Rusted_Metal

Vanadium ducked as automatic weapons fire pocked the wall above him, putting a hand out and grabbing the corner of the building to swing into the alley. His armor tell-tales were warning of him of heavy degradation to his rear armor plating, his weapon systems were out of juice, and a crack went across the faceplate of his armor, forcing him to shut the electronic systems in the visor down and let it turn clear to allow him to see.

Vanadium slid to a stop and grabbed a garbage can, waiting and watching the far side of the alley. When several of the Longbow fliers appeared, he flung the heavy dumpster at them. Two managed to scoot out of the way, the three others were hit by the flying steel and went down, one screaming and holding a twisted leg.

Before any of them could recover, Vanadium rushed back out of the alley, leaping into the air and bringing two fists down on the top of the head of one of the Longbow fliers. The force of the blow caused blood to erupt from her nose and some of her teeth to shatter, but Vanadium ignored the helpless woman to turn around and do the same thing again. The Longbow flier who thought he was out of range had a split second to goggle as Vanadium's hydraulic assistance built into his armor let him leap up taller than a telephone pole. Another doublehanded crunch, and that one dropped too. Vanadium landed with his boot in the stomach of one of the ones who had been knocked down by the dumpster, agilely avoiding the vomit which sprayed out of his mouth.

"STAY DOWN, DOGS!" He shouted, slamming his fist into the temple of the last of the squad, dropping the man down to the pavement where he went into convulsions. He lifted a foot to bring it down on the screaming woman's head when the plasma blast caught him in the side, throwing him down the street and into a parked car. His armor took the blow easily, but the car exploded underneath him, throwing him onto his hands and knees on the pavement. The shock dampening gel dispersed the impact, expanding and leaking from the joint seal pressure valves, making it look as if he was dripping blood onto the ground.

The Longbow troops didn’t pause, pouring fire into him. Three more plasma hits knocked him onto his back and a hail of automatic rifle fire bounced off of his armor. He heard a few civilians screaming as the bullets smashed into them, leaving a few in still and bloody crumpled heaps.

Despite the weaponsfire, Longbow had given Vanadium the time he needed, and the onboard auxiliary zero point power supply came online, and he felt his armor’s hand to hand combat systems come back up. Shielding came online, and the bullets no longer smashed into him, and even the thermal bloom of a plasma weapon hit didn’t touch his armor.

“I’m going to tear your arms off and beat your mothers to death with them!” Vanadium howled, clenching his fists into the asphalt and getting his feet under him. The Longbow troops kept advancing, one of them washing a flamethrower over him, and several directing miniguns at him, but none of the weaponsfire did anything more than degrade his shields and drain power from his systems.

Vanadium leapt forward, swinging his electricity wrapped fists, the rage of battle filling him. Fists splintered ribs, shattered jaws, fractured skulls, and left moaning or silent Longbow troops behind him. Two Longbow Wardens waded in, one with razor sharp spines, the other with energy wrapped fists, but Vanadium roared at the top of his lungs and pummeled both of the Wardens until they stopped moving.

He got a moment of respite and spun in place, his heavy armored boots pounding on the pavement as he headed for the Ouroboros recall point. His onboard navigation system was shot, and even if it hadn’t been, his visor did little more than protect his face, despite the onboard repair nanites doing their best to fix the damage. The crack was sealed, and Vanadium could feel the tingling of electricity as the damage control systems tried to repair the damaged molecular circuitry and reroute around what it could not fix, but so far his faceplate remained transparent.

“Five more blocks, just five more blocks.” Vanadium growled, charging across the street. The fact that there was no traffic on the street told him that the PPD was on site, routing traffic around him and trying to contain him, so the sight of PPD Enforcer Powered Assault Armor thundering down the cross street on either side of him came as no surprise.

One raised up a cannon and sent a burst of shells after him, but Vanadium put on extra speed when he was the cannon lift, and the burst howled by behind him, tearing into the front of a store and blowing a car in half. All four suits reaimed, but it was too late, Vanadium was across the street and moving fast toward the next intersection, his armored legs pumping and his heavy boots leaving craters behind him.

A costumed hero came swooping down, gesturing toward Vanadium, and frost coated his armor. With a snarl, Vanadium leapt into the air, grinning savagely at the shocked expression on the heroes face. Before he could do much more than recoil, Vanadium had him by his hair, sweeping the hero around as he descended and crushing him into the ground. Blood shot from the man’s nose and mouth, and his eyelids fluttered as he hovered on the edge of unconsciousness. He pawed weakly at Vanadium’s wrist as the supervillain lifted him up and spun in place.

The burst of autocannon shells fired by the PPD armored trooper slammed into the hero, nearly cutting the man in half, but slowing the rounds enough that they didn’t even penetrate Vanadium’s shielding.

Vanadium tossed the man to one side, where the body slammed against a dumpster, and took off running again. The PPD hardsuits kept up a withering stream of fire, but Vanadium was an old hand at armored combat, and he kept jinking and zagging. The hardsuit pilots were making the novice mistake of firing where he was, or misjudging the pattern he was in, and one a handful of rounds came close enough to cause his shielding to flare.

The next intersection came up, and Vanadium got two steps into when a big steroid monster of a brawler stood up with the bumper of a car in his hands. Before Vanadium could react, the man swung the car up and slammed the roof onto Vanadium.

“Easy as pie.” The man rumbled, eyeing the smoking wreckage. He stood and started to flex for any onlookers, turning around and smiling.

Vanadium launched himself out of the wreckage, slamming a massive spiked gauntlet into the man’s back. He shrieked and took two steps forward, hands reaching around to grab his kidneys. Vanadium grabbed the man’s hair, yanked him backwards, and brought his other hand down in an open handed chop, crushing the steroid monster’s throat. He dropped the man, who was holding onto his throat and staring at the sky with bulging eyes, and moved forward again.

“Where are all these spandex wearing idiots coming from? I just want to get out of here!” Vanadium snarled to himself as two more heroes landed. One set herself in a martial arts pose, the other raised her hands over her head, the air above her beginning to thicken and stir as she called a small thunderstorm into being.

“Out of way, *******!” Vanadium yelled, bulling forward. Lightning struck his armor, overloading his shield, and the storm hero frantically backpedaled as one of Vanadium’s gauntlets reached for her face.

She never completed her backstep as the PPD hardsuits behind him knelt down and fired. The back two launching micro-missiles, the forward two opening up with their autocannons. The backpedaling woman took both bursts directly, one minute there and the next minute nothing more than pink mist and tatters of flesh. The martial artist screamed in pain and rage, swinging her leg out in a kick that Vanadium took across the reinforced bridge of his helmet.

The missiles landed in a firestorm of plasma, and Vanadium’s armor screamed as the surface was superheated. The martial artist couldn’t even scream as she was enveloped in the explosion, and Vanadium was vaguely aware of her charred body flying away, shedding costume and flesh in equal measures.

There! The Ouroboros beacon was flashing and swirling with a golden light, beckoning to Vanadium, promising the safety of the Rogue Ilses and 3 years later.

The only problem was the Longbow soldiers mingled with PPD Emergency Reaction troops behind a barricade of cars.

“OPEN FIRE!” the Longbow Warden shouted, his cape fluttering in the breeze. The Paragon Police Department troops and the Longbow soldiers all began shooting at the red armor clad figure barreling down on them.

The Warden watched incredulously as the massive figure waded through their massed firepower, cracks and pockmarks appearing in the heavy power armor. The helmet half-shattered away, exposing a flat faced, fairly ugly man with close cropped blond hair, what looked like RCA connector plugs in his temple, and chrome eyes.

The PPD hardsuits chasing the man opened fire again, and the police and Longbow screamed as the 20mm shells chewed through the cars and tore into their lines like a thresher. Blood gouted, men screamed and died, and three of the cars exploded.

“CEASE FIRE DAMMIT!” The Warden screamed as the Hardsuits stomped forward, their cannons belching death and destruction. “For the love of God, cease fire!” The hardsuits paid no attention, moving forward remorselessly and continuing to flail at the running red suited figure.

The man leapt in the air, his armor leaking red fluid, the arc taking him out of the killing zone. Several missiles fired by the hard suits chasing him impacted, sending him sprawling like a rag-doll, cartwheeling through mid-air bonelessly, until he smashed into the ground almost twenty meters past the police.

The Harsuits triggered another volley of missiles, which hugged close to the ground, then popped up and looked down for Vanadium, who was crawling forward, one of his legs only twitching spasmodically. The peniads on the missiles identified their target and rolled on their guidance thrusters, slamming downward in their terminal attack run.

Vanadium reached forward and slammed his hand into the Ouroboros beacon, feeling a ghostly hook grab him just under the chin and snatch him forward.

The missiles impacted a split second later, blowing huge chunks of pavement into the air, but Vanadium was gone.

The Warden picked himself off the ground, cradling his broken arm and hunched over cracked ribs. He opened his mouth to scream at the four Hardsuit troopers, but they were nowhere to be seen, only a faint golden glitter that dispersed fast enough that the Warden wasn't even sure he had seen it.

“What in the world…”

Global Handle: TWillard
Forum Name: Rusted_Metal
Server: Virtue, Victory, Protector, Guardian. Main RP is in Virtue
RP Characters Heroes:
Zuka (Virtue)
Male Mantid (Guardian)
Tachyon Hammer (Victory)
P'Thok (Virtue)
P'Theek (Virtue)
Quantum Inversion (Virtue)
RP Characters Villains:
Code Vatnya (Victory)
Jethro Powers (Virtue)
Forlorn Waif (Protector)
Type of RP: Anything but Erotic. Find someone else for that.
Can be contacted: Forum PM or Ingame Tells
Times on: Varies. My sleep schedule is waaay out of whack.

The fog lay thick on the street, the dark street lights providing no warming lights. Cars were strewn about the street and newspapers blew on the winds. Only the faint sounds of chanting could be heard on the cold wind that blew through the deserted streets. Buildings reached toward the sky, windows blind and dark, and the smell of mold and fungi filled the air.

Two figures walked the streets, one man, one woman. The man was lean and wiry, all corded muscle beneath his uniform, which was Navy Blue, with white sleeves and red boots. White stars adorned his legs, a golden eagle on his chest, and the blue and red patterned shield he held tightly in one hand. The eagle of a US Army Colonel was pinned to his breast, and the patch of the 3rd Infantry Division rode on his shoulder. The woman was pleasing to the eye, dressed in purple with a cape that stirred in the cold breezes. A white eagle adorned her chest, and a mask of two black stars covered her eyes beneath her blond hair. She carried a heavy sack over one shoulder, her leather gloves creaking as she shifted her grip.

As they approached an intersection her lips tightened and her eyes narrows. People crossed the sidewalk, ignoring the scattered cars that often flashed their headlights with dim light as the heroes approached. She could see through them, as if they were movies projected on the thick fog, and as the pair approached the figures dressed in out of date fashions, they faded from view.

Silently the pair moved through the streets, both of their faces grim. They ignored the laughter of children they heard from an alley, the strange lights that bobbed at the edges of their vision, and the man that plummeted from above them to disappear when he should have struck the pavement. They stoically forged onward, across empty overpasses that spanned roads with old cars scattered about, through a tunnel that was pitch black and seemed to breathe with a life of its own, down streets littered with papers that seemed to span from the 1950's to declaring that the First Rikti War had ended and Hero-One had been lost. When the pair came to a rough, high wall, they followed it until they reached an open iron gate.

Silently, they entered the graveyard, keeping a watchful eye about them. They snuck past the Dry Husks in command of the Banished Pantheon wizards that dug at the graves, past the floating wooden masks glowing with the light of the malevolent spirits that inhabited them. Past the shamans, who barked orders in the strange language of the Banished Pantheon to the animated dead under their command, each step bringing them closer and closer the large hill in the far corner of the graveyard. At one point a shaman, clad only in a loincloth and ceremonial beads, stepped toward them, raising his hands into the air, but the woman stepped forward, spreading her hands out at her side and tilting her head toward the shaman. The shaman dropped his hands, looking around, then rubbed a large knot on his forehead and moved back into the fog.

At the base of the hill, the pair followed a trail, the man pulling out a key and unlocking a gate when they came to it, until it led them into a cave inside the hill itself. The man took out a flashlight of OD green plastic, clipping it on his shield so that it's L shape let the lens face forward to pierce the gloom with wan light.

"I hate this place, Colonel." The woman said as they slowly walked into the cave system that had been converted into tombs for the thousands of heroes who had died to protect Paragon City over the decades. Some tombs had images of the dead on the doors, others had names, and still others only had time and place of death.

"As do I, Captain, but the one we seek is only at rest here." The man said, counting tombs to himself and taking a left. Mist had grown up from the floor, and swirled around the pair's calves as they walked deeper and deeper into the ever growing cold darkness of the catacombs, passing by tomb after tomb.

"Will he aid us?" The woman asked. "Do we dare ask him for help, Colonel Victory?"

"He and I are oath-bound, if he can give his help, he will, Miss Moral." Colonel Victory assured the woman. He stopped suddenly in front of a tomb, wiping off the brass faceplate to reveal the legend "Zuka Jilipiza, 1845-1867" engraved on the plate. "Here he is."

Miss Moral shivered slightly as she set the bag down, something inside moving feebly, more than just the cold chilling her.

"I wish Major Frost could have joined us." Miss Moral said as Colonel Victory stared for a long time at the crossed hammers over an African tribal shield engraved into the stone of the door.

"I called the rest home, and the phone just rang and rang." Colonel Victory said, taking a deep breath. "He's probably at Our Lady of Hope playing bingo, it's bingo night at the home." Colonel Victory shook his head. "No sense in dawdling."

Colonel Victory hammered his fist against the stone of the crypt, once, twice, three times, the booming impacts echoing through the crypt.

"Who disturbs my slumber?" The deep voice reverberated through the hallways of the catacombs, and bats shrieked to wakefullness and fled, filling the tunnel with their winged forms. Miss Moral and Colonel Victory held still until the bats had passed, and then Colonel Victory hammered three times again on the door.

"Who dares awaken me?" The voice asked, sounding closer this time. The torch sconces on either side of the door burst into cold blue flame.

Colonel Victory hammered three more times on the door, this time shouting out "US Army! Open the door, bound one!"

For a long moment silence rained in the catacombs, then the door slowly ground open, releasing a rush of stale air that smelled heavily of dead flesh and mold. Candles set upon skulls lit the cavernous crypt with dim light, and skulls could be seen decorating the walls, all four corners of a massive bier, and the heavy stone desks against the wall.

The figure in the doorway was massive, standing over seven feet tall, heavy slabs of muscles forged by endless, tireless labor bulging beneath the dark brown skin that was covered with intricate tribal tattoos. No mere decoration, the tattoos had been inked into the skin by tribal witch doctors long before the man who stood before them had been sold into slavery in Africa. His lips had shrivelled and pulled back from his black and jagged teeth, massive iron bolts had been sunk into his neck, and burning red eyes stared from beneath a heavy brow. The creature wore ragged black pants, had bare feet with black nails, and hands the size of shovels. Heavy rusted chains were strewn on his massive arms and chest, leaving dark crimson smears when he moved. Darkness swirled around him as he stood and stared down at the two smaller figures in front of them.

"Good evening, Zuka." Miss Moral said, stepping forward and curtseying. The massive figure gave a bow, and stepped to the side, motioning for the two to enter the crypt. Instead of stepping directly into the tomb, she wrapped her arms around the cold dead brown flesh and hugged the massive undead. Zuka returned the hug, his arms strangely gentle and his severe face softening for a moment before the two released one another and Miss Moral stepped past him. When Miss Moral stepped inside, her eyes fell on the two items laid at the foot of the bier and shivered.

