Matamoros

Victor sat at his desk in his high office. He had spent the majority of the night calling agents in Lisbon, Madrid, Paris, and Rome in attempts to find out what was done with the 'recovered' data. Apparently Agent Martel had arrived in Rome and delivered the data, but what was done with it was information apparently reserved for high-ranking intelligence people. As he hung up the phone he sighed and looked around his massive, rather dark office. In one corner stood a massive replica of the statue of Santiago Matamoros that stood in Spain. The saint was clad in armor, sitting atop a horse, striking down upon Moorish soldiers. Victor began to drift off in thought, but was startled by a phone call. He picked up and answered "Victor."

"Sir, we have two...ladies...here to see you. They claim their names are Agent Rosalyn and a Lady Gwenivere. They also claim to be sent by a Ms. Feynman."

"Send them up." Victor replied.

"Yes, sir."

Victor hung up and awaited their arrival. It was most likely the intel on the Physiks traitor. This would be interesting. As a small, amusing thought, he wondered how they were enjoying the greatly different environment of the Legion building compared to the Physiks building. The gothic architecture, various Spanish-Moorish designs within the interior of the building (including Victor's office), the realtively dim golden lighting, halls lined with historical weapons and armor, shady looking employees...all was probably a sharp smack to the face to the Physiks employees. Victor actually chuckled to himself a bit. "This will be interesting."

[ QUOTE ]
She nodded to concede the verbal match to Victor. "I would like nothing more than to call you ally. It's not my habit to let my guard down around a competitor. I will work on it." she said with a blink and curt smile.

"I graciously accept your offers and appreciate your efforts to provide the data. I give you my word that this arrangement stays between us. Although, you must know the data itself is meant for Ms. Parker. Only in her hands, can it come to fruition. I can refrain from informing her until the data arrives, if you like."

In the background Clarisa had called up a cost estimate to restore the lab. Now she walked over to the printer to retrieve it for Victor.

"Here's the cost of repairing the damage. I will ask for nothing extra. Regarding the traitor though, who will you assign to start working on that? Or do we have the pleasure of your continued company?".

[/ QUOTE ]

"I assure you, Legion has many intelligence units ready and willing to begin investigating immediately. Well, actually, to be honest, they began quite some time ago. At any rate, it would serve us both if you could provide me with whatever information Physiks has already gathered on the subject and send over some people to Legion so that our units could coordinate a unified strategy."

Victor took the printout into his hands. "I will have the proper funds transferred immediately. In the meantime, do not inform Ms. Parker about this deal, for your own sake. You'd never hear the end of it. I'm sure Legion is on the top of her 'to-hate' list." Victor walked to the door and grasped the knob. "I will get whatever bits of the recovered data I can and send them here as I get them. I will also drift around the background of Physiks myself. I don't want any screw ups in finding that enemy agent." He gave a slight bow, "Until we meet again, which I'm sure will be very soon..." and exited the office room.

Victor's outward appearance remained cool and collected, however mentally he was not. "Goddammit...goddammit..." kept running through his head. He had no clue how to resolve this situation. Victor had been authorized to pour money like it was water, but the data was an entire matter entirely. The 'recovered' data had such a high priority that it was sent back to Rome itself. He scrapped together a response.

"Clever. It appears you've deciphered the true nature of this entire 'operation,' and rather quickly at that." Victor paused and thought for a moment. "I'll trust you will not reveal it or anything related to this 'operation' to anyone, especially the public, for if you did I could just as easily reveal unpleasant aspects of your own 'projects.' About the Crey data, I cannot guarantee it to you. Paragon was deemed an unsafe environment to keep the data, especially with Crey crawling all over the city. All I know is that it is being transported to Europe as we speak."

Victor flashed a rare grin and placed his arms into the 'at ease' position. "In the meantime, consider my offers. I know you want power, you cannot deny it. I see it in your eyes. I can promise you that, but the data...I'll get back to you on that. I'm sure that if I pull a few strings, call a few friends, I can have much, if not all, of the data in your hands within the week." Victor extended his hand forward for a shake. "So, on those conditions do we have a deal?" Pausing for a moment he added, "You know, it would be very beneficial, for you especially, to quit thinking of me as an enemy and start thinking of me as an ally..."

Victor was extremely confused by this point. Sure, he had wrangled with many strange looking heroes in Paragon, but these people were particularly odd. He had just witness a large, green, scale-covered 'man' and a walking scarecrow pass him by.

"Surely the devil's work, these...these 'creatures.'" Victor said to himself, albeit out loud. Victor took the key Jenkins fearfully extended to him and headed upstairs, passing by a rather luxurious second floor dining room. "Odd, such lavish accomodations buried in such squalid surroundings. Perhaps I shall check out this room later," he said as he continued walking.

After about a minute or so, Victor reached his floor and walked with dignity, almost arrogantly, to his room, despite his surroundings. This may have been his 'lesson in humility,' but as far as he was concerned he was far more dignified and worthy of respect than the 'common dregs of society' that were certainly holed up here. Victor unlocked and opened the door.

