Mr_Grey

((If this doesn't call Diov out, nothing will.))

Kind of both, now.

I made some concept characters on Guardian to make the extra pictures. Apparently, however, there's already a Brother Hood there, so I wound up using the guy's real name, Brother Lucas.

Added a bio for Brother Mauthe on the Role Call thread.

It also includes mini biographies for his "Thugs."

This one took me a while to write. I hope to bring Mauthe to Protector when I-12 goes live.

Sometimes, it takes desperate gambles to wage war against the forces of evil. Enter Brother Mauthe, a man who has had most of his records wiped from public access. The police, the U.S. government, nobody but a handful of select people know who this enigmatic semi-communist leader really is.

Mauthe leads a group commonly referred to as "The Dregs," "The Scraps," "The Vagrants," and a number of other colorful and derogatory nicknames. He prefers to call them his brothers and sisters, and the group has been eking out an existence on a disused Etoile Island.

What rogues don't know, however, is that Brother Mauthe is not a rogue. He's actually a Freedom Corps/Longbow agent under deep cover. His mission is to infiltrate the Isles and gather intelligence on Arachnos and the various villainous groups operating from within them. With his network of thugs, transients and other types of fellow "brothers," Mauthe has been incredibly successful.

However, there are some within the hero organization that fear Mauthe may have come under the influence of his surroundings. As his reports come in more infrequently and surveillance indicates a large build-up of forces on his island, it's believed he may be trying to carve his own empire out of the Etoiles.

Mauthe is aware of the concerns of his fellow soldier heroes. However, he has more pressing situations to deal with. Apart from a Freak Main Battle Tank (literally a military tank merged with a larger than normal Freak) named Chaingunnz and an ancient temple that rumbles during full moons, the neighboring island is also home to a branch of the Circle of Thorns, led by an arch-wizard named Mori'ae. Apparently the two islands have something to do with each other, because preliminary reports indicate there's an identical temple in the Oranbegan-controlled island as well.

For now, things are quiet in the world of Brother Mauthe. His gathered tribe works together communally and they want for very little. They've almost established their own frontier town and all they seem to ask for is to be left alone. However, Mauthe's duties preclude that. One can only hope his service to Longbow, Freedom Corps and his country doesn't cause him to damage the delicate balance he's maintained to keep his new home safe.

----------

Brother Mauthe: Modern Frontiersman

Mauthe's typical outfit.

Cybernetic Punk

Mauthe's an unusual sort. He leaves no possibility unchecked and he tends to prepare for almost every eventuality. This is evidenced in his shifting tastes in firearms as well as the dizzying array of devices he employs to protect himself and his troops, as well as lay waste to his enemies.

Modern Punk

There's a reason why this outfit seems ill-fitting. He's wearing it over body armor. Mauthe designed this outfit to blend in with the bizarre and twisted denizens of the Isles. One would think he'd have learned such behavior wasn't necessary. However, no one he's run across in that hostile environment has even begun to guess at Mauthe's true intentions, so maybe there's something to his thinking.

----------
Bodyguards

Brother Brick
Brother Hood

Brothers Brick and Hood. They're quiet sorts and both Etoile natives. They each lost their livelihoods to the criminal elements that seem to be running rampant throughout Port Oakes, St. Martial and the Nerva Archipelago. If they think it's bad there, wait until they see Grandville...

Brother Hood is a sneaky sort. He's good at getting into and out of secure buildings and clearing the entrance for Brother Mauthe and his troops. That isn't to say the mastermind hasn't been ambushed a couple times...

Brother Brick is a bruiser. He gives punishment and he takes punishment. Any time somebody thinks they've got the simple man down, though, something wells up inside him and Brick comes back like a living wall of stone and delivers a savage beating on par with cruiser-weight boxers.

Brother Ringo

A former fisherman, Ringo lost his father and brother to the war going on between the Marcone Family and the Mooks. He got his revenge by burning most of those responsible alive inside a warehouse. Since he's been working with Mauthe, however, he hasn't had to take such drastic measures.

Brother Ringo is the owner of the Captured Dream, the modified trawler that sues the BWO dropship's Fusion Core to keep it powered. It's also heavily modified for passenger support and defense. Since this is the vehicle that keeps the Brutal Warriors in business, it has inextricably tied Mauthe's Brotherhood to the Brutal Warriors Order.

Brother Hand

Brother Hand is a former Longbow soldier. He'd signed up when he had just got out of high school and volunteered for the first mission he could to the Rogue Isles. While on patrol in Mercy Island, his platoon was ambushed by a band of super-powered rogues. Hand's emergency teleporter was damaged and he wound up left behind.

Wandering the streets, half maddened by hunger, thirst and blood loss, he found Mauthe. The mastermind took him in, dressed his wounds, and replaced his uniform with something that wouldn't get him shot on sight.

Now, Brother Hand, he says his real name is better left forgotten, serves Mauthe as one of his loyal bodyguards and as an inspiring leader for the Brotherhood. His knowledge of military training and troop tactics has saved many lives.

Brother Skrap

Brother Skrap is a former Council soldier. His entire cell was wiped out by an Arachnos incursion led by what he calls "a super-powered traitor." Apparently, a monstrous brute by the name of Jazt, a former archon of the Council, led the raid to seal his position within Arachnos.

Vowing revenge, Skrap started seeking another cell to plot with. He thought the man he was speaking to in the seamy dive bar was an operative. Instead, he had met Brother Mauthe.

Mauthe has been teaching Skrap a new path. Skrap has, in tunr, been teaching tactics to the Brotherhood soldiers. There's some minor friction between Skrap and Hand, but the other reluctantly admits that the former Council soldier seems to have turned a new leaf. Skrap also admits that hand's not nearly as "goody-goody" as he first seemed.

Brother War

Nobody knows what this big man's story is. Mauthe has tried, time and again, to pry it out of him. However, War keeps his lips shut and his secrets to himself. The only hint to the big man's past lies in his violent reaction to the Lost and the Rikti.

He's a mutant, to be sure, and his genetic abnormality has granted him enhanced strength and resilience. He tears into his enemies, asking no quarter and giving none. There is a long casualty list associated with this monster shaped like a man.

Despite his terrible nature, however, Brother War has a gentle side. He cares deeply about the safety and innocence of children. If anybody were to threaten the few that call Mauthe's Island "home," they would learn quickly just how far Brother War will go to punish such transgressions.

I've posted a new chapter in Brutal Warriors Order.

Justin Steel, Draven and Ragin' James interview Charles Reynolds, the man responsible for Psycho13's overall condition.

Warning: This chapter contains some coarse/low-brow conversational topics.

"What the Hell do you want?"

Charles Reynolds. The boys called him "Chuck." He was the de facto Alpha Male when they all went to high school together. Even for some of the neighboring districts, he was a young man to be feared.

Reynolds was the son of the owner of a car dealership, and it was a small chain that employed a lot of people. There had been a lot of money moving through the business, and not a small amount of it was poured back into the surrounding communities, funding school expansions and uniforms, public works and funding a number of candidates' campaigns. This only made it more difficult to get an investigation going when former employees claimed that drugs were being run across state borders in the various new and used cars.

There was likely some truth to the claim, however. How else was Chuck able to make the connections necessary to form and run the Committee? It was discovered through interrogation after his arrest that he didn't actually run the clandestine organization until after completing college, but it was still his brainchild.

The Brutal Warriors each had a story to tie to Charles. He'd sent his thugs after James and Ice, which wound up with three dumb people taking a week off school so their bruises would heal. The thugs had more success against Draven, however, when the alpha dog realized the long-haired ladies man had been the reason why his girlfriend broke up with him. Of course, Psycho13 had his own stories to tell about the torment he received at the hands of the rich boy's goons.

However, the dark-haired, blue-eyed, dour young man sitting inside a bullet-proof glass box in a prison uniform hardly inspired the same intimidation he did as a teenage jock. He looked beaten and worn. He was scratching at a light stubble that scrawled across his cheeks and he had dark bags under his eyes. Glaring at the people responsible for his imprisonment, he repeated himself.

"Well? What the Hell do you want?"

"Sorry," Draven replied, "We're just savoring the irony. You were the prince of Kingdale, and now look at ya. Locked up in one of the biggest, most secure prisons on the planet."

"You obviously aren't familiar with the escape rate..."

"You're still here," Rage retorted.

There was a silence as Justin sorted through a few more papers, looked them over, then signed and handed them to a guard. He whispered to Draven the terms and regulations. Basically, they were allowed to ask him nearly anything, they just couldn't get violent.

