Mr_Grey

((Well, I try to keep my characters as human as can be... And I have only one that could even begin to do what you've described here. He's a dangerous sort, however, as a concept of a creature born of the darkness and "nothing" before the Word brought Creation to the universe. As such, it tends to hate anything that exists in this Creation. It acts as an agent to break down the world, but its capabilities are sorely lacking, as it's little more than a foot soldier in the grand scheme of things. It's also set in its ways, so it tends not to question existence or philosophize.

So until I know what else is going on (is this a conversational RP, is it combative, is it world building/breaking?), I can't really participate. My characters just don't deal with these concepts.

Though I do believe that it is incredibly noble to do so.))

It had come down to the wire. Four statues on each side, decimated by the actions of the super-powered heroes and their various allies as they swarmed the cordoned off streets of Steel Canyon. News crews from numerous media outlets, both local and national, caught the action from multiple angles.

Cedric and his allies coordinated a new defense. Since many of the Rookie leaders had started to act semi-independently (which cost them the first three snow sculptures), they had to organize a situation that made everyone equally responsible for victory. Since nobody knew anybody, no one wanted to back down. It wound up being Roland, Sheldon, and some of the Ice Controllers who decided how the new defense was going to work.

They placed the snow sculpture in the central-most chamber. It had the thickest walls, which was important because, early on, a Rookie Fire Blaster found out that he could just torch his way through the walls of the Veteran Fortress, and serendipitously destroyed the second of the Veteran Sculptures and such incursions had to be taken into account (the first had taken nearly a half hour to get to because of the specially coordinated defense of the Veterans).

The Central Chamber also had numerous vantage points and ice slides for the defenders to utilize in the defense of the last base. The Ice controllers also erected a clear ice dome around the sculpture. This one was of Atlas, which was odd that it was able to support its globe, but the Controllers pulled it off somehow. The dome wouldn't be able to withstand a dedicated smash, but it would be able to weather most errant fire (which was what took out its predecessor, the sculpture of Mustang).

The M1 sculpture was the first to go for the Rookies, decimated in an early raid shortly after Cedric and his brother returned to the Rookie base with their civilian support. They took prisoners from that altercation, though, walling them up in a flimsy ice prison that didn't last to the second raid. That was when the Rookies lost two more sculptures (Galaxy Girl and Dauntless, respectively).

After beating back the Veterans, the Rookies applied a different tactic. They didn't have the versatility (for the most part) nor the coordination for large scale bombardments on their opponents, so they opted instead for small group tactics. With a faux frontal assault led by Cedric and a group of other tankers, the Rookies inserted a number of teams into the Veterans' base and quickly took out two sculptures before they were found out.

The fourth Veteran sculpture was taken down when the frontal assault turned out to be more successful than expected, and a stone tanker teleported himself into it, smashing it to bits with his own body. He was then buried alive by Positron, who single-handedly drove the Rookies out with his own blizzard-like assault.

It was true, the heroes could have simply made more statues. However, the news crews were insistent on having cameras available to monitor the action. The only things they weren't allowed to monitor were the flags.

"I thought he was a radiation style defender!" one Controller shouted as they organized a plan of attack, "Where'd all those snow blasts come from!?"

"Well, since the second Rikti War," a tanker explained, "He's been going around without his helmet... I guess this is a variant design..."

"Well, I could have used a little warning... He just kept recycling and churning out snow..."

"People, please..." one of the Defenders heading the coalition brought everybody's attention back to the ice map on the table in front of them, "We've got a lot to plan, and not a lot of time to do it in... The Vets will be sending in their own attack promptly, and I want to be ready for them..."

"I say we rush their base," Cedric announced.

"We tried that the first time, and the second time we got lucky," the whited-dressed defender replied, "Third time will not be the charm."

"Precisely!" the blonde tanker shouted.

"We'd do better to hold the bulk of the Vets on the field..." red-armored fire tanker explained as he pointed at the area between the two models of the bases, "They've been doing that respawn thing, where we take people out and they teleport them into the fort and warm 'em up or whatever they've been doing... And crank 'em back out at us. If we just fight them out there, not stun or knock 'em out, we could probably pull off another insertion effort."

"Roland," Sheldon pulled the younger Grey away from the group, "I had my androids working on this... A set of arrows that break through to a dimension of... well... snowballs."

"You really wasted time on this?" the hunter asked.

"Not really, I had access to another pocket dimension and I decided to have the Ryats fill it with snow."

"I see..."

"In any case, I have these three arrows keyed to it... You fire them into the air, and they'll bring a rain of snowballs down on the enemy."

Roland just stared at his friend a few moments.

"See, the thing is-"

"Oh, I get the concept," the pudgy defender interrupted as he took the arrows and slid them into the quiver hanging off his hip, "I'm still trying to figure out how you think this is a relevant use of your time."

The Rookies assembled into groups for the rush. peering out the windows of the southernmost chambers and hallways, they saw that the Veterans were already waiting for them, with Valkyrie at their lead. Among the Veterans' ranks, there was no question as to whom was in charge.

"Well will break their walls down, and plunder their last vestige of resistance!" the golden armored heroine shouted as she waved her sword emphatically.

"What?" asked an ice tanker at her side, his words completely obliterating whatever inspiration her battle cry had been intended for, "What does that even mean?"

"Well, I don't want to actually hurt them," she replied, "And we're working with snow here... Shut up! Get them!"

"Engage! Engage!" the leaders among the Rookies shouted as the Veterans approached over the slick surface, "Don't let them reach the walls!"

The defender that had been arguing with Cedric earlier pulled the tanker aside before he could join the fray.

"Look, I don't know how you got this whole thing to start," she began, "and, frankly, I don't see the point of it. But I've had a lot of fun here."

"Thanks," he replied with a broad grin, "To be honest, everybody here helped immensely..."

"In any case... While I don't think this will make much of a statement, I just can't let all of these young heroes lose to those stuck up jerks..."

"They seem to be having fun, too, you know," Cedric quirked his eye at the girl, "One's veteran status doesn't necessarily convey a particular behavior..."

"Still... Look, I just have a feeling about some things, and since this began with you, I think it will end with you. You need to break into there, climb to the highest point in the tower, and take down their last sculpture."

"We still have to find their flag..."

"Where's ours?" the heroine asked as she looked about suddenly.

"Don't worry about it, I've got it safe."

----------

"You sure about this, Justin?" Positron asked as he looked over the plan his fellow Phalanxer had drawn up, "Seems a little... Easy..."

"Simple," Manticore replied, "Not easy, just simple. But, since it's just ice and snow, I guess 'easy' does apply here, too..."

"I can't believe this has lasted so long," Synapse breathed, "My arms are getting tired from throwing so many snowballs..."

"How are they doing on the field?" the armored defender asked.

"They made some progress early on, but got pushed back when thew newbies got their bearings," the super-fast blaster replied as he peered through the window, "Everybody's just hurlin' snow at each other now or movin' along on the ice slides. Heck, some of the spectators are on the slides, too... That one that wraps around our fort is a big hit apparently."

"Well," Manticore hefted his bow and started making for the exit (which led to another ice chute) and clicked on his communicator, "May as well get this over with... Blasters, form up on the positions you've been designated. I'll be in position shortly."

"Good luck," Positron said to the red-clad archer's back.

"He doesn't need luck," Synapse chuckled, "We've got this in the bag."

--Rikti Earth: Forgotten Sanctuary: Rear Group--

"The others are further down the way," Randall muttered, "Those who came with us, anyway. Cory ported Ryat Sixty-six and Solid Shot to help chase those androids before they could give the alarm. They either didn't succeed, or this big thing isn't with Malta... Considering it doesn't have the same markings, I would say our chances are actually more toward option 'B' than 'A.'"

He flexed and the granite that had wrapped about his person crumbled away and settled back within his skin. He still didn't understand the stuff, but there wasn't any time to worry about it.

"Sorry, no Lazareen," he grumbled, "Not that it looks like the generic stuff's gonna help you anyway, Zero. Any clue as to what will?"

----------

--Rikti Earth: Forgotten Sanctuary: Forward Group--

"I'm not letting you rush to your death!" Cory shouted after the android, "Sixty-six, cover me!"

The wizard followed after the android and hurled fire into the first Malta Agents he saw. Behind him, a tiny android emerged that fired incandescent bursts into the enemy crowd as well, followed by a wave of energy that streaked across the floor and bowled over anyone in its path.

"Sorry," Ryat66 said sheepishly when Cory was flipped backwards by the wake of the blast, "Didn't know it would do that..."

"Please be more careful in the future, my friend, the safeguards in Paragon are not present here..."

----------

--Rikti Moon: Rikti Warship: Hangar 2--

Sheldon boarded the ship and strapped himself into the copilot's chair, mimicking the Khelari almost move for move. Much of the banal process was spent in complete silence, for many of the important duties were handled by the more knowledgeable reptilian. In fact, it wasn't until after they were bound for the planet that Sheldon forced himself to ask the question concerning him.

"If you pass out? What happened? You seem perfectly fine, and I would think that in order for one with your skull structure to suffer a concussion, you would need an injury that would at least cause bleeding, if not discoloration, but you look perfectly fine. I admit, my knowledge of medical sciences is exceptionally limited as well, but I did have to pick up some things when I was helping a friend build his healing equipment, and it seems you're in good health..."

----------

--Prime Earth: Paragon City: Crey's Folly: Malta Base--

"Okay guys," Kip grunted as they reached the tube-like elevators on the second floor, "The bad guys know we're here, now. Anybody have doubts that this base has the information we need?"

They all raised their hands, even Kip.

"Sonova..." the short scrapper sighed, "Alright, well, we've beaten up these guys, the computers Ninety-nine hacked into told us gibberish, but will probably make perfect sense to Indy and Red. All we gotta do now is finish off whoever's on the third floor."

"Can't we just head out and see if Indigo won't tell us where we need to go to find the Slinger?" his brother asked.

"No," Matt replied, "Even if we could, we gotta send a message to these [freaks] that they can't go around [freaking] with heroic attempts to save the world!"

Kip hit the "Up" button on the elevator.

"What he said," he grunted as the doors opened and he stepped inside, "This shouldn't take long. Just remember, Matt, Sappers first."

"What about the Engineers?"

"You let me handle them."

----------

--Paragon City: Undisclosed Location--

"Okay, boys, are you ready for this?" the muffled yet still high-toned voice asked.

Three men and a white haired girl stood before a teleportation machine. The one who'd asked was dressed in what appeared to be a Malta Group uniform. The tallest of the men was in a green armor and wore camouflage pants. The third man was of average height, and was clad in a hunting jacket and brown camouflage pants. The girl looked like she was ready to hit a club.

"I still think you need to change," the pudgier man said to the girl.

"I wear this outfit all the time when I go out... Oh! Wait... Felix! Katie! Ni! Come on guys..."

Three animals rounded a nearby corner and approached the group. One was bear-like. The other two were cat-like, though it was obvious the white one was not a cat, just cute like one.

"Okay, guys, I've given this a lot of thought, and I've decided to take Felix with me," the girl picked the bear up and placed him on her shoulder, "Wish us luck... Don't worry, we'll be okay."

"Are you sure you're ready?" the one dressed as a Malta Group agent asked again, doubt clear in his voice.

"Dude, you didn't see what our mom looked like," the tall one replied, "I'm not letting her down."

"Neither am I," the fat one growled.

"Nor am I," the girl narrowed her eyes at the Malta Group Agent, "And I-"

"Sarah!" a man in what appeared to be a modified SWAT uniform appeared in the base portal, "What are you doing!?"

"I'm rescuing my daddy!" Sarah Grey replied, "Just you try to stop me!"

