Mr_Grey

Kill 'em all!

"Caleb" fell in line behind the robots following Hotaka. The fighting had been crazy and chaotic... And he'd gotten some measure of bloody satisfaction.

"I really gotta stop thinking about movie quotes," he muttered as he matched step with the machine in front of him, "It makes what I do somewhat... Disturbing..."

Cedric Grey's eyes bugged out of his head slightly.

He had tossed much of his old outfit, including his pair of camouflage pants.

He had the replacements, but he hadn't quite got his outfit prepared. Just as he locked the last piece into the armor, now spray painted black and red and given a set of snazzy spiked shoulder pads, he found himself standing in the middle of the Vanguard base in just his boxers and a green undershirt.

"Woah..." he muttered as a female Vanguard trooper started giggling, then he grinned, "Like what you see?"

"Quit horsing around, Ced!" Matt shouted, "We gotta get on with this!"

"Okay! Okay!" Cedric started looking around frantically, "My pants! Where are my pants!?"

Matt rolled his eyes and started walking after the rest of the group. Still, he was chuckling to himself.

Finding his pants and boots (it looked like they just appeared out of thin air!), he started hopping after the others, first on one foot, then the other. Finally pulling them on, he snagged his armor on the way and started donning it as he ran.

"Wait! Wait!"

He tripped over a stray cord.

"Nice!" he shouted moments before hitting the ground, "Oh... Good thing that hit the hard end..."

Matt looked back to sling another insult, but seeing his friend lying there, struggling to worm his way into his outfit and stand at the same time, he figured that was insult enough.

"Well, don't keep us waiting..."

"Who, me?"

"Come on, man. We got work to do, plenty of time to horse around later."

"You changed, man..." despite the words, Cedric was still grinning, "You used to be cool... Now you're all serious and [censored]..."

He jogged up with a chuckle and patted Matt on the shoulder.

"I love that look, man! You look ready to cut someone open and wear their skin like a cape!"

Matt gave his friend a worried glance, but shrugged. Cedric was already looking to the rest of the crew.

"Fun and games aside, I'm ready to get this party started!"

"Hurrrrrrrrrrrr-RAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!"


Psycho13 shot like a bullet into the center of the machines. He bounced off one, the momentum at least knocking it backwards. Mentally, he considered what had just happened to him...

Cracked ribs? Three.

Hairline fractures on arms and legs? Yep.

Really, REALLY bad headache? Oh, you better believe that's a paddlin'.

...

What?

He shook off the odd little quip from a favored animated series, and did that odd little "flex" that repaired all that damage he'd just accrued. The cracks in his bones knitted together again, but the headache was only alleviated at a minor level.

Damn.

That made Pscyho13 so angry.. Well, not as angry as before, but angry enough to stab his left blade into one robot's eye. The one he just caused to stumble would do...

Dammit, man...

The last thing I need is to feel pangs of conscience when I tear apart the Clockwork!

No, Hermod's been kicked enough, Krazy.

Howdy there Hermod. I think I started making a bigger impression here shortly after you took off, so we probably didn't meet.

Sorry for the jabs and kicks...

Not in the face!

No, no... You're not poking hard enough...

You gotta jab 'em, like this!

*jab-jab*

You elicit a pain response. Kicking works, too. Go ahead, give it a try.

[ QUOTE ]
Oh, and before I forget, shot to kill on Rikti, I mean, we're still at war right?

[/ QUOTE ]

Depends on the faction. You'll understand better when you get Omega Level security clearance (usually at level 40, but it can be attained immediately after level 35)

Cedric pulled the axe back, and swung. Gray hadn't lied to him, and a great red beam blasted out of the weapon, connected with Battle Maiden, and sent her slamming into a wall. He closed with her, blocked the axe she swung at him with his own, and punched her in the face.

"No matter how many times I wind up having to do that," he grimaced, "it never feels good."

Battle Maiden shook her dizziness off and glared at the tanker. He face softened into shock when she realized that he was walking away.

"You fool, never turn your..."

She noticed a peculiar beeping sound. Valkyrie's Praetorian whirled about frantically, trying to find the bomb Cedric must have left behind. He had surprised her. The one she knew, some upstart from the northeastern portion of the northwest continent of War Earth, had been a magician and a warrior. This one had employed technological dirty tricks as well as a few snippets of magic spells. It was like she was really fighting two people.

Again, she found herself surprised. Cedric Grey hadn't left a bomb. Then what was that beeping?

