Mr_Grey

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  1. The spiderling's analysis of the figure it was attacking was surprising. Apparently, it was fighting an otherwise normal human that was between the ages of twenty-five and thirty-five, aside from the fact that various genetic markings showed excessive damage and that the body should probably have been about forty in some places.

    It was also detecting a large amount of arcane energy that wasn't so much coming from the human or being projected upon him by any form of artifact he may have been using, but being channeled through him. It would seem that even if this batch of ne'er-do-wells were defeated, it would not be the end of them by a long shot.

    The ninja/sorcerer/thing reached up, then, and wrenched the monstrosity free from his head. The spiderling ripped the mask off with it, revealing a bald, pale-white face with milky eyes before the figure was shrouded in shadow again.

    There was a tremendous howling, and the gathered meta humans could feel themselves get slightly tired. In the same instant, the cybernetic agents picked themselves off the floor and their damaged flesh seemed to heal and cover their metal skeletons.

    Mystically repaired, the peculiar Sedadyne forces resumed their fight with renewed vigor. Still, the agents were severely outclassed and they didn't have much longer.

    One of the agents didn't rise. Lying at the feet of the Dwarf, his eyes flickered once and the body exploded violently.
  2. The agents were battered and torn, their suits and flesh burned or shredded away to reveal cybernetic skeletons underneath, but they were hardly beaten. The one Cassie's robots had lacerated with energy fire pushed itself back up, drew its pistol, and fired an energy bolt that scored the hull of one of the battle drones to prove its refusal to relent.

    The agents weren't the problem the meta humans had to deal with, however. The problem they had to worry about was the fact that the shadows throughout the warehouse were now reaching for them with tenebrous alacrity. Tentacles of pure darkness lashed out at them from all sides and the attacking meta humans could see a number of men in what looked to be stylized ninja outfits stepping out of the darkness.

    The rogues would recognize them as looking like the lunatic who had attacked them in St. Martial in the early morning.
  3. The first agent was batted aside just as Pax had hoped. While they had a dense infrastructure under their pale flesh, they were still susceptible to physics. The body slammed against an industrial pillar and landed on its feet before running back into the fray.

    Another two started rushing the Dwarf, but the rest of the group (seven, it seemed) paused and looked about the rest of the warehouse. While their fellows punched and kicked the invading hero while attempting to duck and roll away from its attacks, the other seven looked about, aware of the fact that more meta human vigilantes could be on the way.

    Arek didn't disappoint their expectations as he appeared like a terrible beast of legend, simultaneously toppling one of Paxtera's assailants to the floor with a kick to the head and hurling a gas grenade into the midst of the remaining seven. Some of the agents rolled away deftly, but others were caught in the cloud. At first, they seemed to move normally in it, but their limbs and heads started to twitch, and they couldn't seem to move.

    Jack's psychic blast lanced into the mind of one of the cyborgs nearest to him and caused the machine to turn to him. The agent didn't seem affected by the attack and it kicked the man to the floor before getting batted aside by one of the Dwarf's huge claws.
  4. Mr_Grey

    The Redeemers

    For several hours, the Redeemers, Trolls and Freedom Corps forces threw their assaults at the nigh-unstoppable beast. Nothing they threw at Grendel seemed to faze him. Whatever this creature was, he was not drawing inspiration from the cowardly behavior of his namesake.

    Bullets ricocheted off his skin. Several Longbow troops wound up teleporting to the hospital and Trolls dragged their bleeding bodies away from the fight after they all wound up getting struck by the bouncing projectiles. Throwing objects had a similar result, except Grendel was throwing the debris and detritus hurled at him back.

    Fire made him sooty, which he fixed with a stomp into the river that cleared the combatants away just as easily. Conversely, ice was such a minor inconvenience so as to be negligible. Ashen Roast’s friend, Blizzard Front, had frozen the waters around the monster so solidly as to stop an eighteen wheeler. With an application of constant force, Grendel pulled his leg free of the frozen water, scattering large blocks into the surrounded crowd and knocking many into the oncoming waters. Worse, he now had a set of frozen blocks to use on the meta humans trying to stop him.

    Oddly enough, actually getting in close and engaging Grendel in hand-to-hand combat was effective. Garm had gotten a few good punches on the gray bulk’s jaw before being punted into one of the overpass’s pillars. After that, Briggs McBain crashed into the much larger man’s knee, knocking Grendel over before the burly little troll tried to drown him.

    Unfortunately, despite McBain’s strength, he was much lighter than Grendel. He was lifted and hurled across the river. When the little green man bolted back up and started rushing back to the fight, the monster picked up a small boulder and hurled it so hard at him that it knocked him over backwards and Briggs landed face-first in the water. He didn’t seem to rise again, but he swam to another location to reconsider his strategy.

    Nothing could slow the monster down, nothing could weaken his skin. He seemed to respond to force and momentum, but the damage being done was minimal. It was getting so bad that the city’s major heroes started getting involved before Grendel decided to start trying to eliminate the “legitimate” heroes.

    Mynx was the first, bounding into the fight and raking her claws across his skin. Sparks flew and the long-horned beast sighed like she had done him a favor before trying to squash her with his massive fists. Hopping, twisting and flipping, she avoided his assaults, but he swept a wave of river water at her that sent her tumbling. Before he could stomp on her, Genji Atomoyo, Garm’s Tsoo sorcerer, appeared next to her in a swirl of whirling colored smoke, grasped her wrist, and disappeared with the catgirl in tow.

    As soon as Grendel brought his foot back from where he’d stomped, he felt something kick him in the back of the knee. Stumbling, he swung behind himself for his attacker. Ms. Liberty caught the blow with her forearms and was sent hurtling to the concrete edge of the river. Getting back up, she was barely able to avoid getting flattened by one of the monster’s fists and delivered two more kicks to its mid-section.

    Unfortunately, the monster caught her, gripping her torso in one of its hands and pinning her right arm in the grip. Chuckling, Grendel stood triumphantly and presented his prize to the gathered meta humans. He squeezed her a little she let out an anguished cry.

    “This-!” his deep voice rumbled before he saw a red fist crash into his nose and send him tumbling backwards.

    Statesman caught his granddaughter as she was tossed aside in surprise and cradled her. She looked to him with a small amount of scorn, but hugged him for the help and he set her with some of the Wardens and Ballistae that were arriving to provide more serious support. In the distance, a pair of Cataphract Heavies were trundling into the river to help engage the monster.

    The meta humans were going to need the help, too. Grendel was far from beaten, and he was pushing himself back up. Glaring at Statesman, he reached up and gripped his own nose. There was a cracking pop and Mortiganen realized that the monster’s nose had been broken.

    “Interesting,” he muttered, “His bones can break… As invulnerable as his flesh may be, if we hit him he feels it. There may be a way to defeat him in that.”

    “I think it’ll take all of us hitting him at once, Mort,” Garm said derisively, his back still sore from hitting the concrete pillar, “All of us, every hero in the city, all at once… And they’ve gotta be good hits, not just waving fists at him like a brawler…”

    “Scoff as you will, I will work on a method to utilize his strength as his weakness. For now, you and the others must keep the beast occupied!”

    “I think Reichsman’s got that covered,” Harold indicated the battle between Statesman and Grendel through gritted teeth, his arm broken in three places after a cinder block had smashed into it, “I bet those two could fight until dawn.”

    Statesman did indeed seem to be handling the fight much better than the entire compliment of meta humans. Grendel could barely swing at the smaller man before he had ducked away and smashed a fist against the monster’s jaw or abdomen.

    When the city’s champion of champions landed an uppercut and toppled Grendel again, the gathered meta humans, Trolls and all, gave a triumphant shout to applaud him. However, the beast wasn’t beaten, and he stood again. Not wishing to give him the chance for an advantage, Statesman tried to punch him in the head before he could stand.

    A massive gray hand shot up at the last second and caught the smaller fist. Undaunted, the hero tried his other fist and that was caught by the other hand. Chuckling, Grendel stood and held Statesman up until their faces were level. With horror, Marcus Cole realized their was intelligence behind those dull red eyes.

    “Heh,” the voice was deep and rich, hardly the voice of a monster, “Statesman… What kind of brainless hulk do you think you’re fighting?”
  5. The interior of the warehouse was surprisingly wide open. Other buildings of similar exterior design were usually crammed with tight corridors or otherwise obstructed with large boxes and crates.

    While this warehouse had the massive crates and boxes, they were stacked and arranged against the walls. This allowed for a wider area within which the company could move their small front-loader and maneuver the various products they were about to ship out to their manufacturers and distributors.

    Since the building was fairly new, there wasn't much in it. A few crates had been opened, but that was for inventory checking purposes. The real draw, however, was in one of the back corners and arranged throughout the center of the warehouse.

    A black van sat dead-center of the building. A set of operating tables with chemicals of various kinds were arranged around the vehicle in various states of cleanliness (or uncleanliness, as the case was for some of the red-stained tables near the vehicle's rear door).

    Patrolling around the vehicle was a group of men in dark business suits. Aside from black and white, there was no color to the men, not even in the complexion of their skin. They were all horribly pale, and their movements were plodding and deliberate.

    When Pax slammed through the roof, the men in suits turned and assessed the situation. At first, they reached into their suits and withdrew pistols. When they leveled the weapons upon her, though, they didn't fire.

    "Classification," one said in a dull monotone, "Intruder bears the energy signatures typical of Kheldian extraterristrials. Classification: Peacebringer."

    "Strengths," another said in just as dull a voice, "Energy manipulation in the form of massively concussive bursts and shields that are highly resistant to energy assault. Vulnerabilities: Quantum Distortion Bursts to disassociate Kheldian symbiotic energy form from the host. Availability of Quantum Array weaponry, negligible."

    All at once, they slid their pistols coolly back into their suits and holstered the weapons.

    "Switch to melee," the first one announced.

    He leaped at the Dwarf, apparently heedless of the damage about to be inflicted upon him. When Pax lashed out, however, the agent punched, causing their fists to collide, and a painful shock reverberated up the energy "crab's" arm.

    Behind Pax, a set of cages containing a few people who seemed to be sleeping was behind the Dwarf. The shadows about them seemed to coalesce and move of their own accord.
  6. I finally returned to Air Guard! YAY!

