TeChameleon

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"Because, call me crazy, but I don't think Arachnos soldiers get time off."

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"Fine, neh? You're crazy. Dunno i' th' Spider Fetishists get time off, but i' ye happen t'be on th'job..." a young voice commented from behind the teen, changing registers twice over the course of the brief sentence. The voice was coming from over the railing... sixty feet above the waterline. Danny hovered nonchalantly behind the group, trying to make up for the fact that he was a skinny kid in shorts, flip-flops, and a targetting reticle by letting his electrical powers loose, a storm of lightning crackling around him, lending an eerie blue glow to the scene even in the bright tropical sun.

Then one of his flipflops fell off, sliding off his foot to drop out of sight, a faint splash sounding a moment or two later. Danny made a face and dropped the other sandal. "I' y'happen t'be on th'job, I suppose I am as well." he finished with a sigh.

[ QUOTE ]
On her way back to her room the slender Chinese woman sees Danny at the archery range and he immediately catches her interest. Approaching him in a very forward manner she says with a smile, “well now, it is good to see a young man like yourself taking interest in the fine art of archery” Picking up a three arrows the woman steals a bow from a small girl next to her and after tossing the three arrows delicately into the air, fires them into three separate bullseyes as if she were playing a harp on the bowstring.

[/ QUOTE ]
Danny gave her a level look. "Did y'say archery, or juggling?" he asked casually, his mostly-British accent thickening slightly. "What c'd posess y't'learn a trick like tha', anyways? T'is a bit on the odd side, neh? At least... I canna think o' a use f'r it in a serious fight." He shrugged slightly, spinning, nocking his last arrow, drawing, and firing in one smooth motion. The cheap wooden arrow whiffled past the slender Chinese woman's ear with a mad thrumming noise, catching the metal wall of the range at just the right angle to ricochet sharply upwards. It caught the lower edge of the radar array mount, bouncing downwards, caught a railing to jump sideways, off the backstop behind the targets, past the Chinese woman again, and off the back wall a final time, ricocheting to slam neatly into the bullseye.

Danny shrugged again. "T'is a bit of a naff trick, but it serves every so often." Then the alarm klaxons began to sound. His brief 'playmate' promptly forgotten, Danny dug his hand into one of the deep pockets of his cargo shorts, yanking out the targetting monocle that was his one concession to the superheroic lifestyle that had more or less been thrust upon him. Slipping it on, he took to the sky, circling the ship rapidly, his bow invisibly put away, but ready to hand if he needed it. I' this is an outside threat, th'first bugger t'attack th'ship openly's gettin' an arrow in the nadgers. he thought grimly.

((well, the plot doesn't seem to have advanced so far that I can't hop in, so... without further ado, heeeeeere's Danny))

Danny ambled listlessly across the vast stern deck of the huge ship. The skinny thirteen-year-old was wearing khaki cargo shorts, flipflops, and an irritated expression. "You know, if you keep wandering around like that, you're going to burn." A voice in the shade of one of the colonnades that ran the length of the ship commented. "GAH!" Danny yelped. "Mum, how do y' keep gettin' ahead of me?" he demanded. Then he shrugged. "I havena seen either Alec or Jeff." he added quickly, naming his two younger brothers, "And Da's not caught up wi' th'ship yet. An' ifn you start trying t'rub suntan lotion on me in public, I swear I'll jump overboard right here." Eileen Troy smiled faintly. "Am I really becoming that predictable, Danny?" she asked. "Na, Mum, there just isna much to do on this daft great whale of a tub." the boy responded, then paused, realizing how silly that sounded. "Er... rather, there isna much to do that interests me."

Eileen gave a slight shrug and ruffled her son's short dark hair. "Well, far be it from me to interfere with your lack of fun. If you see the boys, tell them I'll be in Dining Hall three at the buffet, and I want to see them before they get into trouble again." Danny nodded, leaning back out of his mother's reach. "Sure Mum." he said, then dodged down one of the myriad twisting corridors of the huge ship.

