Mr_Grey

Sheldon spent the next day working on a pair of gloves to replicate the effect his Gravity Gauntlets were able to produce. Operative Grillo met with him while he worked.

"That doesn't look like a new weapon for Recluse's men."

"It's... It's a set of gloves to help me work, Grillo. Not nearly the same magnitude of power as my gauntlets, but..."

Sheldon put one on, it was little more than a wire mesh wrapped around his right hand with nodes to register nervous response. Reaching out in a grasp, the glove sent a small gravity wave out to catch a hold on a box of tools. The effect wasn't satisfactory. Instead of grasping the box's handle, it repelled the item, sending it crashing to the floor.

"Hm," Sheldon hummed under the chuckles of the troops flanking Grillo.

The Arachnos mad scientist, however, shut his own troops up quickly.

"A man can learn a lot from his mistakes... And this was hardly a mistake..."

"Just a miscalculation," Wallace agreed, "Here..."

He took a screwdriver and popped open a few of the nodes. With a pin-sized soldering iron, he made a few adjustments.

"Now we try this again," he reached out for the box again, which had been fortunately locked shut.

This time he was successful. Hefting the box in the air, he brought it to his side. This actually netted a round of applause from the gathered troops and guards.

"Man, I wish my science class had stuff like that," one of Grillo's troops said, "Maybe then I'd have taken more interest in it than the blond cutie sittin' next to me."

"You'd have still oggled the pretty girl," Grillo chuckled, "Excellent, Sheldon... Your father would have taken hours to correct his mistake, even though he knew what the problem was."

"My dad just likes to be careful," Sheldon replied as he set to work on the other glove, "He said he's seen others make enough mistakes."

"No doubt he considers me one of those others..."

"How do you know my father?"

The Arachnos Operative gazed at the inventor for a few minutes before finally waving his men outside. Once they had complied, he ushered the other technicians to work elsewhere, out of earshot of the low tones he intended to use.

"Your father and met in college... We were assistants to the professors there."

"Dad doesn't talk much about his college days..."

"Well... He always did believe that it was something to be experienced, not explained. Don't be fooled by his prim-and-proper demeanor... He actually lived it up in those days."

"But that's it? You guys were just lab assistants?"

"Yes, but to a particular lab..."

Grillo chuckled at his little in-joke. Sheldon could only assume he meant they worked for mad scientists. It would make sense, his dad had made a few crazy things, and he had to learn how to construct the odd little nick-nacks somewhere.

"So... Now you just want me building things in your labs?"

"Until you reach your threshold, yes..." Grillo shrugged, "Perhaps you will demonstrate your true potential for mad science much more quickly than Vernon did... He had a few... Self-image problems. You don't."

"Some of the greatest mad scientists actually believed they were making something better for the world," Sheldon stated as he worked on the last few parts of the second glove, "I had that going for me on the Blue side. Here? Here I know everything I make is an instrument of war."

"Why is it everybody only sees that part of Arachnos?"

"Because your machines are ugly."

Grillo chuckled.

"I'm serious," Sheldon clicked the panels of the nodes shut and examined his work, "Plus, Recluse is scary."

"Careful, son."

"I'm not your kid. I may be compliant with your efforts, but I'm not one of your troops. I'll say what I damn well please, and don't think breaking my jaw will stop me. Recluse is a terrifying man, and he makes no bones about it. Why should you?"

The operative nodded at that thoughtfully.

"Alright, I see your point."

"In any case... I know Arachnos does some things right... That they do some things that actually wind up helping a lot of people... Albeit the people they help are the ones with money..."

Grillo smiled.

"And they didn't get that money from doing nice things..."

Grillo's teeth actually showed this time.

"But there are still some honest people who benefit from that work. Too bad you guys work more exclusively for hardline followers of 'Survival of the Fittest,' whether or not the Fittest got that way by hamstringing their competition. That is why people only see the dark in you. There's no arbitrary line between 'right-and-wrong.' You simply hurt too many people with your work."

"And you're going to stop it?"

"I can't," Sheldon sighed as he pulled his glove back on, "I'm here, in the belly of the beast, giving it claws and teeth so it won't eat me. I can't honestly expect it not to use them on the helpless villagers."

"So, what? You rebuilt your gloves to fight your way out?"

Grillo's left hand hovered over a pistol at his hip.

"No," Sheldon replied, gesturing his hand over to the operative.

Grillo barely felt a grip on his wrist.

"Like I said, they're not powerful enough to present a threat. Just enough to help me work."

"Good... Good," the operative turned and started walking away, "I'll have some technicians bring you some parts for one of Black Scorpion's blasters... I know I promised you wouldn't be doing that, but he said he wanted me to put one of my best on it, and promised he wouldn't bother the guy. I want to see what you can do."

"I'm not necessarily one of your best..."

"But you're nowhere near my worst, and that's better than anybody I ever let that brute have."

Sheldon nodded and set to work with the limited parts he had on the table. Grillo smiled as he walked away from the viewing monitor outside the hatch. It looked like the Wallace boy was settling into his role just fine.

He wondered how Hector would feel about that.

----------

"It's too bad Wild had to decline," Cedric said as they looked over the ocean to the light that indicated the Rogue Isles, "Wonder what the F.C. has him doing."

He and his companion stood on the beach of Brother Mauthe's island. The place had a strange feel to it, but it was comfortable enough. The next island over had a Circle of Thorns camp, but the Circle seemed to be obsessed with whatever was over there instead, and never bothered Mauthe's crew.

"It's not for us to know," Draven answered between sips of beer, "Perhaps it'll make work in the future a lot easier."

They were joined by an android that clapped a hand on Cedric's shoulder. This one wasn't like the Ryats... Randy and Kip had called it in. He had a snide, abrasive personality.

Cedric had taken an instant liking to him.

"Hey there, Solid, what's up?"

"What are you guys doing over here? The party's over there!"

"I know, man, I know," Cedric sighed, "I was just... Visualizing... How I'm gonna be ripping heads off Arachnos troops who think they can mess with my friends..."

"I was just handing Ced a beer," Draven chuckled.

"Sure..." Solid mused before turning away, "I see how it is."

Draven shook his head before following the combat android. Cedric sat on the beach until joined by his brother.

"How you doing, Ced?"

"Not good, man. I just... I feel like I should have been there."

"He had two Ryats by his side, both with combat mods... Well... Ryat Ten was a healbot, but still..."

"I could have been there, for him, man."

"We all could have been. We're all here for him, now."

Cedric shook his head sadly.

"I just feel like I messed up bad this time."

Roland hated it when his brother got like this. It had to happen every so often. Cedric's "Devil may care" attitude tended to have a massive fallback. When his older brother felt guilty, it could debilitate him emotionally. The sad part was he could never see reason.

Not until their father bonked him over the head, which happened at that moment.

"What the hell are you feeling sorry for yourself for?" he grunted at the white-blond tanker.

"Ah, jeez, how do you know that?"

"I hear things, boy. Rumblin's in the earth. I was hopin' you'd have gotten the thick outta yer head after that war so you could finally listen when your brother's talkin' sense."

"But, dad..."

"No, listen... I know how you beat yourself up. I know the limits you push yourself to. I know you really care, but to do the things you do, you force yourself not to."

"Yeah..."

"But you're gonna wind up failing at some point. Everybody does. We may be exceptional, but we're still human. Mistakes get made, people suffer."

"What do we do then?" Cedric shouted, "How do we keep going on, knowing we failed?"

"We fix the consequences and hope we don't make the same mistakes. All we can do is keep going on."

Cedric nodded. He gripped his axe and stared at it a moment.

"You gonna come back to the party?"

Cedric pushed himself up and dusted the sand off his pants.

"Yeah. I'm on my way."

((*Solid Shot is property of Khellendrosiic. He was kind enough to inform me ahead of time I could use him.*))

The strange little bear on Essex's shoulder growled a little at Drechi. Felix could just feel the aggression in the air. A few spikes slid out of the bear's back, and he turned to Sheldon.

The inventor was shaking his head slowly. He, too, could see from the posture and tone of the mercenary that there was some sort of bad history (or at least some small form of bigotry) involved. However, now was not the time to be dealing with it. So he shook his head so the small animal knew not to lose his mind.

Felix frowned a little and made a whining noise, but retracted the spikes. He then nuzzled into Essex's neck.

"I don't get why you had to hide yourself like that," Ryat99 said to Toy Dispenser, "Just to change your armor plating..."

To demonstrate, he reverted to his "Basic" mode. The smooth armor plating slid back from his extremities, folding up neatly into the central torso cavities designed to hold them. Standing like that, with the durable skeletal frame that made up his limbs revealed, Ryat99 gestured with his hands to his sides.

"Is it embarrassment you feel?"

The armor reverted to a "Heavy Duty" design, the central torso's plating actually pealing back and folding into similar cavities the flight armor had been placed in. The heavier plating underneath was revealed and it pushed outward as the external plating was pulled in. Another set of plates extended from the shoulders and hips to wrap around the limbs and protect the skeleton.

"This should suit our purposes from here on out," the android intoned, "In any case... If I were you, I'd switch to something that blends in with the environment... Not this obviously frightening shell you've currently donned. Oh well, to each his own. I was just curious."

--Rikti Earth: The Forgotten Sanctuary--

"What!?" Randall shouted as he saw the machine flying away, "Oh no you don't!"

The roots wrapped around his legs crumbled away and he grasped for the nearest movable object.

The Malta Operative.

Picking the struggling man up in the air, he hurled the operative with all his might at the fleeing machine. He then started stomping across the bridge, charging through and backhanding operatives left and right.

----

Ryat66 sidled next to Solid Shot and took aim. One of the operatives had grabbed the side of the bridge. One sniper shot later, and that grip was gone. A long trail of bright orange and yellow flame scored into one that pulled himself back up. Simmons blew some smoke off his fingertips when the two androids looked back at him.

"What can I say?" he asked with a sly grin, "Sometimes, the villains just irk me."

----------

--Crey's Folly: Malta Base 1--

((Y'know... If Sovs wanted to drop in, any one of these places would be prime...))

The quartet moved into the warehouse. It was the first place Indigo had told them should be teeming with Malta operatives.

The info had been wrong.

"Maybe we should check for basement levels or something," Matt suggested.

Kip almost walked out into the middle of the floor and executed one of his signature rants. Instead, he stopped at where the hallway became the room and dove behind some forgotten crates.

"What are you doing?" Ryat99 asked disparagingly.

"Look, man, you haven't dealt with the Malta Group before," the scrapper hissed, "They pull all sorts of crazy paranoid voodoo on jobs just like this... I'm not getting my [butt] kicked because I forgot to check-"

A grenade exploded next to the android. Ryat99 calmly turned to the operative that fled down the hallway as soon as he made sure someone noticed him.

"I think they want us to go that way," he said calmly as his ice armor replenished itself, "What do you think?"

"I'm not in the habit of springing traps when I know they're traps... Not unless I've got something I can sacrifice instead."

"Oh, come on!" Matt started jogging for the opening to the hallway, "What's the worst they can do?"

"Torture us," Nester answered.

"Kill us," Ryat99 added.

"I think they'd throw [censored] in there, too," Kip also tossed into the conversation as he picked himself up, "I wouldn't put it past them."

Matt stopped jogging after the operative before cartwheeling to the wall.

"Jeez, guys... You really know how to take the fun out of this..."

The arrival to Sharkhead Isle did not go smoothly. Arachnos troops happened to be on patrol as the group rowed ashore, and Rachek was certain they'd gotten a radio call out. While Mider Caid, Gregory's brother, seemed to think the Sky Raider had sold them out, the rest of the group chalked it up to simple bad luck.

"I can assure you, young Caid," Sanders grumbled, "the Wing Commander did not betray us."

"How do you know that?" the wizard almost shouted, "He's no better than the rest of his pathetic band..."

"Of pirates?" Rachek finished, "You know, boy, if I didn't know how wrong you were, I'd probably have put a bullet in your gut. Good thing for both of us, huh?"

"I'd prefer it if you didn't threaten my brother," Gregory grinned wolfishly, "I had to act like I hated him for so many years... Even wound up ruining his rep a little. I don't intend to do anything so horrid again."

"Right, right..."

Their trip to the Arachnos fortress was, thankfully, largely uneventful. They had the fortune of the Ghost of Scrapyard marching through the city and gaining the attention of the numerous super villains between them and the base. They were almost discovered once, until one of Brother Mauthe's minions showed up and provided them a decent cover.

"Wing Commander Rachek!" Brother Ringo shouted as he casually tossed the remains of his drink aside, "You're handling a job personally, I see?"

"Ringo..." Rachek noticed the Arachnos troops approaching, "What're you up to?"

"I've been granted leave to do my own thing, ya know?" Ringo was dribbling some kind of fluid on the ground between them and the troops as he approached, "Mauthe sends me into the Isles to gather supplies, keep tabs on things, and keep an eye on old friends."

