Mr_Grey

--Peregrine Island: The Bay Area--

The smoke cleared and there was a smoldering hole where Matt McGinty used to be clinging to the side of the wall. Cory frowned up at the Malta Agents, then bit down hard on the object he had in his teeth. There was an audible snap as the light-purple (almost pink) medication broke open and Simmons then squeezed something in his fist that glowed blue briefly before turning into a bright orange-and-yellow fire blast that he promptly hurled at the Sapper.

The Malta Agents probably figured he was doomed and taken their sweet time in dealing with him, toying with him and what-not. However, they would have had to discount the sound of somebody running very fast up a flight of stairs moments prior to the roof door smashing open and a blur rushing forward and past one of the Hercules Titans with a yell.

Stopping there, to stand in the middle of agents and robots, stood Mad Matt McGinty. Covered in soot and dust, gripping his sword tightly, and his face pulled back in a crazy, soundless roar of anger, he made his attack.

At the Sapper who was now on fire. A quick slash across the Sapper Gun's operative singularity housing, and Matt jumped and spin-kicked the energy draining [jerk] over the side of the roof.

Turning back to face the Malta Agents, he nodded to the Hercules Titan he'd passed. There was a hissing sound. One of the hoses that helped operate the right arm had been cut.

"Time to rock and roll, [punks]!"

--------

--The Cyberbia--

The Fool started wandering. He didn't know where it was he had to get to, but standing still wasn't going to get him anywhere.

"Perhaps if I can find out what's inside these buildings, I can determine where I've been sent to... Maybe work out a way to get back to my body or even figure out how to regain portal control..."

-----------

--Jade Moon--

Randall put his hand to his mouth and a loud, shrill whistle issued forth. Sitting down on a previously moving Jaeger (it stopped with what would have been a sickening crunch if it had been alive), he bellowed out for a role-call on all the meta-types under his leadership.

"Come on, come on! We don't have all day."

----------

--Portal Corp Courtyard--

Sheldon Wallace turned to the young lady who had called for attention, and pointed Unai Kemen in her direction.

"I suppose that's yet another individual yanked from the comfort of her home for this mad quest."

"It's not so mad for those who wish to keep that comfort," Kemen replied acidly, "And I've read up on you, Wallace. I know all about you and your little toys."

"Yet you agreed so readily to have one hook up to a sensitive machine? It is difficult to understand the decisions one makes when under stress."

"Put a sock in it," Kemen shouted as he walked away, "And get that damn thing away from the portal!"

Sheldon attempted to lift his android.

'On a positive note, I'm not thinking of ways to butcher him," he thought to himself, "perhaps I'm not nearly as bad as I worried..."

"Woah!" Psycho13 shouted as he saw the flaming wreck that used to be the building they had been in, "Sure glad that wasn't us!"

Kip merely scanned the sky, but didn't notice Hotaka. He did, however, find Soul Striker, Jake and Wirespike.

"This way!" he shouted as he leaped far into the distance to land next to the group.

Psycho13, however, just zipped along on the road.

((It's easier to read without having to highlight it, so it's definitely an improvement. Kudos.))

Kipland led the lieutenant past the menagerie of oddities that commonly plagued the super-powered nightclub to the table next to the dance floor where Power Breaker and the demonic El D sat and conversed about the recently departed Poe.

"Yeah," the large, spiky man grunted, "I see what yer sayin'. I guess there's no helpin' it. Kip! Who's yer friend?"

"This is Lieutenant Briggs, she's with the Paragon PD. It's kinda her first time here, so be nice, 'kay?"

Power Breaker threw his arms out wide.

"I'm always nice. Dee? Ain't I always nice?"

He didn't wait for a response, instead turning to the girl.

"Look, officer. Don't let anybody tell you any tall tales about me. I'm one of the few people in the Isles who's on the up-and-up, and that's earned me quite a few foes."

"Yeah," Kip nodded, "That's why he works for Vanguard, now, as one of their 'free agents.'"

"Still," Power Breaker pulled a datapad from a case on his belt, "I find information on events in the Etoiles, in the City, and some other places. I trade with interested parties for cash, gadgets, and sometimes for some face-time with a genuine judge and jury. One of these days, Kip, I'm gonna get that appeal."

He set the datapad on the table.

"I got some info here concerning Grey's Army specifically. Arbiter Taylor's out and about again, and he's especially on the warpath since you guys messed up his Kheldian experiments."

"What's your price?" Kip asked.

"What'd you bring?" the brute replied.

"I want in on this."

Agent Wild looked up from his folder and glared at the hero in front of him.

"Did you hear me?"

