Mr_Grey

Ryat66 delivered a spinning uppercut to his fifth Freak Tank Smasher by the time he realized there were nothing but bosses in the map. A trashed, abandoned warehouse, and nothing but Rikti Tanks.

"It's not like the authorities COUNT these things," he muttered, "So what's the point!?"

Rounding a corner, he inhaled sharply and went back. Whatever it was he'd seen, he didn't want to fight it until he got a better look. His memory banks indicated it was big, covered in black steel plates, and was glowing with a dark pulse of power.

"Wh4t w4s th4t!?" he heard t3h S00p4rFr34k shout as it spun its clunky body around.

"Okay..." the android whispered to himself as he started backing away from the corner more quickly, "Gonna have to start moving more quickly..."

He backed into something and heard somebody shout. Turning, he couldn't see anybody at first. Then he noticed the air shimmer and realized someone was standing there. A Sneaky Tank materialized before him and started chuckling.

"Oh, you've got to be kidding!" Ryat66 shouted before driving a charged punch into the tank's abdomen, "Good thing you still fry!"

The tank bowled over and the android bounded over it. He could hear the heavy thuds of t3h S00p4rFr34k's footfalls as it clunked over to get him.

"Geez, whoever made this sure wanted it to be a nightmare," the little android muttered as he reached some wreckage and started peering through a seam in the fallen shelf.

t3h S00p4rFr34k! reached the room, but couldn't find Ryat66. Frustrated, it started backhanding shelves and broken crates, but he was across the room, so the blaster started feeling better.

"Yo, m4n!" he heard one of the patrolling Freaks shout to the rampaging monster, "What's up, d00d!?"

"yur sint4x is 0ff!11ROFL!" t3h S00p4rFr3ak! shouted before punting the smaller minion into the wall.

"W007!" the lunatic coughed out a laugh.

"I don't remember this kind of behavior," Ryat66 muttered, "I wonder what else is..."

"Hey!" the Sneaky Tank shouted as he stomped in, "You guys see that gray little punk?"

"No..." the other patroller replied.

"I don't remember them being this capable," Ryat66 thought to himself, "And shouldn't they have been able to find me regardless of where I hid?"

"H3y! 0v3r th3r3!"

"Oh, you've gotta be kidding me..."

T3h R1k70-Fr34k stomped into the room behind him and pointed one of its massive blades at Ryat66. The blaster turned around, cursed, and fired an incandescent stream of concentrated energy into the assaulting machine.

"Somebody didn't do their research," he shouted, "The Rikti Freak is supposed to be the Super Freak again!"

"Nuh-uh!" t3h S00p4rFr3ak! shouted, "If that were true, we wouldn't be here!"

"If only such logic applied to a videogame..." the blaster sighed before hurling a wave of power at the approaching machines.

The Freaks turned at the sound of squealing tires and a loud, roaring, high-octane engine. A few fired shotgun blasts and threw saw blades at the approaching machine. They were dumbstruck when the windshield merely spiderwebbed and the blades spanged off the sides. The Tanks launched another grenade volley, causing the vehicle to hop in the air slightly before colliding with them.

Before the Freaks could recover, the driver and passenger doors opened and the two meta human enforcers leaped out. Eisen moved first to the nearest Tank and kicked it in the face. He then went back to the SUV to get his heavy riot shield from the back seat.

Kip, in the meantime, was actually drawing the larger crowd. He didn't focus on just one enemy, but instead threw himself at each and every Freak he could. A punch here, a kick there, and a leg sweep to cut down five that got too close. They hacked and slashed at him, but an energy field around his body would absorb the impact. All they were doing was making the young scrapper angry.

Some of the freaks weren't concentrating on the fight. Instead, they were yanking on the doors of the armored truck, trying to pry it open and get at the jewels inside. They were succeeding, for their robotic limbs never tired, and their bodies were amped up on Excelsior.

Eisen smashed one of the Freaks aside with a backhanded smash of his shield and kicked the Tank he'd attacked earlier in the head again. He then pulled a shotgun from his shoulder and blasted a small cluster. When they turned to him, he charged with his shield, crashing into the group and toppling them over.

As they Freaks struggled to stand, Eisen slid the shotgun back onto its shoulder harness. He then reached to his belt and drew his nightstick. When the first got near, he swung hard and smashed the maniac's jaw. The next raked its massive scythe blade claw against his shield and Gordon spun about to catch him with a backhand strike to the temple.

One Freak hurtled through the air and collided with two that were next to blonde man. Eisen glanced and saw Kip bringing his leg back down from the hard side kick that must have sent the Freak flying. He then hopped up, spun around, and K.O.'d a Slammer with a dropkick.

Kip turned his attention to the Freaks on the truck after that. Hopping in the air, he crashed his knees into the back of one yanking on the driver's side door. The lightly-cybered man dropped with a scream and collapsed to the pavement, whining about his back. The driver of the truck looked to the scrapper in shock, but the young man merely nodded and moved to delivering a back elbow to another Freak that got too close.

At this point, the Tanks were pushing the SUV off of themselves. One looked up in time to see the edge of Eisen's shield come crashing into his face. The other two were able to get up, and lob a pair of grenades at the tanker, but the projectiles bounced back at them as he knelt into the shield and drew the shotgun again.

He placed the pump of the weapon against the edge of the shield and pushed hard, racking a new round into the chamber. A sawblade struck the shield and Eisen peered around the edge to ensure he would be firing on the tankers as he squeezed the trigger.

The blast sprayed buckshot across the Freaks and they stumbled. One tanker spat some of the shot out of his damaged mouth and started muttering curses about how he'd be tasting that for a week. They didn't notice Kip running up behind them.

In another three minutes, the fight was over. The two meta humans relaxed on the wreckage of Eisen's SUV as police drones moved in to sweep up the unconscious bodies. Shortly, the members of the truck's crew would be explaining to the police what had happened before the police came to talk with the "heroes."

"Nicely done, Kip," Eisen breathed, "This... This is what we do."

"[Butt]-kicking as a profession," Kip chuckled, "I should've gotten in on this a long time ago."

"You going to ask any of these goons what they intended to do with the jewelry?"

"Gold for conductive materials, gems for... Whatever. I guess they could be trying to make a ray gun, but... Hell, there are more legitimate means of getting one. They're probably just hoarding the damn things until they can find somebody interested in them."

"Well, they've been at this for a while. Maybe it's just the flavor of the month in terms of capers."

A group of Blue Talon officers approached and greeted Eisen. One in a cape looked over to Kip and nodded his head at him.

"Kipland Durj," Eisen explained, "Meet Captain Grindstone."

"Stone Tanker?" Kip asked.

"Yes," the helmeted man replied, "So, you're the new guy who wanted to just jump into the action..."

