Ineffable

The floor twisted around as he walked at it, and before he knew it, he was back in the bar.

DJ Zero and the Waiter were gone.

"Sup." Poe said, waving at him.

He was standing upside down mid-air.

Irritation.

Resistance.

Powerful.

Unstoppable.

ANNOYANCE.

Prevention.

Shift.

Place.

Influence.

Ready.

-----

The Vanguard Truck, despite its modifications, could not travel through the Powerderkeg.

Why? Simple. That particular area was home to three key methods of transportation:

Bridges

Ramps

Tunnels

All the available bridges were either snapped down the middle or were simply tilted at an angle making them impossible to traverse.

All the ramps were either completely blocked off by fallen pillars or statues or even fallen bridges mentioned above. Worse yet, these ramps also formed WALLS. GIANT WALLS. These walls were present everywhere in this section of the zone, and these were not your average three meter tall or five meter tall walls. These walls were 30, 40 meters average.

And finally, the tunnels that gave passage THROUGH these walls were all either completely caved in or blocked off by fallen walls, statues, et cetera.

If the truck wanted to follow the tracker, they would not be doing so through the Powderkeg. They would have to travel the outskirts of this section to get across it.

The clockwork that hadn't already been beaten retreated, falling into the shadows, cracks in the roads, or by simply falling to pieces which rolled and clattered away.

Fortunately, the group was unbothered for the rest of the way.

The tracker suddenly landed. It had reached its location. The outskirts of the Cannonade. It had landed at a three-way street junction, and it sensed that what it sought was right at the dead center of the junction. Not below it, nor above it, nor to the side. No matter what the tracker tried, it got the same results. Right there in that one spot.

Seeing as how it had easily outsped everyone there, it was probably logical to wait for them to arrive before events proceeded...

"Didn't think I would need that...Note to self, always plan all the way to plan Z12." Poe muttered to himself.

He got up out of his chair and began to move. He'd need to act fast.

-----

Kipland woke up.

He was in Pocket D!

He was sitting right there at the bar, almost as if he'd just fallen asleep.

"Can I get you anything else?" Asked a cheery and genuinely friendly voice.

It was the watier, and it wasn't Poe. That had to be a good start.

Well, it would have been, except the waiter didn't have a face. It was just smooth skin were his facial features should have been. He didn't even have a mouth to speak the words Kip had just heard.

"Or is there anyone you'd like to see?" Said another voice.

DJ Zero stood behind him, and just like the watier, he appeared to have been robbed of his face.

"I mean, in case you just wanted to know what is going on currently...? The DJ questioned. His voice seemed to come from the general direction of his blank head.

And slowly, Kip became aware of the differences in this Pocket D as opposed to other ones.

For one thing, the elevator doors were gone. There was just blank wall where they should have been. The portals were all offline as well, and the windows had bars on them.

Poe stared at the screen showing the trap pit with Kip in it.

"Huh." He said, and pushed another button.

-----

That's when the ceiling directly above the pit descended like a giant crushing hammer, entering the pit and filling it perfectly, turning the trap-pit temporarilly pitch black as the giant block descended to crush everything below it.

It was, of course, designed to retract after one application.

Poe grinned as Kipland popped up on the Talos Island monitor.

He pushed a button on the console in front of him.

"Boom. Headshot." He said, cackling softly.

-----

It was less than a second after Kipland had stepped out into Talos when he stepped out of Talos and into somewhere else entirely as somebody/something teleported him.

He rematerialized in a small concrete room nine meters by nine meters in width and length. It was basic enough, with a few lights on the walls and the ceiling to properly illuminate the place. Against the wall in front of him was a grey reinforced blast door.

That dropped out of sight very fast, however.

He had reappeared mid-air. Directly below him was a giant pit in the floor, descending about twenty yards, being three yards wide in every direction. It wasn't the drop that was dangerous though, no, that was nothing.

The armed land-mines, gas traps, web grenades, and caltrops littering the bottom were the real threat.

Everything down there appeared to be organized so that hitting ONE thing would spring all of them. Being exploded, gassed, and completely covered in webbing sticky and resistant enough to immobilize and potentially even hold him while also preventing him from climbing back out of the pit, (combined with caltrops, no less) would NOT be a pleasant experience, regardless of how tough Kip was.

The interesting thing was the set-up of everything. There were only seven land-mines down there, but there were thirty five gas traps scattered about. This trap was designed to heavily wound and incapacitate, not to kill.

Not that Kip would have noticed any of this, seeing as he was probably still formulating the thought of why Talos island looked fuzzier than usual...

Bladewing assumed too much.

The Clockwork would have normally been torn to shreds by his assault, but these Clockwork were NOT acting normally.

They were THINKING.

And they were clever.

Just as Bladewing was making another sweep of the ground directly beneath the tracker, he ran into something unexpected.

He smashed solidly into a solid block of concrete.

The two Cannon Princes he had been aiming to decimate before they could target the tracker had watched him as he swept the land for the little automatons, and despite the impossibility of such, set a trap with themselves as the bait. The moment Bladewing had homed in on them, seeking to take both the constructs out in one blow, they had brought up the concrete slab.

Whether or not running into the slab hurt him or not, it DID at the very least stop him in his tracks, and that was more than enough.

Two Tesla Princes rose from their hiding spots in the rubble nearby, and they both launched beams of electrical power at Bladewing, seeking to cage and imprison him within a Tesla field.

