Mr_Grey

I figure it's "Smalltown-itis," or perhaps a type of cabin fever...

Almost everybody knows each other here (after a fashion... Face-to-face is still a rarity), and we run into our friends (and foes) on a fairly regular basis.

As such, we probably tend to say and do things to either prod our friends and test their boundaries or the same to our foes to REALLY irk them. Having come from a small town environment, I take this stuff as a norm, and usually just shrug most of it off.

A few of us actually branch out into other characters, but some of us are entrenched into the daily politicking, gossip, and overall community of Protector, and can't hope to possibly get away.

Lord knows why lots of nasty stuff is being reported as being from Protector. It could be we've gotten too comfortable with each other and the ante's going up on just what we feel is pushing the limits.

Of course, my point of view should be taken with skepticism, as I'm not on the Protector forum as much as others.

I feel for you, man. I just don't have a story to identify with you.

Of course, I'm gonna be driving a lot more soon... So when Winter hits...

WHEEE!

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What about making a webcomic?

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Are you talking fan-based, or 'Officially' based? If you want official, I think you've already gotten your answer just by seeing that they are canceling the comic. However, if you are talking about all of the talently-inclined that are reading this putting together a website and showcasing their own and other people's Cities fiction, art, and so forth, you might be onto something.

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Isn't that what the comic competition is about? See Here I think they have over 300 hundred entries. Take the best 48 and post them every month and you are covered for 4 years at no cost. BIG WHOOP!

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Yeah, but making a comic from screenshots takes a lot of time and coordination (both from the player and when trying to organize a whole crew of player characters together). Not to mention you wind up fairly limited in what you can portray.

Still, the fanmade project would be topnotch... Maybe have it go alongside/within the City Scoop... Like I said, I didn't really think this through, and I'm in a bit too stressful a situation to really flesh it out right now.

I haven't had much time to flesh this idea out, but I want to get it out there before I lose my nerve...

What about making a webcomic?

((Mkay... I'll need a little time for Shadowshock to react to this... That, and he's kind of half asleep.))

((Care to clarify something for me, Devious? Is Hotaka's body back in the cell, or are you still being transported at the moment?))

*deep breath*

DAMMIT!

*sigh*

I liked the comic. Yeah, it was rocky at times (as many critiquing 17 & 18 can agree, myself included), but I still liked reading about the super powered trials and tribulations of those who are "leading" us and gave us the opportunity to "stomp through their yard" as it were.

*/em salute*

Fare thee well, City of Heroes comic. May we see another form of you in the future. For now, we shall bask in the improved effort toward content.

Welcome to the back yard of Essex, Soviet, and a massive crew of some of the most inane (insane) roleplay on the boards.

May God help you to leave here with your brains intact.

I chose Dual Blades and the Electric Hammer for attacks and Willpower and Growth for defense.

Vibration would be too similar to Super Reflexes, I think...

Psionic Melee? I wrapped psychic energy around a punch? Why? If I have psychic powers, I want the enemies far, FAR away, and will perforate them with mind bullets accordingly.

Yes... Growth must be very difficult to implement. But it just sounds too damn cool to not vote for it!

Most of the rest I'm more like "Meh."

Other outfits...

Grey's Army and their affiliates also have alternate "costumes."

Randall Grey

Randall Grey in a Business Suit

Sometimes, Randall Grey has to conduct official business for his supergroup. When this happens, he dons a business suit and slicks his hair back. Sometimes, just looking professional can mean the difference between a convincing debate or a drunken slur.

Randall Grey in Biker Leathers

Randall doesn't necessarily like this look, but sometimes you have to be intimidating beyond an ugly face. Randall's never driven a motorcycle in his life (and likely doesn't intend to), so this outfit's a little far-fetched, but it looks cool and keeps bad guys shaking in their boots, so he keeps it.

The Fist icon in the center of the undershirt is a throwback to Randall's days as a member of a little known supergroup known as the Iron Fists of Justice (Protector). He keeps it as an homage to his former SG-mates.

Augh!

Sometimes, clothes just get in the way. Randall once wore little more than underwear, but Freedom Corps forces, fellow Heroes, and not a few villains begged him to put some pants on.

"I don't get what the problem was. I was wearing my boots..."

Explorer Outfit

When dealing with alternate dimensions or wild areas around the city (like the Hive), Randall wears this outfit. It has all the essentials he needs to survive on his own (compass, utility knife, waterproof cases for matches, paper, pen, etc.). Essentially his most used outfit aside from his basic blue T-shirt and green jeans outfit. In fact, he wears the T-shirt bearing the Grey's Army logo as an undershirt in this outfit.

Sarah "Snuffy" Grey

New Hairdo

Sarah Grey was earlier posted as being blonde... This is actually a falsehood. Her hair has been stark white since she was in junior high school. For normality's sake, she'd been dying it since she graduated, but has decided to return to just letting it grow in its natural shade.

This outfit is similar to the one posted before, except now Sarah forgoes the "kitty ears" headband that facilitated her sonic assaults. Now her "dance tunes" are handled solely by the gauntlets' speakers, which are actually capable of high quality sound. All of the outfits Sarah now uses utilize a similar system.

Dancing Fool

Sarah loves to take the dance floor.

"It's just plain fun!"

This is the outfit she uses when she feels certain missions might be too dangerous for her to take Ni or Felix with her. For such situations, she tends to fight like a wild animal herself, often flooding her enemies' heads with nightmares and pummeling them into submission. It's a wonder she doesn't wind up with actual bloodstains on this outfit.

It's Felix! And... Wowza...

Sarah's latest look may be a tad racy, but she still fights as hard in this as any of her other outfit. She also has Sheldon Wallace's mutant gerbil thing, the "Gudar" Felix, for backup. Felix is surprisingly resilient for being such a small creature. Rumors have it the little bear might be tough enough to go up against most human-sized and bigger opponents on his own.

Cortland Simmons

Cory Simmons, the Fire Demon

In ages past, Cory's ancestors made pacts with savage creatures typically called devils and demons in modern days. Sometimes, such pacts were sealed in carnal fashions, leaving a mark on the bloodline.

In the ages before the Colonial Period, Cortland's ancestors broke free from their pacts and debts, but the mark was left upon the blood. Many among his ancestors walked down dark paths and wound up commiting great atrocities. Others, like the line that would eventually lead to Cortland Simmons, overcame the influence of the mark, and turned the "demonic" power toward objectives that aided others and furthered their fellows.

Now, Cortland has learned to bring forth his infernal heritage in his appearance. Wrapped in fire, shielded by ice, Cortland Simmons engages the foes of Paragon City, the hunters of the innocent, and the scourges of justice. He remains a terrible force of Freedom and Honor.

Aw. She's so cute!

"Sounds like a breakout," Shadowshock murmured to himself.

----

"It's time for Three Stooges already?" Power Breaker chuckled.

Don't worry! An Admin with the Lockomantic Blade will be here shortly to put this lich to rest.

"This is terrific!" Matt hollered as they hooked the big screen television up in the old rec room, "Y'know, if every raid turns out like this, I wanna do it every week! I get why the bad guys do it now!"

"Hang on, man, hang on," Psycho13 waved calmingly to his friend, but grinned despite himself, "We don't want to go too far down this slippery slope... Sure it was fun... Sure we probably could have gotten away with a lot more stuff than we took... Sure they had it coming and it was like carving an axe through butter... Sure... I lost my train of thought. I was trying to dissuade you?"

"We're not bad guys," Rage muttered as he stuffed a tape into the television's VCR, "One sec..."

The video was what he thought it would be. Nodding approvingly at the... material... he hit the Stop button and ejected the tape.

"That'll be worth watching later."

"Put that back on!" Matt shouted, "I wanna see that!"

"No!" Levi shouted, seriousness making his eyes blaze, "You do not watch anything like that when we're around! Ever!"

"Care to fight over it?"

"Gladly!"

"Guys! Guys!" Draven pushed them apart, "Enough! We've got two weeks of work to do and maybe not even two days to do it. Those Sky Raiders we thrashed are gonna come back, and they're not gonna go easy on us like last time."

Dustin gestured to the holes throughout the walls, "That was easy?"

"They were sending a message before... Now they're gonna try to eradicate us... Solo!"

"Yeah?" the Stalker asked between sips of beer.

"You better keep an eye on the Dropship's sensors... In fact, you should probably be pretty much living in that cockpit for the next couple weeks. Try to get word to Grey's Army, we'll need help constructing things out here..."

"Got it," Solo started heading out to the vehicle.

"We really gotta come up with a name for that thing," Psycho13 muttered, "It's not right calling 'the Dropship.' We should come up with a badass name for it."

"Yeah," James half-snorted, "what're you gonna call that skiff when you're done with it?"

"The Runtime Exception!"

"What the Hell?" Matt laughed, "What does that mean?"

"I don't know... I've seen it a couple times when computers 'blue screen...'"

We'll come up with a name for the Dropship later," Draven pointed at his cousin, King Slater, "Get a team prepared and start patching up these holes. Especially on the rec room, here, since it's where we're keeping the new equipment... Dale! I need you to start working on fixing up the generators... Alright... Let's get cracking..."