    I'm finishing up that scene in my West Libertalian community of Red Sands. I decided to go more with action on this one. There's not much description, mostly just fighting.
  7. Mr_Grey

    The Air Guard

    ((I’ve neglected this thread for FAR too long…))

    ---West Libertalia---

    The work from the unit cartographers wasn’t necessarily exceptional, but they’d discovered what looked to be the pattern of the bandits. The various paths were determined to not originate from the same den Sergeant Johnston’s men had wiped out, but from the rural regions of East Libertalia.

    They couldn’t wage a strike against the other nation to see if they could find the source of the attacks. Carter was already drawing up a plan in the back of his head to figure out how to circumvent that problem. However, to deal with the immediate threat, he determined that a few hard strikes made against the bandits as they made their way to their target would probably go a long way to making the hooligans think twice about further assaults.

    The forces, mostly comprised of Red Sands “Hunters,” were encamped along the north flank of both the “Blue” and “Green” marked paths. The captain instructed one of the Skiff pilots to do flyovers of the region and make sure the bandits were on the way. After four days, when he reported that two convoys of military cargo trucks were en route, Carter sent radio messages to the teams to be ready for a firefight.

    The more northern “Blue” trail had a blockade set up with derelict cars and trucks. The convoy, however, was fronted by what looked to be an armored plow truck that just started smashing through the twisted metal. This seemed a viable plan until the vehicles exploded with claymore mines and what little combustible fluids were left inside the machines ignited, scattering ball bearings and jagged fragments tearing into the machines.

    The Hunters then opened fire, shredding the trucks and decimating the raiders inside them. A few survived and were rounded up. Sergeant Phillips, who was leading the “Blue” trail Hunters, called back to Captain Carter and informed him of the success. However, there was a caveat. The prisoners were still defiant and confident. Phillips had dealt with missions like this before, when he’d served with the British SAS, and most bandits were dejected or crestfallen when beaten so soundly.

    Carter knew what it meant. They thought they had something up their sleeves. The Hunters on the “Green” trail found out what it was.

    The trucks arrived, but there was no blockade. Instead, a few tankbuster landmines had been deployed. It irked Carter to have to utilize weapons outlawed by the Geneva Convention, but he was hoping that the limited tactical use, plus the fact that the explosive payload had been reduced, would be found feasible. There was also the fact that he was leaving much of the tactical planning to the Hunters and they were using their own resources, some of which was weaponry recovered from abandoned bandit camps.

    The first vehicle was another blockade buster like the one from the “Blue” trail. The landmines tore the engine out and reduced the reinforced plow to slag, but the passengers were left unharmed. The other vehicles stopped behind it and the Hunters opened fire in an attempt to repeat the rapid victory their fellows to the north had accomplished.

    When they finished firing into the canvas-covered cargo trucks, there was silence. The vehicles had been shut down and there were no signs of life.

    As the Hunters were trying to decide whether or not to investigate, however, the canvas moorings exploded and the cloths fluttered away as some unknown thrust pushed them off the trucks. There was a whirring sound that was followed shortly by a number of metallic scrapings and the rush of rockets. Shortly thereafter, the Hunter encampment was bombarded and smashed.

    The Hunters and Guardsmen were tossed into the trenches and foxholes they’d dug over the days they’d been waiting. The crest of the hill would shield them for a moment, but Sergeant Johnston, who had led the attack on the den not even a week earlier, knew they couldn’t hide forever.

    Pushing himself up first, then dragging his fellow Guardsmen to their feet, he rushed to pull the Hunters back up. He had his radio man call to the northern encampment to send reinforcements. They were fighting something completely unexpected and much more difficult than anticipated.

    When he looked over the hill, he beheld a massive robot. It was bipedal, with rounded armor plating, a twin pair of large-bore cannons for arms and a twin set of missile pods mounted on its back. Johnston had seen many like it in his time as a Sky Raider, it was an “Assault Bot,” that was popular among the “Mastermind” rogues who liked to utilize the affordable and deadly machines in their small armies. This one was bigger, though.

    The sergeant let out an expletive before the next volley, this time of lasers, collided with the side of the hill. Dirt scattered over him and his soldiers and he told them what they were facing. It wasn’t just the Assault Bot, it was a whole compliment of the machines, from the little Battle Drone types to the Protector Bots. They were setting up their position as they assaulted the encampment.

    Not willing to stand for that, the Red Sands Hunters demanded he tell them what to do. He offered that they utilize the RPG launchers and try to stall the machines long enough for reinforcements to arrive.

    No sooner had they made the plan than they were in action. Some of the Hunters took the opposite flank the RPG crew was taking so as to distract the machines with assault rifles. As they were getting shot at, the launchers were set up and fired, destroying one of the Battle Drones.

    However, the other robots weren’t hindered. They returned fire, killing some Hunters while the RPG crew attempted to dive back into the relative safety of the camp. The Assault Bot fired three volleys of dual cannon blasts, tearing holes out of the hill’s crest. Another volley of rockets took another great chunk out of the hill and Sergeant Johnston started revising his strategy.

    Seeing the dead body of one of the Hunters caused him to think back to what he would have done in the old days. He looked to one of his Guardsmen and the young man’s pained expression changed to shock as he saw the scowl his commanding non-commissioned officer had.

    Before the Guardsman could dissuade the Sergeant, Johnston had pressed a button on his wristguard and was teleported. He appeared behind the robots and leveled his assault rifle at a Protector’s head. When it turned to face him, he unloaded, spraying bullets straight into its ocular sensor array and causing the machine to stagger. As it recovered, he hit the button again and was teleported back to the encampment.

    The robots, however, attempted to fire on him. Their lasers scorched the already leaking gas tank and caused the truck to explode, destroying the robots, save one Protector Bot and the Assault Bot in one fell swoop.

    As the big machine attempted to right itself, the man commanding the machines stepped out from the back of the rear truck. This was just what he was hoping he wouldn’t run into. It was bad enough when his enemies had delusions of grandeur, but when they proved to be tenacious enough to destroy his robots, machines he’d spent hours meticulously fine-tuning, it really ticked him off.

    He wasn’t much to look at, as far as Johnston could tell. He was a masked man with a wide-brimmed hat, a pair of goggles with green lenses over his eyes and a big dark trench coat; he rested his rather simple-looking pulse rifle on his shoulder. It was pretty much par villain attire. It was also the first time Sergeant Johnston had ever realistically figured he could beat one.

    The man directed his surviving robots to take the hill. Firing as they went, he unleashed a batch of nanotech repair bots into the Protector and started firing as well. A small shield drone floated from the back of the truck he’d emerged from and moved to hover close to its master.

    Johnston was about to order that the group attack with everything they had when a familiar sound greeted their ears. Looking to the sky, he saw the Skiff hurtling toward the battle.

    Lieutenant Franklin launched the missile first. It hurtled through the air and collided with the Assault Bot, causing it to stagger briefly. He then started unleashing his chainguns, firing at the man controlling the machines first. The shield was potent, but it wasn’t enough to hold back that volley. Plumes of sand and dirt plumed into the air wherever the bullets hit the ground as the Skiff drew closer. When the bullets started hitting the shield, their paths became more erratic. One stray round struck the mastermind in the shin and he staggered to the ground. He knew it was the end, but his Protector Bot dove in the way at the last second, causing it to get shot to pieces as its last act of existence.

    Enraged, the mastermind ordered the Assault Bot to shoot down the Skiff. Lieutenant Franklin felt a heavy impact in his starboard aft thruster and the machine pitched forward. Losing control, he gripped the eject cord and yanked hard. The canopy burst off and he was thrown against it, flipping at the last moment to land the chair against the tough glass and roll enough to land on the sand like a sled.

    The Skiff, however, crashed just behind the Assault Bot. Through the smoke from the fire, it never saw the Hunters and Sergeant Johnston arming another batch of RPGs and firing them. The machine made a sad query before the rockets smashed into it, detonating it and the reloaded rockets in its shoulder pods. The mastermind was tossed backwards, his shield drone crashing and sputtering lifelessly next to him.

    As the ringing in his ears faded away, he looked up at the men approaching him. Sergeant Johnston smiled down at him, revealing large white teeth that caused even his subordinates to wince a little. The villain said nothing and started reaching for his pulse rifle.

    “I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” the sergeant explained, “We’ve had enough trouble on account of you, and I wouldn’t hesitate to put rounds in your chest.”

    He chuckled a little as the mastermind started trying to flick the beacon that should have sent him to either the Rogue Isles or his personal base.

    “It’s either broke, or it don’t work this far from home. Sorry, buddy. Verizon can’t hear you now.”

    The villain chuckled and flicked his wrists. A pair of discs was deposited into his hands and, after deploying the sensor tines with a press of a button on the top of each one, he hurled them at the sergeant. Johnston rolled back and barely avoided getting hit in the face with a pair of Seeker Drone bombs.

    The machines weren’t done, though, as they started whirring angrily and came back to finish the job. Johnston fired, destroying one, but the explosion was so bright that everything else went dark. Hearing the other get too near, he rolled away and the other explosion sent him flying, then tumbling, down the hill toward the stopped convoy.

    The villain grabbed his pulse rifle then and started blasting away at the approaching Hunters. He was no slouch with his weapon, and expertly felled three men before a bullet tore into his shoulder. Crying out in pain, he fled, but forgot how much pain his shin was in. He tumbled down the hill after Sergeant Johnston, landing hard just a few yards from the dark man.

    Johnston could hear the shouting of his friends and allies. He’d heard the villain land next to him, but didn’t know where he was exactly. He aimed his assault rifle in the vain hope that he would get it right and the nefarious mercenary would surrender, but there was no such luck.

    Then he heard the sound of the pulse rifle charging up and he fired in the direction of it. There was an explosion and the villain shouted angrily. A bullet had torn open a capacitor and the weapon vented energy through the hole, burning it out in an instant. It also created a bright explosion that threw the roboticist to the ground and incapacitated him long enough for the Hunters to detain him.

    “Well done, Sergeant,” Lieutenant Franklin said as he approached the man, “How often does anybody in our line of work get to say they beat a full-fledged Villain one-on-one?”

    “I had a lot of luck,” the sergeant replied to a spot just to the right of the pilot, “And it wasn’t one-on-one, I had help…”

    With the convoys disabled and their resources reacquired, Carter took stock of the situation. It seemed that whomever was employing the bandits and supplying them with weaponry had intended for this villain, a roboticist named Gregory Crier, to supply the siege bandits (that had taken the longer route earlier for whatever reason) with more guns, ammunition, and lend fire support to batter the defenses.