To make matters a tad worse, a group of various Knights rose from all around. The Tesla Knights shot more Tesla cages at Bladewing, seeking to lock him down and inprison him within a field of unstable electricity. The Cannon Knights started to throw ball lightning and fire off rounds of energy bolts at him.

The Tracker also ran into its own problems. The Clockwork had long ago developed a method of combating flying heroes...

Swarming directly towards it was a swarm of Perfected Oscillators, carrying Tesla and Cannon Knights on their backs...

((Poe commits suicide after thinking too hard about time dialation fields and the difference in the operations of time and space in separate areas of the world, listening to the complete conversation going on in the D in seven while observing at the same time it ALSO takes Kip seven minutes to accomplish leaving, even though he headed for the entrance and therefore...

*Head'ploded*

((Devious, YOUR script in other RPs may read as: Yar! But in THIS RP, your script reads as this.

Script: Lo!

Get used to it. ))

"If everyone here is ready to start, you may let the tracker loose. Simply follow it and either avoid or destroy anything that gets between you and the goal."

The Chief glanced at the Blood-Houndish creature.

"And whatever you do, make sure it doesn't bite the City Representative...That would not be good for any of our careers."

((Well the top priority is to get back the Mundi and the Representative. Getting the biggest problems out of the way first. Sure, he's tough, but the threat of the Mundi in its self is infinitely greater than any one being. Once the Mundi is gone, you need to make sure he doesn't have a certain very important hostage to use as a bargaining chip, hence rescuing the Rep. Then, if he doesn't get away or turn out to have completely different intentions then expected, I suppose you'll need to fight him. HOW is completely up to you, and whether you'll even fight him or not is, additionally, all up to you depending on how you steer the story. If you do fight him, there are many ways to win, and many ways to lose. Take your pick.

So those are essentially the three goals of the RP. Accomplishing those goals? Not gonna be easy. And therein lies the story.))

"The point of our tracker here..." The Security Chief explained. "Is not to track down the Malleus Mundi nor our villain. It is going to track down Mrs. Moreira. Our sinister friend probably has enough precautions in place to ensure tracking him personally is impossible, as MAGI has already confirmed. The same applies to the Malleus Mundi. However, the City Representative...She's human. Easy to track. Easy to follow. Easy to find. Once you find her, logic states you'll also find the Mundi and her captor. If not, she may be able to yeild a clue to their location/s."

"Calm down, calm down..." The Chief said. "We'll get to that in a moment, unless you LIKE the idea of endlessly searching this wasteland of a million and two holes in the ground for him without specialized help? Now then..."

He turned to thw Sword Sorcerer.

"If you would please unveil our means of tracking?"

Of course, Kip was making a somewhat fatal mistake.

Poe had originally come to the D to get HIM for some bit in whatever plot he had concocted. It stood to reason that if he was watching the exits, he would see Kip leave, and potentially try to either murder him or capture him.

"If everyone is ready, I'm ready to give the briefing now." The security chief said to everyone in general. "Don't worry about the Clockwork right now, the Police Drones will cover the DPO for us as far as they go."

-----

Vahzilok

Camp, The Cannonade

The entire camp was a mess.

The legions of Vahzilok were much smarter than the Outcasts and the Trolls. The moment the Mortificators and the Reapers along the edges of the zone had figured out exactly what was happening, they taken all the supplies and surgical equipment they and their cadaver minions could carry and retreated to the only safe place left. Specifically, the company of other Vahzilok groups. A quick spread of word via a few fleet-footed Reapers established a general meeting grounds.

There were easily over two hundred Reapers, a hundred and fifty Mortificators, six hundred Cadavers and Abominations, (No embalmed ones) and thirty five various Eidolons.

Seeing as they had no explosives from their embalmed monsters to use as a defensive permiter of sorts, the Reapers had quickly gotten the reanimated dead to set up a base perimeter constructed mainly of stone and anything else the Clockwork wouldn't mistake for scrap. They were relying on camoflage to keep them alive now.

The Mortificators, in the meantime, had all met up and were considering their options.

"We cannot combat the Clockwork. They can endlessly rebuild themselves and new numbers, we cannot use their bodies to create fresh cadavers!" One shouted.

"We cannot be driven out of Boomtown. It our largest Haven by large." Another said.

"Or WAS at any rate." Another said dryly.

"We can't deal with this! It's all too much!"

"I've got it!" One of them suddenly shouted. "Somebody go and get Karl! He was in the Powderkeg last I checked! Let HIM deal with this!"

"Done and done." Said a voice at the edge of the group.

A large cleft suddenly formed as Karl the Mortificator walked forward, with his signature coffin strapped to his back and his 'medical case' in hand.

Aside from his accessories, Karl looked just like any other Mortificator, save for the aura of power and leadership coupled with ambition that flowed about him. He spoke with a very faint German acent and tended to pull his Ss, but not enough for it to be considered a lisp. He had surgery scars criss-crossing every portion of his body, even his head. "Never perform on a patient what you arn't willing to perform on yourself." He always said.

"The first thing we must do is gain allies in this mess. Some very powerful people are coming, and if the Vahzilok are to survive, we must adapt, adopt, and improve..."

-----

Clockwork

There was no ticking this time.

Just a steady hum of a heavy generator running.

A mammoth construct watched with malevolent eyes as everyone gathered in the DPO.

Why...?

Why where the rest of its lord's subjects acting as such, defying his direct orders...?

