DeviousMe

Actually, no. Interestingly enough, nature (or your respective deity of creation, if you like) seems to have had some forethought there and installed certain safeguards within humans.

I'm not going to go into all the detail here, but all in all it boils down to the normal senses of a human being incapable of perceiving anything higher than a 3-dimensional world. This is, for lack of a better term, why humans cannot 'see' time, but instead only 3-D snippets of its sum.

So actually, if you guys were to look at a quintadim object, for instance, you actually couldn't perceive it with your standard senses, as they are not properly 'calibrated', if you will. Instead, your mind will come up with something to put in its place, such as random colors maybe - I'm not entirely sure, as it's suggested that this varies from person to person.

However, the average human will not go insane from looking at an object of a higher dimension. In fact, chances are you're doing it right now, but don't even realize it because you lack the senses necessary to properly perceive said object.

((As far as I know, only Jennifer and Proto have been locked down with nastified work schedules. Burning and Cowman just kinda went MIA it would seem. ))

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"Huh?" Acid performed the equivalent gesture of quirking an eyebrow with the miniscule ridges of cartilage above his oculae when Grey threw the remark he didn't quite understand at him. before he had time to question the tanker, however, came the very sudden robotic barrage.

"Yeah, that's a lot of questions." the reptilian retorted, counting off a clawed finger as he sought to explain his presence, "Alright then, in this order: one, yes, this is indeed me. Nice to see you again too, Toy. Two, indeed you were. I'm the advance scout, and I didn't get in. My ride's parked out back. And three..."

Acid loosed his crouched position and stood once more, lifting the Rikit armorsuit up alongside him as he pulled his other hand from the gaping hole. The clawed fingers were clean as could be.

"...looking for said cadaver." he presented the powered armor to the robotic mastermind, "Go ahead, root around some. Nothing in there, not even in the arms and legs...or the fingers, for that matter. Poor schmuck got downright annihilated. If I didn't know better, I'd say some sicko obliterated him with a disintegrator from the inside..."

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

Even from the roof, however, it was a simple matter to see that both the black Ferrari and the SWAT van long since moved on, their occupants obviously having concluded their business.

The docks sat empty once more, and already a few members of the Carnival seemed to be returning from wherever they'd hidden from those who'd chased them off. It stood for all to see that the orchestrators of this meeting hadn't wanted any witnesses.

Too bad for them, the men of Malta were always out for more blackmail material. As such, they also valued immediate availability - such as the internal playback function of the sniper rifle's souped-up scope. If Simmons knew enough about Malta's cutting-edge technology, it probably wouldn't take him long to get the thing to regurgitate whatever it had sniffed up before he'd interrupted the counterfeit Crey sniper...

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

Without warning, the rampant activity in the immediate vicinity suddenly screeched to a halt, everyone about seeming to have only one object of focus in Ryat66.

"Lemme at 'im!" a technician roared aloud, making a go for the android with furiously balled fists. Had Longbow agents not stepped in to restrain the man right then and there, he would've no doubt thrown himself into a fight he couldn't win.

Indeed, hateful glares emanated from just about every Portal Corp. employee around, the technical personnel only slowly returning to their workstations. It was rather obvious more than one of them currently fought with his or her self-control.

"If we weren't in such dire straits, I'd have you escorted off the property right now." Unai Kemen growled in a low tone, visibly sharing the sentiment of the technicians, "I don't know where you get your ideas, but Dr. Webb was a great man. Call him a mad scientist again and we'll send you flying out of here faster than a rocket strapped to your back ever could."

It didn't take much to realize what Ryat66 had stepped into right there. Despite him being dead and gone, the staff here still very much admired the mentor who'd accomplished so very much. He'd not only breached the dimensional barrier, but also given his own life rather than tell the Reichsmann what he knew. To them, calling Dr. Webb a madman was an insult of the highest degree...

The Watcher was pleased. Finally, things had started moving again. He supposed he should do the same. No point in sticking around here anymore when the orchestrator of all this tried so hard to stay hidden.

Wait, no - that wasn't entirely correct. There was still something to be done here before he moved on...