"We should've brought bribing money," The skull-clad brute growled, "Then we'd get half an hour or so to stomp his lousy [butt] into the corner!"

"[Dog], there's nothing you can do to me that hasn't been done already," Chuck groaned, "Since I used that damn powered armor when you detained me, I was tried as a meta human, so now I'm in D Block. Despite the fact it has big, gaping holes in a number of the floors, it's still a dank, urine-soaked Hell hole that I can't get out of and am surrounded on all sides by freaks and lunatics. There are all sorts of hideous things going on in here, and even if I told you about them, nobody out there would believe you. Now, what do you want? As Judge Samson would say, I'm late for my cornholing..."

"I never figured you to be someone who gave up so easily," Draven intoned, "I... I kind of feel sorry for you. Especially since your former partners seem to be doing so well."

"Who said I gave- What?"

"You didn't know? A lot of the shareholders in your former outfit have banded together with some sort of European conglomerate. Apparently, they're right back to whatever they were doing before you were arrested."

"You hear that?" Rage growled, "You were a God damn patsy."

Reynolds glared at the Brutal Warriors for a few moments. At first, there didn't seem to be any other reaction. He just leveled his gaze into Draven's eyes. He was reading them, looking for the trick, the lie...

Suddenly, there was a rattling sound. Charles was shaking with anger. He jumped up with a roar and hurled his chair at the glass wall of his box. Since it was bullet-proof, the chair bounced back and slammed into his shin. The former jock crumpled to the floor and clutched his injured leg. Guards started rushing in, but when they saw that there was no way the visitors could have caused the incident, they just stood around, looking perplexed.

"Argh... I'm alright," Chuck growled, "I'm okay... I was just... Just a little ticked. I might need to go to the infirmary after this."

"Alright," one of the guards replied as he replaced his night stick, "You've got five minutes."

"What can you tell us about your former fellow shareholders?" Draven asked.

"Nothing here. I'll tell you if you get me out."

"Yeah, that's not happening. One, we're not the cops, two, 72 Hours is a work of fiction. ****-Shin! Inmates aren't released because they know something, they're kept in and pressured until they let something slip. My dad worked corrections, remember?"

"Yeah?" one of the guards asked, "Where at?"

"Kingdale Correctional, New York."

"Oh, one of those upstate deals, huh? Is that like the one designed so the inmates really never see the light of day?"

"No, but there're a couple Maxes the next county over. Ours just gets a lot of the goons from Syracuse and Rochester."

"Ah..."

"Alright, fine," Reynolds threw his hands wide in defeat, "I'll give you a name. If it pans out, and you guys are able to take this guy in, I'm going to have to suggest you guys get me into protective custody as soon as possible."

"Why?"

"Because the Committee will send goons after me, that's why! And not cuddly, cartoonish goons like you find in here, I mean big, mean, ugly abominations built from sin. Your brother helped conceive and build some of them, Rage. He had a lot of nightmares rattling around in that brain of his..."

"Why do you want to help us so suddenly?" Steel held up a hand to keep Rage and Draven from making any further comment.

"That's easy, Justin. I don't want to see those nimrods getting rich off my idea. I was the one who came up with manufactured heroes! Crey took the idea and did something weird with it... Heck, we might've come up with the idea at the same time, but mine is the better one! With the M.M.H.P., we could make truly synergistic teams to patrol the world's cities. We could have sold heroes to the military for covert operations without tarnishing anybody's image. With all the similar powers out there, who'd have known the lunatic who blew up the oil field in Iran was the same fire-based hero patrolling Cincinnati?"

"See, that's why it was an evil idea," Draven narrowed his eyes and shook his head, "Ends do not justify the means, Chuck. It's why you see heroes so bothered when innocents are hurt or killed during a skirmish with criminals."

"Death tolls are statistics."

"And now you're paraphrasing a madman."

Charles pushed himself to his feet and looked out to his former classmates. They were staring back at him with contempt. He wondered if it would be the same back home. He knew how his father would react.

A clicking sound distracted him. The guards were tapping their watches.

"Alright, look, you want the name or not?"

"Hit me," Draven replied.

"Kevin Tycho. He's the owner of a small pharmaceutical company, Tycho Pharms. He was one of the Committee's chairmen. Tie him to something, and you should get some leads into this new group."

----------

"We waited two weeks for that?" Draven growled, "What the Hell is he thinking?"

"Revenge, mostly," Steel replied impassively, "I think he intends for us to wipe out this new Committee one-by-one."

"Well, let's get cracking!" Rage shouted.

"No... We can't just rush this."

"I don't care what you say, Steel, you're not in charge of the heroside or heel-side operations!"

"Oh dear Lord..." the business-suit clad mastermind groaned, "Not this ridiculous leadership system again..."

"Regardless of your distaste," Draven stepped between them, glaring more at Rage than Steel, "Rage and I have the reins in this organization, Justin. We'll decide how to go about this."

"Well, we should begin with alerting the police about our upcoming investigation," Steel bluntly suggested.

The two other meta humans stared at him like his words had short-circuited their brains. Justin explained further that if they just stormed into the offices of Lawrence Pharms, the company could easily call the police on them and that would bring a swift end to both of their careers.

"We need to inform the police that we've been given reason to believe that Tycho Pharms at least bears investigation. We can call Joe, get him to accompany us with a warrant, and we'll go from there."

"Alright," Rage growled, "Should we check with Agent Wild to see if I can get my communicator to broadcast blue to the police drones when I'm using my powers, too?"

"It would probably be wise," the business-suit-clad man replied, "Considering what we've faced in the past couple years from the Committee and your brother's report from the bank in Steel Canyon, we might need your back-up."

"Alright, let's get going," Erickson shivered, "I'm feeling cold... Like we shouldn't be here."

Steel scanned the traffic. Few cars ventured past the prison, but one stood out. It was sleek, like glass, and didn't bounce or wobble on the same potholes the other cars did.

"We'd better hurry this investigation. Charles is probably in a lot more trouble than he knows."

----------

"Mister Reynolds," the young, red-headed woman said as she looked through her notes, "It seems you've been having a busy day."

"The word I'd use is [drecky]," he replied, "You finally slurp your way out of that Etoile office, Angela?"

The red-headed psychic glared at the orange-suited man behind the bullet-proof glass. She wondered briefly if it was super power resistant as well and if she could jam a mental spike in her former employer's brain without anyone knowing the difference between the attack and a stroke. A warning footstep behind her indicated that her superiors likely did not think the attempt would be a wise one, so she let it go.

"Good to see somebody's got you on a leash," Reynolds grinned, "Even if you were thinking you could kill me with your brain, you should remember you can't. I've got one of those mini-speakers in my head, like the one we put in Baker, and it produces a sonic resonance that protects me from psychic attacks and attempts to read my mind. You'd get nothing but a dull bass sound reverberating through your skull before I started shouting to the guards that you were trying to kill me and they sent a robot guard in here to ram a metal spike up-"

"Enough!" Greene shouted, the lights dimming a little as she lost some of her cool; while she felt like explaining that the guards weren't watching (they'd been properly bribed away), she had other proposals to make.

"Look, Chuck, I'm here to offer you a chance at freedom and a position within the new company I'm working for. I know you weren't so heavily involved in the more criminal activities of your former partners, and that they gave you the short end of the stick when the whole organization fell apart under pressure from Crey. With the B.W.O. chipping at your endeavors, they must have figured you were the prime candidate to simply feed to the wolves."

"Damn," Reynolds growled, "You've got me feeling bad about all the nasty things I said about ya just now. Oh well, can't fix that."

Angela smiled.

"Does that mean we have a deal?"

"I'll think about it."

Reynolds knew that, despite Greene and her mysterious companion's obvious bribery of the guards, there was somebody watching the interview chamber. He couldn't just accept this shiny gift without the news somehow getting out and the authorities keeping an eye on him. It left way too many variables in Greene's favor. Her's and her new company's.

What further bothered him was the fact that the B.W.O. was just there, telling him about a new company. Considering what he knew about business practices (actual business practices, not business models like people learn in school, but the "All in the Family" practices that had been keeping rich families rich and poor families poor), there was a strong chance she was working for the very same people who had abandoned him.

"Don't think too long," Angela sighed the tired cliche, "Otherwise, authorities may find mounting evidence to keep you in here for a very long time."

"That's just as good," the former Committee head growled as she and her quiet companion left, "Better than living in the streets..."

