Mr_Grey

It sounded to me like you would be better served with Super Speed...

That or no travel powers at all, just fitness pool boosting your running speed or jumping height.

“Where were Cory and Matt in all of this?”

Cedric rubbed his sore shoulders and leaned back in his chair. It had been a day since the fight on the abandoned derrick, and he had figured in the time since the excitement that he’d probably be in less pain if the two magic-based heroes had been available.

“I was busy dealing with the sorceress that invaded Randy’s apartment,” Cory replied cheerfully, “How do you think Freedom Corps knew where to find you? It’s not like anybody tried to inform them of the situation…”

“Hey,” Cedric shrugged nonchalantly, “Some things… Some things are just better handled personally, you know?”

“Yes, I do…”

“And you Matt?”

“I still had work to do in Faultline,” Mat replied calmly, “Actually, I was all over the place that day. Steel Canyon, Skyway… It was a busy day for me.”

“None of that matters,” Randy boomed happily over the heroes under his command, “The good news is, we rescued Charlene… And… well… I can’t really say how good that makes me feel…”

“It’s okay, Randy,” Charlene hugged her husband, “I can imagine what this must have been like for all of you…”

“So, Ma…” Cedric arched an eyebrow at her, “You… you look younger than me now… How is that possible?”

“Well, seeing Zeke, I’m certain you’re all aware of the Kheldians?”

“Oh yeah,” Kip replied, “Some of us far more intimately than we should be…”

Charlene noticed the tendrils at the corners of the young scrapper’s eyes and nodded.

“Well… I’m one of them… I have been since the War…”

“How is that possible?” Sheldon asked, puzzlement clearly evident on his normally placid face, “Most heroes haven’t even heard of Kheldians until years after the war…”

“A lot of us were in hiding after the war…” Charlene shrugged, “Some for reasons of their own… Me… I had mine…”

“The Dregs?” Cedric asked.

“When the Rikti snatched me up, I found I was one of a great many captives,” Charlene shuddered, “I don’t know what those alien bastards were thinking, but they definitely had already started working at converting the human population… into them.”

Randy and Kip nodded sagely as the others stared in wide-eyed horror.

“You mean…” Cedric almost choked, “The Lost are…”

“Pre-Rikti,” Charlene finished, “Win or lose, the Rikti had plans in motion…”

“You don’t need to worry too much about it,” Kip said at the back of the room, “The Rikti have their own problems, now. There’s a great deal of in-fighting on their end. It’s slowing them down really nicely…”

“Still,” Charlene remained grim, “There’s a reason the Dregs are still stuck in Boomtown…”

“The Lost won’t let them leave…” Randy sat in his chair and rested his cheek in his hand, “How did you guys end up there, anyway?”

“I remember being in the ship… They had me locked into some weird table… Like out of some cliché movie… Then there was this voice in my head… A woman’s voice… She promised me the power to be able to save everybody on the ship, I just had to agree to help her… I agreed and the next thing I knew, light was exploding from my eyes, my mouth, my fingertips… It was insane… Everywhere I looked, holes were ripped into the hull of the transport, and the Rikti scrambled like mad to stop me…”

“Wow,” Zeke scratched the back of his head, “Makes me wish I had joined up with my nictus before the fight I got into…”

“Well, it didn’t last forever,” Charlene continued, “One of them got a lucky shot off and knocked me out cold. As I struggled to wake, I saw this disheveled looking man standing over me. At first, I thought I was in trouble until I saw him fighting off the Rikti trying to kill me. He had a strange black cloud around him… and it seemed that as the Rikti got closer, they started getting sick… Like being near Martin was killing them…”

“Yeah, we met him!” Cedric shouted, “The guy’s a mutant, but not like the Lost… He was one before the Rikti attacked…”

“Yeah… If it weren’t for him, I never would’ve made it,” Charlene looked sadly at the table, “None of us would have… In any case, before we knew it, there was an alarm, and the ship started falling. A lot of the Rikti just vanished, and when the vehicle crashed, we were in Baumton.”

“Why didn’t you try to escape when the War Walls were being put up?” Randy grumbled.

“We were so disoriented… we thought humanity had failed. Look at Baumton, Randy! You tell me it doesn’t look like a dystopian nightmare… We could barely find enough food every day…”

“And after the walls were up, you had to deal with all the groups that had moved in,” Randy conceded.

“Yeah…” Charlene nodded glumly, “Since then, we’ve been fighting for our lives.”

“You could’ve gotten the attention of any number of heroes…” Sheldon intoned harshly, “Maybe…”

“Every day we lost members to the Council, the Outcasts, and even the Lost!” Charlene suddenly shouted, tears glistening in her eyes, “They were either recruited or killed. It didn’t matter, they were gone. Every day, they got stronger while we got weaker. We could barely hold our own against the different groups with Martin and me to protect them and a handful of Rikti weapons at our disposal! It didn’t help that this Kheldian within me burned herself out during the fight that brought the ship down! I went from the power to decimate a legion to barely being able to light the way through the sewer tunnels we were hiding in…”

She broke down, sobbing hysterically. Randy patted her back comfortingly, but glared at Wallace. The supergroup’s tech man was surprisingly unperturbed by the large man’s attention, but did seem a bit humbled at the situation Charlene painted for him.

“Well,” Cedric said after a few moments of silence, “We know about them now… and we’re a small army here. Hell, we are ‘Grey’s Army…’ Why don’t we go over there and clear a path for the people that’re left? We could get them back to their homes!”

Randy nodded.

“That sounds like an excellent suggestion,” Sheldon replied, “We should act quickly, too. If Mrs. Grey is correct, the situation must be grim and getting worse every second…”

“We’ll get everyone together,” Kip pushed off from the wall, “Maybe even get Joe to get some cops to help us. We’re probably going to need the assistance.”

“It sounds like we have our next mission,” Zeke hummed to himself, “Well, we better have everybody on this. We made the news because of our little stunt, and I don’t just mean the Hero Channel reports, we made big news for taking down that base and I’m sure the Lost will recognize the hostage we rescued…”

“We’ve gotta work fast…” Kip was punching buttons on his communicator, “I’m getting all these weird messages that there’s an army of Rikti on the move. Heroes are trying to put a hurt on them across the city, but there’s just too many…”

“Where are they headed?” Charlene asked wearily.

“North,” Kip replied, “To Boomtown…”

"Never a chance to rest," Cedric grunted as he forced himself to stand, then, drawing his axe, "Well, let's treat the Gods to one Helluva fight!"

And they were off...

Cedric Grey

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Randall Grey’s oldest son and a veteran of the Rikti War. Cedric’s military history with the Marines is highly classified, but it is known that his career was marked with near-insurmountable odds and his peculiar tenacity to survive and succeed despite the opposition. He doesn’t talk much about his old days, preferring to live in the here and now, but sometimes his drunken reveries include odes to his departed friends.

Cedric was Ezekiel’s ride to Paragon City. Where Zeke spent his first weeks mourning his son, Cedric walked into the registrar’s office in Atlas Park on the very first day and signed up to be a hero. He had nothing but his pants, boots, a few wraps of chains, some war paint, an old helmet and a smile. Essentially, nothing that most [u]serious[u] heroes use nowadays. When asked what his attacks would mostly consist of, Cedric realized he lacked his father’s inherent Super Strength, so he immediately set about scouring the city for one…

He stepped outside, and immediately spotted a Warrior on his way to the Hollows. The Warrior bore an intricate axe, and Cedric realized he just HAD to have it. A sucker-punch later and it was his! He stormed into the registrar’s office again screaming “This! This AXE! This is my power! Whoo!”

Seriously, we have it on surveillance. Security would’ve tried to take him down except he looked so ridiculous. Come to think of it, we really should consider taking people down because they look ridiculous… Have you seen some of those villains out there?

Cedric spent the next couple weeks fighting exuberantly against the many villain groups of Paragon City. However, all his fighting was coming at an unusual price. With each victory, he grew more and more bloodthirsty.

Cedric found unusual ways of defeating the bad guys helped curb the urges he was getting, and often would use the environment to his advantage. Many Hellions found themselves battered around inside trashcans in those days. Eventually, Cedric’s childhood friend, “Mad” Matt McGinty, ushered him into MAGI to determine the cause of his strange behavior.

It was found that the very soul of Cedric’s Praetorian, Cedric the Grey, inhabited the axe. Why it was on Primal Earth or how circumstances came to be that it would end up in the former Marine’s hands were way beyond the mystic clerk’s capabilities, but they worked hard to provide the fledgling hero with a new, almost equally powerful axe to replace the confiscated one.

While Cedric isn’t bothered by it…

“It’s the skill, not the weapon!”

Time will tell if the new weapon measures up to the old…

Ezekiel “Zeke” Durj

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Ezekiel Durj is one of the more… unusual heroes in the city. Wielding power even he isn’t sure of, Ezekiel is what is known as a Warshade. These powerful Kheldian energy beings require hosts in order to last any length of time on our plane of existence.

Zeke Durj arrived in Paragon to say his last goodbye to his son. After visiting hours on Kipland’s last night, Zeke was somberly walking through King’s Row. He wound up gaining the attention of a group of Skulls, who proceeded to mug him. It went badly for all involved.

The Durj patriarch broke three ribs on one ganger, the nose and left wrist of another, and the collar bone and trachea of the last. Unfortunately, the one whose nose he broke stabbed him in the back. Nobody is sure what the damage was, but what is speculated was that his liver was pierced and he was going into septic shock.

That was when his Nictus, Androm’Geizzer, made contact. According to Mr. Durj, the Nictus offered to save his life by merging with him. In return, the two of them would scour the city for any others that sought to prey on the weak and helpless. Geizzer offered Zeke the power to make the wrong things right, and the old man accepted.

What Ezekiel didn’t know, however, is that Androm’Geizzer is a war criminal. He has been sought by both sides of the Kheldian conflict for atrocities beyond imagining. Shadowstar and Sunstorm recognized the energies, but kept silent for a few weeks to determine Durj’s behavior. What they found was that he was a dominant entity, and Androm was either subservient, or benign.

After further testing, it has been determined that Androm is in a form of deep hibernation that enables Ezekiel to take full advantage of his powers. Perhaps he was in a weakened state when he merged with Ezekiel, or maybe he’s using Ezekiel’s actions to cleanse the “taint” of his misdeeds… Whatever the reason, Ezekiel Durj is being watched closely by Freedom Corps for any aberrant behavior.

So far, he’s been a solid defender of justice. The survival of his son has surprisingly bolstered his resolve.

“A lot of the other Kheldians, fully-awake Kheldians that is, are uneasy around me. They know what my Nictus did, stuff we don’t even have names for. I’ve got an image in my head of a guy in black and red armor getting pulled inside out… But it’s incomplete… It doesn’t finish. I hope I’m not a monster, and I can’t help but shake this feeling that something about the whole situation stinks. Oh well, I’m gonna do my best, one day at a time.”
-Ezekiel Durj, conversing with his Freedom Corps assigned psychiatrist. All necessary forms to acquire this quote have been attained and it is published with Mr. Durj’s permission.

Nester Durj

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Randall Grey and Kipland Durj weren’t the first Kingdale natives to come to the Paragon area. Nester Durj had already been going to college in Salamanca when the Rikti War started, and developed an affinity for medicine as he helped to treat soldiers, refugees and even heroes during the conflict. When the war was over, he returned to his studies, but changed his majors to include super sciences and technologies so he could work in one of the many hospitals that dot the city.

Then, his little brother got infected with the Obsidian Blight (See Kipland Durj). Nester, vainly hoping to save his brother’s life, dropped out of college and got in contact with a friend, Sheldon Wallace. Nester knew what he wanted his suit to accomplish, and the relevant tech required, but he lacked the know-how to throw it all together. Sheldon, however, had the know-how, and constructed the machinery Nester would need to get started on being what most heroes refer to as a Healing Defender.

“Yeah, you’re dark magicks are great and all, and kinetic transfusions help a lot, but seriously, guys… When the fighting is serious, and the bad guys are dishing out more damage than you can handle, you have to admit it helps immeasurably when you’ve got a guy dedicated to keeping everybody alive and doesn’t have to rely on hitting anybody to do it.”
-Nester Durj, random team comment

Nester failed at finding a cure for his brother, but he’s turned out to be an almost invaluable hero elsewhere. While Sheldon may have started the tech, Nester, over the months of his hero-work, has enhanced and refined his machinery, nanotechnology and microbiological serums at an exponential rate. Where most innovators and inventors utilize science, mathematics, physics and various other contemporary educations to provide a basis for their work, Nester uses gut instinct. Perhaps that explains why he’s made so many leaps and bounds in the medical field when others would hold back…

“Look, I’m mixing stuff that, by themselves, provide only benefits, right? Then how would they be any kind of detriment in this way? Uh-huh… Uh-huh… You know what? (censored) YOU! I’ve already tried it in the field you archaic, tribal dastard! Guess what!? Ding-ding! Success! You’ll be seeing my thesis in two weeks! You’ll recognize it! It’ll say: MANUAL!”
-Nester Durj, supposed phone conversation

“You never said that, man. You never say stuff like that. You’re too polite.”
-Kipland Durj, a rebuttal

“Yeah, well, I was thinking it pretty hard…”
-Nester Durj, conceding

Hm... I don't really have any characters ready for a story like that... None of mine are betrayers, even with psychic powers involved. Granted, it's a compelling idea, and I have a group of characters that might work, but I haven't even begun to think of an appropriate storyline for them...

Lord Recluse: "AAAAAAAH! Sweet Jebus!"
* Starts prancing around on his tip-toes and waving his hands in front of his chest*
"Guys! It's four o'clock! Come on! Pokemon is on! I'm missing the opening credits! I'm-missing-the-opening-credi-hi-its! I... I gotta see Pikachu... and Squirtle... They're so cuuuuuuuuute...
Mako...
Why're holding that spiked club behind your back?"

Mako: "What this? It's my... back scratcher... yeah..."

Hm... Randall Grey's favorite weapons are his BARE HANDS!

They are composed of bone, skin, muscle, arteries, capillaries, veins, that material fingernails are made of, a little fat, and hair. Each hand has five fingers, each with three flex joints, which he uses to bend bars, lift cars, and they curl up into face-sized fists which he uses to smash through said faces when they belong to people who are seriously aggravating him. The fingers are roughly "Sausage" thick, and he's been known to bore through robot faceplates with his thumb (well, physics disagrees, the faceplates tend to crinkle around the thumb, as his collection of broken Fake Nemesis masks can attest to...).

Cory Simmons

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Cory Simmons is the resident Warlock of the super group called Grey’s Army. He is their resident expert in all things arcane and their link to M.A.G.I. Overly polite and proper, Warlock Simmons has a tendency to try to find the best in everybody and in every situation. However, his kindness must not be confused for weakness, for he’s been known to be very harsh with those he determines are wasting his time.

With thermodynamics as his specialty, Cory is registered as a fire and ice blaster, using cold to disable his foes, and quick bursts of intense heat to finish them off quickly. He has proven to be very versatile in his use of powers, and has a plethora of tricks that seem to come in handy in most situations. His most powerful combat powers, however, have a tendency to drain the heat of his specific location so he can utilize it in a few of his attacks.

He has also come to master other mystical arts, such as Shadow Play (stealth) and Teleportation. Such magicks have made him an invaluable member of Grey’s Army, as he is able to bring teammate’s out of dangerous situations, or simply sneak into a cell-leader’s lair and bring his compatriots to the final battle.

In more esoteric endeavors, Cory serves as his supergroup’s bridge to the unknown and the peculiar. He is currently regarded as one of the better friends of the Cabal, and it’s believed he visits with them regularly… to discuss mystical theory…

It’s not his fault they think he’s cute…

Dammit, Cory! Quit messing with my fingers! I know you’re reading this through the Aether, and I didn’t even intend to write anything about your… relationships…

Yes, plural.

I don’t need to know.

I don’t need that image in my head…

No, it’s not “cute.”

I’m done here…

Cobalt Black 3-8-9

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Cobalt Black was discovered when Longbow forces liberated a secret Portal Corporation facility. Somehow, Arachnos forces had discovered the location of said facility, and the commander got overzealous with his discovery, forcing the scientists to activate their rift. When the seeming Malta Group gunslinger suddenly appeared, all Hell broke loose.

