Mr_Grey

Ryat99: How about the works of Bach?"

Ryat66: No, no, and Hell no.

Ryat99: Perhaps Beethoven...

Ryat66: I think you're missing the point, brother.

Ryat99: Oh! Metallica!

Ryat66: ...

Ryat99: What?

Ryat66: What was it that made you think that? The "Metalli" or the "ca?"

Ryat99: ...

Ryat66: God help you if it was the "ca."

1047: Though you may be inadvertently RPing the character anyway, slamming back two bottles of Jose Cuervo (at the same time) during gameplay is not actually RPing.

1049: Angels and Demons don't mix. Ever. Massive quantities of bloodshed will follow.

(And, while I'm remembering a fun In Nomine session...)

1050: Just because a person's worst sin is burning a bus full of nuns to the ground, doesn't mean they're actually a bad person.

(A game meant to turn the tenets of Christianity into fun for an RP community, and a small group of Marines took it to places it was never meant to go. It's bad when the demons start feeling sorry for the humans because of the actions of the Angels...)

Nothing's more Metal than my beverage of choice!

*takes sip*

*spits*

What the? There's COFFEE in my BOURBON!

Power Breaker left the Flyer and headed in the direction of the temple. He hated what he was about to do. If people made no beef with him, ha made no beef with them, that was one of his rules.

However, sometimes, life presented an event that caused a man to break his own rules. The event in this case was an unfortunate disagreement with the Ice Mistral.

----

"He's not a villain!" she had shouted at Scirocco while he held an audience with his students and apprentices, "We all know he works for the Heroes!"

"Lady," Power Breaker had retorted among the glares and grumbles of his fellow gathered rogues, "I tolerate you so long as I don't have to lsiten to ya, but now yer makin' me want to hurt ya!"

"It doesn't change the fact you're a traitor!"

"Funny... I thought treachery was largely the reason a lot of use were here in the first place... Sit down, you [censored], I'm no traitor..."

"Indeed, Mistral," Scirocco intoned with a grin that sent chills down everybody's backs, "I trust Power Breaker as much as I do everyone in this room."

Again, this did little to ease the tension, but most of the other rogues sat back down, waiting to receive their assignments. Many of the other Brutes, however, did not.

"Well I don't!" Mistral snapped again, "He's... he's..."

"Not like you," Breaker growled, "a lunatic."

"I'll kill you!"

Ice Mistral hurled a blast of ice at Power Breaker, who barely got his energy shields up in time to deflect the attack. She charged at him afterwards, but Power Breaker had been itching for this fight a long time.

He could hear the other rogues cheering on the frosty vixen. They booed and hissed whenever he knocked her down. They roared triumphantly when she slammed him against the walls. Back and forth they went across the room, the spectators uproarious, save their patron, who merely watched with a bemused expression. Finally, it came down to one shot, and Power Breaker put his all into it. His nanites went into overdrive, and he could feel his muscles burn as he drove his fist through her chestplate, knocking the breath out of her lungs and putting her down for the count.

The rogues stopped cheering. The room was silent. Power Breaker looked down at the unfortunate girl and staggered to one side before shurgging and slumping down to one knee.

"I'll kill him for you, sir!" one of the Brutes, an upstart Harris knew as Shadowshock, "Let me answer this insult!"

"Stay seated," Scirocco muttered as he reached his apprentice and looked her over, "Oh dear... Power Breaker... You have certainly done it, now. Very well, Mistral... You get your wish... Power Breaker, I have a new assignment for you..."

It turned out he'd actually cracked the mantle that granted Ice Mistral her power. Scirocco must have been furious, but he'd covered whatever emotions he had about the situation well. In private, it was almost scary as he handed Raymond the mantle and stared into his eyes.

"You were ordered to keep me from using the Malleus Mundi. You're not the first Chosen to have to deal with such an assignment. By far, you won't be the last. I appreciated the conversation we had, however, as opposed to a crude game of fisticuffs... For that, I'm giving you a chance to keep your life."

"I saw you didn't use the book..." Harris replied.

"Not for lack of trying, my young student... But I'm pleased to note you were not among those who stopped me."

"I guess we all have to make our choices..."

"Indeed... Now, you have chosen poorly. This mantle I've handed you... It can only be repaired in a complicated ritual. One nobody in our order can perform."

"Wait... Don't tell me..."

"Yes... I need you to go to the Temple of the Four Widns and have the monks there repair it."

"They'll kill me to take it back, you know," Power Breaker glared dubiously at his mentor.

"I'll kill you if you fail."

Despite the seriousness of the promise, Harris didn't even flinch.

"Or if I don't go, I don't doubt it... I just don't get why you're wasting time with that girl. She's not the caliber of person you want her to be. She never will be."

"And you are?"

"Not only 'no,' Boss, but 'Hell no.'" Breaker stuffed the mantle into a pack and strapped it to his back, "I don't belong here... Among the crazies. You don't either, but that's your issue."

----

That was how Power Breaker had left it. Shortly after that, he was on a Flyer headed for the Temple of the Four Winds. Shortly after that, he'd landed and proceeded on foot.

Upon arrival, he found the Monks engaged in a battle with the Circle of Thorns. Pausing for a moment to consider whether or not the wizards might just be a little desperate to be going after everyone with ties to magic, he proceeded to help clear out the Circle's ranks from behind. The monks were not grateful, however.

"We know who you are," one of their leaders shouted, "We were warned why you're here!"

"Boss, you couldn't make this easy, could you?"

Four of the monks stood in his way. Each was dressed in what appeared to be a black ninja suit plated with blue armor pads. Harris scratched the skin of his scalp for a moment.

"You know, I think I played a game that had someone like you guys in it... Is your boss Sub-"

The monks proceeded to throw ice at Power Breaker, and his words were lost to a cacophony of breaking ice. This didn't stop him, however, and Power Breaker started making his way up the temple's steps. Hammering his way past the guards, he moved into the main chamber and found himself fighting even more of the Temple's guards.

