Palaquinn

"Hurmmm... Yeah that might work, but what if not all of the quarks are spinning in the same direction? The dispersal of the subsequent atomic masses may result in less than adequate results. Bloody Hell... that could be bad."

A young black man strides into the bar with his nose firmly planted in a notebook. The pen scritches over the paper at a breakneck speed as the youth mutters to himself before sitting at the bar. He continues writing like a madman as Tony comes over and waits patiently for a minute, and then taps the boy on the shoulder.

"WHA?"

"Kid... first I need to see some ID and then you should probably think about watching where you are going."

"Huh? OH! Oh, yeah I suppose this IS a logical outcome. Moreso than most I suppose. ID! Right sir, here you are!"

The young man passed over a hero ID that was also stamped with the official mark of the Kheldian ambassador, signifying this boy was a merged being with one of the alien visitors. His name was Mitchell Matthews, but the Hero ID was emblazoned with the name Phase-Space.

More importantly it also stated the kid had just turned 21 last week.

"Here you go Mitch." Tony stated while handing back the ID. "You know, you may want to watch where you're going when you're walking about."

The kid sighed and nodded gloomily. "I do watch, that's the problem at times. It all gets... Well confusing to say the least. I'll have a..." The boy paused as a distant look came into his eyes. Trails of dark purple and blue energy flared from his sockets before he relaxed. "...double cheeseburger, medium well, with lettuce, tomato, raw onions, ketchup, and mayo. Fries on the side and a black and tan to drink please."

Tony looked at the kid like he was some kind of high explosive primed to go but nodded anyway and left Mitch to bury his nose in notes once more.

"The ant country for that decision was remarkably small... am I becomming too predictible with my diet? Damn..." Mitch rubbed his head gently and looked about the bar. "This seems like a nice place though. Good decision to come here."

He smiled at the other patrons, which were few this time in the morning, and immediately began scribbling in his notebook again.

"Lets see... if the harmonic frequencies were correctly modulated the output could be tremendous..."

Awesome Job Mint! Excellent show as usual, and I'll admit to a bit of selfish pride whenever I hear one of my stories read... Keep up the good work man!

Heya folks. I decided to try something a little different with this story. First and foremost its a stand alone bit with no real connections to any of my other works. Secondly I tried to avoid talking about origins or other things in the story and just let the characters play off one another. I'd appreciate some criticisim on this one, and any advice on how best to improve would be greatly appreciated.

Dobermann: Mad Dog Barking

New Suit?

Check

New Sunglasses?

Check

Cash in wallet?

...Crud

“Where did he go?” The shouts and explosions were really loud now. Part of the building was on fire and several of the Freakshow were either lying on the floor leaking motor oil and bodily fluids or physically embedded into the plaster of the wall or ceiling.

M457ER FR34K3R was not having a good day. Neither was Gigawatt from the looks of it.

The Juicer Chief had, after all, come through the nearby wall face first.

“DAMNITT WHERE ARE YOU?”

“Jeeze… you’re acting like this is some bad class Z horror flick pal. Chill out.”

M457ER FR34K3R whipped around and saw the thing leaning up against the wall. It was blurry, and that was about all he could tell.

“DIE!!” The Freakshow tank charged the blur and fired a concussion grenade as if to emphasize his point.

That’s when he was hit in the face by a Mack Truck. Or at least it felt that way.

The massive body was then literally LIFTED off the floor by a blow to the jaw that snapped the metal casings that held part of his skull together. M457ER FR34K3R slammed into the fluorescent lights up above and then into the floor leaving a small crater where he landed.

The blur leaned over him and then suddenly was not a blur anymore.

“Mr. Sonata does not LIKE it when chumps like you waltz out on their debts buddy boy. When people welsh on their debts like that it makes him… upset, and then he calls people like me.”

The man was dressed to the nines in a good looking charcoal gray and black suit. Probably Armani, but the dress shoes pressing into M457ER FR34K3R’s face were definitely Gucci.

“Oh crap… Dobermann.”

“Oh ya herd of me? Good… then you know how this is gonna go.” The man cracked his knuckles and then brushed his long white hair from his face. Even with his sunglasses on the dark gleam in his eyes was blatantly visible.

There was a sound like a “pop” followed by running liquid. Dobermann looked down and then back at M457ER FR34K3R’s face.

“You seem to be leaking coolant at a rapid pace.”

“I can pay man! I can pay! Oh God…”

Dobermann snorted and then lifted the Freakshow tank up by the metal collar and hoisted him into the air. It was like watching an ant lift a rock. M457ER FR34K3R began to sob.

“Oh you can PAY huh? And here I was gonna swing your sorry butt past Doc Buzzsaw and see how much I could get for recycling. Cough it up pal, with interest.”

Dobermann swung M457ER FR34K3R to the floor HARD. The tank began to blubber but a containment chamber opened on his chest revealing almost 2 pounds of uncut diamonds.

“You were the nitwits that hit the diamond exchange as well? Must be my lucky day. And what’s this? Wow… twenty grand in cash? Hasn’t anyone told you it’s stupid to keep all your cash in one place?”

Dobermann pocketed the goods and grinned at the wad of cash. That filled his wallet to be sure.

“Now look boy. You pull this kinda crap with Mr. Sonata again and I’ll be back.” Dobermann suddenly kicked out hard and shattered one of M457ER FR34K3R’s mechanical legs. The tank was still cursing and screaming in pain as Dobermann walked out humming a tune.

Dobermann cloaked once more as he left the broken down warehouse and leapt into the blue sky. He silently wondered who fixed the potholes he left in the road whenever he landed a jump and lifted off again.

On the way back to the Giza he did a quick bout of mental arithmetic and settled on the fee for this quick job. It was about 5G’s over his usual price, but since he found who had nabbed those diamonds as well as forced a payment of debt, Basse should have nothing to complain about.

As it was, the dropoff was quick and to the point. Basse wanted to offer another Job but Dobermann shook his head and patted his wallet with his payment, 15 grand total. Not bad for a quick day’s work.

“You needed 15G’s to go to the D? Cripes man… what the heck do you do there?”

Dobermann grinned.

“Advertise my man. Advertise. I’ll take that Tsoo job when I’m back, but that’s not gonna be for a while. I’ll call ya.”

Basse nodded and then took the envelopes with the diamonds while Dobermann left the Giza and went to access Pocket D. The mild nausea from the dimensional warp was nothing new, and he smiled when he saw the bouncer inside the entrance.

“Hey Terry how’s tricks?”

“HEY! It’s the D-man! Goin’ good pal.” The bouncer by the St Martial door smiled as Dobermann passed by. “You get me those tickets yet?”

With a toss over his shoulder Dobermann passed an envelope to Terry without breaking his stride.

He didn’t wait for Terry to open them; he could hear the man’s excitement over the box seats for the next big concert by Johnny Sonata. Dobermann was too busy grinning at Malestera, his favorite Succubi hostess. She smiled back at him and shook her head before he could even open his mouth.

“Don’t even start hot stuff. You know the rules, I’m not allowed to date patrons.”

“You wound me Mal. You cut me deep. All I was gonna ask for was a coffee with you.”

“Nix that idea then. Now you just get in there and enjoy yourself.”

“I’d love to Mal but you’ll be out here.”

She smirked at that and shook her head.