    “With more support, and just a few less mistakes, he could have smashed the defenses of Red Sands,” the Air Guard intelligence officer explained to the recovering Sergeant Johnston, “You realize you almost got yourself killed doing that? What were you thinking?”

    “I was thinking I was sick of hiding behind a dirt mound while people I helped train got slaughtered by a monstrosity they were never meant to have to deal with, sir,” was the proud reply, “And I’d do it again tomorrow, if I find myself in the field…”

    “Well, you won’t. West Libertalia’s sending a unit to garrison this village and we’ve been ordered to return to base. Congratulations, Sergeant. You lived to see home again… Well… Once your eyes get better. Doctors say it should only be another day or so.”

    “Aye, sir,” the sergeant replied, grinning broadly with triumph.
  8. Kyo, you know if you ask, I'm there.
  9. [ QUOTE ]
    [ QUOTE ]
    [ QUOTE ]
    ...By the way, Kyo, there is something wrong with your avatar picture, some kind of error message...

    [/ QUOTE ]

    I thought it was just me!

    [/ QUOTE ]

    *chuckles and says nothing at all*

    EDIT: Actually, I will say something: A community representative - someone who represents PvPEC and the Scoop... might want to seriously consider fixing that "error." Just a thought.

    [/ QUOTE ]

    Well, other players were apparently not taking her seriously with her other avatars featuring an orange-haired catgirl...
  10. ((S'alright, s'alright. The HQ isn't where the action's at, anyway... But when/if you move to the warehouse, please give me a moment to provide a description.))
  11. ((From what I'm reading, he entered the Sedadyne headquarters, not the Warehouse that the heroes are investigating...

    Just a moment while I make edits...))
  12. ((You guys got a little ahead of me over there on Redside...

    On that note, Khell, the prone bodies are giving off weak mental strength, but an impulse is still present. EDITED

    Also, Devious, I didn't realize you wanted me to reveal EVERYTHING in the building to you, from the composition of the rafters to the wiring in the walls. If you're going to be using a God Scanner to figure your way around, why even send the Rikti to do any scouting at all?

    Also, Crimson, you got quite a bit ahead of me on that one. I never got a chance to describe the interior of the headquarters before you started working.))

    Before Stahlhund reached the exit, the front door opened and a young woman and a young man entered. They were conversing with each other.

    "I don't like it, Jim. It's our warehouse, we should be able to use it how we see fit. The Committee just dropping the hammer on us like that really holds up our production! We've got orders to fill, you know?"

    "I know, Steph," the man, apparently Jim, replied, "But they're the ones who bailed us out... They say and we do."

    "Sometimes, I think we'd have been better off if we'd been bought by Crey," Steph muttered as they walked past the stalker, "Did... Did you feel that? I could have sworn I brushed up against something..."
  13. ((Alright, for the sake of convenience, I'll allow that you exited from the Skyway City Green Line...))

    As Cher'tak probed the building, he found very faint psychic impulses. It reminded him of any time he'd encountered someone who was asleep.

    However, Arek's scan was revealing quite a bit. There were massive energy readings and something or several somethings were definitely moving around in there. There were also a few moments where the frequency just seemed to drop to nothing then warble again in an entirely different tone. It was like something was there, but not there at the same time.

    When Arek switched to X-ray scanning, however, he almost did a double take. There were numerous people moving about, but their skeletons were showing up bright white and highly defined. They looked similar to a popular robotic movie monster, but their build was heavier and apparently more plated. Others, however, didn't seem to show any skeletons, and were actually dark blurs in the image.

    In the near corner, there were what looked to be cages, with blurry skeletons inside them. These skeletons were prone and unmoving, but thermals indicated they were probably alive.
  14. I finally added the last chapter of "Spring Things..." in my Grey's Army thread.
  15. Mr_Grey

    Grey's Army

    Agent Wild found Ms. Liberty in the briefing room. Since it was the Valentine’s Day holiday, there seemed to be an ethereal force inhibiting a lot of the criminal activity throughout Longbow’s jurisdiction. As a result, the relatively few Freedom Corpsmen on duty were somewhat bored out of their skulls.

    “Ma’am,” he whispered quietly so as not to alert the other agents, “I have something I think you need to see personally.”

    “Yes agent,” she replied, somewhat wary that this was some sort of cheesy Valentine’s Day request, “What is it?”

    It wouldn’t be the first time she’d had to deal with it. The prior year, she had no less than three hundred invitations to the Pocket D party. If it weren’t for Manticore’s wedding, she didn’t know how she would have dealt with the situation.

    She wasn’t familiar with Agent Wild, though. His record wasn’t very exceptional. He was one of probably five or six different “Wilds,” and she usually ran across their names when looking for Agent Wilder’s records.

    “Ma’am, you would probably rather hear about this in private...”

    “Agent…” she started with an irritated tone.

    “Ma’am, this is of a matter that concerns you and one of the affiliated heroes that I liaise with.”

    Curious, Ms. Liberty agreed to meet Wild in his office in five minutes. After she cleared the rest of the agents from the briefing room she made her way to the liaison offices. She found Wild’s office and walked in just as the agent finished sliding some papers into a manila folder.

    “Ah,” he said quietly and handed the folder to her, “Ma’am, this is information I’ve gleaned after a query from MedCom. An individual who sends reports to me for filing in the Freedom Corps databases was teleported to a particular set of coordinates.”

    Ms. Liberty didn’t quite see what the agent was getting at, or what this had to do with her, and voiced her opinion.

    “Well, ma’am, I didn’t realize what it could have to do with you until I learned the relevance of this second set of coordinates… You know what… I’m tired of this professional circuitous crap! It’s giving me a freaking headache! Somebody teleported Roland Grey to your address while he was asleep and you to his address last night. Whoever it was-!”

    “-Used MedCom’s system to do it,” Jessica looked at the report and map pictures printed from the atlas program, “I… Thank you, agent… I appreciate your… Discretion…”

    “It’s my job, ma’am,” the agent replied, “I hope the information helps you.”

    “It does… I know who’s messing with me, now…”

    Without explaining, she rushed out of Wild’s office and headed for one last check of the briefing room before calling an early day. She had a target in mind and she wanted to be able to yell at him while she was still more angry than amused.

    ----------

    Roland was testing the pressure of his compound bow when he heard the knock at his door. He didn’t have any materials for more repairs and wasn’t particularly interested in hearing about anything new.

    “Come back on Monday, I’m taking the weekend off. I’ve had a really weird weekend, so don’t push me…”

    There was another, slightly more urgent knock.

    “If you’re Rose, you better not have broken anything in there or I’m gonna be really [ticked]!”

    There was another knock, this time it was slower, more deliberate and forceful. Grumbling, Roland stood up and marched to the door. Opening it, though, any dark thoughts he might have been mulling over disappeared as he saw Megan/Jessica Duncan/Cole standing there. She looked a little irritated, her arms folded over her chest and one eyebrow arched at him, but her eyes twinkled with some amusement.

    She wasn’t in her uniform. Instead, she was in a pair of blue jeans and what looked to be a brown imitation leather jacket. Her hair was pulled back into a ponytail and she wore a pair of shades to keep glare from snow off her eyes.

    “Oh, thank God,” he grunted, “I was worried you were one of the tenants. They’re good people, mostly, but there’s this one…”

    “Who’s Rose?” she asked, a slightly mischievous lilt tingeing her voice.

    “New tenant. I can’t remember her last name. She moved in down the hall and… And… Something’s off about her.”

    “Like what?”

    “Well, she looks like she could have any man she wants, and for some reason, she came on to me.”

    Ms. Liberty smirked at that and shook her head.

    “Sounds to me that there’s something off about you,” she remarked, “An attractive girl throws herself at you and you decide to take issue with it… Yeah, that sounds smart…”

    “Well, maybe I’m just not interested yet.”

    “Guys are always interested, Roland,” Jessica sighed as she shook her head in disbelief and produced the manila folder, “Look, I just got this from your Freedom Corps liaison. You know Wild, right?”

    “Yeah,” Roland shrugged, took the folder and started flipping through the documents, “Well, this is pretty bare bones… MedCom? The hospital guys?”

    “Somebody hacked their system and transported you into my house. I’m sure you know what they did the next day… MedCom took issue with Freedom Corps because, apparently, our fingerprints are all over the incident.”

    “What, because you and I were the victims of the hack?”

    “No…” Ms. Liberty grinned at her portly friend, “We’ll need to go see the culprit behind this and give him a piece of our minds. Get your keys.”

    As they descended the staircase that led to the front door of the apartment building, they ran into the fiery red head that was being slightly less than obvious to the building superintendent the previous day. She was carrying in groceries and met them on the stairs. Ms. Liberty craned her neck to examine the other young woman, but otherwise said nothing.

    “Heya, Rose,” Roland intoned, “Do you need any help with any of that?”

    “Now, I knew you had a kind heart!” the pretty girl replied, “But no thanks, I can get it myself. Who’s this?”

    “Oh, this is Megan. She hangs out once in a while when work at her office gets too hectic and she needs to decompress.”

    “Oh!”

    “We’re just friends, Rose,” the civilian clothed heroine smirked at the fellow and gave him a friendly shove on the arm, “You know, buddies, pals… Chums…”

    “Aw, I’ve been demoted back to chum? Dang…”

    “Whew,” the younger girl gave her brow an exaggerated wipe and chuckled a little, “I was getting worried that I was hitting on your boyfriend yesterday, and you’d probably kick my [butt]! You’ve got some years on me!”

    Ms. Liberty turned a cool gaze to the redhead and tilted her head again.

    “I mean, you’ve probably been around a few times, so you probably know a few things,” the girl continued and Roland started rubbing his left temple, “What? Did I say something wrong?”

    “We should get going,” the hunter replied, “Rose, remember what I said. If you break something, it better not be on purpose.”

    “I understand.”

    Despite the submissive tone, her posture indicated that she would find a way to make future incidents look accidental. Roland was already allotting a budget for headache medicine in his mind before they got out the door to the sidewalk.

    “I don’t like her,” Ms. Liberty finally said as they made it outside, “Did you hear what she called me?”

    “Yeah,” Grey replied glibly, “She called you an old-!”

    “Don’t finish that sentence!”