A mound of snow and ice sat in the entrance before the monks stopped, each of them panting heavily. Their leader stepped forward, motioning the others to step back as he examined the crystallized rogue.

The mound shuddered and cracked. Before their eyes, Power Breaker shrugged off his frosty prison and glared perturbedly at the High Monk.

"You in charge here, Boss?"

"You will agin nothing from here, monster!" the Master replied, "And we will take back the artifact stolen from us!"

"As I hear it, you gave it up..." Power Breaker pulled off his backpack and started fishing through it, "Ancient artifacts... Clockwork parts... Crystals... Metal bits... An Inanimate Carbon Rod? Man, I gotta clean this thing out... Ah, here we go... The Mantle of the Ice Mistral!"

The monks stared at him, dumbfounded.

"You really brought it," the Master finally gasped.

"Yeah... It needs to get fixed, and yer the only guys that can do it, right?"

"As crudely as you put it, yes, we are, but this is by no means a simple ritual..."

"Blah-blah-blah, get crackin!" Breaker tossed the mantle to them, "And don't make me chase after ya to get it back."

"Why would we allow you to take this relic back to our enemy?"

"Because you still have to deal with yer enemy," Power Breaker grunted, "Cripes! It's like I'm dealing with four-year-olds here! Look, I read up on the history you've got with that little [censored], and if it were up to me, I'd let ya keep the damn thing and have the whole issue be done with."

"But it is up to you. You brought us the mantle..."

"That's a fluke, and you know it," Breaker shrugged off the last of the ice and worked his way to the Master, "Now, look, Boss... I don't know what yer ideas are about 'honor' or 'justice' or even the basic concepts of right and wrong, but don't you think that it's a might low to just take the damn thing because it needs to get restitched?"

----

"Power Breaker, you're back," Scirocco seemed mildly surprised, "And you have the Mantle. Excellent. I'll get this to Mistral as soon as... What?"

"You told 'em I was coming," Power Breaker narrowed his eyes, "Don't try to lie to me."

"And your problem with that is?"

"It made a bad situation worse, is all."

"Did you have to kill them?"

"Oh no," Harris started plodding away, "No, no, no... I had me no reason to be breaking those boys. I had to pop a couple, but they'll get better. No, you want the Monks to stop hounding yer pet, you take her and the two of you will have to take care of that yourselves."

"They let you walk away with this," Scirroco stared dubiously at the Mantle.

"It's the real thing, don't worry about it. The Monks got my point about doing the simple right thing. They know if they want it back, they'll have to come for it."

"If they come here, I'll kill them."

"And good luck to you when that thing breaks again. I'm going to the club, later."

"See the ring on my finger? It's twinkly!"

Ezekiel nodded and grinned to the happy young couple. Sarah and Joe had been acting funny since he and Nester had called them in to help clear out a group of Warriors. Now, outside the warehouse the gangers were using as their hideout, they had finally gotten the answer. Or rather, Nester had given the answer thanks to the fog clearing on his memory of Valentine's Day.

"Congratulations," Nester grinned, "So, Dad, who won the pool?"

Zeke drew his communicator and flipped through a few menus.

"Let's see, you're how old? Twenty one? And this is February..."

"You guys voted on when we'd get engaged?" Joe arched an eyebrow at Nester. Sarah snuggled against his arm with a giggle.

"No, we bet on whether or not Cedric and Randy would beat you to a bloody pulp before it happened," Nester said, causing Snuffy to disengage herself from her fiance and swat his shoulder, "Hey, hey! We also had an ancillary bet running that he'd beat your Dad and brother to the punch! Who won, Dad?"

"Char," Zeke said with a short laugh, then he showed them the datapad "Wow... Look at that date... Just days before the invasion..."

"Woman's intuition," Sarah squeaked before a quick chuckle.

"Intuition, nothing..." Nester intoned, "Look, at that date! That's damn near prophetic!"

Zeke just shook his head at the kids, "There's nothing supernatural about it. Char knew your plans for the future, Joe, if not the location. She knew you'd keep at the relationship, Sarah, and Valentine's Day is just romantic. She estimated that you'd start feeling like adults at 21 and took a gamble. Look, she only listed last Valentine's Day, too."

"A single day?" Joe stammered, "So... Does she get a special payoff for such a risky bet?"

"Joe!"

"I'm just asking," he shrugged, "For your Mom's sake."

"Well, the pot would get divided by a certain percentage for every day the gambler had taken, and they'd only get so much," Zeke explained, "But since Char only took one day, she gets all of it."

"Who'd have gotten the rest?" Nester was trying to work the math out in his head, "I mean, it's not like any of the rest of us involved deserve to get anything..."

"You're right," Zeke cycled back through some more menus, "Huh... That kind of stinks. The rest of the money would have gone to either pay for Joe's hospital bill or funeral cost..."

"That's heartening," the supercop croaked.

"...Or it would have been given to the happy couple as a wedding gift..."

"Aw," Snuffy moaned disappointedly, "Well, I guess I should be happy Daddy and Ced didn't beat up my boyfriend..."

She nuzzled Joe's nose with her own.

"I mean my feeee-an-say!"

"Yeah, be glad," Zeke smirked at the datapad again, "Says here, Randy had February Fifteenth, Two Thousand Seven."

"As a counterbet?" Nester squinted in disbelief.

"No, as the day he'd beat Joe to a living pulp."

"HEY!" a voice shouted down to them.

Zeke turned around and glared up at the Warrior swordsman shouting down at him.

"We've got an army in here waiting to smash, cut, and [censored] you up! What the Hell's takin' so long!?"

"We're talking!" Zeke shouted back, "Hold your horses, dammit!"

He turned back to the rest of the team.

"Okay, kids, here's the plan. We call in Cedric, and watch him beat the tar outta these guys."

"Deal," Nester started dialing in Cedric's number.

----

Beedee-bedee! Beedee-bedee! Beedee-bedee!