"Cool. How'd he hear about me?"

"Mauthe said he had a dream and told me to go."

"Ah."

Rachek figured the rest out from there; essentially, Sister Psyche had found out he and his crew would run into trouble, so she employed some form of insurance policy that wouldn't raise eyebrows. The two exchanged some more coded small talk, Ringo giving Rachek some quick pointers to getting around Sharkhead without attracting the notice of Arachnos or the Cage Consortium. As the troops got close enough, the arsonist gave the captain a clap on the shoulder.

"Alright, Old Dog, you get on with what you were up to. Me? I'll handle this..."

Something glowed in the young man's hand and he threw some fire at the accelerant sprinkled throughout the roadway. Fireworks exploded out of the ground, and the young man started throwing flames all around, lashing into the troops despite the fact he was still badly outnumbered. Despite the fast-fading element of surprise only lent Ringo a few seconds of advantage, he didn't seem worried. Snapping his fingers, he was suddenly assisted by trash piles exploding, revealing more of Mauthe's troops, each armed with small but lethal weaponry. The Arachnos troops had no chance.

Rachek led the others through the streets. They wound up having to deal with a few Button Men, but that was fairly easy going. Eventually, they found the door Ringo had told Rachek about, unguarded, just as the arsonist had said.

"Where are they?" Mider asked as he looked around.

"Regenerating in an Arachnos medicenter, probably," his brother explained, "Mauthe's got himself a small army, huh?"

"The meek truly do make a decent army," Rachek replied as he messed with the door's controls, "and Mauthe has given them something to believe in."

"Yeah, but what?"

"Hard work, a piece of the world for themselves, a future where you don't wind up dying entirely in obscurity..."

"But Mauthe's brotherhood is entirely obscure!"

"Just his personal aides and his soldiers. The Nameless or whatever they call themselves, are the only ones who wind up being obscure..."

"Strange behavior, still," Mider shuddered, "Plenty enough people have espoused Mauthe's ideals before. All of them fell to corruption, becoming little more than cult leaders."

"I don't have anything to say about that," Rachek grunted as the door opened, "Mauthe strikes me as the kind of guy who can avoid that kind of corruption, but I've been wrong before."

The small group wormed its way through the fortress, dispatching Arachnos troops left and right. Rachek was able to keep mostly to his assault rifle, but wound up having to switch to his machete a couple of times. He was actually quite impressed with Gregory Caid, who exhibited super-human skill with the martial arts he must have learned from the Council. Sanders, however, seemed to be just an average street brawler, bludgeoning his way through the fight like a common thug. It was still an effective method, however not very impressive.

Mider Caid and the Inevitable stayed in the back. In fact, the Inevitable contributed nearly nothing to the fight. Sometimes it would extend its arm out, catching a fleeing trooper by the neck and dropping him cold. Other times, it would extend its propellers and prevent a hail of bullets from finding their mark (namely, the rest of the group), but it never actively participated in the fight.

"Damn, at least the other Caid withers the enemy and keeps us alive," Rachek grumbled as a bruise on his shoulder faded almost immediately when Mider applied his healing magic.

When they found the database it was mostly unguarded. it would have been better, however, had it been just normal Arachnos troops.

"Shadowshock," Rachek grumbled, "Who's your friend?"

"Jazt," Gregory answered, "Former archon of the Council..."

"Ah, the treacherous Caid..." the withered looking man rasped, "I remember you... You leaked to the heroes what I had planned..."

"Not nearly fast enough it seems," the scrapper replied, "You still acted on your plan... Doomed as it was."

"What are you doing here, Shock?" Rachek interrupted.

The blue-skinned brute shrugged.

"I go where the money goes. Today, I got hired for security detail... I don't think the withered husk ever leaves, though..."

"Enough of this!" Jazt shouted, "They are intruders! We must destroy them!"

"Sorry, Rachek..." Shadowshock grunted as he pushed himself off the wall, "I gotta take you down."

"And I gotta keep you from doin' that," Rachek replied.

Jazt rushed for Gregory Caid. The scrapper took a flurry to the chest and he wound up backing away from sheer surprise. Jazt had never been that fast before. His brother shouted, throwing fire in the brute's way, but the dark aura of invulnerability seemed to be able to withstand the damage done, not to mention he was able to continue moving freely. Rachek fired a few rounds at Shadowshock, the other brute disappearing into the shadows, but the Wing Commander was certain of his aim, and continued squeezing off rounds at his foe.

It was then that the Inevitable began to contribute to the fight. An arc of red electricity made its way for Rachek, but the propeller blades shot out between the Sky Raider captain and the tenebrous blob of darkness that was Shadowshock. Following shortly after, the clockwork golem leaped through the air and crashed into the blue brute with an electric punch of its own.

Jazt was having trouble with Martin, however. Sanders was another wielder of the dark energies applied in hand-to-hand combat, and he too had a long-standing flurry attack. The two squared off, smashing into each other unrelentingly. Each one had roughly the same defensive rates and the same damage resistance. However, Jazt had the advantage of an extended lifespan. His body tensed, and suddenly a lot of the damage martin had inflicted disappeared.

"As you can see," the brute chuckled, "I am the superior in this match!"

A foot smashed Jazt in the face. It was a strange foot, a wolf's foot. Martin turned back to his partner, who had suddenly morphed into a man-wolf thing.

"Well... It seems the super soldier program still had an effect on you..."

"I'm just glad I didn't get all distorted," Gregory grinned, "I'm still lean and mea-OW!"

Jazt smashed a fist into the wolf-man's chest to resume the fight, but now he was definitely on the losing end. So, he hopped back and called for Shadowshock to take his place.

Shock had no problem with that, and let the former archon take his place. Jazt probably came out the loser of that deal. The near-vampiric brute launched his assault and wound up getting half of his arm lopped off by the rotating blades of the Inevitable's propeller.

Shadowshock didn't keep fighting for long. He knew a losing situation when he saw one. They were outnumbered, outmaneuvered, and definitely outgunned, and he only fought long enough to break past Mider Caid and escape down the hall.

"Coward!" Jazt shouted, waving his stump angrily, "I will finish this myself, and claim all the glory!"

Rachek put a bullet through the brute's head, instantly causing his emergency med-porter to kick in. The Brute disappeared in a flash of crimson lightning and the group was left alone.

"Thanks for finally stepping up!" Rachek shouted at the construct.

"I..." it said in a feminine voice, "I wasn't entirely sure how the body worked... I'm sorry..."

The group stared at the Inevitable for a few moments.

"What..." Gregory Caid, his features returning to human, approached the machine and peered at it closely, "Who are you?"

"It wouldn't be safe for me to say," the Inevitable replied, "Just... I'm one of C.K.'s friends... And I was hoping to help out with this... They've got information on me, too... I can't let them... Let them..."

"Oh..." Mider whispered, "I know who you are! You're..."

"Someone who wnats her identity left secret," Martin grumbled, "Come on... Let's smash these computers, yank out their hard drives, and smash those to bits."

"Or I could just shoot them," Rachek shrugged, "Hard drives are tough, but they're not that tough. It's just too bad these don't have a 'shoot here' dot."

"Shoot here?" Mider and the Inevitable both asked at the same time.

"In the Army and the Marines, they've got radios that go out with the patrols..." the Raider explained, "Now, in case the patrol got ambushed and was getting overwhelmed, the radio guy's job was to take his pistol and shoot out the radio's hard drive."

"Why?"

"So the enemy couldn't listen in on American radio chatter. Now, to make sure there wasn't a mistake, each radio had a dot with an arrow pointing at it marked 'Shoot here.' A single bullet through the hard drive made the radio unusable to the enemy... At least in the field... In the old days..."

"Now, they can recover information from all sorts of thing, even fire damage," Martin grunted, "Smashing the damn things to splinters is about the only effective measure we've got."

"Or..." the Inevitable charged up an electric bolt and blasted one of the black and red servers, "I could give each of them a power surge."

"Better hurry, whatever it is," Greg shouted to them from the room's door, "I can hear the troops on their way to punish us for this..."

"You guys get working, I'll keep the troops busy," Sanders started heading for the exit, "Take a back way out of here, if you can..."

"What about you?" the Inevitable asked.

"I can't go on," the dark scrapper replied, "Next is Ghost Widow's tower, and she'll recognize me for what I am. She won't hesitate to kill me, even though our destinies have nothing to do with each other, she just knows someone like me is on the way to put her to rest."

"What are you?" Greg asked his partner.

"We're wasting time... You better get cracking."

And so they did. Rachek pulled some grenades he'd taken from Wolf Spider Huntsmen and popped them into the machines after the Inevitable poked holes into them. The machines were electrocuted, exploded, and the Caid brothers burned and smashed the machines just a little more for good measure.

In the background, they could hear Martin Sanders waging a small war with the Arachnos shock troops. It didn't sound like it was going well.

"We should help him," the Inevitable said sadly.

"He made his choice..." Gregory shook his head, "Besides, he sounded like he knew what he was doing..."

"This panel leads into the sewer," Rachek smashed out a grate and turned to the others, "We better hurry..."

Mider Caid actually seemed to be the only one that had any objections. They would have argued for longer than ten seconds, but the sound of Martin's yelling stopping abruptly got the group moving.

----

"We got him..."

The troopers stood over the body of the crazed maniac that had assaulted their base. This was what put Jazt in the medicenter? Where was Jazt's partner? How did this guy scare him off?

"Probably hopped up on drugs," the Longfang leading them explained, "Lots of heroes and Destined Ones use supplements to boost their reflexes, or increase their damage resistance... Most commonly used are the 'Greens,' which are little cartridges full of chemicals and nanites that give a quick boost to the healing process..."

"Wow..."

"Wasn't enough for this guy, though," the Longfang kicked Martin in the head, "See? We took him down so fast he couldn't even med-port out. Every so often, boys, we take one down."

Martin's hand reached out and gripped the Longfang's heel. Before the troopers could do anything, the life force was drained out of their platoon commander before it was drained out of them as well when a cloud escaped the scrapper and enveloped the group. They were left dazed and wandering, lost in a sea of nightmarish hallucinations.

"You shouldn't have stayed so close," Martin's voice echoed hollowly out of his throat, as if he weren't entirely there, "You should know better than to give the wielders of the dead life to feed from."

Martin then proceeded to tear apart the troopers. He didn't kill any of them, but he did hurt them badly enough that they had to go to the medicenter. Upon finishing, he reached for his communicator.

"I'm compromised," he said into it, "One to teleport out."

A flash later, and he wound up on a Longbow cruiser floating several miles away from the island. Agent Wild met him, handed him a cup of water and asked for a report.

"One database down, boss... One to go," Sanders replied, "They're going to need some kind of a distraction..."

"Well, we can't send in air support," Wild replied, "Limited resources and all that..."

"Maybe not Chasers, maybe not flying..." Martin got a mischievous grin on his face, "Come on, Wild... You and I both want to help Randy out... How about the two of us hit Fort Cerberus and hit it hard... Make them come after us so Greg and the others can break into a base low on manpower."

The Freedom Corps agent screwed up his face as he considered the idea. It shouldn't prove too difficult, just rush in, smash up the place a little... Maybe if they pulled up a few of the Longbow forces on the beach up to help out...

"Alright..." he sighed, "Let's do it."

"Welcome," Manticore helped Rachek out of the water.

The Sky Raider had spent the last of his flight hovering slightly above the water. After he passed Terra Volta, however, he wound up catching the eye of a very hungry Lusca. Though he was faster, he still wound up taking a hit from the giant octopus's ink spray, and it made flight from there a lot more difficult.

"At least now I know the skiffs can take a quick dive," he grunted as he reached back for his duffel bag, "Thanks."

"I'm glad you agreed to this," the red-clad hero replied, "I wasn't sure if you would..."

"I'm here to listen, first. You tell me what's up, and I'll decide whether or not I'm going to continue."

"We could arrest you."

Rachek pulled his machete out of the bag and made sure it shone a reflection in the available light. He tapped it to make sure Manticore noticed.

"It's a fight you wouldn't soon forget, Red. Nobody wants that. Where's the pretty one?"

Sister Psyche stepped out of the shadows, then. She was followed by three other figures. One looked to be dressed in the same red-and-white garb as a typical Freedom Corps or Longbow hero, but his style was completely off. The other two seemed to be stark opposites, one tall and lean, the other squat, but stocky.

"Meet Agent Wild," Psyche explained, "He's providing extra hands to your group."

"This here is Gregory Caid, former Archon of the Council and a Freedom Corps deep-cover agent," the red-and-white clad man clapped a hand on the lean man's shoulder, then turned to the other, "And this is Martin Sanders. He... He's a former denizen of the region known as Baumton..."