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

"Hey, hold on a second." the Sorcerer shouted after Karl, waving his staff to call more attention while he hefted the once-more closed coffin up with his other hand, "Don't you want this?"

Meanwhile, the Colonel started up the truck again, then patiently coaxed the tracker into the vehicle. Though apparently not able to guide them to the true location of the city representative, one never knew when something like it could come in handy...

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

"I want hold lines here, here, and here." Schwarzherz commanded as the troop proceeded into the building, temporarily sealing the hole behind them shut with a quick-crete charge, "Also, anyone who finds a sentry gun, report back to me. Under no circumstances are you to shoot at it. It will shoot back, and it will kill you. There is a reason nobody's been in here for a very long time..."

((Mmkay, I'm just going to go with the old version of Darkvapor being there observing and Bladewing and Energon going after the base then. Oh, and someone get me a stick to poke Diov with. ))

It seemed the entity would leave it at that. Schwarzherz couldn't say he didn't appreciate this gesture. As the Syndrome grew larger and larger, it gave him and the soldiers more playing room to use to their advantage.

In short order, they had reached the building's doors. The heavy steel chains may have stopped the average intruder, but they couldn't quite resist a demo charge. Steel and glass rained every which way, accompanied by a flash of light and sound of thunder. The doors held not.

Sadly, the advanced armor plating behind them did.

"Should've known." the dark General grumbled, babbling more military jargon into his radio. Shortly thereafter, the C130 redirected its M102 at the main plates, pounding away at them until they gave way, tearing apart with the satisfying scream of overstressed metal.

And while the Specre returned to CAS, Schwarzherz and the soldiers stepped inside the run-down structure. It was truly a moment to behold. Not only did they stand in the former heart of Paragon's finest, but it was a fact that they were the very first ones to enter this building in more than five years...

((Already did...but for some reason, it's not letting me into the repository now. Aw hell, forget this - what's processing power for if you don't use it? There.))

((Um, Schwarzherz has moved all of a dozen meters so far. His troop gated in all the way back in the Fuse's eastern part, specifically Liberty Road, and he hasn't left there. ))

((Okay, I got lost somewhere back a ways - are you guys going after the Council base in Grenadier Village or the small troop all the way back in the Fuse? ))

The Watcher twitched at the sudden shock of the explosion. That had been a varible, alright. However, it may not have been a bad one...

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

The Sword duo gave Klaus a short once-over with a look, then went right back to what they were doing. In short order, they...

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

Schwarzherz reacted immediately, a dome of murk and mire rising up around the soldiers and Clockwork, rendering the senses of the attacker blind. The thing seemed to be a combination of several sorts of gloom, centered around both the dark General and the attackers, preventing even one of them from finding a target.

Well, actually that wasn't entirely true - even the shadows couldn't deflect or absorb every strike. Luckily, there was an 'endless sea' of Clockwork, resulting in a nearly infinitely large case of StoSyn.

Then the first gaggle of Clockwork exploded. A second later, another followed. Then another. And another. And another.

Dual rakes of shell trails accompanied the M102 detonations, the Bushmasters of Schwarzherz's Spectre high above blazing trails of destruction through the Clockwork that surrounded the troop while its main artillery cannon took potshots at the largest collections. Out of sight and out of range, counterattacking the C130 wasn't an option for the mechanoids.

CAS established, the troop didn't hesitate to move. If the Clockwork could come up through solid pavement, there was little doubt they could do so with a concrete foundation. Down the stairs they went, dragging their bubble of murk along, bolting off Liberty Road and onto the plaza of its main structure...

"Guys, I don't think you get it." Unai Kemen kept up his argument, trying to get his point across, "I'm not saying nothing could've gotten in. There's just no way we wouldn't know about it. MAGI might stink at keeping their stuff, but their detection wards are top-notch. You notice how they're always sending heroes right to the places the stolen junk's kept? Well, the ones we got here are even better."

"But tell me more," he requested of Ryat66, "I've got a suspicion. Dr. Webb programmed that thing himself. Yes, the whole supercomputer. He might've been an expert at the stuff, but there's still more code in there than we can wrap our heads around, and he was still just one man. If he made a mistake all those years ago..."

