Mr_Grey

“Hey Round,” Kip muttered from the computer sitting in the Grey’s Army base workshop, “Come in to turn in your access codes?”

“Ah… No…” Roland replied.

Kip turned his chair to face his brother’s best friend from childhood, confusion evident on his face. Roland had his hands in his pockets and was rocking back and forth on his heels.

“I thought you were leaving today… I’ve seen your apartment, man, you haven’t got much to pack, and we had a stark conversation about how you felt you were done here.”

“Yeah…” Round stopped rocking and placed his hands on his belly, twiddling his thumbs, “You see… the thing is, I kind of got involved with a new hero… She said she needed someone to help her out around the city, and I’ve been giving her some pointers…”

Kip smiled incredulously.

“Don’t…” Round began.

“You’ve got a girlfriend!?” Kip shouted, “What’re the odds?”

“Round’s got a girlfriend!?” Cedric’s voice called form the main chamber, “No frickin way! Is she hot? I bet she’s a cow…”

“There’s a possibility that could be literal…” Kip muttered.

“Oh, knock it off you two,” Roland barked, “She’s not a girlfriend… She has plenty of other people she hangs out with here. I’m just… a pleasant acquaintance to her now.”

“Cool, cool…” Kip chuckled, “I know what you mean, man. People used to say the same sorts of things about me and Snuffy when we were in high school… Well, not her looking like a cow…”

“Cedric and I would have killed them…” Roland agreed.

“Not before me,” Kip nodded, “And I wouldn’t have the chance to get to ‘em before Snuffy got her claws into their throats. She’s a vicious little one, there…”

Sheldon Wallace strolled into the room and arched an eyebrow at Kip. Shrugging, he approached the cage sitting next to the desk and pulled a small paper bag from his coat. Opening the cage, he sprinkled the bag’s contents into the food dish. The gerbil continued playing happily in the sawdust and the wheel.

“What was that stuff?” Kip stared dubiously at the green crystalline concoction that now dotted the food, “He already had a full dish. You do know overfeeding those little guys decreases their already short life spans, right?”

“Of course I know that,” Sheldon replied, “It’s why I put in the additive.”

“Additive?” Roland asked.

“Look, I can’t work on building any more androids until Freedom Corps sees Ryat66 and Ryat99 aren’t dangerous to the public trust… So, to occupy myself, I’m concentrating my efforts on bionetics, super biology, and biological engineering.”

“Kip jumped out of his seat and grabbed Sheldon by the collar, “What the Hell is wrong with you!?”

“Relax,” Sheldon’s stoic face betrayed little of the irritation he felt, but Kip caught the subtle undertone in his voice, “What I have given Felix is an experimental, natural, boosted steroid. Nothing more. It’s supposed to help make him more resilient to the next phase of the project.”

The gerbil stopped playing and stared up at its owner. Roland could have sworn he saw apprehension on the little furball’s face.

“Project?” Kipland barked, “Project? Is that all he is to you!? That’s your frickin pet, [censored] dammit! Look at him! He looks up to you, he expects you to protect him, and love him, and just frickin be good to him!”

“I am being good to him,” Sheldon snatched Kip’s hand from his collar, “He’s old, Kip. Much older than he should be. Even if I wasn’t doing this, the poor little guy wouldn’t survive the year, anyway. With this process, I hope to make a whole new life form, and it’ll have Felix’s memories…”

“Will it hurt him?” Roland reached into the cage and gave the worried little rodent a soothing rub on its back.

“No…” Sheldon replied, “It’s supposed to be gradual… Maybe last a couple weeks before I see any noticeable change.”

“Man, that’s just crazy,” Cedric walked into the room, shaking his head in disbelief, “I’ve buried two dogs and three cats in my lifetime, man… and while I know the pain of losing a cherished pet, you gotta realize that when a critter’s time comes, a critter’s time comes.”

“I don’t think Bear would appreciate you calling him a ‘critter,’” Roland chastised his brother quietly.

“Sorry, bro, but that’s the skinny of it,” Cedric started heading for the portal aperture in their Entrance Room, “Look, Shel, do what you want, but remember, that little guy’s led a longer life than his kind usually get. You should feel proud that he lasted this long, and let him have a proper and decent end.”

“I can’t let go, yet,” Sheldon replied quietly after nearly half a minute, “Felix was with me when I made some of my coolest contraptions… The little guy was the runt of his litter… He’s a survivor… I just… He’s so cool, I can’t just let him go like that…”

“Maybe Sarah can talk to him,” Roland grumbled, “She talks to her cat all the time. Maybe we can find out what Felix thinks should happen.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Sheldon agreed, “So, Kipland, what’re you doing here?”

“Randy’s in Myrtle Beach with Charlene…” Kip replied as he turned back to the screen, “I’m in charge of the group’s affairs until he gets back. I’ve been going over the reports daily.”

“Man, wouldn’t it have been weird if something happened to the plane Dad was on?” Roland asked, “I mean, wow… talk about bad luck…”

“Nothing happened,” Sheldon replied, “ I was here when he called in. He and Charlene landed safely, and they’re taking in the sights and sun.”

“Cool.”

“Roland, you say you’ve been working with some new hero this past week?” Kipland started cycling through the menus and lists of the groups accomplishments.

“Yeah. A girl named ‘Jessica.’”

“Funny…” Kip intoned, “You worked with her as her mentor, right?”

“Well, yeah. I’m pretty sure I did…”

“I don’t remember seeing your listing as…” Kip stared dubiously at the screen, “Oh… There it is… A week’s worth of logged in mentor hours…”

“You really thought it didn’t log?”

“Well, you haven’t been ‘heroing’ that long, Round. I figured I’d have remembered a thin red bar in your badge list signifying you’ve been a mentor… I don’t think that was there, earlier.”

“Hm… Well…” Roland shrugged, “Maybe you were looking at someone else’s list.”

“It’s a small group Roland,” Kip smirked a little to himself and shook his head, “It’s kind of hard to get confused like that.”

“Even if you were right,” Sheldon interrupted, “Who’d be able to alter records like that?”

There was the sound of someone entering the base at the portal aperture, and they called to see if it was the youngest Grey sibling. Draven Erickson stepped through the doorway to the workshop, utterly disappointing them.

“Hey, Jared,” Kip called to the red coated young man, “What brings you to Grey’s Army?”

“Hi guys,” Draven greeted, then, turning to Sheldon, “Uh… Can I talk with you privately for a moment…”

Sheldon shook his head, “Anything you need to say, we can discuss right here. I’ve got enough problems working on the projects that pop into my head. You need my help with something, I want my companions here to know I’m working on it.”

“Alright…” Draven’s eyes flicked from side to side behind his rose-tinted glasses before he finally decided what to say, “Uh… Wallace…”

“Sheldon.”

“Right. Look… I’ll get right to the point… Have you worked with Arachnos technology?”

“Some… My Ryat androids use their processors to handle their A.I. software.”

“Right… Well…” Draven smirked a little and rubbed the goatee under his chin, “I meant more along the lines of one of their fliers…”

The three stared at the newcomer in dread silence. The squeaking of Felix’s wheel was audible over the drone of the worktable. Figuring he needed to explain further, Draven thought of the most suitable beginning…

“Okay…” he finally clapped his hands together as the story came to him, “You’re probably not going to believe this, but its true…”

Dirty Ice

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Matthew Jones

The bWo's resident all-around bad-[censored]. This guy is believed to be the one that got the highschool contenders messing around with super powers to heighten the thrill of their matches.

According to the rare interviews we have with these guys, it seems Matthew was the first of the then-backyard wrestlers to want to go through a burning table. Or rather, he wanted SOMEONE to go through one. The rest fo the group, however, resolutely told him if it was going to happen, he had to do it first... which he did...

This wasn't satisfying, however, and the young Jones boy went stalking through Kingdale, looking for whatever it was that would give him an edge. While hanging out with Cory Simmons, he came across a Stone of the Salamander, a semi-common magical construct that grants fire manipulation powers to its user. Realizing the potential, he stole the artifact and used it in his next match.

He declared to Solo Stryker that he would defeat three other contenders, at once, while on fire, and that if he did, he would be granted a chance to face agaisnt him for the championship. The rest of the group was, however, ready for his little trick (this was all scripted beforehand, remember) and the three contenders he faced, Draven Erickson, Psycho13 (as Whirlwind at the time), and Ragin James, all had small artifacts of their own, given to them by Cory Simmons, who (while being a really good sport about the theft) wanted to see the result.

The battle was spectacular, and the crowd went wild. Ice still won, as he was scripted to, but he had to face Solo Stryker, who wielded an array of dark powers that concealed him from Ice's vision. Oddly, because of Dale Simms's energy field projector, the crowd could still witness Solo's movements, albeit as if they were looking through him. Ice lost the fight, and the whole incident led up to the bWo catching the attention of the Committee.

After the bWo fell apart, Matt and James Baker travelled together for a time. They sought out various odd jobs, and when they fought off a group of criminals when James got the Skulls of Cord, Matt revealed he still had the Stone of the Salamander.

Now, it is set within his belt. The focus Dirty Ice has put into it has caused it to grant him the kinds of "fire armor" powers common to most currently registered fire tankers. He has also gotten a hold of an artifact called the Earth Maul, a hammer that is far more than it appears to be. When he needs it to, the ground suddenly rises up, coalesces around it, and makes it into a massive stone sledge that he wails his opponents with, as opposed to a five or ten-pound sledge that most "slammer" villains use. If he just needs it to, however, it merely wraps stone around his fists, saving him from having to draw the weapon.

Dirty Ice has currently allied himself with Solo Stryker and Ragin James. He seems to be helping them get to the bottom of the Committee's involvement in the Etoile Isles.

Project Whirlwind

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Unlike most of the rest of the bWo members, we have no idea who this guy is.

Psycho13 had a few odd character changes. Not liking how "background" his initial character was, Levi Baker worked up the idea of "Whirlwind," a martial arts styled hero character who harassed the villainous characters. It seems the Committee found a way to rebuild the concept.

How they lost control of their agent is another msytery. This "Project Whirlwind" is not a martial artist, but retains the same psychological edge of being "mysterious" to his targets. Instead, through the use of carefully collected mystical artifacts, he manipulates the weather itself.

So far, he's been nothing but a boon to the men he wishes to make his compatriots. However, since they hardly know this man who is copying one of their members' character concepts, and has openly admitted to being a former Committee agent, Draven is leery about trusting him. Psycho13, however, has few problems with the guy. Apparently, Project Whirlwind was part of the reason Psycho13 escaped the Committee facility he had been imprisoned and experimented upon.

The Kingdale Referee

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Dale Simms is the Kingdale Referee.

He's the youngest brother of Dustin and Daren Simms, and is fresh out of high school. When the bWo was going strong, the only role they could throw the still-in-grade-school sibling was that of the one inviolate character, the referee.

Dale took to his role quickly and well, helping his friends and brothers coordinate their matches and making some of the shows seem downright spontaneous. However, he was hardly involved with much of the scripting process, and wasn't yet strong enough to assist in any construction the group required from time to time. Still too young to hang out with his brothers, Dale often turned to exploring and picking through old machinery.

He found an old force field projector in the Wallace garbage bin. It seemed to ahve burned out, and Dale set to work trying to get it running again. Using parts from a toaster, an old computer, and a car battery, he was able to turn the backpack sized device into a working prototype. Using an extension cord, some more computer parts, a pair of old leather gloves, and some chewing gum, he made a focusing instrument he could use in the ring while the generator worked elsewhere.

In the ring, he would make his countdown, then enforced the ruling by placing a field around the victor. This led to a number of interesting ending sequences as the various competitors tried to make workarounds to the new development. Sometimes, the victor (if it was Solo Stryker or Dirty Ice, for instance) would start violently gloating over his fallen foe, smashing them unrelentingly and with impunity. Sometimes, the loser's stable, or "posse" would assault the Referee before he could erect the field, which led to a nearly disastrous result the first time the B.M.F. pulled the stunt and the gloves fired off anyway.

When the Committee burned down the Kingdale Arena, it was Dale's forcefield generator that saved the four players in the stadium that night. The field was erected around the ring to "prevent any interruptions," but none were even scheduled, so it was really jsut a cosmetic effect to add to the "realism." The field also happened to encompass the camera, which was set to a fixed point near the ring. The footage exhonerated the bWo competitors of any worngdoing, which was covered earlier...

During highschool, Dale Simms continued working on his little piece of super technology. When the Rikti attacked, his force field generator saved many lives, and Dale let his brother Dustin, Kipland Durj or Randall Grey do the rest.

However, after the whole ordeal was finished, Simms felt he had failed to be an adequate support for the others. He set to work designing a combat system to compliment his defensive system. He was fortunate to gather pieces of Rikti and abandoned military technology before the cleanup efforts had taken care of it all. Not wanting to be considered a criminal, however, he sought apprenticeship with Hector Wallace (the original inventor of the Dale's shield generator), who was actually impressed the young boy had been able to get the machine working again.

Under the inventor's tutelage, Dale was able to work down the shield generator to the size of a belt. Using Rikti power cells and an old stereo, he was also able to cobble together a sonic assault weapon that works by augmenting his (already annoying) voice to deafening levels.

