Mr_Grey

"...So the tanker goes charging into their midst," Nester threw his hands up in exasperation, "And I gotta go chasing after him. My nanites are barely helping deflect the Sky Raiders' shots as it is, both my Defensive Matrix and my Fortitude Amplifiers... And the Healing Wave Generator shorts out."

"No way," Kip was washing dishes as he listened to his brother prattle on about his day's misadventures, "Dammit... I gotta stay on top of these better..."

"Well, this has happened before, so I'm prepared for just such an event. I take a spare power pack from my belt after popping the original at one of the Raiders, which explodes, incidentally, and slap the spare into my wrist panel."

"What about the exploding one?"

"Blinded the guy a little for a few seconds. I think the contact pad was facing him, blocking most of the light..."

"You know, Nester, there's something I've always wondered..."

"I..." Nester snapped out of his reverie and turned to his little brother, "Yeah?"

"You're working with a highly volatile suit and various gear that could explode at any one moment... Doesn't it ever worry you? I mean, Aaron says your Praetorian isn't too different from Antimatter or Positron... The same thing could happen to you..."


"Yeah, well, I have something the Praetorian me didn't have when he had his little accident."

"And that is?" Kip almost regretted asking the question as soon as it was out of his mouth.

"A really good feeling!" Nester smiled.

"What happened to the tank?"

"Eh, face plant. I didn't have the Wave Generator up in time... I was able to bring him back from the brink, though. Man, was he ticked..."

"A little debt to the hospital is a small price to pay for his stupidity," Kip finished rinsing off the last of the cups and plopped it into the strainer, "He could have paid for it with his life."

"Damn straight, brother," Nester turned on the television and flipped to the comedy channel, "The rest of the team was on my side of that little debate, for once. Everybody kept calling him L.J. after that... Even long after he quit and we got a more competent Tank."

"You called the new guy L.J.?"

"No, we kept joking about the old guy."

Kip "Aaron" Durj walked through the front door and took stock of his two "brothers." Looking to his opposite in this world, he winced.

"Ah, jeez... I shoulda done that."

"It never stops freaking me out, seeing you two in the same room."

"You shoulda seen your mother, then."

Kip and Nester's eyes went wide. The younger scrapper dropped the plate he'd been washing and it shattered on the floor. It did little to stop the two from staring.

"Our..." Nester finally started, "Mother?"

"How'd you know who she was?" Kip half-croaked as he knelt to pick up the ceramic pieces.

"I ran into her at Zeke's, I was dropping off a data stick and she hugged me like I was you," he pointed at Kip, "She kept asking if I was still a little Hell-raiser..."

"Yeah..." Kip laughed, "I guess I am."

"Dad didn't mention she was in town," Nester winced as he pondered, "I wonder why..."

"Probably because of what happened last time..."

"Bad history?" Aaron asked quietly.

"Yeah, but it's been taken care of," Kip shrugged, "We're all on good terms, now, but parents... No matter how good they are..."

"They still get some funny notions," Nester watched a football collide with some poor man's groin, "Ha-HA! Oldest joke in the book, and it still makes me laugh!"

"I love when they do the stupidest criminals specials," Aaron chuckled as he took a seat next to Nester.

"So, Coby... About those Carnies you've been dating," Kip had thrown the dish pieces away and was moving back to his task at hand.

"I'm not dating both of them," Aaron replied, "The first time was a date with Misty... The times after that... We just hang out. Man... Those Carnies are running the girls ragged, but they love their jobs..."

"What do they do?" Nester arched his eyebrow.

"Mostly children's parties for the upper-class," Aaron shrugged, "Misty has a neat trick where she spins three rings at once around her neck..."

"Rings?"

"Well, more like hula-hoops... She gets the middle one spinning around the opposite way than the other two, and the top one spins faster than the bottom one..."

"I guess resulting kaleidoscope is very entertaining for the kids," Kip chuckled, "And Mindy?"

"She's a natural... Showman..." Aaron winced at saying it, "I would have used a more gender-specific word, but it means something so different... and so much more wrong..."

"She hypes up the shows, huh?" Nester suggested with a grin.

"That, and she tends to bring boxes of kittens and puppies for the kids to play with."

"I bet the parents love that part."

"It's part of a deal she has with the SPCA. The animals already have their shots and flea baths, and by bringing them to the parties, there's a chance they'll be adopted. She's really good at reading people... She usually knows the right kinds of parents to approach..."

"Cripes, to think there's two more people like Snuffy, huh, Nester?"

Nester was stroking his chin.

"What's wrong?"

"I think I've met this Mindy before... Is she tan?"

"Yeah," Aaron replied, "and like Kip said, 'Snuffy's' personality."

"Last name Jakobson?"

"Yeah..."

"I know her!" Nester shouted, and then turned to his brother, "She was at the top of a lot of the classes we shared!"

"Yeah, they're both smart girls," Cobalt sighed.

"You really like 'em, don't ya?"

"Well... Misty, yeah... She's quick to say how she feels... I like that."

"I guess that's cool..." Kip shrugged, "But she's a Carnie... And Carnies intend to do bad things to Heroes..."

"Speaking of which," Cobalt suddenly looked serious, "Did we ever get back to Sheldon about analyzing those cookies?"

----

"So! What d'ya think?"

Mindy clung to the back of their sofa, he eyes twinkling with mirth. Misty was blushing as she snuggled up inside a comforter.

"He's sweet... A little gruff, but he's got a nice side..."

"I knew you were sweet on him!"

"But..." Misty bit her lower lip, "He's a Hero... They don't like the Carnival."

"Oh... Nuts to that!" Mindy chirped, "It's not like the Carnival's ever going to admit us! We're too smart for them!"

"We lit our Troupe's Ring Mistress's hair on fire!"

"No we didn't... The Seneschal slipped... And anyway, she had it coming."

Misty narrowed her eyes at her best friend.

"I know you orchestrated that... You may have been on the other side of the tent, but I know you somehow finagled that little event into motion..."

Mindy merely giggled.

"Yeah," Misty joined her, "I guess it is pretty funny."

----

"Sheldon!" Kip shouted as he clapped the Grey's Army inventor on the back (he felt a slight buzzing under his palm), "We've got questions, you've got answers."

"Don't I always?" Sheldon's lightly buzzing voice replied, "What is it about, this time? More queries as to the loyalty or capability of the Ryats? More confusion about Felix's new life? Perhaps you'd like to know about this new weapon I'm working on to help me in my battles against the villainy of this city on a more... personal level..."

"Well, I... A new weapon? Jebus, man, don't you ever quit?"