The Arachnos troops, despite heavily outnumbering the mysterious assailant, were wiped out, including their commander. During the battle, however, the equipment was heavily damaged, including the portal generator itself, which was irreparably destroyed. Cobalt Black 3-8-9 is currently stuck on our world…

Realizing things were different in this world, he decided to assist the heroes of Freedom Corps. Though he retains his old uniform, he’s been relieved of his weapons. This seems to only be a minor disadvantage to him, as he’s an accomplished hand-to-hand fighter as well. For simplicity’s sake, he’s been attached to Grey’s Army and partnered up with his double, Kipland Durj. The two have surprisingly gotten along well, which leaves hope that not all is directly the opposite of our world.

In exchange for our hospitality, he’s been providing strategic intel on Praetorian Earth’s national geography and information on what resistance groups may be useful to help liberate the war torn world. His group, for instance, is the Maltese Resistance, which he understands is a special, more public force of freedom fighters removed from his world’s version of the Malta Group.

“We don’t even know what they call themselves, though the Malta Knights is a good guess… But my boys and I, we keep the enemy on us, and they do the real work. Before I came here, there was a huge assault planned to wreck a few of Antimatter’s Clockwork factories…”

Another surprise was his utter disdain for our world’s Malta Group…

“I can’t stand these [censored]… They’re a shadow of the potential they’ve wasted… And anybody in their group with any real talent is lost in their paranoid delusional schemes… I wish we had those robots back home, though… Maybe then Tyrant wouldn’t mop the floor with us in open combat.”

Lately, he’s taken a focus to locating and decimating Malta Group and Nemesis Army cells located throughout the city. He is often assisted by Kipland or Nester Durj.

“King’s Bishop to Queen’s Bishop Four…”

Broken from his reverie, Taylor glanced back to the radio speaker.

“What?”

“King’s Bishop, to Queen’s Bishop Four…” came the reply.

“Uh huh…” he maneuvered the black marble piece of his opponent on his set and glanced at the board.

“I’ve got you now.”

“Shut up, Sands,” Arbiter Taylor snapped, “You know my heart’s not in this…”

“I never figured your weakness to be giddiness…” came the snide reply.

“It’s everybody’s weakness,” Taylor grinned, “Good thing I only have to worry about losing a game.”

“All games are important, old friend.”

“Only in fiction, and I’m not some super-genius twelve-year-old.”

They chuckled and Taylor made a move.

“What the… That’s not even logical! What are you aiming at, Taylor?”

“Just trying something new instead of something routine.”

“I figured you’ve had enough of new things…”

“Not nearly enough. In a couple days, I set sail for Grandville with my cargo and possibly get a promotion. Maybe then I’ll get some more leg-room in my quarters…”

“I wish I could go to Grandville…”

“I know you’re tired, buddy,” Arbiter Taylor started peeling an apple as he glanced at the headlines on the news. Plenty of word on the great many successes of the heroes of Paragon City, and virtually nothing on their losses. He shook his head at it. Propaganda was propaganda as far as he was concerned, and it did nothing but blind people to the inadequacies of their government. At least, with Arachnos, he knew where he stood…

“It’s just getting so tedious! I find a working PCM, and some hero or group of idiots shows up to blow the whole deal! I’m so close to getting this all over with…”

“Calm down, man, calm down… Ope, here’s another clip of footage of you being carted off to the Zig… Jeez, this morning? What, do they just toss you out a window or something?”

“Yeah, it really hurts…” Arbiter Sands paused for a moment, “I have a system, damn it, and it’s a really good one.”

“If I ever end up in there, you better fill me in during one of your hour-long trips…”

“I’ll see what I can do.”

They chuckled and played a few more moves. Suddenly, Arbiter Taylor’s board shook violently with an explosion somewhere else in the derrick. He cursed loudly as the pieces were strewn across his office.

“Hahahaha…” Arbiter Sands called through the radio, “Wait… what’s going on over there?”

“Oh, I gotta find a way to alter our turrets… That’s the problem with Arachnos defenses… They’re so oversensitive! A couple heroes passed by the other day, and it shot at them. Then, Lusca comes by, and I had to shut the whole damn place down to keep them from launching torpedoes into its butt…”

“So what’re you saying?”

“I’m leaving none too soon,” Taylor started resetting the board, “Where were we?”

Arbiter Sands gave him a series of coordinates and Taylor mechanically placed his pieces accordingly. When all was said and done, he grimaced.

“Very funny, [censored],” Arbiter Taylor glared at the board that now had Sands’s king in a far corner while Taylor’s lone King was hopelessly surrounded.

“My move, too” Sands laughed.

Suddenly, Arbiter Taylor’s door burst open and a pair of guards rushed in. He stood up and glared at them.

“What are you doing? Can’t you see we’re under attack? Get out there and repel those meddling heroes! The less people know what this facility is really for, the better!”

“Uh… Sir, you might want to turn on your personal security monitor…”

Taylor arched an eyebrow at the trooper, but did as suggested. As the images cycled through various scenes of fighting and warring across the Derrick’s underbelly, he grew particularly concerned.

“This is disheartening…” Arbiter Taylor grumbled.

Finally, the security image stopped on an ugly old man’s face. He had long brown hair and a thick beard to match. Deep sunken eyes glared hatefully through the screen at Taylor and he took an involuntary step backward. The ugly face took a deep breath (despite numerous people shooting at him and the rounds bouncing off his body) and suddenly shouted into the camera…

“TAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA—“

Arbiter Taylor shut off the monitor and waited a couple seconds before turning it on again.

“LOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO—“

He repeated his previous action.

“OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO—“

He shuddered when the monitor was off this time…

“RRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr rrr… I’m coming for YOU! You hear me!? I’m coming for you!”

“He shouldn’t know I’m here,” he turned to his guards, “Maybe this isn’t personal…”

The monitor shouted again, “This is SO personal!”

Taylor pulled a pistol and shot through the monitor, “Okay, so it’s personal. I gotta get out of here. Cover my escape.”

“Yes sir,” the guards bowed and scrambled out of the room.

“Wow, that sucks, man,” Arbiter Sands called to his friend, “If I see you in the Zig, I’ll be sure to get you out of there.”

“Can it,” Taylor pulled a panel open on his wall and dragged out the two Arachnos Drones and hit their activations witches, “I’m getting out of here, I’m delivering my cargo, and I’m getting promoted. Then, no more of these [censored] assignments!”

“Good luck, brother,” Arbiter Sands sounded genuine, “Among a whole bunch of people who tend to be backstabbers, liars, cheats and thieves, you’re a gentleman and a scholar.”

“And you’re still an [censored]. I’ll catch you on the flipside.”

Outside, the situation was grim for Arachnos. The total force of Grey’s Army had shown up for this. Every turret was being smashed to bits by Kipland Durj. His father, Zeke, and his brother, Nester, were teamed up with Cedric Grey and waging battle with the Arachnos troops on the northern catwalks. Cedric took the brunt of the assault while Zeke fired dark energy over his shoulder and Nester kept healing whatever wounds they received. On the southern portion of the derrick’s platform, Sarah Grey, Sheldon Wallace and his two combat androids, Ryat66 and Ryat99, waged another small war. Ryat66 was currently on its bigger counterpart’s shoulders and firing a nearly limitless stream of energy bolts into the masses of Arachnos troopers in their way. On a speedboat arcing to the east, Roland Grey, Joe Durnan, and Cobalt Black (armed with a sniper rifle) worked support and tactics for the whole crew. The eastern catwalk was dominated by Randall Grey, now fully decked out in granite and batting troopers this way and that into the ocean below.

Cedric took a hail of blaster fire from a Blasterbot and angrily smashed it’s right side blaster off. He then kicked it over the side of the catwalk and turned to Zeke.

“I think this is going well. I think we got em!”

A pop-up turret lowered from the ceiling and fired a burst into Cedric’s chest. Even though it was aiming for his head, it the rounds were inextricably dragged to their mark on the young hero’s armor. He turned in time to see Zeke and Nester’s eyebeams melting the inconvenient weapon.

“Aw…”

Another group of soldiers burst out of a door on the other end of the catwalk and Cedric rushed forward, whooping all the way. He shoulder tackled the first two he came in contact with, knocking them over the edge and started doing battle with the Longfang in charge of them. His compatriots charged after him, Nester broadcasting his defensive matrix and hitting Cedric with a special nanite and microbial enhancement compound that increased his resilience and damage output.

“This is better than Blue Dawg!” Cedric laughed as his eyes bore an enthusiastic gleam.

On the top, things were fairing much better. Kip had joined with Sarah and her crew, and they were smashing through doors and clearing the carious rooms. A trio of Fortunatas banded together to give them trouble, but Sheldon hit his group with kinetic boosters and Sarah felt the rush of adrenaline even affecting her psychic powers. The Fortunatas were soundly crushed (one bounced repeatedly on the deck, one lifted and just squeezed unconscious, and the last literally had her helmet crushed under Kip’s foot), and the group made their way downstairs.

On the Eastern catwalk, Randall Grey ruled. Bullets bounced harmlessly from the peculiar armor that shielded him and he took his time casually tossing the soldiers out of his way. Eventually, he picked a trooper up and hurled him into his compatriots, the last of which dominoed into the elevator button behind him.

The door opened with a “ding” and Randall Grey found himself glaring at Arbiter Taylor. He wore the familiar white spider-themed armor, complete even with the ridiculous helmet. All that was visible of his face, his mouth, revealed nothing of his concern at staring at the huge tanker. He typed into a wristpad and two drones floated through the doorway. He waved, pressed a button on the elevator and the doors closed. Randy roared with rage and stormed forward, this time with Arachnos troops just leaping out of his way. The drones, however, reacted far differently. They simply turned to the rails, and opened fire.

“Holy crap!” Roland shouted as he saw his father plummet to the ocean, “the catwalk just dropped out from underneath him! Cedric! Cedric, I think the ship is moving!”

On the north side of the derrick, the structure they were certain was an escape craft proved them right. It must have been nuclear powered (or whatever power source Arachnos used these days…) because no smokestacks or steampipes emitted anything. The ship pulled away from the legs and the scrap used to mask its presence was torn off. It looked more like an Arachnos vessel now, all sleek and black, but it was still a cargo ship.

Arbiter Taylor marched confidently across the deck, shotgun in hand and hummed happily to himself. He had succeeded. He was getting away with his cargo, and the heroes were busy with the troops he had to leave behind. He made a mental note to arrange an escape for them. He might even be able to pick up Sands and get him some vacation time.

There was an audible “thunk” behind him and he turned cautiously. An axe lay embedded in the deck, glowing slightly. There was a chain connected to it, and Taylor looked up to see Cedric Grey… Wait? Did he actually think he could stop the ship?

“Ced,” Nester intoned, “You can’t stop that ship by yourself. You may as well…”

Cedric placed his feet on the rail and leaned back, steadying himself with his free hand on the other rail. Zeke shook his head sadly and exploded into his “Squiddy” form.

“Nester, I’m going to see if I can find Randy. Try to keep Ced alive when his mess starts…”

“Will do…”

“Oh come on guys,” Cedric chuckled, “Have a little fa-yaa-AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAITH!”

Cedric was dragged bodily from the catwalk and plummeted a couple hundred feet into the cold water below, screaming all the way. Arbiter Taylor shook his head grimly as he turned and walked away.

“Stupid hero…”

A “ping” caught his attention this time and he turned to the source of the noise. A smoking hole was in the bulkhead and he turned to the water to see Joe’s speedboat racing for his ship. He raised his hands to the sky as if to say “What next?” before aiming his shotgun at the approaching vessel. He noticed that what appeared to be a Malta Group Gunslinger was currently aiming a rifle at him.

“I must be wasted,” he chuckled, “Because it looks like that gunslinger’s mad at me…”

Cobalt Black and Arbiter Taylor each pulled their triggers at the same time. The rifle round bounced off Taylor’s thigh plate, but it still knocked him off his feet. He clutched at his leg with a yelp and started kicking involuntarily. His explosive round however, didn’t have to be nearly as precise as the hero’s rifle shot, and blew a neat little hole into the bow, exploding inward and destroying the steerage. There was a sickening crunch, and an explosion as the smaller craft crashed harmlessly against the armored hull.

“Jebus!” Arbiter Taylor groaned, “This just isn’t my [censored] day! What did I ever do to these heroes to get them so [censored]?”

He stood and half-limped, half-hopped to the door and worked his way downstairs. He passed by empty crates and boxes, all empty of the equipment they had brought to convert the old derrick.

“I’m gonna catch Hell for losing all that equipment… Ah well, it’s no more than Freedom Corps gets from a daily raid of Bloody Bay…”

He made his way to the back and found his cargo, still safely restrained.

“You must think I’m a monster,” he said to her, “But I apologize for your discomfort. Does it surprise you? That a monster can apologize?”

She didn’t reply, just struggled against her restraints. Not that she could’ve said anything. Taylor’s men had grown weary of her loud, angry voice, and had a Hell of a time putting a gag around her mouth. One of them nearly lost a finger because of her vicious biting.

“Well, it’s all over now. I finally have captured a Kheldian, and I’m bringing you home to Lord Recluse. I may finally break free of this obscurity that’s been plaguing me all these years. I might just get to work with the Chosen…”

A pinpoint of light suddenly burst into the poorly lit chamber, and Arbiter Taylor turned to see the source.

“Odd…” he said as he saw the new hole in the ceiling, “I wonder if…”

He heard a slow, methodical thumping sound. There were gunshots as the skeleton security force tried to keep this intruder away. He could hear his men failing miserably.

“Stay here…” he grumbled as he limped (a little easier than before) back to the exit hatch.

When he got topside, he saw Cedric Grey cleaning the last bits of weeds and fish out of his armor, which was still humming with whatever bizarre energy protected him. He drew his shotgun and blasted the young man. Cedric turned to him and blinked.

“So…” he casually swung his axe at his side like a pendulum, “You think I’m going to just let you float off with—“

The tanker found himself interrupted by another shotgun blast.

“Just die, already!” Taylor shouted at him, “Can’t you see I’ve already won!”

Cedric smiled broadly, “That’s not how it looks from my end, Arbiter. From my end, it looks to be the beginning of your end…”

Cedric’s axe deflected another blast, this one an explosive that skirted to the side and exploded over the water. He then lunged forward and slammed the weapon into Taylor’s breastplate. Again, the Arbiter fired, point blank into Cedric’s gut. The young hero felt it, and grunted with pain. Taylor also took advantage of the weight displacement, snatched Cedric’s shoulder plate, rolled backward and planted a boot into his gut, flipping him overhead. He stood up and prepared to put a shotgun blast into the hero’s head…

“Too bad there’s no medical transport matrix out here, huh?” he almost chuckled.

A boot slammed into his wrist from behind and he dropped his weapon. It was then kicked again, like a footbag, and rattled down the deck past Cedric Grey. Taylor whirled around with a hard forearm smash to Kipland Durj’s temple, but some unseen force stopped the attack. He barely had a moment to wonder why the scrapper was there before Kipland unleashed a flurry of punches into his chest.

Taylor was no stranger to hand-to-hand combat either, and the two danced and flitted across the deck, back and forth and back again. He never noticed Cobalt Black helping Joe Durnan and Roland Grey, quite haggard from their ordeal on the speedboat, onto the stern and down the starboard side trying to find the hostage. Kip fell to a kick to the chest, but before the fight could resume, Cobalt Black was there, two pistols in hand and pumping rounds into Arbiter Taylor’s armor. When the pistols were dry, he rolled the rifle off his back and fired a round that landed square in the solar plexus. Arbiter Taylor was sent sprawling across the deck and skidded a few more feet until he was next to his shotgun. He didn’t go for it, however.

The armor sleeves on his forearms popped off and a pair of twin apparatuses, each bearing a pair of Arachnos-style hold-out pistols, sprang the weapons into his hands. Laughing, Taylor emptied the guns into Cobalt Black, each round exploding with various elemental effects like fire, ice and lightning. The bullets impacted on the armor plates in Cobalt’s uniform, but he went down nonetheless.