"Never turn your back on an enemy," Cedric finished for her, "Except when they're dead... You know, I never liked creeds like that. It always seems there's a better way, you know? For instance, the way I beat you, just now."

"Fool! I still stand!"

He pointed at her.

"What's that on your face?"

Battle Maiden stopped stomping toward him. She noticed Valkyrie stepping in to possibly protect this whelp, but his words had a peculiar finality to them. When he mentioned her face, she felt her forehead where he had pointed. There was a bump there. Pulling slightly, there was a tearing sensation, but not painful. She held the bump in her hand and noticed it was the source of the beeping.

"What trickery is this?"

A siren from above answered her and she looked up just too late to notice the police drones homed in on her location. Screaming, she attempted to raise her axe to deflect the incoming teleportation beams that would transport her on a direct route to the Zig, but there were just too many.

Grinning, Cedric waved goodbye to her rapidly fading horrified face. Valkyrie chuckled as she disappeared and arched an eyebrow approvingly to the Tanker.

"Next time she shows up," he shrugged, "She's yours. I just had to help my brother from another world."

"I understand," Valkyrie nodded and went back to the rest of the battle.

"Sir! Sir!" Ryat66 sprinted over to Cedric and stood at a robotically perfect military position of attention, "Sir! Praetorian forces in this region are being successfully repulsed! Orders sir?"

Cedric grinned at the small robot and started plugging the team command into his communicator, "Come on, Sixty-six. We'll help hold this zone until ordered to head out somewhere else. I'm figuring Positron and Valkyrie there will have something for everybody to do."

"Aye, sir!" the robot chirped.

"Stop talking like a Marine," the tanker barked out a laugh despite himself, "I'm not in service anymore, and you never were."

"Not until I'm eighteen!"

"No, not even then, little buddy. You already got enough fight in ya to last three tours... Almost two in the Rikti War..."

"Pft, I could have outlasted you!"

Jabbing and quipping at each other like that, they headed north to the Boomtown Gate.

----

Randall Grey thrashed through the King's Row portal facility. Sure, he had plenty of explosives in his pack and could level the facility witht eh press of a button, but he'd rather make sure the enemy couldn't reconstruct most of the base.

The only thing he had to worry about was leaving enough intact for him to be able to use the portal one last time.

----

Kipland Durj was helping defend the Portal Corp courtyard along with a large number of heroes drawn to the action. Somehow, he wound up being pushed along and away from the buildings and toward the parking lot. A sudden shove, and he was free of the vicious crowd and the fighting. Tumbling a few feet, he stopped at a pair of oddly familiar boots.

A hand grabbed him roughly by the neck and lifted him up.

"Well, well, well... Aren't you amusing?"

Kipland opened his eyes to see he was looking directly into the face of Tyrant. The impassive Praetorian leader had come personally to wage this war.

"Why is my luck always so bad?" Kip hissed as he struggled to pull himself away from the villain's grip.

"That is not my concern," the villain king replied in an almost bored tone, "What does concern me... Is where is your double?"

----

A group of Praetorian soldiers had taken the rooftops of the Portal Corp buildings. Though heroes took potshots at them, the constant flood of enemies into the courtyard made the focus largely off the snipers.

That ended with a sudden vacuous sound, but the snipers didn't look back at what they supposed were reinforcements. Red Renegade put his pistol to the back of the head of one of the fire commanders and pulled the trigger.

The other Maltese Resistance fighters finished the assault in a few more seconds and started setting up a new perimeter on the skeleton of the old. It was quick and decisive, and the heroes below didn't complain when bullets stopped pelting them from overhead.

Cobalt Black 3-8-9 took position on the lip of the western P.C. building and sighted in on an event that had given him concern earlier when they'd arrived. Like most Praetorian Earth natives, he could recognize Tyrant from a distance, but he was willing to let the heroes take the human monster themselves.

However, Tyrant held Kipland Durj. His double.

"Time to return the favor," he muttered as he sighted in.

----

There was a buzzing sound and a loud "ping." Tyrant's head cocked to the side as the sniper round struck his helmet and he turned to see where it had come from. Narrowing his eyes, he prepared to fire a beam that would slice Cobalt Black neatly in two.

Kipland wasn't about to have that, so he caught a hold of Tyrant's wrist, hosited himself up, and slammed his knee into the Praetorian king's face.

The arch-villain dropped the smaller scrapper and glared at him. Popping his knuckles, he ignored the round that pinged off his helmet again.