"No, not really."

"Well, in any case... Shel... This is about the cookies..."

For a brief moment, the "mad" scientist's face registered shock. Then disappointment.

"Damn... I was so off..." he went to his computer and pulled up one of the files, "Damn thing takes forever to load..."

"Should we be worried?" Nester asked nervously, "I mean, we got a hold of only one box of those things... What if they’re dangerous and people have been eating them all this time?"

"Ah, here we are..."

"Well? What's in there?" Cobalt barked.

"Okay... Oh dear... You're right, these cookies are dangerous! They're composed of heavy amounts of flour, sugar, cholesterol (I suppose that's from eggs), trace amounts of salt, baking soda, and (the most lethal ingredient of all) chocolate."

"My God," Cobalt breathed.

"What!?" Nester balked, "You're kidding! There’s nothing? Nothing at all? No brain altering chemicals (sorry Kip)? No parasitic nanites? No... Jebus... What would people put in cookies? No razor blades or syringes?"

Sheldon pulled off his shades and stared at Nester.

"You have a twisted mind at times, my friend..."

"So... They're harmless," Kip started biting his lower lip and grinning at the same time, "Plain old ordinary cookies..."

"Actually," Sheldon pulled a bag out from a desk drawer and withdrew a cookie to pop into his mouth, "They're remarkably well kept. Nice and chewy."

"Did you eat any before testing them?"

"Of course not!"

"So... What's worrying you, Aaron?"

Sheldon looked to the Praetorian Kip, "Aaron?"

"It's something new," Nester explained, "Now, Aaron, what's up?"

"I... I paid for those cookies, man. I helped the Carnies legitimately pay for legal counsel."

"Ouch," Kip clapped him on the back and pulled a cookie form the bag to offer it to his twin, "Here. Have a cookie."

Cobalt Black stared back at him with a slightly angry grimace.

"I think I'm starting to hate you like I'm supposed to."

((Uh... The whole neighbors thing is a "Kind of..." moment. Kingdale (Kip and Sarah's hometown) happens to have a peculiar geometry when it comes to extraplanar and mystic capabilities. It's an anomoly, as the town and its surrounding county don't actually exist on any lay lines or nodes, yet has a strong mystical capability. As such, it has become a sort of resort for fey, demons, wizards, witches, "mad" scientists, and all manner of other peculiar "tansmundanes." A place like this needs something to keep so many confusing, converging and conflicting forces from destroying each other (and revealing their presence to the "normals"), but that's a different story to what's going on to bring Kip and Sarah to this place.

Simply put, the various wooded areas surrounding the town and farms are host to all sorts of mystical phenomena. One of the more common events are various portals that lead to anywhere from other dimensions to other regions of the globe (provided they have sufficient magical strength to sustain such "reality impossibilities"). Kip and Snuffy have just passed through one of these portals and wound up here at their tender young age.

As you can see, I have given the background of my characters considerably more thought and effort than I let on here in the forums.))

"I'm six," Kipland answered.

"I'm five..." Sarah's eyes twinkled as she smiled at Archlich, "I'll be six soon, though!"

Kip looked back to the bushes where he and Sarah had entered the yard. The woods seemed somewhat more foreboding than when he and his best friend had been passing through them. Still, he had to try...

"Uh... Actually, sir, I just need to see if we can get home, first..."

Sarah took one look at the woods and shuddered a little.

"Um... I'll wait here, Kippers."

The little guy bounded for the edge of the yard and started rooting through the bushes. He could feel the others staring at him. Ignoring the strange hot feeling in his cheeks he kept pushing through the bushes until...

"Woah!" he pushed his hand into an inky darkness his vision couldn't penetrate, "That's a little scary..."

"Kippers!" he heard Sarah call out to him, "Come on!"

"Oh... Dad's not gonna like this..." he muttered as he pulled his hand back (thankfully, perfectly fine), "Okay, I'm coming back..."

"My name is Sarah Daring Grey," she squeaked to Archlich, "My friends call me Snuffy!"

Kip walked up, rubbing his right hand and glaring through the corner of his eye at the treeline.

"It looks like we're stuck here..." he sounded like he intended to do more digging later, "Uh... My name, right? I'm Kip. Kip Durj. We kinda wound up here in a game of night-time hide-and-seek... And I have no idea how to get back..."

"No thank you," Sarah called happily as she hopped up and put on her innocent face, "We're okay."

"Guh... wuh... p'thoo!" Kip struggled to his feet, "Ugh... Um... Uh..."

"Come on, Kip, say something!" Sarah hissed to him, "They probably won't like our playing in their yard..."

"We... uh... " Kip scratched his arm, "We were just playing... and kinda... wound up here..."

Behind Jarrod, out in the yard, Essex could see a little boy being chased by a little girl. She didn't recognize them. It was odd, what were they doing here? Why were they out so late? Why did the little girl tackle the boy and start grinding his face into the ground?

"You wanna make me eat dirt, huh?" she heard the little girl squeak, "Let's see how you like it!"

"Ghrgl-ngah!" the boy replied, "Brghlfr'dah!"

The girl stopped and picked the boy's head up out of the grass.

"What was that?" she sounded genuinely cocnerned.

"Ptoo!" the boy spat out a clump of grass, "I said, it tastes just fine. You should try it."

She frowned at him again, then planted his face into the dirt with and satisfactorily ground it in place.

Outside, a kid stumbled through the bushes and tripped over a root to faceplant in the yard. He was a chubby little punk, maybe six years of age.

"Ow," he muttered as he picked himself back up, then looked back, "Huh... I guess Cedric wasn't chasing me..."

Kipland Durj turned about to get a better bearing on his location. Seeing the nursery, he did a double take.

"Huh... I don't remember these guys being one of my neighbors..."

His best friend, Sarah popped out of the bushes behind him. She tripped over the same root and started pouting she picked herself up. Kip helped her and tried to soothe and shush her.

"Now, now, Snuffy, we can't have your brother finding us!"

"Well, he won't beat me up..." she shakily squeaked back, "You, on the other hand..."

"Yeah, so don't make me make you eat dirt to keep ya quiet!"

"Why you little!"

Sarah tackled her friend to the ground and started raining blows upon his shoulders and the top of his head. Kip covered his face with his arms and half-laughed half-croaked-in-pain.

((... The box of bullets isn't going to help you, then.

Unless you rig the ammunition to the end of your fist and it explodes on impact... But that's more like "going out with a bang..."))

1084: I will not buy the ammunition unless I am certain I can use it.