Taylor quickly reloaded his pistols and snatched up his shotgun, snapping it into the clip on his right shoulder blade. Too late, he noticed Cedric wasn’t where he’d left him, neither was Kip. Tossing his left pistol into his right hand with it’s twin, he leapt over the rail and snagged it with his free hand. An axe and Kip’s foot landed where he had been standing, the scrapper cursing as he stubbed his toe against the magic weapon. Taylor then kicked off the hull of the ship, flipped back over the rail again, slapped his extra pistol back into his left hand in mid-flight and fired a burst into Durj’s chest. Whatever was stopping anything from hitting the kid had its limits, and he winced in pain before passing out.

However, Taylor wasn’t expecting Cedric to come flying through the air, being dragged by the chain retractor on his wristguard, to kick him in the gut and send him gasping to the ground. The tanker then yanked his weapon from the deck and, with a whoop, brought the flat of the blade down on Taylor’s helmet. He repeated as necessary until Taylor stopped struggling, but was clearly groaning.

"And that's what happens when you mess with my mama!"

“Finally,” Kipland croaked, “Remind me not to try that again for a couple years.”

“You’re talking to the wrong guy,” Cedric laughed, “Come on, get up… Get up!”

He helped his buddy to stand and Kipland gave his double from Praetorian Earth a nudging kick to see if he was okay.

“Ugh…” Cobalt Black groaned, “just leave me here for a sec. I popped one of those greens a second ago… I’ll be fine.”

Cedric gave the two a salute and bounded for the hatch leading tot eh ship’s interior. Inside, he yelled hysterically.

“Ma! MAAAAAAAAH!”

“Ced!” Roland was suddenly there, hands on his brother’s shoulders. Cedric towered over his younger brother, yet the heavy guy was able to hold him back.

“You need to brace yourself…”

“It’s not Ma, is it?” Cedric’s eyes suddenly lost focus, “I’m gonna… I’m gonna…”

Roland’s tear filled eyes caught his attention again and his friendly smile told Ced he was wrong. Daring to hope, he started to move past his brother.

“Then…” he gasped, “What’s wrong…”

“Not wrong,” Roland’s deep voice rumbled slightly, “Just… Well, you’ll see…”

When they got to Joe and the ship’s unwilling passenger, he could see. Charlene Daring-Grey, the mother of the Grey brothers and their sister, the wife of Randall Grey, was rubbing her wrists and nodding to Joe’s assurances that they were about to get her out of there. Cedric stepped into the light and stared gape-mouthed.

“Ma?”

“Cedric!” she shouted and her tiny body leapt up and gave him a strong hug around his shoulders, “Oh, my boy, look at you!”

“Ma!” Cedric held her up (something he’d been able to do since he was sixteen) and looked her over, “Your hair… your face… What happened?”

She was twenty years younger than when they last saw her. She even had a slight glow about her and a twinkling in her eyes. Small tendrils of energy wafted from them, and she smiled.

“It’s a long story, son,” she replied as a tear rolled down her cheek, “Let’s go home and I’ll tell you all about it.”

Lord Recluse: "Mako... I need a hug..."

Mako: "Okay, I've been quiet too many times, now! You're freaking me out, man! I am seriously freaked out!"

Mako bounds out of the tower window. Don't worry kids, he'll be fine...

Black Scorpion:"...I'll hug you..."

Well, considering there are robotic heroes (Such as Essex...) that wouldn't meet most normal age requirements, there msut be local provisions to allow them to be registered. Since in an environment like this, there'd definitely be "Ender-like" child heroes, I'm sure that if they were so inclined, they'd exploit the loophole allowing the androids and robots to help protect Paragon City. If you intend to have an RP/Story featuring a school for heroes, I suppose that would work just as easily.

Kipland Durj

File Image: Standard

File Image: Nictus Armor

Kipland Durj is yet another native of Knigdale, New York. Much younger than Randall Grey, he, nonetheless, arrived shortly after the massive tanker. After getting his Security clearance, he picked a direction, and started kicking butt.

Kipland’s single-minded assault against the gangs and villains of Paragon City has been would have been an inspiring epic, were it not for an unfortunate incident. The hero was kind enough to write up a quick story about his troubles in our fair city for everybody’s perusal. The fact he’s still with us seems to be a thing of phenomenal luck.

Kipland Durj’s story: Obsidian Blight

Much of his story is already described in this volume…

So far, Kip has been the right hand of Randall Grey, managing many of the supergroup’s operations and coordinating the heroes into groups that maximize their efficiency. However, he shows an unhealthy determination to work alone. It’s believed this stems from his days as one of Kingdale’s heroes, which are called, oddly enough, Wardens. The role of the small town’s Wardens is vastly different from Freedom Corps and Longbow’s commanders, however, and its believed only one person in town occupies the position at a time, though the local population ahs little understanding as to who holds it at any given time. This lonely position is likely the cause of Kipland’s self-imposed isolation. It’s not that he dislikes working with others, he just feels he works better alone…

There is another Kipland Durj… The Praetorian Kipland Durj known as Cobalt Black 3-8-9. For some odd reason, the young man has joined Praetorian Earth’s Malta Group (or one of it’s cells, one called the Maltese Resistance). This character is covered later in this series…

Randall Grey

File Image

Randall Grey came to Paragon City from Kingdale New York shortly after the small town’s reconstruction and signed with Freedom Corps early in 2006. He had big dreams of trying to help rebuild the city with the influence he hoped to make as one of the city’s greatest heroes.

That, or start a hero bar, whichever came first.

In fact, it was this peculiar dichotomy, between grim professionalism and laidback humor, that made him one of the more peculiar heroes registered on the Protector Shard. Despite the apparent lack of concern for actual criminal activities, Grey proved to be quite adept at smashing through the villains that caught his attention. It is a credit to the contacts he had through his career that they were able to keep his attention and continue to do so.

Randall Grey’s only real weakness so far seems to be a psychological one. Despite being a stone tanker, one of the most powerful types, it has been determined he has a severe alcoholism problem. While he keeps his affliction to himself and never does hero work while under the influence, he becomes nearly completely unreliable in his personal hours. The cause of this is not currently known, though some speculate it has to do with his late wife, lost during the Rikti War.

Lately, his condition seems to have improved. Freedom Corps still has agents keeping an eye out for him, and he’s been found on patrol more often and longer, and in the bars even less. Some attribute this improvement to the recent increase in cooperation between the Paragon Police Department and the FC, others to his desire to expand Grey’s Army’s base, so he patrols more often to boost the super group’s Prestige. Still, others claim an internal reason. Perhaps that would explain why he’s been hammering into Arachnos and the Council almost exclusively.

Randall’s powers are Stone Armor (as stated before) and Super Strength. It is believed he manifested these abilities shortly before the Rikti onslaught. The exact reasons are unknown, and he is registered as a “Natural” class hero, despite the obvious deformation of his body when his protective powers activate. Earlier, it was theorized the “rock” armor was some form of beneficial tumor, but no trace of the peculiar growths have been detected on medical scans when he had the armor deactivated. As of yet, the source of the armor is unknown, but the strength ahs so far been attributed to “north country living” by the hero himself.

Grey’s Army

Grey’s Army was founded in late in this year by Randall Grey, a tanker-class hero who earned a reputation for being a gruff, foul-mouthed, and mood-swinging hero. At the drop of a hat, he went form zero to berserk, and his only redeeming quality was that he was focusing his ire on the bad guys.

He was followed shortly thereafter by Kipland Durj, the son of a good friend of his. Kipland is acting second-in-command, the Colonel of Grey’s Army where Randy is the General. They quickly recruited the rest of their friends and family into the supergroup.

The roster now goes as follows…

Randall Grey: Founder, General
Kipland Durj: Colonel
Cory Simmons: Colonel, Mystic Advisor
Nester Durj: Lieutenant, Medical Expert
Cedric Grey: Lieutenant
Ezekiel “Zeke” Durj: Lieutenant, Kheldian Warshade Advisor
Sarah “Snuffy” Grey: Soldier
Sheldon Wallace: Soldier, Tech Expert/Advisor
“Mad” Matt McGinty: Soldier
Charlene Daring-Grey: Honorary Lieutenant, Kheldian Peacebringer Advisor
Roland Grey: Soldier
Ryat66: Soldier
Ryat99: Soldier

It should be noted that the entire Ryat series of androids, built by Sheldon Wallace, are also officially considered to be part of Grey’s Army, but they are currently restricted from combat operations, pending the behavior of the two currently deployed to the field. The other 98 (84 Light Frame models, 14 Heavy Frame models) are instead currently being utilized by Portal Corporation as a reconnaissance unit and by the city as an emergency rapid repair and construction outfit.

The chronicled adventures of Grey’s Army are located at the Grey’s Army thread, located in the author’s signature…
Later updates amy add new members to the SG, provided other player members on Protector Server are willing to allow the author to utilize their characters. Other player characters will not be utilized without permission.

First, an introduction…

Kingdale was created by the author of this thread as a story location. It is an amalgamation of many different locations from the author’s life and serves as the hometown of the author’s characters.

Essentially, Kingdale is a “Springfield,” a fictional generic town that serves just about every purpose the author needs it to. A major difference between Kingdale and Springfield is that Kingdale is by no means as large, nor is it in an obscure location. It resides in northern New York, between the Jefferson, Lewis and St. Lawrence Counties, residing in its own personal county (again named Kingdale) almost twice the area of the town itself (there’s a story as to why involving a curmudgeonly old man and a poorly considered wager with the state...)

A military base nearby (Fort Drum, outside Watertown, NY) provides a steady stream of unusual traffic and tourism and constantly brings in corporate possibilities to what would normally be an overlooked community. As such, Kingdale is larger than it would normally be, and has become a central hub for much of New York’s “North Country.”

For the City of Heroes universe, Kingdale is currently in a state of post-repair. When the Rikti invaded, they assaulted every military base they could find, and Fort Drum was a prime target. The force that decimated the military presence there then proceeded to “sweep” the local populations. Many communities and much farmland was destroyed.

Surprisingly, the hero populations in these areas, largely quiet, conservative communities, burst forth with every conceivable resource available to protect friend and kin. Kingdale became famous for having a number of heroes concentrated within it. Still, the attacks were quick, devastating, and the best most of the small communities could hope for was to outrun the aliens until they got bored and left (or, as it turned out, got a regroup command).

This thread will be used to catalogue various groups spawned form this author’s Kingdale centered imagination. It will serve as a base to explain the characters in brief summaries and provide those who need to know a backgrounder for many of the actions the various members of Grey’s Army, the Brazen Warriors Order, and the Redeemers (and possibly more later in time) take. As each group is introduced, there will be a section to describe them as well.

The author would like to thank you, the reader, for taking the time to peruse his work. He has spent a great deal of time amending these characters from another project in the works to fit this universe. In time, he hopes that you find it as entertaining a read as he did dreaming it up.

Hm... I have an idea... It's a bit later in my storyline, but I guess I can write it out now... Might help to have it down here so I can just copy and paste it later into my Grey’s Army thread when I need to…
Scenario 3: The Ambush…
Hero used: Sheldon Wallace (Controller: Gravity/Kinetic; RP Specialty: Inventor)

It had been several weeks since the Praetorian forces had tried to push out of Boomtown. The heroes assigned to Steel Canyon's War Walls were finally well rested and keeping to a strict routine that enabled hero shields to shore up the holes in the war walls and contingents of nearly 24 heroes ready for action every eight hours. These heroes were backed up by a heavy contingent of Freedom Corps soldiers and Police Riot Guards, not to mention the mobilized National Guard contingent which was currently working on getting more artillery into the zone than just the Freedom Corps/Longbow Heavy Mechs. In other parts of the city, battles were going just as well or better, which was a good sign

The worst aspect insofar had been the fact that so many heroes had faced their own doubles. Psychics found themselves locked in combat with the students of Malaise and Mother Mayhem. The large percentage of combat oriented heroes' opposites were under the direct command of Marauder, Battle Maiden and their lieutenants. Rumors abounded that Tyrant and Statesman were fighting all over and around the city, but nobody was truly certain about that. It seemed whenever a broadcast or a series of Tell messages (or even the hero-made Watch networks) made it known that the two Opposites were in-zone, they promptly disappeared before anybody could get a decent view of the action.

Sheldon Wallace had joined the “Northern Front” under Randall Grey’s orders. His kinetic powers had proven vastly potent in establishing consistent victories at the wall and had assisted in pushing back the collective efforts of the multitudinous Praetorian minion assault. He was no fool, however, and understood he was just a cog in the massive defensive machine the city now relied upon.

Dealing with what were now typically referred to as “Doubles” was another story, however. It was like fighting the class of criminal designated E.B. or Elite Boss over and over again. For ones that were granted even more clearance(?) by their superiors, they were suddenly registered as A.V. or Arch Villain. The fights dealing with an A.V. surrounded by E.B.’s were the stuff of legends, almost impossible fights that took very specifically designed teams to survive and eventually win. Forunately, the signature heroes of each zone were quick to help in such situations, and in Steel Canyon, the heroes were happy to be aided by Positron and Valkyrie.

In fact, Positron had realized that if they were to truly succeed on this front, the heroes were going to have to push into Boomtown. He knew the mission would be difficult, dangerous, and the heroes involved would likely be making several trips to the hospitals.

When the call was made for volunteers and no hero backed down, Sheldon made quick calculations in his head to determine what the casualty rate would be and how much stress the Steel Canyon emergency medical transport matrix could take before a total failure. The result was not pleasant.

“Sir… Sir!” he called out and after the initial shock of being recognized wore off (it took him about three seconds of real time, but he had been keeping himself in a state of nearly perpetual enhanced speed thanks to his pet gerbil, Felix, willingly letting his speed get drained, and to him it must have been almost a minute), he laid out his plan. Positron didn’t seem too thrilled about the idea, but it was far better than wasting the brunt of their forces on what was essentially a scouting maneuver.

“Four Mechs,” Sheldon repeated to himself after an hour of preparation, “I wish it was the whole contingent, but that’s just not feasible…”

He was now in the seat of a machine reminiscent of the Nemesis Warhulks, only nuclear powered and not filled with liquid for a catatonic “pilot.” In fact, Sheldon was far from catatonic, and his Bipedal Assault Tank (Oddly enough, BAT for short) was outfitted with a larger array of weaponry than just an archaic flamethrower. The only problem he had with the machine was that it was painfully slow compared even to when he was running when he first signed on with Freedom Corps, but that couldn’t be helped. It also helped to keep the other Mechs, Cataphracts, nearby, so he couldn’t fault the landspeed so much…

“Hokay… scanners aren’t picking anything up within a half mile radius…” Sheldon glared at his sensors, “That can’t be right…”

Positron’s voice came over the communicator, “Come on, Wallace, the Praetorian’s have held Boomtown for weeks. It was their insertion point! Why would the Council, Outcasts, Lost or even the Clockwork that survived the initial assault stick around?”

“Because its their home,” Sheldon replied mostly to himself, “Wait, I’m picking up something. A small group… Looks to be Marauder’s troops…”

Bursts of automatic fire echoed throughout the devastated wreckage and Sheldon smiled to himself. The bullets impacted harmlessly on the white ceramic and polymer armor that surrounded him. He took aim with the minigun mounted on the BAT’s right arm and picked some of the soldier’s on the left fringe.

The tank turned deliberately and sprayed a few quick bursts. The Rampager he targeted was knocked back several yards, black goo covering his chest and legs. Another of Sheldon’s innovations, his rubberized bullets were a thicker form of paintball, melting from the heat of the bullet’s explosion and sticking to their target(s) upon impact. If the target wasn’t knocked out from the attack, their movement was seriously hampered, and suddenly the BAT’s movement speed wasn’t as much of a hindrance as it once was.

The Rampager fell, and the Freedom Corps Hevies opened fire as well, sending devastating explosions into the center mass of the group. Few stood again, and Sheldon cursed.

“I’m trying to chip away at them! Get them to lead me to their boss or their camp… I’m not out here to kill them!”

“Some are still moving, Wallace,” came a reply from a man he didn’t recognize, “Use what you’ve got.”

“I wonder why Babbage didn’t stop them…” Grey’s Army’s inventor suddenly wondered out loud.

“Cut the chatter!”

