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Well done, Abrahms. I wish I could have been there to help, but my Labor Day celebrations had taken precedence (family first, after all).
I appreciate you're letting me bring Roland along for the prior run, though. Perhaps I can contribute in a greater capacity in future endeavors when I-16 hits and my character capability choices for all the characters I want to level up broadens.
For now, bask in the glory of your accomplishment. McGavin has done something deeply cathartic in his life. He should feel proud. -
Is extremely open to suggestion
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I will try to be there, but there is a prior engagement that has my attention on that day.
Roland's in the same boat, Abrahms. -
Happy birthday, Cassi. I hope you're not getting the same rain I am.
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If this is still going to happen today, I think I'll be available after 3:00 PM (That's 1500 for you military minded folks), Eastern. I've got a clam bake I need to go to, first!
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Is one tough mamma-jamma!
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What does SG Mode look like with your level number in the same corner?
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Well, Essex, wait until I-16 hits... You might not be able to get out of the costume editor.
We'll try to make your return as comfortable as possible. I strongly recommend working on getting into the Midnighter Club on your characters first (a novel experience the first couple times, a painful grind as you go across multitudinous characters like I have).
It's so good to have you back! -
Oh my God...
We have an Essex and a Kyo, now...
There is no more hope for our minds! -
I look at the stuff in-game as a sort of "archive" of the adventures of "The Hero" and "The Villain" (much in the same way Fallout Series refers to its main characters as "the Vault Dweller, Chosen One, or Wanderer") who have a pivotal impact on the world, but that may or may not necessarily be any one of our characters (I have a strong feeling that Apex may be "The Hero" though).
In-game, my characters interact with few other roleplayers. However, even as I play, I still "get in the heads" of my characters, getting a feel for the kind of person they are based on how their powers work or how they find their niche within a team. I apply this "feel" to them when I bring them here for roleplaying.
I also often converse while on teams as if I were my characters. While this isn't a new concept, I employ the conversations as if they're conversations my character has really had in their history. They help shape the sort of person the character is, and I have it carry over to here as well.
I use the roleplaying forum as a means of exploring where the story can be pushed. Our characters are able to have more of a "life" here, as opposed to being numbers, colored light and sound in there. Still, I don't see why either should be exclusive of each other. -
That has got to be the most ludicrous -Rep reason I've ever heard. It's akin to saying "I don't like you because you're from the next town over." It's not racist, it's not gender-biased, it's not even that insulting save the whole "I didn't have a good experience there, and have decided to condemn your entire population en masse."
It makes me glad we can't see who repped us... I would hate to think less of somebody for such foolishness. -
I wonder how we'll do if the Repairmen are still healing as they spawn.
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Runs some nice teams.
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A demented, twisted urban renewal...
I'm not expecting Going Rogue's Praetorian Paragon to look that much like our own Paragon. We've already got evidence as to why in the Praetorian arcs in the 40-50 range. Praetorian Earth got devastated by the Rikti at the same time as Prime Earth (at least, that's what I'm assuming; the contacts that would be experts on the subject just say Praetorian Earth got attacked by the Rikti, too), and they never got around to fixing things. They sure did build some impressive armies out of the citizenry of their worlds, though!
The question is how do they get from the devastated maps we run through in the Praetorian arcs to the "Utopia" we've been shown in the preview? The logical assumption I would suppose is an urban renewal project. But how to fit that in with the diseased minds of the Praetorians? I figured an aggressive "cleansing" would be in order. I figure the Praetorians would employ a ruthless "If you're not with us, you're against us" mentality and slaughter everything that they came across before tearing their cities down and rebuilding them somewhat from scratch.
Mind you, I'm shooting from the hip here. I've got no clue what the Devs have in mind for their backstory. I hope it's better writing than what gave us the Praetorians in the first place, which is a rather rushed attempt at making "Goatee-wearing" Phalanxers and Vindicators (but some still fun missions... Save the Wolf ones and Diabolique; that girl needs to learn how to stand and fight, not race around the map like a lunatic because she got bit by a mosquito). It's a plot full of satisfying villains with an unsatisfying story... Which has been a complaint that's reared its ugly head again recently with the whole Reichsman incident, so I'm a little worried as to what opening to Going Rogue will be. -
I don't really have an overall arc in mind for Grey's Army at the moment, but events are still moving forward.
Grey's Army is expanding their base and Roland's relationships grow more volatile. Cedric struggles with the consequences of losing his cool after his baby sister was kidnapped and the Ryat androids start to realize that they don't want to look like miniature warbots anymore. Cory Simmons works on expanding his magical knowledge while helping his girlfriend in the Cabal bring her friends to better terms with the rest of Paragon City while Kipland starts working with old friends in a group called the Blue Talon Security Company.
