Mr_Grey

The Gray Render

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This here is Randall Grey... The Praetorian.

Reports given to us by Cobalt Black 3-8-9 indicate that Gray Render may have been the force that destroyed Praetorian Earth's Kingdale, New York, and not Shadowhunter's packs, as was previously believed.

Shadowhunter seemed to also be having trouble with this savage, and had to request aid from Tyrant (much to his chagrin, apparently). Marauder and his cronies raided the Kingdale forests and subdued the Render.

It was believed that the Gray Render had been executed for insurrection, but now it's become clear that Marauder kept this wild brute in a cage... Why is still a good question, but Cobalt Black has explained that sometimes the best weapons in Tyrant's arsenal are the negative heroes he's bent to his will.

Mad Matt McGinty parked his motorcycle in front of the Freedom Phalanx headquarters. Grimacing slightly, he started marching up the steps.

"Well, here goes..." he grumbled as he hit a button on his communicator and a shield wrapped around his conveyance, "Time to see if I'm the caliber they're looking for."

He knew they'd called for Cedric. Well, Agent Wild called for Cedric. That didn't make this by any means a sure thing for either of them, but the tanker had definitely been tagged by an FC agent, not Matt.

Walking through the front doors, he looked about for any agents, clerks, or whatever other office personnel could help him.

"Hello?" he called out, "I'm looking for whoever is accepting applications for the Task Force into the Rogues."

Cedric Grey walked in behind him, slurping away on his smoothie. He looked to his friend, his expression staying on the razor's edge of calm amusement and outright hysteria. The grin that flanked the straw indicated to which side he was leaning.

"Careful," Matt grinned back and pointed at Cedric's face, "We're not accepted, yet."

"We will be," Cedric chuckled into his straw, "I have a really good feeling about this."

The two of them went deeper into the facility, waving and nodding to the heroes and heroines they passed.

Nester Durj was flying through Independence Port when the truth of the day's craziness struck him.

Literally.

A pair of radioactive beams hammered into his back and he started feeling nauseas. Spinning around in the air, he looked up to see what had hit him.

It looked like an android... Like something out of a movie. It's eyes glowing green, over a shiny steel frame, the figure approached slowly, its hands glowing menacingly.

"Can I help you?" Nester shouted at him, "Or am I to just assume you're an enemy?"

"Oh, I am the epitome of your enemy," it replied in a similar, yet mechanical voice, "I am Jrud Retsen!"

Nester's sweat went cold. Cobalt Black had warned the Grey's Army heroes about what Praetorians he knew of. On Praetorian Earth, Kingdale was destroyed and another territory of Shadowhunter. However, some, like Kipland "Cobalt Black" Durj, Nester "Jrud Retsen" Durj, and Sheldon "Dross" Wallace, were able to escape and toady up to the Praetorian generals.

Apparently, Jrud was one of Antimatter's apprentices. A machine, except (maybe) the brain. Purportedly, he was also a walking, talking, flying and thinking bomb, much like his cherished patron. Apparently, Antimatter liked inflicting his condition in whatever way, shape or form he could into his underlings. Nester wasn't too sure of the idea.

Of course, maybe that's why "Dross" joined up with Neuron. The opposite of Synapse seemed to merely demand insane genius. Both this world's and that one's seemed to have ample amounts of it.

"What do you want, Jrud?" Nester didn't bother arguing names with his double, it just wasn't pertinent.

"I've come to warn you," the machine didn't smile, but Nester could hear it in the voice, "Your city has three days..."

"Three days until what?"

"I level it."

"What?" Nester gestured to the walls surrounding them, "This city's been hit by nuclear blasts before, Jrud! The walls do a pretty handy job of keeping everybody outside the blast zone pretty safe! Even if you could initiate an atomic detonation within your person, you certainly can't level the city!"

The machine started laughing and extended its hands at the defender. Nester braced for another blast, but it never came. A dark black purple cloud connected with Jrud and sent him careening through the air to crash land on a warehouse roof.

"Nobody messes with my son!" Ezekiel Durj shouted from a rooftop, "You okay, Nester?"

"Doin' good, Dad!" the healer shouted back, "Come on! We gotta detain him before-"

A group of Antimatter's clockwork hordes, Nuons, Mesons, and apparently there was a Baryon among them as well, were storming to the warehouse. Jrud recovered and glared up at them.

"Three days!" he shouted, "You have that long to stop me!"

"Come on!" Nester started flying toward his double and his father simply disappeared.

A dark cloud appeared in front of the fleeing android and wrapped a portion of itself around the offender. It didn't stop Jrud (Nester wished he could ignore "hold" effects like that), but it did slow him down significantly. A flurry to the chest and a hard, dark-energy charged punch later, and the machine fell back.

"You cannot stop me!" Jrud shouted, his eyes blazing angrily at the cloud in front of him.

"Sounds to me you need a round taken out of you," Zeke's voice came from the cloud.

"What?" Jrud's head shook a little inhumanly, "How? No! You're dead! You're dead!"

A blast of radiation slammed into Zeke and he stumbled a little.

"You can't be him! You can't be!"

The android fired radioactive eye beams and was trying to burn a hole into Zeke's armor. The warshade responded with a dark eye beam of his own. Nester was suddenly behind his double and launching his own assault of radiation.

"We might just get him!" Nester cheered, his defensive and focusing matrices keeping him and Zeke safe and hitting more often, "Keep it up, dad!"

"I see..." Retsen almost hissed, "Your father. Not mine... NRAH!"

A torrent of radioactive particles slammed into Zeke and caused him to stumble. Jrud started making for one of the windows on the roof and a group of the Praetorian machines suddenly burst through to protect their charge.

"Damn it!" Nester shouted and fired off his eye beams as a swarm of energy bombarded the two heroes, "Run away!"

Zeke teleported away and Nester tried to fly as hard as he could. Unfortunately, the beams traveled faster than him. Nester kicked on his Healing Wave generator, hoping the burst of nanites reconstructing his flesh would keep him alive just long enough...

Suddenly, he was wrapped in a dark cloud and several hundred feet away from where he'd just been. Stopping just short of hitting a wall, he turned back to see his father disappearing again. The warehouse was still in view, and a wall of a neighboring building had been so heavily irradiated it was glowing green. The Antimatter Clockwork were charging in his direction.

"Oh ma-"

Nester disappeared again. Zeke repeated this until he was able to route the two of them back to the Universal Supergroup Base Teleporter.

"We gotta get back to the base and coordinate a plan of attack!" Zeke shouted, "This is insane! Who was that? Why was he screaming about me being dead and not his father?"

"That was me, dad," Nester gasped, "the anti-me... That was Jrud Retsen... Like Cobalt warned us about."

"Well," Zeke sighed, "Where's Cobalt? Where's my third son?"

"That's a good question."

Cedric Grey was finishing his corn flakes as the phone rang. He looked over to the edge of the coffee table, where his communicator sat silently. Why weren't they calling that? His roommate, Matt McGinty answered the phone.

"Grand Central Station, Lum speaking," the scrapper half-shouted into the phone.

Cedric chuckled a little as Matt corrected himself. A few "uh-huhs" later and he hung up.

"Who was it?" Cedric asked between mouthfuls of cornflakes.

"Freedom Corps," McGinty replied as he heated up a bagel, "Seems we got ourselves an interesting offer on the plate..."

"Oh?"

"Yeah... They said they were looking for crazy heroes, and we seem to be near the top of the list."

"Who's the craziest?"

"I don't know..." Matt chuckled as he got out some cream cheese, "Frankly, I'm concerned there's somebody out there ahead of us in that department."

"So, what were they asking us to do?"

Matt's bagels popped up and he started spreading the cheese over them. He seemed to be considering what to say.

"There's a problem... It needs fixing... A heroine's been kidnapped and she apparently had some kind of Macguffin on her person... Some sort of 'End-of-the-World' trinket..."

"Of course," Cedric shrugged with a callous smirk on his face before just drinking the last of the milk and cereal fromt eh bowl.

"Well, Freedom Corps wants us to help out the retrieval team."

"Is this that Task Force I heard about on the news this morning?"

"Yeah."

"Will there be a badge involved?"

"Since this is a one-time thing," Matt's eyes rolled for a second then focused back on his friend, "No."

"Aw..."

"We get to bust up bad guys, though."

"That's a plus," Cedric grinned.

"Well, I'm going," McGinty munching on his bagel, "It's about damn time I started leaving a mark on this city that wasn't just a grease stain."

"But..." Cedric's eyes rolled, "You've always been a really good fighter... Damn near nobody can take you down."

"I know," Matt smirked, "I was talking about the bad guy blood loss."

Cedric laughed and headed for his room. A moment later, he returned with a shiny axe. Few knew that not too long ago, it used to hold his Praetorian. Now, nobody knew what the deal was, but the weapon seemed more than a tad indestructible. The tanker class hero was also wearing his armor, a technological construct produced by a fellow supergroup member.

"So, you're coming along?"

"Yeah!" Cedric cheered as he gave a slight stretch, "One energy smoothie, and I'll be all set! Come on, man, finish up the bagel!"

"I'll meet ya there... Freedom Phalanx headquarters, of all places."

Grey was out the door shouting "BYE!" just as Matt finished the sentence. Humming to himself as he finished his breakfast, Matt was suddenly reminded of his old instructor's words before every sparring match.

"This is going to be... Interesting."

((Meh heh... Considering the fact I already stated that the Medporters are still running hard, I'm sure Infernal will be fine... In a couple hours... He might even be appreciative that his axe was put somewhere he could get to more easily, instead of having to chase his double across the city.))

"How the Hell did I get up here?"

Matt stared out across Skyway City. Somehow, he had gotten his motorcycle up on the roof of one of the tallest northern buildings. Down on the highway, he could see a truck filled with Marauder cronies being chased by an armored SWAT van.

"Whelp," he grunted as he cinched himself to the cruiser's seat, "YEEEEEEEE-"

His words were drowned out by the sound of his motorcycle's engine roaring to life. The rear tire squealed and he was launched off the side of the roof.

"This was a notoriously bad idea," his mind stated calmly as he descended, "Whoooooooooooooooooo!"

He hit a switch next to his right wrist and a whizzing sound could be heard. Rappel ropes were being fed out the back of the motorcycle, now much slower than before. Matt had spiked them into the wall above... he was crazy (maybe even a little stupid), but he was still going to take some precautions.

As he was about to hit the dirt, Matt yanked on the handlebars and wheeled the bike up just enough to pull off the perfect landing. Hissing hydraulics, the clattering of a discarded rappelling device and squealing wheels signaled his departure and he made for the nearest street, bowling over a Supa Troll in the way. Upon hitting the street, he made for the highway and the overpass after that.

----

The Rampagers were firing into random vehicles. The SWAT driver didn't know how to stop them.

"Guys, I don't know where they got that truck, but I haven't got the speed to catch up to them! They're firing into random civilian cars and trucks, how're we gonna stop 'em?"

"Make do, sergeant," the captain in the back shouted in reply, "Lieutenant! Use that damn sidearm of yours and try to take out their tires!"

"I'm out of bullets, sir," the lieutenant replied, "Sarge's, too."

"Dammit!"

"Sir!" one of the SWAT troopers shouted as he looked out the back window, "Look!"

Mad Matt McGinty was speeding up behind them, his face pulled back in a nasty grimace. In short order, he was past the van and gaining on the Praetorians' "Technical."

"Did that thing have a minigun on it?" the captain asked his troops perplexedly.

----

The Praetorians were not going to take Mad Matt's intrusion on the situation well. Immediately, they started assaulting him with small arms fire. Matt deftly streaked and strafed across the highway, and eventually pulled up behind the technical.

"Mr. Thundermaker!" he yelled as he leaned forward and squeezed a trigger under his left index finger, "Start barking fire!"

The minigun barrels started spinning and whining, and Matt thought the look on the Rampagers' faces was priceless. One pointed and mouthed "No way!"

The minigun belched out hot metal and tore out the tailgate. Four bodies rolled out (not dead, but they would NOT be happy) and the others were struggling with the injuries sustained on their own persons'. One proffered a lewd gesture to Matt, who was busy trying to regain the speed he'd lost on that minuscule burst.

"Damn! I shoulda' packed more ammo," the Scrapper cursed himself, "Oh well, Plan B..."

His left hand dropped to his hip and he pulled the katana he had in the sheath he'd installed into the chassis. It seemed the Rampagers had stopped groaning, whining, and cursing and stared worriedly at the odd lunatic gunning their way...

Matt pulled himself up to the driver's side door and looked at the Wrecker there. The masked man roared incoherently through the glass, but accomplished little. One of the Rampagers took control of the machine gun, but he was far too late...

Matt slid the katana into the driver's side window and skewered the Wrecker's right hand to the steering wheel (actually hitting the wheel first, and then the hand). With a slight yank and a shove, the truck went careening to the right and spilled over. Matt was a little bothered by that, it'd have been more spectacular if they'd hit the guardrail and gone hurtling over the side, but this worked, too...

He whirled the bike back around and when he returned, the SWAT officers were busy "detaining" the Rampagers and their leader.

"You're lucky they didn't hit you with this," the captain chuckled as he gestured to the machine gun, "Fifty cal... It would've torn you in half."

"Makes ya wonder what they were sent to hit, huh?" Matt grinned, "Can I have my, uh, sword back?"

The lieutenant pulled the weapon from the broken glass and tossed it to the scrapper. Matt saluted them with it and headed back off to the north.

"That was downright crazy," one of the SWAT troopers gasped, "How much worse is this going to get?"

"According to the reports," the Sarge grumbled as he listened to the radio, "Much... Much worse."

"Aw man..."

"Tag the bad guys and lets roll out," the Captain shouted.

The officers slapped little beeping dots to each of the Rampagers and their boss.

"What're these supposed to do?" the Wrecker barked.

"They call our little helpers in to haul you off to the Zig," the Captain explained as he inspected each of his troops boarding the van, "Here they are now..."

A pair of police drones showed up, each one blaring its tiny siren and flashing its bright blue and red lights. They made little beeps and boops as they locked onto the tiny beeping dots on the Praetorian soldiers.

"What?" the Wrecker shouted, "How the Hell is this supposed to-"

The police drones started firing their little teleporter beams and each of the invaders found themselves on the fast track to prison. Beeping happily, they headed off to other regions of the city where they might be needed. Chuckling, the SWAT Captain got into the van last and slammed shut the doors. Shortly afterward, the vehicle was speeding down the road, heading for a warehouse that the Praetorians had holed up inside. It was going to be a long day...

Statesman: "I think he's been in there long enough... Let's let out Reichsman and send him home."

Citadel: "Um... Are you feeling alright?"