Kemen kept talking, elaborating on standard programming practices, but in the android's head a little red flag ran up. Quantum computing hadn't even been around back when Brian Webb had created Portal Court - hell, it still hadn't been cracked by humanity's smartest minds, let alone progressed far enough to enable the building of a quantum supercomputer!

Even more puzzling was something else. Hadn't the Pai'un 'Salic said something about 'the Doc's orders'...?

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

Sadly, Cory's plan didn't come to terms with the speed of the Titan. His intentions to slow the mechanoid remained utterly fruitless. Indeed, forming ice around the charging Zeus' feet even had some effects not accounted for.

The thing slipped.

Frantically flailing its arms in a futile attempt to regain balance, the monstrous Titan was first shoved one way by the fireball's impact, then another by the scrapper stabbing it in the back. It processor overloaded with variables and false sensory data (due to the fireball's heat and brightness), the Zeus unit skidded rapidly toward the suddenly very nearby edge of the roof.

In addition, if Simmons had taken note of such things yet, the sniper rifle he'd snatched seemed unusually light. A check of the chamber would quickly reveal why: the darn thing was empty! But why? Who carried around an empty sniper weapon?

The answer stood clear as day. The TacOps Commander had even let it slip out when he'd said he'd just bee listening - the heavy-duty laser sight of such a weapon could also double as a laser microphone in skilled hands.

The USB drive attached to a port inside said scope was an all-too-evident mark that's exactly what the Malta Operatives had been doing up here...

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

The blast door hissed open without any trouble, the halves rapidly lurching into the wall as their edges ground on the hermetically sealed floor strip. No sooner had this occurred than two small avalanches of Rikti maintenance equipment rolled out of the chamber, one on each side.

The surprised look of the storage room's one occupant (there simply wasn't room for any more), however, was probably what drew the bulk of the group's attention.

With a clawed hand at the rim of jagged hole in a Rikti armorsuit's chest plate crouched a creature already very familiar to a few members of the group.

The being was of reptilian ancestry, the telltale bone structure of its skull that resembled a velocirapor's giving this away regardless of the scaleless, deep-green hide of leathery texture. Complete with a set of vicious teeth that clearly belonged to a carnivore, a set of amber, slitted pupils, and a long, whiplike tail in addition to the five-fingered clawed hands, the appearance of the somewhat slim Khelari left no doubt of a very predatory lineage.

Still, the eyes betrayed a high level of intelligence, as did the ensemble of night-black cargo pants, loose jacket, large work boots, and a white T-shirt thrown in underneath the open jacket just for good measure. The weapon holster on the Khelari's back also spoke volumes, the architecture of the three rifle-like armaments it carried utterly alien in nature despite the ordinary seeming of metalwork.

And while realization may or may not have dawned quickly on Grey, Toy Dispenser's photographic memory spit out the Khelari's name in shor succession: the synthetically constructed moniker Acid Zero, who at present seemed at an utter lack of words.

Indeed, the Khelari's eyes darted back and forth rapidly, as if trying to affirm that what they saw was really there. After a moment or two, Acid drew in air through his teeth for a long three seconds, exhaling with, "...wow...awkward...um...this isn't what it looks like..."

The Watcher tensed. What had that just been? It had felt like someone had put a glub to the gates of normal space-time and whacked merrily away like a Troll on a Dyne overdose.

Luckily, the presence in the air seemed quick to react, not to mention the task force didn't appear to pay it too much heed. That was good.

The arrivals and their plans, which his informant disclused to him, however, made the Watcher apprehensive again. This could ruin everything if the wrong pieces fell into place...

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

"Well now, it seems someone doesn't like us crashing their party." Schwarzherz chuckled darkly, turning to the small troop, "Those thoughts weren't at all friendly. Seems we'll need to blast more than just a building to rubble here."

"Oh, that we can handle." came the response from an Archon uniform, the Council troop aiming multipurpose assault rifles all about, "But we'd rather not tip our hand just yet. Where are these men you spoke of?"

