (they'd outright ignored the sticky webbing that had fallen over - and then through - them), the claw strikes, as well as the energy wave from Brushstalker's mace earlier, had been capable of disrupting their cohesion almost instantaneously. This probably meant just about any hard-hitting impact could do so, be it a pinnacle-of-technology plasma cannon or the simple sole of a boot.

It just had to hit them first. So long as they could block or evade - no dice. And if the Arachnobots couldn't do so quickly, they were as good as metallic confetti.

Hotaka certainly seemed to like the idea of evasion, leaping away from the blast and to a container across the passage the Operative now occupied with another haughty laugh.

"Oooh, I haven't been prey in ages." he seemed positively jolly, "I should get a cave. Oh, you don't mind, do you...?"

"Well that sucks, then." Acid remarked in a disparaged tone as he stopped dead then and there, both at what Danny hold told him and at his own realization that he'd forgotten to ask where David and Odette would actually be off to. He had no idea where the man's room was, nor that they'd headed there, which meant that for the moment he was somewhat at a loss.

When he heard the rough sound of bow to face, however, he finally got the notion to pay attention enough to Danny to notice something the boy wasn't exactly holding things together, "Hey, what's the matter with you then...?"

"I didn't see where he went after that." the Commander concluded his account, then heaved forward with a hacking cough, batting back a sudden wave of nausea before he managed to straighten enough to accept the bottle from Randall Grey again, "Just heard that...disgustingly carefree whistling of his. Like he was just strolling along through the nicest of parks."

"Lou." Solid Shot remarked fleetingly, poking another Overwatch member with his rifle, "So...what about these guys?"

"They'll be okay." Sage affirmed somewhat quietly, his head turned skyward, eyes trying to penetrate the cloudy night sky above until Solid quirked his head to the side, wanting to know in a skeptical tone, "What are you doing?"

"Trying my luck." the draconian gave his head a few swift shakes as he leveled out again, then massaged his eyes, "Which apparently is bad. I don't see the ship anywhere."

"Ship?" Cynic managed to croak out, "What ship?"

"He thinks there's a space ship somewhere up there that done nailed ya." Ryat66 explained, "Says what flattened you couldn't have been handheld."

Randall let out a huff. On one hand, it didn't seem very logical. On the other, Sage seemed to know his stuff, and he had to admit, from what he knew of Acid...if he hadn't always held back, he would've had no trouble with a 'nuke the site from orbit' policy. Still, if he had a ship up there - aside from the frightening proposition that it would mean he'd already infected a large part of 'himself' with that green crystal garbage - why not just do so literally?

"What do you think?" he inquired of Toy Dispenser, but the robotic mastermind only gave a helpless shrug.

"High-altitude drone maybe?" he hypothesized unconvincingly while the familiar beat of large wings grew steadily louder in the air over their heads, "I don't know."

"Well, whatever it was, it's either gone now or it was a one-shot deal." Balsk concluded as his clawed feet touched solid ground again, the bronze-scaled draconian catching his remaining velocity easily, then folded his wings against his back again, "Just the fact that it hasn't hit us in all this time gives that away. Also I saw squat."

"Hmh." Grey accentuated his solemn nod, turning to Cynic again, "I'm afraid we can't do much for your men right now. But I think he was right. You'e police. Police are just outmatched here, even the interdimensional kind. Take your people home, Commander. We appreciate-"

Rosalind's sudden growl interrupted just about everything, the border collie's ongoing, downright bestial snarl directed in Jake's general direction. Rosie's lips had curled far past her gums, baring her teeth in a most terrifying manner. She looked like she'd jump at the youth's throat at any moment now.

"Stop!" Cynic's shout echoed over the vehement growl, though it of course wasn't directed at the were-human, "Aether Pilot Trigen, stand down!"

Trigen ceased every moment as he heard the order, still as a rock for a few moments before he disengaged his ingenious cloaking device, appearing almost directly beside the teenager - after returning his blade mace to its holster, of course. Even the cockiest of Aether Pilots knew it wasn't a good idea to come into view right in front of someone with a lethal weapon in their face. Jake fumed enough without that sort of provocation.

"Sorry about that." the Commander apologized for his subordinate as Jake flew off the handle at the now significantly confused Trigen, "Guess he didn't catch everyone after all. Allow me to introduce...wait. I just said his name. Done and over with. Don't blame him. It's my fault, really. I forgot to cancel the order to treat everyone here as hostile."

"But Commander." the Aether Pilot tried to counter, "They do not-"

"They have already presented it to me." Cynic lied, referring to the same documents he'd demanded from Acid earlier. Of course he'd left quite a few things out of the story he'd told Grey and the rest of Delta Team, not presenting the Overwatch for what it truly was, but as a police force holding the sole mission to uphold law, order, peace, and justice for all across the multiverse. The oppressive, homicidal regime of World Three he hadn't even touched on, nor that to them, the entirety of Delta Team really was the enemy. As a matter of fact, Cynic suspected the whole Vanguard expedition to be working with Lord Nemesis, operating to disrupt Malta's operation here so the brassen madman could steal something from them.

"Aiding a stranger leaves no doubt in my mind." he told Randall as he returned to him the bottle, making it look as though Trigen would have finished with 'have the same ideals as we do' or something of that nature. Cynic very much doubted they actually trusted him, probably regarding the Commander like an unfamiliar Etoile Islander working with Vanguard, but that was fine for now. He just didn't want a fight at this very moment. No, that could wait until they'd caught up with Acid. Then he'd call in his second division and massacre them all...

One Man

Fire.

His lips did not move.

Fire!

Cynic's mind reeled in shock as the word again refused to pass his lips. What was going on here? Why couldn't he speak? Moreover, why weren't the others shooting already?! Even without his order, they should have by now!

But they weren't. They just...stood there. Like statues.

No. Not like statues. They were moving. Falling. Falling to the ground, all over, every one of them. Why? Why was this happening? What had gone wrong?!

Acid.

The Commander looked upon the still-grinning Khelari, and then he finally felt the sensation of gravity upon him as his vision tilted and the ground leaped up toward him. Only then did he realize he'd been falling as well. Falling...and unable to feel it. Even the impact in the rubble produced no discernible sensation. Cynic could see. Cynic could hear. And hear he did.