Because they had seen the truth.

And now it had too.

The Mammoth construct slowly shambled away, heading to the center of the Powderkeg.

Poe stormed back to his hideout.

After leaving the D, he had specifically planted and activated surveilance around each entrance, both in Paragon City and the Rogue Isles. Teleporting all the way and back had been a [censored], but it wasn't like his generators couldn't handle the strain.

So he sat down and watched the minitors.

The moment Power Breaker stepped outside, one of two things would happen, depending on the situation.

A: Power Breaker would get teleported into a pile of landmines.

B: He would be cautious enough to have his Entrophy shield up, making him resistant to teleportations. So then Poe would teleport away anyone who happened to be near him, teleport in himself, and settle the little conflict once and for all.

He wasn't a patient man, but he could wait. Just this once.

He glared at the screens, waiting.

The Security Chief nodded.

"We're waiting for other potentials to show up first. Help yourself to anything in those bins. We'll brief you soon."

The Council Base

Grenadier Village

Archon Auswitch polished his boots.

Then he checked the clock.

He went and shined his badges.

He checked the clock again.

He lit a cigar.

Then he checked the clock again.

Where was that BLASTED Adjutant?

In truth, the Adjutant in question was running late on purpose. None of the men in the base particularly liked Archon Auswitch very much.

It had all started when the good Archon had been recommended for promotion by Archon Burkholder himself, who just HAPPENED to be a cousin. Naturally, Archon Auswitch had been assigned to the Megamech project on Striga.

He had not been condemned to Boomtown for failure. Oh no, failure was perfectly understandable when it came to the Megamech.

He had been condemned to the Boomtown Council Cell for forgetting what the launch code for the Megamech WAS in the first place, mistaking one of the heroes for a solider and helping him to set a bomb, of all things, accidentally shooting three of his own soldiers, and after all the heroes had been defeated and it miraculously looked like the Megamech project would actually SUCCEED, he had gone and pressed the button that closed the seal at the top of the volcano.

DURING the launch phase.

Normally such idiocy would have been awarded swiftly with death, except, as it turned out, Archon Auswitch had gotten wound up in some of the legal affairs of Archon Burkholder, and he had proven moderately useful in getting the man out of the Zig. So instead of executing him and tossing his corpse into the sewer network to be left for the dead, (literally) he was condemned permanently to supervise the Boomtown Council Cell. Or, simply put 'The Dead End of the Career Ladder,' as far as the Council went.

HE had thought he was being elevated to some key position critical to the plans of the Center.

HE thought that the cell actually MATTERED.

In short, he was an idiot, an incompetent, and everybody hated his guts. Not the best of combinations.

Over an hour later, a certain Vortex Cor Leonis Adjutant by the name of Salvatore entered the room. He was the person who actually RAN the base while they shut the Archon up in here and loaded him down with faked paperwork to fill out.

Unfortunately, once every week or so, SOMEBODY had to take up the unpleasant duty of delivering the 'report' to Archon Auswitch. That happened to be Salvatore.

"You're late by over an hour." Archon Auswitch snapped. "If you're late again your rations will be reduced and I'll personally see to it you become war-wolf chow."

"Of course sir." Salvatore replied smoothly. 'If only we HAD any war-wolves here. The soldier thought to himself wistfully.

"Report." The Archon said.

"Clockwork activity in the Powderkeg and the Fuse has increased slightly. The Lost seem to have withdrawn into their hideouts and are keeping quiet, for no particular reason. The Vahzilok continue to scavenge about everywhere for new victims, as per usual, and the Trolls and the Outcasts continue to make fools of themselves in the Fuse." The Adjuntant said.

'And he thinks this is an actual REPORT. How would you like to know about the liquid nitrogen valve that has a loose bolt in it that is slowly frosting your office door shut, hmmm? But no, such things are too LOW for you to bother yourself with, you need REAL information, don't you? What do you care if the entire base falls apart while you play a proverbial fiddle?'

"I want extra patrols of fifteen men in the Powderkeg to figure out what the Clockwork are up to then." The Archon said.

"Yes sir." 'Like we actually HAVE that many men. When was the last time he saw the REAL enlistments form?'

"Is there anything else to report this week?"

"No sir." Salvatore said, keeping a straight face behind his helmet and restraining himself from laughing.

'Aside from the IMPORTANT stuff. Like the dangerously low supplies, the Vahzilok disguising themselves as trash heaps and ambushing what very few patrols we DO have, not to mention our last Mech actually FLED, and that it has easily been over a year since the base last underwent proper maintenance. But there you have it, none of that is really that important...You stupid twit.'

For a few moments it looked like the Adjutant would actually get out of the office with his intelligence mostly intact.

Nothing in life is EVER that easy.

The alarm klaxons suddenly blared.

"What is that?" The Archon shouted.

"Almost certainly nothing sir! Nothing we can't handle sir! We'll get right on it sir!" The Adjutant shouted back, unslinging his rifle and heading for the door.

To his horror, he heard Archon Auswitch retrieve his rifle from beneath his desk, and march right after him.

'Oh god, PLEASE, not during an actual emergency...

"Sir, I advise that you remain here, the situation is entirely under contr-"

"I'm sick and tired of paperwork, I don't care if it’s some stupid drug-addled troll who accidentally passed out against the door, I am PERSONALLY handling this situation."