"Didn't want to. Had to. Unlike in the comic books, I'm not a millionaire playboy or provided for by a space dad. I have to work for money, and I don't have time to have a job that's 'inconspicuous.' I need to keep my skills sharp."

"Then you'll probably fit in well with us. Hell of a first day for him, Eisen."

"Kip's an established vigilante," the tanker replied calmly, "He's not some tike off the street who found out a week ago he could lift rocks with his mind. He knows how to fight and he's even faced the likes of Nosferatu and Nemesis personally."

"Is that so?" Grindstone turned to Kip with marked interest at that, "Oh wait... I remember now, you were in the tabloids because you were dating Mynx..."

"I never dated Mynx," Kip narrowed his eyes at the man, "It was a plot from some idiots in Crey to seed a clone into the Vindicators... I happened to be available material for them to use at the time."

"How do we know you're not a clone?"

"Because they killed every clone they made of me during their 'stress tests.' I can take a bullet to the forehead. They couldn't. They ran their plot with me because I really wasn't that important to the equation... I was just supposed to be there to explain why Mynx had been missing for a little over a week."

"Alright, alright," the blue-and-black armored man raised his hand in an amused apologetic gesture, "I didn't mean to sir up bad memories..."

"I don't like my stories with the big players. So many 'heroes' and meta humans want to work with them, thinking it'll be some big, epic adventure, but we're usually left sitting on the sidelines, watching them beat the snot out of everything else and shine in the spotlight that's blinding us. Everybody thinks their time with those heroes was special, but do you think they remember us? I wonder if Statesman even hangs out with whoever it was that pulled him back from Praetorian Earth..."

"Okay, okay, you made your point. You're experienced and you've got a chip on your shoulder..."

"Everybody's got a chip on their shoulder. I just happen to have a lot of chips."

Kip smirked, and Grindstone started chuckling as he realized this wasn't about to be a big ordeal.

"Okay... Well, here come the police. Was this a standard smash-and-grab attempt?"

"Looks like," Eisenherz replied, "Standard loadout for the Freaks, they brought in a few more Tanks this time, but I think that's because they've been getting tired trying to pry these trucks open."

"Well, I guess once the field reports are taken care of, you two can call it a day and head back to H.Q. Continue the training there."

"Yes, sir," Eisen gave a casual salute and Grindstone grunted a little, "That's all you're getting out of me."

As the blue-on-black uniformed troops walked away, Kip turned to Eisenherz. He was smirking at the man.

"You got some bad blood with him?"

"Grindstone's the kind of guy who gets promotions through being a buttkisser. He's normally a good guy, but he's in charge of a squad long before he has any right to be. He needs more field experience, more understanding of the tactics involved... He's a decent enough Tanker, but he's used to being on his own. He doesn't know how to tell people what to do and at the same time demands everybody shows him 'due and proper respect owed him.'"

"Heh. Cedric says guys like that didn't last long in the field in the Marines... That's why they stayed in the rear."

Eisen nodded. A few minutes later, the two of them reported to the police what had happened. Once the reports were filed, they acquired insurance information from the police so Eisen could give proper codes to his company to pay for a replacement vehicle. They then made their way toward the Green Line to continue their journey to Founders' Falls.

I've got no clue as to what this is, so I'll satisfy my curiosity and throw in.

I can contribute a Scrapper, a Blaster, a Tanker, a Defender or a Controller if we're sticking to level 50s. Otherwise, I can contribute something from any needed AT.

If Redsiders are counted as well, I can toss in a Brute or a Bane Spider (if EATs count).

That is... If I'm on tomorrow night...

Alright... I've finally finished my "Through the Grinder" storyline.

You can find the story here as well as a more "unrated" version of the final chapter here. The Brutal Warriors fight their way free of their cells and locate the recuperating Psycho13, who has acquired a cache of ready-made organs which he can cannibalize.

There's also an epilogue which I'm not including on the forum because, well... The language is just far too vulgar. It is found here, and it serves as the final end for the Brutal Warriors Order storyline, but not the end of the Brutal Warriors.

Okay... I feel I can finally end this (and probably should).

There is an epilogue to this storyline, but it's got extremely vulgar language, so I felt it would be best left elsewhere.

As a summary, the group gets to fighting amongst themselves and Kipland Durj winds up yelling at all of them. In the course of his rant, he confesses that he should have been guiding them all this time, and that he's not going to let them wander back out into the world unprepared again. With that said, he informs them that the "Order" is disbanded.

With that, the Brutal Warriors Order is done, but that doesn't mean the Brutal Warriors themselves are done. I'll still be continuing their adventures... Somehow... Some way...

"Switch to-" was all Executioner Donaldson was able to get out before a red glow caused his troops to gasp sharply.

Turning, he saw Raging James standing in the doorway of his cell, red electricity cascading off his body in waves. He had his hands balled into fists at his sides as he glared at the armored giant regarding him with contempt.

"Plea-" Donaldson started again, but the brute hurtled through the air and collided with his torso.

Flying across the room, they collided with the far wall. Donaldson brought the butt of his mace down on James' back and delivered a knee to his face. The young man coughed and felt blood trickling out of his nose, but he shoulder-rammed the bigger man into the wall again with the rewarding sound of armor cracking.

A yellow glow caught Donaldson's attention and he turned in time to see a stone-encrusted fist slam into his faceplate. Knocked from James' grasp, he stumbled into a cell's doorway and picked himself back up by the frame. As Dirty Ice got close, he swung the mace about and caught the other brute by the torso, knocking him into the center of the chamber. Jones grasped his chest as some blood trickled between his fingers.

Donaldson didn't have time to gloat, however. The staccato of gunfire alerted him and he saw both of his troops drop to the floor and disappear in red energy. Lying on the floor, smoking Arachnos pistol in hand, Mark Shadow rolled and fired more rounds at the Executioner. The big man fired a volley of energy from his mace's head, but the shot went wide as Raging James Baker pushed the weapon aside and delivered a savage left cross to Donaldson's face, smashing the helmet's mask to bits.

Groaning and coughing, Donaldson stumbled back, waving the mace weakly to and fro to keep his assailants at bay. Suddenly, he stopped and stood up straight. With a choking gasp, he turned to see what had just stabbed him and Daren leaned over so he could see the insolent malcontent who'd just done him in.

"Just because we aren't famous," the shadow-armed assassin whispered, "Doesn't mean we don't know how to make you hurt."

He twisted his arm inside the back of the Executioner and Donaldson cried out before his body disappeared in a haze of energy. James approached his friend and watched as Solo Striker examined his malleable arm return to a more human form.

"This is starting to scare me, man," he intoned as he made sure he still had five fingers, "My arms are all shadow stuff..."

"Matt?" they heard Mark next to the fiery brute, "You okay?"

"Yeah!" the portly blonde replied as he picked himself up, "Just... Those blades burn, man!"