    ----------

    The drive through Paragon City after that was tensely quiet. Roland could practically feel steam spewing from his passenger’s ears. On the surface, however, Ms. Liberty was the picture of calm. After almost a half hour of driving, thankfully, they pulled up to the Sinclair mansion and brought an end to the palpable tension.

    “I’ve seen enough of these places to know I hate every last one of them,” Roland grumbled, “I know the guy does good work for the city, but he’s got this expansive lawn, this huge house, and… The fact that a guy’s fortunes are mounting while kids starve in Kings Row is exceptionally unsettling to me.”

    “I know what you mean, Roland, and I know it’s one of Manticore’s concerns, too. However, he could use his money to feed those poor people, clean up the streets in Kings Row, fix everything up alright… And six months down the line, everything would be right back to the way it is now and Manticore would be destitute. We need a solid solution in places like that, we can’t just throw money at their situations.”

    “I know, but while that solution is looked for, things keep getting worse. You remember that block party my dad threw? Things were on the up-and-up for a solid month after that. People knew they had law enforcement supplements among them. They knew we cared, and we still do… We try to show it every day, but we’re just regular guys with a little bit of gusto. We’re not epic symbols of justice like Manticore, Sister Psyche or your grandfather.”

    “You’d be surprised how wrong you are about that, Roland,” the heroine replied, her gaze meeting his so he could see the sincerity, “There are times when my grandfather wishes he could look at justice in the simple terms people like you or your father do. A person does wrong, they get punished for it… But he’s had to see the consequences of his actions and inaction, he’s lived long enough to see the repercussions of the mistakes he’s made and even the ones from his successes. A lot of heroes give him Hell because they think he’s out of touch… He’s just afraid they’re going to run into the same problems he has and he’s trying to keep them from making the same mistakes he has. In the end, though, he’s better at making speeches than talking personally to other heroes…”

    “My dad did say it always seem like he was being talked at rather than to…”

    “…So he often comes off as a horse’s [butt] to most of the newer heroes,” Liberty finished, “It’s sad. He’s the best of us, but he can’t lead us.”

    “It’s hard for anybody to lead a group as diverse as meta humanity can be. It’s more than just races or genders, it crosses species, it crosses ages, it crosses the expanses between the stars…” Roland shrugged, “You’re right… I was looking at it through a narrow scope… There’s a lot going on and my perspective only scratches the surface…”

    “It’s a better perspective than a lot of heroes have. Most are obsessed with their own revenge and any help they do is more or less a happy coincidence. At least you’re looking for more of a purpose behind what you do.”

    “I’m having trouble finding it, though. I’m having trouble seeing what help I am.”

    Ms. Liberty patted her friend on the shoulder. She wondered how many other heroes were having the same trouble. Life was a difficult thing to deal with, some often used their mask to escape from it and others used their lives to escape their masks. Others were forced to integrate their lives with their super-powered life, as their facial features, skin color or other metaphysical aspects, like glowing eyes or a sparkling aura, obviously set them apart from normal people. When someone who just had a gaggle of gadgets to help him combat evil had to choose between his normal life and fighting criminals who hardly even noticed him except when he was shooting arrows at them, what would he ultimately choose if finally given the chance to walk away? What would he do if, in a moment of intense emotional stress, he realized he could just walk away?

    She didn’t like how that made her feel. For all Jessica knew, Roland would just leave once things got too rough for him. The fact that he’d stuck through a Praetorian Invasion, the resurgence of the Rikti, and had seen his own fair share of fights up to this point had crossed her mind, but they were all conflicts that he had no stake in, and could just as easily contribute to his finally getting fed up and leaving the city.

    Before she could talk to him about it, Grey pulled the vehicle up to a call box next to the wrought iron gate that served as the entrance to the Sinclair estate. After rolling down the window, he pressed the buzzer and waited for the inevitable question for identification.

    “I’ve been expecting you two,” came a rich, deep, somewhat static-distorted voice, “Come on up. I’ll have the butler, Jeffrey, show you up to my study.”

    The two exchanged glances as the gate opened, but said nothing. Once the gates were parted sufficiently, Roland put the jeep in gear and drove the half mile to the large house. It was an impressive structure. The young man estimated it was probably four or five times bigger than the farmhouse he grew up in. With brown siding and a white trim, it was what he liked to call “Modern Wealthy,” where the owner tried to look more down-to-earth than he really was.

    Of course, once Roland thought that, he considered that he was probably being too harsh. He had no clue what this man had been through in life or what he was trying to do. Ms. Liberty had chastised him lightly, earlier, and he figured she was probably keeping a very strong opinion to herself out of respect for someone who had been humble enough to earn her trust.

    “Best not to overstep my bounds,” he thought to himself, “Just keep quiet and speak when spoken to. Don’t go on a tangent and everything should be alright…”

    He parked the jeep before the front doors and they got out. Approaching the mansion, Roland found that the building was far more impressive up close, and changed his estimate to possibly six of his childhood houses. Heck, his whole school could probably fit inside the mansion.

    The butler greeted them with a warm smile, even giving Ms. Liberty a friendly hug. She introduced him to Roland and they exchanged a firm handshake.

    “Would you like me to give you a tour on the way, sir, or would you prefer to just meet with master Sinclair and conduct the business you and the young miss have with him?”

    “I’ll probably take the tour some other time,” the hunter replied, “But thanks for the offer.”

    “Of course.”

    Jeffrey led them up three flights of luxuriously carpeted stairs. Roland kept quiet, and despite his earlier indication of dislike toward such lavish décor, he couldn’t help but be somewhat awestruck. There was more here than he could hope to acquire in three of his lifetimes. Suits of armor and weapons from across the world, expensive decorative and antique furniture, and the carpet felt like it was six inches thick. It was probably still less than an inch, but it still felt plush.

    “I could probably sleep on the floor, right here, and it would be almost like sleeping in my bed,” he mused.

    When they finally reached Justin Sinclair’s study, Roland half-expected to see the man in his Manticore outfit. It was about the only thing he thought was a good criticism of the man’s marriage to Sister Psyche, that he did it while still in his hero outfit. Something seemed abhorrently silly about that, like the procession was being treated as a joke, but the man had been dead serious in his commitment and the two seemed to remain a dedicated and very much in love couple in their few public appearances since then.

    Fortunately, Justin wasn’t in his outfit. Well, he was, but his hood was drawn back and tucked under his civilian clothes, so Roland couldn’t tell. Finally getting to meet the man, though, Grey was forced to reconsider his opinion that the guy made a mistake wearing his costume. There wasn’t much of anything that separated Manticore from the multitude of “model handsome” heroes throughout the city. If he hadn’t been wearing his costume, who would have known it was really him?

    Once Jeffrey admitted and announced them, causing the veteran hero to chuckle and wave his trusted friend out, the two took the seats provided for them in front of the desk. Manticore informed them he’d be a moment and finished signing his name to a few more contracts he’d been looking over before finally turning his attention back to them.

    “Alright…” he was having trouble keeping from laughing as he folded his hands together over his desk and leaned toward them, “Let’s not play around with the issue. I know why you’re here. Now, tell me, what’s the problem?”

    “You had no right to do that to us!” Ms. Liberty almost shouted, “Do you have any idea how embarrassing this could have been!?”

    “Oh, come on! Jess, you haven’t been on a real date in years! Yeah, I know you’ve had a few boyfriends, here and there, but you and I both know you weren’t taking those relationships seriously!”

    “That still doesn’t give you any right! How would you feel if somebody figured you shouldn’t be with Shalice and started thrusting you into close and personal situations with, oh… Swan!?”

    “Funny,” the expert archer murmured with amusement, “She’s the one who told me about your relationship with this young man…”

    “And what relationship is that?” Roland asked, “I doubt if Sister Psyche just dropped by your place once in a while to vent her frustrations, you’d have figured you were close enough to her to get married.”

    “You’d be surprised how often a situation like that can bring two people closer together,” the veteran countered, “And it was the opposite, my rotund aspirant. I often confided in her when I felt frustrated. That didn’t guarantee a thing when I finally realized how I felt about her…”

    “Realized,” Grey’s voice sounded like rocks tumbling off a mountain as he repeated the word, “You’re trying to say we don’t know how we’re feeling? The funny thing, is that when we’re younger, the adults are telling us we don’t know how we feel when we want to be together. When we say we don’t when we’re older and know better, they’re telling us the opposite…”

    “Now hang on, it’s not that simple…”

    “Yes it is!” Jessica retorted, slapping the desk with her palm for emphasis, “This is just more of you, my mother and my grandfather butting in where you’re not wanted or needed, and I’m sick of it! When I’m ready to settle down or I find the guy who makes me feel like I can’t live without him, I’ll deal with that situation myself! For now, stop trying to control my life, and let me have my friends!”

    With that, she got up and stormed out of the study. Roland blinked and sighed. Manticore merely shook his head, however.

    “Someday,” he explained, “you two will wish you’d figured things out sooner. You’re the kind of guy a girl like her needs, you know?”

    “Don’t you remember the old song?” Grey shook his head and stood up to leave, “Someday never comes. Besides, If I were what she needed, I’m sure our reactions would have been a lot different. Instead, we’re pretty ticked at you, awkward around each other, and this probably drove the final stake into the heart of whatever ambiguity was left between us… You probably just killed our friendship.”

    Manticore shrugged as the younger man stood and waited for his reaction at the doorway.

    “We shall see.”

    -----------

    Outside of the mansion, Ms. Liberty waited for him. She was resting against his jeep and chewing her lower lip in consternation. When she met his gaze, there were some tears I her eyes.

    “I’m sorry…” she whispered, “I don’t know how you feel about me… I… I didn’t mean to crush any hopes you might have…”

    “It’s alright. I decided a while back how seriously I would take things. You’re my friend, but you’re living your life. I’ve got no right to interfere in your decisions. Besides… Like you were saying today, I don’t know your world. I can’t even begin to be that major a part of your life when I can’t identify with you.”

    “But you don’t have to, Roland… All it takes to make you a part of my life is just the two of us being with each other… But…”

    “You don’t want that.”

    “Not with the way my life is,” she held her head and sighed, “Look, you’re a great guy and all… But I know you, too. You’re the kind of guy who’s looking to settle down, or at least… Find stability… Or… I don’t know…”

    “I get it,” Roland leaned against the jeep next to her and stared at the steps leading to Manticore’s mansion, “I understand. I got it when I found out you weren’t the up-and-coming heroine I was starting to crush on… I get that I’m not the kind of guy you’re looking for and it doesn’t bother me.”