"Hm, not too bad...I guess." He said as he gazed upon the rather (more than) shabby surroundings. A stained bed, a dusty, torn up couch, rust and mold stained bathroom and kitchen...

Victor made the sign of the cross, "Well, I must still be thankful...it's nowhere near my old hacienda, but it's still better than living in a cardboard box...or being caged in that cell." He tossed his SMG onto a small coffee table that sat in front of the couch. It immediately broke apart and collapsed. "Hmph...perhaps some food will help me settle down," he grumbled. Victor re-entered the hallway, locking the door behind him, and walked down to the second floor dining facility.

Upon entering the room, he was greeted by the staff, and returning the courteous greetings, he was sat at a table across from the large green man and handed a menu. He glanced at the green man out of curiosity several times, but decided to just leave it be and order. "My dear," he said to the waitress, "I'll just have something simple. Steak, potatoes, whatever soup is hot right now...surprise me." He handed her the menu and she was off. He resumed gazing at the green creature, fascinated by it's somewhat beastly appearance, yet very regal demeanor.

Victor approached Clarisa and offered his hand for a shake, but she kept her arms crossed. After a few seconds he merely put his hand back down. "Yes, well, you are understadibly outraged by this whole, how shall I say, 'incident,' and I've come to make amends. I know your personal reputation has been harmed by this fiasco, but hear me out, I can repair everything, even make you look better than before." He noticed her expression change to the 'I'm listening...' kind.

"Alright," Victor said, taking a deep breath, "I can have Legion assume full responsibility for the disaster. You will be absolved of all wrong doing that anyone tries to place on you. Considering your success, I'm sure you have many rivals who would try to use this against you. I will halt that outright. Also, Legion's funding 'contributions' to Physiks will be tripled. Legion will also replace all of the equipment that was destroyed, compensate all staff that have been 'emotionally damaged,' and settle all lawsuits on behalf of Physiks. To put it simply, we will pay for everything and then some."

Victor's eyes shifted from side to side and he leaned towards Clarisa. "I also know that you want more power over this company. Make no mistake, a woman of your calibur deserves it." His eyes shifted around again. "I can personally see to it you shoot straight to the top. With Legion's help you can increase your power over the board exponentially." Victor shifted his stance, stepping slightly to her side, as if to make absolutely sure no one could hear but Clarisa. "Besides, you will NEED my help with a traitor among you..."

In well-lit, although confined cell sat a light skinned man with long dark hair, neatly tied back in a ponytail. A deep scar ran diagonally across his face, a second scar ran horizontally across his cheek, intersecting the diagonal one. His arms and legs were shackled and he was dressed in what could be described as an orange jumpsuit. The man sat listening to various tracks of classical Spanish music emitting from a small stereo placed outside of his cell.

A rattling sound was echoing down the hallway. It was grew louder until finally the prisoner, Victor Jaramillo de Vivar, 'The Terror of Paragon,' saw a small metal cart come into view in front of his cell. On the cart were several silver trays. The smell of specially prepared food filled the cell. Two heavily armed and armored security officers were pushing the cart.

"I hope you enjoy your meal..." one officer said.
"Your LAST meal..." the other followed, saying it almost mockingly.

"I fear not my death, heretics. For what I have done is good. I have punished the wicked, and for it I shall be rewarded." Victor said, waving his fingers in the air to the music.

"Psycho..." an officer muttered to himself. Just as he said so, alarms throughout the building began going off. "What the hell is that?" the officer screamed.

"I don't know. Calm down, rookie, it's probably nothing." his companion said, raising his assault rifle slightly. "I'll check it out. Keep your eyes on this nutjob." He walked down the hall towards the heavily armored down. It suddenly blew off of it's hinges, crushing the officer.

"What the hell?!?" the 'rookie' screamed. He raised his assault rifle, but before he could fire several red blasts shot through the smoke of the explosion and hit the rookie, blowing him back into the wall. The 'rookie' officer collapsed to the ground, never to get up again.

Men dressed in all black, shiny armor and full-helms marched into the hallway, toting strange, yet advanced looking, clubs. Behind them was a similar, albeit much taller and bulkier man that had eight metal 'arms' extending from his back. ((not Recluse, those one big minion guys)). They all approached Victor's cell, with the large man stepping forward and gripping the bars. With one swift motion he pulled back and literally ripped the bars and their frame from the door and tossed it to the side, crushing the floored 'rookie.'

One of these black clad men stepped forward. "You Victor Jaramillo?"

Victor smiled, looking towards the crushed rookie. "As you can see, God protects me, even now. He has freed me from your chains." He looked back towards the black clad man. "Yes, indeed I am."

Another one of the black clad men stepped forward holding a small bag. He tossed it to Victor, who emptied its contents onto his bunk. It was all his old 'mastermind' clothes...yes, that's what the media loved to call him...'The mericless mercenary mastermind, Victor Jaramillo.'

