QuickStryke

Anyone care to comment? Are you enjoying the story, hating it, printing so you can throw darts at something?

"Awakenings"

Agent Alicia Richards brushed a strand of her auburn hair away form the high-tech monocle covering her right eye. The lens was in the process of zooming, and the scrolling movement threatened to tangle with her wind-blown locks. What she saw brought a sense of satisfaction, betrayed by the softening of her face. Squinting her right eye, she reopened her left to view the scene unaided by technology. A slight smile played across her face, like the sun peeking out from behind stormy clouds.

Six security soldiers, dressed all in black plasti-armor, were entering a brownstone tenement in Galaxy City. She knew that six more were entering from the back, all armed with high-tech capture gear instead of their usual assault weaponry. The goal after all was NOT to kill the targets on this particular mission, but rather to force them out of this little hidey-hole and into the light, all under Agent Richard's watchful eyes. Each of the soldiers had been hand-picked by Richards, individuals in Crey Security that had in one way or the other angered, annoyed, or just didn’t fall into her idea of what Crey Security soldiers should be. She didn’t expect them all to live, and any pain garnered on this mission was well deserved in her opinion.

Resuming her vigil, she listened to the team's chatter over the cybernetic internal commlink in her ear. Standard clearing operations, moving to the second floor where the safe house was located, entering… Manticore's booby-trap, some sort of incendiary device, incapacitated three of the soldiers, before rapidly burning itself out. "Wouldn't want to harm the civilians now would we," she thought with a grim smile. Truthfully, she counted on Manticore's heroic sensibilities to make her job easier, casualties in bystanders were harder to cover up.

The team penetrated further into the safe house, a spacious three bed-room apartment. Two more booby-traps disabled the rest of her team, and no doubt removed all obvious evidence that Manticore, or his partner, Swan, had ever been in this locale. Activating the voice-link set in her jaw with a flick of her tongue, Richards sent the mental commands to dial in a set of commands to achieve a safe-line to a very busy branch of Crey Biotech's P.R. Department, the Cleaners. When the line went active, she spoke, "4210 Lincoln Street, Apartment 14, Galaxy City. Spin-doctors needed." Needing no confirmation as the Cleaners were renowned for their efficiency, she tongue-clicked her com' to end the call. Voice-recognition software would provide her updated security clearance. She estimated less than fifteen minutes before the team would be on site, and all of this would go away. Before then, she had more to do.

Vaulting from the third-story rooftop she had been standing on, Agent Richards flipped out a foot-long cord from her sleeve and looped it neatly over the phone lines heading from a nearby transformer into the building her quarry had so recently inhabited. Dropping from her slide, she neatly rolled to a stop on the desired rooftop, and quickly moved to the roof access way. Moments later she was in Manticore's old safe house.

The security squad lay about the apartment unconscious. Flash marks on the wall indicated that Manticore had used contained incendiary "flash" bomblets, something he was fond of attaching to the arrows he favored in combat. The squad would survive, most would need treatment for concussions and several would no-doubt be blind… nothing that Crey's Medics couldn’t fix. It amazed her that Manticore, well-known for his paranoia, had not destroyed more of the area to conceal more of his doings. Glancing about the apartment for clues, Richards found what she was looking for. The smaller bedroom had been used recently, and shreds of a Crey Security uniform provided all the proof she needed for authorizing this little raid. She scooped the scraps into an evidence bag, and then paused, her heightened hearing picking up an ultrasonic whine increasing in volume. Taking no chances, she dove for an open window… and then rode the shock wave of the explosion she had been waiting for.

Picking herself up and brushing away the gravel that was ground into her palms from skidding down yards of pavement, Agent Richards looked back down the alley to what was left of Manticore's safe house. "Impressive. Contained blast, explosives set in the walls, must have placed them inside of some sort of shielding to keep from leveling the entire building. The Cleaners won’t have much to do when they get here." Without a thought to the team burning inside, she watched flames bellow from inside the safe house with something close to satisfaction as she considered her options.

Kane had collapsed near the facility he was being held in, victim of an unknown assailant. Unfortunately, a group of heroes had been battling with a squad of Nemesis soldiers over that particular piece of real estate, and they had carried Kane off for medical attention. Worse, they had been one of the many temporary bands of heroes that Manticore had been commissioning to hound Countess Crey and so had brought their new acquisition to his attention. Realizing the potential dropped into his hands, Manticore had summoned his partner, Swan, a powerful telepath, and taken Kane to this safe house. Knowing that the recent information in Kane's mind could be used against Crey interests, Richards had summoned the now-deceased strike team to force Manticore to move again. Maybe he would provide additional information that could be filed away for better "handling" later. In the meantime, Swan and Kane needed to be separated. If she could get Kane into a city hospital, then all information could be controlled. Hell, more than 70% of all medical facilities in Paragon City were supplied through Crey Biotech. It was just a matter of manipulating events correctly. And sense Manticore had not gone through the Freedom Phalanx initially, he would not call them in now; pride would dictate he handle this alone or cover it up as much as possible to prevent embarrassing questions from his teammates.

Turning away from the fire, she reactivated her monocle, and tuned in to the spy drone she had following Manticore's car. He was driving erratically, taking many turns and obviously attempting to lose any pursuit. However, his general direction was heading towards G.C. Memorial Hospital. Walking to where she had parked, some three blocks away, Agent Richards smiled, things were well in hand.

************************************

As luck would have it, Manticore did admit Kane to G.C. Memorial. It seemed that something was stirring up the 5th Column, forcing many of them to take to the streets in large numbers. That wasn't any concern of Agent Richards, she was too busy thanking the crazy fascists for their wonderful timing. Manticore's obsession with the 5th Column was well-documented. She hid a smile behind the Cosmopolitan magazine she was flipping through while waiting to speak with the doctor handling Kane. Fortune was certainly smiling.

The smile was less natural and more forced six hours later, when Dr. Rudy Nielson tiredly approached. Tall and lean, the doctor's skin was made even paler by his sterile white jacket. Obviously at the end of a long shift, the doctor still managed to maintain professional courtesy in his voice as he asked, "What interest does the C.D.C. have in my John Doe, Ms…?"

"Richards, Alicia Richards… Dr…" Richards checked the doctor's nametag though she had already acquired a complete history on the man from Crey Intel while waiting in the lobby, and then continued in her false southern accent. "…Nielson. And the C.D.C. is always interested in potential health hazards to the city. In particular, we received a report that this John Doe was found in Crey's Folly unconscious from an unknown malady. Lord only knows what kinds of disease is just waiting to spawn in that hell-hole."

Dr. Nielson nodded, the last of his resistance seemingly seeped away. "Very well, come with me, I'll introduce you to Mr. Doe. I have already had the lab run his blood samples through a thorough check for anything. We didn't find anything there. So I ran a few more checks." The doctor pushed through a door into a room containing a bed, an I.V. drip, and several other machines, all buzzing and beeping softly as they monitored various life signs of the man unconscious on the bed.

"And what did you find Doctor?" Richards put her best concerned look on her face, and implored to the man behind the doctor's smock as only a woman could do. "I hope he will be ok."

The door swished slowly closed behind them. The doctor picked up the chart from the end of Kane's bed and glanced over reports he had written already. "I'm puzzled, Ms. Richards, truly puzzled. The patient's life signs are all strong, no signs of poisoning or disease… hell, he's healthy as a horse. " He looked from the patient into Richard's hungry eyes. Searching for something that he obviously found, he warmed to her attention. "Where we ran into a fright was on his M.R.I. Ummm, ya, when we found nothing else, I wanted to run a check on his brain patterns. Many superhumans are psychically gifted, so maybe this was a psionic whammy ya know? Lord knows that I have seen enough patients who ran afoul of the Lost, or worse, the Rikti, and needed help unscrambling their brains. Anyway, the patient's M.R.I. was off the charts, bouncing this way and that, everything was fluxing so badly that he should be having seizures." Here Dr. Nielson indicated one of the beeping machines, and pointed out the wildly changing status shown by the LED. "Its like his brain is moving at super speeds and bouncing around inside his cranium trying to get out."

"Isn’t that harmful for the poor dear?" Richards kept the feminine charm at full gear, touching the doctor's arm lightly, while holding his gaze.

"Yes, it could be very harmful… debilitating in fact. That's not the worst though. I think I have found out why he is experiencing these erratic brain waves." Taking a second to puff out his chest and making sure that Richards was paying the proper attention to his genius, Dr. Nielson continued. "I authorized an experimental scan that we have received just recently. Terribly expensive but…" he lowered his voice to conspiratol tones, "We can scan a patient for powers, learn what abilities they have with just one pass! And I don’t mean physical powers, we can scan for psychic powers as well!" He grinned like a child with a secret, then frowned suddenly, seeing the shock on Richards face. "Oh don’t worry! We aren’t using it to report anything, but think of how much easier it makes treating a superhuman patient!"