Steps.

Oh yes, hear he did. Hear the crunch of loose debris beneath the solid sole of a heavy boot. Hear the crunch time and again as the one he could not see approached his helpless form, coming into his field of vision only after the steps had sunk into silence once again.

"Hi." the scaleless, reptilian visage hung over him, breathing the word with soft demeanor, "I don't know who you are, and to be honest with you, I don't really care. This world is going to be dead soon. You should leave as long as you still have the chance."

"Fine." the Khelari sighed with a shrug of his shoulders, then scratched at something that must've itched quite savagely between his eyes, atop the long bone bridge that formed the equivalent of his forehead, "Keep doing whatever it is you think you're doing then. Not my problem. But just so you know: you're wrong. And you're out of your league..."

"Okay, what gives?" Jake finally broke the silence that had trailed the group for almost a minute now, scratching the white hair above his goggles in puzzlement, "I know I seem to be the outsider around here, but doesn't anyone-?"

"No." Toy Dispenser stated colloquially, walking listlessly by the youth, "And just in case you're wondering: no. They're heroes, remember?"

"It is what they do." Archlich added, spreading the fingers of a hand ceremonially, "At times, their actions are neither smart, nor logical, nor...have anything remotely in common with common sense. This time, however, I find I do not mind. The hunter is no threat to our combined force."

"I'll say." Solid Shot snickered wryly, "Did you see the way Randy just clocked that guy? That was so freakin' awesome."

"Precisely." the skeletal arcanist gave a nod of his skinless skull, "Even had he been stronger, let us harbor no delusions: he was a fool to engage the number of us."

Jake had to admit, they had a point. Running into a whole team of metahumanss and/or meta-comparable beings just wasn't a good idea, no matter which way you twisted and turned the proposition. Apparently, the hunter hadn't been aware of that.

Still...

The young man didn't believe the alien had given up. After all, had he been in this situation, he would've just called for backup. Then again...maybe the hunter didn't have anything like Arachnos. Sage had said the guy was being too greedy, not to mention that he'd outright tried to kill (or at least very forcefully deter) them for chasing after his payday. Yeah, come to think of it, he didn't seem like the type to send for help - and alone they could beat him any day of the week. Rosalind certainly seemed to think so, hounding (no pun intended) Sage for answers along with her more dragon-like draconian, whose people actually derived their name from the word.

"No, I'm not." the robed one replied to the latest part of the inquisition, the curious were-human wanting to know all about this Dark Dragon business, and having already recounted to her the tale of the fleet he'd been with getting run into a trap and torn apart, "I just threw that at him to get him after me."

"Then spill it already." Rosie demanded playfully, having heard a few references from Acid in the past, but always denied any sort of coherent explanation. Her fangs poked devilishly through the smile she wore, "Or do I have to pull my answers out of you one by one? Because I will."

"Nono, I'll tell, I'll tell." Sage threw his hands up defensively, "I'm...just not sure where to start. It's a pretty long story."

"Then lemme fast-forward that a bit." Balsk added to the conversation, giving to Sage in brief words what they already knew from Acid: of the war, the Concile, his not liking how 'it was done', and various other tidbits they could remember.

"I see." Sage nodded, apparently quite taken aback by how much the Khelari had already revealed, "Um...yes, that makes it a little easier. Okay, so you know there was already a resistance before Acid came around. Well, there still is, and a long time ago someone called its leader Luun Drokar, which literally translates to Dark Dragon in English. The name stuck. Anyway, about 20 years ago, he brings Acid onto the galactic field. Tries to use him as an assassin. Acid didn't like that. He felt there had to be another way than waging a guerilla war against the Concile, since supposedly innocent people always get caught in the crossfire."

"Personally, I don't believe in that." Sage admitted his conviction, "I'm going to be frank with you: I hate the Concile, and if you're not willing to fight with us against them, you might as well be one of their minions. But I don't want to discuss my beliefs right now. In any case, Acid left. Founded his own group, and with a few of our best at his side, too: Vern and Kerat."

Rosie nodded, for once remaining quiet. If she recalled correctly, Allen had been with the Khelari from about that time on as well. Did this mean Sage wasn't telling the whole truth? Or just that the wolf-man she adored so had joined up with Acid at a later date, but around the same general time frame?

"And before you ask," the draconian went on, "yes I still disagree with the man, but I don't hate him or anything. He's still a good person, and getting gutted by a bounty hunter is the very last thing I'd want to happen to him."

"So you came to warn him." Balsk concluded, "Little late, huh?"

"Mhm." Sage gave a disheartened nod, going on to what the bronze-scaled dragonman had already guessed, "I spent too much time looking for phantoms in shadows. Like I said, part of what I told the hunter was true, you know: I really was on the COLOSSUS when they lured our fleet into that trap. So...yeah, I was scared he'd come after me too, just to finish the job."

"Aw, c'mon." Rosie snickered as she nudged him in the upper arm with a fist, "Big, strong guy like you scared? That's gonna cost ya some man points."

"Don't worry about it." Balsk smirked as Sage looked to him with a confused expression, giving a nod in return.

"What he said." Thermoplast's laid-back tone sounded unexpectedly from right behind them, a stiff twitch running through the body of the more humanoid draconian, "The ways of this world are sometimes very strange."

Wearing a sudden scowl, Rosalind turned the Detective away from Sage with both hands, the man's boots digging shallow trenches into the ground as she pushed against his angled back, crating a rather humorous picture, "Geez T, what's the matter with you sometimes? Can't you see you're making the guy nervous as hell?"

"Yes." Thermoplast admitted with an innocent shrug, "But I just want to know why."

"That's what I was about to ask. Just stay at a little distance until we can clear this up, okay?"

The Detective nodded silently upon his release, returning to his high-leaping surveillance of the area while Rosalind revisited the front mass of the group, "Sorry about that. But you know, T's really a very nice guy. Why do you tense up like that every time he gets near you?"

"He..."

...he's a hunter too.

"He reminds me of someone." Sage stated evasively, "Someone who's caused me a lot of pain. It's...it's just gonna take me a while to get over it."

...I hope.