Victor laid the contents out. A red dress shirt, gold tie, a black leather belt, a pair of baggy red pants that tucked into a pair of long, shiny, black jackboots, shiny black leather gloves, a shiny black leather vest with an Arachnos symbol...

"Wait, Arachnos symbol?!?" Victor thought to himself, confused. He looked at all the black clad men...they all had the symbol. Somehow he didn't notice before, the big, obvious, red spider symbols. This would be the price of his freedom, service to Lord Recluse? Well, from what Victor read, Arachnos was once a fascist organization, meaning they enforce order to the highest degree. That's one thing Victor could really agree with.

"God does work in mysterious ways. Perhaps He wishes me to help Recluse restore order to this world? Perhaps he wishes to teach me humility by having me serve another?" Victor questioned to himself.

Several of the Arachnos men leaned over to each other and whispered:

"What the bloody hell is he talking about?"
"Hell if I know...this man's crazy, I swear."
"Why does Lord Recluse want this nutcase?"
"I heard he once made a soup of live puppies and babies and claimed God told him to as he ate it."
"Shut up, Jenkins...you moron. Go set the explosives."
"Fine fine..."

Victor finished suiting up. His hand darted upwards and pointed towards the man known as 'Jenkins.' "You! Give me a gun!"

"Hey, hey, hey! You're not even out yet, you can't give me orders!" Jenkins replied.

"Jenkins, goddammit give him your gun and go set the damn explosives!" his apparent commander screamed.

"FINE!" Jenkins said as he reluctantly handed the sub-machinegun over to Victor.

Victor checked everything on the gun then quickly said in a commanding voice "Alright, move out." The Arachnos men looked at each other, confused, as if questioning his orders. Victor saw this and stepped up to one of them "I said move out! What part of that did you not understand?!" They straighted up and gave a fascist salute instinctively and marched out. Victor followed them to an open area, an apparent gathering of villainy. He hated every one of them.

Victor shoved his way to a rather important looking prisoner, who directed him to gather some pain killers for him. Fine, easy enough...but upon doing so, he was only directed to a hispanic prisoner...who directed him to get some superadine from a troll, 'Mr. Verde.' Again...easy enough...but he was only redirected again. Eventually, Victor was directed into the sewer lines which he followed out into the yard. There, he put down several prisoners that got a tad bit too insolent and managed to contact an Arachnos pilot.

"Jenkins [censored] up." The pilot said bluntly.

Victor shook his head and ran over to the bunker where Jenkins was last seen.

"You'll never get me to spill the name of Victor Jaramillo that easily!"

"Moron." Victor dispatched the strangely dressed troopers in the bunker, slew the security officers and set the explosives himself. Afterwards he was flown to Mercy Island where he was directed to a place known as 'Blakmoore Safehouse.'

"Stay there until you receive further orders from Arachnos." He was told.

Victor, toting nothing more than his SMG, walked into the rathole known as "Blakmoore" and found a small lobby bell. He rang the bell once...no response...rang it again...no response...began ringing furiously...no response. Victor noticed a man sitting slothfully in the back watching a TV.

"Impotent pig," Victor said, raising his submachinegun. He squeezed the trigger and completely shot up the TV. The man jumped up in fright.

"Please!!! I have no money!" The man screamed, hiding behind a chair.

"Fool! I have been sent by Arachnos! Give me a damn room!" Victor looked around at all the squalor. "A lesson in humility for sure," he said to himself.

((Do I have to be a part of the Whitemoore rp to rp here too?))

"Is that it, Miss...Gwenivere?" Victor inquired, rather annoyed. The last of his men were taking their 'receipts.' "Will she see me now? Good." He didn't wait for a full response from Lady Gwenivere. Victor nodded towards the elevator to his men and they were on their way.

While in the elevator, Victor patted his coat, making sure he had his checkbook in his coat pocket. Legion was going to have to shell out a lot of money for this one, but he felt Clarisa and Physiks had a price at which they would break. "Money rules these heretics," he thought to himself.

The elevator hummed to a stop and a cheerful ding sounded. The doors opened, Victor put on his best 'public face,' nothing more than a slight smirk instead of an outright angry frown, and stepped out with his men.

Victor's eye twitched, but he couldn't really do anything without blowing everything, so he did as he was instructed. He reached into his coat and drew his pistol, his entourage doing the same. Victor handed the firearm to one of the security guard. His hand began to tremble violently, apparently another side effect of the drugs. Quickly, Victor handed the guard the gun and drew his hand back away from view.

"Now, how long will we be waiting, then, Ms...excuse me I don't know your name."

His eye twitched again...but he had no choice but to put up with all this...

After what felt like hours of waiting, one of the techies finally ceased his typing and spoke up, closing his laptop and disconnecting the myriad of cords. "Alright, we have everything."