He figured it was one of the National Guard commanders, rusty from inexperience and itching for a real fight. Or maybe even lower on the ladder, just a communications officer who was getting an adrenaline high from “coordinating” an assault. Sheldon, knowing arguing would make little difference, kept his mouth shut and pushed forward on his control stick, kicking his vehicle to top speed.

He was barely faster than the Freedom Corps Mechs, and slowly outstripped them in his pursuit of the fleeing Rampagers and Wreckers. Their Destroyer must have been incapacitated from the Mech blasts. He passed by a building that leaned sharply to the north, but otherwise remained standing. He always wondered at what was keeping the buildings up, but he figured it was better left to more dedicated physicists.

As the fleeing Praetorians rounded the corner of a building roughly fifty yards from the walking tank, Sheldon cursed. He calculated their pattern of flight and turned left to cut them off on the other side, or at least catch up to them. He knew there should have been a hill on the other side of the building—

A sudden shuddering jarred him from his plotting and he realized something was notoriously wrong. The ground seemed to be standing up in front of him and a horrible thought crossed his mind.

“Maybe CK decided to help the Doubles… Maybe Babs is out here… after… all?”

The wreckage never reoriented itself into a solid form... For example, where Babbage still had definition and form, working parts surrounded by an armored chassis, this was one massive walking pile of garbage. It was more similar in form to the notorious Jurassik than any enormous mechanical monstrosity, yet it lacked a stone skin.

A gargantuan walking junkpile stood before him, and before he could react, it slammed its huge fists into the ground in front of him, sending his little tank hurtling through the air and landing badly on its right leg, destroying its knee joint and leaving the vehicle irreparably crippled.

“[censored],” Sheldon calmly cursed into his radio, “My tank’s disabled, get those Cataphracts out of there!”

It was too late. The giant monster held its arms up, massive girders and slabs of concrete impossibly suspended horizontally five hundred feet in the air, and suddenly launched the parts that composed them into the Heavies. It was like a shotgun blast of stone and steel. The machines were smashed, impaled, and utterly obliterated by the debris. Several saddening fires and smoking craters were all that remained, and the battle had only taken a minute and a half…

The giant monster’s arms retracted back to the main body, now with more parts as pieces of the destroyed Mechs joined with the rest. The hero recorded this in his head, but his heart raced with worry.

“How am I supposed to defeat a monster like that?”

Sheldon popped his emergency hatch and the bullet-proof glass canopy opened with a hiss. He rushed for the nearest building and hid inside, hoping the monster would lose interest in his machine at least long enough to allow him to get an estimate of the damage and plot some field repairs.

“Get your own place, hero!”

It suddenly occurred to Sheldon that he might not be alone. Composing himself quickly and turning crisply, he regarded the Outcast refugees huddled around him with placid indifference. This was not engendering…

“We told you to get out!” an orange colored fire-based Outcast half-barked half-whimpered at him.

“I’d love to accommodate your request,” Sheldon kept his tone neutral, like a college professor, “But as you can see…”

The giant junk monster punted his walking tank like a football and stormed off. Sheldon didn’t even wince at the metallic crashing sounds and the final, bitter crinkle that signaled the final defeat of his third pride and joy.

“I’m a little prohibited at the moment,” he was surprised that he was able to maintain his calm.

“My God,” he thought to himself, “Am I truly so cold inside? No… I’m full of rage and hate for what that thing did to my machine… But I am not about to give in. I need to keep my head cool and clear now more than ever.”

He realized the Outcasts weren’t looking at him anymore. Their horrified faces were focused outside the door. He could see them instinctively wince with each footstep the “girder monster” made. They were terrified, and way out of their league. Sheldon would have smiled to himself if he thought exploitation of any sort was honorable. He knew he could use the boys for their talents, and he knew exactly what he needed them to do. First, however, he needed two things…

The first was obvious. Leadership. The orange one, the scanners in his glasses identified the Outcast as Charred (Char-ed), which meant he’d been to the Zig before, was a low-power fire blaster-type. There was also an ice blaster type in the small enclave, and Sheldon grinned inside, the skills between these two would be very useful.

“Charred,” Sheldon pronounced the leader’s name correctly, which was a shock to the small group, “I know you have little reason to trust me, what with the fact that heroes have sent you to the Zig…. Five times now… But I need you to work with me.”

“No way, [censored],” Charred barked back, his voice still cracking with fear and desperation, “We ain’t goin nowhere with you! You’re just gonna get us killt like dose udder guys!”

“Those were just remote controlled machines,” Sheldon assured him, “New weapons in the war to keep this city safe…”

He immediately realized that was the wrong thing to say.

“You mean to use on us!” Charred sounded more confident now, he was applying a Nazi-like method of power retention, giving his men something to hate, “[censored] you, hero! [censored] you! We ain’t helping ya just so you can shoot us in da back!”

Sheldon closed his eyes and bowed his head. He stood that way quietly for a few seconds, the sounds of the giant making rumblings echoing through the building. Eventually he gazed back up into the again unsure face of Charred. His second requirement was not going to be attainable…

“I don’t want you to like me, Charred. I want you to work with me. I want you to recognize an opportunity here… As it stands, you Outcasts are little more than a joke in the criminal underworld. You’re barely a footnote as it is, one of your greatest leaders? Little more than a joke.”

“What’s your point?” the blue ice-blaster type pushed past the others to stand beside Charred, who was merely seething with silent rage.

“My point is that I can give you an opportunity to be remembered, but time is running short,” Sheldon pointed up the slanted wall to his left, “The giant is over there, where the building slants over… Probably looking for me… But it isn’t going to find me.”

“You want it to find us?” an initiate said behind the two leaders.

“In a manner of speaking,” Sheldon replied, “I want it to find what you do to it. Specifically, you Charred, and you… uh… I don’t have a file on you…”

“I’m new,” the blue one replied, “They call me Fraust. F-r…”

“I know, I know my German,” Sheldon replied, “You two and any other ice or fire-based gangers can significantly weaken the ‘walls’ that rest above the giant and drop massive chunks on its head.”

Charred, for his credit, suddenly looked surprised, “Wouldn’t that just give it more to build itself with?”

“Not initially,” the hero white-coated controller replied, “It would be like a magnetic sculpture getting smashed apart by the direct force. It would have to reform itself before it could attack… I think… It’s also ridiculously slow to react… Even if it did ‘see’ you, I bet you could move quickly enough away to avoid getting hit…”

They stared at him incredulously before Fraust finally asked an important question.

“What will you be doing all this time?”

“I have a decent trick up my sleeve. A ‘last regret,’ if you will. I can assure you, when we knock that [censored] down, it will get back up again, but it will go down even more spectacularly after that, and not get up again.”

“Jebus,” another initiate breathed, “He’s… We’re gonna take down the Dross!”

“Dross?” Sheldon gasped, then recomposed himself, “Nevermind… Are we in agreement?”

“Two conditions,” Charred folded his arms over his chest instead of reaching out to shake the hero’s extended hand, “One, we get credit. Two, you get us the Hell out of here. I promised my boys I’d get them back to their families after this nightmare…”

Sheldon nodded. He got his second requirement after all. He wasn’t using them. They were using each other, reciprocating, working together. It was a bargain, not a scheme.

They shook and immediately set to work. The Outcasts were high-end types, so each of them was capable of a particular elemental feat. A couple electrically attuned ones helped light the way for their comrades as they sparked old salvaged lamps to life, and the ice and fire ones worked out a plan as to how they would weaken the walls in such a fashion that the largest amount would crash down on Dross.

Sheldon couldn’t believe that was the monster’s name. He wondered how the Outcasts had learned it, but then, they had been here during the invasion. They must’ve overheard numerous conversations, and none of them pleasant about the conditions they’d expect if they were captured. He wondered what it must have been like for the Council troops. They wouldn’t have skulked or surrendered. They’d have amassed themselves into a defiant force and held one last bloody battle to preserve themselves. Chances were, there was a section of Boomtown that was now permanently stained brown.

The Lost and the Clockwork would have done like the Outcasts, and hidden or otherwise fled. Sheldon was glad Grey’s Army had gotten out the Dregs when they did. This was not a pleasant place to be at the moment.

He had to wonder at the monster’s name as he approached the wreck that was once his tank. He had learned from Kipland Durj’s Praetorian that Dross was also the name of his Praetorian. Knowing naming conventions among super types, he knew it was exceptionally unlikely that this monster was anything but his Praetorian. So why the radical difference in appearance? Was Dross a being of kinetic energy, only able to exist by inhabiting the wreckage and debris surrounding him, or did he actually have a human body, and the monster was a shell he wore, just like Sheldon’s tank?

He was taken out of his reverie by the roaring sound of stone wall falling away and crashing down mixed with metal grinding. A spine-chilling roar reverberated through the local block and Sheldon set to work. He typed into his wristpad and his tank came to life. He rested a hand on it before continuing.

“I don’t know what separates me from Mastermind types,” he said softly to the machine, “But I really do care about you. I wish I hadn’t dragged you into this, and I wish your life wasn’t about to end this way. You may be nothing more than steel, plastic, glass, and whatever else I built you out of, but I like to think that the things I build have a soul of some kind. How else can I explain the Ryat series? They act so unlike any other automata… Well, almost any other… Still…”

He hit a button on his wristpad and the machine’s sensor panels started flashing a dangerous shade of red.

“If you do have a soul, girl, I hope it rests easy in the fact its about to reduce a very bad thing to a smoldering pile of rubble. I hope it roams free and returns to this earth as something more beautiful than a war machine…”

A single tear rolled down his left cheek. He could hear Dross rebuilding itself behind him. He could almost swear the coolant leaking down through the remaining headlight mounted under the canopy was a tear to match his own.

“Goodbye.”

His skin went cold as he set to work. He’d heard of the concept of “compartmentalization,” the theory that psychologists believed allowed serial killers to work their horrid work while living what seemed to be a normal everyday life. It always struck him as a stepping-stone across the river of dementia to the shore of schizophrenia. A part of him feared he had a bit of that inside of him, allowing him to be coldly professional when it came to his work, to the construction of his inventions, to even dreaming up new devices and unique uses for his powers to increase the efficiency of his construction. The part of him that feared that, however, was now pushed back. It was time to work, and he had to work fast.

He had never lifted something this heavy before. Sure, he had restricted the flight of a Sky Raider Skiff or even levitated a War Hulk, but he had put considerable effort into this machine, and its weight was significantly more than both of those machines combined. He figured the Freedom Corps War Mechs were a match for weight, however, they weren’t equipped for what eh was about to do.

He raised the vehicle into the air and turned around, using his right hand to tether the machine to his body. His gravity control technology was still something he hadn’t quite figured out all of the nuances of, but he did have a considerable amount of skill with the techniques he had mastered. He moved to his left until Dross was easily in view. The monster wasn’t completely rebuilt, but it had its arms in a firing position already. If he didn’t act fast, or the Outcasts didn’t come up with another attack, there was a good chance they were all going to die this day…

He started spinning his hand in the air. He could feel the gravitic tether whirling around his hand and growing stronger. Eventually, the tank was revolving around him and picking up speed rapidly. He pumped a kinetic speed boost into it and it moved even faster. Gritting his teeth, he put the weight of his body into the effort and, as the last pieces of Dross came together, hurled the tank into its body with all the force he could muster.

The giant monster was almost knocked off its feet and the tank easily embedded itself into the body. It took a few steps back and looked about, not realizing the situation. The Outcasts hadn’t been wasting their time while the villain was repairing itself, either. They started pouring out of the building’s main door almost as soon as the tank had hit and were sprinting as hard as they could for Sheldon.

“Goodbye, Dross. Goodbye Julie…” he pressed a glowing red button on his wristband and raised his right hand toward the monster.

Inside the canopy, a panel opened to reveal a glowing red button marked “Graviton Cannon.” The idea was that if a villain had stolen the vehicle, Sheldon would simply take advantage of the villain’s lack of technical readouts on any of his technology and remotely arm the self-destruct. The disadvantage was that the button actually had to be pressed. While that was easy for a dimwitted villain who thought he had just unlocked a new weapon system though his bumblings, it was much more difficult when there was nobody in the cockpit. Hence Sheldon’s raised hand. Aiming carefully, knowing the interior of the canopy as if it were his own body, he focused a patch of gravity and the button pressed.

The explosion did more than just tear apart the giant walking wreckage’s body. Apparently, the Outcasts did have a plan in store, and even more debris fell out of the building onto the monster. What they hadn’t counted on was the rest of the building buckling under its own weight on the new weakpoint and further burying the monster under even more concrete, glass and steel.

They paused for a few moments. The whole zone was deathly quiet. Sheldon had a sudden, disturbing thought…

“What if that was the last hurrah here?” he asked Charred, “How often have you been seeing these guys in the past few days?”

“Actually, that was the only group we’d seen in days..."

Sheldon cursed and pulled his communicator, “Hey! Whoever’s over there, this zone is clear! Repeat, this zone is clear! Praetorians haven't been seen in days by the locals! We need to amass troops and heroes in a new location, the Praetorians are picking a new place to attack and we don’t have the luxury of time!”

“What about us?” Fraust asked almost bleakly.

“I’ll talk to the security chief at the gate,” Sheldon assured him, “I give you my word on that, and my word is something I hold sacred.”

They walked back to the Steel Canyon entrance in a silence that was only interrupted by the sounds of troop movement coming from his communicator. Boomtown had been abandoned, but that meant somewhere else was in even more trouble. Sheldon hoped they moved out in time. If the Praetorians were allowed to break through in just one area, it could spell doom for the whole city…
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This one was a lot of fun! I simplified the background information because I wanted to stick to the dynamics between the hero and the third party. I hope this fits the criteria, though. I apologize for taking the ambush outdoors, however, but the location isn't always as important as the act itself. As I said before, it's supposed to be yet another part of the Grey's Army chronicles (the others so far on this thread can be stand alone adventures in and of themselves), but takes place much later than I've already written so far.

Never got to post the first situation, but it’s fairly simple for my main, Randall Grey (Tanker: Stone/Super Strength).

He’d worked his way slowly through the streets, asking passers-by if they’d seen anything unusual or if the local Sky Raider presence had been making any outrageous claims. After wailing on a few of their street-sweepers, he had finally found the information eh was looking for. Randall grey made a beeline for an old Lockheart warehouse, now long-since abandoned since the indictment of one of their CEOs and the inevitable evidence lock-up…

It wasn’t an exceptionally large building, and the info told him the cargo they’d stolen would be just inside the door. He even found four Assault Raiders having a smoke break just outside in the back alley he was strolling down. After slamming back a case of donuts (I bet you were expecting beer), Randall flexes his muscles. This activates the rocklike growths that have been his trademark defense since his bar-fighting days. He then storms down the alley, a guttural roar announcing his vicious entry to the fray.

The guards open fire, their ammunition impacting almost harmlessly from Randall’s chest, abs, and face. They are completely unprepared for the assault as he bodily slams into them, smashing the door off its hinges and knocking the guards, unconscious, through at the same time. Breathing haggardly, he smashes open the crate and retrieves the Force Module, a small device used to focus energy in Portal Corporation’s many devices.

“Funny Portal Corp sent me to get this,” Randy grumbles to himself, “They could’ve called the cops or hired a lowbie… Ah well… I’ll just drop by a subsidiary, leave a note saying I heard they lost this, and call it a night…”

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Second Scenario… Team effort, Nester (Defender:Emp/Rad), Kipland Durj (Scrapper: Martial Arts/Invuln;original, not Praetorian gunslinger type Kip), Cory Simmons(Blaster Fire/Ice) and Sarah “Snuffy” Grey (Controller: Psychic/Sonic)…
(Note: This went from generally vague to surprisingly specific, for reference, we just went from 0-85 mph in about 2.5 seconds)

“Calm down, Snuffy, it’s not your fault…”

Anton Stevens, a minor individual in most respects, had just turned state’s evidence against Crey Industries. He had knowledge on some of the corporation’s clandestine, illegal operations (it’s amazing what a janitor can learn…) and had hoped to make a little profit from the situation by ratting them out. Unfortuantely, he wasn’t a bright individual, and Crey agents were hounding him before the day was out.

Kipland Durj, second-in-command of Grey’s Army, had been tasked by Freedom Corps to keep an eye on him until the court date (as the city’s safehouses were turning out to be remarkably unreliable…). The young scrapper decided waiting in the Grey’s Army base would be safe enough.