"Yes," Wild replied, his ocular piece buzzing as it brought his attention back to the folder, "I heard you. I don't think you're the right guy for it."

"How do you mean?"

"You're unstable, Martin."

Martin Sanders, former homeless bum now regarded as a Dark/Dark scrapper, glowered at his main contact to Freedom Corps.

"Listen," Wild went on, "I would love to be able to recommend you for this nasty little business. Lord knows it would help my career. However, that all hinges on whether or not you succeed."

"So, because you're worried about the politics of the situation, you're not going to recommend me?"

"No, I'm not," Wild set the folder on the desk, "Now, I have to go to the bathroom. I would thank you kindly to let this matter go."

Martin watched his liaison go, then turned back to the file on the desk. Grinning wickedly, he snatched it up and headed out the door. Nobody in the Freedom Corps building of Galaxy City really paid much heed to the fully licensed scrapper with a folder marked "Vanguard" tucked under his arm.

When Agent Wild got back to his desk and saw the folder was missing, he let out a curse. Then he dimmed the lights, and allowed himself to smile.

"Wasn't my base," Breaker replied, "I came here to engage in a little business with a friend on the Hero-side, and suddenly I see go-tard over there being the crazy maniac we all know and dislike."

He shook his head and grunted a few obscenities.

"You think maybe the boss his associate warned us about never had any kids, so that's why he spoils the little maniac rotten? Or is it just complete apathy for the universe that drives them? How the Hell can anybody be so antisocial?"

----------

((Kip's still waiting for a response from Briggs. And, Tech, that purple is really difficult to read.))

[ QUOTE ]
*Ghost Widow steps into tower*

LR: You're just in time! Scirocco just finished cooking dinner for us.

GW: I can't eat...

BS: Sucks for you. This sushi kicks [censored]!

S: One of my better recipes.

LR: By the way, anyone seen Mako lately?

[/ QUOTE ]

The group looks at their meals. Scirrocco grins knowingly. Black Scorpion resumes eating. Scirrocco and Ghost Widow both frown at him.

BS: "Hey, I always knew that piece of sharkbait had to be good for something."

"Poe," Power Breaker barked.

Query: Confrontation? We assumed confrontation was to be avoided...

"Yeah... Well... Like the DJ said... Conflict resolution..."

Considering prior engagements, this seems decidedly unwise. Especially considering the individual in question came here with the intent to harm you. We cannot allow this to happen...

"Then help me deal with him."

He turned around and pushed a chair from the table.

"Come on, Poe. Let's talk."

Dammit, now I gotta look into developing another character...

Hm...

Maybe somebody out of the BWO faction... Or maybe one of the guys out of Agent Wild's stable (Mider Caid, Gregory Caid, Ashen Roast, Blizzard Front, Agent Wild himself, Snuggle Purr, Eisenheartz, Fire-Shield, Wrath Fire, or Martin Sanders)...

Most of the characters who make an appearance of some sort with a name wind up becoming one of my actual characters.

At least, with this RP, Diov, you START as the opposing faction, as opposed to threadjacking into the opposing faction (sorry, but you do that). Also, a lot of (mind you, not ALL of) that stuff you do we call God-moding can be chalked up as Dramatic Posturing when you're GMing your own RP Thread...

I kinda want in on this to see how that stuff goes...

((At first, I was worried. Then I read through all this. Despite all the posts, it seems very little time has actually passed. Mostly like one of those anime cartoons where the characters start "Hulking Out" for about ten hours, but it actually is only three seconds in-game.

The messed up thing is that PB is the EXACT reason Kip's here.

EDIT: Wow, guys. Impatient a little? I mean, it IS the Labor Day Weekend! Last camping trip of the summer, family parties (<-My excuse), movies, debauchery... Well, maybe not debauchery... Okay, maybe a little debauchery... In any case, come on, people! Calm down!))

Kipland gripped his glass tightly as he watched the whole group seem to go completely nuts. Setting his teeth on edge, he turned to Lieutenant Briggs.

"This went downhill fast..." he looked at his buzzing communicator, "...And I should probably be going. My contact says it would be unwise to stay here."

He shrugged.

"Wanna come with? Meet somebody from the Rogues who's actually pretty decent?"

----------

Power Breaker clicked off his communicator and waved to Kipland from the table he sat at. The nod from the scrapper (and second-in-command at Grey's Army) indicated he got the message and saw him.

However, now Breaker himself was on edge and more than a little aggravated. His nanites set to work on calming his nerves, allowing him a chance to think without adrenaline and testosterone clouding his brain cells.

"Poe. What the Hell are you doing here?"

Epic-type enemy detected. Countermeasures?