After that, Slater was basically in charge. He instructed the rest of the group on how and where to work. He then directed them (including Draven) to various sections he figured they'd do well in. Psycho13 got much of the "front" wall to himself, his super speed helping him move quickly and efficiently. Rage and Draven took the walls overlooking the ocean, and Slater and Dirty Ice handled the roof. Surprisingly, Power Breaker helped out where he could, offering to ferry parts and tools to whoever needed them and sometimes help weld or bolt things in place if necessary. Bioserj, Bull-Thistle and Project Whirlwind kept busy by bringing water to the other workers. Serj also helped Dale work on the broken generators.

"Always have to keep learning-k," he explained, "It helps exercise my brain."

"Is that why you speak English so well?" the Kingdale Referee asked.

"No... I speak English well because I practiced. My Ilyana and I... Uh..."

"Sorry, man," Dale looked to a spot on the far wall, not really at anything in particular, it just helped to take some of the edge off the brief silence.

"It's okay," Serj got back to helping refit the generator casing together, "I feel I'll meet her again."

They wound up tearing apart the remains of the north section to get materials for the rest of the structure. When they had extra, they used what they could to shore up the building's walls. By the time night fell, they had a decent hovel sitting upon the wreck.

"This isn't even worth squatting in," Matt grumbled as they huddled inside their torn blankets and sleeping bags around a kerosene heater, "Who wants to bet those [censored] show up tomorrow to blow us all to Hell and back?"

"Matt..." James sighed, "Let it alone..."

"Dinner!" Psycho13 showed up with a platter of burgers, "That electric stove we ganked ain't too bad."

"These burgers ain't too bad, kid," Power Breaker lauded, "Kinda make me feel at home..."

"This is a Hell of a victory banquet," Solo intoned, "No roast beef, no champagne..."

"I got the next best thing," James pulled a bottle from behind himself, "Now, we toast to Wild Turkey..."

--

The next morning, Solo got a hold of Grey's Army's tech, Sheldon Wallace. The inventor said that Ryat99 and Cory would be there shortly. Oddly enough, the wizard was there almost instantly, with a small witch at his side.

"Greetings," Simmons shook the hand of Dale and proceeded for the edge of the derrick's platform, "Gertrude and I will be working on inscribing defensive runes into your derrick's legs."

"Hello," the witch shook Dale's hand as well, "I'm Gertrude. You wouldn't happen to have any wizardly types in need of training, would you?"

"Uh..." Dale looked back to the patchwork hovel, "Mike! Are you a wizard?"

"Technically, I guess," came the reply.

"Then I guess you better be out here..."

Project Whirlwind didn't do much, he just watched as Cory and Gertrude burned and energized runes into the concrete and steel legs. It was an incredible light show, and he was a little jealous.

"Wow..." he murmured as Raven fired several arcs of lightning into a pentacle formation, energizing five separate runes and sigils, "I wish I could do that."

"In time, you may be able to," Cory called to him, "Even if you acquire your power through those artifacts adorning your body... In time, the magic may leave an imprint, and with the proper training, you may be able to harness and cultivate the power of that imprint."

"I detest such trinkets," Gertrude sighed as she prepared her next set of spells, "I prefer the natural method of arcane mastery."

"Most people don't encounter wrinkles in time that would allow them to live almost forever, my dear," the dark-skinned warlock chuckled up to her, "I strongly suggest you let this young man take what he can get."

"Uh..." Project Whirlwind stammered a little, "Should I just go, then?"

"No, no," Cory replied, "You can learn much from our endeavors down here... Just pay attention, and try not to interrupt us."

"Will do."

Ryat99 and Ryat66 showed up shortly afterward. They were attached to each other, and had an assortment of tools and materials towed underneath them. Upon landing, they scanned the situation and immediately set to work.

"I wish we had our brothers and sisters here on this," Ryat99 said as they set to work with inhuman efficiency, "We'd have this place able to handle a nuclear blast by noon..."

"Yeah, well, tank shell resistance will have to do," Ryat66 chuckled.

Solo Stryker emerged from the building with a sandwich when they started hammering and clanging on the bulkhead, the sound reverberating through the metal and concrete walls. When he saw the pair working, he almost did a double take.

Ryat66 was firing energy beams into the walls. Instead of burning holes into bulkheads, a thin layer of liquid metal was left glowing in the trail. Ryat99 then pressed his hands together, there was a flash of light, and he snapped his wrist joints like a person would a towel, and a plate of steel was in his hands (albeit a thin plate). He would then press the plate into the cooling liquid steel, effectively “gluing” it to the wall.

"Where are you guys getting the metal for that?"

"Mini-porters," Ryat66 answered, "Built into the wrists... Sheldon feeds scrap into a machine he calls the Forge and it sends the molten metal into a sort of dimensional ‘queue.’ Our ‘mini-porters’ then patch into the peculiar pocket dimension and pulls the molten stasis steel to wherever we are. Can't use it every day, experimental technology and the power drain's too extensive..."

“I’m just porting whole plates,” Ryat99 added, “Simpler system in some ways, more complicated in others. Mine doesn’t need a pocket dimension, for instance, because I’m dealing with solid, cooled materials. I need to make sure I have the right dimensional conditions on my end, which is surprisingly easy when utilizing nanites, clear ice crystals for energy focusing, and mechanical precision. His materials are in stasis so they’re always molten. Sheldon calls the pocket dimension ‘Mini-Purgatory.’”

By lunchtime, it was almost as if the attack had never happened, except for the craters and bullet holes across the platform, not to mention the slag pile that used to be their ring. However, the main living quarters were covered in a dense layer of armor. Most ammunition wasn’t going to be able to pierce the thick “hide,” but the androids had no idea how strong it would be against rockets and such. Solo nodded approvingly to the androids and turned to the approaching wizard and witch.

"Great job, guys. Care for some lunch?"

"Solo, we need to talk..."

"Cory, you don't have to worry about Grey's Army's debt. It's as good as..."

"No, not about that..."

"Well, you certainly don't think we owe you..."

"No, not that..."

"Because if that's what you think!"

"Stryker!" Gertrude shouted, "Lusca's headed this way!"

He paused. There was a rumble through the derrick.

"How much longer do we have?"

"I think we're out of time," Cory muttered.

"You should really learn to listen to people when they're trying to talk to you," Gertrude added.

"Shut up! Shut up! Shut up!" Solo bolted for the main building's door, "Guys! Guys! Get up, wake up! Something! We've got trouble!"

Cory sighed.

"He really needs to learn how to relax..."

"Think we should help them fight it off?" Ryat99 asked as he approached, "Or are we just flying the Hell out of here?"

"No, I think we're staying. I'd like to see how these boys handle themselves..."

"Hooooooooooo-raaaaaaaaaaaaaaah!" Psycho13 bounded out the door and bolted for the Dropship, "I can't wait to see this bad boy's rockets turn that critter into calamari!"

"Shotgun!" Rage yelled from the door.

"Other shotgun!" Psycho chirped and started hopping into the starboard turret.

The BWO piled into the vehicle and Solo started the lift-off. Below the derrick, the Lusca's arms wrapped around the legs. Because of the mystical and physical reinforcement, the legs held strong, but they could have buckled later.

Solo brought up the HUD's targeting reticle and locked onto Lusca's head.

"We're driving this thing off now!" he shouted into the intercom, "[censored] shooting the arms, this [censored] gets lost or gets its [censored] head blown off!"

Cheers resounded through the intercom and Solo fingered the trigger on the turret control stick. Fly-by-wire was a wonderful thing, especially the advanced, almost "intelligent" type Hector Wallace had helped the boys install. Solo Stryker could control the Dropship with his left hand, his weapons with his right. Much of the rest was automated, it was like piloting in a video game. He just had to keep an eye on his altitude and speed. It was a tough system, not like the older types of FBW he trained on when he studied piloting. Failure in one of those led a pilot to have to take personal control of the craft, practically flying by gut, which was exceptionally unpleasant.

He eased the dropship past the lip of the platform and started lowering it. The Lusca didn't seem to be trying to eat the derrick, but its curiosity couldn't be encouraged.

"Here's your newspaper to the nose... Okay guys, three bursts, aim for the base of the head... Try not to hit it in the eyes... We're just driving it off, not trying to make it angry and thrash the legs out from under the derrick..."

"Solo!"

Cory Simmons was calling him from the base.

"There's trouble!"

"Oh, what is it now?"

"You might want to have your extra boys pile out and deal with the Lusca personally... You have more company and they look quite unfriendly."

"Who?"

A tank shell slammed into the deflector shield and shook the vehicle into a slight spin that Daren easily corrected. Turning the vehicle to port, he saw something he didn't even realize existed.

It looked like a flying whale made of metal. Two tank cannons were mounted on its front end, flanking the canopy of the cockpit like bull horns. The "fins" were actually wings, four of them, exceptionally stubby when compared to most vehicle wings, but each one bore a thruster that constantly emitted a bright blue flame (they must have been some form of Vertical Take-Off and Lift system).