Thus equipped, he has donned an updated version of his old uniform and is again doing his duty to uphold the laws laid down. He is Dale Simms, the Kingdale Referee.

Ugh... I made this guy's dossier sound like a frickin brochure entry...

“Ugh…”

Roland was tired. The day had been long, and he dropped by a shooting range to let off some steam. It was a little surprising to him to see other archers at the range, but then again, it is a city of heroes…

He was headed back to his apartment in Atlas Park when he spotted the Hellion trailing the girl. He didn’t know the story, he didn’t care. One aforementioned grunt later, and he was drawing his bow and arrows… One was particularly nice for the situation.

“Hrk! Haaaaah… Aaaaaaah… C-c-c… COLD!”

The Hellion’s teeth started chattering and the girl whirled around to see him encased in a block of ice, his head and hands free to wave around impotently. Roland arched his eye at her as he realized she wasn’t anywhere near grateful, her body set in a martial pose usually reserved for a sharp side-kick, and her face was peculiarly set in an astonished mask of irritation.

“Don’t start calling kill-steal,” he grunted at her.

“You have no idea how well-in-hand that situation was,” the blonde girl replied.

“I reckon I don’t,” Roland replied as he looked at his communicator and screwed up his face in perturbed confusion, “Why doesn’t this thing tell me who you are? It just says ‘Jessica.’”

She stared at him for a moment before answering, “I… I haven’t registered yet…”

Roland smirked, then bapped the Hellion on the head with his bow. He groaned for a second, then the young Grey man bopped him again and again until the Hellion stopped groaning and just slumped into his melting icy prison.

“You should take care of that,” Roland replied finally, “Freedom Corps hates vigilantes… I should know. I think I watched them arrest one today…”

“The hobo on the news?”

“Huh?”

“Yeah, this guy in torn denim… trench coat and all… Freedom Corps said he was one of the super-types responsible for stopping the Rikti, but they had to take him into custody…”

“Yeah, that’s him…”

Jessica arched an eyebrow at Roland.

“How’d you see him get arrested?”

“It’s a long story I don’t feel like getting into…” Roland crooked the bow onto his shoulder and slid the shaft of his spent ice arrow into a quiver at his hip, “Suffice it to say… there’s some things about this city I really hate... But it’s the kind of stuff you see everywhere, so there’s not much that can be done about it…”

“What made you so angry?”

“I don’t know…”

He started walking toward his apartment, which was only a block away. Jessica followed. Behind them, a police drone zapped the Hellion to Ziggursky.

“I should be happy… I… I got my Mom back today. She’s been missing since the Rikti War…”

“Oh, wow, congratulations!”

“Thanks…”

“So, what’s wrong?”

Roland shrugged.

“You’re happy, right?”

“Yeah. But… I don’t know… A part of me feels like I missed something…”

“Hm…”

“Ah well, I’ll deal with it some other time.”

Jessica nodded then looked about, bobbing her head casually on the walk. She seemed to be taking in the sights of the city, but Roland felt her behavior was still odd. Soemthing about her psoture didn't come off as a "country-bumpkin" on her first trip into the city. She didn't have a costume, though, just jeans, a T-shirt and a brown leather jacket.

“How fresh are you to the city?”

“Uh… I just arrived today…”

“And you never checked in with Freedom Corps, didn’t even accidentally run into some of their spandex-clad troops and ask where to register? Or Hell! Even one of the not-so-regular troops, a spandex-clad hero?”

“It…” she bit her lower lip and looked down at the sidewalk, “It never occurred to me…”

Roland swore he smelled a lie somewhere. There was just something wrong about the whole situation, but he couldn’t put his finger on it. Whoever this girl was, whatever she was doing, though, it seemed… Mild? Roland had a knack for calling people on their schemes, their lies; he termed it “Calling people on their [censored],” but whatever this was, it seemed harmless.

So he shrugged it off.

“Well, the Registrar’s office is right over there, the City Hall in the middle of Atlas Park,” he pointed to the south, “Can’t miss it… It’s the building behind the big guy with the globe.”

“I…” Jessica suddenly looked very annoyed as she crossed her arms and arched her left eyebrow at the rotund hero, “…See…”

“Yeah, so, just… uh… go in, talk with the Registrar, let him know where your powers come from… and he’ll direct you to the proper office from there.”

“But… It’s like… Eight at night… Are you sure he’s still there?”

“I’m sure someone’s on duty,” Roland continued walking, “Remember, the sooner you get registered, the sooner you can break bad guy skulls and get that much-needed fame and prestige… Who knows, maybe they’ll build a statue of you someday.”

The girl stood there, staring daggers at him for a few minutes, before finally storming off. Roland, while typically cheery when messing with someone’s head passive-aggressively, instead grumbled to himself inside his head.

Why did I do that? I drove off a perfectly nice, cute girl… Who looks to be a few years too young for a guy my age… Hm… Maybe that’s why… I didn’t need to be so gruff and dismissive, though. Jebus… Why am I beating myself up over this…

He stared up at the window to his room.

Oh yeah… That’s why. To distract myself from the packing I have to do.

He didn’t want to leave. His family, his friends, even a whole new life were right here in this city. But he already had a life…

“Jebus…” he gasped, “Do I really want to tend a bar for the rest of my life?”

“Is that why you’re so rude?”

He whirled around to face Jessica, who must have creeped up behind him. Her face was sour, and her lower lip jutted out slightly in an annoyed pout.

“You look like you practiced that face in a mirror,” Roland almost chuckled, then continued in a more even tone, “Why’d you follow me?”

“I want an apology.”

“For what? I helped you.”

“You didn’t have to be so condescending!” she almost shouted, “Not everybody’s an expert out here, Mr. Hotshot!”

“Hotshot…” Roland started laughing at that one, “And a Mister at that… I should’ve called myself that…”

“Well, what is your name?”

“Roland Grey,” he replied through chuckles, “But you can keep calling me Mr. Hotshot if you like that one better.”

“No, I think I’ll report you with your own name,” she suddenly looked very smug.

“Uh-huh,” Roland smiled still, “Yeah… And what you’re doing here isn’t harassment. Look… you want an apology…”

He took a deep breath as he considered his options. Regardless of what anybody says about any situation, people are capable of a multitude of choices. In this instance, Round had considered two… One was a loud, resounding “NOOOOOOOO” right in her face that would probably knock her over. The other, the one he went with, went more like this:

“Okay…” he took another breath to calm himself, “I’m… sorry. I really am… I… I didn’t like how I was acting, and my head’s all screwed up from today… I snapped at you because… I’m just in a really weird place in my life right now.”

She at first stared at him, silent and unflinching. However, Jessica eventually pressed her lips into a thin line as she felt he was being sincere. Finally she nodded.

But she didn’t leave.

“Is there something else?” Roland asked.

“How does a hero like you get to be so fat?” she finally asked.

“Good question,” he replied, a smirk pulling back the right side of his beard, “Genetics, mostly. I’ve got a slow metabolism. I’m fit, mind you, and a lot of my mass here is muscle… but I can’t possibly get rid of a lot of this flab… well, I can’t without blowing most of my day at a gym.”

“So, you just ignore the problem?”

“It’s not a problem,” Roland started walking to his apartment, “Look, I’m a very active person. I walk, I run… Yeah, that’s one that freaks people out, I can RUN! Fast, too. I can do pull-ups, pushups… Crunches… I’m just a little fat.”

“But, other health problems…”

“It’s not like I’m sickeningly obese,” he laughed a little, then walked up to the door and gestured for her to follow, “come on, I’ll show you the only way I treat myself…”

Roland’s apartment was nothing like Jessica expected. Instead of a usual array of weird gizmos and gadgets, it was actually very neat and tidy, sparsely furnished, with only a couch, a coffee table, and a television. The television was hooked up to a VCR and a video game console. Roland continued into the kitchen after telling her to sit down and relax.

“You haven’t been here that long either, it seems,” she called to him as she sat down, “Ooh… This is a comfy couch…”

“Yeah, I know… I found it in a Hellion lair. It was the only thing they refused to burn, just because it was so soft.”

She turned on the television and watched the local news channels for a while. Hero work splayed across the screen for a few minutes, but she would always change to something else. Finally, she just turned it to a music-video channel and lounged back into the soft cushions.

“Roland, I’m sorry, but I’m stealing this couch.”

“You don’t even know me,” he replied, “Heroes don’t steal from heroes they don’t know… It’s just not how things are done.”

“What do you do here? You don’t… You don’t live here, do you? You know what I mean? This isn't your home...”

“You’re right,” Roland looked back into the kitchen for a second, “I don’t… This is more just a place I sleep, collect my thoughts… A place to relax while I figure out my next move.”

“But…” she gazed about and nodded to the few personal effects, “You still have some heart in this place…”

“Yeah…” the round hero replied, glumly, “Technically, it’s my apartment, assigned to me by Freedom Corps and it’s where I keep my stuff. However, I just come in to relax for a few moments… Well, I did until recently…”

“You spent your entire time here looking for your mother?” Jessica’s eyes almost twinkled as she said it.

“Yeah… It tore me up inside… The few times I wasn’t moving… The few times I wasn’t out there, putting bad guys to the question… I was always telling myself I needed to get back out there… The next guy might be the one who brings me that one step closer… I once caught myself falling asleep on one of the King’s Row water towers…”

Jessica nodded.

“But, it’s over now… I don’t know what to do…”

He ducked back into the kitchen and Jessica could hear the sounds of pans and ceramic clinking and clanging. She wondered what the fat guy was up to, but when the smell of chocolate hit her nose, she had a pretty good idea.

“Duh-du-du-duuuuuh!” Roland sang as he handed her a mug of hot-chocolate, “My Mom’s recipe. Home-brewed, piping-hot, and, for once, perfectly cooked. I haven’t been able to make myself a decent one of these since I got to this city… Odd that the first batch of good stuff I share with a complete stranger…”

She smiled as she clinked her mug to his in silent cheers.

“Well, think of it as passing on a spot of good luck,” she bubbled, “Maybe your fortune will rub off on me with this drink.”

“In a city where magic and such can happen spontaneously,” Roland shrugged before taking a sip, “Mm… a bit hot, still… Anything can happen, I guess.”

They talked for a while. She learned of Roland’s past, his days as a software programmer, and later as a bartender. She learned that his version of bar-fly life was far different than what she was accustomed to. His version was that of a community gathering, not a place where immature hoodlums got inebriated and proceeded to riot. In the meantime, Roland learned she was a martial artist with a magic belt that could protect her from incoming attacks.

“Ha-ha!” he slapped his thigh, “You gotta be careful with that one… People might think you’re ripping off Ms. Liberty.”

“Yeah…” she grinned sheepishly for a second, “Especially when I was thinking about calling myself ‘Spangle,’ or something…”

“Ooh…” Roland smirked, “Don’t go with Spangle… Trust me. There may be some bad memories associated with it, rippling all through the F.C.… If you’re gonna stick with that… I suggest you wait a few weeks, or until after a major crisis hits…”

She stared at him with horror clearly evident on her face, “What did you do?”

“Not me…” he waved his hands to his sides, “My dad… well… I guess if you know the truth, it couldn’t hurt…”

So, Roland let her know of what had happened during the day. She seemed shocked to learn the grisly details, and a little sad when she learned whom Martin Sanders was. Her face got absolutely pale when he explained the significance “Spangle” had to do with the story.

“He didn’t!” she exclaimed.

“Never got to finish,” Roland confirmed, “He got interrupted by my friend… That little loud guy I mentioned, Kip…”

“I bet that didn’t go well…”

“It went better than any of us expected. Dad at least didn’t explode, and Kip took over the conversation. He struck a deal with the big man to have that little media spin put on the whole situation.”

“What about Martin?”

“Don’t know, yet,” Roland bit his lower lip, “He might not pass Freedom Corps’ psychiatric evaluation… They say he’s also a former small-time criminal… from before the War…”

“I see…”

“Oh wow, look at the time…” Roland’s half-closed eyes had habitually checked the clock, “It’s like… Eleven… Eleven Twenty… -ish…”

“Oh no!” Jessica bolted up and started scrambling for the door, “I need to get home…”

“You’ve got an apartment already?”

“Well, yeah…” she shrugged, “I’m… kind of… living with a friend for now…” she turned to Round with her hand on the door handle, “Um… Thanks for the hot chocolate… It was really good… And… Um… Well…”

Roland nodded, “Yeah… Thanks for being someone I could unburden myself to. Sorry about the first impression…”

“Roland…” she paused for a moment, unsure of what to say, “I know you’re probably hearing this a lot… And I can figure out why you’re so agitated right now… You’re… leaving soon, aren’t you?”

“Yeah.”

“You only came here to find your mom?”

Roland Grey nodded.

“That’s a little selfish, don’t you think?”

“Of course it’s selfish,” he grunted, then slumped to the floor, "And... Seeing them all like that… Together… And being with them… kicking butt, like that… I just… It felt right somehow…”

“Then why are you leaving?” Jessica walked over, knelt in front of him and rested her hand on his shoulder.

“Because I keep my promises.”

“You made a promise to go back to your home town when you found your mother?”

“Yeah,” Roland nodded, “I’ve gotta get back to my bar…”

They were silent for a few moments.

“Roland…”

“Round.”

“What?”