"Ugh..."

Cedric dragged himself out of his bed. The previous night had been a hideous nightmare of drinking, partying, and random bar brawls. It wasn't his fault, he just wanted to have a good time. But the damn villain groups kept showing up!

First, there was a group of Nemesis soldiers. Then, a group of Council soldiers, then another group of Nemesis. Then he found a group of Council troopers fighting with Nemesis troops over who got to ambush him.

When the fight was over, he remembered picking up a broken Council trooper to interrogate him, but all he seemed to manage was a question of where he could find a new pair of pants. He looked over to a nearby chair and saw the pants he'd bought shortly thereafter sitting on the back of it.

"Oh good," he groaned, "wasted money..."

The beeping continued.

"Oog..."

He looked to the nightstand and saw that his shirt was laying on top of the clock. A red blur shone through the fiber, and, oddly, the beeping didn't stop as he repeatedly swatted the top of the offending technology.

"What the Hell!" he screamed as he wrenched the clock off the nightstand with his shirt and flung it across the room, "Agh! My head! So much angry!"

The beeping continued, unabated, and Matt was suddenly at the door.

"You okay? Why're you going nuts?"

"Aw, it's my communicator," Cedric half chuckled (half groaned) as he reached for his discarded camouflaged pants (don't worry folks, he wears sweatpants to sleep).

"God forbid it's something important," McGinty commented, "Jebus, man, you reacted like it was the end of the world!"

"Huh... Nester's calling me in on my day off... I sent him back a message saying I'm too hung over to help... Ah, geez... He says it's the Warriors... I hate them so much!"

Matt shook his head and headed for the kitchen.

"That didn't take much convincing... Hokay, breakfast, then weapons, then bad guys, huh? Talos, right?"

"You got that right," Cedric headed for the bathroom, "But first, aspirin! Ow!"

1033: I will not give my attack drones pet names like "Wild," "Bear," "Fluffy," or "Snuggles."

[ QUOTE ]
45. You stop and kick enemies off the rooftops and laugh in malacious glee at their flying bodies.

[/ QUOTE ]

((Is it okay to laugh in malicious glee if I sidekick them through the window in one of the abandoned office buildings in the Hollows? I did that to a troll with my scrapper once, and couldn't stop laughing for five minutes.))

Burning, I like Worlds of Confusion. I'm worried about the abuse Void Brawler is being put through. I'm worried about Danica's skull fracture. I'm worried about the Legacy Chain mystic's obvious crush on Danica and how it may wind up affecting Burning later on.

Then, of course, I'm also worried about how the obvious throw-down is going to turn out when Burning and Danica take on Blightlord and Deseca again.

So, all-in-all, very compelling.

42: Outcast Leaders start disappearing at a phenomenal rate for the half hour you're in-zone.

1017: When dragons start suddenly erupting from our backsides, it's a good indicator that the GM does NOT have our best interests at heart.

1018: Incidentally, I will not cause dragons to erupt from the PCs' backsides. Those player manuals HURT!

I read the first post and facepalmed. So the lag I was experiencing (even on a normally good day) was actually something everybody was going through? Huh.

Still, I think I'll wait until I have something more useful (both on my end as far as hardware, and in-game as far as powers) than a consistently Rooted Stone Tank.

1009: I won't tell the GM I'm a deity, but that I don't know I'm a deity. It makes the entire concept up to him, and he has a dark, frightening mind...

"Wow," Danny Chai shuddered, "They jsut dragged Phaith off to the Abyss again..."

"I'm sure he'll enjoy his time there," Paul turned back to his book, "He seemed fine last time."

"The Abyss?" Power Breaker's face twisted into a disgusted mask, "Okay, come on, enough trying to scare the newbie..."

"I have no reason to play such a foolish game with you," Paul didn't even turn away from his book, "The Abyss is every bit the Nieztchean nightmare it takes its name from. There's only been three survivors of it, and one of them just got tossed back in. He also happens to be the only one who's been in once before, and come out pretty much the same as before. The other two are gray and withered... Down there."

Power Breaker looked to see the weary old men. They reminded him of stories about zombies or other types of undead.

"Maybe it'll actually work this time," Chai sighed.

"We can only hope," Paul muttered.

Kipland hated coming to Pocket D. It just wasn't his crowd. however, it was the only recognized neutral ground throughout the worlds of Heroes and Villains. So, sometimes, Hero business brought him here, to conduct business with those who weren't Heroes.

"Mr. Durj," a deep voice behind him called to get his attention, "Over here, please. The music's quieter, and I'd like to discuss a current issue with you."

Kipland turned and beheld a Nemesis lieutenant of some sort. With the lighting, it was hard to tell what rank or unit the man was with, but knowing the Nemesis Army, it would all have been a lie anyway. When the scrapper reached the table, the soldier extended his hand to shake.

"I don't shake hands with the enemy."

"I see," the soldier frowned and withdrew his hand, "Well, I hope you will indulge me one thing. You see, my employer wished for me to speak with the real Kipland Durj, and I have a simple request. Please remove your sunglasses."

Kipland's lip twitched. Most people didn't notice his eye tendrils, which were a constant mark that denoted the alteration his body had recently undergone. However, someone had noticed them, and worse, knew about Cobalt Black.

"Relax, Mr. Durj. My employer keeps tabs on all would-be Heroes and vigilantes, no matter how minor."

Kip made a mental note to get in touch with the City Representative and the Atlas Park and Galaxy City Freedom Corps offices to weed out automotons or moles. Once he was certain he had the plan in mind, he removed his shades, revealing the tendrils of energy.

"Excellent, you may replace your shades. Now we can get down to business."

Kip sat down across from the soldier.

"What's your name?"

"I'm Captain Reynolds. One of many Captain Reynolds's throughout the noble Nemesis Army. I happen to be one of the more proficient, as well, as I am one of the inner circle."

"Inner circle?"