A sledgehammer, the brown wood ancient and worn smooth through decades of use, the heavy steel head rusted, dented and nicked. She had seen that sledgehammer explode through the armor of Rikti soldiers as well as send a Behemoth Master staggering back with fire pouring from a crater the size of a dinner plate. Underneath the fearsome sledgehammer was a shield made of painted leather stretched over wood, with the skull of a wildebeast on the front and feathers on the back. The red of the paint glinted in the dim light and Miss Moral knew that it would be wet to the touch and leave her hand stained with the blood of those who abused the innocent.

Colonel Victory stepped forward, wrapping his arms around the mountainous undead and hugged him, lifting the other man up slightly before setting him down.

"Good to see you, Zuka." Colonel Victory said, slapping the man on the back before letting him go.

"Colonel." The giant rumbled. "What brings the two of you here to my resting place? Is it war? Do the innocent and downtrodden cry out for vengeance?"

"Possibly Zuka, but we come for a different reason." Miss Moral answered, setting down the sack.

"What brings the light of what is right to my dark crypt?" Zuka intoned, his voice echoing in the tomb.

"The Laughing Gentleman Jonny Blaster was taken by Forlorn Waif, possibly killed." Colonel Victory told the giant, moving over and pulling out a chair to sit down in it. "We need to know if her mistress, the Empress of Undeath still lives?"

"The answer is no. She does not." Zuka rumbled, "You have wasted your time."

"We know she does not live, Zuka. She was dead when she came here from her world through one of the Circle's mystical gates. We need to know whether or not Forlorn Waif still serves her." Miss Moral said, stepping forward and putting her hand on Zuka's massive biceps. "Please, for Jonny and those who love him. He has fought and shed blood by your side, he carried you here when you fell during the First Rikti War. Please, for Jonny."

"If Forlorn Waif lives, she serves her Mistress." Zuka said, turning and walking toward a desk. One sweep of his massive hand cleared it, sending the skull of a Rikti Soldier crashing to the floor along with tomes and scrolls. "You wish to know if Jonny still lives, and for the blood he has shed to protect the innocents, for his generosity toward those who are oppressed, I shall beseech the spirits to whisper to me."

"Thank you, Zuka." Colonel Victory said, watching the massive undead pull down candles, chalk, and other things to pile them on the recently emptied desk. Miss Moral leaned against the wall and watched Zuka build a circle with slow and careful deliberation.

"I will need a goat for this. Did your bring a goat?" Zuka broke the long silence, turning to face the other two with burning red eyes.

"A white one." Miss Moral answered, pulling the bottom of the bag off the ground and dumping out the contents.

A drugged and tied goat, a bound Raven, and a single chicken egg painted with swirling and eye pulling designs.

"You have all I need and more. I can beseech powerful spirits with such things to appease their hunger." Zuka intoned.

The living watched the dead perform a ceremony that was ancient in its roots, held still as the crypt filled with swirling spirits that screamed their rage and pain and howled the injustices they had suffered, and closed their eyes when Zuka stood, naked, and raised the sledgehammer over the goat.

"Empress of Undeath does still move about this world, although she has learned to stay in the darkness. Longbow did not kill her as they claimed, although many died assaulting her home and went unrecognized and unrewarded. Many were buried in an unmarked grave in Sharkhead Island, and their mortal remains found use with the Circle of Thorns." Zuka told them when it was over. "She strides the dark gulf between the living and the dead like a titan of old, a colossus of cold white marble and iron will bending the dead to her designs."

He rolled his head on his massive neck, the bones crackling as the tension released. "The one you call Forlorn Waif burns with a bright fire, her spirit calling out for vengeance against the team-mates who left her behind to the ashen mercy of the Circle of Thorns, her soul howling out its rage and anger at having been abandoned and despised by those she sought to protect. She has passed beyond the veil, but like her mistress, she walks the chasm between the living and the dead."

"And Jonny?" Colonel Victory asked, dreading the answer.

"Has passed beyond the mortal veil and howls in the darkness between life and death." Zuka answered. "His enraged spirit and the tormented spirit of the one you know as Forlorn Waif are intertwined."

Miss Moral put her face in her hands and wept in the crypt below Dark Astoria.

(Author’s Note: The following takes place After Mission 1 and during Mission 2, Arc: 312961 –The Bounty Hunter’s War)
Scarlet beams howled over the boulder, exploding stone it carressed, the beams superheating the liquid in the rock. Sand melted where the beams impacted, leaving behind shiny black divots. Shouted orders were heard over the sound of the weaponry by the two crouched behind the boulder.

"They're trying to flank us, Big Bug." The violet skinned woman said, reloading the massive magazine slotted into the weapon. She jerked back and cursed as a green hand, covered with rocky looking chitin, intercepted a beam only inches from her face.

"Have flanked us, old friend." The massive insect crouched next to her corrected.

"I'm going to kill every one of you lousy jumped up monkeys!" she shouted as she yanked back the charging handle, her hand releasing it and moving up to tap the forward assist to ensure the round was seated properly.

"Ready?" The insect warrior asked, lighting a cigar and clenching it between his mandibles.

"Born ready, baby." The violet skinned woman snarled, whirling to break out from behind the cover, her rifle held up to her shoulder.

"IT'S MANTIS TIME, BABY!" The insect warrior roared, standing up and beating his chest. Arachnos mace beams struck his chitin with bright flashes, but the massive insect shrugged off the attack as if it were nothing more than rain.

"EAT THIS!" The woman screamed, her face lit with joy as the black armored troops vainly triggered their maces at her, their beams flying wide. She pulled back on the trigger of her rifle and flame roared out from beneath the rifle, washing over the black clad figures and sticking to their armor. Seals ruptured and steam rushed out, the armor seeming to scream in time with occupants as the violet skinned woman burned them alive within their armor.

The insect warrior leapt over a rock, landing amid the black armored troopers. A fist smashed into the chin of a helmet, shattering the helmet and knocking the man unconscious in one catastrophic blow. Before the others could react, the insect slammed one foot into the ground, the force of the blow rocking the earth hard enough to send the rest of the Arachnos soldiers tumbling to the ground.

The woman leapt over the burning bodies, plunging through the cloud of smoke that smelled of burnt pork, ducking underneath the mace beams and popping up right in front of a black clad trooper with the cape of an officer. Grinning fiercely she slammed the butt of the heavy rifle into his faceplate, shattering it, and shot him twice in the chest as he stumbled back. A body flew overhead, crashing into the rocky ground and cartwheeling away limply.

Up ahead three Arachnos were trying to set up a heavy energy weapon mounted on a tripod, flanked by a pair of security drones, and the woman lifted the rifle back to her shoulder and fired a single high explosive grenade while staying on the run, letting the rifle fall to hang from the sling once she had fired. The grenade scored a direct hit, and the security drones went off in sympathetic detonations while body parts torn asunder flew into the air. She paid no attention, a blade of pure fire filling her hand as she closed in on another group of Arachnos, this one containing two of the huge soldiers wearing multi-armed backpacks.

The Male Mantid grabbed another Arachnos soldier and threw him against the wall, following it up with a punch that shattered the armor and left the man trying to breathe past shattered ribs. A forearm sent another soldier reeling back, spitting blood past a shattered faceplate, and the Male Mantid was past the leading wave and came bearing down on three men in capes, one of which was trying desperately to bring his assault rifle around.

"Burn, monkeys, burn!" Betty shrieked, bringing her sword around in an arc. The heavily armored goon screamed as his arm was severed at the elbow, while his partner stared dumbly at the fiery blade that disappeared into his chest. The first one grabbed the stump of his arm with the other hand, but never got the chance to shriek as the blade came free of the other one, looped around, and took his head off at the shoulders. The others tried to run, but Betty slammed her sword into the ground and chains of fire snaked up from the ground and pulled the Arachnos goons down onto the sand.

The Male Mantid grabbed the assault rifle and shattered it with one squeeze of his fist, and drove his other hand into the chest of the officer on the right, sending the man flying back to impact against the wall. A backhand sent the third man crumbling to the ground, his helmet shattered and eyes rolled back in his head. A barrage of beams hit the massive insect, doing nothing more than garnering his attention. The Male Mantid whirled and charged the group of men who clustered together, firing their maces defiantly, and uselessly.

He barrelled into the group of them, fists pounding, using his tremendous strength to batter them down and leave them all on ground groaning in pain. Behind him Betty leveled her rifle on a group attempting to run and hosed them down with hypervelocity depleted uranium rounds.

"Run, monkeys, run!" She howled, chasing after them and triggering burst after burst from her weapon, cutting their legs out from under them or sending them sprawling as the heavy caliber rounds cut through their armor like a hot knife through butter.

The last officer stood in the middle of the wreckage, shouting for one of his men, any of his men to fall back and regroup at his side. What had been a standard ambush had gone completely wrong when the two heroes had come out from behind their cover with blood in their eyes and mayhem in their hearts.

The battlefield was wreathed in smoke, and he could hear fire crackling and the moan of the wounded. Out of the smoke flew a body, landing limply at his feet. He had been struck so hard that the ballistic plating covering his chest had shattered away, revealing the kinetic shock sleeve beneath it leaking crimson fluid as if the man was bleeding.

"You should have run, monkey man." Came a harsh female voice from his left. The officer whirled to face the direction the voice had come from, his mace held tightly in his hands.

"Do not kill him yet, Betty, we need to know who told him we would be here." A deep rumbling voice added, and he whirled back in the direction of the newest voice.

From out of the smoke lumbered a huge insect, rough green insect armor covering him, a half-smoked cigar held in his mandibles, and a blue spraypainted cybernetic left arm looking out of place on the huge insect. The officer felt himself begin to tremble as the massive insect walked toward him.

"I'm not even collecting the bounty on this, I'm going to scalp him and tie it to my belt." The woman's voice answered, and the officer looked back in time to see an unearthly thin woman with purple skin glide out of the smoke. She was dressed in tight lime green shorts and a matching bikini type top. A turquoise trenchcoat swirled around her legs as she moved toward him on bare feet. A high tech but heavy rifle fell from a sling over her shoulder, and her fist was filled with a sword made of fire.

Panic filled the man as he realized that his failure to kill the duo was about to become a total failure. A vision of his wife and infant son appeared to him, and he heard them urging him to kill himself rather than put them in danger, that Lord Recluse would kill them for his failure if he was captured.

The infant was crying out in pain as Black Scorpion began to devour it alive, and the woman screamed in terror as Ghost Widow embraced her, kissing her and muffling her screams as the archvillain began to suck her life force out of her.

Panicked, the man put the barrel of the mace against his chin and triggered the weapon.

"NO!" Betty cried out, lunging forward, but stumbled to the side as the man's head exploded, covering her face in a thin layer of vaporized blood. She recovered her balance, and turned around to look at the man that the Male Mantid had thrown to the officer's feet.

His eyes were blank and glassy, his movements jerky as he drug a pistol from its holster and put it beneath his chin. Tears rolled down from his unseeing eyes as he pulled the trigger.

"Stop them, Big Bug, we need to question someone!" Betty yelled, running toward a group of Arachnos troops she had shot through the leg. Gunshots and the howl of mace beams told her she was too late before they become visible through the smoke.

"Betty, stop!" Male Mantid shouted as she bent down to turn over one of the badly wounded Arachnos who was moaning in pain. She looked up at the Male Mantid, confusion on her face suddenly replaced by fear as she looked down at the man.

He was grinning from between bloodstained teeth, a plasma grenade in his hand.

"Goodbye, Father." He said, and let go of the grenade.

Betty spun and leapt, trying to put the rock between her and the grenade. Behind her the man was screaming in a bubbling voice that now he had revenge for his sister and all the time he had heard her crying out in pain at the abuse she had suffered.

The grenade went off, showering her with wet sand that left crimson smears on her skin as she wiped it away.

"Are you OK, old friend?" Male Mantid yelled, moving through the smoke toward her.

"Fine. Crazy monkey tried to blow me up." She hollored back. The Mantid came up and knelt next to her as she sputtered and tried to spit the taste of scorched human flesh and blood out of her mouth.

"Did you..." Mantid started as Betty wiped her mouth.

"Notice something weird? Yeah." She interrupted.

"I was going to ask if you felt the psychic vibrations I did." Mantid chided gently, handing the stub of the cigar to Betty and pulling another from his belt pouch.

"No, sorry, didn't notice that with all the exploding and suicide." Betty stood up and took a long pull off the cigar. "Thanks, Big Bug."

"Take down these men's images, and the dermal patterns of their graspers." Mantid said, walking over to one of the bodies and pushing the man over with the toe of his massive boot. The man's face was a grimace of terror, far more than Mantid was used to seeing on the faces of the soldiers of Arachnos.

"Think something is wrong, Big Bug?" Betty asked, bending down and pulling off one of the soldier's gauntlets. She pressed her scanner to the dead fingers, waiting while it scanned the prints and took a DNA sample to compare it to the bounty hunter database.

A small electronic device on her waist began howling, and Betty threw the scanner away from her, tucking and rolling away from the corpse. Mantid leapt into the air, his poweful legs thrusting him toward Betty.

Mantid covered Betty with his own body, keeping his back toward the body and the scanner. A split second later the scanner detonated in the distinctive eye-watering snapping explosion of an implosion charge usually used in Rikti grenades.

"Are you intact?" Mantid asked, feeling nervous so close to a female of any species. It made the chitin on top of his cranium itch.

"Yeah." Betty said, looking mournfully at the destroyed cigar.

"What happened?" Mantid asked, pulling out another one and lighting it for her.

"My scanner self-destructed." Betty answered. "Duh."

"Why? Did you tire of it? It was an ugly color."

"No. As soon as I logged into Bounty.net to run that guy's ID for the bounty the charge went live." Betty said, sitting down on the sand and taking a deep drag off of her cigar. She blew smoke rings at the sky while she thought it through, thinking of what she had seen for a split second.

"Just before it blew, it gave me back the data on who that was." She finally said.

"And so?" Mantid's antenna quivered with curiosity.

"Yeah, his name was John Welner." She grinned and ran a hand through her blood slicked hair.

"He was a Longbow Warden."

The television was turned to the news, and gathered around it was a semi-circle of old men and women who watched in rapt attention as Statesman congratulated several young heroes for managing to save the city from a shipment of Little Countess Snack Cakes which had been contaminated. Countess Crey stood next to Statesman, poised and confident as she reached forward to shake each of the heroes hands and congratulate them personally.

Probably ordered by a court to do it. The October Octogenarian sneered to himself as he dipped his spoon into his applesauce and took a bite.

Several of the elderly viewers broke into applause as Statesman stepped in front of Countess Crey and the heroes to give a speech that thanks to the tireless efforts of young heroes such as those behind him, the city of Paragon City remained safe.

What happened to you, Marcus? October wondered, not looking up from where he stirred his applesauce. I was there during D-Day, I fought with you to keep Storm Korps from interfering in the assault. I was there with you during the Battle of the Black Forest, where you took an energy blast to the chest that was meant for me, just I took that energy blade meant for you.

October Octogenarian, formerly Major October Frost, born Miles Frost, shook his head slowly, taking another bite of the applesauce.

We were meant to grow old, Marcus. He mused. Our minds are mortals, we lack the disassociation and the distance that the ancient Gods used to have. We gather grudges, form attachments, and light hatreds.