"Well, okay." Rosie accepted, wagging a stern index finger at him, which of course caused Balsk to chuckle uncontrollably, "But you work on it, young man, otherwise I'm going to get very cross with you. Is that clear?"

"Crystal." Sage smiled comfortably.

"So why didn't you just tell that ice guy who you really were then?" was the very next thing she wanted to know, immediately bringing the conversation back on track, "You said you were afraid he'd come after you too. Why'd you lie and say you were the Dark Dragon?"

"Because...because it was the only thing that popped into my head at the time." Sage bared the palms of his hands with a helpless smirk, "He's the only person whose name I could be sure would definitely cause the guy to kick chasing Acid to the side. Just me...would've been a gamble. I didn't want to chance it."

"Well, it worked, I'll say that much. Sheesh, the guy practically exploded right then and there." she patted the large back of Randall Grey, "Good thing we've got our meat shield here."

"Hmh." was the tanker's sole acknowledgement, having walked in the silence of his thoughts until now. Before the were-human could do something suitably appalling to get another reaction, however, her head snapped in another direction: ahead and to the left a little.

"Smell something?" Balsk wanted to know, the answer coming in the form of a curt nod as Rosalind transformed, a suddenly appeared black-and-white border collie sprinting in the direction she'd indicated, followed without delay by the rest of Delta Team across several mounds of rubble and smaller wreckage between the low, ruined walls of once-tall spires.

"Whoa." Grey remarked in a manner most curt as he came over the peak of the mound beyond which Rosie had stopped, eyes wide as he spied the mass of people lying motionlessly upon the uneven ground, their strange uniform-armor familiar to not one of them.

"They're alive." Cory Simmons preempted the question, causing Penny to breathe a sigh of relief, both of them now crouching beside the nearest Overwatch Order Controller. The wizard turned his head to Grey, "Any ideas?"

"Looks like they've been paralyzed." Sage gave answer instead, slowly waving the claws of one hand across the face of the soldier he knelt over. He'd removed the man's visor, and could observe a response to the motion in his eyes, "Wide-area dispersal, I'd say. They'll be okay...eventually. But if I can tell anything from this armor, it was a pretty heavy dose. Like..."

"Over here!" Ryat66 interrupted with a shout, having already advanced up the next ridge and past a few more walls. Upon joining him, people quickly saw what he meant, for at the end of a long, deep trench laid the second Drop Ship. In addition, more of the unfamiliar soldiers lay dotted all about the downed and still-smoking craft. Already the members of Delta Team could tell there existed more than one armor type among them, the uniforms of the soldiers lying in a somewhat scattered fashion carrying defined differences to the ones in the semi-circle before the ship's nose.

And one of them stirred.

Commander Cynic...

((I did. Hence why he ducked and rolled. ))

"Mwa hah hah..." Hotaka's deep, mocking laughter echoed through the hold as the ninja engaged the mechanoids with unbelievable speed, having closed to melee range before the robotic spiders even knew what happened.

If they didn't think up something else there and then, the Jounin would have them cut to ribbons with but a few strokes of their katanas, the blades apparently sharp enough to turn the force of the hands that wielded them into power great enough to cut through tank armor.

Brushstalker's computerized mace, however, quickly succeeded in identifying a weak spot on the towering Oriental: the amulet he wore around his neck. Sadly, the poisonous ray didn't seem to much care for that, instead striking Hotaka squarely in the chin, the old man's head kicking back and up in response.

"How droll." he chuckled as his gaze lowered once more, a devious smile upon his face, "Why don't I show you what some real poison can do?"

With that, he spat a gob of vile toxins at the Operative, the mixture capable of eating through most kinds of armor in no time at all, afflicting the target with an agent that immediately envenomed musculature and nervous systems, weakening the body on a truly microscopic level within fractions of a second...

The Overwatch

The eyes of Captain Salvius narrowed to thin slits beneath his crimson visor, his fingers tightening their grip about the blade mace in his hands as the Drop Ship sped thunderously toward them, choking the air behind it with a trail of thick, black smoke.

"I don't like this." he told Commander Cynic with his usual, gravely serious tone, leaning to the man next to him, "That's a lot of mass coming at us."

"Salvius, stop yer bellyachin' already." the gung-ho voice of Aether Pilot Trigen came over the channel, the man of course having heard the Captain's words, "Relax, we're the ultimate authority, remember? This is just like always: good guys win, bad guys lose, and as always, order prevails. Right, Commander?"

"Right." Cynic couldn't help but smirk beneath his own helmet, taking another count of the troops he'd assembled around the calculated crash site, watching closely as the division's Order Controllers flawlessly formed their semicircle ahead and to his sides. They had better - even a single misstep would send Captain Salvius into lecture mode again, and none of them wanted that.

An amusing thought. But now was neither the time nor place, for Sierra Three hit the ground hard roaring up tons of dirt, debris, and wreckage of the Rikti settlement in a titanic wave that the Drop Ship now rolled toward Cynic and his troops, grinding and heaving as it tore a deep trench into the earth. Still, none of them moved. They stood there firm as the rock itself, blade maces in their hands and at the ready, the Drop Ship coming to rest not a few meters from the Commander himself.

"Told ya." Trigen chucked over the channel, "The boys 'n me are in position. Just say the word 'n we'll come at 'em like a ton o' bricks."

Cynic acknowledged. It felt good to have the situation well in hand - and he had, no doubt about it. Even if the craft's passengers proved too crafty for the troops assembled here, he had more than half scattered all about in reserve. Of course, calling them in wouldn't even be necessary unless they could somehow manage to escape the cloaked Aether Pilots already lurking in the ruins near the ship.

Still, this required something actually happening. Why was nothing happening?

"Now what?" Salvius grunted, "Move in?"

"Not just yet, Captain." the Commander stayed his hand, "Let's give them a moment to wake up."

The minutes passed. The restless Aether Pilots were getting increasingly impatient, Trigen at the front of them all with that, but Salvius retained firm control. Reckless and twitchy was they were, even the Aether Pilots wouldn't move again if he said so. Every decision he'd ever made had been for naught but the good of the Overwatch and his men. He'd be damned if he ever made a choice that didn't follow these ideals - and every single one of his men knew it. Though he might have been the harshest of protocol mongers, they had absolute faith in him when it came to battle.

So they stayed.