Statesman: "Nah... I'm just funnin'!"

"Hey Lou."

Mad Matt McGinty.

"Hey Lou."

Cedric Grey.

"You guys do realize there's a small war going on out there, right? Heroes and... Well, antiheroes is the wrong word..."

Lou was busy welding shut the holes recently put into his workshop. This time, they hadn't been caused by Clockwork, but by Supa Trolls just kicking the walls. He was becoming quite the curmudgeonly resident.

"I've been meaning to talk to you about your motorcycle, Matt," Lou left his question unanswered and approached the tarp covered vehicle, "What did we agree on?"

"Well, we agreed on so many things, like the hydraulics..."

"What did we agree on!?" Lou shouted.

"No minigun..."

"And what did you put on this?"

"A minigun."

Lou started wiping his hands.

"Fine," he barked, "Fine. See... A lot of people think the King is crazy... none of them spend enough time around guys like you two... When you wind up a skid mark on the highway, I'm not gonna be sorry... Goodbye, good luck."

"Can I still store the bike in here? I mean, I did help you repeatedly in rescuing your wife and kid..."

"Fine... Fine..." Lou stalked off to his house's living quarters, then shouted, "What the Hell!? No! NO! You get the Hell out of my house!"

There was a metallic clang and the sounds of many other metallic somethings falling all over the floor. Cedric and Matt stared at the door for a few moments.

"Lou?" Cedric called out, "Lou, everything okay?"

"Yeah, it was just one."

"No Dad, it was two," his daughter called out, "I took out the other with a baseball bat."

"So," Cedric turned back to his roommate, "A minigun, huh?"

"Yeah, this is gonna be so cool!" Matt shouted as they pulled back the tarp.

Cedric let out a long low whistle. Matt was staring, dumbfounded.

"You can thank my daughter for the paint job!" Lou shouted to them again.

"Bright orange flames on black..." Matt rubbed his hand affectionately on the paneling, "It looks like glass..."

"Awesome, man," Cedric looked up and smiled, "Hey, Lou, I'm taking some of these hooks, okay?"

"What?"

"I just need 'em... Don't worry, they're coming back..."

"I..." Lou walked out of his home to stare at the two heroes, "You two are the oddest oddballs I've ever had to deal with... If you think they'll help ya, then go ahead, but if I don't get them back a day after this all blows over, I'm coming after you..."

"With some hard-pipe hittin' boys a blowtorch and a crowbar," Cedric started loading the new chains into his wrist mounts, "I know, man, I know. I've heard it all before."

"Yeah, but it'll just be a hard-pipe hittin' me..."

"And you better not scratch up that paint, Matt!" Lou's daughter yelled out to them.

"Don't worry, I won't, "the wild maned scrapper chuckled back, "An act of the gods on the other hand..."

"I'll still blame you!"

"Dammit... I don't care, I'm taking this thing out anyway!"

----

"There you are," Sheldon whispered as he turned on the light, "Don't worry, my dear... In a short while, the city will see what you have to offer..."

He was talking to what looked like a white-paneled Warhulk. For its right arm, it bore a minigun. On it's left, a small rocket tube and a flame thrower. If Nemesis knew this thing existed, he'd be one angry preserved brain. For now, it remained in the basement of the Steel Canyon gadgets store.

"I just wanna run a diagnostic and then I'll head out to..."

"Wallace!" Randall's voice roared out of his communicator, "Wallace! Where the Hell are you?"

"I'm working on something, sir," Sheldon replied with a sigh.

"Well, the heroes in Steel Canton are hitting a bit of a snag. I want you to head up there with your androids and help them out!"

"Uh... I'll see what I can do, sir... I kind of let the two do whatever they want..."

He checked his communicator's "Friend Tracker.

"It seems Sixty-six is at the north wall... Ninety-nine is on the Yellow Line for some strange reason..."

"Well, I guess that can't be helped... Still, get up to the north front. I keep hearing word that they need a good kineticist up there, because most of the others are in P.I., if they aren't getting ambushed by these random portals..."

"Random portals?"

"Minds more in the know than you are already working on it," Grey's voice sounded a little far away, like he was already focusing on his next objective, "You concentrate on what I told ya."

"Yes sir."

He clicked off his communicator and turned to the machine. Sighing through his nostrils, he gave it an affectionate pat and headed back upstairs.

----

"Okay, boys, we're all loaded up," Solo Stryker muttered into the BWO dropship's intercom, "Ref, systems check?"

"Systems check out, Solo," the Kingdale Referee replied.

"Turrets?" the pilot queried.

"Port locked and loaded," Draven Erickson called back.

"Starboard good to go," Ragin' James answered.

"Everybody strapped in?"

"Check," most of the rest of the crew gave the affirmative.

"Wait, I'm not strapped in, yet..." Psycho13 shouted as he bolted for his seat, "I had to lock down the hoverbike!"

"Too bad!" Solo shouted and he kicked the thrusters and the hoverpods on to max power.

Psycho13 found himself thrown into the bottom rear corner of the passenger bay. The rest of the crew didn't much like the feel of it... It was like a lurching in their stomachs.

"Next time you do that, brother," King Slater muttered into the intercom, "How about a little more warning?"

"Callsigns only from here on out, Slater," Solo called back, "Last thing we want is anybody recognizing us on the streets..."

"Yeah man," Dirty Ice mocked Slater by throwing up his hands in a shrug and bobbing his head a little from left to right, "What were you thinking!?"

"I was thinking..." Slater took an empty clip from the wall and chucked it at Dirty, catching him off guard as the metal slapped flat against his left pectoral muscle, "Shut the Hell up!"

"Ah! You got my [censored]!"

Psycho13 struggled into the seat and strapped in. He was exhausted, but that would be fixed shortly. In a short while, he'd get to field test his experimental new hoverbike.

"Hoverbike!" he gleefully whispered.

After dropping the cops off at the Riot Guards at the Steel Canyon Entrance, Randall started heading south. He never really got into the Perez Park proper. A group of young heroes hovering around a quantum anomaly got his attention and he approached them.

"Everything good here?" he rumbled.

"Everything seems to be fine, sir," the spiky hero replied, "According to the scanners DATA got us, a few of the Praetorians got through, but whatever minions or backup they had with them either aren't coming or haven't come through yet..."

"Not coming?"

"Well... The portals not appearing in Boomtown or the Hollows are pretty unstable... I don't know if they're trying to put another one in here, but none so far that we've found seem to last long."

"Catch any Praetorians at all?" Randall was already considering going where the real action was for someone of his security level.

"No sir... Not my group, per say..."

"Well, keep up the good work."

With that, he leaped off into the distance, heading south to get to Skyway City and get a good view of how the rest of the zone was doing. Portals seemed to wink in and out of existence, perhaps it was all the mystical stuff the Circle of Thorns were doing in the area.

It wasn't a pleasant thought, but it was a sound theory. By the reports, the Praetorian portal in the Hollows was in the northeastern region of the zone. That wasn't necessarily as far from the nearest entrance as possible... Nor was it far from the Beacon there...

"That'll probably be the first to fall," Randy muttered as he went through the heavy blast doors and headed for Skyway City.

----

Cory's icy blade carved through another Wrecker and a scrapper hopped up and kicked the offending invader in the teeth. The battle at the Croatoa Green Line was over, and the heroes had been victorious.

"They were just troops," a defender shouted over the cheers, "More could easily be on the way, we will need to leave a contingent force!"

Cory didn't volunteer. Though he really liked helping in any way he could, and had already plotted out several defensive strategies that would keep perhaps even a full compliment of the Praetorian Generals from taking the Green Line here, he had to go.

He could feel his Praetorian out there. It wasn't exactly a "calling," but the two could definitely sense each other. Briefly, the warlock wondered how many others around him got the same sensation.

"I'll stay," a power-armored tanker finally raised his hand, "My team and I will hold this train station!"

"My sisters will assist you in any way we can," Gertrude reached out her hand to shake the tanker's.

"Alright then, let's get back to the rest of the city and show those [censored] Praetorians what for!" another spry little scrapper shouted before leaping into the next car.

Cory gave Gertrude one last hug, and boarded the train with the rest of the heroes.

"Manticore... I'm gonna go easy on you today."

((Was that an actual character of yours, Sovi? I assumed it was a normal mage... Even still, I don't think your guy would have stuck around for "minion work," so it's highly unlikely. Don't worry, though, Randall's not on Reikoff's trail, either. He's just looking for focal points of "odd" occurences, and hopefully finding weak points the Praetorians are using to worm their way into our dimension.))

((May as well add another segment of the work my various other characters do in light of the conflict...))

Daren Simms was monitoring the new equipment in the Brutal Warriors Order's control room. He got a slightly giddy feeling from it all...

He had three transport requests from the heroes in his queue, one from Blue Steel. He also had another prospect from the Etoiles that wound up leading to somewhere in the Bahamas. While hero jobs were typically safe from deception, they tended not to pay too much ("The virtue is supposed to be the reward..."). However, if Daren could somehow schedule all of the trips, he wouldn't need to worry about comprimising the group's need for cold hard currency with anything so trivial as "Right and Wrong."

The phone rang.

"Hello," Daren muttered into the receiver, "This better be good."

"It's Joe," the cop on the other end replied, "There's an emergency."

"I told you, moron, this better be good!"

"Dammit, Daren! I told you! Anytime there's an emergency, you're to get that metal behemoth over here and help defend the city!"

"And we told you, Joe, we put it to a vote. If we think it's profitable, we'll be on our way..."

He hit a button on the wall next to a speaker.

"Guys! Get everybody up and get into the control room. Somethin's up!"

"I'll call ya back, Joe," Daren hung up the phone and turned to the computer, "Dammit... *sigh* I'm probably gonna have to cancel some of these..."

The other members of the BWO straggled into the control room and Daren turned back to them. He picked the phone up, clicked his communicator to the receiver and hit a speed dial button. Joe's voice came back on.

"Paragon City Police Department, Kings Row Precinct, this is Sergeant Joe Durnan. How may I help you?"

"It's Daren."

"You got me on speaker?"

"Yeah," Jared Simms shouted to the machine, "What's going on?"

"Utter chaos, that's what!" Joe replied, "The city's under attack!"

"By what? Arachnos? Lusca?"

"No... Guys... This group... They're a danger many levels above most heroes' paygrades... The Praetorians are attacking the city... With the very doubles of most of this city's heroes!"

"Woah..." James Baker's eyes darted to everybody around the room, "Woah, that sounds heavy! Are there doubles of us?"

"Not likely," his brother, Levi Baker, replied, "Remember? Cobalt Black said the Praetorian Kingdale was levelled by Shadowhunter's wolves. What few they didn't consume were probably turned over to Tyrant to be made into slave labor... Maybe the bigger and tougher ones, like Randy's opposite, wound up in their ranks, but it's not likely we'll run into actual opposites of ourselves..."

"It's not probable," Dale agreed, "But it is possible. And in this universe, such possibilities tend to have their probability rate ramped up!"

The group chewed on that for a second.

"We need some heavy firepower out here, guys," Joe pleaded, "Your ship could help tip the scales in our favor."

"We'll be there," Dustin Simms muttered into the phone and started heading outside, "Hang up, and lets get the ship loaded for bear."

"Aren't we gonna vote?" Matt Jones shouted at the tanker, "I thought that was our thing!"

"You wanna be the one who said the Brutal Warriors Order backed down from a fight?" Dale asked between sips of Red Beast.

"Shut the Hell up!" was all the brute could reply with.

----

Joe hung up his phone. He was the only one of the Paragon Police Department's "Hero Division" currently on phone watch. Other phones were ringing loudly and angrily, but there was nothing he could do for them. The message was simple, the entire Police Department was already deployed in force. SWAT, Riot, Mechanized, Psychic, and even Kheldian Cops were all out there, protecting the city from one of the greatest threats the world had ever known.

"[censored] this," he muttered and picked up his communicator, dialed a number and waited for the answer.

"Durnan?" Captain Nielson, the duty officer of the day, "What the Hell is it?"

"I'm heading out, sir."

"No you're not! You answer those phones, Sergeant!"

"And telll those people what? That the cops are doing the best they can? Flag down a hero and get help from them if they're scared? I'm just one man answering fifty phones... Fifty phones backed up with ten calls on hold each! Dammit, I am not doing that!"

"You do as you're told! You monitor those phones!"

"No!" Joe slapped an ammunition cartridge into his assault rifle, the "FrankenGun" others called it, "I'm goin' out there and I am taking the fight to the Praetorians! We need every cop out there, everyone who can fight..."

He started heading for the elevator.

"Everybody who can."

"Durnan, I will write you up for misconduct! I will make sure they take away your shield!"

"You do that," Durnan replied, "Go right ahead. Me? I've got my priorities. Sir."

----

Randall Grey strolled into Perez Park. He'd heard some nasty rumors about Praetorian soldiers picking through the region. He was giving it a look, and it seemed heroes were already starting to trickle in, led to the situations by their contacts or ther police radios. So far, it seemed nothing all that important had happened yet.

He noticed a group of Circle magicians carting a group of Paragon Police away.

"Excuse me," he shouted at them, "I don't believe those people belong to you!"

"A hero spotted us!" their boss shouted moments before a rock splintered his leg, "AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAUGH!"

Randall tore through the others like a hammer through butter. The results were just as messy.

"Alright, little man," he grunted as he picked up the broken Madness Mage, "How about you tell me how you got a hold of these here cops?"

"Why can't I... Why can't I break your mind? Those... Those stones..."

"Yeah... The stones... They keep you from getting in here, but I got other reasons why you can't get in, too... Now, you're not answering me, so I guess when I broke your leg, I was going too soft an ya..."

"Wait! Okay! Okay! A Malta Group agent paid for our help with these bodies... We needed their souls..."

"Well, see what happens when ya make a deal with the Devil?" Randall chuckled a little at that, "Course, you already knew what to expect, didn't ya? Now, tell me where."

"They're long gone by now..."

"That's fine," Randy bonked the wizard on a wall, "I just need the location. In case ya haven't noticed, more's goin' on here than just your body snatchin'!"

----

Sheldon Wallace, Ryat99 and Ryat66 emerged from the portal in Steel Canyon. Sheldon popped the crick in his neck and held his gauntleted hand out to one of the Praetorians nearby. A wave burst from his hand and a scattering of nanites made contact, coalesced around their target, and froze the offending evil-doer in place. Shortly thereafter, the scrapper fighting him finished him off and a police drone zipped by, zapping the prone body up for a quick trip to the Zig.

"That was unceremonious," Ryat99 muttered.

"You two go wherever you think you'll be the most help," Sheldon ordered, "I gotta go do some finishing touches to another side project... One that's suddenly quite relevant."