"I also waged a small war against the Lost," the hobo grunted, "I didn't realize I would be fighting the-"

"I won't be going with you," Agent Wild interrupted, "It's bad enough when Longbow agents get captured by Arachnos, I can't be getting caught on what this is going to be."

"What is this going to be?" Rachek grunted, "And this is all we're getting? Some fighter heroes? Any chance we could be getting some support?"

"My brother's gonna meet us at the transport," Gregory explained, "He's a magician. He's got some skill at keeping people alive... Crowd control spells, too."

"Excellent, excellent... So... What's going on here?"

"Well... To begin, I'm certain you know about the ongoing struggle between Freedom Corps and Arachnos," Sister Psyche began.

"I know enough," Rachek shrugged, "They're Red, you're Blue... you guys are busy trying to keep this city from tearing itself apart, they're trying to take over the world... Essentially you're all the same thing, just different methods."

"Well, we don't control this city or much of anything of how this country works," Manticore corrected darkly.

"Right," the Wing Commander honestly didn't have any argument against the hero.

"Well, over the years, Arachnos has surveyed our city, gaining information on various heroes and heroines who help to protect our citizens and serve the public trust," Psyche waved at the two men to gain their attention again, "At first, we didn't know what any of this information gathering had to do with Arachnos's plans..."

"That changed yesterday. A small fleet of Arachnos flyers invaded the city... Some of them inserted super-powered villains that caused all sorts of mayhem and robbed some banks, others... Others conducted some kidnappings."

"Kidnappings?" Rachek arched his eyebrow at Psyche, "Of people?"

"Yes... Of super-powered people."

"I don't believe you. Why didn't the authorities and other heroes try to... Oh yeah... The mayhem..."

"Now, the various friends of the heroes are working to rescue their fellows, but this has proven to Manticore and myself that something a little more drastic is required."

"So why me?"

"Because, Old Man," Gregory clapped a hand on his shoulder, "You're tough!"

"Actually," Agent Wild explained, "You provide a cover. You're going to be working with super-powered individuals, and you'll be coordinating with some of the denizens of the Rogue Isles to commit some espionage against Arachnos. We need you to find their databases and destroy them."

"You do realize they don't let Sky Raiders into their bases, right?"

"But they do allow you on their islands," Manticore explained, "You even have a base out there..."

"Under Duray's control," Rachek grumbled, "They won't be letting me use it for cover."

"You shouldn't need it," Psyche explained, "We just need you to help them get into the facilities on Sharkhead Isle and Mercy Island..."

"Mako and the Widow... Oh, you're making me really drool over this mission."

"What's the matter, Old Man?" Caid jabbed the captain in the ribs, "Too slow for a challenge?"

The Sky Raider simply glared at the scrapper.

"I'll do it, but on one condition..."

"Name it," Psyche answered before Manticore could be belligerent.

"I want all the charges against my men and me to be dropped."

"No," Manticore almost shouted, "You guys can be tied to all sorts of-"

"You want into the isles? I got contacts in there... Super-powered punks that owe me, businesses I helped out... I also know some of the best insertion points on those coasts. You're right, with my help, your crew will be able to get in and get out with a minimum of fuss. But I'm not helpin' ya until my price is paid."

"We'll do it," Psyche answered, "We'll work something out..."

Rachek narrowed his eyes at her. He was certain she intended to renege on the deal, but he was certain to-

"I'll take your word on it, then," he grunted, then pointed at Psyche specifically, "Your word. Got me?"

"I understand," she replied.

"So... What else are we waiting on?"

There was a whirring sound. Looking up, Rachek almost did a double take as a humanoid machine fell out of the sky, its left arm extending into a set of propellers like a helicopter would have. The rest of the body was brown, brassen and covered in winder keys.

"The Inevitable?" he asked, "I saw on the news that this thing was torn apart!"

"The builder repaired it," Psyche explained, "He... He loaned it to us for this."

Something didn't sound right about that. Rachek had heard the story from the transient leader, Brother Mauthe, who'd heard it from Power Breaker, who had heard it from Randall Grey. While he was certain details had been omitted, he knew that the inventor had vaulted the body up so the Clockwork King wouldn't be able to get at it again. Still, here was the body, complete with its head.

"Giving him a chance, too, huh?" Rachek grumbled, "Alright... That makes sense, too, I guess..."

"This is your tank," Manticore explained, "When things hit the fan... Well, you know."

"Right, right..." Rachek grunted, "Okay... Well, let's kick it."

Actually, I thought there might be something else in there that the Rikti like to "partake." Perhaps they utilized the contents before stealing a bunch of neon spray paint, too.

Perhaps it was why they stole the paint...

This is just some of the odd stuff I've run across...

I completed a mission where you get information on Indigo, and when I emerged from the ship to hunt down a few more Chasers, the ship looked like it had been hit by a dirty nuke!

Why the Knives of Artemis refuse to be taken by the Freakshow alive.

May this never happen for real in-game.

Borea sent me to take out some Rikti Equipment... I wonder what's in this box...

I'm not Photoshop-savvy enough to alter these. The Freak villains are obviously from the whole Halloween costume escapade. However, the box and the ship... I found them as-is in-game.

The fuzzy mini-bear, Felix, crawled out of Essex's grasp only to perch on her shoulder. There, it let out a noise akin to blending a hum and a squeal (three parts "hum," one part "squeal").

Sheldon clicked his tongue upon seeing his pet's behavior, but he knew Felix had a soft spot for females. He just hoped the little guy never had to make a choice between S-6, Sarah Grey, or Katie (his surrogate daughter, based off lab mouse DNA; how a lab mouse got into the Grey's Army base was another question entirely, considering the fact that the actual base was hemmed in by the King's Row sewers).

Ryat99 made for the machine that would be their conveyance. He didn't see the point in questioning further, a suitable means of transportation was now available, and bickering only wasted more time. Fortunately, he refrained from saying as much, hoping his example of simply stepping aboard would get across better.

--Rikti Earth: The Forgotten Sanctuary--

"It's all settled, then," Randall took a deep breath and blew the air out of his lungs to calm himself, "I'm going to be in the air for a while, but once I'm hanging over them, I'm gonna go granite and bomb into the midst of them. When they're all nice and close to me, Solid, you blast them with that LRM of yours... Don't worry about me, I'm gonna be a mini-Jurassik, I could probably take a meteor to the grill when I'm like that. While I'm in the air, the rest of you get to the dropship for phase two."

He took another couple of deep breaths and made for the ledge where the bridge used to be. The drop down didn't worry him. Nor did the distance. What worried him, if anything could be said to worry Randall "The Ugly Rock" Grey, was that no plan survived contact with the enemy.

Taking a final deep breath, he gave the thumbs-up to his team, and leaped. He always loved flying through the air like this... The rush of air, the wind in his surprisingly still-dark hair... It all made him feel like he was alive.

True to plan, as he started falling on the Malta Group, he "flexed" and his thick gray granite armor proceeded to wrap around him. It extended out from every opening in his clothes and wrapped around him. Though the power was incredibly careful, it still worked exceptionally fast.

Landing in the middle of the group, he hit the ground so hard it sent a tremor through the earth, knocking the conspiracy theory terrorists off their feet. Randall gave the group a quick scan, searching for the tell-tale jet-pack that indicated a Sapper. Even if that were a problem, he rotted to the ground. He wouldn't be moving fast at all, but at least he could take anything they threw at him now.

----------

--Brickstown/Crey's Folly--

The group arrived in record time (utilizing a mix of portals and their supergroup base) at the entrance to Crey's Folly. It was an inappropriate name, for the area was actually turned into the disaster zone it currently was by the Rikti, as it was one of the first places they teleported into from their dimension's version of Paragon City and they just opened fire, leveling much of the industrial complex. The region once known as Venice hadn't received much attention since the guns were fired... What few people ventured in did so under heavy guard to maintain the few still-running power plants and factories. The rest were criminals, heroes, or the Rikti.

Mad Matt and his crew were only interested in the first of that list at the moment. The Malta Group were fond of Crey's Folly, Kip explained, because it was a dangerous area few people went to. So, it made sense that three of the locations Crimson and Indigo had given them indicated this region. One pointed at a place none of them wanted to go just yet, White Plains... The Rikti War Zone. The other two were a tad too remote to have access to the kinds of power plants required for the Slinger's endeavors.

Still... They were remote... So heading out to Dark Astoria and the eastern edge of the Hollows were still in the cards. Matt had a bad feeling about things, though.

"You guys still want to hit these locations, or just cut straight to the chase and go bust up the Rikti War Zone base?" he asked.

Kip shook his head.

"Regardless of what our guts are telling us, man, we gotta hit at least one of these bases first and hope that it has info on other cells. We clear the three bases Indy and Red said are here, and we stand good chances of finding where we're looking for. For all we know, the Slinger doesn't have anything to do with any of these bases, but if we hurt them enough, they'll figure that it will cost them much less to give us what we want to know. Six bases should be enough."

"Or they'll try to kill us," Nester rubbed his shoulder self-consciously, "Guys... I've been hit by cluster rockets before... It doesn't tickle."

"Oh, quit yer cryin'." Kip waved his brother off, "What do you think Ninety-nine?"

"I say you've got a good plan, Boss. Let's get crackin'."

Matt and Nester nodded. Though they had their doubts, those paled to Kip's logic. Kip, of course, had been doing this longer than both of them combined, both officially and unofficially. Nester checked to make sure his Healing Wave generator was still good and his Medical Gauntlets were calibrated. Everything was good and he rocketed into the sky. He was shadowed by Ryat99. Kipland leaped into the distance.

Matt marveled at that. It seemed like Kip flew just a little farther every day. Perhaps he was flying... Revving his motorcycle, he tore off into the distance, heading for the first agreed upon address.

Wing Commander Rachek returned to his quarters. It was over, the temple destroyed, Captain Lukas's men lost without a word to Duray, and the village had been spared. Another high note, relations with the Brutal Warriors had been upgraded to professional, and he had paid them promptly through necessary intermediates. Best of all, he could call his aunt and let her know her favorite son was still alive.

He poured himself a couple shots of whiskey, drained them, and filled a glass with a vodka based drink before relaxing in his reclining chair. As he sipped the screwdriver, he considered playing a suitably violent, yet uplifting movie. Perhaps that one about small-town Texans fighting zombies that seemed to be melting...

"I wouldn't do that, Tony. It would distract you from the business I wish to discuss with you."

He paused with his remote aimed at the television. A woman? In his room? And how did she know what he was about to do?

He turned to where he thought he heard the noise come from. He was getting a bad feeling about this. Upon seeing the apparition before him, his almost cursed, but thought better of it and just let loose a grunting sigh.

"Thank you," Sister Psyche said pleasantly.

"You're not here, are you?"

"No."

"That's why the alarms didn't go off..." Rachek took a sip from his drink and sat a little deeper in his chair, "So... To what do I owe this dubious honor?"

"Well, Wing Commander... I have a strange proposal..."

Rachek listened intently. She had him so entranced by her proposal that he'd forgotten to finish his drink. In fact, the proposal itself took much less time than the several hours he sat pondering it.

After accidentally dropping the glass on his rug, he grunted and brought himself back to the present. Looking at the clock, he cursed himself for wasting time, but all he really had to look forward to was sleep.

In the morning, his decision had been made.

"Lieutenant Daniels," he barked at the hangar foreman, "I want you to prep a Skiff for a long distance journey... I'm going to Paragon City today."

"Sir?" Daniels asked, but he still waved to one of the crewmen to gather a team and get to work on the order, "Couldn't you just take the Thunder Nimbus?"

"She's on patrol. Besides, this needs to be low profile. Don't write up any paperwork on this and peter out the fuel depletion across multiple work orders. You know, like you do when some of the boys go joyriding."

Lt. Daniels bit his lower lip and nodded.

"Weapons, sir?"

"No. No weapons load. I'll be carrying everything I need."

Indeed he would. He checked his duffel bag again. His machete, a few specialized magazines, some normal assault rifle rounds, a pair of pistols and some spare revolving chambers with plenty of ammunition for both weapons. The rifle itself he had slung on his shoulder.

"W.C.! Where are you going?"

Captain Phillips. He was recently promoted, and was probably coming off of a long night of working as the duty officer on deck. Rachek turned to him calmly and appraised the man. Phillips made to salute, but the older man stopped him.

"We're the same rank, Phillips," Rachek growled, "Wing Commander's just a billet."

"Ah..."

"Now, as to where I'm going, I already informed your relief of what I'm doing and where I'll be. Until I return, Captain Anderson is in charge of things. He's competent, things should go fine until I get back."

----

"When will you be coming back?" Anderson had asked him.

"I don't know. Nothing like this has ever been tried before. Could be a few days... It could be months..."

"Or," Anderson paused with a sigh, "We never see you again. Rachek... You and I have worked together for a long time... Longer than the Sky Raiders have existed... Back in Vigilance..."

"I know."

"Well... You know I don't have what it takes to command these men! Not indefinitely, anyway..."