Finally, something happened. But of course first it came different and second than one thought. With a cacophonous crack of thunder, the Drop Ship's dorsal hatch shot into the sky atop a tiny mushroom cloud. The dented structure of Rikti architecture took over eight seconds to return to earth, burying itself into a crater with a vehement crash that again sent junk flying all over the place. Thankfully, the debris wasn't very large this time. Cynic's own fingers now grew tighter as he watched the rising haze atop the ship, eagerly anticipating the first catch of the day. Oh, how surprised that poor sucker would be - and he came. Finally, something emerged from the smoke.

A black work boot.

The boot was of course followed by the wearer: an oddly dressed, scaleless reptilian that seemed to have a tendency toward the anthropomorphic. Of course, if someone had told this to said reptilian, the Khelari would've taken boundless offense at being compared to a human. But as all stayed silent for the moment, only the steady, gradual steps of his boots against the Drop Ship's hull echoed through the air.

"Civilian!" Commander Cynic's voice came from the speakers of his helmet with crisp and clear volume, unmistakeably directed at the new arrival, "Stop where you are! Present immediately your identification, proof of citizenship of World Three, and proof of allegiance! You have fifteen seconds to comply!"

The reptilian's lips curled into a most sinsiter, sly grin, drawing back from rows of sharp, predatory teeth. He answered only with silence, his head rotating slowly as if to survey the placement of the Overwatch troops. Cynic couldn't help but feel somewhat nervous as the seconds ticked by. Where had he seen this being before? He looked so...familiar - and not in a good way.

Acid Zero.

The thought had shot through his mind like some terrible bolt of lighting. Yet despite his perturbation, not a single response left the recesses of his mind. Yes, he remembered Acid. He remembered Acid well...which was just one more reason to shoot first and ask questions never. Yes, he would give the order to shoot now.

No.

No, on second thought, he'd just let the men handle it. They could use the practice. Besides, there was no way in hell the Khelari would be producing any of the demanded. Especially not just standing there like that. No, he'd just wait for the seconds to tick by. There was no way to escape, this he knew. The Aether Pilots could strike even those who had phased to another aspect of this dimension. No, Acid wouldn't be getting away from them.

And the clock struck zero...

Randall Grey grumbled a few more curses as he rubbed the top of his head with a fist, letting his gaze wander about the Drop Ship's cabin. Everyone seemed to be more or less okay, having strapped in on an earlier order of the Warmaster. Of course, it hadn't been the most comfortable of rides, but g-forces had punched through a few times and rattled the ship, giving its passengers great appreciation toward the presence of their 'seatbelts'. The amalgamation of gradually de-knotting robotic limbs that was Toy Dispenser's entourage stood as deftly bickering witness to that.

"Everyone in one piece back there?" Sheldon Wallace wanted to know from the cockpit section, Randall giving him a wave and a nod in response to signify they were unharmed.

"Apologies: mine." Cher'tak stated as he unlocked his own seat's straps, "Underestimation: piloting skill: opponents."

"Wasn't your fault." the mysterious Sage stated dispassionately as he seemed to test his legs. The long folds of his robes made this somewhat unsure, "I should've seen this coming."

Toy Dispenser allowed himself a curt huff, helping his robots untangle from one another, "Yeah, I noticed you suddenly had an unusual amount of advice to dispense back there. Mind filling us in?"

"Once we're outside." Grey delayed the argument by at least that much, turning to the three ahead, "Warmaster?"

Cher'tak acknowledged, having already started to switch the Drop Ship's personnel teleporter over, and it didn't take much time at all for the members of Delta Team to find themselves outside once more.

"How horrible..." Penny Arcade remarked dejectedly at the land that stretched around them, cloudy skies of dullest green only further serving to enhance the melancholy that the ruins of the once-magnificent Rikti settlement groaned into the desolate air. It wasn't quite large enough to be called a city, though this was probably in part due to Rikti architecture preferring vertical styles, as evidenced by the sad, decrepit remains of tall spires that once shone so proudly in the sea of lights all about them.

Now there reigned only gloom, the power that had sustained most of the star-like illumination long since waned - 'most' because a few still dispensed their pale luminance in small areas here and there, creating isles of dotted light kept alive by independent power sources. One such area the Warmaster had chosen as their landing site: a domed structure with a flat roof, which the Drop Ship had fit on with plenty of room to spare. According to Sah'Teece, this had one been a public transportation terminal, a place akin to a bus station back on Earth. Fully automated, its systems contained heavily protected backup generators. Apparently, the station's architects had anticipated great potential some manner of catastrophe that would require quick evacuation of the settlement.

Just what the nature of this expected disaster was, however, this the former diplomat could not say. It had been before his time. The attack of Nemesis' Freedom Phalanx automatons, however, had certainly not been it.

"You lived here." Rosalind stepped next to the Rikti as he sat on the edge of the roof, overlooking the ruins. Sah'Teece turned his head to look to her with questioning eyes, and she only smiled wryly, thumbing at herself, "Were-human. I can sense these things. Chin up, skinny. We're gonna get to that metalhead soon enough. And when we do, I'm gonna bite him in the rear so hard he won't be able to sit down ever again."

The Rikti gave an approving nod as he grasped her outstretched hand, the unlikely lifter of his spirits returning Sah'Teece to the group as several of its members questioned Sage.

"Look," Randall Grey had raised his large hands to his chest, accompanying his calmly stated request with gradual, gentle gestures, "I didn't say anything when we took you along. I didn't say anything when Balsk here told me there was something fishy about you. I figured I didn't need any more hassle, and you'd come out with it eventually, but now I think we could use some answers. I really don't see this as an unreasonable thing to ask. Do you?"

Sage, however, still seemed very unsure of things, more than once looking to Thermoplast with a nervous glance in his inhuman eyes, as if the cyborg had some manner of vendetta with him. The SPC Detective, however, wasn't even paying attention. Instead, he leaned on an antenna that had the dimensions of a flagpole, his arms crossed as he searched for something interesting in the ruins to alleviate his present boredom.

"I guess not." the veiled man eventually agreed, "Just...do you mind if I keep to-?"

