NyteHawk

I'm sorry you didn't dig it. Thanks for giving it the time of day anyway.

well, that's not exactly the feedback I was hoping for.



D

Wow, not even a "Hey, Tragic Johnson, isn't that one of the characters Troy Hickman named in the 'I want to be a Hero' thread a while back?"

<heavy sigh>

Of Pain and Hate:
Part III

Rock Bottom


“What direction are they headed?” The Rogue Island Protector asked into the cell phone.

“Atlas Park,” came the answer. “They just crossed into the tunnel.”

The clash between himself and Evisceral Shadow hours ago had set the Protector on edge. He had hoped the psychotic woman would not attack the Onami Strike Force without him. He didn’t care much what happened to the Super Group that had caused him some grief in the past, but his feelings for the woman, Thauma Guard, who had once led the group, made him reluctant to do anything that might cause her harm.

Hoping Evisceral Shadow would not attack the Group had not overwhelmed the Protector’s common sense, and he had had one of his minions follow her. She had killed the fighter Stateside, a trivial fact in his mind, but had taken the body saying they had to deliver it. When his minion told him they had crossed into the tunnel into Atlas Park, he knew immediately where they were headed.

“Stay with them, but do not interfere. Evisceral Shadow and her followers are dangerous, and uncontrollable.”

“Understood,” came the reply before the connection was broken.

If the van was already entering Atlas Park there was little time to waste. The Onami Strike Force base, if it could be called that, was not far from City Hall, only a couple of miles from the tunnel under the war wall to Steel Canyon. The Protector’s brow furrowed. He didn’t have any way of contacting the base, nor could he or his people get from the Rogue Isles to Atlas Park in time, even cutting through the odd dimensional portals used by the enigmatic DJ that created and ran Pocket D. He cursed himself inwardly. News Flash had left his medical transporter, what the heroes referred to as a ‘mediporter’, in his apartment. The Protector had taken it in case he wanted to quickly get from the Rogue Isles to Paragon City. He hadn’t realized he might need it so soon, and thus had not been carrying it with him. He quickly dialed another number.

“You can contact members of the Onami Strike Force can you not?” He asked when his call was answered.

“I am with one of them now,” Occam’s Razor replied.

“Tell him his base is in danger. Evisceral Shadow is on her way that with a significant number of fighters.”

Occam’s Razor was silent for several moments.

“There is no time for you to contemplate this, drake.”

“What cause have I to trust you?” Razor replied. “When we last spoke you informed me that I was insane, that my claims of your heritage were ‘ludicrous’.”

“This is not about you and I.”

“Perhaps there is a reason you could give me, then.”

The Protector was silent, then said, “I think Thauma is there.”

“Help will be on its way,” Occam’s Razor said and hung up.


* * *


Occam’s Razor turned towards the tall black man next to him. Athletically built, a college star on his way to being an NBA player, Darryl Johnson had taken to the streets to revenge himself upon the Skulls for the debilitating injury they had caused him. Now he wore the Cresting Wave of the Onami Strike Force, having come to deeply believe in the group’s philosophy of honor and integrity, going by the name of Tragic Johnson.

“A dangerous villain is on her way to your base with a number of followers,” Occam’s Razor told Johnson.

“Who?” Johnson asked.

“Evisceral Shadow.”

“That woman has stalked us for years.”

“I believe so,” Razor answered.

“We have to get there,” Johnson said. “How long do we have?”

“Not long enough, I fear.”

The pair was in Founders Falls, where the memorial had been held. It would take quite a while to get to the base in Atlas Park. Johnson made a quick decision, and speed dialed a number on his cell.

“Hey, TJ, how are you?” Jon asked.

“Good. I don’t have time to talk, Jon. Tell me you’re close to Atlas Park.”

It was mid evening, Jon and the Nameless would most likely be out on patrol in King’s Row.

“I can be there in minutes, why?”

“I think my friends are in danger. A group of villains is heading for our office.”

“What’s the address?”

Johnson gave the address, thanked Jon, then began dialing more numbers. The cavalry would be on its way in force by the time he was through.


* * *



The guard at the reception desk lay behind his desk, his head canted at an odd angle on what had once been his neck. Jon realized immediately the guard was dead and moved past, quickly finding the door to the office space occupied by the Onami Strike Force ripped completely off of its hinges.

Inside the office was chaos. Kwang Ghe and Shadow Pain were wrapped up with shadow ninjas, fighting a horde of shades. The NyteHawk waded through the fray, his hands glowing a bright blue, the veins in his arm and chest pulsing with the same bright energy. His fist lashed out, a cerulean flash accompanying the impact, sending a black clad villain flying into the wall.

Thauma Guard was at the back of the building dodging around a small pale-skinned woman with a Mohawk, three blades extending from each of her gloved hands. A cloud of emptiness surrounded the woman, making her difficult to see and follow. What the two women were yelling at one another was impossible to make out over the din of battle.

The invaders were all dressed in black, silver chains around each shoulder crossed in an X at their chests. Jon immediately knew these were not just street thugs. One of them was throwing nauseatingly green blasts at the Onami members, another called and controlled the shadow ninjas. Each of these men was endowed with powers, counteracting the heroes. Coupled with what Jon thought was three-to-one odds, the heroes were fighting a losing battle.

Not for long, Jon thought.

Pulling the sleeves of his robe past his forearms, the black tattoo on each began to glow, radiating a black energy that surrounded the fighter.

The strikingly beautiful woman who had accompanied Jon moved up next to him, her fingernails extending into razor sharp six-inch claws from each finger.

“Let’s move in,” Solanum said.

The two members of the Nameless waded into the chaos. Shadow Pain noticed them first, seeing Nightbringer, shrouded in dark power, charging in. Her first thought was that more villains were arriving until she saw Solanum sail over Nightbringer’s head in a graceful forward flip, landing amidst the attackers with claws flashing out.

The battle raged back and forth, now balanced between invader and defender. Dark power flashed in both directions, answered and mingled with cerulean blasts from the NyteHawk. Steel rang, voices yelling. One of the invaders raised his arms, a whirlwind of force whipping up around him, a tornado of small bits of anything not tied down spread out. Kwang Ghe was caught up in the whirlwind and sent flying, the conference table splintered in a huge crash as dropped into it.

Fatigue would soon have become an issue had it not been for the arrival of Tragic Johnson and Occam’s Razor. With a bestial yell, Occam’s Razor launched his massive bulk into the chaos, the blades from his robotic arms similar to the glove-bound weapons of Evisceral Shadow.

Slowly the heroes turned the tide, taking command of the fight. The invaders began to swing around as a group, backing towards the exit when a guttural yell of anguish and rage literally shook the building.

The Rogue Island Protector stood in the doorway staring at the back of the room. Thauma Guard slowly slumped to the floor, her grip slipping from the throat of Evisceral Shadow, the villain covered in Thauma’s blood, more of which began to rapidly pool around the fallen hero.

Flames burst around the black and red clad Protector, his large form exploding through the group of invaders, scattering them like leaves. Gaining momentum he charged full force into the small woman who was crouched to meet the attack, blades held at the ready, a look of unadulterated hatred burning in her eyes.

Evisceral Shadow was unprepared for the strength born of pure rage the Protector exuded. The Protector crashed into the smaller woman, carrying her into, and through the building wall in an explosion of burning debris. The two landed on the sidewalk, entwined like serpents, the Protector’s fists raining down burning blows in response to the cuts and stabs he received from the smaller villain.

The invaders quickly regrouped and moved towards the ripped apart door, fighting a steady but controlled retreat. A black clad man, wreathed in flames as the Protector had been, stepped into the doorway, followed by two women, one in almost glowing white, the other a young brunette.

Celsius Bane, and his wife Skida Marink, leaders of the Onami Strike Force’s sister group the Archangels of the Apocalypse, along with one of their members Lady Emily, moved into the group, joining the fight. Both Emily and Skida moved quickly to the outside of the pressed group of villains crowding towards the exit, green and blue auras spreading from the women, enervating and healing the heroes. Celsius pressed the villains from behind, a nearly indestructible force, taking blows raining down on him and dealing out powerful counter-attacks.

The villains’ retreat became a full route, the invaders breaking and rushing through the exit. The Onami members, along with those who had arrived to help pursued them for several blocks before giving up the chase.