King Slater gave a curt salute.

"I guess I'll stick with you guys. Numbers are always better in a strange situation than going it alone... Provided we don't go nuts like in a cheesy horror movie and try to kill each other..."

He gave a pointed sideways glance at the large robot that was Combat Toy.

((Think of it as being like Jack on Tekken. Your arms have "guns" but they don't actually use ammunition. Instead, a gunpowder cartridge ignites somewhere in your shoulder, causing pistons in your forearms and/or wrists to "fire" faster than they normally would, thus increasing the force of your punch.))

((No no! I don't cut off my head, then... But get my brain tansplanted into the cybernetic body... YES! Immortality as a real Clockwork King or Nemesis! With laser eyes! But that's not the worst of it, the worst will be my Indian Burns from Hell!))

[ QUOTE ]
1081: You cannot plug your brain into a pc and hack it, in real life.

[/ QUOTE ]

This one may change in the next century. They already have an interface system for quadriplegics that enables them to turn on their TVs, change the channels and raise and lower the volume. The machine is plugged into their brain, too.

There's also been advancements in "cyber-eye" technology to help blind people see and cybernetic limb replacement (Oh, I can't wait until they come out with real-life combat prosthetics; I'll cut off my own limbs just so I can have myself some Terminator arms!)

Though the Derrick was a poor base at the moment (far too drafty, and sometimes the creaks and groans were worrying), Dustin Simms knew they had a fairly decent facility.

He was a bit peeved that it was left up to Jared and him to fill out the proper paperwork, but Levi and Michael were too unstable, and Dale wasn't old enough to take responsibility for the wreck.

Their association with Grey's Army helped, though. By noon, they held a lease for the Derrick, and it was sanctioned as the Brutal Warriors Order supergroup base. It felt good to have the facility. It felt good to be doing something.

"Hey!" Draven ran up with his datapad raised high, "I got us a mission! Some old Crey facility is being thrashed, and they want us to clean it up."

"Cool," Dustin rubbed his palms together to clear some of the sweat and hefted his mace to his shoulder, "We bringing anybody along?"

"Nah. Hero Corps says somebody's already on site."

"What're we expecting?"

"Freaks... Freaks and Crey Security."

"They'll fight us, too?"

"Hey, they call it their jurisdiction," Jared smiled, "We can take 'em."

----

The facility was in Kings Row, next to the Skyway City tunnel entrance. It was a tall, dingy building, but no more dingy than the rest of the city zone. Inside, it was havoc. There were a couple Freaks that had somehow gotten back up after getting thrashed by whatever hero had already arrived. Draven and Slater made short work of the Freaks, and were quite pleased the twisted monsters didn't get back up.

Working their way up by the stairs, they encountered Freaks trying the same thing (apparently, nobody wanted to wait for the elevators). The stairwell was filled with the sound of crashing metal and primal screaming. On the third floor, Draven and Slater found themselves kicked through the stairwell door and they had to take the fight to the hallways.

Draven Erickson ducked and rolled, hacked and slashed, and whatever he couldn't deflect, his Obsidian Ring caught with a dark armor that it wreathed his body in. It wasn't perfect, but it helped.

King Slater, despite his lack of mobility, rooted to the ground as he was, was faring much better. His body had been altered since their "Backyard Wrestling" days in the Kingdale Arena. The Granite Grip, a stone tablet with a fist on it, had permanently mutated his body when he utilized it (bonding to him for life). Thusly mutated, King Slater was capable of "growing" a type of rock armor that was durable, effective, and surprisingly didn't ruin his various outfits. The Freaks had trouble cutting through, and Slater kept them from making many chances with the Black Mauler.

Throwing a Freak through a window, Draven pointed Slater down the hall.

"Get to the top floor! Save the lab!"

"You go, man, I can take this..."

"Just do it!" Draven shouted, "We need this victory, and nothing beats a Stone Tank, no matter how slow they move!"

"Draven... I've had some bad experiences in Bloody Bay..."

"Just go!"

Draven shoved his cousin toward the elevators and turned back to the Freaks closing in. As Dustin rounded the corner, he gave one last look to see if his cousin would be okay. Draven was leaping into the air in a twisting motion, the sword singing moments before making contact with most of the Freaks surrounding him.

----

At the top floor, Dustin found the other hero. He was entirely green, and covered in spines. In fact, he looked like a walking plant.

The Freak Tank was some moron named "73h 800M3RZ," and wielded two massive mallets for arms. The plant-man didn't seem to be faring too well. A massive "CLUNK" signaled the end for the green scrapper, and he crumpled to the ground.

"Ha-HA!" 800M3RZ screamed in triumph, "I 4M the Ultimate Tankzorz! N-"

The Black Mauler slammed into his face and started sliding back across the floor to Slater. He had a thin polymer line he used to tether the weapon, and it helped when he had to throw it as a weapon or as a grapple. The line itself could support a little over six hundred pounds.

800M3RZ was not pleased. He followed the weapon to its owner, and hammered into Dustin's chest. There was a grating sound, and Dustin could have sworn he felt something break. When he looked to his left pect to see the damage, however, he saw a hairline crack "healing" by itself. He looked back to 800M3RZ with an annoyed sneer.

"Tsk... Now it's my turn, [censored]."

The Black Mauler sang like Draven's sword. Unlike the blade, however, the Mauler's tune had a heavy bass line, roared like a lion, and clamored throughout the halls in a rhythmic tribal beat. Whenever Dustin had an opening, he would smash his fist into the Tank's face.

Finally, 800M3RZ crumpled to the ground, gurgling something about "stupid heroes" and "suxorz." Slater was dusting off his jacket when he heard the breathing. Turning, he saw the green man happened to still be alive.

"Are you alright?"

"You..." the green man seethed, "You dare to interrupt me!?"

He was a little disconcerting to look at, what with his six eyes (three on each side of his head), complete lack of a mouth and spikes jutting from everywhere on his body. Fortunately for King Slater, he recognized this was a "this guy wants to hurt me" moment.

"Before we do this," he hefted the mace and held it like a baseball bat, "Mind giving me your name?"

"I am Bull Thistle," the Hero hissed somehow, "And I will end you!"

Thistle started by jutting some spikes out of his forearm and hurling them at the stone tanker. The spikes bounced harmlessly off Slater's shoulder and stuck into the wall. The scrapper then closed and started swiping.

Slater tried to take it easy on the guy. He seemed a little angry to have failed his mission, though the lab seemed to still be intact. However, knowing Crey Industries, Slater figured they had recorded the entire event, and that it wasn't Bull Thistle that would get the reward for the capture of the Freak leader.