Do you really see the world as it is, or how you want it to be? October took another sip off his glass of warm water. Blasted nurses. I'm an old man, not an invalid, the least they could do is bring me cold water. Looking around to make sure none of the nurses were watching, he concentrated for a moment and the water suddenly had ice chips floating in it and the glass was covered with frost.

You still got it, Miles. He smiled to himself, taking a deep drink of the cool water.

"Mister Frost?" A woman asked. October barely kept from grimacing. It was Alice, one of the candy stripers. He hated her and the way she looked at all the elderly inhabitants of the Shady Autumn Nursing Home, her eyes full of pity and contempt.

"What?" October asked, careful to keep his voice querulous and weak.

"You have a visitor." The little brat sounded shocked that anyone would visit an old man unless they were paid money.

"Who is it?"

"A Ms. Flare." The tone in the girl's voice made October want to turn around and slap her across the face hard enough to send her eyeshadow running for cover. "Shall I bring her in."

"Yes, please. Thank you." October wheezed. The wheeze was harder than the voice, and October almost started coughing. He had time for two more bites of applesauce, and the television turned from Statesman's speech to political analysis of Statesman's speech by paid talking heads.

Footsteps approached, and October could smell the faint smell of burnt sugar, a scent he'd long come to associate with the heroine Inertia Flare.

"Now now, Mr. Frost, you know that you aren't allowed to wear that in the dining hall. It excites the other residents and you get aggressive when you wear it." Alice said in a gleeful but patronizing tone, and October felt his beret pulled off his head.

"Put the hat back, or I'll break your head open with my bare hands." Came a growl that only sounded slightly feminine.

"Miss, I assure you..." Alice sounded shocked.

October took another bite of applesauce.

"I assure you that if you try to take that beret from that man, a beret he earned with First Special Forces during the Korean War, a beret he earned the right to serving our country, I will personally put you in intensive care." The other woman snarled. October could feel heat pulsing from behind him, and adjusted his body temperature down a few degrees.

"Fine, here. But he's not supposed..." Alice started.

"Leave. Now." The other woman warned, and the temperature went up slightly.

Alice's footsteps rapidly withdrew, and the heat came closer, washing over him and wrapping around him, bringing the sent of warm drier fabric softener.

"Hello, Inertia." October said, taking another bite. He knew the fire tanker kept drier sheets in her pocket, her high body heat releasing the smell.

"Hello, October." The small red-headed woman took a seat next to the elderly man. She looked around her and wrinkled her nose. "Why do you stay here? You're welcome to stay in the base."

"And be surrounded by the exuberance of misguided youth? No, I'll stay here with people I can reminisce with, thank you." October answered.

"Suit yourself, old man." Inertia shrugged, then leaned over to hug October tightly.

"Has it been on the news?" She asked.

"Marcus? Yeah, he's been on the news all morning." October sighed.

"Statesman? He's been on the news?" Inertia turned and looked, her face growing tense. "That's odd."

"What is?" October asked, idly stirring the last of his applesauce. It didn't make any more, but it helped him stretch out how long he got to enjoy it.

"That he'd congratulate people on what looked to be a pretty standard job of heroing." Inertia said slowly. "It's odd that there hasn't been something else on the news."

"Like what? ChemCorps Longbow trial?" October caught himself before anything more than his silverware was covered in frost. "They find him guilty?"

"You haven't heard?" Inertia asked.

"About what?" October took another bite, savoring the taste.

"Forlorn Waif either killed or kidnapped Jonny yesterday."

October dropped the spoon he was holding, swaying slightly in his chair from the shock.

Jonny had come to the rest home and convinced October to take up heroing again. An earnest young man with an easy smile and handy joke, who had collected every bit of Major Frost and October Frost memorabilia ever made. A young man who had reminded October why he had once fought the good fight.

"You're sure?" October choked.

"Very sure. There were a couple of Lost who saw her come running out of a warehouse carrying him over her shoulders in Talos Island, and a couple of construction workers in Port Oakes who saw her drag him out of the ocean." Inertia said, her voice choking for a moment. "They said he looked pretty bad, that his face... his face was torn up."

"She must be taking him to Empress of Undeath." October said, pushing away the bowl. The applesauce had become bitter.

"Empress of Undeath? I thought she was killed a few months back in a Longbow raid on her base." Inertia reached over and took October's arm.

"Can you kill that which is already dead?" October asked, shaking his head. "No, if Forlorn Waif is about, then her Mistress is still alive."

"But why take him to her?"

"Perhaps he was dead. Perhaps Empress needs more spare parts for her undead minions. Perhaps Forlorn Waif is lonely." October said, grief thickening his voice. "Or just hungry."

"Could she be taking him to Code Vatnya?" Inertia asked, leaning forward with fire in her eyes. "Could she be working for Code Vatnya with Empress of Undeath dead?"

"Doubtful, but possible." October stood up, picking his beret off of the table and jamming it on his head. "We should investigate, I dislike the thought of Gentleman Jonny's body being a tool for someone else."

"Excuse me. Excuse me!" Alice came rushing forward as Inertia Flare walked side by side with the October Octogenarian toward the rooms. "Excuse me, but visitors are not allowed in the private quarters of..."

"Silence your prattling, woman!" October shouted, making a fist and jerking it in the air. Alice's words cut off as a solid block of ice encased the woman.

"We'll get my trenchcoat, and find the answers we seek." October swore.

Both heroes had tears in their eyes at the thought of The Laughing Gentleman Jonny Blaster lying cold and dead.

The bowl of applesauce remained on the table, unfinished.

The sound of bargaining in Greek filled the marketplace, with the cries of gulls and the commands barked at soldiers manning the nearby fortress adding a steady backdrop. The water of the fountain chuckled and muttered as Code Vatnya sat staring at the ground between his boots. The Russian could feel sweat on his brow at the thought of the meeting he had set up.

I am about to tell a God that his closest mortal friend, a hero of the Rogue Isles Invasion and the Second Rikti War by all accounts, is at my mercy and that I will not turn her over to him. Vatnya mused. I must be mad, to challenge one of the ancient Gods in such a way.

His helmet's visor inputs caught motion at the edge of Vatnya's mechanically widened vision. Townspeople were going down on one knee as a being of divine origin, wreathed in golden lightning and divine power, walked among them. While many strangers with fearsome power had come to their small town of Cimorora recently, this one was no stranger. His visage adorned pottery, small statues of him had been sold for centuries, and a gold embossed icon of him had been hammered above the doorway of the barracks.

"Vatnya." The god rumbled, walking up to stand before the armor clad Russian.

"Mythus." Vatnya said, neither kneeling nor making any move to get up from the stone bench in front of the fountain.

"What could be so important that you paid for priests to recite your prayer in my very own temple?" Mythus asked, his face clouding.

"They don't speak Russian, nobody who prays to you does. I knew you'd hear my words and come running." Vatnya said, not bothering to turn his attention from the flagstones he was studying.

"That does not answer the question I have asked of you." Mythus pointed out, his voice stern. The lightning crackled about his body, an outward expression of his internal anger.

"A woman. What it always comes down to. A woman." Vatnya said, finally looking up.

"Which woman is that?" Mythus asked. "Do you wish to take your pleasure from one of my temple maidens? That is hardly something you need to ask me about. Whatever coin they ask of you, simply cross their palms with it. You are a warrior, you would be welcome in my temple."

"Don't be ignorant, Mythus." Code Vatnya sneered, slowly getting to his feet. "The price for ignorance or foolishness seems to be death at this point in time."

"Are you threatening me, mortal?" Mythus stepped forward, balling one massive fist. The bells in the temple up the hill peeled out and the gulls went suddenly silent.

"So quick to fight? I see I misjudged you. I thought that you had the wisdom of the gods to go with the rest of it." Vatnya turned to walk away.

"Wait. Why did you call for me?" Mythus asked, the golden lightning subsiding.

"Like I said, it's about a woman." Vatnya said, slowly turning around and facing the god.

"If this is about Tachyon Hammer, I know of her... predilections shall we say... and being who I am, I approve. She's a warrior, and warriors have desire." Mythus laughed. "Bed her, if that is what you both will. Who knows, perhaps you may find something to occupy your time instead of cold mechanical creatures and revenge."

"Tachyon Hammer resigned her place with Vanguard two days ago." Vatnya began. "The day after we spoke on the beach, she completely resigned, citing their regulations involving off duty behavior and claiming that it created a 'hostile workplace' where she felt she could not do any good."

"I think your speech on the beach had more to do with it than any hostile workplace. She was quiet afterwards, something I ascribed to her memories of the invasion." Mythus interrupted.

"No matter her reasons. She quit, left the Rikti War Zone, and I did not hear from her for a little while." Vatnya admitted. "She had spent the previous night with me, and had promised to meet me in Pocket-D around midnight the next night."

Mythus smiled a knowing smile. "Stop that." Vatnya snapped. "Midnight came and went, but knowing her reputation, I simply figured she had found something else to occupy her. So I dismissed it from my mind, and spent the evening working."

"I know not where she is, Code Vatnya, she keeps her own council." Mythus said, holding up his hands.

"I said I didn't know where she was last night." Vatnya interrupted. "I know where she is now."

"Then what is this about?" Mythus asked, puzzled.

"I needed a Rikti power core, the kind the rifles that the Headmen use carry, so I went to the Rikti War Zone. I ambushed a squad of Rikti soldiers carrying what I thought was a dead Vanguard soldier." Vatnya held up a hand as Mythus growled, clenching his fists. Overhead thunder rumbled. "Figuring that the fallen soldier's family might like to know what had happened, I chased down and killed the four Rikti monkeys that were trying to drag the cloth wrapped body down."

"Take off your helmet, Russian." Mythus snarled, rage snapping in his tone.

"What?" Vatnya was thrown off by the apparent non-sequiter.

"I wish to see this in your eyes. I know that the Afghani people feared you, I know that your robotic minions hunted the native peoples of African countries for your amusement." Mythus growled. "I wish to see your eyes while you speak of this."

"And have you rip my head off and spit down my neck?" Vatnya laughed. "I'm old, not foolish."

"Then summon your creations, they shall give you peace of mind if my guarantee of surety does not." Mythus grated from between clenched teeth.

Code Vatnya smiled and triggered a combat callup of a set of his robotic minions. With a crackling sound, the robots teleported to his side. The square was filled with the smell of hot lubricant and ozone and the robots stepped off of the storage racks and through the portal ripped open in space. The portals collapsed with the sound of thunder, and Mythus stared calmly at the six combat robots.

"Kneel." Vatnya ordered, and Mythus opened his mouth to laugh at the mortal, until with a crash of metal on stone the robots dropped to their mechanical knees. Mythus closed his mouth and watched Code Vatnya remove his helmet, revealing his heavily scarred face and the eyepatch that covered a ruined eye. The Mad Roboticist tossed his helmet to one of the smaller combat drones, which caught it with one steel claw.

"Look at me, tell me what you found." Mythus said. Hades will release her soul to me, or I will tear the Underworld down about his ears...

Code Vatnya pulled free his eye patch and stared into Mythus' eyes with his one good eye, and one eye that was milky white and surrounded by thick scars.

"Inside the cloth I found Tachyon Hammer." Vatnya started, the stopped as Mythus took a step forward. Behind Vatnya capacitors whined and servos whirred as the robots prepared to defend their master.

"GIVE ME HER BODY!" Mythus shouted. Villagers, who had gathered quietly to watch, turned and ran from the square.

"No." Vatnya said.

"No? NO?" Mythus snarled. "What need have you of her mortal shell, now that her soul has been taken to the Underworld?"

"She's not dead. If we move her, she will be dead." Vatnya said. "She was stabbed with one of those Vanguard energy blades."

"How did she not bleed to death?" Mythus asked, taking a deep breath.

"Our mutal friend is, over charged shall we say. The same electricity she fights with, amuses herself with, and uses to fly cauterized the wound. It was messy, but not mortal." Vatnya explained patiently. "Oh, she would have died. She had gone into shock, lost a lot of blood, and not even a spark of electricity was detectable. That electric aura you gifted her with as a sign of your favor wasn't even visible."

"And now?" Mythus asked.

"She lives. Barely. If it had been anyone else who found her, she would have died." Vatnya told the god.

"May I see her?" Mythus asked.

"No. I have her hidden, and it has to be somewhere that I can keep an eye on her. That means I have to be there, and I cannot risk her health and my own life." Vatnya asked.

"Always watching out for yourself, eh?" Mythus said.

"More than just me. This is one young hero I might be able to save." Vatnya insisted.

"Swear to me. On your honor as a warrior, on the blood you have shed on the battlefields, swear to me that you will not harm her." Mythus demanded.

Vatnya stared at the god for a long moment, then heaved a sigh.

"I swear to you, Mythus, on my honor as a Spetsnaz officer, upon the blood that I have spilled upon the battlefield or ordered spilled, that I will not harm her nor attempt to brainwash or otherwise affect her." Vatnya said, reaching into the collar of his armor and removing something. Mythus caught the object, a standard USB drive.

"Plug that into your police scanner, Mythus. It'll only hold the image for about 45 seconds once power is applied, but you will see that she lives." Vatnya told the god.

Mythus nodded, pulling out his police radio and plugging the USB drive into the port provided. It chattered for a moment, then the hologram sprang into being. Buried within the swirling base light of the projection Tachyon Hammer seemed to float, peacefully asleep.

"I'm keeping her still until I'm sure she will survive." Vatnya said.

"Do not implant your high tech sorcery into her without her consent, or unless it is needed to ensure her survival." Mythus warned, turning off the radio. He unplugged the small thumb drive and crushed it beneath his sandal as he continued. "No 'improving' her or anything like that."

"I will not." Vatnya said, then held up his hand to top Mythus from turning around. "Do not give away that you know where she is. Search for her."

"Why?" Mythus asked.

"Because if you do not, whoever ordered her death may seek yours." Vatnya explained. "We are all in danger. All who stood at the beach with me."

"Very well, I will seek her out as if I did not know her fate." Mythus turned away, striding across the cobblestones.

Code Vatnya let out a breath, sagging slightly inside his armor.

I'm still alive! The townspeople peeked out of their windows as Vatnya began to laugh and buckle on his helmet.

"Come on, boys, it's Pocket-D and coolant for all!" Vatnya laughed.

And maybe Statesman will take a shot at me himself...

(Author’s Note: The following takes before the release of Issue 16: Power Spectrum)
The room was smokey and full of the hymns of hidden women. The standard black and red decor was concealed by hand woven tapestries, modesty screens painted with long patience and painstaking detail. Braziers burned rare and exotic herbs and powders, releasing thick cloying smoke that confused the senses. In the center of the room was a pool of clear water, the surface coated with a rising mist that smelled faintly of lilacs and roses.

From behind the screen first came a deathly pale white leg, shapely and firm, solid appearing despite the fact that it was nearly insubstantial. Next came the body, normally clad in black and white armor that was recognizable even to small children, but now totally nude, an alluring wraith of white and cold. Long white hair swirled around a heart shaped face like fog, and the dark eyes, surrounded by black flesh, were as hard as agates and as distant as sunset was to morning.

The woman silently crossed the room, her body slowly undulating with other-worldly grace as she approached the pool. Once at the side, she knelt on the engravings that lit up with a pale light that came from within the stone and precious metal itself.