* * *

The Rogue Island Protector rolled from the ground, bleeding in many places, Evisceral Shadow’s blades having taken a toll. The assassin had slipped his grasp and faded from view. The darkness seemed to fold around the Protector, enveloping Evisceral Shadow as her cloak drank her in and she disappeared. Rage burned in the Protector’s mind, he searched frantically for the assassin, but Evisceral Shadow had slipped away.


* * *


Moving into the room Skida Marink first noticed Stateside’s body. “Oh my God!” she gasped rushing to his side. From the gaping wounds at his neck and empty look in his eyes it was clear he was dead.

“SKIDA!!!” Lady Emily’s shout grabbed her attention.

Emily was cradling Thauma Guard’s head in her lap, the tech healing devices she used pouring waves of healing force in almost a constant stream.

Skida Marink was shocked by the vision. Thauma’s belly had been ripped open, blood poured from the wounds, the suit she wore, muscles and organs underneath ripped viciously open.

“Oh, no, no, no, no, no,” Skida began muttering. “Please, God, not you too.”

Tears poured down Skida’s face as she rushed to Thauma’s side. Lady Emily, a skilled and experienced defender despite her young age, was pale and visibly shaking.

“She’s still alive,” Emily said through her own tears.

Skida wrapped her arms around Thauma’s chest, hugging the bleeding woman to her. “Please, Thauma, breathe.” Skida almost blazed a glowing green as her healing auras fanned out, muttering constant pleas for Thauma not to die.

“We have to mediport her,” Celsius Bane said as the heroes returned to the room and took in the situation.

Skida reached for the mediport transporter Thauma carried but was stopped by a sharp “No!” from the door.

In the doorway Dr. Patrick Ward, a surgeon and scientist, member of the Onami Strike Force known as the Legendary I Doctor because of the visor that replaced the eyes he’d lost during the Rikti War, took in the scene.

As had the rest, Dr. Ward realized immediately that Stateside was gone. Moving quickly to Thauma, he ripped away the remains of her suit, baring the six gaping rents in her abdomen.

He sighed heavily. “God, what a mess.”

Any sense of the hero, accompanying bravado and banter, disappeared, his persona becoming one-hundred percent the surgeon he was. He reached into his pocket and threw his cell phone to Celsius Bane without even looking.

“Atlas General is set for speed dial number six,” he said. “Call them and tell to have a crash team ready. Let them know she’ll be coming in bled out, they’ll have her blood type on record. Tell them to have Doctor Reyes standing by. Unless he’s working on someone else who’s near death get him there.”

Looking at Lady Emily he asked, “Do you know how to feel her pulse?”

Emily nodded.

“Is it there?” Emily felt Thauma’s neck, feeling around several times, then stopped, holding the first two fingers of her hand to Thauma’s neck.

“Barely,” Emily said.

“Ok, you monitor that. I need to know if it stops right away.”

Skida was still holding Thauma tightly, pleading with her to live.

“Skida,” Dr. Ward said. “Skida!”

She looked up.

“I need you with me now. She’s near death. I think we can save her, but I need both of your help. If you can’t focus she’s gone, and we don’t have any time.”

Skida sat up on her knees, working to control her breathing, stop her tears.

“Tell me what to do.”

Dr. Ward nodded. “Her injuries are too severe for the mediport devices to overcome. Hopefully by the time we have her ready they’ll have the team in place at the hospital. She’s lost most of her blood, will probably lose it all before we get her there. We need to stop the major bleeding points in her before they start pumping blood back into her or she’ll just bleed it right back out. I can do that, but only with both you and Emily helping.

“My implants can focus healing energy as well as electrical blasts. Problem is I can’t generate enough to do what has to be done here. Together with you two I can, but it absolutely must be localized. The aura can’t spread out over her, or it’ll be too weak at the points I need. What I need you two to do is pour every bit of healing energy into me that you can, and don’t stop, no matter what Thauma does or what you see. Her life depends on this. Can you do it?”

Skida nodded, as did Emily.

The heroes had gathered around the healers as they went to work. Skida’s eyes were closed, concentration more intense than any of the others had ever seen. She lay her hands on Dr. Ward’s shoulders, blazing green energy began to flow into the Doctor. Emily had one hand on Thauma’s neck, the other holding a healing device, adding her own power to the mix.

Dr. Ward held up his hand and closed his eyes. Brilliant electrical arcs played over his hands, a grunt of pain coming from the Dr. as he burned away any impurities on the skin, the quickest sterilization he could manage.

Opening the wounds in Thauma’s abdomen he could see the damage the blades had left behind. Several lacerations to her intestines were obvious, but the hospital could take care of those. Her liver had taken a great deal of damage. Gently laying his hands on the damaged tissue he focused the energy pouring through him into the damaged tissue, painstakingly, piece by piece, rebuilding the organ. He moved to her lungs, both of which had been punctured. The minutes stretched out as inch by inch he mended the massive damage.

The work, though only taking a small amount of time, was exhausting to all involved, both physically and mentally. An aura like she had never generated, poured from Skida in a constant stream.

Emily’s voice shakily said, “I think it stopped.”

Skida began mumbling “no, no, no,” again.

Dr. Ward took his hands from inside of her abdomen and told the others to let go of Thauma.

“You’re not dying on me right here,” he told Thauma.

Placing his hand directly over her heart he sent a jolt of electricity coursing through her. Thauma’s body jerked, then fell back. Emily checked and found the weak pulse again.

Minutes later Dr. Ward had done all that he could to find and mend the most major damage to Thauma, hoping what he had done would give enough time to the team at the hospital to finish the job.

“Ok,” he said. “Mediport us.”

Lady Emily activated the transporter, Dr. Ward activating his in conjunction, both heroes disappearing in a bright flash.

Skida Marink collapsed, her head buried in her hands, weeping, overcome by exhaustion and shock. Lady Emily wrapped her arms around her friend, both women covered in the blood of another of their friends, their combined anguish pouring out.

Celsius Bane put his arms around both women, whispering in their ears, offering his strength. The other heroes gathered closely around the healers, except Occam’s Razor, who noticed the Rogue Island Protector standing in the hole in the wall he had created.

“Does she live?” The Protector asked.

“Barely,” Razor responded. “Whether she will get through this is another question entirely.”

“The assassin escaped,” the Protector said. “But she will not stay hidden forever. When I find her, I will kill her.”

Looking into the visored face of the Protector, Occam’s Razor realized there was little he could say at the current time that would have any meaning.

After a time, when all involved had composed themselves, Celsius Bane went to Stateside, lifting the fallen fighter in his arms. Sadness played across his eyes. “This is the second time I will carry one of the Onami to City Hall for funeral arrangements. I hope with all of my heart that it is the last.”


* * *


Thauma Guard opened her eyes, the light nearly blinding her. Looking around she tried to recognize her surroundings. Confusion threatened to overwhelm her.

A brilliant blue sky hung over head, gentle clouds blowing lazily into the distance. Trees surrounded the park, several families sat with children, enjoying the weather, picnics spread out before them.

Several yards away two men stood staring directly at her. One was a nearly skeletal man wearing a tuxedo, a top hat canted slightly upon his head, leaning upon a black cane with a golden ball at the top. Even from this distance Thauma could see the man’s eyes were black, like a bottomless pit.

The other man was…

Her breath caught. Nearly unable to speak she moved forward on unsteady legs.

“Aaron?”

As she got closer, her confusion finally clicked upon what was different about him, throwing her off. His eyes were not glowing. The green glow that had filled them, a mixture of the energy and flame that burned within him in life, was now absent, instead they stared back at her a rich brown Thauma had only seen the day he had died.

She rushed forward, but was stopped by the cane intervening between them, keeping them just out of reach of one another.

“You are not supposed to be here yet,” Hades told her.

Thauma couldn’t think.

“But…what…then why?”

The fight with Evisceral Shadow came back to her in a rush. She had felt the life drain from her, felt her hands tighten around the assassin’s throat. All of the anguish she had felt in the years since Aaron’s death had come to her then, her will to live slipping with the lifeblood that spilled from her wounds.

“You can’t give up,” Aaron told her. “The world needs you.”

Tears filled Thauma’s eyes. “But I need you.”

Aaron’s face melted into a look of heartbreaking sympathy. “I am always with you.”

Thauma shook her head. “I don’t want to go back. I can’t do it anymore. There’s too much pain, too much loss.”