He emerged back into the sunlight on one of the upper decks, idly heading towards the archery range. Tisna as if I ha' anythin' better t'do, and t'is prolly best if I keep my hand in. he thought abstractedly. Reaching the range, he grabbed a bundle of arrows and frowned at them. Cheap wooden tat. Still, I suspect tha' th'crew would get a wee bit huffy if I were t'start shootin' holes in folks in the deck below... prolly best not t'use my own arrows, since they have a trifle more penetratin' power than these... things, an' th'backstop isna likely t'stop 'em.

Pulling a bow from nowhere, he sighted down the arrow in his free hand expertly. "Blech." he muttered, then shrugged, drew back and let fly in one casual motion. The arrow buried itself halfway to the fletchings with a muffled *thunk*, dead center in the bullseye. Danny bent down, arranged the bundle of arrows so he could easily pull them out, and started drawing and firing in a steady stream. The second, third, and fourth shots smashed against the arrow in the bullseye of his first target, then he planted an arrow in the bullseye of each of the targets on the range. Then he grabbed a fistful of arrows, scoring five bullseyes simultaneously, followed by another fistful, again a quintuple bullseye. He paused for a moment, then shrugged, even more bored now. A steady stream of arrows flew out, planting themselves in a smooth arc around the second-from-the-outside ring, then a tight cluster near the upper right, then the upper left, of the target as he 'drew' a happy face on the target.

He sighed, twirling the last arrow in his hand as he wondered what to do now.

The only other extended bit of Co* fiction that I've done is the Diary of a Henchman, which is... uhm, not a story like this

It is moderately amusing, however.

*grin*

Sorry, V- I am working on another project, but it's got nothing to do with Co* and I'm not going to be posting it here. It's likely to be at least a couple of months before I come back to Co* stories- I have a few things I want to finish elsewhere first.

Heh... VGhost, this particular story is done.

And dd, sorry about the colour; it was, indeed, chosen for a specific reason- Energon X' 'signature' colour is purple, since both things he was named after (Energon from Transformers and Energy X from Freedom Force) are that colour. Also, his ingame text is that colour

Erm... you could try switching to the CoV background colour, maybe? Failing that, there's always the old highlight-hidden-text trick :/ It's too late for me to edit it in the first post anyways- the edit time has expired

((Well, this fragment is due to insomnia and, as mentioned, Explorer eating my last attempt at this post -_-

... so I have no idea how sane it's going to sound >.&gt)

In the present, Energon X was staring out into the bloody rays of the dying sun, a vivid glare of red making the blazing purple of his glowing eyes an odd, washed-out pink, but in his mind's eye, the light was a bit more energetic, a brilliant purplish-white.

Memory... the young Canadian stared, his face almost plastered up against the heavy safety glass, as cool purple light pulsed out of the lab. It was pouring out of a... cube, he supposed you could call it... that simply appeared to be made out of light, and in some indefinable way, seemed to be superimposed over the counter it was on, rather than actually occupying that space.

"Neat, isn't it?" came the almost bored drawl of Vern, the lab tech overseeing this watch. Eric glanced at him. He knew Vern in passing- the guy was a talented cyberneticist a few years older than himself. Must've pulled the short straw to be presiding over the off-hours in the exotic particles lab. the young clerk thought idly. "So what is it?" he asked aloud. "Hell if I know." Vern responded drily. "All the equipment can tell us is that it's 'energy'..." the word had a mocking edge to it- clearly Vern knew how broad a term that was- "and that it's solid by most definitions of the word. Oh, and that Portal Corp hauled it out of one of their Stargate widgets a while back."

Vern leaned casually on the glass, his back to the glow. "Can't stare at that crap for too long, get a headache." he explained briefly. He pulled something small and mechanical out of his pocket and fiddled with it. Eric thought it might be a piece of Benedict Tech, but the way the older worker was holding it denied him a clear view. "Yeh, they ran outta ideas a while back- now they're just sticking people in there to see what happens. Even had a couple of capes stop by to 'help'. Not sure what they expect to happen- all it's ever done is glow purple and look funny."