“My friends call me Round. It started in elementary school… Kids picking on me, calling me all sorts of fat names, finally sticking with Round, but I never let it bother me. So, the name stuck… Eventually, nobody really called me it out of malice. But only my friends called me it. I got into too many fights in high school for anyone who didn’t know me or were on the wrong ends of those fights to call me anything but my normal name.”

“But…” Jessica’s eyes darted left and right in disbelief, “We’re… We’re not close friends…”

Roland stared into her eyes, catching their focus. She suddenly realized they were the brightest shade of green she had ever seen in a pair of eyes… almost like emeralds. The expression on his face was one of mutual respect and regard.

“I feel I’ve known you all my life,” he said calmly, “It’s weird, but I feel I can trust you…”

“I…” Jessica almost blushed, “I get that a lot.”

“Ah well… Call me whatever you want… Just… Thanks. Thanks for helping me with this.”

“You’re welcome,” she replied, then headed for the door, stopping to ask just one last thing, “Roland… would you mind if I checked on you from time to time? You know, to see how you’re doing?”

“If you can find me,” the rotund warrior shrugged, “I might give another week or so of fighting before heading home…”

“Okay, cool. I’ll be sure to find you. Bye.”

Roland stared at the door for a few minutes after she left. He got that feeling again that something was amiss. He couldn’t quite place it, but the feeling that the girl, “Jessica” was someone he could trust was far more clear, so he dismissed the odd sensation. He wasn’t uneasy, but he just couldn’t help but feel the girl wasn’t entirely honest with him.

“Then how can I trust her?” he spoke softly to himself as he pushed off the floor and started lurching to his bedroom, “Maybe she’s just got that feel… The feel of somebody who’s more real than other people… I guess if she was lying to me…” he hit the bed and started wrapping the blankets around himself, “She… had… a good… reason…”

And he was out like a light.

Cool story. I played that arc myself, as I like the idea of a noble rogue as opposed to a 2-D Evil Villain, and I just preferred Scirroco's powers for a Brute.

However, my character was something of a Tech Cyborg, and it was difficult to figure out how to reconcile the idea in my head... I came to the realization that the power of Mu also comes from their blood, which is part of what you learn on the heroes side (with the frickin COT constantly chasing after descendants of Mu...), and my Cyborg Brute injects himself with a vial of the stuff. The nanites and cybernetic components then anaylized the effect, and replicate and repeat the cause as often as needed.

Of course, your character had to take the harder route, I see...

And fighting Serafina has got to be one of the roughest... I mean... Grah!

At least you had back-up, man...

The refugees were preparing to leave. Wounds were being bandaged, Nester was busy trying to revive Bob Jones, and anybody who could walk was busy packing what items they needed for the trip back to the Steel Canyon entrance.

“Martin…” Randall grunted at the refugee leader, “This fight… It proves these people could have left at any time…”

“We tried, Randy,” the bum replied, “In here… This is our turf. We know the lay of this place… Out there… Anything would get us. These Outcasts here? They’re the nice ones. Others would burn us down just as fast as the Council would use us for target practice. Trolls enjoyed playing ‘Tug-of-War’ with some of the older ones… Do I need to continue? I’m not some cult leader. I didn’t want these people stuck here any more than they did.”

“You still could’ve made a run for it…”

“Yeah…” Martin nodded, “And then we’d be far fewer than what survived this small war, here.”

“Amazingly, you were able to win this fight…”

“Only with your help.”

Freedom Corps troops started filtering in and helping with the wounded. The Warden that had stood in the bWo’s way earlier was stalking through the ranks, seemingly looking for something.

“I wonder why she’s here…” Randall intoned when she approached the Outcasts.

“What are your names?” she asked the orange-skinned fire tanker.

“Uh… I’m… Ashen Roast,” he replied, “This is Blizzard Front and that’s Microburst.”

“Michael…” Microburst sobbed as one of their compatriots wrapped a bandage around his leg, “I don’t care what I have to do… I’m getting out of this crap and taking back my old life… This [censored] is too [censored] crazy…”

The other Outcast members mumbled their names and repeated them as necessary. The Warden then made her way through the ranks of refugees, getting their names and plugging them into her communicator.

“Wow…” Draven breathed to Kipland, “It’s great to see you guys again… I haven’t seen you since high school…”

“Considering the fact we went to different schools, I guess I should be flattered you remember me,” Kip replied glumly, one of his eyes swollen shut.

“Well, not really, man. We did hire your brother to write some scripts for us…”

“Yeah,” Kip grunted and looked up to the ruin’s entrance, “What the…”

In strode the man, the myth, the icon, the legend… Statesman himself…

“Holy jumpin’ jehosafat!” Psycho13 screeched when he saw the newcomer and promptly leapt out of the way.

“What the [censored] is HE doing here?” Draven dropped to a crouch and hissed in the other scrapper’s ear.

“Massive Rikti movement across the city…” Kipland gathered his composure as he took stock of the new situation, “You said Freedom Corps was waiting for support… I bet he was it…”

“Yeah, but why?”

“He was ‘The Man’ when the Rikti attacked…” Kipland noticed Randall making a bee-line for Statesman, “This is either a show-of-force… or… Uh-oh… Gotta go…”

Kipland got to the two just in time for Randall to start getting agitated. It seemed Statesman didn’t like how this situation had gone down…

“Your supergroup has already been reprimanded…” the epitome of all champions for justice was in the middle of a long speech, one that was turning the larger tank’s face red with rage, “And now you pull a sloppy stunt like this…”

“You know as well as anybody else, that Cube incident had more than just my boys workin’ on it! Even Blue was in our corner on that one! You just needed someone to pin the blame on for it all getting out of hand…”

Statesman was unfazed, “Regardless, your group took responsibility then, and now… This situation could have been handled much better…”

“You sure as Hell got that right! Draven over there tells me your spandex troopers weren’t coming down here to help us until one of you showed up! We could have used ‘em a Hell of a lot sooner and a whole lot more than who came down!”

“They had their orders…”

“There were people down here who needed saving!”

“We had to be sure there weren’t more coming…” Statesman looked over the bloody expanse of concrete floor, “Besides… Despite the fact you were able to hold off the invaders, you were excessive. Lethal force is not sanctioned…”

“WHAT!?”

Randall towered over Statesman, but everybody in the room knew the smaller was far more powerful. The city’s champion knew this as well, as he stood his ground calmly before the massive tank.

“You need to learn to control yourself.”

Kipland saw the situation deteriorating and piped up, “Randall.”

“What was that, Statesman?” Randy’s voice dropped a few decibels…

“Randall…”

“You wanna tell me that again?”

“Randy!”

“You wanna tell that to the rest of these people, Statesman?”

“Randall!”

“Huh!? YOU wanna tell THESE people THEY can’t fight for their LIVES… YOU STAR-SPANGLED-SACK-OF-“

“RANDALL!”

Randall rounded on Kip, his face contorted in a mangled mask of rage that, up to this point, had only been reserved for Praetorians and arch villains…

“WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAT!?”

Kipland’s face, despite being marred, was stoic, and resolute.

“Go sit down.”

Randall’s head twitched back and forth. He was hanging on to reality by only a thread.

“Randall… I have a lot of respect for you. You and I have been through a lot here, in this city and back home…”

Kipland steeled himself. If he couldn’t get through to his boss in this crucial moment, all the progress he had made as a hero, all the progress his friends and family had made, would be lost in an instant. He could hardly believe he was in this situation again. The last time was in the aftermath of the Cube Incident, when he and Cory stood by Randall and had to convince a panel of Freedom Phalanx and Vindicator heroes to go easy on Grey’s Army. They were lucky that time… It turned out Council troops had been o the move all over the city under the orders of the twisted Archon Jazt, and nobody was able to put the puzzle pieces together in time. That didn’t stop Grey’s Army from being the fall guys for the slip-up. That had been Kip’s first time meeting Sister Psyche, Citadel, Infernal, Mynx, and Valkyrie… It was not a situation he wanted to repeat, especially not so soon. Such first impressions could be disastrous for a hero’s career…

“As second-in-command of Grey’s Army, I’m taking over in this on the grounds that I recognize you are unfit to handle the situation… Cory! I need you as a witness!”

“I bear witness,” Cory suddenly materialized beside Randall on the other side of Statesman.

Randall Grey was probably the only other man, aside from Statesman, that the two boys truly admired. The fact that they had to choose between the two was grating at them, but both recognized the correct choice in this instance. Randall was right, but he couldn’t articulate the proper notions or voice the correct words… He was too distraught and this whole series of fights and struggles was taking its toll.

“We’re not turning on you, Randy,” Kip’s voice dropped to a calming tone, “But you aren’t right for this… You’ve been through too much in too short a time… Far more than any of us… No man should have to watch his wife and children risk their lives like you just did… And then there’s everything else. Randy… I am not going to risk the integrity of this supergroup, that all of us, you especially, have poured so much of our blood sweat and tears into because you’re emotionally distraught. Please…”

He gazed into his boss’s sunken eyes and peered as well as he could into the Grey patriarch’s soul.

“Go sit down and be with your wife.”

Randall swayed a little as the gravity of what just happened dawned on him. Pressing his lips together, he turned back to Statesman, whose face was still stoically indifferent, and grunted an apology for his behavior.

“That isn’t to say I take back anything I said…” he thought on it, “Or was about to say. So if you’ve got any beef with it… Take it out on me some other time… Just leave these guys out of it.”

“Some other time, then,” Statesman intoned, then turned to Kip “Now… You… What do you have to say on behalf of your group?”

“We weren’t wrong,” Kip shrugged, “We sent information on the situation to Freedom Corps as soon as we realized what was happening. A request to help these people out of here had already been filed by Cedric and Roland Grey a couple days ago… The Rikti just happened to get fed up with their presence before the bureaucracy allowed for a proper evacuation to take place. We did what we could to save these people’s lives… lives that aren’t keyed into the hospital matrix reclaimators, mind you… and in the process, a lot of people, on both sides, died…”

He turned Statesman’s attention to a series of cloth-draped bodies. The refugees were quietly and tearfully preparing them for transport. Some of them were just mourning…

“There’s maybe one more we’ll be adding to this pile… My brother, Nester, and a group of the medics are working to save the man’s life… he had been trying to hit Randall over there with “reds” and “yellows” in the fight with the Rikti Commander.”

“Where is the Commander?”

“Dead. It’s kind of hard to survive a war blade through the chest. In any case, Bob’s in trouble over there… You want to go over there and tell him he’s dying because he was fighting too hard?”

“That’s hardly fair,” Statesman countered.

“Neither is your lording over us like this,” Kipland replied, “Don’t get me wrong, Sir, I have a lot of respect for you. You’re one of the inspirations why I do what I do, and I am happy for this opportunity you’ve presented for people like me to prove ourselves in this grand city…”

“As such, I would expect you to obey the rules you’ve been given…”

“This was not a situation where we could do that, Sir.”

“There is no excuse…”

Kip gestured to the corpses, “Tell them that.”

They were silent for a few seconds.

“I know, it’s not fair… But neither was what we just had to go up against. Nor was how these people have had to struggle for their lives since the War ended. I’m sad to say we never would have known of their plight if it weren’t for the fact we had personal reasons for looking…”

Statesman nodded in understanding.

“Look… I know this wasn’t handled in a discreet manner… I know things got out of hand… and… sadly… innocent lives were lost… But we did our damnedest to win this, and we gave our all. You need to recognize, this was an all-or-nothing situation, Sir. You can’t just let these people’s lives have ended for nothing but the arrest of my compatriots and I… You can’t tell these people that we ‘fought too hard…’ It just doesn’t make sense.”

Statesman thought on Kip’s words for a minute before finally answering.

“You know that this will be a ‘buried’ story, right?”

“Whatever it takes,” Kipland replied, “If you’ve gotta take credit for beating the Rikti back, that’s fine by me. I don’t think anybody here will be too bothered by it, either…”

“I don’t do that. This story won’t be hitting the news, however…”

“But… Most of the city already saw a Rikti Army head for Boomtown…”

“True, and the news will mention they’ve been dealt with…”

“But it won’t say by whom…”

“Your victory here will be registered in Freedom Corps’ official logs, however. You all deserve that much.”

“Thank you, sir.”

Statesman then turned to the Warden in charge of the Freedom Corps troops and set to work hammering out the details of the aftermath. The Outcasts involved with the rescue each got full pardons. Orders to bring in an escort for the refugees were placed on priority and a series of helicopters were en route. Finally, Grey’s Army was credited in the Freedom Corps logs for halting the Rikti Restructurist uprising, but steps were put in place to bury the story in the news.

“Kip! Kip!” Nester ran over to his brother excitedly.

“What, man?” Kip’s nerves were shot and he was sitting in a dark corner, shaking uncontrollably.

“We saved him! Bob’s gonna be okay!”

“That’s good news, man.”

“Are you alright?” Nester started keying in a command for mind-clearing nanites, “You’re looking kind of pale…”

“He’s fine,” Roland Grey walked over with a mug full of steaming liquid and handed it to Kip, “Just a little shock, is all.”

“I was hoping that when I finally got to meet Statesman, it would be under better circumstances,” Kip took a sip of the liquid and his shaking eased a little, “Tea?”

“Joe,” Roland replied, “When I need to ease my nerves, a cup o’ joe always helps.”