He deflected most of the attacks, and would often push the scrapper back with the mace. He tried several times to tell Thistle to stand down, but the plant-man refused. However, all of the springing attacks in the world couldn't save the scrawny hero from being totally broken by King Slater.

As the fight tapered to its end, Dustin was suddenly struck with an inspiring thought. Thistle's attacks grew more and more exaggerated, leaving him more and more open. Finally, Dustin dropped his mace on the ground and grabbed the green guy by the throat after an exceptionally errant thrust. Bull Thistle couldn't comprehend what was happening before Slater had him in the air, and slammed him to the floor flat on his back. Spikes flew all around the hallway, some bouncing into the Tanker, but Dustin found he was relatively unharmed.

"NRAH!" he raised his fist into the air and cheered triumphantly, "Yeah! Nothing beats a stone tank!"

He looked down at Bull and chuckled.

"Want me to give you a three count?"

"No," the mutant gasped, "I'm... I'm done. You knocked the wind outta me and now I've got a headache. I... I concede."

Draven stumbled into the room at that. He was beaten, bruised, and bleeding in places. The wounds, however, were staunching by themselves, and they even seemed to be closing. It was slow, but it was there.

"This the other guy?"

"Yeah," Dustin snorted a little, "Bull Thistle."

"Pleased to meet you," the green man started struggling to his feet, "Please don't mind my appearance... It's like a combat armor..."

"So you're human underneath?"

"Human... Seeming..." Thistle shrugged, "It's a long story."

Before anything more could be said, however, some motion caught their eyes. At the end of the hallway was a man in a business suit. Normally, they'd have figured he was simply taking stock of the situation. He could have been one of Crey's many bean counters, simply getting an estimate as to what the insurance payoff for the damage would be.

He could have been...

If not for the dead Paragon Protector being dragged by it's snapped neck in the businessman's left hand.

The three heroes stared blankly at him. He stared right back. No words were uttered. The Agent simply dropped the corpse and started walking slowly toward them. A pistol slid out of his sleeve and glided smoothly into his hand.

Draven went to hit the elevator button, but the Agent shot a hole into it. It was a strange noise. It didn't sound like a pistol shot, but more like an energy weapon. The weapon began to hum, and the Agent didn't slow and didn't quicken.

Bull Thistle was muttering something under his breath. Slater could only hear something along the lines of "No way" and "This can't be happening," before he turned and smashed the Black Mauler into the elevator door. It took five smashes for the magic in the weapon to work its way through, the doors suddenly violently tearing into the elevator shaft as if a massive bullet had smashed through. The Mauler hummed a little and Slater had to exert some effort to pull it back. Draven leapt in immediately, taking flight and diving for the ground. Slater grabbed Thistle by the shoulder and yanked him through the hole.

"Break my fall!" he shouted as he backed through the hole, catching a blast in the shoulder.

It felt like fire coursing through his arm. He couldn't believe something could get through his armor so easily, much less keep burning for what seemed an eternity. He'd heard of White Phosphorous, a material that burned when it came in contact with oxygen and could cut through steel, it was so hot. He figured this must have been what it felt like.

Below him, Bull Thistle had caught the sides of the shaft with his spikes, and he slowed for a moment, but just enough to catch Slater in his back.

"AAAAAAAAUGH!" Thistle screamed as the spikes tore from his arms and legs, "Oh my God!"

They fell fast again, and Slater looked up to see the Agent falling after them. He fired again, and the energy bolt passed harmlessly by Slater's shoulder. He didn't know what to think about that, but apparently it was still something flesh and blood, and capable of making a mistake.

Speaking of mistakes, Dustin saw one, and decided to capitalize on it. Hurling the Mauler (with his fortunately good right arm), he watched the line coil around and around, the drag causing the handle to stay well behind the head of the weapon, which smashed into the pistol's muzzle and smashed through. There was a brief flash of light, and an explosion.

For a moment, the Agent was gone, and Dustin breathed a sigh of relief. The Mauler was still safely at the end of the line, and he started reeling it back in. Bull Thistle caught the walls and Draven caught them both, helping ease the descent.

"Who the Hell was that?" Draven gasped as they were safely waiting on the roof of the elevator, "And why was this thing down?"

"God knows, and God knows," Thistle replied, "We gotta get outta here!"

Slater was still looking up.

The smoke cleared and the Agent was gripping the ledge of one of the higher floors. Dustin noticed they weren't yet on the first floor.

"We're on the fourth..."

"So?"

"Hug the wall," he barked as he swung the mace at the cable box.

The other two heroes didn't need to be told twice. The box broke away from the elevator on the third swing, and the elevator immediately fell away. King Slater leapt up as the Agent leapt down. Bull Thistle jumped across the shaft and barely avoided getting pegged by the Agent's elbow. Dustin met the offender at the apex of his jump, just below the third floor door and caught him in the chest with the Mauler, deflecting the Agent's flight and slamming him into the wall. They fell onto the elevator; and Dustin found himself falling through the lobby door, which had blown outward from the elevator's impact. The Agent had landed on it's back on the now sharp corner of the elevator's roof and wall. Electrical sparks seemed to be erupting from its torso.

"Dude," Draven turned to Bull Thistle, "Why'd you jump across the shaft like that?"

"Counterweight," was the reply.

Dustin struggled to his feet, but only managed to make it to his knee. Looking back, he saw the Agent trying to pull itself back up. Its body was broken open, and he could see the exposed electronics where his right hand used to be.

"What are you?"

The Agent never answered. It never even had a chance to answer. There was a loud "CLANG" and the elevator's counterweight slammed into the bizarre cyborg, flattening it before a massive explosion spewed fire and metal out the elevator's door. Slater was blown backward and he sprawled into a pillar. In massive pain, but alive, he last remembered seeing Crey Security forces moving in before he passed out.

----

He came to in his bed. Looking around, he saw it was the bed in the Derrick. Draven was sitting at his side. On the other side was Nester Durj, Grey's Army's medic.

"See, I told you he'd be fine," he smiled to Draven and started pulling off his gloves, "I bet he was just exhausted is all."

"I thought..." Dustin turned to his cousin, "I thought I was done for."

"Nah, man," Draven shrugged, "Cops were outside, guiding in drones. B.T. and I were still alive and kicking, too. Those goons weren't about to try anything."

"How long was I out?"

"Five days."

"What?"

Nester grinned, "Yeah, man. Rikti and Praetorians aligned, too, man. They've laid waste to Paragon and the Rogue Isles, and this here rig's one of the few bastions of freedom left."