A woman dressed all in white, with a veil of white lace covering her face, approached and knelt as the cold woman let her hair fall in front of her. She wordlessly held out an unsheathed dagger engraved with runes that glittered with cold fire, and the white skinned woman reached out and lifted the dagger up. As the white veiled woman withdrew into the fog of incense and smoke, the pale woman brought the dagger in front of her and drew the blade across one pale palm. For a long moment the gash was a bloodless cut, revealing not flesh and blood but just more white beneath the skin, then silver welled up within the cut. The woman held her palm over the water, and the silver liquid, thicker than blood and shining in the dimness of the room, began to slowly fall toward the surface of the pool with long drops.

One, two, three fell into the water, and the woman closed her hand, stopping the flow of silver liquid. Careful, restrained movement left the woman lying on her back, her legs crossed at the ankles and white hair spread out beneath her head. The dagger was held loosely in the hand that capped the thin white arm that appeared have been negligantly arranged toward the interior of the room. The other arm lay mostly at her side, her elbow slightly bent, so that the wounded hand dipped its fingertips into the water. Ripples spread out from the fingers, twisting away as if a current drew the ripples in a slow vortex toward the middle. Thin lines of silver highlighted the ripples as her hand continued to slowly bleed, the silver 'blood' trickling down the fingers.

For a long moment the woman lay still, unmoving, unbreathing, eyes closed and full black lips parted slightly. The vapors and mists swirled about her, revealing and concealing her exposed beauty, as if trying to preserve her modesty, or as if to caress her cold, white skin.

A wisp of vapor teased her black lips, and the woman gave a long, shuddering moan, her hand trailing in the water jerking spasmodically. She gave a sigh, her lips opening just a shade more, and vapor poured in between her lips, moving against the slight air current, and her back arched, her eyelids fluttering to reveal white eyes with no color. Her fingers twitched as the hymns raised in volume and flames leapt up from the braziers, waves of heat and chill washing over her bare skin.

She shuddered again, twisting and writhing, one foot kicking outward, but her fingertips remained grazing the surface of the pool, the tiny threads of silver liquid running from her palm mixing with water and drawn in a circular pattern into the center of the pool.

A cracked reflection... The sound of the woman's voice filled the air, seeming to emanate from above the center of the pool, mingling with the wordless hymns.

Each stares at the other... Her voice was an almost forgotten memory, barely a sound, an echo of a sound, a ringing silence amid the hidden singer's voices.

Hatred for hatred's sake... The purple and black flames within a blood red copper brazier roared up, then suddenly fell to a sullen glow, pulsing in time with the breathy voice that seemed to emanate from the smoke.

Blue becomes red... Her heels drummed against the stone, striking sparks with each hit, but her torso slowly writhed like a snake. Her voice emitted from the sparks, which winked out after each cold tone.

Red becomes blue... White shapely legs stilled, and the woman's back arched again, her features twisting into strain and agony. Her hair flared out, black and purple static electricity snapping out the words from within her ivory locks.

And gray emerges... The woman was lifted up, her fingertips still welded to the surface of the pool, and her body began to convulse, silver liquid flowing from her nose, the corners of her white eyes, and from her delicate ears.

Old loyalties die... She dropped as if strings had been cut slamming onto the stone, her hand in place and her fingers still delicately stirring the surface of the pool, barely breaking the tension of the water to leave ripples. Her voice was smoke amid the mists, echoing from everywhere, but originating unheard.

New loyalties arise... Her body seemed to flatten, widen, as if she was being crushed by a vast, invisible weight, her dulcet tones ringing from the crystal chimes that fell from their wires to shatter on the floor, each syllable spelled out in the unliving deaths.

Lies are revealed... There was movement beneath her alabaster skin, a face pushing up from within her stomach, mouth stretched open in a silent scream, and her words appeared one at a time as a mirror cracked and crazed, the glass crackling and turning smooth again between each word.

And truths are concealed... The mirror shattered outward in a puff of glittering dust, the frame blackened and twisted, and the silver dust spelled out the words that echoed silently through the room. Harsh purple veins appeared beneath the woman's skin, writhing and turning black.

Demons are summoned... One, and then another, and another wound appeared in her flawless flesh, silver leaking from each wound, and her mouth opened in a scream that shattered crystal goblets cut centuries before despite its silence. The words formed from each shattering, chiming tones that rang out brightly before becoming dulled and lost amid the vapors and mists.

Pistols are drawn... Silver mist erupted from the wounds, twisting upwards, borne upon unfelt breezes that caused nary a stir in the mists the silver threaded into. The voice seemed to come from deep underground, almost lost to the groaning of tortured earth.

Rainbows shall be unleashed... Her body rippled, smooth alabaster replacing twisting black veins and mortal wounds,the silver threads collapsing and dotting her flesh with sparkling dew. The words clanged and chimed from engraved bells, some black with age, others shiny and new.

Everything shall change... Her voice became distant, wreathed in crackling thunder, and her back arced again, her chest heaving as she drew in shuddering, pain wracked breaths.

Yet all will remain the same... Alabaster gave way to pink as a blush of health covered the woman's body, the perfect smoothness of her flesh gaining the imperfections and blemishes of living beauty. Her voice crackled from unseen fires lit to ward the room from chill as ruby red lips, plump and full, mouthed the words of the fire.

The way through the mirror... The mists swirled as she screamed the words, and cold mists flowed from between her lips to carry the words. The pink blush of health faded, leaving her skin icy and ashen, her rosy lips turning blue and cold.

Shall be opened... Her hand twitched, the dagger falling from her fingers, and her nails scrabbled against the cold stone. Her nails peeled back, revealing black replacements, and silver dripped down the black nails to smear on the floor.

And old hatred will flare... Her legs kicked out again, uncontrolled, blameless, as ashen flesh grew cold and white.

Amid the birth of new... The vibrant color of her eyes drained away, leaving orbs of pure white, and the flesh around them darkened, leaving her eyes white pearls set on ebony silk.

Dark will war with light... Her hair whipped about in a frenzy, and she shuddered and convulsed, her fingertips never leaving the surface of the pool.

And gray shall be born... Six and six again figures clad in red leather and vinyl, insubstantial and wrenched from eternal rest, rose up from the floor. Dead throats opened in agony and wailed the words from behind hoods, red lightning shrouding them turning purple and white before flickering out. Their otherworldly howls finished and they dropped into the ground as the woman screamed silently again.

Beware! Beware! For in the connection... Flames and sparks were birthed in the smoke and mists, swirling about with lives of their own, pulsing and crackling out the words. The woman writhed in pain, mist streaming from her nose and plunging back between her parted lips.

Are sown the seeds for all to be undone! The woman rolled away from the pool, trying to pull her hand free, as silver tears rimmed her eyes and spilled down her cheeks. Her words were heard in the screaming feedback of the radios of her black clad guards. Men fell to their knees, clasping hands to their ears.

Ware! Ware! The mighty may fall! Her fingertips remained at the top of the pool, indifferent to her struggle to free herself, her eyelids flooding and her jaws gaping wide in a silent howl of agony. Her words were heard through the screams of the guards who held the sides of their heads in a vain attempt to block out her words. Blood spattered the floor as it erupted from the noses of mortals who had come to close to the grave.

And the Storm shall come for all! With a convulsive yank she managed to pull her hand free, the last of her words screamed from her own lips. She kicked and squirmed away from the pool, her body shuddering in silent sobs.

Maidens clad all in white, their faces concealed by white gauze, scrambled forward, kneeling next to their mistress, who cried out in agony and shuddered, her flesh rippling. Cloths warmed by the breath of passion, heated by sobs of agony, seared by dying screams, were gently dabbed against the flawless alabaster skin.

For a long moment the nude woman lay in the arms of her servants, her shudders lightening and eventually ceasing. They rubbed her with the cloths until the silver threads no longer leaked from her nose and mouth.

Finally she stood to her feet, sinuously gliding behind a cloth panel. Without gesture or command, women bound in white clad her in her clothing, while her hair was brushed out into a spray of frost.

The woman stood up silently, knowing without being told that her maidens had finished their ministrations. With languid grace she crossed the chamber, touching a panel with delicate fingertips. Runed and inlaid, the shield slowly retracted, sparks dancing across its surface as it retracted into the wall.

A single button press left it flashing red, its light splashing against the woman's skin. Long moments passed before the formerly hidden screen lit, bathing her in its cold light.

The helmeted visage was completely clad in shadow, only blazing red eyes that seemed to search and judge the soul could be seen. The helmet tilted forward slightly, almost seeming to lean outward. The woman folded into herself, going to one knee, her long white hair draping over her face.

"What have you seen?" The terrifying visage demanded.

"Chaos, my Lord. Chaos, violence, death, downfall spiced with only a trace of victory, which tastes of ash rather than sweet nectar." The woman replied.

"I need answers, not riddles." The tone was that of a man used to commanding and being obeyed.

"There is nothing but riddles to be had, my Lord." The woman answered, her voice passionless, empty of defiance as it was of any other emotion.

"Is Arachnos in danger?" The question was almost ritual.

"No, my Lord." As was the answer.

"And myself?" This time the figure seemed to loom large, but the woman seemed immune to intimidation.

"No more than any other day." The last was delivered with a wry smile that was hidden behind the veil of snowy hair.

With a growl of frustration, the connection was terminated from the other side.

As unchanging and uncaring as always, Ghost Widow stood and strode from her inner sanctum.

Jonny laughed as he ducked underneath the rusted and nicked machete that Forlorn Waif held in her two hands, the dull blade whipping just centimeters over his head. Before the villainess could recover, Jonny struck out, knocking her feet out from under her and sending her rolling backwards.

Around them troops of the Fifth Column groaned or cried out for a medic. Jonny had broken into the warehouse looking for the crates of Miranda's stuff that had been shipped there by Longbow, only to find the fascists of the Fifth Column digging through everything. Jonny had kept up a hit and run battle until the last of the fascists had fallen, and gone looking for the crates he was after.

However, he hadn't expected to run into Forlorn Waif, undead killing machine, rooting through a crate of Countess Crey Fruit Pies and stuffing them into her mouth like a zombie at an all the flesh you can eat buffet.

Both combatants came to their feet, and Jonny laughed again at Forlon Waif's face. Her dead expressionless face lost quite a bit of fearsomeness when it was smeared with blueberry, strawberry, and lemon filling with a bit of pie crust on the tip of her nose.

"Give it up, Waif, you're outmatched!" Jonny yelled, throwing a powerbolt out to either knock her off of her feet or force her to dodge it. To Jonny's surprise she reacted by leaping on top of the crate next to the one she had been rummaging through and grabbing another pie.

"Seriously? Now?" Jonny asked the undead sword mistress. Forlorn Waif growled at him, tore the wrapper open with her gray teeth, and began stuffing the Fruit Pie into her mouth.

"You have to be kidding me." Jonny grumbled, firing a bolt of energy at the undead woman. She ducked to the side, shoved the rest of the pie in her mouth, and came at Jonny with a flurry of blows he was forced to wrap his fists in energy to block.

Jonny stepped back, trying to get some distance between himself and the dead woman, but his heel came down on a Countess Crey Cherry Fruit Pie wrapper and his foot went out from under him. Jonny tried to recover, but fell over backwards and onto his back. His head bounced off the pavement and everything went double.

Jonny stared at Forlorn Waif, who's face remained expressionless as she launched herself in the air, her nicked and rusted blade pulled back. He couldn't dodge it, couldn't roll, hell, he could barely breathe much less stop the dead woman from cutting his head right down the middle.

Gunfire erupted, and Forlorn Waif's arm came off at the elbow, black clotted blood spraying from the stump as the bullets tore off the woman's arm. Another burst fired at the same time hit her in the face, the bullets exploding the exposed checkbone and her ruined eye vanishing in a welter of black gore.

Forlorn Waif hit the ground, going to one knee, and she stared past Jonny, toward the entrance of the warehouse. Without a sound or change of expression, the dead woman whirled around, running deeper in the warehouse. Jonny could have sworn she grabbed another Fruit Pie as she vanished into the gloom.

Gunfire and tracers chased her, but she vanished as silently as she had fought. The only sound Jonny had heard her make was to growl as she shoved pies into her mouth.

"Gather up these criminals and line them up on their knees." A voice rang out. Bootsteps thudded around him as he rolled over on his side, his blurred vision making him see what looked like scores of men and women clad in the red and blue of Longbow officers. They kept bending over the downed Fifth Column goons, handcuffing them and dragging them over into a line.

Groaning, Jonny pushed himself up, his groan turning to pained laughter as he recalled Forlorn Waif's face smeared with pie filling. Looking up, he saw a Longbow officer, distinctive by his headgear and cape, walking toward him, a rifle in his hands and another officer walking slightly behind him.

"Thanks for the save, officer. She almost had me." Jonny said, standing up slightly unsteadily. The world swam, and his vision went gray for a moment.

"Jonny Blaster?" The officer asked. Jonny could see a Longbow officer with a Rikti plasma rifle standing behind the last arrested Fifth Column goon.

"At your service, officers. Always happy to work with Longbow." Jonny grinned. There was the sound of a Rikti plasma rifle firing, but Jonny couldn't remember why it was so important.

Before Jonny knew what was going on, the officer dropped down, sweeping his leg out and taking Jonny's feet out from under him. Jonny hit the ground again, his sore head hitting a crate on the way down. Jonny was aware of a foot stomping down on his wrist, shattering his MedCom Teleporter, and he cried out as the bones in his wrist shattered. A boot slammed into his temple and the world went gray and a rushing noise filled his ears, interspersed with the sound of a Rikti plasma rifle firing again and again as boots kept thudding against Jonny's head, back, sides, and chest.

A hand grabbed his collar, dragging him to his knees. The gloved hand knocked his purple Vanguard beret away, the golden crest on it glinting in the light, and then the hand wrapped itself painfully in his hair and pulled him up to his knees, pulling his head back.

Through teary eyes he saw the Longbow officer that had kicked his feet out held an ugly black force rifle in his hands, staring down at Jonny with an evil grin.

A Soviet Pulse Rifle? Jonny wondered, the image blurring.

Screams sounded from further in the warehouse. They meant something, but Jonny couldn't seem to grasp what.

The rifle was lifted up, and the muzzle pressed against his cheek.

"Check him, make sure it is him." The officer ordered.

More screams came to Jonny's ears. Why were they important?

The second Longbow officer pulled a scanner from his belt and passed it over Jonny's face, stepping back as it beeped and chuckled to itself.

Someone screamed, a long one, full of pain and horror, that trailed off into a gurgling moan.

Fruit pies...

"It's him, sir. Laughing Gentleman Jonny Blaster." The officer reported.

"The late Jonny Blaster." The first officer corrected.

Jonny saw a shadow fall from the rafters, a blood soaked rusted blade glinting in the light, gobbets of flesh and gore stuck in the nicks of the blade. The face behind the blade was expressionless, lips a pale blue, skin waxy, one side of the face bone splinters and black ichor. The sword was held in one hand, the other arm missing at the elbow.

The barrel of the rifle flashed, and Jonny heard a rushing sound as his body suddenly went warm and tingly.

The supercomputer worked silently, unlike the old movies there were no flashing lights, whirring tapes, or any clicking. Microtronics, magnetic ferrofluidic storage, near-solid appearing holographic displays, all worked perfectly according to their instructions.

So why do I feel like taking my mace to it? Inertia Flare wondered, staring at the legend "NO DATA FOUND" that floated silently. She'd done every type of search she could, tapping into the Russian databanks, INTERPOL, the CIA, the Department of Defense, MI-5, everyone she could, and still there was no data, almost as if the subject of her search did not, nor did he ever, exist at all.

But I stood there and listened to him talk, I've fought his robotic minions, and he once put a force rifle blast right into the back of my head. She felt the fire that consumed her nearly at all times threatening to explode as a sign of her annoyance, and took a couple of calming breaths to stabilize herself.