'If it IS a drug-addled troll, you'll be the first person in history to actually turn such a situation into an emergency bordering nuclear apocalypse.’ The Adjutant thought grimly, but he didn't oppose the Archon. He did pull rank.

A short time later…

Council soldiers, weapons armed, running about and shouting, were all gathered about the doorway.

“What is it?” Salvatore asked one as he ran by.

“Clockwork!” The soldier responded, settling behind a short wall and aiming his rifle at the sloped cave passage leading up to the door. “There’s an entire army of the little things at there. We locked the door and they started ripping it down. We barricaded it, but we think they’re going to breach it in a few minutes.

“What are you doing?” Archon Auswitch asked the soldier, who blinked behind his combat monocles.

“Loading cryo ammunition into my rifle…Sir…It tends to freeze up joints very well, and the Clockwork aren’t…”

“YOU IDIOT!” The Archon screamed. The soldier almost flinched. “THE CLOCKWORK ARE UNSTOPPABLE…”

“Unstoppable?” Salvatore asked.

“HEAVILY ARMORED…”

“Heavily Armored?” The poor soldier asked.

“DEATH MACHINES!”

Adjutant and Rifle-man both blinked again.

“Ah…Sir, I think you…” Salvatore began.

“AND THAT IS WHY YOU ARE ONLY AN ADJUTANT AND NOT AN ARCHON LIKE ME!” The Archon screamed. “WHEN YOU ‘THINK’ YOU SCREW EVERYTHING UP! NOW LISTEN!”

Both the soldiers were glaring at him now, wondering just how much he would be missed if they gave him to the Vahzilok.

“You are only to use grenades when fighting the Clockwork. LOTS of grenades. Trust me, I know all about fighting Clockwork.”

“I’m sure you do.” Said the Ascendant Archon in the corner dryly.

“WHEN DID YOU GET HERE!” The Archon screamed.

They settled for just knocking him out and putting him back into his office.

“Sir.” Salvatore saluted smartly to the Ascendant.

“At ease.” He said. “I take it you’ve been running the place…?”

“In a manner of speaking…”

“Good. Listen. I take it you know about the Malleus Mundi situation?”

The Adjutant nodded.

“The Center has taken a personal interest in this matter. We cannot interfere directly, of course, due to matters elsewhere, but we will be parachuting you new troops and supplies regularly. Your cell’s new assignment is to locate and secure the Malleus Mundi, using any means necessary. Please keep in mind though,” the Ascendant added, “That your operations are still going to be very limited. While the Malleus Mundi is indeed a very tempting prize, having to fight someone who put Statesman down just isn’t worth it, along with the trouble of having to deal with the heroes will immediately home in on us once they learn we have it. Or rather, in short…” The Ascendant leaned closer and whispered mockingly. “Somebody higher up has taken a bit of pity for you. Be thankful.”

“But let me guess…” Salvatore said. “This means Auswitch is still Archon here?”

“Unfortunately for everybody involved…Yes.” The Ascendant said. “Now then, didn’t you have Clockwork to attend to before all of this?”

There was suddenly a very loud thumping noise, followed by lots of shouting.

“What’s going on?” Salvatore shouted to the troops at the door.

“The Clockwork are throwing bodies down the passage!” One of the soldiers shouted back.

“WHAT?”

“I SAID THE CLOCKWORK ARE THROWING DEAD BODIES…”

And indeed, from the top of the passageway, an entire army of Clockwork was heaving dead bodies down the passageway leading into the base proper.

They were all Outcasts and Trolls. And they all had burns all over their corpses. The work of the little automatons above.

“Get those bodies cleared!” Salvatore yelled. “Then clear the Clockwork from the entrance and get it barricaded…

-----

Vahzilok

“Whoa.” Said a Reaper as he looked over the ruins of Boomtown.

Bodies.

There were dead bodies everywhere.

And all of them were members of the Outcasts and the Trolls.

“Jackpot boys! Let’s haul these away and whip us up some cadavers!” Shouted another Reaper. A series of huzzahs went up, and with several abominations and cadavers helping them, a small army of Reapers and Mortificators began to joyfully drag bodies off to where ever to work on them.

There was a tiny problem.

“Ok, heave!” One Reaper shouted.

A pair of cadavers lifted up the body of a Troll to reveal two Cannon Knights who had been hiding under his body. With a fury they leapt upon the surprised Reaper and he was a crisp in mere moments, with the Cadavers following suit quickly.

Such situations began to happen at every body the Vahzilok picked up.

The Clockwork had set up ambushes…

“What the HELL!” A Reaper yelled. “Run!”

But it was too late. This particular group of Vahz had walked right into a field of dead bodies.

Hundreds of green eyes peered at them from every direction as said dead bodies were rolled and shoved away by small brown almost toy-like constructs…

-----

Clockwork

*ticktickticktickticktickticktickticktickticktickt ickticktickticktickticktickticktickticktick*

All around the Cannonade, the Clockwork scavenged.

Not for scrap though.

Now they scavenged for the dead.

Whenever a body of the Outcasts or the Trolls was found, a small team of Clockwork would pick up the body and start hauling it to the Grenadier Village.

There were thousands of Clockwork all over, carrying hundreds of dead gang members.

One thing was clear. The Outcasts and the Trolls had just vacated Boomtown.

-----

The Lost

Unseen from the fortified ruins of old buildings, and from beneath sewer gratings and cracks in the ground, oddly mournful eyes watched as the Clockwork dragged away their victims.