"About damn time," Martel said in relief. "Everyone to the helicopters, prepare for demolition." The soldiers became serious again, raising their guns and charging out of the laboratory doors. The techies, after packing their equipment, made up the center, toting pistols. Everyone rushed back onto the rooftop where the helicopters were still waiting. They grabbed onto the lines dropped from the choopers and were pulled back up into the helicopters as they pulled away.

The helicopters rose over several tall office buildings and suddenly began to rattle violently. The charges in the Crey facility were detonated, engulfing the entire facility in a fireball and sending out a massive shockwave that shook the entire zone.

Martel called into headquarters from his headset. "Martel reporting. The data has been recovered and the facility destroyed."

"Well done. Head straight for the airport. You are to bring the data directly to Rome. Your flight will be waiting."

"May I ask why I must proceed directly to Rome?" Martel inquired.

"This information is still classified. We have confirmed nothing yet, but we have reason to believe there is a spy or some sort of double agent within Physiks. We cannot risk such valuable data it this situation."

"Understood. I will proceed to the airport and then to Rome. Are their escort fighters and soldiers prepared?"

"Of course. Security and escorts have already been assigned. All you need to do is guard the data with your life."

"Understood. Orders received, Martel out." Martel turned his head towards the pilots. "We have orders. Proceed to the airport."

The pilots nodded in affirmation and the helicopters passed over the Legion compound and the Physiks buildings, heading straight towards the airport.

=====

Matamoros fell back onto a bench, exhausted. The effect of the drugs he was given was wearing off. A dull pain was slowly building throughout every muscle in his body and he was beginning to feel the true strain he had put himself through. He grabbed onto his helmet and pulled it off, lowering it to his side onto the bench. His face was drenched with sweat and loose strands of hair was matted against it.

The crimson-cloaked man, the one known as Inquisidor, approached Matamoros. "There is no time to rest just yet. We must calm down the people at Physiks, lest they terminate our partnership. To them, we merely blundered. They must not learn that this was all orchestrated."

"It does not matter if they terminate the partnership. We have no further use for them. The prototype shielding was destroyed in the operation and we might have gotten better technology from Crey anyway."

"No, we have reason to believe there is a traitor among them. We need to find out who it is and what they know. Besides, not all of the shielding technology data was destroyed, only the testing facility. Even if we got our hands on the data Parker has come up with, it will be a great boon. Now go, 'Victor,' calm them. You have authorization to throw more money at them, if you must."

Matamoros looked up at him, his eyebrow raised. "Look at me, I feel and look like [censored]. I am in no condition for a business negotiation. They might notice something is wrong with me and grow suspicious."

"No matter. The last thing they will think is that YOU are Matamoros. Now go." Several other cloaked men approached, holding his business suit.

After about thirty minutes, Victor Jaramillo arrived at Physiks. He and his entourage entered the building and prepared for the possible hell that would ensue.

Matamoros was running down the street at an incredible speed, his legs and feet casting a red, fiery glow on the pavement below him. "I must thank the good doctor for these implants," he said to himself, "and ask for more. With this power I can defeat anyone!" He heard the Crey units behind him, yelling and screaming insults. He felt the air rushing about him, tracer rounds also shooting past him, some reflecting off of his upgraded armor.

"Almost there," he thought as he looked at the data on his visor HUD. "Couple hundred yards left." A message came over his comm.

"Martel has reached the enemy facility. Keep the enemy distracted."

"I'm almost there. Prepare the men." Matamoros responded.

=====

Black attack helicopters bombarded the scattered guard units around the Crey facility. Hundreds of rockets bursted forward towards the building destroying the various light units that were left behind. Their chainguns mowed down anything that the rockets missed.

Above the main building black troop helicopters were hovering, men rapelling down to the rooftop. From their they rushed inside, gunning down security and scientists alike. Eventually, the shock troops, led by pistol wielding Martel, reached a large laboratory full of computers and various pieces of advanced equipment.

"You know what to do." Martel said. "Get into those computers and get the data we need. Several...out of place...soldiers rushed forward, wielding not guns, but laptops and hard drives. They immediately got to work, essentially stealing all of Crey's technology and knowledge (all that was accessible from this point, at any rate).

Martel kept glancing down at his watch every few seconds. They were all on a strict time-table. "It would've been easier to just take the damn computers ourselves." Martel groaned.

An officer laughed "Do you want to haul all this to the choppers? I sure as hell don't. You let me know when you want to." he said sarcastically.

The minutes were ticking by, but they felt like hours. Martel didn't exactly feel secure...as usual...this could all be a trap. "Alright, start setting the explosives. When the 'techies' are done we're getting the hell out of here. We have orders to destroy everything after we get what we need." A demolition unit stepped forward with a large sack and started pulling explosives out, setting them in strategic areas.

"How long is this going to take?" Martel barked at the 'techies.'

"This takes time. I can bark orders at the computer all I want, but it won't make it any faster." one techie responded, typing away furiously.

Martel received a message over his headset. "The Crey forces have engaged our defensive line," the voice said, heavy gunfire and explosions heard in the background, "you have time, be we cannot say how much. They are confused and without leadership, so they may panic and flee. Get the data and destroy the facility as fast as possible."