“You guys call me?” Durnan called from the group of refugees he was helping pack items Freedom Corps wanted to take in for study.

“No man, just talking about coffee,” Roland hollered back.

“Huh…” Kip almost chuckled, “A stimulant to calm nerves…”

“Yeah… yeah, that is odd.”

“So, are you gonna be okay, Kip?” Nester asked.

“For the most part, yeah…” Kip took another sip and shook his head slowly, “But things are gonna be rough for me for a while.”

“Why’s that?”

“Because Randy’s going on vacation. Him and Char. They need… alone time…”

The brothers looked over to their boss and his wife. Randy was obviously exhausted, if not in body, then in mind. His massive head was resting in her lap. Charlene ran her fingers through his hair, talking soothingly into his ear. Cedric was in front of them, waving his axe wildly around, pantomiming everything he and everyone else did in the fight. He was blissfully ignorant of the fact that the two were quite sick of the fighting, but his ever-present exuberance was definitely lifting the mood. In an odd way, he was actually making the whole battle seem far more heroic and epic than it had felt. He even made those who fell seem to be as great as the heroes they fought beside… indeed, he made them seem even greater than the heroes.

“It’s because those who sacrifice themselves willingly for the sake of others are the greatest heroes of all,” Roland explained, “Cedric doesn’t have to work hard to boost their image. Indeed, he’s doing us all a service by letting us know the last moments of those people’s lives, and none of them died cowering away from the fight. They all gave their all… just like we did.”

“Roland…” Kip finished the drink and turned to the rotund man, “I need to ask you something…”

“What’s that?”

“Are you going home?”

“Eventually, yeah…”

“Any idea when?”

The larger man shrugged.

“Roland… I don’t want to pressure you… But we’re really hurting for members in this group… We really need all the help we can get…”

“I hear ya,” Roland grimaced, “But… I just think all of this crap is stupid! When Sheldon told me what I was helping him program… I nearly stopped right then and there…”

“Round…”

“Listen to me, Kip… This stuff’s fine for people like you… But somebody like Nester? Snuffy? They’re going to wake up one day and realize just how dangerous this [censored] is, and they’re gonna leave it all behind as quickly as they can. This place is crazy, these jobs are crazy. I did what I came here to do… As soon as I’ve saved up enough, I’m heading home and I’m starting the bar back up.”

“So I guess that means you’ll be gone within the week…”

Roland almost went on to say more, but stopped with his mouth hanging open and his finger in the air. He finally nodded and Kipland bit his lower lip.

“Dammit.”

“Sorry, man.”

“It’s okay, Rounder… You’ve got your priorities,” Kip stood and started walking toward the groups to help with the evacuation, “I know Nester wishes you’d stick around. Your family, too, man. Kingdale may be where we grew up, but this place needs people like you and me more than ever… We’ll be done here some day… Maybe then we can go home…”

“I’ll have it waiting for you,” Roland clapped his hand on Kip’s shoulder, “I’ve made my decision, and I’m sticking to it.”

“I know, man. Let’s take care of business here.”

"Dude! That's messed up!"

Randall looks about uncertainly, then lounges in one of the seats in the back.

"Please... continue."

“You guys aren’t in there yet!?”

Draven Erickson snatched Psycho13 back from the Longbow Warden on duty. She crossed her arms and glared at the bWo’s de facto leader.

“Sorry about him. He’s a little screwy in the head.”

“Regardless,” the Warden rolled her eyes derisively, “We’re assigned here to ensure nobody goes in without proper authority… There’s some pretty nasty fighting going on down there, and we’re waiting for proper support before we neutralize the situation.”

“Well, hey!” Draven waved his arms to his sides and gave the Warden a big grin, “Here we are, ‘Support!’ Let’s get crackin!”

The Warden laughed at his face, held him back with one hand and denied him entry.

“I’m afraid what’s going on down there is a tad above your security level…”

“We’re heroes!” King Slater suddenly shouted over his brother-in-arms, “Security Level doesn’t mean anything in these situations! We’re here! This is within our capability!”

“Regardless, you’re hardly the support we’re waiting for…”

“The longer you keep us here,” The Kingdale Referee got in her face, sneering and waving a finger under her nose, “the higher the chances the heroes and innocent people down there won’t survive! We were called in to help! Stand aside!”

“Despite wearing a sports-official’s uniform-“ the Warden began but was abruptly cut off.

“Hey guys! There’s another entrance over here! And it’s unguarded!”

“HEY!” the Warden tried to stop them, but a sudden gust of wind knocked her off her feet.

“I apologize,” Project Whirlwind bowed to her, “But I feel our purpose here is far more important than your bureaucracy. I hope you do not suffer professionally for allowing us to pass.”

The group ran into the side tunnel and presently found themselves staring down a set of sewers. The Kingdale Referee stood back at the entrance for a second, yelling at various Freedom Corps troopers to get their courage up and follow them. Surprisingly, the Warden decided to assign a fire team to them, and their small reinforcement operation was bolstered significantly.

“You guys got a minigun?”

“Even better!” the heavy-set dark skinned male exclaimed, “We’ve got TWO!”

He and his partner reached to their backs and drew their miniguns. They seemed bigger than a person could handle, but apparently Freedom Corps troopers all had something “super” about them. The small, cute blonde drew out a sniper rifle and the dark skinned female wielded one of the “super rifles” that were often designated to blaster types.

“Okay…” Draven shrugged, “You a Nullifier or just a Sergeant?”

“Just a Sergeant. Come on, Draven, let’s get this started!”

“Alright! Ref! Announce us!”

The Kingdale Referee flicked a switch at his hip and glared down the tunnel. Draven and Slater signaled the Freedom Corps troopers to cover their ears as Dale took a deep breath…

“AND NOW! PRESENTING! … IN THIS COOOOOOORNEEERRRRRRRRRRRRRR… Weighing in at a combined weight of ONE Thousand two-Hundred-and-SevENTYFIVE pounds… THE BRUTAL WARRIORS OOOOOOOOOORDERRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR!”

“How’d he know our combined weight?” the Sergeant pulled Draven aside, bewilderment and disgust evident on her face.

“Our communicators have scanners and calculators built into them,” Draven shrugged, “And you should feel fine. You only weigh in at a hundred. That’s great for a woman with muscles… and might I say, you look particularly fine…”

“I don’t know whether to smack you, or kiss you…”

“Hey, if you’re gonna hit me, hit me!”

*SMACK*

Draven stared at her in bewilderment for a moment.

“My mistake…” he finally said as he turned back to the task at hand and drew his sword, “Was opening my mouth…”

“You can say that again,” King Slater laughed at him.

“PAY ALL THE PEOPLE YOU LO-OVE…” Psycho13 screamed into the Referee’s microphone, “WITH A RIVER OF BLOOD… And don’t forget TO-“

“PSYCHO!” Draven interrupted, “Shut it!”

“Aw…”

“Look, man, I know you’re all hyped up and have MSI rattling around inside your skull through the holes in your brain, but now isn’t the time or place… Now get ready! Here they come!”

And no sooner had he said it, than the rear ranks of the Restructurist Lost burst from the dark.

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

Randall Grey could hear the battlecries and screams of pain all around him. His granite encased limbs flailed about savagely and caught many of the Rikti troops full in the face, knocking them out cold. He saw Kipland Durj go flying, screaming, across his vision and traced the young man's flight back to his point of origin.

The purple-armored Rikti Commander.

With a savage roar, Randall stormed forward, the weight of his bizarre armor hardly hindering him, and he full on body-checked the commander. Unfortunately, the Rikti brought his blade up to absorb most of the impact and was knocked back a few feet but not really hurt.

The Commander chuckled through his armor and pointed at Randall.

“Situation: Duel… Combatants: You and Me. Irony: This is fitting. Considering the fact that you were the one that halted my unit’s assault to the west.”

“You’re the dastard that kidnapped my wife and tried to steal my daughter!” Randy’s irises started to turn white, “I… I’m gonna… RRRRRRRRRAAAAAAAAAAAAAARGH!”

The granite armor disappeared, replaced with the other peculiar types of rock-based armor other stone tankers used. In this mode, he hit harder and could move easier. He especially liked how the magma and stone wrapped around his fists. He didn’t notice it improve his damage output, but then, he didn’t really care too much. There was more hurting to be done…

The Commander was sent hurtling into the ceiling with a vicious uppercut and as he fell, a forearm smash to the chest sent him barreling into some of his troops. Randall was on top of him almost immediately, his Roots slowing him no more than the Granite Armor (though, if he were to combine the two, he’d barely be able to move…). He rained blows upon the Commander, but was eventually pushed back with a few choice slashes across his chest and against his arms.

He backed a few steps, clutched his head, and suddenly could feel the concrete beneath rejuvenating his body. He gritted his teeth and charged forward again, but caught the blade straight in his face.

“DAAAAAAAD!” Cedric screamed and started to charge to his father’s side, but Randy’s massive paw of a hand raised up and waved him back to his previous targets.

“I can handle this, son,” Randy grinned, “It don’t hurt no more than that chainsaw I took to the face when I was twenty-three!”

“Disbelief: You must be lying…” The Rikti pulled the blade away to reveal his sword had cut into a faint, wind-burnt and age-weathered scar, cleaved into by a surprisingly rapidly healing sword-cut.

“Got it before I got these fancy rocks growing out of my skin,” Randy’s gravelly voice growled, “It was an accident, but a dangerous one nonetheless. Felt like I got punched in the face, then I felt my lower lip next to my chin…”

“Disgusted: I think I’ll just kill you now.”

“You’re welcome to try!”

Randy caught the blade as it came down with his left hand, pulled it toward him and to the left, and gave a hard jab to the Commander’s armored faceplate. A resounding “DONG!” echoed even over the fighting and he followed it up with a series of punches to the armored chest of his enemy.

Back in the rear ranks, Sarah was getting Sheldon’s attention.

“You know, nnh… Sheldon… We could really use some crowd control in here… I’m getting tired… And a headache…”

Sheldon’s SMGs suddenly started clicking and he unceremoniously dropped them to the floor and extended his hands to the enemy. His expression never changed from its neutrally placid, stoic mask of determination.

“I know, Sarah, I have some stims on my belt, you can use them if you need… For now… Things are going to get very cold for me…”

His gloves hummed and crackled simultaneously, and suddenly, whole swaths of Lost and Rikti found themselves stuck in place, their bodies frozen in their last action before being caught in Sheldon’s invisible grip. The technological controller then waved his hands and a few of the injured refugees near the enemies found their bodies being instantly rejuvenated by nanites that required a kinetic contact with the enemy before unleashing their medicinal potential. He also threw a number of power siphons that boosted the fighters near him while draining some of the frozen. He breathed a sigh of relief that those kinetic nanites actually found their marks.

However, his fusion cells were severely drained, and his technology started draining from his body heat. Instantly, he broke out in a cold sweat from trying to keep the enemies in place. He gritted his teeth, though, and dug in. He had people counting on him, and couldn’t afford to botch this now.

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

Psycho13 went down in a flurry of shotgun blasts with Lost Headmen all around him. Draven and Slater tried to get to him, but it was too late. The scrawny scrapper’s body sank into the sewage and was promptly best left forgotten. The Freedom Corps troopers stuck around the Referee and Project Whirlwind, pumping a seemingly never-ending stream of ammunition into the Lost and Rikti, trying to keep them at bay.

They had pushed past a number of chokepoints and Erickson could have sworn the fighting was getting louder… But it was probably his imagination. They were currently at a point where the sewer ended, though, and a solid concrete floor began. Unfortunately, it seemed Psycho just got sucked under the concrete into places no man, woman, or any living thing for that matter, was meant to go.

Whirlwind kept hitting the heroes with enriched Oxygen, making Draven a little light headed, but he seemed to be thinking easier and the sewer suddenly didn’t smell as bad. Slater seemed to be getting the same effects, and his Black Mauler drove home many times, toppling Headmen and Rikti alike. As more Restructurists arrived, however, all looked lost. It seemed the bWo and their new allies weren’t going to be able to push any further.

Then Psycho13 leapt up out of the water, black water dribbling out of his pulled back lips in a perpetual sneer that seemed to show his utter disdain for all things that seek his friends and him harm. He was a peculiar creature, prone to odd behavior, and this was no different. Draven did himself a favor in not considering how much of the water the weird little man may have drank, and instead focused on the fighting. Not that there was much left for him to do at this point.

Psycho leapt forward, yanking a pair of crude, "three-knives-duct-taped-together" claws from his belt and started carving his way into the midst of the enemy. He hacked and slashed at the Lost and Rikti who got too close and worked his way into the center of the group. When he seemed surrounded, he leapt up on one Headman, kicked at a nearby Rikti, then wrapped his legs around his victim’s head, snapped himself backward, raking his claws on the nearest enemy on his way down, and executed a “hurricanrana” on the Lost soldier, dragging his face into the sewage. As he scrambled back to his feet, he kicked several times where he figured the Restructurist’s head was, and was rewarded with the sensation of something giving. A small pop issued from the water and a trickle of red started to flow toward the underbelly of the concrete.

The other soldiers weren’t given a chance to get retribution for their fallen comrades, as Psycho13’s sudden and insane assault had given the rest of the bWo and their Freedom Corps allies the chance to catch their breath and rejoin the attack with bolstered determination.