"Let's get out of here," Draven called out from down the hall, "Let's get Mark's stuff and leave!"

"No..." James shook his head and pointed down the hall, "Mark can get his stuff, but I want to find out why this place went dark. I've got... I've got a funny feeling..."

----------

Levi Baker dragged himself through the grated hallways, inch by inch. He could hear booted feet shuffling past him, but they were sticking to the walls. If they were soldiers and could see him, they weren't saying anything, nor were they stopping him.

His right eye was gone. He was certain of that. What little lighting there was in the facility helped him to notice that when he reached his right arm out to grasp a little further, he couldn't see it if he moved it a little to the right. After checking, he found the socket, like much of his body, was full of "goop."

His body was regenerating. It was slow, however. It wasn't like the grinder, which had just shredded his body to pieces, but had done nothing to the chemical composition of the material. After using Silver Mantis as a lightning rod, however, and still attached to that lightning rod while it did its work, he found out that his body couldn't just get cooked inside out and pull back together like he had before.

Black ooze (not that he could tell the color of the stuff) drained out of his burst-open belly as he pulled himself down the halls. His legs had been blown off by the explosion, along with most of his left arm. His right arm grew better, pull-by-pull, as he made it down the hallway until he could eventually pull himself forward a foot or almost a yard at a time.

Eventually, he found himself in a hallway illuminated by a strange pinkish glow. Looking up, he saw a chamber had opened up when the fort went to emergency power. It was full of machinery, jars and tubes that held organs and body parts. It was an Arachnos cloning and genetic testing lab. Something told him he needed to go in there.

Crawling inside, he almost shouted when he saw the Arachnoid looming over him. However, it was inside a tank and not moving. It didn't even twitch.

"Must be dead," Psycho13's gurgling, rasping voice surprised him, "Guh... I... I need... Lungs..."

He looked around the chamber as best he could, using his arm to roll himself over or hold himself up, and eventually found a jar with a pair of lungs floating inside. Whooping froggily at his fortune, he haphazardly swung his arm up to knock the jar off its stand. It took four tries to finally make the jar fall.

Picking through the broken glass and fluid, he grasped the lungs and started stuffing them into his belly. His body did the rest as it disintigrated and absorbed the cloned lung, utilizing the elements that made up its basic composition to repair and rebuild the ones that had been badly scorched with electrical burns. His body also absorbed some of the fluid, which must have had some regenerative properties of its own because his body started repairing itself faster.

New flesh replaced charred and rotting flesh and Psycho13 eventually was able to drag himself to other organs. Consuming them as he did the lungs, he was able to rejuvenate his major organs and nominally repair his crippled limbs. He still had to smash open some tanks containing Arachnoid limbs to acquire more ready materials for his own bones, but eventually, he was whole again. For a brief moment, he felt his jaw was a little out of line. He didn't know it, but the bones had formed into Arachnoid mandibles temporarily, but his body's nature dragged the form back to the original template.

Picking himself off the floor, Psycho13 smiled. It shouldn't have worked like that, he knew, but somehow his body was able to use the materials around it to repair itself. Thinking on it a little harder, he realized it was a somewhat worrying thought, as this likely meant that he probably couldn't die.

"Time will tell, I guess," he whispered before hearing somebody at the door.

"Oh my God," Mark's familiar voice whispered, "James! James, you're not going to believe this!"

----------

After pulling themselves out of the sewer under the fortress, they made their way down the beach. Psycho13 rolled in the water a bit to wash himself off, and when he emerged from the ocean, he looked to be a new man. His brother hugged him then, now that the grime and muck was gone.

"Don't ever scare me like that again!" James shouted as he crushed his older brother in a bear hug, "We already lost one..."

"Ug... You're about to do me in, yourself, bro," Levi grunted, "Ease up, brother... Ease up..."

"How'd you survive?" Draven asked, "I mean, my sword could probably pick me back up if I ever blacked out, but I don't think it could rebuild me after what happened to you..."

"I lost my lunch watching that," Daren concurred, "You sure you're okay?"

They made their way to the main harbor. They would take the ferry to the Nerva Archipelago and meet with Brother Ringo. After that, they would make their way back to paragon to report to Jonas Silver how the lead was a bust.

"Hey, you guys saw the organs," the scrapper chuckled, "I ate that [stuff] raw, and it built me back up. Also... I can drink a gallon of milk in about ten minutes."

"No way," Matt laughed, "That's not possible!"

"For most people, it's not," a coarse voice shouted behind them, "For your friend there, however, I've got footage that proves he can do it."

Turning, the boys were treated to a short, stocky, bald man. Clad in a military utility vest, some camouflage pants and a pair of combat boots, he had few distinguishing characteristics, save the wicked scars on his head and the red-glowing left eye. It took them a while to realize who it was.

"Holy crap!" Mark gripped his assault rifle and waved it in the direction of the man, "It's Black Scorpion!"

The man smiled and started marching up the hill after them. He'd been tracking them since they delivered the beatdown to Executioner Donaldson and he figured now was the best time to make his presence known. He waved to Mark to put his rifle down and pulled the vest open to show that the one weapon he brought, a Desert Eagle, was buttoned down in its holster on his shoulder harness.

"I just want to talk," he grunted, then pointed at Psycho13, "To you. Privately."

"Alright," the young man narrowed his eyes and approached cautiously.

They walked a few yards away from the group and Ernesto Rodriguez pulled the young man into a huddle. Drawing his communicator, he activated the video function and showed Levi the footage of Silver Mantis abusing him with the sound off so the others couldn't hear.

"I don't need to see this..." the thin man growled, "I already went through it once. She already told me how it made you laugh."

"I want you to see why I laughed, boy," Ernesto grunted as he started fast-forwarding, then rewinding, then playing until he paused it on one scene, "Here it is... That look on your face while she's riding ya. What does it tell you?"

Levi glared into Ernest's human eye. The former mercenary looked impassively back.

"It tells me I will have absolution," Baker finally replied, "It tells me I will have my revenge."

"Mantis thought it was funny. So did I, but not for the same reason."

Ernest shut the communicator down and placed it in his pocket. He then clapped the young man on the shoulder before he started walking away. As the young man stared at him, stunned, Black Scorpion, looking for all the world like an average man, turned and delivered his monologue.

"I'd seen her cut down a lot of capes, boy, but not fighters. Everybody begged, everybody pleaded for mercy, everybody wept and cried like the little kids getting spanked that they were. You, though? You were one of the few who got angry and didn't break. I've probably seen about, oh, five or six different capes who were able take her on using just their God-given talents. You were able to last a night with her, and it didn't break ya. What made me laugh was how she disregarded you just like all the ones who gave up. They swore someone else would see to their revenge. You swore you would take your pound of flesh..."

"And I took my pound of flesh," Levi growled, "I guess it doesn't pay to turn yourself into a walking electric chair, but don't think for a second I'm done with her yet."