"Well?" The voice came from behind her, and she almost screamed. She had thought she was alone in the base.

"Damn it, Betty, don't do that!" Inertia yelled, turning around and facing the violet skinned alien bounty hunter.

"Do what?" The other woman asked, smiling with a mouthful of sharp teeth.

"Nothing. Did you find anything out?" Inertia asked.

"Some. Almost everyone is terrified of talking about him, but I managed to lay my hands on some information." Betty said, sitting down at the other chair.

"Well, what did you find out?" Inertia Flare asked, struggling to keep her frustration from her fruitless search spilling over into irritation for the other woman.

"Not much." Betty looked sad for a moment, then suddenly smiled. "Actually, I got luckier looking through old library archives." She handed over a photocopy of an old newspaper article.

Inertia Flare scanned the article quickly, then noticed the date.

"Nineteen Sixty Three? You have to be kidding, he was what, 20 then?" Inertia asked.

"Yup. I asked Ms. Liberty about it, and I thought she was going to order Longbow to exterminate me." Betty said. "But I was close enough to get a good look at her face, she's got an old puckered scar at the corner of her mask."

"A scar?"

"Yup. I looked up a few things, and found out that the scar is the crest that is normally on a Spetsnaz officer's ring." Betty grinned. "Class of 1967, according to the faint scar, and I did some more checking, and found out something interesting."

"What's that?"

"In 1985 a Colonel Mikhael Lavonavitch was killed in action in Afghanistan, but then in 1995 the same man was released from a Siberian gulag and promptly vanished." Betty smiled, tossing a USB drive on the counter. "Colonel Lavonavitch was apparently the brains behind the old Soviet Union's power armor and cybernetics programs from 1975 to 1985, and apparently took part in some nasty covert actions during that time."

"Then how do you explain this?" Inertia waved the photocopy in front of Betty's nose.

"Easy, fire-butt. I went to Ouroboros and asked Mender Tesseract if Code Vatnya had ever used her services." Betty grinned. "And apparently about six months ago he did, and came back pretty beat up. He went with a few others, all of whom are dead now, by the way.

"But, I scored. Blue Bison's wife still had his old armor in the garage, and she let me check it out, and apparently the combat logs were never deleted off of the armor. I got a good video off of the logs."

Inertia Flare raised one eyebrow and motioned for Betty to continue.

"Apparently Code Vatnya went back to when ol' Spider-Back took over the Rogue Isles. Now, others have done this, usually to ensure Recluse gets the islands, but apparently our favorite robot-fetishist had different plans. He'd apparently bragged to a Longbow spy that he was going back in time and kicking Miss Liberty's skull in, going so far as to tell the guy when and where it was going to be."

"And little Ms. Liberty ran to save her mother." Inertia guessed.

"You got it. She showed up, thinking she could take out Vatnya by herself."

"And got stomped." Inertia Flare plugged the USB drive in to the supercomputer's data port.

"More than that. Apparently, once Ms. Liberty went down, the rest of the group continued on, and ol' Code Vatnya took the time to kick the crap out of her. Broke a bunch of ribs, knocked out some of her teeth, then, to add insult to injury, heated up his Russian Special Forces ring and branded her right next to the eye he's missing." Betty shook her head. "The hospital reports showed that Miss Liberty and her daughter barely survived. Vatnya went after them with everything he had, more than he's ever gone after us with. He didn't even use his bots, and the way he acted got him thrown out of The Black Adder Society, apparently the other members were sickened by the fact he used his ring to brand a young woman's face."

"By the Gods." Inertia breathed, looking at the photos of Miss Liberty and Ms. Liberty taken by the Paragon Police Department. "That's... that's personal. Look at them, it takes a lot of rage to do that."

"Yeah. Apparently at the end he had that big assault robot of his hold Ms. Liberty while he went to work on her with his bare hands. If the rest of the Black Adder Society hadn't come back to see what was taking him so long, they'd probably both be dead. According to Blue Bison's combat logs, when they showed up, Vatnya had a knife out and was saying something to Ms. Liberty and making sure she could see the knife." Betty said.

"He's never acted like that with anyone else, as far as I know." Inertia Flare said, staring at the picture of Miss Liberty lying in a hospital bed in Atlas Park. "This goes beyond sociopathy or a psychopath, this is... this is seriously disturbed."

"I saw him take down Positron, and he did the same thing, beat the poor guy nearly to death, and if me and Big Bug hadn't been there, there's a good chance that Vatnya would have killed ol' Posi. But when he took down Synapse and Mynx a couple months ago, he just beat them up, robbed the bank, and left. But not Positron, he worked ol' Posi over bad enough that instead of protecting the Faultline Dam, he had to send a task force out to do it." Betty played with the scope of her rifle for a moment. "But a few days later I was cashing a check from Longbow at the Peregrine Island First National when Code Vatnya walked in with his robots and a gun and held the place up. I fought him, he just knocked me stupid, he apologizes with that Russian accent of his to the other customers, has his bots rip open the vault, and started to leave. Longbow shows up, he fights them, and after they are all down and wounded, he walks to each one with his pulse rifle and puts a round in the back of their heads."

"Oh man. That's never good."

"And it gets better." Betty smiled, leaning back in the chair.

"You're kidding." Inertia Flare said.

"Two months ago, Longbow and Vanguard both listed Code Vatnya as dead. Coyote kept sending heroes to check out old bases of Code Vatnya, and found nothing but old robots, trophies, clockwork, Devouring Earth, you know, the kind of crap you find in an abandoned base." Betty said.

"And?"

"Well, several bases had what those heroes thought were Code Vatnya hiding in the shadows, but every time it turned out to be an android." Betty said. "Apparently Code Vatnya was taking a page from Nemesis and sprinkling androids of himself around."

"So you think that the Code Vatnya we spoke to is an android?" Inertia Flare asked.

"Yup. The people I leaned on were pretty sure that Ol' Code 'I love robots' Vatnya is dead." Betty smiled.

"They're wrong." Inertia Flare grunted, leaning back and folding her arms.

"Everyone is pretty sure." Betty insisted.

"They're wrong."

"How do you know?" Betty asked, looking faintly angry. She was a bounty hunter, one of the best in the Galaxy, she knew how to gather information.

"Tachyon Hammer told me he's a living man." Inertia Flare said.

Betty paled.

"Yeah. She checked pretty thoroughly." Inertia said.

"I take it that it was an 'in depth' examination?" Betty said, looking troubled.

"Yup. Can't get much more 'in-depth' that what Tach was bragging about."

"There's more, isn't there?" Betty asked.

"Laughing Gentleman Jonny Blaster isn't answering his com-link." Inertia asked. "He went to do the weekly thing he and Sinister Vanadium do, and hasn't reported back in."

"Maybe they finally got a hotel room." Betty grinned nastily.

"Except Vanadium showed up at Ouroboros, holding Twilight's Son by the tail, and left via one of those stones after slamming the squiddie against the wall a few times." Inertia told her.

"Oh, come on. Nobody is going to kill him. You've seen the evidence, Vantya hates Longbow and Ms. Liberty, his whole speech is nothing more than an attempt to discredit them." Betty said. "Don't be so gullible."

"Yeah, gullible." Inertia whispered, staring at the pictures of Ms. Liberty and her mother.

Have you gone that mad, Vatnya, to do horror to prove your theory? Inertia silently asked. Or are your paranoid delusions real, and the real horror?

Inertia Flare knew that finding out the answer was not going to be easy.

Bloody Bay is never silent. There is always the scream of energy weapons, the stattaco report of gunfire, the freeeem of meta-human powers, and the buzzing of flies around corpses all combine to make a steady background drone that slowly wears on the nerves. The rumble of man-made thunder rolls across the landscape as combatants use heavy weapons on one another, and every once in a while the human-ish scream that signified the endoskeleton of a robot giving way sounded out.

Sinister Vanadium sat on a low wall, looking out at the graveyard that surrounded him. What had once been a place of rest had been repeatedly looted and desecrated over the years, as well as having been the site of battles that the combatants cared nothing for those buried in love. Gravestones had been shattered until only shards poked up from the earth. Crypts and mausoleums lay shattered into flinders. Grave dirt had been disturbed where either someone dug up the grave to get at the body interred there, or the body had clawed its way free to the surface. A few beer bottles littered the area around him, and he swayed slightly as he reached forward one armor wrapped hand to pull another bottle from the case of Ghost Widow Pale Ale from the box. A gentle twist with two fingers and then a snap sent a bottlecap flying across the graveyard to bounce off the forehead of Dry Husk digging at an old grave. The Storm Shaman in charge of the animated corpse glared at Sinister Vanadium, but was unwilling to take on the man who wore such battered and menacing red armor, whether or not he was wearing his helmet. Add in the fact that the man was obvious half-drunk and glaring around the cemetery with bloodshot eyes just added to the Storm Shaman's decision that discretion was the better part of valor.

From the cacophony of battle sounds came the sound of jet boots, announcing Jonny Blaster just mere moments before the hero cut off the boots, did a somersault and landed on the torn up ground as if he was competing in the Olympics. The hero was holding a box of donuts that he opened up, showing freshly baked bear claws, the frosting still warm and gooey.

"Ta-dah! Check it out, fresh donuts!" Jonny grinned, bowing low over the box. Vanadium just grunted, took another swig of his beer, and scowled at the grinning hero.

"Come on, Vanadium, I thought we were going to spar like we do every Sunday. What's the problem?" Jonny asked, looking around the graveyard. "Is it them? If so, we can beat them up and send them packing." The hero pointed at the Storm Shaman, who decided that whatever was about to go down, he wanted no part of it. The Shaman made himself scarce, and Jonny laughed.

"Oh come on, don't be such a grump." Jonny said, sitting down on the wall next to Sinister Vanadium and grabbing a beer. He twisted off the top and threw it into the dirt, then took a long drink. "What's eating you, aside from a bad case of VD?"

"Shut up." Vanadium growled, throwing the beer bottle against a tree trunk hard enough to shatter it.

"Don't tell me you're all upset over what paranoid Ol' Code had to say. He's a nut-case." Jonny told the closest thing he had to friend.

"Not upset, just... angry." Vanadium admitted.

"Why? Who cares if States is really a villain? For all we know, Nemesis is just States in an ugly suit." Jonny laughed, taking another swig and then belching long and loudly. "Why should it matter to you?"

"Jonny, you know me. We've fought each other so often we know virtually everything about one another. You now me, I've fought against The Man my whole life. In Moscow, as I grew up, I fought the cops and the GRU. When I came to America, I fought your government, your military. I fought Longbow, the Rikti, and when the Rogue Isles blossomed, I fought the authorities there." Vanadium rumbled, plucking another beer out of the case and opening it.

"Yeah, well, so?" Jonny asked, snagging a bear claw and taking a bite out of it. He gave a sigh full of satisfaction and closed his eyes.

"Now I find that I may have been fighting for The Man my entire life. That all of my effort to smash the State, smash the system, free the masses from the chains that bound them, only served to tighten the chains tighter, only served to choke off what I tried to bring out." Vanadium muttered, staring at the top of the beer.

"Jeez, big guy, lighten up."

"Seriously, Jonny. You have fought the good fight, in your eyes, but have you really? You worked for a company that produced Superdyne. Don't you find it strange that a drug that hard to make is so prevelant? And Countess Crey, she escapes justice in the both the Rogue Isles and in your oh so precious United States." Vanadium sneered.

"Hey, just have another beer, eat a bear claw, and we'll go shoot at those loincloth wearing pansies." Jonny grinned, popping the last bite of the pastry into his mouth.

"No. My love of combat, of pitting myself against a foe, has turned to ashes." Vanadium said. Jonny turned and looked at the other man, taking in the swirling gang tattoos that decorated the villain's dark skin and the sweat on his shaved head.

"Hey, speaking of ashes, did you hear?" Jonny's tone suddenly turned serious, a startling enough thing that it snapped Vanadium out of his funk.

"What?" The villain asked, wondering what could temporary still Laughing Gentleman Jonny Blaster's mirth.

"Black Scorpion killed Hammerhead Harry. Inertia Flare told me." Jonny said. "The coroner said he was killed two days ago, about noon."

The day after we meet with Code Vatnya the Mad, he ends up dead? At the hands of someone who was in ICU in Grandville by six in the morning that day? Vanadium mused.

"Is that so?" He asked, letting no trace of his doubt show.

"Yeah. He must have had a mad-on about the butt whupping we'd handed him earlier that day and taken it out on ol' Hammerhead." Jonny shook his head. "The funeral is tomorrow, and I'd like it if you went with me."

"I'll go. Harry wasn't that bad of a guy, and he and I should have buried the hatchet over Miranda years ago." Vanadium said softly. "After the Circle of Thorns sacrificed her, we should have made peace with each other."

"Yeah. That was pretty bad. Did you ever figure out who dimed her out to the See Oh Tea?"

"I always assumed that Harry would check. I didn't dare let anyone know that my sister was Miss Megaton. Recluse probably would have been a bit upset with me to find out that the woman beat Ghost Widow up that bad was my sister." Vanadium grinned. "She always talks about how the dead cannot change, but she sported that swollen and black eye for almost a week."

Jonny laughed at the memory of the cellphone picture Vanadium had shown him after one of their weekend sparring matches. Ghost Widow's normally flawless cheek had been marred by a set of knuckle bruises and the eye had been completely swollen shut, pulling her face slightly out of true.

"Think it was ol' Spider-back?" Jonny asked.

"No. He would have taunted me about it. Sent me video of the way the Circle of Thorns made her suffer before they cut out her heart. I always figured that the report that she just had the bad luck to be walking home from the store and ran into a See Oh Tea press gang to be true." Vanadium said, suddenly sobering at the mental image of his sister screaming and begging as the knife came down into her bare chest, slicing through the skin, breaking the ribs, and tearing a gaping hole in her flesh that a fanatic shoved his hands into to pull her still beating heart from her chest.

"Harry said he was coming here to talk to you, that you'd left a message saying you'd found something out about Miranda." Jonny blurted out, and cringed inside, waiting for the sudden, violent explosion.

"I hadn't. Instead I'd gotten a message that he wanted to talk to me, and to meet him in Boomtown, but I didn't trust him, so I went out and got drunk in Port Oakes with Mongoose instead." Vanadium admitted.

"Think whoever killed him sent him that message?" Jonny asked.

"I'd say that's a safe bet." Vanadium rumbled, grinning at the other man.

"Think we should check it out?" Jonny asked.

"Yeah, I think we should." Vanadium said, scooping the last beer out of the case. "When we're done with our mission here."

The Storm Shaman peeked around the corner of the wall, wondering if the two powerful warriors were gone, and staggered backwards as a bottle slammed into his forehead, nearly knocking him unconscious.

"You check Paragon City, Jonny, I'll check the Rogue Isles." Vanadium said, picking up his helmet.

"Where do you want me to start?" Jonny asked.

"You start in Talos Island, check that laundrymat where she kept her old costume." Vanadium said, buckling down his helmet and running a systems check.

"What are you going to do?" Jonny asked, warming up his rocket boots.

"I'm going to Ouroboros, and I'll beat the use of the crystal out of Twilight's Son if I have to. I want to see what happened myself." Vanadium growled.

"Hey, Van..." Jonny said suddenly.

"Yeah?"

"Be careful, man. I got a bad feeling."

"Me too, Jon, me too."

The pair left the graveyard, heading in different directions, leaving behind the dead and those who commanded them.