What he hadn’t counted on was his good friend (and daughter of Grey’s Army’s founder, Randall Grey) Sarah Grey. It wasn’t really her fault, she just didn’t know the totality of the situation. She took Anton out for ice cream to help calm his nerves and they were jumped by a Paragon Protector in Atlas Park. Sarah, with the fortunate help of a Security level 50 blaster, was able to scramble away largely unharmed, but she lost track of Anton in the confusion of the battle and found too late that a group of Crey Security were hustling him into a black van.

She followed the van from a distance to one of the high-rise buildings in southeast Skyway City, and tearfully let her best friend know what was happening. Despite the long stream of curses that replied to her, Kipland still assured her that he wasn’t angry at her… Just the situation…

“I hate these jobs…” Kip grimaced from the ground level across the street, “They tell you to watch the guy, you tell him not to go anywhere, and then something like this happens. I should’ve just handed him over to Crey, told them ‘Now, you hide him real good, okay? I’ll count to ten and come on up,’ and then kicked the ever-living bejebus out of everybody that got in my way after that.”

“Now, now, Kipland, let’s not despair…” Cory Simmons, the resident Warlock of Grey’s Army and typical cool-head, rested his hand on the younger hero’s shoulder and gestured to the skyscraper, “There’s still plenty of time for the latter part of your scenario. But, may I suggest something, first…”

Nester Durj, Kip’s older brother and the Supergroup’s medic, hovered down behind them after Cory finished explaining his plan. Furrowing his brow in consternation, Nester tapped Sarah’s shoulder.

“Why’d Kip send me a message saying my skills would be needed here?”

“His babysitting mission just became a rescue mission.”

“Figures he’d screw it up…” Nester grumbled, but he was still smirking.

“Hey!” Kip rounded on his brother with murder in his eyes, but again, Cory caught him by the shoulder.

“Nester was just joking, and you know it,” he started floating away, and, whispering a spell to himself, disappeared, “Go inside, and wait for me to start porting you guys up. We’ll be out of here before lunch.”

Cory flew up the building’s side and glanced inside the windows. Floor after floor of cubicle corridor offices greeted his eyes, and he almost gagged. Though he didn’t necessarily thrive on magic like most other mystically attuned heroes and rogues, he did despair at the uniformity of it all. It put a stranglehold on the imagination, turned human beings into little more than robots. He had dealt with Nemesis’s automatons, the ones built to look like human beings, and could understand how they blended in, and even excelled, in environments like this.

A lavatory. Most people didn’t understand this, but restroom facilities need proper ventilation, otherwise the stench becomes unbearable and the employees become far less efficient as they search for a more reliable lavatory. For high rises such as this, the simplest, most efficient, and most cost effective ventilation is a window. While the bathroom gets cold in winter months (ironically, improving efficiency as employees rush to get back to the heat of the main offices), the window was still far preferable to a mechanical ventilation system that would be cost-prohibitive to maintain at this high elevation. However, security systems were largely left un-routed through a bathroom’s window as they were usually left open to allow truly horrid odors to escape quickly…

Cory Simmons was a thermodynamic wizard, meaning he controlled the forces of heat and cold. Breathing deeply in a quick meditation, he murmured the words that would harness the local heat energies (draining the local area of heat, slightly) into a potent attack to burn through the window’s glass. Typically, windows weren’t made of “Pyrex..."

A long stream of blazing fire arced from his palms and scored through the glass, melting it into a river that hissed and bubbled as it flowed from the hole in the side of the wall. Small black scorch marks were left in the frame, but Cory was otherwise pleased with himself.

Downstairs, Kipland marched into the lobby confidently. A couple security guards looked askance at him, but largely left him alone. Nester and Sarah flanked him, Sarah bobbing her head to her headphones, Nester tapping at some of the controls on his left wrist. A nearby elevator made a “dinging” sound, and Kipland turned to see a Paragon Protector flanked by two Security Agents exit and start heading for them. The Protector towered over Kip and glared down at the diminutive scrapper as if her were something he just scraped off his boot (not that the helmet conveyed that, but Kip knew well enough what went through a Protector’s head: “Crey is Great! Obey the Countess! There are no heroes but Paragon Protectors! Crey is Great!”)

“Can we help you?” the Protector asked cautiously.

“Nah, just getting in out of the cold,” Kip replied slyly, “It is winter, after all…”

Nester arched his eyebrow at his brother, but said nothing. The Protector turned to Sarah who’s eyes were now closed and she seemed to be really getting into her music. Suddenly, the Protector realized something.

“I need to get my laundry.”

“You do that,” Sarah suddenly piped to the blue-and-yellow clad generic hero, “And take your guards with you.”

“I’ll take my guards with me,” the Protector mumbled and snapped his fingers. The two Agents glanced worriedly to each other, but knew better than to argue with a superior.

Kip turned to the nearest receptionist and approached her, “We’re going to use the bathroom and be right out, okay?”

The receptionist got a faraway look on her face and nodded. She didn’t even get too concerned when they all hurried into the same bathroom.

A moment later, and Cory had used his arcane magicks to teleport them up twenty-eight floors to the bathroom he had requisitioned for the operation. Kip glared at him when he learned where they were.

“What do you mean we’re not at the top floor? You know how these things go! The [censored] objective is always at the [very censored] top floor!”

“This was the highest bathroom I could find,” Cory replied, “Besides, where’s the fun without the challenge?”

“I’ll give you your challenge… Come on, let’s get Anton out of here.”

They creeped to the bathroom door, cracked it open and glanced about. A security guard was walking away down the hall from them, and Kip almost dove forward to kick him in the back of the head, but he was stopped by his older brother. Nester gestured to the cameras.

“This is going to be very tough,” he whispered. Cory pushed aside them, opened the door and disappeared. The rest of the group looked to each other with worry, but they shrugged as it seemed Cory had gotten away.

“Have you ever seen ‘Towering Inferno?’” they suddenly heard and the guard whirled about to say something. A gout of flame suddenly burst out of mid-air and blasted the black-and-blue clad agent down the hall. Cory was visible, his body wavering in and out of focus, and his hands were wrapped in unmistakable flames. He then darted into a nearby office and the crew found themselves teleported again.

“Well, that was worth the trip,” Kipland shook his head at the wizard, “What’s your next plan?”

“We start a fire,” Cory smiled.

A moment later, and the bathroom was in flames. The building’s environment control started working to curb the damage. However, the building was evacuating as standard procedure warranted.

Kip, however, was still not pleased. Environment control in office buildings meant only two things: air conditioning, and the water sprinkler system that puts out fires. On this floor, all the sprinklers kicked on.

“Well done, Cory,” he gritted his teeth and started marching for the door of the office they were hiding in, “Well done…”

“Kip, don’t do anything rash…”

“Oh, there’s nothing rash about this,” Kip whipped open the door and watched as a pair of cryo-tanks rushed past, “This is completely irrational!”

He kicked the one to his right as he lined up on the massive bathroom blaze and forced the tank’s head into the head of his partner. The stereo-like sound of them yelping in pain rewarded him and he followed up with a crane-kick that sent his first target sprawling down the hallway. The other, disoriented, struggled to stand but found himself booted into the burning bathroom.

“He’s armored and throws ice,” Kip shouted over the tank’s screams, “he’ll be fine.”

They bounded for the elevators which were now open to allow a small contingent of security guards to see what was going on and usher employees on this floor to the stairs. They hadn’t counted on running into a group of heroes and were quickly overwhelmed by fire, feet, radiation and… dance music? Whatever it was, it looped through their heads and kept getting louder. They clutched at their ears, trying to block out the sound, but it was in their heads… Nothing was getting it to stop, nothing but Kipland Durj’s foot.

Taking the keys from one of the guards, Nester led the group to the stairwell and called to the employees of the floor to hurry over. He then used a guard’s boot to jam the door open and followed his friends up the stairs. They made their way directly to the thirtieth floor where Kip used the key to unlock the emergency door there, too.

“Idiots…” he spat as they made their way in. They saw a pair of Power tanks guarding a door and Kip repeated himself.

“Hm, if I wanted to hide a guy,” Nester added, “I would put two heavy-set guards just outside the room I’m keeping him in. Uh-oh!”

One of the guards turned to regard them and Kip was off like a shot. Nester followed quickly, activating his defensive and focusing matrices. Cory then drew the heat out of his immediate surroundings and focused it into a savage blast that knocked Kipland’s target out cold… Well, after a series of repeated kicks to the head, groin and groin again. This, unfortunately, caused the other Power Tank to get the drop on Kip, as Nester was by no means an offensive type of hero.

As Kip lay on the floor, rubbing a split lip and Nester darted back and forth, ducking and diving out of the Power Tanker’s attacks, Sarah kicked on her MP3 player and aimed a particular tune at her friend. Kip heard the sounds of Dry Kill Logic streaming into his ears and he sneered. He could feel his adrenaline picking up and he leapt to his feet. As the Power Tank blasted Nester out of the way and started to turn to Cory, who had been pelting the tanker with more bolts of fire, there was a tap on the Tank’s shoulder.

“Hey, [censored],” Kip spat some blood into his visor as he turned to face the scrapper, “We’re not done yet.

Anton yelped as the Power Tank’s body hurtled through the door. He was handcuffed to his chair, but a quick eye-beam blast from Nester’s glasses melted the chain away. They ushered the poor young man to the emergency stairwell and started hurrying down. It was surprisingly difficult going, but through a quick questioning of Anton, they learned he had been injected with sodium pentathol or some other chemical during his interrogation that made him sluggish.

Cory, invisible and flying, moved far ahead of the crew and warned them of whatever was coming their way. On the first floor, there was a rather substantial crowd outside the door, but that wasn’t what dominated their attention. Four pillars had suddenly converted into automated cannons with laser sights, and it wasn’t hard for the group to figure out what they were intended for. The Paragon Protector they had messed with prior to their ascent also stood in the middle of the room, with murder on his mind.

“I say we go to the second floor and leap out the window,” Kip turned to Anton, “It’ll only hurt for a second.”

“Or, we could take the fire escape…” Cory countered when he saw their charge’s reaction to Kip’s plan, “It would be a wise course of action…”

The second floor’s fire escape led to a courtyard. Nester shuddered and charged up his healing wave generator and the healing wave focuser. The courtyard turned out only slightly better. Again, they had to contend with a set of turrets. Kip was studying the field intently.

“I think I have a way…” he muttered, “But it’s going to hurt me…”

“You’re not a tanker, Kip…” Nester reminded his brother.

“I’m the best we’ve got,” Kip raised his arms to the sky and his body was wrapped in black purple smoke for a few seconds.

When the tenebrous mass cleared, the young martial artist was suddenly covered from head to toe in a black-purple armor. Though it was visible now, Nester had his suspicions that it never truly left Kip, protecting him even more vehemently (though far more subtly) when he walked about without it on…

“Okay,” Kip intoned, “I’m going out there, and I can’t be sure I’ll make it out. Sarah, Nester, Cory, I want you guys to escort Anton out of here and get him to the cops. Crey won’t do anything when you’re with the cops.”

“Wait!” Nester tried to plead with his brother.

“I gave you an order!” Kip replied, “I’m doing this as much for you as him. As long as the guns are on me, they won’t be on you. I figure you’ll have maybe five minutes, tops to get out of sight of em, and they’re not restricted to their movement the way the ones back in the lobby are. Swivel mounts are horrible things…”

They bid their farewells and Kip made jokes about utilizing the “Red Cross Express” when it was all said and done. He gave the word and leapt out into the middle of the turrets and was rewarded with the tell-tale sound of them revving up to spit hot, solid death at him. The other trio led Anton off the roof and hurried around the corner, Nester pausing momentarily to watch his brother go to war with the machines as they fired unrelentingly into his torso and head. Remarkably, the younger Durj brother was holding his own and was smashing through their metal hides to reveal the parts inside.

But the fight took its toll, nonetheless. As Kip smashed the last one, he dropped to his knees and gasped for air. He couldn’t believe he had survived, weird, alien combat armor notwithstanding. His elation was shortlived, however, as a shadow overtook him.

“Kipland Durj,” a familiar voice droned monotonously, “You have cost Crey dearly today, and I intend to take the payment out of you in blood.”

Kip glared up at the Paragon Protector. Tendril-wreathed, glowing eyes met a cold, emotionless mask. Kip chuckled.

“Does this look like the face of someone who cares?”

The Protector was one of the Super Strength types, and Kip was punched across the courtyard. He lay still, and the Protector turned to continue his hunt for the informant.

“Crey is great…” he muttered happily to himself.

Several blocks away, the other members of the group were busy fending off random assaults from Crey guards and agents. It was difficult, what with Anton unable to properly run and Kip out of commission, the group was barely able to keep pressing on.

“What were you doing back there, Nester?” Cory hissed as he pelted another group with bolts of flame.

“I…” Nester faltered, “I couldn’t just let that [censored] kill him…”

“Nobody truly dies in this city,” Cory replied, “Well, not normally, anyway… I’ve seen some Rikti die… But Kip’s a hero, logged into the medical matrix. He’d be zipped over to the hospital lickety-split and probably meet us halfway…”

Only they didn’t make it halfway. The Protector descended from the sky and glowered at them. Sarah gulped involuntarily and considered sending a broadcast for help. She knew it wouldn’t get there in time.

“We already know what Anton intends to tell the authorities,” the Protector almost chortled, “So the interrogation phase is over. I think I’ll just kill him and blame the death on some of those trolls over there. He shouldn’t have run off when he did…”

Nester and Cory stood in front of Sarah and Anton, between them and the Protector.

“We’re not letting you get through,” Nester said as he started to hear some of his favorite punk rock tracks echoing in his ears, “We’ll die defending this man and die again, and I swear by everything holy I’ll make that take as long as possible. I can do that, I have the technology…”

Cory’s fist started blazing fire and a sword of ice appeared in his left hand, “You shall not pass, villain, and I can guarantee, this city will know of your corruption!”

The Protector started laughing as it dove forward and smashed through Nester’s defense matrix. He barely felt it, but he knew the damage was there. He activated his healing wave generator and looked to see Cory’s condition. The blaster was doing rather well at holding his own against the Protector, but everyone knew a blaster, alone, against a Paragon protector was a losing battle.

Cory was thrown across the street and bounced against a light pole. Nester, firing radiation into the Protector’s body as he flew to his friend, was next to fall. Cory stood uneasily, his head a little dizzy from the assault, but Nester’s nanite healing devices were working fast to clear the damage. Too bad Nester didn’t have the same thing going for himself, as he lay moaning on the asphalt.

A yelp of alarm from Snuffy Grey brought the dark-skinned wizard’s attention back to the battle and he realized he was too late. Sarah was held up by her throat and, with tears in her eyes, she clutched at the protector’s wrist and struggled vainly to get free.

“No…” Nester groaned as he struggled to stand, “No, you son of a [censored]! I’ll kill you! I’ll… urk…”

“That’s right,” the Protector gloated as Nester’s stomach emptied itself, “That’s what you’ll do. Puke on my street. Why? Because it’s all you can do. I told you how this would end, and I’m making it happen. Ah-ah-ah, wizard, I’ll break her little neck…”

“Not before I break your wrist.”

The Protector turned to Kip’s voice and realized too late the scrapper was already moving. Kip’s arms wrapped about the one holding Sarah in the air and there was an audible pop as the elbow joint was hyper-extended. A scream issued forth from the Protector’s helmet, but Kip paid no heed. Sarah also took the opportunity to blare “Ride of the Valkyries” through the Protector’s mind, further adding insult to injury as Kipland Durj mopped the streets with the Protector’s body. Though the thuggish company hero was able to “re-set” his arm, it didn’t help him much as the rest of the team recovered and worked together to soundly stomp him into the pavement.

Several hours later, they arrived at the Skyway precinct. They were tired, bruised, aching, and in desperate need of bathing, food and rest. Detective Westbrush took their statements and provided them a security contingent of nearly twenty officers. One asked if they needed anything and Sarah piped up.

“Some ice cream would be nice.”