"You have my undivided attention, now," he intoned, "Congratulations."

"Whoop-de-freaking-doo..." Kip muttered back as his dark purple armor coalesced around his body and he stood up in a defensive stance.

"What do I do now?" Psycho13 muttered as Mini Bot sped off with the beeping sphere.

There were sounds of battle all around him. He didn't feel like tearing into minions anymore, even though he could hear them scrabbling all around him. One shot him in the back, in the shoulder blade, but he just started walking it off.

Regeneration: so you don't have to give a damn.

He didn't know what he was looking for. Now that he had sated his bloodlust, he had to think about what had put him in such a rage.

"James..." he muttered, "It should be you who's here... Not me."

Closing his eyes, he listened to the sounds of battle. This way and that, he could hear Mayhem troopers falling. It seemed the Resistance fighters were more than prepared to take this place, even without Toy "Vendetta" Dispenser's help.

But something was happening... He could feel it. Something was wrong.

Taking a deep breath, he listened to the combat. Suddenly, he felt something twitch, like a buzzing in his brain. An instinct was telling him to go in a certain direction, and he started moving instantly.

"I think my soul's drained," Psycho13 whispered as he finished off the Heavy Assault Soldier.

He had barreled into the soldier with a slide tackle kick to the back of his legs at super speed. Then, as the spider-legged enemy tried to stand again, he super-sped his elbow into the trooper's visor, shattering it and causing splintered glass to rake across his face.

One of the legs slashed out and skewered the former scrapper, but Psycho13 just rolled his eyes in annoyance and pulled the appendage out slowly. The Soldier didn't stop, though. Lifting the skinny man into the air with the damaging weapon, he curled a laser cannon limb around to burn a hole through Psycho13's torso.

"Time to die, little man," he spat.

It looked like some of the broken visor glass had cut up his face pretty bad.

Psycho13 flipped him off in reply and the Soldier fired. The scrapper screamed, his mouth glowing with the energy coursing through his belly and out his back. Suddenly, his scream turned into a pained roar and he kicked hard into the soldier's helmet, knocking it off. He fell off the blade in his shoulder and landed on the ground on his feet while the other landed in a heap.

Psycho13 wasted no time after that. As the Soldier rolled himself over and started pushing himself up, the little man was on his back. The soldier whirled around twice, flailing wildly, but couldn't stop the lunatic from slicing into his throat and draining him like a pig.

----

"I think..." he gasped as he made his way to Mini Bot, "I think I'm done... No more... No more butchering..."

Power Breaker arched an eyebrow at Jake.

"You can hear that?" he grumbled back, "What are you, psychic?"

He glanced back at Acid as he indicated the Vanguard troopers.

"No... They can't tell me if he or his friends are trustworthy... The armor blocks posture analysis... I gotta go with my gut..."

He tapped his stomach lightly.

"My gut says 'go.'"

Power Breaker looked the situation over. Then his head buzzed and his nanites started talking to him again.

Analysis Complete.

Data insufficient, but with acquired intel we have determined that this conveyance may be sufficient and trustworthy. If not... Well, we are quite the unforgiving colossus.

"Heh heh, yeah."

He leaped up and caught a hold of the upper interior of the doorway. Leaning back, he held out his arm.

"Penny... Uh... Other guy... Come on in. We may as well hurry on our way. If they try to pull one over on us, well, I'm big and scary looking for a reason."

Actually, I was referring more to crazy lunatics who refuse to stop fighting.

The "As long as I breathe, I am defiant!" mentality that makes for some of the most epic heroes, and the most psychotic villains. My characters rarely go that extreme. Some of them teeter on that edge, such as Kipland Durj and Psycho13, others are far from it (Cedric Grey rarely has need of it, his attitude already has a will-withering effect on his foes).

I haven't yet made a villain that practices the "Scorched Earth Policy." It's hard for me to wrap my head around the idea of someone willing to destroy the world if they can't own it. However, I think I've made one villain that went nuts and tried something he figured went along those lines. Not an actual Player Character villain, but a Council Archon who tries to detonate a massive Shadow Cyst Crystal... He ended up in a bad way...

Psycho13 narrowed his eyes at the troopers as they fired barrage after barrage at him. He was too quick for them to run, but he couldn't take them out any quicker than one-at-a-time.

Their forces seemed to replenish at that rate, too. There was something unsettling about that.

Almost like he'd dealt with a subject like that before.