"Well I'm coming, too," Joe unslung his assault rifle and walked up to Aaron Durj, "I don't care if it is the group you deal with. I'm not losing my fiance for even a second in this."

"Cedric, Roland," the Praetorian of Kipland Durj turned to the other two, "It's your call."

"I got no problems," they replied.

"Alright then, Sarah, key up the teleporter for Brickstown."

Heh, U'Kon's gonna turn into a new version of Tug o' War.

I got him to pause at the edge... maybe we need more tankers Taunting the giant alien and we won't have that problem anymore (as our little problem child goes hurtling over the edge, unawares...).

Food for thought.

Still, it was a decent run, Storm.

Well, Christmas and the Holiday Season were on our minds this month...

Right now I've got a whanging caffeine withdrawal headache, so I can't wrap my head around much.

The Rikti War did not treat the Brutal Warriors well. Solo Stryker found himself ferrying heroes and rogues across the globe whenever Vanguard resources got strained. He felt it was his civic duty, after all, and Vanguard paid well.

However, on one run, he wound up getting caught over Skyway City by a dropship raid. The Rikti didn't feel like sharing the airspace.

Drones filled the sky. Mr. Smythe and Mr. Weston drained mini-gun fire into the swarms, taking down a few. It was odd that the Rikti would unleash so many low-quality machines to supplement their numbers, but Psycho13, in a stunning stroke of epiphany, stated that they were likely a rapidly mass-produced fleet of the drones, which would be more inexpensive, and likely not as tough as the advanced models more powerful heroes usually found themselves up against.

In fact, Psycho13 was heading for the exit hatch as he explained that.

"What are you doing?" his brother shouted.

"I'm going outside for a bit," the scrapper replied before checking his knives and unwrapped his hoodie from his waist, "I need some fresh air."

"Are you crazy!?" Project Whirlwind shouted, "You've seriously flipped your lid, haven't you!?"

"Maybe," the young man replied as the ship shook, "But I'm not going to just sit here, waiting to die while Daren tries to fight back the forces trying to pin us down. I've got a bad feeling here... I can't just wait here. If you're not strapped in, I suggest you hang on to something."

With that, he plugged in the emergency override code and caused the starboard exit hatch to open. Stepping out onto the ledge, the rushing air and blasting machine gun drowned out whatever words could be said to him. Nobody tried to stop him, though.

"I've always had a problem with heights," he said to himself, "Let's see what happens when I give myself no choice..."

He released his grip on the brace bar and was yanked off the platform made by the lower section of the hatch. First, he busied himself with pulling his tan hoodie on. Then, he drew his blades. Wielding them backhand style, he brought them stabbing down on the first drone that got too close, puncturing through the armor, and shutting the machine down as he damaged its internal workings.

Before it could explode, he pulled the blades out and backflipped away, flopping onto another drone and getting blasted in the hip. His skin started regenerating immediately.

"That!" he stabbed the thicker blade into the blaster socket and used the leverage to wrench it out of whack, "Hurt!"

Solo, in the meantime, couldn't turn back to pick his friend up, no matter how much Ragin' James shouted into the intercom. He had to focus on deterring the Rikti Dropships from blasting him out of the sky. The forthcoming energy blasts that lanced into his shields indicated that was going to take quite a bit of convincing.

He fired the central chaingun at them, and cursed as it seemed the bullets bounced harmlessly off the armor. he recognized this was a failing strategy, so he turned instead to the missiles and rockets he had in stock. He had six missiles, and enough rockets for five full salvos of twelve rockets apiece. He targeted one of the rods that the energy beams wrapped around before firing and launched a missile.

The explosive impacted, and actually tore the rod away. The ship broke off from the game of "Chicken" and Solo fired a volley of rockets ate the next ship before breaking off and heading for the rally point he'd been told to drop his human-ish cargo off.

He noted that the emergency override had been keyed again, this time for the back hatch.

"Levi's gonna be [ticked] when he finds out somebody decided to take his bike for a joyride."

Mark Shadow had the same thought as he unlatched the locks holding the bike in place. After hitting the last one, the vehicle started getting dragged out of the cargo bay. He hopped on it, made sure the sling for his assault rifle was secure, and turned the bike on.

The engine buzzed on without a struggle and the Corrupter Class started firing rounds into random drones. He decided that his friend was right, and had no intention of jsut dying inside Solo Stryker's tin can. He couldn't help but shake the feeling that something bad was about to happen.

However, he got alarmed when he started getting chatter. He answered the questions with the bike's radio, wondering at the "column" he kept being told about.

Looking back into the sky, he saw what the heroes talking to him meant.

"Solo!" he shouted into the radio after switching to the first channel, "You might want to take a look at your rear-view!"

Solo wasn't too pleased with his friend at that moment. That open rear hatch caused a lot of drag, and it took focus either away from his piloting or Dale's engineering controls to get it shut again, because they had to override the emergency override. Since there was no way he was going to stop piloting, Dale had to do it, which meant Solo had to focus on not getting shot or the shields would probably go.

"Mark, I don't really give a-"

"Check your rearview!" the Corrupter shouted over him.

Solo didn't have a rearview. Instead, he asked Dale to run a radar check, and Ragin James looked over Mr. Weston's shoulder out the port gunmount to see that a swarm of heroes was following the vessel, firing blasts left and right, up and down, and all the directions in between.

They were using the BWO Dropship as their spearhead, letting its shields take the brunt of the Drone aggression and fire. Then, as the machines recharged and grew confused at the vehicle's retreat and the batch of new targets approaching, they would fire blasts into their midst, some of which were powerful area-of-effect attacks that took multiple targets out of the sky.

Solo switched radio channels to talk with the swarm's (they called themselves a column) commander and coordinated. It was a little difficult to explain to the man that he had to make a delivery of troops to a certain point, and that for a while he couldn't function as their spearhead (the idea of leaving the fight for a moment to get something accomplished seemed to be a foreign concept to the tanker), but he eventually was able to organize a proper egress from the battle.

Upon hitting the drop-point, Vanguard troops emerged from the vessel while Rikti forces swarmed around. A bomb landed nearby from a dropship, but failed to explode. Solo took care of that with his chaingun.

"Alright, everybody out?" he asked into the intercom.

"Rage ran out and grabbed a fifty-cal!" Dale shouted back, "Here he comes!"

James didn't re-enter the vehicle. Instead, he leaped up on top of the ship and braced himself with his newly acquired weapon and a box of shells. The ship rose and quickly resumed its role as the shield of the hero swarm.

-----

Next to the hospital, an Assault Suit materialized and blasted a police drone out of the way. When a Rikti energy beam struck it, however, it turned, the pilot curious as to what had caused such an unusually errant shot.

A damaged drone crashed into it, and Psycho13 flipped up over it, stabbed his blades into its shoulders, and flipped the machine back with his continuing momentum. He wound up essentially snap-suplexing the machine into the pavement, and the other police drone finished it off.

Scraped and bruised, bloodied and battered, the scrapper stood and surveyed the battle raging all over the city. Some passing heroes noticed him and asked if he'd like to help them out. After a brief consideration, he agreed and started following.

-----

Solo didn't get to pilot the ship much longer. As the battle raged, something slammed into the bow.

Witnesses would later tell him that it looked like some form of lean-and-men Lost wearing a red-white-and-blue spandex outfit. Some could have sworn it looked like Hero-1, but that would have to be impossible, as Hero-1 would never work for the Rikti...

All Solo knew was that his eject system suddenly activated and he was sent hurtling through the air. When he came to, he saw the ship falling away. A hero caught him out of the air and started helping him down to the ground. He could see Ragin James firing at something behind his view, but he was so disoriented, he could barely keep his eyes open.

-----

"Mr. Simms," Justin Steel intoned as they were being strained by the centrifugal force of the twirling vessel, "Might I suggest that you regain control of the machine?"

"Daren's got it," the tinker replied, "DAREN! WHAT THE [frig] IS TAKING SO LONG!?"

"He's gone!" Mr. Kolt shouted as he crawled to the engineering controls, "Come on, Dale, let's get this thing stable!"

The ship's engineer finally agreed that they had to do something and helped Mr. Kolt to try to turn the lift pods back on and turn them in an appropriate direction to stop their wild fall. Eventually, the forces acting on them slowed and stopped, the ship now simply descending rapidly.

"Can't you make us stop falling!?" Draven shouted, "Come on, man! What the Hell?"

"No, I can't make us stop falling, we are crashing, Jared! The thrusters are still going, and if I do keep us from falling, we're either going to crash into a building or a War Wall. Which do you prefer?"

"Everyone who can fly, bail," Draven instructed, "Everyone else... Oh my God..."

Mr. Smythe and Mr. Weston emerged from the gun mounts, both obviously sickened. The glass canopies of the mounts were not clean.

"Every flyer take someone who can't fly and-" Draven tried to continue, but Dale cut him off.

"Too late! Brace for impact!"

-----

Near the statue of Dauntless, the Rikti closed on the weird machine that obviously was using some of their technology to stay aloft. Or at least, it had been, until the Honoree punched it out of the way on special request. That had been a risky endeavor, and there were rumors rumbling through the psychic network that some of the city's main heroes had been mobilized to deal with their former ally.

However, this machine, which had been a thorn in the Rikti's side for this bombing run, had to be dealt with, the technology recovered, and those that had utilized it captured. The Headmen kept their rifles leveled on the wreckage as they approached cautiously.

The Chief Soldier that led them surveyed the damage. It was possible the heroes and rogues inside had survived. It was also possible they'd been med-ported to the hospital. He called out to see if anybody would respond.

"Query: Survivors?"

Mr. Smythe crawled out of the open hatchway and collapsed on the ground in front of it. He lied there, gasping for breath and begging "No more... No more..."

A pair of guardians approached and began assessing his medical condition when the minigun in the starboard port suddenly barked and cut down two Conscripts before turning toward the Soldier and bowling him over. Smythe drew his own assault rifle and fired sporadically at the Rikti next to him, clearing the path for Draven to fly out of the wreckage and chop left and right with his black-bladed sword.

Matt Jones emerged with a yell, and smashed his hammer into the nearest Rikti he could find. they were a bit taken aback that a man could be on fire and fighting with such vigor, but they were still shaky on magic and spirituality, so they had no knowledge that the Stone of the Salamander was helping the Brute weather their blasts.

Out of the sky, Ragin James dropped down on a Mentalist, smashing the spent machine gun against the alien's armor. He then wrapped his arms around the Rikti's waist, lifted him up, and jerked back, smashing the alien's head against the ground. It landed mostly on its shoulders, just like most people do, but getting its head snapped into the dirt didn't tickle.

As the Soldier batted Draven aside and leveled his blaster at the Scrapper's head, however, the fighting stop.

"Surrender. Alternative: This One: Demise!"

The meta-humans stopped fighting. Even Dirty Ice, who had proven repeatedly that he didn't care what ultimatums their enemies presented, he normally kept on fighting. Unfortunately, here, a lot of his fight was taken out of him, and he backed away easily.

The Soldier was pleased at the success, despite the damage done to his unit. He turned to Draven and shook his Bladerifle for emphasis.

"Failure: Certain. Surrender: Comply. Prepare: Transformation."

"No thanks," the red-coated scrapper replied darkly, "I don't want to wind up looking like you."

"Defiant: End. Death: Imminent."

"Right," Solo Stryker rasped.

A skull appeared from out of nowhere behind the Soldier and bit into him, causing the platoon leader to stagger in pain. As soon as the bladerifle moved, Draven sat up, grasped his sword and flew at the Soldier, stabbing the blade into his abdomen. The alien's exhale signaled the end of the fight.

Ice punched the Infantry soldier next to him in the face, his fist suddenly wrapped in rock and the other meta-humans followed suit. Psycho13 was suddenly with them as well, chopping into numerous aliens with his mismatched blades.