This Project Soultaker is not the original one. After attempting to stop the Brutal Warriors Order from stealing an Arachnos Flier, Ragin' James broke the first Project Soultaker's spine. The delay between the damage and the critical life signs was too long, and the Committee agent was left paralyzed, even after being pulled into the Bloody Bay Arachnos medical facility.

This new Project Soultaker didn't wield the same fiery secondary powers as its predecessor. Instead, it requisitioned Mark Shadow's dark bracers, granting it the same dark powers the corrupter once wielded. However, it had no intention of returning the artifacts, and in fact has turned over the bracers to the New Horizon Syndicate, the new organization running the agent.

Not much is known about the New Horizon Syndicate at the moment. However, they seem to have a small army of business suit-clad security guards, mystics like the Soultakers, and a disposable income that enables them to hire mercenary rogues and heroes.

Soultaker 2.0

Soultaker 2, as Mark Shadow calls him, wears an outfit similar to its predecessor. It no longer wears the Bracers of Obtenebration, but the New Horizon Syndicate has found a way to funnel the dark powers into the rogue anyway.

Dark Lord

This peculiar outfit reveals that the Soultaker's skin is as pale as the moon. The eyes are cold and emotionless, and it hardly ever says anything. This visage seems like it could live up to the moniker it bears.

Eidolon Witch Doctor

Something strange is going on here. Soultaker seems much too similar to a Vahzilok Eidolon in this image. His dark powers are much more terrible than the hero-remains zombies, though. He also is still very much alive, he just exudes death.

Masonic Templar and I have added a chapter to the Co-Op Story Project.

You know... It's not supposed to be RP community-specific. We would love if some of the Protector authors contributed as well.

Another portion of Templar's and my story, On the Trail of Destiny, has been posted.

Come on, RP community, where are those creative juices?

It's almost criminal that we were letting it slip.

I'm considering mentioning this in the Scoop to see if we can get more of a response...

On the Trail of Destiny

(Part 2: Getting Oriented in a Strange Land)

Authors: Mr Grey and Masonic Templar
----------

After the dark of the ritual room, the heroes had to take a moment to adjust to the brightness of the world they found themselves in, except for Cycron whom, as per usual, had to adjust to the intense amount data he was receiving from all his sensors; this new place was full of extraordinary paradigms, so immediately, he began to calculate EVERYTHING. Once the other's vision cleared, they still needed a moment to reconcile precisely what they were seeing.

What they stood upon was like a grassy plain rimmed with mountain foothills. However, the foothills suddenly stopped to open air beyond. The only reason any of the heroes knew this was because of the floating, craggy islands this way and that.

Cortland muttered something about a Shard while the others looked about. Cycron, Project Whirlwind and Mattock took off to examine what lied over the edges while the Jaded King turned to look where they’d come from. Sure enough, there was the little white spiral, spinning in place just like Azuria said it would. The warrior from an alternate future Earth had to make sure he wouldn’t be stuck here like he was stuck in Earth Prime, so he decided to test what the M.A.G.I. seer had instructed. As he poked at the center of the spiral, he could swear he felt the hairs on his body stand up on end for a brief moment before the portal opened up. He could see the mystics looking back at him quizzically.

“Sorry,” he chuckled, “I just had to make sure.”

“Quite alright, just be careful nobody saw you do that. We don’t want to have any unwelcome and unexpected guests crashing through here. If a few of the rituals we’re conducting here got interrupted, well…”

“Quite right. How long until this thing shrinks again?”

“It should last about a minute in its current state before it reverts back to the smaller, less-draining version.”

“How long do we have until it fades?”

“Don’t worry about that. The dimension you’re in isn’t overtly hostile to ours, so there aren’t any wards we need to break through. Whenever the portal needs a little energy we’ll provide it. Don’t worry about your exit.”

Jaded shook his head and said sarcastically under his breath, "Oh great, our lives held by geeks, eggheads and overconfident scientists."

He walked back to the group to get the lowdown on everything so far.

“We’re surrounded by open air,” Matt announced when he and Cycron returned, “It seems to just fall forever, too.”

“There’s probably land of some kind below,” Cory mused, “Magic can only do so much. Certain laws simply cannot be broken. However, that land below is likely not inhabitable by any stretch of the imagination.”

“What do we do if it’s down there?” Project Whirlwind asked worriedly.

“I don’t believe it is. If the artifact we’re after were lost over the side of one of these flying mountains-“

“Islands,” Matt corrected, “I don’t care what you want to call them, it’s pretty obvious what these things are.”

“Very well, flying islands. In any case, if the artifact were lost to the depths, it’s likely that the pressure placed upon it would crush it to dust, and whatever power it contained would be long gone by now.”

Cycron adjusted his sensors, broadened his spectrometers, tweaked his extreme range finders and many of this other internal mechanisms. He then stood for a minute and then said in his usual, low mechanical voice, "So what now? We need a plan. We need to gather information. We need to know what exactly we are dealing with."

He looked to them for their response. Jaded chuckled under his mask and remarked, "Ahh, as usual, the tin man sure knows how to break the ice..."

“I’ll fly over to the nearest island and teleport you all to me,” Simmons offered.

“Hold up,” Jaded stopped him, “Let me put some shields on ya before you go. Never know what you’ll run into out there.”

The dark-coated controller proceeded to wrap shimmering force fields around the wizard. There didn’t seem to be any kind of machinery involved, and Cory couldn’t sense any magic. He assumed, since this individual was from an alternate future, that it could likely be nanotechnology at work.

The wizard always appreciated the work of force fields. With a couple applications, anybody could be a tank. Combined with sonic fields, and whole teams were nigh-unstoppable. He cursed himself for not thinking to bring Sarah Durnan along, his boss’s daughter, for she had the capabilities for such an endeavor. Still, they could make do. If he remembered correctly, they just had to stick close to Project Whirlwind for the damage resistance.

“Thanks.”

The dark-skinned warlock was in the air in an instant. There was no flash of light, no great explosion, not even a puff of smoke. He just started floating and flitted to the nearest island. However, he wasn’t alone. Project Whirlwind was right there next to him, and Cory’s notions were correct. The defender-class hero was capable of manipulating one of his weather control artifacts to produce a powerful, condensed fog.

This fog was capable of hiding those within it from the eyes of foes. If the enemy got too close, the heroes would be discovered, but the steamy mist would still be able to defend and protect Whirlwind’s allies. The exact physics of the magic weren’t important; the heroes just had to stay inside.

“In case there are hostiles,” Michael explained.

“I understand,” Cory replied before muttering an incantation and the air shimmered around the two of them, “I think we’re about as defended as we can get now.”

They proceeded across the sky. To observers, they seemed to be nothing but a gray cloud caught on a gust of wind. Fortunately, the only observers were the birds, strange, raptor-like creatures with sets of four eyes on the sides of their heads. Their multiple colors indicated different purposes for each eye. Fortunately, the birds didn’t seem inclined to worry about a cloud that crashed unerringly into the crags of one of the flying islands.

The two wizards alighted on the rocky surface and checked each other. It had been a graceful landing, so there were no bumps or bruises, but Cory wanted to be sure his protégé hadn’t pulled a tendon or sprained his ankle. Michael gave the thumbs-up sign that he was okay and they proceeded to climb over the ridge to get a good view of the grassy portion of this particular island.

There were people here. They looked like normal humans. Cory muttered another spell and the air around the two wizards shimmered again. The mist covered the effect from errant eyes, and he was able to get a better glimpse of the workers.

They were farmers, that much was certain. This was a field of what looked to be maize corn. Several squarish patches of land were neatly arranged to allow for the plants to grow. It wasn’t like a lot of the fields Cory was familiar with, that took up several acres all at once without interruption, but the grid-like style allowed for human interaction without the need of machinery.

All in all, it seemed a rather peaceful operation.

“How’s it looking?” came Matt’s voice through the Aether, “Is it safe?”

“Yes, Mattock. I will be teleporting you and our companions over shortly. Let them know what to prepare for…”

Jaded immediately looked over to Cycron and asked, “Ok big guy, what’s the scoop? Looks like we can barely make it over there.” Cycron gauged the range and calculated the distance and replied, “You are correct JK. Even with our talents the length will be a challenge.”

Jaded thought for a minute and said, “Looks like we need to do what we did at the Battle of Incans Grove, Cyke. Grab me, throw me and I’ll leap with all the strength I have, reach the other side and then teleport you and anyone else who needs it.”

Cycron nodded and added, “That was always one of my favorite maneuvers.”

The big cyborg knelt down a little, allowing Jaded to leapfrog onto his back; then the massive cyborg ran forward, stopped at the edge of place they were and threw Jaded at the same time the controller began his leap.