Nodding her head, Richards allowed her amazement to show clearly on her face. A device such as this scanner was news indeed. She was eager to report its existence to Hopkins, and allowed herself to quickly imagine the rewards in store for this treasure. Coming back to the present, she turned her smile on the good doctor once more. "What did you find?"

Happy to answer, the Doctor continued, "John Doe possesses… Ha! I kill me.. Umm, sorry, John Doe isn’t the only one in there…" Nielson paused long enough to drive his point home, and when he saw Richards eyes widen, he nodded. "Ya… he is carrying some kind of possessing entity in there. That's why the brain waves are so wild. Well, not the only reason, but we will get back to that… ok, follow me on this. Mr. Doe here has heightened muscle mass indicative of super strength. Usual stuff you see on most of the "tankers' and "scrappers" in the city. However, interestingly enough, he also doesn’t seem to age. No dead skin cells, no usual hair follicles falling out, nadda. He does regenerate quickly, which is a puzzler." Seeing he was losing his audience, Nielson hurried to explain, "Normally, if you possess a hyper-regenerative body, you heal just like a normal person, just faster. This means that you are constantly reproducing skin cells, ect. So you flake off more than the usual dead skin, your hair grows faster, and so on… Well, J.D. here doesn’t do that. Its like he has a snapshot of what he is supposed to look like, and his body adjusts to fit that. Right down to…"the doctor pulled back the patient's sleeve to reveal a scar encircling the left forearm, and then lifted the sheet to show another on the patients right leg. "He's got several other scars, too… this is significant in that regenerative beings NEVER have scars, they heal completely! So that's the first oddity."

Richards nodded, having already activated the recorder attached to her ear implants, and continued to beam at the doctor, her interest real enough now. "What else?" she breathed.

"Well, scanning his brain revealed some interesting things. I can show you the actual holographic recording of our scan, but check this out for now, the Johnny-boy has superspeed too, but not like we are used to seeing. Nope, his powers are psionic somehow. Its like he had this great potential psychically, but instead of turning it into telepathy or telekinesis, he focused it into speed. Now this has a million different theoretical applications, but until he wakes up we won’t know for certain beyond the fact that he has the power."

"Also, his brain development indicates strong martial training…no kidding, right?" the doctor chuckled before continuing, "but here we get back to that possession. The scans revealed a psychic snarl in his brain, so we picked at it a bit more. Turns out that he has a psionic protection in the form of an active psi-bomb waiting to attack anyone that ventures in there. Well, this just doesn’t seem healthy, and it was also the source of the wildly conflicting brain patterns so we magnified the scan even further in. That's when we found it… found her to be precise! There is a female brain pattern riding inside his brain… can you imagine?"

Richards nodded her wonderment… Kane was getting more and more interesting. Seemed he [censored] with the wrong woman, and the possibility that that could be more true than figurative set her imagination on fire. She had to fight to concentrate to catch the doctor's next words.

"Well, the oddest thing we found in all of this I believe is the master key to John-boy's lock. Transdimensional energy was clinging faintly to JD when he was brought in here, indicating recent travel through a portal of some sort." The doctor paused once more, and looked over his shoulder conspiratorially before continuing. "You know what I think, Ms. Richards? I think John Doe here came through a portal and landed in Crey's Folly somehow. I think wherever he was from he had an unfriendly telepath attacking him when he made the jump. I think the shock of traveling between dimensions locked this telepath's mind in Johnny's head, and being cut of from her body, the telepath panicked and latched onto the only common ground she had available, John's mind. I think Johnny here fought back, natural if your mind is being supplanted, right? And right now, they are in there, fighting it out for control. Right now, it looks like the telepath has made it into John's psychic defense, and she is stuck there, unwilling or unable to let go. He should be able to push her out, but the kicker is, as the Transdimensional energy wanes, so does John's psychic power. I bet the portal somehow leeched allot of his energy... Pretty wild, huh?"

Richards exhaled slowly, sorting through the doctor's hypothesis. Quirking up an eyebrow she asked, "So he might gain his powers back, but for now they are dampened?" she leaned into the doctor, the line of her body brushing his suggestively. "So right now, he's basically a vegetable?"

Dr. Nielson was sweating suddenly, as he looked into Richard's eyes from much closer than he had imagined was possible for one of his appearance. "Uhhh, yes, that is correct. Until that mental activity slows down, he couldn’t put one foot down in front of the other, let along move himself anywhere." Deciding to push his sudden good luck he asked, "I.. Uhh, my shift is over. Would you perhaps care to discuss this someplace more, uhhh, casual?"

"Why, Rudy, I thought you would never ask" the redheaded beauty chuckled, her throaty tones washing away the weak warning signal that he had never given her his first name. Looping her arm in his, she led the way to the door. "Tell me, have you discussed your theories with anyone else?"

Neither of them saw John Doe's eyes open, their opaqueness giving way to a steadily growing emerald blaze. The soft tones of the various machines masking his voice as it whispered, "Ohhhh, she will due, she will due… I'll be seeing you soon Agent Richards."

**************************************

Expensive clothing lay scattered over across a smoky Persian rug, and their trail continued down a eggshell white hallway decorated with rare African carvings, giving way to intimate apparel discarded at the foot of a king-sized bed. Silk sheets covered the powerfully muscled hips of a gorgeous woman whose moans were masked by the smoothly rocking sounds of Lenny Kravitz. The bed rocked in rhythm to the lyrics blared from speakers set into the bedrooms walls.

Beneath those powerful hips, Dr. Rudy Nielson lay with the largest grin his face could hold. Nearly laughing with glee, he watched the beautiful C.D.C. agent writhe about on his body, using him for her pleasure. A particularly aggressive thrust caused him to squeeze his eyes shut in joy, ecstasy racing up his spine and squeezing little tears of joy from his eyes.

Lost in the sensation of the oldest act of mutual pleasure known to man, Dr. Nielson missed his partner's brief pause, and the shudder that ran though her body and into his he assumed to be her peak overwhelming her. As she began to grind down on him again, he kept his eyes closed, sensations building in his own body that were soon to be beyond his control.

Thus he missed the new eyes that looked down on him from his partner's face. And the smile adorning her face would have shriveled him in terror had he but looked up in those last few moments. Instead, the musical voice which whispered to him his last words brought about the conclusion to their joining. "Create meeeee," this wonderful creature breathed to him, and with that he gave up his all; his seed to her waiting womb, and as a dainty hand gave a quick twist of his neck, his life.

A voice never heard from Alicia Richard's mouth spoke to the quiet room, "Thank you Rudy." she leaned down and kissed the doctor's bulging eyes closed, "or should I say, Daddy?"

*********************************

Across the city, in a quiet hospital room John Doe, SPB 3 sat up suddenly in his bed, the violent movement tearing several I.V. lines from his arm. Looking about with wild yes he cursed to his surroundings. "What have you done now, Millicent?"

[ QUOTE ]
[ QUOTE ]
If you can see it in the latest episode of your favorite sitcom or show, then its safe.


[/ QUOTE ]

If I had a kid I don't think I would let him/her/it watch sitcoms. Not because I find them offensive... but because they're complete crap.

[/ QUOTE ]

Don't they though? I completely agree with ya, was just making a generalized statement. I have to agree with the other posters, vagueness is easy, i have a chapter coming in my story here that has a scene which i purposefully wrote in a vague manner but in othe rplaces i have posted it, was congratulated that it stayed PG. Erotic does not equal graphic.

The way i read the guidelines is don;t post anything you (or children) won't see on TV (skipping past PPV and HBO, ect). If you can see it in the latest episode of your favorite sitcom or show, then its safe.

If you can imagine a parent reaching for their kids eyes to cover them from seeing what you just wrote then leave it out.

"Fevered Dreams"

Life used to be so much simpler. "Born" in a genetics laboratory, Kane's first memories had been of his "father," Dr. Richard Caufield. The Doctor was a kindly old man, obsessed with his research into developing a soldier who could withstand a nuclear holocaust and carry the ol' Stars-n-Stripes into a new age if needed. The project had bogged down until a significant find was made in the polar ice caps north of Greenland.

Satellite photos had warranted an exploration team, who then called for experts to document their find. Dr. Caufield, one of the leaders in Parahuman Genetics for the U.S. at that time, was sent out with the team. There, perfectly preserved, they found the body of a man. A man who had been frozen for over 3, 000 years and yet was still alive, albeit in a hibernation comma! "Adam," as the project dubbed him, possessed an incredible regenerative ability that had allowed his body to survive all this time. Added to the mystery was the fact that he wore some sort of futuristic clothing, something not yet developed even by military R&D labs.