"Good to see you made it," James told his brother, "What took you so long?"

"Last I saw you guys, you were in the air. I had to sift through the chatter to find out what happened," Levi explained.

Another approaching group of Rikti found themselves shot up by the hoverbike's main gun and a batch of rockets.

"That's nasty," Mark Shadow breathed as he noticed the devastated dropship, "What're we going to do now?"

"Good question," Solo muttered as he glared at the wreckage, "Anybody see what the make and model of that mountain that hit us?"

"It looked like one of us," Rage explained, "You know, a Hero or a Rogue. But he was gone as soon as he came. It was weird."

Bummed out, the Brutal Warriors picked themselves up and started making for the hospital. They weren't battered enough to warrant going on the med-porter network, but they were beaten, bloody, and exhausted. The only silver lining was that the bombing raid ended. Two of the dropships had been destroyed, the others driven off. The heroes congratulated each other for a job well done.

Few took notice of the broken men who'd spent the past few hours as their shield.

"How are you doing?" Kip asked Amyt'Allor through the intercom.

"I'm alright," she replied, "The doctors say they've been making a lot of breakthroughs with reversing the process that made me what I am."

"Really?"

"Yeah. In a few years, I should look mostly human again."

Kip couldn't stop himself before he asked "Is that really what you want?"

"I..." she paused, "Yes. I've done some terrible things as a Lost Pariah, as a Rikti Mentalist..."

"Why did they..." Kip fumbled with the term, "Ascend you so quickly?"

"I was good at what I did," she shrugged, "They didn't have time to give me formal psychic training, and before I knew what was going on, I was in the heads of a lot of the enemies of the Lost... There are some good people in that group, Kip, just scared people, looking for something to give them hope again."

"A little hard work never hurt anyone," the scrapper grumbled in response.

Amy shook her head. Kip knew it was deeper than that. Most of the ranks of the Lost were people who were already lost, whether it was legally, geographically, or spiritually. Apparently the Rikti dogmas and the Lost organization's promises of a better future for its members fit their views, and the near-military regimented lifestyle helped provide structure they desperately needed.

But Amy hadn't been wanting in life.

Kip reflected on the time that led up to their dating.

She was the daughter of a bank manager, a high school socialite, and a cheerleader. She had good grades, and lots of friends... On the surface.

In reality, she had developed a reputation for being "easy." She was a frequent subject among the jocks and popular males in their high school. What was worse, the reputation wasn't false.

It wasn't that she enjoyed that kind of attention, it was just that she was a confused teen and thought it was the proper behavior for a girl like her. That behavior came to a screeching halt the day she ran into Kip at a party he wasn't even supposed to have been attending.

It was a classic high school "kegger" being held by the members of the football team. Chief among them was Charles Reynolds, who had decided to spend his evening with her.

Kip hadn't been invited. He and Charles already had their problems, the latest of which ended with Kip having a black eye and a few bruised ribs, and Chuck's tires were mysteriously slashed. Since Kip had been in the nurse's office at the time (surveillance cameras confirmed it), he stood innocent of the crime.

However, Kip wound up at the party after all. It was being held not too far from Kip's house (not that many of them actually knew that), and he had been spending the evening fighting the Soulless, a type of zombie-like undead. Eventually, his fight lead him to the kegger, and he emerged from a set of bushes to find Cory Simmons and Tyler Wild (no relation to Agent Wild) sitting at a fire just a short distance from the party. The two of them had been invited, Tyler because he was the school's soccer star, Cory because he was a friend to too many to be ignored safely.

Simmons was initially surprised at the shorter teen's arrival that night. Seeing the panic and determination evident in his friend's eyes, however, he was able to reason out Kipland's role as Kingdale's supernatural "Warden." This was a relief for him, because his reason for being at the party was to protect the teens from just the very threat the newcomer had spent the night eradicating.

As Durj relaxed and conversed with his friends, Amy arrived, saying her inebriated goodbyes before joining Chuck for another night of increasingly unnecessary behavior. She talked to Cortland and she talked to Tyler before preparing to leave before the young wizard indicated Kip. She made an indignant response that they weren't friends.

"That's a fact," the sixteen-year-old boy agreed.

"We used to be, though," Amy sighed, "You, me, Snuffy... We used to hang out all the time... We used to play such fun games..."

"What happened?" Tyler asked.

"She got boobs and started hanging out with people like Chuck," Kip replied, indicating the girl's impressive endowment, "And don't think I don't know what that led to."

"That's not fair," she pouted, "I-"

"Why do you need to do things like that?" Kip interrupted, "What does it do for you?"

"Oh, you just don't like me," Taylor mumbled, "You hate me..."

"That's not true. I may be disappointed in you, but that doesn't mean I hate you."

Amy regarded him while Cory and Tyler stared at him in wide-eyed shock.

"You had such a great heart before," Kip poked a stick into the fire absent-mindedly, like he was jabbing his emotions back, "What happened to make you change so much?"

She never got a chance to answer. Chuck Reynolds arrived, and shouted for her to come with him. When he noticed Kip, he almost made an issue of it. The small girl, however, was able to convince him to let it well enough alone and they were lost in the darkness.

The trio went back to their small talk. Cory, sensing that he would no longer be needed to keep everyone safe, decided it would be wise to simply retire for the evening. Tyler felt he hadn't quite gotten drunk enough, yet. Kip agreed with the young wizard and was saying his goodbyes when Amy suddenly bounded into the firelight and tackled him into the bushes.

There, she wrapped her arms around his neck and hugged him. He looked to his friends perplexedly, his arms out to the sides as if asking "What? Why me?"

"Amy!" Reynolds shouted, "Where the Hell are you?"

"I threw his keys into the dark," she giggled into Kip's ear, "I don't want to go with him tonight."

Cory and Tyler helped defend Kip and Amy, and a lot of the laughing attendees didn't help Reynolds's situation. He fled, finding his keys by using a friend's flashlight, and Kip spent the rest of the year first hanging out with, later dating Amy. This turned out to be a big surprise for the student body, as they pegged him to start dating Sarah Grey, if he didn't wind up trying to blow up the school first.

When it came time for their prom, Kipland found out what it was that had given her such a problem in dealing with growing up. As his dad waited in the car, Kip went to the house to get her. The disparity between their economic classes hadn't bothered either of them, so he felt no problem with simply walking up to the house and knocking on the door.

Her father answered. He was unkempt, disheveled, and reeked of alcohol. Kip thought this was odd behavior for such an important night for his daughter. When the old man said she wouldn't be going, the boy looked through the doorway to see Amy holding her hand over her eye.

He didn't know what he did after that, the world just turned white. When he came to, he was lying on the ground and everything looked funny. Nester and Amy were helping him to his feet and Zeke was busy bouncing Mr. Taylor's head against the door frame. When the other man finally fell painfully to his porch deck, Zeke kicked him a couple more times in the ribs and shouted about how one was not to raise their fists at children, especially the children of other, quicker to anger parents.

Funny thing was, that was the first time Kip and Nester had ever seen their father blow his top.

They didn't go to the prom, and as the truth of the events unfolded, the public came to learn of the dark and deviant lifestyle of Mr. Taylor. On the testimony of his daughter, whose body still bore some marks from the abuse he'd been delivering upon her, he found himself going to prison for a very long time.

He did not enjoy his stay. Even among hardened, violent criminals, some things are still sacred. They hold little patience for those who violate such tenets.

After that, Amy lived with her aunt, on her mother's side (her mother having succumbed to cancer around the same time Kip's mother had left the Durjes). The woman was a surprisingly friendly sort, with ties to small-time modeling agencies, and immediately set to work repairing her niece's damaged soul by getting her involved in some friendly modeling (surprisingly, such a thing exists). The two teens kept in touch, with plans to go to college together.

That was when the Rikti War struck, throwing all of their plans into disarray.

"They made me one of them to save me, Kip," she explained, "My apartment had been hit and the soldiers found me... They had what it would take to heal me, but I had to undergo certain... Changes."

"I see," Kip grumbled, "You could have told me that before..."

"Things were going nuts in the factions. The Lost, the Restructurists, the Traditionalists... Each one has a take on how this is all supposed to go, and I could hear them all chattering and shouting in my ears, not to mention the fact I'd just been thawed from my recuperation."

"So you worked for them to pay them back," Kip sighed, "Among other things, I know..."

"When I was fighting you, Kip... It wasn't exactly me. The Group Thinking had me in its sway, and I was caught up in the fight. It caught me up in it a couple times before that, too."

"Is that what you were talking about before, that 'I can feel it taking me away,' thing?"

"Yeah," she slumped a little in the chair, "But... The worst of it should be over now. Something's happened, but I'm not sure what. It's not just this place blocking me from the Group Think, the Restructured they bring in have all been slightly confused, a little bit weirded out, and a few are completely disillusioned. I'm not sure what it is, but I don't think this war is going to last much longer."

"Your time's up, sir," the security guard explained softly, "I'm sorry."

"Are you sure you're going to be okay here?" Kip asked.

"I'll be fine. They treat us well. Go on, I know you're itching to deliver some hurt. Good luck, Kippers."

"Good luck, Amy," the scrapper replied, feeling a tremendous weight lift off his heart.

----------

Outside his communicator blared. The message that trawled across the monitor caused him to quirk his eye.

Randall had just transferred control of the group to him.

"Unacceptable," the young scrapper growled, then started plugging in numbers for his double.

"Aaron," he said, "Tell me where you are, we'll bust open the cell, and we can get to work trying to get Randy back... I'll explain later when I've been told what the Hell is going on."

The shutters at the sides of the Thunder Nimbus opened and the turrets emerged. The gunners locked on various points of the neighboring vessels and waited for the missile turrets to fire. They didn't have to wait long. The Andrew and the Megaburst were suddenly pockmarked with scorched holes and the turrets started firing.

"What are they doing?" Duray shouted.

"Choosing sides," Rachek replied, "Get 'em!"

The drill platoons marched in and detained the honor guard. Captains Anderson and Carter held Duray and his entourage as Rachek approached. The gray-haired old man glared into the one eye of his former commander and snorted.

"Things aren't turnin' out how ya planned, huh?"

"The Nimbus can't win against the Andrew and the 'Burst," the Colonel replied darkly, "Not with the Andrew's advancements on its main gun..."

"Yeah, I heard about how they increased lateral fire stability. So... Now it just rocks uncontrollably instead of falling into the sea..."

-----

The hangar panel in the rear of the Thunder Nimbus opened and what was left of Blue Squadron tore out and arced around to deliver a blow to the Andrew's main gun. They wouldn't be in time, but with any luck, the damage to the Nimbus wouldn't be severe enough to make the mission a complete failure.

However, Captain Daniels had no intention of getting hit.

"Engineering!" he shouted, "Cut lift thrusters!"

"Captain, that's insane!" the lieutenant shouted back through the intercom.

"Just do it, or we're going to die!" Daniels then switched to the ship-wide channel, "Brace for impact!"

The turret swiveled around. The acting captain of the Andrew had a very specific target in mind. He was going to deal with the traitorous crew in one fell swoop...

As the weapon leveled on the command deck, the gunners prepared to fire. However, something unusual happened. The thrusters holding the Thunder Nimbus aloft seemed to simply cut out, and the massive air cruiser dropped out of the sky just as the tank gun fired.

The shell tore not into the Thunder Nimbus, as planned, but into the Megaburst, ripping blasting open the firing control of the vessel's main gun and leaving a gaping hole there. As the Nimbus fell to the sea, there was a loud whine as the thrusters started back up. The vessel stopped a scant few meters from the ocean surface and slowly started to rise.