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

Sheldon almost collapsed from hypothermia, but Nester was suddenly there, slamming his friend with a healing bolt that restored his core temperature. The “Empathy” defender then tossed a couple stims and fusion cell batteries to Sheldon before jumping back to the fray.

In the center of the Rikti, Randall still duked it out with the Commander. The two didn’t seem to be getting weaker on either side, though the Commander’s forces were noticeably dwindling. Whatever resources the Restructurist troops had were being immediately scavenged by the human refugees and the heroes and Outcasts, thus helping them outlast the enemy and survive the seemingly hopeless battle.

At the entrance to the ruin’s main chamber, the Lost and Rikti suddenly fell inward, some dead, some unconscious, some dying or severely injured. A force bubble suddenly emerged from the opening there and a group of heroes and red-and-white clad Freedom Corps troopers stormed through, whooping and cheering excitedly. They seemed to be led by a man in a red coat…

Joe Durnan gave a brief bark of a cheer before a burst from his assault rifle drowned him out. The Restructurists were falling and there was nothing they could do about it.

“Randy! Ran!”

The Rikti Commander chuckled briefly as he swung at Randall Grey, then deftly deflected his swing to the tanker’s right. There was a sickening “slurch” sound and Randall turned to see his friend, Bob, dropping back from a vicious wound that left his chest gaping. The old, bald man’s eyes and mouth were open wide, his eyes seeing nothing but white, his lower lip quivering as his body’s nerves fired from the unfamiliar pain.

"What?" Randy asked in the moment of frozen time, "What were you thinking?"

Nester was there, suddenly, and pumping a steady stream into Bob’s open wounds. The man’s eyes were almost glazed over.

“BAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHB!” Randy shouted.

“Don’t you die on me, Short-stuff!” Nester yelled, “I’m looking forward to making fun of your height for years to come! Dammit, man! Don’t you give up on me! You’re made of tougher stuff than this!”

Randy turned to the Commander, who was in the middle of a swing aimed for the gruff tanker’s head. Randy sung his left fist around and smashed the blade aside, denting it. The next thing Randy knew, all he saw was red, and there was a horrible, jarring crunching sound that just kept repeating over and over. When he came to, he was holding the Commander’s broken armored body over his head and was preparing to throw him through the nearest wall.

“He has a wife! He’s got kids! You sonova[censored]! I’m gonna [censored] kill you!”

He threw the Rikti Commander through the wall and saw that he had done severe damage to the alien’s armor. There were parts dented in that he didn’t realize could dent, and little bolts and panels falling off that normally would have protected the pale gray skin of his arms and extremities. He wasn’t dead, however, and stood uncertainly from the injuries he had sustained. The left wrist of his armor popped open and he pressed a few buttons. Randall realized the Commander was attempting to flee and started storming forward.

He tripped a little on the Commander’s sword. Inspired, he reached down and picked up the wicked weapon. The Commander seemed to be having trouble with his device, and started rattling it against the wall. A few sparks issued from the device, but it otherwise did nothing.

Then, the Commander’s own sword was through his chest. The fighting stopped instantly. Lost, Rikti, Outacsts, refugees, and Grey’s Army all stood and stared at the purple armored Rikti who lurched back into the room, his own weapon impaling him straight through his torso. Randall Grey gritted his teeth satisfactorily and calmly walked toward the Commander, who was struggling to stand.

“Condition: Wounded,” he heard in his head, “Status: Mortal. I’m dying, and it’s thanks to you… You fought me… man-to-like-man… Your army faced mine… I concede defeat… Everything’s going dark… I ask… I ask that you shake my hand before I fall…”

Randall caught him by the shoulder as the Commander stumbled and held him upright. The rage on his face from earlier had disappeared, replaced with stark bewilderment, but the big man complied with the handshake.

“Last wish: Take my sword and know my name…” the Commander was bleeding profusely at this point, “I am Oet’Ko’Ertt… I was a middling… middle commander in the Rikti forces that… that never… never should have come here. I… I apologize for the pain I’ve caused you… Randall Grey… Regret: I will not get to see my wife… my children… We were quite similar… you and I… Pity we met under these… these circumstances… All is going black now…”

Randall laid the Commander on his back.

“All is dark. My mind is leaving me… Goodbye, troops. Farewell... my worthy enemy…”

Randall waited for a few minutes, then pulled the wicked sword from the Commander’s chest.

The War Under Boomtown was over, and the rescue of Charlene Daring Grey and the Dregs/Refugees was complete.

Hm... A lot of my characters don't have theme music... but some do...

Snuffy Grey typically lsitens to whatever she feels fits the mood, but it's typically techno dance beats (she feels lyrics get in the way of the music). Sometimes, she makes them herself, but she's more likely to just get whatever she can download (legally, of course).

Kipland Durj listens to Dry Kill logic and Rammstein. He normally has "Perfect Enemy," "My Dying Heart," "Rosenrot," "Mein Teil," or "Rot," running through his head at any given moment.

Cedric Grey is a Metallica fan, everything from their old to their new (though he feels they should wake up, find a tune they like, and stick with it). "Battery" will often seague into "The House that Jack Built" and later into "St. Anger."

The bWo characters each have their own personal theme music, however.
Draven Erickson kicks butt to Marilyn Manson's "Angel With the Scabbed Wings," or My Life with the Thrill Kill Cult's "After the Flesh."
King Slater enters the fray with Pantera's "Walk."
Dirty Ice is fond of "Sweating Bullets" by Megadeth.
Ragin James usually fights to lots of different things by RATM, but typically lays down the thunder to "Testify."
Solo Stryker is a fan of "Unforgiven 2" by Metallica.
Psycho13 has a wide range of just plain messed up music he guts baddies with, but he prefers "Kill Yourself" by Mindless Self Indulgence (MSI) when sharpening his blades for a throwdown. However, Draven happens to know his "kill trigger" is TATU's "All the Things She Said," and will sometimes blare it in the scrawny, crazy man's ear when the chips are down. The rage-based carnage that follows is typically labelled as disturbing...

*nonensical angry jibbering*

Brghlrghlrnah! (<--Yeah, say that one to yourself... I bet you chuckle)

I thought there'd be an update to the story here! Hellfire and Damnation, people! What're you tryin' to do to, give me a heart attack before 30!?

I like this idea, and thought we should keep it going...

However, I can't just make this a *bump*, so I guess I should add a puzzle...

Hm... I'm new to this, so it'll be simple...

You have achieved your original objective (Rescue, Assassination/KO, Item Theft/Recovery, etc.). However, you now have to make your escape and are surrounded by the enemy. They know you're there, but not necessarily where. As such, they will be looking for you.

Parameters for everything else are up to you, cave network, open field, top floor of a tall building, ninjas, guards, security systems... whatever your heart desires, just so long as you start at the end of the "Last Mission" (figurative: it may not necessarily be the last scenario you wrote) and work back to the beginning of it (or find some other way out, it's up to you!). As far as I've seen, these challenges have had many liberties taken with them and work more as story-writing exercises anyway, so have fun!

The fighting, needless to say, was vicious. The opening ranks of each side fell like bloody paper dolls. On the refugees' and Grey’s Army’s side, the people were almost instantly revived from near-death by Nester’s healing nanite waves, as well as their medics injecting and slapping “greens” into their compatriots. On the Rikti side, however, the Lost foot soldiers weren’t so lucky as to receive such aid from the Rikti Guardians.

After the first volley, Randall immediately stormed forward and chaos broke loose. The two armies closed with each other, shotgun blasts, submachine gunfire, and even machetes, knives and Rikti war blades whipping out to deal with the close range fighting.

Cedric took a whole squad by himself, at first whooping and laughing at the combat. After a few Rikti fell to his axe, however, his yells changed to vicious roars of victory, rage and hate. He screamed things like “Three… Long… Years! You took my Ma away for three… long… years…” punctuating each sentence and fragment with a swing of his axe. When Cobalt gave a worried look to Matt McGinty, the sword-wielding scrapper merely shook his head in assurance that Cedric wasn’t losing his will to some bizarre connection to his Praetorian’s soul. It was just pent up anger finally being vented. What MAGI and Matt never told Cedric was that this axe’s purpose was to block the bizarre mystical link Cedric the Gray had developed with him since he’d started being a hero with the Praetorian’s weapon.

Cory had worked his way to the rear, with the riflemen wielding Rikti and Council rifles. Joe Durnan was the maestro of their concert of destruction, directing their fire to the most vital areas in the Restructurist ranks. Guardians and Communications Officers went down first, there were enough Rikti without those types bolstering the ranks. Even still, a couple portals popped up that had to be stomped out by Kipland. Joe and Cory then each took a half of snipers, and directed concentrated firepower on two separate points as opposed to localizing all of the attacks on single targets.

Kipland, Cobalt, and Mattock were all over the place, assisting any groups that were in danger of suddenly being overwhelmed. They were fortunate to not have to assist the groups bolstered by the Outcasts, however, who seemed to be surprisingly adept at fighting the horde.

When a Headman Swordsman kicked down one of the refugee buckshot blasters, and set about trying to cleave him in two, the nearby fire-based Outcast stepped between them. A fiery scimitar blazed out of his hand and caught the blade, arcing through it like butter. The tip clattered to the ground, and the Headman stared at his destroyed weapon in awe, electronic components of its harmonic-frequency vibration device sparking and sizzling, exposed to the air. The orange-skinned Outcast then sidestepped, swept the blade diagonally across the swordsman’s torso, then back across his belly. The villain fell to his knees, and the Outcast leader’s left hand balled up into a fiery fist that he used to shatter the broken television casing the headman was using as a helmet, and burn through to the monster’s face, knocking him out cold.

The blue-skinned, wild-haired, lightning Outcast leader was also an exceptional one. He unleashed a massive volley of lightning that tore through the Rikti’s ranks, but he wasn’t ready for the energy blast that knocked him clean off his feet. Nester was there, suddenly, and engaging his healing wave. A couple more blasts came his way, but they fizzled out in the nanite cloud of his defensive matrix. The blue-skinned, clean-cut ice Outcast dragged his friend out of the fray, firing lances of cold and snow into the horde.

Snuffy, Zeke, Sheldon, Charlene, and the Ryats stood in the center. The Ryats had once again assumed their “tower formation,” a peculiar combination attack that enabled the longer range and higher damaging droid to utilize the power output of his larger counterpart, while Ryat99 was able to keep his little friend out of melee and spread some of his ice armor to shield Ryat66. Sheldon, oddly, wasn’t using his gravity control gloves. Instead, he whipped out a pair of bizarre, futuristic submachine guns and starting blasting away at anything that got too close. Sarah simply turned the enemy against one another, one at a time. When their heads seemed to clear, Charlene put them down with a concentrated blast of light energy. Zeke tracked wherever Randall went and bolstered his attacks with well-placed dark energy strikes.

The fighting wore on for what seemed like hours, but was really only a few minutes. However, with the fatigue that was setting in, and only the heroes (maybe) not showing signs of fatigue, Joe Durnan suddenly reached into his cargo pocket. Cory glared at him with a quizzical look.

“We’re gonna die here, Cory,” Joe gasped, “Everybody’s getting tired, and only one of us will be able to keep fighting… We need help…”

“Longbow’s out there…”

“They’re trickling in…” Joe desperately tapped buttons on his communicator, “ They won’t get involved fast enough… I’ve got ties to a group that will, though. I’m calling for backup…”
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

In Steel Canyon, a long-haired young man wearing a red trench coat, blue jeans, and a white tank-top bearing an anarchy symbol stood by the Universal Supergroup Base Portal. He was a tad peculiar looking, his face bedecked in red-tinted sunglasses and black tear-drop eye makeup. A broadsword hung at his hip, the point of which rested just above his left tan work boot. Next to the handle, a popular early 1980’s video game theme song started to beep from his communicator.

“Draven here,” the long-haired scrapper quipped.

“Get to Boomtown. You’ll see where to go. Bring your boys.”

“We getting a reprieve for this duty, Durnan?”

“I’ll pull the strings. I’ll get the PPD to let you guys alone. Hurry!”

“You got it,” Draven clicked off his communicator and turned to his companions. They were a motley group, to be sure. They were his companions, his crew, and for now, his army.

One wore a gray outfit, a denim jacket over a black rock band T-shirt. His pants were a blend of blue and gray as well, and he wore a pair of similar themed sunglasses to contrast a brown goatee. Medium hair matching his goatee for color flanked his face. His boots were the same type as Draven’s. A heavy black war mace hung at his hip.

Another was small, skinny, and covered in blue lightning-styled warpaint. His face was barely recognizable under all of the blue. His dark brown hair wildly went every which way. Around his waist, a belt of golden skulls, each one marked with letters spelling “hardcore” etched into them, held up a crudely designed and constructed war kilt. Heavy, dark brown combat boots came up to his knees, and a series of sharp, wicked knives were slid into the belt.

The third companion wore a strange outfit that looked like a sports official. Next to him, a man who looked like a ninja from some sort of cartoon, only dressed in a black trench coat. The ninja’s fingers crackled with electricity, and the referee reached down to his utility belt and flicked a switch. A bubble of energy encircled the group.