"Understood." Martel responded. He looked towards the techies again, still furiously typing. He shook his head. He didn't exactly think he could get them to somehow go 'faster' than they already were.

((Their technology shall belong to Legion! Soon WE shall have the nifty power-suits, not them! Bwuahahahahaa...ahem...))

As Matamoros observed the effects of his smoke grenade, he soon found himself disappointed. "Hmph...seems they're falling back. I don't get to kill them." For some reason he found it difficult to put his rifle down. It was as if some force compelled him to fire. "No..." he grunted, forcing himself to lower the weapon.

Just as he lowered the weapon, a call came over his comm. "It appears Martel had some difficulty moving through the Hollows. The shelling collapsed Troll tunnels, causing trouble for the armor. He took whatever men and artillery he could in the choppers and is on his way to the Crey facility."

Matamoros responded, "How long?"

"ETA 5 minutes. The artillery has already been airlifted to the surrounding heights, but I doubt Paragonians will appreciate their city being leveled. Make sure the Crey forces remain occupied by our defensive positions. They must NOT return to the facility, especially since Martel is without his armor column."

"Understood. Matamoros out." Matamoros stood and pressed several buttons on a wrist panel. Seemingly out of nowhere a small metallic cube floated into the air, firing small targeting beams in every direction. Matamoros took aim and began to snipe vulnerable units, hitting some and intentionally missing others. He wanted to generally piss them off...make their emotions control them.

The Crey units began to panic and scream among themselves. They were without proper command and were now being sniped.

"What the hell was that?!? I heard a shot!"
BLAM!
"Agh!"
"What the hell! Command, do you read? I have men dropping left and right!"
"Who the hell is that?!"
"Who?"
"Him! Some guy in red and yellow!"
"What the hell! Did he just flip me off!"
"Lets get that son-of-a..."

The Crey forces, encouraged by the sight of retreating heroes and simultaneously enraged by a sniper, rushed forward, still feeling they had the upper hand.

(I got another villain I will rp with a lot...General Riego)

Data File: Prisoner - Carlos Riego Reyes
Status: Missing

Video tape recording of an interview scene-
When dealing with this prisoner, the "General" as he insists you call him, you must remember that he is indeed a psychopath and has no comprehension of reality. All of information has been recorded from his psychotic ranting. The man speaks with a heavy Spanish accent and bears much resemblance to another prisoner in this facility, Victor Jaramillo de Vivar, in his speech and mannerisms.

"You are indeed a flock of naive fools. You don't know the forces that control your governments, your services, your lives, your souls..." A tan skinned man in a straight jacket ranted. Half of the man's face was covered in a mass of scars, causing it to look like a jigsaw puzzle of human flesh. His dark hair was slick back and neat. Every feature about his Roman-esque face was perfect, with the exception of the scars.

"Tell us, Mr. Riego, what 'forces' are controlling us?" A doctor in a white lab coat said, almost mockingly. He held a pen and was jotting notes in a composition notebook.

"General! I am a general! You bottom-feeding parasite!" Riego said, nearly jumping up in rage, the straight jacket keeping him from killing the doctor. Several guards dressed in all white shoved Riego back into his seat.

"Yes, well, 'General,' tell us about these 'forces.'" The doctor responded.

"You idiot. There are so many battles being fought behind the scenes, so many your feeble mind cannot comprehend. You heretical fools believe that science is God, that your beloved science, your beloved technology will keep you safe. You are all nothing but SHEEP! We are your shepherd! You are nothing but pawns, we are your king!" Riego screamed, several strands falling in front of his face.

"Who's 'we,' Mr., excuse me, GENERAL Riego?"

"The Illuminati...the Inquisition...Satan...God...'pick your poison' as they say." A devilish grin moved upward in the corner of Riego's mouth.

The doctor chuckled a bit and jotted some things down.

"I see you've taken my warnings well. You've kept that backstabbing 'Victor' away from me. You cannot keep him away from me forever. I WILL kill him."

"I assume you mean Victor Jaramillo? What is your previous relationship with him?" The doctor inquired.

"The Inquisition." Riego responded. He noticed the doctor shake his head and jot some more notes down. "Just because you refuse to believe it doesn't make it any less real. That is how we control you all so easily. You're all little children who think that as long as you cover your eyes all the bad men will go away." He laughed loudly, insanely...

The doctor again wrote some more notes down. "Explain this relationship and the 'Inquisition.'"

An furious look came across Riego's face. "I should've been the leader, not that fool Victor! I was the best! I've always defeated him until that point. The [censored] got lucky! That's when I decided the Inquisition would not win! They don't even know how to choose the best warriors for battle!"

"Was it at that point you decided to kill Victor?"

"No. He was like a brother to me. I loved the man as if he was of my own blood. Instead of killing him and claiming my rightful place, I decided to defect. I would not be a part of a dying Church...not in the face of such overwhelming immorality. They can not win. God is not on their side, not anymore."