Suddenly, the port bow thruster failed and the ship dipped slightly. Daniels asked the pilots for a report and the Chief Helmsman grunted something about being fine, this was just going to be tricky.

The ship lurched upwards again, and the pilots cut back on the aft lift thrusters, causing the bow, despite the loss of power, to raise faster. The cruiser turned and rolled slightly toward the Andrew. Daniels gave the order to firing control and the port forward firing gun blasted a hole through the outer hull of the other ship. The Andrew had been rolling away at the time, so the damage it sustained was minimal. However, it did serve as a clear warning.

Captain "Sonny" Sonnethavilay and Flight Officer MacAuliffe hurtled past the defenses of the Andrew and locked on the main turret.

"Okay Mac, one LRM from me, and I want you to release a cluster," the captain explained on their approach, "On my mark... Now!"

The missile streaked out of the underside of the Sky Skiff, slamming into the armor plating of the weapon. MacAuliffe's cluster of missiles impacted along the surface of the turret as well, but had the added effect of disabling the targeting scope.

"Alright, get ready for another pass, Mac" Sonny radioed to his wingman, "I... What the Hell? Gold One, what are you doing!?"

The Skiff had been given field repairs after the battle with the Rikti Dropships outside Talos Island's War Walls. While they were flight capable, they weren't necessarily up-to-par for the strains of active combat. They were to be used only in the most extreme of situations.

"Captain Wood!" Sonnethavilay shouted.

"Don't worry, I know what I'm doing," the other captain replied, "This old girl will never fly right again after what she's been through. I'm retirin' her with a bang!"

As the two pilots brought their vessels around they saw the leader of Gold Squadron arm his weapons, aim his Skiff at the Andrew's main gun, and eject. The canopy blew open and the pilot went hurtling through the air, only to disappear as the Nimbus's med-porter caught him. The Skiff smashed into the turret and detonated, disabling the weapon. With nothing left to do, the two Red Squadron fighters broke from the vessel and its defenses to make their way for Fort Nautilus.

----------

"We're letting you go," Rachek said as he and his men escorted Duray and his entire entourage back to their Skiffs.

The vehicles had been stripped of weapons and armor. Rachek knew they were in for a dark time, and he knew they had to take every advantage they could.

After the ships had been hammered so heavily, the battle waned rapidly. With the Thunder Nimbus still able to take both ships out with one shot apiece, the captains of both ships surrendered. Unfortunately, Rachek's men couldn't keep the vessels. The former Wing Commander decided to let the Raiders keep their ships. He was taking the Thunder Nimbus.

"Be glad I don't just have... Daniels blast them out of the water," Rachek growled as he looked at the scheduling clipboard, "He probably would, too. He's a pretty ballsy guy."

"A smart man would give the order," Duray commented as he stood before his Skiff, "You've made dangerous enemies today, Anthony. They will not suffer this insult lightly."

"Referring to yourself in the third person now? Not a good sign in the measure of your sanity, Colonel. Now, you'll understand if I don't salute you. Saluting is reserved for people deserving of respect. That hasn't been you for some time."

Colonel Duray regarded the former Master Gunnery Sergeant darkly for a few seconds before climbing into his Skiff. The fort's engineers had even confiscated the ammunition out of the customized sidearm he kept next to the seat, but they were kind enough to leave him his weapon.

"I don't want you coming back," Rachek shouted, "We didn't take anything you can't replace. Nothing, that is, that we haven't earned otherwise."

The Raider loyalists left without incident, and when the two crippled ships were out of sight, the Thunder Nimbus settled into the water at the foot of Fort Nautilus. The troops and officers gathered on the deck of the modified derrick and, after a few congratulatory words to the key players of the day's events, Rachek addressed the group as a whole.

"I... I appreciate your loyalty, boys. The fact that you're willing to go with me on this... This... I don't even know what this is..."

"We'll come up with a name later," Captain Daniels paused to take a sip from his beer, "For now, let's focus on what we need to do."

"We need money," Captain Anderson advised.

"And more men," Carter added, "We're so badly outnumbered out here, it's frightening."

"We need to get the ship fixed," Captain Daniels urged, "We can limp along like we are, but next time we face any kind of concerted effort, we're going to wind up getting routed. And I can assure you, Duray will bring a concerted effort as soon as he gets those ships patched up and in fighting order again."

"These are good points," Rachek grunted as he sat down heavily on a crate and twirled a machete around with the point in the deck and the pommel pressed in his palm, "And they're going to have to be addressed. You boys let me worry about it for now. Tonight, we celebrate."

Despite whatever precautions the heroes (and some rogues, apparently) took, they still stood a good chance of possibly breaking one of the windows of the nearby buildings. Some of the ice controllers had the brilliant idea of simply covering the effective area in ice and snow. Some of the other gathered meta-humans went even further.

"Remember Frostfire?" Ashen Roast asked some of the controllers, "He had those slides all over his hideout... Think you guys could make some of those?"

In half an hour, the whole area was a twisting maze of ice chutes and tubes. Most wound down to the street level, and more ice sheets, or massive soft snow mounds. Some were coordinated between the teams to lead into the bases at varying points and levels.

"This isn't about tactics, it's about fun," one controller explained to a grumbling Cedric, "build a hard enough defense in a game like this, and nobody's going to want to play."

"I know, I know..." the tanker growled, "I'm just ticked I didn't think of it."

Once everything was set, the two teams took their positions. Cedric and Positron worked out the terms in the center of the "battle field."

"How did you come to lead these guys, anyway?" the armored hero asked amusedly, "I mean, I pulled up your records from the F.C. files... You're an exemplary character, but I wouldn't say you'd have the social pull to get all of this thrown together..."

"I don't know, boss," the tanker shrugged, "I just go with the flow most of the time... Sometimes the flow gets rough, other times it's perfectly calm. Either way, I'm having fun. Sometimes people join in. I guess that's what this is today."

"So, what's the game plan?"

"Well, here's what I was thinking... Each team has a snowman in their base. Make it whatever you want it to look like. Now, the objective of each team is to destroy each other's snowman. Sound cool?"

"How about five snowmen," Positron stroked his chin, "And a flag."

"Sounds cool," Cedric reached out to shake Positron's hand.

"What about defeats, rules of engagement, or... Well..."

"All's fair in war," Cedric replied, "Except slush balls, ice balls, rock balls, you know, the ones that hurt. 'Cause, you know, that's just mean."

"Agreed," positron shook the tanker's hand, "Good luck."

The two leaders returned to their armies and explained the details. After the snowmen (and snow women) were made, they were placed throughout the structures. The sculptures took on the appearance of some of the world's greatest heroes throughout history. Once they were placed, the two opposing armies made their move.

It was chaos from the get-go. Wizards, warriors, capes, cowls, armor, light, and a whole lot of smiling faces clashed suddenly amidst a flurry of white flakes that only seemed to grow.

The fact that Nor'Easter's retainers had joined with the Veterans proved to be a minor surprise, and one the Rookies easily changed tactics to accommodate for. Despite their team moniker, the Rookies had quite a few experienced heroes in their ranks, and few among them hadn't dealt with ambushes before.

Still, they were all dealing with snowballs, so every new member to the fray was a threat to the opposing side.

As the street level became a cloud of powdery ice, the two armies barely able to tell each other apart, many meta-humans took to the slides, chutes and tubes. One tube, leading from near the top of the the northwest skyscraper, turned out to be a bit of a nightmarish ride and a thrill in its own right.

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAUGH!" Ashen Roast shouted as he emerged from the tunnel at terminal velocity and started sliding on the chute that gradually leveled out, "OH-MY-GOD-SOMEBODY-STOP-ME!"

"Hang in there, buddy!" Cedric shouted to the orange blur as he skidded along one of the more lateral bridges heading for the Veterans' base.

He had no intention of stopping Ashen. The fire tanker wound up sliding around the Veterans' base himself, but he wound up so disoriented in the snow stop at the end of the slide he wasn't going to be of much help. It was a hilarious spectacle for many of the onlooking crowd though, as he stood, disoriented, and was promptly bowled over by a barrage of snowballs.

"Aw," Grey half-chuckled as he closed with opening to the first floor of his opponents' base, "WOAH!"

A thin sheet of ice covered the opening. It wasn't going to stop the tanker, but it was something he hadn't considered when he started leaning forward for balance. As such, his forehead made contact, and he thanked his lucky stars he had a tough skull.

"Ow!" he shouted as he tumbled into the room, "What the Hell?"

"Get him!" the guards shouted and a big tanker type dropped a mound of snow on top of the blonde young man.

"Oh, wow, that's cold!" he sputtered as he emerged from the pile.

The Veteran guards would have continued pelting him with snowballs and pushed him out the window (to the enormous piles of snow waiting below) if it weren't for the other Rookies that arrived through the same entrance Cedric had used. A small scuffle later, and the Rookies were eventually pushed out, but everybody was soggy.

As the newer heroes pushed out of the mountainous piles at the base of the tower, another group of Rookies approached and pelted them with snowballs.

"Hey! Wai-ack!-phbltbpbp! We're on your side!" Cedric shouted at his brother.

"I know, I was just messing with ya," Roland chuckled, "What're you doin' running away, anyway? I thought the idea was to get inside and get the statues and their flag..."

"Dude, we gotta draw this out, have fun with it, experiment with the possibilities..." the elder Grey sibling pointed to the chute their friend had gone down earlier, "I gotta try that!"

"So..."

"Well, once we finish this, the city's gonna want us to... What are those kids doing?"

They turned to see a group of teens and young children making snowmen. That wasn't so strange in and of itself, but the location they were doing it in was. They had built the ball-type sculptures right on one of the ice sheets of the street.

As a group of Veterans started sliding across, the bigger teens pushed hard on the snowmen suddenly. The crash was so sudden and unexpected, it knocked even the stone tank leading the group off course. He wound up tumbling into a group of Rookies, and his lost arsenal wound up caking a Defender in the crowd.

"Hey!" he shouted, "I'm a spectator!"

"Ladies and gentlemen!" another defender, sonic in nature, announced to the crowd, "If you're in rows one through... seventeen... hundred... You WILL get wet."

It was strange. Despite the fact that the heroes had to be out there, fighting the criminality of Paragon City, they found themselves drawn to the bizarre snowball war going on in the middle of Steel Canyon. Well, it didn't help that it was such a slow day for crime (hey, the bad guys have families, too), and the heroes and heroines already involved in the snowball fight were on the horn as quickly as they could be to bring friends in to help.

Initially, the sides were uneven, many of the older heroes had sided with Positron and Valkyrie (who had actually been able to call in Synapse, Manticore and Sister Psyche, though Psyche seemed content to simply sit on a nearby rooftop corner and watch), since they'd been in the city longer and had already established working (if not friendly) relationships with the members of the "Surviving 8."

However, Cedric, in a bold stroke of genius (he has his moments), was able to stall for time to shore up his forces. he stated the snowball fight would be better with forts and bases, and his opponents put it to a vote that wound up in his favor.

Fortunately, Sheldon was able to coalesce local snow and ice (the amassed heroes took down a few more Winter Lords easily to supply more snow when needed) into an impressive fortress in a relatively short amount of time. He started with a basic block design, then turned to the ice and fire controllers and blasters to articulate it. It had one central chamber and several side chambers sprawling throughout the streets.

It was a good thing the Steel Canyon director (mayor?) had the police (and some non-participating heroes) cordon off the region from normal traffic.

Suprisingly, it took the Veteran heroes longer to make their fort. they spent a lot of their time debating on what type of structure to make. Where the Rookies were using a sprawl, they decided to use a tower build, and utilized the massive statue in the center of the city as their base.

Cedric took the extra time available to coordinate the lesser-known heroes who'd come to aid their friends and him. Some of the ones he and Sheldon called joined up, too.