"Ah, but of course." the General nonchalantly drew a field radio, speaking into it, "Charle one three zero delta, come back. Confirming killbox foxtrot papa hotel quebec. Targets will be painted..."

The Watcher smiled. With Martin in charge, things should be proceeding a nit more smoothly for the task force he'd been charged with observing.

On the other hand, he'd have to be even more careful now, just to make sure nobody managed to spot him. Hiding this close did entail some risk, after all. Still, he felt it would be worth it if things went according to plan...

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

The Vanguard duo kept to themselves during the arguments, choosing not to participate. However, they seemed to agree that Martin would make a good leader.

Their focus stood presently on the Mortificator and his coffin, the two carefully analyzing the true nature of both. Their means stood varied, and in nearly endless combination. Given enough time, there wasn't a chance Karl's secrets wouldn't come to light. Still, they would need a few dozen seconds of uninterrupted time for this...

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Liberty Road
The Fuse

"Verdammt!" the Council-uniformed man cursed violently, hopping up and down on one foot while holding the other with both hands, "Habe ich euch Trotteln nicht gesagt: Passt auf wo ihr hinteleportiert?!"

"Verzeihung, Sir." another looked about sheepishly, "Diese dunklen Tore sind manchmal ein bisschen unberechenbar."

"English, gentlemen." a dark voice broke the chatter, tone cold as the chill of night. Its source seemed to be the abyss that reigned in the night-black hood of a caped man encased in a suit of powered armor - and though the cape carried the same shade as his hood (which seemed to be one piece of clothing) the armor's paint job sported a camo pattern of gray and Prussian blue.

Standing roughly two meters , the figure didn't look too imposing amongst the sometimes ridiculously tall soldiers about, at least not until one looked into his eyes.

They weren't there.

Only a pair of luminescent red orbs hovered in the vast blackness inside the hood of General Schwarzherz. He'd lost his humanity so very long ago, and by now bore the telltale marks of his 'condition'.

"Of course, General." one of the Council-uniformed soldiers replied with a quick salute and a heavy German accent, the troop of maybe a dozen (give or take) moving down Liberty Road with intent, "It will not happen again. Still, I agree - that gate was a bit...powerful. They may have picked it up."

"If they have, let that be my worry." Schwarzherz gave a chuckle, his own frigid voice most fluent and accentless, "Now move..."

The TacOps Commander vanished without a trace as his mediporter engaged, whisking the man away alive, albeit heavily burned. He'd spend the next few days in some manner of serious regeneration, this was sure.

The Zeus Titan, however, had no compassion for its master, dutifully obeying its hardwired protocols to the letter, carrying out orders without question. The fireball to its sensors may have blinded the machine for a few moments, but it nevertheless roared off the strike, sending the quad plasma blast at Matt McGinty's last known position.

Then protocols changed.

Originally, the Zeus had planned to follow up with a strike of concussion missiles, but a new set of orders came in a chopped transmission burst, causing the Titan to turn without warning, then begin a charge toward the sniper rifle...

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"I'm sorry, but that's simply not possible." Security Chief Kemen refuted the Ryat unit's argument, "There's no way anyone could've gotten into the supercomputer without us noticing something. Again, I'm not saying getting in is impossible, but nobody noticing anything certainly is."

"We have to agree there." a PPD officer of the department's Kheldian division supported the argument, "The PPD has all manner of folk stationed in support of Portal Corporation's security, including our psionics division. They and us combined form a sensor screen that simply can't be gotten around..."

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Of course, by now the group's discussion of plans had reached a moot point. Ineffable's presence - not to mention chatter - had tipped off the creature almost immediately, the thing making its move in only fractions of a second.

By the time Ineffable had finished his second word the being was gone. The silhouette had no more than given a slight twitch, then vanished into thin air along with the Rikti armorsuit it had been in contact with at the time. A moment later, the characteristic pop of air rushing into a suddenly crated vacuum reverberated from the screed walls of the corridor.

Oddly enough, although the creature had clearly teleported, there seemed to be no accompanying trace of such a warp aside from the noise. No flash of light, no build-up of extraspatial energies, not even a residual anything. The conclusions that could be drawn from this lay on hand - and none of them were very comforting.