Finally, Power Breaker has rebuilt himself and is conducting a small business in Cimerora to acquire Shadow Cyst Crystal fragments to restore his nanites after the fight with Dagoeth. -
--Kings Row: Grey's Army Base--
Days passed and the expansion of the base continued at a steady pace with the support of the androids. In mere hours, they converted sections of the city's disused sewer network into new chambers for the base, a process that would have taken normal workers days, if not weeks. The machines worked with enthusiastic precision and efficiency, but they had little idea as to what they were doing.
A chamber to the west, next to the medical bay, was turned into a larger, expanded manufacturing lab. Here, Sheldon and Dale Simms would be able to work on bigger projects. It was based on the lab in which Sheldon had reconfigured a Warhulk into a walking tank and turned Malta Group Titans into a personalized robot for the group he first called the Grey Titan and later Ryat Dreadnought. He'd had to disassemble that that laboratory during one of the prior renovations and never got around to rebuilding it. Now, however, Randall said they had the room to keep it.
The laboratory was already outfitted with a construction bay. A platform sat near the center of the room, cornered with four posts emitting soft light. Particles floated from it as a weak antigravity field generator similar to that in Nester Durj's belt hummed. Four turrets flanked the bay. Sheldon had explained that they were designed to protect everybody in the base in case one of his experiments got out of hand, but he also noted it would make a decent panic chamber in a pinch, because the four posts could emit a protective field for a few minutes.
The inventor found he was quite proud of the manufacturing laboratory. He just wasn't sure where most of the stuff crammed into it had come from. It seemed the androids had hauled in a damaged power core from a large machine... And he still didn't know what was in some of the large storage crates that remained.
He didn't have time to dwell on it, however. Work was taking longer on the chamber the androids currently found themselves in. It looked like a high-tech garage, installed just to the east of the manufacturing lab. A channel ran down the center of it, from east to west, leading to the lab. On the east wall, a set of fans had been installed to absorb exhaust.
"Sheldon," the deep bass of Ryat99 sounded during the lull in the construction, "We need to talk..."
"Can it wait?" the inventor replied as he tapped buttons on his communicator, "I'm struggling to get clearance for-"
"Just put this in the back of your mind, then," the big android interrupted, "I think you need to start working on more 'human' appearances for my siblings and me."
"What do you mean? What for?"
"A couple days ago, I was helping Cedric rescue people from a burning building. I ran into some children, and... Well, I believe my appearance is frightening. Any appearance."
Sheldon looked up from his communicator and turned to the android. Before, the Ryats didn't need human forms. They went into dangerous situations and bizarre places where their unusual armored appearance wouldn't stand out on first contact.
It also wasn't an issue in Paragon City, where robots, other androids and even heroes clad in powered armor were a common occurrence. Still, Ryat99's request was a valid concern. He did seem quite intimidating.
"Interesting," he finally answered, "I'll look into it. For now, I need to work on getting these forms to clear this hangar pushed through the F.B.S.A."
"This is a hangar?" the android asked, "Underground?"
"The roof there leads to the empty lot behind Randall's apartment. We're trying to get clearance to pop it open at times and fly vehicles like Levi's hover bike or a Chaser Matt rebuilt out."
"I was wondering why we installed tracks into the walls up next to the ceiling... What about the pavement?"
"I'm requisitioning a hard light hologram to place over the plates we install to cover the opening. It should prove interesting."
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--Brickstown--
He'd been waiting for almost a half an hour at the Brickstown Green Line station. If this went on much longer, he was going to tell the company that he quit. They were wasting his time.
Finally, a vehicle with dark-tinted windows arrived. The driver exited and the hero almost choked on some of the peanuts he'd been eating.
"It took you long enough," Kip shouted at the driver of the sport utility vehicle after he recovered, "What are you doing here, Eisenherz? Where's Genny?"
Eisenherz was a man his brother had met during a brief, but massive, conflict with invading Praetorians. He was a grimly efficient tanker, normally protected by a suit of magic armor. In this case, however, he was wearing a flak jacket with heavy padding on its front.
"She couldn't make it," the grim blonde man replied, "She was fine yesterday but she said she felt sick this morning."
"Has this been happening a lot?"
"She has infrequent bouts of nausea. The doctors at LaGrange Medical say it might have something to do with her mutant physiology and the stresses her strength has on her body."
"Will she be alright?" Kip asked, his voice registering a real note of concern.
"She should be," Eisenherz replied, his own voice faltering a little to a worried croak, "Look, we need to get started. Get in."
"Why? Just give me your radio frequency and I'll fly."
Eisen shook his head and motioned for Kip to enter the S.U.V. Kip shrugged and got in the passenger side.