The sight of the maneuver would have been incredible to witness. The machine’s strength was clearly obvious as it seemed so effortless for him to throw a man of two hundred and thirty pounds like he was the weight of a baseball.

Jaded soared through the sky, but pretty well unseen since he had cloaked himself in his usual “stealth” mode. He looked around at all the incredible sights of this unique world as he began his decent. The color of the sky, the floating islands, the interesting shaped clouds and all the other interesting flora and fauna he could spot. He hoped that at someday, when all the hostilities may be calmed down, perhaps this would be a very great place to retire.

Jaded’s attention soon returned to the floating island coming rapidly at him. He began to alter his falling direction and aimed for a less rocky part where the landing wouldn’t hurt as much. He put a personal forcefield around himself and braced for impact. His powerful legs hit the slanted side of the island and he began to dig in. The side of the island was rocky and slippery, but it was the only place where he could have landed even with the extra boost he received from Cycron.

It took all his strength to come to a sliding stop. His hands, legs and back hurt pretty good, but nothing he wasn’t used to already. Struggle was the daily way of life where he came from.

He placed a small medpack on himself, got himself to a more level place and then radioed back to Cycron, “Ok tin can, I got here relatively unscathed. Are you ready? And does anyone else need a teleport?”

“Do it now, good buddy,” the blue-armored cyborg radioed back, “And fast! Air pressure’s mounting at an incredible rate.”

The King reached out, and with a sort of reflex, yanked through dimensional space and opened what could only be described as a hole in the air beneath his heavy cybernetic partner. Cycron fell through, landing next to his friend instead of tumbling into the gaseous depths below.

“Cut it close, there,” the big guy rumbled, “We’re doing fine, wizard.”

Further above, Cory, gazing down at them, shook his head in consternation.

“You guys, you didn’t need to do that,” he had to cast his voice along the wind, which was a difficult art, “I can summon you in a much less complicated way.”

“Yeah, but then I’d feel like I was just being dragged around,” the Jaded King replied with a snicker.

Cory shook his head, chuckled and went back to Project Whirlwind to cast his spell to bring Mattock to the new island. As he conducted the ritual, the other two climbed up to the flat rock the wizards were waiting on. The kendo practicioner appeared in a flash of light, but, as mentioned before, the fog cloud obscured the spectacle and their presence remained unrevealed.

“What’s the situation?” Cycron asked once everyone was oriented.

“It seems to be a farm,” Project Whirlwind explained, “Perfectly normal people. They seem to be tending to corn.”

“American corn or the rest of the world’s corn?”

“There’s a difference?”

“Yes,” Simmons chuckled, “Yes there is. It’s maize, Cycron.”

“Ah.”

“So, what do we do now?” Mattock asked as the sound of a whip cracked, “What the…?”

The group moved along to where the farmers were suddenly looking nervously. A quiet had settled on the land, and the assorted meta humans could now clearly hear what the work and their struggles to reach the floating island had masked earlier. It was voices, and angry ones at that.

Peering between some crags, the Jaded King was the first to see what the problem was. A hill dove to the edge of the island, and would have gone over the side if not for the rocky bowl it rested inside. The result was a peculiar cul de sac that ended in a cavern at the bottom of the hill. It wasn’t a terribly long distance, and the controller could see a number of figures at the mouth of the cave.

Some were prostrate, another was motionless on the ground. Standing before them was a robed man in bright colors. His hands and eyes were glowing, and recognizing the Oranbegan wizard caused the King to curse.

“We’ve got problems here,” he growled to the others as they looked quizzically at him, “The C. O. T.”

“What are the demon zombie wizards doing here?” Cycron muttered.

“They’re probably here for the same reason we are,” Cortland replied, “Damn…”

“So? We can take ‘em!” McGinty growled as he drew his katana, “It’s not like they got any tougher just by crossing over to here. Heck, it’s much more likely that they got weaker!”

“The same concept can be applied to us, my friend.”

“How so? I don’t feel weak.”

“Even still, we need to plan this carefully.”

There was another whip-crack, and the heroes looked through the crag to see the wizard was swinging around a long line of blue energy that looked like an ice whip. The people cowering in front of him were clearly terrified, now.

Simmons hissed as his anger got up, but before he could say anything, Cycron and Matt were bounding over his head and charging toward the cavern. The scrapper hero pulled a pistol from the back of his belt and started aiming at the wizard. The others looked to each other with the same dread.

“Cyke can handle himself,” Jaded assured them, “In the beginning, at least. However, we don’t know how many more wizards or what are in there.”

“Agreed,” Simmons sighed, “Well, we better go help them. I really hate following the alpha strike…”

“So do I,” Project Whirlwind worked his gloves a little, “I don’t heal fast enough for the damage incurred.”

“You two are a couple of whiners,” the controller chuckled before bounding after his friend, “We’ll be fine!”

I've added some profiles to the Role Call. I'm almost done with the BWO characters, then I can add a post detailing the new outfits my characters have gained through the middle of I-11.

Michael Brown. He didn't know the BWO when they were in high school, but he worked for the group harassing them at the time. Once he found out about the criminal intentions of the Committee, however, it was too late. The BWO had been disbanded and Levi Baker was a prisoner being utilized as a think-tank.

Angered by the deception, Michael stole an assortment of weather control artifacts, freed Psycho13 and the two of them went to work trying to expose the Committee. Anytime they found a hero or a rogue working for the clandestine group, they tried to fight the meta human. Some they were able to convince of the truth behind the Committee's plots, others were in it for money, even among the heroes.

Eventually, the two got back to the Brutal Warriors. Draven was skeptical about working with a former Committee agent, but Solo assured his cousin that they had little to fear from the aspiring magician. So, the defender-class hero found himself assisting the group but their investigations into the Committee ceased for the most part.

Eventually, however, it was Project Whirlwind's information that led the Warriors to the leader of the Committee, Charles Reynolds. After a daring rooftop battle, the group returned to their work as ferrymen for meta humans, with Whirlwind focusing on the very necessary role of emergency magical medic.

Mysterious Magician

Whirlwind wears this outfit as his standard design. The chief device of note is the jewel on his belt, which is apparently some form of Stone of the Hurricane. It's primarily through this artifact that Project Whirlwind is able to flex his weather control.

Face Revealed

In this outfit, he keeps to the trench coat motif, this time wearing a blue leather one instead of his normal black. He highlights the appearance with white trim, and lightning bolt designs. However, an anomaly is apparent.

It seems the magic he works with is having a peculiar effect on his body. His hair follicles have been noticeably bleached to a platinum white.

Thunder God from... Another Era...

Jebus Cripes... It seems even Michael Brown is capable of the same absurdity that affects his companions. This outfit is inspired by a popular video game character. What's even more distressing is Project Whirlwind's tendency to dive through the air, tackle an enemy, and belch out some nonsensical yodeling before slamming his target into a wall.

These idiots are driving me to drink.

Matt Jones. The first of the BWO with super powers, Matthew was just trying to make a theatrical edge for himself when he stole an artifact from Cory Simmons. The warlock, amused by the idea of his friends practicing super-powered backyard wrestling, gave artifacts to a number of the other contenders (some of which they still use to this day) so they could withstand Jones' attacks.

After being blamed for the Kingdale Arena fire, Jones and Ragein' James traveled abroad, the latter searching for his brother. Jones, however, was searching for adventure. Upon landing in the Rogue Isles because of false information that indicated Psycho13 was there, he found the place full of the adventure he was looking for. Where others see the Etoiles as a downtrodden near-wasteland, he sees the Isles as a modern frontier.

With fire wrapped about his body, an assortment of stone-manipulating artifacts (including a sledge hammer that wraps itself in varying layers of stone) and no small amount of anger, Dirty Ice (a moniker that has NO BEARING WHATSOEVER on his powers) scours the Isles for enemies, parties, odd jobs, and anything else that will provide him with entertainment.

The only thing that interrupts this is his work with the Brutal Warriors Order. Normally, he works security at the Rogue Isles Staging Area, though he also has gone out in pursuit of friends who've been captured by various groups (such as when Psycho13 was kidnapped by Arachnos).

Back in Black

Ice's standard outfit, he wears this on most occasions. It does a very poor job of covering up the fact that's he's not very athletic, just bulky.

Crazy and a Half

As odd as Psycho13 acts, this outfit indicates who's the real sociopath in the group. Dirty Ice wraps himself in rusty barbed wire, starts puffing on a cigar, and thrashes his way through the toughest of enemies. His flabby condition is more prominently displayed, but once he starts laying into his enemies, it doesn't really matter.