Adam's body revived over a period of time, under the watchful care of Dr. Caufield. The Doctor began running tests on Adam's genes, combining them with the various super-soldier tests he had created, and found that in every case, Adam's regenerative abilities raised the hypothetical chance of surviving the test by at least 50%! The best results came from a particularly brutal regimen; combining a chemical cocktail with a lethal dose of radiation, enough to kill a healthy man many times over. However, Adam's cells not only withstood the treatment, they provided a 40% chance of positive mutation! This was enough for Doc Caufield's superiors to give a green light to "Project: Sunburst", all funds needed were provided.

However, they were still hesitant to provide U.S. soldiers for the experiment, and the chance that a forced prisoner might actually gain paranormal abilities and escape was to great a security risk. Therefore, the board of directors were more than willing to accept Doctor Caufield's next suggestion; the implemantation of his pet project, human cloning. Morality aside, it would provide the necessary test subjects, blank slates on whom the necessary training could be written, loyalty insured. And if they died in the test, no one was hurt and no one the wiser for it. The board voted unanimously to approve the project.

The necessary facility for Project: Sunburst would take a year to build, and in that time the Doctor perfected his serum as far as he could. Adam never did awaken: he never made it past rudimentary life functions. However, his living cells were harvested, and forty clones were created. The clones grew rapidly, a side effect that was unexpected, but very welcome. Within six months they had reached physical and mental maturity, and were turned over to drill instructors from the military's most elite organizations. By the time the facility was ready for the clones, they were ready for their final test.

Twenty-five clones died instantly upon exposure to the radiation. Seven mutated into something too horrible for words and disappeared from the Project. Three remained whole, but went insane from various psychic abilities they could not control. Five clones emerged physically and mentally intact, gaining a variety of super powers, and were ready to further their training. One of them died in the next week from cellular decomposition. None the less, Project: Sunburst was named a success by its board of directors.

************************************
Kane tossed restlessly, fever producing a sheen of sweat over his entire body. His eyes opened briefly to gaze unfocused at the white figure sitting on the side of his bed. A damp, cool cloth dabbed at his forehead, providing a measure of relief from the burning pain he felt. He heard a musical voice murmur soothing words, though he could not make them out. He tried to speak, and his throat burned. A cup of water was brought to his lips, and he swallowed a mouthful before coughing the rest back up. The cloth cleaned his face, and feeling a bit better, he drifted back into unconsciousness.

Swan looked over her shoulder to Manticore. "Justin, he's going to die if his body can't adjust to whatever Crey did to him. We should really be bringing him in to a doctor, not holding him here."

Her partner glared briefly, before his eyes softened. He couldn’t be angry at her, she was right after all. Still, when had he ever abided by the rules? "Lena, we need that information. Crey's been funneling too much in finances and equipment into that facility. I know they are running something illegal out of there, and this poor sap's the first break we have received. We can’t stop now."

Swan sighed softly. Manticore's hatred of Countess Crey and her multi-national conglomerate, Crey Biotech, was a palpable thing. If she had not seen the atrocities the company was capable of firsthand, and witnessed the amazing coverups they could perform at a moments notice; she would call him obsessed, but that would be incorrect. Justin "Manticore" Sinclair reserved obsession for the 5th Column; neo-fascist descendants of the original super soldiers from the Third Reich. Still, his naturally brooding personality lent itself well to solving mysteries, and Countess Crey was one of the mysteries he wished to see unraveled.
Justin's gaze faltered, and he began to pace the room. Lena watched him, considering just how different they were.
Lena "Swan" Elliot owed her life to Manticore, and she assisted him gladly in combating evil, but she was a much kinder, gentler soul. Statesman had once confided in her that he believed that Lena was the one thing that kept Justin from falling into a dark abyss from which there would be no return. She had come into her own psychic powers when caught between rival assault teams from the 5th Column and the arcane Circle of Thorns who were attempting to loot her parent's home for a pair of mystical heirlooms. Now she used her abilities to help Manticore uncover the truth behind the many secrets held in Paragon City. Mysteries like the man sleeping in this safe house of theirs.

Lena was too intelligent to leap into a stranger's mind, she knew what dangers could lie in the dark recesses of the psyche. So far she had been proven correct; this man… Kane, he seemed to think of himself as, had a psychic bomb of such intricacy that it could only have been planted by a master psionic, someone with real power, and real desire to harm others. She had never seen its like. Most traps of this sort were meant to be short term assaults on an unwary team psychic, resulting in the death of the carrier and usually the psychic as well. Not so with this one. Someone had taken the time to carefully weave the psionic energy into Kane's mind. Kane's powers seemed to trigger by psionic activation, and so they were woven into the bomb, fueling it in fact. This trap would not be fading with time. No, it would be there as long as he was alive, or until someone very powerful, and very skilled was able to remove it. Worse yet, it was self-regenerating, capable of multiple attacks without harming its host… She had explained it to Manticore as a psionic bomb that had the plus side of protecting Kane from mental probes, but cut him off from any true telepathic contact. He was a (hopefully) unwilling assassin for mentalists. All of this she had learned with extremely careful probing of the bomb itself, warned immediately upon making contact with Kane by the image of blazing emerald eyes turning to view her. The bomb seemed to have something close to an intelligence of its own, forcing her to wonder if the psychic responsible for this atrocity had not implanted a piece of herself (it felt female to Lena for some reason) into Kane's mind. If that was true then whoever "she" was must be hurting now that Kane was in a different reality.

"Can't you hurry this up?" Manticore finally huffed after pacing the room a dozen times. Patience was missing from his nature unless he was actually on a hunt.

Swan looked to him with a smile she reserved for impatient children and her partner. "Justin, I have already explained to you, I cannot plunge into his psyche and pull the answers you want out of him. I have to remain empathic, allow his mind to respond to gentle suggestions in the form of dreams. Its up to him then what information is given. Why don't you run out and get us some dinner at La Fiesta Brava? I could go for some taquitos…" Her eyes implored him to find somewhere else to vent his frustrations.

"Huh?" Manticore paused in mid-stride. He looked with confusion at Swan for a moment, then chuckled as he realized how bad his behavior was for the delicate work she was performing. "Sure, La Fiesta Brava, it is. Should take me about an hour to get there and back. " Seeing the look on Lena's face he quickly amended himself, "..and, uhh, there's that report that State's has been after me to drop off… I should stop by HQ and get that filed. Say, three hours round trip?"

Swan smiled and nodded. "That should be good. I can't imagine it will take me much longer thasn that to get the info you want." She watched him snatch up his mask, bow, and quiver and head for the door. "Drive safely, Justin," she called after him.

A snort was all she heard as he hit the door already increasing his pace. Grinning she turned back to her patient. The smile faded a bit as she reached a hand back to Kane's forehead. Softly she murmured, "C'mon Kane, tell me more."

**************************
Kane received his name from the lab techs because at the exact time he opened his eyes, Adam died. The others were named for various traits expressed during their training or in honor of someone's family, ect. The name seemed more apropos the longer he existed. Like his Biblical counterpart, he always had a different way of accomplishing goals given to him. Also, like his namesake, he was the first amongst the clones to kill someone. Though an accident in the development of his strength, it was not missed by the other trainers who responded with typical aggression through the rest of his schooling.

It is unknown what might have become of this relationship. Three months after Project: Sunburst had its successful run, the locale was raided by paranormal agents from an unknown source. The facility was destroyed, and in a act of kindness, Dr. Caufield freed Kane and sent him into the world to attempt a life free of governmental interference.

***************************
The next five years passed in a blur for Kane. Possessed of monumental strength, super speed, an incredibly dense hide, and a mastery of martial combat that surpassed the best human fighters in the world, finding a job was quite easy. What wouldn’t have been easy was avoiding the Project team hunting him. As luck would have it, Kane met a mercenary who would change his life.

Rick "Monetary" Hazard was a super-mercenary selling his, and his team's, skills to the highest bidder. Finding a blank slate in Kane, he began to impress his world view upon this young pupil. Kane learned his lessons well, and was a valuable member of the team until the day that his mentor died, killed by another super a little faster and slightly stronger than he. Kane absorbed this lesson too, as, leaderless, the team fell apart, each going their own way. In honor of his one-time mentor and friend, Kane took in Rick's son, Hazard Jr, and set off to become his own man for the first time in his life.

Freelance mercenary work would have continued until that one fatal mistake made it all fade to black if a particularly lucrative, and quite intriguing offer had not crossed his path. A woman named Sable hired Kane to join a super group called "The Stand." It seemed the group had come up against a run of nasty villians and lost several members, and the current team "brick" had been relegated to the hospital for several months of recovery and rehabilitation. It was unknown if they would ever be able to don their uniform again. As Sable owed the team leader, one Fleer Ishimano, a favor, she arranged for Kane to fill the roll for the next three months time. The money was very good, so Kane packed a bag and was off to a small town in Colorado; the team maintained a ranch as a base there far from major civilization.
Kane had no sooner stepped onto the ranch then the team's collective surprise was made known. He didn’t have to ask what was so shocking: standing looking at him was Adam, complete with the costume he had been found frozen in! The next few moments witnessed heated questions, many of which neither side could answer. Adam, or Jakob Green as his name turned out to be, decided to be happy with finding a "brother," and Kane was welcome into the team. The question of how Jakob ended up frozen in ice was one that was never completely understood.