"Not right now, though I do have some ideas in mind. However, I'm not walking into any plans of that [rear end]. The less he knows I'm here, the better. Besides, it looks like the crowd's already got a keen interest in- HEY! El D! I bet he'll put Poe in his- [to Hell with] it."

"DEE!" he shouted, "Yo, man! Come on over here!"

Then he saw the "oh" pattern his lips made when he said "Poe."

"Damn," he grumbled, "Well... I guess Zero's got some spare arenas... He'll probably be tossing the whole mess of us into one of them before too long."

He heard a whisper next to his ear, "That sounds like a good idea. Of course, I may just toss the whole lot of you into the void and let you tumble and bumble around out there while I watch from the warmth and comfort of the dance floor with the rest of my patrons."

Breaker looked to DJ Zero, who was glaring down at him with his arms crossed over his chest. His right index finger was tapping irritatedly.

"What did I do?"

"Let's just say I'm a fan of conflict resolution," Zero replied.

--Peregrine Island: Bay Area--

Mad Matt leaped for the wall, oblivious to the fact that the TacOps harnesses he'd severed were about to go boom. He had a whole other plan on his mind.

When the bombs went, he was a little happy when the bits of shrapnel that went in his direction wound up sticking in the wall next to him. He didn't really notice the "ping" sound that indicated some had hit his Undead Slaying Axe slung over his back.

The ice block suddenly exploded, launching the claymores into the distance, discharging their contents into the air. Cory Simmons, his robes in tatters around him, his head and shoulders bedecked in horns, and his back with two demonic wings, stood in the center of the smoldering hole.

"Ow!" Matt brushed the chunks of ice off his shoulder, "What the Hell, man!?"

"My apologies," Cory rasped as he placed something in his mouth and gripped a couple blue gems, "B-uht ah ahd to b-he sss-urtain."

Matt shook his head when a large object passed him on its way off the roof. Landing on its side on the street, he noticed it was his bike.

"AH! You sons of [dogs]!" he shouted up at them, "I gotta hammer those dents out, now! Do you have any idea how long that takes with faux-dragonscale?"

Gripping the next ledge, he started hoisting himself up.

---------

--Portal Control: The Cyberbia--

"Wow," the Fool gasped as he beheld the bizarre scape, then noticed the hand reaching for him, "Hey, get off!"

He swatted at the body's groping hands with the flat of his blade, "Look, you've got me here, my body's obviously gone, and since I'm not going anywhere, you've got no reason to be trying to restrain me anymore. Keep it up, and I'll cut you in plenty worse ways."

He took stock of the headless body again.

"Oh yeah... That's pretty nasty. Well, why don't you just regrow it? I mean, you are a digital reproduction..."

----------

--The Jade Moon--

Not much to add here... Randall did his thing, now the Impostor's teleporting all over the place. Unless....

Randall roared and punched in the top of another Jaeger. Picking up it's wreckage, he hurled it at the Impostor as well.

"We'll back you into a corner, somehow!" he shouted.

Kipland looked to his friend and shook his head. Psycho13 nodded in understanding.

"If this is the best and brightest of the Resistance, we've got problems," Kip muttered as he prepared to follow after Soul Striker.

"Well, they worked better under a strong leader... With one guy poking and prodding, another an emotional wreck, and a third manipulating the others with his thug in tow... Yeesh, of course it's gonna look bad. But there are more guys... Wait 'til you meet Toy Dispenser!"

"Yeah, I should start wondering why I'm listening to your judgment of character," Kip grumbled, "What was that the guy was saying about slaughtering a whole mess of people? And how quickly you gave over a suffering human being to feed that sick monster! At least when I kill these guys it's quick and clean..."

"But you still kill them."

Kip pressed his lips together and glared at his old friend.

"I still can't be sure you're Levi."

"I can't be sure you're Kip," Psycho13 replied, "But I feel you are. What's wrong with your eye, anyway? It looks like somethings moving behind that patch."

"It's personal."

"Tied in with your old job?"

Kip nodded. Psycho13 made for the hole in the side of the building. He could see Twilight in the distance.

"We better get going."

Kipland leaped up through the hole in the wall. Looking to Psycho13, he nodded.

"It would be better if we found a more stable place to finish this conversation."

"Wanna know what tells me I'm still me?"

Kip quirked an eyebrow at his friend. Psycho13 raised his left arm and showed him the hideous scar he received during an accident in his youth.

"Remember this? The scar you asked me about after I became a Regenerator?"

"Yeah."

"It's still here, man. What've you got to tell me you're you?"

Durj peeled back his eyepatch and Baker reeled back in horror. After a moment, his mind recognized the condition, or something like it.