"[censored]!" Daren shouted, "The Sky Raiders are here! New plan! Anybody not on a gun, pile out and hit the squid! Everybody else, we've got ourselves a dogfight!"

Solo was out of the Dropship's cockpit and running for the derrick's main building before the engine's even started to wind down. Smoke was everywhere, the platform was wrecked. Ragin' James started calling out, almost hoarsely for his brother.

"Levi! Levi!"

The damage was intense. Gaping holes were tore through the main building, cracks and lines of bullet holes were scattered all over the concrete and steel platform.

Psycho13 emerged from the doorway, Bioserj and Bull-Thistle trailing behind.

"Who did this?" Solo shouted at him, "Who shot this place to Hell!?"

"The Sky Raiders," Psycho13 replied glumly, "I was cooking... And there was an explosion... Then nothing but pain and gunfire."

"The attack only lasted about twenty minutes," Bull-Thistle explained further, "I think they were trying to send a message..."

"Whirlwind and I..." Bioserj gestured inside, "We kept everybody patched up as much as we could..."

"I'm gonna kill those [censored]!" Dirty Ice yelled from inside, "They broke my game!"

After they inspected the damage, they found that the northern section of the building had been blown open and was now entirely exposed to the elements. The southern sections had steel reinforcement, while there was damage, it was by no means as severe. Their ring had been carved up by machinegun fire, and the platform had craters wherever bombs or missiles had impacted.

Psycho13 was glad he’d left the Skiff he’d stolen earlier in the back of the Dropship. Solo told him he’d have to remove it, though.

“It throws the weight off,” he explained, “You’re just gonna have to find another place to put it... But, yeah... That is lucky.”

"One of the generators is toast," Dale muttered as he joined the rest in their little circle next to the Dropship, "I can probably get parts out of it, but it'll never run again."

"That's okay," Stryker grumbled, "Everybody ready?"

Rage's face was intense.

"Oh yeah. We're bringin' those [censored] down!"

"No need for a vote here," Draven replied, "I think we're all agreed that vengeance is in order."

"Operation Cry Vengeance," Psycho13 hissed.

"I would like to help," Bioserj bowed to them, "It's the least I can do for your letting-k me stay for this long-k."

"Sounds like you've got yourselves a small army," a gravelly voice barked from inside the Dropship.

The door popped open and a large man with dark purple spires jutting from his shoulders appeared at the hatch. His glowing magenta eyes regarded each of the young men. It seemed he approved of what he saw, as his smile was without derision.

"Mind if I join the party?" Power Breaker asked.

"The more the merrier," Solo replied.

----

"This is Blue Two calling back to the Nest..." the Sky Skiff pilot called into his radio, "South patrol all clear."

"Roger that Blue Two, continue with patrol."

"Aye, Nest. Blue Two out."

The pilot kept a constant check on his radar. After the attack they'd done to that supergroup that thought it could muscle in on Raider territory, Wing Commander Rachek wasn't taking any chances.

"Watch your back, Jack," the pilot sang softly to himself moments before the radar blared, "What the Hell?"

Whatever it was, it was big, and it was headed his way. It looked to be the size of an Arachnos Flyer, but... Different. Blue Two flicked on his lights and beheld the green on gray BWO Dropship.

Anti-aircraft fire barked out of the Dropship’s bow and starboard turrets, reducing the Skiff to slag. Blue Two had ejected before the canopy blew, and fell screaming to the ocean.

----

“Okay, boys,” Solo called over the intercom, “It’s time to show these [censored] what happens when you [censored] with us!”

He flicked on the stereo system and started playing “Homework” from the Fight Club soundtrack. Once his blood got pumped, he flicked on the spotlights and took aim on the fortress’s defense turrets.

----

An air raid siren sounded as the Dropship came into view. The Sky Raiders on the platform struggled to get to defensive positions before turret fire cut them down. The turrets were unable to do much damage before being likewise destroyed because they could barely get through the energy field keeping the Dropship in a bubble of protective energy, much less its armored layers.

As pilots started heading for their waiting vehicles, the Dropship’s turrets aimed for the grounded aircrafts. Explosions rocked the platform and a scream was barely heard over the commotion.

Ragin’ James, his body crackling with red electricity, leapt from the Dropship and flew down in a spiral. His outstretched arm clipped one of the remaining turrets and sent it spinning, pumping rounds into turrets, Sky Raiders, and the Brute alike, but doing far more damage to the two former than the latter. Rage took a hold of the offending machine, ripped it out of it’s mount, and hurled it into the next one in line, destroying both.

Dirty Ice followed, his body wrapped in flames, and a heavy, stone-encrusted hammer smashing a Wing Raider out of his path. He hit the platform with a heavy smash to a lieutenant, and turned his attention to the turrets on the other side of the platform from James.

Other Sky Raiders made their way to the top platform, but they met their end at the hands of King Slater, who was operating the starboard turret, before they even made it out of the building’s doors. The platform was covered with rapidly disappearing broken bodies.

The port turret, operated by Draven Erickson, was busy fending off the other Sky Skiffs and various Wing Raiders that made their way into range. Assisting in the port-side defense was Bioserj and Project Whirlwind, both utilizing their powers from their position at the port hatch to throw the flying enemies off balance and to wither their defenses so Draven’s guns could blast them out of the sky.

Inside, Psycho13 and Dale Simms made sure the two side turrets were kept properly loaded. Every so often, the shielding defender would check the shields to determine if any power balancing had to be engaged.

Power Breaker leapt out and joined the other two Brutes on the platform, only he focused his attack on the Raiders who weren’t getting pegged by the starboard turret. His fists glowed a bright red as he railed into each soldier, his body wrapped in a nimbus of energy.

“Where’d you get him from?” Psycho13 had asked Draven shortly after they’d left their destroyed base.

“He helped Blue Steel for some odd reason,” Draven replied, “He cleared a path to us for Steel’s strike team. I figured we’d take him along instead of leaving him to deal with Arachnos. He seems to be a decent guy.”

“Okay...” Pscyho13 shrugged, “Hey, what happened back there, anyway?”

“A rescue... Steel needed a transport that would be able to take him to the Isles without raising too much of a fuss, but also would be able to handle itself if the going got tough. We took him to the Nerva Archipelago, and he hooked up with the Longbow base there. Shortly after that, the base contacted us, told us to head for coordinates off the coast of the northernmost island and to expect a hot landing zone. Sure enough, there were Arachnos and mercenaries. Blue Steel and his charge were surrounded, but before we could do anything about it, Power Breaker showed up in the middle of it all, pointed toward us, and started hammering away. We fired a few rounds over their heads, and picked ‘em all up.”

They’d taken the heroes back to Paragon before coming home to the destroyed base. They also picked up James from the hospital, who had kept a surprisingly low profile despite the massive skulls mounted on his chest and shoulder.

“They said they saw that sort of stuff all the time,” he shrugged, “Hero fanatics who buy minor mystical merchandise that doesn’t really do anything, but it looks similar to what their favorite heroes wear... Sounds stupid and expensive to me, but, hey, they didn’t call the cops on me, so I guess we’re in the clear.”

All flashbacks aside, the BWO were putting a thrashing to the Sky Raiders. As soon as the fortress’s defenses were down, the Dropship landed, and the group’s members piled out. King Slater cracked his knuckles and started lumbering toward the doors of the Fortress’s main living structure.

A single Sky Raider stepped out. He was clad in a dark navy blue outfit, as opposed to the dark turquoise most Raiders typically donned. He wore no helmet, but instead a navy blue beret. A gray mustache sat on the upper lip of his craggy face.

“Come on, boys,” he growled as he drew his serrated machete in his left hand and bunched up his assault rifle under his right arm, “Let’s have us a fight you won’t ever forget!”

A shield drone floated out from behind the commander and radiated an even smaller than normal defensive field. It had to have been a powerful one, but could only really protect the commander.

“What’s your name, first,” Draven intoned as he drew his broadsword, Crow, “If we’re gonna remember this, we better have a name to put to the memory.”

“I’m Wing Commander Rachek, of the fighting 31st Flight Battalion, the Bloody Talons. You boys were in our waters, so it was our duty to hit ya hard and hit ya fast, nothing personal.”

“Funny thing about that,” Draven chuckled, “Is that it’s personal now.”

“Ain’t that the truth,” Rachek chuckled back, “So! How we gonna do this? You all gonna come at me like the rest of the panty-wastes, or are we gonna settle this like men?”

Dirty Ice stepped forward. His hammer sprouted its stone block covering and his bright blue eyes glittered crazily in the flames wrapped about him.

“I’ll go one-on-one with ya, old man. You owe me a Gamestation!”

Dirty charged Rachek. The commander fired off a few bursts of rifle fire into the Brute, side-stepped as Matt got close, and hacked into his left hamstring with the machete. It didn’t cut through the leg (or the tendon), but it dropped Dirty Ice like a sack of rotten potatoes.

“Next!” Rachek barked.

“Looks like we’ve got ourselves a challenge,” Solo muttered, “Who wants to take him?”

“We’re going-k to keep fighting-k one-on-one?” Bioserj asked worriedly, “Is not that... Foolish thinking-k? I mean, look what happened to your friend!”