    “That’s not it… It’s not that simple…”

    She grasped his hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. It was difficult trying to figure this sort of thing out, knowing how good a person was but understanding why you didn’t feel a connection. Her mind raced to find logical reasons for not wanting him to be with her, but also wanting him to stay. In the end, all she found was complete paradox and contradiction.

    “It all boils down to the moment, I guess,” she finally said, “Roland, I like you as my friend. You’ve been a great comfort to me these past couple years, and I’m really glad to have known you, but I just don’t feel any kind of… Well…”

    “I know,” the hunter started chuckling, “Look… This is uncomfortable. We know what we’re trying to say, right?”

    “Right…”

    “We’ve said enough, don’t you think? Different circumstances, different time... Maybe things could have turned out differently between us. Since there's no sense on dwelling on any of that, it’s time to move on, don’t you agree?”

    “Yeah,” relieved, she smiled and gave him a hug, “Thank you.”

    ----------

    ---Pocket D---

    That evening, after his day’s business with Jessica Cole was over with, Roland was chilling at the bar where his sister worked in Hero section of Pocket D. The music of the Valentine’s Day Spring Fling Dance boomed and hummed all around him. After a few minutes of him sitting silently, Sarah walked over and handed her brother a Kahlua.

    “Here you go, bro. Don’t worry, I covered the charge. You okay?”

    “Nah… Just thinking about stuff I never think about.” He gave the drink a sip and winced a little, “Coffee? Didn’t they try that in a comedy show?”

    “Well, I like it,” she shrugged, “You just look like you need something to ease your spirit.”

    “You know what I’m thinking about, don’t you?”

    “Round, your mind’s running about a mile a minute right now. It’s not often I see you this… I don’t know… Distressed. Why aren’t you home in your apartment to mull things over?”

    “Nester’s using my apartment right now.”

    “So?”

    “He’s expecting company.”

    “Oh…”

    Sarah blinked, prepared another drink and handed it to one of the other patrons. It was handy being a psychic in her job. She was able to mix drinks just the way people wanted them. She never got any complaints, though she did catch a lot of awkward stares whenever she told the guys to stop staring at her chest or undressing her with their eyes or her cat or Gnarl were going to teach them some manners. When they asked what she was talking about, she would produce one or both of the animals, Ni from under the counter or Gnarl from off her shoulder. This often got laughs.

    The laughter would end, however, with screaming once one of the animals got fed up with being mocked. Ni often went for the neck, taking names and slashing throats as he went. Gnarl must have been super strong, because the one time he leaped at a man who disrespected Sarah, he delivered one punch to the man’s jaw and he was out like a light. The part that depressed the girl was that he was a hero.

    “Here,” she handed her brother Katie and the cute little furball crawled up onto his shoulder and nestled into his neck, “She’ll probably help put you at ease.”

    “Thanks, sis,” Roland raised the glass of liqueur to her as a light toast, “I appreciate it.”
  16. ((Well, I'd like to answer that, Devious, but I need to know whether or not everybody's doing what they're saying or if I have to wait a little longer.

    You guys made this so much easier before. You'd say you were going to do something and wrote out that your characters did it. Then I could torture your characters without worry ))
  17. You're off to a good start, Doc Cat. Keep it coming!
  18. ((Not sure how I can contribute to any of this unless the players are implying action with their words.

    If so, I could probably start up with summaries of your collective actions and approximations of you various degrees of success.))
  19. Added another chapter in Grey's Army.

    Bad things continue to happen to Randall Grey's poor middle child. Well, not so bad he can't survive, but the sort of bad that nobody should have to deal with.
  20. Mr_Grey

    Grey's Army

    Nothing else went wrong for Roland that day. Aside from a moment of being called into the base to help decide what to do with the peculiar mutant critters, Roland’s day went like clockwork, otherwise. He was even able to fix up the window he thought he’d have to wait on and get measurements on the hole in the Lawrences’ apartment.

    However, the next morning, he found himself in a similar situation as the day before.

    “Let’s see,” he murmured, “Tan walls, brown trim, my dresser over there… My alarm clock’s off… I must have forgotten to set it… Hm. There’s a weight lying on top of me…”

    He pulled the covers back a bit and saw Jessica Cole snoring quietly on top of him. Her head rested on his chest, just above his belly. Just like yesterday, only she was wearing a t-shirt and he assumed there was some kind of underwear. For a moment, Roland wished he could just accept something like this, but his stoic logic was already telling him he knew better as the thoughts passed through his head. This was a false gift, because nothing could come from it but trouble.

    “At least this time she’s wearing something…” he said as he nudged her shoulder, “Wake up, Meg… Uh… Jessica… Jessica!”

    She woke up and looked to his face. Seeing him, she pulled the covers back over her head.

    “Oh…” her muffled moan indicated she was as unpleased with the situation as he expected, “Again? Who is putting you in my room?”

    This caused the rotund man to bark out a laugh unexpectedly.

    “Well, it’s almost like yesterday. Today, you’re in my room.”

    “What?”

    She threw the covers off her head and looked about. Disappointed in what she found, she rolled over and buried her face in the mattress.

    “Who is doing this to us!?”

    “Someone who must think this is a joke,” Grey answered, “Well, no sense in wasting time about it… What’re you gonna do for clothes, because I’m sure whoever zapped you here today forgot to bring you a change just like they did for me, yesterday.”

    “Oh, I have a spare outfit.”

    “What? I remember agreeing to letting you leave some things here, but I don’t remember those things being clothes! Wait, where is this outfit? I don’t want my brother finding it and giving me [dreck] again…”

    She shrugged and pulled the blanket back around herself, “That’s another secret, I’m afraid. Look, this whole thing has got me unbelievably stressed… Do you mind if I rest here a little longer, Roland?”

    He nodded and got out of bed. Grabbing some clothes from his dresser, he headed for the door. Ms. Liberty’s voice stopped him for a moment, though.

    “You wear shorts to bed all the time?”

    “Yeah. They’re more dignified than boxers and feel about the same. Saved us a lot of embarrassment yesterday, don’t you think?”

    “Please don’t remind me… Until this is settled, I’ll have to worry about whether or not I’m dressed properly for waking up in the middle of Atlas Park…”

    ----------

    Roland emerged, fully dressed, from his bathroom and Nester was looking at him over the back of the couch.

    “You’re up early,” he said while wiping his bleary eyes, “Or is it late?”

    “It’s still morning,” Roland explained as he headed to the kitchen, “Almost ten. I’m gonna make pancakes.”

    “Yeah?” Nester pushed himself off the couch and rolled his shoulders, “What’s the occasion?”

    “Well, we’ve got a problem… See… What happened to me yesterday, happened to Ms. Liberty today…”

    “A hot red-head came on to her?”

    Roland’s eyes narrowed and he glared at his friend. Nester scratched the back of his head and chuckled a little.

    “No… She’s in my room right now and neither of us have a clue how this happened.”

    “Sounds like somebody’s trying to set you two up!”

    There was a gleam of what looked to be hope in the thinner man’s eyes. Roland could only assume that his buddy was more or less happy that he seemed to be on the verge of achieving a relationship. However, he knew better than that.

    “Wipe that smile off your face. I’m not dating her, Nester, and I’m fairly sure she’s got no intentions for me. This is just a massive annoyance, and I’ve got no clue how we’re going to resolve it if we don’t know who’s doing this to us.”

    “Some Marty Sioux you are…” the other grumbled as he rifled through his bags for his day’s outfit, “Well, maybe you and her can work on that today. Maybe the culprit will be at that Pocket D Spring Fling dance tonight…”

    Roland was mixing the dry pancake ingredients together in a bowl. As he stirred it up with a whisk, he realized what Nester had said.

    “Are you trying to get me out of the apartment for the night?”

    “Well… Kind of…”

    “Who’s your date?”

    “Mindy,” Nester replied with a shrug, then realized Roland’s face was reflecting a lot more worry than he had about the situation, “Oh! I forgot… The past few days in LaGrange, I’ve been finding little notes… At first, I thought it was one of the women I worked with, but that happened the first week after Mindy left me and I nipped that problem in the bud by nearly scaring that girl out of her skin! Plus, these notes… They’re sprayed with her favorite scent of perfume…”

    “So, you haven’t actually talked to her, but you expect to see her tonight?”

    “Yeah.”

    “Here? In my apartment?”

    Roland was already considering how much it would cost him to repay the building’s owners for various kinds of structural damage and numerous times realized he’d probably have to sell his house back in Kingdale. Cursing, he set the bowl down and started cracking eggs into it.

    “Look,” he finally called over his shoulder, “You can meet her here, but don’t stay, alright? I mean, it’s nothing against you or anything, it’s just… After what her friends did to your apartment, I don’t want to wind up evicted, too.”

    “Gotcha,” Nester agreed, “Well… I’ll see what happens. I hope we don’t wind up shot…”

    ----------

    Jessica needed Roland to drive her to her mother’s. Despite having a spare outfit, she didn’t have the critical piece of equipment that gave her super powers. She didn’t say what it was, but Grey had a feeling it had something to do with the sword she wore on her belt, which was also missing. On the way, they tried to talk about the situation and who could possibly be teleporting them to each other’s apartments.

    They had ruled out the Menders for the whole thing being beneath them. The group saw itself as dedicated to preserving the future of the world and circumventing a monstrous cataclysm. They wouldn’t waste their resources on something as trite as what was pretty much a game or an attempt to embarrass Ms. Liberty.

    For a brief moment, she considered Vanguard. After the resurgence of the Rikti conflict, she had attempted to get the city to reject Vanguard’s presence in the city and place the responsibility of driving back the alien menace in Freedom Corps’ and Longbow’s hands (also subsequently allowing her and her forces to round up every rogue meta human in their employ for the duration of the incident). After an internal conflict within the United Nations military organization was resolved by one of the very rogues she was worried about and a band comprised of both vigilantes and rogues, she’d withdrawn her demands. Vanguard seemed to let the incident slide, but this could have been blowback from that.

    Other groups, like the Council, the Nemesis Army, the Malta Group or Arachnos, were far too serious to have considered attempting something like this. It would have been considered far too expensive a joke, and they had more important concerns for which to focus the use of whatever teleporting technology they had. Simply put, this just wasn’t important enough for them.