Draven punched Slater in the arm, "Yeah, man! We could've used your help! Where the Hell were you?"

Dustin glared at them.

"It's only been half a day," Nester laughed, "You stone tanks rock. Nothing can ever truly put you down."

"Can I leave the bed?"

"If you're up for it," Nester replied, "My nanites are making sure nothing vital’s punctured, and any hairline fractures you may have are being patched up lickety-split. There's some mind-clearing nanites rooting around in your gray matter, too, they should keep you perfectly alert and alleviate any dizziness you may incur."

"Cool," Dustin pulled himself out of the bed and followed his friend and cousin out.

The rest of the Brutal Warriors applauded him as he arrived in the dining hall. Psycho13 set him a plate of steak, potatoes and green beans and nodded to him respectfully.

"Alright," Solo turned to Project Whirlwind, "Draven's filled us in on what happened. Now, the question on my mind is this: Was that a Committee Agent like you mentioned?"

Whirlwind nodded.

"Great," Solo grumbled as he turned to his beer, "We're already dealing with this [censored]."

----

Justin Steel and his minions, Mr. Smythe, Mr. Weston and Mr. Walter, his foot soldiers, Mr. Hackler and Mr. Coach, his agents, and Mr. Kolt, his heavy commando, executed the Circle minions ruthlessly and efficiently. As the bullets stopped firing, Justin answered his cell phone.

"Yes, sir?" he intoned.

"We encountered some of your old friends again," the Director replied, "Some of our contacts have learned they may have organized again, and are now establishing a base of operations somewhere between Paragon City or the Rogue Isles."

"I understand, sir. I shall investigate promptly."

"No," the voice commanded coldly, "Continue your operations to prove the value of the Committee to Arachnos. There is much profit to be had there, among other perks. I'm assigning the Soultaker and the Assassin to investigate this."

"I understand, sir," Justin's face, even his tone of voice betrayed no emotion, "We shall continue to support Magus Mu'Drakhan."

"A high ranking Mu priest... Keep your eyes open for anything we may use to our advantage."

"Yes, sir."

Inside, Justin Steel seethed. He'd known the BWO had reformed. He'd informed the Committee of his worry about the threat they posed. They were brash and reckless, and they had a knack for ruining the plans and machinations of scary people. Now, the Committee had lost something, and they dangled the assignment to hunt down his former friends and end them.

"Sir?" Mr. Smythe shouldered his rifle and approached, "Sir, are we moving out, now?"

"Yes. I will call the Magus and see where he wants us to go now."

----

Mark Daniels was really getting into his video game. On the screen, demons died in horribly gory ways. Daniels relished in the slaughter.

"Heh-HA! DIE! DIE!"

The phone rang, and Daniels kicked it. This engaged the hands-free system.

"Shadowmark! This is Bossman. Speak to me!"

"Mr. Daniels, this is Director Thomas. Please pick up the receiver."

"Screw you, man," Mark flipped off the phone and stuck his tongue out to wag it at his chin, a stud rested in the middle of it and pressed into his upper lip, "You guys owe me for my last job!"

"You received your advance..."

"Yeah, I know, so where's the rest?"

"You failed."

"There were circumstances you did not make me aware of! Now, I am getting sorely tempted to take a page out of the Family's rulebook, and breaking into a collections racket. I happen to know where a few of your key 'Projects' are!"

"Do you, now?"

The Shadowmark Assassin glared at the phone and just noticed the dark hand grabbing at his throat. Screaming, he leapt from the chair for his gun, only to get hammered in the chest with a burst of dark energy.

"Augh! Soultaker! Yeah, I'll fix you!" Mark raised his hands and the black rings around each finger flashed briefly.

A cloud of black smoke hurtled toward Project Soultaker and passed harmlessly by.

"You're out of practice with your dark arts," the mysterious man croaked, "Don't reach for your rifle. I'll kill you where you lie."

"Soultaker... Please try to be civil with your partner."

"Partner?" the Assassin grimaced, "I ain't workin' with this psycho!"

"You have no choice, Mr. Daniels. I'm checking the books here, and I can see that we indeed failed to pay you for a job you finished for us. Failed, yet you finished, nonetheless. However, there's also the ammunition costs, the finder's fee for the mission, as well as the training you still owe us for."

"Huh?"

"Precisely," the Director chuckled on the other end, "You signed the contract, Mr. Daniels, and you're ours until we say your debt is paid."

"Bull-"

"Watch your tongue!" Project Soultaker smacked Mark across the face.

"Thank you, Soultaker. Now... I have a mission for you two..."

"Do I get paid?" Mark half-croaked, half-whimpered.

"Yes... This should cover a percentage of your dealings with us..."

"I should have remembered that saying about dealing with devils..."

...

I feel like I'm five again...

But...

There's an undercurrent of something darker lurking here...

1077: Don't poke the dragon! Don't poke the dragon! Don't poke the dragon!

1078: Having poked said dragon, I cannot point at the elf and say "She did it." (Resurrection can't really fix having my head shoved up my butt...)

1079: Resurrection doesn't work in modern real life.

1072: I don't care how many times you roll 20 in a row. You are not unlocking the LOCKLESS IMPENETRABLE DOOR!

1073: That goes the same for "Killing the Dragon in one shot," "Dodging the Deity's lightning bolt," and "Winning the beauty contest against the Nymph."

Ezekiel finished his shaving and gave his face a quick study in the mirror. Ever since he'd gotten his powers, he hadn't nicked himself. Every day he realized a new benefit.

"Hmm..." Catherine, Zeke's formerly estranged ex-wife walked up behind and hugged him affectionately, "Ready for another round?"

"Sorry, hun," the gray haired man gave her a sly grin, "As much as I'd enjoy it, I've got patrols to go on today."

"Mmm..." Catherine sighed, "I understand. I guess I should start looking into getting a job. I'm certain there's a job opening for a travelling secretary out there somewhere..."

"You still taking those Judo lessons?"

"Of course!"

When she left, Zeke got to work on flossing. Halfway through the bottom row, a sudden thought came to mind.

Who was that?

He stopped in mid-floss, and stared at the mirror.

Hello? You can hear me, right?

Zeke looked around the bathroom, floss string dangling from his mouth.

Ezekiel! Come on, think about this... I thought we'd already been through this.

"Geizzer?"

Oh good! You remembered my name!

"What... What's going on?"

Well, for starters, I'm awake...

"Yeah, I gathered," Zeke whispered as he closed the bathroom door.