“He’ll be fine,” Rage muttered, “Look, he’s trying to get back up.”

“Thanks for the warning,” Rachek hollered as he fired a round into Matt’s leg, “Keep it up, runt, and I’ll put one in your kneecap, and I know for a fact that’s a very painful place to be shot.”

“Yeah?” Ice hollered as he gripped his shin, “So’s the rest of the leg! OW!”

“If that don’t stop ya, you can guess where I go from there.”

“I-“ Ice stopped and shuddered, “Okay... I’ll stay put.”

“Good boy. Maybe when I’m done stomping your friends, you’ll get a rematch. Now, who’s next?”

“I am,” Rage raised his hand and started marching toward Rachek.

James lasted quite a bit longer than Matt. This was largely due to the fact that Rachek had forgone his assault rifle and stuck to his machete. It was almost like watching a one-sided fencing duel, except Rage’s electric aura kept him protected from the bite of the blade. Eventually, Rage ducked under a swing and hooked Rachek’s arm, lifted him into the air and slammed the Wing Commander against the wall before lifting him up and slamming him against the deck. When he went to finish the Commander off, though, Rachek bunched up James’s legs inside his own and brought him down with a figure-4 leg-lock.

“Ha-HA!” he laughed as Rage tapped out, “Damn! If I didn’t have to hate you guys, I’d almost like ya! This is some of the most fun I’ve had in my life!”

“You just got bombed onto concrete!” Project Whirlwind hollered, “That’s not fun!”

“Sure it is!” Psycho13 yelped as he got into position, “Heal him up! I want a fair fight!”

“You sure, boy?” Rachek chuckled, “You don’t wanna work off what your friend here chipped away?”

“He’s not my friend,” Psycho13 smiled wickedly as he pulled a claw off the right side of his belt in that hand and pulled a heavy-bladed hunting knife from the back with his left, “He’s my brother!”

“I never would’ve known...”

“Heal him up!”

“Okay,” Project Whirlwind cast the healing spell he knew and Rachek’s injuries disappeared, “Good luck...”

The fighting continued in this vein. Rachek was skilled, he obviously hadn’t gained his rank through bureaucratic back dealings; he fought for his position, and earned it.

Psycho13 got hacked up pretty bad and had to concede, but five minutes later looked good as new. King Slater wound up getting his arm bunched up behind his back in a hammerlock, so he tapped. Bioserj did pretty decently for a “squishie,” but Rachek cut him down like all the others.

Finally, Draven Erickson took up the challenge. Project Whirlwind, who the rest had agreed would stay out of the fight until it was absolutely necessary, healed up the Wing Commander and the match was underway. This was more like a sword duel, Draven’s “Crow” versus Rachek’s humming machete. The two circled each other, jabbed and deflected, each testing the other’s defenses.

Then Draven just disappeared. Rachek hacked at where he thought Draven was, but nothing was there. A sudden motion to his side and he swung that way, only to find Solo Stryker standing there, catching the machete blade between his hands and kicking him in the knee. Draven reappeared not much further back from where Rachek had predicted, and he cuffed the commander across the head with pommel of his sword.

“Wussies...” Rachek gurgled as everything went black

----


“Yeah, I know it was a sneaky thing to do,” Draven muttered as Rachek awoke, tied to a chair just inside the doorway, “So, we’re not gonna arrest ya. Instead, you get to stay here and tell your buddies among the rest of the Sky Raiders not to mess with us.”

“They’re gonna come after you anyway,” Rachek growled, “They’re gonna blast your sorry base right out of the water!”

“They can try...” Draven stepped out of the way of his friends, who were carting stuff to the Dropship, “Hope you don’t mind. We helped ourselves to some of your equipment.”

“Argh!” Rachek shook violently in his chair, “Dammit! No! That stuff’s sensitive... And that’s my T.V.!”

“Yeah,” Matt rubbed it lovingly, “It’s really gonna help me get over my lost Gamestation. Thanks.”

“Besides,” Draven shrugged, “it’s not like you guys are gonna be using any of it. Your troops are gone, man.”

“They’ll be back! And by God, we’ll show you what for!”

“We’ll try to have the barbecue up by the time you get there. Don’t be a stranger. Bye.”

As the Dropship took off, Rachek pondered what had just transpired. typically, a group didn’t come mixed like that. There were “Rogue” types mixed in with “Vigilante” types. It was an odd collection of metas. Also, they were quick to fight him honorably, even if they had wiped out most of the base’s defenses in a sneak attack.

Of course, he couldn’t blame them for the sneak attack. That was just good tactics (and revenge).

Really, the only things he was mad about were his own failure (he should’ve known they’d pull a stunt like that, and he fell right into the trap) and the loss of his television. He just hoped they hadn’t found and plundered his... personal entertainment... collection. It had taken him a long time to accumulate all of the videos and edit them so they only had the good parts...

This sounds like fun!

Hours passed into days, days into weeks. Nearly a month after the raid on the Council base, Grey’s Army prepared to say goodbye to a young man who had become one of their own. Kipland “Cobalt Black” Durj was going home.

It had been a long month for all of them. Roland was busy trying to get his life in order and quit the hero-work so he could go back to being a normal guy. Cedric, Matt, Cory and the Ryats busied themselves with raiding criminal cells and hideouts. Nester found himself entertaining Mindy Jakobson more often, and sometimes took her along with him to fight bad guys with the others. Most everyone else wrapped themselves up in private concerns. Not being celebrities, they had the freedom to take the time off.

It seemed Cobalt Black and Misty were trying to keep as close together as they could for as long as possible. Kip said he heard them arguing a lot, but it seemed they were largely in agreement most of the time, except when Misty said she wanted Cobalt to stay, and he said he had to leave.

He never said he wanted to.

Eventually, the young woman relented. She understood it wasn’t just a matter of ill-conceived honor, but a strong sense of duty that was driving Aaron. He had to go to his home and inform at least his own cell that there were allies to be had on this side of the dimensional barrier. He had to help them fight to the bitter end, too.

“Are you ready?”

Agent Wild was a peculiarly dressed Freedom Corps Agent, but apparently, they’d upgraded his status to Field Agent. For all intents and purposes, he was a Hero. Cedric actually recognized the guy. Apparently they’d been in the same unit during the Rikti War.

“Craziest thing I’d ever seen!” he explained to Matt, “This skinny little guy was able to take on three guys, twice his size! Boom! Boom! Boom! Three guys on the floor, clutching at their broken noses... Then he bought ‘em drinks!”

“Do you mind?” Agent Wild got everybody’s attention back on the subject at hand.

Grey’s Army stood before an inactive portal in the sublevels of Portal Corp. These particular rooms were reserved for special projects, not like the more public portals in the floors above that led to Firebase Zulu and the others that could be keyed to various locations throughout the multiverse. This portal was reserved for one location... The island on Praetorian Earth that Cobalt Black called home before coming to Primal Earth.

The plan was that he would be taking a Freedom Corps Agent, not Wild, but a woman named Keller who was skilled with diplomacy (and not a small amount of combat skills) to see his commander on the other side. The Agent would have a one-use emergency teleporter that would return her if it turned out the island had been overrun. Cobalt accepted that he would be left in a hostile environment in that case, and had no qualms about it. He was confident in his abilities.

Misty Harrison, however, was not so confident. As he approached the portal, she suddenly ran forward and glomped onto his back. Tears were streaming out of her eyes.

“Ma’am,” Wild growled at her, “Ma’am, he needs to be on his way.”

“No!” she sobbed.

Cobalt started hanging his head glumly. His sunglasses were hiding the tears clouding his vision.

“I won’t let you leave me!” Misty cried into his back.

“Misty...”

Mindy walked up to her friend and started rubbing her shoulder, trying to comfort her. The girl was inconsolable, however, and wouldn’t let go.

“Guards,” Wild shouted.

“Call ‘em off!” Cobalt hissed at him, and a tear dropped out of the bottom of his right lens, “We’ll settle this between us, dammit!”

Agent Wild waved the guards back.

“We don’t have time for this,” he muttered.

“We have time for anything,” Randall countered, “Trust me. It’ll be better this way.”

“I can’t stay...” Aaron choked out, “Misty...”

“I love you,” she squeezed him tighter, “And you love me! You can’t just walk away from this!”

“We’ve been over this...”

“I know...” she whispered.

“I... I wish I could...”

The room was silent for a moment. Misty turned to her best friend and gave her a quick hug. The tan girl suddenly looked very sad, and stumbled back to the others, sobbing into Nester’s shoulder.

“Take me with you.”

Cobalt rounded on Misty in astonishment. This was an option that they just didn’t consider. He still wasn’t about to hear it.

“No,” for once, he looked scared, but not for himself, “Absolutely not.”

“Why not?”

“It’s too dangerous.”

She punched him in the mouth.

The people in the room stared in astonishment. Misty stared angrily into Aaron’s eyes. He stared back in astonishment.

“I know how to handle myself in a fight, Aaron. I love you... And I will fight tooth and nail to keep you.”

He stared into her eyes sullenly.