Abruptly, he shoved the techno-whatsis back into his pocket and glanced shrewdly at the younger man. "You want to go in there? S'a free five hundred bucks up front, no taxes- S.E.R.A.P.H. likes to keep their guineapigs happy." Vern grinned. "And o'course, you wouldn't have to work so much overtime for a little while... you should really move to a cheaper place..." Vern paused, and his grin crooked a little. "Or find a cheaper girl." he smirked. Eric just rolled his eyes at him, then looked thoughtful, his body language closing. Hmm... not like anything's going to happen, if even the capes didn't make this thing react, I'm certainly not going to. And Vern's right, bugger it... I could really use the money. Even the Steel Canyon campus has astronomical tuition fees, and I have to save if I want to be able to... The thought trailed off, and he shrugged. "Sure, why not." he said offhandedly. "No big thing, right?"

The words haunted him a little as he shook off the memory. No big thing... hah. I wonder how things would be different if... he thought, then cut himself off angrily. That wasn't a good line of thought to be following, and it was a waste of time besides. Unless he wanted to start harassing the Portal Corp guys to start finding a dimension where things had turned out differently, there was no way to know, and he gloomily suspected that it would turn out to be one of the ruined worlds that looked like a flooded version of Boomtown anyways.

He flopped down and turned on the radio, blinking a little as the arcing lines of electrical energy awoke, tracing orderly pathways that he could see through the plastic housing if he concentrated a little. It was always worst when he first switched things on- he could tune it out after a moment or two, but right now, the apartment was alive with the faint wash of electricity and radio waves as the two interacted to become sound. Then he noticed that he had left the dial on the police band, and he frowned, then sighed and started towards the unobtrusive closet he hung his costume in. Pretty quickly, he was going to hear something that would put him back on-duty. It never failed, there was always some small thing that he just couldn't overlook.

It came fairly quickly, as he was pulling on his armoured boots. Most people didn't realize how hard it was to get a boot with no 'give' on until they tried, but he slipped in with the ease of long practice. "... Hellions and Skulls, energy blasts everywhere, worst I've ever seen..." the radio was babbling, the officer reporting apparently too worried to even use the proper codes. Energon X sighed and slipped his cape on. King's Row was always rough, but lately, the Hellions and the Skulls had absolutely been at one another's throats, far beyond their usual territorial rivalries. The blaster faded from view and the window slid open for an instant.

A very short time later (Pocket D made a wonderful shortcut, to the point that Energon X was sure he'd heard DJ Zero muttering about installing a tollbooth), Energon X was hovering above the burning warehouse. A shattering explosion made him wince, drowning him in memory momentarily as it roared into the past-haunted twilight.

Memory... well... in reality, there was little memory of what happened after he'd passed through the shielding into the room holding the cube. Just blinding pain and a flash. When he awoke, he was half-trapped under the burning remains of the S.E.R.A.P.H. lab, and voices were coming his way. Vern's excited shout could be heard. "He's this way! And... he's... oh, [censored]. Get back! Get back!" his voice rose to a scream as rubble tumbled down from his scrabbling retreat into the slight depression that was all that remained of the lab building. Eric tried to call out, to beg for help, but all that emerged was a wisp of purplish energy, strangely bright before his eyes, without a single sound. Abruptly, there was sound... a lot of it, an echoing *BOOOOOOOOM* that ricocheted around what was left of the complex. Along with the noise, there was a blinding flash that left Eric blinking, and he found himself floating above the abruptly-deeper crater. He tried again to speak, to call out, before whatever energies were sustaining him gave out and he simply collapsed, plummeting into the crater that was slowly filling with water from broken water mains.

Energon X angrily shook the memory off. There seems to just be something in the air tonight- a time of memory, somehow he thought to himself, then shrugged. City Hall actually preferred that high-powered heroes not get involved in the troubles in the Row; it was all too easy for 'arrests' to turn into a bloodbath, as heroes accustomed to battling power-armoured Rikti with plasma cannons, superstrong, acid-spitting, practically invulnerable Greater Devoured, and giant, ultra-heavily-armed Malta robots turned their abilities on the comparatively helpless gangbangers, sometimes without remembering to pull their punches... and there was always the spectre of Sunburst and a second Siren's Call explosion. As a result, high level heroes were quietly discouraged from tangling with the minor punks. Too many deaths, too much risk... but every once in a while, things happened that you couldn't ignore, no matter how small.

