DeviousMe

Hm, I never really thought of it that way...

Good thing I'm evil.

Geez, mon. Don't you turn into a gold farmer on us.

((*pokes Beebs* ))

"I still don't think that's a good idea." the arriving task force members caught Acid in a conversation with one of the Vanguard technicians, his heavy cloak moving in a frustrated fashion, "Yes, I agree everything has to look real, but if someone were to get in here before this place officially opens, then what would they think?"

"But we've got the door under guard 24/7." the man from Vanguard protested, "And it's not like anyone could figure it out from just looking at the thing."

Acid gave a defeated sigh. The man had point enough. He turned to the technicians working on the 'portal projectors', said funny-looking boxes (normally arranged around the gateway) sitting there disconnected on the floor.

"I guess you're right." he finally admitted, "Sorry, I'm just paranoid like that sometimes. Just...get those things back up there ASAP, alright...?"

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

The fake Bane Spider laughed at Power Breaker's words, "Trust me, if you could analyze my posture right about now, you scanner'd be saying 'I don't think you bend this way'. Miss Arcade, are you coming? We can't just hover here forever you know. People are expecting us..."

Hat: "Hufflepuff!"

"Techno Tyrant, huh?" Baalia cracked his neck to the side, a bullet having lodged itself there earlier. The blazing aura of felfire about him seemed to do more than just protect, the demon's wounds closing again as the infernal flames burned about his form. Even his suit mended again, "This should be amusing....hm? Oh, fine."

Opening his briefcase, Baalial shook out a pile of bones and rotting flesh, complete with a festively colorful poncho, giant sombrero, and a jet-black guitar case. I didn't take two seconds for the pile to take form, an undead visage with slick sunglasses filling the space under the ridiculously giant hat. The half-rotten hands of a zombie held the guitar case in a more than overplayed fashion of machismo, the man who appeared as some manner of undead Mexican setting a hateful glare upon the androids.

"My name is Antonio Rodriguez Barrichoso Tamales." the zombie sneered at them with an obviously fake, yet flawless Spanish accent, "You killed my father. Prepare to die..."

Negative. But i10 is on test.

Hermod, you're going to like the resolution of the second invasion then. And all your heroes are going to feel majorly depressed for killing even a single Rikti.

[ QUOTE ]
Apex Twin grunted as Combat Toy grabbed him, struggling in the robot's grasp. "Killing me will only bring hell to your precious Resistance!"

[/ QUOTE ]
"Too late." Baalial chuckled with a toothy grin as he walked by to join the group up ahead, "I'm already here."

Hotaka smiled as well, despite the apprehension in the air. He mentally prepared for what he suspected was to come, hoping Toy would be quick enough on the trigger if things came down to it. With stoic silence, he followed the group to the detention area.

[ QUOTE ]
"I'll get one or two if someone can distract them!" Toy shouted as he clenched his fists tightly. The electricity that normally flickered over his body quadrupled in speed and size as he temporarily supercharged his aura.

"I can only hold this for so long, so hurry up!" Toy grunted, strain causing his voice to static heavily.

[/ QUOTE ]
"I think I've got just the thing." Baalial replied good-naturedly. His aura of felfire flared brightly as he stepped into the open, the turrets immediately locking in on the demon. If they followed a thermal targeting system, the heat alone would be enough to make him the only visible target. But just in case...

"Your mother was a washing machine!" Baalial laughed as he kept moving forward, heavy rounds tearing into his suit and flesh, staining the demon's skin with thick black blood. Nevertheless, Baalial seemed ignorant to any pain, his step steady as he moved closer and closer...

In the respectably spacious cargo bay beyond the chopper's ramp, Power Breaker and Jake would find plenty of seating room despite the jumble of supplies and equipment that had been stacked along the walls in cargo suspenders. The aircraft was large enough to carry a military supply truck, but with the large numbers of sealed, high-tech crates it carried, things seemed quite a bit smaller than they were.

At the dividing wall of cargo bay and flight deck stood a duo of uniformed personnel - and although the man and woman weren't exactly big, the two would certainly be classified as 'scary-looking'. Clad in segmented armor finely interlocked with body-tailored uniforms, the duo simply stood and observed with eyes hidden behind masks of metal segments, leaving no clue as to who they were or what they actually looked at.

Vanguard.