Rachek's eyes narrowed at his old friend.

"If you can take command for a few days, why can't you keep goin' on for weeks or months? Why not years?"

"Years... I'm amazed we've made it this long."

"I've got more fight left in me," Rachek smiled, "More than you, anyway."

"Pft," Anderson returned the grin, "I'll outlast you. Just don't be goin' too soon. You're like a father to a lot of these guys."

----

Having packed up his equipment and a package of shield generators from the engineering department, Rachek gave his Skiff a final pre-flight inspection. Nothing seemed wrong with it, the fuel lines were all still attached and there wasn't even a speck of rust anywhere on the machine's sleek surface.

That wasn't special of W.C. Rachek's Skiff. His machine was no different than any of the others. The flight technicians on his derrick were some of the best on the Atlantic, and they took pride in being able to prevent the vessels under their care from acquiring rust, even out in the middle of the ocean.

Satisfied, he crawled into the cockpit and prepared for takeoff. His equipment for the trip behind his seat, he strapped himself in and took a deep breath.

Flying never bothered him. In fact, he rather enjoyed the jet packs. He almost wished he could bring one with him, but there just wasn't room in any way in the skiff.

No, what bothered him was the mission he was about to embark upon. Something felt different about it... Almost like this was a turning point; like there would be no turning back.

However, he'd dedicated himself. Kicking on the engines, he gave a brief "fist in the air" salute to the flight crew. The lights for the vessel's status all told him he was good to go, so he kicked on the thrusters and set off on his course for Paragon City.

Well, for starters, it's good to separate thoughts from narration. Italicizing or even quoting thoughts can really assist the reader in determining what they're reading. Check your grammar, and just to be certain, your spelling, too. Something that helped me early on was writing the post in Word.

On that note, if you're using Mozilla, it would probably still be a good idea to copy and paste to a Word document (or similar word processing program) and check. Mozilla's spell check doesn't recognize some words as properly spelled, like "dialogue."

For thoughts of cursing, like your third paragraph (or fourth, depending on how you look at it), it's probably better to simply leave "An imaginative string of expletives" up to the reader to figure out for him/herself. Either that, or play with the automatic censor, turning the "[censored]" into alternatives or lower-impact curses. [Frig], [butt], [very bad word], [jerk], and [expletive deleted], are examples of what I enjoy using.

You tended to overuse pronouns, but I suppose that can be forgiven in an introductory "chapter" ("post" just seems wrong for a chronicle). You did keep to one character for the most part, after all.

Your actions were descriptive. I really appreciated that. I could almost feel what the character was feeling.

That's about what I've got. Keep at it, this definitely has some potential.

Sounds like an excellent avatar of Joule.

In any case, it seems as if your character could act just like any normal person. She'd just be a little confused when she found out not everybody has access to the massive information database like she does.

--Rikti Earth: The Forgotten Sanctuary--

Randall scratched his chin through his beard. Finally, he settled on an idea.

"Here's what I'm thinking. As a stone tank, I can just about weather anything they throw at me. Once I have all of their attention, you hit them with the LRM, Solid Shot. While Solid and I are working on that, the rest of you use the Dropship to swoop in and mop up the rest. Sound good?"

----------

--Founder's Falls--

"Alright, Mad Matt," Indigo handed over some information, "Here're the addresses of locations I know of... And here's the assistance Mr. Crimson said he wants you to have."

Nester, Kipland, and Aaron Durj arrived from out of the sky, the eldest flying in with his exosuit.

"Damn snipers..." he shuddered, "Matt, what the Hell is going on that you had to drag me away from my video games?"

"The Malta Group!"

Aaron rubbed the bridge of his nose and burped a little.

"Indy... I'm so tired right now I'm getting indigestion... Can I please go home now?"

"Why aren't you in uniform?"

"Because I'm fricking tired!"

Indigo frowned and nodded. Kip's double saluted his friends and leaped away to the north. Matt looked over his crew appreciatively.

"A medic, two butt kickers, and a tank. I don't know what could stop us now."

"Plague," Nester offered.

"Death," Kip muttered.

"Fire," Ryat99 nodded, "Bullets... Those horrible sapper things..."

"Okay, shut up!" Matt barked, "We've got a fight to win, and this negative thinking is only gonna get us killed!"

"Suicidal planning will achieve the same end," Kip countered, "And you've never been one for the plans, Matt. You're a 'point-me-where-to-go-and-I'll-do-the-slashing' kind of person. What the Hell is this all about?"

"Revenge, mostly."

"For who?"

"For Randy!"

Kip stared at the other scrapper for a moment.

"What do you know about Randy?"

"What's going on?" Nester asked.

"Look, I'll explain on the way to this address, and make sure everybody's up to speed. Well, as up to speed as I am. I kind of ignored some aspects of the situation because I figured the less I knew, the less-likely I was to get ambushed."

Now it was Kip's turn to rub the bridge of his nose.

"What the Hell," he finally muttered, "Let's kick it, Matt. If what we're doing winds up helping Randy get back, I'll be happy."

"Why?" Matt arched his eyebrow as he approached his bike, "What do you know about it?"

"All I know is that Randy activated his contingency plans when something he's doing right now went wrong. I've been talking with his lawyer about acquiring the supergroup."

Matt nodded, "And I've been working at making sure you don't wind up running things!"

"Coolness."

"So, where to this time?" Ryat99 asked.

"The Folly."

I have a few "robot" characters myself.

Each of them has a "personality quirk" in that they act a specific way.

Ryat66 acts the Fool. His personality is almost the literal embodiment of the Tarot Fool.

Ryat99 is morosely serious. He tends to avoid emotional outburst (something his inventor wishes he could do) and has recently worked out the kink in his programming that caused him to say odd phrases, like "Are you the Messiah?" and "Is this the line to Reno?"

The question is largely what you want your character to be like. Is it like Star Trek's Data, where you're constantly trying to achieve a semblance of humanity? Or are you like Bender, apathetic to emotions, and callous to all who don't fit with your selfish needs (should be "wants," but when you're selfish, it becomes "needs")? Were you built to serve and enjoy helping, or do you despise your lot in life, hating to serve, but compelled to anyway and constantly seeking a way to free yourself from the bonds of your firmware.

Also, I suggest playing with your character more in-game. Sometimes, the moments you go through or your overall playstyle will provide you with serendipitous insights as to the behavior and attitudes of your character.

Lukas landed. One more bound, and he'd be able to start smashing his way through the vill-

Psycho13 caught up with him at that moment and raked one of his knives across the monster's face, earning a growl of rage as the Sanguimancer stumbled backward.

"Now... Where was it that you thought you were going?" Levi asked as he rested his elbow on one hand and waved the dagger in front of his face like an inverted pendulum, "Certainly not the village... Not without our permission."

"Our?" Lukas growled, wiping the blood from his eyes, "You're the only one here."

"I-" Psycho13 looked about, then cursed, "Dammit... That's right... Not everybody has super speed..."

"And nobody's here to help you," his enemy drew his blades with a chuckle, "I owe you one, boy... You dropped that whole temple down on my head."

"Well, I can't take all the credit..."

They started circling each other, Psycho13 with his knives crossed in front of him, the Sanguimancer with his wicked blades pointed somewhat to the sides, inviting attack. Baker took the bait, but he was still quicker than Lukas was prepared for. In the blink of an eye, the skinny young man was raking his blades against the black and red armor. Some of the red flaked off, much to Psycho13's amusement, but it sent the armored warrior into a rage.

The hooked and curved blades snaked out suddenly and tore into the scrapper's flesh. Sent sprawling, Psycho13's eyes went wide with shock as he realized what had happened to him in that short instant.

His right arm had been cut off just below the elbow.

Before he could consider a course of action, the Sanguimancer closed the distance between tham and stabbed into his belly. Dropping his other knife, Psycho13 rested his left hand on the horned helmet, his mind wandering into strange places. Mostly, he wondered why he couldn't see Lukas's face anymore.

The monster didn't just drop him. With a tug and a jerk, he wrenched the blades free of Psycho13's torso, tearing a vicious "X" into the body and opening the body cavity wide. It lay still, even after the armored brute kicked it a couple times and stabbed it in the leg for good measure.

As soon as it had leaped away, however, Psycho13 blinked.

"Ow."

The arm he'd just lost crawled over to him, somehow guided to the rest of itself by instinct. Feeling the fingers crawl across his flesh was a little unsettling, but the scrapper wasn't in any situation to prevent it. The arm lined itself up with the stump and he pressed the arm against its lost piece. There was an odd snapping sound, and something that sounded like fluid, then he got that horrid tingling sensation as the feeling returned to his nerves (or maybe his brain was just reacquainting itself with his limb). As he pushed himself off the ground, he realized his organs had held within the body cavity as well, and that his torso had been knitting itself back together while he waited for his arm. When Levi was able to look at himself in the moonlight, he was as good as new, save the lines where his body had been torn asunder.

"Wow..." he grumbled, "I don't want to go through that again... Every time it happens, it brings me one step closer to masochism..."

He shuddered a little before his stomach started growling loudly. All that repair had cost him his last meal.

"Oh man... I gotta save the village or I won't be eating anytime soon!"

As Draven and Rage crested the trees that ringed the clearing (followed shortly by Captain Carter), Psycho13 sped off. His brother shouted a curse, but it was only heard by his flying companions and the wind.

----------

Lukas would have overshot the two guardians of the village and sped for the church, ready to break in and tear apart the people inside. From there, he was going to wash his armor and blades in their blood, further empowering himself and increasing the heady drunk feeling he was getting from the whole experience.

Unfortunately for him, the two had other plans. He simply bounced off an invisible barrier and landed flat on his back in front of Father Morgan. The priest took a few steps closer and drew his own sword. The brute was cursing obscenities as he righted himself.

"I'm sorry," Morgan said honestly, "But I cannot allow you to harm a single member of my flock."

"You [jerk]," Mr. Waki chuckled, "I already had something incoming to stop him."

The priest arched an eyebrow to the mystic, but the answer was soon forthcoming. A large boulder fell out of the sky, smashing into the Sanguimancer and knocking him back to the ground. As the dust and pebbles settled, the sound of Waki's cackling laughter echoed through the night.

"You will pay for your insults!" Lukas shouted as he lunged after the two.

He moved fast, but Waki's magic was faster. Tapping his staff into the ground, a set of stone spikes jabbed out and smashed into the brute's face and chest. Father Morgan followed this up by waving his sword, and instantaneously disappeared and reappeared before Lukas, swinging the blade again to tap each of the villain's weapons and his helmet before disappearing again. Lukas wound up smashing his swords through the stone that had stopped him momentarily when he tried to attack, and Waki brought another boulder crashing on his head.

Only this time the Sanguimancer didn't go down. Instead, it charged for the wizened old mystic, the red blades almost glowing in the moonlight. Waving his hands frantically, Waki sent stones and boulders to intercept the monster, but Lukas deflected and destroyed the ones that would have severely impeded him and just weathered the ones that wouldn't.

Morgan appeared in front of him again in a puff of black smoke that coalesced into his outfit. His left hand burning with white fire, and his blade shining like a torch, he dueled with the brute. His skill was superb with the weapon, and his face betrayed nothing of the consternation behind his brow. It was exceptionally difficult for a man of his refined thinking to duel with a feral beast like Lukas had become. When his sword was knocked away, he raked his left hand across his opponent's armor, but the damage was negligible. All he could do was mutter a small prayer as the Sanguimancer brought his blades down to his head.

Suddenly, there was a blur and Psycho13 was on the enemy's back, stabbing furiously at the armor. Lukas twisted, throwing the scrapper off, but before the brute could get an actual attack in, Baker was on his feet and raining blows upon him.

The Sanguimancer was surprised at the sudden surge of assault from the boy, but it couldn't last. There was desperation in his face that belied the hero's fatigue. Catching the knives on his blades, Lukas lifted Psycho13 into the air. The boy actually kicked him in the face and held himself in the air for a few seconds.

They stood like that for a few seconds, the brute wondering at the maneuver, the boy simply smiling. With a rush, the answer bowled over the Sanguimancer as another one of Waki's boulders smashed into his torso and placed him between the anvil that was another boulder smashing into Lukas's back. Psycho13 flipped to the ground and gave a whoop of triumph.

Roaring angrily, the brute smashed into the boulder pressed against his chest with the hilt of his left blade, causing the rock to explode in a shower of gravel. He did the same to the rear boulder with his right blade's hilt simultaneously, but when he brought his right arm forward, it was with enough force to throw his sword at Mr. Waki.

The old man wasn't spry enough to avoid it, but Psycho13 was quick enough to intercept. Unfortunately, he caught it with his stomach, and Mr. Waki disappeared as Father Morgan pulled him away from the fight.

"Ow," Levi grunted as he pulled the sword out of his belly.