Burning Eidolon

After fighting enough of the damn things, Ice felt inspired by the outfits of the Vahzilok meta zombies. He stole one of their outfits, cleaned it, stitched up portions that needed fixing and added his own flair to the outfit. No matter how much Freezy-Breezy he applies, though, the smell never quite goes away.

He wears this outfit when it's clear he needs to intimidate his foe as well as when he needs to better disguise his identity.

Mark Shadow is really Mark Daniels. When he first started out as a corrupter-class mercenary, he wielded dark powers as his secondary assortment, courtesy of artifacts called the Bracers of Obtenebration.

Later, the bracers were stolen by a second Project Soultaker (the first having had its back broken before being sent to a medical facility), so that it could make use of the dark arts. Shadow, however, was prepared for this situation, and collected together an assortment of devices and traps to supplement his assault rifle.

Earlier, Mark Shadow was a wild, rambunctious hooligan, and he was quick to take contracts from the Committee, Arachnos, the Council... Anybody who would pay handsomely for his skills. However, when he was betrayed by the Committee and the Soultaker stole his bracers, he had a slow change of heart. The change only progressed more as he spent more time with the Brutal Warriors Order and came to develop a sense of pride in his work.

Lately, he's become more withdrawn and aloof. It's not necessarily because of any form of contempt, but because he's been thinking over long-term plans. The problem, however, is that he's not currently a part of the command structure of the Brutal Warriors. He hopes that in the near future he can convince his fellows to engage in more world-affecting endeavors.

Modern Gunslinger

Daniels' career started with a cowboy attitude, so he dressed appropriately.

Agent 37? 47? 57? Something-Seven?

Inspired by videogames and a particular movie, Mark threw on this outfit and shaved much of the hair from his head. He lacks some aspects (such as a barcode on the back of his head) and has extra ones (his goatee), but he otherwise looks the part of an expert hitman.

Jungle Warrior

Inspired from action movies, Mark threw this outfit on. It comes with pouches and pockets for his ammunition, traps and devices. Plus, it blends in well with forested environments.

Justin Steel started as a referee for the Brutal Warriors. Afterward, he joined forces with the Committee and helped orchestrate the downfall of the small super-powered professional wrestling group. This secured him a position within the small financial conglomerate conspiracy, a position he later rescinded.

After learning that the Brutal Warriors had resurfaced in a new capacity, as a transportation service for middle ground meta humans, Steel wormed his way into being the premier agent assigned to thwart them, though his capabilities were sorely lacking.

It later turned out, during a fight with the Committee's executive chairman, that Steel was actually trying to reconcile with his old friends. With his and Mark Shadow's support, the Brutal Warriors were able to arrest Charles Reynolds, a former schoolmate of theirs, and the Committee supposedly disbanded.

Afterward, Steel and Shadow joined forces with the Brutal Warriors, providing much needed support roles, such as medicine and security. Steel's mercenaries also stayed with him, largely out of a sense of loyalty, but also because he never lapsed on paying them. Justin further helped by becoming the group's finance manager, of which they were in desperate need.

A Hostile Takeover

Justin Steel's normal outfit. This is the attire he can be found in for most situations, from official business to even casual settings. Because of this, the clothes were designed to be more comfortable than they normally would.

Mercenaries: Mr. Smythe, Mr. Weston, Mr. Remington
Spec Ops: Mr. Hackler, Mr. Coach
Commando: Mr. Kolt

Better Suited for Leadership in War

For situations taking place in sewers or rough terrain like jungles and forests, Justin dons this quasi-militant outfit. It's fairly similar to that which his troops wear.

Power Armor

Sometimes, situations get bad. For these, every Committee Agent was given access to a special suit of powered armor. Justin located and acquired his after the Committee's dissolution, along with an experimental assault rifle. He's had little opportunity to test the outfit's effectiveness, however.

Another post for the Brutal Warriors Order (BWO). It was a bit difficult to write this one, largely because I felt I was forcing myself, but now I think I've finally put the group on the path of an arc. With any luck, I can tie this in with the future of my other stories, too.

Some of the members of the Brutal Warriors discuss the future of their mid-Atlantic base when they're suddenly interrupted by a representative of a new organization. However, this young lady is an old foe, and the organization is definitely not altruistic.

Justin Steel, Draven Erickson and Ragin' James were sitting in the sparse refurbished rec room of the BWO's mid-Atlantic base. The television, the video games, even the stereo system were all gone. All that remained was a single chessboard that wasn't there when they'd last left.

"It looks normal to me," Justin commented as Draven and James stared at him while he set the board up, "The pieces are wooden and lacquered, the board is also wooden, just like you'd find in any gift shop magazine. At least the whole thing isn't made of coral."

Rage eventually relented and sat down to play a game with the group's finance manager. Outside, they could hear Steel's mercenaries and Mark Shadow shooting a set of targets they'd brought up with them. The past few weeks, the corrupter-class rogue had been more withdrawn and aloof.

"I wonder what his problem is," Draven muttered as he heard the familiar reports of Shadow's successive alternating ammunition.

"Mister Kolt says he's been developing a serious attitude," Steel replied as he moved a pawn.

"Don't be pulling that Blitzkrieg crap on me," Rage replied as he moved a knight, "Every experienced player... Then they get so flustered when it doesn't work because I 'never move my front row.'"

"Duly noted..."

"Well, it's not like we can hope to save the world," the pacing red-coated scrapper intoned, "We already tried that. Remember? A lot of us almost got killed that day, the Paragon med-porters don't work on 'rogues.'"

"We've got emergency access because we're not bad guys," Rage replied, "We'd have been fine."

Draven had his doubts, but they were beyond the scope of their present concern. They had to decide what to do with this base. Before, with the dropship, it was a viable staging point, neutral to all sides and capable of providing a decent enough security from any and all threats.

The Brutal Warriors had faced a number of strange enemies during the course of their careers, from the Lusca to a giant rag man that provided them with the strangest fight of their lives. Power Breaker, one of their best customers, had provided them with a number of the strangest occurrences, almost as many and as varied events as Blue Steel's fares provided(whenever the hero of King's Row couldn't or shouldn't hitch a ride with a Longbow helicopter).

Now, however, they were hardly ever here. They even tore pieces off to fund, arm, and improve upon the new boat that replaced the dropship.

"Maybe Levi was right," Draven muttered, "We should have named it."

"Yeah, but what?" James asked, "It's just a slag heap in Hector Wallace's barn, now."

"He paid to have it dragged back to his house?" Justin asked as he took a pawn Rage had finally moved, "Why?"

"He said he wants to experiment with it," the brute replied, "At least he let us keep the engine for the boat."

"Well, I guess we should determine what we intend to do with this place," the finance manager waved off any further discussion on the dropship as he took Rage's queen, "Alright, I think it's fairly certain that we don't have much use for this place anymore, what with the work we've put into our staging areas, plus the Air Guard and the Sky Raiders are putting up some pretty decent offers."

"Sky Raiders?" Draven balked, "Yeah, no. Last thing we want to do is give them anything Sheldon or Dale have worked on."

"Well, the Guard doesn't have much to offer..." Steel tapped his shades and the details started playing across his vision, "Let's see... Some discounts on security teams, about a third of what the Raiders are offering..."

"We're not taking the Raiders' deal!" Rage thundered, "Look, you know what Kip said about them, who's running them. It's too much of a risk to put something that could be converted into a listening post or-"

"I got it."

"So, what do we do?" Draven asked.

"Sounds like we've got two options," Steel tapped his shades in a particular sequence the offers from the Sky Raiders were deleted, "We can either keep paying for this base or we can get a hold of the Air Guard and sell it. Both options have problems, we're tight on funds and they're tight on resources, for instance. However, we need to do something."

The door to the rec room opened and Mark Shadow walked in, followed shortly by the mercenaries.

"Guys," the corrupter rasped, "We've got trouble... I think..."

----------

Outside, there was a strange vehicle resting where the dropship usually sat when the dropship was still in operation. It was smooth, sleek, black and waxed to a mirror finish. It looked similar to a limousine, except...

"Oh my God," Draven gasped, "It's one of those cars Psych was talking about!"

"We using stage names now?" Justin asked.

"Definitely," Rage replied, "Dibs on the big guy."

"What big guy?"

Truth be told, the hovering limousine had just landed. Nobody had exited it yet.