His eyes widened from one moment to another, motion coming into his many-layered robes, and without warning a gun muzzle easily 35 mm in diameter sprang from the folds, followed by the weapon it belonged to: a cannon-like monstrosity that resembled an oversized pistol more than a rifle. Its primary barrel ended just a few centimeters after the stock, which in turn carried a secondary barrel just a little shorter than the first. Clearly capable of discharging multiple types of ammunition, what could only be called a compound hand-cannon sent a sound of thunder to crack through the air not a second later. The head-sized wreckage of the ellipsoid surveillance drone Sage had just put a Randall-Grey-fist-sized hole through crashed to the roof almost right away.

"Sorry about that." he stated with a straightforward tone, the gun still locked in the very same position to show he meant none here any harm, "I'd hoped that wouldn't get here quite so fast."

"Explain." Sheldon Wallace placed a hand against the cannon of Ryat66 almost in tandem with the fingers of Toy Dispenser brining Solid Shot's rifle back down. However, quite a few of the team saw greater wisdom in not lowering their weapons until Sage had brought down his. The inventor's voice remained calm, but a demanding undertone had materialized as he slowly intoned an added, "Now."

Sage didn't answer vocally, instead tossing the veils from his head with the motion of an arm, the majority of his robes that had been trailing on the ground now falling to it. As expected, he was of course not human. Clothed in the vestment that seemed to have been the innermost robe until now stood a being that had only the number of arms and legs in common with a human, albeit the bipedal, upright stature could be considered comparable as well. The head (with enough imagination) could've been considered that of a dragon, though the sharp angle the forehead and eye section made with the elongated lower part of the skull mostly destroyed that comparison. Sage's hair did the rest there, the large mass of long, crimson strands that jutted from above his deep-gray headband in a loose, spiky fashion finishing off the relation. A pair of horns was however present, their almost silver hue in stark contrast to the blood-red mane.

He stood armored too, finely overlapping and interlocking scales of all sizes covering every bit of his body, from the tiny specks of the face to the larger examples of the chest below the neck, the vestment's wide collar allowing view extending to where a human's collarbones would have been. A hue of copper orange encompassed the largest partition of the coat of scales, although it followed the standard fashion of lightening toward the frontal areas. The hide that covered Sage's throat and below carried an almost golden distinction.

His arms could compare to an athletic human, though the hands held only four digits (three fingers and one thumb each) that terminated in rounded claws instead of cupped ends. The legs looked massive in comparison, though that resulted mostly from the optical illusion his large feet created. Sage was not digitigrade, and legs that ended in respectably wide feet, which in turn seemed halfway composed of three huge claws created the imaginative distortion. The fact that the robe-like vestment reached only to his kneecaps only furthered the impression. His heels looked humanoid enough, but the bone bridges composed only about half his feet, nature having made up the difference with three long toes, encasing them in thick, bony claws to compensate for the resulting balance problem. His tail seemed intended to help with this as well - though long, the fifth appendage looked respectably muscular, carrying enough mass to balance the body it belonged to impeccably.

Oddly enough, he seemed to have an affinity for black leather - or at least a leather-like substance. Fingerless gloves covered his hands, armbands of the same just a few centimeters above them. A thick collar wrapped about Sage's neck, adorned with a metallic ring just below its lower rim. A narrow spike of azure crystal had in turn been attached to the ring, the thing almost giving the metal its own iridescence. Finally, the cloth belt about Sage's waist that tied together the vestment looked to be reinforced with the leather-like stuff as well. His hands returned the hand-cannon he wielded to the right side of said belt.

"I don't know our attacker's name." Sage followed up with somber tone, the teeth of his jaw surprisingly non-predatory in appearance, "I do know that he is a bounty hunter, and that the price on my severed head is high. Hence the disguise. I'd also appreciate if you'd kept calling me Sage for now."

"Why?" the inventor inquired with a scowl, "What's the point of a pseudonym if your enemy's already seen through it?"

"Because he didn't." Toy fell into the conversation, his faceplate seeming to stare intently at Sage, "He's after Acid."

The draconian being only gave a silent nod, his gaze lowering somewhat, "I'm sorry. I didn't think he had the capability to come here after him. We just got in the way. Probably thought we were out to snatch Acid for ourselves...and in a way, I guess we are. He doesn't like competition."

"Sarcasm: what: first clue?" the Warmaster grumbled from beside the heavily damaged ship, his armored arms inside a maintenance panel.

"Hmh." Randall Grey considered the change in their situation, pointing out the destroyed drone as he asked, "Do you think that thing managed to get its observations to him?"

"Hard to say. I like to think I shoot fast, but..." Sage shook his head, "I underestimated him once already."

"Right." Delta Team's leader agreed, "Then we move. Warmaster?"

"Chance: squat." Cher'tak gave his answer. The Drop Ship wouldn't fly again anytime soon, if ever, "Damage summation: greater than expected. Continue: on foot."

"Too late." Rosalind suddenly snarled, baring her fangs as the were-human's head snapped about to face what she sensed.

The hunter.

"You're kidding me, right?"

Solid's remark sat right on the money. He certainly didn't look like much: around two and a half meters tall and built like an amalgamation of organic power poles, the guy's compact body mostly resembled an aerodynamic crab, standing atop two double-jointed legs that accounted for nearly three quarters of his total height. A long, lanky arm stretched for nearly the same length from each shoulder, though the inhuman, oversized hand accounted for a good bit of that. It held five fingers, but they appeared nearly symmetrically arranged about a long central digit, the peripheral ones clearly having the function of thumbs. In addition, the hands carried nearly no palm at all, the fingers more or less directly attached to the being's arms.

The mouthless head curved over the compact body in a long and narrow manner, bearing just a bit of resemblance to the skulls of the Alien movies. Still, it was a good bit smaller, and attached by only a short, stout neck, while the three toes of the creature's feet extended radially and appeared very capable of deft dexterity, despite their rigid-looking structure. Indeed, no one was quite sure if the ornately ridged exterior of the being was an exoskeleton, a suit, or a combination of both. The thicker shells covering shins and lower arms, as well as the smooth, crystalline appearance of the narrow head, gave no clues one way or another, and the color scheme of obsidian blue and black luster didn't help much either - the former more prevalent on head and hands while the latter seemed to coat the rest of his shell-like exterior. What bore faint resemblance to a backpack, however, most likely wasn't part of the hunter's body, though it certainly could've been of organic nature as well.