"Sir," Ryat99 piped up to his creator, "Do you ever worry that you might just be a mad scientist?"

"All the time, Sixty-six," Sheldon replied and shook his trench coat to wrap it around himself better, "All the time. I think whether the final results are good or bad are what make the difference."

"And if they're bad?"

"Then I'll probably be considered the next Clockwork King," the inventor rasped as he started walking toward the Tech shop.

On his way, he froze the "tanker" in another group of Praetorians who were chasing after a controller. It didn't actually stop the Tanker, jsut tripped him up a little, and the group turned to give chase, but Ryat99 and Ryat66 rushed up to stop them. The controller, having gotten a breather from the momentary distraction, enthusaistically assisted in the fight.

"Teamwork and ingenuity are what will save us," Sheldon called to his androids, "Remember that."

"I'm getting worried about him," Ryat99 muttered to his older brother, "He writes in his sleep."

"Yeah... Wait, he writes in his sleep?" Ryat66 asked perplexedly, "Writes what?"

"Invention ideas. Clockwork designs... He's really struggling to figure out how they work. There's also a few nightmares in there."

"All we need is the power source design, though..." Ryat66 scratched at his shoulder, "Why is he still trying to figure out the rest?"

"I don't know..." Ryat99 looked to the north.

It seemed a lot of heroes, Freedom Corps/Longbow, police and military forces were headed to the War Wall there.

"I have an idea, Sixty-six... I'm going to Galaxy City."

"Why?"

"To free our brothers and sisters, and then we'll show these Praetorians what for. Good luck."

"Good luck, brother," Ryat66 saluted the larger android and started heading north.

Cedric Grey was awakened by a shrill tone. It was his communicator. Only half awake and quite groggy, he answered it.

"Mmm... m'ello?"

...

"Mmm-yeah... This is him."

...

"Who is this?"

"Agent Wild? Oh yeah, I remember you. The guy assigned to... What was that? Huh? Look out my window?"

He pushed himself off the bed and stared outside. All across the Steel Canyon he could see heroes in battle with other people in colorful spandex and armor.

"Wow, you guys sure must have dropped the ball over there, huh? How many Arachnos ships made it into the city?"

The voice on the other end nearly blew his eardrum out and clearly shouted, "They're not Arachnos you idiot!"

"Hey hey!" Cedric switched the phone to his other ear and gently rubbed his sore one, "Calm down, man! Then what's going on out there?"

...

"Uh-huh... Uh-huh... Wow. That's pretty bad. Yeah, I'll be out there soon. I'm probably one of the few who doesn't have a Praetorian, right? Seeing as how mine is stuck in my..."

He looked through his room and noticed something was missing.

"In my..."

He checked out in his apartment's living room.

"In my..."

Matt McGinty waved as he lurched into the kitchen and started making himself breakfast.

"Crazy bastards," the scrapper muttered, "Here I am, trying to get to sleep... And everybody decided to have a fight right outside my window..."

"Matt?"

"Yeah man?"

"Have you seen my axe?"

Matt walked back out to the living room and gave a cursory glance. Then he pointed to the door. Cedric turned and gasped.

"I have to call you back."

"Wait wha-?" was all Agent Wild could get out before Cedric clicked off the communicator.

"This is bad," he muttered as he stared at the hole in his door.

It looked like something had been thrown through it. It looked like something had been thrown through from inside the apartment. It looked like something the size of Cedric's axe had been thrown through the door from inside.

"Did my axe just get up and walk away?" Grey shouted, "That is so cool!"

"I think it's trouble brewin', bud," Matt grunted, "Come on, I'll fix us up some eggs and sausage patties, then we'll go huntin'!"

"What am I gonna use as a weapon?"

"You've still got those chains you used to use for armor, right?"

"Yeah..."

"Sounds like a weapon to me..." Matt spat on the skillet and it hissed as the saliva evaporated on contact, "You want over easy or scrambled?"

----

Roland Grey wake up, stretched, and pushed himself into the bathroom. Scrubbing his face with cold water, he forced himself awake.

Looking into the mirror, he noted the neck brace with some derision. A few days ago, he'd been attacked by some psychotic... In fact, the Praetorian version of someone he called a friend (but she turned out to be someone else entirely).

"I think I can take this off, now," he growled as he popped off the metal tabs and started inspecting the damage, "Some bruising still... At least it doesn't hurt to talk or swallow... I bet I can have a normal break-"

He heard a distant explosion.

"What the Hell?"

He headed for the window in his kitchen and looked outside. Across the street, under a Vanguard billboard, he saw a group of heroes fighting... A group that looked like themselves. Only they were skewed. Peering closer, he noticed they all seemed somewhat sinister.

"Aw Hell," he grunted, "What brought this on?"

----

Kipland Durj looked down on Skyway City from the ledge of one of its tall buildings. This was all kinds of bad. Across the city, Praetorians were assaulting their counterparts. Lord knew how they knew to find them.

"I guess we can't count on a lot more turning out to be our friends, like Cobalt Black."

He considered that. Could Cobalt have been a spy all that time? Could he have been feeding information to the Praetorians, bit by bit, piece by piece?

"Well, I won't find anything just stan-"

"DIIIIIIIIIIIIE!" some lunatic Praetorian shouted from behind him.

It must have been the opposite of the football uniform clad hero that tackled him over the side. Kip watched them plummet, punching and kicking each other all the way to the pavement. Like any other tank, they then stood and started wailing away on each other like they hadn't just fallen fifty stories.

"I better get moving," Kip muttered before leaping off to the distance.

----

Cortland Simmons stood at the Green Line train station in Salamanca/Croatoa. His girlfriend, the Cabal witch, Gertrude Youngs embraced him as they waited with a group of other magic-aligned (as well as other types, but they were fewer in number) heroes for the next train to Brickstown.

"It'll be alright," he whispered to her.

"Cory, these are dangerous times," her voice trembled slightly, but she refrained from displaying any further emotion, "These monsters... They are everything you and your kind are, only twisted!"

"We'll be able to handle ourselves," the warlock replied calmly as he smoothed some of her hair out of her face, "We are not nearly as inexperienced as Ms. MacComber seems to believe..."

"Don't worry about Salamanca," she replied, "It's likely they won't be able to get any of our dark reflections over here... Their Salamanca was probably turned into Croatoa and lost to the spirit world... And we'll be able to handle ourselves against any and all who try to take this place from us. We're working on a truce with the Red Caps..."

"I understand."

"Cory, be careful. If Paragon falls... The Etoile Islands will be the last bastion of freedom in the world..."

"Such a terrible fate," the wizard sighed, "Do not worry, we shall be victorious. Isn't that right?"

The other heroes around them gave a triumphant cheer that resounded through the cramped space.

"I normally hate that," Simmons grinned from ear to ear, "But I can't help getting a slight thrill from everybody's enthusiasm."

The train arrived and the heroes started to clamber in. Gertrude gasped, and Cory's brow furrowed. Something wasn't right...

An explosion rocked the Green Line, scattering heroes as a large group of Praetorians suddenly burst out of the car.

The War had come to Salamanca.

Shadowshock awoke with a start.

The alarms and guards shouting... This breakout was taking a lot longer than...

He noticed Hotaka just lying on the floor. Odd... Why didn't he wake up when the guards brought him back? Perplexed, he rolled off his bed and leaned over his cellmate.

"Hey..." Shock waved his hand over Hotaka's prone form, "You alright? What'd they do to you?"

He snapped his fingers in front of Ryuu's face, but got no response. What was worse, too, was that it seemed he wasn't breathing. Shadowshock checked for a pulse...

One...

Two...

Three...

There!

A single beat...

One...

Tw-

Another one...

Pretty slow pulse rate... Shadowshock remembered some of the "far-out" kids back in high school (the few times he actually went, anyway) talking about how "Yoda Masters" were able to hold their breath for long periods of time and slow their heart rates... Was that what this was? If so, why was Hotaka doing it? Was it a better form of rest?

Shock couldn't imagine how... It seemed to him that Ryuu would be expending more energy to keep his body in this state.

"Dammit," he muttered to himself, "I should have stayed asleep..."

A set of booted feet ran past his cell. What the Hell was taking the guards so long with this breakout?

While I like those stories, Brawler, this is a different backdrop.

Still, it's in the spirit of what the thread is supposed to be about.

This is mostly inspired from a point I reached in my story/chronicle thread, Grey's Army.

This isn't an RP per se...

This is more of a scenario style event...

War has hit Paragon City in the form of a massive Praetorian invasion. The bulk of the Praetorian Army is composed of Antimatter and Neuron's "Clockwork" robots and Marauder's hordes of "post-modern" savages. Each of the Praetorian generals have brought their own forces as well, however, they are not nearly as numerous.

The major threat, however, is that Tyrant as recruited as many Praetorian versions of our heroes (and maybe even our Rogues) to his cause as possible. These powerful soldiers in his army report directly to Marauder (Tyrant is fully aware of the insanely ambitious nature of the people under his rule), and are mostly under orders to hunt down their own doubles and destroy them.

The Danger Zones of "Crey's Folly," "Boomtown," and "The Hollows," have all been employed as insertion points for the Praetorian hordes. Most villain types in these zone shave been suppressed by the Praetorians as the hordes struggle to establish firm footholds in our dimension.

Periodically, the Praetorians also teleport directly into normal zones. Since we're not talking about an actual in-game event (I think...), Atlas Park and Galaxy City are just as fair game as the rest of the zones.

"Boomtown" and "the Hollows" are practically warzones as major "villain" forces in those regions continue to struggle against the invaders, even without heroic support. The Council has set up a makeshift base (much like the Freakshow base in the "Folly," only more "uniform") in the Southwest of "Boomtown," the Outcasts are waging a guerrilla war against the Praetorians, and the Circle of Thorns (with minor support from the Trolls) war with any and all Praetorians who wander into the southern regions of "the Hollows."

The Rikti Crash Site has been ignored by the Praetorians. There's no word as to why, but most prevalent theories state it's because the Rikti are so heavily entrenched in that region, and the Praetorians intend to deal with it after they've taken Paragon City and imposed their will on the planet.

So... Why am I telling everybody all of this? Well, the idea is that you all will post stories of your characters' duels with their Praetorians. Most stories are expected to take place on the "Home Front" (or rather, in Paragon), but it's just as likely that Freedom Corps/Longbow (or even powerful Player SGs) has means of invading Praetorian Earth and taking the fight to the Enemy.

Freedom Corps/Longbow, the U.S. Military, and the Paragon Police are all available for support. Medical facilities are also running full-bore. Much like in-game, hero cooperation is encouraged, but please do it right (PM fellow posters, get permission to utilize characters, etc.)...

Again, this isn't an RP, and, as such, isn't exactly chronological. Some events may be told out of order, but that's understandable (sometimes, you just gotta get the words out!). Oh yes... Signature Praetorians can be fought with and beaten by multiple heroes. It happens in the game ("I've fought Mynx five times today! How does she keep breaking out of the Zig? So ANGRY!"), so it can happen here.

Thank you for your consideration of this little idea. I was originally intending to just run through Grey's Army and Brutal Warriors Order with their endeavors during this tumultuous time (the event pretty much lasts a month of in-game time), but I figured it would be much better to share the idea with the faithful RPers here (and possibly perusers of the RP forum) and get everybody's input on it. I hope to see many great stories and tumultuous battles in the near future.

Again, thank you in advance for your contributions. Please, as in any public endeavor, try to be courteous to your fellow posters, and observe the basic RP etiquette. It may not be an RP, but it's pretty close. I don't want to see people's characters getting killed off (one-shotted, for instance) randomly by other posters, for example.

((Y'know, I was just thinking about this thread and how much I missed it...))

LR: "Behold! My most devious plan to date!"

*throws in a DVD.*

Black Scorpion: "This isn't a plan... This is Hello Kitty!"

*Recluse makes a mad dash for the DVD player. After some violent thrashing, the player is destroyed, but Recluse holds the disc up triumphantly... Then carefully pockets it behind his back.*

Mako: "Hey, I was watching that!"

"Well, Dad, I'm just about all packed."

Roland had been spending quite a while dragging his feet on this. With his mom and dad, he was just about done with his goodbyes. Just about...

"I know, son," Randy's voice carried no judgment in it, "We all know. I don't blame ya, to be honest. You're right, this is a crazy world, and these are crazy situations. Nobody should have to go through any of this on a daily basis."

"That's not all of it," Roland sighed, "I did leave a good job back at home, not to mention the house and then there's all of our friends who've headed home to rebuild their shattered lives..."

"They're gonna need a bar," Randy chuckled.

"A bar with a good bartender," Roland replied with a similar chuckle.

"But this isn't the first time you told your mother and me 'goodbye.'"

"I know."

"So, what's keeping ya here?"

Roland didn't say anything.

"It's a girl, isn't it?"

"At it's most basic level, yes," Roland finally admitted, "But it's nothing so deep as love..."

"And I figured Kip was the one who locked all that stuff away..." Charlene sighed sadly.

"He did," Roland nodded, "And look at him now..."

Kip had been a mess the past few days. They found out from the former Outcasts, Ashen Roast and Blizzard Front, what had happened. Cedric also knew before mostly everybody, but he had different reasons.

Since the enthusiastic tanker and Kip's father, Zeke, had a heart-to-heart with him, though, Randy's lieutenant in the super group had started seeming better. At least, he was going back out to fight villains with gusto again.

"You expect the same to happen to you?" Charlene intoned.

"No..." Roland muttered in his constant, impassive monotone, "My circumstances aren't Kip's. Girls didn't find me attractive in high school, and I didn't seek them out..."

"Much to my dismay..."

"Randy!" Charlene chastised, "Roland... We understand..."

"No..." he shook his head, "I don't think you do. It's not so simple as having an alternate preference. I like girls. But look at our lives right now! This isn't the time to be thinking about that sort of thing. This isn't the time to throw my life into even more turmoil by trying to wrap my mind around what a woman could possibly be thinking..."

"So you just ignore it..."

"Suppress, repress, deny, abstain," Roland rattled, "Yeah... My happy thoughts..."

"But you're not happy."

----

((The following may be a bit graphic...))

He wasn't happy. The closest he ever came to being happy was on the football field, smashing the guy in front of him to bits and getting ready to do the same thing in a few short moments. Psychologists would have had a field day picking that apart, but it wasn't anything about the crash, the humans he was destroying (as far as football pads allow anyway), or anything so... latent.

He knew he wasn't a homosexual. He didn't understand it. It didn't make sense to him. And men were ugly... Like his dad, though Randy was an extreme example of it.

He was lying on a water tower just outside Randy's apartment building. Usually, Clockwork robots tinkered and toiled around here, but some low-level night-stalking heroes had come by recently and smashed them to bits. Roland was glad for that. The peace and quiet was something he needed right now.