"Yes... Well, with an army designed around deception and deceit, it helps to have a group to keep everything in order. We're a group that keeps the Army moving in line according to our King's design."

"One of several groups," Kip smirked, "Should Nemesis ever feel he needs to dispose of one of you. Of course, he'd feed you a batch of disinformation, then allow some aspiring Hero to get a hold of you."

"Yes, I wouldn't put it past him," Reynolds shrugged, "However, I have done great work for my King, and helped many people. We may be villains here, but we are heroes and liberators in other nations. Besides, we have a marvellous dental plan, a medical program that puts your city's crude system to shame, and the pay is fantastic, among other perks."

Kip was growing aggravated by the British accent, "Are you trying to recruit me?"

"No, my King has no need of Supers of any sort on his payroll. However, Nemesis was impressed with the footage of you and the two Vindicator girls. Or, rather, your work before they showed up and stole your thunder..."

"Hey, we trashed a Nemesis gas lab. I don't care who gets the credit."

"And there's the rub," Reynolds smirked, "You see, that wasn't a Nemesis operation. That whole event wasn't even masterminded by my liege."

"What do you mean?"

"You're familiar with the Fake Nemeses, right?"

"Yeah..."

"Well, they are designed to not only work and act like King Nemesis, but also to think like him. When the first batch came out... There were... Problems."

"Bull," Kip leaned back, "I took out the prototype myself..."

"You took out a prototype. Fakes were long in production before that. You set back my liege's plans to have a new and improved body, and indeed, many of your fellow Heroes do that on a nearly daily basis, but a few do get through, and my Lord's body improves monthly. However, we're off the subject. Let's get back on track, shall we? The first batch of Fakes were... imperfect..."

"Okay, they didn't act like Nemesis?"

"Actually, no... Quite the opposite. They worked exactly like him. They talked like him, fought like him, planned and even thought like him."

"I think I can guess where this leads..."

"There were ten, initially," Captain Reynolds handed the waitress a twenty and thanked her for the drinks, "Nemesis informed me you prefer this root beer while you work, and I'm technically off duty, so I'm having myself a Bloody Mary..."

"I don't drink anything offered me by the enemy," Kip pushed the glass aside, "Especially something already opened."

"Suit yourself," Reynolds sipped his drink, "Ah, Schayde must have mixed this. Such an efficient, yet artistic woman. I don't believe she's paid quite enough... Perhaps that's part of her reason for her after-hours lifestyle... Now, back the the original Fakes, ten, yes?"

"Get on with it!"

"Right, Fake One got the idea in its head to take over the whole operation. The battle was spectacular, so I've been told by some of the veterans in my unit, and our Lord managed to destroy half of them before they fled. His armor is still superior, you see."

"Right, right... So, what does this have to do with me?"

"I'll get there... The other half, we have weeded out ourselves, and one was even destroyed by heroes thinking they were fighting the True Nemesis. In fact, that was Fake One, perhaps a testament to my lord's genius, that he was able to replicate himself as a machine."

Kip rolled his hand rapidly, "Come on..."

"Yes, well, one remains," Reynolds sighed, "We've dubbed it Nemesix."

"Let me guess, Fake Six?"

"Right. Sometimes, when heroes say they've spotted us fighting ourselves, we're actually trying to put a stop to a Nemesix operation. Nemesis then puts a spin on the situation, makes it look like we were being manipulated by the Carnival, or the Circle, and gets some heroes to wipe out a troublesome cell..."

"That's creepy..."

"Indeed, but it works. However, since you not only enthusiastically put a stop to one of its operations, but also seemed to out-think the offending machine, my lord believes you may be the perfect candidate to handle a particular problem."

"You're kidding, right?" Kip's face screwed up bitterly and he frowned at the soldier, "Work for Nemesis? Screw you, man. I'm leaving."

He made his way for the exit, but the captain followed persistently. He shoved a datapad into Kip's chest and pointed into his face.

"I know this is rude, but you leave me little choice. You're not the only Hero we've finagled into our service, and you won't be the last. However, since you spectacularly caused the end of Nemesix's plan to assassinate Statesman, you've garnered Nemesix's ire. He's gunning specifically for you and your ilk, now..."

----

Randall Grey smashed another Fake Nemesis into the pavement. They were disturbingly persistent today...

"Look, brass-[censored], if the first thirty didn't win, then there's a good chance you're not gonna either! So, you go on back to Nemesis, and tell him to stop bothering me! I've got other things to worry about."

"For Nemesi-"

Randy smashed its head into the pavement again.

"Nevermind, you'll jsut get it wrong any-"

A sniper's grenade collided with his back.

"Ah! Dammit!"

An instant later, he had leapt up and was staring face-to-face with the Tiralleur.

"Uh..." Tiralleur Graves stammered as he looked up at Randall, "You're a lot uglier up close... Um... I was, um... shooting at a Zeus Titan and missed..."

"Try again," Randy's face split in a wicked grin, "The Crey boys already try that one every time they peg me. It doesn't end well."

"Wait a minute... Randall... Grey? Dammit! You're oafish son ruined a perfectly sound operation! What kind of-"

Randy didn't listen to the rest. He just upper-cutted the Tiralleur off the side of the building and moved on to the Portal Corporation property. There was word of some explorations of other dimensions, and Randy figured if he wasn't on the planet, then maybe some of the Brass King's thugs wouldn't be able to bother him.

"Lousy punks, what the Hell's going on?"

----

"Fine, I'll take the info," Kip grumbled, "I still don't like this..."

"Nemesis uses Heroes all the time, Kipland. The difference between you and others at this point, however, is that you know it. Don't expect a paycheck. Toodles."

After the captain was gone, Kip glowered to himself for a moment.

"I hope I get finagled into kicking your sorry [censored]."

((Huh... Nobody's ever stuck their head inside a Bag of Holding, I guess... So, the Abyss is "Solitary Confinement +5," huh? I'll be sure to avoid that with my character. If I can...))