"Careful." Cory Simmons reminded Solid to mind judging his opponents by their appearance, "I sense a terrible chill about him."

"He's right." Toy slowly drummed the fingers of one hand against the side of his leg, gradually reaching for his pulse rifle with his free hand, "That thing on his back's cold as hell, and the rest of him ain't much warmer. I'm guessing those holes below his wrists are part of it too. Watch it."

"I'm too tired for this." Grey huffed a frustrated heave, having had more than enough surprises for the day. He set himself into motion toward the coral- or crab-like alien, ensuring the pace of his steps came neither too fast nor too slow, and attempted a diplomatic solution with calm and forthcoming tone, "Look, whoever you are, I'm sure we can find a resolution we can all live with. Can you understand me?"

"Gris'va!" spat the hunter in a hollow, gaseous voice that seemed to come from just below his head, rasping back to Randall, "You will cease your pursuit. Zero is my quarry. Not yours."

Grey breathed a sigh of relief. So at least the guy could talk. He didn't seem exactly willing, but the first step had been taken. Now he just needed to figure out how to get a bounty hunter to stop chasing his livelihood. After all, for all he knew, this being wasn't doing anything illegal. He'd learned from Acid that many cultures condoned and furthered the practice, and he didn't feel quite right about attacking someone who was just doing his job. Indeed, he remembered only too well the annoyance and frustration several small-time villains had brought to his crew in the reconstruction of Paragon City. But what would cause the hunter to let off chasing Acid?

Chasing someone else.

The thought had come with a glance to Sage, and the very next instant Randall shuddered that he'd even let the mere notion enter his mind. No - that wasn't how he worked. So long as it was his choice, his life, he could set it at risk. But he couldn't simply place someone else in that position.

Meanwhile, the whispers within the group had become more frequent, several members working on their own ideas. Even Archlich...although he was more concerned with finding a way to do the hunter in. While the skeletal arcanist often behaved in an arrogant and condescending manner, the true being that was Archlich knew well not to dismiss the dangers of a foe one knew next to nothing about. Worse, the hunter's demeanor suggested great power indeed, and Toy's findings only supported that deduction. He wasn't afraid, but he had to admit he didn't feel much like tangling with this guy; at least not until he knew more about him.

"Why is he staring at me like that?" Balsk quietly queried of Sage, having noticed the head...crystal...eye...whatever focusing on him specifically, "Giving me the chills just looking at him."

"You look a lot like someone else he's after." the more humanoid draconian whispered back, "This is bad. Even if we get him to leave, there's no way we can get him to not just chase after Acid again."

Unless...

Sage swallowed his fears, then stepped forward and out of the group, catching the attention of the hunter with a shot and loud, "Hey! You!"

Up ahead, Randall's eyes opened wide. No! He wasn't...!

"What?" the hunter hissed in his hollow tone, "What do you want of me, reptile?"

"To tell you that you're blinded by greed." Sage stated snarkily, clawed fingers hovering near his oversized gun, "You lost me on the COLOSSUS, and you're too blind to see me now. Yeah, that's right. I'm the Dark Dragon."

"E'ssita!" hissed the being, throwing his arms forward and up as Sage snatched the gun from his belt fast as he could.

Buy the hunter was faster.

A cloud of fine, crystalline white erupted from his wrists as he channeled a potent wave of bitter cold across his fingers and into the air, sending the strike that appeared to be an ice blast at his previous target, and then following the first split-second discharge with a volley of four more in less than two seconds. As the cloud of icy particles cleared enough to see, only a frost-covered figure now stood in his path.

Randall Grey.

Too tired for this.

The massive man shattered the layers of ice that had built up across the front of his hulking granite armor, the stout tanker closing the distance to the hunter with only a few quaking steps, his right fist aquiver with rage.

Too. Freaking. Tired for this!

The KO blow struck the hunter with more force than an industrial-grade wrecking ball, smashing right through the ice armor he'd prepared to defend himself during the battle he now expected, sending the alien to sail into the air and clear off the roof. His forceful impact below echoed all the way back to the Drop Ship, followed by a second crunch as the hunter bounced off the hard ground, leaving a decent crater, and then repeated this several more times, finally skidding to a halt across what could've been a street.

"Is he...?" Penny gasped as she saw him motionless at first, but quickly spotted the hunter's attempt to stand. His head and arms trembled violently, however, and after a single try, he slipped into unconsciousness, his extremities dropping back to the ground.

"No." Sage stated coldly, "Just in a lot of pain. Nice punch there, Mr. Grey."

"Mhm." Randall nodded stoically as the boulders of his granite armor fell from his body once again, the man turning to the rest of the team with a gruff tone, "Well, what's everyone standing around doing nothing for? We've got someone to find, remember? So get going."

Several turned immediately, following Sah'Teece to the route that would take them to street level. Others soon followed. Sage, however, remained with Delta Team's leader a little while longer, turning to the massive man with a sigh, "Sorry if I overstepped my boundaries. I just couldn't think of anything else. Just...just make sure you get Acid back, okay? I'll manage some-"

He stopped quite suddenly as he felt Grey's heavy hand on his shoulder, the taller man smiling at him through his beard.

"Thank you."

A smirk appeared on Sage's face as well, and though far from human, Randall understood. He gave an approving nod as he too began heading for the path downstairs, leaving the draconian being alone with his thoughts.

"Hey!"

Well, only for a moment.

"Hey, pseudo-me!" Balsk shouted again from the other end of the roof, "You coming or what...?"

Heh, as I was reading this a friend of mine walked by with the most interesting remark. I can't wait to see if he's right. Got me on the edge of my seat here...

((Acid isn't that big. He's only borderline 2 meters. ))

Hotaka seemed to disappear as the radial blast washed over the area, the quick leap atop one of the other cargo crates accompanied by vibrant flutter in his robes. The black Jounin, however, didn't seem so prepared, veritably vaporizing as the shockwave knocked him back.

"Trying to strike down a blind old man..." Brushstalker heard the towering Oriental as he saw the ninja behind the TacOps deliver hand-edge blows to their unarmored necks, the men collapsing into unconsciousness almost immediately from the nerve strikes. Their assailants, however, were gone before the blasts made it to them.