"Yes you are," Scorpion pointed at him and pressed his lips into a thin line as he considered what he was about to say, "I wouldn't tell anybody this, but you almost killed her today. She's in critical condition in the fort's medical facility, thank God you didn't wipe out the emergency power when you short-circuited the mainlines. You didn't know that, did you? You hit the primary power lines for the base, that's why the whole place went dark. Now, she's struggling for life, and if I didn't think she had the fight in her to pull herself back from the brink of death, we wouldn't be having this conversation. I'd be mashing you and your friends into a fine red paste before sprinkling it across the Isles to make sure none of you came back."

Levi folded his arms over his chest.

"Good thing for me you've got confidence, then."

"Damn straight. Now... I'm saying you're done here. I'm saying I don't want you coming after my Mantis, and I'm saying I won't let her come after you. I told her not to underestimate you just because nobody knows you. I told her you little guys are some of the most dangerous on the planet because nobody's watching you. Now, I hope she's learned her lesson, and I hope you can live with the fact that you've done enough damage to compensate for what she did to you."

"What she took from me can't be returned," Baker hissed, "There's nothing rightwise about this."

"I understand," Black Scorpion sighed, "If you were one of the capes and spandex idiots, I'd just laugh at you. But I know your type. You're the jeans and combat boots type. You're the type that's liable to sneak up on somebody in the middle of the night, slit their throat and watch them struggle to breathe. I can't trust your word, so listen to this: If I ever catch you coming after my Mantis like you did today, I will kill you. I will find a way. If I have to drop you in a vat of molten steel and hold you under, I will. Don't test me."

With that, he started making his way back down the hill. Psycho13 wasn't going to let things end like that, however, and he threw a knife into Ernesto's back. The stocky man shouted in surprise more than pain and the scrapper started yelling.

"I'll show you when I'm done you roided-up Freakshow reject! You'll now my work because your little [girlfriend] will be strung up, in pieces, all over the mainside dock of Grandville! I'll use her internal parts to string up the customs lanes like Christmas lights! I'll-!"

"This is just what I needed," Enresto growled through gritted teeth as he turned around, drawing his Desert Eagle, and leveled it on the shouting man, "Some exercise..."

Several loud booms accompanied each squeeze of the trigger and Psycho13 was torn to pieces as the bullets slammed into him. His friends shouted in surprise, but there was nothing that could be done. He had started this fight, it was up to him to finish it. Fortunately, after five rounds, Rodriguez seemed to be satisfied. He marched back up the hill to look over Psycho13's broken body.

"Depleted Uranium rounds. Just as big as normal bullets, but oh, so much heavier. I may not be in my suit, but I'm not stupid enough to wander around in an unarmored jacket and without weapons that can take down a bull elephant. Also, next time you throw a knife at somebody's back, try not hitting the shoulder blade. The thing is natural armor, nothing thrown is gonna get through it."

"May-be..." Psycho13 gurgled through his broken mouth, "I wush... Jusht shtrying to getsh your... Attshen-shun..."

"And you did," Ernesto smiled down at him, "Tell me you're not as dense as you were shouting, though. You understand my position? You were just venting, right?"

"I've had... My revengssh... I'm done with this business," Psycho13 agreed as his body started pulling back together, "You smashed my ribs..."

"Here's your knife back," the old man handed the weapon over after yanking it from his jacket's back plate, "You idiots get out of here. I can't be seen being so nice."

----------

Several hours later, Ernesto made his way to the fort's medical bay. He had a long report to write for Lord Recluse and a strange story to tell. With any luck, Mantis would just find herself on "mayhem duty" for the next couple of months. If not, well, the scientists and mystics could always use more Red Coral ripped from the hearts of the slag golems.

For now, however, he wanted to make sure his girl was doing alright. The doctor, a cybernetic specialist named Hogan, admitted Rodriguez without fuss.

"You seem to be doing well," he said as Silver Mantis' eyes looked weakly to him, "Doctors got you stable, they pulled out the damaged implants that were burning holes in your skin..."

"Ernest..." she wheezed.

"Don't talk, babe. Just rest and relax. First off, nobody knows about this. I got Doc Hogan over here as soon as possible and we're gonna have everything right as rain, right Doc?"

"Yeah," the doctor replied as he plugged orders for more parts into the computer, "Most of her framework is undamaged. I just need new processing components, a few actuators, and some new insulation. That energy spike almost hit her core, and if that had happened..."

"But she'll be fine, right?"

"Indeed. In fact, I bet we can get her to better than one hundred percent."

"Just concentrate on fixing her for now, Doc," Black Scorpion turned back to Silver Mantis and stroked her cheek.

"You're... Not in... Your suit..."

"I don't always need it, babe. I have to go to the bathroom sometime, right? Everything will be fine. Just go to sleep and let your body heal. I'll come back to see how you feel tomorrow."

"Okay..." she mumbled before closing her eyes and drifting off.

Black Scorpion gazed at her for a few minutes until he was certain she was asleep. A light snore assured him and he turned to Hogan.

"You're not lying to me, are you?"

"No," Doctor Hogan replied, "Silver Mantis will be back to working order within only a few days. I placed a Red priority on the parts, they should be here in only a few hours."

"Good. I have reports to fill out and engineers to yell at because they haven't got the power running in this place yet."

The short man stalked out of the room, but stopped at the doorway. He turned around and fixed a finger on the doctor.

"And Hogan. If anybody finds out about what you saw here, I'll make sure you die in slow, interesting ways. And when that happens, I'll ask Ghost Widow to bring you back so I can find other slow and interesting ways to kill you. You understand?"

"Just like last time, sir," the doctor replied impassively, "Standard disclaimer."

"Hm..."

Ryat66 pondered the list of arcs presented to him. There were just so many! He checked the flags that indicated what various meta humans thought of the arcs, and grew disappointed as the term "farm" popped up over and over again.

"For beings of phenomenal cosmic power, they're surprisingly lacking in imagination," the android muttered as he cycled the farm missions out of his search, "Lots of Elite Boss and Arch Villain-class characters... No thank you..."

"Just pick something."

Sheldon's voice sounded impatient. Humans and many sentient organic creatures wouldn't normally be able to discern his creator's subtle changes in tone, but a lot of machines could hear the little octave differences. Sheldon Wallace tried to school his emotions because he thought it was professional, but he really needed to learn how to live more.

"Boss, I think you need a girlfriend," the android chirped, "I mean, it gets pretty bad when you have to send us to play your games for you."

"I'll keep it in mind," his creator's voice muttered in his head, "Just pick an arc and go."

The android covered his eyes. He was so happy to have EYES! Most people mistook him for being a peculiar child from a distance, but when they got close they learned of their error. Ryat66 would have expected his gray skin, shoulder-mounted cables and blue circuit channels to be a clear indication of his mechanical nature, but still people gave him curious looks.