“Guard,” Agent Wild called to one of the Freedom Corps troopers near the entrance, “Bring me a stealth suit.”

“What?” Cobalt turned to him, “What are you doing?”

“Recognizing a situation when I see it,” the agent replied, “Agent Keller... You’ll make sure she’s properly instructed in its use?”

“Yes, sir,” the Agent replied briskly.

As the guard returned with a red colored uniform, he was followed by Sheldon Wallace. The inventor was pulling a large, hovering crate behind himself.

“Oh good!” he shouted when he saw Cobalt was still on Primal Earth, “I have a gift for you!”

Aside from the Freedom Corps soldiers, nobody in the room had to guess what was inside the crate.

“There goes our Titan,” Ryat99 muttered.

“Good riddance,” Ryat66 chirped, “Not that I hated the thing, mind you, but I thought it made things just a little too easy.”

Sheldon opened the crate with a flick of his wrist. The sides of the wooden cube popped apart and revealed the heavily modified Grey Titan. It still had the same build as when it was unveiled for the raid, but now the ammo bins had been largely replaced for a fusion reactor and a missile rack. The head was also different, now looking similar to Ryat99’s head.

“Meet Dreadnought Ryat,” Sheldon explained, “I think he’ll help you out immensely out there...”

“Doesn’t that thing need a human brain controlling it?” Nester asked.

“Sixty-six and Ninety-nine don’t,” Sheldon replied calmly, “And I ran Dreadnought through a series of mobility tests... He’ll handle as well as any Zeus Titan. Better, even.”

“How does the AI know how to handle all that uneven weight?”

“Very carefully,” Dreadnought Ryat replied, “Sir, I’m all loaded up and ready to go. Jsut give the word.”

“This should prove interesting,” Cobalt gasped as he looked the machine over.

“Okay! I’m ready!”

Misty stepped out of the shadows and showed off the new outfit. It seemed she had been taking full advantage of Sheldon’s demonstration of the new machine to get changed.

“How’s the fit?” Agent Keller asked.

“Snug!”

“Okay,” Keller turned to Cobalt, “Ready?”

“Just... Just one second...” he turned to Misty and took a hold of her shoulders, “Are you sure about this? Are you sure you’re ready for my world?”

“I’d follow you to the heart of Hell,” she replied, “And I have the fury to match whatever comes our way.”

Cobalt smiled, then kissed her. Sarah made a little “aw” sound.

“See, even from across dimensions, someone can find their soul mate,” she squeaked.

“Does that mean she was supposed to wind up with Kip?” Cedric intoned, “You know... If he hadn’t shown up?”

“No,” Kip replied calmly, “It wouldn’t have worked between us. I’d have pushed her away. I almost considered pushing those two apart, too, until I figured ‘Aaron’ can live his own life.”

The group made their way to the portal, pausing only at the top of the ramp to wave goodbye. The members of Grey’s Army waved back, much to the surprise of the Freedom Corps officers. The only person to say anything was Mindy.

“I’ll miss you,” she called to the girl who had been like a sister to her, “Goodbye.”

“We’ll see each other again,” Misty called back, “I’m sure of it!”

And they walked through the portal, disappearing into a blue orb that swallowed them whole. Agent Wild gave the portal five minutes, then ordered it to be shut down.

“Good luck,” Randall grunted as the rest of the group made for the exit, “And God speed.”

----

There was battle everywhere. Cobalt Black crawled up the ridge to see that a group of Praetorian soldiers, led by what appeared to be one of Marauder’s cronies, were attacking the fort. It looked like it must have been a training exercise that had stumbled into the base.

“What do we do?” Agent Keller asked, a slight note of fear touching her voice.

“Let me handle it,” Dreadnought Ryat offered, “I could use the practice.”

“Let me think...” Cobalt unslung his rifle and handed it to Keller, “You can handle one of these, right?”

“Of course!”

“Alright... Ryat’s right... We let him handle the situation, but we pelt that anti-tank and get him to bring his army to us!”

“Got it,” Keller started moving for the ridge.

“What do I do?” Misty pulled a thin rapier from the back of her belt and a rather hefty looking combat knife, “Just stand around and look pretty?”

“Sure, you can do that,” Dreadnought Ryat replied, “Won’t prove much, but at least you’ll look nice.”

“We’re mop-up,” Cobalt arched an eyebrow at the machine, “Once Keller gets back her from-“

The Agent fired and a loud boom erupted from the rifle. She hopped off the ridge and started bounding for the massive robot.

“Keller! We’re mop-up. Anyone and anything Dreadnought doesn’t get, we take down. You’re fire support, ‘kay?”

“Got it.”

“Alright...” Ryat chuckled, “Tremor sensors indicate they’re hopping mad for us... This ought to be good.”

The first heads appeared at the top of the ridge and the machine’s left arm popped open, revealing what appeared to be a large cannon mounted on top of a minigun. The rotating cylinders whirred to life and barked out a spray of bullets that cut down the first line. The next group wound up on the wrong end of the cannon, and the next group fell to minigun fire again. Cobalt Black would have been worried about the frightening efficiency of the machine, but Dreadnought Ryat had stopped laughing. This fight was serious business.

The boss showed up shortly after that. Cobalt recognized him, now. Pickaxe Pete... Similar to the man known as Scrapyard, Pickaxe was not a man known for standing up for the little guy. He was known for digging a quick grave for said little guy, often with the little guy spiked to one of his pneumatic pickaxes.

Cobalt Black had fought him once before, when Marauder got the idea of dropping captured meta-types onto suspected cells and letting them thrash the place. Apparently, Pickaxe had garnered a promotion from living weapon to Commanding Officer.

At least, that’s what the rank insignia looked like before a bright blue beam erupted from the top cannon on Dreadnought Ryat’s right arm and impacted on the anti-tank’s chest. Pickaxe Pete dropped to the ground, howling, his strength to wield his customized weaponry temporarily displaced. Dreadnought Ryat wasn’t about to let him regain that strength, though, and a gout of flame erupted from the bottom right cannon. Minigun fire accompanied it and a rocket to the face spelled the end for the raid leader. The corpse disappeared, just like the emergency teleportations in Paragon City.

At this point, the other members of the Maltese Resistance had regrouped, and had begun an offensive push into the suddenly disorganized Praetorian unit. When they reached Cobalt Black and his crew, they paused. A Gunslinger clad entirely in scarlet crested the ridge and regarded him.

“Oh my God,” the young man gasped, “Red Renegade 9-1-1.”

“Who?” Agent Keller asked breathily, “Who is he?”

“Nobody knows,” Cobalt replied, “But wherever he goes, Hell follows with him. He’s done some pretty nasty hits since I joined...”

“What’s your callsign?” the Gunslinger yelled down to them, “And shut down your robot!”

“Hey!” Dreadnought Ryat yelled back, “I ain’t getting shut down. Not by you, not by them, not by anybody!”

His arms clamped shut.

“But I will holster my weapons. I’m not here to fight you...”

“I’m Cobalt Black 3-8-9, Sir!”

“Cobalt Black... I read the report on you... Disappeared a few months back, right?”

“Fact finding mission, sir. We have much to discuss.”

“Indeed we do...” the red-dressed Gunslinger looked the machine up and down, “Indeed we do. Black Purple, please relieve them of their weapons and escort them to my office... Leave the machine in the garage.”

“That’ll be fine,” Dreadnought rumbled, “You wouldn’t happen to have any oil I could drink, would you? I have to stay properly lubed...”

A woman resembling a Knife of Artemis, only clad entirely in a dark purple uniform materialized between Agent Keller and Cobalt Black. The two handed over their weapons and Misty followed suit.

“Your command was worried about you,” Black Purple commented as they made their way to the base, “They feared the worst.”

“Well, we better let Cobra Gold know I’m okay, then.”

“I’m sorry, Agent... Cobra Gold is dead. He lost his life in a munitions raid.”

“Damn... What about Iron Falcon, or Desert Fortress?”

“They’re gone, too. Your cell has been known as something of a suicide squad...”

“Great...”

“Don’t worry... Red and I are here. We’ll show the world just what you’re made of!”

--Paragon Police Department HQ: Hero Division--

"Durnan!"

Joe's head snapped up from his desk. He must have dozed off while filing reports on his latest missions. It was too late to act like he'd been working, so he turned around to receive his reprimand.

Blue Steel was just showing up to his cubicle. He couldn't have seen Joe sleeping...

Had he been sleeping?

"Got your reports done?" the legendary hero asked calmly.

Joe looked back to his desk and saw they were, in fact, nearly finished. He hadn't been sleeping, just a little zoned out. Steel must have hollered for him from across the room. Why?

"I'm almost done, sir..." he replied, "What can I do for you, sir?"

Blue Steel looked about the room, then leaned close to the registered blaster. If Joe didn't know better, Blue Steel's posture almost seemed conspiratorial.

"You wouldn't happen to know anything about a certain gray and green dropship and the people who operate it, would you?"

"Um... Yes sir... Yes, I do know about them," Joe whispered back.

"Tell me about them."

They sat in Joe's cubicle and talked. Durnan didn't know what Steel was getting at, but eventually, they got to the point where the BWO intended to work as a ferry service...