"...how terrible." Hotaka threw and arm horizontally into the air, his outstretched fingers pointing across the hold. The dark Jounin suddenly returned, stepping from the shadows atop two large cargo containers. Moreover, they were apparently very good at math, having multiplied their number by three in the process. Now the Operative faced no less than half a dozen ninja, spaced out strategically over the hold.

Curiously enough, Acid seemed to have disappeared...

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

"Hello!" Acid exclaimed in surprise as Danny suddenly rounded a corner before him, wasting no time in ducking into a roll just in case.

Crouching on the floor for a moment, his head darted about the intersection, the Khelari mumbling his thoughts out loud, "Hospital, hospital...that way!"

Truth be told, he couldn't have cared less about Danny right now, trying to dash off in the direction of the infirmary again...

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Acid zero http://artsyamartasu.deviantart.com/...h0006-91128668
never been to great with animalish people ((forgot the word for it)) but I do like this one, it was fun ^_^

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Glad you do. So do I. Thanks again.

Now to weasel me way back into line somewhere...<_<

The Lady Grey

"The Warmaster did not let time pass him by, initiating pursuit right away. Furthermore, his extensive experience allowed him to follow Our planned strategy without any need for discourse, recalling the remainder of Delta Team onto the second Drop Ship as he piloted the craft after Mr. Zero. However, this is to by no means imply that measures were not taken to preemptively eliminate the need for a direct engagement on the planet. Indeed, remotely taking control of the stolen craft had been attempted no less than two dozen times before reaching planetary orbit, a span of time not significantly greater than a single minute."

"As this took place, those not of Delta Team did not sit idle. We ordered an immediate redoubling of efforts to make ready the captured discus ship, followed by joining the Rikti still in the facility. What C'Kelkah had to say, however, only further complicated the situation. Apparently, and We at this point had no reason to disbelieve her words, Mr. Zero had hatched a plan to force Our hand: he would go before both the Lineage of War, as well as the Lineage of Science, and expose our presence here. Due to the fact that the dominant image of humanity - the great destroyers from another world - still reigned supreme in virtually every element of Rikti social structure, this could lead to only one outcome."

She stayed silent for a few moments to let the gravity of her words sink in, the woman's gaze having burrowed itself into her pages, "War. Therefore...therefore We gave executive order to Sierra Two. We gave order to fire at will; to stop him by any means necessary."

"Unfortunately...or perhaps..." she allowed herself a brief chuckle, "...fortunately, all attempts failed. It seemed Mr. Zero was pilot more competent than any of us had known - even Toy Dispenser. He evaded Cher'tak time and again, and even the weavings of the arcanists Delta Team had acquired since the launch of the expedition could not compete with the flight skill their adversary brought to the table. Of course...this merely describes the situation before the hunter appeared."

"An unidentified craft appeared upon the sensors of Sierra Two shortly after they had passed the demarcation of planetary orbit, and took up immediate pursuit via a direct intercept course. Utilizing an unfamiliar manner of cold-based weaponry - the working principle of which we still do not fully understand; after all, it seemed illogical to strike at a craft designed to navigate an airless vacuum with further cold - the attacker succeeded in dealing significant damage to both Drop Ships as they entered the atmosphere. Fortunately, however, though his craft stood clearly of greater capability in space, it proved inferior to Rikti designs in air, and Mr. Zero as well as Delta Team were able to shake their pursuer."

"Regrettably, neither craft had sustained a level of damage that would allow for continued flight. Worse yet, Sierra Three had taken the worst of it. Though Delta team did succeed in pursuing Mr. Zero to the ruins of a Rikti settlement destroyed by the initial assault of the Freedom Phalanx automatons, courtesy of Nemesis, they were forced to set down a respectable distance from his landing site..."

A fervent clash of metal on metal echoed vehemently through the hold as Brushstalker's mace came to a sudden, crashing halt, coming to rest only mere centimeters from Hotaka's fine robes.

Against the matte black blade of an equally hued ninja.

Looking back to his intended target, the Operative would see the towering Oriental's head turned to him in an unstressed manner, his chin lifted just far enough to take the edge of the bamboo hat from his eyes.

His, blank, white, pupilless eyes.

Like his master, the dark-garbed Jounin who'd stopped the mace simply said nothing at all, choosing silence over words - the very same silence he'd appeared with. Yes, that was the word: appeared. He doubtlessly hadn't been there just moments before, having made his presence known fast as lightning; as if he'd jumped right up from out of the floor. Truth be told, in a way he had.

Well, not that it would matter. The stun grenades carried a large area of effect, and...wait - why hadn't those gone off yet?

Because they were still in the hands of their operatives, who in turn had the very same blades across their throats, a ninja having appeared in complete and utter silence behind each one of them. The condition was clear: move and die...or at least, be in a lot of pain.

"Whoa." Acid gave a slow, single nod, having to admit he was impressed, "Not bad. Not bad at all..."

C'Kelkah awoke from one moment to another, her back arching into the air above her stretcher with a wrenching spasm. She drew a long, fervent gasp, eyes torn wide-open before she slammed back down into the thin layer of cushions, the room still spinning above her.

"Awake..."

Her voice sounded weak, feeble, even to her. But it was there. It was real. She'd beaten it. She'd finally beaten it! She didn't know what it was, what it had wanted, but she remembered clear as crystal moment for moment of the horror - when it had taken control of her form, locked her away in the recesses of her own brain. It had moved her hands, her feet, spoken with her voice. However, the most terrible aspect of it all had been that she'd seen all, heard all, but been powerless do so much as speak; and not just vocally. Not even on the small mental network she'd shared with Cher'tak, Sah'Teece, and Lk'Onik had she managed even the tiniest bit of communication.

She'd been so afraid...so alone. There wasn't even a word to describe how horrid she'd felt then, a prisoner of her own body with virtually no contact to the outside world.

Still, she had seen. And she had heard. Though the terror that had befallen her had tried to subdue her consciousness countless times, it had failed. For she had fought. She had railed against the walls of its control time and again, refusing to have her mind enter the same state as her body - and as she'd lain there, her form still and motionless like the unmoving rock itself, she had heard. She had heard his (their?) words, she had been witness to his (their?) plans. She knew. She had known the entire time, throughout the course of the long, arduous battle for her body, never relenting, never giving in no matter how many times the terrible usurper had pushed her back.