“Gentlemen, you know the deal,” Draven said to his companions, “King Slater, you’re up front. Psycho13, you’re with me. Project Whirlwind, Ref… you guys are support. Keep those shields up, and keep them off their feet. Let’s go bust some heads.”

By the time the supergroup entered the sewers that housed the Dregs, it was almost too late. The Rikti and the Lost were in the middle of a massive firefight with the Outcasts and the defending Dregs. The fact that some of the Outcasts had come to the aid of the homeless refugees was probably a testament to their human spirit, and a desire to be something better than they were. Regardless, Grey’s Army dropped out of the sky like a carpet bombing of heroes.

Randall Grey, encased in his granite armor, smashed his way through the ranks of Rikti soldiers, clearingt eh way for his compatriots. With Cedric Grey following behind Kipland Durj and Ryat99 following Cobalt Black, the tanks and scrappers flanked the blasters, defenders, controllers, and even the kheldians with Matt McGinty bringing up the rear.

They had everybody this time. There was to be no holding back. Randall even got over his distaste of the guy and allowed his daughter’s boyfriend to join them. Joe Durnan’s face, while normally panicked in the presence of Mr. Grey, was now set and determined. Just like that fateful day of the “Cube Incident.”

Behind them, in Steel Canyon and just entering into Baumton, Freedom Corps troops were swarming in to counter the sudden resurgence in Rikti activity, they had been briefed of the situation by Cedric Grey (the only member of the group other than Cobalt Black who might have been able to explain it to them in their terms), and some units were deployed that specialized in hostage situations. Grey’s Army wasn’t about to let it come to that, however.

The battle through the sewer was harrowing, with the Durj “twins” roaring hoarsely to match Randall Grey. They were joined all along the way by the refugees and Outcasts falling back from the Restructurist onslaught. As their group grew, the rush to the various choke points grew easier.

At each point, Randall and the other tanks, assisted by Nester Durj to keep them all moving and breathing, would brutally halt the Restructurist advance. Whenever they were about to be overwhelmed, Randall would collapse a part of the tunnel to give them some breathing room, now taking up the rear to cover the escape of the others.

Eventually, they came to a great chamber. A former hero base, the Dregs had been hiding in the old, squalid ruin from the Rikti and the Lost since the end of the Rikti War. Their limited supply of alien weaponry and salvaged shotguns, pistols, and submachine guns had been utilized haphazardly, but surprisingly effectively to hold off any would-be incursions, whether they came form the Rikti, the Outcasts, or even the Council. Sometimes, some of the refugees mentioned between gasps, they often found themselves aided by the Clockwork, but not today. None of Grey’s Army really wanted to wrap their heads around that issue, so they fought on.

The ruin was very open, and surprisingly bereft of sewage. Martin Sanders greeted Randall as the other members of the supergroup started organizing a hasty but, hopefully, solid defense.

“You must be Randall,” Martin extended his hand, “When we heard the yelling, I figured things weren't going the Rikti's way. People yell differently when they fight and when they scream in terror. So, I told the last couple checkpoints to stand down and be prepared to move. I can see Char wasn’t exaggerating when she described ya… I don’t think I’ve ever seen anybody bigger.”

“You seem surprisingly clear-minded for a crazy-looking homeless guy…” Randall replied as he powered down his granite armor.

“Appearances are deceiving,” Martin replied, “My insanity isn’t one that typically affects my normal life… just… well… we can talk about it some other time.”

“Right, the important thing is fighting off the Rikti and getting these people out of… Hey, I know that guy! Bob!”

The man Randall yelled to turned suddenly, shock on his face, “Randy! Oh my god! What’re you doing here? What… How’s Sandy?”

Randy patted his old friend on the shoulder, “Yeah, she’s fine. Your kids are fine, too. Bob… Don’t cry, Bob… I don’t want to have to hurt you to bring you back to reality… Stay with me, here…”

“HEY!” Martin suddenly clapped his hands in Bob’s face, “WAKE UP, SOLDIER! You’ve got work to do! Move!”

The little bald man shook a little, realized where he was, and snapped to his task. Randy nodded as he watched him go.

“Where’d you learn to do that?”

“I don’t remember,” Martin shrugged, “I think some old war movie. I’ve had so much weird [censored] happen in my life, I don’t know where any of this crap is coming from. I mean, look at our defensive setup… Does that look like something a sane man would do?”

“No…”Randall admitted, “It doesn’t. Is it effective?”

“Yeah,” Martin bit his lower lip then grimaced, “We’ve had too many invasions, but the people here, they rally behind me… Well, behind your wife…” his face suddenly got a far away look but he quickly came back to focus, “and me. I’m sure you know by now that your wife brought down the ship…”

“Yeah.”

“Martin!”

Charlene ran up and hugged her friend. Martin gave her a light return hug and set her back on her feet. Unlike Joe Durnan with Sarah Grey, he was in very serious danger of getting killed in this situation, and he recognized it. Randall had noticed his change in expression earlier, and now stared at the smaller, disheveled man as he stood next to his wife. He knew there was a tension between the three of them, but it was peculiar. Charlene bit the corner of her lip and edged away from Martin, making herself equidistant between the two.

“We’ll deal with this some other time,” he told the two of them, “I… I think we can talk through this.”

The other two nodded and Randall clicked on his communicator.

“Cedric, are we ready?”

“Yeah, dad! As ready as we’ll ever—“

“Cory! What’s the status of the Rikti?”

“They’ve broken through the last rubble pile and are now working their way in your direction. I’m just fortunate they didn’t bring any drones… We’ll be there in about three minutes!”

“OKAY!” Randy shouted over the nervous crowd, “I need you all to be quiet right now and listen up! In a minute, we’re going to be fighting a ruthless enemy that seeks your enslavement, or your deaths. The enemy knows you, and you know them! You’ve all had plenty of experience behind your weapons, I’m certain my heroes have assigned you to your specialties…”

He stood before the cowering, disheveled civilians, decked out similarly to the Lost, only there wasn’t a mutated face or body among them…

“If you survive this day… You’re going home. Let that be your beacon, and never give up.”

Cory then burst through the entrance, blaster fire streaming behind him. He dropped to the floor and slapped an ice patch on the ground, rolling out of the way as the two forces took stock of each other for an instant.

On one side, the Rikti Restructurists. An allied army of mutated humans on their way to being converted and conscripted as full-on Rikti, as well as plenty of the real thing. They all bristled with weaponry, from the scrapped shotguns and SMGs of teh Lost to the glowing energy swords and blasters of the Rikti. The officers wore their normally shiny silver armor, some were dressed in red, and a vast majority of lieutenants were dressed in black. One, standing dead center, was dressed in purple and wielded a wicked looking energy blade with two curved forward scythe ends and a barbed point that jutted out of the middle.

On the Dregs side was a motley collection of desperate faces and determined heroes. The groups were situated so those with the most combat experience were bolstering those without. There were no really strong points in the Dregs' defense, but there weren't any real weak points (yet) either.

They held the advantage, however, as the location was, for all intents and purposes, their home. Not all of teh Restructurist troops had arrived yet, and Randall had no intention of letting them before his side inflcited heavy casualties on the enemy.

The Purple-armored Rikti commander must have read Randall's mind, because simultaneously, the two raised their arms, Randall's covered in thick, gray stone, the Rikti commander holding his war blade in his hand, and made a sharp salute at each other.

The two armies opened fire as one.

Ragin James

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James Baker

Ragin James started as a hero character in the bWo. He typically was up front about it, often restricting his fighting to Solo Stryker and his B.M.F., as well as any other contender that would be classified as a “villain” type. The Shadowmark Assassin, various one-shot wrestlers introduced as Committee agents, as well as his own brother, Levi Baker (Psycho 13) when he was undergoing a chaotic story phase where he operated as a Committee loyalist under the moniker of “Soultaker.”

Where most of the other contenders would simply launch into an assault and try to sell their show through sheer performance, Ragin James was one of the few to utilize stage charisma and actually play to the crowd. This presented him with the odd advantage of always having the crowd behind him. Most of the fights ended badly for those on the side of villainy.

This makes it odd, then, that James turned to Solo Stryker as an ally. When Draven left the B.M.F. to become a hero character, and break out from under Solo’s shadow, James immediately joined forces with the perennial villain and created the stable called the Regulators. The intent was to recruit new members from the ranks of the one-shots who had more than a passing interest in the weekly events and to make a formidable army to drive out the Committee and dominate the bWo with the same underhanded tactics and brutality that made the B.M.F. so dangerous. The other side of the coin, however, was that Draven was to pull the other “hero” characters together and the whole storyline would devolve into a massive battle on the Arena’s football field.

It was to be the group’s greatest undertaking, but the Committee ruined it. During a night event (being filmed privately, no crowds), a fire was started as Dirty Ice battled it out with Solo Stryker and Ragin James. If it weren’t for the intervention of the Referee, who at the time had a rudimentary force field generator developed, the crew wouldn’t have escaped the blaze. After the fire, the bWo was broken.

The members were found to not be at fault, the Referee was able to save the fixed point camera, detailing that the group was too far from the fire’s ignition to have started it, and the other members (save one) all had viable alibis. The one without an alibi, however, was James’ brother, Levi.

Surprisingly, the town accepted the fact that Levi Baker was unlikely to have started the fire, as he had no training in pyrotechnics and no prior record for arson. The fire itself, it was determined, was a controlled burn strategically designed to raze the building quickly and efficiently. None of the bWo members had training in such a field, and they were cleared of all charges.

After high school, Ragin James toured the U.S. with Dirty Ice. It was during these travels he came across the Skulls of Cord, a pair of metal skulls that bestowed great strength and an electric aura on their wearer. Initially wanting to sell them for a profit, James Baker was forced to don the skulls in order to protect himself from a villainous assault. They then instantly fused to his shirt, and then to his body. This must make showering difficult. Apparently, they really just hover slightly above the clothing, but it’s still disconcerting. Whether or not the villains were agents of some other entity or just acting on their own is currently unknown. However, Ragin James and Dirty Ice quickly made plans to head to the Etoile Isles with Solo Stryker.

It’s believed James expected to find his brother there…

King Slater

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Dustin Simms

King Slater was the Wild Card hero of the Brutal Warriors. He held no allegiance to anyone, and his capabilities as a contender were second-to-none. He was able to hold back the B.M.F. and their eventual successors, the Regulators (composed of Solo Stryker and Ragin James) single-handedly. With his stalwart, stoic demeanor and ruthlessly efficient assaults, Slater made short work of anyone who entered the ring with him, regardless of sneak attacks or other under-handed tactics.

Probably the only thing that made his character a “hero” class character was that he restricted his fighting to the “Ender” mentality. He would only fight as long and as hard as he needed to. Fighting the other “hero” type contenders often resulted in more methodical, tactical wrestling, while fighting the bWo “villains” was more all-out, crazy and (I can’t believe I’m typing this, even with quotes) “hardcore” fighting, complete with weaponry (King Slater seemed to like using a sledgehammer), breaking tables, and very few actual resolutions.

After the Kingdale Arena burned down, Dustin Simms worked for Randall Grey and Ezekiel Durj in their small-time construction company until the Rikti invasion. When the attacks came to their small town, Dustin again donned the outfit of King Slater, this time acting as a protector of anyone Randall Grey and Kipland Durj were able to rescue and bring to the temporary bunkers they were able to set up in the basements of collapsed or abandoned houses. People were terrified that they were being protected by a backyard wrestler, but when Slater suddenly sprouted stone armor from his body and was able to fend off a large number of attacks. After the war, he helped with the reconstruction effort, finishing up many of the jobs Randall left behind.

“Randy didn’t abandon us. He simply felt the town didn’t need his services anymore, and he wanted to go somewhere new. I think he was still in a funk about losing his wife to the war, and wanted to… well… die on his feet. He seemed like the kind of guy to do that sort of thing. The fact that he’s still around… well… I guess his natural tenacity was just too powerful for whatever grim mindset he was in. I hear they found Char, too, so that’s even cooler. I always liked her. She was nice.”

In Paragon City, King Slater assaults the local criminal underworld with a big mace he calls the “Black Mauler.” He seems to swing it like a hammer, and is quite capable with the weapon. The stone armor he spontaneously grew is with him still, defending him from the attacks he is frequently likely to encounter.

Solo Stryker

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The real name of this individual is Daren Simms.

Kingdale is a small community with large families. It’s not really any surprise that many of the contenders in the bWo were related. Daren Simms is the cousin of Jared Simms, Draven Erickson, and the brother of Dustin and Dale Simms, King Slater and the Kingdale Referee respectively. The fact that he’s in the Isles is no damper on the fact that they’re all family.

In Kingdale, Solo Stryker was one of the premier villains, sharing the role of arch-villain with Dirty Ice, though the two were often quick to war with each other. Whether this was intended as a commentary on the modern world is highly doubtful… Our records indicate they were hardly ever so inclined as to insert “moral lessons” in their works.

Stryker specialized in sneak attacks, starting his bWo career as Draven’s partner in a group they called the B.M.F. (I am NOT translating that acronym; just know it doesn’t stand for “Beautifully Manicured Flowers”). He often dominated the tag team with his sheer brazen attitude and utter disregard for his situation. Indeed, the entire group often got into difficult situations with the local populace due to Solo’s frequently foul mouth. If the group was ever in any form of trouble, it was often Solo Stryker’s underhanded actions that snatched victory from the jaws of defeat.