"Holy crap... Is that the Warden version of Ascension or something?"

"Something like that," Kip put the patch back, turned and prepared to leap away, "Let's get the Hell out of here."

((Diov... I think somebody needs to learn to let bygones be bygones... Otherwise, I foresee a very nasty end for this particular individual. Nobody should ever grow comfortable in the knowledge that they're on top of the food chain, because, more often than not, they're not.))

Kipland Durj shook his head to the odd waiter. The other guy's shift must have just ended. He thought it was a little strange that the waiter didn't ask Lieutenant Briggs if she needed anything.

Eventually, his glib mind settled on the notion that Poe must like men.

Looking slightly askance at the guy, he shook his head "no" again.

"Do you need anything else?" he asked Briggs.

Sounds a lot like my family. My dad had nine brothers and sisters (no not apiece, four brothers, five sisters; making them my nine aunts and uncles respectively), and now they're far-flung all along the East Coast.

Every year (right now, actually), my dad throws a big bash at the local Fish and Game Club and old friends and family from all over the country show up.

Of course, our celebrations are usually a lot more base... Roast pig, lots of inebriation, loud oldies music.

Good times.

Kipland sucked in his breath upon hearing that.

"Sorry. A friend of mine has sort of the same problem you do... Joe Durnan... You ever heard of him? He used to get grief for dating a psychic, then they put him on some sort of elite program... Trying to show the heroes that the cops have what it takes, too."

He looked to her with a shrug.

"Frankly, I never thought you guys needed the gimmicks. I always saw you guys as heroes in your own right."

--Portal Control(?): The Cyberbia--

There was a pretty nasty tug when the USB cord disappeared, but the Fool had been securely held. Ryat66 felt a quick surge of panic, but immediately tried to calm himself.

"I need Strength here..."

He doubted they got the Tarot reference.

As soon as the opportunity presented itself, the Fool's arm snaked out of the security program's hand, went to his hip, and a dagger seemed to materialize there.

"I'd feel remorse for this," he stated, then stabbed the blade into the arm of the other security program, freeing his other arm, "But you guys don't have feelings."

When the "uninjured" one made to reach for him, the Fool placed the tip of the blade at his throat.

"Stop. State your purpose and intent."

---------

--Jade Moon--

Randall's eyes went wide when he saw Lady Grey smack against the wall.

"Ah, crap..." he grumbled, "I'm gonna get blamed for that..."

Hefting a still-moving Jaeger from the ground, he aimed a pitch for the impostor.

"May as well not waste the moment, though..."

---------

--Portal Corp Courtyard--

As Kemen and his crew stared in irritated awe at the android that had just been helping them, a green glowing blur landed nearby. Sheldon Wallace, bedecked in a blue and white trench coat and body armor, tapped a few buttons on his wristpad and his speed started to decelerate.

"There," he intoned as his breathing returned to a normal pace, "Now, where is my... Dammit, what did that idiot do?"

He approached the machine, paying little heed to the portal or the techs that tried to ask him what he thought he was doing. Pulling out a device that looked like a communicator, or more complex, he hooked it into Ryat66's head and started working.

"Dammit, no... no... no... Oh, this is disheartening."

He turned to Unai Kemen.

"What did you see it do?"

When the security chief explained what happened (earning an inquisitive quirk of Sheldon's eyebrow when he described the "smiling face"), Sheldon frowned.

"Now I need to get in there... And my hacking skills are slim to nil..."

----------

--Peregrine Island: Bay Area--

The motorcycle, awash in the bizarre blue-white light of the sapper rifle, rumbled a little, then shut down. The operatives beneath it pushed it over, and found their legs were still pinned. Still, they had their assault rifles...

Matt grinned and the katana dropped to swing behind his back. Ducking down, he charged forward, moving surprisingly fast for anybody. He didn't seem to have that tell-tale trail that followed most super-speed heroes, but still, he was somehow RIGHT THERE!

"Remember your training..." Cory's voice issued in the back of his mind.

"No..." he got to the nearest agent, who stared at him with wide-eyed surprise, "[dung]!"

The katana snaked around and slashed across the agents' torsos. They fell back, but were largely unharmed. Their harnesses, however, were not. There was a clattering sound, and their spare ammunition and grenades hit the deck, not that the two operatives really had the time to deal with that.

Matt kicked one, then slashed at the other. Screaming, Mattock swung his blade at the nearest agents again, hacking at their rifles, arms and legs. Behind them, the block of ice protecting Cory Simmons was cracking on its own.

Matt was running out of time...

Kipland nodded to Briggs's speech. It was about as bad as when he'd been on patrol, and he said so.