"Alright, why are we riding in a jeep?"
"Well, Kipland, what did Genny tell you our job is?"
"She just said Blue Talon works security. She didn't say what kind."
Eisen nodded. He pulled down an alley and brought the vehicle to a stop.
"Blue Talon works security in all aspects in this city. We protect V.I.P.'s, armored trucks, and any other valuables we've been hired to protect. Genny should have given you a handbook..."
Kip shook his head and shrugged.
"...Oh well. You'll catch on fast. The major thing you need to keep in mind is that Blue Talon's working on a reputation for going above and beyond the call of duty. We don't just protect our charge, but all people in the vicinity. We try to preserve public and private property, and if an emergency situation occurs within our vicinity, we assist in any way possible. We're in direct competition with Crey's security forces and they... Well... You might see in today's job."
"What's today's job?" Kip asked, his curiosity slightly piqued.
"We're shadowing an armored car for Family Jewels. They've been getting hit by the Freakshow for the past couple weeks, and none of the jewels have been showing back up on the streets. Cops have a few theories as to what's going on, but..."
"But we can't act on those theories unless there's hard evidence?" Kip asked, "Sounds like we should hope we get hit so we can rip the hard evidence out of them!"
"That's not our job, Kip. Blue Talon doesn't run investigations, we just deal with deflecting assault and robbery. Investigation is meant for cops, P.I.'s, Detectives, and those heroes who take it upon themselves to track down criminal activity."
"We could make it our job!"
"No," Eisenherz's tone indicated he would broach no discussion on the topic, "It's not just me saying this, Kip. The company's head, Mister Jerod Wells, has written the policy in no uncertain terms that we can't run investigations on company time."
Kip glared at the tanker. Eisen turned to him and gave him a knowing smirk.
"You've run investigations on personal time?" Kip asked, "A straight-and-narrow kind of guy like you?"
"A couple times... Like if I came across something that dealt with the Council. I... I really hate them."
"They do something to you?" Kip asked, "They've done a few things to my friends and family, too."
"No... They didn't do anything to me, personally... But... They're the inheritors of resources and philosophies of people my family dealt with back in World War Two, so... I like to hit them any chance I can."
Kip nodded. There was a story the lean man was keeping back, but he knew better than to pry.
The radio crackled and a voice on the other end called for all personnel to "look sharp."
"Alright," Eisen muttered as he put the truck into gear, but kept his foot on the clutch, "Here we go..."
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--Cimerora--
"Thank you," Ezekiel said calmly to Julia Pria, "I'm sure these vegetables will prove more nourishing than what I find in my land."
"We appreciate your business and all the help you and your kin provide us in our troubled time," she replied sweetly.
"...Despite the fact that you look like one of the monsters who plague my people," Zeke could hear Geizzer's voice as he walked away from the woman, "I don't mean to be condescending, but I grow weary of people who think they're being deceptive. I can practically taste the fear radiating from that woman, even as we walk away."
"Then I should be happy you didn't voice your concerns," Zeke muttered.
His control with Androm was slipping. The Nictus was learning he didn't need vocal chords to speak and was starting to push out "audible psychic projections" in order to converse. What was worse, their minds were no longer synced up, meaning they each had individual thoughts. That second part had been developing for a while, possibly from the time Androm was "comatose." Zeke still had doubts the energy being had been dormant all that time.
What hadn't changed, however, was Zeke's control over the Nictus energies dwelling within him. Androm sometimes sounded bitter when he said he had no control over what the human did. After conversations with other Kheldians, what few were willing to talk to the gray-haired man once they realized who he'd bonded with, Durj was starting to suspect his control over the power had o do with how Kheldians were supposed to merge.
Usually, the two beings became one. It explained Charlene's behavior as of late, as she took strongly to heroism, but simultaneously struggled to juggle her heroic life with the passions of her family and her career. It never occurred to her that she could let the Kheldian, Sol'ra T'Cha, merge with someone else because for all intents and purposes, Sol'Ra was as much Charlene as Charlene was Sol'Ra.
But it wasn't the same for Zeke and Androm. They thought differently from each other. They believed differently from each other. There had been numerous times where Geizzer had demanded that Zeke simply execute the thugs they ran across instead of arrest them.
"Set an example for the others..." had been his rationale. Zeke had countered that he wasn't Vlad Tepes.
"Hey!" he heard somebody shout, "Are you one of the strange warriors Imperious brought to our land? You dress so strange, but not in the thin, tight clothing..."
He turned and saw one of the local merchants. He was waving excitedly to him.
"Ah! I knew it! You have that dark energy about you!"
"Get ready for screaming..."