"Roland!" the tanker shouted to his archer brother, "It's so good you could make it!"

"Is it too late to join with Positron and his crew?" the shorter, rounder defender class hero asked gruffly.

Unlike Cedric, who took his looks from their mother's side of the family, Roland looked a lot like their father, only about half the size. The young man also was an archer, with odd gizmos on some of his arrows, as opposed to a bruiser (which he could do, too, but he was more familiar with the bow).

"I know you're only kidding," Cedric chortled, "And besides, i'd hate to have to tackle you into the snow."

"You tackle me?" the brown-haired young man quirked an eyebrow, "I'm not twelve anymore, brother. You haven't been able to drop me since."

"Fella's, fella's!" Ashen Roast, a fire tanker and former Outcast, caught them both by the shoulders, "I know you're just kidding around, but we've really got to prepare and organize for this... I don't think there's ever been a super-powered snowball fight before..."

"And this one will echo through the ages," Cedric hopped up on a mound of freshly packed snow, "ladies and gentlemen, I'm telling you, we stand upon the edge of something grand!"

"This is just a snowball fight!" one of the gathered heroes shouted in the midst of building his personal arsenal of frozen light assault weaponry.

"But it's so much more!" Grey retorted, "I'm telling you, this is going to be the most amazing spectacle since... Since... Well..."

"Very little tops the atom bomb, brother," Roland commented, "Or microbursts, for that matter."

"Okay, so this isn't going to be groundbreaking, we're a bunch of super-powered blowhards flinging frozen water at each other, but this is going to be so much fun the gods are gonna notice us! I want you to look at me and yell 'ARE WE HAVING FUN OR WHAT!?' YOU! What's you're name?"

"Blizzard Front," the blue-skinned blaster replied, "you know me, man!"

"Are you telling me you can't feel that!"

"I'm feeling something... I wouldn't say it's enthusiastic..."

"Oh, come on!" the tanker hoisted him up on the snow mound, "Say a few words to encourage the others!"

"Well I've been keeping count and, we outnumber them..."

This actually got a cheer.

"...By quite a few, actually..."

This got a louder cheer.

"But we're mostly the low-level guys, so we're kind of lacking in advantage, there..."

"That's fine," Cedric interrupted as he packed up a quick snowball.

He tossed his axe into the air, hit it with the snowball on the flat of the blade and caught the weapon so everybody could see the mark he made.

"With snowballs, everybody cons white..."

-----

In the Veterans' base, things were progressing with less friction.

"So, what's my job?" Synapse asked heartily.

"See the snow there?" Positron pointed, "make several thousand snowballs. Ice blasters and controllers will be by shortly to replenish the raw materials."

"I... aw..." Synapse looked downcast for a moment, but shrugged and got to work, "Good thing I wore my thermal outfit today..."

"What about numbers?" Manticore asked, "A lot of the more veteran heroes either have become too jaded to be interested in something like this or they got involved in their hometowns again, leaving the enforcement effort to the newbies... And they're joining with that tanker kid because... well... He has some form of crazy charm..."

"Why are you here anyway, Mant?" Positron asked, "Aren't you just as jaded? You're always brooding..."

"Shalice thought it would be a good idea for me to get caught up in this," the archer replied as he molded a snowball together and poked two holes and a smile into it, "I don't know, it seems fun enough..."

"Okay... well... I don't know what we're going to-"

A stone tanker ran up to the two and got their attention, "Positron, Manticore! There's somebody here who wants to see you!"

Outside the ever-climbing fortress, near the Cooke's Electronics store, stood a group of massed gang members. They were members of the Outcasts and Warriors. One of the Outcasts, a blue-skinned ice type approached the two major heroes leading the Veterans.

"Sir," he said with an outstretched hand to Positron, "I'm Nor'easter. I... uh... I guess I'm running things among the Outcasts in Steel Canyon today..."

"And?" the armored hero asked as he folded his arms over his chest and regarded the self-admitted criminal.

"Well... I was wondering if we could join up with you guys and share in the fun. I... I just run with these guys because a lot of my childhood friends are in with 'em..."

"Is your record clean?" Manticore asked.

"Everything I've done, I've done my time for," the Lead Freezer replied with outstretched hands and not an ounce of deceit, "I can't vouch so well for my companions, but they're mostly just my crew and crews I deal with, and they're moderates at their worst."

"Come on!" a fire-type shouted to the heroes, "We can see you guys need help! This looks like fun!"

"It is a good change of pace," Valkyrie offered as she directed some ice blasters into the tower to give Synapse more snow to work with, "And the Outcasts really aren't such bad guys, just a little misguided."

"Alright," Positron and Manticore said at once to Nor'easter, and Positron continued, "Just make sure you don't betray us or anything..."

"A bunch of low-grade punks turning on Security Level Fifty-and-up heroes..." the blue-skinned teen gave a sheepish grimace, "honestly, the thought never crossed my mind."

"Good," the armored blaster replied with a chuckle, "just stay out of sight... I want you boys to be a surprise!"

I hope you didn't look too hard for this.

I referenced it in the City Scoop Fan Fiction section.

I've got another one related to the Winter goings-on that is a somewhat sequel to my prior story...

The Snowball War: Paragon City

It's a work in progress. I don't know if I'm leaving it as roleplay or to keep putting storyline up until I come up with a victor for the snowball fight.

For plot summary, it's essentially a super-powered snowball fight in the middle of Steel Canyon, just at the feet of that gigantic statue Positron and Valkyrie stand under.

((Not sure if I made this clear, but comments, additions, etc. are welcome. Just, please, don't hurt my characters, and nothing lethal. This is supposed to just be fun.

Of course, Snaptooth, Positron, Valkyrie, and pretty much any character that appears in the standard gameplay of City of heroes is property of NCSoft. That's why this is fan fiction.

But this is fun fan fiction...))

"Is it safe to eat, sir?" the little boy asked the triumphant Cedric Grey.

The tanker reveled in his hard-won victory. Sure, he was a little worried when the Winter Lord had crumpled the hood of the Holiday Hovercar with a heavy one-fist smash, destroying the Maple Syrup Deployment Apparatus, but two blasts from the Honey Bombs finally put the hulking monster down for the count.

The first had sheared the Lord's left arm clean off while it was preparing another ice blast. The second shot went wild, hitting something down the street. The third, however, was dead-on, melting into the Winter Lord's face and disabling the bizarre snow creature.

It didn't take anymore than five minutes for children to start sledding on it and wondering at the nature of its sugar-coated demise. The blonde young man took a piece of candied snow from the corpse of the monster and nibbled a little. It was sweet. Like victory.

"Have at it, kid," he replied, "It's all good!"

"No... No it is not."

Cedric turned to face the party-pooper, only to do a slight double take.

Positron stood there...

Half of his armor was covered in honey.

"Ah-heh!" the tanker chuckled into his fist, "Nice outfit, boss."

"I guess you ARE the one responsible for this," Positron muttered as he stepped closer and inspected the mass of snow in the street and the hero that stood atop it, "Would I be right... Cedric Grey? Grey... Hey, are you-?"

"No," Cedric replied, "No relation to the Lady Grey. My family's dirt poor."

"Oh."

"Cedric!" Sheldon shouted from the Hovercar, "I got it working again! The jetpack on the starboard bow is a little low on fuel, though..."

"Wallace!" the armored blaster shouted, "What is that thing!?"

"A gift my dad wanted me to test out?"

"Bull!"

"Okay, fine," the younger inventor relented, "I threw the thing together with Holiday Jetpacks, some old pieces of plastic, a couple car engines, a snow blower, and random parts I scavenged out of the ruins of Baumton."

"Well," the authoritative hero stroked his chin, "It's impressive... A bit childish for your normal work, but interesting, nonetheless."

"Thanks!"

"Well," Cedric clapped Positron on the shoulder, "Since we're all done here, and there's probably other Winter Lords to vanquish, we'll just leave the kids gathered here to the candied mess..."

"Not so fast... There's still the matter of my uniform's... Condition..."

Cedric removed his hand from the blaster's shoulder and chuckled at the honey stretching along with it.

"I'm sure we've got something in the car to take care of that," He placated and jogged over to the vehicle before leaping through the passenger-side window and assuming the firing controls.

"What are you doing?" Sheldon asked, worry furrowing his brow.

"Oh come on," the tanker laughed, "I'm sure he knows how to have fun..."

Positron had just got his helmet on by the time Grey had squeezed the triggers and launched a volley of rapid-fire snowballs. These were smaller than the snowballs used to take down Snaptooth, and could be fired in bursts of three from the cannons. However, they tended to lack serious impact, their only major advantage coming from the disorienting effect they had.

Positron was buffeted by a relentless stream of tiny white spheres. he was heavily armored, though, and refused to fall down.

That only meant Cedric turned him into the world's easiest snow sculpture.

"Oh yes," he muttered as his suit brought up Cedric's file, "That Grey..."

The File Image showed the young man making a goofy face that involved sticking out his tongue.

"Drive, drive, DRIVE!" Cedric shouted, but Sheldon didn't respond as ordered.

Instead, his jaw hung slack, and he pointed at his companion's prior target. A whirlwind seemed to have wrapped about Positron, and the snow he'd previously been encased in was disappearing. But it wasn't disappearing, it was being drawn into his armor.

"Why would he do that?" Cedric asked.

"I knew I got this experimental stuff out for a reason," the blaster chuckled as he aimed his arms at the Hovercar, "Incoming!"

Cedric dove under the dashboard. Sheldon stared at him, but he hadn't been through boot camp, so he wouldn't understand the artillery drill. What he did understand, however, was that the rapidly approaching wall of white was the very same snow his friend had just fired at the formerly literally volatile hero. Now that the outfit didn't have to be designed for containment, Positron was free to experiment with much more wild designs of machinery. One such device, it seemed, was a solid matter vacuum and redirection unit...

Essentially, a snow blower suit.

The stream of snow smashed into the Hovercar and sent it hurtling through the air. The snow had smashed so hard into the plastic windshield, it had caved it in and forced snow into the cabin. The vehicle's two occupants screamed a lot (when they could), the driver more than the gunner. Cedric actually seemed to be whooping after the first bounce off the pavement. After the sixth bounce, the vehicle came to a skidding stop in front of Valkyrie, who stared at them in shock.

"Are you alright?" she asked as she cleared the snow away from the passenger side.

"It got in my collar!" Cedric screamed and started gripping the neck hole of his armor, "Augh! It burns! How does it burn when it's cold!"

"What were you thinking?" Sheldon shouted from the other side as he crawled from the wreckage, "I'm sure he knows how to have fun... I bet that was real fun! We nearly broke our necks!"

The trench coated hero frowned at the destroyed machine.

"Look what he did to my car..."

"Who?" Valkyrie asked worriedly, "Who did this?"

"Him," the tanker pointed at the approaching Positron.

He looked similar as before, only now he was floating, and his armor had an odd golden crystal growth where the honey used to be. It was still honey, just frozen.

"Do you yield?" the blaster asked as he aimed his right arm at Cedric menacingly.

"Boss! No!" Valkyrie shouted, "Certainly... Wait... How did they get hit by all of this snow?"

"NEVER!" Cedric shouted over her as he reached into the wreckage, balled up some snow and hurled it at Positron.

He wound up hitting him right in the visor. A tiny windshield wiper then rubbed the packed flakes away.

"Figures," the tanker grimaced as he packed another snowball together.

Another torrent of snow slammed into him, but Positron's supply was depleted with one burst. Sheldon, having pulled on his gravity manipulation gauntlets during this altercation, decided on a course of action.

He reached toward the snow that had filled his vehicle and started amassing the largest snowball he could from it. Then, similar to the "Propel" ability others who practiced his field of control techniques, he launched the snowball with enough force to send Positron hurtling away.