((I'd rather play in Raiken's lab than that gym!))

((Well, we're not entirely sure what the Zig is like ourselves... Breakout involves your character being broken out of solitary, which is where some of us already started out our characters. However, now we seem to have moved on to the typical maximum security fare: barred cells, concrete and rebar walls between each cell, and a daily routine that's like elementary school, but with more cursing and violence (or boot camp, with less). We're all kind of winging it, but so far, we do have a general vibe going that this is not a comfortable place.))

((First, I'd intended for all the Kingdale characters and their respective allies and enemies to wind up all in one long story thread of their own. However, the story of the BWO members and their ongoing war against the Committee occurs far too parallel with too much hapening to stay inside the body of Grey's Army and allow everybody to keep track on a linear scale. So, they're moving here...

I'm going to start with when Solo Stryker unveils the Brutal Flier, a customized, more powerful version of an Arachnos Flier, built from pieces of the one he and his allies (Ragin James and Dirty Ice, mostly, but Draven and the other Hero members helped) had stolen earlier in the Grey's Army thread.))

The Independence Port bank's alarm clanged and blared about the Freak Tank that had just robbed it. The guards inside were all mortally wounded and getting teleported to the Bell Medical Center. Sadly (oddly) there were no heroes on hand at the moment to stop the lunatics and their deadly rampage.

The leader of the Freaks, the afore mentioned Tank named Chaingunzz (named for his heavily modified right arm that displayed a wicked and heavily modified Council Force minigun wrapped in a cage adorned in claw-like blades) stormed out of teh bank's entrance and cackled out a high-toned, maniacal laugh.

The police that had barricaded the bank's courtyard in with their cars and SWAT vans issued their warning.

"Freaks! You're completely surrounded! Drop the money and your weapons and put your hands... limbs... things up!"

"[censored] YOU, PIG!" Chaingunnz screached before firing off a burst at the captain, his car, and the nearby officers.

Nearly the whole crew teleported shortly after, and the car exploded as its electrical system shorted out and ignited the fuel line.

Finally, a hero arrived. Joe Durnan, officer of the Kings Row Precinct and recent inductee to the Paragon Police Hero Program, leapt over the flames of the burning vehicle, his assault rifle spitting tungsten ammunition into the Freak leader according to where his targeting drone said to fire. As the crosshairs blipped on the interior of his shooting glasses and he brought his own reticle to bear, he fingered the trigger of teh grenade launcher.

"Ho-HO!" Chaingunnz shouted at him, "No witty banter, hero? Well, I'll just cut you down as easy as..."

Joe squeezed the grenade launcher's trigger, and knocked all of Chaingunnz's minions on their butts. Bags of cash went flying everywhere, and those that didn't have weapons grafted to their bodies promptly lost them from the concussive impact.

Chaingunnz, however, still stood. He sighted in on Joe, and the hero noticed the central cylinder of the chaingun was much wider than a normal minigun's...

With a "PHOONT" sound, Chaingunnz reciprocated with a grenade of his own. Joe would later play back the event as his shooting glasses recorded the whole moment by default so he could learn from his past experiences, and he would notice, when played in slow motion, the grenade had a little monster face painted on it moments before it hit the dirt, and blasted him back over the burning car.

As Durnan gasped for air, Chaingunnz spat fire at the rest of the officers, who were busy pumping rounds into him and his goons. However, no matter what effort the brought, they could not dent Chaingunnz's thick armor plating. He even had a bullet-proof glass shield to protect his head. It seemed all hope was lost, and a fallback order was given.

The officers who could staggered away and Longbow troops started to move in, and a peculiar humming sound was heard. It was one not heard since the days of the Rikti War. Everybody suddenly paused and looked to the sky, even the Freaks and their demented leader.

Had a previously unknown warship suddenly emerged from the depths of the port? Had the Rikti invaded again? Was it an Arachnos Flier, which sounded peculiarly like a Rikti warship?

A dark gray and green vehicle suddenly emerged from the rooftop of the bank. It was unlike any vehicle previously seen by the populace of the city. More akin to a helicopter and smaller than a spaceship, more bulky than an Arachnos Flier, and dotted with three defensive turret emplacements, one on each flank (under the armored fixed "wings" bearing the hover pods) and one under the nose, the Brutal Flier descended. It's rear was much wider than an Arachnos type Flier as well, bearing thrusters mounted on twin dorsal pods, and a large cargo hatch covering the stern.

There wasn't much anybody could do, but stare. Joe Durnan, however, prepared his cord launcher. He recognized the triangular, burning barbed wire symbol on the side of the vehicle, which meant he knew its occupants.

----

"Well done, guys," Draven Erickson grimaced from behind the starboard turret, his hands getting sweaty on the pistol grips of the targeting/firing system, "Daren, where'd you get the idea for this thing? The unholy prequel trilogy? Or was it the other trilogy, the M-"

"Shut it, Jared!" the pilot replied, "Trust me, man, this is going to be awesome... Besides, this is more like a transport out of that one movie that's like cowboys in space... What was it? Selene? Sirius?"

"Come on, guys, knock it off," Ragin James, sitting in the port turret's control chair, "Daren, bring this thing, around, I can't see anything!"

"Hang on, James, I'm setting up for dramatic effect..." Solo's voice came over the headsets, "Hit that blue button that has three lines pointing straight up..."

Draven and Rage did as they were ordered and their turrets popped out of their positions and turned toward the bow of the vehicle. A plate of armor protected them on each side and the rear, and now the two gunners were aware that the vehicle had been brought around, just so Solo could stare down the bank robber and let Chaingunnz get a good look at what was about to do him in.

"I gotta tell ya, Daren, I'm feeling just a bit exposed out here," Draven muttered into his comm-unit.

"Yeah, it's feeling drafty..." James concurred.

"Oh, you guys are such [censored]!" another voice quipped, "Have faith in the technology that protects you, has protected, and will always protect you..."