The man ran up to Ezekiel and clapped him on the shoulder.
"Come with me, sir! One from your land has a great offer for those with your capabilities!"
The merchant led Zeke down to the beach where a canvas tent had been erected. A man in dark armor wearing a long-horned skull for a helmet was walking away. He seemed to be poking at a burlap bag that clinked with the sounds of coins and other objects.
"Out of my way, Hero," the big man growled as he walked past, "You're lucky I'm in a good mood. Fusion now has materials to further its goals... So I'm willing to allow you time to prepare for your doom!"
Zeke shook his head and walked past the villain. He didn't understand the mindset of many of the Rogue Isles' super-powered denizens. What was stranger, it seemed that whenever they were just close enough to achieving their goals of world domination, something seemed to stop them, whether it was heroic or environmental intervention or internal strife. Sometimes, Arachnos itself would stop the self-styled villains, which made the whole operation of the Isles dubious.
"Zeke!" he heard as he rounded the tent, "Hey man!"
He didn't recognize the big brute and was a little disconcerted that he was recognized. The pale-skinned man was massive, overly-muscled and had large spire-like protrusions poking out of his torso and shoulders. Dark purple circuits coursed through his form, and every so often he saw a glow of energy as it coursed through the channel.
"Power Breaker?" he asked.
"Yeah!" the big man stood, smiled, and reached out to shake Zeke's hand.
He looked better than what Randall had described. After waking in St. Martial, the big man had sent just one message to Randall, detailing his survival and the damage his body had sustained after fighting Dagoeth. Randy had relayed it to him and Kip, and Zeke expected to never see anymore support from the big man.
However, here the brute was, hale and healthy. Despite the pale skin (surprisingly pale, despite the sunlight), Breaker moved easily and seemed comfortable in his own skin. His body was still severely scarred, but the newer ones were fading quickly. The older ones remained as they had been in place before Breaker had gained his powers.
"Thank you," he said as he placed a few coins in the merchant's hand, "An added bonus for bringing a friend to me. Run along, now."
The merchant who'd guided Zeke smiled and walked away happily. The Warshade wondered idly if Power Breaker had even considered the impact such activity might have on history. He shrugged the thought aside, however. It certainly couldn't be the first time such advertising had been employed.
"What the Hell are you?" Androm suddenly shouted at the brute.
"Don't mind that," Zeke said calmly as he took the seat Breaker eventually offered him.
"Don't mind me? Zeke, don't you recognize the energy radiating from his form!?"
"Yes... Power... Uh..."
"Call me 'Ray,'" Breaker replied as he started fishing through the bags next to him, "Heroes call me Ray, Villains call me Power Breaker. Either way, I'm in business."
"What have you been doing?"
Laughing, Power Breaker described the past few months as a drunken haze. Sometimes he was intoxicated, other times he was in so much pain as to be deliriously sick. It was an ongoing stupor as his nanites struggled to repair the damage done to him by the "Godmode" code he'd had them activate to fight Dagoeth.
"Of course, if it hadn't been for the code, I'd have never survived! Dagoeth would have ripped me apart and used my pieces as boxing gloves to fight Statesman and Recluse... I don't think anybody knows how that would have turned out. Well, once my body was restored, I woke up..."
He grunted harshly and grimaced as if he were struggling with a bad memory.
"You've seen Arachnos Spider Mistresses, right?"
"Yes," Zeke replied, unsure if he liked where this was going.
"Well, there's one that has some infamy in the Isles... Her name's Becky, and she... She's a little strange. Well, I woke up tangled up in her legs..."
Zeke blinked at him.
"She seemed happy," Breaker shrugged, "Apparently, as part of my convalescence, I was throwing some wild parties in my apartment. I had Marcones, Frosts, Freaks, some Arachnos troops... I've been going through the pictures. I also have some offers to help set up a new club in St. Martial."
"But now you're here, running a shop," Durj muttered, "Seems counterproductive."
"I don't want to run a night club," Harris sighed, "Besides, I need to replenish my nanites. I can usually find the materials they need in my everyday activities, but there's a crucial element I need that I can't get in regular supply anywhere else..."
He pulled an object from the sack next to him and showed it to Zeke. It was a crystal that was not just black, it drew light into itself, making objects around it seem black and white. It also emitted a faint energy field, one Zeke was intimately familiar with.
"I get it now!" Androm shouted, "You use Shadow Cyst Crystals to energize the nanites that give you powers! Oh... Oh this is delicious!"
"Uh..." Breaker put the crystal shard back into the sack, "I'd expected you to be more upset..."
"Upset? Me? Hell no."
"Why?" Zeke asked, drawing a worried look from Raymond.
