Mr_Grey

Kipland rolled his eyes.

"Oh... A virtual world," he was clearly unimpressed, "Or something pretending to be one. Whoop-dee-fricking-doo."

Grumbling about originality, he headed for the corner of Pocket D where normally there was a pinball machine.

"You're not the first person to do crap like this to me," Kip muttered, "So, no, that's not what I was thinking. It was why I tossed that chair into the center of the dance floor, testing to see if there was any weird junk out there. Now... Let me guess... The next chair I grab is going to try to bite me..."

He considered doing a bicycle kick to peg Poe in the back of the head, but thought better on it. Last time he tried that on a leprechaun, and the little bugger just disappeared on him, leaving Kip with a headache. He didn't need that right now.

So, he kicked the table instead, sending its contents flying. The table itself was split down the center.

Somewhat satisfied, he turned and walked away from Poe.

"Wretched waste, just like all the others. Sense of self-entitlement makes them think that their scat's more important than everybody else's."

He wheeled around back at Poe.

"Listen up, numb-nuts. Let me out of here, and I'll tell Breaker to get his [butt] out here to you. I don't feel like having to go through this crap every day again."

"Oh God!" Kip shouted, "It's that weird, sad waiter! I guess I should have known, you sonova[dog]... You were being about as subtle as a nuclear bomb in there."

He walked until he was under Poe and glared up into his face.

"Mind telling why you involved me in your [dung]? You got a problem with Power Breaker, I get that part. I fail to see what I have to do with it."

"EE-YEHS!" Martin shouted triumphantly, "That'll teach those mechanical oddities not to mess with us!"

Immediately he started heading deeper through the Powderkeg. He couldn't just let the bloodhound run off on its own... Something deep within told him it was important.

"Don't worry, Pup... Help's on the way."

"You've gotta be fricking kidding..." he intoned.

He stood and scratched at the border of his left eye. It was twitching again.

Yes. he knew something was wrong, he didn't need the physical reminder of that.

He checked for his communicator. It was still at his hip, but he knew where things would go from there.

"I'm not going through fourteen-oh-eight syndrome myself," he intoned as he smashed it into the table and snapped it in two by slapping his palm against it, then he turned to the waiter and DJ Zero, "I want nothing from you, go away."

He had to find a way out. He had to find his way back home.

"What the Hell did I do to deserve this," he growled as he dragged a chair with him to the dance floor, "You know, aside from not beat up enough idiots?"

Angrily, he hurled the oblong seat into the dance floor, figuring something bad had to be waiting in there.

The eyes of the mask glowed a dangerous shade of red and Kip shouted as he unleashed an energy beam at the oncoming ceiling. A hole tore through the falling obstruction and the room turned a terrifying shade of crimson.

Crouching down, Kip barely avoided getting crushed, but the deed had been done. The hole he'd dug into the ceiling hadn't been enough, and the walls of the cavern he had carved into it smashed into his head, shoulders and back.

When it pulled away, the scrapper slumped to the ground, his armor fading as if it had never been...

A flurry of fists smashed a clustered group of Clockwork up, knocking down the two minions and leaving the Cannon Knight with barely a moment to "pop" before Martin smashed his fist through its face, knocking the head off its shoulders.

"Next!" Martin shouted to a group near the Bloodhound, "Oh, no you DON'T!"

He charged headlong into the Tesla Prince there with another flurry of shadow-wrapped fists. The machine's body withered and dented under the negative energy assault, but much slower than normal.

In fact, they all seemed a little tougher for some odd reason...

"DAAAAAAAAAAAAH!"

Kip's body was wrapped in a dark-purple cloud as he descended into the trap pit. When the clouds dissipated, he was covered from head-to-toe in a dark-purple crystalline armor akin to Shadow-Cyst Crystal, but off slightly.

"Sonovabi-" he got out before hitting the first bomb.

He was tossed this way and that, explosion after explosion throwing him against the walls and into the air. After not even a minute of the detonations, though, it was over.

"Not nearly enough," he grunted, "I'm unstoppable."

His breath was being filtered by his "mask." His body ached from the concussive hits, but it was a dull ache. In a moment, he'd feel it. Not right now, though.

"Okay, [butt]hole," he shouted to the air, "Who's the wise guy who thinks he can just kidnap a meta-human?"

--Jade Moon--

Randall nodded, ignoring the obvious contempt in the rogues.

"One of these days, these guys are gonna realize that we're all just people tryin' to get by, hero or not."