"Shut up, Dale," Draven hissed, "You're not out here, where the elemetns and the gunfire can get you..."

"No, I'm in here," the Kingdale Referee sounded positively smug, "maintianing the shield generator that has this baby wrapped in a powerful energy based armor."

"Yeah, like that thing helped us in the ring..." Rage rolled his eyes, "I still remember when it failed as Matt hit me with that chair..."

"Or when it suddenly overcharged, sending everybody in the ring who wasn't you flying into the crowd," King Slater muttered as he helped his brother maintain the machinery.

Dirty Ice, Matt Jones, just chuckled from his seat next to the ammunition bins. For safety's sake, his fire auras were currently de-powered.

"Okay, guys, shut it!" Solo Stryker's voice was suddenly authoritative, "We're going to do this..."

----

Chaingunnz looked up at the hideous machine. Somewhere in his fractured mentality, he pondered whether or not the Freakshow had gotten a hold of some real hardware, and whether or not this machine belonged to his crew. It did, after all, look like something they'd have made, if Freaks were so inclined to build things...

"Is this our ride?" his nearest minion groaned as he clutched at his arm, his Excelsior Feeder depleted, but he still clutched the half-empty bag of money with the hand of his crippled arm.

"I... I don't know..." Chaingunnz pointed the wepaon up at the canopy that glowered down at him, "Hey, you! Are you our ride?"

"NO!" Solo Stryker's voice echoed off the walls loudly and caused some of the astounded Longbow troops and police to cover their ears reflexively.

Chaingunnz, however, licked his lips in feverish anticipation.

"Then you're in my way!" he yelled as his weapon started to rotate.

"NOW!" Stryker was only able to get part of the word out before Draven and Rage squeezed their triggers.

Bursts of anti-armor ammunition belted out of the flank turrets, ripping large, unsightly holes into the Freaks and knocking Chaingunnz to the ground. The guns stopped as suddenly as they'd started after only a few bursts, and what few Freaks left alive found themselves pumping the Excelsior into their bloodstreams as quickly as possible so they could survive another volley. The others that were still and broken were brought back from the brink of death to find that some of their limbs had indeed been blasted off.

A cacophony of grunts, groans, moans, and pleas to deities could be heard escaping the normally nihilistic psychopaths. For once, they'd felt pain, and they found they didn't really like it that much. Those that could, crawled away from their leader, leaving the bags of money where they lay.

"Give up?" Solo queried.

"Hooooooo-RAAAAAAAAAAH!" Chaingunnz screamed as he struggled to stand.

Sadly, he found the actuators in his legs had been severley damaged, leaving him crippled on the ground where he lied. That didn't stop him from sighting in on the dropship and firing off a long volley of ammunition that harmlessly bounced off the protective shielding the Kingdale Referee had mentioned earlier. AS the failure dawned on him, Chaingunnz "flexed" and another grenade was spat from the central barrel of his bizarre weapon. It bounced back, landed next to his legs, and obliterated them.

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!" the frenzied Freakshow Tank started flailing wildly with his arms, his chaingun draining itself into the walls of the bank.

"Now." Darren ordered again, and this time, all three turrets fired in unison, putting the boss down for good.

Police drones mopped up the rest. The ship, however, couldn't stay for long. Several Longbow Eagles made their way to it, and Daren couldn't let the true nature of some of those within be revealed.

----

"I don't get it."

Draven Erickson, Jared Simms, shook his head at his cousin. They'd been arguing for a few hours now, and again, their argument had come back to its starting point, illiciting groans from the entire crew.

They'd landed the Brutal Flier on an old abandoned offshore oil rig in order to let Daren take a break and so the rest of the group could discuss their latest victory. While the whole crew was quite pleased with themselves, Solo Stryker and Draven felt there were some areas they needed to work on.

However, practice was one thing, it was Daren's other plan that they were arguing about.

"What's so wrong with it?"

"You're saying you want to start a charter service between the States and the Isles," Jared chopped one hand into the other to punctuate, "Think about this Daren... You want to transport Heroes into Villain country and Villains into Hero country..."

"Yeah!"

"You don't think Arachnos, Freedom Corps, Longbow, Wyvern, and, oh, I don't know, every military for every sovereign nation on the planet are going to have a problem with that!?"

"They will at first..." Daren shrugged.

"And why? Why do it?"

"There's plenty enough Heroes who want to hit the Isles and take the fight to the enemy," James sided with Daren, "And there's plenty enough Villains who want to redeem themselves."

"Uh... try a few!" Slater spat, "Maybe you weren't there, James, when your brother and I had to patrol Bloody Bay for a couple weeks so Longbow would look the other way for you guys to enter the States, but we ran into some pretty heavy fire coming from some very unrepentant Villains."

"That was them!" Rage waved his hands up to his peripheral vision and shook them angrily, "I'm talking about guys who're just trying to get by in the Isles, just trying to figure a way out of the mess they're in... Guys like that Power Breaker, or Brother Mauthe, or that weird android... Ronny-something..."

"Ryat Prime," Matt explained, "I worked with him on a couple missions. Don't worry about him, he's got his own agenda."

"He? Isn't it one of Wallace's machines?"

"He feels he has a male personality. So, that's how he refers to himself, and has his robots refer to him. He refers to them the same way..."

"So, what's his agenda?" Draven grumbled.

"I can't say."

"Why not?"

"If any of you guys get caught, you're likely to tell them something for a reprieve. Me, I'll probably come off crazy enough that they don't believe a word I say."

"Fine," Dustin Simms, King Slater, interjected, "Now, let's get back on track. Daren, you want to use this thing to ferry people across the world, right?"

"Yeah," his brother replied.

"And, Jared, you disagree..."

"Right," his cousin curtly responded.

"Do you have an alternative plan?"

"We could use this machine to patrol Paragon City..."

"I'm the only one who can fly it!" Solo interrupted, "I'm a 'Stalker' according to their files! That makes me a registered Villain! Rage and Ice are Brutes! What about us!? What do you think they'll do when they find us at the controls?"