Even more discomforting, however, was perhaps the sudden rumble that came from beyond the closed blast door on the opposite side of the hallway. It sounded like someone had accidentally rummaged too far into a gym equipment locker, and not everything came tumbling down with cacophonous staccato.

The door itself sat closed, but from the echo it stood clear to reason that the room beyond had a lot of stuff and not much space to allow for it. The glyphs on the door confirmed this, translating roughly to, "Equipment chamber of limited volume. Do not overstock."

In any case, the door had not been locked, the keypad beside it home to only two contact plates; one yellow, one blue. Presently, the blue one sported illumination, therefore standing to reason that it signified the door to be closed.

Indeed, Sah'Teece would confirm this. By now, he'd also caught up with this group. Having seen what they had, he'd wasted no time in dropping a line to Warmaster Cher'tak to bring him news of their discovery...

((No, I don't think you will. I've gotten multiple pokes, so I guess I'm in this to stay. I just need to have a chat with Diov concerning continuity before I can post anything useful.))

((Eh, it's not really the 'you have to go do this now, nothing else works' moments that bother me so much (though I do admit, they are annoying), it's the unheeding singularity of the happenings. Mind yalls, that's just a personal opinion of mine - a lot of people do like those kinds of plots. I'm just not one of them, I'm afraid.

Still, if you want...I guess my mind does wander, so if I can come up with something reasonable before I figure out a write-out that makes sense...well, we'll see what happens.))

((Sigh...sorry guys, but I think I'm gonna get here. This thing's just too restrictive for me. Imma figure out how to write myself out in the next couple of posts then so I don't ruin it for the rest of ya.))

"Geez, what is your deal?" the Colonel growled in response, "I thought this discussion was over. Just can't let it be, can you?"

"Relax." the Sword Sorcerer placed a hand on his sister's shoulder, drawing his staff with the other, "Just ignore him for the time being, okay? We're supposed to be tracking down magic stuff here, not play with the kids. Hmmm, speaking of..."

Darkvapor suddenly received a forceful bonk on the head from the Sorcerer's long staff before he could start his torture, along with a sharply uttered, "No!"

"Ahyes, you." the Colonel gave a chuckle at the way her brother had just stopped the villain, "I'm afraid the ends still don't justify the means in all occasions. Now, I don't recall seeing your face around the compound. I do take it you've got your ID and clearance with you?"

Meanwhile, the Sorcerer went to work on what appeared to be some sort of spell (at least judging by the purple flicker that now encased both his staff as well as Karl's head), and it didn't take very long at all for the Mortificator to start spilling all he knew, and be happy as a stoneworm in magma as he did so...

"I suppose you're right." the Colonel admitted, sparing Energon another glance, "I suppose we just got fed up with Sparky's accusations here. Bloody putting other people down to increase his own perceived self-worth. Makes me sick..."

"Oh, we weren't debating your level of stress." the Sword Sorcerer countered in a calm tone, "What we have a problem with is your lack of self control."

"Indeed." the Colonel added, visibly irritated, "Not to mention you seem to have a really good tendency of blaming other people for your own shortcomings. Well guess what? I don't see you coming up with any ideas here, so I guess you're just as useless as we are."

"Make that more so." the Sorcerer intoned gruffly, "Listen here, Sparky, and listen good because I'm only going to say this once: if all you're going to do is complain and blow crud to hell, then we can do without you. Because it appears to me that you're only in this for the kick you get out of blasting people, and if you can't do that, it's just too much for your sorry little brain."

"Yeah, there's a lot of things we don't know." the Colonel now took word again, "We don't know how that tracker finds anything, we don't know where the guy who's trying to ruin the whole world is, and we damn well don't have a clue of how we're going to stop him right now. But you know what? We. Don't. Care! We're going to keep trying until we find him, we're going to keep trying until we beat him, and we're going to keep trying until we're six feet under. Because that's what it's going to take. If you don't have the stomach for that, get out, and get out fast because you're only going to hold the people who want to help back."