"My associates." the fake Executioner indicated the two as he stepped into the aircraft, the chopper bobbing ever so slightly as it balanced out the mass of the Bane Spider uniform, "Don't worry about them. If they wanted to pull something, they'd have done it already..."

((Not quite sure what just happened, what with the deletions and all, but I'm sure yalls'll let us in on it sometime. ))

The ningyo didn't need to be asked twice, Apex presenting himself as a target more opportune than any he'd ever beheld. With a swift twist of fingers, a katana twirled about from front to rear, and then the Jounin spun to clave the villain's spine in half.

Not a second later, a blinding cloud of what resembled thick black smoke exploded outward without warning, covering the area in flittering murk. It robbed just about everyone of vision, rendering sight all but useless. If anyone managed to actually land a strike where they wished to, it would be close to a miracle.

The source was immediately obvious - the ningyo had burst apart, one of the Heavy Assault Soldier's energy blasts flaying the construct of shadows apart just an instant before Apex would have been sliced apart by the blades.

Still, however covering for the villain it may have been, he'd be in the same boat as the small group around him if he tried to counter attack. If he chose to try and escape again, he'd have to do so quickly - in no more than four seconds, the shadows about would consume the murk once more, and everything would be out in the open again...

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

"Understood." Baalial replied to seemingly no one, his means of communication more ethereal than actual device (though Toy and entourage could perceive Hotaka's transmission just as well), "Oh, and not that I'm not having fun here, but wasn't there another point to this than just general chaos...?"

((Lightning strike with no storm? Dunno about Arachnos, but I know that'd make me suspicious. ))

"Oh, of course not." the fake Bane Spider chuckled, turning to Jake, "Arachnos gone would create a massive power vacuum. That'd be very, very disruptive to my plans. Lucky for me, they're pretty good at staying on top, so I don't think I've got much to worry about for the time being."

As he told them this, the beating for rotor blades already echoed in the distance. In the form of a growing black speck, the hueless MI-26 closed in the distance.

"I see they stepped on the gas again." Acid remarked with a little disdain, placing the mace back where it belonged and crossing his arms, "Man, I wish they wouldn't do that."

Before long, the night-black HALO roared overhead, the crew making one last check with the Arachnos personnel that they would be picking up their operatives now. Within a few minutes, the chopper hovered in flying astern, and the rear ramp lowered to within a few centimeters f making contact with the girder.

"Please, do step inside." Acid motioned to the waiting aircraft, "And quickly. I'm starting to feel like the giant roach from Men in Black in this thing..."

Apex's left fist struck home, knocking the ningyo into a backflip and against the wall. Like a collection of nothing but dust, the man vanished in a cloud of very dense black smoke that immediately dispersed back into the dark. That was the problem with shadow ningyo - fast and lethal, but they just couldn't take a good punch.

The right fist went wide, the ningyo evading deftly. Apex really should have followed up, as his attacker now aimed to stop his escape by cutting his legs out from under him.

Literally...

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

"This could be a problem." Hotaka grumbled as he removed his palm from the floor again, standing tall as his hidden eyes surveyed the place. Yes, there was no doubt about it. The echo had told him all he needed to know.

"Baalial, Toy." he produced a communicator from his robes, contacting the troop, "This place is on a hair trigger. Get everyone moving toward the exit and quickly. Plan B is gather in one spot so I can...you know. I'll need a blackout, though..."

Thankful that things had kept running somewhat smoothly, Acid returned to the group, satisfied that they'd already prepared and assembled for departure.

"Alright." his hooded head gave a nod, "Let's move."

With a flash of white light, the door he'd come through vanished into thin air, replaced by a luminous vortex roughly three meters in diameter. The gateway resembled slowly swirling liquid light, fluid purest white, yet somehow wasn't blinding to the eye. It was simply there, like a blank spot in a painter's canvas.

"Light gate." Acid explained, stepping forward, "Don't worry, it won't atomize ya or anything."

Without further ado, he stepped into the gateway. Those following would find themselves transplanted into a certain nondescript building in Cap au Diable without even noticing a transit had occurred - the regional Vanguard DPO.

Apparently, low tide persisted right now, as maintenance personnel had stripped some of the six funny-looking boxes off the wall around the portal, busy adding more blinking lights to them...

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

"Yes yes yes." the Executioner waved his fingers toward her nonchalantly, his attention more on the jack-in point, "One moment."