    It didn’t quite rule out Nemesis, though, but they did anyway. Roland didn’t know it, but Ms. Liberty was still keeping that lunatic in the back of her mind. Sometimes, he really was crazy enough to try something like this as a cover for something else. It would have been a perfect way to focus attention away from… From… Something…

    On the way to her mother’s house, she pointed where Roland had to turn and in which directions. He complied wordlessly, only letting out a light whistle as they pulled into the more expensive neighborhoods.

    “So, you told me your mom was killed back in the Sixties and you wanted to try to fix things… But I’ve been doing my own research… You weren’t born back then… You’re mid-Eighties, like me… Now… I don’t know how-“

    “The source of my power slows my aging, but it’s not the same as my grandfather.”

    “Okay… Well… The fact of the matter is that Alexis Cole, the daughter of Statesman and current Organizational Head of Freedom Corps, or whatever you call the leader of the organization, is still quite alive, and in fairly decent health…”

    “Look, Roland, I really don’t want to talk about this, okay? It’s just… If that hadn’t happened to my mother, she probably would have been Miss Liberty longer and… I don’t know… It’s just that after that happened, it’s always been a sore spot in her memory, and I was thinking if I could get there in time, I could change the past enough so that she could still be there in the final battle to protect Marchand…”

    “And you always wind up just too late?” Roland arched an eyebrow at this, “You know, power breaker said he ran into you when he did that once…”

    “Probably did… Probably had a whole army of criminals with him…”

    “No… He went solo. He wanted to see what the Hell Tesseract was going on about. He didn’t understand how he was involved in Recluse becoming the current leader of the Rogue Isles, and he still doesn’t understand it. I mean… Wouldn’t Recluse have remembered something like that? Wouldn’t your mother?”

    “I don’t know… She… She went to Hell and back after that fight, Roland. Literally. It’s why I don’t like talking about it. She saw some terrible things, and it’s always made her cry when she tried to tell me about it…”

    “I’ll stop asking, then,” he slowed as they approached another intersection and looked around.

    “Oh,” Jessica realized she still needed to give him directions and pointed through the windshield, “Left here, and it’ll be the second house on the right.”

    ----------

    Roland decided it would probably be best if he waited in the jeep. The situation was weird enough without having to deal with the parental pressures of a mother who no doubt wanted her daughter to look into making a family of her own (and grandchildren). He shuddered a little at remembering how his mother had the same conversation with him. It was never a request. Never.

    Almost ten minutes later, Ms. Liberty emerged from her mother’s house, her face a little red. She glared at the jeep as she walked to the passenger side and opened the door.

    “I should have sent you in there,” she said exasperatedly, “My God… If I’m not taking my work too seriously, I’m sleeping around. If I’m not sleeping around, I’m too shut off from the world, or I need to 'meet this nice young man I heard can throw fire from his hands...' That, or learn to settle down with someone who I can sleep next to comfortably…”

    She leveled her gaze on the grizzled driver and he shrugged.

    “Good thing none of this is comfortable,” he finally grunted, “Look, I… I don’t know how to help you with this. I mean, who you want to date is your business, and, frankly, I’m not int-…”

    He stopped and stared into space as he realized what he was about to say. In the back of his mind, he could picture Cedric sitting on a bar stool and scarfing popcorn out of a bag before laughing himself out of his seat.

    “Go on,” the woman leaned into his field of view so he could see she was glaring at him through narrowed eyes.

    Sighing, Roland finished his sentence.

    “I’m not interested in any more out of our relationship than what we’re doing now. That’s all. I know that’s hard to believe, but… Dammit… What do you want out of it?”

    “I just feel I haven’t given you the attention you deserve,” Jessica replied, leaning back in the passenger seat and fastening her seatbelt, “I mean… You’re more hospitable than I’ve ever seen anybody. You cooked me breakfast this morning for goodness sake!”

    “There was enough for myself, you know. I cooked Nester breakfast, too.”

    “True…”

    “Look, that’s how my mom and dad raised me, that’s all. And, yeah, you’ve shown up uninvited numerous times, but I can’t count how often that happened to me growing up. It’s not like you’re trying to hurt me, so I don’t see any reason to be inhospitable.”

    “So… You’re not into me at all?”

    “I don’t think about it.”

    Roland started the jeep and pulled out of the driveway. The silence in the vehicle’s cabin was palpable, and he tried to ignore it as best he could.

    “How can you not think about it?” Ms. Liberty finally shouted, “Isn’t this the sort of thing guys think about when it comes to the women in their lives?”

    “Probably. Maybe if they thought they had a chance, or deluded themselves into thinking they have a chance. From where I see myself on the scale, Infernal or Malaise have a better chance at forming a strong relationship with you.”

    She looked at him with shock at that. She didn’t even know where to begin with telling him how wrong that was.

    “Look… Infernal… Infernal isn’t really interested in me,” she finally explained, “If there were someone I’d expect him to be with, it would be Valkyrie. And Malaise… Well, I don’t talk about him because sometimes he makes me so mad sometimes that I get angry just thinking about him! Rrr… I mean, just a couple days ago, he had the gall to tell me he could ‘accidentally’ read my mind when I fant-!”

    She stopped suddenly and rolled her eyes awkwardly. Grey looked askance at her, but kept driving silently.

    “…My fantasies,” she finished.

    “My sister told me something about that,” he commented neutrally, “She said that… A part of psychic power involves… Actively thinking… And that sort of stuff is considered to be ‘surface thought,’ and it’s right there, pretty much getting broadcast to anything capable of perceiving it. To pull up things like memories and such requires more effort because the mind isn’t actively recalling it.”

    “Oh… So that’s why Swan told me to leave him alone…”

    “Isn’t Swan a psychic? I think that’s what my brother’s friend said… Couldn’t she have told you about that?”

    “I guess… Her or Aurora… But…”

    Ms. Liberty blinked, then looked at Roland with horror. It wasn’t necessarily directed at him, but a symptom of a dawning realization. Biting her lower lip, she reached for the door handle and tapped the window.

    “Look… Um… You can drop me off here. I’ll walk home…”

    Roland didn’t know what the deal was, but he could tell from the sound of her voice that it wasn’t a request. Something had upset her and it was enough that she wanted to be alone for a while to mull it over. At least, she wanted to be away from him.

    “What’s wrong?” he asked as he stopped the jeep next to the curb, “I mean, it’s only a couple more blocks, and you’re not really dressed for… Nevermind… There goes another hero…”

    A barely dressed modern-day gladiator hurdled the fence in pursuit of a Hellion and Roland shook his head as he watched them run by. Ms. Liberty chuckled a little, but she didn’t get back into the jeep.

    “Sorry, it’s just… I can’t talk about this right now…”

    “Well, you don’t have to.”

    “Well, it’s just… I think I know who did this to us these past couple days, and I don’t want to get into the why of it…”

    Roland didn’t answer. It didn’t make sense to him.

    “Well, can I at least know who you suspect?” he finally asked.

    “No, because I’d have to explain why… Just… Let me handle this on my own, okay?”

    “Alright… Okay. Good luck.”

    She nodded and closed the door. He could hear her muffled “Goodbye” before she jogged in the direction of her home. Bewildered and more than a little irritated, Roland pulled his jeep away from the curb and started heading back for his apartment.

    ---------

    ---Atlas Park: Freedom Corps Offices: Affiliated Supergroup Offices---

    Agent Wild looked over the records on the various groups he was involved with. The Redeemers were reporting increasing hostilities between their various teams and Grey’s Army seemed to be petitioning to break off the affiliation. As much as he would like to go ahead and grant Randy’s wish, he still had to file the request through the Retention offices and let them determine whether or not the small group was worth keeping.

    He didn’t even know where to begin with the Redeemers, though. After the incident with the thing called Grendel in Skyway City, the hostilities within the group had been growing worse. A lot of them had gotten hurt and they felt they were inadequately cared for afterwards. They’d all received the same health care and financial support that would have gone to the greatest of heroes in the same circumstances. Perhaps it was just their old selfish mentalities bubbling to the surface again. He didn’t know how to combat that.

    His e-mail box dinged and it drew Wild’s attention away from the issues. Bringing up the program, he saw it was a query from MedCom. Curious, he opened it and looked it over. As he read it, he didn’t understand what the problem had to do with him. It was a simple complaint about a misappropriation of MedCom resources to transport an individual from one set of coordinates to another. The individuals weren’t injured in any way, shape or form, and seemed to be sleeping at the time.

    Curious, Kevin plugged the coordinates into his computer’s city map program. One brought him to a building address he knew, but he couldn’t quite remember why. The other was a home in a more expensive residential district just outside Atlas Park. He couldn’t figure out the connection and went to finish reading the e-mail.

    It was being surprisingly circuitous about the name of the individual that apparently resided in the expensive residence. Apparently, according to the transport record, it was a female of average height and athletic build, but that was all it had to say. The other, however, was a husky man of average height that Agent Wild realized he knew very well once the e-mail finally informed him of Roland Grey’s identity.
  21. No, it's simple constructive criticism. Devious tends not to intentionally insult people, and even if he does inadvertently do so, it's usually tagged along with a larger, more pronounced dose of the afore-mentioned constructive criticism.

    Though, Z, I should remind you, this was Sooner's second work, so it's bound to wind up with a few... Well, problems is the wrong word... Quirks... I think quirks works best. You work them out as you refine your style.
  22. Mr_Grey

    The Redeemers

    The main floor was converted into an impromptu theater as the reformed criminals watched the television in awe. The news crews were covering the damage being wrought throughout the underbelly of Skyway City.

    “…The creature is approximately twelve feet tall and is almost as big around as the pillars supporting the overpass!” the woman shouting from the news chopper announced to the viewers throughout the city, “Longbow forces are moving into place… But the Trolls that have been throwing themselves at the creature have been getting tossed aside like rag dolls! Now… Ladies and gentlemen… If you have small children watching, you should probably have them leave the room as much of our footage is quite graphic…”

    “Indeed,” the dark wizard watching the Redeemers under his leadership murmured, “You children should be heading out there, helping those massing Longbow troops… Especially since their organization issues your paychecks!”

    “In a moment, in a moment!” Harold shouted, “Here come the Supa Trolls!”