“All part of life,” The lord of the afterlife told her. “Even we gods cannot take that from you, for we feel it ourselves. But there is strength to be gained from it.”

Thauma was shaking her head. “Please don’t make me go back.”

“You must,” Hades said. “You cannot remain here. If you refuse to return to your life, you will be cast out of here for all eternity, for your body will die and your spirit will be trapped as one of the tortured souls that clings to the world as a ghost of what they were.”

“Numina?” Thauma asked.

Hades shook his head. “No, that one defies me, though that is through sheer strength. She is more powerful than most realize. Her body is gone, but her spirit remains as cohesive as if it were not. There will come a day when that will wain, then she will come to me as all others do.

“No, if you refuse your fate will be as those trapped in the places you call Dark Astoria and Croatoa. You will never have the chance to return.”

“Please, Thauma, you have to go back.”

Thauma looked into Aaron’s brown eyes. The desire to hold him was almost overwhelming.

“I am always with you,” Aaron repeated, letting her know it was alright for her to return.

Thauma nodded slowly, tears streaming down her face. She reached out towards Aaron, who reached for her in return.

“You will see one another soon enough,” Hades said.

Thauma’s fingertips almost touched Aarons as she faded from view, a cry of sadness filling the air, whether hers or his, she never knew.



* * *


Pain.

Her stomach was a fire of pain, the bright light hurt her eyes and head. She was restrained in a bed, kept from moving. A tube was snaked through her nose down her throat. A constant beep filled the air from the heart monitor.

Opening her eyes a crack, she found Skida sitting next to her bed, Celsius standing next to her. Dr. Ward was overlooking the couple watching her, Emily Pinay standing next to him.

Seeing Thauma’s eyes open Skida immediately burst into tears, standing from the chair and gently wrapping her arms around Thauma’s head. Emily came over and joined Skida at Thauma’s side, her own tears flowing. Even the stoic Celsius Bane, impenetrable tank of a man, seemed to be struggling with his emotions.

“We thought we’d lost you, too,” Skida said.

“How long?” Thauma asked, her voice rough, the tube in her throat making it difficult to speak.

“Five days,” Dr. Ward said.

“We didn’t think you were ever going to come back,” Emily said.

Thauma didn’t have the heart to tell them that she hadn’t wanted to. Instead she simply closed her eyes again briefly. When she opened them she noticed the large man standing at the back of the room, his face still covered in the visor that was part of his uniform. Occam’s Razor had discovered that the Rogue Island Protector was the result of an Arachnos experiment to rival Crey’s Paragon Protectors, using the DNA of fallen or kidnapped superheroes as donors for cloning. Arachnos had gone further, combining a multitude of DNA types in the Rogue Island Protector. Thauma was one of the very few Onami members who knew the tightly kept secret identity of the donor that gave the villain his ability to control fire. Another part of the DNA splicing was a similar strand to Occam’s Razor, making the Protector, in Razor’s mind, a fellow Drake, or half-dragon.

Thauma nodded to the Protector, motioning him to her.

“What are you doing here?”

“Aside from being concerned?” The Rogue Island Protector asked. “I was the one who warned your group of the attack. Unfortunately it was not in sufficient time. I arrived only in time to see the assassin injure you. She escaped my grip, but she will die by my hands.”

Thauma wanted to shake her head, say that enough people had died. Fighting the sadness that filled her, she also realized she understood how Evisceral Shadow felt, even if her reaction and anger were misplaced. Thauma had suffered a loss much as the stalker had, felt the same anger over it towards the Circle of Thorns that had stolen Aaron from her. Try as she might, she simply could not hate the small woman who had wounded her.



* * *


Even with the accelerated healing technology in the post-Rikti War world, it was weeks before Thauma Guard was released from the hospital. At first there had been an almost constant stream of visitors, and though she had tried to put on a happy face for them, it was apparent that her experience had affected her, that her will to live was all but gone.

“I was with him,” She whispered to Skida one night when the two were alone in her room. “I could almost touch him. It hurts so much right now that I can’t even describe it. Even more than before, all I want is to be with him.”

“He’s always with you,” Skida said.

“That’s what he told me. Twice. Hades said I would see him soon enough.”

Skida nodded, not knowing what to say.

Thauma sighed. “I just don’t know what to do. I don’t want to keep this up. I can’t keep fighting, losing my friends.”

“You don’t have to,” Skida said. She kissed Thauma on the head and turned off the lights in Thauma’s hospital room on the way out.


* * *


Shortly before her release Occam’s Razor came to Thauma Guard’s room.

“I haven’t thanked you for helping us,” she told Razor.

Occam’s Razor nodded, the concern in his face apparent even through the mane of hair that surrounded his face.

“I wish to help you further.”

Thauma sighed.

“There’s not much anyone can do for me.”

“You did not wish to come back to your life,” Razor said. “That is apparent, though you have tried to hide it. I do not know what occurred in your mind while you were gone, but I do know that while your body is almost healed, your soul is not.

“I must travel to speak to the family of Occam’s Bow. My ancestors, the Dragons, were not the creatures of fantasy that live in books today. They were powerful beings who could travel between worlds. Because I carry their blood I have this ability as well. Occam’s Bow came from a land you would perhaps call Faerie. I must pay my respects to her parents. I would ask that you accompany me.”

Thauma shook her head.

“I don’t think I’m up for much traveling.”

“The people I go to see will help you heal. The wounds to your heart are deep, but can be healed. Theirs is a place of peace, it will do you much good.”

Thauma looked at the ceiling, thinking. She shook her head slightly.

Occam’s Razor looked sadly at the injured heroine. Finally he added, “This will be difficult for the family of Occam’s Bow. I would appreciate the company.”


* * *


The wall had been repaired, only a faint outline of the damage done by the Rogue Island Protector was visible. Since the attack every member of the Onami had made their way through Kings Row, seeking out Nightbringer and Solanum, thanking the members of the Nameless for the assist, telling them that the group believed Thauma Guard would now be dead had they not arrived to help.

Shadow Pain, Skida Marink, Celsius Bane, Voltech, and Occam’s Razor sat at the recently replaced conference table. Thauma stood at the table’s head.

“I’ve said goodbye to everyone I could get in touch with,” Thauma said. “I don’t know how long we will be gone, or if I will even come back. If I do, I don’t think I can come back to fighting anymore.”

Only Voltech started to protest, saying that Thauma was an integral part of the Onami Strike Force.

Thauma shook her head. “I’ve lost too much. I can’t do it anymore. I know this city, the world, needs people to fight for it. We’ve made a lot of strides against the downturn since the War. My heart just can’t take it anymore. It hurts too much.

“Shadow Pain has kept the spirit of the Onami Strike Force alive. I know we don’t work as well without Aaron as we did, but the heart of the Onami still exists. Hold on to that, stand by one another. The group will live without me.”

There seemed much more to say, but the words seemed meaningless. Thauma went around the room hugging her friends, saying goodbye. Occam’s Razor stood and took her hand, the two walking towards the door to the office, fading from reality as they walked away.

“She never thanked anyone for saving her life,” Voltech said. His normal sarcastic nature was completely missing, the statement made in sad earnest.

“That’s because she’s not thankful we did,” Skida said. “It’s not that she’s not grateful for what we did. She knows we did it because we love her. She just doesn’t want to live anymore.”

Voltech nodded, his hands in his pockets, staring at the floor.

“So what do we do now?” he asked.

“We keep fighting,” Shadow Pain said. “There’s still a City out there that needs to be saved.”

Part II:
Best Served Cold


“That’s what makes you weak,” Evisceral Shadow snarled.

The minions gathered near the Rogue Island Protector moved back from the pair. Tension had been growing between them, threatening to explode at any moment.

“Is it weakness to maintain even the slightest shred of humanity?” the Protector asked. His helmet and visor kept his face hidden, but the curt tone of his voice betrayed the annoyance he felt. He had agreed to work with the small assassin, thinking she would be a useful tool, if she could be controlled. “Even I would not attack a funeral.”

“They will be gathered together there like they have not in years.”

“The Onami Strike Force has slipped,” the Protector agreed. “Since PhoenixHawk died they are no longer functioning optimally. If you maintain patience they will fall apart on their own. Then, as you wish, Paragon will be rid of them.”

Evisceral Shadow almost shook with rage. The small woman’s muscles clenched and flexed beneath her pale skin, the scars from the self-inflicted cuts crisscrossing her arms and legs. Her black hair cut in a mid-length Mohawk lay to one side. “I will not wait for them to simply disband! They took my life, and I will have theirs!”