Justin ordered his mercenaries to get into position and checked his poison projectors. Draven drew his sword and the eyes of the metal skulls Rage wore flashed red a moment before blazing electric armor. Mark drew his rifle and took a deep breath.

The limousine finally opened and a young, red-headed woman in a black business suit with a short skirt exited it. She looked up at the gathered meta humans and pursed her lips pensively. She then beckoned back to the open door and a hand delivered a stack of papers and a clip board, which she took before walking over to the Warriors.

"Greene," Draven growled, "Angela Greene..."

"You thought you got rid of me after you sent that big thug to trash my office," the girl smirked at the red-coated broadsword wielder, "Lucky you, the Committee was falling to pieces at that moment. I got a new job, and I'm doing quite well at it."

"Who is this?" James whispered, "She's cute..."

"She's pure evil," Steel replied, "There's nothing she wouldn't do to advance her career."

"Last I knew, Steel, you didn't mind when I was strad-"

"What do you want, Greene?" Draven interrupted.

The smirking woman turned her attention on the scrapper and giggled. It was a deep and mirthless laugh, the sort a cat has when it toyed with a mole. Draven, however, wasn't intimidated by laughter.

"I've learned that a friend of yours had an altercation with some of my employers' off-the-books security forces..."

"Who are your new employers?" Shadow asked.

"We prefer to remain anonymous at the moment. We have a number of European businesses that are currently having trouble with Crey Industries, and we can't have Crey knowing about us until we're in a position with enough power to hold them back."

"What does this have to do with Psycho Thirteen?" Rage asked, keeping his voice neutral to keep the woman from knowing about his family ties to the lunatic scrapper.

"We need to make sure he hasn't reported to the authorities about what he's seen," Greene replied, "Otherwise, Crey stands a good chance of learning of our presence long before we're ready for it, and we can't be having that."

"Well, the bad news is that heroes have to fill out after-action reports," Steel replied with a grin, "Especially after strange and bizarre bank robberies. You know, for a group that wants to keep its presence unknown, you're not doing a very good job, what with the energy pistols, exploding cyborgs, and Shadowshock, the walking thunderhead..."

"That... Incident... Was the result of some political maneuvering within the syndicate. We're still trying to trace the steps, but those involved with the conspiracy are winding up dead and the money men behind the ordeal are thus-far unknown to us."

"What does any of this have to do with us?"

"Look, Draven," Greene's smile faded and she narrowed her eyes, "I could care less what happens to you and your pathetic little dinghy."

"Hey! It's not-!"

"She means the boat, Numb Nuts," Rage jabbed him with his elbow, "Get your head out of the gutter."

"Right..." Greene's eyes rolled, "The boat... Anyway, there are members of the Committee who have been absorbed into the Syndicate, and they may still feel like they have a score to settle with you. The more they try to hurt you, the more they risk exposing the Syndicate, which I don't think they're all that worried about anyway. They're not the ones in control, you see, so they're probably trying to expose the ones who are in a convoluted effort to regain their power."

"Business is Hell," Steel agreed, "Old, greedy men constantly trying to hoard more money for themselves so their sons can take their places in a position of power and become even more old, greedy men. And you wondered why I turned my back on the Committee when I did."

"I thought it was because they were trying to replace your mercenaries," Greene turned to Mr. Kolt, who kept his heavy machine gun hovering at her midsection.

"That was the catalyst, yes."

"Loyalty goes both ways," Kolt concurred, "It's why we're still with you, sir. That, and the paychecks never stopped coming in, so at least now we're doing work that makes more sense to us."

Angela nodded and turned to her papers. Pulling some out, she looked them over and handed them to Draven.

"Look, if you'd like to help with this, here are some leads I think might lead to the culprits behind that bank heist. I'm not the only one working on this, whoever figures this out stands to gain a lot from the real powers behind the Syndicate."

"And we'd like to help the Committee Two, why?" Draven asked with a shrug.

"You don't have to. I have other resources available, but I was thinking you might want to get back at the [butt]holes who made your late-teen lives a living Hell before they got slaughtered by their betters. Just take the information, look it over, and you can decide for yourselves what you're going to do. I have other appointments. Thank you for your time."

She walked away and Draven looked at the papers in his hands. It was strange, this seeming help from the enemy. Greene was definitely playing an angle, but there wasn't much reason why they shouldn't get involved in the investigation.

"We'll talk about this inside," he growled.

-----------

"Are they going to do it?" the man sitting with Angela asked gruffly.

"I have a good feeling about this," Angela replied, "I was sensing plenty of desire emanating from them, and it really spiked when I mentioned the Committee. They want vengeance, and I expect that they'll do something. We just need to be ready when they shake something up."

"Excellent," the man intoned, "Driver. Take us to Steel Canyon."

----------

"What do you think?" Justin asked as they sat down.

"I think we're getting played," Draven replied.

"I agree," Rage growled, "That Angela... She tried to send goons after Matt and me when I found these skulls... They were dressed like Arachnos, but they didn't fight like them, and they had orders on who to deliver these skulls to."

"I was getting e-mails from her when we were starting out," Draven admitted, "She started out advertising the Committee's help, and it later turned to threats and intimidation. I sent Power Breaker after her after that incident with the Pocket D bartender. That covered his tab in my opinion."

"Yeah, but this is big," Mark countered, "we're talking the inception of a new organization that intends to compete with Crey... And what's worse is that they think they can do it!"

"Lots of upstart organizations think they can go against the big dogs," Draven argued, "They forget there's a reason they're the big dogs."

"We have a choice here," Steel waved for his friends to calm down, "We can either do as we always do, and run our ferry service, or we can look into this matter and make sure these former Committee chairmen aren't really after us."

They were quiet for a few moments. Rage and Justin played a few more moves in their game. Steel was working the brute into a corner, but Rage was putting up a tough fight, despite the loss of his queen.

"We can't just leave this to itself!" Shadow finally shouted, "We can't let this group get away from us the way the Committee did!"

"Newsflash, Mark," Draven shouted, "These guys are already away from us!"

"I say we do it," James finally muttered as he claimed Justin's queen, "But not with what Greene gave us. We'd just be doing her dirty work."

"What do you suggest, then?" Draven asked, surprised.

"I say we go to Brickstown... We've got somebody in the Zig who's got plenty of information that deals with the Committee. He'll let us know who we should look out for."

Well, the authority of Longbow is actually being hotly debated. Bring it up in the City Life section and you'll see the thread flare up brightly, mostly by heavy-villain-side players, with personal opinions and some research based on Paragon Wiki.

On that note... Paragon Wiki

Now, from my experience, Freedom Corps and Longbow are an experiment. Think of the sister organizations as being the beginning of an organization similar to Marvel's S.H.I.E.L.D. However, not every nation in the world is beholden to NATO's laws, nor are many of the nations of the world very keen on a foreign entity's authority (in my opinion, this is the reason why the United Nations is so heavily hamstrung, even by its most powerful member nations; nobody likes being told how to play in their own sandbox). So Longbow works more as a limited emergency enforcement force. The only way they can officially operate in the Rogue Isles, for instance, is if they can prove that something is world-threatening enough to warrant their involvement. Apparently, officially, Arachnos and Longbow are working together to maintain the peace of the Rogue Isles (due to the massive numbers of renegade super-powered threats), though the opposite is so obviously the case.

At least, that's how I rationalize the Agincourt Fortress being in the middle of the Nerva Archipelago.

As far as Freedom Corps' capabilities in Paragon City, they do not have authority over anything, but can request jurisdiction from the mayor's office or other proper authorities in certain situations (just like the FBI, DHS, or ATF have to; the cliche is that the municipality usually grants such authority with a stamp, so people often have the mistaken impression that the FBI and other such organizations can simply brush aside local police). Since the PPD is still replenishing itself (they don't like needing to use those drones, but the officers they've got are mostly rookies), the PPD is usually all-too-ready to cede control of a situation over to the F.C., which is usually gracious enough to be polite about it.

Normally, the F.C. is treated as a super-powered SWAT team. They hardly ever investigate situations, but there are some notable exceptions (do the Faultline/Overbrook arcs, especially Agent G's portion). Normally, the investigations are left to the PPD and freelance heroes (some of which actually work for Freedom Corps, though most are their own bosses), and Freedom Corps sends in their troops if it's determined they are sorely needed (which is hardly ever the case, thanks to the involvement of our heroes).