"I don't know how you survived," the Sanguimancer intoned as he stomped forward, retrieved his blade and held it over the scrapper's neck, "But I will make sure you won't this time."

"Yeah, good luck with that," Psycho13 chuckled as he stabbed his knife into the brute's ankle and disappeared a moment before the blade came down.

As the Sanguimancer screamed, the three took stock of their situation. Psycho13 was in serious pain, possibly out of the fight entirely.

"You wouldn't happen to have any of that holy Christian 'laying on hands' power, would you?" the scrapper asked.

"I do not," Morgan replied quietly, "Mine is the power of the Fiery Sword, not the Rod or the Staff."

"Damn... Well... How about those Communion wafers?"

"What?"

"The wafers, man! Gimme something to eat!"

"You do realize there is a ritual involved with-"

"Just give me the [censored] crackers!"

Frowning, Morgan pulled a fresh package of wafers from his robe and handed it to the young man. Psycho13 ate rapidly, and the wound in his stomach closed visibly, but it wasn't nearly enough.

"Dammit... There's a lesson in here somewhere," Levi frowned, "But I'll bet I missed it."

"At least you know the lesson is there," Morgan patted him on the shoulder reassuringly, "Now you just have to look."

As he removed his robe and placed it around the wounded young man (he still had a black dress shirt), Mr. Waki watched the Sanguimancer. The brute had recovered from the fight, but had lost some of its power. Psycho13's stab to its ankle had hobbled it as well, and it was now limping toward the mission.

"We have to stop him," Morgan whispered as he tightened his shirt cuffs and made sure his collar was straight, "I suggest we stop postponing our work in harmony."

"You finally willing to admit our power is one and the same?" Waki asked almost derisively.

"I don't believe that is the issue," Morgan leveled his gaze at the old man, then extended his hand, "Accept me.. As your friend, if not your brother."

Waki gave the priest an odd glance.

"You're not like the ones who came before you," he said in that strange way so they both could understand each other, "You talk like a man who knows what he's saying... Like them... but you don't quote the book they hid behind. I've never even seen you read it."

"I read it once, the different volumes of it, as much as my mentors would allow. That was enough for me. My fellows may have used it to justify themselves. Some do it for corrupted ends, and I apologize for their sin, though I cannot tell you to forgive them, I only ask. Others were virtuous, though they may have lacked the will to properly employ the goodness of their spirit. I view the book as it is... Poetic stories to help people in their lives and times of need. However, just quoting scripture doesn't serve the people. It doesn't educate them. It simply doesn't help. I'm a man of action as well as words, and I like to think that I serve the people as best as I can through my endeavors. Now... Will you take my hand so we may put an end to this threat to my flock, and your friends?"

Waki stared at Morgan for a few seconds. Finally, he reached out and clasped the outstretched hand.

The Sanguimancer had been tearing at the church for a few minutes. His blades were powerful enough to rend through the barrier Morgan had erected, leaving medium scars in the wooden walls and doors, and smashing in the windows when he got to them. Lukas, if given enough time, could have brought the structure down on everybody's heads if it weren't for what happened next.

The ground quaked, and a stone wall rose up from under the brute, vaulting him into the air moments before enclosing the structure, swallowing the villagers in darkness. before claustrophobia could set in, however, a series of quartz-like crystals snaked through the barrier and rattled off of the walls as they fell. The crystals started to glow when they hit the ground and air continued to steadily flow through the mission.

As the Sanguimancer recovered, he noticed that the priest and the wizard were standing between him and the church.

"I'm getting mighty tired of you two," he grunted, "I'm going to drink your blood when I'm finished."

"What maddening corruption must this armor bear?" Morgan whispered, "Lukas was not nearly this insane when he arrived..."

"He had the madness of ambition, though," Waki explained, "That was enough to corrupt him."

The brute charged then, and Waki raised another wall in his path. Though Lukas stopped in front of it, he wasn't nearly safe. Waki snapped his fingers and the wall came tumbling down on the armored monster's head.

Both guardians knew that wouldn't be the end of it, though. The Sanguimancer burst out of the rocks, leaping and screaming into the air. When his silhouette appeared in the moon again, the two on the ground shook their heads.

"He's rather repetitive, isn't he?" Waki asked.

"Apparently," Father Morgan sighed, "Think he'll attack us with his swords again?"

"Of course!"

but they were wrong. A red lightning bolt seemed to streak across the sky, slam into the Sanguimancer's back, and slam him into the rock dome. Ragin' James then picked him up and dragged the armored brute all the way down to slam him into the ground. They kicked up a plume of dust when they hit, and the two blades fell, sticking into the ground next to the hole.

"Well done," Father Morgan intoned as he helped the young man up, "How do you feel?"

"I feel great!" James laughed, "He made a great cushion!"

"You'd think, with the pointy armor, the opposite would be true," Mr. Waki chuckled.

The Sanguimancer pulled itself out of the hole and gripped the handles of his blades. The three defenders of the mission let out a collective groan.

"You can't stop me," a bit of blood and spittle dribbled out of the helmet, "You... You can't... cantsssss.... Stop me..."

Stretching his arms wide, Lukas threw his head back and let out a bellow that chilled the blood of the warriors before him. That was when Draven arrived, backed up by Captain Carter. While Carter fired his assault rifle and kept at a distance, Draven swooped in and hacked the enemy in the back of the legs, effectively hamstringing him.

Lukas fell backward. They had him surrounded, out-manned, and outmaneuvered. This Sanguimancer didn't have the power or the experience as his predecessor, and now he was laid low by a group of upstarts.

The shame was unbearable. Exploding from the ground, ignoring the ridiculous pain coursing through his leg and ribs, he batted the flying scrapper aside and dove for the priest and the hedge wizard. Morgan held his own sword up defensively, barely deflecting the attack, but disappearing in a cloud of black smoke. The other blades snaked out after Waki, smashing into a stone shield and sending the old man sprawling.

Lukas wheeled around. Ragin' James and Draven Erickson stood in his way, each one ready to fight to his last to put him down. The brute charged and the two set themselves in defensive stances. As Lukas leaped into the air, the hate in his eyes causing them to glow, there was a ghostly screaming sound and he suddenly stopped in mid-air.

The two blades clattered against the stone behind the two BWO warriors and fell to the ground, this time on their sides. The two young heroes were more concerned, however, with the specter floating behind the Sanguimancer. It was someone they never expected to meet in their lives.

Ghost Widow.

"Oh my god," Draven whispered.

"Not quite," her hollow voice echoed through the village and their heads, "But I'll accept it as your thanks."

"What do you want?" James asked, not dropping his stance for a second.

"I'm taking this cur back to Arachnos... Do you have a problem with that?"

Draven cursed himself a fool. Of course! the Arachnos flyers they'd passed! What other reasons nearby did Recluse's organization have to come here?

"We've been researching this for a few weeks," Recluse's favored assassin raised the large body closer so she could inspect it as Wolf Spider troopers carefully retrieved the blades and placed them in special sacks, "It's so good that it actually paid off."

She glowered down at the two young men remaining.

"You're the ones that stole a flyer and corrupted it to your own purposes..."

"Yeah..."

"You're fortunate my Lord has decided you may survive... The troops foolish enough to allow upstarts such as yourselves to acquire the vessel, however, were not so lucky. Now... I wish to leave this dank excuse of a cesspit..."

Draven and Rage helped the wizard to his feet while Father Morgan returned with Psycho13. The regenerating scrapper's belly had knitted shut and he seemed to be alright, albeit a little pale. With a gesture from the wizard and the holy man, the shields protecting the mission came down, much less violently than they went up.

As the last of the rock sank into the earth, Angela opened the door and rushed out to hug the priest. Morgan looked down at her as she sobbed how thankful she was that he was okay and he smiled.

"There, there, Angela," he pulled her off of himself and guided her tear-streaked face to look up to him, "Is everybody alright?"

"They're a little spooked, Father, but... Something about that thump against the roof really put them at ease."

"Excellent," he chuckled as he reached out and brought Ragin' James to view, "Well, he's the one to thank for that. His efforts signaled the wane of the Sanguimancer's power."

"Too bad that's not the end of it," Captain Carter grunted, "But at least it's over here. I'll call W.C. Rachek and make sure he knows this was a success."

"I don't think he'll like how it ended," Draven sighed, "Man... The Widow herself..."

"I saw that," Psycho13 shivered, "Oh... yeah... Father Morgan... Here's your robe..."

Morgan looked at the state of the scrapper and shook his head.

"Keep it. I can't wear it again."

Though it was hardly the ending any of them had hoped for, it was an ending. Life could go back to normal for this small community, perhaps even prosper. At least now there would be no more supernatural interference...

I ground about 14 characters for Halloween Salvage this year.

Thank the Implementors for the Markets... I kept getting so much duplicate stuff, I was able to sell one salvage item (say... Statesman's Mask) for another (Hami)...

On my next toon, I couldn't get enough (Hami).

Thank goodness for those Markets... I'd have gone insane from sleep deprivation.

((Well, we're a little obsessed with other threads, and InYourDreams (formerly known as Diov) has already indicated in those other threads that his Lord Diov characters (and their backward spelled names) are, for all intents and purposes, gone for good. I can't continue largely because I have to wait for an action outside of PB to happen.))

As the heroes and their Sky Raider guide approached the Raider camp, Carter rounded on Draven and raised his finger to his lips. Gathering the group closer, he started whispering.

"Look, there aren't any medical teleporters out here, so I need to be certain you boys are in this to win it."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Project Whirlwind asked.

"It means," Carter readied his machete, "That people are going to die tonight. There's no getting around it. Understand? Now, look, the reason I was assigned to you guys is that I'm Rachek's knife in the back alley... I can take this... If you want, you can go back to the village and let me work... You're hands don't need to be bloodied."

"No," Draven replied, "We're all going in there."

"Are you sure? All we really needed was your presence. Enough witnesses, enough word of mouth... Duray will easily think you guys did this..."

"So will the rest of the world," the red-coated scrapper countered, "At least if we help you, there's a chance we can avoid unnecessary bloodshed."

An explosion suddenly rocked the earth and the cadre crouched low to ensure they hadn't been seen. Carter's eyes narrowed.

"That came from below..."

"They're blasting?" Ragin' James hissed, "But... Don't they know how dangerous that is? If the temple is what we think it is, they could have collapsed this whole region!"

"Well, let's be thankful that they didn't and get to stopping them."

Carter led the group down, picking this way and that. It was like an Oranbega site, all claustrophobic through the tunnels and passages, and suddenly wide open in the chambers. The major difference was that there had been no rock growth intruding on the old structure. It looked as pristine as the day it was submerged.

All across the wall were chipped frescoes and statues. They all depicted a red-armored warrior, wielding a pair of wicked looking red blades. One curved forward, the other back, the warrior's armor was also adorned in spikes and horns.

Every chamber's artwork depicted the warrior in battle or in gory triumph. One room had statues of the people the warrior had defeated, in the poses he'd defeated them in.

"Oh my God..." Draven whispered as he approached one statue, "I'd say this one broke, but it's got the bones and organs worked into it... He quartered the guy this is supposed to be!"

"I think Father Morgan may be right about this place," Carter whispered, "We're probably in a lot of trouble..."

"We probably should have brought him with us," Whirlwind breathed, "There's something about him... A priest like him... He doesn't wind up here without having a reason to be here."

"What?" Carter drew his rifle and pulled up to another doorway, "Come on, that sword doesn't mean anything. He's obviously going mad from not being laid... Or from not having any-"

"Shut it!" Draven aimed the point of his blade at Carter, "I don't want to hear it."

Carter grinned for a second, as if another dirty idea had come to mind. However, just before Jared could take issue with it, his face returned to its mask of cold professionalism and he whipped around into the corridor. He fired off a couple shots and shouted.

"Dammit! Get down!"

Someone was screaming nonsensically (at least to the mainly English speaking meta humans), and finally Carter replied in the same language. Finally, the Sky Raider pulled the unfortunate man out of the corridor and shoved him roughly back the way the group had come from.

"Says he's spooked," the captain grumbled over the man's distressed pleading, "Says the place is cursed and he jsut wants to go home..."

"You didn't kill anyone in there, did you?" Psycho13 asked as he bounded for the corridor.

"No, it's just a dead end," Carter replied, "I saw it wasn't one of them just in time... You!"

He shouted a few more words at the man, then roughly pushed the guy toward the exit, shouting a few more instructions.

"Do you have to yell?" Draven asked, "We're trying to help these people, remember?"

"Look, I don't want any civilian casualties any more than you do. The faster he gets out of here, the better. Don't worry... There really isn't anybody he can call to sue you for being a little rough on him."

"That's not the point!" Whirlwind hissed, "Jebus Cripes, man... No wonder you guys didn't turn out to be heroes... You jsut don't get the idea..."