-End
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This was a labor of love. Eight Word pages of love. Granted, it's broken between paragraphs, but still...
That's longer than a forum post should be. I feel this second task was far too specific. It harkened me back to my days of playing Shadowrun ("Surely, the teddy bear can't be rigged with C-4...") Still, it was a fun challenge. I don't know if I used all of your objectives, but I feel I got the main ones.
Edit: Just had a thought about this...
Just because we, the authors, know what surrounds our characters, it's no guarantee our characters know what's going on.

“Well, it looks like an abandoned oil rig, smells like an abandoned oil rig and sounds like an abandoned oil rig… So it MUST be a clandestine terrorist cell…”

Cedric was glum because the two Durj “twins” had him rowing the rickety little fishing boat out across the ocean. It had a motor, but they had to cut it when they got within typical sonar range. The two boys pointed out how he needed the exercise anyway, since he was a mid-range tanker…

“You guys are rowing back,” the eldest Grey son (no frickin pun intended) was still rubbing his shoulders from the ordeal, “Or I’m hurling you both over the edge, kicking on the motor, and hightailing it outta here!”

“You’d have to,” Cobalt Black chuckled, “If it is an Arachnos base, they’ve likely got missile launchers and they’ll blast you right out of the water.”

“Not before they shoot you…”

“They’d use torpedoes on us,” Kipland peered through the binoculars they had acquired from the DATA office in Galaxy City, “Freeing up the missiles for you…”

“Dang,” Cedric pulled up a fishing pole and cast out his line.

Cobalt joined him, and their little craft looked to be nothing more than a tiny sport fishing vessel.

“We’re gonna get caught,” Cobalt chided, “Nobody fishes this far out… Not in a boat like this.”

“So we got off course,” Kip replied, “In a moment, our GPS will tell us where we are and we leave. We gotta hope we see something… Oh-oh! Ope! There we go!”

He handed the binoculars to Cedric, who peered through to see a pair of Arachnos troops walking around in the old derrick’s under-scaffolding. They seemed to just be conversing…

“Cigarettes don’t just cause cancer,” Kip took an oar and tapped Cobalt’s shoulder, “They also reveal hidden bases when you’re dumb enough to go outside for your nasty little habit.”

“I thought you didn’t care about smoking,” Cedric packed away the binoculars and reeled back in his line.

“I don’t,” Kip chuckled, “I just thought it was funny. Cobalt, what the Hell, man? We know they’re here, let’s get a move on!”

“I think I got something…” Cobalt replied.

They peered over the edge and took a collective gasp.

“Oh!” Cedric finally yelped, “Um, hi, Lusca… Kip, tell Praetorian Kip to let go of Praetorian Kip’s fishing pole! Let the giant octopus have the pole, Praetorian Kip!”

“Here you go!” Cobalt Black yelped as he tossed the fishing rod into the water and snatched up his oar, “Grey! Kick that motor into high gear and get us the Hell out of here!”

“I’m trying! I’m trying!” Cedric pulled and yanked on the motor’s cord, and finally started swatting and kicking it.

The engine finally sputtered to life, and the trio gave a cheer of success. Unfortunately, they failed to notice the four tentacles rising up around them, signaling they were far too late.

“AAAAAAAAAUGH!” they screamed as they were pulled under and swallowed by the mammoth monster.

A half hour later, Independence Port was surprised to have the Lusca visiting yet again. Every couple of days, the giant octopus would show up and raise havoc for any shipping being conducted that day, so any heroes passing through were strongly encouraged to keep an eye out for the troublesome beast. This day was no different, as a small army of mid-20 Security Level heroes led by a Security Level 50 Tanker raided and ravaged the beast. By this time, the art of wearing the creature down had become like clockwork, and the heroes were well-prepared for most of its attacks. When they wore down all of its arms and started working over the head, however, a new trick was introduced that day…

“Why’s its mouth pointed at us?” a healing defender shouted over the commotion.

Suddenly, the giant monster’s lunch was regurgitated at the assaulting army and the three heroes were launched, screaming, into the air. They barely passed by a couple heroes and caused no damage, but landing on the nearby sandbar just outside the roadway entrance leading to Brickstown was exceptionally unpleasant. The thick black ink and saltwater-diluted gastric juices coating them stuck the sand to their bodies, and the loud “thump” they made as they hit the dirt didn’t tickle.

“Oh man, that sucked!” Cedric gasped as he finally regained his breath, “Are they laughing at us?”

They heard not just the cacophony of heroes getting hoarse about their plight, but their communicators were chirping to the broadcast messages describing the event and the general reaction from anyone who didn’t see it.

“Yeah,” Kip groaned, “They’re laughing at us.”

“Aw, geez…” Cedric picked himself up and glared at the other heroes, “Oh yeah, laugh it up! Let’s all just chuckle and joke about the idiot heroes who…” he suddenly turned to Kip and Cobalt, “Wait… Where’s the boat?”

He was answered suddenly as the medium sized aluminum and steel vessel landed bottom-up on his head, slamming him into the ground again. Again, a cacophony of hero laughter followed.

“Okay,” Cedric’s groaning echoed metallically from within the boat, “Yeah, that was funny… Oog…”

The trio picked themselves up and watched as the Lusca was again sunk beneath the waters of Independence Port. It would be back, and it would be broken again, just to replenish its strength and return its vicious cycle.

“I kind of wish we got some payback on that,” Cobalt Black muttered as they carried the boat back to the shipping yard they got it from.

“Well, take pleasure in the fact we may have given it severe indigestion,” Cedric grimaced.

“Does that work for you?” Kip asked as he pushed a Family Button Man out of the way, “Hey! Go find a real job, nimrod.”

“Screw you’s,” the Button Man snapped back, “I ain’t done nothing.”

“Scram!” Cobalt barked, causing the tough guy attitude to drop in shock.

“I-whuh… Huh? But you were just… What the?”

The trio of heroes shook their heads and walked on to the warehouse.

“Good lord!” the foreman shouted at them, “What the Hell happened to you guys?”

“Hero-life” Cedric replied, “The good news is, I think Lusca’s digestive juices cleaned this baby off better than anything you’ve got.”

“The bad news is it promptly coated the whole thing in ink as it spat us back out,” Kip handed over the receipt, “Thanks for renting to us, by the way.”

The foreman glared at them for a few moments, then, grumbling and shaking his head, got the paperwork for them to sign. Freedom Corps would cover the costs of refurbishing the craft, but the boys were certain the cost would find its way back to Grey’s Army somehow.

Kip pulled out his communicator and dialed in Randall Grey.

“Okay, Boss. Good news. Looks like we’ve found em. I’m transmitting the coordinates…”
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“So, here’s what we know about the base…” Cedric pulled up the map of the ocean around the abandoned derrick and a wire-frame image of the derrick itself. They had to pull some strings with Freedom Corps, but they were able to raid the archives for the map of the derrick and obtain the satellite images from the weather station.

“It’s one of the typical offshore drilling rigs typically known as an oil derrick. Hexxon Oil used it as a test-base in the mid-80s and found nothing useful below it, or at least, not enough to be worth the effort an offshore drilling station usually requires. Apparently, they didn’t feel like demolishing it, however, and there it remains to this day…”

Cedric zoomed in on the rig and the wire frame map image cycled through various images to demonstrate the surface, interior and original mapping of the structure.

“This was the original map… Pretty much only the outside will remain the same as before…”

“But we’re not sure about that,” Kip interrupted, “Arachnos techs could’ve converted and retrofitted much of the derrick’s surface with pop-up turrets and the like…”

“The interior,” Cedric pressed, “Will likely be vastly different. Anybody who’s seen the interior of an Arachnos base in Bloody Bay or Siren’s Call will know what to expect…”

“Probably not that harsh,” Randall grumbled, “They probably haven’t had much opportunity to truly retrofit the facility… Especially since hardly anybody knew about the Kheldians until the past few years…”

“This is true,” Cedric hit a few buttons and maneuvered the wire-frame map to another location, this one colored red as opposed to the normal white, “There’s something I want to direct your attention to…”

The group stared for a few moments. Without the benefit of details, the best most of them knew was that the blue space was just different, but it was difficult to determine how. Sheldon Wallace finally came up with the answer.

“It’s a boat,” he intoned, “An escape craft.”

“Bingo,” Cedric rotated and spun the image so they could view it from the side, “It’s built to look like the rest of the derrick, but it’s the only part that doesn’t match the original construction blueprints superficially. If it didn’t look like some weird extension piece, we would’ve spotted it before… the unpleasantness…”

“What’s it like inside Lusca’s belly, anyway?” Matt chortled at his friend.

“Dark and smells of fish… dead fish…” Cedric grimaced, “I was lucky that stuff washed off quickly, but I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to use that outfit again. Shel, you might have to build me a new suit of armor…”

“You wash what you’ve got,” Sheldon replied, “and don’t you dare tell me to waste precious resources because you can’t handle a little giant octopus fight.”

“Hey, hey!” Randy shouted over them, “We’re getting off track here… We know the situation. Let’s work out a plan of attack…”

“Okay…” Cobalt took the communicator from Cedric and plugged in some commands, prompting the map to maneuver around again, this time stopping at a small beach just outside the Salamanca boundary wall, “Here’s where we start…”

Matt was standing by at the cliff’s edge when Kip landed next to him.

“What’s happenin, Brother?” McGinty swigged from his water bottled between sentences, “Been wonderin when you’d show up.”

“Babbage decided to thrash through Skyway City again,” Durj replied, “I helped out the mess of heroes that took it down… again…”

“Ah, those crazy Clockwork…” Mad Matt chuckled to himself and tossed his empty bottle into a receptacle, “Hokay… So! You’ll be wantin a report…”

“Uh huh.”

“Where’s everybody else?” Matt suddenly noticed it was just the two of them.

“Checkin with Freedom Corps to see if we all have the necessary clearance to pull off an op like this,” Kip started tapping his foot, “Come on, Mattock. Out with it.”

“Alright, man,” Matt knelt down and started drawing out a crude map of the region in the sand with his pinky finger, “You got a computer map, I know, but it doesn’t exactly describe the flavor of the Faultline, man… For instance, did you know there are tunnels through here?”

“No…” Kip’s eyes snapped back and forth as he searched his mind for information, “Well, I think Ced or my brother may have reported it, but I was probably busy dealing with Cobalt at the time…”

“Well, in any case, there’re tunnels here!” Matt made a small X over where the Arachnos tunnels and excavation sites were laid (on his map), “Mind you, this is from rumor… I… kind of lack the sec clearance to be snooping around over there… That and my lack of ‘travel powers…’”

“I still don’t get why you’re doing that,” Kip shook his head at the older man, “It just sounds so unwise…”

“Well, it hasn’t been so unwise when I kicked the living bejebus out of most of the goons that came my way because they thought I didn’t pack as much punch as I do!”

“Okay, okay… Jebus… Calm down, Matt. Just give me the rundown.”

“Well, you told me to tell you where to find Arachnos, and that’s it,” Matt tapped the ‘X.’

“Anywhere else?”

“Beyond the dam,” Matt shrugged, “Rumor has it that a whole base is on the other side. Sky Raiders have set up camp over there, too.”

“Good,” Kip looked out over the vast expanse of flooded landscape, “Good lord, this place is dirty…”

“Yeah…” Matt shook his head, “Floods aren’t clean… I almost feel bad for anybody or anything that was stuck down there when it happened.”

“I heard Ryat99 was down there,” Kip smirked, “It would explain why that big lug smelled like dead fish for a week.”

Cobalt Black strolled up behind them after that. A few passing heroes were still giving him askance looks, but Cobalt Black was now registered as a hero (probationary, but a hero nonetheless) on their scanning or scrying devices, so they didn’t attack him. He adjusted his sunglasses when he finally stood before his compatriots and gave a slight chuckle.

“I’m gonna miss this place.”

“Don’t expect it to miss you,” Kipland replied, “It’s nothing personal, just a statement of fact. Too many super-powered beings in one place for anybody to keep track of all of us… at least effectively…”

“Even still…” Cobalt chuckled again, “I’ll miss this place…”

“Miss it later,” Kip shrugged, “We got work to do. Matt, you may as well run a few missions. We’ll contact you when we’re all set up…”

“Gotcha.”

The Grey’s Army swordsman saluted them with his blade and walked off. A couple Lost stood in his way, but not for long. A few quick “sniks,” and they were being beamed to the Zig. Matt continued strolling leisurely to his next mission.

“That guy’s got spunk…” Cobalt grinned behind his mask, “That his ‘field plan?’”

“Yeah.”

“It’s good work,” Cobalt swiped the sand with his boot and gazed into the distance, “That where we’re going?”

“Yeah,” Kip’s voice buzzed into his ear, “Hurry, up, man. I’m not waiting for you.”

Cobalt and Kip bounded over the brown water for the dam. Not feeling like dealing with the grunts in the tunnels, they headed for the Freedom Corps station on the opposite cliff. Cobalt Black tsked and shook his head at the situation.

“I don’t understand why FC doesn’t just go in force and wipe out those spider goons…”

“Didn’t you say S.P.I.D.E.R. was a benevolent force in your world?”

“Yeah, but then, I’m a Maltan Freedom Fighter, not a Malta Group Agent, remember. Our two groups work together sometimes, SPIDER and the Resistance, but largely not. None of the resistance groups are in alliance in my world… Different circumstances than here. We don’t know who to trust…”

“I guess that makes sense…” Kip shrugged as he landed in front of the Freedom Corps outpost, “In answer to your question, we are the force. Freedom Corps has lots of low-level and unpowered members. What few heavies they do have are assigned to far more dangerous regions… like the Rogue Isles…”

“I see…” Cobalt Black waved to the red-clad FC agent who just glanced askance at them as they passed, “So Freedom Corps is intending for you guys to shoulder the responsibility?”

“Yeah,” Kip sighed as he looked out into the Arachnos towers that dominated the other side of the dam, “Well, time to get to work.”

They headed for the nearest batch of Arachnos agents. They didn’t have to look hard, the towers provided a veritably endless supply of troops to interrogate, but Kip wanted something more out of the way. They headed southeast to the Sky Raider camp and staked out a position on a rooftop, waiting for a patrol.

They passed the time discussing various differences between their worlds…

“So, what about Randall?”

“Grey Randall is we call him back home,” Cobalt replied, “He’s lost his mind and roars incoherently when he fights. It’s believed Marauder keeps him in a big iron box until he wants to drop him on suspected resistance groups…” the gunslinger got really quiet at this, “That’s… that’s how I lost my lady-love…”

“I’m sorry…” Kip intoned, “I know how you feel…”

“I know.”

“What about Matt?”

“Never seen him.”

“…” Kip looked to the horizon for a second, “Nester…”

“One of Antimatter’s students. Along with Dross, or Sheldon if that works for you.”

“What does Praetorian Nester call himself?”

“Jrud Retsen,” Cobalt Black lowered his mask to spit on the ground, “Frickin moron… Before becoming a damn android, he was actually an imaginative sort. Antimatter and Neuron corrupted them… when the two had a schism between them, Dross and Jrud sided with Anti. Dross is still pretty much the same as your Sheldon, but Jrud is a hideous machine, spitting radiation everywhere he violates. I think Antimatter’s using him as a vent… but I can’t prove anything.”

“You don’t seem too shaken up about it,” Kip almost hissed.

“My brother is dead,” Cobalt sighed, “I lost him when he became the twisted freak that perverts his name… I envy you for that, Kip. Your brother’s still here. Your dad, too.”

“Practically,” Kip hesitated a moment, “They’re your family, too, man. It’s… It’s like we’re twins…”

“Don’t be naïve,” Cobalt laid back on the roof, “But… Thanks.”

“Stubborn… Wait…”

Kipland spied a group of Arachnos troops on patrol. They and the Sky Raiders had been contesting the territory since the flooding… Maybe even before that. Kip knew they’d send a group to inspect the Sky Raider camp for weaknesses and had chosen this site as one of the likely insertion points. When the troops strolled within range, he pounced.

The Night Widow leading them went down first. Kipland dove on her with a vicious knee to the head, crushing her helmet and knocking her out cold. The next troopers never got a chance to see what was happening as Kip dove from her shoulders and crashed into the midst of them. A legsweep later and they were writhing on the ground, clutching their damaged knees. Cobalt then jumped down and started stomping through body armor, knocking the offending troopers out cold with the damage done to their solar plexuses. Kip stopped him on the last one, however.