"Because it's the ultimate insult. I can picture Requiem and Arakhn running across your friend here, staring in horror as they watch their energies used to power him. Oh, my fellows were certainly remiss in turning a blind eye to the activities of the Crey Corporation. Nictus turn humans into "Night Wolves" and Vamypri, and Crey turns Nictus into weapons. It's a delicious cycle."
"Oh... Kay..." Breaker sat back and smiled, "Well... What I do here is scrabble around for mystical bits and trinkets. I then sell the items to capes and capers for fragments of Cyst crystals... Which I then eat."
"Really?"
To demonstrate, the brute pulled a small gem out of the bag next to his chair and swallowed it whole.
"They're actually kind of tasty. I think my nanites altered my tastebuds."
Androm started laughing, the chuckles trailing off and fading into the background noise as Zeke leaned back and smirked. The Nictus should have been horrified at what they'd just learned. If Crey made Power Breaker once, they could repeat the process. They could use the Nictus as a power source for any number of insidious machines.
However, for now, the information didn't seem to be leaked. What's more, Crey seemed to have forgotten they'd even made Power Breaker. So... For now, they could revel in the moment of providence.
"That's interesting, Raymond," Durj said with a strange sense of calm, " So... What do you have in stock?" -
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My Beautiful Misery
That dry chapter took a lot out of me. It had so little flavor in it that I had lost a lot of my passion for this story...
This chapter, however, has done a lot to restore it. Malaise is now moving to finish his adventures in Opposite Land because a situation outside his control or purview has forced his hand. This chapter explains that situation. -
Is too modest
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I wake after what feels like an eternity. I'm just tired.
Babbage looks pretty nightmarish, now. The real one actually has more round curves, not these horrid jagged points I've given him. Each part is symbolic of the steps I need to take to get out of here, the linework in the legs and feet representing streets and buildings I need to take, the gears in the torso are stylized to have the faces of the people I'm trying to help. The hands look like the sorts of people who'll be about to stop me. I won't be dressed in the Malaise outfit, so the minions of the Praetorians, likely Battle Maiden's, will be trying to have "fun" with me. Finally, the head looked kind of like Antimatter. I have to figure out a way to get through him to get out of here.
How am I supposed to outwit the smartest man on this planet?
Wait...
I think of Positron as the smartest man in my world, too? Huh. I never realized that... I used to think Aeon had a lot going for him, but...
When did I start thinking Keyes was the brain of the world?
A mystery for another time, I suppose. I've got work to do.
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I make my way back to Independence Port. There's a strange feeling in the air, and I know it well. It's hard to describe that sensation of "something's about to happen," but this is it. It's as if everything is topsy-turvy, even though the outward appearance is exactly as it should be. It's like it's about to rain, but there isn't a cloud in the sky. It's like a volcano is about to erupt, but the ground doesn't quake or make a sound. It's cold, even though it's eighty degrees, or it's hot despite sub-zero temperatures.
People are walking about the damaged city zone with a look of trepidation. Today, I can't hear the sounds of combat as I did before. The Freaks and Battle Maiden's warriors are lying low for some reason. I see some of Antimatter's machines clomping past, but they're ignoring everything but their assignment.
I go to Cheryl and Cla-Eve's neighborhood, flitting from alley to alley, wall to wall. When I pass the Freakshow Fortress, there are no guards. There's a heavy sound of grinding, however. They're doing something in there, and it's big.
I have to get Eve and Cheryl out of here now. The timetable's been ramped up by something I hadn't even considered, and this whole city block is about to get rocked with violence. I make a mad dash for their apartment building, a sense of panic increasing with each step.
It's not me. Cheryl's alerting the locals to escape into the sewers. This neighborhood isn't safe anymore.
"It's about time you got here!" Eve shouts as I storm in.
They're already packed and ready to go. Eve has a backpack slung over her shoulder. No matter what happens, she's going to try to get out of this Hell-hole. I don't blame her, and I hope she makes it.
"They're coming!" Cheryl shouts, "We have to go!"
I can feel it, now. Red rage is creeping into my brain. Monstrous thoughts of the horrible things Battle Maiden's warriors are going to do to everyone who gets in their...
Mon Dieu...
"We have to get out of here, now!" I shout, grabbing them and pulling them as roughly as I can into the hall.
Eve yanks free of my grasp and almost strikes me with her metal hand. Her arm isn't the same twisted, jagged hunk of metal it is back home, but it could hurt me badly. Fortunately, she realizes this, too, and thinks better on it.
"What's wrong?" she asks sourly.
"Someone bad," Cheryl explains, "Very bad... Scary..."
We run outside together. The streets are still empty. They won't be for long. The sounds coming from the Freakshow fortress have ended.