********************
Heroic life was quite a change of pace for Kane. At first he did his job with the same cold, methodical ruthlessness he had been taught. His first battle came against a team of super-mercs who had been controlled via bio-tech slave modules implanted in their necks. While the other heroes fought delicately to save the mercs, Kane shattered the spine of one and killed another. This lead to a severe lesson in what it meant to be a hero. Making things more strained was the fact that the merc team's leader, Zaiphod Shimizu, was Fleer's brother-in-law.

The team continued its investigation and learned that an uber supervillian named The Adversary was behind the slave modules. Several other teams had to be subdued, much more carefully this time, as the Stand moved closer to this archvillian. The team used their ranch base as a place of refuge for those recovering from the slave modules. One of those saved was a young heroine named Dana Barret, healer and telepath.

The final confrontation with the Adversary was bittersweet. His base of operations was destroyed, but he managed to escape through a portal created by an ally, a necromantic demon known as the Deadbringer. Still, the day was saved, and Kane discovered that doing good just for the sake of good had its perks too. Healthy emotions like gratitude, love, and respect for life were introduced into his life.

*********************
Swan pulled back from her empathic meld with Kane. Wiping the sweat from her brow, she reached for a nearby glass of water while pondering the next few years of Kane's life. He had continued as a hero with the team for a few years. After his mercenary contract expired, he continued, finding camaraderie amongst this team of heroes. Still, he was not completely a hero, there were times where he pushed his mercenary dark side into a closet and left it for months at a time, and then there were times when the darkness roared out of its chains and brought about great chaos in Kane and those around him's lives. He never reached the dedication to goodness and morality that those like Statesman swore by… in many ways he reminded Swan of Manticore, forever balanced on the precipice, staring into the darkness below. Kane had seen the darkness look back and it forever molded him. She was determined that Manticore would never reach that point.

The Stand went the way of all super groups. New alliances formed, members laid to rest in loving memory, and others forced by fate to leave their uniforms behind. A new team sprung up, calling themselves Crossroads. It was the only name that made sense with the heroes assembled. From Kane's darker view ranging up to the team leader, Jack's dyed-in-the-wool heroic nature, the team represented the moral compass in all its extremes, and was extremely effective because of it.

It was also during this time that Kane began dating Dana Barret; and from the feelings she received surrounding his memories of this woman, Swan began to understand that this psychic bomb was placed to hurt Kane in the most malicious of ways. The memories of the bomb's implantation were hidden, as were many other memories. It seemed the more emotional the memory, the tighter the bomb hugged to it.
She saw that he had been to multiple other dimensions, seen beings who called themselves gods, and in a bid to save his failing body (the cloned genes giving out from the constant stress placed on them), had won immortality from them. This event seemed extremely dramatic, but fuzzed out in all of the most important moments.

There was an alien invasion in their dimension as well, but the villians were not the Rikti. Instead they called them Distri-Sitrans, and they were extremely devious in their methods of conquering. Appearing as human, they could steal a super being's powers and use them for themselves. Combining this with advanced reconstructive surgery, they had managed to replace more than 50% of the Earth's heroes and villians before they were caught. The battle for Earth had been long and fraught with many loses. In the end, the remaining heroes and villians were forced to combine forces and launch a desperate assault across space to the Distri home world, a rock burned out of all resources and used only as a prison now. The combined assault was successful, and the invasion was thwarted. Again, frustration rose as the most important parts of the story were blotted out.

The last images Swan received were of a call to an alternate Earth, one where a militaristic religious order served an ancient Evil, a being of such immense power that no super could hope to stand against it. Each of the team were given a piece of a sacred elemental power, known collectively as "the Flame," the very energy from which the universe was derived if one believed the stories. All Crossroads knew was it made them into godlings, beings of such amazing power that they rapidly shot through the ranks of this Old One's followers and readied themselves for the final battle.
Here Swan was amazed that the bomb could not follow. It was as if the Flame-use protected, or perhaps seared, these memories onto Kane's mind. An epic battle, one that should be written in history books, if historians had survived it, destroyed that reality's earth. The Old One too used the Flame, albeit the destructive mirror of the positive energies wielded by the heroes, and used it to destroy the world they had come to free. One by one the heroes fell, but did not die. Each joined the Flame, making the others stronger till only Kane remained, standing tall atop a floating piece of what was once the world they had come to save. Drawing all of the energy available to him, he met the Old One in one last explosion, and in doing so they rent the very building blocks of reality, expunging the Evil from all time, and leaving the team as formless spirits in the void of their own making, with a choice before them. They could remain the sole holders of the Flame, play at gods and recreate a universe in their own image, or they could return the Flame to its Source, and give up their existences, to allow Fate to guide the revolution of this reality. They chose the later, and upon giving up their all, they were reborn, forever cut off from their own home; strangers, but witnesses of the rebirth of a universe. Also, these Flametouched beings were blessed (cursed?) with memory of everything they had been before, but scattered throughout the megaverse, not knowing where the others were.

This last image had been too much for Swan to handle, and she had pulled away before the death and rebirth could pull her down with them. She stared at the man sleeping peacefully now. To have done so much and then be lying there so helpless now… it staggered the imagination.
Rubbing her forehead, she walked to the bathroom and took several Tylenol from the medicine cabinet, swallowing them with help of water from the leaky faucet. Staring into the mirror she considered all she had seen. Did she really want to go back in to Kane's mind? Could she was a better question. She was nowhere closer to gaining the information that Manticore wanted, but if Kane had any more surprises like the last one for her, she didn’t know if she could handle them without threatening her sanity.

She didn’t have to make that decision. The door to the safe house slammed open, and Manticore's voice yelled, "Crey assault team, less than 30 seconds out! Its time to GO!"

Please feel free to comment. I'd like to know if people like or dislike the story.

"Escape"

Dr. Theodore Schuler looked up from the work table in his lab. Annoyance crossed his features as he heard the clattering of a dozen pairs of boots moving at high speeds. Security Chief Miles was always performing some drill or another with his men, all in the name of efficiency. What Dr Schuler and the other scientists called it wasn't printable in any report they passed on to their superiors. Sighing in relief that a "room to room sweep" was not part of this interruption of his concentration, he returned to his work.

Scant moments later he tossed his laser scalpel down with as much force as he could safely use without damaging it. The sprinting boots were returning. Striding to his door, he had every intention of delivering a sound lecture to these "boys with toys" and their all too frequent disturbances.

As the heavy door hissed apart to the left and right, Dr Schuler realized that something was terribly wrong. The sound of automatic gun fire reached his ears as the first security guard rounded the far corner, a mixture of anger and fear plain on his face. The guard was in the process of ejecting a clip and slapping a new one into place when he looked forward and saw Dr Schuler.

"Get back in your hole, lab rat! This is a serious…" Dr Schuler lost the rest of the guard's imperative, as three more guards backed around the corner rifles blazing. Ducking back into his lab, Dr Schuler slapped the emergency locks in place and returned to his table wondering why he had ever accepted Crey's contract.

*******************************

"Where's our god-damn backup?!!??" Riley screamed into his throat mike. Summoned to Gamma Ward, his squad had been told to "contain a SPB threat with all prejudice." Like the rest of the boys, it was assumed that Miles was running another of his freaking drills. Still, they were paid well to do just that, so the squad had double-timed it to Gamma Ward, the interrogation wing.

Riley was prepared for many things when he opened the vault-like door to Gamma Ward, but a naked man munching on a donught was not one of them. He and the rest of the squad had all taken a moment to blink and stare… squarely at the naked man's face. Well, all of them except Jones and Wilkes. Assuming they had just been the victim's of a prank, Riley had called in his report. Sec Central informed him that this was indeed the SPB in question. The naked guy just stood there calmly finishing his donught, and then asked, "Any of you gentleman have some coffee?"

Bucks had laughed then. The rest followed suit. This was a joke… it had to be. Squad 220 was getting them back for the glue that had amazingly gotten into their shampoo bottles last month. The naked guy was a stripper who had gotten carried away or something.

Then Riley saw the SPB's ear. Blood had trickled down and was falling to the floor. Looking down the hall, he saw an open "voyeur room," a room where Agents would sit and watch interrogations. The door wasn't important. What was important were the bloody footprints leading to where this individual stood.