You don't need to talk, you know. You can communicate with me through surface thoughts...

Good to know, Zeke shrugged, then went back to his flossing, Huh... This might take less getting used to than I thought.

Androm'Geizzer, Ezekiel's Nictus and the source of all his power. A Kheldian, but a Nictus at the same time. Formerly one of the dark captains that fed on typical Kheldians to preserve his own life and utilized scientific theorems, elixirs, and technologies to enhance his capabilities to make him a more effective hunter.

Until he'd met the love of his life. She was a Kheldian, and he'd known her before he'd become a Nictus. He'd found her on this world, and sadly, she was shortly thereafter executed by Arakhn to feed her and Requiem's ever-growing hunger.

That was all Zeke knew from the dreams...

I prefer to keep it that way, Geizzer sounded solemn, Once I'd learned the truth, I knew I could serve them no longer. They hounded me and I came across you moments before a Void Hunter caught me with one of those nasty Quantum guns... As you can imagine, I was quite desperate to find a suitable host after that.

This piqued Zeke's curiosity, Is that why you went catatonic after we merged?

Yes. Quite. I apologize for leaving you in the dark like that...

Among other things, Zeke started getting dressed, pulling on his armored polypropylene top first, You could've told me you were a criminal, even among the Nictus...

Among the Nictus I was a decorated war hero... there was a moment's pause, At least, that's how your kind would term it. It's kind of hard to pin medals on an energy being...

They say you're imprinted with your crimes.

Who says that?

Sunstorm and Shadowstar were quite... vivid... as to the kinds of punishments they had in store for your crimes. Several Nictus I've faced, Arakhn among them, concur that you're hardly worthy "Hero" material.

Androm was quiet for several minutes. Zeke had finished dressing, snatched up a bagel and a bottle of orange juice and kissed Catherine on the cheek before heading out into the wild blue yonder.

He was chilling out on a rooftop in New Sparta, watching some Freakshow goons deal, plot and "psyche up" for their next rampage. He heard something about a new Freak named Chaingunnz making a reputation for himself before it got all scrambled up.

I won't lie to you, Ezekiel. I did the things they say I did.

"Great," Zeke muttered, "Couldn't this have waited for later?"

No... Androm's "voice" sounded quite sullen, I think we need to clear the proverbial air between us before we go on working together.

"I suppose you have a good explanation."

Of course not. Saying I was a soldier and just following orders is never a good excuse. It doesn't matter that I thought what I was doing at the time was the right thing to do, and the fact that my joining with you to fight as a Warshade to help absolve my sins does little to actually accomplish that goal.

"So, what part about this is supposed to make me trust you?"

Nothing, except my honesty. Ezekiel... I don't think you quite understand how close I was to my friend...

"I'd probably understand better than you think..." Zeke smiled, "I was married, after all."

Is that what your kind call it? Hm. Well, in any case... I owe my kind, my original kind, my service. It may take me a great many of your lifetimes to accomplish this goal, but I hope you can trust that I'm sincere in all of this.

"Just tell me about one thing."

Yes?

"Tell me about the Arachnos Soldier you turned inside out."

There was no reply.

"Well?"

I don't know how to answer that. What's Arachnos, and... Well, honestly, I never turned anybody inside out.

"I've seen your dreams, Geizzer," Zeke hissed as another hero landed on the rooftop next to him.

"Uh..." the blaster stammered, "Sir? Are you going after those Freaks? I... I kinda gotta hunt a whole bunch of 'em down..."

"Knock yourself out, kid. I'm having a private conversation here."

The power-armored blaster looked around curiously.

"Uh... Sir?"

"In my head, kid. If you ever get yourself bonded with a Kheldian, you'll understand."

"Uh... I'm gonna go hit the Freaks now."

"Have fun."

Other Nicti have done what you mentioned... By utilizing a sickening method of using gravity and wormholes... But I refused to conduct such a revolting act on anything. It may have been a less-than-fatal attack, if devastating, to one of us... But corporeal, flesh-and-blood creatures? No thank you.

"So, you saw somebody do it, once?"

Yeah... I guess it haunts me more than I like to admit.

"Well, let's get back to work, and we can work out a way for you to rock the Nictus World."

1065: I am not allowed to remind the one smoker in our group (because there's always a smoker in the group) that he/she can put his/her cigarette out on the face of the guy annoying him/her (because there's always an annoying guy, and he's always a guy).

[ QUOTE ]
69) As a fire blaster, you burn the giant donut in Faultline to a crisp just to make the lowly cops weep.

[/ QUOTE ]

((NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!))

78) You take a swim in the Faultline water (the really bad, oily stuff) saying "This counts as a bath!"

Cobalt Black awoke with Misty and Mindy cuddled up next to him. It was an odd thing. He'd never figured he'd wind up in a situation like this in his life.

To get it out of the way, there was nothing carnal about their relationship. Cobalt was very adamant about that fact. He didn't want to leave the possibility that he had a child in this world when he had to leave. It was important to him, and the girls understood.

The girls udnerstood plenty, in fact. They had talked about their childhoods on that first date, how the girls initially hated each other (as they were pretty much the only competition either one had), but grew friendly over time. They had excelled in most scholarly achievements, but after college, they found their pursuits were very taxing to their emotional health.

The Rikti War interrupted everything. Though they were mostly unharmed (fortunately), their lives were irrevocably shattered. After doing a few jobs (waitressing, movie theater ushering, and other low-pay fare) they came to a realiation: they were unhappy.

Cobalt had chuckled a little when they told him the whole reason they joined the Carnival in the first place was because they'd wanted to do something and have fun doing it. They had both taken gymnastics in school, and kept it up weekly through college as a hobby, and now it was helping them to entertain people daily.

Cobalt filled them in on his life as a renegade. He couldn't remember much of his life as a child... So much of it was running and hiding. So much was just struggling not to starve...

To keep from depressing the girls, he started to focus more on his life in this world. His adventures with his impromptu "family." The conversations, the times where they jsut sat around and talked about life... They often giggled at the antics of Cedric.

After dinner, they went to Pocket D. He wasn't too sure on his feet when it came to dancing, the girls were patient and were more just thrilled that he at least made the attempt. He wound up staying the night in their apartment, and woke up with the two of them cuddled up to him.

He didn't get it. With Grey's Army, it was an eerily familiar transition. The only member of their group who was as chaotically affectionate as this was Randy's daughter, Sarah, and she typically had a sense of what proper bounds were. The only problem he'd had with her was when she "glomped" him, which led to him slamming her to the floor and her rolling him over and beating his face bloody. She never glomped him again, though. That was kind of sad...