As if it was the most natural thing in the world, the main aimed his mace at the spot, unleashing a powerful crimson beam into the structure, vaporizing more than half of the material at the impact site with cacophonous noise.

"Requesting Control." he then put two fingers to the side of his helmet, "Reporting area clear. Rikti. A few. Nothing to worry about. Negative. Eliminated. Not alone - we had some unexpected help from Vanguard. Two. I didn't ask. Because Lord Recluse has ordered us not to. Do you really want to be the one to question his orders?"

The Executioner chuckled at the obvious reply from the other end of the channel, "I thought so. Of course. Out."

"That oughta take care of them for a while." the man turned to Penny again, "That could've gotten dangerous. You're very good, Miss Arcade, but Arachnos shouldn't be taken so lightly. I do hope you had a back-up plan. Either way...oh, how rude of me. My name is Acid, and the helicopter should be here any minute..."

Eh, I wouldn't call it a retcon. Remember that in the original traliers, all Rikti wore battle armor, not just the upper echelons. I'd say it's something they've been wanting to do since the beginning.

As for retcon, it stands for "retroactive continuity" - the adding of new information to "historical" material, or deliberately changing previously established facts in a work of serial fiction.

On the roof of the building, the black HALO's rear ramp gave a hydraulic roar as it was pulled into the fuselage of the chopper once more, the idling turbines revving up to flight speed, blades of the main rotor spinning up to generate lift once more.

Leaving behind several Longbow agents seeking cover from the buffeting winds, not to mention cursing under their breaths at the lack of any warning for the unannounced departure, the MI-26 locked in a course due east...

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

"That won't be necessary." Acid answered McMillan with what seemed like a gentle smile in his voice. The folds of the cloak shifted about, as the wearer was clearly moving something around inside, "In fact, I recommend you cut the channel as quickly as possible. Arachnos isn't bad when it comes to tracking hackers, and I'm rather sure they're already further than you. Now, if you'll excuse me, time may be of the essence here. Oh, and don't worry - I'll take care of this personally."

Acid turned to leave, hoping the Commander would take things as they were for now. His present state of emotion suggested it, at least.

Dammit...why does telepathy have to be so hard to learn...?

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

Not far down the girder Penny had taken refuge on, a hulking figure who donned a cape materialized form thin air. The mace-like weapon in the man's hand gave him away almost immediately - a Bane Spider Executioner, the markings of the Elite Division prominently evident upon his broad shoulders.

"Now then..." the Executioner mumbled under his breath, voice somewhat garbled by the helmet, "Gotta be somewhere around here. Miss Arcade! Oh, Miss Arcade, where aaare youuu...?!"

((Damn server not displaying non-American characters! Now I see why Term had to use a normal o.))

Apex's plan came to naught. The ningyo made a beeline right for him, spearing headfirst through the blinding powder. They had no eyes to blind, needed none to see.

Not paying attention to them after that was an even more grave folly. The two were upon him faster than he knew, and by the time he threw the handful of caltrops behind him, the duo had closed to melee range - one in front, one behind, and four katanas diving to draw blood between them...

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

"I should hope so." Hotaka chuckled, his head's turn following apex, "Well, off you go then."

No sooner had she leaped away than the martial artist placed a hand upon the ground, commanding the Oni to take a moment and strike a wall with a fireball. The demon obeyed deftly, conjuring a rain of fire across the room to keep the remaining Mayhem soldiers on their toes, then did as told.

Hotaka nodded in satisfaction as the Oni resumed his work. Slowly but surely, he painted himself a picture of the place...

"No, we've been hired by a third party." Hotaka answered Steve with a sly grin, extending a hand into the room in the fashion of a conjurer.

Indeed, clouds of smoke and cinders burst from nowhere as an Oni suddenly materialized on the floor. The summoned demon laughed heartily as he blasted a fireball into a random crowd of the enemy, then forged a solid katana from blazing fire and threw himself into the fray without a second thought.

"Oops." Hotaka whispered, laughing quietly, "Should've thought that one through more. Oh well."

With another raised hand, two humanoid silhouettes rose from the shadows, taking the form of ninja of the Jounin rank. Sadly, they weren't as skilled as the real Waziri and Katashi, but they'd have to do for now. So long as Hotaka stood nearby, his tactical leadership at least gave the shadow ningyō some awareness of the chaotic situation.