He liked simple things. His position in football was simple. Wait for the hike, surge forward, smash, and prepare to reset. Trying for a tackle was a tertiary goal, and, for his first couple years, would likely have been accomplished by somebody closer to the center of the line. However, in Roland's last two years, he was moved to Center, and his rate of QB sacks increased dramatically.

Most people didn't know how to properly use their weight to their advantage. It also helped that most of the people who would've given Roland a really hard time instead opted to work on farms in afternoons instead of engaging in high school sports. Maybe they were the smarter ones. They worked on a set of skills that would carry them through their lives. Roland still didn't know what he wanted out of life.

Somehow, he felt behind on that.

"How am I gonna tell her goodbye?" he asked the breeze that passed overhead.

Clouds obscured his vision of the sky. It wasn't like he'd be able to see the stars anyway. Well, he'd have seen the brighter ones, but the only sky that truly shut his mind up was the sky back home in Kingdale. There were a lot more stars out there than people normally realized. In Kingdale, so many stars shone through you didn't need the moon to navigate your way at night...

There was a clanging sound and Roland looked over to see a female in spandex(?) land on the water tower with him. She must have been a high level hero patrolling for a Paladin construction site. In a few moments, she'd go away and leave him back to his thoughts, but that was no reason not to be courteous.

He rolled over a little and said "Hi."

She walked up to him and stepped on his neck.

Roland's hand came up out of reflex. He'd fought Cedric plenty of times growing up, and his older brother had instilled plenty of fighter instincts into the rotund archer because of it. One thing, was recognizing life-threatening danger and knowing how to protect yourself from it. His hand caught the toe of the woman's boot and barely kept her from crushing the life out of him.

"Well, if it isn't my double's boy-toy?" the girl purred, "You're a flabby little thing, aren't you?"

A few things suddenly snapped into place in Roland's mind, but he still gurgled out, "What the Hell are you talking about? What do you think you're doing?"

She increased the pressure on his neck. Roland braced his elbow against the tower and tried to push back. How was this little girl so freaking strong?

"No no..." she muttered as she pulled a whip from her hip, "That won't do at all... You're supposed to be an obedient little whelp..."

Roland chuckled, a sickening, choked gurgle, "Yeah? Nobody told me that rule..."

"Well," Dominatrix raised the whip, "Allow me to enlighten you..."

----

"Hey guys," Kip muttered as he lurched into the central room of the Grey's Army base, "What's new tonight?"

"Slow night," Cedric muttered, "Nothing's on TV, and the news channel keeps going on and on about Portal Corporation issuing an urgent call to all heroes, levels forty five and up..."

"Hm... You call your dad about it?"

"He said there's plenty of heroes already working with Portal Corporation. I think he just wants to spend the night with mom with no interruptions, y'know?"

"Hi Kip," Genevieve waved to the scrapper, "You look a little better."

"Had a heart-to-heart with Nester a little while ago. He told me he's dating that Mindy chick... Apparently she kept going to his apartment to-"

The phone rang.

"Hang on..." Kip muttered before answering, "Hello?"

"Mr. Grey?" came an elderly female voice on the other end.

"No, this is his Colonel, er... lieutenant, Kipland Durj."

"Maybe you can help... I am Maria Jenkins... I have some troubling news..."

As Kip listened, his skin suddenly felt very cold. A chill went through his spine and refused to disappear.

"Where?" he finally asked, "Tell me where I need to go."

He heard two words.

King's Row.

----

Roland was laughing. It was a maniacal laugh of defiance. Whatever this crazy lady was trying to do, it wasn't particularly effective in their current position. Dominatrix had refused to release her foot from his throat, and it really hampered her assault on him with that massive circus whip.

Wrong.

It was a slaver's whip...

And it hurt more than it should have... It left an odd sting in his belly and thigh whenever it lashed him. It felt like he was on fire...

"[censored] this," he gurgled incoherently and started fishing along his belt with his right hand.

He flicked open a pouch and a broadhead popped into his hand. He could feel a slight sting as it cut his hand, but he had to ignore it for the moment. Gripping the arrowhead between his knuckles, he jammed the weapon into Dominatrix's ankle.

As she howled in pain, he used the distraction to push her off of himself and she fell on her back. So far so good, now for something else...

Sheldon had given him something as a going away present. An arrowhead that unleashed a volatile, yet exceptionally slick substance that covered a wide area. Once armed, the arrowhead became fragile (Roland had no clue how THAT process worked), so he hit the button and tossed the canister at Dominatrix.

It didn't have to hit her, but it did. She was covered from head to toe in a black, oily substance, and instantly was having trouble keeping her footing.

"This won't stop me!" she shouted at him, stumbling to maintain her footing.

"It's not supposed to," Roland pulled another arrowhead from his belt and activated it.

A small flame was suddenly in his hand. Dominatrix noticed it and stared perplexedly at him.

"Does anybody ever tell you that you're a lot like Manticore?" she breathed.

"Nope," Roland's voice was still hoarse and gurgly, "And I never met the guy..."

He flicked the burning arrowhead at her and the oil ignited. As the flames chased him off the dome, he leaped off and found himself falling into a dumpster. Dominatrix was howling with pain, but the defender had a bad feeling that she was far from beaten...

----

Randall looked out the window as he dried off his mane of hair. What he saw drew a grunt of surprise, anger, and perplexity. Charlene looked up from her book and noticed the glow coming from the window and shining on her husband.

"What's wrong?"

"Roland just got into a fight," Randy replied, "With... Someone dangerous..."

"What? How dangerous?"

"Let me put it this way," Randall sighed, "Most heroes have to be a very high security rating with exceptional clearance before they can take her on..."

"Her?" Charlene balked, "My little Roland's fighting a girl?"

"No... I wouldn't really call Dominatrix a girl... Even if she has the figure for it."

Charlene glared at her husband. Setting her book down, she walked over and looked outside to see the problem.

The fire was fading from the water tower, leaving a red glow. A lone figure stood below it, still smoldering and swinging a whip about. Roland was picking himself out of a dumpster and she was lashing the walls behind him, boxing him in...

"What are you doing just standing here" Charlene shouted at Randy.

She grabbed him by the shoulder and whipped him around, "Our son is out there, getting attacked by some [censored], and you're just gonna let it happen!?"

Randy shrugged.

"The hospital teleporters will get him... It's not like the debt will really hurt him, he quit being a Hero, remember?"

Charlene's face told him she was not placated, nor was she amused by the attempt at humor, and she was probably a couple seconds from punching a few teeth out of his head. She could probably still do that last one, too.

"Alright, I'm going," Randall started heading out the door.

"Stop!" Charlene shouted.

"What?"

"Put some pants on, at least..."

----

"Oh, baby..." Dominatrix seethed.

Roland guessed it was still supposed to sound seductive, dangerously seductive, but the effect was severely hampered by the fact she'd just been badly singed.

Singed... That was all his efforts amounted to. He picked himself off the ground, dusted himself off, and started marching toward her.

"What're you going to do?" she stopped, confused by this whelp's audacity, "Surely you don't intend to-"

Roland landed a right cross to her chin. He didn't like fighting girls. It seemed beneath him. However, he did believe the Law of Combat overruled the Laws of Gentlemanly Conduct. She wanted a fight? She was getting one.

Roland followed up the right cross with a left hook, then two right jabs, and a left uppercut... He threw every punch he knew. He'd tried some boxing in high school, too, but not much of it stuck with him in the years since. This was more or less flailing with what were really quarter-remembered maneuvers.

He was hopelessly outclassed. Most of his attacks missed. Of the ones that made contact, only half did any damage, and none were as stunning as that first right cross.

He took a step back, and fortunately missed a trip she had aimed at him with her closest foot. Looking her up and down, he made a mental note, and consigned himself to a speedy trip to the hospital.

Well, the trip would be speedy... Actually getting to the condition where the "Red Cross Express" teleported you to the nearest medical center was another matter.

"I'm going to enjoy this," the villainess purred, "You have no idea..."

"Just get it over with, [censored]," Roland replied in a low growl, "I got better things to be doing, and you can't hurt me enough to scare me."

The whip glowed a little.

"Soon, you'll see how wrong you are," Dominatrix giggled, "And you'll beg for mercy... You'll beg me to give you this delight again, too... This mixture of pleasure and pain... You'll beg to be my slave..."

The defender rolled his hand around in a circle rapidly.

"Come on!" he shouted, "I don't have all night!"

----

"nnnneeeeeeeeeEEEEEYEEAAAAAAAAAAH!"

Cedric Grey seemed to fly in out of nowhere and smash into Dominatrix with a swing of his axe that sent her hurtling through the air and landing with an unceremonious thump under the water tower.

"Whoooooooo!" he shouted as he got into an attack position, "Everybody ready? Here we go!"

What the Hell was that!? What the [censored] did you just make me hit!? Do you have any idea what that felt like?

Cedric the Gray. Cedric's Praetorian. It was kind of fitting that he be used to fight Dominatrix, the Princess of the Praetorians. Kip had filled Cedric in a little... Odd that Gray had kept quiet... Maybe he hadn't heard, hadn't believed it, or maybe was lost in his own thoughts. That seemed to be happening a lo-

Dominatrix was on her feet and swinging her whip around. It made a beautiful arc and, with a flick of her delicate wrist, snapped back hard. Cedric deflected the cord with his axe.

"That was easy," he laughed.

Then his eyes went wide.

Gray was screaming.

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!

Cedric felt a burning sensation crawl up his arm and work its way through his body. As it clutched at his belly and refused to let go, he crumpled to the ground. It was like he'd been kicked in the groin. Twice.

----

"We should really help them," the red clad figure muttered to his star-spangled companion, "This really is quite a distance above their rank..."

"I don't know..." the other said, "This seems... odd... Like it has to play out..."

"See, this is one of the reasons a lot of people hate you... You look at all of this as a 'character building exercise,' I see it as a group of young heroes getting their butts handed to them by a threat they were never warned about and never prepared for."

"This isn't a lesson..." the caped figure sighed, "Something important is happening here... I'm not sure entirely what, but we have to let it play out."

"Now you're starting to sound like Numina..."

"If only I could be so sure..."

----

"Oh, I get all these new toys to play with!" Dominatrix started clapping and giggling happily.

Oddly, her outfit had restitched itself together (it seemed everybody's did that nowadays... What were those Icon and interdimensional Icon equivalent stores putting into those materials?), and her wounds had mostly healed up. Roland was still standing next to his brother, who had just rolfed onto the ground.

"Oh man..." he muttered, "I don't remember eating that..."

"I don't get it," Roland barked at the woman, "why is it, when you were wailing on me with that thing, I barely felt a tap... You didn't even hit this guy, and he's doubled over, hurling up things that should be long since digested..."

"Simple, darling," Dominatrix started slinking toward them, "I didn't put much power into it... But now I know you can take it..."

She patted the portly defender on the cheek. It was a little surprising. His expression never changed. He really wasn't afraid of her. She'd change that soon enough...

"Hey!"

Roland pointed in the direction of the voice that was yet another interruption of Dominatrix's fun. She slumped in annoyance. Throwing her head back and letting out a roar that sounded like an angry cat, she rounded on Kipland Durj.

Kipland Durj in his Nictus Armor.

"Ooh... Sexy black purple," she cooed, "You boys are going to be my favorite pets of the month..."

She started walking toward Kip.

When she got a safe distance from Roland and Cedric, Kip attacked. He just charged at her, screaming a wordless battlecry, and preceded any normal contact with an eye beam blast to the chest.

Dominatrix was taken by surprise and Kip slammed into her with his torso. She fell backwards, and as she scrambled back to her feet, he kicked her knees out from under her, crumpling the Praetorian to the ground again.

Kip kept his stance solid, but flexible. She could kick the back of his nearest leg, but he'd be able to either kneel down, pin her in the crook of his knee and start wailing on her with his fists, or he could simply kick and stay standing. She, instead, rolled away, and brought her whip to bare.

Kip leaned back as the weapon arced toward him and barely avoided getting lashed like Cedric. He then charged at her again and kicked her into the leg of the water tower.

Sputtering curses at him, she scrambled to her feet and lashed out quickly with her whip. This time it caught him in the chest, but Kip was able to fight the pain back. It was a nasty thing, this relic she wielded as her signature weapon. It was like a weapon forged from pain. Perhaps it was... And Kip didn't like the light tone of the leather...

She lashed at him again and again, this time keeping the length she used quite short, the rest of the whip she bunched up in her other hand. It was a lightning quick fight, but she didn't have much power behind it. She was mostly just probing Durj's defenses.

Kip, in the meantime, was deflecting every attack. With a deft arm movement here, a raise of the leg there, sometimes a bob or a weave, he was able to keep her from seriously harming him and he grew rather used to the pain that lash dealt out.

So, again, she was taken by surprise when he drove his foot into her chest and sent the evil little woman sprawling across the ground. Again, Dominatrix scrambled to her feet and screamed at him. Kip marched forward confidently and wordlessly.

Now, there were no battlecries.

Dominatrix seemed to notice the sudden change in the tone of the fight. This guy was not amused or amusing, and was certainly not playful. His eyes glowed that dangerous crimson again and she ducked the energy blast just in time. Seizing the opportunity, she lashed out with her whip and accomplished a different tactic.

Before, she'd been trying to hurt Kip. Now, she merely ensnared him. Kip looked down at his caught thigh and muttered out a curse.

An instant later, he was hurtling through the air like some sort of crazy, purple, human-sized yo-yo. Dominatrix took full advantage of the situation and slammed Kipland into the legs of the water tower, into the walls, into the dumpster Roland had landed in and bounced him off the ground whenever there wasn't a suitable obstacle. Kip caught hold of the dumpster and tried to laser the whip off his leg, but the material held fast.

So he had to actually work with the odd magical knot on his leg. Letting go of the dumpster, he tucked his head and set to work. Meanwhile, Dominatrix was laughing happily as she smashed her surroundings with glee.

Finally, the knot came undone and Kip rolled over to his friends. The armor faded away as whispy smoke, a quiet I'm sorry touched Kip's mind and he realized he was in a heap more trouble than he originally believed.

"Aw... No more power?" Dominatrix panted, "You almost had me worried there, puppy... I almost felt like I wouldn't win..."

She ran up and kicked Kip in the face. He didn't make a sound, but he did roll over, clutching at his head.

"I always win!"

"That's not how I hear it!"

"AAAAAAAAAAAAW!" she hopped up and down like she was a small child throwing a tantrum, "What the [censored] is it now!?"