But here were these two girls. They barely knew him, and yet, they felt comfortable enough with him to just snuggle with him while he slept on their couch. Mindy explained it just felt right. Misty was a little busy drooling (lightly) on his neck.

So here he was... Another day with these two girls happily cuddling with him, just because it felt nice. It did, too, even for "Aaron," who knew little of such comforts. He sighed and gave the two an affectionate hug before carefully picking his way off the bed.

----

Roland woke with a crick in his neck. It was nearly ten in the morning according to his video player. That should have concerned him, it meant he was late to the base for his patrol assignment.

However, his mind was far more occupied with the weight on his shoulder.

Gingerly, Round looked over at Jessica Starburst, the strange young scrapper hero who'd somehow inspired him to stick around in the city. He was honest with himself, if not his friends and family, that she was the primary reason why he was still a "Hero." If not for her, he'd have packed up his few belongings at the time and headed home.

But he'd grown attached to this new friendship. In high school he'd been an antisocial, an outcast. He'd "earned" the nickname "Round" in his elementary years because the other kids thought it bothered him. Later it became his moniker as he clearly demonstrated that it didn't.

His adoption of the insult, however, didn't mean he'd earned acceptance. He and Nester were fortunate their fathers were such good friends, they probably would have been lost in their own little worlds if their fathers hadn't been good friends.

Nester probably would have gone mad. Roland, too, but in a far different way. He could see himself being much more of a curmudgeon. He was curmudgeonly, no doubt, but he recognized the fact he could have easily wound up figuring that absolutely nothing would work out right, and he'd eventually become some anarchic radical, hiding out in the back woods of norhtern New York until he got cancer and suck-started a shotgun.

He shuddered at the thought and reminded himself how glad he was to have grown up the way he did. Which brought him to Jessica. He didn't even really know the girl, but they'd already become fast friends. She appreciated his cooking, for one, and he had been an excellent ear for when she needed to vent about her super group or their coalition members. She was part of one of those big ones, the ones that were heavily publicized in the media for all the massively great work they did for the city and the nation at large. They made the things Grey's Army had done already seem like buttering toast.

Their friendship was different from any one he'd had before. There was no necessity, no prior introduction. Just, "hey, you stole my 'arrest'" and they just kept talking.

She said the more animal-like members of her group had been calling him her "mysterious boy-toy." It made him chuckle to think about it. He just didn't see it, but then, a lot of people tended to see something that really wasn't. They'd already talked about their "situation," and Roland assured her he only felt they were friends. She seemed pleased about this, and not in that "hesitant" way. It was more like relief.

He woke her up.

"Um... Uh..." Jessica mumbled as she stretched, then suddenly was shocked as she realized where she was, "Oh my God! What time is it?"

"Almost ten. I keep my clock fifteen minutes fast..."

"Oh-my-God-oh-my-God-oh-my-God! I'm-late-I-need-to-go!"

Roland waved as she bolted for the door. He didn't get why she was freaking out, it wasn't like there weren't other heroes out there, putting the hurt on the villainy of the city.

As he prepared to cook himself some eggs over easy, he heard hsi door lock click and unlatch again. Looking through the divide, he saw Jessica's head pop through the opening of the door.

"Uh... Roland..." she bit her lower lip, "About last night..."

"I guess we both had a long day... I know I did. Those Clockwork can be an irritant. I was exhaustd last night, and I fell asleep during the movie."

"Oh... Okay... So did I... I just... I didn't want you feeling any... you know... weird..."

Round chuckled.

"You're okay?"

"Yeah," he went back to his cooking, "We're cool. No misconceptions."

"Okay, cool. See ya later, Roly Poly!"

Roland chuckled to himself as she left. She didn't need to worry. He didn't have any plans to look into having a relationship until he was at least twenty eight.

"Of course," he chuckled again, "Life has a funny way of turning somehting like that around on ya..."

Panting, Slater depowered his armor and rested his mace on his shoulder. The rock shrank into and was eventually swallowed by his skin. Oddly, his clothes were undamaged by the effect...

"I've got no problem workin' with ya. Hell, I never met any o' ya before today... If this is 'day...'" he shrugged, "For all any of us know, this is just a dream..."

Before anybody could respond he nodded and waved his hand in the air.

"I know, I know. Don't bet on it. For now, our goals are the same, so I'm with you."

60: The villains you arrest get acquittal after acquittal. Especially the female ones because you "bwoke [their] wittle bwittle wegs."

((I guess the smashed trees wiped out half the zombies for us :P))

“You know, Joe, it would save me considerable time if you could get me the access codes to the War Walls...”

“Not happening, Daren,” the officer replied through the internet messaging system, “Never mind the fact that “A,” the city doesn’t know about you, and “B,” they wouldn’t trust you if they did, but if you ever got captured, those codes would be in the hands of whatever crazies shot you down. Also, despite being a hero, I still rate little more information than your average run-of-the-mill cop.”

“You ARE a cop!” the rogue leader of the bWo spat at the screen, but typed, “Fine. But it would’ve really helped if I didn’t have to fly over the barrier limit, and could just go through the War Wall shields...”

“It’s not happening.”

“I know, I know. Bye.”

Daren made his way for the impromptu meeting room. Outside, his brother Dustin battled with their friend, James Baker, in what was both a mock battle, and a method for them to train. Jared, Dale, and Matt watched, with Dale serving as a referee for the fight. He shook his head at the cheers. Sometimes, you just couldn’t grow up.

In the meeting room, which was full of boxes of clothes and assorted nick-knacks that they hadn’t yet been able to figure out a use for (nor divide among their proper owners), James’ brother, Levi, and the peculiar man they only knew as Project Whirlwind. Levi was busy trying to figure out one of those wooden puzzles, while the masked Hero sat quietly.

“Hey, Solo,” Baker intoned without looking up, “Nice place you got here.”

“Thanks,” he turned to Whirlwind, “You got anything to say?”

“No, Master Simms, I do not.”

“Okay. Well, I guess we need to hammer out your association with us.”

“How so?”

“Well, Crazy here went missing a few years back. You know this. Draven says you helped him escape the Committee... I want to know how, and why.”

“Why do you need to know?”

“Call it a token of trust... If I can’t trust you, I can’t have you here. It’s that simple.”

“Tell him the story,” Psycho13 messed around with a part of the puzzle that seemed loose, but never really could be removed until another piece came out first, “I like hearing it.”

“Very well...”