They followed their master as he strode into the room as if he owned the place, taking care to pre-empt any attacker that came too close with their dual katanas. They had more tricks up their sleeves, of course, but for now it was better to just have them act as bodyguards.

"Well, that won't do." Ryuu scowled as he saw someone who clearly wasn't the enemy go down. The tall man passed a hand over his face as he leaped quickly over to her, then slammed a vile green orb into Lithanika's body with the very same hand. Within moments, she felt her life and vitality return as the elixir did its work, making her even stronger than before.

"So we have one who fancies himself skilled in ninjitsu, hm?" Hotaka chuckled, "Well, let's just see how good you are. Ningyō, shiken!"

The Jounin duo took off after Apex Twin like a pair of rockets, the man clear in their eyeless sights as he was in the senses of Hotaka...

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

"Yes, do come closer." Baalial laughed diabolically, unleashing a wave of felfire alongside his blazing aura that consumed pert of the essence of the nearby soldiers, reinvigorating the demon and enabling him to keep fighting tirelessly.

Claws wrapped in the netherworldly flames of the Pit tore into Mayhem soldiers, though the demon had to admit his real job here was crowd control - Mini Bot and Small Toy were the ones really cranking the carnage into overdrive here...

For a moment, the figure just stood there in silence, the folds of the heavy gray cloak unmoving, the rim of cloth motionless on the floor. Underneath the drooping hood, in the blackness where a face should have been, McMillan could have sworn the figure now stared at him with a raised eyebrow.

"Uh-huh..." Acid finally let out quite slowly, the long hooded head turning about a bit, "Okay, where's the hidden camera? You're just pulling my tail, er leg, right? What're we playing today? Confuse the mastermind? I hate that. You're not a controller in disguise, are you?"

Of course, the figure meant something completely different than the Commander might have expected - not the fact that a seemingly untraceable call was coming in from the Rogue Isles, but that McMillan was being so distrusting of one 'villain', yet so open with another.

In short, Acid couldn't believe the man would be so forthcoming with him. After all, that was the very reason the Longbow around were giving him the cold shoulder all the time. If they hadn't been ordered not to from high places, they probably would've shot Acid on the spot.

Then again, McMillan was Freedom Corps - not technically Longbow. It was entirely possible he didn't know.

"Wait, you're being serious?" Acid's head moved back a bit in astonishment, then the faceless hole looked down upon the drab gray robes before turning to the Commander again, "Wow, I never thought this'd really work, you know? I just thought I'd try to be polite and not scare anyone. You humans seem to find my appearance particularly offensive at times. Oh, I'm sorry, I'm rambling - yes, I know Miss Arcade. Or rather, I know of her through a friend. She's being honest, if that's what you were asking about..."

((Aoops. Fix'd.))

"You know it doesn't really work that way." Baalial commented, closing his draconic eyes to obtain better focus, "Unless this Apex Twin is some sort of concentrated ball of evil, darkness, and malice, the only thing I can do is get us clo...oh wait, I think I spoke too soon."

"You're kidding, right?" Hotaka wanted to know, cocking his head to the side quizzically.

"Nope." retorted the demon with a toothy smile, "Giant collection of anger, hate, jealousy, rage, resentment, and just general chaos of bad mumbojumbo. You wouldn't believe how easy to find that was. Okay, here we go."

A snap of the demon's fingers was all it took. Actually, it didn't even take that much. Baalial just felt he should be giving a signal or something. The scenery changed from one instant to another as the telepad cavern vanished into oblivion at the apex of endlessly long streams of surrounding, only to be replaced in almost zero time by a much larger cavern in which a gargantuan riot raged.

"Oops." Baalial remarked with an embarrassed grin, "I think I got the wrong address."

"Nono, we're right." Hotaka assuaged the demon calmly, indicating the buckled door at one end of the room, "Bunch of people just stormed through here. I can still smell 'em."

"You sure?" questioned the demon.

"Of course I'm sure." Ryuu insisted, "If you don't believe me, just look in deep infrared or something - you'll see their tracks all over the place. We're right where we wanted to be...well, within a dozen meters, anyway. And considering this outpouring of mutual hate right here, I can't really blame you."

Baalial gave a shrug. It was true enough. Actually, this was quite a bit better than if they'd landed right in the middle of it all.

"I'll take these guys then." the demon nodded to the others, an aura of felfire springing up about his form, not even wrinkling the business suit, "Join you as soon as I'm done sucking out their souls."