“You!” he hissed as he yanked off the Arachnos trooper’s armor, “You’re going to tell me what I want to know! And don’t give me that crap about ‘just being a footsoldier…’ I know you goners hear rumors, and I want you spillin all of it!”

“What the… You’re crazy! I’ll never talk!”

“He’s not gonna talk, Kip,” Cobalt snickered, “Arachnos’ll send someone to get him… We’re probably better off getting this info from a base raid or something…”

“No, Cobie… I’m telling you this’ll work…” Kip grinned mischievously at his prisoner, “You see, I happen to know a few methods of torture that leave no lasting damage, physically or psychologically! But you'll tell me what I want to know! Oh, yes you will!”

“Torture?” the other two were incredulous.

“Yes,” Kipland slapped his hands onto the trooper’s chest, gripped hard, then twisted his hands around, “Nipple twister!”

“AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAGH!”

The trooper lay there screaming as Kip drilled him for information…

“Tell me what I want to know! Why you holdin out on me, man!? I want to know where that gooner is! Start talking!”

“Oh-My-God!” along with incoherent screams and tears was all he got in reply.

“Dude!” Cobalt interrupted him, “You haven’t asked anything about Taylor…”

Kipland released the trooper from the debilitating grip for a few seconds and regarded the situation.

“You know, I think you’re right…”

“Uh-unh… ow-oooh…” the trooper continued in this manner for a few seconds before Kip got sick of it and twisted hard again, prompting more screaming.

“Well!? You know what I’m looking for now, don’t ya!?”

“Hey, hey, HEY!” a voice called behind them.

Cobalt stomped on a pistol lying on the ground and snatched it out of the air when it popped up. He then turned it on the intruder and found a Sky Raider captain staring down the barrel of his gun.

“By the bullet in the barrel of the gun…” he intoned at the bandit, “'Bout time I had me some fun…”

“Woah! Hey… I’m not here to fight…”

Kip turned to him, twisting his hands again as he did so, “Well, I guess this just isn’t your [censored] night, is it?”

“Hey! Calm down! You got that guy screaming, you’re about to bring the whole camp down on you. We just ran a few role-calls, so we know we’re not missing anybody as of this afternoon… I was sent to see what’s going on…”

“We’re getting information,” Cobalt replied, “Go tell your friends they’ve got nothing to fear from us… yet…”

“Well, you’re not gonna get anything out of him like that!” the officer chastised them, “Good lord, you act like you’ve never tortured someone before…”

“I’m applying the high-school method,” Kip grinned, “As much pain as promptly as possible to get what you need.”

“Huh…” The officer chuckled, “High school method… I’ll have to remember that for my blog… What d’you want to know?”

“Hm…” Cobalt pulled the pistol away, “Intriguing. How would you know anything about Arachnos?”

“Sometimes information’s more valuable than commodities,” the lieutenant sat down on a nearby rock, “And since you’re looking to cause Arachnos some trouble, I’ll offer you a reasonably cheap price.”

“Oh God, please take his deal…” the trooper whined, “I never signed up for anything like this… Who tortures like this!?”

Kip swatted him in the face and tagged his forehead. He didn’t know if a police drone would show up in this region of the Faultline, but he was on to bigger and better things at this point.

“We’re looking for information on Arbiter Taylor…” Cobalt Black inquired the officer, “You wouldn’t happen to know anything, would you?”

“Hm…” the officer tapped his helmet and sat there for a second, “Give me a moment, I’m running a search… Arbiter Taylor… We don’t seem to have much on… Oh… Wait! Cool, we got something. And I think it might be useful… Does an old oil derrick sound good to you?”

“Where?” Kip demanded.

“Price first,” the officer replied, “Then I’ll give you the coordinates.”

“What’re you asking for?” Cobalt tapped his foot impatiently.

“Just those weapons,” the officer replied, “Like I said, reasonably cheap, because I want to hurt Arachnos as bad as you heroes do.”

“Interesting,” Cobalt popped the clip out of the pistol he wielded, then tossed it to the Sky Raider, “Here you go, they’re yours. Now, give me the coordinates.”

The bandit tapped a few buttons on his wrist-pad and their communicators started beeping. When they looked down, they saw they ahd the coordinates to what should have been an abandoned oil derrick between the Rogue Isles and Paragon City. It was closer to Paragon, however…

“Looks like we’ve got our destination…” Cobalt grinned to Kip (not that anybody could see him grin, “What do we do with this guy?”

“Honor the deal,” Kip shrugged, “We’re too high-level for wailing on him to mean anything for us. Besides, let the fresher heroes play!”

“What fresher heroes?” the captain asked as he turned to where Kip pointed.

He was promptly rewarded with two fists to his face and a gout of fire blasting him between the cross-dimensional twins. The heroes assaulting him glared at the Kips…

“You made a deal with him?” the blaster screeched.

“That ain’t cool, man!” the tanker growled.

“What kinds of heroes are you?” the scrapper rasped.

“The kind you shouldn’t be yelling at,” Cobalt barked back, “We distracted him long enough for you to get that perfect setup. And in the process, we got information out of him. Now get out there and put the hurt on more of these idiots. Lord knows they deserve it…”

The heroes snapped to and bounded away. Kip started laughing.

“Jebus, man. You sure put the fear into those noobs…”

“Don’t call them that,” Cobalt replied, “I hate that term…”

“Okay, okay…” Kip chuckled, “Alright… Let’s rent a boat from one of the yards down at Independence Port and scope this place out. And, hey! Captain, if this isn’t legit, we’re coming back here.”

“Oog…” was the bandit’s only reply.

This has been an entertaining read. I commend you, S-6, on your skillful restructuring of the tale to fit with the COH/V story-scape.

So, I’ve been told by my friends and family and random heroes who’ve heard some of the tale that I should put in writing what happened to me.

My name is Kipland Durj.

Some of you out there have met me.

If I rubbed ya the wrong way when we met, I apologize. I’ve been told I have abrasive character, and I’m a tad too loud for my own good. I’m also a tad quick to curse, but I’ve gotten better in the past months.

Dying does an interesting job at correcting your attitude.

Let me clarify…

Earlier this year, the docs at a number of Paragon’s various hospitals noted that I was falling in battle faster than most heroes in my position. I found myself at the mercy of the Tsoo, the Sky Raiders, even the Council of all people...

After aiding a group of heroes in defending the Terra Volta Reactor from a Sky Raider attack, I learned the awful truth from the doctors at Bell Medical Center. I had a new malicious condition.

It seems, early in my career, I had engaged in combat with a Void Seeker soldier of some sort. At the time, I didn’t know what a kheldian was, but he yelled at me, said I had the stink of one on me, and started shooting at me with that weird gun of his. Aggravated, I kicked through said gun and the resulting explosion had me zipping to the hospital. No word yet on whether or not the Seeker… Stalker… I don’t know, I wasn’t really paying attention to his rank… In any case, I don’t know if he survived, too.

Well, sadly, that explosion lodged something in my arm. It must’ve been smaller than my fingernail or something, because I never felt a damn thing. However, a month later, there I was, making an almost daily trip to the nearest hospital.

That thing in my arm? It was a piece of crystal. Specifically, a piece of a Shadow Cyst Crystal.

Let me say that again…

I had a fricking Shadow Cyst Crystal in my fricking arm!

Has anybody ever seen one of these? It’s a big black piece of glowing mineral that is rather fond of summoning up large masses of sentient smoke that shoot good guys into the ground with not so sentient smoke. Now, now, don’t quote me on that. It’s just how it looks to me. And it works… I’ve seen (and been a part of) enough team wipes at the hands (is "hands" right?) of these things to know. Typically, they only show up when a Peacebringer or a Warshade bring a lot of heroes in force, and then rarely. I still haven’t seen the perfect mix of heroes to take one down without casualties… Maybe such a mix doesn’t exist…

In any case, one of the damn things had taken root in me and was growing out of my right arm, leaching nutrients from my bones. The doctors called the condition Obsidian Blight and believed the only real treatment would have to be amputation…

They cut off my arm in May and kept it for study. I was compensated by Freedom Corps with what they called a "combat prosthetic." It was a mechanical working replica of my original arm, made of steel and impact resistant polymers. Of course, I use martial arts, a derivative blend of Muy Thai kickboxing and Tae Kwon Do… So I typically stick with kicks. The arm proved helpful in catching unwanted bullets, though, so I kept it on despite the weight irregularity.

Things went okay for the next couple weeks after that. Teams, solo, I could handle myself again. Then, shortly after hitting security level 30 toward the end of June, I started getting sharp pain in my legs. Nausea, too…No, not in the legs (I don't think anybody has ever puked out of their leg...). It was in my gut, like any normal man…

Of course, I can’t get pregnant (I think…), so it was off to the hospital for me. Not right away, of course. Anyone who knows me knows I waited until some bad guys put me in one. Crey happened to be the happy little gun buddies that did me in that time, and again I was off to find out I had Shadow Cyst Crystal deposits embedded in both legs and leaching nutrients from my spleen and one of my lungs. There was even some behind my right eye.

The amputations later that week were extremely unpleasant.

I spent the following month as a rampaging cyborg, like one of the Freakshow goons. I had all my lost parts replaced with cybernetic gear and I fought like a man possessed. In fact, I even found myself fighting the Freaks in the Terra Volta Reactor. The docs tell me that was a very unwise thing to do, because there was no telling what effect the radiation had on my "powers," or even my condition.

They also kept me updated on the condition of my removed body parts. I figured my arm would be long-since rotted away, but when they showed me the result, I swear I almost puked.

It wasn’t just still there. It was still alive. It was still… growing…

It had become a twisted version of itself, dark crystal protruding from it at odd angles, the flesh pulling tightly as it stretched to accommodate it’s new “bone structure.” Even the parts that had been recently removed had signs of the crystal growth progressing steadily. I guess what ticked me off the most was the fact that my pieces were so willing to accept and cultivate these intruders…

What was worse, they found tiny (itty-bitty) crystals… in my bloodstream. It was how it got into my legs and organs. It was how it was eating away at my brain. It was how I was going to die in two weeks.

Security Level 38… I had made it to Security Level 38, and life was bad. I had made a solemn vow I’d make it to Security Level 40 before I died. I wanted to be sure I had made my mark on this city, that I had put down as much scum and filth that it would make a difference…

Instead, I found myself in a hospital bed, breathing, eating and drinking (and the corresponding biological functions) through tubes. My friends and family came to visit me… My dad especially. He came all the way here from Kingdale… which I guess isn’t that far, roughly a six or seven hour drive.

All hope was lost, so I closed my eyes on Friday, August 18th, and slept that final, dreamless sleep.

Only it wasn’t dreamless.

No sooner had I closed my eyes than I found myself in a blasted wasteland. It was like walking on a massive asteroid… In fact, the sky all around reminded me of Randall Grey’s stories about the Shadow Shard or the incandescent clouds surrounding Pocket D.

Before I could really take in the hallmarks of this alien landscape, however, I was interrupted by the sound of a guttural growl. I turned casually to see a grotesque monstrosity had been waiting for me to arrive. Anybody who knows of the Slag Golems in the Rogue Isles or the Brutes in the Shard might have an idea what this thing looked like… But they’d still be wrong.

This grotesquerie was an abomination of anything and everything known and unknown to mankind. It was a failed experiment, but no less dangerous. Its massive, contorted body, with its club-like arms and stubby, splay-toed feet, made even the Hydra Men seem positively cuddly.

Imagine a Shadow Cyst Crystal with arms and legs made of human flesh. This is what I faced (uh… no pun intended). Black-purple obsidian shards protruded from assorted points on its body. Sometimes it was clusters, in other places, maybe one or two. The smaller crystals were all chaotic, like a Rock Tanker with Crystal Armor on… However, the larger, main crystals were located on specific points.

One black gem rested center at the top of its neck. Another two protruded from the shoulders, the one on the left larger than the one on the right. One extended from its right forearm and ended in a wicked point; in fact, it looked almost like a sword. The last one, glowing like a Shadow Crystal normally would, protruded from the right side of its chest.

Worst of all… Worst of all was what I knew in the pit of my stomach.

This thing was me.

It had my face.

Not where my face should’ve been, mind you. Instead, it was stretched out, and pulled down the left side of its neck and across the shoulder. One of my ears rested over where most humanoid creatures have their heart. I guess a patch of my hair rested somewhere on its back…

It was what I would have become, what I was about to become, if the Obsidian Blight was allowed to claim my life. It was a vicious monster, unlike anything the heroes of Paragon had ever seen before. And it was prepared to destroy everything and everyone I ever cared about…

Nester…

Dad…

Sarah…

A—

No!

I didn’t know how I was going to fight it… I just knew what it was and what it was capable of… It could fire bolts of dark energy from that massive sword crystal… I knew it could use the crystal as a weapon, I knew it relied on it’s brutish size and resilience to survive fights that normally would’ve shattered it early in the fight…

I knew all this because it was me, and it knew I was whole in this world, too.

I finally got a good look at myself and saw I was in my original uniform, an old practice football jersey and shoulder pads along with a pair of wide-legged black jeans. My feet were protected by my classic red sneakers… Man, I miss those things…

The point is, I was whole again. I was strong again. I glared at the “Thing that Would be Me,” and felt a cold chill creeping through my body. I don’t know if any of you have ever gotten this feeling but it’s the same one you get when getting ready for a big game, or stare down a half pipe for the very first time. It’s the feeling you get when the perfect song for the moment or a just plain awesome tune kicks on the radio and you feel lightning in your spine. It's the same feeling you get from your very first kiss...

It’s the Quickening…

With a vicious roar of rage, hate (yes, heroes can hate), and raw determination, I leapt at the monster and I crushed that damn crystal on its chest with the hardest side kick I’ve ever delivered. It exploded in a shower of purple smoke and black dust that scattered on an imperceptible wind. The beast still stood, however, and I had more of a fight in store for me.

After backing up a few steps, it raised that hideous right arm and fired a stream of dark energy at me. Having never really learned how to dodge, I’m sad to say the blast caught me full in the chest and sent me sprawling toward the edge of the asteroid we fought upon. I caught myself a few feet from it and leapt up, ready for more. Though the energy beam must have taken half my resilience, I barely registered the damage. I had too much at stake to worry about my condition. Live or die, this monster was going down.

I beat my chest and roared. I was about to get gory satisfaction. It fired again and I didn’t fall back. I took the blast full in the chest and charged forward. The energy stream slowed me slightly, but did nothing to truly stop me. By the time the stream stopped, I was at the point of the sword and it was cracking under the impact of a snap kick and a follow-up back-heel kick. Those two didn’t quite do the job, so I wrapped my arms around its forearm, leapt up, twisted my body around the limb (twisting its arm with me and snapping my right foot into the gem on top of its head for good measure) and used the momentum of my moving body to drive the point of the crystal spike into the ground.

Then I drove my foot through the blade like it was a piece of kindling wood, snapping, splintering and shattering it.

The beast flailed wildly at me with its good arm, a sickening three-clawed thing (each claw tipped with, you guessed it, sharp black crystal) and gashed across my chest. My armor flew away and I was left with just my bare chest, pants, and sneakers to protect myself.

It tried to shoulder slam me with its right shoulder (the attempt seemingly to skewer me on the crystal there). This ended badly for the beast as I grabbed a hold of the weapon and kicked into its knee with both feet, rolling back as I did so. The crystal slammed against the ground at a bad angle and tore out of its place. I rolled out from under the monster as the rest of the body followed and made my way for the lost appendage.

I wrapped my arms about it and lifted the black-purple block into the air. As the monster lifted itself from the ground and started charging toward me, I hurled the former piece of its body as hard as I could.

I lack super strength, though, so it fell far short. It landed about a foot from me and rolled another three feet.

The good news was that the beast stepped on it, slipped when it started to roll, and crushed the offending gem under its weight. The other shoulder gem shattered on impact with the ground and all that was left was the one where its head should have been.

The monster tried to stand and I gave the same sharp splintering kick to its left wrist, breaking it and shattering the bones inside with a sickening crunch. I could've sworn I saw "my face" on it's shoulder moan silently with pain... When it turned the head gem to stare at me (It was glowing, so I think it was a last ditch attack), I was already in the air, twisting about and bringing my foot crashing down on it.