At the moment, I figure Freedom Corps acts as an information gathering agency/military force for situations that have a more immediate impact. They probably track the movements of particular heroes, villains and unaffiliated meta humans to determine whether or not situations are about to erupt into world-threatening problems. This is why they have a presence in Atlas Park and Galaxy City(to be constantly checking the new blood), Faultline (potentially world-impacting) the warzones (massive amounts of power coming into conflict in Bloody Bay, Siren's Call, Warburg and Recluse's Victory) and the Rikti Warzone (self-explanatory), but you don't see them patrolling everywhere.

Finally, I was inspired to add something to the Air Guard.

Ghost Widow arrives to intimidate Captain Rachek, but he's got a nasty trick sitting in his holster, a souvenir his friend picked up while touring Port Oakes...

The black Arachnos Flier landed to five platoons of Guardsmen leveling their weapons on the vessel. Captain Rachek took a deep breath as the door slowly opened and looked to Captain Carter at his side. The former Special Qualification Marksman stared coldly to the derrick's uninvited guests and thumbed the grips of his pistols.

"You really think this is going to work?" the commander growled.

"I've heard some bad things, but I made sure Lunata understood that I would be back if this didn't work. She may be confident that she's bullying a ghost army into doing her bidding, but she knows she's got nothing that can stop someone like me."

The older man nodded and resumed watching the Fortunatas exit the machine. It was a very deliberate procession, with the agents of the ghostly villainess maintaining perfect symmetry from each other and the access hatch of the Flier. The Guardsmen grew nervous, a sensation that hung in the air over the troops. They were in a lot of trouble, and the calm disregard these assassin women were treating them to only highlighted the dread sensation.

Then she appeared. Her outfit as black as shadow, yet somehow shiny like oil, it was trimmed with white bone magically shaped to form-fit around her upper body. Despite the fact that there was no breeze (an odd thing for the mid-Atlantic), her hair flowed to the side like a river, as if it had a mind of its own or was being tugged into the dark void beyond the veil. Her face, beautiful in a soft way, yet cold and hardened by years of dark deeds, stared impassively ahead as she strode confidently to the center of the Guardsmen formations, right up to the old man and his protege.

Her voice was hollow, yet full of strength and contempt as she asked her single question, "What do you think you're doing?"

It was simple. Arachnos had heard enough noise about this upstart group (namely, the fact that they had a cruiser-class flying warship) that it warranted Recluse's concern. Of course, the Spider King had sent his most trusted assassin to deal with the group in the swiftest manner possible. One step in the wrong direction, and the entire operation would be wiped out in one fell swoop.

Ghost Widow must have had a clear calendar. If they were ill-prepared, she could wipe out all of the Air Guard bases with little trouble, save AG-04.

Rachek thanked whatever gods were watching over the world that they were prepared with at least something.

"Well, ma'am," Rachek growled, "Right now, we're running a mercenary security outfit. We're an offshoot of the Sky Raiders who don't gel with the Duray's ideals. Doubtless, it's his information that's telling you we're some kind of vigilante group like the ones you find in Paragon."

"Aren't you?"

"While our forces are dedicated to more... Law-abiding causes, we don't actively seek out criminals and try to foil their schemes. We're not Longbow or Wyvern."

Ghost Widow stared mutely at him. Carter fingered his pistols again, knowing full-well the evil woman was taking note of their every move.

"You currently command a high-powered warship..."

"Experimental, unique, and expensive..." the commander replied in his usual, calm rasp.

"Yet you used it to fight Rikti and even assault Fort Cerberus, my fortress!"

"Ah, so you do remember me..."

"Yes," Ghost Widow's eyes narrowed, "I remember you. You won't have a pile of garbage or a small nuclear device to save you if I don't like what I hear! So far... I am not filled with confidence."

"That's funny," Rachek lied, "because I'm brimming with it."

"If you and your troops intend to survive the day, I suggest you change your tone!"

"Hang on, hang on, hang on... Let's make this simple. What will it take to get you out of my [frig]ing house without you making a scene?"

"For starters, you can swear fealty to Arachnos..."

The Dark lady actually started to smile. It was a thin, tight-lipped and chilling grin. She extended her hand lightly, with her palm facing down and a peculiar ring on her finger. It had a glowing red insignia of Arachnos upon it.

"...In order to begin your service, you may kiss my ring."

"How archaic," Rachek stared at the device and tsked agitatedly, "Well, when faced with the options, service as you suggest and annihilation as you imply, I have only one recourse..."

He knew what awaited him at the end of that ring. He didn't know much about magic, but his cousin had taught him enough about the concept of a Geas, and this would be the most opportune moment to place someone under one. The only problem was that the victim had to submit to it, they just didn't have to know what they were submitting to. Too bad for Ghost Widow, Captain Anthony Rachek didn't submit to anybody, not anymore.

The former Marine drew his pistol. Ghost Widow barely shook her head as he pressed the muzzle to the ring and squeezed the trigger.

She expected to be shot at some point. She expected to have to go through the same old, tired trope of shrugging off the bullet and draining the life out of the poor dumb idiot who thought such a simple trick, even with most mystical ammunition, would be effective against a creature such as she. In the normal world, Anthony Rachek would be a dried out husk lying at her feet as the remaining Guardsmen scrambled frantically to assemble their last futile defense before she and her entourage tore the base apart. With one shot, Rachek sealed the fate of the Air Guard.

However, what she didn't expect was the extreme, white-hot pain that shocked through her very being when the round made contact with her spectral hand. It shouldn't have felt that way, but it did. She glared angrily as her blurred vision cleared and Rachek stared back impassively, his pistol leveled on the center of her chest.

"I choose option three," the grizzled old man growled, "I shoot your hand off, it takes longer to reform than you're used to, and you realize that you and your friends are wearing a Hell of a lot more red than you remember."

The villainess stared at the stump that used to be her hand. It was wreathed in a gray mist that was slowly pulling itself back together, and every second was agony. Then she noticed the bright dot on her forearm. There were more on her torso. Looking back, she noticed more resting on her Night Widows and a few on the Fortunatas that shined a little because of the angle. Rachek continued his explanation of the third option.

"You go back to Recluse with a message. We're not going to mess with him, that's not our job, not yet. But when we do, because at some point, one of you is going to [frig] up just like this, we're gonna have to have us reckoning and don't you think for a second we're going into it unprepared!"

He was shouting now, and the shift in the air, from cold dread to confident defiance had a peculiar effect on Ghost Widow. She was loathe to admit it, but she had been feeding somewhat from that fear, it gave her confidence and pride, and the fact that it disappeared so quickly was a shock, not only because her advantage had vanished but because there was the possibility it had all been an act.

The third possibility, that Rachek's sudden outburst of rage and contempt had galvanized his troops, crossed her mind for a moment, but it was brushed aside. It wasn't discarded because it wasn't plausible, it was because it sent a chill through her very being.

"Get off my lawn," the gray-haired man shouted as the Arachnos agents backed cautiously into their Flier, "and take your goons with you."

Carter made a beckoning motion with his left hand and two of his proteges, Guardsmen Houston and Jamieson, dragged a cluster of unarmed former Guardsmen and current Arachnos spies to the Flier.

Ghost Widow's hand reformed and she glowered at the terrified soldiers. With a dismissive wave of her hand, the nearest two were stripped of their souls and their bodies fell lifelessly to the deck without even a scream or a sigh. The remaining operatives steeled themselves from moving closer to the patron, and she gazed coldly to Captain Rachek.

"We don't keep failures in our ranks."

"You keep puttin' people in here, expect to lose a lot of spies," Carter replied.

The door closed behind the villainess and the Flier lifted off a moment later. The Guardsmen kept their weapons trained on it and the missile turrets tracked it until it was out of range.

"That had every chance of going badly," Rachek gasped as his concentration broke, "[Cripes], if that round hadn't worked as advertised..."

"But it did," Carter countered, "And we know where to get more spectral ammunition. All you have to concentrate on now is making sure we don't go under financially."

"After all that crap we pulled from that Bricker ship, that's not a problem at the moment. But I don't think that's all I have to worry about from Arachnos."

"If there's something I can't handle, I'll let you know, Boss."

"Sir?" Guardsman Houston asked the two officers as he and Jamieson pulled the remaining operatives with them, "What do we do with these guys?"

"Pitch 'em overboard?" Carter asked.

"Nah," Rachek didn't know if the other captain was joking or not, "Call Freedom Corps, tell 'em we've got people they'll want to talk to."

He rounded on the operatives and made sure he had their attention with a couple quick cuffs against a couple faces.

"You boys better get this straight! As far as Arachnos cares, you're dead men! They see you, you're dead! It would behoove you to turn over as much information as you know to the authorities that take you into custody. Maybe if you're friendly, they'll be friendly too, and you'll wind up in a high grade witness protection program."