“You know I can’t Dobermann. Not unless…”

“Yeah Yeah… and trust me, I’m working on it.” Dobermann tapped his nose then and winked. “Less said about it the better though. Later Mal!”

With that Dobermann entered the lift and decended… or was it ascended? He was never really sure. Regardless he entered the “D.”

The music was loud, the booze was flowing, the women were hot, and the action was intense.

“God I love it here.”

He wandered up the stairwell and over to the second story bar on the “villain” side. As far as he was concerned that distinction was a shaky philosophical playground at best. Hell, half the heroes he had met should have been named “Captain Collateral Damage.”

“Heya D-man. You want the ususal?”

“Hey Sal what’s up? Yeah, oh and I have a new box of my business cards for you.”

Sal nodded while he mixed the Manhattan.

“You still trolling for jobs Dobermann? With all you do I’m surprised you’re not rolling in bread.”

“Yeah well I lead an expensive lifestyle.” Dobermann toasted his bartender and left a fifty for a tip. “Besides, all the good business is here at the D, so even when I relax I’m on duty. Life of a Fixer man… life of a fixer.”

He took a heavy pull from his cocktail and nodded in appreciation.

“Besides… you make the best damn Manhattans this side of New York.”

Dobermann grabbed a seat in front of the bar and sat staring out the huge bay windows showing a vista of floating islands in an orange and yellow sky.

Sal meanwhile was opening the box offered by Dobermann and looking at the business cards.

“You know I get all types in here, but you’re the only one that drops off something like this.” Sal held up the card and read it aloud.

““Dobermann: Problems Solved.” Not much of an add is it?”

“It is to the right people Sal.”

“I can imagine, but why are you constantly trying to drum up more business then? I heard you ain’t cheap.”

Dobermann sighed and gestured to his empty glass. Sal nodded and began to make another Manhattan.

“I keep advertising because half the jobs out there I wouldn’t do for a million bucks…”

“How do you mean?”

“Well… Well look around for example. Look at half the patrons here. You, the wait staff, and perhaps myself are the only people dressed in a way that you could confuse with normal people.” Dobermann took the new drink and sipped it gently. “I mean come on, I know this is a nightclub but should that woman be wearing something that looks painted on?”

He gestured to a woman out on the dance floor who was wearing a costume so tight it was a wonder her circulation was flowing. She was writhing and gyrating in a way that would make a stripper blush.

“And SHE’S a “hero.”” Dobermann snorted while making the quotation marks with his hands. “And don’t even get me started on what Swan or Sister Psyche wears. I thought the idea of a uniform was to cover UP a person’s identity.”

“Sad thing is D… I’ve seen worse.” Sal stated simply as he pulled a couple beers and slid them down the counter to a group of hooded men.

“Yeah I’ll bet. The “Villians” are worse. I’ve seen some women running around out there with less on than a string and a contact lens.” Dobermann suddenly sighed and rubbed his eyes. “It’s not the women who dress like that that get to me however… it’s the mentality.”

“The mentality?”

“Yeah… It’s this whole damn “Hero” and “Villain” thing. It’s as if both sides have to show just how “Good” or “Evil” they are. Stupid if you ask me.”

“I still don’t see why that means you have to keep on trolling for jobs.”

“The mentality man! It’s the mentality! The people out there that WOULD hire someone like me are usually looking for something more than a legbreaker. I ever tell you about the Thorn Mage that wanted me to kidnap a bunch of kids from a maternity ward so he could sacrifice them? He needed the blood of the innocent and he was not going to play around…”

Sal actually paused and looked at Dobermann in horror.

“I didn’t do it Sal. I broke the guys face and wrecked as much of that damn Thorn temple as I could find. Now let’s pause there for a second. That’s a GOOD thing right? I stopped a deranged baby killer from doing something horrid, and it’s not as if the fire from the temple could not be seen over Nerva. You think something like that would cut me SOME slack with the “Heroes” right?”

Dobermann took his drink and swallowed the remainder in one gulp.

“Hell no. First Longbow that lays eyes on me screams like a little girl and then opens fire.”

Sal came closer to Dobermann and made a grab at the glass to make another Manhattan. Dobermann shook his head.

“If I’m gonna gulp like that I’m gonna need whiskey.”

“Jesus D-man… I never knew about that mage guy. But I heard… I heard about what happened at the Blackheart maternity ward.”

“That’s my point Sal. I didn’t DO that. I was sure I walloped that damn mage and here I see in yesterday’s paper that a ton of newborns are missing. I didn’t take the job, and someone else DID. Sick… and yet whoever did that screwed me outta a paycheck.”

“I have certain LINES Sal, and yet I keep getting called a villain, where there are THINGS out there that do stuff I think would make a demon retch in disgust.”

Sal sighed and shook his head.

“You’re nuts Dobermann. Why do you keep looking for work from people you’re obviously disgusted by?”

“Because they’re only half the equation Sal. Lemme tell ya about “Heroes””

Dobermann took the proffered glass of whiskey and took a long pull from it.

“I’m not a nice guy Sal.”

“You are to me D.”

“Yeah well I like you. And I like Terry, and Mal… Especially Mal. But frankly a lot of folks I just do not like. I’m violent, and I know it. Hell, I’m not even human.”

At this Sal raised an eyebrow. Dobermann shrugged.

“You mean you never wondered why I could pack the hooch away and never leave drunk?”

“Look at my other clientele D-man. All I know is you LOOK more human than most. I never really cared what you were as long as you don’t bust up the place. Sides… You like good blues and that’s enough for me.”

“Yeah but it’s not like DJ Zero would ever play BB King. Anyway, past that, suffice to say I was designed to be a killing machine. A covert assassin with a penchant for mass destruction. That hardly equates to a normal lifestyle. So I come here and find I can offer my talents to folks. As soon as I do however…”

“Longbow?” Sal asked.

“Longbow… Sanctimonious [censored]-kissers. The lot of them. I’ll bet half of them slept with Miss Liberty to get their jobs.”

“Hey now. She does come in here to drink ya know.”

Dobermann sighed and took another pull from his scotch.

“Tell me Sal… what is so wrong recovering funds for Johnny Sonata?”

“I don’t think it’s the fact that you collect debts D-man… it’s the way you do it.”

“O.K. lets put this in perspective. I break a few legs for the casino, and I’m branded a villain. What do you call someone who wades into a park and starts beating on everyone he sees? What do you call someone hitting people with an axe and calling it “Arresting?””

Dobermann paused and then put his glass back down.

“Tell me this Sal… Longbow wants to take most people in alive, right?”

“Right.”

“They why do they use armor piercing rounds? Flamethrowers? Grenades? Any of those strike you as non-lethal?”

“I… I never thought of it like that.”

“I hit people Sal. I hit hard. But I have never whipped out an axe and started hacking at people. And have you ever LISTENED to Longbow? I’ve heard speeches at Klan rallies that are less inflammatory. My God, they are more intolerant than half the people I met in the Zig.”

“They do seem a bit… fanatical.”

“Long story short, winners write the history books Sal. And as of right now Longbow is on the winning side. They think they can make the world a better place, and ya know what?”

Dobermann gulped the whiskey again and continued.