Memory... Eric was turning the strange, mask-like voder over and over in his hands, the occasional spark of energy jumping from them, although the mask seemed unperturbed by them. It carried its own faint tracers of energy, dimly visible to Eric through the metal, somehow. After a while, he shrugged and slid it on, avoiding the mirror in his private hospital room. Apparently, S.E.R.A.P.H. gave its workers very comprehensive medical benefits, but he still didn't want to see the shattered ruin that was his face now, his lower jaw entirely gone and a fiery purple void replacing his lower face up to the bridge of his nose. The voder settled into place, then gave a nerve-rattling squeal.

The thin shriek died away after a moment, and he blinked, the low purple light his eyes always gave off now flickering off and on briefly. Eventually, a faint hope prompted him to try "Uh... testing? Hell..o?!?" He barely managed to keep from jumping up and... he glanced down, realizing that he wasn't coming down, and rolled his eyes. "I'm really going to need to learn to control that..." he muttered, more for the joy of hearing himself able to speak once more after the agonizing weeks of being nearly unable to communicate. His voice was... odd... and a bit tinny, and emotional nuance wasn't entirely there, but it was still miles better than nothing, and the Vern, when he had delivered it, had assured him that it would 'learn', allowing a broader range of expression in time.

After that, things moved surprisingly quickly. Shortly after his discharge from the hospital, he was approached by Rebbeca Brinell. He was still working with S.E.R.A.P.H. at that point- apparently, his little explosion had sparked some ideas, and there was a lot of exciteable talk about Nobels as they poked and prodded him. All he'd really gathered from the technobabble soaring back and forth over his head was that he had had a 'latent metagene' that kicked in when he got close to the cube. Anyways, Rebecca pointed out that, given his need to periodically discharge energy before it discharged itself for him, in an unpleasantly spectacular fashion (thankfully, they'd found that out before he blew up the hospital), perhaps he should join the legions of 'capes' that occupied Paragon City, and do some good with his powers. At the time, it had seemed like a very small thing- he was reluctant to go out in public after being maimed so badly, and it wasn't as if he had anything else to do... "Yeah, sure, no big." he had responded.

Back in the present, Energon X simply smashed through a partially-blocked hole in the roof, hovering down. He'd been to this warehouse before, years ago, and in almost exactly the same situation, although before, it had been Trolls and Skulls, fighting over Superadine. A hard blue radiance surrounded him, like the halo of a supremely pissed-off angel, and his cape billowed like a live thing in the thermal updrafts. "Don't you think the Row has enough troubles without you idiots tearing it apart?" he asked softly as the assembled gang bangers stared up at him. One of them with more presence of mind than the others raised his cheap Saturday night special and squeezed off a few shots. Energon X grunted slightly as his body armour absorbed the low-calibre bullets, but didn't display any other reaction... well, other than the brief beam of hard blue light that skewered the shooter briefly, leaving him sprawled, gasping, on the floor for a moment, until the teleport tracer Energon X had tagged him with pulled him to the Zig.

The blaster continued to stare down at the upturned faces, his brows lowered. Shee... these look like kids. he thought with some irritation. Most of them looked like they were barely out of highschool, if even that, and he laughed shortly at himself, wondering when he'd become old. Still, kids or no, they're off to the Zig. Too many powers with too little restraint. I'm surprised how many Bone Daddies and Damned there are here. he thought.

Darkness swirled around him, and flames likewise, but he brushed them aside with a wash of brilliant energy, and then went to work. After all, given everything he had seen, everything he had done, this was only... a small thing.

((... wow. That came out a little longer than planned >.>

So, that's it. What do you all think?

Oh... and for those wondering how Vern survived... remember the shielding that Eric/Energon X passed through to get to the room holding the Energon cube? It held long enough for Vern to live through the initial blast, although he wasn't in the best of shape afterwards.))