Of course, in those days, it was scripted, and the “victim” of his antics was always was in on the stunt. They were (are) friends, they weren’t trying to hurt each other (not that they didn’t get hurt; many of them still bear scars to this day).

Solo Stryker is currently registered as a Stalker class “villain” in the Etoile Isles. He and his crew, consisting of “Ragin James” and “Dirty Ice” (a loose affiliation on the last one; Ice seems to be working with them because he’s paranoid of the Committee’s intentions), have been scouring the region for whatever equipment and super-types they can find that would be willing to return to the law-abiding society of the U.S.A., and especially Paragon City.

What they seem to lack, however, is a proper vehicle. Solo Stryker took lessons in air piloting while in college. Perhaps they’re looking for some type of aircraft. Whatever he wants, he’ll have to be sneaky about it, because there’s no way the Sky Raiders are giving up one (much less many) of their skiffs, and Arachnos is not letting go of their fliers.

Fortunately (I think… I’m not so sure about where to draw the lines with these guys…), as a Stalker, Solo Stryker has an advantage in the sneaking department. With two Brutes supporting him as well, he may just succeed at whatever scheme he and his cousin have concocted.

Draven Erickson

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The real name of this individual is Jared Simms.

The premier contender and front-running “hero” type at the close of the bWo’s tenure in Kingdale, Draven was a “high-flier.” Every match he was in featured him going to the top of one of the four corners of the ring, leaping off and colliding violently with his opponent. He also utilized his mystical flight properties to augment the leap, so he flew higher and farther than typically possible.

His major weapon skillset was with a baseball bat. He could twirl the weapon around easily and often used it to deflect assaults from other contenders. It seems in the intervening years, he learned how to wield a sword in place of the bat, and he does it with grim efficiency.

As a hero, Draven has been granted access to a minor charm from MAGI that enables him to tap into the nether realm for the typical array of support powers. He seems to have a natural charisma that causes people to want to give him what he wants, so it’s probably a good thing he’s on our side.

His appearance has been hotly criticized, however, as well as his chosen name.

“Lately, I’ve been accused of ripping my name off a movie character. I think of it more as homage. I liked the movie, I liked the character. The only similarity between me and the character, though, is this eye make-up and long hair. Hair that’s light, mind you, not dark like in the movie. The rest of my image? Well, that’s just me. Oh, yeah… Some video game character wears a red trench coat… Big whoop. I’m not the first hero to wear a red trench coat, and I don’t think anybody’s ripping on the rest of them about it. Besides, I like red coats!”

The intentions of Draven Erickson and his allies in Paragon City and the Etoile Isles are currently a minor issue in the Freedom Corps. They seem to be trying to find a way to work together… We have agents monitoring their progress.

The Brutal Warriors Order (bWo)

Before the craziness of the Rikti War, super powers were still all around. Statesman didn’t start being a hero when the Rikti attacked. Hero One didn’t just throw on a cape to fend off the alien scum.

Kingdale had its hero, too, and he dealt with the problems that plagued that region. It was never anything so far-spanning as the Nemesis Army or a Fifth Column invasion, but he was a hero nonetheless, and those that knew of his existence (as the Kingdale Warden is a peculiar kind of hero) and the work he did were appreciative.

That, however, did not leave out the possibility that other super-powered individuals could exist in Kingdale. It also did not rule out the possibility that those same individuals would simply squander their gifts in a form of cheap entertainment. Those individuals came together to form the bWo, the Brutal Warriors Order, or bWo. Why they only capitalized the middle initial is beyond anyone’s guess. They probably thought the long bars of the “W” looked cool towering over the other letters.

They were a regular showing at the Kingdale Arena, a convention center built for sporting events, concerts, plays/operas, and other knick-knack events. Every week or so, the bWo would show up, set up a small wrestling ring, and start pummeling each other according to a script they spent their high school days dreaming up. The fact that Kingdale residents showed up consistently to watch is probably a testament to the types of people that live in the region…

The Brutal Warriors would utilize the staples of typical back yard "pro wrestling" fare… Tables, ladders, discarded wooden wall panels… Any object the boys could get their hands on legally (and sometimes illegally) was fair game to be used in their rugged little ring. However, the true gem to the action was the fighters themselves.

Each member of the bWo had a personal talent, a superpower of some type, all to his own. Whether the talent was magic-based, natural, or some other type of origin, it didn’t matter, the boys would throw their bizarre capabilities at each other, withering each other down slowly in spectacular displays of death-defying lunacy.

With the money they were making from their events, it wasn’t long before the bWo attracted the attention of a strange quasi-legal entity known only as the Committee. Our intel has picked up little on this vague, clandestine group, but it’s currently believed they have ties to Crey Industries, the Council, Arachnos, the Sky Raiders, and most other “technologically grounded” villain groups. They seem to act as a think tank for the groups, often providing elaborate schemes or even fully-fledged supervillians for the groups to use. Their agents are everywhere, and they often wear the uniforms of the groups they’re advising. We never seem to know when we’ve got one of their agents until it’s too late, and they’re gone.

However, it seems the Committee used the bWo as a “test phase” to determine how successful they could be at their (at the time) newly chosen "vocation." It should be noted that the Committee started as a storyline plot for the bWo, and that the contenders would be either for or against the bizarre shadow organization. It seems, somehow, the story got ridiculously out of hand. The test, however, either went really well, or really poorly. After several antagonizing months, the Kingdale Arena was burned to the ground, with some of the members of the bWo still inside.

Oddly enough, it seems the warriors survived, even if their cohesion as a group did not. Though some were around to help fight during the Rikti invasion, others were gone. Some went to college, others went wandering the earth, while some seemed to just fall off the face of it…

In recent months, however, the bWo has had a resurgence. Members of the peculiar group have been spotted in both Paragon City and in the Etoile (Rogue) Isles. Oddly, members of the two groups seem to be in contact with each other on an almost regular basis.

Aligned bWo Heroes:

-Draven Erickson
-King Slater
-Kingdale Referee
-Psycho13

Unaligned Heroes:

-Project Whirlwind

Aligned bWo Rogues:

-Solo Stryker
-Ragin James
-Dirty Ice

Known Committee Agents:

-Justin Steel
-The Shadowmark Assassin
-Project Soultaker

The following segments will cover these bizarre individuals in greater detail.

Charlene Daring-Grey

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The wife of Randall Grey and the mother of the Grey siblings, Charlene went missing shortly after the Rikti invaded Kingdale. What we know of the events afterward is basically what she gave us from her own testimony, so I’m going to apply that now:

“They took us up into a small ship… Nothing like that one I’ve seen pictures of in the crash site… Ooh! Am I supposed to know about that? Is it alright if I mention it… Okay… Well, it was probably just a troop transport converted into a prison ship. In any case, they started trying to turn us on our way to Paragon… Why they were heading for Paragon, I have no idea, and I didn’t even know that’s where we were headed… Still… They were trying almost immediately to turn us into conscripts for their army. I’ve heard the most horrible stories about the Lost, and my husband tells me I was extremely lucky to escape that day…”

She pauses to compose herself and collect her thoughts.

“The Rikti were trying to... convert us... to their side. I was the first one they turned to. Before they could touch me, however, I started hearing this beautiful voice… In the back of my head… ‘Oh great’ I thought, ‘I’m going insane.’ But the voice didn’t stop, and it soothed me with calming words and a message of hope. It told me I could have the power to escape and save all the people imprisoned with me… I had but to agree…”

She dabs a handkerchief on one of her eyes before continuing.

“It was… Intense. The feeling was intense. I’ve never felt that way before in my life… Not even when… Um… never mind that… After the... ecstasy of the merging ended and my head cleared, I found myself unleashing a torrent of living energy into my captors. Wherever I looked, restraints disintegrated, holes were punched into the ship’s hull, and Rikti died. I’d never killed anything before that day. Well, at least nothing sentient, anyway… and nothing mammalian… Odd, to think of the Rikti as mammals…”

She rubs the back of her head unconsciously.

“A blast caught me in the back of the head and I fell. Nowhere near enough Rikti were dead or fleeing, and the other prisoners were already being rounded up. All I could think through the daze was that I had failed and should have left the hero-work to the heroes. Suddenly, there was Martin… Martin Sanders… I guess you’re interviewing him after me… He leapt to my aid and fought off the Rikti getting close. I don’t know why he was there… Apparently, he’d been on board the ship as one of their prisoners since they arrived in Paragon.
In any case… If it weren’t for him, I never would have had the chance to recover… and then… Then all I saw was white, and the next thing I know, the ship is falling out of the sky. All of the Rikti were gone, and we didn’t know what to do. Suddenly, the whole vehicle was enveloped in an incandescent shield… and we crashed. I didn’t realize I was the focal point of the shield, but I’m telling you, I sure found out… The hard way.”

After the crash, Martin Sanders led the refugees to the nearest fortifiable location. It turned out to be the ruins of Baumton, before the War Walls were put up. They took refuge in the ruins of an old hero base and a connected sewer network. Armed with salvaged Rikti weaponry and scrapped shotguns and assault rifles, the motley group fended off the roaming gangs of Lost and Outcasts, even the Council when they arrived. Oddly, they never seemed to be assaulted by the Clockwork, and were sometimes aided by the peculiar automatons.

In time, Charlene found that the energy being she had merged with was in a form of hibernation. She was no longer able to wield the types of energy attacks that helped her save the other refugees, and this posed a new problem. When the group, now known as the Dregs by the roving gangs, found out about her condition, they lost the confidence to continue exploring.

This is probably why they were only recently discovered. In an attempt to find Charlene, her sons, Cedric and Roland, found a group of sympathetic Outcasts who led them to the Dreg enclave. After leaving to search for their mother, they filed some paperwork to get Freedom Corps and military support to help rescue the refugees. This would prove more relevant later in the adventure, which is chronicled in another file (See Grey’s Army, at the bottom of this file)

The boys tracked their mother down until they found that she started working for Doc Delilah in the Faultline, but mysteriously disappeared (this is a tad out of order, as it was learning of this that led the boys to the refugees in the first place). After meeting the refugees, they found that their mother had indeed returned to the Faultline, and that surveillance reports indicated she may have been kidnapped by Arachnos operatives.

What followed was a bloody act of retribution, as Grey’s Army crashed against an Arachnos cell based on an abandoned oil derrick. The operative in control of the derrick, one Arbiter Taylor, was apparently assigned to investigate the Kheldian presence in Paragon City. This eventually turned to him kidnapping one (Mrs. Grey) and trying to abscond with her. Fortunately, he failed, and the Grey family has its matriarch back.

One odd thing to note, however. When Charlene Grey was kidnapped by the Rikti, she was nearing the age of fifty. Now that she’s merged with the Kheldian energy being named Sol’ra’T’Cha (loosely translated from whatever language it's from, it means “Star Scatter”), her youth has been returned. We were unable to reach the Kheldian for comment. Much like Ezekiel Durj's Nictus, Sol'ra is in a state of catatonic hibernation. The reason behind it is different, however, and Charlene has been assured that Sol'ra will recover in time.

“Yes, there are problems with being a Kheldian. The fact that other heroes don’t know what to make of you, combined with the reality that a whole lot of enemy groups have that sickening quantum energy weaponry… But I can kick the tar out of anybody who gets in my way and I haven’t looked this good since I was twenty-three! There’s plenty of upsides to this! And I simply feel amazing all the time now!”
-Charlene Daring-Grey, at close of interview

Roland “Round” Grey

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Roland Grey is the middle child of Randall Grey and Charlene Daring-Grey. Unlike most of the Kingdale natives in Paragon, Roland is exceptionally jaded about his role of “hero.” He feels all of this is rather silly…

Before the Rikti War, Roland was in college, looking to get a degree in software programming. When the aliens attacked, he found himself leading terrified students from refugee enclaves to various military strongholds. After the war, he returned to Kingdale, tired of many of the people he’d met and yearning for the familiar flavor of home.

“It’s not that I hated them. I pitied them. I know that sounds condescending, but you wouldn’t believe how much these people acted the same. Frickin nerds… What’s worse, they were all fed up with being bullied in high school, that they started doing it in college. There had to be eight different factions in my programming class… We only had twenty-five students! Guess who was the odd man out? Guess who they turned to when everything got crazy? Spineless twits. And the final insult? A lot of them are millionaires already…”
-Roland Grey, explaining his distaste for humanity after college.

Not getting much programming work, Roland turned to one of his hobbies for work. He became a bartender for his father’s former favorite bar (again turning it into his father’s favorite). The King’s Pub received record-setting business as the pudgy son of Kingdale’s favorite construction worker tended the bar. Though they had many loud, rowdy events, the location of the pub made certain nobody was bothered.

When Kingdale was finally in a decent state, however, Roland waved goodbye to his family. He had no intent to follow them on a fool’s errand, and he was quite content with his life. His sister bore his goodbyes to his old friend, Kip, and he consigned himself to his bartending, north country life.

Then came the fateful day that brought him roaring into the city. A bizarre phone call got him thinking his mother (thought killed during the war) was still alive and in Paragon. Roland snatched up his hunting bow and a batch of arrows, hopped in his jeep and peeled out of his hometown, leaving the Pub to one of Cedric’s old Marine buddies (who said he simply could not leave the town for some odd reason and Roland never thought twice to question it).