"Good job, Toy Dispenser," he grunted at the robot, "I guess that means we know where to get started."

He turned to Jake.

"You got yourself some robots, right? Take yourself, that girl I see you hangin' out with, a few soldiers and try to hook up with a heavy type... That other tank... What's-his-name... Binro! When we get out of this chamber, take the left corridor that Dispenser's drone is at."

He looked about to anybody else who had availed themselves to him.

"Danica! Solid Shot... Toy Dispenser... and... [To Hell with] it. I'll go. We'll take the right. A third group should stay with the Vanguard proper, the ones who won't be able to keep up with us... For obvious reasons."

He sighed.

"I'm willing to accept volunteers for forward positions... We could probably use medically skilled types, but anybody is welcome to a point. Like I said, we still need a back-up force to remain with the injured troops."

((Hey, Poe, sometimes it takes a lot of time to get through the D, especially when it starts lagging so hard while all the other meta-types are in the dimension... Super-power induced gravity wells can be some terrible things...

So... Okay... Since it looks like Briggs is done dealing with Kip...))

Kip exited the club and made his way for the Talos Island exit. Suddenly, he could hear his soul screaming at him, like a roar in the back of his head.

Unfortunately, it was too late. He was out the door and headed into the dark void that led to the Talos Island Pocket D door...

Martin's body was covered in dark energy suddenly.

"Ah, wrapped in Cold... Much better."

He leaped surprisingly high into the air, following the creature, just like the others.

"If there's anything special to know, the others will keep me informed."

"That's... Very short-sighted. Especially with the individuals you're dealing with... For somebody working for the organization defending the city from the criminality, you're surprisingly quick to trust. I strongly suggest you... Oh, forget it. Some lessons are better learned through experience. Well, ta. You're heading into-"

And there was a dead space where there was once noise. Martin arched an eyebrow at this. He didn't expect it to seem so unsettling. It was like a father who suddenly walked away while his son played an important game.

"I never really got to know my father..." he grumbled as he bounded across the landscape, "Why would I liken this voice to him?"

Suddenly, he descended into a swarm of Perfected Oscillators. Apparently, the Clockwork had decided to take advantage of the heroes and rogues moving out of the protective perimeter of the DPO.

Flashes of lightning arced into him, tearing into the darkness enveloped around Martin and singing his skin. Unfortunately for the machines, he was tougher than the average meta... Well, he wasn't but he wasn't about to just stop...

One Oscillator got too close, and Martin snatched it out of the air. It wasn't that he needed it to slow his descent, no... These little bastards had taken something from him, and it was time to take some back...

Dark tendrils emerged from his hand, tore into the Oscillator, and wrenched glowing green energy from the machine, transferring it back into Martin. He wasn't done with it, though. Another set of dark tendrils, and bright blue energy was transferred into the dark scrapper.

The robot squeaked in dismay. When it tried to get a swing on Martin, he bashed it over the head with a darkness infused hammerfist. The head crumpled inward and the eyes went dark. Martin tossed the wrecked body aside and turned to the rest of the monsters.

"Time for some fun!"

((Nobody knows how Zero maintains such control over his pocket dimension, but, suffice it to say, the control is his and his alone. There's some things he'll allow, and others he will not.

Watching your character fiddle with pointless circuits and wires, for instance, might be giving him a chuckle. Heck, he's even willing to have the Hamidon drop in a couple times, provided the gelatinous goo doesn't try any funny stuff (like eat the customers). Don't mess with his sound system, though. He'll make sure you get electro-barbecued into next week.))

((Damnation... Now Khell beat me to it.

*sigh*

I'll see if any of what I had wills till fit... I think it will...))

--Cyber-Hell(?)--

The Fool sucked in his breath sharply and felt a strong unease about the whole situation. This was a first for him, as he'd never actually been afraid before.

"Never had to worry about dying before," he muttered to himself, "Still..."

Pinging his knife against the walkway to make sure it was safe, he made his way for the demon, the only other figure around. With any luck, it was a smoke-and-mirrors act, but the Fool hadn't been very lucky lately.

"Excuse me sire," he called out over the sounds of conflagration, "I was hoping you could have a word with me, perhaps be something along the lines of forthcoming with answers to the many questions I have... Well, maybe not many, but certainly pressing."

The "devil-man" didn't make a motion, so the Fool edged closer.