"Hey!" Carter wheeled around and jammed his finger in the defender's face, "I've been a hero in my own right plenty of times, boy! You weren't there when whole squads of Vigilance were wiped out by the Rikti onslaught! You weren't there in the early days, when we were barely funded enough to have bullets to provide a distraction so the 'hero' could come in and mop up the villain! Did I give up? Never! I faced all the same craziness as you ever will and then some, and I didn't have any wussy powers to back me up!"

"Is that what the whole Sky Raiders thing is about?"

Carter shook a little, then his whole angry facade dropped. He started walking to the next corridor and grumbled.

"No... No it's not. I thought it was. Rachek thought it was. Over the past few years, though, Duray has proven time and again that it's not. We're just pirates, assassins, and mercenaries. We work for Crey, we work for Lockhart Aerotech... We sell to the highest bidder and hardly ever are we sticking up for the little guy..."

"Except under Rachek..." James intoned.

Carter remained silent for a few minutes next to the doorway.

"Yeah," he finally sighed, "A lot of us under his command... We're veterans from before the war and just after... Not the rookies Duray's been recruiting left and right from Council and Army rejects... We still remember people thanking us for saving their neighborhoods or getting awards for defending major military installations... Why do people think we rushed headlong into the Rikti assault?"

they were all silent for some time. It was obvious what Carter was talking about. There was a schism developing within the Sky Raiders. On one side, Duray and his band of outlaws. On the other, Rachek and his band of renegades. Duray's camp was obviously the larger, and still had charismatic leaders like the Colonel and Captain Castillo. All Rachek had was battle-hardened pride, and on the surface, his crew wasn't actually that different from Duray's.

Before they could elaborate further, however, there was a scuffling sound down the corridor Captain Carter was standing next to. The Raider hefted his assault rifle and sighted in on the open doorway. A gray gloved hand emerged from the opening, reached a little further across the floor, and dragged its body behind it.

"Holy crap," Carter shouted as he rushed to to inspect his former comrade in arms, "What the Hell happened?"

"Look... look," was all the dying man got out before the light of the world left his eyes.

"Lukas?"

The BWO members drew their various weapons and activated their various defensive powers. Project Whirlwind even raised a cloud of steamy mist to mask their presence. Moving down the corridor, everything seemed fine.

Everything was fine, that is, until they reached the door Lukas had his men blast down. Beyond the door was the burial chamber of the Sanguimancer. At the center of the back wall was a throne, at its feet a destroyed mummified corpse. When the group walked in to see what had happened, they found the bodies of the various Raiders in Captain Lukas's employ. Lukas, however, was still standing.

The raider had just got done fitting himself into the oversized armor of the Sanguimancer. He still held the helmet under one arm as he pulled the glove on. Though Lukas's back was to them and they were shrouded in mist, somehow, he knew they were there.

"What do you think?" he asked, "Power worthy of the price, eh?"

"What the Hell!?" Captain Carter shouted, "These were your men! Why did you slaughter them?"

"They weren't strong enough to be called men," Lukas chuckled as he approached a slowly dying soldier and stepped on his neck, "But in answer to your question, it was either me or any one of them. I took the hooked sword..."

He gestured to the sword at his hip that had a wicked looking curve that arched backward toward the hilt.

"And Jones there," he indicated a man spiked to the wall with his own machete, "he took the one that curved forward... Instantly we were seized with the urge to fight! We killed a couple others before turning on each other. I slew Jones thusly, and claimed his blade for my own... Now... Now I wield both blades, I wear the armor... I am the Sanguimancer, reborn!"

"You're a monster..." Carter whispered.

"And you're..." Lukas placed the helmet on his head, oddly, he seemed to fill it out immediately, "Meat."

As he drew his blades, the BWO members rushed out of the mist. Draven caught the first attack with his broadsword. Psycho13 caught the second with his twin knives. Though the blow sent him sprawling across the floor, the smaller scrapper had absorbed most of the force of the attack. Ragin' James used this to his advantage as he flew into the Sanguimancer at full force and body tackled the armored monstrosity with its left arm pinned to its side.

The forward curved blade clattered to the ground as the two bodies hit the far wall and Rage backed up just enough to have room to swing his fists and hammer the enemy in the face a couple times. In a brief pause, Lukas shoved the hero away and went to retrieve his sword. That was when a grenade launched from Carter's assault rifle exploded under his feet and the room started to shake.

"The place is coming down!" Psycho13 shouted, "We gotta get the Hell outta here!"

Carter retrieved a Raptor pack from the ground and nodded to his companions. The group flew and sped down the corridors, the whole place shaking. A loud, vicious roar behind them, however, alerted the group to the fact that Lukas was hot on their trail. The blurry image of Psycho13 speeding back caused Rage to shout.

"No! Levi, come back!"

"I know what I'm doing!" his communicator squelched back.

The Sanquimancer was tearing through the chambers when it suddenly crumpled to the floor. His legs had been taken out from underneath him, the cause was still rolling like a pin. Psycho13 hit the far wall with a shout, but bounded back to his feet. As the monstrosity attempted to stand, the scrapper closed the distance between them, ran up the berserker's back, cut him across the neck and ramped into the air for the doorway, leaving the Sanguimancer screaming in pain.

The others waited tensely outside. The ground stared to sink a little further away and Rage started fearing the worst. before he could rush in, however, there was a loud, triumphant shout emanating from his communicator. The shout was echoed by his brother emerging from the tunnel opening scant seconds before a cloud of dust billowed out after him. The next few minutes were a little tense as the temple collapsed, turning the region into a sink hole.

"Man, good thing it was over there!" Psycho chuckled, then he noticed the aggravated look of his brother, "What?"

"Don't you ever do that again!" Rage shouted, "I am NOT telling mom that you got yourself killed doing some damn fool stunt..."

"If I didn't do what I did, Lukas would have escaped!"

Rage didn't have anything to say to that. In fact, the scrapper was quite right, his momentary distraction was capable of distracting the berserker long enough to keep him in the forgotten temple until he was buried.

Too bad that wasn't enough to hold him.

There was an explosion accompanied by a savage, triumphant roar from the center of the massive pit. The group moved stealthily toward the edge and saw the massive black figure moving in the moonlight. Just as they saw him, Lukas took to the sky, leaping into the distance.

Carter checked the fuel in his jetpack and started flying after him, the BWO members not far behind. There was no discussion of a plan, just knowledge that they had to act and they had to know their roles in the coming conflict. They didn't have time to plan, Lukas was headed for the village, and he already had a rapid head start.

----------

"What's going on down here," Father Morgan asked as he descended the stairs from his room and saw the villagers shouting and arguing in the mission's church, "Mr. Malkaji?"

The village mayor approached the priest and stated in hushed terms, largely in his own language, the excitement that was agitating his fellows. Father Morgan nodded repeatedly as he worked to understand the situation. Apparently, the Raiders had breached the inner chambers of the temple and the last "volunteer" to leave bore witness to them slaughtering each other. Terrified, the man remained, listening to the screams of battle until the group Father Morgan had brought in arrived.

They were a bit aggravated, as one of them shot at the man while he hid. The priest frowned at that, and made a note to talk to his cousin about the behavior of his men. However, the insult was just a minor concern. What was really frightening the village was the story that a monster was on its way to there.

"It comes... The Dark Beast comes tonight to slay us all!" one of Morgan's parishioners shouted, "We must flee!"

"No!" Morgan's voice echoed throughout the room, silencing the tumult immediately, then, he added more calmly, "No. You don't want to go out there."

He started walking for the door. One of the villagers that remained yet unconverted stepped in his way.

"You're just going to bar us inside! We've seen that before! Mud walls and wooden doors don't stop bullets, and they [untranslatable] will not stop that... That thing!"

Morgan calmly pushed the man aside and continued walking to the door. Angela ran up as soon as it seemed the priest intended to go outside.

"Father! What are you doing!?"

"What I must, my dear," he replied, "I am the shepherd of this flock, and it's time to fight the wolf. bar the door as soon as I leave, and remember the basement's secret passages... Hide the children first."

He turned to the rest of the villagers.

"Is there anyone that yet remains out there?"

"Just the wizard," one of the parishioners replied.

The old man had been the village's prior spiritual leader. An odd individual that had come from the wild. He spouted mostly obscenities to the Sky Raiders, but had, oddly, left Father Morgan alone. The priest nodded.

"Then I know where I must go."

"What about us!?" the villager that had earlier stood in his way shouted, "We just sit here and pray!?"

"If you feel it will help," Morgan shrugged, "Frankly, I think you'll do better boarding up the windows with the benches and hiding your children in the basement. Feel free to use the torch stands as you would spears if the fight should come to this hallowed hall."

"Father?" Angela was pleading, "Please don't go."

"I don't have a choice in this matter. I have followed the paths to bring me here, and this is the task set before me."

He brushed the tears from her cheeks.

"Do not cry, my dear. Have faith. It is what protects these walls."

"What if we don't share your faith?" that same man growled angrily.

"You need not worry," Morgan shrugged to him, "Just remain. As long as I live, he will not enter here. It is my faith that protects these walls... That, and my steel."

He drew his blade from his robes. The angry man (Morgan was a little distressed he didn't remember his name) gulped loudly and backed away. He misunderstood, but understanding came with moderation and time. Eventually, he would come around and start learning with head as well as his heart, and then he would be able to make the choice for himself. Angela whispered something that the priest couldn't make out, but his history was unknown to the young woman.

"Worry not my dear," he whispered as he opened the door, "All will be well. Lock and bar the door behind me. Do not open it, regardless of what happens. Above all, have faith."

"Yes, Father," she choked out, "Yes.."

As the priest walked out into the darkness of the dirt-path streets, she whispered to herself.

"I love you."

----------

"Mr. Waki."

The old man was sitting on his front porch, smoking a pipe. When Morgan had first heard of the man, he'd expected a wiry little fellow, with a great mass of gray hair exploding from his head and ending in a beard that covered much of the man's clothing.

The old man didn't disappoint.

"Father Morgan," the old man replied in perfect English.

Only it wasn't English. Neither of them were speaking.

"So, you are the guardian of these parts."

"I try my best. I suppose you're the Wanderer I keep hearing of."

"One of them."

"Something wholly evil is headed this way," the old man narrowed his eyes at Father Morgan, "Are you sure you're up to facing it?"

"Long enough. We do have allies here, and it's not just two enemies facing the greater threat this time."

"Those wizards weren't the first to face this monster, they were just two of the most powerful on the planet."

"Certainly, the Sanguimancer has weakened over the millenia..."

"True... true... Well, I guess we had better prepare."

"Mr. Waki" stood from his rocking chair and stepped over to the priest's side. He was bent and crooked, his limbs thin, but muscular. As he placed his staff in the ground, the whole village seemed to shake. The mission, however, rippled visibly, and the people inside noticed nothing.

"I hope that doesn't become a problem later," Mr. Waki grunted at Father Morgan, this time in the language of the villagers.

His tone was like a light, humorous jab, however.

"I hope it doesn't," Morgan replied with a smile, "In time, perhaps, we can work in harmony."

Any further discussion, however, was ended when the black silhouette of the Sanguimancer flitted into the moon. It was still some distance away, but that would end all too soon. The two spiritual warriors steeled and prepared themselves for the coming attack.

--Peregrine Island--

Matt's reaction was decidedly not fear.

Manic glee seemed to be the closest label to describe what Crimson was seeing. A devilish grin split the scrapper's face near in two.

Of course, he was happy about a number of things...

"So I'm NOT crazy!"

"Well... It's too soon to say that," Crimson muttered, "But on this, no."

"Well, then give me an address to search for!"

Crimson considered refusing, but knew that was going to get him nowhere. This hero had a fire in his heart that was easily reflected in his eyes. Things were about to get nasty, and Mad Matt McGinty was going to be at the heart of it, one way or another. Crimson asked for his communicator and typed a few locations he could try into it.

"See Indigo for more information," he grumbled, "And though you're likely not to take my advice seriously, don't go after him. You're not ready for this."

"Ho-ho! I am SO going to go find that guy and give him a reason to build a cybernetic [butt]!" Matt tore off for his motorcycle.

"WAIT!" Crimson shouted at his back, "Weren't you listening to me!? I said don't take him alone!"

"I won't! I've got the bike!"

Crimson pulled his cellphone from his interior left breast pocket and dialed a number.

"Aaron? Yeah. You're friend? He just gave me an ulcer. I know what one feels like, dammit! Look, he's going to need help, and I suggest you find it for him. Get to see Indigo, and be in uniform! Hop to it!"

Matt made for the docks and was surprised to meet Ryat99 there. The android mentioned how the particular soundbite was being circulated through the Ryat network as they spoke but McGinty told him to cancel it.

"I don't want any Ryats going up against that guy... Not unless its you or Sixty-six. Capiche?"

"Got it."

"Alright... We're heading for Founder's Falls next. You up to the trip?"

"Always."