“People ask me why I hunt with a bow. The answer is simple, really. It’s harder. You have to know what you’re doing with a bow. You can’t just point and shoot. Someone can’t just take this thing out of my hands and be able to use it. This… This is mine, and I won’t be using anything else just because it’s ‘easier.’”
-Roland Grey

Upon arriving in the city, Roland sought Sheldon Wallace and got a batch of trick arrows designed for him. With these weapons at his disposal, he registered as an archery defender and started hunting for his mother. This adventure has been chronicled in Grey’s Army.

Now, Roland remains in the city. His family and friends have no idea why he remains, and every day he wonders a little as well. But then, some random villain goon assaults him with a pistol and Roland Grey finds himself unleashing a flurry of hunting arrows into the scum of the city.

“It’s weird, you know. I used to think all of this was crazy or stupid… Now I’m here, I’m doing the work alongside other heroes… It makes me feel…. I don’t know, good. I’m making new friends, I’m seeing a whole new side to people that I never really believed could exist. Sure, this job hurts at times, but in the end, I think it’s all worth it. I don’t know if I’ll ever give up.”
-Roland Grey

The Ryat Androids

Sheldon Wallace built the Ryat series out of spare parts from every type of robot and android in the city currently utilized by the villain groups. He has plenty of his own parts thrown in, but they typically are used as structural support or exterior paneling.

Currently, there are one hundred (100) units in the Ryat series. They are divided between eighty-five (85) light frame models and fifteen (15) heavy frame models. The cause of this differentiation is unknown, but it’s believed to be caused by a simple lack of parts.

Sheldon Wallace has made very public his intent behind building the androids was to develop something to aid the citizens of Paragon City. He feels the fact that he’s using villain group machinery to construct them is irrelevant. He feels his programming capabilities (which he received assistance from Roland Grey) are of a high enough quality to override any residual control the various groups had over their former parts.

Ryat66

Image File: Typical Light Frame Mode
Image File: Custom Combat Plating

Ryat66 was the first android to display “superpowers” in the series. At the time, only the first eighty-five had been constructed, but Sheldon wanted to get a test run accomplished to check the efficiency and capabilities of his latest invention. The Clockwork in the area, however, attacked in mass and the inventor, Sarah grey and Matt McGinty would not have escaped had it not been for the intervention of the androids.

Where most of the androids merely wailed away at the Clockwork robots or dismantled them in a rapid manner, Ryat66 actually converted the energy coursing through him into incandescent attacks and electrical discharges. Very few of the other androids were able to replicate the feat, however, and escape was achieved at a depressing loss (including the defeat of McGinty). Most of the androids were knocked out of commission, prompting Sheldon to shut the project down until they were repaired and he had developed a heavy support class…

Ryat99

FIle Image: Typical Heavy Frame mode
File Image: Custom Combat Armor

After rebuilding the Ryat light frame androids and registering Ryat66 as a hero, Sheldon turned his attention to developing a heavy frame model. The heavies were designed to be able to lift and transport massive loads of material with relative ease. With their enhanced servo-motor systems and kinetic/hydraulic “musculature,” they are capable of handling much more weight than themselves.

Ryat99, however, was designed differently from his brethren. Where the others were given the minimum of reinforcement to handle the rigors of construction work, Ryat99’s armor was severely ramped up. Figuring this wouldn’t be nearly enough, Wallace also tweaked with Ryat99’s cooling system, causing it to pump out far more “cryo-nanites” than the other androids’ systems. This cooling system is used as Ryat99’s weaponry and armor system at the same time. Also, unlike his fellow heavy models, Ryat99 uses a flight system as opposed to a leaping system (if the heavies even have a system, but all of the light frames have a leaping system at the very least).

As of now, the majority of the Ryat series is restricted from any duty. The exceptions are the two named androids above, Ryat66 and Ryat99, for they were registered as actual heroes before Freedom Corps realized what was going on. Sheldon Wallace has been restricted, both by FC and Grey’s Army, from building anymore until the behavior of the two “hero-class” androids is determined.

Ryat66 so far has proven to be reliable, but Ryat99’s programming seems to be faulty. It has a tendency to randomly generate bizarre sayings that confound the heroes it’s assigned to.
“Are you the Messiah? Is this the Line to Reno? I had a bag of corn chips that tasted like chicken once…”
-Random Ryat99 sayings.

So far, no attempt has been made by any of the villain groups to recover the lost technology (as far as anyone knows; the Clockwork King was not available for comment). If any specific attacks have been made, the two hero androids have made little to no appearance of it.

“Mad” Matt McGinty

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Image File: Stealth Suit

Mattock McGinty is the best friend of Cedric Grey. The two went to high school together where Cedric learned his wild and crazy buddy was actually a martial arts student in the arts of Praying Mantis and Kendo. The Praying Mantis style utilized is not sanctioned however, as it is a personal, and heavily modified version that relies heavily on many street-fighting and wrestling maneuvers, and is typically far more brutal. As a result, Matt was unable to register the abilities and cannot legally fight using the style, but he does use the evasive techniques he learned to grim efficiency.

His kendo techniques, however, are still essentially the same. He never felt the need to modify the style to suit him, and his teacher provided him with a peculiar blade…

“He said it had a mild enchantment within it, that it would bond to a warrior who knew how to wield it. It would never grow dull and would be as sharp as I need it to be… always. I call it Lasher, and it has been a trustworthy blade since I received it.”

Unlike most heroes in Grey’s Army, McGinty lacks a reliable conveyance. No kinetic/hydraulic leaping system like most of the others, no magical flight relics… He doesn’t even teleport or utilize some form of super speed. He shares this trait with Sheldon Wallace, but the inventor utilizes his kinetics manipulation to make up for his lost mobility. McGinty has nothing but his own two feet to get him from place to place. This has made many heroes wonder at him, but he has proven himself more than enough in the fights over the months he’s been in the city to show that he’s well worth the wait.

So far, Mattock’s role in Grey’s Army has been scout and reconnaissance. He’s more than capable of handling himself while alone, and his attention to detail is impeccable. He has a quick temper, however, and has gotten himself into more than enough trouble, hence the codename “Mad Matt McGinty.” The fact that these heroes have chosen to use such blatantly obvious monikers as opposed to “Hammerfist” or "Swordguy” is on odd peculiarity, but not one that’s unique… Uh... No offense to actual heroes who use those handles...

Sheldon Wallace

File Image: Inventor Outfit
File Image: White Trench Coat

Sheldon Wallace is the tech man of Grey’s Army. Arriving in the city to deliver Nester his uniform, Sheldon noticed the plethora of technological achievements and scientific advancements, and decided his life of near mad-scientist hermit inventing had to stop. It may have worked for his father, who to this day is building weapons for the U.S. military, but it didn’t work for Sheldon, who felt his own developments were seriously lagging behind the rest of the progressive inventors.

After helping his friends with their initial technological needs (a special power armored suit for Cedric Grey and Kipland Durj apiece, a psi/sonic emitter for Sarah Grey, a radiation/”empathy” suit for Nester Durj, trick arrows for Roland Grey, and various constructs in the Grey’s Army base), he set to work developing his own devices. Finding that the Kineticists of the city were a far more revered group than most other controlling types, he turned his attention to Kinetics control. He also detested the notion of any villains escaping from his patrols, so he decided to make devices that controlled the most abundant controlling force on the planet: gravity.

“Typically, gravity is weak… It can’t really hold a candle to magnetism, because with the proper application of magnetism, you can conceivably hold something in place indefinitely. Of course, there’s the rub. Magnetism is localized. It’s specific. It only really affects certain things, and can only really be applied to certain circumstances. It’s one of the reasons why railguns are currently so difficult to make cost effective… However, gravity… gravity is everywhere. If you can manipulate it so it becomes stronger and stronger, the enemy isn’t just fighting one force holding him in place… He’s fighting his own body weight, the weight of his clothes, his hair… he may even suffer some internal irregularities and be forced to vomit up his lunch as his body attempts to compensate for the sudden environmental changes. I had to cheat a little to get the devices to work… I use a scattering of nanites to provide the proper oscillations and dimensional conditions, but I finally got a system running that uses my own BTUs as a power source… It can be harsh, especially when dealing with a large number of opponents, or a particularly nasty one, but I am confident that this is definitely the system for me.”
-Sheldon Wallace, explaining his main powerset.

Shortly after making a name for himself, Sheldon became aware of the many robot types in the city. Having always had a fancy for fully autonomous mechanical devices himself, he proceeded to try to reverse engineer every machine that came his way. His attempts to reconstruct many of the machines ended in disastrous failures, however, as he was attempting his reverse engineering process, he would use spare parts to construct a side project: the Ryat series of androids.

Sheldon has received some criticism for making his own "army" of robots, but he feels that his intent and the overall results outweigh the guilt he tends to suffer. The issues surrounding the Ryat series is covered later in this backgrounder.

Sarah “Snuffy” Grey

File Image: Floating over Skyway
File Image: Alternate Outfit outside Bloody Bay transport

Nicknamed for a period in her youth where she seemed to be constantly “snuffling,” Sarah grey has got to be one of the most unexpected heroes in Paragon. Her cute face and friendly demeanor, coupled with a light frame that hardly seems capable of standing a chance in a fair fight, let alone the ones typically seen on Paragon’s streets…

I better get to the point before she starts making my nose bleed with her mind. She can do that. She’s a psychic.

Unlike her family, which is Natural-based heroes, Sarah is a mutant. She came across this sudden and drastic change in her life when the Rikti captured her in Kingdale and began experimenting upon her almost immediately. Whether they saw some form of potential in her or not will never be known, but the Rikti rarely, if ever, attempted conscription on the battlefield or even in their POW camps (ßclosest related concept). Before the attempt to turn Snuffy could be finished, however, Randall Grey, Kipland Durj, and Ezekiel Durj (armed with a lever-action hunting rifle) staged a daring midnight rescue that left many Rikti dead and may have been the event that inspired the invading transport to flee for Paragon.

Sarah was rescued, and alive, but the changes made to her body were permanent. While not outward changes had been done to her physical appearance, she now exerted a moderately powerful control over the psionic potential of her mind. Frightened of this ability, she kept it secret and spent her final teen years trying to “un-develop” it.

Then, her best friend, Kipland Durj, fell ill to the Obsidian Blight, and she came to Paragon to say goodbye. She found herself assaulted by a group of Hellions and without knowing why or how, she sent many of them sprawling or even pummeling the living daylights out of each other. Her psychic powers continued to run rampant for a few moments until some Paragon Psychic Police Officers and her boyfriend, Joe Durnan, were able to calm her down and get a restraining device on her mind. With the sound of ocean waves tuning out her psionic powers, she bid her lifelong friend farewell and headed straight for Sheldon Wallace.

Wallace understood almost immediately why Sarah wanted to see him, and took the restraining device on her head as a starting point on how to engineer a technology to not only control her psychic powers, but also to boost their capabilities. In roughly three days’ time, he had a working prototype, and the following day, presented her with a device that looked like a “kitty ears” headband. Unsurprisingly, she giddily snatched it up and threw it on her head.

Suddenly, the storm of thoughts flooding into her mind ceased, and she lifted some equipment in Sheldon’s workshop to experiment. Sheldon wasn’t done yet, and he also handed her a pair of gloves with a peculiar system mounted on them.

“What’s this?”

“It’s an MP3 player,” Sheldon replied, “Nothing special about that… er… except the broadband Wi-fi Internet connection… But, hook it up to your kitty ears…”

It was a sonic manipulation device as well, which was apparently what he was working on before she asked him for help. Utilizing this blend, Sarah is capable of providing her allies with a series of “mood-tunes,” to fit the heroes’ personal styles. The MP3 player has all her favorite music, and a collection of tunes that she downloads when teamed with other heroes so she can provide them all with all the awesome music they need to carry the fight to the enemy and walk out alive. She also has a shortlist of “annoying music” to weather her enemies down and bring them to her allies’ knees.

Lately, however, she has been simply boosting the MP3 and sound system of her technological enhancement while she simply practices at her psionic powers. According to Mr. Wallace, her mutancy is ever-changing, and growing stronger by the week. Eventually, she will reach a point where his technology only hinders her, and she’ll have to rely on her own skill instead. So, the training has already begun.

So far, she has shown no signs of outward physical change, but it is true her psionic strength is growing.

Another quirk is her cat, Ni. Apparently, it was a stray she found in one of the alleys in King’s Row outside her father’s apartment (at the time). She takes the cat everywhere with her, and even talks to it sometimes. The cat itself has demonstrated a knack for assaulting various enemies when Sarah’s in danger. This peculiarity has many heroes scratching their heads, but they don’t make too big a deal of it, after all, there are plenty other heroines with pets out there…

Also, don’t expect Sarah to simply lie down and cry if her psychic powers are having little effect. She has been known to simply bludgeon her enemies violently when threatened, and is a capable hand-to-hand fighter.

“Growing up with two older brothers and a friend like Kip… A girl’s gotta know how to handle herself. Old habits die hard, I guess. Hee-hee!”
-Sarah “Snuffy” Grey, when asked why she overhead smashed a Hellion she had already incapacitated with nightmares and slammed into the ceiling with her mind.