((Gah... well, Explorer decided to crash and eat my next post, and I don't have any more time to write right now, so if you're waiting for the next bit (is anybody actually reading this? >.&gt, sorry. I hate my work computer -_-))

((For those of you that enjoyed this story, I'm currently working on the tale of Energon X' origin, here. And please, feel free to comment- feedback is appreciated.))

I'll chime in- that was a solid read. The bit about the Arachnos soldiers idly trying to make out the make and model of the car that Psychbreaker hucked at them made me smile (of course, I've always been a sucker for Propel), and overall, it's a good origin story for a villain. If you can still edit the earlier stuff, might I suggest making it clearer that Brian 'knew' that Kevin ahd died?

I'm mostly suggesting that because I didn't realize that Kevin was supposed to be dead, rather than missing, until Brian's shocked denial that the Lumbering Cadaver could be Kevin... and honestly, I found myself wondering why he didn't see it coming; Lumbering Cadaver's first appearance had me going "Ah, that's where Kevin ended up." *shrug* Other than that relatively minor nitpick, a well-crafted and enjoyable (if rather tragic) story.

((yup, it's (the start of) another origin story, this time for Energon X, the more-or-less lead character of my Seriously, Why Doesn't this Ever Happen? story (insert shameless self-plug here), and my most frequently used RP character.

Devious, this one's for you, after your complaint about not being able to see into my character's heads. I don't know if this is what you expected, but we'll see...))

Ghosts. We've all got a few. For most of us, they're small things, touching our lives only lightly- a missed opportunity that might have made us turn out differently, a childhood sweetheart unpursued, a journey passed up for lack of finances or time... but for some, those little turnings lead to something far greater.

Energon X rested tiredly on a convenient building ledge. It had been a long day. Founders' Falls was radiant in the late evening light, the setting sun turning the canals into a riot of ruby and gold, a million liquid jewels dancing in the light breeze. Even the War Walls were touched by ruddy fire, their normal blue radiance tinged with crimson. The blaster sighed, slipping off the targetting monocle he always wore and scrubbed at his eyes with lightly armoured knuckles, feeling as always the warning tingle of conflicting energies he got whenever two parts of his body got too close together.

A glint in the wrong place, and the faintest hint of motion, was the only warning he had. A sniper bullet tore a chunk out of the cornice where he had been sitting an instant before. Fumbling his targetting monocle back into place as he clawed for altitude, he locked onto the source- yet another Council sniper. He darted around a building, breaking the sniper's line-of-sight, and shot forwards, flying hard. Red energy snapped into existence around his hands, echoing the setting sun, and he popped out behind the luckless spacenazi with a driving right that launched him into the air with a sharp *crack*, to land with a splash in the canal.

Surfacing smoothly, the Council sniper went to draw his gun... to find it in the hand of Energon X. Growling an epithet in Italian... or maybe whatever language the Nictus spoke, it was so guttural it was hard to tell... he went for a backup piece, shouting "Council Triumpha*blub*" as the borrowed rifle hit him squarely on the head, driving him underwater. This was followed with a scintillating beam of energy that destroyed his weapon and sent him on his way to the Zig.

The blaster sighed, the previous mood of peace jarred badly by the attempt on his life. You'd think I'd be used to that, by now... he thought sourly. Glancing around, he faded from view. A few minutes later, some blocks away, a window slid noiselessly open for a second, then closed again.

When Energon X faded back into sight, safely ensconsced in his own apartment, he was unbuckling his cape, Energon X no longer. Shedding the light body armour he normally wore, he became plain Eric Alexander, who his neighbours knew as 'that nice boy who was so badly injured', the late-twentysomething of uncertain provenance who haunted the complex at odd hours. His vocoder synthesized a sigh as he slid a pair of old jeans onto his lean, almost skinny, frame, carelessly tossing a worn sweatshirt on over top as he rummaged around in the fridge. But even here, in this most mundane of activities, the ghosts of memory stirred.