He wound up slamming into another Winter Lord, one that was already severely weak from getting pummeled by a few groups of heroes, and finished it off. When he emerged from the mounds of snow, Sheldon already had another ball ready (that Cedric took a piece out of to make tinier snowball with). Before he could throw it, though, one of the heroes who had helped take down this other Winter Lord shouted.

"Snowball Fight!" her cheery voice rang clear as a bell moments before a snowball smacked into the back of the head of her team's tanker. He looked back at her to see she was in the process of throwing another one, this time getting through his helmet's visor and popping him in the face with a cold, powdery explosion.

And once again... It was on...

((Uh... I'm not entirely sure what I'm trying to do here. I just wanted to tell some humorous stories with a tertiary relation to the Winter Event and the holidays. If anybody would like to join in, that'd be cool.

For clarity of characters, and it's hard for me to imagine descriptions for them when I feel the greater part of the story is more important...

Cedric

Sheldon))

"Sheldon," Cedric said from the co-pilot seat, "I never would have guessed you could do something like this."

They currently sat inside what appeared to be a red sports car made of plastic. Instead of wheels, however, it bore four devices commonly known as Holiday Jet Packs, jingling merrily as they held the vehicle aloft. Another pair mounted on the back were utilized for when an extra boost of speed was required, but they currently weren't active.

Mounted on the sides of the "Holiday Hovercar" were a twin set of strange looking cannons. They had big rubber tubes running from an apparatus that took up the backseat.

However, the workings of the machines weren't of any concern to the tanker and his friend, the inventor, Sheldon Wallace. They were on patrol for one particular individual...

"See, there he is!" the tanker shouted, "Not a day after Christmas, and he's already on another scheme!"

Snaptooth tore across the courtyard of the Steel Canyon University campus, a gaggle of Recaps trailing behind him. They each had sacks over their backs, and Cedric had a bad feeling about what they might have been stealing.

"Lock on and fire!" he shouted.

"Alright, alright," Sheldon sounded bothered, but he actually grinned as the HUD popped up on the windshield, "Target..."

He squeezed the triggers on his steering wheel and the twin cannons started firing. Inside the weapons were gravity matrices that instantaneously turned the snow being fed into them into perfectly spherical snowballs. Which was really helpful when they were sent sailing at the Holiday Hovercar's targets.

The Redcap lagging behind was taken down first. It only took three snowballs. They were rather large, each one about the same size as an average person's face. They were also pretty dense.

As soon as the bag the recap was holding hit the ground, a rainbow of glittering dust escaped and vanished into the wind. Cedric pointed and slapped the dashboard.

"Man, I knew it! He's still stealing Holiday Spirit!"

"I wonder why," Sheldon asked as he brought the vehicle around to pursue the others, "It's not like he can make an effect like you were talking about, earlier."

"Maybe he has some sort of evil magic machine that converts it into pure disappointment," the tanker grumbled, "That eh then shoots at people..."

"That sounds about par for his reputation," the inventor winced, "Whatever he intends, let's shut him down."

He squeezed the triggers again and the automatic targeting cycled through targets, taking out Rascals and Hooligans with ease. After a few blocks, Snaptooth was friendless.

"This sucks, man!" Cedric whined, "Can I shoot some?"

Sheldon drummed his fingers on the steering wheel before flicking a switch on the dashboard. What would normally have been an airbag deployment system opened up to reveal a firing control station. The tanker made a strange "glee" sound and grabbed a hold of the control sticks as he stared into the targeting computer.

Snaptooth turned, saw his goons weren't with him (he'd thought those "paff" sounds were heroes hitting other heroes with snowballs), and noticed the vehicle following him. As he made a lewd gesture, the cannons fired, and the Redcap leader was bowled over like a pin. Like the others, as soon as his sack hit the ground, the Holiday Spirit locked inside was released and dissipated on the wind to return from whence it came.

"Augh!" the ugly little man shouted, "It never fails! As soon as I'm just within success..."

He glared up at the vehicle and hissed. Drawing his knives, he waited for the next assault. Each incoming snowball this time got sliced apart. However, both sides knew it couldn't keep like this.

"Dammit, Snap!" Cedric shouted out the window, "Either you take your whoopin's like a man, or I'm gonna have to come down there and give you whoopin's like a man!"

"Agh! It's that guy!" Snaptooth turned to one of the nearby large gift boxes that had materialized around the city and started mumbling to his knives.

"What's he doing?" Sheldon asked, "Oh, wait, some kind of spell..."

"Well I'm not letting him finish!" Cedric squeezed the triggers again and the cannons blasted the Red Cap off his feet.

"I'm really starting to hate that guy," Snaptooth grunted amid the piles of snow, "That guy in particular..."

Unfortunately, his incantation had been completed. He threw one of his knives at the gift box and it neatly popped the lid off. He then went to toss one of his Mini-Red Caps from his Basket o' Stuff at the Holiday Hovercraft. The Red Cap was intercepted halfway to the machine, screamed about the gunpowder getting wet, and started complaining about his back after hitting the ground.

"Oh well, he was just a distraction anyway," the bigger gnome grumbled.

"Cedric, look!" Sheldon pointed at where the gift had previously been.

There, standing twenty feet tall, was one of the Winter Lord monsters that had been terrorizing teams of heroes across the city. They were big, they were tough, and sometimes it took more than one group to take one down.

"What've we got to take it down, man!?" the tanker shouted.

"A Maple Syrup Cannon and Honey Bombs," Sheldon replied.

Cedric looked back at the inventor, his face a mask of stunned disbelief (and a little disgust mixed in). The driver calmly reached over to the weapons control, flicked a couple switches and pressed a few buttons. The older man continued to stare at him, dumbfounded.

"You've gotta be freaking kidding," Grey finally said as Sheldon leveled the vehicle at the monster.

Unfortunately, Snaptooth escaped into the sewer, his purpose not yet completed. Cedric cursed himself a fool for not being more specific with the promise he'd elicited from the husky goblin.

"Cory keeps telling you, you have to go into the details with magical creatures," Sheldon explained, "Be good? For how long? Five minutes? Seconds? He probably waited until he was all healed up before getting back to his normal routine."

"Yep," the blonde tanker sighed, "So... Maple Syrup?"

"It's a jet of the stuff," the inventor explained, "Fired from nozzles that flank the grill. The Honey Bombs are launched from the cannon on top, but we'll have to reload those manually. Be careful, we've only got three rounds..."

He indicated the two clear flimsy plastic spheres next to the machine behind them.

"Don't worry, it's a special polymer that doesn't melt. It's tough to break under standard handling, too, but being fired out of a cannon? Uh-uh."

"Water balloons full of honey," Cedric frowned, "You've gone quite mad, haven't you?"

"Using our own super powers, weapons, magic and science is fun and all," the younger man replied, "But to be truly effective, you must utilize weapons your enemy is truly vulnerable to. By the time we're done with this Winter Lord, he'll be little more than a tasty treat. Of course, that's all dependent on you PULLING THE TRIGGER!"

To further illustrate his point, the Winter Lord hurled a few chunks of ice at the Holiday Hovercar, crumpling the hood a little and securing some curses from the vehicle's occupants. Once the shouting was finished however, a thin jet of amber fluid escaped from the front of the machine, almost as if it were a test. When the Maple Syrup hit the giant snowman, the monster recoiled in shock and pain.

"I'm never doubting you again, man," Cedric said as he prepared to launch another, more powerful burst at the monster.

It was on, now.

Dan Quixote!

Wait... No...

How about "Lamina del Zombi" (Zombie Blade)?

Perhaps the "<insert colorful additive> Cuchillo," as Cuchillo means Knife.

"Colonel Duray," Captain Anderson handed the telephone receiver to Captain Rachek, "He... He doesn't sound happy."

"Of course he isn't happy," the older captain grunted as he took the device and held it to his ear, "What do you want?"

Anderson could easily hear Duray shouting back.

"What do you think I want!? Your head on a plate! You disobeyed my orders, you nearly lost the Thunder Nimbus... What else have you done that I can tack onto my list of reasons to hate you!?"

"I slept with your wife," Rachek grunted.

"I'm not married!"

"Oh yeah... Right..."

"Your fired, Rachek!" Duray growled, "Give the phone back over to Captain Anderson!"

Shrugging dismissively, the former Commander of the Sky Raiders' North Atlantic Third Wing handed the device to his friend. Anderson looked grave as he received the news and his new orders.

"Yes, sir. I understand, sir. Aye, sir. Yes, sir. Yes, sir. Thank you, sir."

He hung the receiver back on the hook and sighed.

"I'm supposed to take you into custody and prepare for your execution when the Colonel gets here."

"A personal execution!" Rachek smiled broadly, "He must be really ticked."

"This isn't funny, Tony," the other sat heavily in the cushioned chair, "You're really going to die tomorrow."

"I am?"

Anderson arched an eyebrow at his friend.

"What do you have planned?"

----------

The Andrew and the Megaburst, the other two sky ships that made up the totality of the Sky Raiders' main battle fleet, came into view later that afternoon. They weren't constructed like the Thunder Nimbus, the Andrew bearing the turret from a M-1A1 Abrams main battle tank as its main gun and the Microburst (the first constructed ship) had a single, specially designed, fix-mounted, forward-firing artillery cannon. Like the Thunder Nimbus, they lacked the energy shields typical of the Sky Raiders. Even with the latest technological advancements, the engineers of the massive vessels were unable to work their way around the power drain of shielding the hulls, so they placed a moderately heavy ceramic, metal and polymer armor on each vessel's hull to deflect rounds and energy. As such, they were able to weather even some of the most concentrated meta-human assaults, not that they'd attempted such conflicts.

Captain Andrew had a pair of platoons drill out to the main platform to receive Colonel Duray and his entourage. As the elite squadron of Skiffs landed on the far end, the soldiers engaged a "Present Arms" pose. As Colonel Duray and his honor guard exited their vehicles and formed into their own protective formation around the commander, the two greeting platoons switched to the "Order Arms" position and accomplished a "Salute Arms" pose.

"Ready, cut!" the drill sergeant ordered, and as the Raiders complied, he ordered "Parade, Rest!"

Each soldier held his weapon at his side at a slight angle and his left hand at the base of his back, his arm making a sort of wing with the sharp angle of the bend at the elbow. They stood rigidly as the Colonel, flanked by Captain Castillo and Captain Florio (the commanding captain of the Andrew), marched past and up to Captain Anderson.

Anderson took a deep, but subtle, breath as he prepared for the next part. He and Captain Carter (standing just behind him and to the right) saluted personally as the Colonel arrived and made his greeting statement.

"Good afternoon, sir. Fort Nautilus, Captain Gary Anderson reporting. All troops are present or accounted for, and I welcome you on their behalf."

"A little crude and impromptu, but I guess I don't come here enough," the Colonel returned the salute, "Perhaps that's why we're having this problem in the first place."

Captain Anderson hyperventilated a little after cutting his salute.

"At least we have the right man running the show, now," Castillo grinned broadly, "Look at the discipline in these men. Anderson will whip these troops into shape."

"Actually, it was Rachek that trained these men in drill," Captain Anderson corrected his compatriot, "And he's the one that disciplined them. He made them into the fighting force they are..."

"Their record hasn't been very exemplary," Captain Florio barked, "You've lost numerous struggles against a single group of meta humans..."

"Those metas were tougher than we'd anticipated, we didn't utilize our full potential," Captain Carter tried to explain.

"Which is still a failing of Rachek," Duray interrupted, "Captain Carter, you should remember the proper chain of command. If you have a complaint with how I or my entourage see the situation, you should send it up the chain of command."