Betty's rocket boots flared as she pulled up, rolling in mid-air and landing perfectly on the cement slab that was being used as a dock. Smiling at the warm day she looked around, taking in the cloudless blue sky, the damaged dam that she could barely see made her smile, and the stacks of metal cargo vans that the construction companies were using to bring in repair supplies.

At the far edge of her normal vision she saw figures moving around, and curious she lifted her rifle to her shoulder, looking through the scope to get a better look at the figures. The scope whirred and clicked almost silently as it automatically adjusted focus to bring the small group to Betty's vision.

Three black clad Arachnos soldiers stood next to the purple uniformed figure of a Night Widow. They were lined up behind her, one eating a donut, one drinking tea, one writing on a clipboard.

Hellooooo, paychecks. Betty grinned to herself, pulling the rifle tighter to her shoulder. She waited for her heart to slow, and exhaled fully. In between her heartbeats, she gently pulled back the trigger until the weapon fired.

The .50 caliber depleted uranium sabot dart punched through the ear of the Night Widow's helmet, the cavitation effect liquifying the woman's brains, hydrostatic shot blowing her eyes from her skull. The bullet exited the helmet in a spray of blood and chunks of brain matter to shatter the tea cup and blow away three fingers of the next me and punched through the donut to pass through the head of the next Arachnos soldier. The final target had no idea that the bullet had just blown a hole as a big a fist through his clipboard, and a matching hole through his helmet and head.

Smiling, Global Betty lowered the rifle, knowing she'd be able to collect a nice fat bounty from Longbow for that single shot. Enough money to pay for the bullet she'd used at least.

Whistling, she ducked around behind containers and entered a gap in the wall. The crack in the earth led into a small space with flickering neon lights, two pool tables, a rack of alcohol bottles, a pinball game, and a set of androids standing perfectly still.

Illuminated by the pinkish light was the large form of the nigh-indestructible insect The Male Mantid, who sat silently taking drinks off of a bottle of alcohol. Behind him the neon sign proclaimed the hidden room to be "Club Cryptic."

"Why so glum, big glum bug?" Betty asked, reaching out to snag a bottle as she moved into the room. The Male Mantid looked up and shrugged.

"I went to visit Firepunch today." He said, taking out a cigar and lighting it.

"Really? That's nice. How did it go?" Betty's voice was disinterested. She hadn't really like the flame powered mercenary.

"It didn't. He doesn't live in the apartment any more." The Male Mantid replied.

"huh."

"I checked with his maternal parental unit, and she has not seen him in months. She worries about her grub."

"OK." Better took a long pull off the bottle, and looked around at the club. The video games and pinball machines sat untouched, the androids covered with dust just like the countertops, alcohol bottles, and pool tables. As close as Betty could tell, nobody had been in the hidden spot in weeks, maybe months.

"He is nowhere to be found." The Male Mantid paused for a long moment. "Bounty hunters keep tabs on where those so-called Meta-Humans are, right?"

Male Mantid's question yanked Betty back from contemplating the thick cobwebs gathered beneath the pool table. She stared at him for a second while his question moved through her brain and finally registered.

"Oh, yeah, we do. Do you want me to look him up?" She asked, flexing her wrist so the cover to her data-terminal, a modified PPD police radio, popped up to reveal the keyboard.

"Yes, please."

Betty shrugged and punched in a search for Firepunch, waiting for the search to complete. Several heroes had used that name in the last decade, but Global Betty remembered what the mercenary had looked like. She read the file real quick.

"He's dead." Betty said, moving over to hop up on the pool table next to the massive form of the insect. "According to this he died pretty well, saving a kidnap victim from the Circle of Thorns."

"Mmmm hmmmm. OK, how about looking up Freezer Burn?"

Betty took a moment. "Killed on the assault of Rogue Isles, she hit a bouncing betty."

"Radiation Boy?"

"Killed by a Nemesis ambush on Peregrine Island."

"Yellowtail?"

"Shanked by some spine wielding serial killer in Bloody Bay."

"Of course." The Male Mantid shook his head.

"Look, Big Bug, there are old heroes, there are bold heroes, and with quite a narrow number of exceptions, there are basically no old, bold heroes." Betty grinned, shutting down her bounty terminal.

"Remember when this place was full of heroes. When we made our plots, planned missions, and dreamed of cleaning up Paragon City?" The Male Mantid asked, waving at the dusty abandoned bar.

"Yeah, so? I remember when beneath that huge statue of the human's *** by where Ms. Liberty hangs out there used to be scores of heroes gathered together to talk and socialize." Betty said. "Big deal."

"It's just..." Male Mantid said.

"You're thinking about the words of that mad Russian, aren't you?" Betty asked.

"I can't help it. I find myself looking back over everything we've ever done, at all the lives I've seen snuffed out, and wondering just what we accomplished."

"He's a villain, Big Bug, don't believe him." Betty leaned over and rested her head against his shoulder.

"I don't, but I question now. Where my life was so full of purity of purpose and clarity of thought, now I find myself wondering about everything." Male Mantid replied. "What if Statesman does as Code Vatnya suggests, and begins gathering support for an invasion of Praetoria?"

"What if monkeys fly out of War Witch's butt? Who cares?"

"And if Statesman puts a price on Tyrant's head, will you take it?"

"Yup, bring it back with a hole through it." Betty laughed, rubbing her rifle.

"And if Tyrant offered you a price on Statesman's head?" Mantid asked.

"I'll try to figure out how to collect on both, other I'll just collect the better price."

"I'll keep that in mind." Mantid told her, feeling the warmth of the bounty hunter's mammal body against his insectile armor as he took another long drink off of the whiskey bottle.

"Don't worry, Big Bug, there's isn't a big enough bounty for me to collect on you." She said.

Yet. went unstated between them.

The music was hard and thumping, making the ice in the glass clink in time with it. Heroes and villains alike danced with one another beneath the sweeping and flickering multi-colored lasers. DJ Zero himself floated above the central dais, pantomiming conducting the throngs of dancers below him.

The bartender, a member of the ultra-violent gang The Freakshow during the day, and mixologist at night, noticed the man's glass was nearly empty and swept it aside to replace the fallen soldier with a fresh one.

The man's head lifted from his contemplation of a Cuban cigar held in scarred, gnarled and twisted fingers as he sensed another person settling onto the barstool next to him. The smell of ozone and the faint whisper of static electricity reached him, and he took a deep drag off of the cigar, blowing smoke into the air.

"Do you really believe all that BS you talked about?" The young woman asked. Her hair was blue and covered by the blue beret of UN Forces with the insignia of Vanguard pinned to it. A target reticile concealed on of her electric blue eyes, and she smiled with blue lip gloss covered lips. A pink leather jacket with the sleeves cut away hinted that she wore little, if anything, beneath it, and a short pink skirt with blue lightning on the sides showed quite a bit of leg. A pair of pink boots completed the ensemble, and served to threaten to overwhelm the old man's drink blurred vision.

"Do you think this is the best place to discuss it?" the man asked, setting down the cigar in an ashtray and reaching out to take a sip of his drink. Vodka on the rocks with a twist of lemon. Heresy to most of the people of his homeland, but he liked the taste, and the ice was fun to chew on sometimes.

"Why not? Nobody can hear us over the music, DJ Zero is going to start a wet-costume top contest, so nobody will be paying attention to us." The young woman said, then leaned forward and shivered slightly, letting the ample flesh on display bobble. "Besides, everyone knows my rep here. They'll just figure I've decided to seduce myself an old supervillain so I can drag you to the bathroom and add your notch to my Vanguard gauntlet."

The man laughed, the old deep scars on his face twisting his mouth slightly, and waved at the bartender.

"A drink for my aggressive friend, if you would, comrade." The man said. The Freakshow smiled, his piercings glinting in the light, and poured a Nuclear Meltdown. The young woman was well known, and he silently wished the old man luck in dealing with her.

"So, do you?" The young woman asked, taking a long drink off of her glass.

"That doesn't matter, the question is, do you?" The man asked, turning on his barstool to stare at the young woman. The young woman stared at the scars on his face, the patch covering his left eye for a long moment, then reaches forward and let her fingertip trace the thick scars.

"Where did you get these?" She asked softly.

"A nice subject change, little one." The man chuckled. "Very well, since you carry scars of your own, I will tell you." His voice grew soft. "I was part of the Soviet Unions Meta-Human project. I devised power armor to help reduce the technology gap between the Motherland and Imperialistic America. We had invaded Afghanistan to secure a vital trade route that America was trying to choke us out of, and I was sent with a company of Tundra Thunder power armors to watch them in action.

The man took a deep breath, a drink off of his vodka, and continued, staring at the young woman, but not seeing her. "We did not know at the time that the Freedom Phalanx, at the urging of Statesman, had provided the insurgents with plasma weapons designed by Freedom Phalanx to counter not only our power armor, but our combat helicopters and tanks.

"We walked into an ambush, I had foolishly believed a young woman who claimed that a village, that was pacified and under our control, had come under attack by the insurgents and that dozens of people were injured.

"I was captured after a long battle, me and two others. Ivan and Rolph and I were made to kneel, our hands bound with barbed wire and our helmets removed. A Freedom Phalanx Agent walked down the line, telling the insurgents how we were powerless against the weapons that Freedom Phalanx had provided." He paused for another drink.

"And then?" The young woman asked. She was rubbing the scar on her thigh unconsciously.

"He drew his pistol, walked down the line of the three of us, and shot us each in the face." The man said, his voice weary. "Once he shot us, he kicked us in the chest so that we fell over backwards. Then, convinced we had been dealt with, he and his freedom fighters left. I drifted in and out of consciousness, once waking up as a wild animal gnawed upon the ruin his pistol had left of my face."

"Is that why you hate Freedom Phalanx?" The young woman asked softly, her fingertips moving to the eyepatch. "Why haven't you replaced your eye, everyone says you're a master of cybernetics."

"I don't hate Freedom Phalanx, I suspect them." The man told her, "And I haven't replaced to my eye to remind me to never, ever, be overconfidant again."

"Did you mean what you said?" The young woman asked again, watching as the older man took another drink, puffed on the cigar for a moment, then turned back to her.

"About Statesman? About Freedom Phalanx? About Longbow and the Vindicators?" He asked.

She reached forward and took his hand, placing it upon her thigh. Her skin was warm, and the scar tissue beneath his palm and fingertips thick and smooth.

"No. About this." She said, staring into his single eye. He could feel the electricity thrumming inside of her skin, feel a faint tingling as if his hand was too close to high voltage lines.

"Yes."

"Why? Why should I believe you that you care in the slightest about it? I saw you on that battlefield, as I laid there in the bloody sand covered in the blood and flesh of my friends. Commanding those robots of yours to cut down people I'd gone to school with. I saw you through the explosion as Bobby Pritchard stepped on a plasma mine and vanished in a gout of sand, blood, and vaporized flesh." She said softly. "Why should I believe you care in the slightest about the fact I laid on that beach as the tide came in, as the waves washed over my legs. About how I drug myself up the beach to escape the tide."

"Would you fight to defend Paragon City if Lord Recluse attacked it? Do you fight when Rikti assault troops drop from one of their dropships? Do you fight when the undead burst from the ground?" He asked, reaching over to take another puff off of the cigar as the bartender replaced both drinks with a smile. His hand didn't leave the patch of scar tissue on her leg. "Would you fight if the situations were reversed?"

"Yes." She breathed. "I would have."

"And so did I." The man told her, letting go of her leg to reach up and brush her hair off of her face.

"Do you really believe what you said on that beach?" She asked a third time.

"Yes. Statesman led you like sheep to the slaughter, without warning, without regret, without compassion." The older man said. "Each time young heroes grow strong, a new threat arises that he rallies you all beneath his banner to face, and fall.

"How many are forgotten, their bones bleaching in the sun of the Rikti War Zone, their bodies and deeds as forgotten as their bodies that lay rotting in Recluse's Victory?" The man took another drink, then looked at the young woman, his eye hard and his face set. "Where was Statesman when you lay dying on that beach? Why did it take months for you to be traded back to Paragon City? And where was Statesman as you lay in that hospital for so long?"

"You hate him, don't you?" She whispered.

"No. I do not hate him. He is what he is, just as Stalin and Kruchev were what they were. But I see past his rhetoric, past his carefully cultivated image, to the bloody grinning skull beneath." The man said, shaking his head. "Recluse and Statesman were once best friends, did you know that?"

"No." She took a drink.

"They had a falling out. Each thought that the power they possessed should be used for different reasons." The man laughed. "They had a falling out over to wield their power, not over a woman, but over power. Doesn't that tell you something?"

"That they both could probably benefit from 10 minutes in the broom closet with a Carnie girl." The girl giggled.

The man laughed too, and it took them both several minutes to stop laughing.

"Do you really think we'll go to war with Praetorian Earth?" She asked, once the laughter had stopped.

"Not we, but all of those who listen to Statesman. All who rally to his banner again to face a threat that may only be a threat because of him." The man said. "I found that recording over a year ago, but so far, only a handful know about Praetoria, and even fewer know that despite Tyrant's supposed evil, the place appears to be a paradise."

"But at what cost? What if he is a tyrant, what if it is only that way because he has stifled all dissadent, what if it is because nobody dares speak out?" She asked.

"But do we know that? No, we only know what Statesman and the Portal Corporation have told us." The man snorted. "I, for one, no longer trust what any of them, Freedom Phalanx, Vindicator, Vanguard, or Arachnos, has to say."

"I'm thinking of quitting Vanguard." The girl blurted.

"Indeed?" The man raised the eyebrow above his eyepatch.

"I found an android of Manticore and reported it, and a big deal was made out of it. Footage was broadcast and everything." She said.

"I remember."

"But the footage shown wasn't of the room I found, wasn't of the android I found. And I asked around." She reached over, grabbed her glass, and drank the rest in one snap. "I wasn't the only one to find a Manticore android. Or to find Nemesis' plans."

"And what does that tell you?"

"That so many of us found the same thing, at different times, in different places, that it was too much. Nobody makes the same planning room fifty times, nobody leaves behind the same android with different damage fifty times." She looked around, then leaned forward to kiss his neck.

"It's a hoax." She breathed into his ear. "And I want to know why."

"That's an interesting suggestion, you realize I'm old enough to be your father." The man said loudly, standing up and pulling a hundred dollar bill from the pocket of his DCU pants and tossing it on the bar.

"So how does a supervillain live?" She laughed, standing up and making a faux-curtsey.

"Would you like to see? A visit to the lair of the Sinister Code Vatnya?" The man laughed.

"Oooh, that sounds like fun." She put on a pleading face. "Please, Mr. Supervillain, I am helpless before you, spare me and my virtue."

"Tachyon Hammer, prisoner of a Supervillain." The man laughed.

Both continued to laugh as they left Pocket-D, his arm around her, her arm around him, both staggering as if they had drank a bit too much.

Those who watched them leave saw only an older man seduced by a younger woman with a reputation for thrill seeking. Some shook their heads at how even a powerful supervillain could be addled by a pretty young woman, while others privately laughed at the thought of Tachyon Hammer adding another notch to her bedpost.

The next day Tachyon Hammer turned in her resignation to Vanguard, citing 'hostile workplace' to the debriefing officer.

When she returned to the hideout of her friends and supergroup comrades, she found Inertia Flare sitting in the dark, and hearing the story of the death of Hammerhead Harry, came up with nothing but more questions with the fact that the day Hammerhead Harry had been murdered, she could account for Code Vatnya's whereabouts the whole time.

To the young girl, the world looked darker.

To the old man, the storm clouds were drawing closer.