"Okay." Hotaka gave a nod, advancing to the door as the demon made himself part of the riot, and ran a hand over the material. He turned to Combat Toy as he stepped back again, "As far as I remember, this was always your forte..."

Instead of bumping, you might wanna PM Ex Libris or Arctic Sun and ask if they'd sticky this.

Hotaka and Baalial wasted no time, following Small Toy at a brisk pace. Ryuu smirked maliciously under his bamboo hat, tightening the black wrappings about his lower arms. This was going to be fun.

"I do hope there aren't any barriers in the way." the demonic lawyer commented as he laid eyes on the telepad, "Or at least that your machine is capable of breaching them."

Indeed, the likelihood of protections against unwelcome visitors was quite high. The Masters of Mayhem weren't stupid, after all.

However, even if the machine couldn't get them straight in, Vendetta knew all he had to do was provide Baalial with a general description of the location. So long as there was 'evil' there, the demon could get in literally anywhere - perk of the job, if one will...

The howl of the steam whistle sounded almost too early. Rimsey and I barely had time to slip into the stolen uniforms and drag the unconscious pair of “donors” somewhere they wouldn’t be found too soon. We broke into a run as we saw the train’s initial forward jerk, couplings clacking and chains rattling, the wheels of the locomotive spinning idle for a few seconds before they got a good grip on the steel rails.

The engine whistled once more as it slowly accelerated out of the station, Rimsey and I giving chase as inconspicuously as possible. The rear of a boxcar ended up our insertion point, and I found myself unable to recall a time when my grin had been wider. We passed the last of the armed guards on that station platform, their Kalashnikovs hanging harmlessly in the holsters on their backs, the men carrying them utterly unaware. Had my face not been covered in cloth yet again, we would’ve likely been busted right then and there.

“Anything about that strike you as odd?” Riksey questioned as the station grew smaller in the distance, the train finally picking up speed.

“A better question would be what didn’t.” a shrug accompanied my answer, “I could’ve sworn those guys heard us coming.”

Rimsey let out a sigh of relief, “Good, so it wasn’t just me. For a spot there, I thought I’d succumbed to paranoia.”

“Nah.” I shook my head, “I would’ve spotted us coming, so they should’ve too. Doesn’t make sense any other way. I think we’ve both dealt with these guys before, and I think we both know they’re better than that.”

“Hm.” the Brit gave a solemn nod, “Not to mention lighter.”
I looked at him with a thoughtful eye, “They were, weren’t they?”

The scene ran through my head again. Rimsey was right. Those two had been unusually heavy; as if their bodies had been twice the size they’d appeared. True, they’d carried a good bit of equipment, but that couldn’t fully explain the abnormal bulk. Warm clothing and weapons only weighed so much, and I could’ve sworn the guards had been far across the line there. At the time, I’d written it off as anxiety, but since the British agent had felt the same thing, I wasn’t so sure anymore.

I inspected the AK-47 I’d swiped. No different than any other Kalashnikov I’d ever seen. No heavier, either. Neither the overcoat, ushanka, or any part of the stolen uniform stood out in any way. Just plain-old, run-of-the-mill equipment of the Soviet military – and now that I’d actually inspected them in detail, the whole situation grew even more mysterious.

“Yeah, something’s not right here.” I agreed with Rimsey, placing the rifle back in its holster while I pointed to the ladder that led to the roof of the car, “C’mon, let’s see what we can find.”

I reached for the first rung of the ladder, and then promptly froze as I noticed a flit of motion in the corner of my eye. The telltale click of a Kalashnikov releasing its safety lock made sure I stayed that way.

“Don’t even think about moving.” a gruff voice that belonged to the wielder of the rifle commanded in Russian, “And you: AK on the ground or I turn your friend into a kitchen strainer.”

The dual clack of stock and barrel making contact with the shuddering metal grate underneath our feet entered my ears. We’d been caught with our pants down not half an hour into the mission. Great.

“Good start.” commented the voice, mumbled and low in tone. Likely, the owner spoke through a scarf or other sort of cloth, “I’d much prefer not to shoot either of you. But don’t mistake me for a compassionate man. I merely scorn attention. Turn around. Hands where I can see them.”

Wait, what? I caught myself trying to turn and get a look at this guy. Didn’t want attention? What was going on here?