"So you can [dreck]-can me like you did Tony?" Carter rasped, "No thank you."

"Captain Carter!" Captain Anderson shouted, "You are dismissed."

"[Frig] that!" Carter barked, "I'm telling this self-serving bas-"

"I said you're dismissed!" Captain Anderson whirled around and shouted into the face of his second-in-command.

Carter trembled violently, but shut up. He spat on the deck in front of Castillo and started to storm off before Colonel Duray snapped his fingers and had two of the Raiders from his honor guard subdue him.

"We can't be having him getting a weapon to come back here with," the Colonel explained to Captain Anderson.

"You don't need to worry about that," the drill sergeant shouted.

The three Sky Raider officers turned to the grizzled old man standing behind the honor guard. He held a rifle in his right hand and a machete in his left. A small shield generator hovered at his side.

"Present!" he shouted.

"It's Rachek!" Florio shouted.

"What's going on?" Castillo rounded on Anderson, who was pulling a pistol and aiming it at the odd-dressed pretty-boy.

"It's a trap," Colonel Duray grunted.

"Arms!" the drill sergeant shouted and the two flanking drill platoons aimed their weapons at the honor guard.

Captain Carter flexed his fingers and a pair of hold-out pistols emerged from his cuffs. He held them on his captors and took two steps back.

Colonel Duray remarked on his mistakes. He made a mistake in coming here personally. He made a mistake in forgetting what Captain Rachek looked like. He made a mistake in not checking the weapons of the two drilling platoons as he passed, then he would have noticed they were loaded with their magazines.

He made a mistake in underestimating the former Wing Commander. He made a mistake in thinking W.C. Rachek would go quietly.

"And I've got you now," Rachek shouted from his position as the drill sergeant, "What do you do now, Colonel Duray?"

The dark skinned, one-eyed, purple-uniformed pirate commander grinned.

"Simple," he answered, "I give the word, and the sky ship blasts this base to Holy Hell. I and my crew get med-evaced on the ships' reclaimators and never worry about this again. I get you executed and an example to demonstrate to the rest of the forces about what happens when you betray me."

"I don't believe you," Rachek shouted before the implications could settle into the minds of his troops, "If it were true, the gunners up there wouldn't have wasted their time waiting. As soon as I set my shield, this base would be slag."

"That's because I'm waiting for someone in particular to pull the trigger," Duray gestured and Rachek turned slightly.

The two sky ships had parted, allowing enough room between them for a third to settle in. Rachek's heart sank as he recognized it. There wasn't much he had to do to recognize it.

"Gentlemen," Colonel Duray folded his arms over his chest, "I believe you've all been acquainted with the Thunder Nimbus."

------

"Captain?" the fire control lieutenant asked, "We're within range."

"Yes," Captain Daniels sighed, "Here we stand at the threshold. Tomorrow truly is a new day..."

"Sir?"

"You know the plan. Lock on and fire."

I once wrote something that implied one of my characters was about to do something deeply wrong to a Fortunata. It actually sent chills into other players, but it didn't get modded.

Lord, if I could get back to that level of creepiness with that character I'd be so happy. It felt so GOOD writing that, to be able to hate the character so righteously...

How could I lose that dark spark so fast?

In any case, a person's imagination, what with the nightmarish things that already exist in the world, will usually be worse than what you have in mind. However, if you describe the evil event in question, you're likely to get modded.

Wow... This is a heck of an idea, I just have one problem...

I don't think I have any characters I can roleplay with to explore this concept.

My Ryats already have their path laid out for them...

I can't roleplay Father Morgan or "Mr. Waki" because I don't know enough about the Catholic faith or deep African mysticisms (though I figure followers of such faiths would be bothered by me portraying them as such) to portray them properly. I know I made Father Morgan out to be a non-traditional priest, but I would also have to deal with dogmas and doctrines he has problems with and the revelations that caused him to walk the "Path of the Sword of Michael."

Other characters I have that deal with metaphysical concepts are Cory (Magic solves everything), Kip (A Monster Hunter who is arguing with his own soul), and Randall (again, a Monster Hunter, but retired like Kip should be). Each of these characters is perfectly fine with his state in the totality of the world (they view themselves as guardians, and have translated somewhat well to being heroes).

But we both know that's not my stance, so why dabble in such absurdities anymore?

For some people nitpicking the details is the important part, though. Look at how many people quote scripture to satisfy their closed-minded lifestyles.

Besides, outright ignoring someone's "Nerd" instincts isn't going to accomplish anything. Plus there's the fact that they may point out something we've missed.

Think of it like this... Do you play chess to win, or do you play it to learn? Not once has a Blitzkrieg worked on me. What I've learned is that most moderately experienced players try that immediately (I have yet to go up against a grandmaster or whatever they call people who "roxxor" chess, and I hope I never do; I would get so "pwned" my currently nonexistant children would feel it; I would be forced to have children so they could feel it). So, I've learned to build a strategy to counteract it. Sometimes I win, sometimes I stalemate, and only once did I run across someone who was able to move outside his normal box of thinking and defeat me (but I fought to the last piece, dammit!).

Debate can go the same way. The point of a debate is not to determine who wins or loses the argument, because both sides feel they're equally right. However, many debate seeking to win. These individuals rarely apply anything to the actual debate and spend their time attacking their opponent.

No, I'm not saying anything about you guys. I'm actually remembering a few personal experiences when i talk about this one...

In any case, the one trying to win will attempt to "gain ground" by emotionally hamstringing the competition. I once saw a girl reduced to tears in an abortion debate because the other debater delivered a low-blow about her crippled-from-birth little brother.

"If your parents had known he would turn out like that, would they have aborted him?"

I think the real question there is "How obsessed with perfection are you?" but I digress.

The point to my mentioning this is that i didn't actually learn anything about the issue. I learned that one of my classmates loved her little brother very much, and to hear his very being threatened in such a way could reduce her to tears (oddly enough, he's the one trying to get her out of her rut, now), but I didn't learn anything about why it was such a difficult issue. I had to learn such things outside of the debate.

All too often, I have to learn about the issue outside of the debate. The problem with this is that most people make their decisions based upon the supposed outcome of a debate. If all you do is lay low your opponent, then you haven't informed anyone of anything, you've only fogged up their minds with "Right of Ascension" trite.

((*PLEASE NOTE: I do note wish to discuss abortion in this thread. I mention it in this instance as part of an extreme example of an attack in a debate I bore witness to, and it helped facilitate my point. Notice I do not post my feelings on the issue. I do not wish to discuss this. This, above everything, causes far more strife on the boards, and for this thread at the very least, I would rather not see it.*))

Essentially, what I'm saying is that none of us are going to be one hundred percent right. That's what discussions like this are for. We posit our theories, our concepts, our considerations, and we leave them up to public scrutiny. We hope somebody sees what we were driving at, though we may have missed what we were initially trying to convey.

And if someone starts to nitpick, we should look into why they're nitpicking and what they're nitpicking. It shouldn't just be an impasse because we're having a failure to communicate (this is now twice I've had that problem with Devious, once between characters, and now here). It shouldn't be a conflict, either.

I know it conflicts with some things I've said previously, but I like to think we're all here in this thread because we genuinely wish to understand what's going on and the people we're conversing with.

((This is a concept I've had running in the back of my head for a couple months, now. I'm taking this largely from the realization that the Sky Raiders started out as a military unit that fought against the same super-powered threats that the heroes did.

After the Rikti War, however, Colonel Duray was somehow corrupted and he turned his unit mercenary (and largely pirate). Now, the Sky Raiders are little more than thugs, stealing what they want and ignoring the consequences of their actions. For the most part, they've forgotten their noble origins of protecting the innocent and helpless.

What if there were those among them who hadn't?

Unlike my other threads, questions or comments are appreciated.))

----------

Chapter 1: Born Through Strife

-----

Vigilance.

It's a black mark on the history of military involvement in domestic defense against supernatural threats. Though the Joint Command Special Threat Response Battalion had served with distinction, it took a severe downhill turn after the Rikti War. Few knew what it was that drove Colonel Duray to turn against his country, but when he did, it sent shockwaves through the military and hero community that are still felt to this day.

The history of the Sky Raiders is already well documented. Heroes seeking to learn more will simply have to take on missions that deal with Sky Raider endeavors.

However, despite the allure of the criminal lifestyle, throughout this modern pirate army's ranks are soldiers and pilots who remember, or at least have been inspired by, their original role as Vigilance. One such man is the Commander of the North Atlantic Fleet's Third Wing, Captain Anthony Rachek.

Despite the heavily laden title, Captain Rachek wields very little actual power within the Sky Raiders. He directs roughly four bases, one of which is heavily dilapidated, and has some authority over one of the three experimental Sky Ships, the Thunder Nimbus.

Rachek had joined Vigilance after retiring from the Marine Corps as a Master Gunnery Sergeant. At first, his role was simply delegated to training. Having been a Drill Instructor a few times in his prior career, he took to the new role well. Many endeavors of the JCSTRB were able to avoid failure due to his tenacious training regimen.

Perhaps this is the reason Duray worked hard to convince the wizened old man to join him in his mad ambitions. During the first strikes against Paragon City under the newly renamed Sky Raiders, Rachek was working behind the scenes, training new recruits and helping plot strategy. He also bought the rhetoric that humanity didn't need costumed super freaks to defend itself, his survival of the Rikti War was proof enough of that.

Over the few brief years, he acquired new responsibilities and new commands. By the time he became the Commander of the North Atlantic Third Wing, he'd become largely jaded with world affairs.

Recently, however, after some recent scuffles with a small group of super-powered individuals, he's grown jaded about another issue, a personal issue. He sees more clearly the irrationality of his superiors (though he technically only answers to Colonel Duray, he knows he'd be a fool not to pay attention to the political maneuvering and backstabbing of his peers).

It seems he's been waiting for one final straw to determine his decision...

----------

--The Rikti War--

"This can't be right..." the Wing Commander stroked his goatee as he looked over the orders on his datapad, "It just can't be..."

The orders, however, were from the desk of Colonel Duray. They informed him that the total forces of the Sky Raiders were to stand down for the perceived duration of the conflict between the extra-dimensional invaders and the forces repelling them, as well as any instance in which the conflict flared anew.

That didn't set well at all with Anthony Rachek. When he got a hold of Colonel Duray and demanded an explanation, he got just what he was afraid he'd get.

He got the reason.

"We let the Rikti beat the metas down, and then the world will be ripe for the picking," the Colonel explained calmly, "What is so difficult to understand about this? It's simple tactics. You let the enemy of your enemy be your unwitting friend..."

"And allow countless innocent civilians to die?"

"Tony... You knew when you joined me, all those years ago, that this was where it would eventually lead. With those lives lost, the people will see clearly how misguided their faith in their super-powered champions truly was. They will learn to fight for themselves again. Then the rebuilding can begin."

Rachek knew where the rhetoric went after that.

"Very well," he said gruffly.

Colonel Duray didn't catch the importance of that closing phrase and terminated the conversation. What he did catch the significance of, however, was his Wing Commander's attitude. Rachek was certain that assassins would be dispatched, and while he had his own tricks to deal with that, he had little time to act on what else he knew must be done. A battle was already being waged in the city, and he had to get involved quickly. Everything from here on out depended on it.

"Ensign," he shouted, "Patch me through to the Thunder Nimbus! And get me Captain Carter, on the double, soldier!"

----

"Are you sure you should be doing this?" Captain Anderson asked, "You're taking a dangerous risk..."

"The risk is gone," Rachek growled, "I know what's coming. Duray's not going to stand idly by while he perceives treachery is happening right under his nose, real or not."

"But this?"