"You know, I never expected something like this to happen." the Sorcerer gave a dry chuckle, "The day the ordinary people of Paragon have to pick up the slack from a so-called 'hero'. Yeah, you heard me. Despite what you may 'know', my sister and I are just two people off the street who want to make a difference. No wild amounts of money, no dazzling superpowers, just us and our training. That's all we've got. And we're going to use it. All of it. Because if we're not willing to, I guess you certainly aren't."

"Oh, and about the zombie thing." the Colonel growled as a final add-on as her brother turned away from Energon, heading for the discourse about Karl, "I don't know where you get your ideas about us not being human from, but did you ever consider that maybe, just maybe this armor of ours, these suits that are supposed to []i]protect[/i] us from being psychically and energetically probed and assaulted, just might have something to do with that? Well, don't bother answering, because we both already know that, don't we now...?"

"Who do you think?" Baalial retorted with rolling eyes as Block Bot entered the clearing just beyond the wooded line. Not two meters or so from the demonic attorney now stood the same dragon of green from earlier in Paragon, brushing imaginary dirt from its shoulders. Now, however, its height from head to toe now bordered on a mere three meters.

Beside the creature stood the figure of the martial artist, motionless as it had been since the battle with Panzerfrau's Flyer had started in earnest. Indeed, Block Bot almost instantly noticed it was a mere facsimile.

"Yes well, I suppose." the dragon answered Baalial with a gruff sigh, the demon obviously defending the use of the scroll in his hand (at least judging by the way he pointed at it again and again), "Just next time, do please give me a little warning ahead of time."

"Fair enough." the demon chuckled, "I'll admit that wasn't the most graceful of landings."

"I'm off balance right now." the dragon growled, spreading its left wing, an obvious discrepancy to the right in its structure, "That kink in my back's starting to get to me. Lesson learned: don't tackle the explosions of evil bases. It hurts."

"Words to live by." the demon smirked, turning back to Block Bot, "Now, did you want something from us?"

Baalial made no effort to hide his thoughts, his conscious mind throwing out whatever lay on the surface just like everyone else.

I guess Hotaka's got a point. We really do need to be more careful than usual. I'll make a note to Balthazar to change the summoning scroll into a delayed effect...

((Well, okay...not entirely sure what I should be doing, but I guess I can instigate something.))

"Is there any particular reason for your rudeness?" the Sword Colonel inquired of Energon as she stepped behind and just to the left of him, "Because I'm fairly sure that working for the Lady Grey has yet to turn one undead."

"I quite agree with my sister." the Sorcerer intoned with a huff of animosity, "If you don't like Vanguard, there are better ways to communicate your hostility. File a complaint with Longbow like everyone else..."

"Were it not my job to help you, I should take severe offense at that." the Sword Sorcerer returned with an exasperated huff, "Besides, how should I know? I don't recall ever saying that we knew how the tracker did its job, did I...?"

The patch of woods Baalial had stepped into gave a slight rustle. A series of muttered Japanese curses could be heard.

"Oh now, don't be like that." the demon's voice sighed, barely audible, "And yes, I did, see? Scroll of Summoning Dragon. Very minor. If someone picked up magic of that tiny amount on their radar, they'd better have an orbital sniffer in addition to several times the amount of paranoia of the Malta Group. Now you come on and change. We don't have all day, you know..."

The Watcher wasn't quite sure what to make of this. Still, he supposed he'd better keep trailing this thing, for better or worse.

Still, this was getting taxing, not the least reason being the sudden scatter of the group. Hadn't the idea been to let the tracker go ahead, then follow as a coordinated group to stave off assaults...?

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

The Sword Operatives seemed to have given up on coordinating the pursuit before it had even started. That didn't necessarily mean they didn't care, however, just that people bounding off left and right with their superior travel abilities somewhat left them in the dust.

With a collective shrug, the duo entered their truck again, the vehicle giving a lurch forward as the Sorcerer released its brakes, engine roaring happily with the taking up of pursuit...

Do you know nothing? The Jenkis posts are everywhere. Thinking that there's only this many...that's just what they want you to believe!

It likely didn't take the group but a few minutes to reach the intersection where they'd intended to split, one team heading left in Small Toy's footsteps while the other headed right, forging ahead into the unknown.