"You can't tell us what to do," the nearest one spat, "We're not traitors!"

"Soon enough, you'll change your tune. When you feel the sharp steel of a Blood Widow spike pressing into your back and it's somebody like me or the red-and-white spandex-clad F.C. guard that saves your life, you'll know how much you really matter to your 'lord.' Until the Corps get here, lock 'em up, boys."

Well, if you mean sketches like drawings, you should go to the Fan Art section. Stories and such, yeah, they can be posted here.

If by sketches, you mean random and/or humorous literary scenarios, then yes, those are fine here as well.

As for content, try to keep it PG-13.

I have added a new segment to Grey's Army.

This one actually turned out more satisfying than the others I've done recently. Perhaps its because I was able to have my characters banter with another author's character.

Steampunk Charlie makes a cameo here, instead of just being mentioned. It also goes to show you, sometimes the adventure comes to you.

A young man in a brown suit strolled leisurely through Brickstown. It wasn't his preferred outfit, but he didn't want to be attracting attention from the local criminality, so he'd taken the advice of his friends and dressed down while he was on vacation.

The clothes weren't terribly comforting, however. They reminded him how out-of-place he really was. They felt more like a costume than his costume.

He'd been through a terrible ordeal, and this brisk walk he'd been on since starting his sabbatical had been doing wonders to clear his head. The memory of the prior day's events still burned brightly in his mind, but he was pragmatic. Now was the time he should be thinking ahead, to his next move and where it will lead him in the end.

Unfortunately, he wasn't going to get much more time to think on it for the near future. Just a little further ahead, north of the entrance tunnel to Independence Port, there was suddenly a loud, thunderous eruption. Panicked citizens, and even some of the thuggery known as the Freakshow, fled the scene. The man out for a stroll knew he should have joined the passers-by, but his curiosity and momentary lapse in memory for his vacation overtook him and he got a closer look.

There was a gaping hole in the wall of what would normally be considered a convenience store, but the sounds of clanging metal and the man lying in the middle of the street among strewn bricks told the all-too-common tale that bad things lurked inside.

"Are you alright?" the brown-coated man asked Kip as the scrapper pushed himself from the street.

"Yeah!" he coughed, "I should be okay... Just give me a second to-"

There was another explosion and the two of them were thrown from the building. Sheldon joined them shortly thereafter, rolling across the pavement to stop at the sidewalk's edge. The look on his face seemed to be simple perturbation, but he brightened noticeably when he saw who was sitting next to Kip.

"Professor Winthrop!" the inventor exclaimed as he pushed himself off the ground, "What are you doing here?"

"At present, rubbing my back and my cranium," the other inventor replied, "How did you ever get punched through a brick wall, young man?"

"I had armor on," Kip replied as he jabbed a cylinder into the side of his thigh with a short hiss, "But that hit depleted it."

"Here," Sheldon pressed a button on his left gauntlet and a green beam flashed into Kip, "That should help speed up whatever your healing process is... Professor?"

"None for me, thanks, I'll be alright if I just get going, I suppose."

"You might not get that chance," the scrapper groaned as he nodded to the north.

The store exploded again. This time, a large brassen figure was pushing its way out of the hole. It looked like it had once been a Fake Nemesis, one of the war machines the Nemesis Army sometimes used to run their clandestine cells, recruit new soldiers, and hound the meta humans of the planet. However, this one was battered, pitted, the face mask was broken open to reveal a glowing ocular sensor that served as its eye and half a speaker that worked as the voice emitter. Plates were missing across its body, if not torn open and left hanging raggedly, exposing working parts and leaking steam and lubricant.

Nemenine had been a tough battle for the two young heroes of Grey's Army. Nemesix had been beaten by its own sense of self-superiority. Nemenine, however, lacked that sense, and was simply fighting brutally. Durj and Wallace knew that they couldn't let the maddened melodramatic machine escape its fortress in this state, it would certainly turn its wrath on innocent civilians. However, they were horrendously outclassed.

Sheldon's wormhole didn't work. Whatever support he'd been babbling about didn't summon properly, and he and Kip were forced to resort to more classic methods of combat, chiefly with the heinously outclassed scrapper at close range while the controller tried hindering the arch villain with his gravity-altering nanites and kinetic manipulations.

It helped somewhat, but then Kip's protective armor that made him look like a short purple demon started to crash. Worse yet, Nemenine recognized the signs of a fading scrapper, and took the opportunity to blast the young man through the wall. Sheldon shortly followed, but not before getting a needed boost from his energy transfusion nanites. Without the help of those medicinal machines, the controller would have been smashed to pieces by the much harder wall.

Now, the heroes, joined briefly as they were by the vacationing blaster, had to face the twisted wreckage in their own weakened state.

"You wouldn't happen to have any of your hero equipment on hand, would you?" Sheldon asked the Professor.

"Only the barest minimum," Charles replied, "mostly nothing much more powerful than a taser, I'm afraid. However, I do have one thing..."

The temporally displaced hero reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a few pieces of what looked like flimsy metal. Tossing them into the air, they suddenly snapped together and electrified. The metal seemed to evaporate, but the ball of lightning remained.

"Excellent," Winthrop beamed, "I was hoping a mobile method of summoning Shocky Jed would work. You see, my suit's capable of-"

Nemenine roared and aimed its scepter, of which the symbolic gear-head was broken, at the convalescent heroes. Instead of the familiar force energies, erratic lightning erupted from the weapon and was absorbed into Shocky Jed.

"That was different," Sheldon remarked, "I've never seen one of those do that before."

"It's new to me as well," Charles concurred, "However, it's worth studying at a later date. Shocky Jed, if you will, please turn your full attention to the Fake Nemesis, and do try to finish this fight before you're expended."

The electric ball engaged the monstrous machine immediately. Electricity arced through the air, seemingly darkening the area as onlookers' eyes struggled to adapt to this sudden light source that was seemingly brighter than the sun and only a few yards away from the ground. The machine didn't seem to be stopping, however, and pushed its way through the wall. It brought the scepter to bear again, but before Nemenine could get another shot off, a pair of thin red beams shot the fingers off its hand and the weapon dropped to the ground.

Sheldon and Steampunk Charlie turned back to Kip, whose eyes had just stopped glowing red and were returning to their peculiar dark purple haze before the young man pulled his shades back on. He pointed and the heroes looked back to see Nemenine had stopped pushing toward them. The android glared angrily at them, then at Shocky Jed before being violently thrown backwards.

"Wow," Charlie commented as the clanging sounds ceased, "That's... That's unusual."

"Impressive is the word I would use," Sheldon grinned a little, "I didn't know Jed had such a punch."

"He doesn't," Winthrop explained, "That's why I said 'unusual.'"

"Well, don't knock what works..."

"But you do that all the time!" Kip countered his friend as he stood up and started stalking toward the hole, "It's like... Your nature to pick everything apart and figure out how it happened or how it could have happened better!"

"I don't think that could have gone any better, though," Wallace shrugged, "Not with the resources we have on hand."

As Kip reached for the broken staff on the ground, there was a roar. It was Nemenine, shouting furiously. He was also moving toward the hole very quickly.

"Why is that all I hear?" Kip asked before the brassen android smashed through the hole, its arms getting torn from its sockets and the body clattering to the ground at the feet of the inventors.

A small glowing orb emerged behind the broken monstrosity. At the center of it, what looked to be a teddy bear in power armor. Tendrils of energy arced from Felix, and the little bugger's tongue was lolling around happily. Sheldon's wormhole had worked, just not when he wanted it to.

"MRAAAAAAH!" the tiny bear cheered as he hovered over the broken remains of the still-moving android. As Nemenine lifted its head to look angrily at the blaster and the controller, a pair of bricks finished it off, one after the other in quick succession.

"Well, that was almost comical," Charlie chuckled, "If it weren't so terrifying."

"Felix!" Sheldon called to the floating bear, "What is this mess you've got wrapped around you?"

The mutant gerbil-bear replied with a series of happy squeals and pants.

((Steampunk Charlie used with permission from... From Steampunk Charlie... It didn't strike me until now just how odd it was going to feel typing that out.))

Incredible. Simply incredible.

Forgot to make mention before I went to sleep... Cripes, this morning...

I added another portion to Grey's Army. Cedric's axe saves his life and Kip and Sheldon make a strange discovery in the Nemesis control cell.

Oh yeah, and for immersion, a mention of Steampunk Charlie.