"You know what?" he grunted as a bullet lodged into his back and was promptly squeezed out by his regenerating flesh, "I'm tired of this."

After snapping the neck of the soldier he had in a headlock, he tore after the soldier who'd broken away to assist Apex. No need for some gooner to go and bother the people handling the main job.

"Come back here!" he screamed, "That twit doesn't need any help to die!"

My characters usually stick to the nonlethal takedowns.

Sometimes...

They understand that bad guys have to die. Sometimes, the bastards don't stay down any other way. There's no existential or concept of justice question to it, the enemy just leaves no other choice.

Sometimes they're in too much of a rage to stop themselves. This is especially true of my Main Tanker (and first 50) and my Main Brute (and first Villain).

Others are just dark and twisted, like my Stalker, Sikk. He... He gets his power from soul energy, so he kind of HAS to kill people. His blade commands it.

"I guess he's something like that," Power Breaker muttered as he appeared behind Acid, "Maybe a spy, or any number of oddball things. Arachnos doesn't screen too well, remember?"

He looked to the Executioner.

"I'm just gonna assume you knew I was there. Thanks for not trying to gut me."

Gasping and choking on his own blood, Psycho13 emerged from another crew of Mayhem troopers. They were losing momentum, now, there weren't enough of them to keep up the fight and their boss was running.

"Some commander," he gurgled, "Won't even stay until the end of the fight."

Dropping to his knees, he started shaking violently. He then stopped still, and stopped breathing.

"I think he's dead," a Mayhem trooper rasped as he got close, then nudged the former scrapper with his studded baton, "Yeah, definitely-"

Psycho13 fell to the ground when nudged.

"-dead."

The troopers following him breathed a sigh of relief and they headed to assist their boss. Their efforts would probably have slowed down the resistance fighters pursuing Apex, but they weren't going to get close enough.

"I'm not dead," Psycho13 hissed into the rear soldier's ear as he rammed the blades under the trooper's armpits, "And it's naive of you to think it was going to be so easy!"

A couple other troopers looked back to see what had happened to their comrade. Psycho13 dropped the body and held the blades straight out to the sides (or as straight as they'd go) like a crucifix.

"You guys know why women like Jesus?" he grinned wickedly, then stopped, "Uh... Nevermind..."

"Kill him!" the Huntsman shouted.

The soldiers pulled pistols, both semi and automatic models, and started firing. At first, they missed. Then, like a wave, the skinny man felt the ammunition impact with his skin and tear its way through. The agony was intense, and the little man didn't seem capable of standing up to the barrage. In fact, he didn't. When the troopers stopped firing to reload, he fell to the ground again.

"I'm gonna shoot him in the head," the Huntsman growled as he stepped closer, "Make sure this time!"

Psycho13 stabbed him in the foot as soon as he got close. Screaming, the squad leader pulled the trigger, but the buckshot missed the scrapper's head by mere inches (it was much too close to generate a spread).

Psycho13 pulled himself up the Huntsman's leg, stab by stab, ending with a strike to the diaphragm. Pulling sharply, he rolled the body over him just in time to use it as a shield.

It didn't protect him completely, and he grimaced as he lost a toe, but he could always grow that back later. Taking the Huntsman's shotgun, he pushed the corpse over and sat up with the weapon aimed at the troopers. A bullet tore a streak across his scalp.

"HAAAAAAUGH!" Psyscho13 screamed as he squeezed the trigger, pumped the chamber, and squeezed off another shot, "Die, you mother-"

Ka-BLAM!

Superspeeding again, he pushed the body off himself and got up. From a crouch like a wild animal, he dove forward and collided with a stab into the nearest still-standing trooper. As he fell, Psycho13 used his remaining blade to hack through the other survivors of his assault. Before the first victim could hit his knees to the ground, Psycho13 was snagging back his first knife.

"I'm figuring none of you guys took my bros on head-to-head..." he hissed over the corpses, "You'd never have survived!"

It looked like the reports were right, the Outcasts and Trolls had all but disappeared. That did not set Matt at ease. In fact, it made his job a lot harder.

Especially when he had to deal with nimrods like the guy over his shoulder. Judging from the rotten feeling in his gut, it had to be...

"Let me guess," he muttered, "Mattock the Mad?"

"Good guess," the ninja rasped as he hopped off the ledge and landed in front of the Prime Earth hero, "Can you guess why I'm here?"

"To kill me, no doubt."

"Indeed!"