“We look at the empires today and want them to be paragons of justice and hope, but think carefully here. America was built by slaves over the bodies of the Indians. Irish were treated worse than African slaves and yet we never hear about it. Does Longbow defend that too? How can you not when the country was founded on it? Even if you say it was sins of the past do you see them acknowledge it? Hell half that stuff was not even in history books a few years ago.”

“What about religion then? If empires are bad, some Longbow say they work for a higher power.” Sal broke in.

“Pffft. Let’s just take the Catholic Church for example. You know for a faith that is based supposedly on healing and understanding they kill a lot of people. Can we say inquisition? Don’t even get me started on Islam, or Judaism. And Longbow represents that as well? It’s like trying to heal someone with a chainsaw.”

Dobermann finished off his whiskey and looked out at the D.

“All of them profess to be good. The governments, the churches, the “heroes” and not a single one of them is without blood on their hands. At least I own up to the blood on mine.”

“And you don’t revel in it like some of my other patrons.” Sal added. Dobermann turned and nodded.

“Exactly. That’s it exactly. I’m stuck in the middle. I don’t want to be some sort of blood thirsty madman, and I definitely don’t want to be an intolerant bigot with only one way to salvation.”

“Wait… how are heroes’ bigots?”

“Ask why someone became a Hellion or a Skull or an Outcast. They attack symptoms of a disease. They don’t seek to cure, only to get some sort of sick thrill dressing in clothes that we have indecency laws for and beating up on people.”

“So what you’re saying D-man is why aren’t the Heroes fighting world hunger and poverty?”

“Partially. I mean if we have men that can build robots capable of taking on a platoon of soldiers, then why haven’t we figured out a way to get enough food to people? There are “Doctors” on both sides if you will, and neither side seems willing to truly HELP people. Hell the closest is Doc Vahz and you know what he’s like.”

Sal nodded and shrugged.

“You should see what his men drink.”

Dobermann shuddered.

“So here I am stuck in the middle Sal. Heroes hate me because of how I do things, when I’ve seen them do things ten times worse, and I can’t stand half the villains out there because to my mind, they’re all nuts.”

Dobermann stood up and pushed the box of business cards towards Sal again.

“That’s why I keep looking for work Sal. SANE work is hard to find.”

Sal nodded and then looked hard at Dobermann.

“So… if you don’t like the villain side, and can’t stand the hero side… then where are you Dobermann? Who’s side are you on then?”

“Same side I’ve been on from the moment I went out on my own Sal.”

Dobermann winked and flashed his gleaming smile.

“Mine.”

I'll open myself up to the critiquing, but I have an inkling what most of it will fall under:

Too slow, too long to post, vanish unexpectedly for long periods.

I'll claim guilty to all of these. Which is why I normally limit myself to one or two threads or just write short works without others so I don't hold them back. Even then I have a hard time keeping to a schedule

However, to most everyone else... I have to say that most of the RP styles I've seen here have been stellar. For the most part, well thought out posts are the rule, and the descriptions are truly catching.

There are several posters who I admire when it comes to RPing. From what I've read of Devious's works I like them. Again, well thought out and planned in all cases.

Essex, from what I've seen I truly enjoy your style of RP. Good detail and good control of NPCs without becomming overbearing.

Lazarus, my only complaint is that I have not had the opportuntiy to write with you more. That fault is more on my schedule than yours however. You have a knack for "going with the flow" and keeping up quite a hectic pace.

If I get a chance I'll try and go more in depth later...

((Oy... This story seems to have stopped dead. I'm sorry if I killed it! *Sighs* Damn... It had such potential...))

New Suit?

Check

New Sunglasses?

Check

Cash in wallet?

...Crud

“Where did he go?” The shouts and explosions were really loud now. Part of the building was on fire and several of the Freakshow were either lying on the floor leaking motor oil and bodily fluids or physically embedded into the plaster of the wall or ceiling.

M457ER FR34K3R was not having a good day. Neither was Gigawatt from the looks of it.

The Juicer Chief had, after all, come through the nearby wall face first.

“DAMNITT WHERE ARE YOU?”

“Jeeze… you’re acting like this is some bad class Z horror flick pal. Chill out.”

M457ER FR34K3R whipped around and saw the thing leaning up against the wall. It was blurry, and that was about all he could tell.

“DIE!!” The Freakshow tank charged the blur and fired a concussion grenade as if to emphasize his point.

That’s when he was hit in the face by a Mack Truck. Or at least it felt that way.

The massive body was then literally LIFTED off the floor by a blow to the jaw that snapped the metal casings that held part of his skull together. M457ER FR34K3R slammed into the fluorescent lights up above and then into the floor leaving a small crater where he landed.

The blur leaned over him and then suddenly was not a blur anymore.

“Mr. Sonota does not LIKE it when chumps like you waltz out on their debts buddy boy. When people welsh on their debts like that it makes him… upset, and then he calls people like me.”

The man was dressed to the nines in a good looking charcoal gray and black suit. Probably Armani, but the dress shoes pressing into M457ER FR34K3R’s face were definitely Gucci.

“Oh crap… Dobermann.”

“Oh ya herd of me? Good… then you know how this is gonna go.” The man cracked his knuckles and then brushed his long white hair from his face. Even with his sunglasses on the dark gleam in his eyes was blatantly visible.

There was a sound like a “pop” followed by running liquid. Dobermann looked down and then back at M457ER FR34K3R’s face.

“You seem to be leaking coolant at a rapid pace.”

“I can pay man! I can pay! Oh God…”

Dobermann snorted and then lifted the Freakshow tank up by the metal collar and hoisted him into the air. It was like watching an ant lift a rock. M457ER FR34K3R began to sob.

“Oh you can PAY huh? And here I was gonna swing your sorry butt past Doc Buzzsaw and see how much I could get for recycling. Cough it up pal, with interest.”

In one motion Dobermann swung M457ER FR34K3R to the floor HARD. The tank began to blubber but a containment chamber opened on his chest revealing almost 2 pounds of uncut diamonds.

“You were the nitwits that hit the diamond exchange as well? Must be my lucky day. And what’s this? Wow… twenty grand in cash? Hasn’t anyone told you it’s stupid to keep all your cash in one place?”

Dobermann pocketed the goods and grinned at the wad of cash. That filled his wallet to be sure.

“Now look boy. You pull this kinda crap with Mr. Sonota again and I’ll be back.” Dobermann suddenly kicked out hard and shattered one of M457ER FR34K3R’s mechanical legs. The tank went over like a house of cards screaming in pain.

“Keep that in mind chump. Have a good day.”

With that Dobermann cloaked once more and left the broken down warehouse.

On the way back to the Giza he did a quick bout of mental arithmetic and settled on the fee for this quick job. It was about 5G’s over his usual price, but since he found who had nabbed those diamonds as well as forced a payment of debt, Basse should have nothing to complain about.

As it was, the dropoff was quick and to the point. Basse wanted to offer another Job but Dobermann shook his head and patted his wallet with his payment, 15 grand total. Not bad for a quick day’s work.

“You needed 15G’s to go to the D? Cripes man… what the heck do you do there?”

Dobermann grinned.

“Advertise my man. Advertise. I’ll take that Tsoo job when I’m back but that’s not gonna be for a while. I’ll call ya.”