“What are they doing?” One wondered aloud. “Clockwork aren’t supposed to behave this way.”

“But do you question my wisdom now?” Asked an odd voice that sounded old and slightly ragged.

“No, Pariah Pontifex.” The Scrounger said in a tone of reverence. “We did not believe before. We doubted the wisdom of the Green Gods. We did not know…”

“Be calm. There was no way you could have known.”

“What shall we do know though, Pariah? We cannot hide forever. Eventually the Clockwork will hunt us down to, and not even our fortified hideouts will protect us from their numbers…”

“Do not place doubt in our gods.” Pariah Pontifex replied.

He looked long and hard at a pair of figures armored in futuristic armor only he could see.

“They have the best of intentions in mind, they will keep those who are Lost safe…”

-----

"You have to go to the Green Line." The officer replied. "Vanguard has set up a portal to the DPO lobby in there, right outside on the ramp."

"I am about." Ineffable's voice drifted about the room in response to Grey's order. "Keeping an eye on things. Relatively speaking."

[ QUOTE ]
"You're right, though. Perhaps I was a bit hasty in obtaining my orders, and there isn't a way that I know of to detect teleportation... Well, maybe, I could work with Naylor to detect a dimmensional increase in energy..."He stated, trailing off and going into thought for a second or two before visibly shaking the thought out of his head. "Another time perhaps..." He muttered.

[/ QUOTE ]

"I am warning you. Do exert more caution in the future." Ineffable said sternly.

[ QUOTE ]
"But you seem like a reasonable guy." He continued, walking forward and back in a fashion that would eventually form a rut in the floor. "I don't really see a reason for you to go and snitch on me, at least, no reason that wouldn't benefit you.... You are a villain, yes?"

[/ QUOTE ]

"Oh, rest assured, unless you specifically slip up again, nobody is going to hear about this."

[ QUOTE ]
"Which leads me to this question. Why does any of my business concern you in the first place? Don't tell me you were ordered to keep an eye on me." He said this in a fashion that his wording would contradict. Instead of saying it sharply and with reprimend, he said it with pure curiosity in his voice, hoping the tone would soften up Eff's opinion of him.

[/ QUOTE ]

"I do not know exactly what you are implying." Ineffable said curtly. "I am here to merely get a few years slashed off my sentence. It is my duty as somebody working to restore their freedom to keep an eye on everyone and everything. Fresh villains being one of them."

His eyes narrowed. "BUT. Onto business. I said I would not reveal this matter to anyone. That is correct. However, in return...I need you to do me a little favor."

Ineffable reached into his jacket and pulled out a white file-folder.

"This file here contains rather...Explosive...Information in the wrong hands. Or the right hands, for that matter. I already know you'll probably look at its contents once I have left, so feel perfectly free to do so. My specific request though, that I am making...When I give you the signal, and you will know when that hapens, don't ask how...I want you to give that folder, and its contents, to either Randel Grey or to Lady Grey. They will know what to make of it. And hopefully, they may even get it to the right people before it's too late."

Ineffable handed the folder to Jake.

"I will be watching." The brute said.

He vanished.

"Really?" Asked an invisible voice. "How enormous would that be?"

Ineffable was suddenly right in front of Jake, and his thumb was a centimeter away from his nose.

"Boo." He said in his dry voice. "You should really be a bit more careful. You may be able to see through stealth, but I think you lack the insight to prevent instantaneous transportation."

He took the thumb away. "If you're this sloppy for the rest of this task force, I may just even need to steal your job from right from under your nose..."

Definitely NOT Cohen the level 47 scrapper and Brighid Moreira were both walking through Boomtown, together.

This was odd.

“I…Guess I really never understood…” She said quietly.

Definitely NOT Cohen nodded slightly.

They walked on towards their destination.

“I guess saying sorry wouldn’t begin to cover it?”

Definitely NOT Cohen the level 47 scrapper shook his head sadly.

“I thought not…” She sighed. “Just one question though…One would think it would be easier to do this elsewhere, a more central location like Atlas Park or Galaxy City. Why Baumtown? It’s Secluded, and the second northernmost zone. Once you succeed…”

“IF I succeed.” Definitely NOT Cohen the level 47 scrapper corrected.

“ONCE you succeed.” The City Representative repeated. “The change will be slow. It will happen, but much more slowly than if you had chosen a different zone. Why here?”

Silence for a long time.

“Because Boomtown is the Perfect Place for a Blast from the Past.” The dark figure finally responded. He looked South. "They'll be coming soon, you know. This is your last chance to back out. Run back to them and tell them. That was my original intent."

Moreira shook her head. "No. They wouldn't believe me, I think. Even if they did, they wouldn't do it."

"Quite true, although the entire purpose was to simply make them aware. Still, I can improvise. This plan can still work."

They arrived.

"And this is where we part ways." Definitely NOT Cohen the level 47 scrapper said. "You know what to do. Make sure to edge up along the wall, otherwise they'll spot you before-hand."

Moreira nodded. "I'll be careful." She said.

But she said this to thin air. The dark figure had already gone.

-----

The Clockwork

*ticktickticktickticktickticktickticktickticktickt ick...*

All over Boomtown, the Clockwork scavenged. This place was heavy to them. An endless waste filled with nothing but scrap and left-over metal, and nobody else around to use it.

All the other groups mostly left the Clockwork alone. The things were not hostile unless you deliberately got in their way, and they wern't much of a hinderence.