"Certainly there is a personality behind such a complex facade. Most daemons tend not to look like... um... demons."

----------

--Jade Moon--

Randall nodded to Lady Grey and set to work gathering up able-bodied Vanguard troopers. There weren't many that were fit for duty just yet, only around twenty riflemen and one wizard. However, they were just the unscathed ones who weren't quite needed for the rehabilitation effort necessary in the aftermath of the Nemesis attack.

"Alright, Delta Team, form up!" he shouted over the din of pained moans, "Let's get everybody some troopers assigned to them, and divide up into teams to get a decent inspection underway."

----------

--Peregrine Island: Bay Area--

Mad Matt screamed and cursed through clenched teeth as he fell face-first to the ground when the tazer hit him. It felt like his skin had turned into a roiling cloud, and it was due to the luck of a muscle spasm that he even retained a grip on his sword-hilt.

Suffice it to say, he was both angry and elated that the Malta Group Officer had decided to end it this way. Elated, because now he got to cut the nimrod a few new bleed holes, like he promised. Angry because that tazer didn't exactly tickle.

As he regained his faculties, Matt became aware of the heavy sound of one of the Hercules Titans bearing down on him. With the dull whine of its arm raising, he knew what was coming next. As the "fist" came crashing down, he acted.

Letting loose a loud, wordless bark, he slammed the hilt of his sword into the concrete surface of the roof. The metal arm of the machine connected with the tip.

Most katanas would bend or break under such pressure, as they were hardly made by expert swordsmiths and the companies that made such prefabricated weaponry rarely used the finer steels. More often than not, the weapons were little better than ornaments, and were definitely not fit for super-hero combat.

Matt's blade was not a prefab. However, it was also not made by a grand master swordsmith, nor was it made with fine steel. The advantage it had over its lesser brothers (and even some of its betters) was that it was an enchanted blade.

His mentor (not sensei, his father forbade such a relationship, fearing it would have hindered Matt's development in other areas in his life, like school and friendship) had granted the weapon to the young high school graduate as a gift, for completing both school and his martial arts training. The young man had been told that the sword would never dull, bend or break.

Now, it was receiving nearly the penultimate in stress tests. Perhaps getting hit by a Zeus Titan or Statesman itself would prove whether or not the magic was truly so strong. However, here, the enchantment was more than enough. The blade held, and the Hercules assault was deflected.

Matt scrabbled back to his feet, got into a stable stance, and assaulted the cybernetic monstrosity. Sheldon had worked on the wreckages of such machines before, and had instructed Grey's Army on the correct points to assault the machines to do the most damage.

Matt aimed a stab for the Hercules Titan's sensor array, located on the top of what would normally be shoulders in most living things...

----

Cory had been speeding around the building, away from the missiles, but he stopped and suddenly darted back toward them. Flying through the center of the swarm, he cursed a little as he got clipped by two, one after the other. He had a new plan, one that was a little risky, but he had to chance it. His ability to draw energy from the Aether hadn't yet returned, and the gems he used to replenish himself hadn't given nearly enough to keep all his enchantments running at once.

He barely avoided a blast beam from the Titan as he tore across the sky and closed with it (it actually caught him a little in his left wing, but he was too focused to notice). Getting closer, he coalesced the condensation in the air into a blade of ice.

Closer...

Closer...

The Titan aimed it's cannon at him again, but Cory was too close. However, instead of attacking, he just somersaulted in the air, avoiding another beam of energy, and landed behind the Hercules.

"Just a little energy left..."

When the machine lifted its arm to smash the wizard, Simmons rammed the mystically charged weapon of ice into it's elbow joint and propped himself against it. With any luck, this would hold just long enough...

In the background, the sound of a missile cluster was getting closer...

Martin grinned at the monster.

"Jebus! That was close! Why the Hell am I smiling?

...

Because I can't stop thinking it's actually a pretty cute little critter, like a puppy or a... bearcub?"

"Alright," he chuckled as he looked away from the creature's eyes, "I'll let 'em alone. Lead the way, and I'm ready to go."

((Still here. Breaker's still filling up on beer and nuts, Kipland's just about to the door. You guys certainly are the energetic lot...))

Martin looked the winged lizard over. It reminded him of a drake.

A drake? Where had he heard of such a thing?

"[To Hell with] it," he muttered, "They said it's as good as a bloodhound, I'm calling it a bloodhound."

He walked up and looked into its face. When it flicked its tongue at him, he quirked an eyebrow back.