And now she had won. Furthermore, now she knew. She knew!

She had to warn them!

Grinding past the pain of myriads of aching muscles, C'Kelkah groaned off the stretcher and crashed to the floor, her armor sounding loudly against the hard material on impact. However, sound was not her only means now. Already, even as she still staggered up on elbows and knees, she railed, she shouted onto their small network: her warning.

And she was heard.

"Alarm: immediate!" the crimson-armored Warmaster suddenly burst out, his shout rocketing through the command center like a dozen lightning bolts, whipping Vanguard soldiers and expedition members alike at attention, "Deception: uncovered!"

Too late.

"Sierra Three is launching!" one of the impervium-armored officers in the U-shaped collection of terminals fell into the shouting match, the man's outstretched arm pointing straight up and through the transparent gallery at the discus ship still hovering above the facility.

One of the hangar bays had opened, the soft-seal of an energy field clearly visible.

"Get security up there on the double." the Lady Grey ordered in a composed and collected manner, knowing well that every move she made now had to be most carefully considered. She turned to the members of Delta Team, making brief eye contact with Cher'tak, Sah'Teece, and Sheldon Wallace, "Get to Sierra Two. If he escapes, pursue immediately."

"Right." the inventor nodded in tandem with the Rikti, using his kinetics to boost their speed as the Warmaster commanded the discus ship to recall them to its teleport bay. With Sheldon's aid, they'd be in the second Drop Ship in no time at all.

Still, it wouldn't be enough. They all knew it. Even as Lk'Onik rushed off to aid the stricken scientist in the isolation ward, taking several human medical staff with him, the Lady Grey and Delta Team gathered around the monitor console that had supposedly displayed the hangar of the discus ship they'd positioned Sierra Three in.

No words were exchanged. There was no need. The Vanguard technicians already worked diligently to find whatever had overridden the surveillance for that hangar and shown them the complete and utter fabrication of the Drop Ship still sitting peacefully and under guard, hangar doors closed and hard-sealed. Thankfully, the return of Penny Arcade, along with the presence of mind exhibited by the Ryat unit and Toy Dispenser, sped this along respectably. Before long, they'd managed to purge the loop. The truth, however, was quite disheartening.

On the hangar floor stood Acid, a toothy smirk on his face as he waved at the objective that had him in view for a few seconds before disappearing in the characteristic visual side-effects of the Drop Ship's teleporter. Moments later, the vessel shot from the hangar above their heads...

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XD thanks for the kind words but there is actually a reason why I dont do commishions or anything like that...Im....abit inconsistant...like big time.... ._.; I get freaked out over the possibility of not producing high enough quality work to reach the expectations of others.

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Aww

Just trust in your own quality and style of art and you'll do great! You're getting so many requests because your particular style is unique and very well done. You should take that as a compliment. Just don't sweat meeting our expectations. You've already done that!!

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Yep, what he said!

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Indeed. Besides, no one here would think any less of you for not 'meeting their expectiations'. What expectations? Sure, your art up there looks awesome, and you say you're inconsistent, but you also clearly stated that you're doing this for practice, didn't you?

So don't worry. Enhance your calm. You are doing this because you have fun with it, right? So do what you like, don't feel pressured, and just enjoy it.

Awesome work. And alright, I'll bite. For your consideration, here's my main, Acid Zero, your standard insane alien here for some indeterminable purpose. Yes, there's more to it, but that's what the public knows, anyway.

Bots/FF, of course, and sadly never quite made it into the game looking like I wanted him to. His head's got no spikes, fins, and he doesn't have scales. I know it's not the best of sketches, but at least it shows that much (and yes, he really is that skinny) in addition to a good bit about his unstable personality. Suggest to him the most outlandish possibility, such as a nuclear warhead fueled by aluminum foil and pencil shavings, and he'll try to make it work - and most likely succeed.

((I blame you, scumbag. ))

Brushstalker was quite correct. They did indeed return.

"...but it's something that's always vexed me just a little." Hotaka just finished the sentence as they came through the hold's far entryway again, "Why do we walk? I mean, you could just jump us all over the place, couldn't you?"

"I could." the reptilian admitted with a glance to the floor, "But you know...I like walking. It makes me feel...real. Physical. Like I'm not just some out-of-place whatever-the-hell, but a physical being that's supposed to be here."

He glanced up at the taller man with a toothy grin, "And now you're going to tell me again that everything happens for a reason, aren't you?"

"The thought had crossed my mind." chuckled the Oriental, his hands shrugging sheepishly, "Do you really still feel that way?"

"When I'm alone...yes." Acid stated with a twinge of melancholy, "I'm a very social personality. When I'm not around my friends, I feel...odd. Like I don't belong here - and considering I start eating the freakin' universe if I'm not careful, I have to admit that there's a very real possibility that I don't. That I might once have, but that I'm...too late. Or too early, I don't know. Can we talk about something else?"

"Of course." Hotaka nodded with understanding as they passed the hold's halfway point.

Why don't the dead lie still...so that's what he meant with that.

Being where they were, the two of course hadn't taken note of it yet, but Operative Brushstalker very well might have. Apparently, he was an excellent hunter, but a remarkably poor thief. The LED display that usually reflected the numeric codes entered into the electronic lock had taken on a very different statement after only a fraction of a second following the man's attempted brute force break-in.

A timer.

In a very standard procedure of high-security systems, the access mechanism engaged a rock-solid time lock if five consecutive attempts at entering the passcode failed - which they had in mere instants, considering the hundreds of combinations per second Brushstalker's hardware had tried.

Of course, there hadn't been any sort of noise or the like to signify this change. Just the display's change. Whether the man could see it from his hiding spot was of course another question entirely...

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

Having no idea that David and Odette hadn't proceeded to the nearest hospital or infirmary, which he'd considered the logical way to go, Acid of course ran in the utterly wrong direction to rejoin them.

This in turn of course made him a prime candidate to run into a certain toxin-wielding technologist who at this very moment came running in the other general way, not caring whether she attracted attention or not...