“If you must be impatient, then at least be intelligent about it. Even if they do not move throughout Paragon as a unit, their members are still powerful. Grouped together it would take a larger number than we have to defeat them.”

“Then get more.”

“Your tirades grow tiresome,” the Protector said. “I will not sacrifice those who follow me for your cause. We have worked together in the past, but your lack of control threatens my organization. It is time for you and yours to leave.”

Black eyes beneath black makeup stared at the black and red clad Rogue Island Protector, hate and anger seething. Evisceral Shadow’s right fist clenched, the three blades housed in her gloves along her forearm snapped out.

Heat blossomed around the Rogue Island Protector, flames engulfing his hands.

“This is not a fight you will win,” he said.

The tension in the air crackled for a century in the moment that past between the two villains before the blades snapped back into their retracted sheath and Evisceral Shadow whipped around and stormed from the base. Ten men dressed in black with chains crossed at their chest followed their leader out.

Outside the sun was beginning to set. Night was her ally, but her augmented ability to remain unseen let her move untouched through Paragon’s streets at any time. Anger filled her mind, red clouds in her vision. She wanted to scream, to lash out at something, kill anything.

Breathing loudly through her nose, the blades snapped out again from her right hand. Drawing the blades up the outside of her leg from just above her boot to the bottom of her shorts, pain burned as the blood flowed out. She focused on that pain, sank into it, using it to keep the demons inside.

Augmented healing ability closed the wounds within seconds, leaving yet another trio of scars.

When her breathing had returned to almost normal, one of her lieutenants spoke up.

“Without them we do not number enough to strike.”

“Damn him!” Evisceral Shadow spat, looking at the door they had vacated. “We could have taken them all at once. Years I’ve waited for an opening like this, worked to try to create it. Now it’s fallen into my lap and it’s going to slip by.” A string of curses poured from her lips.

“If we cannot take them all, we can take some of them,” another of her followers offered.

The small woman considered the idea. The Onami base had been closed a couple of years ago, the group giving it up to lack of use. An office had been set up in Atlas Park by the Hero Corp for the Group, on the ground floor of a high-rise office building, much like the one Ron, her husband, had died in front of.

Thoughts of Ron threatened to bring the visions flooding back to her, but she forced them down. The damned heroes should have contained the Hellions with ease, should have protected the civilians forced to the streets, but they hadn’t. The Hellions had attacked the people in the street to distract the heroes. Someone, one of the Hellions or a Hero, had thrown a fireball that had washed over the civilians, killing Ron in front of her eyes. The Cresting Wave, worn by the heroes she would come to find was the symbol of the Onami Strike Force, had burned itself into her mind just as deeply as Ron’s death scream.

“Fine. They will break up after the funeral, as they always do. They cannot stomach one another’s presence any more than I can . Undoubtedly some will return to their office. We will strike them there.”

***

Stateside patrolled the streets of Steel Canyon. The red, white, and blue clad hero bore the Cresting Wave on his chest, having left the gathering of Onami members. They refused to call it a funeral. Many of the Onami assumed News Flash to be dead, but Remedy Hart, a blue skinned woman who was an incredibly strong telepath and empath that almost never spoke aloud, instead favoring mental communication, said she felt as though he were still alive.

The tension at the gathering had been palatable, even more than usual. Stateside felt some of it, but wondered at how long it could last. He had not been as close to PhoenixHawk as had many of the others, but considered his former leader a friend as well. The group simply did not mesh as well without him as it had before his death. Thauma Guard, PhoenixHawk’s lover had taken leadership for a time, but the pressure and constant reminder of her loss drove her from the position.

Shadow Pain, whom everyone called PhoenixHawk’s sister stepped up to the position. She admitted to all that she was not well suited to lead, and handled as much of the task as she was suited to, but left the majority of the members to remain in contact and seek out assignments.

Thauma had taken some time away from the group to help another member, Ginger Blaze, a red haired fire controller who had joined the Onami shortly after formation, prepare for her child’s birth. The baby had come just a few months ago, a beautiful baby girl who bore her mother’s flame red hair.

Thauma refused to come back to the group, only taking occasional missions. There seemed little hope of the group rallying around her anytime soon now. She had mentored News Flash years ago, and now his disappearance added to the weight of PhoenixHawk’s death.

Several of the Onami had gone back to the Group’s office but Stateside had refused, wishing to bury himself in his work. During the day he worked for the Department of Homeland Security, at night as a member of the Onami. With no family to which to return home, his greatest pleasure came from his service to his country and city.

Vapor lamps began to flicker to life as the night descended. The fighter moved throughout Steel Canyon keeping his eye out for signs of trouble. Occasionally Dr. Vazhilok’s minions would crawl from the sewers in this part of the city, seeking new bodies to dissect and experiment upon. The members of the street gang The Outcasts, to which outlaw mutants seemed to flock, claimed most of Steel Canyon as their territory. The neo-nazi Council could be found here recruiting as well. It wouldn’t be hard for Stateside to seek out problem spots associated with any of the criminals in the area.

***

The funeral had broken up, the members moving off in different directions in small groups. Evisceral Shadow watched from her cloak of darkness, measuring each group’s potential. When a red, white, and blue clad member moved off on his own, she followed close behind. Her minions fell into the shadows, staying far enough back to remain undetected.

The small woman knew every member of the Onami Strike Force on sight. This would be Stateside, a fighter of nominal ability. He had not been a part of the group the day they had let Ron die. No matter. He would be a perfect target.

Evisceral Shadow moved past the hero, close enough for him to feel. He still could not see her, but stopped his patrol, looking around, knowing something was near. The close proximity was a risk, but at night she knew he would never see her until she struck.

Seeing the Cresting Wave upon his chest from this close up brought forth waves of rage. Her vision went red as adrenaline flooded her system. She focused that rage and power, feeling the tension build like bowstring pulled taught. The hero was looking around cautiously, his hands flexing for a fight.

When her augmented strength and hardened muscles peaked she struck. Her blades coming out with a snap as her hand whipped forward faster than a cobra strike, a punch that impacted the soft flesh of the heroes throat.

Stateside’s eyes grew wide as his body tensed, three titanium blades driven all the way through his neck. A gout of blood flowed from his mouth and neck, and for just an instant, Evisceral Shadow knew he had looked into the face of his killer.

She drew her hand back as fast as it had struck, a spray of blood covering her face. The hero was dead before his body hit the ground.

“Mediport out of that,” Evisceral Shadow said.

Licking the heroes blood from her lips, she ordered her minions to gather the body and bring it with them. They had a black van hidden in an alley nearby. After wrapping the hero’s body in plastic they climbed into the back of the van.

“Head to Atlas Park,” Evisceral Shadow told the driver. “We have a package to deliver.”

***
Thauma Guard sat at the conference table leaning back in one of the swivel chairs. Her ebony skin was covered by a black two piece suit, her orange hair neatly done for the memorial. She fought back the tears that threatened to come again. Brian Sutter had come to her as a fledgling magic user. She had helped him become News Flash. He had blamed himself for Aaron, PhoenixHawk’s death. It hadn’t been his fault, but he refused to hear it, feeling as though he only pretended to be a hero, but was in fact too scared to act.

Thauma sighed. So much loss, when would it end? She knew they fought their constant battles, risking their lives every time. Heroes perished in Paragon City, it was an unfortunate risk of the job, but the Onami was a tightly bound unit. Aaron had formed the group based upon his beliefs in honor and family, making sure that every member shared those beliefs. It was a strength the group lived by, but was also an Achilles heel, she now realized. The loss of a family member was always devastating, and the Onami was a family. Now they had suffered another loss. She was unsure if she could continue with this life.

Thauma’s brother Rosh, known as the NyteHawk, sat across the table from his sister. He crossed his muscular arms across his chest, his veins glowing with the blue energy that he wielded. Kwang Ghe, the scientifically augmented martial artist sat two chairs down. Shadow Pain sat across from the other fighter, her three eyes gazing at the ceiling.

Every member of the group seemed lost in their own thoughts. Finally Rosh broke the silence.

“He almost drank himself to death.”

“He was hurting,” Thauma said.

“We all were,” Shadow Pain said. “Are. I don’t know. He took too much blame for Aaron’s death, but in the end he did what he had to. That’s what we have to remember about him.”