Randall Grey emerged from the alley. He was clad in the Granite Armor that was the pride and joy of most Stone Tanks. Dominatrix wasn't impressed, and her stance signified it.

"I already piled these three boys up..." she smiled a sexy predator smile, "You think you can beat me, Stone Tank?"

"Excuse me," Roland raised his hand, "But all you did was step on my neck a little..."

Cedric pulled his brother down and the whip lashed over their heads.

"Now is not the best time to be a wise-[censored], brother..."

"I see what you've done," Randall muttered grimly, "Of course, if my boys had a better chance to prepare for this, I'm sure they could have handled you better. The purple guy? I can't say anything about his performance... He does his best, but when you're out-gunned, sometimes your best just isn't enough."

"You didn't answer my question..." Dominatrix got a strange chill up her spine.

"Oh yeah... I know I can beat you, Dominatrix. I've beaten Praetorian generals before... And I'm not the only one in this city to pull such a thing off... But I'm gonna break you in record time, and not just because you might be softened up right now..."

"I'm not soft!" she shouted and she hurled her whip at Randall.

Randall's armor crumbled away before the whip got to him and he caught it in his massive right fist. He scowled coldly at her and started wrapping the weapon around his hand and wrist.

"I'm gonna beat ya in record time because I'm motivated. Those are my boys you just roughed up, neither of whom have anything to do with ya. Ya done gone [censored] me off, and now you're gonna find out what it's like to be on the wrong end of the punishment."

Dominatrix let out a small "Eep" before Randall yanked her toward him and stopped her flight with the same fist holding the whip. For some reason, the weapon didn't simply come out of her hand, and Randall was taking full advantage.

With another yank, he hoisted her up into the air and jerked her back down. Before she hit the dirt, he railed her with another heavy right punch that sent her sprawling away.

Randy started wrapping more of the whip around his hand and forearm, and finally settled on a length. He hoisted her up, hurled her into the distance and started pulling and spinning, forcing her to orbit him with her whip.

As Dominatrix hurtled around and around in the air, she suddenly whined, "Oh no... Why don't I just let go?"

"Because ya' can't!" Randy barked in reply, "But I can!"

The whip unraveled from his arm a little. Then a little more. And a little more. By this time, they were n the middle of the street, and Randy was taking great pains not to hit anything with the Praetorian Princess. He had a special target in mind, and he didn't want anything messing up the trajectory.

He reached the end of the rope and the three boys started placing their bets.

"I bet he throws her into the war wall," Kip muttered, "It's 'sticky,' you know? Like flypaper."

"I bet it's the water tower," Cedric was regaining his strength and lurching back to his feet, "That, or maybe this dumpster here..."

"It's Statesman," Roland growled matter-of-factly.

"What? No way," Cedric turned to where Roland was pointing, "In order to do that, he'd have... to be... here. [censored] you, Round..."

Randy indeed released Dominatrix and she went hurtling through the air toward Paragon City's Great. The patriot-themed hero deftly caught her in mid-flight and held her out as if he had a cat by the scruff of the neck. When she tried to claw or kick at him, he simply shook her a little hard, she got dizzy and nauseas, and slumped in his grip like a marionette with the strings cut.

----

"I'm truly sorry for the trouble," Statesman told Randall and Roland, "By the time we realized there was a problem, it was too late..."

"Well, thanks for letting us handle it," Randy replied gruffly.

"Your disposition seems to have improved, "Statesman noted cheerfully, "I trust your conditions have improved?"

"Yeah, yeah..." Randy shrugged, "Look, I'm sorry for what I was saying that one time... But if you ever want to make even, I understand... Just let me know..."

"I don't think it will come to that," Statesman offered Randall a brief handshake, which the massive tanker accepted, "Good luck to you. I need to get Dominatrix back to the Freedom Phalanx base."

"M'kay..."

When Statesman had flown off with his charge, Manticore stepped into view and pointed at Roland.

"You..."

"Me?" the portly archer rasped.

"Yes, you. Do you have any idea why she attacked you?"

"Yeah," Roland rubbed his throat, "But it's a personal matter... Between me and someone else..."

Manticore stared silently at the young man for a few seconds. He wanted to grill the kid some more, but with the man who was obviously the boy's father standing right there and that cold-eyed scrapper not far behind, Manticore felt it would probably be best to just let it slide.

"Look... We're not going to let the city know about this... incident... As far as anybody knows, you were defending yourselves from a Rogue Isles villain, okay?"

"Fine, fine," Roland waved him off, "I get it..."

"What's going on?" Randall whispered to Manticore, "Come on, tell me... Portal Corp's in an uproar, calling for all sorts of high-end help... This... This girl attacks my son for some crazy reason... What the Hell is happening?"

"I'm not at liberty to say," Manticore sighed, "I'm sorry, but I really can't tell you anything."

"See, it's stuff like this that wiped out the Heroes when the Rikti attacked!" Cedric shouted.

"You watch yourself, boy." Manticore snapped.

"No! I fought in that War, too! I have as much right to say anything as anybody! And I didn't have super powers protecting me!" Cedric hollered back, "If we can't work together and trust each other with what's going on, how the Hell are we supposed to do it when it really matters?"

"Look, I don't agree with it, but if I'm to be there when it really matters, I have to follow this order..." Manticore sighed, "I'm sorry. I really am. I wish I could tell you what's going on, but it's not so simple. We have to think about the people of this city... Of this nation... And they don't handle bad news well... Suffice it to say... Trouble's brewing. You all better start getting ready for a storm, because it's coming, and it's going to be violent."

----

"Come on in," Roland rasped as he heard the knock at the door, "It's open..."

Jessica Starburst walked in with a smile across her face, but she but it melted away and she stopped in her tracks when she saw Roland's neck brace. Roland nodded and she asked the fateful question he knew she would.

"What happened?"

"Dominatrix stomped on my throat," he answered simply.

Her face went pale.

"Strikes a chord, does it?" he arched an eyebrow at her.

Starburst was still composed. She didn't tremble... No... This was not the reaction of somebody who was a novice to bad news...

"Mind telling me a story about that?" he grumbled.

"Where would I begin?" her voice was a little choked, but still controlled.

"How about you start with the fact that you're Ms. Liberty..."

She just stood there silently.

"Your silence... it's not heartening," he muttered as he sat down in a chair and held his forehead in his palms, "If I were wrong, you'd have probably started laughing at me..."

"I'm sorry."

"For what?" Roland looked up at her, perplexed, then pointed at the neck brace, "For this?"

"Well, yeah..."

"Pft... A couple more days, the docs say I'll be fine..."

"Yeah... but..."

"Yeah, I know, she targeted me because of you..." Roland's eyes rolled and he sighed in disgust, "We're not talking about the behavior of a balanced individual. Any normal person would go up to the person they dislike and punch them in the face."

"So... What do you want?" she fumbled at the question.

It seemed awkward. She didn't know why, but Roland pegged the reason immediately.

"Isn't that what I'm supposed to ask you?"

Jessica Starburst, Ms. Liberty, blinked at Roland in confusion. What did he mean by that? What did she want from him?

What did she want from him?

"I don't know..." she breathed as she sat down on his couch, "I've been trying to figure this whole thing out since we started..."

"Chilling? Hanging out?"

"Yeah."

Roland leaned back and stared at the ceiling. It wasn't that he expected to find answers there, but for some reason, every author tends to write something like that in a situation like this. Sometimes, when you're thinking, you're truly in another place.

When Roland came back from his reverie, he looked at her and she had just come out of a similar moment of introspection. Unfortunately, all he had was speculation. He hoped she had some answers for him.

"I don't know..." she muttered at first, a most unwelcome phrase at the moment, but typical as well, "I guess... I guess I really like this couch..."

Round sighed through his nostrils.

"You're stalling."

"Yes... Yes..." she looked to the door, "Cripes... It's easy for me to mouth off to Statesman... But it's hard for me to talk to you about this..."

"Why?"

"Because it's personal!" she turned back to him.

For an instant, Roland saw her for who she was. Not the "Princess of Paragon," not the scrapper heroine who led one of the premiere super groups in the city. She wasn't even the woman teaching all the new heroes the different powers they were alloted per security level and the tips and pointers of how to get through the city.

She was just the girl behind the mask now. And Roland suddenly realized he didn't know who she was. An epiphany struck him.

"You don't know who you are?"

"What?"

"Is that what this has all been about?" he leaned forward and looked into her eyes, "You didn't know who you were behind the mask?"

They sat in silence for a few minutes and Roland realized he must have hit at least close to the heart of the matter. Most people would still have assumed there was something more emotional involved, but it turned out Roland was being more of a mentor than the Freedom Corps system actually gave credit for.

"I've been under a lot of pressure," she finally said, "Things are... crazy in my life... I can't even begin to explain any of it, because it's all tightly wound together, but it's too much to get into... And it's really personal..."

"Too personal," Roland agreed.

"All my life... I've been raised to be..." she gestured toward her usual platform in the Atlas Plaza, "That... Well, not just that... I'm a heroine this city looks up to, and it wasn't like there was ever any choice in the matter for me... I spent my teenage years pretty much always training to be... To be Ms. Liberty..."

"That's not very conducive to having a real life," Roland felt a pang in his soul, and realized a very uncomfortable truth about himself, but he filed it away in the back of his mind.

It was better to analyze self-awareness when alone, or with the people who knew you, in Roland's opinion.

"I've really always been this, you know?" she whispered.

"I know what you're saying, but I'm not the person who can even begin to help you with this..."

"But that's what this has all been about!" she leaned back on the couch in exasperation, "Or at least, it's what this became... You wound up being a window, Roland... A window to the kinds of people I fight to protect every day."

"Wow..." he almost choked out a laugh, "You really need a window with a better view..."

"Why?"

"Look at me! Look at this place! I'm not stylish, I don't decorate my apartment with fancy things... I don't even own a great entertainment setup... I own a bunch of DVDs and video games... If I don't feel like being cooped up in this apartment, I just go to whatever bar or pub my family and friends are staying at and drink the night away with them!"

"I've never done that," she murmured.

"Yeah, well, that's one thing. Only one thing. Why do you envy me that?"

"Because, for even that short time, you can have a normal life."

Roland blinked at her. He wasn't about to get into his and Nester's philosophy about "normality." Especially since he suddenly saw her point.

Not entirely all this time, but a lot of it, he'd been a crutch for her. His stories about his family and friends... When she met Nester or Kip in his apartment... Maybe even his brother, she got to see how a person's alter ego normally behaved. What was more, they weren't rich, and they didn't pretend to be anything more than who they were.

What's more, he finally understood what she meant by him being a window. Sometimes, heroes got lost. They started to realize they couldn't save everyone, and they would get a poisonous thought in their heads.

Why even bother?

Sometimes, the hero came up with an answer. Usually, it was because they had a normal, human life to go back to, to protect. But the ones who didn't? The alien heroes? The heroes who were raised to be nothing but, like Ms. Liberty? Maybe even ones whose parents were tragically taken away...

This was some heavy stuff, and Roland really hadn't considered how deep this really went. He bet Cory or Kip would have a much better idea of what she was taking about. The rotten luck was that she met him. She met him when he froze the Hellion she was poised to kick in half.

And that had spiraled into this, him with a neck brace, and her unburdening her soul about her very own existential crisis. It was a crisis that was, in some important ways, a mirror to his own problem. He couldn't reconcile being a hero anymore, so he had prepared to just bound out of town.

It wasn't that he was bad at the job, it just made absolutely no sense to him. Normal life made no sense to her.

Somehow, meeting him helped her fix that.

He frowned to himself. She looked to him to see if he understood anything about what she was saying, but got perplexed when she saw him head for his bedroom. She saw the packed suitcases and guessed at what it was that he had to tell her that day.

She was a bit relieved. To say that she was concerned that he was really falling for her would be an understatement. If that had been the case, this conversation would still have happened, and Roland would have wound up with a broken heart. Instead, Dominatrix ruined everything, he put two and three together, and they had a brief discussion on what it takes to be a hero in this world. Not necessarily a great alternative, but it was better in the long run.

Then Roland unzipped his suitcase.

"What are you doing?" she asked quietly.

"I was going home," Roland replied, then declared, "Now, I'm staying."

"Why?"

"I don't entirely know," he replied, then he looked into her eyes, "Reciprocation, I guess. I inspired you to understand what it is you're trying to protect in people, I figure the least I can do is be inspired by you to stay and try to find something here worth helping fight the good fight for!"

"While I appreciate the enthusiasm," she scratched the back of her neck, "Don't you think that's a bit... Silly?"

"And stupid," Roland pointed up at the ceiling with a flourish, "But, dammit, I was all set to just pack my things and run! Why? The fight wasn't too hard! I have good friends here, my FAMILY'S here! Where am I running to?"

"Roland..."

He looked at her and sighed.

"Even if you stay, we can't hang out anymore."

"I know," he said matter-of-factly, then tapped the neck brace, "I understand entirely."

A few minutes later she prepared to leave. There was nothing more to say, not even "goodbye." Roland, however, had one last question.

"Jessica?"

She turned at the door and raised her eyebrows quizzically.

"Is that really your name? Your real name, I mean..."

"That's personal," she replied, "Unlike you, I can't go around with a revealed identity... Like your friend, Kip, said... I'm a celebrity. You and him, you're not. You two are mostly safe from any and all reprisals, surrounded by a mob of spandex."

"I understand," he sighed, "Good luck, Starburst."

"Good luck," she smiled, "Roly-poly."

((I'm not good with legal jargon... Since this is fan fiction, and on the official forums, plus I kind of got lost in the storyline, I just wrote the whole thing out. I had this part planned out pretty much when I first introduced "Ms. Starburst." However, I feel I should say this: I'm not trying to make a fantasy here about my character and the Cryptic character getting involved. That's absolutely not what this is.

This more stems from the research I've done into Ms. Liberty's character, who seems more and more to have stemmed from a scenario as I detailed above. It's a disturbing thing to see a hero protecting humans who isn't really human at all (look at how silly a certain red and blue DC property is pretty much all the time). It's even worse when they're supposed to be human. Sometimes, I have to wonder how these characters can even sleep at night knowing that their hero identity has totally consumed their existence, barely leaving even a scrap of the person that remains.

Positron is an extreme example of this.

Manticore's just about the only one capable of living a different life. I know many consider the character to be a blend of various other, more popular, characters, but how many of us can claim they haven't truly done the same thing?

And then there's Statesman... According to what everybody takes to be his history, he was the type of character that started as a somewhat rather scary individual, got his powers, and was struck with the epiphany that he had to lead a new life... One to atone for his past misdeeds as a mercenary (at least, that's what I get from reading about Marcus Cole and the Well of Furies). But now, he's like Positron, completely consumed by his costume.