The man's face was bluish tinted, his skin cold and waxy. What had once been a roughly handsome face was misshapen and bulged wrongly. Both eyes showed signs that they had been swollen shut at one point, and bloodless cuts showed how the brutal impacts upon his face his split the skin and allowed the man's blood to flow.

Inertia Flare reached out one hand and touched the dead man's face, feeling that all warmth was gone from him, that the fire of life had been extinguished. Gone was the hero she had fought next to, gone was the young man whom she had faced the mechanical minions of the madman Lord Nemesis, gone forever was the laughter that had echoed throughout their superbase.

"It's him." She said, and the mortuary worker nodded, pulling the sheet back over the brutalized face. "What killed him?"

"Are you sure you want to know?" The man asked, and Inertia Flare nodded, burning tears glittering in her eyes. The man sighed, they always wanted to know, so they could go out and extract justice in the name of the dead, as if the dead cared about vengeance.

"Internal bleeding, massive organ trauma, brain trauma." He told her. "Repeated blows to the face, back of the head, and torso is what did it."

"Any clue who might have done it?" Inertia Flare asked.

"We found fragments of armor embedded in his knuckles, Longbow took possession of them, but I do have the Longbow report." The official said, taking Inertia Flare's arm and leading her away.

Of course you do. Inertia Flare mused as the official pulled out a few sheets of paper.

She signed when she was asked, and took the paper, looking down at it.

Longbow analysis showed that the armor fragments were consistent with the same composite that Black Scorpian used in his armor, and that the repeated blows that killed her friend were consistent with the type of physical assault Black Scorpion enjoyed.

Cause of Death: Meta-Human Homicide

Of course it was. Inertia Flare mused, reading the paperwork as she left the morgue. She would make arrangements for Hammerhead Harry to be buried in Arlington Cemetery, next to those he had served with.

She crumpled the papers in her hand, brought up the fires of the Phoenix that burned within her, and launched herself into the air.

The fierce freedom of flight brought no joy to her, and despite the day being sunny and warm, there was a chill in the air.

Hammerhead Harry had been murdered in Bloody Bay, his body found bent and broken in a graveyard that had been torn up. Hammerhead Harry, whom Inertia Flare had seen take a tank round to the chest and keep right on going. Hammerhead Harry who was strong enough to knock out a Freakshow Tank with one punch, to shatter a Devouring Earth crystal entity in one blow.

Had been beaten to death by Black Scorpion in Bloody Bay.

Inertia Flare almost believed it, would have believed it, if not for the time of death.

When Hammerhead Harry had been murdered, Inertia Flare, along with Jonny Blaster, the October Octogenerian, the Male Mantid, Miss Moral, Mythus, Global Better, and the undead Zuka had been busy.

Fighting Black Scorpion in an Arachnos Base beneath Sharkhead Isle.

Could it have been Code Vatnya? That massive battlebot of his could have done this, and he's defeated Black Scorpion and even admitted to having adapted the technology for his own use. Inertia Flare wondered as she flew into the traffic tunnel in Atlas and then into the access tunnels.

Could he be so desperate to prove his theory that he would murder Hammerhead Harry to make us all think that Statesman did it? She wondered as she opened the door to the small secret lair she shared with her friends.

Except there was no way for him to know that we would be kicking in Black Scorpions skull that day. There was no way for him to know that I would know where the supervillain who supposedly murdered my friend was when he died. Inertia Flare thought, throwing herself into a chair.

She stared for a long time at the picture of her and her friends, Hammerhead Harry smiling broadly from the picture taken in front of the defeated form of the Clockwork King.

Who should I believe in? A former Soviet Union supervillain who made a bid for the return of the Soviet Union and nearly succeeded? The world's most renown hero who has saved us time and time again? I wouldn't even consider it if Harry hadn't been on that Cimerora beach with us, if I hadn't had seen Black Scorpion go down with my own eyes. Inertia Flare kept staring at the picture.

Ms. Liberty holds Excalibur, yet cannot use it. I have never even seen her touch the hilt. The robot looked like Nemesis work, the evidence all pointed to Nemesis using Freedom Phalanx androids to invade the Rikti Homeworld. But what if it is a lie?

What if our lives are lies?

She sat still enough the supercomputer's motion detectors no longer sensed her, and after awhile the lights turned off.

Inertia Flare sat in the dark, staring at the picture she could no longer see.

The beach was windswept, the sand missing the small bits of litter that most of the gathered people were used to seeing. Gulls cried out overhead, and the surf hissed through the sand as it swept toward the small group and then retreated.

Powerful heroes of Paragon City were gathered, small in number but mighty in reputation, while dyed in the wool villains of the Rogue Isles stood across from the heroes, both sides watching each other carefully.

Sand crunched beneath the armored boots of a well known villain as the red armor clad figure finished picking his way down a trail the led down the cliff and strode across the sand to stand between both groups.

"It is here I should say: Friends, Romans, Metahumans, lend me your ears." The armor clad figure spoke, eliciting chuckles from the gathered heroes and villains at such an obvious pun. "I will spare us all, however, as I can hear well enough." The red armored figure reached up and removed his helmet, revealing an older man with iron gray hair and scars on his face that all gathered knew he had earned on the battlefields of Afghanistan during his home country's invasion of it in the 1980's. He was a relic from an older time, but still respected by all gathered, as he respected them.

"Why have you asked us here, Vatyna?" Mythus asked, stepping forward. He was clad in the light of his near-divinity, wearing the toga and sandals that the locals wore. "I hope you did not call us here for battle, for you gave your word of honor, upon your position as a mortal military commander that we all had surety."

"Be at ease, Mighty Mythus, he's of the old school, he won't break that oath." A fire wrapped hero known as Inertia Flare, answered.

"His questions still stands, Vatnya." The self-styled Crusher of Longbow growled, starting to take a step forward with balled fists. When Vatyna turned his scarred face toward the brutal war criminal and the younger villain stepped back.

"I've asked you here for a simple reason. Here it would be more difficult to spy on what I am about to discuss with you. There is less electronic usage, and many of us would instantly detect it. There are no satellites in the sky to spy upon us to tell others who met with who." Code Vatnya waved his hand at the village that lay behind the cliffs. "I sincerely doubt our unwilling hosts would bother us here, and with the heavy defeat we all gathered together not long ago to hand the Fifth Column their fear of us keeps them from spying on us."

"Cold War paranoia." Miss Moral said, shaking her head. "Seriously, Code, you should seek a professional."

"You say that now, Miss Moral, but listen to my words, and you will hear that I speak no mistruth, and why just my words will put all of you who listen in mortal danger." Code Vatnya told everyone. "If you have armor or cybernetic recorders, you may want to turn them off."

Code Vatnya stared at each hero and villain in turn.

"What I will discuss with you could mean your life if I am right."

There were no scoffing noises by the gathered heroes. The younger ones knew that Code Vatnya was a product of the most paranoid and secretive time in the world's history. That he had grown to adulthood in a nation where he could not speak his mind, and secrets could very well earn him a bullet in the back of the head. Knew that Code Vatnya had spent over a decade in the brutal gulags of Siberia just for being suspected of not doing his best in the Soviet Union's invasion of Afghanistan.

"Walk away now, if you do not want to have everything you know questioned." Code Vatnya warned.

"I'm not going to stay and listen to the paranoid ramblings of a worthless Cold War relic." Thunderheat sneered, turning to walk away.

"It won't save you. You will be killed just for having met with us, nobody will believe you that your head is as empty as your virtue." Vatnya warned.

"Whatever, Grandpa." Thunderheat said.

The beach remained silent for a long moment as everyone gathered watched the impetious hero stomp away, and once he was out of sight, everyone turned back to Code Vatnya as a gull cried above.

"We have all been lied to." Code Vatnya said, his dead eye glinting.

"How so?" The insectiod alien hero Male Mantid asked.

"I have in my possession a recording I came into possession of when I raided a Freedom Phalanx base a year ago." Code Vatnya said, holding out a handful of USB thumb drives. "On these drives is only the data-file, I swear upon my honor that nothing else remains on those drives. Review them, friends, and tell me what you see."

"And for those who have no computers to access these files?" The Male Mantid asked, sweeping his hands down his insect form.

"Tachyon Hammer over there, hiding behind Mythus, can give us all a lightshow." Code Vatnya said, smiling.

The young woman glared at the older man, stepped forward and took one of the USB drives, concentrating on it. Tiny sparks jumped in her hand as she bit the tip of her tongue with even white teeth, and a projection blossomed above her hand.

Everyone present watched silently as the video played, taking in the appearance of Tyrant, the alternate, warped, double of the valiant Statesman, the appearance of a long distance shot of Praetorian Earth Paragon City, and finally of Statesman scoffing at the obvious beauty of the Praetorian version of Paragon City.

"What is the point, old man?" Tachyon Hammer asked, letting the electron cloud disperse.

"Have you faced Tyrant, any of you?" Code Vatnya asked.

The gathered heroes all nodded.

"Have you faced his allies, the Praetorian Earth Freedom Phalanx?"

Again, every hero present nodded.

"Why?" Code Vatnya asked, folding his arms. A long moment of silence followed, the ocean breeze snapping the capes worn by a few of the heroes and villains.

"Tyrant took Statesman prisoner, Portal Corporation asked us to track him down." Mythus said. "I took on the battle because those who are oppressed cry out to me in a multitude of voice, it is my way."

Code Vatnya smiled, and pointed at another hero.

"And you saved him also, correct?"

"Yes. Tyrant had him held captive in a cave system." Inertia Flare murmurred.

"Yet you saved him again when he was a prisoner of Hamidon."

"Yes."

"How many of us have fought in the Rikti War Zone?" Code Vatnya asked. The heroes and the villains had drawn together, absently, listening to the words of the Cold War Super Villain.

"Exactly, all of us. And does anyone here remember what the Dark Watcher wonders?" Code Vatnya asked.

"What does this have to do with Tyrant and Statesman?" Tachyon Hammer asked.

"Bear with me, young one." Code Vatnya soothed her, smiling.

"He does not understand why the Rikti attacked us. He told me that he visited them years ago, and they were a peaceful people." Sinister Vanadium rumbled from behind the faceplate of his helmet.

"Exactly." Code Vatnya smiled. "Did you see how Statesman commented how Praetorian Earth was? How he was all 'looks can be deceiving...' all ominious and stuff?"

The gathered heroes and villains all chuckled at Code Vatnya's imitation of Statesman.

"Then, of course, we see a carefully prepared video footage of Tyrant claiming his empire and powers are boundless, and telling his minion to gather his forces." Code Vatnya continued. "We all know that the only reason you would gather your forces is to prepare to attack or be attacked."

"Yes, we've all heard the rumors that Praetorian Earth is going to take our war with the Rikti as a sign of weakness and possibly launch an assault, which is why Tyrant took Statesman prisoner." Inertia Flare interrupted, shaking her head. "So what, is your news that Tyrant is as evil as Lord Recluse?"

Code Vatnya laughed, then swept his arm out to encompass the horizon where ocean water glittered.

"Yes, Tyrant is going to invade. I find this easy to believe. Do any of you know why?"

"He's evil." The Male Mantid said, crossing his arms. "What other reason does he need?"

"What reason indeed?" Code Vatnya smiled. "Tell me, all of you here took part in Statesman's attempt to invade the Rogue Isles." He pointed at Tachyon Hammer, who was biting her lips and rubbing a scar from an energy blast on her thigh.

"And who was chosen to lead the attack, young one?" Vatnya asked her.

"My friends and I. Us young heroes, Statesman told us how we would engage Lord Recluse's soldiers while he and the rest of Alpha Lance went after Recluse himself." Tachyon Hammer said, shivering. Her eyes became distant, and her face old. "It was a slaughter. Black Scorpain guided the defense, I was hit in the first few minutes and lay on the beach with the rest of Omega Lance. I watched Protonstorm scream, bleed out, and die less than a foot from me. There were explosions, and people screaming, I saw my team leader, Hyperjuice, take repeated hits from Arachnos energy maces, and when he died, he exploded, and his blood and vaporized flesh coated me, in my mouth, in my eyes. Statesman flew over the battle, taunting Recluse, trying to draw him out, while on the beach mines exploded, energy weapons howled, and... and..."

Mythus stepped forward and wrapped one of his massive arms around the small woman, pulling her close, and heroes and villains alike looked away, almost embarrassed, as she clutched Mythus and began to sob.

"Enough, Vatnya!" Mythus roared, hugging the sobbing young hero against him. "Leave her alone, do not take pleasure from her pain, villain."

"You know not what you speak of, Godling." Vatnya sneered. "You see the battle as good versus evil, while Tachyon and I, we share what it means to be thrown into battle as a number. Her beach is my Afghan canyon. Ours is the pain of mortals engaged in battle we do not understand."

Code Vatnya turned to the others.

"Look what Statesman wrought. He and his fabled Freedom Phalanx," the hatred dripped off the words, "Managed to engage Lord Recluse, but to no avail, just like everything Statesman has done. Hundreds of young heroes died on the beach, or were taken prisoner, or so wounded they now sit at the mouths of alleys of King's Row, Mercy Island, Port Oakes, Skyway City, begging for handouts when they could have helped bring the rule of law to the lawless. Legless, blinded, insane, how many of them have been embraced by the Lost? How much potential was wasted on Statesman's valiant assault on the Rogue Isles where he was hailed as a hero for complete and utter failure?"

He turned and glared at all the heroes.

"Every one of you took part in Statesman's invasion of the Rogue Isles, but not one of you have given thought to anything beyond the glory of fighting those who live there. None of you view yourselves for what you truly were, a hostile force engaged in an unprovoked attack upon a soveriegn nation, a force that killed civilians, destroyed lives, and crippled children who were either non-combatants or too young to understand why Statesman had them lead the charge." Vatnya tossed a blue UN Vanguard beret on the ground.

"The UN said nothing about Statesman's invasion of the sovereign nation of the Rogue Isles. We are not part of the United States, we are a nation unto ourselves, yet we were invaded by a hostile power, and not one nation spoke out for us on the floor of the UN." Code Vatnya snarled. "Statesman, who survived the great counter-attack of the First Rikti War. The Great and All Powerful Statesman, who knows what is best."

The heroes looked troubled at Code Vatnya's speech.

"Omega Team, and one of Earth's greatest heroes was lost. Even I, as a young man, idolized Hero One, and when I heard that he had been lost upon an attack on the Rikti Homeworld, while Statesman, ever the serpent, had survived, I knew that he had been betrayed." Code Vatnya continued, his voice hard and cold.

"Who opened the portals? Portal Corporation, an entity founded by one of the top reseachers of who?. Who tells us that the dimensional gateway collapsed? Portal Corporation, the wonderful people who brought us the scourge of Superdyne. The same people who insist that Tyrant took Statesman prisoner, but notice they never said why the portals collapsed, or how Tyrant took Statesman prisoner. The same people who belong to a company founded by the Freedom Phalanx's top researcher. Freedom Phalanx, which is lead by who?

"Statesman. Who if he feels justified in invading another sovereign nation is hailed as a hero as he struts about the ground soaked in the blood of your bright young lights, tatters of their seared and rended flesh clotting the treads of his boots. Whose speech to the masses is crystal clear once the media has removed the screams of pain from the heroes he bravely sent ahead of him into the fray. Who cape snaps and flutters in the breeze, the blood that soaks the ground and covers too many still young bodies digitally removed from it.