Project Whirlwind removed his mask, revealing a normal looking, caucasian male face. He had short-cut brown hair that was matted (an exceptionally bad case of “hat-hair”), and brown eyes. His face was unremarkable, and clean-shaven. However, Daren recognized him immediately.

“Michael Brown?”

The Hero nodded.

“We went to high school with you... You graduated before us. What... What the Hell happened?”

“Well, like a lot of my classmates, I decided to hit the road after graduation. I made a beeline for California, and never looked back.”

“I take it that didn’t pan out?”

“I was a bum within months of making it to L.A. I walked home. Do you have any idea what being a drifter was like before the War? Well... I made it back during your Senior year... I was looking for work when this agency contacted me. I didn’t know what was going on, but I needed a job... I needed money...”

“They were the Committee?” Daren shook his head, “Dude, the Committee was a joke. An in-joke between me, Jared... Levi, here. The Committee was,” he slapped his chest with both hands and gestured around the room to where he perceived the others were, “It was us!”

“Somebody decided that wasn’t right...” Michael replied glumly, “I didn’t watch your show until after I’d signed on, and I figured they were with you. At first, I thought it was all cool, a form of entertainment that, who knows, probably could’ve taken off... Super-powered pro-wrestling...”

“Contending,” Baker corrected, “Once we threw powers into the mix, it stopped having any similarity with professionals, other than the scripting. It was carefully measured, painstakingly acted out contending. Folks didn’t realize just how much Dale’s shield protected them rather than us when we fought.”

“Well... In any case, I started to notice things taking a downward turn shortly before they ordered Levi’s kidnapping. Higher ups kept barking crazy orders to have the most bizarre things done...”

“Like?”

“Hidden cameras... Not just in the Arena or your guys’ homes, but in different Kingdale officials’ homes... Various elite... I was just a pencil-pusher at the time...”

“Get to the facility they had me in,” Levi had popped most of the pieces out and was looking at them on the table, “Daren knows the rest.”

“The cops found the cameras, and traced them to a guy they found with the types of flammables used to burn down the Arena... A guy with numerous prior convictions for arson, but was supposedly rehabilitated and on meds...” Daren sighed, “I think he was on his way to prison when the ships arrived.”

“Right...” Michael rolled his eyes, “I guess you guys already figured he was set up.”

“Yeah, too bad he died. Rikti mistook the bus for an armored vehicle. Blasted it off the highway.”

“I’m sorry about that... Now... The facility they had Levi in... It was like a... A... Hero factory. Only they weren’t building just heroes. They built villains, too. The idea was that the Committee would sell a mercenary to the highest bidder, Crey, the Fifth Column, the Nemesis Army... A lot of them outright refused the Committee’s various Projects. Crey bit a few times, the Column, too, if they wanted to set up a Hero with similar powers... A heavy bidder was some clandestine group in a group of islands off the coast of the U.S...”

“Arachnos...”

“Well, shortly before the Invasion, there was... A schism in the Committee. One of the directors brought a new concept to the Adirondack Factory. Where all of the different characters we cranked out were each unique in their own ways, the four Agents he brought were each exactly the same. I’m sure you’ve seen the Vahzilok zombies by now... Imagine something similar, but much better. Where the zombies have little mechanical bits to make up for where the decaying flesh can’t do the normal work, these things were high endurance metal and polymer combat chasses wrapped in gray, preservative drenched flesh. We had a theory that the ‘candidates’ were ambushed before being ‘converted.’”

“Sick...” Daren grunted.

“I saw the Factory’s director smiling and shaking hands with the other guy after the tests. The Agents could punch through brick walls, leap extraordinary heights...”

“Sounds like they ripped off a movie.”

“Well... They did, kind of. As unimaginative as the Agents were, though, they worked. There was even a stress test... It took a Helluvalot of bullets to put one of them down, and when it finally did go...”

“Boom,” Psycho13 finished, “Even doped up to my eyeballs, I knew that.”

“They wouldn’t need the Factory anymore, not the way it was. I knew what the Committee’s next logical step would be. Hell, it was already happening across the board. Various Projects were winding up dead from mysterious causes, though the mission objectives, assassinations of troublesome individuals, rescues of key Persons of Interest and the like for which they were ‘hired,’ were still succeeding as planned. I knew the Agents, and Director Thomas, were behind it all.”

“Thomas...” Daren repeated to himself, “Pseudonym?”

“Undoubtedly.”

“How big had the Committee gotten by the time you... Wait, you did what?”

“He was a clerk,” Psycho13 was busy trying to put the puzzle back together, which, oddly, was just as hard as trying to pull it apart, “He stole the Project Whirlwind outfit and artifacts...”

“Heh,” Michael’s serious tone finally cracked a little and he allowed himself a smile, “You didn’t think I dressed like this because I like to, did you? The entire outfit is designed to manipulate electricity. The gem in the center of my belt? Research said it could manipulate the local weather. So far, it’s just the extremely local weather...”

“But why steal Levi?”

“He could cobble the stuff together. We were coming across the most bizarre artifacts, the most random technologies, and he was able to take a few minutes and throw the stuff together into the various Projects we needed to make an impact. He wasn’t the only one. After burning down the Adirondack Factory, we tried to locate and rescue the others. The Invasion made it difficult, you understand...”

“How many did you find?”

“Three... One dead. Another was incapacitated, and the third... She...”

“She’s nuts,” Levi chuckled as he set down the completed puzzle, “So, Daren, you satisfied?”

“What are you tryin’ to do, Mike?”

“I... Well... For the first time in my life... I seem to be doing something right. I feel like I’m accomplishing something...”

“Alright,” Daren nodded, “I’ll accept that. For now. I’ll tell you now, though, those Committee bastards... Barring the War, they took something from us, and nearly caused me and Matt spend some time in prison...”

“I understand,” Michael sighed with relief, “Though... I don’t know who set up that arsonist for you... Frankly, it sickens me that it happened.”

“Maybe we weren’t alone with trying to burn down the Adirondack Factory,” Levi rasped, “Who knows what we’ll have to deal with next.”

“I know what we gotta deal with next,” Daren stood and headed for the door, “Come on, let’s get the others and get to work fixing this place up.”

I know. Ryat66 is a bit of a modernist (and sometimes post-modernist) android. Ryat99's the one who goes for the classics.

This is awesome, Sam. This is the sort of background you just can't see in the current (or even the prior) iterations of comics. Novels, maybe, and that's a big maybe. Normally, this kind of character development is reserved for flashbacks, and even then you only get a small taste of what the character actually went through.

Interesting that you present us a flashback as a story, so the narrator has more time to get the totality of his message across.