"I can't say much about their intent to bring..." Steel paused, "Rogues... To the states..."

"They haven't done anything like that, yet," Joe replied, "And they intend to make sure the people they bring are truly seeking redemption."

"We'll see about that when it happens... I'm more interested in their more... Heroic... undertakings..."

"Ferrying to the Rogue Isles?"

Steel nodded.

"Why?"

"I can't say."

Joe's eyes darted left and right. Then he realized that it had to be something gravely important.

"Alright... I'll check with the guys to see if they're willing to help."

"They can't know why, either," Blue Steel stood to leave, "But if they help with this, they'll be well compensated."

"I'll make sure they know."

Joe dialed up his communicator as the legend left, and hoped he got Draven...

----
--Mid-Atlantic: BWO Base--

Daren answered the communicator buzzing in their common room. Rage and Draven were hashing out the last match, and though Rage was a decent fighter, Draven was obviously quite skilled himself. If Daren had been a betting man, he would have had a hard time deciding between the two.

Dustin, Mike, Matt and Levi were working on reinforcing some of the legs. Dale was reffing the match. Bioserj and Bull-Thistle were spectating. That left only Daren to answer the call from Joe.

"Yeah, I hate you, too," Daren replied to Durnan's curse with an amused sneer, "What can we do for you, man?"

He listened with a bit of amusement to his friend's proposal. It was intriguing, but it sounded dangerous.

"I don't know, man..." he muttered, "We'll probably only be able to provide transport, but not fire support."

"I think that's the idea," Joe replied, "I don't think my boss wants you guys to make a huge show of it."

"Alright, I'll run it by Rage and Draven. I don't know who's winning, but they should be done soon."

"You guys... That has got to be the dumbest way to choose your leader..."

"It's the oldest way, actually," Daren countered, "Going back to the days of cavemen clubbing each other and bashing each other's brains in with rocks for the right of ascension. Of course, we're not so much choosing our boss as we're choosing a judge."


"Whatever... Let me know by four, okay?"

"Right."

----

Ragin' James hefted Draven Erickson into the air and powerbombed him to the mat. There was a thunderous boom and the scrapper rolled away, coughing.

This was an odd match. No powers. Nothing that wasn't inherent, anyway. Draven stuck to acrobatic and "high-flying" maneuvers, oftentimes disorienting his opponent. Ragin' James had his own acrobatic skills, too, but stuck typically to a brawling and Greco-Roman blend. They both threw a few popular pro-wrestling moves into the mix for fun.

Draven wound up delivering a drop kick to Rage's face, and rolled up to a knee as his opponent hit the ropes and started coming back. Hopping up from his kneeling position, Draven delivered a whipping snap-kick to Rage's mid-section and caused the brute to crumple to the ground.

Draven wasted no time in trying for any theatrics. He hooked his friend's leg and Dale started counting. As the hand was falling for the third time, however, Rage shot his arm out and wrapped it around Draven's head. Rolling hard, he put his opponent into a pin, and tried to lock in place.

The scrapper kicked violently, breaking the hold and shot out from underneath his opponent. Rage backed up in a crouching position, and charged forward as Draven got back to his feet, tackling him into the mat.

His momentum was too great, though, and he wound up sliding under the ropes and onto the concrete of the platform under the ring. As he struggled back to his feet, Draven hopped over the top rope and crashed into him.

"Yay!" Bioserj mocked from a few feet away, "Draven is the death-defying-k!"

"That was SO fake!" Bull-Thistle chimed in, "I want my money back!"

"Nice to see you guys are feeling comfortable," Draven grunted as he struggled to pick himself up, "And that wasn't fake... I think I slipped my collar bone..."

Rage reached over and gripped Draven's shoulder, then whipped him around and tapped the other shoulder.

"What the Hell?" the scrapper shouted at him, then he saw the marring across James's face, "Jebus!"

"Nothing's broken," the brute grumbled, "Get back in that ring."

They crawled into the ring and went back to fighting. Solo started walking up just as Draven found himself getting thrown to the mat from a grapple. He took a position next to Bioserj and Bull-Thistle.

"Who's winning?"

"Fairly even," Bull-Thistle replied, "This is pretty damn crazy, man. You built a ring instead of setting up a decent kitchen or rooms. I'm amazed you guys expect to get much repeat business with a facility like this."

"Look man, the ring is just a means to an end right now. You hungry or something? That why you mention a kitchen?"

"Well... Yeah, kinda..."

"Drave!" Solo shouted up at him, "Hurry up and lose so I can talk to you guys about a job!"

"We got a job?" James turned, distracted.

His face registered a few unusual emotions. First, there was the surprise at getting the job. Then, there was a bit of confusion as he realized he did something wrong. Then, his face softened as he understood what that something wrong was. He'd fallen for such a cliché distraction, and now was paying the price for it. His face scrunched up in disgust (and pain) as Draven's boot caught him with the back heel. Dale pulled his cousin away when he saw blood spray out of Rage's lips, and the brute fell to the ground.

"James. James!" the Referee shouted in his face as he slapped him to keep him cognizant, "How many fingers am I holding up?"

"Two," the brute muttered, "Aw... My teeth..."

Dale looked him over. He gave his friend a quick check around the mouth, then asked if he felt like anything was missing. Rage licked his tongue throughout his mouth and shook his head.

"Just bloody... And a couple of the front ones feel a little numb."

"We better get you to a dentist. I'm calling Draven as the winner of this match."

"Fine... Fine."

----

"So, that settles it," Solo shrugged, "I take myself, Rage, Draven, Dale, and Slater... We make our pick-up, drop Rage at a hospital, head for the Isles, and come back by lunch. That sound cool?"

Matt and Levi nodded. There hadn't been much of a vote, but they needed money, and they needed a bit of fame. This job would probably do that for them, so everybody was in agreement that it had to be done.

Leaving Rage at a Paragon hospital was fine, seeing as how he didn't have a record. He just couldn't use his powers. The skulls on his chest and shoulder were another matter, but sometimes people just wore crazy junk...

In a few moments, they were loaded up and on their way. The day was waning, and the remaining group was tired.

"I could whip us up some steak," Psycho13 offered, "Or burgers..."

"Sounds good," Matt agreed as he headed for the common room and the videogames, "Come on, Serj, I'll show you how to dominate in Car Thief, Mafia Stories."

"Never heard of it," Serj replied.

In the commotion, they never noticed the sound of rapidly approaching Sky Skiffs headed their way...

Mad Matt McGinty

Biker Punk Outfit

Mad Matt McGinty definitely breaks the nrom when it comes to Heroic appearances. This crazy numebr is the outfit he wears when he really wants to put the hurt on his enemies.

It's not much in the way of armor, but Matt's never really needed it. The war paints he uses are still somewhat enchanted, much like Tsoo tattooing inks. They help grant him a boost to his reflexes, which he uses to avoid most incoming attacks. The chains and a few armor pads in the pants help cushion the attacks that do make it through, but not by much.

Kip dragged himself out of his room and glared into the living room of the apartment. There lay his brother, with what appeared to be another, human-sized lump lying on top of him. Kip lurched over and thumped Nester on the head.

"Ugh..." the defender grunted as he woke, "Oh! Hey, man... What's up?"

"Who's that under the covers with you?"

"Oh, it's Min. She said she has trouble sleeping alone..."

"She usually sticks close to her friend."

"Yeah," Nester gave a lopsided grin, "She said she wanted to let them have some time alone."

"Nester..."

"Yeah, Kip?"

"Are those your pants on my coffee table?"

There was a moment's silence.

"Well..." his older brother finally answered, "They're not NOT my pants..."

"Nester," Kip pressed his thumb and forefinger into the bridge of his nose, "I didn't sleep well last night... And now I have this horrible vision in my head... Tell me... Tell me you didn't do what I think you did last night... On my couch."

"I'm not gonna lie to you, Kip."

And Nester snuggled his nose into Mindy's hair. Needless to say, this didn't appease his younger brother, who slammed his fist into the armrest next to Nester's head.

"Don't you-"

"Relax," Nester chuckled back, "We just cuddled. It would have helped if there were somewhere else to sleep, but this couch is the only other place... That, or your bed, but she didn't want to bother ya..."

Kip nodded, then indicated the pants on the coffee table again.

"Oh, well, I'm still wearing my boxers..." Nester shrugged, "It's not like we're naked in here..."

----

Cedric found Matt in Lou's Body Shop. Lou was a favorite among Paragon's heroes... Poor guy always seemed to run into Clockwork trouble every couple of weeks or months, depending on whether the King was bored or not. The past couple weeks hadn't been very eventful, but apparently Synapse had recruited a band of heroes to hunt the guy down and that was keeping him busy.

So, Lou and Matt were free to work on a project together. It was a motorcycle, but completely unlike any on the streets today.

"You really expect this armor plating to help you?"

"Hey, Ced," Matt stood up from the engine and started wiping grease from his hands, "Lou, this is Cedric, my boss's son and my best friend."

"Hi there," Lou reached over and shook the tanker's hand, "Matt says you were a Marine during the War."