"What did you do?" The doctor questioned, although it didn't really seem he cared about the answer.

"I defected. I contacts within the Illuminati. I offered a vast wealth of information in exchange for a position of power in their organization...but that [censored]...my...my blood-brother! Victor ruined it all! Look what he did to my face! I am a monster!" Riego was screaming, his hair was now disheveled, spit flew from his mouth in his rage. "He had no mercy for me! The man I called brother had no mercy for me! He shot my face off and left me for dead!" He began to laugh uncontrollably, utter insanity echoing in the small, white room. "And now my very soul belongs to the very people I have spent my life fighting!"

"And who is that?"

"Were you not listening?" Riego stood up, kicking his chair back. "The Illuminati, you fool!"

The doctor shook his head once more and put his pen down. "Alright, I've heard enough." He nodded his head towards the big buff guys dressed in white, who began to approach Riego.

"Alright, nutcase, back to your nice, padded cell." one of the men said.

Alarms began to ring throughout the entire facility. Riego looked the doctor in the eye, his laughter slowly building, the sheer insanity still apparent. "And this is where I make my exit, good doctor...and where you die!" Suddenly the straight jacket was somehow undone, freeing Riego. The large men rushed at him, but were killed in several, swift death blows. The doctor stumbled back fearfully, falling against the door.

"Help! Somebody help! This psycho's gonna kill me!" He clawed at the door, too panicked to think straight and grab the nob.

Riego grabbed the doctor by the neck, lifted him up, and slammed him against the wall. "Did you really think you could keep me wrapped up like some kind of ANIMAL?!?" A smirk stretched across Riego's face and he laughed once more. "I hereby judge thee as guilty for crimes against the almighty God! You shall be punished accordingly!" He clutched the doctor's throat with increasing force. The doctor's eyes widened and he gasped for breath. A snap was heard and the gasping ceased.

Riego dropped the doctor onto the floor and exited the room, entering a throng of escaping psycopaths and prisoners...

Matamoros, once the champion of the Inquisition, now it's most hated and feared enemy. He is considered the equivalent of the Fallen One, Lucifer, once the brightest angel in all the heavens, now the most damned traitor in all the chaotic pits of hell.

The "evil" within Matamoros grew over the course of many years and many missions. Some say it was the fact that he killed his opponents, slowly beginning to love their pleas of mercy. Others say it was the secluded life, a life without trust, true friends, and love that slowly drove him mad. Whatever it may be, he left the Inquisition, claiming it to be uncommitted, unfaithful, ungodly, and corrupt. He believed that they didn't do enough to enforce order and the will of the Heavens upon the heretical masses.

Paragon City was gripped by terror. An insane man in red and gold armor, toting a massive, multi-faceted super-gun was murdering people left and right for offenses against the prevailing law and order. It was Matamoros. He was no longer a warrior of the Inquisition, but a psychotic zealot consumed by his hatred of crime and sin. Although he never killed any "innocents," he was condemned for the overwhelming violence he used against petty crimes such as theft and extortion.

Anyone who crossed his path was slaughtered mercilessly. The morgues and hospitals of Paragon were being filled by murdered and mutililated "villains," when it was, in fact, Matamoros who had become the villain. Even when the offenders entered the hospital they were not safe. Upon the occassion that a criminal survived Matamoros's attack, Matamoros would enter the hospital and kill them as they lie helpless and crippled in a bed.

Even the organization that he has served so loyally is after him. The Inquisition plots to kill this monster they have created, but so far every agent sent to kill Matamoros has ended up in a box in the ground.

After the initial reign of terror, Matamoros was convinced he could not enforce order and his version of morality alone. With this realization, Matamoros, using Legion (a massive weapons manufacturing corporation), created his own organization much along the lines of the Inquisition. He dubbed it "The Miltiary Order of St. James of the sword," otherwise known as "The Knights of Santiago." This organization had nothing to do with the pre-existing order, but was focused solely on the goals of "Victor Jaramillo," Matamoros's new persona (his civilian persona which he used to lead Legion). It's ranks were full of corrupted elites from the Inquisition, now fanatically loyal to Matamoros and his ideals. Unlike the Inquisition, The Knights did not secretly enforce order in the background of national politics, but instead it made open and public grabs for power, ruthlessly bullying and even assassinating anyone in its way.

Eventually, Matamoros or "Victor," as he was known, was arrested, the police and heroes of Paragon losing countless people to accomplish this feat. He was put on trial, imprisoned, and awaited execution, but with the Arachnos assault on the prison, Matamoros escaped...

"What's going on? All units have assembled and re-organized at point phalanx and Crey has not reached us yet!" A voice crackled over Matamoros's comm.

"Bloody hell," Matamoros responded, obeserving the battle from a high rooftop, "they're ruining everything!"

"Who?! What's going on?!" The voice crackled back.

"These naive...fools! These...'heroes!' They're pushing Crey back towards their headquarters. If Crey manages to concentrate and re-organize their forces, Martel will meet heavy resistance."