His fingertips brushed a mostly-empty plate- a lone slice of cake and a lot of crumbs occupied it. A tendril of memory shifted in the back of his mind, and he slumped a little, rubbing his forehead ruefully. He jerked his hand away as not-quite-static snapped, stinging him, and grumbled "You'd think that five years of that kind of thing happening would break me of old habits..." And speaking of old habits... was nice of Eileen to bake me a cake. Guess some big-sister traits are hard to lose, even if I don't really eat anymore, and don't have any tastebuds anyways.

Memory... eighteen, just out of school, and looking for a spot to live. Then, a chance call from his older sister, just catching up. His nephew, little Danny, had just turned three. And, casually (it seemed), a mention of the incredible opportunities in Paragon- the danger, the excitement, and the ineffable feeling of... something in the air, the 'next big thing'.

And, with that, a spontaneous decision; to travel across the continent, from the mist-shrouded mountain rainforests of Canada's West Coast to the gleaming towers of the jewel of Rhode Island, Paragon City.

Eric shook off the memory, surfacing from his reverie. Glancing at the piece of cake for a moment, he shrugged. Then again, maybe Eileen has a point with that... the techs at S.E.R.A.P.H. did say that there's a chance that I'd convert further into energy if I didn't 'eat' to maintain a certain level of mass. He slid the voder off his face, wincing a little as it came unstuck, the edges of the hole in his face still raw and sore even now. He dangled the instrument in front of his face for a moment, giving it a jaundiced look. To him, what appeared to be (at least from the outside) an inert lump of metal with some vents or grilles to most everyone else was a latticework of subtle forces, dancing a silent whirl. Guess I should be thankful it's not more pronounced- the tech guys at D.A.T.A. did a good job with keeping the energy output minimal, so I didn't get half-blinded every time I spoke.

He set the voder aside and tossed back the cake, swallowing reflexively even though it had been rendered down to random subatomic particles before it even reached his throat, and picked up the voder again, glancing at it before strapping it back on.

Memory... Arrival in Paragon had been surprisingly painless- Eileen Alexander, Energon X' older sister, had cheerfully bullied her complex manager into opening up a reserved apartment for her brother, and S.E.R.A.P.H. had snapped him up... as a clerk, admittedly, but still, he was 'in'. Oh, sure, it could be dangerous... S.E.R.A.P.H. had the 'name' labs, and tended to attract the big, sexy, and highly explosive research, and even clerical work could get... interesting... at times. But it wasn't a big deal... just a small thing.

Just a small thing... he thought with a brief flare of energy which was what passed for an amused snort from him, these days. He gingerly slid the voder back on, shifting it a little to get it properly back in place, and leaned against the wall, staring sightlessly out the kitchen window, starkly illuminated in red by the dying rays of the sun, but seeing only the past.

Not too shabby. Although I do find it rather odd that the majority of the RPs have flat-out died lately, and a bumper crop of stories has sprung up from their corpses >.>

There's some interesting little side things you can do in and about Paragon City- I occasionally enjoy going up for some Gladiator matches, where you can enjoy having the stupid, brain-damaged AI working for you! Kind of fun, although you may wish to bar Night Widows (er, the NPCs) and Agony Mages, since they're hideously unbalanced. Getting any kind of a decent team built takes some badging, though.

Or you could go nuts, and, if you can find enough people (with Knockback powers), pick a low-damage, high-defense/health enemy (Devouring Earth Boulders, maybe?) and see if you can't get a game of hockey (or maybe volleyball? >.&gt going. Designate a couple of goal areas (a bubbler or two with Dispersion Bubble running would work), and have some fun punting some hapless foe all over the place.

Thanks for the feedback, everyone... especially the detailed critique on your part, Devious.

I have to admit, you've touched on something that is both my greatest strength and my greatest weakness when it comes to my writing. I tend to be extremely narrative-driven; the characters are a thing to hang a clever plot on, rather than the other way around; it's a story they're part of, rather than their story.

And the 'everything according to plan' bit? Eh, I've always felt that was too much the province of the villains, with the heroes getting by on luck or providence. Personally, I kind of like it when the villains (even clever ones) are completely out-thought, at least once in a while.