Snapping his gun to his shoulder, Riley had used his best command voice and bellowed, "ON YOUR KNEES, NOW!" The rest of the team snapped out of their mirth and followed suit in record time. Riley couldn’t help but feel a bit of pride. The extra drills they had put in showed well when needed.

The SPB calmly wiped crumbs from his hands, and then raised them to shoulder height, palms forward. "Look. I am leaving here. You may not care, but your employers are holding me illegally." He looked to the team for any reaction. When he received none, he smiled and shook his head. "I didn't think so. Shall we do this the hard way, or…"

Riley had heard enough. "Bucks, Wilkes, fry him!" The Zapper fire team triggered their tasers, fully capable of dropping a grown man in his steps, and known to bring down more than one super-terrorist. Riley had enough time to see the man back flip under the tasers, and then time became a blur.

The SPB was in the middle of them, crushed Bucks nose, and while using him as a shield, fried Eriksson with Buck's own tasers. The next few seconds were a mess. Realizing that they were in over their heads, Riley called for backup and ordered his team to retreat while spraying suppressing fire in such a way as to force the SPB back into the interrogation room.

Four of his team were still with him. Out of a dozen men and women, four of them lasted longer than 18 seconds of contact with this SPB. They had leapfrogged back, covering each other and planning to make a stand at the entrance to Beta Ward. Sec Central should be able to scramble a HTR (High Threat Response) Team to meet them there.

Now they were crouching in as defensible a location as possible and burning ammo down the hallway, hoping to keep this guy at bay long enough for the cavalry to arrive. Jones pulled her head back from around the corner where she had just burned a half-clip, a disturbed look on her face. "He's wearing Bucks clothes now. Armed himself too."

"Oh, that does it!" Mason grabbed both tear gas grenades off his belt, flicked the pins and tossed them down the corridor. When he didn’t pull back right away, Riley got a sick feeling in his gut. Mason hadn't slumped as if unconscious or worse so that left one thing, "He's right there isn't he?"

"Uhhh, ya bossman. I'm looking at the business end of a AAR (Advanced Assault Rifle) right now. On the plus side, uhh, he doesn't seem to want to pull the trigger quite yet." The fear was plain in Mason's voice.

Riley cleared his throat to answer when his mike squawked in his ear. As he listened he blanched. The orders he was being given were ludicrous! Still… if it got his people out of trouble… "Hey Mr." he called.

The SPB answered smoothly, "Your boss just told you to let me walk didn’t he?"

Riley's jaw dropped. "How'd… that is, yes, they have. I am to tell you that following the corridor you are on right now will lead you to a door marked 'Exit.' My boss would consider it a favor if you used it."

A chuckle resounded from around the corner. It made Riley sick to hear it. Miles better have something up his sleeve. If this guy walked after decimating his team… he'd make sure Miles paid somehow.

"Alright, all of you, weapons on the floor and produce those cuffs I saw on your belts." The SPB continued in such a manner and in moments the remaining four members of Sec Team 219 were on their knees, hands cuffed behind their backs, and their ammo strapped on Buck's harness, which in turn was strapped on this SPB. Riley noted the practiced way the guy handled weaponry; obviously not used to handling Crey tech, he still quickly figured out how it all worked. Taking two pistols, a Tazer, an AAR, 6 knives, and more ammo than any three fire teams should need, the SPB trotted around the corner towards the exit. He returned seconds later, a quizzical look on his face. "By the way. Where am I?"

Riley blinked at the question, then answered, "Paragon City." As the confused look didn’t leave the SPB's eyes, he added, "Rhode Island… the smallest state in the United States…" The SPB finally nodded, eyes glinting in recognition of the sarcasm Riley laced his words in. He smiled good naturedly, and after looking back the way he had originally came for a moment, jogged off towards the exit again.

*********************

"No [censored]' way, Miles! I want this *******'s balls for dinner, and you are NOT going to get in my way with some beauracratic [censored]!" Agent Richards had been rendered temporarily unconscious by Bogey A29's head butt. A lesser person might have a comma from the force of the blow, but Richards had undergone many improving surgeries since joining Crey's Agent program. The loss of humanity bemoaned by many was a boon in her mind.

As her mind had registered consciousness' return, she had 'played possum' long enough to get her bearings. What she heard sickened her. Agent Baker, her partner for the last 6 months, had put his best martial moves on the Bogey and received a cement facial for his trouble. The Bogey then tried to speak reasonably, urging Baker to stay down. It went to show how little this Bogey knew of Crey Agents. He may be hell on wheels in some corner of the earth, or hell, in his own reality, but here, he was going to learn how to respect those in authority, and here, that meant Crey.

The sound of Baker's neck snapping wasn't the worse thing Richards had ever heard. The soggy flop of his face returning to the cement didn't drive her insane with anger. What fueled the nova burning in her gut was the casual manner this Bogey had paused to pick up napkins, wipe himself clean, take a donught, and then waltz out of the observation room as if this was beneath him.

Miles voice buzzed back through the internal commlink receiver she had installed in her ear canal. "Stand down, Agent Richards. I have received an Omega-Niner-Niner message that Bogey A29 is to be allowed to leave this facility. Its out of our hands now."

Richards ground her teeth together. The override clearance came from Hopkins, Countess Crey's second in command, and personal bodyguard. If she wanted to keep her job… hell, if she wanted to keep away from the tender mercies of Warden O'Malley, she had no choice but to comply… "for now." she thought bitterly.

Resolving to see what manner of punishment Hopkins had in mind for this rogue SPB, Richards jogged towards the facilities exit. Passing the carnage at the entrance to Beta Ward, she quickened her pace till she heard voices. Bogey A29…Kane, as he called himself, was asking, "By the way. Where am I?"

"So he doesn’t know where he is? He really must be from another reality…" she mused, listening to the sec team explain where Paragon City was. The talking ended, and there was a brief pause, where she could swear she felt a predatory acknowledgement of her presence. Unsure of just what she was feeling, she crouched, ready to spring into action, then relaxed as she heard trotting footsteps headed the other way.

**********************************

Kane slowed as he approached the exit door. A large man wearing a very expensive suit flickered into vision before a pair of doors that could belong to a bomb shelter. Coming to a halt 30 feet from the figure, he shouldered the AAR and waited for the proposal he was certain was forthcoming.

The holographic image looked down at a clipboard he was holding. "Mr. Kane? My name is Hopkins." he paused to allow the name carry its weight to this rogue. When no reaction was forthcoming, he added, "I am Countess Crey's bodyguard and in charge of her security." he paused again. Again silence was his only answer.

"It seems you have caused us no end of trouble, Kane." Flipping through pages of the report on his clipboard, Hopkins continued. "Eight security personal in the hospital, a dead psychic, countless dollars in equipment destroyed… and now one of our agents murdered, and another seven security guards on their way to the hospital… What do you have to say to all of this?" Deep blue eyes looked intently at the intruder.

Kane shrugged. "It’s a good start?"

Hopkins gaped. Recovering quickly, he did his best to get pissed, but something about this SPB's attitude struck a nerve in him and he slowly grinned, a deep rumbling laugh forcing its way to the surface. As he barked laughter, he nodded. "I like your style, Kane. That's why it gives me pleasure to extend an invitation to join me here at Crey."

Kane nodded, the offer not unexpected. Playing along, he asked, "What are you offering?"

Hopkins tossed his clipboard down, somewhere away from the holographic recorder's view. Smiling triumphantly he pronounced, "Oh, I think we can skip on by all the standard Agent wages an move right on into Special Ops. I'm thinking as an opening bid… how about one mill' a year, plus all the benie's you could dream of, gear, toys, women, you name it, we provide it?" He waited expectantly.

Kane took his time, appearing to consider the offer. "And I would answer to you I presume?"

Hopkins nodded emphatically.

Slowly Kane shook his head negatively. "I'm afraid I don’t play very well with others, and I have never listened well. I'm gunna have to turn you down, Hopkins."

"I thought you might say as much." Hopkins sighed dramatically, then grinned unpleasantly. "Well, the door's unlocked. I'm afraid if you wish to leave there are a few others that wish to speak with you about their buddies down in the morgue."

Reaching for the release latch, Kane looked back over his shoulder. "Morgue? I didn’t kill anyone till today." Seeing the huge shrug form the bodyguard he nodded in understand. "I shoulda known as much. Don't suppose I need to worry about the authorities on this one do I?"

"Oh no… this is strictly between you and Crey Security. We will have this conversation again, Kane… and next time the terms won’t be as generous." Hopkins image flickered away.

Shaking his head at the brutality all villainous black ops leaders seemed to feel they needed to utilize, Kane triggered the door, bracing himself for whatever might await him on the other side.

************************

The setting sun glaring in his eyes, Kane raised his hand to shield against its glare. The blast doors lumbered close behind him, the final clang of steel on steel ringing ominously. He allowed himself a moment of disbelief as he gazed about his surroundings. The high tech lab he had just exited existed in a false front cleverly made to look like an old warehouse. "Well, maybe not so clever," he thought. The neighborhood looked horrible, like Armageddon had come and gone… years ago.