“Agreed,” Kwang Ghe said.

The office in which they sat was a simple square, set with the bare minimum the group could need. The conference table sat in the far corner from the door. The opposite corner held a computer, desk, couch and television.

The group sat in silence that was shattered by the front door exploding in as a body flew through it. The Onami members were on their feet instantly, Shadow Pain’s katana in her hand.

Stateside lay crumpled in the middle of the floor where he had landed, covered in blood. His throat was almost torn out, his eyes stared sightlessly ahead.

“Oh my God!” Thauma exclaimed, rushing to the fallen hero’s side. She was cut off as ten black clad men rushed into the base. Thauma’s third eye opened, drawing deeply upon the power of an ethereal plane that it looked into. She cast her arms forward, snaring three of the invaders in howling vaporous tentacles that reached through the floor.

Kwang Ghe rushed into the trapped villains, his feet and hands flashing out with lightning speed. Shadow Pain charged the others, but had to divert her course as the NyteHawk threw and explosive blast of cerulean energy into them, knocking several in different directions.

Shadow Pain suddenly veered from her course, instinctively dodging the swipe of blades as a small woman covered in black materialized out of nowhere, six steel blades protruding from her hands. The blades rang out against her katana as the two combatants clashed.

Thauma gathered a ball of green energy she normally used to shield her teammates and flung it at the clawed woman, sending her reeling. Shadow Pain would have followed but four of the other invaders fell upon her.

“You crazy [censored]!” Thauma yelled, rushing the smaller woman.
Evisceral Shadow faded but could still be seen as she flashed past Thauma, her blades leaving three deep cuts through the Onami member’s suit, droplets of blood flowing out.

The NyteHawk was lashing out at the mass of invaders as Shadow Pain and Kwang Ghe fought to suppress them. The Onami members had their hands full, sheer numbers adding to the weight of the invaders. These were no ordinary street thugs like the Skulls or even Tsoo, each of these was trained and deadly. One of the men spread his arms, four shades appeared surrounding him, shadow ninjas that fell upon the Onami members with blows as real as if they had come from a living person. Another of the invaders blasted Shadow Pain with a stream of green radiant energy, slowing the small woman slightly, her lightning fast reflexes barely keeping her from being subdued.

Kwang Ghe, Shadow Pain, and the NyteHawk tied up the black clad men, leaving Thauma to deal with the woman.

“You destroyed my life!” Evisceral Shadow snarled back at Thauma Guard. She rushed in, her blades flashing out in lightning quick swipes. Thauma had surrounded herself in a glowing green shield that slowed the blades, making them easier to dodge, but hand-to-hand combat was not her specialty. She was left with a multitude of cuts.

“What the hell are you talking about?” Thauma snarled in return.

The smaller woman lashed back with her blades. “Six years ago, when the Hellions burned Steel Canyon. You killed my husband!”

Thauma dodged and threw a blast of dark energy at the smaller woman. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. We didn’t kill anyone that day.”

“You were supposed to protect us!” the smaller woman seemed to be growing more enraged. Thauma felt if she could dodge long enough the others would get to her, and this psycho woman would become so angry she’d make a mistake.

“The Hellions attacked the crowds. We stopped them a soon as we could.”

“Not soon enough!” The smaller woman rushed Thauma Guard, blades flashing out yet again. Thauma dodged and spun around her, trying to catch her in the tentacles she’d called upon earlier. Evisceral Shadow dodged the howling horrors easily and moved in on Thauma Guard, swiping within arms reach.

“You have no idea what it’s like to lose everything!” she snarled.

Thauma Guard was rocked by those words and shot
forward faster than anyone had ever seen her move before. She caught the smaller woman with both hands around her throat, lifting her from the floor and slamming her into the wall behind her. Almost out of control she slammed the woman into the wall again and again until a searing white pain exploded in her abdomen. Another blaze of white hot agony shot from her other side, below her ribs the six steel blade buried themselves completely in her.

Shaking with agony and rage, Thauma refused to let go. Staring into Evisceral Shadow’s dark eyes she coughed a spray of blood.

“Yes….I….do!” Thauma snarled. The pain in her belly blinded her in a searing white blaze as the blades were pulled up through her insides, mangling her.

She knew she was dying, barely able to see through the blazing white agony that consumed her. A last thought ran through her mind: if I’m going to go, I’m taking you with me!
Blood poured from her savage wounds, flowing into a growing pool at her feet. The world spun, a haze of pain and fury. Darkness closed in around her, the world faded to black.

Thauma Guard was gone.

This is the last story that I've written of my SG. It may be the last I write period, so I thought I'd post it here.



Of Pain and Hate.

D. Heikes



The city spread out before her, twenty stories below, looking like an ant farm. Cars streamed by on the streets of Steel Canyon, the sun glinting off the bright paint and glass. People scurried around their pathetic lives turning their blind eyes to all that occurred around them, maybe even hoping and dreaming of getting a glance of one of Paragon’s famous heroes.

She felt bile rise in the back of her throat. These people turned her stomach.

Her vision began to fog, an angry red cloud filled with voices and visions and hate. She bit down on her lower lip, trying to focus the anger, keep from slipping completely into her delirium. She hated that, too. She had to control it, because she knew what lurked there. The visions were the worst when she lost herself, seeing Ron, her husband, burned to death over and over.

Her hands were encased in gloves made especially for her, cestus of sorts, with three razor sharp retractable alloy blades housed along the backs of her forearms. She drew one of the blades over the scarred tissue of her upper left arm, biting harder on her lip at the pain, tears welling in her eyes as she fought against her inner demons.

Looking from the street, or even only a few feet away on the ledge of the building, nobody would have seen Evisceral Shadow, the scientifically created shroud of nothingness she kept around herself making her nearly invisible. The only noticeable part of her presence were the spattering drops of blood flowing from the cuts she dug in her arm.

Helicopters circled overhead, their rotors beating a heavy staccato on the air. Flames billowed from high rise office buildings, apartment complexes, convenience stores, and homes. The members of the gang known as the Hellions had tried to light Paragon City on fire one summer day, rampaging through the city setting bombs and fires everywhere they could. Citizens crowded the streets, fleeing the flames and murderous gang members.

In places the police had set up barricades around buildings and were in desperate firefights with the Hellions, bullets and grenades flying in both directions. Without apparent purpose the Hellions would fire sprays of gunfire into the surrounding crowds of pedestrians as well as at the police as though all they wanted to do was kill.

The capes came out of the woodwork. The skies filled with a choking black smoke, cut by the currents of a passing hero, rocketing through the skies to the hotspots of trouble, trying in every part of Paragon City to suppress the Hellions.

Cassandra and Ron fought through the pressing crowd, trying to make it to the parking garage where they left their car everyday for work. The twenty story office building that held the brokerage firm that employed the couple had been attacked by the Hellions, the few employees who had arrived before the trouble began fled the building as the gang members streamed in through the front. It was only through the loading dock at the back of the building that Cassandra, Ron, and a few others had escaped being gunned down the same as several of the buildings tenants.

The crowd around the building was thick, many people pressing in to actually try to see what was going on, to give in to that human condition that made people stare at car accidents. Pressing through the sea of bodies Cassandra looked back to see Ron staring up at the building.

A hail of bullets sprayed from a middle floor. Citizens screamed and ducked and tried to run but there was no room. A grenade bounced under a police car and detonated, sending the officers hiding behind it flying.

“Thauma Guard!” a voice shouted.

A tall ebony skinned woman landed near the police line and began weaving force fields around the fallen officers.

“That’s Skida Marink!” Came another cry.

A smaller woman dressed in white landed next to the first, a green aura spreading over the police, healing minor wounds.

Above the streets two other heroes hovered, blasting the gang members in the building with blue bursts of energy and orange flame. Arcs of power danced around the energy blaster, shrouded in tightly fitting green and black armor. The other wore red and black, was red skinned with white hair.

Several of the heroes gathered wore the same emblem on their chests; a circle containing a cresting wave.

“Holy crap this is intense,” Ron said, stopping to watch, pressing closer towards the police barricades.

“What the hell are you doing?” Cassandra asked. “We have to get out of here. You’re going to get killed.”

“The heroes have it under control,” Ron said. “I want to see this.”

A mass of Hellions rushed from the front of the office, firing weapons at the heroes hovering above. Some of the gang members turned on the crowd, mowing down civilians in an attempt to divide the heroes’ attention.