And most of the people that play this game think of the character as a jerk. I see him more as a troubled soul, struggling hard to do what's right, and to avoid as many mistakes as possible, takes the most professional route he can. I guess that often makes him come off as impersonal.

I think that's really sad.

I think it's hard to be human in this world... The game world, I mean. It's especially difficult if a character can't really take the chance to be human, or never gets the opportunity.

So, simply put, I wanted to add some humanity to one of the in-game characters. In the game, we all wind up having to interact with them anyway, it would be nice to have some soul behind it.

It wasn't until I was nearing the end that I realized somebody might actually have a problem with it. If it's a violation of anything, let me know and I'll take it down, but please, let me know what the problem is so I don't feel too bad about it.

If I have to take this down, though, that will make me kind of sad. I feel this is actually a somewhat powerful piece of the total story (toward the end, anyway). I thank you for taking the time to read it. This one's been rattling around in my head for a few months now, struggling to get out.))

My friends wonder why I practice wielding a machete and a sport hatchet simultaneously...

Much of the rest of their time became a sort of crazy routine. Not so much because it was eventful at times; indeed, it was always eventful, but because of the various characters they found themselves associating with.

Initially, it was a couple heroes Joe Durnan or Blue Steel introduced to them. These characters usually had something covert or personal they wanted to accomplish in the Etoiles or elsewhere in the world. Rogues? Rogues were a different matter.

First, they had to be screened by Bioserj. Serj usually had a few of the Infected who worked with him scope out Rogues who didn't seem to... fit the mold of the typical villain.

Brother Mauthe (and his band of loyal thugs) was one of the first rogues to make use of their services. He didn't so much want transit to Paragon City or the mainland of the United States, but had paid handsomely in recovered scrap technology for a tour of the islands. Despite his somewhat skewed look at the world ("The world is run by the big corporations! So big we don't even see 'em! Don't think Crey is behind the evil things they do! Think about what's driving them!") he seemed genuinely friendly.

Others weren't so good. Bioserj thought he'd pegged this one guy, a Brute type. He had given a classic sob story about being wrongfully accused and the city's penchant for summarily tossing super-types into jail with little more than a mock trial. All he asked was that he be taken "to see his dear mum." It turned out he'd found (through whatever bizarre contacts he'd made in prison and the Isles) the witnesses for his trial, and he'd hoped to at least off the key one.

Psycho13 wound up cutting his legs out from underneath him at the knees with the starboard turret before he could complete the dastardly deed. Since then, they started issuing stern warnings to any Rogues who made use of their services.

"Listen up, pukes... We're going to make this very simple! If you try to use us to go back to your dastardly ways, we will run you down and turn you in ourselves! This is your only warning!"

Or something to that effect.

Eventually, their base started to act more functionally, too. With the money they pulled in (from their heroes' salaries as well as the heists in the Isles their Rogues made to keep up appearances, not to mention their lucrative transport service)), they were able to buy a series of turrets to help defend the base, the raw materials Dale needed for his Tesla coil "Anti-Lusca, Lightning on Demand" weapon, as well as the stuff Psycho13 needed for his personal vehicle, which turned out to not be a personal Sky Skiff...

"You're building a what?" Daren had asked incredulously.

"It's a Hover Bike!" Levi had shouted back enthusiastically, his broad smile and twinkling eyes nearly polluting the air between them, "Every kid's dream come true!"

"Yeah, but I think this is going to be quite a tad impractical," Solo replied coldly.

"Not with an M240-G mounted in the nose and the rocket pods mounted on the flanks... Maybe Dale and I could rig up another shield generator for it..."

The vehicle wound up working (surprisingly). It was lighter and faster than a Sky Skiff, but it also bore the poor misfortune of being quite a bit weaker, structurally. To make up for it, the weapons payload turned out to be equivalent.

"Hit 'em hard, hit 'em fast, and it'll be enough," Psycho beamed proudly at his and Dale's creation, "That's the Blaster way, right?"

"I guess," King Slater replied as he looked over the machine, "I wouldn't know, really. I'm not a Blaster."

On one dark day, they wound up having to face a remnant of their past. During a pick-up, a large crew of Freakshow gangers showed up, brimming with guns, blades, and Excelsior.

It wasn't the gangers that were cause for alarm, however. It was the distinct sound of a heavy diesel engine and treads headed their way. Instantly, the contact had disappeared and the boys knew they'd been set up.

Solo Stryker considered briefly hauling out of there, and being done with it, but he was curious. Why had they been sold out? To whom were they sold out to? How did the Freaks get a genuine tank into the Rogue Isles?

He was answered in a most vulgar fashion.

While they were able to easily dispatch the Freaks that came into view, it wasn't so easy to take down what came next. Simply put, it was a Tank Freak with actual tank treads instead of legs. His torso was a lot bigger and tougher, too, and the massive chaingun that took up it's right forearm was a lot bigger than the last time Solo had seen it.

Chaingunnz still had those odd bayonets mounted on each barrel, though...

"Hoo-AAAAAAAAAH!" he shouted, his head encased in a large shell, but his manic face was still visible through a screen of thick bullet-proof glass, "I knew I'd hit paydirt! Ho-ho! Dreck's gonna be REAL proud of me now! Isn't that right, Bee-Dubya-Oh-oh-OH-YEAH!"

"God, he deserves to die just for that corny dialog," Psycho13 shouted through the intercom.

"Agreed," Solo Stryker barked before squeezing the trigger on the weapons control stick.

The battle was tremendous, though rather uninspired. The two monstrosities seemed to just unload their ammunition into each other without much consideration for aiming anywhere in particular. Chaingunnz may have had difficulty getting through the shield protecting the ship, but he had a lot of ammunition rattling around inside that body. The body upgrade was just the beginning, too.

Chaingunnz had access to rocket pods (even shoulder mounted missile launchers), anti-personnel turrets, a light howitzer battery... His left arm had been altered as well to end in a wicked claw, almost like two construction digger buckets hinged together... He also had the typical back-mounted mortar launcher, only now there were four launch tubes instead of the normal one.

Of course, the BWO boys didn't just get money for their jobs against the various villain groups operating out of the Rogue Isles. Ragin' James opened up the cargo bay and leveled a personal rocket launcher down at the giant metal monster. It seemed Chaingunnz forgot one important detail... He didn't have a personal shield like the Dropship did.

"Open wide, you sonova..." Rage pulled the trigger and the explosive projectile went hurtling toward the monstrosity, "ONE'S COMING IN!"

Unfortunately, Chaingunnz's armor was too thick. No matter what they hit him with, he just kept on chugging along. Maybe if they'd had some energy weapons they could have actually done some decent damage, but Chaingunnz was no longer a typical Freak. He was the living weapon that the crazy bastards all seemed to aspire to become. Maybe Dreck had ordered his boys to patch up the holes in average Freak circuitry that made them so susceptible to energy attacks... Who knew?

So the battle ended with a draw. Most of Chaingunnz's weapons were destroyed or depleted, the BWO were out of ammunition. Oddly enough, even though he hadn't killed (or even humiliated) the guys that caused him such an epic folly not so long ago during a bank heist, Chaingunnz seemed elated at how the battle went. They retreated and he was, for the most part, perfectly fine.

----

It was getting back to the base that day that caused the Brutal Warriors the most concern.

Specifically, it was the black helicopter sitting on their platform that concerned them.

It was the assorted group of figures that concerned them.

"Justin Steel," Daren muttered into the loudspeaker, "I hope you just came to talk..."

"Come on down," Steel replied through his own, "We'll talk..."

"It's gonna be hard if I can't land my ship," Daren hissed, then switched on the intercom, "Psycho, you get on that hoverbike of yours. The rest of you, fly, hop, or whatever it is you do to get from place to place and get down to that platform."

On the platform, Draven Erickson led King Slater, Ragin' James, Dirty Ice and Project Whirlwind. Dale had to stay behind, as he still had to maintain the ship's engines and shields.

"What do you and your..." Draven noted Steel's goons, "Cronies, want with us?"

Justin Steel had come with his full compliment of Committee guards as well as a couple choice Rogues. Bull-Thistle was behind them, too. He seemed sad, despite having a face that lacked human features. Project Soultaker, Soul taker, or whatever it was called, stood at Steel's left, while the "gun-for-hire", Mark Shadow, or Shadowmark, or whatever he was calling himself these days stood to his right.

"It's very simple," Steel replied calmly, "My colleagues and I are here to remove you from the face of this earth. Nobody can know about the Committee or its involvement in worldly matters."

"What involvement?" Draven barked, "The Committee's an upstart group of idiots, unimaginative idiots, I might add, who're playing the dangerous game of corporate espionage! You're way in over your heads, no matter what money or bravado you throw at the situation!"

"We are well aware of our situation," Steel snapped his fingers and his troops armed their weapons, and Mark Shadow activated a shield generator, "Now... It's time to prove your mettle..."

Draven drew his blade and charged forward. The fighting was a blur after that. Slater decided to take on the three Committee guards who dressed alike (except their medic). Project Whirlwind raised up his own defensive cloud, obscuring his friends from the vision of his enemies, and started hurling lightning into their foes.

Dirty Ice smashed his heavy stone hammer into the face of one of the special-ops looking goons, and immediately turned his attention to the other. Project Soultaker assaulted Ragin' James with dark blasts. There was no fire this time... Perhaps this was a different Soultaker.

If that was the case, then maybe the Committee had more resources at its disposal than Draven gave them credit for.

Rage delivered a fierce uppercut to Project Soultaker's face, and was immediately riddled with bullets fired from the machine gun of the massive Mr. Kolt, the heavy commando-style guard.

They were outnumbered, and possibly could have been overwhelmed at that moment, except for the fact Psycho13 showed up with his hover bike and unleashed a torrent of ammunition into the platform, just next tot eh fight, and fired a rocket between Bull-Thistle and the quarrel. The explosion knocked everybody down and Psycho13 brought the vehicle back to hover over the green "hero."

"I think we all need to take a deep breath and calm the [censored] down," he shouted over the hum of his bike.

"You killed my brother!" Project Soultaker suddenly shouted back, and threw a stream of dark energy at the regenerator.

Psycho13 took the hit, and fired a burst of ammunition back at Soultaker.

So, that answered it. It was a different Soultaker, and the Committee could probably build more. That didn't spell good news for projects like Bull-Thistle. With any luck, it was cheaper to make Soultakers, too, and they wouldn't face many of the Agents like Draven and Slater had dealt with in King's Row...

All of this was irrelevant at the moment, however, as they still had to finish the fight. Project Whirlwind started casting his healing spell for his comrades, and suddenly, they were awash in personal shields. Solo Stryker had pulled the dropship up to the side of the derrick during the confusion and excitement as a cover. Dale then opened a side hatch and started projecting shields to his friends.

Suddenly, it was the Committee crew who were outmaneuvered. Justin Steel thumbed a capsule around in his hand, and eventually tossed it to one of his guards. The man's (Mr. Coach) wounds started to close as the capsule broke open upon contact and spilled its contents all over him. The green fluid evaporated rapidly, too.

"Well?" Draven shouted.

"Well what?" Justin replied, "This engagement is not over... We just have to increase the intensity of our attack..."

The helicopter creaked a little, and the problem Draven hoped wouldn't show up, well, showed up. A Committee Agent. It looked a lot like Justin Steel, only bigger, and the suit was straining under the pressure of its ridiculously developed body.

The Agent started rushing forward. It didn't have a pistol like its predecessors, but the entire crew had a bad feeling that it was more than capable of taking them all out by itself.

Suddenly, a set of massive barbs flew threw the air and connected with the Agent's leg, causing him to stumble and buying them all some time. Dirty Ice, Ragin' James and King Slater eliminated the guards protecting Justin Steel, knocking them out of commission in a scant few seconds and turned their attention to the Agent. Draven held his blade on Steel, then glared at Mark Shadow, daring him to do something stupid.

Project Soultaker turned to Bull-Thistle and pointed.

"You will die," he rasped, "Betrayer!"

Bull-Thistle turned to the corrupter and snorted.

"I could care less. In my eyes, you're the betrayer..."

Project Soultaker launched a blast of dark energy at Bull-Thistle, who deftly ducked under it and surged forward to stab his thorns into the monster.

The Agent didn't go down easy. In fact, it didn't go down at all. No matter how hard they hit it, no matter what tactics they employed, it stayed standing and hammered into them with strength to match Rage's and a resilience that defied explanation.

Finally, Slater got a crazy idea, and he caught a hold of the Agent's throat. The Agent immediately hacked into Slater's arm (with a force that would have shattered anyone else's, but King Slater was a Stone Tank), but the tanker hefted him into the air anyway.

Slater turned to Psycho13 and shouted, "Rockets!"

The other BWO members ducked away and Psycho13 hesitated only an instant. It was an instant long enough for the Agent to kick Slater in the stomach and cause the grip to be lost, but it also separated the Committee pawn from the hero, and Psycho13 lost his qualms about firing.

The first rocket tore through the Agent and dragged it toward the edge of the platform. The missile exploded a few meters away from the platform and left a gaping hole in the Agent's torso. Remembering the story about the last one, and not wanting to have an explosion up here (or maybe he was just proud), Psycho13 fired the machine gun into its body, knocking it over the edge with the force.

There was a golden glow from below as the Agent's body detonated.

Project Soultaker was knocked toward the edge of the platform, Justin Steel and Mark Shadow were pushed next to him. Ragin' James crushed the shield generator in his hands and smirked at them.

"It's over," Draven Erickson waved his sword at Steel, emphasizing the futility of the situation, "You go back to the Committee and tell them they've made a big mistake. We weren't hunting them before, we were ready to move on with our lives... Now they've called down the thunder. They better be ready to reap the whirlwind!"

"Hey!" Project Whirlwind shouted.

"You haven't won," Justin dusted himself off and started to stand slowly, "You will be assassinated in due time..."

"Forget due time," Soultaker hissed, his eyes glowing red, "They die now!"

"Hang on! Hang on!" Mark held up his hands as the BWO heroes and rogues started to close in on them to finish the job, "This man does not represent me!"

"Steel! Shadow! You do as the Committee commands!" Project Soultaker was definitely in an odd place inside its head to be spitting fanaticism rhetoric, "We are but pawns! If it is our time to die, it is our time to die!"

"Who said anything about dying?" Rage shouted.

"I'm all for it," Dirty Ice hefted his heavy maul, "Step up! Who wants to be the first [censored] to die!?"

Calm down, Ice," Slater muttered, then turned to Steel, "It doesn't have to come to that."

"I know," the human Committee agent replied flatly, "I..."

"Betrayer!" Soultaker shouted and started to throw a torrent of dark energy at his superior.