Basse nodded and then took the envelopes with the diamonds while Dobermann left the Giza and went to access Pocket D. The mild warp was nothing new, and he smiled when he saw the bouncer inside the entrance.

“Hey Terry how’s tricks?”

“HEY! It’s the D-man! Goin’ good pal.” The bouncer by the St Martial door smiled as Dobermann passed by. “You get me those tickets yet?”

With a toss over his shoulder Dobermann passed an envelope to Terry without breaking his stride.

He didn’t wait for Terry to open them; he could hear the man’s excitement over the box seats for the next big concert by Johnny Sonota. Dobermann was too busy grinning at Malestera, his favorite Succubi hostess. She smiled back at him and shook her head before he could even open his mouth.

“Don’t even start hot stuff. You know the rules, I’m not allowed to date patrons.”

“You wound me Mal. You cut me deep. All I was gonna ask was for a coffee.”

“Nix that idea then. Now you just get in there and enjoy yourself.”

“I’d love to Mal but you’ll be out here.”

She smirked at that and shook her head.

“You know I can’t Dobermann. Not unless…”

“Yeah Yeah… and trust me, I’m working on it.” Dobermann tapped his nose then and winked. “Less said about it the better though. Later Mal!”

With that Dobermann entered the lift and decended… or was it ascended? He was never really sure. Regardless he entered the “D.”

The music was loud, the booze was flowing, the women were hot, and the action was intense.

“God I love it here.”

He wandered up the stairwell and over to the second story bar on the “villain” side. As far as he was concerned that distinction was a shaky philosophical playground at best. Hell, half the heroes he had met should have been named “Captain Collateral Damage.”

“Heya D-man. You want the ususal?”

“Hey Sal what’s up? Yeah, oh and I have a new box of my business cards for you.”

Sal nodded while he mixed the Manhattan.

“You still trolling for jobs Dobermann? With all you do I’m surprised you’re not rolling in bread.”

“Yeah well I lead an expensive lifestyle.” Dobermann toasted his bartender and left a fifty for a tip. “Besides, all the good business is here at the D, so even when I relax I’m on duty. Life of a Fixer man… life of a fixer.”

He took a heavy pull from his cocktail and nodded in appreciation.

“Besides… you make the best damn Manhattans this side of New York.”

He grinned to the bartender and then walked over to the balcony for a bit of people watching. The ultimate spectator sport at the “D.”

[ QUOTE ]
try to answer this: lets say i'm your commanding officer and i tell you to spare the life of a hero raider we found in are base. what do you do?

[/ QUOTE ]

Hollow-Jack: "There are many definitions of "Alive." I have this fellows name, and he is now living in a nightmare world in his own head until the end of his days. Granted he is little more than a drooling mass and needs to be fed by an I.V. but he is still... Alive. The rules have been followed sir... now could you tell me your name again?"

Doctor Hollow: "Let me be perfectly clear on this. This gentleman was found skuling about in your base, possibly stealing sensitive information and you wish to let him go? I'm glad I'm only a "contractor." I'll let him live, once I have scanned his brain fully to make sure he is not leaving with something of yours or mine. Of course I will have to fry some synapes if I do, and he may fall... repeatedly, while being escorted out but I'll let him go. And you know this invalidates our contract and I will withdraw all my robots from the area within the hour. Good luck finding replacements. Please speak with Omega, yes the 8 foot robot with the missiles, if you have any complaints."

Dobermann: "What? You wanted this guy to be let go? Why the hell didn't you say that before I popped his head like a zit? Jeeze o Pete man, you gotta speak faster! Now go get a mop and a bucket... I'm takin' a shower."

Malkim/Plixx: "Sorry, can't do that. But here's a nice soulstone from the guy. Hey... I wonder what color your soulstone would look like. Probably all nice and pure like this guy's since you're obviously a spy. Oh come off it, you wanted us to let him go!" Malkim makes a few gestures and another body falls to the floor. He reaches down to pick up a blue/black crystal. "Well crud, I guess he WAS on our side, just bloody stupid. I owe you a mochan Malkim."

White Coyote: "You don't pay me enough for that." BANG! One slug direct to the head of the hero puts and end to him. She then turns and looks at you. "And I sure as hell don't get paid enough to take orders from an obvious traitor." BANG! After the second shot, White Coyote pulls out her comm unit and radios her troops. "O.K. men, this contact is a wash. Collect what you can, exterminate any resistance, and burn the place down. I'll meet you back at HQ in an hour."

In essence it really depends on the character, the atmosphere, and the overall situation...

CHARACTER NAME: Malkim/The Black Savant
APARTMENT NUMBER/LOCATION: Room 123B
STORYTELLER: Palaquinn
THEME SONG: Call to the Sea Dragon (Sun-Ra-San) From "Music from Talislanta I" by Stephan Michael Sechi
SHORT DESCRIPTION: Malkim is one of a race called the Thane, native to the world of Archaeus. He is seven feet tall and almost always covered in black robes. He does wear an elaborate head-dress that also serves as a mask obscuring everything except for his cold obsidian eyes. When not covered Malkim appears relatively young (about mid-20's) with white skin and hair. He is mute, and does all his communication either by an obscure form of sign language or through his servitor imp named Plixx (A diminutive sexless creature resembling a "chibi" victorian demon without wings. Plixx is a rather abrasive cyan color and wears no clothes.). He is on Earth to track down and reclaim a soulstone containing the spirit of a Thane sorceress, which was stolen by an Araine Druas named Sunshadow.
PHOTO (URL): (None Yet... In Process)
HERO CORPS RAP SHEET (URL):
KNOWN ASSOCIATES (VG): Currently a band of miscreants called the Adventure Fallen have taken to consulting Malkim on matters of the occult.

Typically with my MM, depending on the situation, I'll let my "Boys" cut loose and annahilate anything in a room. With the big upgrade on the robots the AoE is ungodly and can be quite effective on most mobs.

Than I met the damn Night Widows.

I don't care what anyone says about Longbow and how they suck, Night Widows are worse... MUCH worse.

They are probably one of the only things I constantly have ALL my "boys" hit at the same time because they typically do NOT loose targeting when the smoke grenade falls.

Oh... And the Force Bubble (The ultimate force-feild) is a LIFE SAVER in those situations. Yes it pisses off mobs, but it can secure a hallway like nothing else and keeps those damn Night Widows AWAY.

That being said... Damn I want a gladiator badge for one for the Arena...

((OOC: Oy... Finding it hard to keep up here! Tell y'all what. I'll bow out of this one so you guys can keep up a decent pace without me. Just assume Dobermann wandered off on his own for now. I'll keep reading but I don't want to hold y'all back!))

[ QUOTE ]
"I did not have time to introduce myssself back there, Doberrman. My name is Aurak and I am mossst pleasssed to find sssomeone of sssome measssure of civility on thisss planet."

[/ QUOTE ]

"Hey think nothing of it. Far as I'm concerned everyone is cool until they piss me off. You have class, I like that. Nice to meet ya Aurak."

Dobermann peered into the gloom. There were odd carvings on the walls, piles of bones in the corner, and massive snakeskins lying in coils on the floor. Torchlight blazed in the far corners, giving off an acrid stench of burning fat.

[ QUOTE ]
She used a subvocal trigger to suspend her photonic deflection array and faded into view, seeming to coalesce before their eyes.

"Room for one more?"