Energy and flames struck into the mass of gang members. Fireballs flew back from the Hellions as they retaliated in kind.

The world around Cassandra exploded in chaos. Bullets flew in all directions. Explosions detonated all around. Fireballs and flame. Energy blasts. People panicked. Cassandra was hit by a concussion wave, sent her flying like a rag doll, hitting the ground hard. Pain exploded in her right arm.

Regaining her feet she looked frantically around for Ron, found him and a few others struggling to their feet. The explosion that had sent Cassandra flying backwards had knocked Ron and those near him forwards, within yards of the embattled Hellions.

One of the gang members began shooting the group around Ron. A Hero rushed into the group from nowhere, a katana in the small woman’s hand.

The gang lashed back with fire and bullets. More blue blasts of energy, orange flame, bullets. A fireball exploded around the hero, barely touching her but spreading out, engulfing those near.

Ron’s scream filled her head as the flames washed over him and the woman standing next to him. For only a brief instant she saw him writhe in the flames before he collapsed and broke apart, a statue of burnt ash.

The blade bit deeper, the scars around the fresh cuts a course for the rivulets of blood flowing from her arm. Quickly the cuts healed to scars, but the pain remained.

Sweat poured over her knotted brow, breathing in heavy gasps, Evisceral Shadow watched over the city, a feral creature filled with hate and anguish.

In the aftermath of Ron’s death, she had sought out one of the Arachnos scientists, seduced him, convinced him to augment her, create her gloves. Her healing recovery had been accelerated ten-fold, her strength a magnitude beyond that. She could slip through the city unseen by any unless she chose to strike, and when she did it was lethal.

The scientist who had created her had been the first to die upon her blades, killed for having been so easily manipulated.

She had come to hate everything. The world was a mass of anger. She was disgusted by it, by all of its inhabitants. She gathered those she could manipulate into following her, her minions growing. Eventually she would kill them, too, pathetic weak minded fools. But not before they helped her rid Paragon of those she hated the most.

Those who bore the symbol of the cresting wave: The Onami Strike Force.

PhoenixHawk: Arena, by VNV Nation
Kwang Ghe: Hellraiser by Suicide Commando
Nova 1:Control by Tracy Lords/Juno Reactor
NyteHawk: Dark Angel by VNV Nation
Brain Fried: Trip Like I Do by Crystal Method
Sir Kit: The Blade by Front Line Assembly

Just some stuff that goes through my head as incidental music while playing these characters. Some relate to the character, others just seem to fit for the action.

I promise you are not alone in this madness. It's one of the reasons I am so resolute in my belief that this universe can be explored and expanded well beyond in-game.

Look at BattleTech. What was once a pen and paper game, grew into a very successful series of books and video games. CoH has much to offer those who enjoy the genre even if they aren't gamers. I only hope the powers that be realize this and open their doors for us.

As for others who join in your "madness", I've had a couple of chats/emails with Mercedes Lackey, and she shares in it. Obviously from her story published in an isse of the comic, as well as the stuff on her SG's website. Another author who's stuff has been in the comic, Steve Libbey, heads up that SG and has written more and expressed interest in creating a full prose project.

When you get your stuff done, if you want it posted, send it to the editor at www.cohwritersguild.com and he'll put it up. There's some fun stuff there...most of Voyager's stories are there, along with several of mine, Joe's and Mike's. The site is growing and getting constant hits from fans. There's a review board set up as well for discussion about the stories, which has turned into a bit of a writers group for the regulars (but this has been down a little over a week for server maint.).

Please let me know what you think of the stories as well. We'd love some feedback.

D

The 1500 word limit is tough. When I sent in the story that got put in Issue #6 of the comic, I had to focus on the fact that the readers would be familiar with the setting, because you really can't build a big backstory or flush anything out in 1.5 pages.

http://www.onamistrikeforce.com/origins_title.html

Is the link to the Origins of 3 characters: PhoenixHawk (mine), Tropic (Joe Koelbll's), and Solanum (Mike Valcarcel's). We've all sent in parts of it over time, but even the separate chapters are simply too long to be used in the comic. Put together they are a full length book, made up of 3 novellas. 85,000 words. 245 pages. Please check it out, but expect more than a short story to download

Arctic, maybe you could use some of the plethora of submissions you are getting on the fan fiction webpage? Even those that are too long could get used...or maybe have links added to the page to stories that are posted on other sites that fit in with the current theme?

There's a lot of good fan fic out there built on this universe. I have sincere hopes that the prose project will grow beyond the current 3 book contract with CDS Books. Someday I hope there will be openings for submissions for books rather than just going through contracted, specific authors.

D

http://www.onamistrikeforce.com/origins_title.html

This is a project that myself and 2 other authors have put together detailing the origins of our characters, some of which have appeared in the fan pages of the CoH comic. It's a full length novel made up of 3 novellas.

Any and all feedback is welcome.

D

SG Name:The Onami Strike Force
SG Leaders:PhoenixHawk
SG Website (if any):www.onamistrikeforce.com
SG Recruiters:Thauma Guard, Shadow Pain, Ginger Blaze, Remedy Hart, Kwang Ghe, Shikata Gonai
Teamspeak/Ventrillo Server:huh?
SG Peak Hours:evenings, several players on east coast and west coasts
Other Info: We are a group of friends who gather and play for fun, and the chance to interact with one another. We do not actively seek new members, but if you play with us a couple of times, and everyone has fun, we will most certainly invite you to the group. The group characters are often the subjects of fan fiction written by PhoenixHawk, who is much more accomplished at writing than website design.

If you've written something that you want to share, I would suggest sending it to tropic, the editor/webmaster of www.cohwritersguild.com He posts everything he gets, and a lot of the posters and readers comment and critic the work in the associated forums.

And, you maintain all control and rights to what you post. Everything posted there is simply cut and pasted with no claim put on any of our work.

Just a thought.

NyteHawk

Tales of the Onami:
Search for Evangelica

D. Heikes

Ginger Blaze leapt high up on the metal fire escape, trying hard not to rattle the old metal railings too loudly. She was five floors up, and had a good view around the corner of the old red brick apartment building. Down the alley between the building she was on, and another just like it, a deep crevice in the ground began and grew off into the distance. The fire escape she was on creaked under her slight weight, and dust fell from around huge bolts that held it to the crumbling building.

Further in the distance, Ginger could see where the ground had turned, and twisted. The upheaval that had created the Faults in the ground had torn this section of Paragon City to pieces. Huge chunks of earth sat at odd angles, tipping everything on them over. Many of the taller buildings simply could not stand up to the initial, horrific disturbances and had collapsed in on themselves. Most that had survived the initial quaking still could not hold up to the odd leverage caused by a tall and top heavy structure leaning at severe angles, and thus they snapped like twigs, their upper parts raining debris into the Faults or onto the streets below.

Rescue parties had moved in and tried to save as many of the citizens as they could, many of Paragon City’s Heroes had joined in the relief efforts. Unlike most areas of the city, however, no attempt would be made to revitalize the area now called Faultline. The damage was simply too severe. There was no known way to right the Earth itself after it had been fractured to this extent.

It hadn’t taken long for the gangs that were moving on Paragon city to take up residence in Faultline. The Clockwork King’s minions had proliferated in the area, having found huge, unclaimed and unprotected metal sources in the debris from buildings, the twisted relics that had once been automobiles. The Circle of Thorns had found lines of dark power that ran through the Faults, and those areas they claimed as their own.

It was the Circle that Ginger Blaze had been sent to seek out. Kidnapped victims would be brought into Faultline through underground passages, their blood and souls used to summon Spectral warriors for the Circle’s dark plots. From her perch on the fire escape Ginger could see into the fault, without, she hoped, giving away herself and her teammates. A hundred yards into the fault was a known line of dark power, plotted and recorded by the Magi. Along this unseen line a cloud boiled out of the Fault, boiling with a sickening green glow. Even from her distance, Ginger could feel the pulsing energies being released, but worse, she could hear the screams of a woman rolling out in the cloud. The Circle of Thorn mystics surrounded their ethereal fire, chanting and channeling energy into the inferno. The woman hung suspended in the air, writhing in apparent agony.