However, he'd failed to notice Mark Shadow, who was still smarting from their initial encounter. Mark Shadow, who up to this point had been little more than a spineless follower and mercenary thug. Mark Shadow stomped on his rifle, which flipped the weapon onto the top of his toe, and he lifted his leg, effectively "footbagging" the weapon into his hands. He brought the butt of the weapon to his shoulder, sighted in and squeezed the trigger in an instant, popping a slug into Soultaker's shoulder and sending it sprawling across the deck.

"I'm not the Committee's pawn anymore!" he shouted as Draven held the edge of his blade to the hitman's throat, "He had it coming..."

Justin picked up his discarded assault rifle as well and turned morosely to his enemies. His former friends and colleagues. His targets. Despite all the years since their endeavors in the Kingdale Arena, despite his time as a Committee stooge, he still felt a grudging respect for them.

He fired a burst into Soultaker, and the corrupter disappeared in a dark cloud.

----

"I can't say they won't come after you, he said to Draven before getting into the helicopter, "But I can deliver my report that you're not worth chasing anymore..."

"You think they'll buy it?" Draven asked cautiously.

"No," Steel replied with a sigh, "But there's a chance they'll have more important things to deal with."

"There's always that hope..."

"Thanks for not killing my men," Steel looked to his soldiers, who were all busy nursing their injuries, "Unlike others classified as Masterminds, I actually care for my troops."

"Thanks for the ammunition," Draven replied, "You can keep your weapons this time."

Steel and what remained of his crew fled the scene, heading for Paragon City. Knowing the Committee, they had all the required paperwork. Now, however, they had another issue to deal with.

"Why was Soultaker a fanatic, but Bull-Thistle wasn't?" Psycho13 voiced, "I mean, who knows what Bull's doing, but he's got to have his reservations about who he's working for. Especially now..."

"Meanwhile, Soultaker seems to know exactly what's going on, and he wholeheartedly accepts this petty little war," Slater finished.

"I don't know," Draven sighed, "Maybe we're not meant to know just yet..."

That is freaking awesome!

Notes to self:

Need a job...

Need to buy a new computer...

Then, my Main "villain" whiles away the last of his levels in the Rikti Warzone.

"Modern day pirates..." Draven muttered as he stalked through the warehouse, "Like Hell pirates would do this..."

Psycho13 rounded a corner in front of him and shrugged. It seemed this section was clear.

"How're things on your end, Roland?"

"Looks clear," the portly defender replied through the intercom.

"Alright, boys," Draven sighed, "That's another Skull den cleared out. Let's head back to the streets and ring up another one."

Draven was partnered up with Roland Grey, Ashen Roast, Blizzard Front and Psycho13. The motley crew had been formed mostly because of their past experiences of working together, and also because most of everybody else was already teamed together.

"So, guys..." Roland grumbled as they made their way to the next Skull haunt the cops sent them after, "There's this girl... And I gotta let her know I'm leaving town... Probably never to come back."

"Did you [censored] her?" Draven asked glibly.

"No," Grey glared at the red-coated scrapper harshly, "Our relationship is nothing like that... It's just... She takes the whole hero thing a little seriously. If I didn't know any better, I'd say she's always been a hero... There's a lot about her that reminds of Kip, y'know?"

"One of those people who does what's right for the sake of it, huh?" Psych grumbled as he worked the lock on the door, "Huh, these guys actually closed up shop..."

"Look, man," Draven sighed, "If you didn't boink her, then-"

Roland whirled around and threw the scrapper against the wall. His cold emerald eyes leveled with Jared's hazels.

"I'm getting real tired of that talk," he growled, "Don't... Don't say another word. If you say anything relating to sleeping with her again, you just might wind up walking into a few beams. Hard. Capiche?"

"Alright... Alright."

"You do pretty decently as a Defender," Ashen pulled Roland gently away from the scrapper, who sullenly rubbed his shoulder and scowled, "Why would you want to give this life up?"

"Because it feels... I don't know... Ridiculous. I feel like I'm in a game."

"Feels real enough," Blizzard chuckled as he wreathed his right hand in ice, "And it's a little hard to do this stuff outside city limits without people pointing and gasping..."

He pressed the ice against the back of Psycho13's neck.

"Hai!" the scrapper screeched and the door lock came undone.

"Alright!" Blizzard laughed as the ice crumbled away, "Who knew all ya had to do was shock the little guy?"

They piled into the warehouse and wasted no time putting the hurt on the gang members. Today was not a good day to be a Skull.

"I mean, how do you tell someone who basically started her career with you that you're opting out?" Roland continued as he thunked a pair of Gravedigger Slicers in the legs with arrows, "She'll be crushed... At worst, she'll wind up turning rogue... At best, it'll hardly affect her and she'll go on fighting the good fight. The middle ground, however, is that she quits, too."

"Definitely a quandary there," Ashen sighed as his fiery blade carved through a Gunner's mask, "And, unfortunately, it's not something you can just avoid."

"Oh, he can," Draven dismissively quipped as he brought down a pair of Gravediggers with a final swipe of his blade, "But it's considered very irresponsible to just leave without telling your girlfriend."

"I..." Roland started, but bit his lip, "Nevermind."

"I wish we had Dale here," Draven muttered, "Some shields would really help keep these guys from hurting us."

"Pft... Speak for yourself, man. I'm doing fine," Blizzard quipped.

A blast of dark energy slammed into his back and sent the blaster tumbling to the ground, coughing and gasping. A couple Bone Daddies stepped out of the shadows, chuckling darkly.

"AIEE!" Psycho13 shouted as he leaped onto the one on the left, slamming his elbow into the ganger's head and pulling his right claw from his belt to rake it across the man's back.

"Great, just great, Mike," the other one chided, "Here we were, being all cool and foreboding, and you go and ruin it. Nice job."

"Get him off my face!" Mike shouted, "He's chewing my ear off!"

"Oh... I guess heroes can be like that, too. You know..."

Psycho13 brought his head up and spat a gout of red from his lips.

"AAAAAAAAAAUGH!"

"Oh jeez..." Draven grimaced, "I really hate when he gets like this..."

"You're on your own, Mike..." the uninjured Bone Daddy started running for the exit, "No way am I letting that freak near me!"

"Lou! Lou! Help me! You gotta help me find my ear, Lou!"

"It's over there in the corner, man," Psycho13 laughed as he kicked the villain in the direction he spat, "Be glad that's all you lose!"

"Ashen! Stop him!"

Fortunately, they were able to subdue the gang leader. With two short, deft fights, the efforts of the Bone Daddies, Michael and Lou, were thwarted for the day. Oddly, Michael seemed to fight a little harder than his partner, but without Lou, he fell as easily as any other Skull boss.

"I can't believe you bit his ear off," Ashen grimaced at Psycho13, "That's just... Not right."

"Well, it wouldn't be right if I bit his ear off," Baker agreed and grinned mischievously, "I chewed his ear a little, maybe broke a blood vessel, definitely left some bruising, but what I spat was a ketchup packet. Remember how [censored] he looked when we got back to him? Too bad his buddy wasn't around to help anymore, huh?"

"You..." Blizzard pointed at the crazy-eyed scrapper, "You're a weird-minded little man."

"Thanks."

----

"So... How'd the security system upgrade go?" Daren asked his brother as he stifled a yawn, "This gonna work like Sheldon said it will?"

"It's weird," Dale muttered as he cycled through the monitors and checked the readings, "It seems to be working fine, but every so often I get peculiar glitches that seem to fade away. I don't know if it was wise throwing parts of the Ryat code in here..."

"Parts?" Daren winced at the thought, "Isn't that dangerous?"

"Well, I don't know. All they really are is a series of algorithms, each one complete in and of itself, but can combine to make something more, something like the stuff in those androids' heads, provided we link up a particular program..."

Dale held up a communicator.

"Sheldon said the last piece of the Ryat Source, or the copy of it we have, is loaded into here. He said we probably shouldn't upload it unless we're in dire straits."

"Why?"

"It'll probably take over our network, go sentient, hop onto our internet connection and spark a world war from here..."

"That would be bad," Daren grinned, "So why even have it?"

Dale shrugged again and pushed his chair to another monitor, "The software we have installed is pretty sophisticated stuff. I can hardly believe Sheldon made it... I mean, don't get me wrong, but Roland was never a really great programmer, and Shel's like his dad, mostly building hardware he can use with the push of a button, the squeeze of a trigger or the pull of a lever. He's not a software programmer."

"So, what's your theory?"

"I don't know... Serendipity?"

Serendipity?" Daren mulled over that for a second, "You mean our genius isn't the genius we think he is?"

"Well, I've studied a little coding, and the stuff he's thrown in here? Nothing out there is like that. I think there's some magic symbols in it, too. It's a lot of stuff Shel wouldn't have considered and Roland would've outright laughed at. I think they stumbled on it and ran."

"Crazy..."

"But it works," Dale sighed, "Now we just need more hardware on the base. A new sonar system, a few sets of turrets..."

"Let me know what you need, we'll be looking into getting work, man," Daren started heading out, "After dropping Power Breaker and Bioserj off back in Mercy, that's the end of our pro bono work. Who knows, maybe on a job we'll find some of the equipment you need."

"Well, about that..." Dale wheeled closer and looked down to the room they designated their infirmary, "After what Whirlwind and that witch did... I got an idea."

"Yeah?" Daren sounded half asleep, but his interest perked a little, "What's that?"

"Well, first off, Lusca's not going away. No matter how many times the heroes cut that critter down in Independence Port, it keeps coming back..."

"So it's gonna do the same here..."

"And we have no idea if Whirlwind can do another lightning burst like that again. Now... If we had a weapon that could do the same thing..."

"What do you mean?" Daren leaned closer to his brother and arched an eyebrow, "A weapon?"

"Something like a massive Tesla coil... I'll need some time to work out the design, but I think I can come up with something cheap and effective."

"Sounds good... Me? I need sleep," Solo muttered and started heading for his new room.

The Ryats had done a terrific job. Each room was less a set of walls welded onto a floor, but now seemed to be caverns dug into a steel mountain. Anybody trying to blast through the fort now would be having a very difficult time of it.

Furnishing, however, was another matter. Solo was still down to his sleeping bag and a space heater. Since they had so few of the latter, he was currently bunking with his brothers and cousin. Dustin's slow snoring resounded rather painfully off the metal walls.

"But it's solid," Solo Stryker muttered, "And... It feels more like home."

"Hi Kip!"

Durj turned to see his old acquaintance, Genevieve Daniels, or "Wrathfire" to the public. Kip had the misfortune of learning her secret identity when he introduced himself, and she forgot she was in costume while reciprocating. She was an invulnerable super strong tanker, and a chief member of her super group. Kip still didn't remember the name of it.

"How you been, Wrath?"

"Going to codenames, now?" she arched an eyebrow at him.

"May as well, we are in public."

"Ah... Well, I'm helping some lowbies rack up some popularity... They're having a little trouble with the missions I've been getting, though."

"Yeah?" Kip looked behind her and smiled, "Oh, hey, I know these guys! Ashen, Blizzard! What's up?"

Ashen Roast and Blizzard Front shook Kip's hand and gave the usual nonsensical replies. Kip already knew what was going on. Behind them, a short green-skinned (and green-haired) girl in a tight-fitting green spandex outfit waved curtly. Kip pointed at her and looked to Wrathfire for an explanation.

"New to our group," she said, "Meet Aloe. She's providing the healing for our little excursions against the Rikti."

"Pitching in for Vanguard, huh?" Kip nodded casually, "That's cool."

"You wanna come with?" Genevieve smiled as she offered, "Maybe show these guys how a real man kicks butt?"

"Actually, I've seen those two in action. They should be doin' quite alright..."

"Every little bit helps," Aloe squeaked.

Do it.

"What?" Kip thought back, "You again! Let me take a wild stab at this... My 'errant soul,' right? Why're you telling me to help these guys? They've got a fine team here..."

Correct, I'm you, or an aspect of you. Trust me on this, though... You want to go with them.

"Alright," the conversation inside Kipland's head hadn't even lasted a second, "Sounds like fun..."

----

"So... I met Cedric," Genevieve explained during a rest period after tearing through a Rikti base, "He's... Fun..."

"What kind of fun?" Kip arched his eyebrow at her, "You have to understand, this is a guy who spent his childhood jumping off bridges for the thrill of it. He joined the Marines because he thought he'd get a few laughs out of boot camp. This is a guy who built a wooden ramp at the bottom of a small (but steep) valley because he thought he could pull off a landing on the other hill... So..."

"I meant more... personal... experiences..." she smirked knowingly at the small scrapper.

"Ah... You two gonna try to make any more of it?"

"We'll see... He seems to be enthusiastic about it."

"I don't think that's entirely appropriate," Ashen muttered as he turned to Aloe, "What do you think?"

"I think it's sweet," she replied with her high-pitched squeak, "Wrath's finally got a man in her life she really likes. Not like her last boyfriend..."

"What happened to her last boyfriend?" Blizzard Front finished the question before he realized just how bad the answer could be, then winced.

"Let's just say Wrath knows how to make balloon animals... All kinds of balloon animals."

"Eh... the hospitals can fix that," Kip shrugged, "It's just a matter of explaining the why of it..."

Ashen started laughing but Blizzard just looked mortified and blew air out of his lungs.

"Man," he muttered once he regained his composure, "Note to self... No super strong girls..."

"Oh, you don't have to be super strong to do that," Genevieve laughed and pushed Blizzard's shoulder roughly (but playfully).

They tore through the rest of the base in short order. With two tanks and a scrapper at the point, the fights were decidedly one-sided. With the whole group keeping close (at least within Aloe's healing range), they were able to easily tear through the Rikti's ranks.

Finally, they took out the base's boss. Despite their logical mindsets, the Restructurist Rikti could be very foul-mouthed when defeated. While Genevieve started talking on her cell to her contact to get another mission location, the team started taking a look around.

For one thing, they didn't know if they'd cleared the base. Bringing in more Rikti to fill the Zig would only help prove that Ashen and Blizzard had what it took to be brought up in Security level faster. For another thing, they were all curious about what the Rikti had been up to lately that warranted such heavy attention.

One chamber had a peculiar find...

"What the Hell are these?" Blizzard breathed as he walked up to a large tank, "It's like something out of a movie..."

"It looks like cryogenic storage," Ashen explained, "For people, organs, and so forth... Looks like this is for people."

Kip approached one of the tanks.

Be careful.

"Why? What did you want me to find here?"

He wiped the fog from the face of the tank. Inside was a Rikti, frozen, staring blankly. He looked down at the name.

Brace yourself.

Amyta'lor.

Amy Taylor.

Kip's girlfriend.