"The more things change, I guess," he muttered, "be careful with those Vahz... They'll realize you're a bit too tough for 'em, and then they'll try some nasty stuff, like trying to offer a way for you to get new body parts. Remember, formaldehyde is extremely flammable."

He ordered her coffee and himself a soda.

"Gotta keep my head clear, too."

The bartender got them their drinks and headed off. Kip took a long sip of his orange drink and set the glass down slowly. He grimaced suddenly.

"Hey, I don't mean to come off the wrong way... I... I'm new to being social... I'm a little tired of my friends razzin' me about it... That I haven't had a girlfriend in five years, that I talk like an angry robot... And a laundry list of other complaints..."

He gestured to the club scene.

"So, of course, my boss tends to send me here to deal with some of his contacts among the Rogues... I've been trying to take the opportunity to be more social..."

He sighed and looked to her.

"I don't mean to be a bother."

"Jebus," Kip muttered as he saw the red skin, "They gave you antibiotics for that, I hope... I had much the same problem a couple times myself."

He started heading for a bar.

"I got a few until my meeting. Want a drink? We can chat. I kinda want to know how things are going on the street level... You can get so wrapped up in grandiose problems after doing this too long, you know?"

"Don't worry about them," a high-toned voice catches her attention from behind Officer Briggs.

When she turns, a young man wearing an outfit that looks like a sports jersey and black denim jeans is standing there. He didn't seem very tall, roughly 5'5", but he also had the posture of somebody used to fighting. Medium brown hair framed his face, which had a goatee and dark-purple glowing eyes.

"Trust me, when the time comes, you'll be arresting so many Freaks, you'll pinch them on accident," he continued, "Hi, I'm Kip. I used to be set up much like yourself, combat prosthetics to facilitate crime fighting. How're yours treating you?"

This part occurs a while after the prior section... Missing details will be covered, as for now, the Brutal Warriors Order's ranks have filled a few new positions. Mark Shadow, Justin Steel and Steel's entourage of guards have joined the group following a schism within the Committee's ranks.

Steel now acts as a financial head for the group while Shadow, surprisingly, is their chief defense coordinator and a back-up medical officer. The mercenaries fulfill guard jobs and can, in a pinch, operate the engineering and weaponry systems of the dropship.

However, this next story takes place after the Praetorian attack had been repulsed, life was getting back to normal in Paragon City. The Rogue Isles had been unaffected by the attack, though it was strange that most of the forces there had been unable or unwilling to assault the city in those harrowing weeks.

After Randall Grey's barbecue, the Brutal Warriors set about determining what it was they were going to do about reestablishing themselves.

The dropship still flew, which surprised just about everybody except Solo Stryker and the Kingdale Referee (the former through a sort of deep faith, the latter from simple knowledge of the machine). However, its main weapons systems were destroyed.

"We need to hammer out the dents, and get new guns..." Daren muttered as he looked over the printout Hector Wallace had sent them, "Hector says we should probably switch to a more general purpose type of gun..."

"Like what?" Draven Erickson asked, his eyebrow arching at the implication that this would be costly."

"Well, the guns mounted on the crew sections of helicopters like those Freedom Corps 'Red Hawks' and Black Hawks, they're usually miniguns, nowadays. Wider field of fire, able not terribly accurate, but spitting enough ammunition per second where it doesn't really matter..."

"I don't know..."

"Plus," Psycho13 came into the meeting section of their base (their former rec-room, now a just a wreck due to a battle that occurred just before the Praetorian attack that they still haven't cleaned up) and started tossing beers to his compatriots, "miniguns would be good for use against flying targets, like the Sky Raider Skiffs and Council Hoverbots."

Draven scratched his chin.

"We've still got that money from that one guy..." King Slater offered, "It should be more than enough..."

"I'd still rather not use it," Draven looked over to the silver case still sitting in the corner, "There's something very unsettling about the guy that gave it to us, not to mention the people he worked for..."

Justin Steel drummed his fingers on his own briefcase and shook his head.

"We should feed that thing to the Lusca. The last thing we need is to be attracting the attention of quasi-deific figures again..."

"Right, so..." Draven rubbed his temples and stared at the papers Solo had put before him, "We have how much money left?"

"Too little."

"And these new weapons cost how much?"

"Too much."

"I have a job for us," Steel intoned after a few minutes of depressed silence, "But it's iffy... I want to run it by you three, first."

He pointed to Draven, Solo and Rage.

----------

"I don't like this," Psycho13 muttered, "Mercenary work..."

"We need the money," Solo sighed into the intercom, "I don't like it anymore than you do, but hey, it has to be done."