"Hey, if he thinks I'm going to commit an act of betrayal, I may as well do it big," the Wing Commander scrawled his signature across his datapad and hit the transmit button, "There. Now the Thunder Nimbus should be on its way to Talos Island."

"Is it actually going to..." Anderson looked flustered, "Go inside the War Walls?"

"Ha-heh, no..." the grizzled older man reached for a bottle on the table between them and poured himself a glass of whiskey, "No... The Rikti have been doing their bombing runs and fleeing zones after the capes prove too tough. There's a lot of new talent out there nowadays, stuff the Rikti didn't deal with the first time around."

"Well, what's the Thunder Nimbus supposed to do?" Anderson asked, his face belying his confusion.

"Well..." Captain Rachek chuckled.

----------

"...That's something we'll have to see on the news..."

--Talos Island--

Captain Daniels gave the commands for the Thunder Nimbus to hold steady and ordered the Skiff pilots to fan out in their respective squadrons. He swallowed hard as he realized just what he was about to do.

Still, the orders had come from Wing Commander Rachek, so it must have been sanctioned by the Brass.

The Talos Island Shield flickered as it started to force itself back to life. The heroes must have been succeeding at restoring power to the grid. Of course, that meant the bombers were on their way out.

As the Rikti ships emerged from the east shield panels, they paused. They hadn't expected to get intercepted by a flotilla in the air, much less an actual confrontation.

"Rikti warships!" Captain Daniels's strong baritone voice rang out across the water, "You have invaded this world and threatened its people for the last time! Power down your weapons, lower your ships, and surrender!"

----

As the ships hovered in place for a few tense seconds, next to the War Wall, two specks could barely be seen observing the situation with growing dread. Statesman and Citadel stared dumbfounded at this unusual turn of events (well, Statesman was puzzled, and Citadel was pondering, but you get the idea) and debated what to do about it.

"What are these idiots doing?" the champion of the city asked, "When did the Sky Raiders get a hold of such technology?"

"I believe they've been working on these vessels for a few years now," Citadel explained, "A slow effort, and largely patchwork... The Sky Ships are a new brand of floating fortress, with enough armor and firepower to weather most assaults. However, there are a few problems with fielding them, and they don't seem to do so well against enemy troop insertion..."

"Let's hope the Rikti don't figure that out," Statesman sighed, "Let's pray nobody does something stupid."

"I think we're well past that," the android hero remarked calmly, "The question is, my friend, what do we do when they act?"

----

"Nice speech, sir," the navigation ensign commented as he worked his controls, "But, they don't seem to be too willing to comply."

Captain Daniels sighed. Slowly, he reached the end of his silent count before hitting his comm controls again.

"Time's up!" he shouted, then hit the intercom button, "Hit the decks a-runnin' boys, all hands to battle stations! Cannon One, lock on and fire!"

----

"Time's up!!" the voice from the Thunder Nimbus suddenly shouted.

A second later, the starboard forward firing main gun boomed and one of the dropships exploded. Statesman and Citadel watched as the crippled craft fell slowly to the sea. It was unexpected. It hadn't outright decimated the vessel, not like the heroes of the Steel 70 had with all those other warships that had torn through the city weeks earlier, but it definitely brought the vehicle down.

However, there were still five more to deal with. The other ships silently started moving forward, and that's when the Thunder Nimbus's second assault began. Several waves of Sky Skiffs flitted through the air and started tearing after the approaching vessels. It was unprecedented, and the Rikti ships took heavy damage from the rapid assault initially.

However, the vessels were quick to recover, and they returned fire with devastating efficiency. With each strafing run, the dropships were able to damage or take down numerous Skiffs with their impeccable aim and unfathomable damage potential. The Thunder Nimbus wasn't much support, either, as it turned out the first kill had been just a fluke. The port forward firing main gun grazed its target, causing the shell to slam into the War Wall's energy shield.

----

"Dammit!" Captain Daniels shouted as they took a hit to the bow, "Fire control! Load in the RSRs on the double!"

"But sir!" came the static filled reply.

"Just do it! We're not going down without showing these alien scum that we know how to hurt them!"

It was then that Headmen teleported into the ship. Around the bridge, throughout the ship's corridors, and even in the mess hall, the black-armored aliens appeared.

However, these weren't the same limited Vigilance troops they'd faced all those years earlier. No, these were something different. With their new gadgets and firepower, the troops on board the Thunder Nimbus were able to experiment with new tactics.

By way of a for instance, two Porters working security in the medical bay caught the attention of one of the invaders by perforating it in the back. When the alien made to assault them, they dove out of a pair of windows, spinning around in the air to blast more rounds into the Rikti's face. As the Headman Gunner made to shoot at them from the open portholes, however, they had vanished, reappeared behind him, and pushed him out, one using his machete to do irreparable damage to his rifle in the process.

Much of the on-board fighting went on like this, with the soldiers committing desperate acts of personal heroism to protect their comrades and deliver some hurt and payback to the aliens that had wounded the unit's pride not so long ago. When the Dropships unleashed drones, the flank guns were deployed. These weapons were powerful anti-aircraft cannons, and the gunners operating them skillfully held back the soulless machines firing upon them.

As the dropships circled the Sky Ship, firing energy beams into its hull and scoring it's heavily armored surface, one got in sight of the port main gun again. This time, the shell didn't miss. Instead, the Rikti Steel Round lanced clean through the vessel's power core and slammed into the War Wall, where it embedded itself in the glowing blue field until its kinetic energy dissipated (which took a really long time). The dropship exploded, temporarily blinding the crew on the bridge, but the battle had served its purpose.

The remaining vessels made to flee, one of them actually damaged enough in the fight to slow its retreat. Captain Daniels smiled as he noticed two specks flying after it when his vision cleared.

"Yeah," he whispered, "You go get them. We'll take care of things on our end... Report!"

"Sir!" a lieutenant shouted and started rattling off statistics once his vision cleared as well, "Blue Squadron, total loss. Red Squadron, two fighters remain, Captain 'Sonny' and Flight Officer MacAuliffe. Gold Squadron, all fighters remain, but have suffered tremendous damage. We are engaging in a recovery effort as we speak..."

"Good," Daniels grunted, "Ensign, call Captain Macnamara and tell him his shift has started. I'll talk to the squad leaders."

He made it to the door as he whispered to himself "I owe them that much."

It was easy enough for me to follow, and that was when I had just started hanging around these parts of the forum.

[ QUOTE ]
[ QUOTE ]
But if you want Averick, I could toss a coin, shout "Heads," set you to Ignore, regardless of the outcome, and never have to read another word you type out.

[/ QUOTE ]

Oooh, that's my favorite option! I choose that one! Rather than actually doing any work, why don't you just consign yourself to that fate?

[/ QUOTE ]

See, that's precisely why I don't set you to ignore. The phrase itself was supposed to be ludicrous, not insulting. If I did, I apologize. That wasn't the intent.

I never understood why religions have a problem with evolution.

How hard is it to say that Evolution is God's process, and the concept of Creation is simply a symbolic method of explaining it? They apply symbolism to many other concepts, why not this? When I first heard of Creation, I thought "Hm, that's nifty," and when I heard of the Big Bang (<-Dumbest Scientific Name EVER!) and leading up to Evolution (<-See? Dignified!), my first thought was "Oh, so that's how it works." Then the fact that it's treated as a divisive conflict just made me go "Hrm."

Evolution doesn't say God doesn't exist. It doesn't even say that He/She/It didn't do anything. In fact, if the universe did come from that "Big Bang," then what caused the reaction? If everything was in equilibrium up to that point, what could have caused such a catastrophic event?

See, this is why I don't worry myself with "Where did we come from?" questions.

Ascension...

I've dwelled on this myself, but there's one major problem...

How do we do this? Apparently space travel isn't inspiring enough (oddly, I don't think there has been any religious debate about this one...), and all attempts at global government have been met with apathy and ignorance. The one thing that is global, religion, has been hamstrung in recent generations and the point (basic morality) is often ignored in favor of minor-turned-major disputes.

What would it take to inspire the masses into wanting more and seeing outside the Idiot Box?

No, I don't mean the box Devious was talking about. I mean the Incandescent God, Television. It seems to me that more people are obsessed with celebrities and their foibles than actually doing something important.

See, this was precisely what I was talking about. You guys have your issues. I've seen you argue before. However, for the purposes of this thread, it's derailing.

I'm not saying I want you to stop. The largest problem in this world is that nobody ever seems to converse, even if they keep talking. The longer you two keep posting here on the boards, instead of working out your issues personally, the longer this is going to go on because it's less likely you're actually talking to each other but just posturing for the rest of us to see.

This is the same thing I see when politicians and world leaders have disagreements. The only thing this kind of behavior leads to is continued animosity.

Now...

As to why I don't point fingers and say "YOU! OUT!" despite being strongly tempted to do so is

(1) This isn't my thread.

and

(2) I don't know you, Averick.

I've seen some of your prior threads, ones where you accused Devious of Diov-level God-moding. Having engaged in RP threads with Devious more (my first instance being him coming in and pulling Diov off the rest of the RPers in the thread), I was more inclined to believe him. I can't remember if I posted in there saying so, but I didn't want to repeat the same thing here.

But if you want Averick, I could toss a coin, shout "Heads," set you to Ignore, regardless of the outcome, and never have to read another word you type out.

Which would be a shame, because you're not one of the moronic lunatics on this forum who constantly dive-bomb other posters and pollute the boards with 13-year-old trite.

You guys have your issues. I want you to get them settled. I don't believe in ignoring conflict, I believe in conflict resolution. The more we keep avoiding problematic situations for the sake of maintaining the status quo, the deeper we dig this freaking hole.

----

From that stance, Devious, you make it seem like God is someone else to blame for some of the world's historical failings. It makes a sick kind of sense, normally people have problems doing violence to other people, except when someone of higher authority says it's okay.

And there is no higher authority than God.

Perhaps this is the major reason why people in relatively recent years have been so openly questioning of the church, any church. It's lost some power, mostly to major governments (once the best friends of religion, now it's greatest rivals for support) which have become self-driving machines that change only slightly when someone else is at the controls.

Having said that, I've lost my train of thought... I think I went in divergent paths and now must decide which one I wish to truly follow...

I'll follow belief. It most closely follows the original point of the thread.

Belief has caused major problems throughout history. Whole civilizations, races, and species have been wiped out by belief. Whether it's been belief in God or in the nation, these horrible atrocities have been committed because someone higher up the chain said it was alright to go ahead.

Nobody remembers the soldier's name in the history books anyway. They remember the generals, the kings or queens, but never the ones wielding the swords or guns. In some instances, they remember that they believed they were commanded by God to do the horrible things they did.

So, with this in mind, why do we have it the way it is? The governments, the faiths, the blissfully ignorant masses?

Perhaps it's because there is something guiding us. Not necessarily evil, but not necessarily good, either. Perhaps it does know what's coming, and what is going to be required of humanity in the coming epochs and eons.

Or maybe it's just how we can cope with the horrible things we've done over the ages.

In the small scale, however, belief and faith are used to bring communities together. In these instances, it's not so much belief in a "sky wizard" (I use quotes because I always disliked this derogatory term, it's as if they're trying to turn God into the stuff of UFOs), but mutual support. These people help each other, comfort each other, and socialize with one another peacefully.

Often, they compete against other local religious efforts, but it's rarely violent. Usually just softball or baking sales.

Before you mention anything related to it, most violent efforts in this case are accomplished by those that are outcast from their society and often have something deeply wrong with them. They are much like the people I mentioned earlier, the ones you can just feel malevolence radiating from them.

Now, I'm out of time, and this has turned into a tangent and a half. My brain is in a weird fuzzy state, and it's hard to think much anymore.

Hopefully I've said something that will stick or click in someone's head.