Mattock the Mad lashed out with his katana, and it hummed with violent energy. That was kind of funny... Matt's own blade made high-toned sounds.

They assaulted and parried each other worldessly. They were evenly matched, for the most part, and Mad Matt was surprised that his counterpart was capable of such skill. Especially when he started hopping away.

"Woah," he rasped at his opponent, "Why're you running? You were doing pretty good back there!"

"Catch me if you can!" his foe growled and hopped over the building.

"Sonova..." the hero barked, "What a time I could be using one of those kinetic leaping machines..."

Matt started sprinting after his dark self. Mattock was leading him on a frigthening chase, often bounding over Praetorian patrols to get their attention. Matt carved through the first group, but he couldn't keep up that kind of effort.

"I don't know what he's trying to do," he grunted as he stood loosely on an Ocelot's throat, "But I bet he gets plenty tired..."

A few minutes later, Mattock the Mad stopped at a rooftop, noticing that he'd lost his pursuer.

"Damn fool," he rasped as he crouched to rest, "If he were wise, he'd have learned how to keep up with me... And we could finish our duel properly."

"Properly?" Matt pressed the point of his blade into the back of Mattock the Mad, "We had ourselves a decent fight over there. Why didn't you settle up?"

"I was... I was getting tired."

"Ah," Matt nodded, "You've got the skills, but not the stamina. Makes sense."

"Now, however," Mattock's weight shifted a little, "I shall kill you!"

The Praetorian's blade snaked out as he twirled around off Matt's blade and stabbed to where the hero should have stood. Only Matt wasn't there. Instead, he'd started moving as soon as he felt his brother's shift in weight and whirled around to wind up with his blade at his foe's neck. The back of it, that is...

"Ghack!" Mattock the Mad choked out and started coughing violently.

"No more talk," Matt barked at him, "We settle this here and now. And don't you try running off this time! I'll find you again, and then I won't go easy on ya!"

Mattock glared back darkly, but nodded. They took their positions in the classic duel pose, back-to-back.

"Five paces," Matt barked, "I'll count. Ready? March."

Mattock the Mad tried to stab him right there. Mad Matt's blade deflected the attack and they started fighting from there. Still back-to-back, they hacked, snaked, and slashed at each other. The air was fille with the sounds of metal raking on metal, and neither was making any headway.

Finally, Mattock the Mad broke away from teh fight and staggered to the ledge.

"I..." he gasped, "I cannot go on..."

"Here," Mad Matt tossed him a couple blue gems, "Take one now, another later. I want to finish this."

Mattock looked to be at a loss for words.

"Just squeeze it into your palm, the crystal will break and leave you with energy."

The villain complied and the duel was on again. They closed with Matt deflecting the blade and kicking his foe in the gut. Mattock took the hit, fell back slightly, and bounded back with a thrust that nicked Matt's waist.

The scrapper backed away and set a defensive stance. Mattock the Mad grinned behind his mask, and set himself in an aggressive stance. Stalking forward, he plotted out his next attack.

His slash at Matt's leg was deflected, however, as was his quick assault to the scrapper's forehead. Mad Matt replied with an assault to his foe's left shoulder, which was also deflected.

The fighting continued in this vein for a little longer, but Mattock was still badly outmaneuvered. In a short while, the Praetorian was finished.

"Wait! Wait!" the villain held up his ahnd to plead with the hero, "I have information! Information!"

Matt's blade stopped at just beyond his Praetorian's eye. A fly would've been able to get through, maybe even a mouse, but it still illustrated McGinty's point.

"Jrud Retsen... He's had a lot of us riddle this city with bombs... I can tell you where some of them are!"

Matt nodded and finished the stroke. Mattock the Mad was surprised to see the hero's fist coming down on his forehead. A quiet beping signalled a Police Drone to start heading for the Praetorian's prone body.

"Oh no, I'm not giving you a chance to get away just yet," Matt growled as he hefted up his unconscious foe and started carting him off the roof in a Fireman's Carry.

At the bottom of the fire escape, he pulled out his communicator and started plunking out a message for the Zig.

"When you get to where you're going, they're gonna interrogate you," Matt muttered, "If you don't tell them what you said you'd tell me, I'm gonna come down nd visit you real quick. You got me?"

The Praetorian groaned.

"Good."

"Hold it right there!"

Matt turned around and saw a couple patrols of the Praetorians trailing behind him. They were led by what looked to be a woman dressed in fetish leather. He blinked a couple times at that, and at the fact that they were just about the most motley crew he'd ever seen, but started backing away quickly.