    The big gray mass started punching the burly green monsters aside like they were rag dolls. Some were able to get in a few hits, but they didn’t seem to slow the beast down. It raged on, smashing the Supa Trolls into the river, the pillars and various bits of wrecked cars. It was like a machine, and worse, it was getting better. As the Supas pressed in, it started not only taking the hits, but grabbing the beefy monsters and yanking them off balance and slinging them about like so many toys. When it kicked one in the gut and followed up the strike with an uppercut that knocked the Superadine-addled brute into the underside of the overpass, Mortiganen turned off the television.

    “Oh come on!” Danesti shouted among the groans of dissapointment, this time with more anger than any kind of twisted humor, “You saw what that thing is doing! We’re gonna get killed out there!”

    There were some murmurs of agreement and half of the Redeemers refused to leave their spots. The dark wizard muttered something and the television burst into flames.

    “I’m sorry,” he rasped again, “I don’t remember giving you a choice.”

    “You can’t order us to throw our lives away!”

    “Oh come on you big baby!” Johnny Slag shouted from the door, surprising the whole crop of ex-cons, “We’ve got the Med-Com dealies! It’s not like it’s gonna kill us!”

    And with that, he was out the door. Harold watched him go and the rest of the group turned to look at him.

    “You gonna let him call you that?” Garm grunted.

    “Hell no!” the former hitman shouted, “Jones! Get me my rifle! We’re taking that beast down!”

    ----------

    “HAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAUGH!”

    The beast let loose a bellow that reverberated throughout the underbelly of the overpass. The Trolls weren’t rushing to meet him anymore and the thing that most closely resembled the form of Grendel that the Legacy Chain mystics had demonstrated to Mortiganen considered its targets. The Longbow Eagles getting into position and sighting their rifles on his near-impervious form were a good bet, but there were still plenty Trolls to kill, first. He let loose one more bellow to goad them into rushing for him, stomping a shockwave into the water to show his contempt.

    He was rewarded with a bright flash of pain as something slammed into his right eyebrow. Five hundred yards away, Harold racked another shell into his rifle’s chamber and sighted in to fire again.

    “That’s funny,” he muttered, “I must be wasted, because it looks like he’s mad at me… We sure that’s the guy we’re looking for?”

    “Yes,” Mortiganen replied as the former Frost Family enforcer fired again, “Twelve feet tall, gray skin, longhorns like a bull… Basically a mini Talos.”

    “Grendel didn’t look like that in life,” Garm muttered, “But… His skull features are similar…”

    “Well, cloning’s not the most surprising of concepts,” the wizard muttered, “Best not to worry about it now. We’ll help take this beast down, then worry about who sent it after the city.”

    “Uh… guys?” the hitman muttered as he hoisted up his rifle and jumped down from the piled up concrete blocks, “We should be moving…”

    They jumped away just in time to avoid a derelict car slamming into the perch. It tumbled over the rocks and chased Garm, but the Caliban tumbled out of the way through the water just in time.

    “Looks like we need to revise our strategy,” he gasped, “sniping him isn’t going to work…”

    “It got his attention away from the Eagle squadron, though.”

    A series of reports from the assault rifles wielded by the Longbow troops showed that a new volley was being launched against Grendel. A roar indicated that he wasn’t amused and was attacking them with the same fervor he’d gone after the Trolls just hours earlier. When they looked to see what was happening, the gray beast was lifting a boulder out of the riverbed and hurling it into the swarm of jetpack soldiers. The twist was that, due to the size of the flying object, the entire group was batted out of the air.

    “Not good,” the Caliban grumbled, “He does stuff that super strong tankers wish they could do…”

    “He’s not even bleeding,” Danesti yelped, “All those bullets just bounced!”

    Then more attacks were leveled against the monster, these ones launched not by more Longbow troops, but by various teams of the Redeemers. A series of vines ripped out of the water and lashed at the monster. Ashen Roast’s fiery form leaped into the water next to the gray monster and lashed at him with his fiery sword while Johnny Slag’s cybernetic blades hacked and slashed into the harder-than-steel flesh. Beams of ice and lightning scored into Grendel’s torso and head and then things looked like they were going to go the way of any average monster fight.

    Then the beast stomped and his combatants were carried off in what could only be described as a tidal wave. Grendel didn't seem to have a scratch on him, and his deep chuckling indicated he hadn't really been hurt.

    This was going to be bad.
  23. No. Stop guessing. You'll spoil yourself.
  24. Added another chapter to Grey's Army...

    Roland's Friday, February 13th, doesn't even begin to go well...

    Of course, some would say that's a matter of opinion.
  25. Mr_Grey

    Grey's Army

    ---Location: Unknown---

    He awoke as light broke through the window and gurgled. He must have missed the alarm clock and that was really going to ruin his day. He’d had everything planned…

    Wake up at six. Eat breakfast. Head to the Kenealies’ and fix their toilet. Head to the Johnson’s and fix their window. Head to the new tenant’s and look for the leak in her bathtub that she was talking about. He’d get lunch after that, then turn to the Lawrence’s children’s room and the hole their kids had put into the wall while roughhousing.

    However, now his time was up. He would have to hold off on the window today…

    Wait…

    This wasn’t his room!

    Roland turned his head left and right. Everything was white and bright, where his room was tan trimmed with brown (like every other room in his building). Looking to his right, he saw there was a window, a storm window. Next to it, on a shelf, was what looked to be a stuffed animal shaped like a unicorn.

    “What the!?” he croaked as he noticed a weight lying on top of him, “Hey…”

    He lifted the covers and saw blonde hair resting on his chest. Blinking, he poked the head and the girl mumbled something. With a chill down his spine, he realized whom she was.

    “How long was I asleep? What day is it? How did I get here?”

    “Megan,” he said quietly, still gently poking her to wake her up, “Hey… Megan… Wake up!”

    “Hey sweetie…” she murmured, apparently still asleep, then she hugged him a little tighter.

    “What!?” Roland almost coughed, then he pushed a little harder, “Hey! Megan! Wake up!”

    “Mm-whuh?”

    The heroine opened her eyes and her skin went cold. She had recognized the voice talking to her in her sleep and reacted to it thinking it was a dream. When she realized she could hear his heartbeat, she shot up and looked him in the eyes.

    Roland looked back at her, his blank expression turning to shock as he saw how few articles of clothing she wore to sleep (specifically, none). Screaming, Ms. Liberty jumped off the bed, dragging the blankets and sheets with her in a flurry, hitting the nightstand before she hit the floor. Roland was left lying on the mattress in his shorts and a bewildered state of mind.

    “Are you okay?” he asked as he finally collected himself to say something.

    “GET OUT!”

    “Okay…”

    Roland stood up on the opposite side of the bed and looked around for his clothes. Not finding them, he decided to make do and leave anyway. Opening the door next to the bed, he beheld Megan Duncan’s wardrobe and his brain had another synaptic dissociation.

    “This is a closet,” he said blankly, and the woman giggled, “You okay?”

    “No…” she said, her voice a sad squeak, “I hit my head…”

    With his face a mask of confusion, Grey walked around the bed and peered at the young woman whose house he happened to be unintentionally invading. She had the sheets and blankets wrapped tightly about her athletic figure and she was gently rubbing where she’d struck herself in her mad dash to get away from him.

    “What are you doing here, Roland?”

    “I don’t know.”

    The look on her face showed that she clearly didn’t believe him.

    “I don’t know! I don’t know how I got here!”

    “Roland…”

    “Look,” he slapped the foot of the bed, “The last thing I remember, aside from this… Wonderful surprise of a morning… Is going to sleep… In my bed! Now, if today isn’t Friday, I’m missing some time…”

    “Today is Friday…” Megan’s confused tone showed that she was starting to worry, “…I think…”

    She reached up and felt for her communicator on the night stand. Not finding it, she searched around herself and found it under the bed. None of this eased the look of worry on her face; in fact, it seemed to grow worse.

    Finally getting to see the date on her communicator, she finally relaxed. This pulled the blankets down from her a little. Realizing the sudden draft, she snatched them back up, her face reddening fiercely. Roland hadn’t seen anything this time, however, as he had moved to the other door in the room.

    “Well?” he asked, “Is it Friday? Saturday? Next week? Last week?”

    “It’s Friday… The thirteenth…”

    “Makes sense.”

    “The day before Valentine’s Day,” she glared at him this time.

    “That doesn’t have anything to do with me,” he muttered and opened the door, “What the-? Where are my clothes!?”

    ----------

    An hour later, he was sitting in her living room. Ms. Liberty emerged from her room, dressed and ready for the day. She regarded the half-naked husky man sitting on a wooden stool next to the counter that marked where her living room ended and her kitchen began.

    “Well?” she asked, “What’s the word?”

    “Nester’s on his way to pick me up,” he said with remarkable confidence, considering his lack of apparel, “He’s bringin’ my clothes and the like. I didn’t know the address, so, I used some of the mail you’ve got stacked up on that counter next to the phone to figure out where I am. Jessica.”

    Megan Duncan froze a little when he said her name. Looking at the stack of papers he indicated, she saw that they were addressed to both “Megan Duncan” and “Jessica Cole.” The issue of her real name was something of debate between various heroes throughout the city. The whole ordeal had been going on for so long that she didn’t know how to go about correcting it.

    “It’s a weird thing… Going by ‘Megan’ and ‘Jessica,’ which you apparently do on a regular basis. I suppose it’s some sort of middle name thing, but then, I don’t go around calling myself ‘James.’”

    “It’s complicated, Roland…” she sighed.

    “So, which name’s the real one?”

    “They both are. I really don’t want to get into it, alright… My family history is… Complicated…”

    “So when I first met you and my communicator said your name was ‘Jessica…’”

    “It was reading my civilian I.D., because I was technically off the clock.”

    She didn’t know what she had expected if he ever caught on to the deception, no matter how minor. They were supposed to be friends, however unlikely that was, and she had deliberately lied to him. It wasn’t completely a lie, though, it was just complicated.

    He didn’t seem bothered. Instead, he started chuckling. He gestured about the house and shook his head.

    “If I’d never seen this place and found out, I’d probably be ticked. But… Megan… Jessica… Whatever… You don’t live here, do you?”

    “What do you mean?” she asked indignantly, planting her fists on her hips in aggravation.

    “Everything’s too clean, too tidy, too neat…” he explained, “I considered making breakfast to make up for the embarrassment this morning… But all you’ve got here are pop tarts and stale cereal. Your perishables, like the eggs, for instance, have… Perished. Your television’s plugged into the wall, so is the cable, but the DVD player’s not, its cord is still wrapped up and bound in packaging wire behind it. Your collection… It’s all still in its original packaging except for a few cases. I wouldn’t be surprised if all you did was come home after a day of work and go to sleep.”