The left group would find the same sights the specialized battle drone had, some of the fallen Gunmen obviously having been displaced from the bloody smears on the floor they'd originally collapsed in.

The missing bodies had been displaced, but not dragged. This was a visible fact. Indeed, everything pointed to the conclusion they'd been ripped right out of existence, reduced to nothing but thin air by some malevolent force.

The right passage didn't look much more promising, the corridor curving to the left as it left the corpses at the intersection behind. From what the right-bound group could see, this curve seemed to be clear of bodies, although visible damage still stained the wall's formerly artistic sections.

It was in one such partition the group discovered yet another blast door. It sat about the rounding to the left a tad, just a hair too far out of sight from the intersection for Small Toy to have picked up on it earlier.

But that wasn't the odd part.

The gate sat open a crack. Right down its center, the two massive armor plates that composed the halves of the door stood just slightly apart, the interlocking teeth of geometry on each side perhaps the width of a narrow human head from one another - the sort of space only a cat girl could squeeze through (after all, cats could supposedly squirm their way into any space large enough to poke their heads through).

Still, it was wide enough to easily see the other side. Not that there was much to see, that was. The corridor beyond lay dipped in murk, most lighting elements just beyond the door having fallen victim to what must have been a gruesome battle. A few flickering fires paid last respects to the fallen Rikti that lay on floors and had been propped against walls and one another, the deep-orange auras of the noisily crackling flames giving the unmoving Gunmen a ghostly facade.

No, not entirely. One still moved! The form could barely be made out due to the light just ahead of the blast door interfering with the absence beyond, but there was definite movement in the figure crouching over its fallen comrade, and...

That was no Gunman. That wasn't even a Rikti. The silhouette might have been unfamiliar, but it certainly wasn't a Rikti suit of armor - and considering the form sat hunched over the torn-open armorsuit of a real Gunman, it wasn't a tough guess as to what that arm was doing in the hole of the suit's chest plate...

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

"Aren't you the curious one." the creature answered the Fool with a toothy smirk, "In this order: no, no, yes, the Doc's orders, and the Hundred-Year Plan."

Seeing the Fool's somewhat confused expression, the supercomputer's representation decided to explain a bit further, "Meaning you were right with your third guess of my form's origin. I'm a Pai'un 'Salic, from the Swarm. Actually, make that Swarm Four. Every Swarm is a little different. Don't worry about it. If things keep on track this time, it won't be back in this galaxy for another million years, so you'll probably never see it."

"As for my orders," the Pai'un 'Salic went on, "Like I said, I was created to help out the Doc. So if he tells me to do something, I do it if it's at all reasonable - and the Hundred-Year Plan calls for humanity to undergo a few changes before it can be assimilated...but I guess you don't need to worry about that either, at least not for a while yet. That's planning on a cosmic scale with a 7-dimensional rasterpattern. What you should be worrying about right now is helping the Rikti."

In the span of this conversation, the elevator had already taken them back up to the illusory cityscape, the path out of the supercomputer's outer workings clear and unobstructed ahead of the fool.

"Time to say goodbye." the denizen of the Swarm gave a polite nod to the Fool, "Oh, and I wouldn't talk about what you've learned here if I were you. And no, that's not a threat. Humanity's just a little backwards when it comes to things they can't 'rationally' explain. They'll probably decry you as crazy if you don't, maybe try to dismantle you or some such. They seem really afraid of intelligent machines in general..."

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

The Zeus hummed stoically, bringing a cannon arm about with the speed and power of an industrial-grade pneumatic ram, attempting to strike Matt with a savage pummel.

Not caring whether this actually succeeded or not, the ominous hum was already a clue to its next strategic step. Not moments after the melee brawl, the Zeus Titan retracted the blast shields from its arms and made ready to unleash one of its most feared attacks: the quad plasma blast.

The TacOps Commander, however, now seemed to be ignoring the heroes, even though he had a good shot at both and his sidearm wasn't anything to be sneered at, even by a super. All he seemed to care about at the moment was the sniper rifle he'd dropped. What was so important about that thing...?