"Well aren't you a cute little guy?"

Martin Sanders emerged from the portal. He looked around for a second, then zipped up his pants.

"Whoops! Sorry... I got distracted," he growled, "Holy..."

Staring out across the blasted landscape, he seemed to grunt and curse to himself a lot.

"You can feel it, can't you?" the voice asked without emotion.

"Death," Sanders accidentally whispered, "And lots of it. There are a lot of angry spirits out there right now... And... Something I can't quite place..."

"Psionic energy..." the voice bore no hint of congratulations, nor of derision, it was simply there, "You haven't been in enough contact with it in your life to know the energy signature, much less the subtle nuances, ebbs and flows. Suffice it to say, the Aether of this area is in turmoil. Our conversations will be limited."

Martin smiled.

"Well, at least there's an upside to all of this."

"In time..." the voice murmured, "You will understand why that's a bad thing. Now, get to the meeting, introduce yourself, and start taking this seriously."

"I am taking this seriously," the scrapper muttered as he approached the Chief, "Greetings. I'm Martin Sanders, Freedom Corps Agent, unspecified services, unspecified rank. I'm here to help."

((Kipland's the one leaving. Power Breaker is sitting right where he is.

Raise your hands if you've dealt first-hand with the insanity that is Poe helmed by Lord Diov. Those of you on that list will understand well why Breaker wants to stay right where he is (or at least get good and drunk before he goes anywhere).

Kip's still on his way out... Not quite there, yet. However, since there's been some interaction...))

Power Breaker reached out for the odd piece of black paper and marveled at the lettering that typed blockily onto its surface. Intrigued, he looked to the unusual symbol on the other side. Not too different from any other arcane or faux-arcane group... His nanites couldn't make hide-nor-hair of it... Must not be a symbol from the Malleus. Maybe it was after the Hammer's time...

He pocketed the paper. He was never one to trust help offered so freely, but... Sometimes, the best way to deal with evil was to give it a different evil to focus on.

"With any luck, they'll destroy each other."

Query?

"Relax, just musing to myself."

It was good to know some parts of his brain were still his alone.

[ QUOTE ]
[ QUOTE ]
"Our trades are also carefully monitored by Freedom Corps," Kip sighed, "No information on Hero movement is the big thing..."

"And since I'm an agent of Vanguard," Breaker shrugged, "I'm technically in the service of the interests of the people. Technically a hero..."

He sighed and looked glumly at the table.

"Practically... That's another matter."

[/ QUOTE ]

"Alright," Briggs replies with a nod. "For some reason I believe you. But still I feel it is my duty to log this transaction. Standard procedure." The woman holds her cybernetic arms outwards in front of her. Two small image projectors rise from the tops of her hands. The projectors cast a hologram of a keyboard and computer screen in front of her, which is tapped into the Freedom Corps computers according to what can be seen on the screen. Her fingers tap swiftly over the keyboard which floats in mid-air.

[/ QUOTE ]

Power Breaker nodded.

"Anything that gets the word spreading faster..."

"Well, I'm gonna head out," Kip sighed, "I've got me some Crey operatives I need to put down... Maybe some Nemesis troops, too."

He checked his own datapad and his eyes widened a little.

"Dammit, both. Fifty each. Ugh... This is gonna be a long day."

"Have fun," Power Breaker hollered after him, "Both of you (El D). I'm gonna be here all night. Maybe for a solid week... Zero? You guys serve meals here?"

The DJ shook his head.

"Okay... I gotta figure a way out of here that Poe won't see. Screw it, I'll subsist off beer."

Again, the DJ shook his head, this time in disgust.

[ QUOTE ]
[ QUOTE ]
"Now... As far as a hero helping a villain... This is merely an exchange of property, not evidence. If the rifle were evidence..."

[/ QUOTE ]

"Yes," she notes. "But I'm just making sure I'm not being privy to an "arms deal". The contraband trade between Paragon and the isles is staggering."

[ QUOTE ]
"The only thing that makes this not 'up-and-up' is that he's officially an escaped fugitive..." Kip turned and pointed to various people throughout the room, "But then again, so is he... Him... Him... Her... That... All quite cordial in this setting, largely because of him..."

[/ QUOTE ]

The cybernetic cop taps her finger on her forearm of the opposing arm as she takes the situation in. "Mmhmm. And if you don't mind me asking just what does this information pertain to?"