"Stop them. Make sure they allow Crey to hit our lines. We need to distract Crey long enough for Martel." The voice replied.

Matamoros unhinged the now empty gatling gun, dropping it to the rooftop with a heavy thud. "Understood," he said, pulling a smoke grenade from his utility belt. Matamoros pulled the pin and tossed it towards the closes group of heroes...a group of heroines battling back a Crey force.

By this time, many Legion units had abandoned their positions and any delaying actions with them. Several units were already falling back with all possible speed, passing right by the superheroines without stopping to assist.

A loud, deep buzz along with a strange jingle was heard throughout the square. Soldiers looked up to see a man in red and gold armor firing down upon Crey with his gatling gun. The empty shells seemingly rained down from the rooftops onto the people below.

Matamoros saw the men standing there, watching. He pointed back towards the Legion compound and screamed "Get to the defensive lines!" He probably wasn't heard over the din of battle, but the soldiers understood through his gestures, nodding and continuing their retreat.

The sound of squeaking and screeching metal and the rumble of mechanical beasts could be heard in the distance. Matmoros recognized the sound as an armored column. Apparently Martel was on his way. Just then, Matamoros looked up to see attack helicopters soaring in the distance, confirming Martel's presence.

At a forward command post, chaos seemed to reign supreme. However, it was not truly the case. Among all of the screams over the radio, officers and NCO's rushing about, everything was indeed organized.

Although Legion was in retreat, it was an organized retreat. A series of delaying actions were being fought all throughout Paragon, with civilians being relocated to safe, uncontested positions.

"Sir, we have further orders from headquarters," a staff officer said to his commander. He paused a moment and continued, "It appears the orders are directly from...directly from Matamoros."

The commander turned to his staff officer, taking the written orders he was holding into his own hands. He read over them twice to make sure. "Alright, carry them out. The innocents have been relocated and we are now ready to move forward with the operation. Get every field officer on the radio, tell them to fall back to point 'phalanx.' We will reconcentrate and set up defensive positions there."

"Yes, sir. What about the heroes currently battling Crey along side our forces?"

"Do not worry about them. Let them do their job, we will do ours. You have your orders, move out."

"Yes, sir!" He saluted in typical Legion fashion ((stiff right arm forward...stolen from ROME not the other, evil guys you may be thinking of)) and moved out.

===

Matamoros stepped out of the elevator and walked out of the Legion building towards the open compound. Several units were already concentrating there and setting up defensive positions. Once the Legion soldiers spotted him, a cheer went up and their morale was visibly improved. The soldiers chatted among themselves, now certain of victory.

"An elite?!? Here?! We cannot lose now!"
"One of the Seven? Victory is assured!"
"Crey hasn't a chance now!"

Matamoros looked out towards the conflict taking place deep in the city. A surge of power shot into his legs and they emitted a red aura onto the ground. Immediately, Matamoros bursted forward with unnatural speed towards the battle. ((game terms: super speed ))

If any of you want to rp, you can add me ( @Matamoros1 ) to your friends list or whatever. I'm spend almost all my playing time on Virtue. I'm only level 20, but if anyone wants to rp as a low-level I'd be willing to make a new char/use my low levels.

(( Okay...slightly busy the past few days...annoying little things here and there...but I think I can grab some time today))

The white cloaked man and crimson cloaked man spoke again. They were watching over a well-known Spaniard donning a familiar, albeit a new and more advanced version, red and gold armor.

The crimson man spoke, "How did you get him up and running so quickly? You ARE a genius!"

"No, it wasn't nearly enough time to upgrade his anatomy with the cybernetics. I only managed to install a few into his legs. He's running purely on drugs right now. Everything from 'dine to venom..."

"What?!?" the crimson-cloaked man exclaimed. He paused a moment, weighing in the gravity of the situation. "I guess it was unavoidable. It appears everything goes as planned so far. Crey will be out of the way soon enough."

"Also, there wasn't enough time to install the proper shielding mechanisms. Instead, a smaller, incomplete version has been installed on the armor. It may not stop a full blast, but it will enhance his defense against small-arms fire."

"That will have to do for now." The crimson-cloaked man said, stepping away from the doctor in the white cloak and approaching the now-armored Spaniard...Matamoros. "Everything goes well. Our delaying actions have been successful, innocents are being moved back, and Martel's assault has proven overwhelmingly effective. The Hammer has smashed the evil in the Hollows and the Death Legion now swings around to crush Crey. They've completely underestimated our capabilites and have left their very own headquarters lightly guarded. Nearly all of their focus is their assault on Physiks and chasing down our 'retreat.'"

Matamoros turned to him, his muscles massively expanded and his veins pulsating. The drugs were taking their toll, straining the body, forcing it beyond 100% potential. "Good. I will lead the counter-attack against Crey, stop their forces dead in front of the compound. Have Martel swing around, flank them, and hit them from behind. I will serve as the anvil, he will be the hammer." He paused for a moment, slowly placing the full helm onto his head. "What will you do, Inquisidor?"