Why didn't we notice that? I don't have an eidetic memory, I can't run back through what I've seen and heard. They could have ended at any time I started sprinting for Eve's apartment. We have to get moving.
"One second..." Cheryl says before we leave.
"I must go now, my friends," I can hear her voice in my mind as clearly as I ever could Shalice, "Take care of yourselves. I trust you'll find a new champion to take care of you..."
"That's not likely," I say grimly, then mentally kick myself as I realize now isn't the time for pessimism.
"Yes it is," Cheryl says sweetly, "There's a submarine waiting in the harbor full of the soldiers of a man named Stefan Richter... He's had his agents in communication with me for a few months now, and they're ready to get these people out of here..."
"But they'll have to wait until after the battle!" Clamor pulled us into an alley then pointed, "Look!"
They were marching down the street. They looked ridiculous in this modern setting, these soldiers in medieval armor. No suit looked quite the same from another, and the warriors each wielded personalized weapons in various states of repair and cleanliness.
As they reached the neighborhood's street, I felt a wave of confusion radiate from the soldiers. All but one wondered why they had never noticed this neighborhood before. The single one without a doubt stepped forward, her soldiers parting as easily as if she were marching through water.
"Step lively, my warriors!" Battle Maiden shouted, her voice shrill and hoarse, "I'll hear not your fears of witchcraft and sorcery, or you'll find my sword in your bellies! I will slaughter these Freaks alone if I have to!"
"You'll have a rough time of it, babe!" a wild voice shouts from the other end of the street like it came from a loud speaker.
No... It can't be...
I look and see the Freaks shambling out of their fortress. There's no formation to their approach, they're just a bloodthirsty mob. They're always a bloodthirsty mob.
Even in Opposite Land...
In the center of their mass, holding a microphone in his one human hand that seemed to be connected to the two Noise Tanks flanking him (those megaphones mounted on their bodies always look ridiculous, but that doesn't make them any less effective), was Dreck. He had a familiar, smug look on his face. He'd come for a good fight, and he was glad Battle Maiden had decided to show. I could feel confidence radiating from him, and it seemed to be affecting his troops, too.
He was still an Excelsior-infused, over-muscled, haphazardly cybered up monstrosity, but now he had the presence of leadership. He wasn't just an alpha male of a pack, he'd given these lunatics something to believe in, even if it was still just nothing. They were so certain of themselves at this moment, they fully believe they're going to murder each and every one of these Praetorian soldiers and hang their corpses up as a warning to the rest of Tyrant's armies.
"This is all you've brought, Dreck?" Battle Maiden screams so loudly, she doesn't need the loudspeakers for him to hear.
"This is all I need," the words coming from the Noise Tanks rattles the windows of the buildings and causes the armored soldiers to flinch, "Don't worry, Battle Maiden. Punkadelic and Devastation are only here for effect. I don't need them to take you down, you roided up [dog]!"
Battle Maiden doesn't say anything initially. She just stares at him in shock. She can't believe the audacity of this "sniveling worm." She can't believe she's even entertaining today's battle, but she was ordered, by Antimatter who was ordered by Tyrant, to set an example of these malcontents.
Finally, she levels her gaze on Dreck and I feel a chill in my spine. She raises her sword arm and screams. The battle is joined after that. The two armies rush for each other, crossbow bolts and circular saw blades hurtling through the air to draw blood faster. I do a quick general calculation and don't like what I realize.
"Move!" I hiss and we start moving away from the battle.
The two groups meet just outside our alley and we can hear the sounds of ringing metal and screaming people. I chance a look over my shoulder as we rush and can see some of the combatants spilling into the alley. It's only a matter of time, now.
A clanging sound draws near and a circular saw blade bounces off the walls over our heads. Bits of brick and mortar spill onto our heads and the blade draws sparks as it strikes a fire escape. Cheryl lets out a little whimper and Eve hisses.
We break from the alley and find that war has spilled onto the streets. Freaks and warriors are everywhere, and each army is tearing the other apart. Cheryl presses herself into Eve's belly so she can't see the carnage. The cybernetic woman looks to me for help, but I'm too busy trying to plot our escape. The fewer groups we engage, the better it will be for us.
We take as near the same route I'd taken to get here to escape. Unfortunately, a fight between Tanks and Champions of War has collapsed some walls into one of the alleys. The industrial way is blocked, too, for the battle has broken open the sewage pipes, spilling green filth into the streets.
I guide them up the road, throwing illusions about when necessary to keep the attention of the battling armies strictly on each other. Clamor cradles Cheryl's head to her belly as we hobble along, she's as afraid of the war as the young girl but knows she can't show it. Me, I'm too busy trying to plot and plan our way out of here to be afraid...