Still, it was nice to be able to "feel." With the new polyflesh, he could now discern metals, woods, plastics, even feel the intriguing ripple of liquids. On the first day he had to tone down the sensory perception, it had almost caused a posi-synaptic overload. Over the course of the weeks he relearned to channel the concussive and electrical charges he would normally channel through the overly metallic frames of his combat chassis. While he was still technically utilizing the same chassis, the polyflesh was softer and risked melting if he so much as charged one of his punches.

Now, after weeks of training, the tiny android composed of parts from multiple robot types throughout the world (though mostly the working parts Sheldon could acquire on his adventures through Paragon) was ready to put his latest form to the test.

"What did you choose?"

Biting his lower lip, Ryat66 tapped the screen on the scroll bar, swiped his finger on it a few times, poked at an arc at random and pressed the spot on the screen he remembered had the "Select" button on it. Looking at the screen, he frowned.

"Well, I'll be dealing with the sorts of enemies I know I'm good against."

"Oh?"

"The Arc ID is 'Freakshow Drinking Games.' I... Think I'll be fighting... Freakshow."

"Good luck, then."

Shrugging, the android turned to the digital stream and the hologram that would introduce him to the arc. After the analytical introduction, the system presented him with the Freakshow Juicer labeled "P0w3rThurst." Powerthirst explained that "Ryat66 has been cordially invited to participate in Freakshow drinking games to prove he can hang with the toughest Freaks in the world."

Ryat66 blinked. He recalled seeing the bright orange lettering warning him Elite Boss and Arch Villain-class enemies would be in this mission, which meant he would probably wind up fighting digital recreations of some of the most terrifying Freaks the planet had seen.

"So long as I don't fight Chaingunnz, I think I'll be fine," he muttered as he stepped into the data stream.

Most of my characters: Headlock, followed by an outside corner headache.

You take the perpetrator and ram their head into an outside corner (the point).

Kipland would probably punch the perpetrator in the groin. If it's a female, he would hose her down like he would a cat, probably with a squirt gun.

Ryat66 (indeed, most of the Ryats) would look for a way to annoy the person back.

Ryat99 would freeze the perpetrator in a block of ice.

Sheldon would probably taze the poor friend. He has other methods at his disposal, but nothing says "Knock it the [frick] off!" like a couple thousands volts.

Latest Brutal Warriors Order Chapter

I'll be transferring a more PG-13 version to the forums soon, but it's a little... Extreme. Psycho13 makes mention of something that happened to him on the night he was Silver Mantis' prisoner, and it would be difficult to convey it on the forums...

Next chapter

I would copy and paste, but there's strong language I need to edit and frankly, I want to get to playing the game right now

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"Lock down all the exits! Bring his friends to the central landing! We'll execute them, one-by-one, until he shows himself!"

Silver Mantis marched through the hallways, her metallic heels making loud clanging sounds as they met the steel grating. Sometimes, her heels would poke through the holes, but rather than stumble, she would just yank her leg forward harder, tearing the grating slightly.

"Yes ma'am," one of the soldiers nodded and turned down another corridor.

"Should we involve the Executioner?" another asked.

"Yes. Get Executioner Donaldson. He's... Amicable to my desires."

"Yes ma'am."

They made their way down the corridors toward the communications hub from which Psycho13's signal had been determined to be located. The engineers had shut the facility down, and many of the corridors around it. Mantis didn't expect the cape to be so foolish as to still be there when she and her entourage arrived.

She was wrong.

There was a rushing sound and two of the Wolf Spiders flanking her crumpled to the floor, screaming and clutching at their legs. Their hamstrings had been cut.

"Just port back to the medical bay," she hissed at the groaning men, "Seriously, why do I have to think of these things?"

"What about the rest of u-!" another Wolf Spider started before a blur rushed by and a blade stabbed into his throat.

Gurgling, the soldier crumpled to the floor and disappeared in a red haze as his med-porter beacon registered the critical injury. Silver Mantis arched her eyebrow at the other soldiers who followed suit with their squadmate shortly afterward.

"I'm surrounded by incompetents," the villainess growled, "Is it so hard to hire some proper psychopaths?"

"Yeah, it is," she heard from down the hall she'd just come from, "It's so hard to find decent lunatics to torture perfectly innocent people. It takes a certain mixture of sadism and training..."

Psycho13 twirled the knife in his hand and smirked at the woman.

"Problem is that most sadists think they're the alphas, so it's hard to teach 'em to be decent in a fight."

"I'm gonna flay the flesh from your bones," she growled back.

"I'll just grow it back," the scrapper started backing away into the darkness, "I'll always grow it back..."

Silver Mantis felt her temper rising. This cur was starting to get to her. She couldn't let that happen. Looking to the one soldier left from her entourage, she waved at him.

"See to it the preparations are complete and contact me. I'm hunting this pissant personally."

The soldier nodded and stepped further away as she passed. He didn't want to risk getting skewered at random.

-----------

"Here they are, sir," the Wolf Spider announced as they reached the holding cells, "They call themselves the Brutal Warriors Order, but they look like a gaggle of miscreants to me."

"They're all miscreants, soldier," Executioner Donaldson said in a low tone, "Anyone who winds up in these cells... They're unworthy. Hell, even many who don't. Frankly, I say we should start gunning down Destined Ones in the streets."

"We... Um... We do gun down Destined Ones in the streets, sir..." the Wolf Spider scratched at the back of his helmet, "Unfortunately... They're usually a lot tougher than-"

"Shut. Up."

"Yes, sir."

Executioner Donaldson turned to the nearest cell, the one containing Draven, and leaned in close.

"You register as a cape, but I've never heard of you."

"You hear of every cape?" the scrapper asked, "I'm sure there are a lot of people you've never heard of, much less never seen."

"Yes, but you and your friends staged an attack on the Isles. I had heard of your group, but as individuals you've never amounted to much. Frankly, I'm wondering why I've even been brought in to deal with you."

"I thought you guys just, you know, executed," Matt Jones barked.

"Normally, yes. I, however, interrogate. I ask questions, and if I don't get answers, I ask harder."

He tapped his wickedly bladed mace against the energy field to demonstrate. A light electric spark lanced through the field and Draven backed away.

"We don't know much about you idiots, aside from the fact that you foolishly believe you can measure up to even the greatest that Arachnos has to offer. I'm toying with how I'm going to treat these sessions. Silver Mantis wants me to kill you outright, but I'm thinking I'll be more creative. I think I can turn you all into effective weapons for Arachnos. No more of the Destined One crap, we'll use you as we would a sword, as we should have done with each super-powered sack we released from the Zig."

"Shut the [Hell] up!" James shouted from across the prison chamber, "You think you can turn us? You let me out of this cell, and I'll drill you through the ******* wall!"