[/ QUOTE ]

"HOLY!..." Dobermann stepped back as the woman seemed to pop into focus. It was no movement of terror, but of a man snapping into a fighting stance. Fists clenched, feet planted, muscles tight.

All that quickly faded when the voice that followed seemed friendly, and more importantly, female.

"Yeowza lady! You could give someone a heart-attack doin' stuff like that!" Dobermann laughed then and shrugged. "I got no problems having someone else along. You have any problems Aurak?" Dobermann turned to look at the massive reptilian nearby, and then to the crouching cat-woman "You have a problem with her?"

He turned and looked at the little repti-bug.

"You... You I ain't gonna ask cause I don't care what you think."

Dobermann turned back and grinned, offering a hand and a buissness card. Old habits die hard it seems.

"Heya, Name's Dobermann. Nice to meetya."

The walls in the crater crumbled a bit, then visibly rocked as Dobermann ripped his way out. He missed the bit where this new reptilian creature came into the pit. He missed the bit with the threats being bandied about between the two in chest thumping testosterone style.

What he didn't miss was that his suit was now torn.

Dobermann stood and growled. It was a deep rumble begining in the subsonic ranges and ending in a pitch that shook the ground.

"All right look you freaky little abomination." Dobermann began, and then grabbed the spiny little creature by the back of the neck and hoisted him into the air. Spines peirced his hands, but only scraped off a layer of very plastic looking flesh. Metal and wires showed beneath the pink ragged mass now, and several spines cracked when meeting it.

"Number one... You touch me like that ever again and you'll be eating your own jaw. After I cram the rest of your skull down your throat."

Dobermann tossed the thing to the ground and hoisted a rock. This he pulverized in one slow grinding movement with his hand. He sprinkled the dust slowly as he talked.

"Two, I'm here to do a job. You don't like it, then you can take a walk. Three, I'm not part of ANYTHING. If you knew how to read you'd have seen on my card I'm freelance. People pay, and I take care of problems. Kalinda is paying me, I do the job, I go home. We're all happy."

Dobermann pulled down his sunglasses a bit and glared at the little thing. A dull blue light flared and was gone behind his eyes.

"You pull any mumbo jumbo and I'll cave your skull in and use you for snake bait. I'm only polite to someone once, after that I can be VERY mean."

The last of the dirt hit the ground and Dobermann flicked the few specks left on his hand into the face of the creature.

"Capechise? Oh and when we're done here, you're payin' for a new suit."

With that Dobermann turned, straightened his now tattered suit and dusted off his jacket. Spotting the other reptilian creature as if for the first time, Dobermann offered his hand in greeting.

"Heya I'm Dobermann. Nice to meetya." He stated simply and after shaking hands he looked at the feline/human crossbreed.

"I'm sorry I had to get rough there with the repti-bug in front of you Miss. Guys like that have no class, none at all."

Looking about and then entering the tunnel Dobermann called out: "So are we here to take down some snakes or what?"

((OOC: If you have not guessed, Dobermann is a SS/EA brute, just with class. Lets be careful with "interparty conflicts" however. It's a good way to kill the story quick. Nothing is gonna happen between the characters, and the story won't move forward if we all have a pissing contest and decide "Why the hell would I even work with this guy?" and walk away. Just my 2 Cents there...))

((OOC: Hope y'all don't mind if I join in the mayhem...))

"Those fingers in my hair
That sly come hither stare
That strips my conscience bare
It’s witchcraft..."

The voice was deep and melodic, carrying a tune well and doin' a damn fine version of a Sinatra classic. The bearer of that voice was easy on the eyes as well. A handsome gentleman, about 6 foot 1 inch in height in a fine black and grey Armani suit.

The man was not overly muscled, but the suit had obviously been cut for his shoulders and biceps which were impressive in size. The man looked almost normal if it were not for the pale skin that simply did not look right. It was glossy at best and almost plastic looking in the region of his hands. His hair was a white blonde, worn long and almost flowing. A small soul-patch goatee adorned his chin beneath an almost permanent smirk.

His eyes however were unreadable beneath his dark sunglasses.

"’cause it’s witchcraft, wicked witchcraft
And although, I know, it’s strictly taboo

When you arouse the need in me
My heart says yes indeed in me
Proceed with what your leading me to..."

His voice carried the tune almost better than any band could ever hope. Only Sinatra himself sang it better and even he would have applauded this stranger. Many on the platform stopped their constant chatter and turned to look at the stranger who was crooning so well.

"It’s such an ancient pitch
But one I wouldn’t switch
’cause there’s no nicer witch than you."

He ended with a bow, puling down his sunglasses for a moment and giving a rougish wink to the item of his seranade.

Kalinda was NOT impressed. She had to turn and snarl at some nearby Arachnos troopers to stop them from snickering about this.

"Dobermann..." She sighed in fustration. "You just refuse to make my life easy don't you?"

"Absolutely. You keep sending me into assanine places, and I will keep on making your face as red as your suit."

"I could have you shot you know... killed for this insolence."

Dobermann only shook his head and chuckled. "You COULD do that but you won't. First off, both you and I know shooting me would only make me mad. I'm an Android sweetheart, so killing me does not exactly compute either. Finally... you know you love it."

Kalinda snorted as Dobermann laughed loudly.

"Look sweetie, I know your files say I'm: "An unstable AI! WARNING! This unit has Sociopathic and Homicidal tendicies! Escaped! Rogue Unit!" But give me a freakin' break. You WANTED nutjobs like me, and here I am. And honey, I'm better than anyone else at what I do. I've whacked your tratior, taken care of the pukin' punks, even cleaned out some snakes your boys could not handle. Now knock it off with all the stupid runnin' about. Either I'm good enough for your two-bit little club, or I'll walk and find what I need elsewhere."

Kalinda was clenching and unclenching her fists in rapid succession. Before she could explode at him Dobermann winked again and shouted loudly:

"This one is for the sultry lady in red! Lets give this class doll a big hand folks, for without her we'd be back in the Zig!

"Fly me to the moon
Let me sing among those stars
Let me see what spring is like
On jupiter and mars

In other words, hold my hand
In other words, baby kis..."

"SHUT UP!!" Kalinda howled as she grabbed Dobermann's collar and pulled herself towards him.

"I'll shut up if you put up doll." Dobermann grinned into that faceless Arachnos helmet and knew Kalinda was fuming in there.

"You smug, arrogant, annoying... Fine. Last test. Clean out this snake den... " She pressed a manilla folder into his hands and thrust him away.

"Snakes again huh? As long as it's the last test doll."

"Just... Just get OUT of here..." Kalinda fairly hissed as Dobermann walked off the platform and out to the location the file indicated.

"Some dame huh? Shows you how "Cool" this Arachnos is if miss high and mighty can't hold it together." Dobermann commented to a few others as he left Fort Darwin and into the streets of Mercy.

"Would you like to swing on a star
carry moonbeams home in a jar
and be better off than you are
or would you rather be a spider?"

Dobermann sang as he walked, making up new lyrics to the old Bing Crosby song until he came to the collection of snake pits.

"Well well well... Looks like I'm not the only sap the ol' red-tights sent down here huh?" He looked back and forth between the feline like humanoid and the odd insect-reptilian thing. He didn't comment, didn't insult, only went down to the holes and poked about a bit.