----------

--Rikti Earth: The Forgotten Sanctuary--

Randall nodded to everything Acid said. He had a plan in mind, but didn't know how it would go over. Still, it was something.

"I'm thinking I should super leap over... Go granite, drop in and let the shooting start. During the confusion, the rest of you drop in and start tearing the bad guys apart while they're distracted."

He paused for a moment.

"If we can get their signals jammed, so much the better."

"Solid, Cory and I can pick them off with sniper shots and blasts," Ryat66 offered, "Perhaps Ess-Six, too?"

He turned to the female-seeming android with a hopeful posture.

Randall nodded at Ryat66's plan. Turning to the rest of the group, he waited for any other suggestions.

Aside from buzzing past a couple Arachnos Flyers, the trip was uneventful. Solo briefly considered what that meant. Despite the Etoile Isles' status as a "Rogue Nation," it was still offically sanctioned by the United Nations, and conducted official business with the rest of the world. Sometimes, the Arachnos troops were just as altruistic as the "Blue Side" heroes in a number of situations where Recluse hired out his army.

Sometimes they did jobs just like this one...

The small town was nameless. Daren found that slightly unfortunate. It had the feel of a place that should have been named. Captain Carter, the Sky Raider liaison Rachek assigned to them, explained.

"This town has only really existed for the last twenty years. Everybody here still thinks of it as a new place, and they were just starting to see progress with their farming... The mission has been a real help in keeping the community together, too, especially in dealing with their recent troubles."

Carter had switched out of his uniform, opting instead for a typical faux-military appearance that still seemed a little too-military. His machete he kept in a sheathe at his hip and his assault rifle he strapped over his back. He would, at most, look like a mercenary to the locals. None of the Brutal Warriors argued the point.

They had brought Ragin' James, Psycho13, Draven Erickson, and Project Whirlwind. Solo would be leaving the group in the area until they called for him again, in the meantime he'd be getting back to their transport services and rebuilding the group's capital.

As the dropship landed, a crowd gathered. Despite the fact that the missionaries had been explaining that help was coming, the vehicle that arrived was very different from their expectations. Again, Solo was reminded of the fact that he was taking all of this super-powered nonsense for granted. Much of the world still didn't see the sorts of things he did on a daily basis. Most people outside of Paragon City or the Etoile Isles were lucky to see one super-powered instance in their lifetime, or unlucky, as the case may be.

It was likely the Rikti hadn't even come here, and that these people had no idea of the global conflict that rocked the world just a few years ago. With any luck, his cousin and friends would be able to keep anything of that scale from happening here.

The young heroes and rogue exited the vehicle, Psycho13 exiting out the back hatch with his hover bike. The crowd was a buzz with questions, but the person Captain Carter directed them to was a man in his 40s with some gray in his dark beard.

"This is Father Morgan," Carter explained, "Commander Rachek didn't explain how they know each other, just that he regards this as a personal favor..."

"I think they're cousins," Draven muttered, "I bet Rachek gets his looks from his mother..."

"That's not nice, man," James looked askance at his friend, but Draven waved him off.

"You know what I meant."

Father Morgan was talking with a couple of the village's leaders, and they began pulling the crowd away from the ship. Solo gave a quick salute to his cousin before engaging in his departure and Draven turned to the mission's leader.

"Father Morgan?" he asked.

"Indeed," the priest replied, "I suppose you're the ones the other Sky Raider mentioned..."

"I told them you two know each other, Father."

"Ah... So I don't need to play coy," Morgan smiled and reached out to grab Draven by the shoulder.

Despite the fact that Jared had problems with religion, there was something about this man. His reaching out to him didn't have the same condescending feel he normally got from religious leaders. In fact, the gesture seemed almost... Brotherly.

"Come, come," the priest said with an even-toned voice, "I'm certain you must be hungry... Flight in a vessel like that is not conducive for eating during transit. Please, my fellows and I will treat you to a hearty dinner."

Draven couldn't argue. Baker followed behind the group, his bike carrying much of the supplies they were going to be using on this trip.

----------

Dinner had been pleasant. Draven and Psycho13 were the two who had some problems with the before-meal prayer, but they kept quiet. Draven bowed his head, but said nothing, the other scrapper didn't bow his head, his face held in calm reflection.

"What is your faith?" one of the missionaries asked them.

"Not," Psycho13 replied, "I've never seen anything to make me believe any of them are right."

"So you're-"

"No, not an atheist, either," the regenerator chuckled, "I've seen my fair share to see that there has to be something out there."

"So an agnostic?"

"I suppose that'll do for now. Just don't expect lip-service from me. Not out of disrespect, mind you. I just don't view lip-service as respect."

"I fall in his same boat," Draven explained, "I don't know about those two, though."

"I'm like my brother," said Rage, "He and I... For the most part, we grew up the same. Well, he was always an oddball, and I usually did better at fitting in, and we came in conflict a lot, but some things we readily saw eye-to-eye on."

"That's good," Father Morgan stated warmly, "it's good to see that brothers can keep from fighting long enough to find what's truly important."

"But, Father..." one of the missionaries next to him, a young blond lady, seemed at a loss, "Shouldn't they be working to prepare their eternal soul for the afterlife? These are good people... Shouldn't we be saving them?"

"Angela, I admire your zeal, but like I keep telling you, we must let people make that choice for themselves."

"But-"

"If you wish to convince them, try to work on a personal level. However, if you cannot, please, do not think that it reflects negatively on you. Remember, God puts the choice on each of us, but we cannot make the choice for others. Down that path lies tyranny and devastation."

"I understand, Father."

She seemed sad, but not entirely disappointed. Morgan gave her a reassuring pat on the shoulder and turned to Draven to address the situation.

"Now... Why you're here..." he explained as he poured himself glass of milk, "At the edge of town is a site... At first we thought it was just some gravel and that perhaps the village could see some real income. When we started digging around in there, however, we found some... Artifacts..."

"What kind?" Rage asked, "Certainly nothing dangerous like these skulls on my chest and shoulder..."

"The source of your power?" Morgan asked.

"Yeah, good luck breaking them, though."

"Hm. Well, in any case, it's looking like an ancient tomb at least. However, some of what we've been able to translate... Well, it's been troubling..."

"How so?" Captain Carter asked, "I only know a few snippets... Commander Rachek just said I have to try to convince Captain Lukas to leave..."

"I'm afraid diplomacy has failed," Morgan sighed, "Lukas got a hold of some of our translations, and now he's pushing his troops to excavate the site as rapidly as possible."

"What could be down there that's worth such effort?" Project Whirlwind asked between mouthfuls, "Rachek said something about swords, armor... A mummified corpse..."

"I'm afraid the corpse part is true, but it has little to do with the actual tomb so far... Possibly just a servant who had the misfortune of being in the wrong place at the wrong time. The swords and armor, however, may just be writing on the wall. The images we've been finding throughout the tomb... If I'm translating this right," the priest looked to each member of the group, ensuring he had their attention, "It's the Sanguimancer."

----------

"Blood Reader," Psycho13 explained to Draven a little while later as they rifled through their equipment, "much like how a necromancer is a Reader of the Dead."

"The few Necros we've seen, though, did a Hell of a lot more than just read..."

"Well, it goes to show that this Sanguimancer can do more as well."

"It's not just a sanguimancer, it is the Sanguimancer, one of a kind. The secret to its power is still a mystery, all we know is that it needs blood, and lots of it. It was an assassin in the times of the war between the Oranbegans and the Mu," Father Morgan said from the doorway, "Used rather exclusively by the Oranbegans whenever they needed a gory distraction, and the Sanguimancer definitely delivered."

He handed the boys a book. It lacked a title.

"This came in a few days ago... It has details on some of the lesser-known problems the Vatican has been having regarding demonic interference... Everything from the Oranbegans to Infernal and Lilitu..."

"They've got issues with the demon binder?" Whirlwind asked as he took the book and started flipping through it, "Hey, these pages are heavily edited... And what's with all these little sticky notes?"

"The black bars indicate material that was either viewed as blasphemous or it was an issue that has been tested and likely failed," Morgan actually showed some disgust, "I would prefer they keep the information there, but nobody seems willing to sit down and write new editions of it... Apparently when the original authors set to scribing this edition, they kept meeting with strange demises. You might find the later chapters are less censored... the sticky notes usually cover details that were either reinserted due to the importance of the information to the situation, new theories yet to be attempted, or even new insights from other cases that have some similarities."

"The people dying..." Psycho13 whispered, "You think the Vatican was killing its own people?"

"No... Not exactly. It's no great secret that demons permeate our world. However, many regard the Vatican to be particularly safe from such insidious corruption... Little could be farther from the truth. There have been incidents where we've discovered infernal intervention at the heart of the matter, and usually it takes little more than a suggestion, even to the most innocuous individual, to cause a chain reaction that gets one of my brothers killed."

"That's terrible."

"Here's the Sanguimancer chapters..." Whirlwind placed his finger on the page to keep track of where he was reading, "Huh... These are largely uncensored..."

"There isn't much blasphemous to say about the Sanguimancer..." Morgan intoned quietly.

"Germanic?" Project Whirlwind shouted incredulously, "It's Germanic in origin? What the..."

"Read on."

"It says here that it was little more than a brute that revelled in the slaughter of... Of anybody or anything. It says that his armor was painted a deep shade of red from all of its victims, both innocent and those that tried to stop it..."

"Oh good," Draven muttered, "A challenge..."

"There's stuff here that doesn't make sense, though... Stuff about angels fighting him, demons, nothing about the Oranbegans or the Mu..."

"You have to read between the lines," Father Morgan explained as he examined Psycho13's hover bike, "The angels very likely mean the Mu, considering the fact they had their floating island... Atlantis, possibly... but they could easily have been some of the demons the Sanguimancer fought as well; Mu wasn't an altruistic wizard nation by any means. As for why he would fight the Oranbegans, well, he was a mercenary, selling his services to the highest bidder, or perhaps the greatest challenge."

"And the demons must be, mostly, the Oranbegans..." Project Whirlwind waved his free hand to the side, indicating that he understood now, "This is amazing... It says it took the concerted efforts of an angel and a demon to take him down. It was a duel that cost all three their lives, though the angel was able to survive long enough to bury the Sanguimancer's temple in the earth."

"Some of the research I've found indicated the two were an Oranbegan and a Mu wizard that were distantly related... They recognized the threat the Sanguimancer truly posed, that as he killed, he grew more powerful. The thing was, however, that it didn't matter what he killed. Over time, he was just feeding his own power, and wound up becoming the stuff of nightmares. Villages were left torn asunder in his wake... Dead bodies littered the fields when he was done with the various armies thrown at him, and he usually hunted down every last man that stood against him. No one was safe, not man, not beast, not woman or child... All were slaughtered in the most gruesome methods imaginable."

"Sounds like some of the horror stories from Portal Corp," Draven whispered.

"Indeed," the priest sighed, "And now, the Sky Raiders under Captain Lukas are trying to see if this is the burial site. They've been digging for the past two weeks... Sometimes 'requesting' the assistance of my parishioners or the local villagers."

"They're not all in your faith?" Project Whirlwind asked dubiously, "I thought your job was to... you know, convert them..."

The priest gave a light, yet strained chuckle before answering.

"My job is to stay here, out of the way, where nothing is so I don't cause anymore trouble for the Vatican, the Catholic or Christian church, or anybody that could be construed as my superior. I could be eaten by a lion for all they care."

"You haven't lost your faith, have you, Father?"

"Of course not, my friend," Morgan smiled, "It's just that my eyes have been opened to a different version of the truth... One that isn't mired in socio-political subterfuge and deceit."

The group stared at the priest for a few moments as the older man opened his robe slightly and withdrew a thin-bladed sword. It didn't seem particularly special, but it was odd for a man of the cloth to be wielding such a weapon.

"To keep it short," Father Morgan smiled, "I kick butt for the Lord."

----------

"We did it, sir!" one of the soldiers shouted, "We found the door!"

"Excellent," Captain Lukas was practically licking his lips in anticipation, "Soon, we'll have an edge beyond anything the heroes could throw at us. Why is this door still shut!? Blast it open and let's claim out prize!"

"Sir?"

"DO IT! Get the See-Four!"

As the Raiders rushed to get the explosives, Lukas stayed at the door and sighed triumphantly. Soon, he would bring before Colonel Duray the weapon that would guarantee his promotion to Wing Commander. Then he would see to taking the place of that incompetent Rachek and ruling the skies over the Atlantic the way the Raiders were meant to.

He placed his hand on the door. Lukas could almost feel the power beyond. Soon, that power would be his to command.

Sheldon Wallace awoke to a cold steel cell. For a moment, he wondered at his position, but those few blissful seconds were gone all too quickly. In a rush, he remembered it. The sleek, black, insect-like Arachnos Flyer, the missile blast that sent other nearby heroes rushing to stop the fire, but nobody noticed the troops coming after Sheldon. That strange, balding man...