"I will muster the rest of our soldiers and oversee the evacuation of the innocents. The corrupt will undoubtedly be among them and must be weeded out."

"Paragon will finally be bled clean of the evil that has plagued her." Matamoros took up a rather large, metal backpack and slung it onto his back. Several other clerical figures came to him, carrying a small gatling gun, and attached the ammo feed from the pack to the gun. Matamoros strapped it to his shoulder, then slung Torquemada over his other shoulder. He felt no strain, not with the various injections he was given. He nodded to the crimson-cloaked man, Inquisidor, then moved towards the elevator and made his way topside...

((Did we forget? This is LEGION we're talking about! ))

(A savior in red and gold...)



(Although he's only level 20 in the game, lol! I didn't necessarily think we were following our game chars (in terms of power) EXACTLY...I'm sure we can have some leeway...if not...um...er...we're all screwed? Heh heh... )

Edit: (Plus, Martel is still out there with the "Death Legion", so there's some reinforcements right there...elite ones...with artillery...and tanks...>_o; )

((Exactly. Crey, using Legion's aggression as an excuse, counter-attacked. Many of Crey's facilities around the globe were successfully seized by Legion, but in several key areas Legion was failing, especially as a result from the chaos in the chain-of-command, most notably, in Paragon. They are now decending upon both Legion and Physiks, seeing as Legion's forces are defending Physiks, Crey has lumped them in with Legion as an open enemy.

But, who knows, perhaps the lab chaos WAS orchestrated by a Crey agent, maybe, maybe not...maybe it was just a misshap that started a war... ))

Around the globe conflicts erupted between Crey's security forces and those of Legion. In many cases, Legion simply overwhelmed the forces of Crey and blatantly seized many laboratories and supply facilities. However, there were also a significant number of 'battles' where Legion forces were thrown back to their own bases and were resigned to a desperate defense.

Paragon was a unique situation altogether. It wasn't an easy win or loss for anyone. Many sections of the city were now engulfed in what appeared to be urban combat, the kind usually only seen in third world nations on the nightly news. It was utter chaos. Legion soldiers (following their secretive protocols, codes, commandments, and what-not) were forced to spend much of their time protecting and evacuating the 'innocents,' as they called them, that got too close to the fighting. This led to Crey's forces gaining the upper hand against Legion (for Crey's forces simply didn't give a damn).

Casualties were mounting, the lion's share being suffered by Legion. Forces were scrambling back and forth between the Legion compound and Physiks as they received conflicting orders. Panic had gripped the neck of Legion's chain-of-command, and snapped it. Crey was nearly upon both Legion and Physiks. Countess Crey was probably having a field day.

'Killing two birds with one stone...'

Martel stood atop a hill in Eastgate Heights overlooking all of the Hollows. He surveyed the zone using a pair of binoculars, a cigar in his mouth, a grin stretching aross his face. His clothes were caked with bits of dried blood, stained by superdine, covered in melting ice shards and bits of earth, and were even slightly singed from fire. Around him laid dozens of bodies of various groups, mostly trolls and outcasts, as well as casualties from his own units. Several of the trolls and outcasts were decapitated or had massive lacerations across them. Martel's sword hilt also had bits of blood on it...All was silent now in the Hollows.

A dusty, exhausted soldier approached Martel, radio in hand. "Sir, it's Lieutenant Sanchez. We have a problem."

The soldier handed Martel the radio and walked a few yards away, knowing it would not be a pleasant scene. He heard Martel screaming and cussing into the radio in basically every latin language ever to exist, including latin itself!

There was a pause. Apparently he had been cut off. Perhaps the radio was taken by someone else? The soldier heard screaming and yelling coming FROM the radio...someone was not happy back at Physiks...

One shot led to another...and another...and another. Soon everyone was carelessly pouring lead into the armor, to no effect. The rounds ricocheted, hitting several important looking machines. The officer was screaming "Cease fire! Cease fire!" but could not be heard over the din of gunfire. He smacked several of his mean in the back of the head, again telling them to cease fire. Slowly, but surely, the fire came to a halt.

The floor was now littered with empty shells, bullet holes from the ricocheted rounds were everywhere. It also appeared that several, rather expensive and important looking machines, were basically shot to bits. Little did any of them know, Legion HQ had the lab bugged, so an alarm arose at headquarters.

"We have reports of shots fired at Physiks labs. Send reinforcements, surround the building. Possible hostage situation." An officer called out at the Legion compound. Soldiers were rushing around, hopping into Jeeps and Hummers, making their way to the Physiks building.

Everyone and everything went completely crazy at Legion. The alarms at the Paragon compound caused alarms at several central Legion offices across the world to go into a state of alarm. Blame was already being attached to a name: Crey.

All across the world, Legion forces were placed on full alert and made combat ready as preliminary 'skirmisher' forces were deployed near just about every major Crey facility. The world was on the verge of a super-Corporate war, all over a lab accident.