"Yeesh... if these nuts were serious about offin' the snake problem they would just flood the tunnels down there. I doubt these things breathe underwater."

He stood up and looked at the other two. Grinning like the cat who ate the canary he offered his hand, and a buisness card to both.

"Name's Dobermann. Nice to meet ya."

His handshake was cold, stronger than any man's, and oddly mechanical.

His card simply read:

Dobermann: Problems Solved

Given that this was the Rogue Isles it was unspoken but easily assumed what Problems Dobermann solved.

The death and re-birth thing can be really dicey. The examples you give of Ghost and Always really focus on someone who either can't or won't pass on until something they left in life is resolved. In my book that makes them... well ghosts. Somehow I don't think that may be what you are after.

The Dragur is a good idea... If it was a character of a more violent bent or done in by a particularly nasty means I'd reccomend the revenant bit like "The Crow." There the motivation is more vengance than anything else. Too mad to stay dead if you will.

Then of course there is always cutting a deal with your deity of choice. This can either be very dark or very humorous depending on how you want it to be played. Be careful there however, too many folks recognize a "Spawn" like character.

It all depends really on the character's background, their beliefs about life and death (and what's beyond), and how you see the story being told.

Hurm... rather round about way of saying "It's up to you."

Hurm... I'm going to have to find my textbook on scientific ethics because I think you may be wrong on that one. I'll double check to make sure though.

Oh, and you forgot about primates also being self aware. Granted only specific species, but it does apply.

AH! A scientific question! *Chuckles*

What classifies as human, or at least "Sapient?" Speaking as a biologist when it comes to animal experimentation one of the cardinal rules is NEVER to cause a subject undue pain. Now I know a lot of you probably will groan or disbelieve me on that, but it's true.

The REAL question for a scientist is "What is pain to <insert species name here>?" As research has moved on in many areas the definition of pain has been expanded to include not only physical pain but emotional. That concept was once regarded as the sole domain of humans, but the scientific community at large would disagree now.

In most modern labs both the physical and the emotional welfare of a test subject must be taken into account whenever performing an experiment. The definition for emotional well being has caused a lot of problems actually in that things we used as subjects, such as rats in fact, have proved to be much more intelligent than we originally gave them credit for. This intelligence can also be stimulated by play and "interesting" activities.

In my college "Lab-Rat" room, the animal keepers had to not only feed and clean the rodents, but also entertain them! This meant adding toys to cages and keeping them stimulated. Now lets ramp up the situation...

This same problem is found in primate research, and in many cases it can be argued that primates are VERY intelligent. The physical and emotional well being MUST be taken into account before even getting approved to do any primate research. This makes this type of research cost prohibitive in the extreme. Most labs won't even bother with it anymore...

But are the apes human? Are the rats for that manner?

That's a philosophical question. In terms of scientific ethics however, you treat those animals to best deal with their physical and emotional needs AS WE UNDERSTAND THEM.

That last bit is the key, as we understand them. As research continues we understand more and more every day not only about animals but ourselves. What we regarded as a simple human trait is now not our exclusive domain any more.

You can never make a rodent "Human" or a pirmate "Human." That type of definition comes down to genetics and differences in DNA. But defining inteligence and emotional states are totally different. The bar we draw as the OP outlines really does not exist, or at the very least, moves too often to be static and useful.

In regards to aliens comming and regarding humanity I think we need to ask better questions than those outlined in the original post. Besides, humanity has a nasty habit of treating those even with high intelligence as mere animals... Otherwise we never would have had slavery or acts of genocide. Intelligence means nothing when shaded through culture, religion, and a society's beliefs.

Aliens could respect all intelligence but detest mammals for some reason... would our intelligence save us? No. We're still mammals.

The other hard thing to adress is the idea of us being able to KNOW how an alien thinks. It evolved on a seperate world in totally different conditions. How would we even guess about how it thinks or what it's definition of intelligence is? Perhaps it finds dolphins are great but humans are little more than pests? We don't know... it's fun to speculate, because of that comes great stories, but trying to pass it off as science is faulty at best and junk science at the worst.

What makes a human a human? Their specific genetic code.
What makes intelligence? It depends upon your definition of intelligence.

Oy... It's the word limit that constantly keeps me from submitting anything. Every time I think "I'll just make this a short peice." It takes on a life of it's own...

*Shrugs* Oh well...

CHARACTER NAME: Hollow-Jack... Up to you to find out if this is true or not
APARTMENT NUMBER/LOCATION: Blackmoore Rooftop
STORYTELLER: Palaquinn
THEME SONG: Currently "DONALD MACGILLAVRY" (Celtic [Scottish] folk song)
SHORT DESCRIPTION:M.A.G.I. Threat assessment file Alpha 2 Beta 4.

Unknown Entity, referred to as Hollow-Jack

WARNING! Data-File is incomplete.

Research into the entity known as Hollow-Jack has been problematic at best. His similar resemblance to the creatures in Croatoa known as Fir-Bolg has only complicated matters. We have however learned a few basic things.

It is obvious that he is not human, and never was human as is the case for many of the Fir-Bolg.

He is composed of materials standard for a scarecrow, and none of his clothing or items displays any power on their own unless they are on his (its?) person. Note that these items have not been seperated from the being while he is in captivity, not due to any form of favoritisim, but due to his rather eloquent speech saying (in summation) that we would not strip other innmates of their skin.

The entity seems to follow a complex set of rules, and watches others carefully for breaches in these rules he can exploit. Many of these rules we have discovered via trial and error and extensive research in the M.A.G.I. libraries. By and large he seems to abide by certain strictures for members of the Unseelie Courts of the Fae. Unfortunately we have also seen that this is not the case with every law or rule the entity abides by. Research is ongoing.

The full extent of the entities powers are not fully known. Indeed, neither are the purposes of his garden he was growing on the site of his capture. The remains of several missing persons, heroes and villians alike, were found in the soil or wrapped up in the vines of his plants. Of the victims, one of which was the skeleton of a child. The state of decay suggests the bones to be old, but the weathering caused by the roots and vines may have accelerated this. DNA testing is ongoing in attempts to identify the identity of the skeletal remains.

The entity protested greatly against his capture, and successfully killed two Longbow agents before being restrained. He displayed a disturbing control over the vines as well as an ability to summon and crontrol fire... a trait unexpected in a scarecrow.

It was only by dutiful research of our occult investigators that we were able to capture the entity, but at a horrible cost. Miss Amanda Bloom, one of our mages, called out the name of the entity (Hollow-Jack) and demaned via the rites of the true name, for him to submit to her will.

The entity did submit, but with a look of malevolance unsurpassed by any creature when he did so. While in transport to the arcane holding area of the Zig for further study, one of his guards let slip Miss Amanda Bloom's name. Later that day the body of miss Bloom was found, bloody and raw, with a rictus of pure terror frozen on her face. The runes for the rite used to bind the entity were lost as well.

The entity demands constantly to be released so it can find and serve it's "Child." We do not know what this means, but we are researching the issue. The current binding in the Zig is patchy at best. Because we simply overheard the entities name and not "Discovered" it or had it given to us by the entity, any control over it by use of the name seems spotty at best. We are replacing the binding runes about his cell weekly, but we hope for our research to contain and restrain this entity bears fruit soon.