"Look, I'm just saying..."

"Enough!" Slater barked, his normally stoic demeanor cracking for a moment, then, after taking a second to recompose himself and make sure everybody was apying attention, "We'll put it to a vote... Everybody. Even Psycho and that Whirlwind guy."

"For now, let's have a show of hands, who wants to do what Jared says?"

Jared was almost alone. Dustin and Matt, however, slowly sided with him.

"Wow, cool, thanks," he whispered as a stunned reaction.

"Okay, Daren's plan..."

Dale, James, and Daren raised their hands.

"We have a tie," Joe Durnan walked into the room, his assault rifle held absently at his side. He thumbed the safety and shouldered the weapon.

"Officer Durnan," Dale muttered, "How'd you get here?"

"I grappled your ship and hitched a ride," he shuddered, "That was a very cold ride... I've been recovering in the hallway so I could hear you guys since I could force myself to move back there."

"Jebus," Matt laughed, "You're a tough little blaster, aren't ya?"

"I try to be," the officer replied calmly, "Now... You guys sure have come a long way since I arrested Slater and Draven for their impromptu performance on the bridge overlooking Promethius Park... The dropship's definitely new."

"Yeah, we built it back in Kingdale," the Referee smiled happily, "And we house it here, in the old rig Grey's Army cleared the Arachnos out of. Nobody else seemed to want it."

Joe nodded, "That's answered some of my other questions, thanks... So... Your vote is tied... Might I offer a suggestion?"

"Shoot," Dustin answered before anybody else could say anything.

"I see the merit in both sides of the issue. Daren, you guys stand to make a lot of profit from being a secure, super-powered ferry system across the planet. That is, if the ship can make the trips without frequent stops..."

"It's fusion powered," Daren smirked, "It can handle just about anything."

"And Jared," Durnan turned to the red-coated de facto leader of the hero-side BWO, "Your plan would undoubtedly provide a pardon for your three friends working on the 'other' side of the law, not to mention providing all of you witha massive reputation boost as you patrol the city in a way nobody else currently can."

"Still profitable," Draven shrugged, "after a fashion."

"Here's my proposal," Joe walked across the room and turned so he could take them all in, "Call up your last two buddies, ask them for their votes. If it's still a tie, I'll work out the compromise."

"No, you'll just have us go into service for the city," Daren spat, "I won't have it."

"Trust me, Daren, I wouldn't tell you to do anything you don't want to do. This is your machine, acquired through dubious means, but you still have labored over it. But you're all together in this... And as such, you all have to agree on the proper use of this machine. I trust you can appreciate the seriosuness of your situation."

"Yeah," the two leaders replied sullenly.

"Okay, then..." Joe indicated their communicators, "Call 'em up."

Project Whirlwind, the bizarre former Committee Agent, and Psycho13, James's brother, Levi Baker, replied immediately, without allowing for persuasion. Whirlwind had actually been eavesdropping on the group utilizing the "SG Chat" function of his communicator. He readily agreed with Draven's plan to utilize the dropship as a new, powerful weapon against the criminality of Paragon City. Psycho13, however, heard the current vote tallies, and voted for Solo's plan to use the ship as a transport service. He didn't really want ti to happen, truth be told, he didn't really care, but he wanted to keep the issue going until he and Whirlwind got back from Bloody Bay and saw with their own eyes the capabilities of the vehicle and got a chance to debate as well.

What he didn't realize, however, was that the situation was already well in hand. Durnan immediately started hammering out a plan with Daren and Jared. As the three discussed, the others patrolled the rig.

"Why'd you side with Jared?" Ragin James asked Dirty Ice, "Why would you want to defend a city you never cared about? You always hated heroes..."

"I do hate heroes," Matt replied, "Statesman's a tool, remember? Hell, most of them are tools. But that doesn't mean I hate what they do. I like heroes like Randy, or Joe, there. Blue Steel, I guess, would be the closest down-to-earth hero Paragon's got, and I guess I respect him. Besides, Daren's right. Just for participating in the antics that go on daily in the Rogues, we're branded traitors to our country, and are criminals. You think we'd be able to change any of that on our own? Uh-uh. And Joe's right, too. This Flier... The Brutal Flier... It is the safest, easiest way for us to redeem ourselves. It's got anti-tank missiles, high-explosive rockets, guns, knives, sharp sticks, Indian burns..."

The two chuckled at the impromptu joke.

"The point is... With this, we can go back to our old lives again."

"I thought you liked your new life?" James arched an eyebrow at hsi friend.

"I did," Matt took a drag from his cigarette, "But now... With Arachnos troops shooting at me, Longbow shooting at me, other rogues shooting at me and trying to cut me open... I gotta say, man... Sometimes I wish I'd made a better choice."

"I know what you mean, man," Rage clapped hsi friend on the shoulder, "I'm not changing my vote, though."

"That wouldn't matter anyway," Dale walked up behind them, "Am I interrupting a moment here?"

"Don't make us put you through that wall, punk," Matt barked.

"Come on, guys," the small Referee didn't even flinch at the threat, "Joe and them are gonna explain the plan."

They started walking inside, and Ice started to put out his cigarette. Then, remembering where he was, he put it back in his mouth and smirked.

"We're in the land that law forgot. I'm smoking inside!"

"Not unless you want me putting that thing out with my fist," Rage replied, "While it's still there on your face."

"I think I'll put it out, then," Dirty Ice's facial expression never changed from its bemused smirk as he deftly removed the cancer stick from his lips and flicked off the red lit ashes.

----

"Okay, so we're all in agreement..."

Matt was sitting, seething angrily, and barely hearing what was going on. King Slater was smoking his cigarette inside, and nobody was telling him to stop. Of course, nobody was going to tell the rock of their little group what to do.

"Waitaminute!" Dirty yelled as he wrenched his preivously used butt from his pocket and placed the filter between his lips, "Screw you, James, I'm gonna do this."