I have to say, when that last crystal shattered, it was the most satisfying victory in my life.

The dream ended instantly. I awoke to a bright, blinding pain as the contacts for my prosthetics were torn from my body and I felt something slam into me (it felt like getting hit by a grenade, really). Witnesses say they saw a bright explosion that tore a huge hole into the wall next to me and sent me flying, screaming into the night.

When I came to, I was whole. My lost limbs, my lost organs (I just knew intuitively, but a doctor's test proved it later)... My eye. Everything had been returned to me. The docs tell me the jars holding my lost parts shattered when I blew a hole into the Chiron Medical Center's wall.

And, I had a snazzy new suit of armor. If any of you out there watched Saturday morning TV shows about teen-age superheroes fighting evil aliens in flimsy jumpsuits that never seemed to get cut (despite the dynamite they were getting hit with), consider this armor to be the "paragon" of that idea. This stuff is real body armor, harder than anything I've seen (you know, like inobtanium...) and flexible in ways it shouldn't be. It fits like a glove, too, and despite the mask, I can breathe easy and my peripheral vision isn't hosed.

It’s been pretty useful so far… Where I used to have to rely on normal, bulky body armor or even the cybernetic prosthetics to keep from getting killed, now the armor protects me. Even when I’m in my “civvies,” tiny explosions of purple smoke decimate whatever projectiles the bad guys shoot at me.

My name is Kipland Durj. I am the first and so far only victim of the Obsidian Blight. Be careful out there, heroes. There's more freaky stuff than this out there, and I have a bad feeling its only going to get worse.

I roleplay my characters in an odd way. I almost think like them. I'm posting a story about one of them after I get done writing this post. In any case... I more or less have my characters' storylines in mind already, but traumatic moments do cause me to have "heart-jerk" moments if you will. For instance, my character Kipland Durj was having so many problems in his mid-20s (and I had a REALLY hard time getting him through those levels) I was seriously considering deleting and starting over.

At that time I hadn't heard of respeccing (I've been playing for under a year, I learn new things every day), so I was planning on making it a huge story in the back of my head. Now that I'm chronicling my heroes' stories under Grey's Army, the rest of you can know that story, so it's a moot point.

But the thing is, this character is very rela to me. He's an aspect of me made into a whole person. When I play as him, I AM him. I talk like him, act like him (which is typically PO'd and loud, sometimes a bit much of a smartmouth)... When I'm my main tanker, I'm someone else entirely (gruff and thuggish, but with a heart, like Marv on Sin City)... And when I'm my main blaster, I'm exceptionally polite and proper.

You're right, it is an odd phenomenon, but we're being creative with something that is essentially a part of us. We work hard on these characters, and when bad things happen to them, its like bad things happening to us. It's perfectly understandable. Heck, when I conceived Kip's Obsidian Blight story arc, I would lay awake at nights, wide-eyed with worry.

I was seriously pondering having to "kill" an important character in my head, and such a thing can be very disconcerting.

Most people passing by the warehouse in Industry Pier wouldn’t have glanced twice at the two characters that left the building if it weren’t for the smoke that billowed out of the windows. The two young men of similar height and build immediately made their way southeast, taking a direct route that forced them to utilize a peculiar hydraulic leaping system as opposed to actually walking, running, or even driving like normal people would. One was dressed in dark pants and a dark leather jacket, while the other was all in dark blue military garb, with a mask and hat to cover his face and head. Nobody would have known the two men looked exactly the same.

Kipland Durj and Cobalt Black had been spending the past weeks hunting down Malta Group agents and Nemesis soldiers. It was a fun novelty when the Malta agents at first were surprised to be faced with one of their own, but word spread quickly through the paranoid organization of the “False Gunslinger” or “Rogue Agent.” The last battle would have been an ambush if Kip hadn’t been scoping the scene through the warehouse’s windows.

“I thought you couldn’t use firearms anymore,” Kip yelled to his partner.

“My deal was that Freedom Corps would hold my weapons until I could get home,” Cobalt Black hit the water and immediately the hydraulic jump jets used the impact to fire off another great leap, “I never said anything about not using the weapons of my enemies…”

“You really like using those ice and fire bullets, huh?”

“Oh yeah…”

They landed at the Universal Supergroup Portal located a block from the train station and keyed in their base. They found themselves shortly thereafter in the cold blue steel home of Grey’s Army. Down the hall, they could hear Sheldon Wallace typing furiously.

“Shel! Shel!” Kip called to his old high school friend.

The typing stopped and the white-garbed gadgeteer rolled backwards on an office chair into view. Though the two couldn’t see his eyes, they knew he was glaring. Kip knew his friend’s mannerisms well, and Cobalt was good at reading people.

“You get that fridge working yet?”

“It’s in the new office…” Sheldon waved behind him, “Go on in and see for yourself. Don’t bother me right now.”

“You ever get worried about him?” Cobalt asked his double.

“No. He’s been like that since he was six. More proper than his own good.”

The two made their way into the new command office and found Randall Grey laying facedown on the floor.

“Oh my God! SHEL! SHEL! Get in here quick!”

The young inventor was at their side as quick as the words were out of Kip’s mouth. His previous irritation had vanished, replaced with a mask of genuine concern, which, as he took in the situation in a split second, blurred instantly to horror.

“We gotta get him to a hospital!” an odd buzzing voice issued from his blurry mouth and the three of them struggled to lift the hefty body from the floor. As the situation looked more impossible, Randall was bigger and much heavier than all three combined, the massive beast of a man stirred.

“Leave me alone…”

He rolled to a sitting position with his back to a wall and his head fell back in exhaustion. He gazed wearily at his fellow heroes and grumbled something unintelligible then his eyes closed and he started snoring loudly. Kip stood and headed for the fridge.

“What’d he say?” Cobalt blurted.

“Damned if I know,” Kip replied, “But he looks and smells hung over. I’m getting him some water… Shel, we got any aspirin here?”

“I keep some in my desk,” the controller buzzed as he extended his hand, which suddenly had a plastic bottle in it, “Here you go.”

“Great. Let’s see, typical hangover headaches for the average human body… two tablets… Someone like Randy… Give him half the bottle.”

“That is NOT safe.”

“Yeah? You wanna tell him you’re gonna give him less painkillers in his condition? Half the bottle. We’ll feed him the last of this pizza to keep him alive.”

They woke their boss long enough to medicate him and Cobalt started checking his vital signs. Kip shook his head and headed for the meeting room. Inside the massive table that dominated it were a series of terminals. The supergroup’s second in command hit a button and a small red light started flashing next to the monitor.

“What’s that?” Sheldon asked warily, he didn’t like seeing things in the base he didn’t know about.

“It’s an alarm, it calls all the members of the Group to the base,” Kip replied, “Randy’s in a bad way and getting worse… I remember when he first came here and he called his supergroup ‘Victory or Beer.’ Yeah, we all had a laugh, but if I had an inkling his condition was really as bad as he's gotten, I’d have called this sort of thing a long time ago…”

“An intervention?” Sheldon looked back to the office, “Kip, that guy can take everybody in our crew on one leg with one arm behind his back… We’re not gonna make him quit drinking…”

“Yes,” Kip turned to his friend, his face as stony as their boss’s, “We are.”

The base entrance portal started making whooshing noises as the various members arrived in force. The Grey siblings arrived at once, the daughter giving a bewildered look to her brothers as her cat sprung from her shoulder and made its way to Sheldon’s chair. Ezekiel and Nester Durj followed, the Ryat combat androids after that. Then there was Joe Durnan, along with a red-coated young man who looked about in awe, but remained in the entrance room.

Cory Simmons was last, his face set and grim. The others had no idea he had been dealing with the ethereal disturbance in Randy’s apartment for the past week and a half. While it wasn’t considered proper for heroes to hunt heroes, the wizard felt he had to address the prior impropriety the offending heroine had made by invading randll's life in such a violent fashion. He was successful, and had met the Freedom Corps mystics involved with the intrusion at Randall’s apartment, so he knew what was about to transpire this hour before Kipland did. He had no idea what the result would be, however…

“Everybody in the meeting room,” Kip intoned, “Sheldon, Sarah, do what you can to lift Randy and carry him in there.”

The two controllers looked uneasily to each other and complied as best they could. Cedric followed and applied what strength he had available to help them. It was a slight ordeal, with much grunting and some barks of disapproval from Randy, but the large man eventually found himself seated in one of the meeting table’s seats.

Kip stood up on the table, looked about the group, and nodded.

"Where's Matt?"

"I'm on 'speaker-phone,'" a voice echoed from one end of the table, "I'm kinda' busy with a team clearing out a Troll base. Don't worry, i can keep up with this and you guys at the same time!"

“Looks like we’re all here, then. Cobalt, Sixty-six, Ninety-nine, go to the entrance room and keep an eye on the guest Officer Durnan brought us. This is an issue only we can really deal with.”

Kip’s Praetorian and the two androids nodded and headed for the entrance. When they were gone, Kip turned to his boss, who was presently being fed coffee by Sheldon and his dad.

“Randy…” Kip sat down cross-legged, “We need to talk…”

“What about?” the gruff voice whispered out of the larger man’s beard.

He was barely staying up in his seat.

“Randy, Boss, buddy... you’re in bad shape,” Zeke’s baritone voice was possibly the best the large man could stand in his current condition, and the older man knew this, “We’ve been friends a long time, old man, and I haven’t seen you like this since it was legal for you to drink.”

Randy regarded his gray-haired friend with stone silence.

But he was awake.

“Daddy…” Sarah piped up, tears were welling in her eyes and her boyfriend giving her a comforting hug was probably all that was keeping her from crying buckets, “What’s wrong? Why are you abusing yourself like this?”

Cedric and Roland looked to each other as everyone waited for the bear of a man to answer the question hanging in the air. If it weren’t for the two brothers, they’d have waited a long time.

“It’s Mom…” Cedric whispered.

“What?” Kip turned to the former Marine, “What did you say?”

“Mom disappeared after the Rikti War…” Roland answered, “Our house was destroyed. Remember? We couldn’t find hide nor hair of her…”

“Her and others,” Kip agreed, a pang of his own pain suddenly surfacing.

Everyone from their home community of Kingdale, New York, had lost close friends and family when a Rikti transport ship decimated a nearby military base and started making rounds on the civilian populace. Randy and Kip, among others, had proven themselves heroes in those harrowing weeks as they took down patrols and rescued as many people as they could. After the reconstruction of Kingdale, the two leaders of Grey’s Army, neither knowing of the other initially, moved to Paragon to help with the pacification and reconstruction.

In the ensuing months, Kip had found himself diseased and dying, and had forgotten much of the troubles that had led him here in his struggle to survive the Obsidian Blight. Randall, for a time, had found new friends that helped ease the pain, but when they suddenly seemed to slip away, he found himself alone with his memories. The others followed shortly after, each for their own reasons, each with their own troubles.

And Charlene Daring-Grey was the personification of all of it.

Zeke backed away from the large man as Randy seemed to be shaking with anger. Sheldon acted just in time and used his gravity manipulating gauntlets to hold the large man in place. He channeled a lot of his body heat into his gauntlets to keep the massive leader of Grey’s Army down, and the others could see it clearly taking its toll on the young man. Cedric bounded up and used the chains that originally made up his costume to tie his father down. Sheldon, shaking, released his device's grasp and Nester started applying nanites to restore his friend’s core temperature.

Then Randall Grey sobbed.

The group looked to their leader. His face wasn’t contorted into the sad grimace typical of crying, it was still just it’s normal perpetual scowl. But tears were trickling slowly from the dark sockets that held his eyes, and he was again shaking as his nerves finally gave in to the suffering.

“Let him go,” Kip ordered, “He’s not gonna hurt us.”

Cedric complied and his father leaned forward, resting his forearms on the table. The whole group sat silently for a minute before Cedric spoke.

“We might have found her…”

All eyes turned to the Grey brothers. Roland nodded and pulled up his communicator. He plugged it into the table and typed a few buttons.

“Cedric and I have spent the past few weeks scouring the ‘Boomtown’ region of this city. Oddly enough, we got a lot of help from the local gang, the Outcasts, despite their animosity for heroes. They seemed to be willing to help us in this case because…”

A hologram of a Lost Rector suddenly shot up from the middle of the table…

“It seems we coincided with their war with the Lost in that region. The Council were involved a little, too, but nowhere near the extent the Outcasts and Lost were. There’s another group out there, and I don’t mean the Clockwork.”

“The Lost call them the Dregs,” Cedric explained, “And, no, you won’t find them on any villain group roster. They’re not a villain group… they’re desperate people trying to get back to their homes.”

“They’re armed with Rikti blasters, Council shotguns and assault rifles… Anything they can find discarded or left behind after a hero assault,” Roland flicked through images of bedraggled people; they were armed, but it seemed almost comical to see these people equipped in such ways, “But they lack the training to use such weapons. Since they arrived in Paragon City shortly after the war and found themselves lost in Baumton and surrounded by enemies, they’re numbers have dwindled as they’re either killed or ‘recruited’ by the Lost or the Council.”

“Oddly enough, the Outcasts have been helping some of them get to Steel Canyon,” Cedric turned to his friends, “But the price is always high…”

“They haven’t asked for Rikti tech, yet,” Roland growled through his teeth, “But they just might end up getting the guts to ask soon. Especially since... they’re dealing with the Lost in that region.”

“Our sources say Mom was helping the Dregs. In fact, a few people we rescued claim she was responsible for their escape from their Rikti captors… Along with this man…”

A hologram of a wide, bedraggled man in a tattered blue denim trench coat and pants with cloth wraps around his chest, hands, and feet materialized above the table. His face was held in a perpetual craze, teeth gnashing for a fight, eyes bugged out and glaring at everything and nothing. A mane of wild, dreadlocked hair complete with a scraggly beard finished the image of a man possessed.

“Martin Sanders…” Roland identified the homeless man, “Leader of the Dregs. He’s a mutant with a connection to the Nether realm. We met him once, and don’t let his appearance fool you, he’s hardly crazy. We’re not sure what’s driving him, though… So we can’t be sure to trust him, yet.”

“The rest of the Dregs are decent people, though,” Cedric explained, “Some of the missing people are from Kingdale, others from communities between home and here. Apparently, there was a bright explosion and the transport ship crashed a few miles outside the city. Charlene and Martin led the group to the nearest urban area… and now they’re stuck in Baumton…”

“We’ve covered that already,” Roland muttered, “Look… I’ll admit, Dad… You got worse when I said Mom might still be alive… I know you didn’t want to have your hopes raised just to have them dashed…”

Cedric and Sarah nodded as if to admit their own attempt to push their brother away for the same reason.

“…But now, Cedric and I... we’ve found positive evidence that Mom’s alive and out there. There’s still a chance we can save her… Bring her back and end this whole mess for us…”

Roland didn’t add that all this ‘hero-foolishness’ could finally end.

The group waited expectantly for Randall to speak. His eyes had opened fully during his sons’ presentation, and he now regarded his middle child more seriously than he ever had in his life.

“Where is she?” his rumbling voice finally cracked open his stony lips, but it was the only motion on his face.

“We’ll have to ask Arbiter Taylor about that,” Cedric growled.

“Who’s that?” Nester looked worriedly to the tanker.

“Well, I won’t say he’s less dangerous than the guy,” Cedric began, “but he definitely isn’t wielding the same power as Arbiter Sands in Faultline. What info we were able to dig up on the guy says he’s into special projects in Arachnos. He seems to be a friend of Sands, and is visiting the Arachnos base on the other side of the Overbrook Dam, though…”

“We believe there’s more to his visit than just ‘chatting with an old friend,'” Roland further explained, “The heroes this guy has been found attacking all share a similar trait…”

“What’s that?” Kip started turning his head to what worried him.

“They’re kheldians…” Zeke answered before Roland, “He’s an Arachnos Arbiter assigned to finding out what makes us tick.”

The group let the implications fo that settle in for a while. Then, Randall stood.

“This just got a Helluvalot more interesting,” Randy pulled up a map of the Faultline zone on the hologram, “This is enough to get me to sober up… Nester! Cedric! I want a plan of attack drawn up by tomorrow morning! We are storming that fortress and we are finding out what happened to my wife and the mother of my children!”

"It's about damn time," Kip spat as he hopped off the table.