"Hollow-Jack" is a dangerous threat to anyone. There is too much we do not know about this being to safely study it in any setting other than maximum confinement. We reccommend keeping it sealed until certain mysteries about him come to light. May the Gods help us if he is released before that time... He has learned too many of our names and stories to even allow that possibility to happen.

-->Azuria.
PHOTO (URL):Surveilance Photo
HERO CORPS RAP SHEET (URL): None Known
KNOWN ASSOCIATES (VG): Adven ture Fallen (VG) Karasu Kurayami (Relationship unknown)

"And remember... Not only am I the president of the hair club for men..."

*Turns and shows his back*

"But I'm also a client!"

M.A.G.I. Threat assessment file Alpha 2 Beta 4.

Unknown Entity, referred to as Hollow-Jack

WARNING! Data-File is incomplete.

Research into the entity known as Hollow-Jack has been problematic at best. His similar resemblance to the creatures in Croatoa known as Fir-Bolg has only complicated matters. We have however learned a few basic things.

It is obvious that he is not human, and never was human as is the case for many of the Fir-Bolg.

He is composed of materials standard for a scarecrow, and none of his clothing or items displays any power on their own unless they are on his (its?) person. Note that these items have not been seperated from the being while he is in captivity, not due to any form of favoritisim, but due to his rather eloquent speech saying (in summation) that we would not strip other innmates of their skin.

The entity seems to follow a complex set of rules, and watches others carefully for breaches in these rules he can exploit. Many of these rules we have discovered via trial and error and extensive research in the M.A.G.I. libraries. By and large he seems to abide by certain strictures for members of the Unseelie Courts of the Fae. Unfortunately we have also seen that this is not the case with every law or rule the entity abides by. Research is ongoing.

The full extent of the entities powers are not fully known. Indeed, neither are the purposes of his garden he was growing on the site of his capture. The remains of several missing persons, heroes and villians alike, were found in the soil or wrapped up in the vines of his plants. Of the victims, one of which was the skeleton of a child. The state of decay suggests the bones to be old, but the weathering caused by the roots and vines may have accelerated this. DNA testing is ongoing in attempts to identify the identity of the skeletal remains.

The entity protested greatly against his capture, and successfully killed two Longbow agents before being restrained. He displayed a disturbing control over the vines as well as an ability to summon and crontrol fire... a trait unexpected in a scarecrow.

It was only by dutiful research of our occult investigators that we were able to capture the entity, but at a horrible cost. Miss Amanda Bloom, one of our mages, called out the name of the entity (Hollow-Jack) and demaned via the rites of the true name, for him to submit to her will.

The entity did submit, but with a look of malevolance unsurpassed by any creature when he did so. While in transport to the arcane holding area of the Zig for further study, one of his guards let slip Miss Amanda Bloom's name. Later that day the body of miss Bloom was found, bloody and raw, with a rictus of pure terror frozen on her face. The runes for the rite used to bind the entity were lost as well.

The entity demands constantly to be released so it can find and serve it's "Child." We do not know what this means, but we are researching the issue. The current binding in the Zig is patchy at best. Because we simply overheard the entities name and not "Discovered" it or had it given to us by the entity, any control over it by use of the name seems spotty at best. We are replacing the binding runes about his cell weekly, but we hope for our research to contain and restrain this entity bears fruit soon.

"Hollow-Jack" is a dangerous threat to anyone. There is too much we do not know about this being to safely study it in any setting other than maximum confinement. We reccommend keeping it sealed until certain mysteries about him come to light. May the Gods help us if he is released before that time... He has learned too many of our names and stories to even allow that possibility to happen.

-->Azuria.

"NO NO NO! Look Mako, you have to take drumming seriously, and for God's sake Black Scorpion would you at least TRY to get a chord right on the bass? We're never gonna make the Battle of the bands at this rate."

"Um... M'lord, I just heard that Statesman and the States-Girls are competing as well."

"NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!"

*Mako, Scirocco, Black Scorpion, and Lord Recluse in harmony"

SPAM SPAM SPAM SPAM SPAM SPAM SPAM SPAM

LR: Spammity Spam!

All: Spammity Spam!

LR: Spammity Spam!

All: Spammity Spam!

ALL: SPAM SPAM SPAM SPAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAM!

Ghost Widow: ""I DON'T LIKE SPAM!!!"

Just remember...

There is NOTHING more dangerous than a wounded mosquito. Arm yourself appropriately.

(After comming back from the hospital)

"Damnitt! The next time one of you jokers decides it would be a fine time to use a bug bomb to fumigate your room... WARN SOMEONE!!"

((I apologize for the long absence. I'll spare you the details, but I also know I have fallen horribly behind in the Whitmore... I'll do my damndest to catch up in a day or so. Until then, I'm movin' in HERE! Heh...))

"Why the hell does Lord Recluse have us crackin' some of these nutters out? I mean come on man, it's not like half these guys even know their [censored] from a hole in the ground."

"Shut it Perkins. We have orders and we follow them. I'll bite and say that I don't like it but it’s what we do. Now come on... we have to hit the Arcane Confinement wing."

Russel looked over his checklist of inmates to be sprung again. Each name had a checkmark next to it except one. He knew at least 30 other Arachnos soldiers were in the Zig doing the same thing at the moment, but he prided himself on being fast and efficient. He was going to show just HOW efficient when he reported Perkins to the Arbiters upon their return. The man obviously did not have his training instilled deeply enough by the Lord.

The two ran through the dark corridors lit by the emergency lights before coming to a heavy steel door. Perkins grabbed his access-code card he "Liberated" from one of the guards earlier and slid it into the slot. The door chimed before opening wide.

"Well hell... Looks like we have the last guy here." Perkins grumbled. All the other doors stood open. Their hollow rooms, dark and haunting, taunted the younger agent.

"If someone else was here, why didn't they just spring our guy as well so we didn't waste our time?"

Russel sighed and shook his head. "Because our target requires a... special touch. I have orders and instructions on HOW to release this one from Ghost Widow and Kalinda." Perkins snorted and stormed off towards the only closed door. Before he could enter his card and grab the handle Russel knocked his hand away.

"Are you stupid as well as a jackass? We are in the ARCANE containment area, these prisoners are sealed in by spells, your key won't work and would likely set off more alarms."

"SO? It's not like the tights don't know we are here already! Let’s just open the damn door and be done with it."

Russel added insubordination to the already growing list of faults he had marked on this young recruit. Perkins jammed his card in the slot and threw the door open. There was a scent of Ozone and a hiss before another alarm went off in the chamber. Russel sighed and drew a knife from his belt and quickly drug it down the etchings of runes laced upon the door-frame. He had hoped to disarm them, not mar them.

Perkins strode into the tiny cell and looked at the far corner before spitting and sputtering in anger. "Is this some kind of damn joke?"

The cell was like just about any other, with two major exceptions. First was that the floor seemed to be covered in vines. Pumpkin vines to be exact, and the heady odor of mold and rot hung in the air. The second exception was the "inmate" they had come to free.

"A SCARECROW? Lord Recluse sends us in here for a damn SCARECROW?!?" Perkins was raging now. He brutally kicked the leg of the thing sitting hap-hazardly in the corner.