The Clockwork, likewise, left everyone else alone unless the deliberately got in the way of the little automatons and their scrap.

Soon, however, that would change. Big-time.

It started slowly.

Slowly, one by one, the Clockwork put down whatever they were holding, and slowly turned their green, lifeless glowing eyes towards the other inhabitants of the zone.

Mainly the Trolls and the Outcasts...

"No need." Ineffable materialized by Jake's shoulder. "I can aid others..."

He pointed a finger at Jake's broken arm, and a stream of green glowing energy shot from it, enveloping Jake's arm. All the pain in it seemed to fade away, and Jake regained movement of his arm.

"I learned that to help people who I accidentally touched when not paying attention." Ineffable explained casually. "And now I am going to go explore a little."

The brute vanished into thin air.

The new RP is posted and Ready.

Check out A Blast from the Past.

The Rules

Hello everyone, the rules of the RP are simple. No god moding, auto-hitting, et cetera, et cetera. This RP is EXCLUSIVELY LOCATED IN BOOMTOWN. You cannot exit under any circumstances. Given to their special nature, the Boomtown Sewer Network and Pocket D may be used in the RP. Please keep in mind, this does not restrict your movement and development space as much as you think it would. In terms of actual land-mass, (as in, zones that are not really [censored] large because of the amount of WATER in them) Boomtown is the largest hero-side zone.

Heroes and Villains are both allowed to join, how you can join is best described above.

Keep in mind though-If you don’t want to, there is no reason whatsoever you NEED to join in using that specific method. You could be a hero who parachutes in over the War-wall, or a devious villain who breaks in via an advanced teleporting device. Really, there is no need to restrict yourself as far as getting into the RP goes.

Along with that, you don’t necessarily NEED to have all your characters join the task force. They can join the RP for any reason, be it to form their own story-lines, or for other reasons entirely.

It is asked, however, that to get the main arc of the RP rolling, that any characters you do enter at FIRST enter via the Task Force entrance. This is to ensure the main story is carried out. So please make sure any characters you enter early on are entered because they want to be part of the task force. If there are any other characters you wish to enter after that, you may have them enter in any way, shape, or form.

It was another normal day in Atlas Park. Heroes fought devious and wicked villains, ending plots to over-throw the city, Mrs. Liberty lauded about on her Pedestal, completely ignoring the level fifty Malta ambushes who managed to get under the statue, Azuria kept losing everything in the Magi vault, and so forth.

It was normal for now. Soon, something new would happen. Not some cliché gang war or arch-villain attack or plot. Oh no, this would be completely new, and it would be the first time to ever happen in the entire history of Paragon City, and the tale would be told for ages to come long after it had finished…

-----

2:00 P.M.

Atlas Park, City Hall, M.A.G.I.

“Oh, hello again.” Azuria said to another new hero.

Hi. He responded.

Azuria blinked. “Errr…What?”

The hero appeared to hesitate, and then said…

“…Hi?

“Uh…anyway, what do you need today?” Azuria said, smiling awkwardly.

I require the Tears of the Spirit. Numina as[/i]ked that I might retrieve them for study.

Azuria kept smiling, but inwardly, she thought, ’Why is he talking like that? Cohen never talked like that before…Must be a new mutation or something.’

“Uh…sure.” She said. She desperately tried to remember what is was the Tears of the Spirit actually DID. (Yet more signs of her incompetence!) Nothing popped into her head. Well it had the word ‘tears’ in it, so most likely it was a blessing or empowerment charm of some sort.

A few minutes later, after completely ignoring the pointed and obvious “DANGER! NEVER EVER EVER EVER EVER EVER EVER EVER REMOVE FROM VAULT!” sign posted right beneath the vial containing the strange shimmery crystal blue liquid that was the Tears of the Spirit, Azuria handed it to what she THOUGHT was Cohen the level 47 scrapper.

“And are you ok? Your voice sounds incredibly dry.”

The hero made a few throat-clearing noises.

“All better.” He said.

-----

Definitely NOT Cohen the level 47 scrapper walked to his location.

He was on a schedule, but he took his time. He had a lot of patience.

He had a lot of patience because he had needed to wait over five years waiting for somebody stupid enough to stumble along and let himself be possessed.

Five years was, understandably, not a very long period of time when it came to these matters, but Definitely NOT Cohen the level 47 scrapper was ‘modern’ terror. None of this mystic rune or curses or inevitable ultimate doom revenge spells. Oh no, he was much more simple, stream-lined, and efficient.

He stopped thinking about that.

Instead he started thinking of the city around him.

It was…

Amazing.

It had only been five years and already it was apparent Rikti tech and advancements in technology had turned the place into a technological utopia. The shimmering blue war-walls were indeed a sight to behold. He had naturally sensed them before, of course, but seeing them was a rather different and more pleasant experience. Especially during the night.

Well, now he was ready. He had the Tears of the Spirit. He was very surprised when he hadn’t even needed to manipulate Azuria into handing the vial over. She must have really been as naïve as he had heard.

He quickly made his way away from City Hall, taking care to avoid other heroes while doing so. The first thing he did was go into a book-store. Three minutes later he emerged with several history books. There was a great deal of shouting going on inside the shop, and looking at the dark figure hurrying away with the books, it was quite clear what had happened.