"Fine, I don't really care."

Matt flicked his thumb out of his fist and a small bit of flame sprouted from teh tip of it. Using this, he lit the remains of teh cigarette and turned to Joe.

"Continue," he said through puffs of smoke.

"That's disgusting," Durnan replied, "Anyway... You guys want a general plan of how to utilize your new piece of equipment. Now, as a representative of the city's authorities, I should be telling you to patrol our fair city and help the heroes put an end to the rampant crime. i should be telling you to turn the vehicle over to Freedom Corps, so they can dissect it and replicate it..."

"That won't be necessary," James raised his hand to interrupt, "Hector Wallace, the guy who helped us build this, already gave detailed plans for a cheaper, more mass-produced verison to the Army. You should start seeing them in a few years..."

"Alright, whatever..." Durnan waved him off, "I'm not going to tell you what I think you should do. I'm going to tell you what I think you will do. Even without my interference, you guys would have gone back and forth between the States, and whatever other nations you can get away with ferrying to and from your dubious human cargoes. Draven, you'd have likely foudn yourself stranded in Paragon with the rest of your Hero allies, fighting the good fight, still, but without the benefit of a super-cool dropship to back you up."

He paused.

"Only the dropship would back you up. I figure if Daren ever heard you guys werein seriously deep trouble, he'd be over here as fast as he could, pushing the Flier's engines to their limit to help his friends and family in their hour of need. Reputations and consequences be damned, right?"

"Right," Daren shrugged as if what Joe said was common knowledge, "So what's the proposal?"

"You do exactly that," Joe replied matter-of-factly, "Daren, you run your transport/courier service, Draven, you fill him in on the hub-bub of Paragon. If ever things look to be getting hectic or insane, Daren, I expect you to drop by and lend the support of your powerful vehicle. This way, you're getting both the profit from the one side, and the new defense for Paragon on the other. And I can guarantee you boys, after the stunt you pulled today, the villainy of Paragon City are going to be watching the skies extra carefully from here on out."

The crew agreed to the terms, even faraway Psycho13 and Project Whirlwind. They ate and drank to the plan and hammered out a new one at the same time.

The old rig would be their base. Though the Arachnos equipment was mostly gone, they could easily get stealth systems from Hector. Joe would be their liason to the rest of the community should the need ever be required. Draven would lead their Hero-side relations, with King Slater as his second. Solo Stryker would lead their Rogue affairs, with Ragin James as his second.

"What about the Committee?" they heard Psycho13 suddenly ask over the communicator; it sounded like he was on the helicopter headed back to Skyway City.

"We'll deal with that later," Draven grumbled back, "For now, we need rest."

"Come on," Solo smirked as he led the others to a series of furnished rooms, "Rage and I already prepped this place for habitation, at least..."

The rooms had little more than cots in them, and only one had a television and a video game system (Daren's), but there was enough space for all of them. Even Joe, though he was taking up a room that would have belonged to Psycho13 or Whirlwind.

"Down the hall is a working kitchen," Solo explained, "Electric stove, because we power the place with the Flier's reactor."

"So we won't wind up on the grid," Dale laughed.

"You didn't point this out to us earlier?" Draven sounded annoyed.

"Well, I would have, but you decided to start biting my head off when I mentioned my plans for the future of the BWO..."

"BWO?" Joe asked, "Your guys' sad little backyard gimmick?"

"The Brutal... Warriors... Order." Daren pasued between each word for dramatic effect, "Take notice, Joe Durnan. We're gonna make a mark on this world... Then, all will take notice."

They all stared at him for a moment.

"Look, it's late and I'm tired," Daren explained, "Let's get some sleep."

*applause*

((Mm-MMM! Them's Tuatha's good eatin'!))

I'm in agreement with billy here. Zeal's definitely a creepy little critter.

[ QUOTE ]
998: Using 'Live Ammo' does not mean tying scorpions to the heads of your arrows.

[/ QUOTE ]

Or rats, cats (behold, my "Cat Launcher!" Taste Death, foul fiend! *click-MREOW!*), snakes (it HAD to be snakes), or bear cubs.

Dragon hatchlings, however, I think are perfectly fine.

What? They're not? Come on, it's not like they feel pain.

They do?

Oh...

My...

God...

I must be a monster...

I wouldn't mind teaming with you at all, Essex. I just have the problem of having to deal with my region's propensity to lag, which inadvertently led to me perusing the forums more often...

And led me here...

You run into people like that on Protector? Jeez, nobody yells at Nester when he attacks... Of course, he's usually spamming the heals, anyway, and I time myself so nobody really notices when I attack.

Playing a healer makes my mind go into strange places, though. When the whole ordeal is done, I can't quite recall what I was doing, or what was going on. I recall vaguely a horde of Freakshow...

Funny thing is, the only times I've been stunned, mezzed, whatever, it was in the heat of battle and enemies I never attacked.

Now, as far as the OP...
I had a few moments when I had Randy in Croatoa, and we kept doing the "Free the Ghosts" mission, the one full of witches. After the fifth time of spattering the walls with those (what I perceived were) tiny witches, I had a horrible thought. RP-wise, I figured none of the charges would stick.

I could see it, in court, the smallest, cutest witches would take the stand, point at Randy and go "He bwoke owuh wegs!"

Acquittal.

Which probably explained why I did the same mission so many times.

You got it, Pyrr. I sent Pyrria a detailed listing, but for a general overview, Randall has all the armors and damaging attacks. He doesn't have Mudpots, Hand Clap or Taunt because he's already got the enemy's attention as it is. He super leaps, has a pretty good fitness regimen (despite his girth), and has natural leadership skills to boost his focus in fighting and the damage he does. Also, he tends to fly into a murderous Rage when he feels he needs that extra "umph" in a fight.

His Epic capabilities allow him to focus his attention even further on his enemies, causing him to rarely miss. He can also conserve his power by breathing more evenly and efficiently while he fights.