"Still some fight in you," Donaldson allowed himself a chuckle, "But we'll see how long that lasts as we force you to watch your friend bleed."

Mark Shadow gulped as the soldiers started walking toward his cell. He turned to James and the brute started hammering his fists against the energy field. He punched and kicked the walls of his cell, too, but they only dented.

"Matt! Jared! Somebody help!" Mark shouted as the energy field winked out and the soldiers started reaching in to drag him out, "Oh God, don't let them do this to me!"

"Hold him in the middle of the symbol," Donaldson aimed his mace at the Arachnos sigil in the center of the chamber, "This will take some skill..."

"Somebody do something!" Mark shouted as the troops kicked him in the back of his knees and held him down by his shoulders.

"Are you terribly attached to your ears?" the Executioner asked.

Then everything went dark.

----------

Silver Mantis found Psycho13 humming a tune to himself in one of the control centers. Despite the fact he was in a powered chamber, he didn't seem to be doing more than just playing with his combat knife. As the clinking sound of her metal-clad feet drew closer, he started singing.

"...My mother said... That all were angels... But I swear, I saw the evil... The evil that bleeds from the sky... From the sky!"

"You're a terrible vocalist," Mantis' silk voice interrupted him as he dragged out the last word.

"I don't know about that," he replied casually, "That Freak helping you thought I sounded cool."

Silver Mantis snorted.

"I don't get it," the scrapper hopped down from the control panel he'd been sitting on, "Why me? Why'd you set this all up for me?"

"Simply put, I knew you. That night I spent with you... It left an impression on me. You acted like it didn't affect you... But I know better. I know I left an impression."

"Yeah, you left an impression..."

Psycho13's body blurred as he closed the distance between them in the blink of an eye, the knife he'd kept pressed against the steel on the bridge of her nose.

"You [violated] me..." he growled, "I should cut out your [damn] eyes."

"You got better," she sneered, "Besides, you looked like you were enjoying yourself."

Levi blinked at her. He started dragging the blade across the bridge of her nose to bring the point into her left eye. He stopped when she exploded in spikes, puncturing his torso and arm.

"You think you can stand against me, you sniveling little worm!?" she shrieked, "I practically invented the idea behind torturing meta humans! I know how to make each and every little [mouse] like you scream for mercy!"

"I..." the scrapper gasped, "Never begged... I... I'm still not broken..."

He reached over with his free hand and took the knife. Mantis moved her hand up to shield her face, but he raked the blade against her torso. His arm moving in a blur, sparks flew and he was able to push away from the villainess in her confusion. Reaching behind himself, he drew another knife that he'd taken from one of the soldiers he'd hamstrung.

"Cut!" he growled as he started stepping closer, "I'm never gonna get away! If I never make this change! Cut the way, and [to Hell with] all the human waste!"

"More songs..." Mantis started circling as well, "Do you expect to intimidate me?"

He stepped close and jabbed at her.

"Cut! They're never gonna take away!"

He raked his blades against her extended arms, drawing sparks and a little blood.

"The vision that I Portray!"

She stabbed him in the shoulder and slashed him across the face.

"No time! No waste!"

He rammed his shoulder into her chest and backed away.

"I cut all that's in my way!"

He swung both blades hard to the sides as she reached for him, striking her hands and causing her to fall back. He assumed a defensive stance and started waving the knives at her as he circled around again.

"...Close my eyes and take a look at my life... Think of all the ways that I've been denied... Is it pride or is it timing? It's taking time, but the road I'm finding... Healing back now from the wounds that I've made... Stabbed myself a thousand times this way... To keep my pace up with the hill I'm climbing... I'll cut the ties... Of those! That! Bind!"

He lunged at her again, driving the blades into her abdomen. Silver Mantis screeched and lacerated him with her metal spines, rending his flesh into bloody ribbons. His body started pulling back together almost immediately, and he started hacking away at her. They circled in this butchering embrace, each one tearing into the other, until finally, Silver Mantis broke the hold and spun Psycho13 around with a backhand, causing him to drop his weapons.

As he recovered his knives, she stabbed him through the back, her spikes extending through his chest. She'd punctured his right lung and impaled his spleen. Leaning in close, she whispered in his ear.

"Remember this pose, baby?"

He dropped one of the knives as another spike blasted through his hip.

"You know what happens next, right?"

"Oh God," the young man croaked as she twisted the spike in his lung.

"Normally, Black Scorpion gets so jealous when I tell him of the fun I have with my conquests... But with you, he just laughed..."

Psycho13 weakly stabbed behind himself with his remaining knife, trying frantically to get the crazy woman off his back.

"I told him how I violated your wounds... Your body... And how you swore vengeance..."

"Okay..." the young man dropped the knife, "I'm done..."

"Aw, don't give up now! Not when things are getting fun!"

"Who said anything about giving up?" the scrapper growled as he grabbed the spike poking out of his chest and one of the ones poking out of his belly, "I just need a new tactic..."

He backed into her and bent over, pulling Silver Mantis onto his back. In her confused state, she was unprepared for when he raced down the hall at top speed, blurring both of them. If it kept on for much longer, she would have riddled him with spikes and ended the trip in a spectacular crash, but he was already planning on a collision from the beginning.

Just as Mantis prepared to skewer him, they hit a hard surface, a metallic column that was similar to all the others that riddled Arachnos facilities. They were full of plumbing and cables, all of the utilities that each facility needed. The only warning she had as to what was going to happen next was the spark as her spikes came in contact with the main lines of power.

As red lightning coursed through her, Silver Mantis blacked out. Most of the fort's power grid had been shot through the two of them in an instant, and she disappeared in the red haze that indicated her emergency teleporter had sent her to her secure medical facility.

The lights flickered and went dark and Psycho13's charred body slumped to the floor. For a few minutes, there was silence. Then, a choking gasp sounded as the scrapper started dragging himself away.

If you got a Master Badge on -1, you should feel disgusted.

Happy birthday, Abrahms. May you trample all your foes under your treads...

My strongest build is a MA/Invuln Scrapper with a few Crushing Impact sets, Scirocco's Dervish in Dragon's Tail and Aegis worked into the damage resistance in a few places (especially the Mez/Psi Resistance, which got stuffed into Resist Physical Damage).

I used this guy to test my arcs, and he CRUSHES EBs. The only ones he can't completely dominate are the EBs made by players to represent their own characters (Mary/Marty Sioux) and have every power in a set to represent how "totally awesome and hawt" they are. EB Super Strength is not the same as PC Super Strength, though, so I'd like to see ANYBODY tank 1000 damage per hit before Rage.

When the AE came out, I attempted something...

I made a scenario that pit 5th Column forces against various groups. Only against the Council did they have any staying power. The Malta Group and Nemesis Army chewed them up, spat them out, then urinated on the reamins.