Oh crap...
I'm gonna die!
A Champion of Battle runs up to me. I must have missed him in my sudden panic and he realized I was a nice soft target. He's a real warrior, this one, as he's completely unafraid to cut down a defenseless-!
The man is hacked down by a massive scythe. I recognize the green body the scythe is attached to. Bile looks down at me and my terrified charges, his one human eye narrowed darkly.
"Where are you going?" he rasps.
I almost speak, but he raises his scythe blade to my neck and I stop. His focus is on Eve.
"Clamor?" he clarifies.
"A better place," she replies, "And if you try to stop me, Ralph, I'll rip your arm off and stick it where the sun doesn't shine."
Ralph!?
"This one... You know he's with them, right? His DNA has him listed as-!"
"He's not that Malaise," Eve interrupted him, "He's... Different."
"Ralph" turns to me again and looks more intently. I don't know what it is he sees, but the scythe lowers after he finishes his "scan" and nods.
Well, it doesn't exactly lower. I hear a click inside it and he spins around, hurling another circular saw blade at the Champions of Mourning who are charging us. The blade bounces among the warriors and they drop with fewer limbs than they had before.
"Very well," Bile mutters as he scans the rest of the battle, "I will miss you. I've missed you for a while, Eve."
"I can't stay here, living like this," Clamor replies, her voice cracking, "I'm sorry..."
"You might have a place in his world. I will pray for you."
And with that, he walked off. Yes, the Freakshow here were certainly a strange lot. I never thought any of them could feel affection, much less love. As I feel the depression radiating from Bile as he methodically hacks and slashes into the warriors trying to kill him, I realize I may have misjudged these cybernetic madmen.
"Mal!" Clamor shouts and I'm brought back into the present.
"Right!" I shout and pull them off the road.
We hug building walls and crawl by the bases of fences to avoid stray fire. The fighting is fizzling out as we near the tunnel entrance to Steel Canyon. I can see why when we get to the train station.
Antimatter's robots are cutting down anybody who gets too near. With a shudder, I notice that many of the dead are the local civilians who tried to flee the fighting. A few among them are the combatants themselves who had just moved too close to the emotionless machines. That's not why I shudder, however.
This is Antimatter's contribution to the "improvement" projects. They're going to level each and every one of these city zones, rebuild them anew, make them unrecognizable to what we know already. This includes slaughtering anybody who gets in the way, anybody who might happen to be living in those cities.
It's terrifying. It's inhuman. It's evil.
It's wrong.
I'm trying to figure out how to get through this when Eve jumps up and charges the machines. I shout for her to get down, but it's too late. The robots turn to her and their visors glow. A moment later, green beams of energy are lancing into her, but she continues to rush them.
She smashes the head off the first one as she reaches it. The next, she rips its arm off and uses it like a club to smash a third and fourth. She then takes a robot by the leg, lifts it over her head and brings it down on a sixth. More beams strike her, but she seems not to notice. She rips pieces of the robots she's smashed off the bodies and hurls them into her assailants. Robot after robot drops to the ground, motionless.
After ten minutes of battle, Eve collapses to the ground, exhausted and injured. The robots are smashed, what few left are getting attacked by random Freakshow warriors. Cheryl and I rush to our champion to see if she's alright.
"I'm dying," she gasps as we reach her.
No... NO! It's not supposed to be like this!
"We could have found another way!" I shout, "Eve! Why'd you just rush them?"
"I just... I just knew..." she's having trouble focusing on me, the world is getting blurry for her, "It's what... What I had to do..."
"Aunt Eve?" Cheryl whispers.
"No, Eve! Stay with me! I'll get you to Vasilikos! He'll put you back together!"
I hate finding out I'm not as strong as I should be. I know a few passive defense tricks to get out of some grapples and holds, but when it comes to situations that require strength, I'm useless. I can't lift Eve, her cybernetics just make her too heavy.
"Let me go," she whispers weakly, "I'm fine... I'm going to a better place..."
"Wait!" I shout, "The Excelsior! It'll bring you back!"
"My feeder's long-gone..."
She reaches her human hand to Cheryl and strokes the girls' face. I can sense from her that the hand feels cold.
"Goodbye, little dove... You... You made my life worth living... You gave me something to believe in..."
"Aunt Eve..." the young girl was near tears, "I'll miss you."
She understands what's going on. I guess she got used to death fast in this world, no matter who tried to shelter her from it.
"Malaise..." Eve says to me, "You make sure... Make sure... She... Doesn't take my... Road out of here..."
I can only nod. Eve's eyes are closing, but she suddenly jerks to sit upright. Her arm is thrown over my shoulder and I hear another metallic click. Instead of a circular saw blade, a metal spike is launched from her arm and plunges into the Champion of War who was sneaking up on us. He's thrown backwards and impaled on the pavement as Eve slumps in my arms.