Realizing he had stood still long enough for even a bad sniper to paint him in their sights, he took a few quick steps to his right and then forward. Instead of shots ringing out, he heard the sound of heavy footfalls and well-oiled pistons firing from various trajectories, and watched as his foe positioned themselves.

To his right, sliding into view were three red bulky armors, each one carrying what appeared to be a rocket launcher of some sort. To his left, three similar white armors wielding mini-guns stepped into view, the barrels already spinning to life with a sound akin to so many chainsaws' buzzing. Taking the frontal approach were three differently armored forms, all similar in form, but none of them sporting obvious weaponry. All of them were spaced so that they had overlapping fields of fire, and none of them were in the other's fields of fire. "Very professional, and all waiting for some sort of signal," he mused. "Which means… ahhh crap!"

The lunging shoulder roll wasn't fast enough to evade the energy blast from above. Whistling out his breath, Kane rebounded from the ground where his chest and face had left a noticeable indentation. Cursing to himself, he continued his roll, the sounds of inbound armament hot in his ears. Three more explosions impacted close enough to toss him in the air, and thousands of bullets chewed into his sides, shredding the equipment he had so recently acquired. Spinning, unable to get his bearings, he felt rays of electricity, cold, and energy hit him, sending him flying farther away from the building he had so recently exited. Finally he landed on his back, that impact the least of his pain.

As the smoke cleared, Kane rolled to his feet, hearing running footsteps approaching. From the haze one of the three…no, four…advanced armor forms leaped, electricity arcing all about his fists, clearly intent on ending this fight before it began. Kane smiled at the armor's faceplate, the user obviously not grasping the lesson he had just seen so painfully inflicted on Kane. "Never let your feet get off the ground, son." Lightning quick, Kane snagged the armor's equipment belt by its buckle, then using the armor's momentum, he swung around, and hurled the sec guard like a shot-put thrower… directly into his approaching team mate.

The horrible crunching sound as "electro-boy's" helmet struck "iceboy's" chest plate signaled an end to one armor jockey's career and a sudden need for medical attention on the part of the other. Paying it no attention, Kane sprinted towards the mini-gun wielders. Obviously tracking him on sensors, they opened up again, spraying molten lead over the area, the sound of falling casings barely audible over the roar of their gun's thundering reports. Dodging amongst them to prevent fire from the others, Kane spun with another blow from a hail of fire, and rolled into the left armor of the wedge. Smashing his hand through the armor's faceplate, he left the wearer on his knees screaming about his eyesight. A roundhouse kick shattered the armor plating on the leader's helmet and a driving right-hand dented the helmet of the last deep enough to drop the wearer unconscious.

Kane then looked to the remaining five troopers, and smiled savagely. "Last chance to run…"

*****************************

She was reaching for the outer door release when a deep voice spoke from behind her. "A moment of your time, Agent Richards." Turning rapidly, her amazement at the silence of the speaker's approach was replaced with awe at the form she saw holographically represented before her. She snapped a rapid salute, "Security Leader Hopkins."

"At ease, Agent." Hopkins had a thoughtful expression as he viewed her through electronic eyes. "I understand you wish to pursue Bogey A29, Agent."

Richards forced herself to relax before answering. "Yes sir. I would… respectfully… request permission to end this miserable piece of…"

Hopkins booming laughter cut her off. She glanced to him, outrage and shock clear on her face. He held up his hands as if to ward of her gaze. "Easy, Agent Richards… I admire your candor. I would like to see him pay as well. What's more important than your, or my, desires though, is the desire of our Countess." he paused long enough for the Agent to absorb the weight of his words. Satisfied that she had, he continued. "Countess Crey would like to see how Bogey A29 interacts with the world around him before he is brought back within the fold. She is curious about where he is from and what friends he makes while he is here. She has requested…" his eyes burned into Richard's, making sure "request" was interpreted as "orders", "… that you follow him. Learn about him, and report back. She will then make what decision is best for Crey interests. Am I understood, Agent?"

"Yes sir! I am to tail the bogey through his interactions and make a full report. No aggressive actions are to be taken unless specifically ordered to do so. When do I begin?"

Hopkins gestured to the door. "Now would be nice. Gather supplies from any safe house you need. You have been granted Omega clearance on this mission."

Richards turned to slap the door release. Partially in eagerness to follow the ******* she wished dead, and partially to cover the surprise that flared on her face despite years of careful training in covering emotion. Top level clearance was not given lightly or often… If she handled this well, she may be on her way into management. That she could step up on the body of a man she was rapidly learning to hate was all the sweeter.

*****************************

"…and that's why you should always take the advice of the wild-eyed super who just… beat…your…buddies…senseless." Kane emphasized the last four words with repeated strikes to the helmet of the Crey armor jockey whose chest he was straddling. Satisfied that the armor's occupant was unconscious, he stood, looking about the scene he had just painted with a smile. Every fighter knew the glow that combat brought, and right about now he was feeling pretty good.

Looking down to his torn clothing, he kicked the armored form once more. "Look what you did to my new threads… where am I going to find a retailer in this mess…" A moan answered him from the surrounding area. Shaking his head in mock disgust, "You guys are no help whatsoever."

With a final sweep of his surroundings, he sighted on a tower in the distance, squatted down and then hurled himself into the air.

******************************

From inside the rusted out water tank he had crashed through, Kane considered what had just happened. As he sailed through the air, he began feeling ill. Vertigo crashed down on him the higher he went, and then suddenly he was spinning in mid-air, fighting for consciousness. Instead of the graceful landing he had planned, he had struck the side of the water tower with enough force to burst through its weakened sides, and now lay in a foot of fetid water, gnats buzzing angrily about his face.

He felt awful. The only other time he had felt this bad, he'd… had… "Ahhhh, no! No way!!!" Memories of losing his powers, even temporarily, were some of the blackest times he could remember. Of course, back then he had deserved it… Now… Kane wondered what the hell was happening as he pulled himself to his feet.

Guiding himself by what little light filtered through the hole roughly sized to meet his mass, he shuffled over to a ladder and tried to pull himself up. Waves of nausea rolled over him, indicating that something else was wrong as well. Fighting the bile down, he reached the hole he had created and looked out. Seeing no pursuit, he reached over and grabbed a handhold, digging in till he felt the metal give with his strength. "Well, that's something at least." he thought as he pulled his weight through the hole, dangling from one hand.

Punching his other hand through the metal, he winced as the ringing inside the water tower sounded like a deep bell tolling to his enemies where to find him. Easing his weight from handhold to handhold, he made his way 30 feet down the tower. Looking down, he struggled to focus his vision, and as he did so he felt the ground rushing up to met him. It took him a minute to realize that he was actually falling, and the ground really was rushing to meet him. Blackness washed over him like a comforting blanket and he passed out.

***********************

Blinking awake, Kane sat up quickly, instantly regretting the decision. The room he was in swam about him, refusing to completely focus. He settled on the figure leaning against a far wall.

"Glad to see you are awake, though I'm sure you feel otherwise right now." the figure spoke with a guttural growl.

Kane found that his vision was clearing as he concentrated on one thing. The…man?...continued.

"Don’t worry, you are safe for now. I'm no lover of Crey either… and when you are feeling better, I'm looking forward to hearing what you were doing inside that facility over in Crey's Folly." Obviously sensing the questions struggling to emerge, the figure added, "Rest more for now. There is plenty of time to talk." Moving to the exit, the figure pronounced, "Oh, my name is Manticore, you are with the good guys now."


Please feel free to add your comments, or leave any feedback!

"Welcome to Paragon City"

(SPB: standard acronym for Super Powered Beings)

"What do you remember?" The voice was calm, measured, perfect for soothing the most savage of souls or coaxing out the deepest of secrets. It belonged to an older gentleman with a pleasant face. Gray just touched Dr. Simonson's temples and laugh lines creased the corners of his eyes and mouth. He was impeccably dressed, and lounged in a chair that cost more than most people would make in a month.

In contrast, the man sitting in the matching chair across a well made oak table looked… "like a dressed up bum." Agent Baker thought to himself. "Bogey Alpha-Two-Niner" was its… his… identification number assigned by Sec Central. Baker studied the unknown SPB through the one way glass at the back of the shrink's office. His partner, Agent Richards, lounged in a chair, her feet propped up on the table while she sipped coffee and jotted down notes in her journal. She seemed as unimpressed as he did with this bogus assignment. This guy seemed harmless enough. Sec shoulda just slapped some nullifier cuffs on him and turned him over to SciTech for whatever they did with the other SPBs they collected. Assigning two Elite Agents to this case seemed like so much babysitter duty.