When it's even numbers and even levels, it's a coin toss between the Fifth Column and Council. The Council has a slight advantage with their Nictus troops, and when it's even levels and even numbers, only if there are Galaxy troops do they seem to win more easily (slowing down the opposition works wonders apparently).

There is no indication that Requiem has anything to do with this resurgence. While he's mentioned in the Ouro TF/SFs, and makes an appearance in the Cimerora TF/SF, the resurgence of the Fifth in I-15 seems more spurred on by Reichsman's arrival, and Requiem does nothing during the entirety of the adventures.
-->Players have informed me that "Of course the Council doesn't get involved, they're dealing with the Kheldian arc!" I call Bull on this because if the timeframe were determined solely by level range, then the Viridian arc, "The Conference of Evil," couldn't happen. In that arc (which, if the level range/timeframe concept is to be believed, is occurring at the same time as the 45-50 Kheldian arc), the Council is firmly under the control of the Center, who is able to send the people he's wrangled under his control after You to demonstrate whether or not you're a true threat to his organization and to prove to Requiem and Arakhn why they need to stay together.

The story seems massively unfinished. I was hoping to see an expansion or something when I-16 hit, but so far it's just fighting in the streets with the odds programmed in favor of the Fifth. Maybe when Going Rogue or I-17 hits, the odds will be evened out.

...With this game! Seriously! All of the sh-OOH! I didn't think of putting Psycho13 in a tutu!

I'm back, baby!

My Beautiful Misery

Malaise meets Mother Mayhem in her chambers, just as she desired, but the meeting doesn't go nearly the way she expected.

And now the ball is rolling. Malaise and company have to escape Praetorian Earth. Where will this adventure take them now?

I tell Vahzilok to watch my room. He and Cortex nod quietly. Apparently, the psychic zombie had been keeping its maker appraised of the situation I was going through. I don't know if it could read my thoughts, but Demetrios stops me before I leave, concern creasing his already wrinkled face.

"Do you know what you are doing?" he asks, genuine worry creasing his already wrinkled features.

"I'm sorry, doctor, but I believe this is the end for us. After tonight, we won't see each other again."

Vahsilikos nods and gives me a reassuring pat on the shoulder. I leave with the painting tucked under my arm and make my way up the nearest elevator for Mother Mayhem's chambers.

I can hear the pained voices of the "patients" (Who am I kidding? These poor, demented souls are victims...) growing in intensity inside my head as the elevator car rises. There are so many in their own personal chambers between me and her... But none of them would dare interrupt their mistress' "fun time."

On her floor, the cacophony of of voices assaults my mind. The barrier I erected to protect my thoughts against Mayhem's probes (most of which, I'm realizing, had to have been instinctual rather than intended; perhaps if she were trying harder, she'd have broken through, but the few times she actually did try to force through (probably trying to "rehabilitate" me), I didn't have to struggle too hard to fend her off. With her in the drunk state she's in, I should be able to pull this off...

Reaching Mayhem's chambers, I take a deep breath and remind myself that this is not Sister Psyche. It's... It's important for me to remember that. Some feelings linger, but this isn't the time to fall into delusion. This isn't the time to start thinking "Well, this is close enough," because...

Because...

I'm trying to be better than that.

The world flickers, and for a moment I think something's wrong with my black-and-white vision. After taking a look around, I see it's just the hallway... Stained gray walls, I don't care to learn by what.

My vision flickers back to grays again and I shake my head. I wish I could figure out the trigger for it. It's not excitement, it's not situations... It never stays one way for any predictable amount of time and I never feel anything to tell me there's about to be a change.

If there were some kind of significance to it, I could probably use it... If I could just determine what was common with each instance... I guess I could check with the doctors again. Maybe some new technology is out that could study the damage in my brain better.

The door opens and for a moment, I can't breathe. I couldn't believe an outfit like Aurora's could leave much to the imagination, but I clearly wasn't looking at the woman properly. This lingerie she's wearing... My God...

The outfit is all purple, in varying shades, and it's mostly a corset accentuating her chest in ways I would never have thought possible, and fishnet-stockings on her legs. She was also wearing a pair of those clear high-heel shoes, which made her seem taller (or floating off the ground; I don't know why those clear high-heels are so sexy, but they are).

"Took you long enough," she sighs huskily, "I was about to start without you..."

"Oh, baby," I say, my voice going breathless as I realize this outfit is affecting me worse than I expected, "That would have caused me no end of upset... This is to be a special night... I feel... I feel as if I may finally break free of this wretched block that has kept my handsome mind from your rapturous one..."

I may have gone a little overboard on that...

"Mm... You think maybe we just needed to unlock it... Carnally?"

She steps forward, reaching out to trace the back of my ear with her fingertips. Rubbing me gently, she leans in and gives me a kiss.

I'm sorry, but it felt electric. I felt a chill run down my spine, and for a moment, I almost felt like I would take the opportunity to be with this woman for the night... I'm ashamed to admit that this sensation persisted until we basically danced into her chambers, arms intertwined, kissing each other passionately...

It's strange the thoughts that went through my head. In an instant, I thought I could save her, thought I could change her, take her back to Paragon and show her a better way to be...

I turned around to start pulling my shirt off when I saw what it took to break me of such foolishness. Seeing Calvin stuck in that chair, locked in his last moment of freedom and how it turned into a hideous nightmare, looping over and over again, cured me of the stupidity that had plagued me.

Mother Mayhem was a monster, plain and simple. As kind and caring as Shalice is, this woman is not.

I nodded absent-mindedly and walked back to the door to retrieve my painting. Setting it next to Calvin, I looked at it once more.

I wonder if the Clockwork King is out here. Could he be considered heroic? Is he still human? Or did he have a better body built for him, like Nemesis? Does he watch these events? Does he know I'm here?

I don't have time to ponder anymore.

"First," I say as I lick my lips and prepare to go to work, "We wake up Calvin..."

I press one hand to his forehead and the other to his mouth. His eyes focus and he blinks before looking up at me. Pulling my face into a determined mask, I nod.

Mother Mayhem doesn't see any of this, however. Instead, she sees Calvin wake up, shake his head clear, and then he starts screaming. He tries to pull himself free of his chair, but I've only opened his mind, not restored his motor functions. He shouts curses at me, many of which I'd heard from fellow heroes already. I try to keep the insults generic, if I use anything about how "I look too much like my opposite," I might draw suspicion.

She revels in the litany of insults. I walk over to her, crawling onto the bed as I peel my shirt off. Leaning in close, I kiss her neck and gently work at tying her wrists to the headboard.