[ QUOTE ]
A man in his mid-thirties in a brown, tattered trench coat stepped out of the villain-side bar and approached a woman and a pair of children on the border of the dance floor that bore the vista of the twirling truck. He embraced the children before greeting the woman. Anybody near them would have wondered as to why they couldn't hear a word being said.

"Visit family," Kip finished, "Brother Mauthe is what that man's followers call him. The kids just call him 'dad.' Nobody knows what the woman calls him."

[/ QUOTE ]

Briggs frowns, giving a disapproving look towards the couple and their children. "Just who would bring their kid in here? Yeah its not dangerous due to Zero and all. But still there are some pretty foul dudes in here." She turns her look to Breaker and remarks, "Present company excluded."

[/ QUOTE ]

"Well..." Power Breaker rolled his eyes, "If they went through normal routes, Mauthe would run the risk of getting arrested, assassinated, or worse. Here, Zero keeps everybody safe. Heck, we're not even seeing the civvies' real faces. Zero makes some pretty convincing illusions, it's a cakewalk for him to hide somebody's identity from prying eyes. The only person who knows what those people really look like is Mauthe himself."

He patted the rifle case.

"I don't intend to use this. Intend, mind you... This is a collector's item. And I mean that. I'm better off with a bunch of other tricks I naturally have at my disposal, anyway..."

The crystalline protrusions on his shoulders started humming, and a few lines of red electricity crackled, but petered out almost as quickly.

"Zero doesn't even like the hint of using a hostile power, but I like that he allowed me the chance to be dramatic. Relax, I didn't really have anything in specific targeted."

He drank another half of the beer and set the glass on the table.

"Our trades are also carefully monitored by Freedom Corps," Kip sighed, "No information on Hero movement is the big thing..."

"And since I'm an agent of Vanguard," Breaker shrugged, "I'm technically in the service of the interests of the people. Technically a hero..."

He sighed and looked glumly at the table.

"Practically... That's another matter."

Kip looked at the datapad himself.

"Sorry, Briggs... I gotta say that this isn't entirely up-and-up... However, the information from Breaker's usually legit."

"I stopped taking information fed me by Scirrocco," Power Breaker intoned, "And this rifle's gonna look nice mounted on my wall."

"According to some of these messages, it looks like Arachnos is looking for another group of psychics," Kip frowned, "Arbiter Taylor? What does he have to do with... Oh... Crapstick."

Kipland attached the datapad to his communicator and started cycling through options.

"Come on... Come on..." he hissed at the machine.

"Officer," Power Breaker tapped the table, "I do remember my dad talking about yours. Didn't think much of him... Called him a brown-nosin' sonova... Nevermind. If my dad didn't like him, there had to be something good about him."

He smiled at that.

"Now... As far as a hero helping a villain... This is merely an exchange of property, not evidence. If the rifle were evidence..."

"I wouldn't have it," Kip muttered, then his face softened and he relaxed from his communicator, "And it's sent... Snuffy should be getting a robotic escort for her date with her fiance..."

"I hope it's enough," Breaker commented, then back to Briggs, "Now, to continue... I'm an informant for Grey's Army, Lieutenant (I recognize the insignia). My services come with a price. I already stated my price range, and I ask for nothing different. Nothing compromising, and nothing overpowering."

"He won't ever get a nuke, for instance," Kip muttered, "Plus, the rifle was made from spare parts found strewn about the city. Quite a project for my boss's eldest son."

"I'm glad he was willing to part with it," Power Breaker sighed, "Once word gets out that I have this, it'll get a few more people off my back."

"The only thing that makes this not 'up-and-up' is that he's officially an escaped fugitive..." Kip turned and pointed to various people throughout the room, "But then again, so is he... Him... Him... Her... That... All quite cordial in this setting, largely because of him..."

DJ Zero nodded to the young scrapper.

"I really hate when he does that," Kip muttered as he turned back to the table, "It's just unsettling... Still... Here, we chill and hang out, conduct business... and even..."

A man in his mid-thirties in a brown, tattered trench coat stepped out of the villain-side bar and approached a woman and a pair of children on the border of the dance floor that bore the vista of the twirling truck. He embraced the children before greeting the woman. Anybody near them would have wondered as to why they couldn't hear a word being said.

"Visit family," Kip finished, "Brother Mauthe is what that man's followers call him. The kids just call him 'dad.' Nobody knows what the woman calls him."

Martin turned around angrily and almost slapped himself for his blindness.