"Righto," Cedric said with a smile, "Got a burn scar on my lower back as proof."

"Cripes," Lou shook his head and looked Cedric up and down, "You're okay?"

"Well, yeah, for the most part. Sometimes I can remember what it felt like, the plasma burning a hole to my spine, but I try not to think about it. So, what kind street-illegal contraption are you guys trying to construct here?"

"We're trying to build a motorcycle that will help me run down bad guys."

"I can see that."

"But this one's gonna come with all sorts of crazy gadgets, like a net launcher, a grenade launcher..." Matt scratched the back of his head as he knelt back to the engine, "A mi-nr-gh..."

"A what?" Cedric arched an eyebrow at Matt, but Lou seemed to know exactly what he'd said.

"No, dammit! We're not putting a minigun on this thing! For one thing, to hold the ammunition, you'd need a sidecar, which you don't have..."

"I could use ammo boxes... It's supposed to be something I only use in emergencies anyway..."

"It's still impractical! You're already overloading this chassis... Too much more and you're gonna wind up just dragging on the asphalt..."

"I'd agree with the mechanic," Cedric concurred, "I mean, this is his job..."

"Look," Matt threw up his hands in exasperation, "I'm inspired, okay?"

"By a dumb movie," Cedric agreed, "You have any idea how much kick a minigun has? Those Cor Leonis Force troopers have gotta have some tough forearms to handle those weapons... And I don't even want to think about how they got 'em!"

Lou and Matt stared at him in a sort of shocked silence.

"Your wife and daughter are behind me, aren't they?" Cedric chuckled nervously.

"No," Lou intoned, "But I'd prefer if you keep from making such insinuations in the future. 'Kay?"

"'Kay."

"Well, in any case, I want a minigun, I'm throwing in a minigun!"

"Fine," Lou sighed as he knelt down to help work on the engine, "No skin off my nose if you become a red skid mark on the Skyway overpass..."

--

Sheldon walked about the Grey's Army base confusedly. He spotted Ryat66 and called to him.

"Yeah, Boss?" the android chirped happily.

"Sixty-six... The leftover gene-mod kibble... Did you ever do anything with it?"

"No, Boss," Ryat66's head kinked to one side, a sign of confusion, "Why do you ask?"

"Well... It's gone..."

"That's not good. Wait! Maybe Ryat99 did something with it!"

"No, I already asked him..."

Randy walked through the workshop. It looked like he'd just raided the fridge in the Control Room and was making his way to the main chamber of the base.

"Look," Sheldon hissed worriedly, "If that stuff gets out in public, we could wind up dealing with some severely crazy critters... I never simulated what the effects of that stuff would be on other creatures! If stray dogs or cats, or even rats got a hold of it..."

"The Lost will wind up with new pets..." Ryat66 sounded like that was a positive thing.

"To say the least," Sheldon puffed out his cheeks as he blew the air out of his lungs.

"Wallace!"

He jumped at the bellow. Randy sounded... Well, not mad, but definitely not happy.

"Get in here!" the tanker roared again.

Sheldon and Ryat66 approached cautiously, Randy kept his back to them. He stood before a green couch, a couch Cory Simmons had been trying to replicate the spells and enchantments as the ones on Roland Grey's. The results had been decent. The couch was actually quite comfortable, which was probably why Randy was about to sit on it to enjoy a good book along with his lunch.

However, he wasn't sitting on it. He was staring at it, or rather, something on it.

A tiny white furball was curled up in the center of the couch's cushion. Two smaller furballs jutted from one side of it, another one from the other side.

"What," Randy pointed down at it, "Is this?"

"I... I don't know," Sheldon stammered.

"It looks like a tiny white Felix..." Ryat66 offered.

The little white furball suddenly sprang up. It stood on four tiny legs, with equally tiny paws. Two itty-bitty back eyes popped open above a tiny snout (previously covered by one of the tiny paws) and it looked up at the gathered heroes with curiosity. Then it rolled over on its back and squeaked.

"If I find out it turned our couch into a toilet, I'm going to have fun chasing it down with a shotgun, Sheldon," Randy wheeled around on him, "You never cleared this little experiment with me!"

"I haven't cleared a lot of things with you," Sheldon replied, "Which... I realize... Isn't the best thing to say right now... But, uh.... This... thing, cute as it may be, isn't one of mine..."

"What do you mean?"

"The last of the gene altering kibble I used to make Felix into the little beast he is now? It's all gone..."

Randall turned to the little critter again. It was rolling around on its back, trying to find a position where it wasn't comfortable. It was unbearably adorable.

"Cute as it may be," he grumbled, "I don't think we can keep it."

"Her," Ryat66 blurted, "She's a teeny-tiny female Felix."

"How can you tell?" Sheldon arched an eyebrow at the android.

"Mammalian biology is startlingly similar across the board," the blaster replied, "There's not much difference, thematically, from one red-blooded creature to the next."

The two stared at him for a moment. Even the little critter seemed interested in what he said.

"Don't anthropomorphize this," Sheldon finally stated, "Look, we have to figure out where she came from, then we can be sure of whether or not there's more."

"Sir?"

"What?"

"When Ryat99 and myself were feeding Felix, it was during that tumultuous time when he lost his teeth..."

Sheldon stared at the android, then they turned to the tiny white critter. She smiled at them, displaying a full set of shiny, white, sharp teeth. Somehow, it was still cute.

"But how?" Sheldon asked, then he turned to Randy, "She couldn't have survived without food! The alteration speeds up their metabolism for that period of time! She couldn't have fed herself, not without teeth... The only way she could have survived would have been if... If..."

"Muh'hu'h!" they heard at the foot of the couch.

Felix crawled up the leg, then across the cushion to the little critter. She did, in fact, look like a tiny version of him, and white. She seemed to smile when she saw him, squeaked and gave his neck a hug.

"I don't think they're the same," Ryat66 mentioned, "She seems to be fully mature, just as Felix was when we altered him... She may have been a lab mouse... Which would explain the fur."

"KYAAAAAAAAAAAAA!"

They turned to see Sarah with her hands curled up under her chin. Her eyes were twinkling as she beheld the little animals cuddled together on the couch. In an instant, she was curled up next to them on the couch, cuddling them to her face.

"Aw! She's so soft!" she squeaked as the tiny "bear" snuggled into her cheek, "And Felix... You little stinker! Ni told me you had something up your sleeve!"

The cat walked in and stared up at the group. He looked as perplexed as he could.

"Oh, relax," Sarah squeaked at him, "I'm not gonna forget about you... I just need to love another cute and cuddly thing, yes I do! Yes I do!"

She was nuzzling her nose against the tiny bear's nose.

"I guess that settles it," Randy rumbled, "I guess the little thing stays."

"What do we call her?"

"How about Fluffy?" Ryat66 offered.

"No..." Sarah petted the little one on the head, eliciting a small purr of sorts, "She says her name is Katie, though she'll go by Cutie..."

"Katie Cutie," Randy chuckled, "Like a cartoon character."

"Makes sense," Sheldon smirked as he poked Felix in the belly, "This your way of telling me you're feeling lonely?"

The fat little bear let out a low moan. Finally, it sat back on its rear and pressed into the back cushion. Sarah gave him a small pat on the head.

Dammit," Randy grunted, "Now I gotta use the normal couch..."

I don't think I said anything about using just the in-game powers... I'm all about throwing in unusual things into an RP ((Cases-in-point: The BWO Dropship, the Malta Group Black Helicopter, the Sky Raiders Sky Ship, Mad Matt McGinty's Motorcycle (coming soon!))).

But I also agree with the idea of reconciling how the powers work here...

Cedric Grey, for instance, utilizes body armor to facilitate his "Indestructibleness-ness-ness-ness," but he doesn't wear body armor all the time (his first suit is cammy pants, a dark green PT T-shirt, and lots of chains). Fortunately, Invincibility comes with those hideous, gaudy auras. So, I jsut use my ubiquitous inventor, Sheldon Wallace, and whip up some defensive nanites that are the active protection in all of Cedric's different costumes. They also help to guide rounds to the armor when he wears it, because he NEVER WEARS A HELMET!

I figure if the material is there, then use it. If you don't have enough material, make some new stuff. You want your cyborg chick making heads 'splode? Then make some heads go splatter. Don't want heads going boom-boom? Then have her simply thunk a guy in the forehead with her index finger, properly demonstrating she can take them out effortlessly! Can't see it happen in-game, but who cares? It works out here!

I try to follow with Greg Keyes' take on action scenes... Be descriptive.

You want the blade to drop low, just above the opponent's hip, then arc through their midsection, slicing the navel in two?

Then write that.

Massive battle can be confusing, but you can stick with describing the motion of it (Column A pushing into the midst of Army B, while Siege Engines at C raining fire down on the Fortress at E). Most readers will assume the action for themselves.

Edit: A problem with writing massive battles in the City of Heroes: Considering how quickly a working team can tear through a small army of baddies, it's not terribly conducive to writing out descriptive action scenes...

Controller mezzes group...
Blaster nukes group...
Tank and Scrapper wade into center of group to mop up.
Defender keeps everybody healthy and happy, or the baddies sick and sad.