Sighing, Baker looked back to the source of his current frustration. The Bogey was male, approximately 6'2, well-muscled in the way that truly dangerous people were (muscle mass leaner, made for truly fast movements), and sported hair that fell to his shoulders. Richards had commented that he was "cute" which told Baker that Mr. Bogey was not a nice man; Richards never liked nice guys. Other than that, the Bogey showed signs of being the worse for some sort of wear, malnourishment had sunken his cheekbones and the baggage under his eyes could be forcibly checked at any airline station. Despite that, the man's ("Bogey's"! Baker reminded himself silently.) eyes were alert, taking in every detail in the room with practiced precision. This guy was dangerous once upon a time, but since he seemed to have amnesia, what did it matter? Seeing Bogey A29 shake his head slowly, Baker pulled himself away from the wall and took a seat beside Richards. This was gunna be a long, boring assignment he feared.

***********************************************

Back in the office, Bogey A29 shook his head, trying desperately to remember anything. He swept the room, noticing the one way mirror in the back, and realizing that due to the angle of the light's glare it had to be a minimum of an inch thick, and dense enough to be impact resistant. The doctor was pleasant, but under all of his careful calm, he was nervous sitting in the same room with his patient. The door was reinforced, and a keypad coupled with a palm scanner was used to exit. The window that showed a scenic island view was fake, the subsonic hum coming from it indicated it was a VR picture set showing a programmed vista. The chair he was in was indeed fine leather, but eight separate studs cleverly hidden in the springs were hooked to an electric current of no-doubt immense voltage, waiting to released with the push of a button by the two agents who had escorted him here. The rest of the room was what it was meant to be, a place meant to calm a nervous patient and assure him that the doctor was a good man meaning to help. The kicker of it all was, Bogey A29 had no idea how or why he knew all of these things.

He could feel his mind trying to recover itself. Already a few things had come back to him. He knew this was a Crey facility and for some reason he did not like them. That went beyond the fact that when he crawled through the portal he was met with a dozen armed and armored men and electrocuted into unconsciousness. Beyond the cell he had lived in for the last four days, 3 hours, and 24 minutes; beyond the mediocre food laced with enough sedatives to stun a elephant, and definitely beyond the professional rudeness he had been handled with to date, he knew instinctively that he did not like Crey Biotech at all.

Beyond that he remembered that he had gone through a similar portal to the one he returned through, on a mission with his teammates (who they were still eluded him.) The mission was to capture or defeat... someone… and, … and he couldn't remember if they had failed or succeeded. Where his teammates were eluded him as well. Sighing in frustration, he ran his fingers though his hair, "Long again, just the way Dana liked it."

He fought to avoid tensing. "Dana? Dana who…" Visions swirled into view as he steadily stared at the ground, not wanting the doctor to read his gaze. Snapshots of a young brunette woman flashed rapid-fire through his mind. Here she was standing beneath a cherry tree looking slightly nervous, a ranch in the background. Here she was playing volleyball surrounded by other faces that seemed vaguely familiar. Then she was in a dojo following his movements as he taught her to fight. There she was running down a high tech corridor, bursting into happy tears, a horde of other supers (escaping?) behind her. In the next she was lying beside him, toying with his hair, commenting on how much she liked it long.

The last vision hung in his mind. He examined it in detail. He knew it was his room… his quarters in… Australia… the old base. Dana was wearing a… engagement ring?... No, he'd been too stupid at the time to realize how much she really meant. It had taken almost losing her… a vision of a possible future… before he proposed to her. He reached deeper, trying to pull on this new thread, and gritted his teeth in frustration as it slipped away.

Dr. Simonson, nodded in recognition of the frustration his patient felt. He echoed the same sentiment. He'd never had such a difficult brain to crack. Usually his psychic ability allowed him to peer into a patient's brain and diagnosis them in moments, then move on to treating them in the manner PsiOps had decided said patient should be handled. He was hamstrung with Bogey A29 however. The PsiOps agent on the scene of the Bogeys arrival attempted a psychic scan on the patient and died instantly from an aneurism, screaming about "the Emerald Eyes." It had prompted the onsite mission leader to take a more hostile means of acquiring this patient, hostile enough that it had taken almost a week before the patient could be brought in for evaluation. The aggressiveness was necessary though, for even as weak as Bogey A29 was, he still managed to disable three Tank armors and put a half dozen agents in the Med Ward.

Seeing Bogey A29 raise his head again, Dr Simonson smiled. "From what I have read, you appeared through a Portal in a lab owned by my employers. A top secret lab mind you. I must apologize that you were met with such immediate hostility, but you must understand that Crey Biotech must handle security in a very real manner. The projects we work on would be worth billions of dollars on the Black Market. An unknown, unregistered SPB, appearing in one of our R&D locations, using a secure portal without authorization is quite a surprise for any security chief to handle. Surely you understand this?"

Bogey A29 met the doctor's friendly blue eyes with his own stormy gray gaze. For a moment the doctor thought perhaps his patient was farther gone than anticipated, until his lips turned up in a small smile. "Security is always preeminent in a R&D location, doc. Your man reacted as he saw necessary. His psychic's death rattled him, so he threw the kitchen sink at me. Its all right, I won't hold it against him if he'll forgive me the time his team will be in traction."

The smile the patient wore was one a predator gives when he knows he is in complete control of his surroundings. It took the doctor aback to see such confidant hostility shown so early in the interview. Perhaps he could push Bogey A29 into remembering a few things after all. Picking up some carefully prepared cards, "I am sure all is forgiven. A misunderstanding right? We're going to attempt to jog your memory a bit now. Take a look at these cards and tell me what you see, alright?" With the patient's nod, he began, sliding his first card into place, a pair of emerald colored eyes.

Bogey A29 hissed in a breath as he sat a little straighter in the chair. Releasing it, his eyes narrowed, obviously concentrating. "I see a beautiful redhead with those eyes. She's a threat for sure. Psychic…no… mage. I am fairly certain I do not like her." He looked to the doctor with something akin to an apology for not remembering more.

"I see. And this" The doctor moved to the next card, knowing the entire session was recorded so he need not take notes. The next few cards were meant to gauge a patients reaction to stimulation of the fear gland. The patient had no reaction to all but one, only the card meant to test his fear of losing a loved one even flickered a reaction.

Moving on to social skills, he divined that Bogey A29 would be considered a sociopath with homicidal tendencies. Deep running greed was offset with a desire to do the actual right thing. He had no concern for authority or government, and he would indeed kill if he felt it was necessary and have no remorse in the doing. He was deeply loyal to his friends, but was also untrusting, indicating that he most likely had few friends. Idly the doctor considered that he was perfect mercenary fodder and made a mental note to recommend they look in that arena for more information regarding this SPB.

Continuing his pre-planned routine, it was discovered that the Bogey SPB could speak English, German, Japanese, Chinese, Hebrew, Arabic, Spanish, and… most interesting of all, recognized Rikti markings, but called them Distri-Sitran. This was made more frustrating for both parties when the patient could not remember why he knew the markings by that title.

Closing his routine, the doctor moved through a word association drill, except he used visual identification cards in which key words were buried. Bogey A29 reacted as expected by his previous performance until the card with the word "Adversary" was presented to him. Then he lept to his feet, eyes flashing dangerously, and growled, "Typhor." He then reeled back on his heels, eyelids fluttering rapidly, jaw slack as emotions danced across his features.
*******************************
Agent Baker cursed as he spilt scalding coffee into his lap. Bogey A29's routine answers had nearly lulled him to sleep, so the SPB's sudden movement startled him to his feet. Beside him Agent Richards slid her long legs to the floor and stood in a much smoother movement. "Should we go in?" she asked, Electro-Stun baton already in hand. Baker wiped at the coffee in his lap as he ran through pain resistance exercises taught to every Crey agent.

"He seems to have calmed down. Give it a moment, see if the Doc can get him back under control." Still, Baker pulled his own Electro-Stun baton checking its charge. "Ready the stun-studs in his chair. If he sits back down, put his lights out."

Agent Richards nodded while flipping the red trigger guard up off of the activation switch for the Stun rods placed in the patients chair. The "Interview Rooms" used for questioning SPB's were outfitted with the latest non-lethal restraining devices. Besides the 'stun-studs', the room had Type 7 knockout gas available, but that was almost certain to kill the "doctor" and so was used only in extreme emergencies. A cryo-bomb was also available in the form of a potted plant, and would flash-freeze the entire room, tested to hold up to Type 6 supers, and guaranteed to slow even the biggest monsters down enough to be dealt with further if needed.

Baker looked from his partners preparations back to the Interview Room, and received the second shock of the day. Bogey A29 was staring straight at him. He shook his head, chiding himself for being so jumpy. Then he felt a chill run down his spine as Bogey A29 nodded his head in the affirmative, seemingly countering the Agent's own movement. The smile the SPB wore tore it; "Freeze him, NOW!" he shouted.