"Just goes to show ya, I'm spending too much time with my head in the clouds..."

Despite his near-amused speech, inside, he was roiling.

"That wasn't there just a short while ago... What the Hell else has changed? Good Lord, how long has it been since I've been to Boomtown?"

"Too long," a voice replied in the back of his mind, "And thank you for accepting the task I have set for you."

"You again," Martin sucked air through his teeth sharply as he marched for the Green Line, "Who are you? What do you want with me?"

"You have not yet accomplished enough to have earned that knowledge," the voice replied, oddly patient, despite the numerous arguments it has had with Martin in the past, "Trust me, all in due time."

"This guy mopped the floor with Statesman... Whatever that ghost was..."

"It's not a ghost. Something... Much worse."

"Whatever... What chance does a bum like me have against it?"

There was a chuckling sound.

"Why, you're practically Death incarnate, my child... There's nothing that can stop you."

Martin's eye twitched a little at that. Sure, he had a connection to the dark realms beyond, but that hardly qualified him as 'Death' itself. What the Hell was going on, and what was that voice?

Was he truly insane?

Martin Sanders leaped and bounded across Steel Canyon. He knew the city zone from the ground up, and from the up to the ground, it was actually less complicated...

"Ledge here, rooftop there... The Green line and here... we... go?"

Glaring at the massive steel doors clamped shut, he turned to the Security Chief who was packing up some stuff from his guardhouse.

"Hey!" he barked at the SWAT officer, "What does a guy have to do to get in there, now?"

--Portal Corp. Courtyard--

"I think the world's psychics have more on their plates than just altering how everybody dresses," Sheldon replied darkly, "For instance, if the psychic I knew was designing my outfits, I'd probably be dressed to go to Pocket D all the time."

He lifted the android, it's rotors whining and buzzing as it stood.

"I believe you're looking for Unai Kemen," Sheldon's voice seemed to have softened, but only slightly, he was a professional to the last, "He's a little flabbergasted right now, dealing with a malfunction in the portal control. Now, I need to get this shell back over to the terminal and see if I can..."

He noticed the literally burned out USB cable.

"Sonova... That just does not happen!"

----------

--The Jade Moon--

Randall glared at Toy Dispenser.

"I wonder if I did something to offend that Tin Clown," he muttered, then, loudly to the rest of the group, "Alright, folks. Let's get some patrols going. We need forward progress here, and the sooner we can get moving, the better."

He turned to Lady Grey as he stood.

"I hope you don't mind if we take some able-bodied soldiers of yours to assist us."

----------

--Peregrine Island: Bay Area--

((Uh... Cory was never actually flying... He 'sploded, draining himself completely and only just recharged himself.))

When the beam passed, Mad Matt was on the ground, but rolling forward. The scrapper sprang up to his feet and the blade of his katana sang as it slashed through the air and the torsos of the remaining TacOps operatives. The two soldiers grunted as they gripped their bleeding chests and disappeared.

The explosion behind him signaled the stun grenade's detonation, not that Matt was too bothered by concussive effects (being the practiced brawler that he was). Instead, Matt just grinned at the TacOps Commander.

"Call 'em off," Matt indicated the machines, "Or I cut you some new bleed holes. My associate says none of this is necessary. Frankly... I'm hopin' you say 'no.'"

He stepped closer, placing the blade next to the Commander's neck.

"Then I get to have me some fun!"

----

Below, Cory was busy running away from the barrage of missiles that headed his way. Muttering a few incantations and feeling a few twitches in the aether, he was wreathed in his Wind and Ice armors almost at the same time. Taking flight, he thanked whatever gods watched over him that the noxious gases emitted by the missiles were filtered by the chemicals in the bright pill he'd consumed.

Spinning in the air, he worked to drain the heat energy from around him. He hated doing it, but right now, he needed all of that energy to use against the monstrous abomination of cold steel modernity. A ball of fire appeared in the sorcerer's hand, brighter than anything he'd made that night, and he hurled the explosive bundle of condensed heated oxygen at the Hercules Titan standing at the edge of the roof.

----------

--The Cyberbia--

"Yeesh," the Fool muttered as he crouched near the tubular constructs, "Well, I could probably finagle some way to get across using the rope and the spade... Maybe even the knife... But I'd probably risk damaging or losing them... I'd better not chance it."

Turning, he looked at the elevator.

"Oh, I hate these games!" he moaned, thinking of some of the odd puzzle games his younger brother, Ryat99 (Judgment, in this realm) always played.