Finding a bench, Definitely NOT Cohen the level 47 scrapper sat down, opened the history books, and flipped most of them to the very end, specifically around the winter of 2002. After reading for twenty minutes, he left the books on the bench, and searched for a newspaper machine. Finding one almost instantly, he gave it a solid smack with his fist, causing it to split open and spill papers everywhere.

The body of Cohen smiled for the entity of Definitely NOT Cohen the level 47 scrapper.

Right smack-bang on the front of the page read…

Brighid Moreira to award Task Force Jetstone Honorary Badges for Defending the City against attempted Praetorian Invasion.

’Task Force Jetstone, having brought the Praetorian Earth dictator, Tyrant, to justice, have enjoyed a week of celebration and commemoration. Today they will be receiving honorary badges, presented by Brighid Moreira, City Representative, and Statesman, who was present as the time of…

Definitely NOT Cohen the level 47 scrapper folded the newspaper and left it to rot on the ground, heading for his goal.

-----

Steel Canyon, Blyde Square

“…Hereby award you the ‘Hero of the City badge,’ along with Freedom Phalanx Reserve Membership.” Statesman finished. There was a polite smatter of applause. “Mrs. Moreira, take it away.”

The City Representative now stood on Positron’s pedestal. He and Valkyrie had taken off from the scene for the day.

“Thank you, Statesman. First of all, I would like to extend my deepest thanks, as City Re-“

There was a blaze of black smog which seemed to ‘drift’ across the general base the huge statue at an alarmingly fast speed.

“-pr-“

It rushed through the crowd of reporters and onlookers.

“-es-“

It rushed through the assembled team of eight heroes.

“-nt-“

It vanished.

“-at-“

Every Bystander suddenly collapsed silently onto the ground.

The eight heroes who had been Task Force Jetstone reacted as if they’d been hit by a rocket. All of them were tossed into the air like a frog leaping in zero gravity, and they came down. Hard.

“-ive…?” Finished the City Representative.

The heroes angrily got up and dusted themselves off, looking around for the cause of the commotion.

-----

Manticore frowned as the footage of the event was suddenly cut off.

He reached for his communicator, activated it, and spoke.

“We may have a problem…”

-----

A single figure advanced in a rather threatening manner down the street, approaching the base of the statue, heading right for the team of Heroes.

“And who the hell are you?” One of them spat.

“A Memoir.” The figure said.

There was another black blur. The hero who had spoken fell down onto the ground, unconscious. Definitely NOT Cohen the level 47 scrapper didn’t appear to have moved.

“Get him!” One of the heroes shouted.

What followed could have easily been described as a massacre. Statesman and the Representative watched, stunned, as who they knew as Cohen the mildly stupid level 47 nobody scrapper calmly beat the crap out of an eight-man team as if they were children. The battle was over in twelve seconds, he just placed one blow on them and they were down for the count. He simply shrugged off any blows they landed and he seemed to be ignoring the weakening effects of the team’s debuffers.

Wiping his hands off on the nearest hero’s cape, Definitely NOT Cohen looked to Statesman.

“Oh, so you’re next?” He asked.

Statesman grimly stepped off the pedestal from beside Moreira, and advanced on Definitely NOT Cohen the level 47 scrapper, full-heartedly regretting what he was about to do.

For entirely the wrong reason, as well. That had to be the stinker when he woke up three weeks later.

-----

Definitely NOT Cohen the level 47 scrapper positioned the camera very carefully. He wanted to make absolutely sure that it got what he was about to do.

Why was he doing this? Well, for the attention, of course. That was why he even still existed.

Suddenly, the news came back on, and the event continued on television.

If Manticore had THOUGHT there was a problem before, now he KNEW. He grabbed his communicator and started speaking in a commanding voice to whoever was on the other end.

-----

“Good Evening, Citizens of Paragon City.” Definitely NOT Cohen the level 47 scrapper spoke almost cheerfully to the camera.

He had moved Statesman’s body out of the camera’s range. He had some dignity.

“I am yet ANOTHER arch-villain who has just recently arrived in Paragon…”

A complete lie, but hey, it was there as a grabber. He worked with what he had. What he had was stupid television watchers and a few heroes. Go figure.

“And I intend to take over the world and meld it in my own image as that of…”

Think hard, something relatively morbid and cliché.

“…The Dark order of pure and total oblivion, and you shall all be cast into the infinite expanse of doom…”

That should do it.

“I intend to conquer this PITIFUL…”

Lovely.

“…City using nothing else than the Hammer of the World! Using this artifact…”

He waved the vial containing the Tears of the Spirit in front of the camera.

“…The Tears of the Spirit! An artifact which grants any one wish to the user! I will use the Tears of the Spirit to gather the Malleus Mundi, every last page, every last scrap and shred of it, and I will use the Hammer of the World to dominate this land!”

Well, at least THAT statement was 50% true.

He lifted the vial containing the shimmering, crystal blue liquid up to the dark depths of his hood, and the vial slowly empties.

A few moments pass.

There is a solid thud, and the Malleus Mundi, with every last page, scrap, and shred of it intact and in place, dropped out of thin air and into Definitely NOT Cohen the level 47 scrapper’s hands. The book was bound in simple black leather in its current appearance.

“…..Not even an explosion…..? That was a let-down…..”

The words were just barely audible.

“BEHOLD! I now possess the Hammer of the World! Soon, Paragon City shall fall before my invincible wrath, and the entire world will soon follow!”

He rushed off-camera.