Hovering a few miles off the coast of Mexico, a not-so-abandoned oil rig was having a bit of a standoff. Union workers were dealing with a group of mercenaries who had been hired to make sure the oil rig was "secure." Secure in this case meant that the mercenaries were really there to bully the workers into maintaining ridiculously long hours.

Solo and Steel had taken a job here, and had refused to tell anybody what the intent of it was. Now that they'd arrived, Psycho13 was more than a little peeved.

"So now we defend the unscrupulous interests of corporate fascism," he shouted back to Solo, "Stryker, I never really thought you'd go for [stuff] like this! Come on, man! It's just money! We can find a better way!"

Solo brought the vehicle closer to the riot on the platform. Project Whirlwind stood at the exit, looking down. Looking back, he saw Dirty Ice and Ragin' James in line behind him. Behind them, Psycho13 still sat stubbornly in his chair, looking pleadingly to his friends.

"I don't know who you're fighting," Whirlwind intoned, "But I'm going after the guys in fatigues. People across the world have the right to safe working conditions, not to be bullied into feeding the bottom line."

Psycho13 arched an eyebrow at him.

"Have at it, Whirly," Solo's voice issued over the intercom, "Bioserj, if you can, put a foot in Psych's butt and get him out there. Look, man, Steel's connections to Reynolds' faction of the Committee got us info on this deal. Reynolds wants influence out here, he doesn't care which. Frankly, both sides have done some nasty things, but the Union is the lesser of two evils here... So that's who we're helping."

The back hatch popped open and Psycho13's hover-bike, the Runtime Exception, hummed to life. The scrapper hollered a triumphant war cry and started flying hard for the platform.

"Time to win one for the people!" Project Whirlwind shouted happily as he leaped from the doorway and started flying down to the crowd.

Dirty Ice and Ragin' James followed, with Bioserj waiting a moment before joining in to help. They were smacking the mercenaries left and right, with Bioserj and Project Whirlwind ushering the workers elsewhere to avoid the fighting. When a helicopter arrived to reinforce the mercenaries, Solo did his part in the form of an anti-aircraft missile blowing the tail off the vehicle. It landed safely in the water, but when the pilot fired an RPG at the dropship (that was deflected by the shields, but caused a moderate amount of concussive force damage), Solo was forced to fire another missile that destroyed the machine. A few mercenaries escaped the assault, but Solo knew he'd killed some people.

"Damn," he muttered, "So that's what it feels like..."

From there, the battle went south for the mercenaries. They had been counting on meta-human support, and instead got the tables turned on them from the get-go. Demoralized and outmaneuvered, the few mercenaries still able to stand gave up and turned themselves over to the Brutal Warriors.

"A job well done!" Psycho13 grinned from ear to ear, then added in a faux-Irish accent, "We're damn good at this!"

"Yes we are!" his brother, Ragin' James, agreed in a similar accent.

Well, welcome to Protector. I'm @Grey's Army, and I call Protector my home base, too. Be careful hanging out in that section of the forum, though, they're a little wonky in the head (admittedly so).

While Protector is usually a haven for level-headed play (Most horror stories you'll read about on this forum tend to occur on the more populated servers like Freedom), you're probably looking for in-game RP. Most in-game RP players are located in Virtue. It tends to stay pretty decent, but the RP that goes on in there apparently runs the entire gamut, so whatever caution you utilized in prior games, be sure to keep at it here.

Protector is more of a home for Concept RPers, people who make their characters then later write down their stories. As such, it has a rather even mix of the various gamers, from PLers to in-game RPers, to people just having a good time, and it doesn't really suffer morons very long (word travels fast in such a small community as to who to watch out for).

Kipland Durj heard the angry words issuing from Soul Stryker and acted fast. Leaping up to the man in the dark blue armor, he snapped his fingers in front of his face. Pulling his hand away immediately, he stared his eye into the visor so he could be sure he had Stryker's full attention.

"Hey," the scrapper's voice was as crisp as his snapped fingers, "Here's some simple advice for dealing with [jerks] like him. [Forget] 'em."

Kipland pointed a finger at Twilight.

"You. You got some nasty tricks, I'll give you that, but you better start watching yourself. A few of us here are friends, and nobody wants to be the guy outrun to get away from the bear. Considering your behavior as of late, odds aren't too good it won't be you, so watch your fricking mouth!"

"Now, look, people, it's time to calm the [expletive] down! We need a plan, and we need to get moving!"

Psycho13 nudged Soul Stryker with a friendly elbow.

"That's why he's a leader!"

--Portal Corp Courtyard--

Unai Kemen suddenly muttered a monosyllabic drone of stunned confusion.

"Duuuuuuuuuuuh...."