In reality, I'm helping Calvin get to his feet while my illusion causes her to reach back and grab the headboard in a vice-like grip. His legs have atrophied some through the years of disuse (man, it's amazing what a sudden surge of adrenaline can do; he probably could have kicked the crap out of me that day if I didn't get my senses back, but now he can barely keep steady), so he shakes. It's not as bad as it could be. He must have been unconsciously flexing his muscles, or maybe he hasn't been rigidly trapped in this chair for the past three or four years like I thought.

"I've been waiting so long for this," the illusion of me says as we walk out of the room.

"Oh baby," Mayhem moans, "Give it to me..."

"As you wish," he says before promptly turning into the monstrous image of my father I used to defeat my doppelganger.

Mayhem screams and the psychic backlash from it causes both Calvin and I to stumble to the floor. The patients throughout the complex let out a wail of torment, but the image of my faceless, monstrous father, made mostly out of anger, remains solid and drooling over her face. She struggles to break free of the bonds, never realizing she's just holding the headboard.

"Come on!" I groan as I pull Calvin to his feet, "We've got to move, now!"

"MALAISE!" she shouts, "WHAT'S GO-NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!"

Her wails continue as we reach the elevator, each scream causing our pain receptors to flash. It feels like a heatwave across my skin. I don't know why, but when the elevator closes us off from her, the pain stops. Gasping, we collapse against the wall.

"What did you do to her?" Calvin asks.

"I made her meet my dad..."

But now the illusion must have dissipated... She'll realize she can get free and she'll be after us...

----------

"Where's my daughter?" Calvin shouts as we reach my chambers.

He's not yelling at me. He's yelling at Vasilikos and his assistant. Vahzilok raises his hands in supplication and soothingly assures him that Cheryl is perfectly fine. My door opens and the young girl is standing there, rubbing sleep from her eyes.

"I had a scary dream," she squeaks, "A witch was flying through the air and throwing fire at me... I threw a rock at her and she fell..."

Excellent. A psychic battle Mayhem wasn't ready for, and Cheryl was able to fend her off better than I'd have expected. The crazy woman was probably dizzy after getting hit like that. She probably wasn't running any kind of defense, she probably didn't expect to run into another psychic in this fight.

"She's not," Cortex answers my unvoiced thought, "I cloud things around here. She hasn't noticed."

"It's how I've stayed under the radar," Vasilikos chuckles, "But I believe the proverbial jig is up. We should probably move."

"You're not coming with me," I hiss, "I can't keep an eye on everybody, and I can't make enough illusions to mask all of us."

"That's fine."

Cortex starts walking toward the very elevators Calvin and I had come from. I get a faint thought about what he intends to do.

"You can't beat her!" I shout while surprised I'm so concerned for a shambler.

"That's not my purpose," the creature replies in that cold, neutral tone of voice, "I will give you time to make your escape."

"Thank you, Cortex," Vasilikos draws his large scalpel-knife (it's like a freaking shortsword!) and gestures down the hall, "I'll lead the way! If anybody crosses us, I'll take care of them..."

"If you die?" Calvin asks, quirking his eyebrow.

"I won't," the mad doctor gives a knowing wink.

I wonder if this one truly did learn how to conquer death. If that's the case, that Cortex who's about to sacrifice himself isn't just some shambler, but a real reborn psychic hero!

We charge down the hall. Behind us, we can hear Cortex shouting a challenge to an unknown opponent. I can feel it's Mayhem and a contingent of her patients. I can also feel that they weren't expecting this, Mayhem's still drunk and her patients are all injured from her screaming. Cortex actually carves a swath through them and I wince as I briefly feel the pain of their brains hemorrhaging. Mayhem doesn't drop that easily, and she throws Cortex against the far wall. He remains standing, however, and delivers a barrage of psychic lances at her. She counters with a focused telekinesis, however, and starts peeling his skin from his musculature.

As we flee, a pained scream echoes down the halls. It doesn't harm us in the slightest, though, instead spurring us on and encouraging us. In his last tortured moment of living, Cortex launched a powerful psychic wail of his own, hurling Mayhem back into the elevator and overloading the emergency panel, causing the car to close and lock, trapping the lunatic woman inside.

We face little resistance on the way. Many of the orderlies are actually loyal to Vasilikos, not "me" or Mayhem, and they try to clear the way for us. Mayhem may not be able to assault us from her prison, but she's still able to order the "patients" and loyal orderlies to attack us. I can hear it, as can Cheryl. The little girl looks up at me, worried, but I assure her we'll be fine. Oddly enough, it's the truth when I tell her the command is faint.

----------

The entire Asylum is chaos as we break through to the lobby. A contingent of Vasilikos' orderlies have fortunately taken the doors and are clearing the lunatics away. It's a massive, bloody affair, and I'm thankful Calvin is covering his daughter's eyes. The orderlies motion for us and Vasilikos stops as we reach the doors.

"I believe this is far enough for me," he says in a gasp, "Just running down these halls... I am tired..."

"Wait!" I shout at him, "You can't just abandon us!"

"I must. My orderlies and I, we have to break this facility. We must make it crumble around Mayhem's ears..."

"Tyrant will come after you," I remind him.

"They all will," Vasilikos sighs, "At least now... Now we have some semblance of hope."

"Why?"

"Because of you, Mal. You will go home. You will tell your friends what you've seen, you will show them, in your way, what is happening here. The years of oppression under the Tyrant's rule will come to an end soon... Even if I'm not around to see it."

I don't know what to say. Frankly, I hadn't considered what my report would be. I didn't realize the importance of what I was doing. I just thought I was saving two people who didn't deserve the fate they were suffering.

"Goodbye, Demetrios," I reach out to shake his hand, "Your help has been invaluable."

"Farewell, Malaise. May you find what you're looking for."

I don't know how he knows I'm searching for... Well... I don't know what. Assurance I'm not insane? Love? A sense of belonging? The list goes on, but those three are pretty much the highest priorities.

I nod to him and usher Calvin and Cheryl away from the building. As we leave, I stop hearing Mother Mayhem. This is good. From where she's trapped, she can't send a signal to the other Praetorian leaders... At least, not until she sobers up.

That gives me time. Not much time, but time. Remembering the portions of the Babbage I'd painted, specifically it's hips and ribcage, I reconstructed my mental map to the facility where we could find the portable interdimensional devices. Once I was certain, I transmitted the image to Cheryl, as well as a rudimentary idea as to the method I'd used to access the building in the first place. If anything happens to me, she should be able to do the same.

Cheryl looks worriedly at me. While she's excited that she's finally leaving this god-forsaken place, she's also prudently terrified that we'll get caught and butchered. Frankly, so am I.

"Let's go," I rasp as an explosion rocks one of ground floor windows, "It won't do to be here when reinforcements arrive."

Dammit... Now I want sausage...

If you have a character of mine in mind, Essex, they're all yours so long as you inform me of what you intend to do with them. My characters cover a wide range, so I could probably point you to another that would make more sense for a given situation.