Ginger leapt back to the ground, landing amongst the other junior members of the Onami Strike Force. Khazm moved next to her. The Scrapper was slight for the job he did, lean an muscular in his dark costume, his face hidden by a shroud. Behind him was Kwang Ghe, a scientifically engineered Martial Artist with jet black skin and glowing blue eyes. Stars were emblazoned upon his shoulders. A slight woman called Remedy Hart, and Empathic healer with psionic abilities completed the team.

“There are eight of them,” Ginger told the team.

“They are fairly far into the ritual,” came Remedy’s voice in her teammates’ heads. She rarely spoke aloud, but telepathically she could be heard nearly across Paragon City when she wanted to be. “I am not sure we can save this woman.”

“We must try,” Kwang Ghe said. Khazm nodded in agreement.

Ginger and Remedy both agreed as well.

Moving to the lip of the Fault, the heroes gathered. Fifty yards ahead of them the green fire burned, pulsing, sending out shockwaves of dark energy. Khazm could feel the power being used, it tapped into the dark nether where he drew his own strength. Above the fire the woman spun slowly, two Soul Mages working to wrest her soul from her flesh, a Death Mage presiding over them, ready to channel the soul’s energy when released. Nine Thorn Wielders formed the rest of the dark ceremony in a circle around the fire. Some knelt and bowed, adding their own strength to the ritual, others stood, arms waving slowly back and forth over their heads, in time with the pulsating energy.

Kwang Ghe flexed, the rest of his group able to see him about to burst forward at Superspeed. As his body exploded forward in a blur too fast to see, Khazm leapt hard and landed behind one of the Soul Mages, blasting him forward with a full body attack. Kwang Ghe didn’t even slow down before he hit the other Soul Mage, launching a flying kick at Superspeed, the Mage went flying backwards, slamming into the side of the Fault, and dropping over the edge, deeper into the chasm.

The Death Mage reacted first to Khazm, channeling the pulsing energy around him at the hero, knocking him off his feet. The Soul Mage staggered away from the hero, and recovered enough to raise his wand and blast the hero with a beam of sickeningly green energy.

The energy enveloped Khazm, piercing him. Agony burst through his body, his eyes rolled back in his head, his back arched in pain. Remedy Hart suddenly was behind him, her presence soothing, her voice filling his head with quiet calm. A healing aura, the green of fresh leaves spread from her over Khazm. His muscles relaxed, the pain eased, his mind cleared just as the majority of the Thorn Wielders rushed him and the two women.

A Thorn Wielder grabbed Kwang Ghe from behind, raising the Thorn shaped blade that gave the villains their name over his head to strike at the hero. Kwang Ghe’s left foot slammed a side kick into the exposed ribs of the Wielder, sending him flying over the edge of the chasm behind the first Soul Mage. Another Wielder was right on the heels of the first, rushing the hero. Kwang Ghe spun and kicked the minion in the head, and immediately followed with a right foot roundhouse kick to the body that lifted the Wielder up and dropped him unconscious to the ground.

Ginger Blaze, a fire controller who’s strength and control over the element grew daily, clapped her hands loudly, and explosion of tiny embers and ash surrounding the Thorn Wielders, blinding and choking them, allowing the heroes to defeat them one at a time. Remedy was using her psionics to distract the magicians with a mental scream that filled their heads. Several were fighting against the choking ash, others held their hands to their ears shaking their heads back and forth trying to silence the blinding mental noise. Khazm moved amongst the trapped Circle minions, rendering those that had not already dropped from the other attacks quickly and efficiently.

“You’re too late!” The Death Mage screamed over the noise of the raging fire. He laughed loudly as he raised his hands and the fire enveloped the woman. Her screams went from high pitched to hideous instantly, then shifted to a soul-chilling ghastly howl. Her skin seemed to dry up and shrivel, collapsing in on itself. As her body collapsed, it suddenly exploded in a rain of ashes, blowing the fire away with an almost cataclysmic burst of energy.

Where the ceremony had taken place now hovered a horror that chilled Kwang Ghe to the bone. His heat sensitive eyes could detect a void around the ghoul, as though it were sapping the very air of life itself. It was humanoid from mid-torso up, below that was simply a cloud of dark, vaporous energy. Huge skeletal wings flapped on its back, red fire burning in its black eye sockets.

The Demon swatted Kwang Ghe backwards like a fly. Landing amongst the broken earth near his companions, he rolled to his feet. He was about to rush the Demon when Remedy’s voice exploded in his head.

“Wait!”

Around him lay the unconscious forms of the Circle minions.
“We must work together,” Remedy said. Again the healing aura spread around her, pushing away the battle fatigue and pain from the heroes. Ginger folded the other heroes in bubbles of protective energy, warding away some of the attacks that would come their way.

Khazm nodded and said quietly, “Ready.”

Kwang Ghe nodded in agreement. “Ready.”

“Ready,” came the reply of the two women simultaneously.

The heroes fell upon the two Circle Bosses with fury.

Concentrating first on the apparition that had recently been a captured woman, they lashed out with combined attacks. Dark energy hammered the Spectral villian, while Kwang Ghe kept the Death Mage at bay. The battle was furious, and seemed to drag on and on. Khazm poured dark attacks over the Demon, draining more and more of its energy, but the Demon’s hands lashed out repeatedly, slashing the heroes and knocking them back. Ginger tried to hold the Demon in a Ring of Fire, but the apparition slapped away the flames as though they weren’t even there. Remedy concentrated her own energies on fending off the wounds inflicted by the Demon, allowing the others to keep in the fight. The Demon’s attacks were vicious, but Khazm could deal out as well as take the damage. Weakened visibly, the Demon became more and more translucent, finally fleeing, shifting out of phase to protect itself.

Kwang Ghe and the Death Mage were locked in a pitched fight. The scrappers’ hands and feet lashed out with lightning speed, punishing the Mage. Dark blasts from the Mage’s wand ripped and clawed at Kwang Ghe, chilling him, slowing him down. Khazm leapt to his side and together they finally overwhelmed the powerful Circle Magician.

Kwang Ghe bent down, breathing hard, resting his hands on his thighs. Khazm could be heard breathing as heavily under the shroud that covered his face. Just as the heroes began to relax, Remedy was swatted forward, landing face first on the broken earth of the Fault.

The Demon had returned.

The Heroes once again fell upon the Spectral Apparition. Kwang Ghe’s hands and feet seemed to pass through the vaporous body, but the effect they had was obvious. Ginger, in a huge feat of skill and luck, managed to trap the Boss inside her Ring of Fire. Remedy had regained her feet and helped to distract the thing with mental attacks filled with anger.

Unable to flee this time, the Demon eventually succumbed to the attacks of the heroes, vanishing into thin air, dissipating into nothingness.

“Was it her?” Ginger asked.

“No,” came Remedy’s answer in her head. “Evangelica is far too powerful a member of the Magi to be turned so easily.”

“Then we must move on,” Kwang Ghe said. “She cannot be far ahead.”

The group continued down the Fault, following the unseen line of power that had been mapped out for them by the Magi. Deeper into the crevice the moonlight was blocked by more and more earth. The heroes moved slowly, careful not to let their presence known to anyone who might be watching ahead. Khazm, who was leading the way, held up his hand to stop the group.

“I feel something,” he said in a whisper.

“Me, too,” Ginger said. “They’re pulling a lot of power up ahead if we can feel it this far back, and it’s not a warm or fuzzy feeling either.”

“It is her,” Remedy said. “Or one such as her. I can feel a very strong mind ahead, female, fighting against something.”
They moved up the chasm, reaching a ledge that dropped off twenty feet. Below were more Circle mages, and two Spectral warriors, smaller versions of the demon they had just faced. An Agony Mage oversaw this ritual, with three Soul Mages and two Thorn Wielders bringing the enemies to eight. They surrounded a woman laying on the ground, a gag in her mouth, hands tied behind her back. Even from the height above, the heroes could see the anger burning in her eyes.

“Try to get them away from her, and I will free her,” Remedy told the group.

Kwang Ghe and Khazm agreed. Ginger again protected the others with force bubbles. Remedy closed her eyes in concentration, and spread her arms low. A blue aura surrounded her, and the group felt the rush of energy, as though their stamina would last forever.

Kwang Ghe and Khazm leapt first, followed by Remedy and Ginger. They fell on the three mages leading the ritual, pushing them back with hard attacks. Remedy quickly freed the woman from her bonds, her healing aura spreading over the woman.