"What is it?" Wallace's voice suddenly barked, "What happened?"

"The screen just went dark..."

"WHAT!?"

"We're trying audio now, sir..." one of the techs shouted over the hub-bub.

A piercing shriek issued form the speakers. The techs covered their ears (one guy fainted), and Unai, struggling with having to open one ear to the noise, turned the volume down.

"Mr. Kemen..." Wallace said through the communicator after a few seconds (just as Kemen's hearing restored itself), "You do realize computer information doesn't translate well, right?"

"Damn it, damn it, DAMN IT!" Kemen shouted as he tossed the communicator aside, "Why does everything keep going wrong!?"

"To Hell with this," Sheldon's voice issued from the communicator, muffled do to the upside down position of the machine, "I'm coming over there. Dammit, Matt..."

----------

--Inside the Portal Control: the City--

The Fool's expression changed to one of worry. Not for himself, but for something else...

The circumstances.

"I'd love to assist you," the android replied to the bizarre render, "I assume it's because I'm the first autonomous android who jacked into this thing. You were probably expecting Mark IV, Citadel, or (God forbid) Luminary... Or maybe some other well-known android to come along and offer assistance. The problem is, my hardware schematic is so whacked and paranoid, you probably would only last... Well, you would probably last infinitely, but it would be a constant struggle..."

He rubbed his chin, pondering the situation.

"Also, I'm assuming you need to take my body and move it somewhere... Somewhere where you're going to do stuff with it (stuff involving blasting people, I suppose). The problem is, once the body registers that the USB jack is being pulled, it yanks me from the digital environment... Such an ungraceful logoff is usually pretty bad for the system, probably causing an emergency reboot, which sure as Hell isn't a pleasant feeling for me, and I bet it would be nearly fatal to you (this hardware needs some getting used to, I know)."

He sat and stared at the bar of chocolate.

"What the Hell was this supposed to do?"

When the Idiosyncrasy made an irritated noise, the Fool returned to the point at hand.

"I suppose I could escort you... Maybe share the data, but... I'm not sure how much more hard drive space I've got. More than enough for me, but I don't think it'd be nearly enough for both of us in there... I suppose I could shut down for a while, maybe if I'm compressed and not using RAM, it'll help."

He shrugged.

"It's the best I can do. Otherwise, the body might try to self-destruct. Not to mention the fact that, if it didn't, my nearly one hundred brothers (and sisters? I'm not sure...) would probably try to disassemble you once they realized you'd (as far as they're concerned) murdered me."

----------

--The Jade Moon--

Randall felt the punch. It hurt, but it didn't really do anything to stop him. However, before he could reach out for where he thought the Dark Watcher was, there was a bright explosion and it was gone.

Blinking, Randall looked around, his vision cleared. Nemesis, Dark Watcher... Damn, that was bad.

"Nice," he grunted, "Now... YOU!"

With the shout, Randall started charging for the remains of the Dark Watcher Impostor. He was probably one tackle away from being torn in half...

----------

--Peregrine Island: The Bay Area--

Cold...

This was definitely cold.

Cory looked up at the bullet that had stopped so very short from his head. That was distressing.

He didn't know why the Malta Group was trying to kill him, he'd tried being polite, but they certainly weren't willing to be friendly.

*THUNK-THUNK*

He could feel it... Something heavy had been placed on the ice that encased and protected him. Probing with his mind, he determined it was something... Nasty... That was the sensation he got from it.

----

The roar got louder. The TacOps Agents looked down the street to see a bright white light headed their way.

Mad Matt McGinty revved the engine harder, and a terrifying roar echoed off the buildings, rattling windows all the way down the street toward the operatives. As he closed to a half-block distance, he pulled the Jump Booster lever.

In the air, the bike quieted. It seemed to pause in mid-air. Had any of the Malta Group operatives dared to look, it would have seemed like the monstrous machine was eclipsing the moon. Then Matt gave a warcry and his bike roared to match.

The light shone down on two unfortunate operatives moments before the heavy weight of the vehicle landed on them. The soldiers were pinned under the demonic machine, in fact, it seemed to get heavier as it laid upon them. It even issued a low growl, like a panther threatening a rival.

Matt dropped onto a window ledge, his katana out and raking across the wall to neatly slice through the ropes.

"Thank you, my friend," he heard in the back of his mind.

"I already told you, Cor, I don't like it when you do that..." Matt thought back, "Just let me cut a few more down, and we can work on getting you out of there..."

Hopping from the ledge, he hit the ground, rolled, hopped over another TacOps trooper, and kicked the man in the spine. Taking a stance, he held his blade up and over his head in a defensive pose. Glaring darkly at each of the troopers, he started walking toward the nearest one.