"You're awake," a voice crackled through a speaker to him, "Good."

"Who are you?" Wallace asked hoarsely.

"They call me Operative Grillo," the voice replied, "When we meet, you'll probably remember me."

"I remember your voice," Wallace cleared his throat, "I've got a near-idytic memory..."

"Good! Good. That will serve us well."

"Us? Oh... Yeah..."

There was a pause.

"You intend to torture me, don't you?" Sheldon asked, "To ensure my loyalty."

"If I have to, Wallace."

"You know my name?" something about Grillo's voice struck Sheldon as being a bit off.

"I put the word out to Arachnos to give me a number of different things... Lo-and-behold, Arbiter Taylor sends me word about a small super group with a wizard, a psychic, and, important to me, a recently outed mad scientist."

"Only by the definition of a pathological need to invent, Grillo."

"That's all I need right now. However... Semantics aside, there's one thing you need to consider right now..."

"Whether or not I want to be tortured?"

"Bingo."

Sheldon took only three seconds to make his decision and his plan. He even had a few nifty ideas he wanted to try with the Arachnos troops.

"I'll do it," he said crisply.

"That's what i like to hear!" Grillo shouted, causing the speaker to crackle again, "Oh, you're going to love it here, Wallace. The food is better, there's a sense of accomplishment like no other... Don't worry, I won't be shunting you off to work for Black Scorpion... That's usually where we send the guys who are at their breaking point, anyway. No... I've got a whole lab set up for people like you..."

-----

The lab was like a blend of a chemistry facility and a tinker shop. Machinery lay littered across an entire half of the room, on and off the tables. The other half, neatly ordered liquids and compounds, all in glass jars, tubes, beakers and vials were placed and sat bubbling and reacting. A number of scientists were already in the room, cataloging results and experimenting with different combinations.

"Stop!" Sheldon shouted as the troops released their grip on his shoulders and he ran over to another scientist about to poor two chemicals together.

"Sulfur dichloride and ethylene! Mustard Gas! Just because it's not bleach and ammonia doesn't mean you're going to be fine!"

"You've been in here two seconds and you're already running things," Grillo chuckled, "Yep, you're your father's son."

"Like you knew him..."

"I did," Grillo grunted, "Here, let me take you to your table..."

The table was littered with unimaginable amounts of junk. Sheldon was already taking note of what he could and couldn't use as Grillo spoke.

"Initially, I tried to recruit your father," Grillo explained, "but for some reason, our recruiters-"

"Kidnappers," Sheldon corrected as he started working, "Don't be coy. I can face the truth about myself, the least you can do is face the truth about yourself."

"It is the truth, son. The methods may be different, but at least I can promise you a future here. Where you're from? Look at what yer dad does, son. Is he rich for it? Is he powerful? Is he respected? No. He lives in an old farm house next to a barn he converted into a garage. He's a military consultant, now. Paid little more than a teacher... And God forbid he tries to put anything he's made on the private market..."

"God forbid i do the same here," Sheldon muttered as he fit a last piece into the device he was working on, "Hm... that went quicker than i thought..."

"That looks like a bomb."

"It is, sort of... I call it a Vortex Grenade. It doesn't really hurt the target, but it does wind up sucking them through a dimensional singularity and depositing them somewhere random."

"Interesting," Grillo rasped as he looked the weapon over, "We don't have anything like this, yet..."

"It'll take some time to work out manufacturing them," Sheldon sighed, "I lack proper materials here... I was lucky to have found some diapson crystal..."

"Some what?"

"Nothing... Just... Here... Keep this one, as a show of good faith," Sheldon pressed the weapon into Operative Grillo's hand.

"You certainly are taking to this fast..."

"Well, I wasn't likely to get reinstated as a hero," the inventor shrugged, "And I would probably have been facing some serious jail time for my involvement in the Inevitable incident... Maybe you're right, sir. Maybe I have a chance to start over here."

"Well, good..." Grillo was obviously having some conflict trying to reconcile what the young manw as saying, though, he had definitely expected the former hero to put up at least some kind of struggle, "That sounds most excellent, Mr. Wallace."

"Just, one thing..." Sheldon almost didn't want to ask, but he figured it would be fair, "My Gravitic Manipulation Gauntlets..."

"You ain't gettin' 'em," Grillo shook his head and folded his hands over hsi chest, "No way, no how."

"I don't want them... I just want something to approximate the tertiary effects of my gravity control... Stuff like being able to just reach for a distant tool or fit things together as they hover in front of me would make me vastly more efficient if I didn't have to be walking all over the place or picking things up, fumbling around with them, and... Well, you get the idea."

Operative Grillo considered this might be it. This might be the tactic the former hero was trying.

"You build them, then we do a few stress tests. You won't know what I'm testing for. If you fail, I'm putting you through indoctrination. Is that fair? Otherwise, you'll have to do without."

"That's fair," Sheldon replied confidently, "I'm certain you will be pleased with what I have in mind."

But Operative Grillo couldn't shake the sudden feeling of unease.

----------

Randall sat his crew around the table. He had everybody assembled, everybody they'd ever worked with, from the BWO to Martin Sanders, Gregory Caid and the former Outcasts, Blizzard Front and Ashen Roast. Nester had even brought a couple other people in on the job, an armored tanker named Eisenheartz and a young, orange-skinned lady named Fire-Shield.

"Ladies and gentlemen," he rumbled through the room as everybody settled down, "You should all know by now why I called you here. We all have different reasons to be heroes... We all have different reasons to stay, different reasons to fight, and different reasons to keep on going on. However, now I'm asking you to help me with something personal."

He paused to take a sip from his flask. A young catgirl standing next to Agent Wild scrunched up her nose and arched an eyebrow at the massive tanker, but said nothing.

"Now look..." Randall went on, "We all know Sheldon is missing... they busted up Ryat Ten something fierce in order to get to him. And we salute you your effort, boy..."

He gestured to the green torso and head sitting in the back of the room, getting silently repaired by the Ryats designated 41 and 22. It nodded a little, its voice emitters had been shot through with silenced pistols.

"But I'm asking you all to execute this rescue mission with extreme prejudice," the 50-year-old stone tanker grunted, "I mean break bones, smash equipment... Make the enemy pay. I want Arachnos to know the hornets nest they keep stepping in when they mess with me and my own..."

"Is this just because they went after your daughter?" Blizzard Front asked, clearly oblivious to how fond of the young lady the group was.

He didn't remain uneducated for long.

"Ow! My shoulder!" the ice blaster shouted, then turned back to Sarah, "What the Hell? How can anybody stand being around you for- OW!"

"Enough! Joe, knock it off!" Randall shouted.

Of course, when everything was quiet again, he chuckled a little at the former Outcast's pain.

"Now, look... This isn't just about my family. I would go this nuts for any one of you. I would. This is about making sure Arachnos and their 'Lord Recluse' know not to [frig] with the heroes outside his little war with Statesman... We've got nothing to do with that war, but when Arachnos [frigs] with us, we [frig] with them! You got me!?"

"Sounds like a lot of-" Blizzard half-whined, but stopped, "Never mind. I gotcha."

"Good... Then let's get to planning."

--Rikti Earth--

"Something about the Chosen having to conform to a particular type," Ryat66 made an almost sighing sound, "My brother, Ryat Prime, explained some of it... Like how we saw so many... rogues... running around with robots just like his... Apparently they have an idea of what their 'Chosen One' is supposed to look like..."

He looked at how Toy was glaring at him at that moment.

"Oh... You guys weren't talking to me..."

"Here are our options," Randall grunted as he examined the situation, "One, we go down there, sweep and clear, and recon for their base of operations. Two, we build up a base here and prepare for the inevitable, that they'll attack us and have the advantage of siege tactics. Of course, we've got our powers and talents... We could probably take them still. Or... We could retreat and find another landing site. Of course, that has its own hazards, what with the Rikti most likely noticing out descent... there might even be a ship heading out here to investigate."

His eyebrows arched as he realized the enormity of the situation.

"Wow... This is probably about to get very bad."

"Well," Cortland intoned as he sat down cross-legged, "It seems to me that we should eliminate one of our enemies right now. The Malta Group... I dealt with them once, recently... Mattock..."

"Matt?" Randall grunted.

"He said to look out for this particular car... I can't explain how I found it... It... It was a feeling he sent to me... The Group was watching it... This was just when the Corporation was having trouble with the Portal... Matt sent the information to me... I don't think he realized he did, his control with Aethereal communication is terrible..."

"So the Malta Group may have been involved with the Portal problems?" Ryat66 asked, "Wait... That doesn't sound right... It doesn't match up to what I ran into in the control system..."

"These are all problems we can deal with later," Randall clapped a hand on the android's shoulder, "For now, let's figure out how to deal with these [butt]holes. I'm thinking dropping in on their heads, smashing the Sapper, and moving our way through their ranks like normal. Always a sound plan for the Malta group, right?"

----------

--Jade Moon: The Rikti Ship--

Sheldon removed his trench coat and started familiarizing himself with the room. Placing the Aggressor at a point where he could see it easily from nearly any point, he siphoned some speed from it and set about checking monitors and determining the plant's power output.

Monitors (even in a Rikti sense) flickered to life and Sheldon was pleased to note that his translations of technical terms were still up to par.

----------

--Peregrine Island--

"Crimson... Oh, Cobalt! Awesome!"

Cobalt Black 3-8-9, from Praetorian Earth, stood there next to Crimson. His unit had escaped during a moment of turmoil and invasion of Prime Earth by the Praetorians, and have been used by Crimson and his partner, Indigo, for the purposes of espionage and surveillance of the Malta Group ever since. Cobalt had recently been relieved of his assignment after he led the duo to yet another group to send a Hero after.

"Who is this, Aaron?" Crimson asked his plain-clothes attired agent.

"This is McGinty. A friend of my double. What are you doing here, Matt?"

"Malta Group troubles!" Matt shouted, "Or... Someone like them... Look, I have a lot of problems and I think you're just the guy to help me, Big Red!"

Crimson arched an eyebrow at the bizarre looking young man, but he didn't seem too bothered.

"What have you got for me?" he asked as he waved off Aaron Durj.

"Righto," the double-agent replied before walking away, "Hey, Matt. Nice bike. Think maybe I could get a go on it one day?"

"Maybe," the scrapper replied with a chuckle, "If it'll let ya."

Aaron nodded and made his way to the boat he intended to sue to get back to Peregrine Island, and from there to Talos Island and his apartment. Matt, however, had to spend his time explaining to Crimson what he'd dealt with over the course of the night. Leaving out the bits related to Portal Corp's actual mission was difficult, but Matt was able to explain that a certain amount of secrecy was required on their part, which Crimson was able to accept.

----

Ryat99, in the meantime, got a hold of the audio file Matt had told him about. Listening to the voice, he couldn't figure out for squat whom it could possibly be, but still transmitted the voice profile to the other Ryats in the city. With almost a hundred about, one of them was bound to catch some kind of snippet.

"I guess I better get back to Matt," the big android muttered before flying away.

"Because we're poor, Experiment Two-point-Oh," Sheldon gave a wry chuckle, "Yeesh... If my father would just apply for a grant, he could probably build something like this under his barn... But he's a miser, and much more in control of his inventing urges than I am... I'm just so obsessed with my daily work..."

His gauntlets crackled a little to help explain the work he meant.

"And I'm very... Very poor. I wouldn't try to make anything like this from spare parts... Dale might... He did build that freakish Jules Vern inspired lightning-on-demand system out of scrap..."

Ryat99 floated in from the transport tube and hovered outside the arrival point for a few moments.

"Intriguing," he muttered as he gazed at the various fields circulating through it, "Though it may have been difficult to set up, once the breakthrough was achieved, I bet plugging in the floors and chambers after that first got progressively easy. It seems to simply flow like a river, and just needs a little guidance."

The android settled on the floor and turned to Vern.

"I salute you, Master of the Manor, for a most pleasant journey, as short as it was. That must be what clouds feel like."

Sikk.

Sikk was supposed to be a throw-away concept. Just some gothed-out loser kid with powers beyond his comprehension.

Then I got to thinking about where those powers came from.

Now I've accidentally injected some of my nightmares into it, and I don't entirely have a handle on where this thing is going.

"Set up a base of operations before Lady Grey and the rest of the Vanguard troops arrived," Randall grunted to Ineffable, "Push out hostiles, defend from said hostiles, and try not to get killed in the process."

"That last one's easy for me!" Ryat66 chirped, "And no, I noticed nothing out of the ordinary... As far as ordinary goes here."

Simmons sighed as he shook his head.

"You may not see the danger here, but not everybody can weather damage as well as you can."

"In his defense, we did come out of one Hell of a fight up there," Randall grunted, "If we could take that, I don't really know what could take us down."

"I'm certain we'll find something," Cory whispered.