Evangelica stood and thanked Remedy. She stood just under five feet tall, with flame red hair similar to Ginger Blaze’s, and piercing, angry green eyes. She raised her hands over her head and a rain of fire began to fall on the Circle of Thorn.
Kwang Ghe and Khazm punished the villains with attacks as they tried to flee the burning rain. The Thorn Wielders were quickly subdued, the Spectral warriors fled screaming into the night, leaving only the three Lieutenants and the Boss to deal with. Working together, the quickly finished off one of the Soul Mages, then the next. The Agony Mage blasted them with energy, pain flaring throw the heroes bodies, but Remedy’s healing aura was there to help dissipate the attacks that slipped past Ginger’s defensive bubbles.

The fight was over much more quickly than the last, the powerful Blaster they had freed unleashing fiery attacks combined with the two scrappers overwhelmed even the Agony Mage with ease.

When it was done, Evangelica thanked them, and asked who they were.

“We are part of the Onami Strike Force,” Kwang Ghe said. He introduced himself and the others.

“How did you know to look for me?” Evangelica asked?

“We have a friend who is a member of the Magi. She got word that you had been kidnapped. Heroes are searching several areas where the Circle are known to be. We were assigned Faultline.”

“Well, I appreciate you coming along. What security level are you?”

“Twenty-two,” Kwang Ghe said, being the highest of his party. “Why, what is happening?”

“It’s probably above your skills right now,” Evangelica said. “They were talking about something involving the Warriors, and a super-Demon called the Envoy of Shadow being summoned to negotiate for a Prince of Darkness. Cadao Kestrel is an authority on the Circle, he will know more. I’d better go talk to him. Thank you again.”

Evangelica leapt to the sky, flying off quickly to the south, heading for the gate out of Faultline.

“I believe PhoenixHawk knows Cadao Kestrel,” Kwang Ghe said. “We had better inform him.”

Tales of the Onami: Reminiscence
D. Heikes


“ Come on, old man, you can do this ,” he thought to himself. He asked himself for the millionth time what the hell he was doing, still doing this at more than sixty-years of age. The answer, he knew, was always the same: This was literally all he had ever known.

The small, armored man stood on the ledge of an office building, five stories up. His red and white armor encased his entire body, from his boots to his full faced helmet. Two large antenna raised off the sides of the helm like spiked ears, transmitting data into the system of implants wet-wired throughout his entire body. He was, in essence, a living circuit board, which had led to the nurses in the hospital where he had been awakened dubbing him Sir Kit.

That was his first memory, waking up in the hospital, lost, surrounded by doctors and police. Dr. Ward had talked to him, asked who he was, where he was from, but he didn’t have any answers. He still didn’t. Everything in the approximated twelve years of his life prior to that had been wiped out by the Crey scientists who had surgically fitted his implants. They had been trying to engineer superheroes, and implant false memories to control the subjects. Either they had not been able to implant the memories in him, or the memories hadn’t taken, but either way, they had wiped everything prior to that clean from his mind.

Standing there, on the ledge of the building, watching the stars above, occasional clouds blocking them from view, he thought back on those who had become his family since. He had been taken in by Emily Pinay, who had spent several years as a healer known simply as Lady Emily until she retired and returned to medical school. She had picked up on the research of her grandfather, who had died being rescued from the same lab as himself. Now a grandmother herself, she spent her days working in a hospital, continuing to save lives.

Dr. Ward, also known as the Legendary I Doctor, the surgeon who helped save his life when he was saved from the Crey lab, had known Emily and her grandfather for years and moved in with the young woman and became her legal guardian. He had taken the young boy with no memories in as well. That had all been almost fifty-years ago. Dr. Ward had died quietly in his sleep several years ago.

Most of the people he had known were gone now. Aaron, known as PhoenixHawk to most, had died at the hands of a super-demon summoned by the Circle of Thorns. That group had long since dissipated, but of their remnants, the strongest had survived, and become the NightCasters. It was members of this group that he had followed to this office building. Four of the spell casters had run into the building only moments after a young woman had walked in alone. There was no security in the building, and the woman’s screams could be heard already from his perch outside

His joints ached, as they did most days. He watched and waited, knowing the villains would come out of the building soon with their prize. At least the implants didn’t hurt anymore. It had been fifteen years after he had been saved before Emily had found a breakthrough that had let her adjust the implant in his head and rid him of the constant pain that filled his body around every implant. He absently touched a gloved hand to his left shoulder, where his armor had been penetrated once by a Freakshow blade, and the bullet of another Freak had found the crack, embedding itself just inside his rotator cuff. That joint, more than most, ached often.

He sighed, wishing his team of old was here. PhoenixHawk had been a natural leader, organizing the Onami Strike Force into a seamless unit. Thauma Guard had lasted several years after PhoenixHawk fell, but had never let go of the grief she felt at his loss, the only man she had ever let herself love. N0VA 1 had followed the footsteps of her cousin Shakti, and moved away to raise a family, as had Ginger Blaze and her husband, Khazm. Kwang Ghe, the fighter, had fallen late in life, the Malta Group taking him down. Shadow Pain had disappeared some years later, one day just vanishing from sight. Rumors flew about that she lived in the wind, and that she still brought Pain to the villains of the world when that wind blew through the shadows in which they hid.

I miss you guys.

The past fifty years had seen a vast drop in the crime that had run rampant after the Rikti War. The slow progress against the criminals finally pushed them back far enough that order had been restored. The Hero Corps had been basically disbanded. The government had found ways to predict in pregnancy if an un-born child would have the genes that had for years manifested as super powers, and the parents were given the opportunity to have that gene inhibited through advanced gene-therapy. The children of those who chose not to, were sent to special schools where their talents would be understood and cultivated. Their lives would be spent in training and dedicated to serving the community. It was a hard life, one that many of the children grew to resent, and eventually gave up. Sir Kit helped to train those that stuck with the program, keeping the ideals of honor and discipline that the Onami had been formed on alive.
Somewhere, throughout Paragon City, what used to be called the City of Heroes, were two others doing the same thing as he was, patrolling the night, watching for the remnants of those who had once terrorized the world.

Four of those exited the building now, carrying a struggling woman, bound and gagged. One of the spell casters raised his hands and spoke aloud, a red nimbus surrounding him. In front of him a portal appeared in thin air, shimmering red in the night As the villains moved towards it, Sir Kit dropped to the ground in front of them

“That’s far enough,” he said. “Release her.”

Another of the casters raised a jewel in his hand, and beam of orange light lanced out, striking Sir Kit in the chest. His armor dispersed much of the blast, but it left a smoking burn mark, and staggered him back a step.

Too slow to dodge anymore, old man?

He regained himself and threw a ball of electricity into the middle of the four, which exploded into a thousand arcs, dancing over the villains bodies. As they all staggered in the arcs, he moved forward and raised his hands to the sides, a stronger field of electricity arcing around him, driving into the Night Casters. Frazzled, looking frayed, two of the villains dropped to their knees. Sir Kit reached out and blasted the standing two with arcs from his outstretched fists. One of the two that had fallen got to his feet and made a dash for the portal. Sir Kit caught him in a Tesla Cage, the ball of electricity holding the Caster in place. It took only one more blast to drop the criminal. Two more strikes later, all four had been subdued.

The entire fight had only lasted a minute, but Sir Kit’s heart pounded in his chest He could feel sweat running down his face inside his helmet, despite the airflow system built into it.

It’s just not as easy as it used to be.

He pulled back his right glove and pushed a button on an implant in his right forearm. The communications system built into his systems flared to life, the image of a uniformed woman appeared in the left corner of his visor.

“Sir Kit, Number 08523445, needs a wagon to pick up four Night Casters. My beacon marks my location.”

“Confirmed,” The woman’s voice filled his ears. “A wagon will be there shortly.”

Gently, he removed the woman’s gag and bonds.

“Are you ok?” he asked.

The woman was wide-eyed, but seemed to be maintaining her control.

“Yes, thanks to you.”

He told her no thanks was necessary, and warned her against walking around at night alone, even in today’s world.
The police van came by and collected the Night Casters within two minutes. None had regained consciousness or put up a struggle. The officers thanked him for his help, and drove away.

He sighed again, and looked around. There we no people about on the streets, he was alone.
Looking toward the stars, he took flight, into the blackness above the city. Alone. Remembering the days when his battles had been done with a group of friends, his family, when he hadn’t looked around at the end of the night, and wondered where all of his friends had gone.

His joints ached.