"The portal collapses, and Hero One is gone, but Statesman returns. Nothing can be spared to find out what happened to Hero One and Omega Team, but yet we can spare the strength to fight the Preatorians. Statesman can rally together the forces needed to invade the Rogue Isles, yet he cannot rally the resources to find out the fate of a man supposedly his friend?

"If Statesman is so concerned with evil, why does he not look to the evil here, on our world, before turning his eyes toward Praetorian Earth? Why does he not assist us in forcing back the Rikti, in destroying that bedamned ship?

"And how did those Rikti find Earth in the first place?"

"What are you saying?" The Male Mantid asked.

"Yeah, enough rhetoric, spit it out." Inertia Flare said, stepping forward.

"I'm saying that we have been fooled. All of us." Code Vatnya pointed at Sinister Vanadium. "I don't know about you, but in my career working for Recluse, how much villainy did you really accomplish."

"If he's anything like me, he spent most of his time beating up Arachnos." Longbow Crusher grumbled.

"He's right. I seemed to spend more time beating up other villains." Sinister Vanadium agreed.

"And how many of us had to go forward and stop Lord Recluse and Statesman from destroying the world contesting for supremacy?" Code Vatnya asked the assembled villains. "Look at the battlefield nick-named Recluse's Victory. Instead of facing Recluse himself, or bringing Freedom Phalanx into it, he sends young heroes, powerful young heroes, onto that battlefield. And how does it look there, Mythus?"

"Bones lie in the alleys. Corpses of young heroes and villains lie spread everywhere, it is a horror." Mythus said, petting Tachyon Hammer's hair as her sobs began to subside.

"Statesman once again sends the young and foolish, who think there is glory in that madness of unrestrained battle." Code Vatnya agreed. "However, now that you begin to have an inkling of the callous disregard Statesman has for life, follow my logic.

"Every time Statesman was saved by us, he was in Praetorian Earth. The Rikti attacked claiming we attacked them first." Code Vatnya smiled at the others.

"Think about it! Open your mind! Tyrant is not invading us for no reason! Statesman did what he has always done. He invaded Tyrant's world, attempted to put his own morality upon the world, and Tyrant was strong enough to rebuff him.

"So of course, we can expect to see propaganda to rival the Nazis as Statesman whips everyone up into a frenzy. We'll hear how they are evil, how Tyrant is nothing more than just what he has been named by Statesman.

"Notice that, we don't even know his name. Tyrant is what Statesman and Portal Corps call him, probably because it sounds much more fearsome than something like 'Jeff' or 'Robert' when we are warned he is going to invade.

"But he was invaded first. Statesman, who is supposedly oh so uncomprimising in the face of evil but yet lets horrors happen even today, who's puppets voted against UN intervention in what is now the most bloody fighting our world has over seen, now wants us to put a stop to this so called Tyrant.

"And who will lead the attack." Code Vatnya said softly, nodding toward where Mythus was holding Tachyon Hammer.

"The young. Those who might someday attain greatness." Code Vatnya said softly. "The Destined One project of Lord Recluse not only brought people from the Zig, but also raided the hospitals and many illegal detention centers build and staffed by Longbow, freed many young heroes, many of whom their only crime was not registering with the Paragon City metahuman registration center. or presenting themselves to Freedom Corps or Longbow"

"And speaking on Longbow, Inertia Flare, what recently happened?" Code Vatnya asked.

Inertia Flare looked stubborn for a moment, then relented. "Ms. Liberty had decided that Vanguard should come under her authority. She recruited a renegade faction of Vanguard to help her destroy it from within."

"Exactly." Code Vatnya said. "Statesman's little sidekick, leader of the Vindicators, suddenly decided that a United Nations Police Body should be hers to lead.

"Yet nothing happened to her, even when evidence of the whole thing was turned over to the 'proper authorities' since she oh so nicely agreed to stop what she was doing."

Code Vatnya turned and looked at each hero and villain alike.

"Statesman and his allies are acting as a rogue, hostile nations toward the citizenry of this world. If the Soviet Union, the EU, or the United States, hey, if even Pango Pango acted as Statesman and his allies do, there would be UN resolutions to stop them.

"And now, not content to drag us into a war with the Rikti, not content to lead an assault on another soveriegn nation and acting as if the United States of America's military would back him up, he has invaded Praetorian Earth, been forced away, and now we must all live with this newest war of his.

"His valiant Freedom Phalanx is well know for his past deed, for their past heroics, but look at the larger picture. Not once have they helped stopped true tyranny, not once have they helped the millions crying out for help across the world. Yet he will ask all of you to invade another world.

"And what of the fate of Hero One? What will keep Portal Corps from accidently allowing the portals to collapse after so many of the young heroes flock to Praetorian Earth to fight this new 'threat' at Statesman's urging?

"If Statesman will not intervene when metahuman's in that horrific civil war are allowed to throw fire into cities, call down hurricanes on ports, capsize ships, use bolts of power on refugee camps, why, I ask you, would he be willing to go 'free those trapped beneath Tyrant's boot' in another dimension?

"Gentlemen, ladies, both, and neither." Code Vatnya said gravely. "I propose that the true villain may very well be one who struts about in the day.

"I propose that the largest villain, the largest uncharged war criminal is revered thanks to effective propaganda. Assisted by a person who brags about being able to 'ride along' and control other's minds, he has ensured that he has been painted as everyone's savior.

"I, among us, charge Statesman, Freedom Phalanx, the Vindicators, Longbow, and Freedom Corps with crimes against humanity." Code Vatnya growled. "We have only his version of every event. Every person who could speak against his is dead, missing, or discredited.

"I charge Statesman with the unprovoked invasion of Praetorian Earth, of the invasion of soveriegn territory with unprovoked aggression, and I charge him with attempting to circumvent international law and the desires of the appointed body known as the United Nations.

"I name Statesman just as much a traitor as Lord Recluse." Code Vatnya growled.

"And what would you have us do?" Inertia Flare asked, lifting her chin and staring defiantly at Code Vatnya.

"Join me." Code Vatnya said. The surrounding heroes laughed, but a few laughs were weak, and doubt showed in the eyes of hero and villain alike.

"Not a chance." Inertia Flare spit.

"Not in assaulting Statesman. Join me, when the portals to Praetorian Earth are opened and Statesman urges us all to attack their 'unprovoked attack', in exploring Praetorian Earth with an open eye.

"Join me in questioning what we are told. Join me in making your own opinion about Praetorian Earth, about the Rikti War.

"Join me in finding the answers to so many questions." Code Vatnya asked.

Behind him, the sun sank into the ocean.

"I will." Mythus promised in the gathering shadows.

"Do not answer. If I am right, we are all in deadly peril. If I am right, and Statesman discovers that we know he is not the hero everyone assumes, our days may be numbered." Code Vatnya told the others.

"If one of us turns up dead, or missing, then we must all consider the words I have spoken to you." Code Vatnya said.

"I pray they were false. For all our sakes." The Male Mantid said, looking troubled.

"As do I, old foe, as do I."

It would be a cool Orobous Zone too, or even a Portal Corp mission. Think of it, taking on mobsters walking the streets, and old timey Nemisis.

Remember, Nemesis was crowned Emperor of America, perhaps you have to put a stop to that? Or perhaps keep Nemesis from joining with the Kaiser and invading America. The ideas are endless.

The "Death Goggles" from the Super Science Booster Pack III clips with the top of the head, resulting in it looking like there's a place there to work on the character's head. Not sure if that was intentional, but figured I'd just let you all know.

I was thinking more along the lines of at least an extra slot, so if the other ideas weren't possible, at least you wouldn't use up one of your own slots to wear the same uniform as the rest of the SG.

You have a point about certain options not being open, and perhaps it would be too complicated to add in a full costume, I hadn't considered all of the ramifications.

Is there any way to possibly get a supergroup costume slot? One that the supergroup leader designs the colors and the costume, and everyone uses it for free, without the supergroup costume taking up a costume slot?

And any way we could pictures of the characters in the supergroup, like a snapshot from the character selection screen, or maybe even with the supergroup uniform on?

Just curious?

(I used search, and didn't find this)

I have a few questions:

With the introduction of the Alignment System, does that mean there will be multiple options to answer when you talk to the contacts?

Will there be new early level content in Atlas Park/Galaxy City/Hollows/King's Row/Mercy etc, since we've all done that numerous times, or will the new low level stuff be restricted to only the Preatorian Earth area?

What will happen if your Rogue Isles character's alignment move to evil? Will they be shoved in a bag and mailed to Paragon City, or have "Rebel Without A Clue" options for mission acceptance? Will there be the same for heroes?

How much more graphic intensive will the game get? Some people (not me) are getting to the edge of their graphics cards. Will Going Rogue amp up the graphic requirements, or will it ease it up a little?

Will Boomtown and Dark Astoria be receiving attention in Going Rogue, since this is obviously a story advancement thing? Those areas have been like that since launch, and I'd like to see some movement, much like what was accomplished with The Hollows (which was a fantastic makeover IMHO)

How difficult will it be to port between the areas? Can a 1st level hero transition between Paragon City and Praetorian Earth, or is there going to be a different level cap?

Any word on how many zones there are going to be in Praetorian Earth? Are we going to see a fully clean Boomtown and Dark Astoria, or will they just be missing?

Finally: When does pre-order come out?

How much influence did Metahumans have on World War 2 and World War 1?

Were there metahumans on both sides, or just on one side or the other, and how much affect did they have?

During the Cold War, were metahumans ever hired as agents by the KGB and the CIA, as well as G-5 and the OSS?

Naw, that would be too difficult to program in. You'd have to do too much core programming, since nothing like that currently exists in the game.

It's taken me a little bit of time to collect our feedback. Some of it is "in character" from our RPers, others is clinical, but these are all Base things...

First, our group:
2 long-time vets (Launch and Issue 2)
2 Total Newbs (less than 3 months)
2 Moderately experienced. (1 year-18 months)

Multiple bases, with multiple SG's and VG's scattered through the servers.

I asked everyone to hand in questions and comments, for submission.

So, feedback:

Positive
<ul type="square">[*]The bases are pretty customizable. Even if it has zero game functionality, it sure is pretty and kind of fun to hang out in and BS and catch up on each other's lives.[*]Huh, I didn't explode in flames when I zoned in... Way to go.[*]The base stabilization errors were fixed pretty quick. Bummer about all those IO's, but hey, it's life. We just chalked it up to a Rikti Monkey raid. Those Rikti Monkeys... there oughta be a law...[*]Having a superbase makes it feel like "we are on our way" and makes it feel like a superhero game. When do we get our helicopters or flying car or hovercraft or... What?[*]This is way cool! When do I get a mannequin that looks like my character's costume to put up?[/list]
Neutral
<ul type="square">[*]That entry portal. Isn't there a way to make it look different. It's ugly and annoying, but I guess it can stay. (AE looks cooler)[*]Lots of tile sets for appearance, but can we get some different ones in the same vein?[*]Any way we can get pictures of our characters? As in the ID Photo on a small or large picture, put in our personal item slots and able to be hung up? It's kind of an ego thing.[*]The salvage tables don't hold enough.[*]What's the use in having multiple medical transports? Is there a cooldown time on each one? (No)[*]Hey, how come we had those keepsakes if we can't hang them up in the base? And shouldn't Citadel need his brain?[*]Same stuff for the base as at SG launch. Now they just make us spend useful salvage on things instead of the junk that dropped. *yawn*[*] ^^Big help, huh? OK, how about some new tilesets. I'd like to see some carpet types. If it's basically like the Sims and The Sims 2 skinning, someone should be able to do it on the clock. How about some more pictures? How about an option to craft a picture from a screenshot?[*]Doom 2 had multilevel maps, when are bases? I'd like to put the living quarters on a separate floor from the workshop. I don't know what Jethro Powers is over there mixing, for all I know it's going to either destroy Colonel Victory or melt my testicles. Make him do that stuff in the basement.[*]Prison Cells: Hey, maybe we could have a prison cell section, and when we complete a task force or get a badge (above the current kill 100 badge) we have a prisoner in the cells of that type of enemy. If I'm a villain, I'd like to be able to turn on the electricity and watch them thrash and scream.[*]Why are tables staged? Can't I just buy or build add-ons to make the table more adaptable? Can't I just buy the basic table and add on parts to make it an Advanced or Elite table?[*]How do I get some add-ons to make it so the med-bay brings you back at more health?[*]I want to be able to put a car or a motorcycle in the base as a trophy! Oooh! I want trophies! None of this vet-reward crap either! I want trophies from missions I've been on![*]Can we have like a wall painting with our character's ID pictures on it and their names underneath? That would be cool and ego stroking![*]Are we going to be able to pick a faction of bad-guys as our enemies and maybe sometimes zone into the base to find a raiding party waiting for us? That'd be pretty cool! Can we pick a VG for our eternal enemies that lets them hide in our base and jump us, like in the old comics?[/list]
Negative
<ul type="square">[*]Why aren't the Raid Teleporters working? Our VG/SG has a rivalry with another group, and IT REQUIRES BLOOD TO SETTLE! We can still buy them, then it sits there like a 50K paperweight. I've already got a paperweight in the base, it's called the Dark/Dark Tanker.[*]The energy/control balance is out of whack. What still has energy left over after a single big generator uses up the control from the Mainframe and 2 Databases. What's up with that? Admit it, you broke it, Rusty![*]When some things are placed, if the floor is raised, it falls through. I personally blame Rusty.[*]What's with this "Item of Power" thing? I bought it, it just sits there looking stupid. I have something in the base that looks stupid, it's that Brute over there who can't outfight a paperbag.[*]How come we have to use good salvage now? Can't we just go back to the crap drops? Or at least don't use the salvage for the basic stuff be super-rare. I don't want to grind tickets to get the proper salvage for something that it turns out I don't need.[*]I put in some IO's, and the enhancement table ate them! What's up with that, huh Rusty?[*]How about some Supergroup Missions? That can only be accessed from the Computer in the base? We have the stupid Oroubos stone, how about a mission computer?[/list]

There you go. Week one.

Just a minor question...

Are the villain missions going to be a bit more villainy? I'm not asked for the whole "MWAH-HA-HA Watch me boil puppies and skin orphans!!!" thing, but as a villain, I seem to spend the majority of my time fighting other villains more than those costumed buffoons of Paragon City.

I'm tentatively possibly excited about this, but please tell me that we're going to be a bit more villainy.

Oh, and does this push back I-15 even further?

[ QUOTE ]
Step 1.) Become a programmer.
Step 2.) Join a development team of 30+
Step 3.) Release your program to thousands.
Step 4.) Add new systems to your existing framework.
Step 5.) Count the number of bugs that have NOTHING to do with the systems you just added.
Step 6.) Try to figure out how adding commas to a text display causes an issue with the Mob AI.
Step 7.) Quit your programming job and check yourself into a Mental Health hospital.

[/ QUOTE ]

You forgot the end result:

Step 8.) Develop a massive drinking habit and rejoin the Army because it makes more sense.
Step 9.) Punch out anyone who says "Hey, didn't you used to work with computers?"
Step 10.) Deliberately forget every single thing to do with programming and pretend that you never took all those college courses. Claim your major was in basket weaving.
Step 11.) Play someone else's game and gripe at them.

Using Witch Top and Sleeveless Jacket&gt;Biker, on a female, her breasts burst through the jacket. It's kind of funny.

With high collar capes, the small shoulder animal clips with the collar of the cap. (Kitten and Panda, although Panda is almost hidden beneath it)

Witch&gt;Wing clips badly with capes.

Every once in awhile my character's torso will vanish. He's using bare chest with tribal, with chains for chest detail, and it is visible to others around me. Not sure why this is happening.