Wash, rinse, repeat.

It leaves a lot of action scenes in the realm of strategy. It can be hard to reconcile if your characters have been mostly used in a personal context.

In the other Zig thread, we had it that the guards provided the competitors with their powers, but the Arena itself is like a prison within a prison, so there isn't really a high chance of escape.

Once victory was achieved, taze, bag, tag, and put them all back in their cells, ready for inspection.

Of course, this could always be a "Special Circumstances" night.

They never got the chance to have that last fight... Daren suddenly announced he'd gotten a call from Joe, and they had a job. A big job.

"I'm takin' all you hero types," he grumbled, "Rage, Dirty... You'll be stayin' here with Serj..."

----

The next day, the hero element of the BWO assisted Grey's Army in raiding a Council base. Rage and Draven expressed concern about getting into a major offensive so early in their careers, but Solo pointed out the fact they'd already agreed to do this. Joe called, and they were accountable.

Besides, Grey's Army was good people.

In their absence, Ragin' James, Dirty Ice, and Bioserj played cards.

"Got any threes?" Serj asked glumly.

"No!" James shouted as he threw his cards on the table, "I don't have any [censored] threes! God! I hate this game!"

"It's not like we can play anything else..." Dirty responded as he tossed a card to Bioserj, "I'd love to get a good game of Euchre going..."

"Euchre?" Bioserj sounded surprised.

"Yeah, it's a fun card game..."

"I know it!" Bioserj interrupted with a smile on his face, "My uncle... He taught me..."

"How'd your uncle learn it?" James mused as he got a beer from their cooler, "Spy school or something?"

"Well... Dah..."

Dirty dropped his can of beer, and it lay on the concrete floor, hissing. Rage let out a single breath of laughter, then sat back down.

"He was learning to work for Soviet Intelligence," Serj explained, "And Euchre was a game they taught him so he could say he was from Wisconsin..."

The radioactive man chuckled.

"So... What happened?"

"Well, Soviet Russia was in decline... They didn't have the money to keep him in training-k... So... He wound up being-k a farmer instead. He liked the game, though. He taught my Da and me... Am I speaking-k right?"

"Actually, you're talking better than most Americans," James replied, "That's a Helluva story..."

"Too bad we don't have fourth player..."

A set of spikes sailed through the air, over their heads, and thunked into the wall behind Bioserj. He pointed in the direction they came from.

"That green guy a friend of yours?"

Ragin' James and Dirty Ice bolted to their feet. Rage's body crackled and the veins in his arms suddenly popped out. Dirty Ice was suddenly on fire, and he gripped his sledge hammer tightly.

A small, green man stalked toward them, bristling with thorns and... leaves? His face was... He was Bull Thistle!

"You're going down, villains!" he shouted before hurling another volley of thorns.

Rage deflected the missiles, but Matt and Bioserj were smashed into. Dirty Ice screamed hoarsely as the thorns started to burn out of the wounds on his arms, legs and torso. Bioserj grunted, flexed, and forced them out with his radioactive regeneration. James didn't wait for them to join the fight. He charged forward, red arcs of electricity radiating from his body, and he connected his fist with Bull Thistle's face.

The green man went sprawling out the doorway and across the platform. He was followed by Ragin' James, who howled angrily and proceeded to pummel the green man mercilessly. Bull Thistle thunked another set of spikes into James, the one aimed for his heart bouncing harmlessly off the Skull on his chest, the other two plunging into his belly.

Rage acted like he hadn't felt a thing. He delivered an overhead smash (erroneously referred to as a"Haymaker" by most superpowered circles, as a Haymaker was actually a wide-arc uppercut like the "Knockout Blow") that broke Bull Thistle's collar bones (yes, both of them).

He staggered away, leaving the man broken and crumpled on the ground. Yanking the spikes out of his belly, he collapsed as well. Bioserj arrived suddenly and started radiating his peculiar healing energy.

"This will help... I've done this many times."

As Rage’s wounds started to close, Dirty Ice approached Bull Thistle.

"What the Hell!?" he shouted as he hefted his sledgehammer and it started to get wrapped in rock, "You think that was funny or something!? You think we were jsut gonna let you [censored] us up!?"

"Ice, wait!" Bioserj tried to stop him, but it was too late.

The hammer went up, then came crashing back down. Bull Thistle howled in agony as his left forearm was crushed. For Ice's credit, the scrapper was planning to throw another volley of thorns at them. The broken tell-tale spikes littered the green man's demolished left arm.

"Yeah, you sonova-[censored]! What are you gonna do now!?"

Bull Thistle pushed himself up and threw another volley from his right arm. There was a repeating thunking sound and Dirty Ice fell to the ground, writhing in agony. His torso, arms and legs were covered with thorns. They were burning away and the wounds were closing, but it all still hurt like Hell.

Bull Thistle picked himself up. His collar bones had already fit themselves back into place, and were knitting audibly. It sounded like scratching... His arm was also repairing itself. The broken thorns fell harmlessly to the platform's surface, and the muscles started to "re-inflate."

"That hurt, [censored]," Bull Thistle grumbled, "I'm gonna enjoy this..."

Bioserj blasted him with a burst of radiation from his eye beams. Bull Thistle winced in pain and some of his skin withered visibly. The rogue stood and threw a few blasts of radiation beams into the scrapper before bolting away. Bull Thistle hurled another batch of thorns after the Russian, but missed, and didn't notice that Rage was delivering a powerful uppercut into his chin.

----

The BWO dropship arrived shortly after six in the evening. It sounded like they were already having a party.

"No time for losers... 'Cuz we are the Champions!" most of the males all sang off-key.

Charlene visibly shuddered as she exited the vehicle. She was followed by Roland Grey and Mider Caid, each grimacing bleakly. The rest of the group piled out afterward, several coolers being transported by Ryat99, Cedric Grey and King Slater, and Randall Grey was hauling a barbecue apparatus after them.

When they got to the main building, they found the four characters there, playing cards.

"That's the left bower," Rage explained to Bull Thistle without looking up, "The second most powerful trump... you just took this trick, Bull."

"Oh..." the fully regenerated Bull Thistle stared blankly at the table still, "I don't get it..."

----

"I had to change my registration to Bull-Thistle..." the green had pulled away from Thistle's face, revealing a perfectly ordinary-seeming human, "And I was instructed by my contact to come here and take out the villains I found..."

"Who was your contact?" Draven almost laughed, "Gordon Stacy?"

"Uh..." Bull Thistle scratched the back of his bald head, "Actually... I work for... The Committee..."

They stared at him for a few moments.

"No way," Solo muttered, "No [censored] way..."

"I thought they were the good guys!" Thistle held up his hands defensively, "Look, I didn't know these guys were with you..."

He pointed at Draven and Slater.

"I was given orders to collect a team and raid this base... If I'd gotten a team together, we probably would've wiped this place out... Rage wouldn’t have clobbered me to the ground, and explained things, and there probably would’ve been an ambush waiting for you... Rage and Ice here were explaining the situation to me... We played cards to pass the time..."

"Good thing you're antisocial, then, huh?" Solo chuckled.

Bull-Thistle chewed his lower lip and blinked.

“Look...” he sighed, “I’m really sorry. Tell me how I can make it up to you guys.”

"This may end up working out for us," Draven intoned as he addressed the rest of the group, "Bull... Did you have to report to a central building to see your contact?"

"Yeah..." he replied, "It's inside Skyway City... One of the southern ones..."

"I think we've got a raid to plan..." Draven smirked, "We've got some Committee to thrash!"

"Steak's done!" Randy hollered from the platform.

"After dinner!" Draven finished.

Shadowshock could hear the rumblings. The Arena. He wasn't welcome there. As a former Family thug, he was pretty much exempt. They pulled strings to keep it that way.

That wouldn't last much longer. Sooner or later, word would get around to hsi former bosses that the guards wanted to see him in action. They'd inform said guards that he wasn't udner their protection anymore.

"Too noisy," he muttered, "I'm too noisy out there... In here... Can't afford to be noisy..."

He heard the thunder of a cluster of booms. Various prisoners who weren't on the "List" grumbled about how they were missing the action.

Shadowshock had never been on the "List." You had to have been to the Arena to get on it. A few Family boys wound up on it anyway, but only so they could inform the bosses about teh bets they'd placed.

There was a loud thumping on the wall next to him.

"Hey, newbie..." he heard a muffled male voice rumble through to him, "Newbie? you hear me?"

"I'm not a newbie," he yelled back, "I've been here a long while."

"I figured they'd send a newbie into Ryuu's cell... Oh well. What's yer name?"

"Non'ya."

"Non'ya?"

"None ya God damn business!"

"Oh..." the voice seemed amused, "A funny man. Hotaka might like you. Me? I'm Power Breaker."

"Power Breaker... You're the guy who just kinda showed up, huh? No parade... No nothing."

"Maybe I'll tell ya the story... If I feel you should know, and if ya ask real nice..."

"Stories are like [censored]," Shadowshock replied as he rolled over, "Everybody's got one, and none of them are much good. I just want to get some sleep..."