----

"One trick left" Cory thought, and focused on a bright symbol in the back of his mind.

Psycho13 and Durj arrived shortly afterward. They surveyed the damage, and made their way for the pair.

"You alright, man?" Psycho13 asked, "Hey, this is an old friend of mine..."

Kip saluted the mourning meta and turned to examining more of the wreckage. When he noticed the damaged body's similarity to Soul Striker, he understood the somber sensation he was detecting.

It was time to change the subject and the tone.

"We should probably work on getting the Hell out of here," he grunted, "Those bombers won't stop until the last of this place is rubble..."

He turned to Psycho13.

"You ruined a pretty sweet deal over at my pad, you know. It already was rubble. Now, there's enough heat, or whatever other craziness that attracted Twilight there, to bring Mayhem's mystic troopers, or whatever they are, down on my head..."

"You looked like you were looking for a new place, anyway, man!"

Kip rolled his eye.

"So, anyway," Psycho13 turned to Twilight and Soul Striker, "What's the plan, Stan?"

Psycho13's face was screwed up in a mix of horror and sickness. Kip glared at the back of Twilight's fading form.

"That was ghastly!" the knife-wielding scrapper shouted.

"Hey, you're the one feeding it," Kip replied as he started heading off to follow their disturbing ally, "He seems to have taken a real liking to ya, too. I think you were trying to kiss the wrong guy."

"Oh, come on!" Baker barked back, "You know I was just kidding!"

"Whatever, Levi..."

"Whoah!"

Kip turned and arched his eyebrow. Fearing the worst, he looked about, but found nothing.

"What? What is it?"

"Dude," Psycho13 placed his hand on Kip's shoulder, "These guys don't know my real name! I've been calling myself... Dammit, what was it... It was a name I've always liked..."

Kip shrugged in response.

"Jacob! That's the one!" Psycho13 suddenly shouted triumphantly, "I called myself Jacob. So, when you talk to me, either use my moniker, or Jacob."

Kip nodded. Turning away, he screwed up his face with disdain.

"Fricking idiot."

Kipland leaped into the distance, Psycho13 bolted down the street. Despite their objections to Twilight's nature, they couldn't ignore the fact that the guy seemed to have a viable plan, so their destinations followed his path.

--Jade Moon--

Blind. He'd been this way before. There was a simple solution.

Randall lifted his massive, root-wrapped foot into the air, pulling hard against the tenebrous tendrils of tangible darkness (even snapping some). His foot came crashing down, sending a tremor vibrating through the floor.

----------

--Inside the Portal Control: Before the Wall--

At first, the Fool was worried. Then, when the guard changed his mind, he grew concerned.

"Oh dear..." he muttered to himself, "Looks like somebody... What the Hell was that!?"

It could have been described as a chill, but he'd never felt cold or in his life. He had a really bad feeling that somebody was watching him.

"Man, that was weird..." he breathed out a slightly panicked sigh, "I hate doing this stuff. Life is so much better when lived out there..."

He gestured to the wild white yonder, back beyond the exit of the I/O port, referencing the outside world. Life seemed easier out there, less chaotic...

"I much prefer a world where the laws are already defined... Even if they're constantly being tweaked, day-by-day by science and magic."

He made his way past the guard. Whatever was waiting for him, he hoped it was forthcoming with answers. Seeing those seeker programs was really disheartening.

Especially with how quickly they were going.

"Just what the Hell is going on here?"

----------

--Peregrine Island: Portal Corp Courtyard--

"Um, yeah," Unai Kemen muttered into McGinty's discarded communicator, "We've got the monitor working, but my techs are telling me it'll take a while before we start getting any information..."

"Alright, Mr. Kemen," Sheldon Wallace's voice issued in response, "Now... Since the whole process is already started, I'm going to have to request that you try to send a message to Ryat66's consciousness... Tell him to finish up and get the Hell out of there, now!"

"Why?"

The screen started flickering to life in a stuttered slideshow of images that made little sense to the average viewer.

"It looks like he's actually making some progress."

There was an audible growling on the other end.

----------

--Peregrine Island: Bay Area--

Cortland Simmons knew the "frag 'im" phrase from his boss's son and numerous video games his friends often played. He knew what followed for the other poor chap was best left described as "gory."

Muttering to himself one last time, the ice crystals surrounding his body started to intensify. He sat down in a meditative pose, and suddenly he was buried in ice. Magicians had tried the trick in the past, but it took real magical talent to effectively pull of a hibernation.

Simmons was surprised he had it...

As the Malta troopers closed with their ice cube, there was a faint noise in the background... Like an animal roar overlaid on a motorcycle...