The girl who had been lost when the Rikti leveled Fort Drum and scoured the local regions for conscripts

He didn't know what happened next, he just knew that the world had gone white and he'd flailed about wildly inside of it. When he came to, he was holding a Rikti soldier's head and was beating it bloody with one hand. The group filled him in later.

He started mumbling something, something about finding her and hoping for something better. Then, they were ambushed. There was an electric sound and several lines of Rikti Riflemen teleported in. Ashen fought hard trying to hold them off long enough for Wrathfire to reach them, but they were hopelessly outnumbered.

Or so it seemed.

Kip suddenly yelled angrily and violently stormed into the midst of the Rikti soldiers. Savagely tearing into them, ripping their armor off and shooting them with their own weapons, Kip was fighting like a man possessed. In a sense, he was, but it was more that he was fighting without any senses at all.

Sometimes, he would be fighting one Rifleman, and a cloud of dark purple smoke would fight another. It would never be for very long, but it would be enough to inflict some hurt.

Kipland Durj single-handedly thrashed the entire ambush. When he was done, he just occupied the last of his rage on wailing on one last soldier. If he'd kept at it, he'd have killed the man.

"Kip?" Aloe asked in a frightened whimper, "Kip... It's over."

The scrapper held his fist back, ready to strike. One good, hard thrust, and this creature's sickening, perverted life would be over.

No. You must stop.

"They... They took her away... They destroyed her..."

I know... But there's a chance she can be brought back... You know this. You know they've been studying how to fix this. But if you kill this Rikti, you know where you'll wind up.

Reluctantly, Kip relaxed his arm. Wrathfire pulled him away from the body as the Police Drones came in to confiscate the broken bodies. The containers, however, were another matter entirely.

----

The rehabilitation center was built into the basement of the Aquarius Medical Center of Peregrine Island. It was a secret establishment, and wouldn't have been built there if it weren't for the portal that led directly to the Rikti Crash Site.

Really, there were facilities like this all over the city, but they were mostly equipped to handle rehabilitating the Lost. Most heroic efforts against the Rikti were restricted to keeping them from terrorizing the populace and keeping their numbers in check. Not many heroes got to the bottom of who and what they were.

"This is incredible," the rehab technician breathed through his surgical mask, "So many Rikti just past the Lost stages... There's probably much of their human minds left."

"Does that mean I can talk to them?" Kip resisted the urge to kick the tech through the wall.

It wasn't that he disliked the guy, it's just that he looked like a Crey scientist.

"Anyone in particular?"

"Amyta'lor," Kip explained.

It had been a couple days. Kip needed the time to calm down, and Genevieve wouldn't let him know until she'd seen he'd improved. She was a little surprised how quickly he'd recomposed himself, and not a little wary. She sat solemnly behind him as he discussed his request with the technician.

"Sure..." he said after a nod from Wrathfire.

The tech called into an intercom that fed directly into a chamber. The techs inside working with the Rikti-fied humans talked to some of their patients and finally, a couple brought one of them to the interview chamber.

"Amyta'lor?" the tech asked.

The Rikti nodded.

Kip approached the intercom.

"Amy?"

"Kip?" he heard in his mind, "Kip, is that you?"

"Yeah... Yeah, it's me..."

"Oh my god, Kip... I thought I'd never... I..."

They stood there silently for a few moments.

"I'm not very pretty anymore..."

"You're still the girl I love."

"Kip..." a tear started rolling down her cheek, "I'm so sorry... but... It needs to be over."

"What are you talking about?" he shouted, "What do you mean? We found you! It's over now! We can make you better!"

"No... No you can't. Nobody can. Not yet. The doctors... They don't know that I know... There's no cure yet..."

Kip remembered working with Angus McQueen. Poor guy still looked like one of the Lost.

"Amy..."

"Kip... Please... I can feel the process taking away the old me... I can feel it turning my love for you into hate. Tiny bit by tiny bit..." she wiped the tear from her malformed face, "Kip... Please... Don't come back here... Never come back. Let your last memory of me be one of love."

----

"Are you going to be okay?" Genevieve asked when they were outside.

A passing hero probably thought it was a question about the usual debt owed to the hospital, and made a derogatory comment about scrappers. Kip shrugged it off and turned to Genevieve.

"I'm not happy, if that's what you mean."

"Breakups are usually not supposed to be like this," she replied.

"I know..."

"Is there anything I can do for you? Anything you need?"

"Nah," Kip started walking in the direction of the ferry, "I'm just gonna go for a really long walk to help clear my head about this."

"Be safe," she called to him, "Not all hope is lost..."

"I know..." the short hero wiped a tear from his eye, "It's all I'm running on lately."

Solo brought the dropship into a climb over the Sky Raider airship. Psycho13 was hammering rounds into the hull, swinging the turret around to cut down any clusters of rockets heading their way. On the port side of the ship, Rage shot Skiffs and Wing Raiders down.

On the legs and across the platform of the derrick, the other BWO members, the Grey's Army troopers, and Power Breaker hammered into the various Raiders that hopped onto the derrick and seemed to be trying to use demolition charges to bring the whole rig down. They'd have used the airship's main guns, but they were damaged earlier in the fighting.

Rachek chuckled as the super-powered combatants waged their war against his overwhelming numbers.

"Sir?" one of the helmsmen asked worriedly as he tried to compensate for a rocket cluster barrage that pelted the hull.

"This is the kind of action that makes a man's blood boil, boy," Rachek barked, "Desperate men, both sides... Us with something to prove, them... They've got everything to lose! Who knows, we may even wind up actually killing some of these morons..."

"And the Lusca?" the airship's captain intoned.

"Just more flavor..." Rachek hissed approvingly, "In fact... I'm headed out there. Captain! I trust you know what will happen if you leave me down there?"

"Yes, sir."

"Good! Tech Sergeant! Get me my jet pack!"

----

Power Breaker ripped a wing off a Raider and tossed the man screaming over the side. One of Lusca's tentacles swung around and batted the man aside. He was one of the lucky ones... Others wound up in the monster's jaws.

"Damn, but they're like a swarm of mosquitoes!" Breaker seethed as he turned toward other Raiders who were firing rounds into his body (fortunately, he radiated an energy field that deflected most of the impact).

Before he reached them, however, there was a flash of light, and a white-bearded man in a dark-blue Sky Raider jumpsuit appeared. He wielded a heavier type of assault rifle, and opened up a heavy burst that started pushing the heavy Brute toward the edge. A burst of flames erupted next to Rachek and the Raider stopped shooting long enough to swat the few bits that actually ignited on his flame retardant uniform.

Cory Simmons floated down, spun, hurled a fireball at a cluster of Wing Raiders, and turned back to the Wing Commander.

"Am I to understand that you're to blame for this unruly mob," he muttered through his mask, "Your appearance and demeanor are befitting a man who tends to carve his own path, and expects others to follow."

"Indeed you're right, boy," Rachek laughed, "Wing Commander Rachek, and I owe these boys a debt for thrashing my base!"

"As I understand the story, the debt should be downright even, considering the state of this place when my companions and I arrived..."

"Oh, you know how these things go," the older man laughed and shrugged, "We're in the heat of the moment, now!"

"No..." Cory's eyes blazed brighter and flames started to wrap around his hands, "Now we're in the heat of the moment!"

----

Draven and Whirlwind flew in a complicated double-helix formation trying to avoid Lusca's tentacles and to smash their pursuers against the pillars, each other, and possibly the afore-mentioned tentacles. Whirlwind sometimes threw arcs of lightning to his partner's sword, making an electrical net that sent Wing Raiders to the watery depths (or the surface of Lusca's skin).

"Draven," Whirlwind called through the breeze, "I have an idea... But I need you to get the rest of our friends out of here..."

"I'll try," Erickson replied as he hacked at another Wing Raider with a backswing, "You better know what you're doing..."

----

Solo levelled the dropship at the air ship. The Sky Raider guns took aim as Solo's turret swivelled up. The reticle went red and he pulled the trigger. Psycho13 and Ragin' James added to the barrage and a hail of bullets filled the air.

The major problem with the Sky Raider ship, it seemed, was that it lacked an energy field to protect itself. Instead, it maintained a seperate teleportation matrix (similar to the ones in Paragon City and the Rogue Isles) for the Raiders assaulting the base. This was beneficial for raids, as it left the Raiders with a nearly limitless assault force. However, for a dogfight like this, it was a little detrimental, as the constantly running matrix cut on the ship's thruster power and maneuverability.

Which meant the bullets the BWO dropship fired each hit their marks and tore through the Sky Raider's turrets. There was a bright blue explosion and a thick gray smoke started pouring out of the rear windows. The rear port thruster sputtered and died, then sputtered randomly after that.

The most the Sky Raider bulelts had wound up doing was bouncing off teh BWO dropship's shields.

----

"Gertrude," Project Whirlwind called to the cabal witch, "I think I need your help on this..."

"Very well," the witch replied, "Follow the patterns I make... I will state the incantations... Soon... We will be..."

There was a flash of light, and most of the Raiders were gone.

"Oh..." she muttered, "That was... Different..."

----

Simmons and Rachek dueled, the Raider's machete buzzing like a miniature chainsaw against the wizard's ice sword. Snow flurried about them, and Cory coalesced it around the Raider's legs, tripping him up and swinging a death blow into...

Nothing.

With a flash of light, Rachek was gone. Simmons cursed, but wasted no time. One problem seemed to be done with, it was time to deal with the giant squid.

----

"What the Hell!?" Rachek shouted in the ship's med bay, "What's going on?"

"We've been hit hard," a lieutenant pushed through the other injured troops and started leading the Wing Commander out, "An engine's gone... Sir... We're done here. We have to flee."

Rachek almost barked something really nasty at the lieutenant, but bit the curses off. Swallowing his anger, he asked the lieutenant if there had been any success.

"It's too early to tell, sir," the lieutenant breathed as they made their way for the bridge, "But any damage we've done so far is neglible... They were pretty far gone when we got here..."

"Ah well," Rachek chuckled, "I guess Lusca will finish the job."

----

Project Whirlwind and Gretchen Youngs conducted their ritual. Electricity crackled throughout the underside of the derrick. Lusca reached hungrily for the pair as the dropship brought its guns to bear.

"I hope this works," Daren muttered, "We're running low on ammunition..."

The hero and the witch suddenly exploded into massive electric spheres of energy flooding the region and arcing the plasma down at the monster's waiting tentacles. Lusca screamed as its body started getting singed and toasted. A moment later, and the air was filled with the smell of dead fish. The octopus pulled away, not dead, but finished with the fight.

----

"That... That was a tad bit of torture..." King Slater rubbed a bruise on his face, "I'm gonna be feeling this for a week."

"I hear ya," Matt grumbled, "Hey, Psych, throw this tape in the VCR."

Baker caught the tape and nonchalantly smashed it against the corner of a nightstand.

"Oops," Psycho13 muttered, "Greasy fingers..."

"Why the Hell would you go and do that!?"

"[censored] it!" Solo yelled, "Look, guys, we're not messing with that [censored] anymore! No more [censored] around!"

"Does it look like we're [censored] around?" Dirty chouted back, "My body got perforated out there!"

"You look fine," Draven intoned.

"I don't feel fine!"

"Guys... Guys!" Simmons intoned as he strolled through their rec room, "Look, now is the time to calm down. You have had your war... You have fought your battles. Now, it is time to work toward what you intended. You can't be losing your focus now."

"What do you care? You're not out here with us!" Ice shouted.

"Ice, shut it!" Solo shouted the brute down.

"He's not wrong," Rage muttered, "I mean... What are we doing here? We're just a few guys with a flying hunk of metal in the middle of nowhere..."

"We're..." Solo started, but didn't know how to finish.

"I think it's pretty simple what you boys are..." Cory shrugged.

"And what's that?" Slater asked as he placed an ice pack against his face, "And what are those two idiots doing out there?"

Outside, Ryat66 and Ryat99 were finishing the work they'd started.

"They're getting back on schedule," Simmons explained curtly, "Now, you had an inquiry. A question about what you are... I have a simple answer."

Draven gave a curt slash from his throat to the rest of the room. Everybody kept quiet.

"You're modern-day pirates..."

"Oh come on!" Psycho13 shouted, then pointed in the direction the Sky Raider ship had flown, "They're pirates! It's what they do! Sky Raiders! Pirates of the sky! I mean... Come on!"

"True..." Cortland grinned at the enthusiastic scrapper, "They are epitomize the more... unsavory qualities of piracy... But you boys... Look at your motley crew here. Some of the most bizarre types you can imagine... I mean, you Matthew... It is Matthew, right? You're a fire-armored Brute with a big stone hammer! There are so few characters out there like that!"

"So?"

"Look..." Simmons sighed, "You boys are like swashbucklers... You boys are out here, free. You're engaging in a personal endeavor to, quite possibly, revolutionize how, not just heroes, not just villains, but everyone, how we all view super powered individuals just like you."

"It's not that epic," Solo sighed, "Thanks for seeing us like that, but we're not revolutionaries."

"We just want to get by," Ragin' James concurred.

"I guess..." the warlock gave a simple smile to them, "But all of us who bear the mantle, from Rogue to Hero, have a mark of destiny upon us. You will all see your fate, you will all make your choices..."

He stared intently into Matt's eyes.

"And, amazingly, they may just be the right ones."

"Okay," Dirty turned to the rest of the crew, "No more drinks for this guy."

"How about I cook dinner," the wizard offered, "You can mull your future over a meal you didn't need to stress over."

"Sounds good," Draven replied.

Ah... A reason to raid Champion with my Defender and Peacebringer cooling their heels there.

Here's to hoping it makes me like playing 'em more.

*kssh*

[ QUOTE ]
[ QUOTE ]
yeah, maybe a little but ya catch the over all drift

[/ QUOTE ]

Drift? Surely not drift as in drifting off topic?






[/ QUOTE ]

...And the thread is damaged.

Not quite gone, but it can be salvaged with this.

This is the sort of behavior we're trying to find, scrutinize, define, and categorize. This is the behavior that turns your standard opening thread ("I feel this way about that subject.") into a threadjacked thread ("I feel this way about that subject." becomes "I love kittens! Everybody, post your pics!").

It's insidious! Take one page of any particular thread, visit it at a later page, compare them to each other and to the original post, and you'll usually see pretty definite differences in topic and subject.

The problem is it starts gradually. Sometimes it'll be a question within a question... Other times a full-fledged conversation breaks out.

I derailed myself here... I had a direction with this, but I think my train of thought ran out of track. I just wanted to add some things here, and wound up trying to help analyze the situation again. I apologize if any of this has already been covered, but My mind boggled from trying to make sense of some of these pages.

To think, this is the thread trying to deal with this sort of stuff!