“Now then,” the uniformed – exact same thing that Rimsey and I had “borrowed”, of course – man started again after he’d climbed down to us. He stood a little shorter than I, but also a bit broader in the shoulders, the Slavic features of his face clearly outlining eyes of neutral gray, “you’re going to tell me what’s going on with this train and where it’s going. And be quick about it.”

Had there not been a Kalashnikov pointed at my guts, I probably would have started laughing. Well, that explained that. Of course, said explanation opened up an entirely different can of worms, a deluge of questions flooding my mind. Still, my lips twitched a bit as they curled into a smirk.

“Yeah, about that.” I answered in English, earning a puzzled look as the man’s gray eyes widened, “That’s what we were going to ask you.”

“You are American.” he remarked in like language, his accent noticeable but not excessive, though his tone was clearly befuddled. It took him a little longer to come to the same realization that I (and Rimsey as well, I suspected) had arrived at already. Still, I breathed a sigh of relief as the muzzle of his rifle sank after a short discourse. I did much prefer words to bullets. Most everyone did.

At first, he of course distrusted us a great deal. Eventually however, Rimsey managed to convince him we really were here to investigate the very same thing as he. Koschev he gave as his name, and as I had hypothesized, agent of the Komitet Gosudarstvennoy Bezopasnosti – Committee for State Security, or abbreviated simply KGB.

Needless to say, his presence here already made little sense, and this quickly changed to no sense at all as he told us he wasn’t here to covertly monitor the activites of any sort of military company because there wasn’t any here. But if these people weren’t with the Soviet military, as they presented themselves to be, then who in God’s name were they?

“I haven’t the slightest idea.” Koschev gave answer in Russian once more, the three of us having switched languages just in case, “And you’re both telling me you have no idea where this train is going?”

Rimsey and I shook our heads. It was odd, really. We could’ve all been lying, and each of us knew because we’d all been trained to make deception not just our jobs, but expand it into an art. Yet here we stood, and it all felt so honest. I couldn’t put my finger on it, but I was absolutely, positively, and one hundred percent confident that the Russian was telling the truth. Even stranger, Rimsey and he seemed to have the same sensation. British, American, and Russian, all together and none of us lying to one another. We were sure of it.

“I don’t know about you chaps,” Rimsey voiced his concern, “but I find this bloody creepy. Shouldn’t we at least…I don’t know…be trying to pry confidential information or state secrets out of one another? Not that they tell us any, but…I mean, not that I don’t prefer it this way, don’t get me wrong, but this is giving me the willies.”

We took a moment to consider this. Make that quite a few moments. There just wasn’t any asnwer forthcoming, even as I stared at the cloudy sky in a vain attempt to discern anything wrong with me.

“We have bigger problems.” the Russian suddenly drew my attention, having moved back to the goardrail to look toward the front of the train. I couln’t be entirely sure, but his face looked a good deal paler than before.

The moment Rimsey and I looked around the car as well, I could see why. The tracks described a very large curve, leading to a bridge strethcing over a humongous gorge ahead; or rather what would have been a bridge had it not ended in a twisted pile of wood and metal after just a few dozen meters.

I felt a sudden lump in my throat as I saw what I didn’t want to believe – the locomotive steamed straight for it at speed!

"Try these." Acid suggested, the hooded figure handing Carnacki a pair of sunglasses much like those seen on Arbiter Sands, "And if I were you, I wouldn't be so nervous about your outward appearance. Most people here just don't have much of a sense of aesthetics. Don't worry about it. Now, if you'll excuse me."

The barked announcement had been the last boulder. This was getting out of hand. Intent in his step, Acid walked briskly out the door, the robed figure making a beeline for a certain office.

"I'll handle this." he told Gabe as he passed him and Static Therapy, "You get everyone ready to go. The longer we stay here, the more likely this is to be compromised."

The Longbow agents about once more gave him the stink eye as Acid moved through the building, but at this point he didn't really care. There was business to settle.

McMillan may or may not have been surprised when his office doors burst open and instead of Gabe came someone that resembled a Circle of Thorns reject than anything else, the heavy gray cloak and hood giving an almost ridiculous appearance without any sort of glowing eyes. Still, the broad shoulders hinting at some sort of armor underneath did spread just a hinting twinge of malice.

"Do we have a problem?" the figure confronted McMillan in a stern, yet polite tone, though Acid may as well have told him straight-out that there had better not be a problem...

((And what about Commander McMillan? ))