"Stop him!" the neon-yellow-haired woman shrieked and the collective forces of the Praetorian soldiers rushed forward.

"Yet another instance where I need a transportation power," Matt grunted as he turned to sprint more properly.

A tan and black blur zipped off one soldier and hummed past a second. When it stopped, it cleared into the form and features of Psycho13. His face had lost its manic expression, and had taken on a grim set.

The two Mayhem troops he'd just dispatched fell apart rather gruesomely, one losing his arms asymmetrically, the other losing a chunk of his head. Those blades from the Council Mech Man claws were nasty!

He was working his way to the freedom fighters Vendetta had told him about. They were easy enough to determine from the Mayhem troops. For one, they didn't dress in the same uniform and lacked a big "M" emblazoned upon their person. For another, they were fighting the Mayhem troopers.

"It's hard to make that kind of mistake," Psycho13 hissed as he carved into another trooper's bowel, "I never understood the 'Fog of War' myself... Of course, I'm something of a perfectionist at heart, so I... take... great... pains not to make such mistakes."

It seemed some of his initial madness and blood rage had waned, but what was left in its place was the attitude of a cold and calculating killer in the body of a super fast regenerator.

On the plus side, it seemed he'd stopped making bastardized quotes of Clockwork Orange.

I feel the Scoop should cover stuff on Test, too. Live is a standard, but it's a broken up community. Test is the ONE PLACE we can all get together in some way, shape or form and do funky stuff.

Like taking down the dropships. We can't do that on Live yet, and Lord knows if we'll be able to do it on Live anyway! But on Test? Well...

As for stuff that's being tested out and is still kind of up-in-the air like the Katie Hannon changes? I like how you presented it, as if it's still a point-counterpoint issue, and nobody's entirely sure how it's going to turn out.

The troops were everywhere. Whoever these "Masters of Mayhem" were, they obviously weren't very imaginative. Their crack footsoldiers looked to be little more than Arachnos troops with a few new coats of paint.

Same armor, same tactics, same bull-headed nonsense.

This was going to be...

*GORK*

Fun!

Standing over an eviscerated Mayhem trooper, Psycho13's eyes twinkled with manic delight. Where, usually, he had a severe migraine from trying to restrain the adrenaline rush, he was now just running with it.

"I'm just immortalizing the moment," he chuckled as he stalked toward the next soldier in his field of vision, "Time for some of the old ultra violence, and to paint the walls with the red red kroovy!"

"What the Hell kind of maniac are you!?" the Mayhem trooper shouted as he hefted up a studded club.

"Isn't it obvious?" Psycho13 caught the club to his ribs with an audible crack, but he didn't even flinch (rather, he bunched up the weapon in his left arm and locked it there), "I'm crazy!"

Then he stabbed. The curved blade stuck under the soldier's jaw, jammed through the mouth and pierced into the brain. A twist later and the man was dead quite quickly.

"I have a great many mental wounds," the crazy little scrapper breathed out, "Many more than I had before... I lay the blame on you..."

He aimed the weapon in his right hand at another group of soldiers.

"...And can only be cured by the spilling of the kroove..."

"What?"

"I'M TALKING BLOOD YOU FOOL!"

Psycho13 was a blur, and he tore into the center of their ranks, still shouting, "RED, RED BLOOD!"

The blades went snicker snack, and tore through armor, cleaved through bone, and rent flesh. Seething, the former hero, now just meta type humanoid, stood atop a pile of corpses and glared into the rest of the conflict.

"Brother..." he muttered, "Vengeance will soon be mine..."

Psycho13 grinned wickedly as he approached the teleporter. His fingers twitched on the handles of his new blades.

Yes...

So much [censored] was about to get kicked. And cut. And gashed, and lacerated... and perhaps a few more horrible adjectives that just aren't polite for casual conversation.

"Is that you John Wayne," he chuckled, "Is this me?"

That should do it... That should bring out the crazy he needed.

Psycho13 followed docilely, but inside, his brain was churning, trying to piece together what he'd just seen. What could be in that folder? Why did that big machine get all freaked out by it? Time travellers?

Feeling the blade tap against his thigh, he loosed it from his belt and checked the edge. The mystery wasn't important at the moment, there was plenty of time for explanation later. Now... Now he had to focus on one thing.

"I wish I could give this thing a gut hook," he muttered, "A really deep one... Oh well. There's always time later."