It did indeed appear to be a scarecrow. The black-pinstripe pants and work boots had patches, and straw and corn husks stuck out between the loose seams. The torso was a black dress shirt with orange tie covered by a rich royal purple jacket. White magician gloves were attached to the sleeves, but the twigs for fingers had ripped some of the digits giving the palms a claw-like appearance. The head was... well a head-shaped pumpkin with no visible mouth. Eyes and a nose were carved in the classic jack-o-lantern shapes, but any mouth was absent at the moment. An oversized top-hat in the same rich royal purple sat on the "Head" and seemed to cover a partial attempt at hair make of weeds and vines... somehow still green.

"Damn him! We risk our [censored] for a damned JOKE!" Perkins was raging now, but Russel was dead calm. He had read the notes sent on this target by Kalinda and Ghost Widow. Perkins had botched the opening of the door, messing up the occult seals. The seals were there just FOR that reason; if someone tried to break this thing out without opening the seals correctly it would be hurt by the runes and bound to the room. Russel's marring of some of the runes would abate the pain, but not the binding.

He flipped the knife in his hand, stepped up behind Perkins and without a thought, grabbed the young recruit's head and drew the blade of the knife across Perkin's throat.

There was a strangled gargle and sputter as the bubbles of blood oozed out of the wound. The spatter hit the scarecrow and the vines on the floor. Russel stood back and shook his head.

"I would have reported your offences to the Arbiters anyway Perkins. This is quicker. In fact if you had not been a jackass we could have roused him with only three drops of blood, but because you activated the seals without thinking I needed more. Your death, I think, will be more than enough to remove the remaining binding."

The vines on the floor began to shudder and twitch as Perkins fell forward almost into the lap of the scarecrow. Like hungry eels the vines began to twist and flow towards the blood. Russel could see roots branch in the liquid crimson pools and suck hungrily. Barely a drop was wasted as the vines mummified the body of his former partner and left a desiccated husk behind.

The scarecrow shuddered, and where no mouth had been previously, a manic and disturbing rictus split the sheen of the gourd resembling a head. The teeth were large, white, and square. There were far more than in a normal human’s head, and the smile gave the wicked gleam missing from the blank jack-o-lantern’s face.

Russel quickly looked at his notes and began reading the words given to him by Kalinda.

“Tá sibh saor ó tromluí. Arachnos tairiscint tú aoi a bhfuil fáilte roimhe.”
“Tá sibh saor ó tromluí. Arachnos tairiscint tú aoi a bhfuil fáilte roimhe.”
“Tá sibh saor ó tromluí. Arachnos tairiscint tú aoi a bhfuil fáilte roimhe.”

Russel stepped back then as the scarecrow looked up at him. Those hollow eyes glaring while the smile never wavered.

“I am free… but where is the child?” The voice was hollow and cold. Not empty of emotion, but more of a faint restraint against a creature willing to tear one’s head off. It was the low growl of a feral dog, or a faint hiss of an angry cat. It was the whisper before the storm. Russel was prepared for the thing’s response but not for its voice.

“Arachnos has her, and she is waiting for you. We are to take you from here.”

The scarecrow stood and then suddenly bowed as if he was the finest gentleman.

“I accept your offer of freedom then. I like it when a caller knows the rules. Do you know my name?”

Russel nodded. The thing was well over seven feet in height, lanky, and reeked of mold and age, but it still carried a presence about it. It was far more than some animate scarecrow from a children’s book. This was something else entirely.

“You’re Hollow-Jack.”

The scarecrow nodded and patted Russel gently on the cheek. The must of moldy straw assaulted his nose, and the feel of the bony twigs pinched his skin, but he did not flinch.

“I am impressed. You speak the words, you show respect, and you have what I need. Lead on then soldier, and show me away from this place.”

Russel looked back at the husk of Perkins. He shrugged once, not even caring where all the vines had vanished to before he slammed the door shut.
************************************************** **********************
Hollow-Jack liked the helicopter ride. The wind smelled of ozone and fire when he left the walls of wire, stone, and steel behind. Others were crammed into the copter as well, but they seemed to be willing to move out of his way. The fact that a rude gentleman was now encased in a web of vines and whimpering in agony as the thorns tore into his flesh probably helped.

Or perhaps it was when Hollow-Jack held a flaming index finger a hair’s breath from the man’s iris before patiently explaining that he should never call people like Hollow-Jack “Pumpkin-Head, Pumpkin-Pie, Scarecrow, or Firewood.”

Education can be a wonderful thing, especially when others learn from a person’s mistakes. This was a fast learning group indeed.

They landed in a place called Mercy Island. More stone, wire, and steel greeted Hollow-Jack, but at least he was not caged IN such structures anymore. Russel hopped out of the cap of their copter and quickly ran up to him.

“Hollow-Jack, after you find your footing here and speak with Kalinda, you can find a spot of your own here.” He pressed a card into the white gloved palm of the towering entity.

Hollow-Jack paused and looked at his human friend.

“This Kalinda knows where my child is correct? I would be most upset at you both if I was lied to and lured here.”

“Tá sibh saor ó tromluí. Arachnos tairiscint tú aoi a bhfuil fáilte roimhe.” Russel repeated. Hollow-Jack nodded and bowed again.

“I only said upset, you have freed me and I know that is a debt I have to pay. You have abided by the rules, so shall I. I will speak with this Kalinda, but if your end of the pact is not held I will speak with you again as well.”

A dull thump was heard as well as a yelp of pain as the man who had offended Hollow-Jack was cut down.

“You may not like that talk Russel, keep that in mind.”

Hollow-Jack bowed and strode up to the woman in crimson named Kalinda. It was a brief meeting as many others were vying for her attention. He ran her tests, but her demeanor showed that she knew full well he was who he claimed to be.

After cleaning up a final mess and passing his final test Kalinda took a moment and pulled him aside.

“I know what you seek ó tromluí. I can show you to her, but not now. We will speak again. The pact will be held, do not fear about that.”

She swept away quickly leaving Hollow-Jack amid a sea of her petitioners. Nodding, he took the only option available at the moment.

The walk was swift and it was good to get away from the rabble and mobs. The building was easy enough to find as well.

Hollow-Jack entered the decrepit foyer and approached the desk. He placed the card Russel had given him down in front of the man at the desk. He was oblivious to the man shooting up the place with his gun or the wet man walking down the stairs.

He did however bow to the other, obvious gentleman in the lobby.

“I shall take the roof if you please. No need to trouble yourself, I can see the key. Attend to the others first by all means.”

A vine erupted from the floor behind the desk and wrapped about a set of keys before tossing them to Hollow-Jack’s waiting hand. Touching the brim of his hat he grinned to the cowering man, the gun toting individual, and the wet gentleman.

He turned on his heel and walked to the stairwell before tipping his hat once more to the finely dressed gentleman and ascending the stairs.

He emerged out on the roof amid the bubbling tar-paper and rank old pigeon-coop. A rotting water-tank was here as well, but what was important was the glorious amount of sun he could be exposed to. He would have to begin his garden here. A temporary situation until he was re-united with the child of course, but it would be something to do until he had found her again.

Hollow-Jack smiled and thought of all he was now able to do. He was free, and he only had to get food for his garden now. Food to start it and make it grow. Food like his first true meal in a long time.

Food like Perkins.

Oh this was going to be fun again.