*********************************
Bogey A29 smiled, his eyes still closed. Pieces of his memory were falling into place. He and his team…Crossroads... had been fighting the Adversary, a foe they had clashed with far to often… he had help though… things had gone badly and the team was separated... a portal room… unknown where it would lead, but no other choice available. The team had thrown themselves in counting on Jack's luck to land them on their feet, together. A final blast from the Adversary had screwed something up… soooo long in the place in-between, then a lab, here, another psychic died from Millicent's curse… a sec leader making the only decision he really could make, and he met force with force. Now he was in the confinement of a organization who obviously did not want him talking to the authorities. Crey… not a name he knew, so it was safe to assume this was yet another reality.

"Are you alright, son?" the doctor's placating voice ground across his ears like a scourge. False shepherd sent to **** his mind and then leave his body for the scientists to pick apart. He knew the type. "Did you remember something else?"

Opening his eyes, Bogey A29 looked past the doctor to the security agent he could feel beyond the one way mirror. He could feel the guard's panic rising and heard the 'juice' running to the 'studs in his chair. He shook his head, trying to tell the guard that there was nothing to be done that would deter him from escape.

Looking to the doctor he spoke, "Why yes doctor, I remember everything now. Thank you for your help. I'm sorry that you weren't able to get more out of me though, its this damn psychic bomb that I had forced into me, hell on psychics ya know?" As the doctor sputtered his protest, Bogey A29 grinned fiercely, "I'm married to a telepath doc, I know how to feel when someone is probing. I hope u can survive whatever your goons are about to throw at me."

Panic showed in Dr. Simonson's eyes. He looked to the potted plant in the corner of the room just in time to watch it explode. Whitish-blue droplets mixed with the pottery that blew through the room coating everything in a chill that was rapidly dropping in temperature. Scrambling for the door, he made it as far as the keypad, and then froze in place, an icy statue.

*****************************
What's going on in there?" Baker asked Richards. The cryo-bomb had detonated, and the ice that coated everything was a shiny coating on the one-way mirror preventing any observation. That was why this room also contained sensors to observe those within the Interview Room.

"Mmmm, Doctor Simonson is an icicle, vitals falling rapidly. Bogey A29 is… still moving?" the question hung in her words. "I knew I liked him the moment I slapped eyes on 'em." Agent Richards grinned viciously as she toggled her baton, electricity sparking between the contact studs as she dialed the voltage up to maximum.

Agent Baker activated his own baton, and dialed it up for maximum charge. The situation had just gone from lethally boring to potentially explosive. "This is why we get paid the big bucks," he whispered.

"Hell no, this is the perks of the job!" Richards crowed, the maniacal glint in her eyes reaching a fever pitch. She reached for the exit door to the observation room as the mirrored glass shattered around them.

"Evening folks!" Agent Baker stared in complete shock as Bogey A29 looked through the security glass he had just shattered. "I have got to thank you for the cryo-gel. I was wondering how to escape the room, and then you went and froze your own glass!" His tone took on a semi-conspiratol tone as he leaned forward, hands brushing the remaining jagged edges away. "I bet you never thought that gel would cause a temporary weakening of the glass. That had to be what, level five, maybe six, resistance?"

"Six." Richards breathed, recovering from the shock. Baker noticed that she was a bit flushed. "Is she getting off on this?" He wondered.

Tossing Richards a polite smile, Bogey A29 placed both hands on the lip of the opening separating him from the agents and the observation room. Coated in cryo-gel, Baker noticed that he had scraped it away from his face and joints, and that the bogey was indeed quite naked, having left his clothing with the hardening gel on the floor behind him. "That explains Richards," he thought.

"So, before I leave your hospitality behind, I have just one question for you." he fixed Baker with a steely gaze. "Has anyone else come through those portals you have?

Before Baker could help himself he was shaking his head negatively. Something about this SPB compelled him to answer. The man was a warrior, a leader of men, a… he shook his head again violently. "He must be controlling me somehow, gota fight it!"

"No? Ah well, I suppose they wouldn't tell sec agents if they had anyway. 'Needs to know only', right?" Bogey A29 lightly hopped through the window as Agents Baker and Richards backed up, giving him room and preparing to detain him. He tossed a wink Baker's way.

Suddenly enraged at the flippance this SPB was showing for him and his office, Agent Baker hurled himself into combat. "[censored] you, [censored]!" He lead with a powerhouse kick that could disable most supers, and when the bogey ducked that, he lunged with his baton.

Bogey A29 caught Baker's wrist after avoiding his kick. Exerting pressure he turned the baton back into Baker and shoved it home against Baker's chest. Baker screamed as enough juice to drop a charging rhino arced through him. Still, the process that each Crey agent took upon reaching Elite status allowed him to remain conscious, even if stunned. He watched with a certain detachment as Richards made her move. Her leg sweep was avoided by a quick jump, and the knife hand strike that would have disabled anyone with a human physiology was caught inches from touching its target, the clump of nerve endings under the bogey's left armpit. Not done yet, Richards drove a knee towards the bogeys crotch that was turned aside by a muscled thigh, and then went for her final shot with the baton, aiming for his Adam's apple.

Bogey A29 caught Richards last strike, and then used the thigh which still held her knee away from his crotch to dip her as if dancing. He smiled charmingly while applying pressure to her carpaltunal bones, forcing her to release the stun baton. "Feisty. I like that. What's your name sugar?" He leaned in close to her face as if closing for a kiss.

Richards tilted her head back, "Damn [censored], this is no time for playing!" Baker thought, struggling to free his limbs from their lethargy. Concentrating on a sequence of command words, he released a cybernetically-implanted adrenal boost into his system. Bogey A29 watched Richards for a moment and then rammed his forehead into hers, neatly dropping her unconscious form to the floor. He then turned back to Baker, just as the artificial adrenalin boost shook through him.

"You shouldn't have done that." A29 spread his hands apologetically. "I was trying to just leave you unconscious, but I am betting that charge you just took is gunna make that impossible, am I right?"

"Damn straight, freak! And now I am gunna put your lights out, hard!" Baker felt as if he was moving at super speed as the adrenalin truly boosted his synaptic reflexes to inhuman heights. He laughed triumphantly as his first kick landed square across A29's face, shoving the freak's head to the side. He followed with two body blows that landed with sickening thuds, and continued 'whaling' away on A29, landing punch after punch, driving him into the wall. He was moving to fast to see much except where his next blow was landing, but by the lack of defense given, he was fairly certain his first attack had disoriented his opponent.

Backing up a step, Baker prepared his finishing blow. Spinning on his heel, he launched himself into the air, a roundhouse kick ripping through the air… and into the waiting grasp of A29's right hand. A29 didn’t stop Baker's momentum, but rather added to it, spinning to his own right and hurling Baker face first into the ground with great force of his own. Pain inhibitors kicked on and Baker knew every bone in his face had just fractured. He was fairly certain that his left clavicle was broken and his left arm was out of socket. His ears sang and he couldn’t breath through his nose. Still, he pushed himself up on his right arm, and struggled to his knees, absentmindedly noticing the impact print he had made in the cement floor. Blinking through the blood streaming into his eyes, Baker was rewarded with a disappointed look on his opponent's face. Choking through his own blood, he spit out teeth, and then hurled at A29, "What? You thought I was gunna be that easy?"

Bogey A29 looked shocked. He then squatted down to look Baker eye to eye. "Son, I admire your spirit, really I do. I'm only disappointed that you had to go and bloody that beautiful suit there. I need something to wear out of here, and you are almost my size." He brushed a bit of blood away from Baker's lapel. "Ah well. Guess someone else will have to help me with that now."

Baker stared, hatred bubbling up along with the blood that could only indicate a punctured lung. "How…dare…this… freak…" Riding the swell of anger, he rose to his feet determined to hurt this upstart. A29 rose swiftly with him.

"Look, I don't want to carry this any further, son. Just sit back and call the M.D.s, ok?"

Baker spit more teeth and blood into A29's face by way of answer. Watching the bogey's pleasant smile become something much more feral, he put everything he had left into a final uppercut, determined to take that smile clean of A29's face.

A29 sidestepped Baker's blow, kicked down on the outside of his right knee, breaking it inward, and watched as Baker fell to his knees. "I'm sorry you feel that way, hoss. I'm sure you've told many a mark this already, so you'll understand when I say, this is nothing personal." He then delivered a axe hand strike to the base of Baker's neck, severing the spinal cord and killing him instantly. Absently he watched the Agent's still form flop to the floor.

Reaching for a pile of napkins next to a box of donoughts on the table, he wiped the blood from his face and hands, and then he stepped over the still unconscious female agent and into the hallway. Looking back he shook his head and then spoke, "Oh, by the way, you can call me Kane."

(To be continued.)