It feels like an eternity before Cheryl is tugging at me, but I know it's only been half a second. I can't believe it came to this. I can't believe I already failed.
I was doing everything right.
"Jean-Pierre," the girl whimpers, "We need to go!"
I start to gently lay Eve on the pavement. A crossbow bolt spikes into the street next to us as I cross her arms over her chest.
"Well, isn't this touching," a gruff-sounding man grunts as he stomps up behind us, "You crying for your hero, normie?"
"You think you're warriors," I hiss through gritted teeth, tears streaming down my face, "You're just cowards... These metal-grafted monsters are greater warriors than you ever will be... They at least fight other warriors!"
I stand and turn. I feel... Different. I feel righteous. I feel right. I feel like I know exactly what to do.
The Champion of War is reloading his crossbow casually. He doesn't know the danger he's in.
"You're just a weak piece of flesh," he growls, "In a moment, I'm gonna have my boys here have their way with you. Then they're gonna have their way with your friend on the ground, there. I'm gonna be having fun with the little girl."
"You sick monsters!" I shout, my vision tinting red despite the fact everything is gray, "You're not even human! Whatever shred of humanity was left in you is gone! You don't deserve to live anymore!"
Lightning flashes around Cheryl and me. The girl is hugging my hip and looking fearfully at these sick bastards. The soldiers look nervously to each other, then to their leader as he nods knowingly.
"So you've got some power," he chuckles, obviously unimpressed, "Big deal. I've cut down plenty of supernaturals."
"You haven't faced true warriors," I reply evenly, my voice wasn't cracked from crying anymore, "You haven't faced..."
I snap my fingers and they burst from the ground. I've never summoned that many illusions at once before... I don't think anybody has. Something feels weird about them, too. Something substantial.
"...Cimerorans."
They're the spitting image of the warriors in the strange land the Midnighters unveiled to the meta human populace of Paragon City and the Etoile Isles, save that they have no color. They look as if they're carved from granite. I haven't been to Cimerora, but I've seen captured images and have read many reports from heroes on the battle prowess of the soldiers. My illusory army is a mix of traitors and loyalists, blending elements of the uniform discipline of Imperious' forces and the savage ferocity of Romulus'.
I made twenty of them. More than enough to cut down this rabble.
Some of the Champions drop their weapons in shock. The leader fires a bolt into their midst, still aimed at me. I can't do anything to stop it.
One of the Traitors I created swings his shield up and the bolt smashes a hole through and tumbles to the street, clattering uselessly on the pavement. These illusions are solid.
And they're lethal.
With a wordless roar, they rush Battle Maiden's forces and carve them to bits. I turn Cheryl away from the slaughter. I can hardly believe what just happened. As soon as the last of the Champions are dead, the Cimerorans disappear without a word. It's unsettling, but it makes sense, I guess.
Bile is standing in the street now. He's staring at Eve. His rage is barely restrained.
"I'm sorry," I gasp, suddenly realizing I feel very tired, "She... She saved us..."
"You couldn't do that before?" the green-clad Freak barks, "You couldn't summon an army to save the day before she got herself killed!?"
"I didn't know!" I shout back, "I didn't know how, I didn't know I could do that, and I didn't know what to do before she jumped the machines and destroyed each and every one, avenging all of these people around us and clearing the way for this little girl to escape! That's what this is about, Bile! This girl needs to escape and I need to save her! It's why I'm here!"
He glares at me. I know what he's thinking.
"I won't stop you. But I won't help you, either."
"Fine then," I reply and guide Cheryl away, "You might still be able to save her, Bile. If you have any spare Excelsior."
We walk away and I can hear the Freak behind us. He was working to bring Eve back. I didn't know what to hope for. On the one hand, she deserved the peace she'd fought for. On the other, I felt like she needed to fight more. This world needed people like her in it. The Freaks here needed her.
Unfortunately, the most I could do was leave the issue to fate. Cheryl and I had to escape. I needed rest. I didn't want to spend anymore time in this world. I wanted to storm into Antimatter's factory, steal another interdimensional transporter and get the Hell back home.
But I was exhausted. Summoning those tangible soldiers took a lot out of me. I was barely able to walk as it was. Only the grip of the little girl's hand as Cheryl dragged me down the tunnel to Steel Canyon kept me awake. I needed to be at my best to help her.
"Soon," I thought dreamily to her, "Soon you'll be free... And we'll find a way to honor Eve for what she did for you."
"I know," Cheryl replied, "Come on, Jean! I need you to keep moving!" -
Abrahms has great taste in music.