Ryat99 also always seemed to get a chuckle out of them, too.

"I still don't see what's so funny," the Fool muttered to himself as he hit the "down" button next to the elevator door, "This stuff's pretty fricking scary in-person."

"Put a bullet in his gut, huh? Some friend," Power Breaker frowned at Briggs, but blinked, "I mean him... For putting you in that spot. In my experience, those on your side of the law tend not to go to extremes unless absolutely forced to."

He took a sip of his drink.

"Well, I'm the son of a former PPD officer... Sergeant Eric Harris, from the King's Row precinct. He... He wasn't a terribly good father. I guess he made a mediocre cop... Since I didn't want to have to deal with him in the afternoons after school, I'd hang out with my friends... Friends who had connections."

He took another drink as he let the implication sink in. When Briggs looked like she was listening again, he went on.

"I was never a really big guy in those days, so I wound up being a courier. Take money here, drugs there, a box full of 'flowers' to Tommy One-Eye, a crate full of 'vitamin water' to Draco... I was making so much money just moving stuff, I didn't really notice when I got word I'd been kicked out of school for absence. I didn't really care, to tell you the truth. I'd already learned all I figured I'd need to know... One plus one equals two, how to calculate percentages, how to write a check, driver's ed, and dodgeball."

"Dodgeball?" Kip asked, "That's not necessary..."

Power Breaker grinned and took another drink before continuing.

"Well, in the course of my work, I wound up coming across a Tsoo courier. This was shortly after the War, business was picking up again, and I didn't really feel like making any enemies. Neither did he, so we were willing to let the big war of our bosses rage over our heads while we simply tried to survive. Too bad the Outcasts didn't like that plan. Next day, I meet the same courier, only he's getting shot by one of the cold-based ones... Well, he had a snowflake on his shirt... In any case, he takes off while I'm applying pressure to the guy's wound and then... poof. The Tsoo guy's gone. That's when his boss," he pointed at Kipland, "arrested me. I don't hold it against the guy. A thug over a dead body, the murder weapon right there... That Outcast was such a chicken-[dung] wuss, he dropped his gun when he took off..."

Power Breaker sighed and took another drink.

"One speedy trial later and I'm in the Zig. The Family abandoned me... Something about my friends having to prove themselves at proper business, so they cut off support to a 'liability.' The Tsoo bought into the whole mess, so they sent an assassin to visit harm on me..."

He thumbed the scar over his right eye.

"Raked a claw made of flatware and duct-tape across my eye before stabbing me in the gut. Mind you, I didn't look like this, then. No... This was directly a result of that precision assault. Crey Research and Development wanted to test out a new nanite serum, so they offered it to me... 'A chance to save my life' they said."

He thumbed one of the crystal protrusions in his shoulder.

"Some life. The nanites fixed me up, alright. They also made it so I can't forget anything, poked crystal spikes out of my skin so they can use sunlight as a power source, and turned my brain into their very own supercomputer. I know more stuff now than I ever needed before, and it's all instantaneous..."

He stared forlornly at his alcoholic beverage.

"It even takes me three of these things, drank within a fraction of the time I'm drinking them, to actually feel a buzz. The damn nanites keep filtering out the 'poison.'"

"So, that's my story in a nutshell. Since the big Zig breakout, I've been doing odd jobs in the Isles, mostly one faction against another deals. I've hardly been to Paragon since. Of course, now I do most of my work for Vanguard. They pay well, and I don't have that whole 'moral quandary' thing hanging over my head."

"So..." Kip piped up as he set a wooden case on the table, "I have here a broken down Crey sniper rifle... Cedric broke the thing apart, cleaned it, oiled it, reassembled it, test-fired it, broke it down again, cleaned and oiled it again, and put it back together. I think he intended to hunt pigeons with it. He said he was tired of them pooping on his car. So... Before he gets himself arrested... Here's our offer."

Power Breaker opened the case and looked over the weapon's pieces.

"Firing pin?"

Kip reached over and pressed a section of the case. It flipped open, revealing some of the small parts, including the firing pin.

"Don't worry about Ced's feelings on the matter," Kip chuckled, "He'll find himself a new hobby soon enough."

"Nice case."

"Yeah... Roland made it."

"Those Greys..." Power Breaker chuckled, "Alright, deal. Take the datapad, man."

He shook hands with the scrapper.

"Pleasure doing business with you."