    “So? So what if that’s what I do? What does it have to do with anything?”

    “Well, it just shows me that you don’t know how to live normally… I don’t mean that there’s a normal way to live, we’re not 1950’s America, but there are certain tenets to life that are usually just assumed. It’s generally assumed that you’ll go to your own house and decompress for a couple hours. It’s generally assumed that you’ll learn to cook real meals for yourself instead of buying cookware and just shoving it into your cupboard with the advertising stickers still on it. I mean, cripes… It may look clean on the outside, but your whole refrigerator needs to be cleaned out! Your baking soda was pleading with me to put it out of its misery! I almost jumped out of my skin when that happened.”

    “What?” she walked over to the refrigerator and opened it.

    “Please!” the portly young man mock whimpered in a strange, high-toned voice, “Throw me away! The sewers would be more welcome!”

    Ms. Liberty closed the refrigerator quickly. Roland was right, the odor was starting to become overpowering. When she looked at him, he leaned onto the counter, smirked at her and hugged his arms close to his chest.

    “It’s a little chilly in here,” he explained, “Well, in any case… I can get why you didn’t understand my hospitality, now. You know? How you keep thinking I want something more between us?”

    “Most guys would want something more with me, Roland.”

    “Maybe if we’d met under different circumstances instead as different people,” he shrugged, “But there’s no blood coming from that stone.”

    Before they could continue, there was a knock at the door. Thinking it was Nester, Roland got up and walked across the living room to answer it.

    “I’d love to finally hammer this issue out with you some day,” he called over his shoulder, “Preferably when I’m fully clothed… You’re clearly still worried that I’ve got some form of puppy love brooding in the back of my head…”

    “That’s not what I’m thinking, Roland…” she replied as she followed him into the living room, “It’s just… It’s just hard to accept, under any circumstances, that you’re not playing some angle… I mean, even this morning… I’m still half-convinced you planned this.”

    “What!?” his hand dropped on the handle of the front door and he started opening it, “I don’t even know where to begin to shoot that one down… I’ll start with saying that I still don’t know where I am…”

    “That’s a fact,” a familiar female voice chirped from the other side of the door.

    “Oh no…” the color drained from Jessica’s skin and her face dropped into a mask of horrified shock, “Close the door!”

    Roland tried to, but a force stronger than his weight pushed it open (though not without struggle). Backing away from the opening door, he beheld Mynx and Valkyrie walking in. They both wore expressions of amusement or (as in Valkyrie’s case) “triumphant approval.” Ms. Liberty, however, seemed to start suffering from a migraine.

    “No… Oh no…”

    “You were late for the morning meeting, Sidechick,” Mynx explained, “Swan sent us to make sure everything was okay.”

    “It’s good to see everything is…” Valkyrie regarded Roland with an appraising leer, “Well in hand…”

    “Nothing happened, you… Hanyaks…” he grumbled.

    “What?” the catgirl asked, her tail twitching to demonstrate her confusion, “What the Hell does that mean?”

    “Where I’m from, we usually say it when somebody does or says something ridiculous…”

    “It sounds Eastern European in origin…” the golden-armored swordswoman mused.

    “That would make sense… There were a lot of Polish immigrants in northern New York…”

    “Look, you two,” Jessica interrupted, glaring pointedly at her fellow Vindicators, “Roland and I are having a very strange morning, and I ‘m not in the mood to be poked fun at right now… You see I’m okay, so you can go and tell Swan I’ll be over to the base as soon as I can.”

    There was a knock at the door and Roland looked out the window this time. Breathing a sigh of relief, he turned to leave.

    “Well, it looks like you can go, anyway,” he said as he opened to door, “Nester.”

    “Hey man, here’re the clo-woah!”

    His best friend from high school stared, dumbstruck, at the company he found the big man in. Roland grasped the clothing and asked Ms. Liberty if he could use the bathroom for a moment. She agreed and he left the elder Durj brother in the company of three of the city’s favorite heroines.

    “I…” he began, but his throat closed slightly and he choked on his own words, “…Uh… Ah… Um… Did I say ‘I?’”

    “Indeed,” Valkyrie smiled and extended her hand for him to shake, “I’m Valkyrie…”

    “Oh thank God!” Nester shook her hand vigorously, “I was starting to worry my friend had fallen in with a group of those shameless rip-off hero-er-ines… You know, the ones who haven’t got a unique thought in their head, so they copy the appearance of more popular heroes and heroines and make their name sound similar or throw numbers in place of letters, and I’m rambling, I don’t know why, I guess I’m just surprised to be standing among such celebrities, I should probably stop shaking your hand now, huh?”

    Valkyrie withdrew her hand from the light grip of the young man and started chuckling. Nester was forced to deal with an awkward silence between him and the notable females for a few minutes before Roland finally re-emerged from the bathroom.

    “Ready to go?” he called, causing the heroines to turn and regard the younger Grey brother.

    “Yeah. Jessica… Megan… You have a good one, okay? Let me know if you find out anything about how I wound up here… Please? And, hey… Again… I’m sorry about the trouble.”

    “It’s okay, Roland. I’ll let you know if I find out anything.”

    As the two men walked to the idling car, they could hear Mynx talking very loudly behind them.

    “That’s it? You’re not going to give your boyfriend a kiss goodbye? No ‘have a good day, honey,’ nothing!?”

    “Shut up, Mynx,” was the tired reply before the door closed.

    “Dude!” Nester shouted at Roland.

    “Don’t believe what you just heard…”

    “Dude!”

    “Just get in the car and get me back to the apartment…”

    “DUDE!”

    ----------

    ---Atlas Park: Roland Grey’s Apartment---

    On the car ride back, Roland explained everything, starting with his meeting a random civilian late one night who was about to get ambushed by a Hellion thug and finishing with the fight at Manticore and Sister Psyche’s wedding. There were a couple other things afterward, but he figured his friend could fill in the blanks on his own for the more recent events.

    “…So, that’s the whole story,” Roland finished.

    “Oh man…” Nester leaned back against the couch, his hands resting on his knees, “I asked her if she was lemon-flavored…”

    “She got a chuckle out of that, actually. She said it was a reminder that she should take her cover stories more seriously.”

    “So… You’re not dating her, I can accept that… But… Why aren’t you considering it?”

    “Maybe this is why I never told you about it,” Grey’s eyes narrowed as he wondered if every conversation from here on out was going to be like this, “I just don’t think about it, man. She’s… She’s not my type.”

    “Bull, dude! She’s every guy’s type!”

    “True…”

    “So what’s the problem?”

    “I don’t know… I just… She’s not who I fell for, okay?”

    Roland turned to his room while Nester mulled the words over. One possible meaning was simply unthinkable to him. The other…

    “Wait!” he shouted as is portly friend fit on his tool belt, “You fell for her cover story!? You wanted to go out with Starburst?”

    “What can I say? Adventuring with her, fighting alongside her, puzzling through some things early in my ‘heroic career…’ I figured it was fate, kinda’.”

    He shrugged and started heading for the door.

    “I was just starting to think things were off when her evil twin showed up for no reason and stomped on me. Cedric and your brother showed up to save my [butt], and Statesman apparently didn’t tell Meh-Jess-er… Ms. Liberty… About it until after their little soiree in the ‘D’ with those Rogue Isle [witches]. Really ticked her off, too…”

    “Rough, man,” Nester shook his head, “So… Why do you still hang out with her? Better yet, why does she hang out with you?”

    “You use her reason for a bed,” Grey grumbled, “I don’t know what I was thinking when I said I wouldn’t mind staying her friend. In the time since, though, I’ve stuck to my decision and it’s brought me nothing but trouble and that bow…”

    He indicated the Christmas gift she’d given him two months prior. He still hadn’t used it. While it seemed a good bow, he just had a feeling that he shouldn’t field it, yet.

    “…So far,” he kept grumbling, “I think the scales are a bit unbalanced. Now… If you’ll excuse me… I gotta go fix a toilet and a leaking bath tub.”

    ----------

    “I don’t get it,” he muttered as he looked over the tub and the bathroom, “There are no water spots, no puddles… I don’t hear any hissing…”

    The new tenant was an unusual woman, in the sense that she was exceptionally physically attractive and swore up-and-down that she was not a heroine of the city. Roland had his doubts, especially since she seemed to have the most common super power among female heroes; but after that last battle he helped fight against the Circle of Thorns in Steel Canyon’s Icon outfit store, and the models he saw there, he could believe almost anything in this city.

    Anything, that is, except the attention the young woman was giving him. Rose Dawson was her name, and she’d just moved to Paragon City for college. Not wanting to stay in a dormitory, she used some of the money her family allotted her to rent an apartment, which happened to be in Roland’s building. She seemed to explain all of this in one breathless sentence, as well as a number of other bits of inane chatter, while he inspected her bathroom.

    The first thing she did to introduce herself was inform him that her bath tub seemed to be leaking. In order to do this, she wore a tight-fitting black top that had a very low-cut neckline. When he arrived to do the work, she was a little more modestly dressed, though her sweater seemed to disappear while he was inspecting the room.

    “Are you sure?” she asked, swaying gently from left to right while she pouted at him, “I could have sworn I heard something dripping while I was taking my bath…”

    “Yeah, I’m sure…” Grey replied professionally, “You don’t have any water spots, there aren’t any on the ceiling of the room below this one…”

    “Well, maybe I should take another bath and you could wait and listen for-“

    “No! Now, look! I’ve had about as much as I’m willing to take! I don’t know you, you don’t know me, and there ain’t a damn reason why you should be coming on to me like this! If there’s nothing wrong with your apartment, don’t come complaining just so you can flaunt yourself at me!”

    Rose blinked sadly at him, but it seemed really insincere. There was a strange, mischievous light in her eyes, and he brought her to attention by clapping his hands in front of her face.

    “Hey! That doesn’t mean you can go and start breaking stuff in here, either! I know you’re away from your family, and you probably want to break whatever mold you may have had before,” he left the bathroom and started leaving the apartment, still rambling off his aggravation, “But you can find plenty other, better, and more willing people to help you elsewhere in this city. Leave me out of it.”

    “What else is going to go wrong or otherwise irritate me today?” he thought, as he stalked down the halls to fix the Kenealies’ toilet. At least they were a family of three and wouldn’t harry him with this trite.