“OFF TO BOOMTOWN, WHERE I WILL ENACT MY PLAN!” He says a little too loudly so that anyone listening to the television could have heard him plainly.

-----

By the time the rest of the Freedom Phalanx had arrived, the villain was gone, along with Brighid Moreira. He had kidnapped her.

Most devastating though was the sight of Statesman. It looked like somebody had tossed a big red white and blue cow into a wood chipper.

-----

One day later

“What do we have?” The Security chief rumbled in the Steel Canyon PPD building.

Azuria, (who was standing rather sheepishly and guiltily) and General Hammond both stood within the same room.

“Ah…Magi has leveled all of its magical forces to attempt to locate our mystery villain and his two acquisitions, but no matter what spells we use, they always seem to fail. The Baumtown nexus is completely normal, there are no background build-ups of Joule particles, and we have sensed nothing out of place there. Even after contacting two dimensional entities who are sympathetic to our race, the only thing they could conclude currently was that Clockwork activity appears to have increased slightly.” She said carefully.

“Scans using our satellites and monitoring drones have gotten zilch. Background radiation is exactly the same as always, power signatures are non-existent, and gang activities are still normal.” Hammond said.

“So our maniac most likely isn’t even IN Baumtown.” The Security Chief said flatly.

“Oh no.” Both Hammond and Azuria said at the same time.

“Our scrying spells, while unable to pinpoint any specific location, confirm that he IS in Baumtown. We just don’t know where.”

“We also have footage from global tracking and police drones of him entering Baumtown through the gate with Mrs. Moreira over his shoulder. He blew right past the drones like they didn’t exist and we haven’t even FOUND the guards yet. Our means of tracking him promptly malfunctioned to high hell the second he made it through, by the time we got everything back up and running, he’d vanished off the map.

The security chief growled in frustration.

“I’ve already had a small talk with officials from the F.B.I. They say if we cannot organize a force to retrieve the Malleus Mundi, they will be forced to…In lighter terms…Liquidate Baumtown, and unfortunately, kill Brighid Moreira in the process. They will do anything to make sure the Hammer of the World is not misused.”

“So what exactly stops us from doing just that? Why not form a task force?” Asked The City Representative’s vice secretary.

“It might have something to do with our target blowing away eight of our top heroes all by himself, outright killing three of them, and putting Statesman into a coma.” The Security Chief answered in an annoyed voice.

“I think I may have an answer…” Said a quiet voice from the corner.

Everyone turned to the Dark Watcher.

“It is Vanguard’s duty to defend not just Paragon City, but the entire world, from the Rikti Threat. However, Lady Grey agrees with me when I say that the threat of the Malleus Mundi in the wrong hands is the responsibility for all organizations to take care of. Since the second invasion attempt has calmed down and, dare I say it, failed, Vanguard will be able to spare a token force. That alone would do nothing to help the situation. HOWEVER…” The Dark Watcher paused. “If you were willing…We could set up a DPO in front of the Baumtown entrance. Specifically, right inside the zone gate. Where we would allow villains-“

There was a sudden roar and outrage as every last person in the room immediately erupted into screams and shouts, cursing the Dark Watcher, proclaiming his a lunatic, and so forth.

He continued regardless, merely raising his voice to make sure he was heard.

“-access to Baumtown and ONLY Baumtown to help heroes seek out and recover the Malleus Mundi, Mrs. Brighid Moreira, and bring our arch-villain to justice!”

Everybody quieted down a little to hear him out, although there were still several VERY angry mummers in the air.

“Vanguard would, of course, take extra special care to ensure ‘rogues’ cannot leave Baumtown via the Steel Canyon gate.” The Dark Watcher added. “I don’t like stooping down that low any more than anybody else, but considering how immensely powerful our opponent is, bringing in aid from the isles may be our only hope of doing this.”

There was quiet.

“Alright. We’ll give Vanguard thirty six hours to set up a secure DPO inside the Baumtown gate. Taskforce Blitz will begin to form in forty-eight hours, and it will potentially contain both heroes…” The Security Chief ground his teeth as he spoke the next word. “…and villains.”

-----

Forty Five Hours Later

Vanguard DPO, Baumtown, Entrance Gate

The Vanguard DPO was ready.

The first thing that Vanguard had done was close the giant gate leading to Steel Canyon. Any villains who came in to try and sneak into Paragon City proper would be sadly surprised. Just to make sure, Longbow had set up camp behind it.

The chain-link fence in the middle had been torn down, and a series of large bins chock-full of bio-stims, tiny magical runes the size of pebbles, vials filled with multi-colored liquids, and all other sorts of inspirational power-boosting devices had been planted in the middle for everyone to take from, should they need any. Four Police Drones that had been reprogrammed not to attack villains guarded the gate leading INTO Boomtown. Two portals leaned against the opposite walls. One led to the Rogue Isles, Cap Au Diable to be specific. Any villain who entered would find an additional portal there leading here. The second portal led right outside to the Green Monorail station. Two Vanguard operatives had been positioned by both portals to fully explain the situation to any volunteers.

The Steel Canyon Security Chief in particular waited in the make-shift DPO, along with several Vanguard soldiers.

The call was sent out on every channel. Soon, heroes everywhere would know of the forming task force, along with plenty of villains in the Rogue isles.

Poe kept walking.

"I'll be happy to talk to your corpse after I've teleported you into a minefield the moment you step out of the D." Poe responded to Breaker.