And, maybe one of these days, I'll get around to telling a story that's more about my characters- this was more a fun experiment with the game's lore (and I like to think I stuck with it pretty well- the Mu hating the Circle, the Circle wanting free of the demons and pursuing Rularuu's power, the Rikti hating magic... that's all there in the story bible). Again, as I said, thanks for reading

((And that's it. Hard to believe that all this started by my noticing that they'd re-used the teleport graphic for the Rikti Invasions that they'd used back at the start of i3 for the introduction of the Shadow Shard and the Rularuu invasion. It certainly evolved a bit.

Anyways, if you've had even half as much fun reading this as I did writing it, then a good time has been had by all- thanks for your attention and the kind words- the encouragement made a difference!))

((EDIT- Hrm... so, did I manage to surprise anyone with the ending? I... *think*... I managed to segue into the less action-oriented portion fairly naturally- and, although I'm not sure that I portrayed it clearly in the story, Energon X, while he can be a bit blast-first-and-think-later-or-maybe-never, had a good reason for taking a more... mental Judo-ish approach, since a repeat of the Rikti invasion, with a huge portion of the world's hero population getting killed, probably wouldn't be a good thing.))

The Battle of Atlas Park had been raging for nearly four hours now, bolts of lightning, lances of flame, and streaks of pure energy occasionally lighting up the room. Energon X stood at ease in front of the assembled Freedom Phalanx and Vanguard leadership. Target Lad had joined up with some of his schoolmates- current reports put them somewhere in the warehouse district in the Southwest, hunting a cadre of Wisps that were trying to reopen the portal from Earth-side. Flashpoint Zeo was working with Sergeant Allerdyced and a number of others to herd a large group of Brutes back towards the space warp back into the Shard that Portal Corp was still maintaining above City Hall, and K'ssn'dreh was ensconsced with Argot'Burwot in one of the Vanguard compounds.

Energon X had been called out of the battle to give an accounting for what he had done during the Rularuu invasion, or, as it seemed now, to confirm or deny the guesses that the Phalanxers and the Vanguard had made as to the various players in this little drama.

"So... you were the one responsible for the failure of the plan to use the Rikti battlestation to stop Rularuu, instead choosing to use a ridiculous tangle of half-truths and manipulations?" Statesman demanded, sounding irritable. "Ease off, Marcus. He was right to." Positron interjected. "With things calming down, I was able to recheck my calculations, and they were right to question them- I had dropped a decimal place, and allowing the battlestation to warp through would have destabilized the Shard enough to let Rularuu break completely free of it, ending the fight before we ever got near him. He would have consumed our dimension and been done with it. We would've been snacks, not heroes." Statesman subsided, grumbling, and Manticore spoke next.

"Alright, so the next time you used the Freedom Phalanx was as a stalking horse- to keep the Rikti focussed on Rularuu's portal, but also to keep them from interfering with it until he was back through. But what tossed the big jerk back through?" "I think I can answer that, Justin; I was able to converse with young Monty of the Midnighters when we came back through. You were giving him something of a fit, dear." Lady Grey told Energon X reprovingly. "He had sensed a very, very small temporal disturbance- an infintesimal shift in the timeline that added up to a very big difference in the present day." Energon X simply nodded, and Numina spoke up. "You've certainly got the Midnighters in a twist- until today, nobody (except maybe Montague) could figure out why there was a Circle of Thorns prophecy that dated back to Mu'Rakhmet's rebellion, twelve thousand years ago, that made clear reference to modern-day Paragon City and Rularuu, bore traces of Tsoo magic and Rikti Psionics... and used modern syntax." At that, Energon X snorted briefly, his vocoder echoing tinnily. "Looks like even old Orabengan has experienced some linguistic drift. Either that or Akarist's memory isn't as sharp as it once was. The prophecy was pretty easy, though- just promise the Circle vast power once Rularuu was reintegrated with 'all his parts', and they were pretty much guaranteed to jump in with both feet, jamming him back together. Of course, the bit of the prophecy they didn't see went to the Mu, telling the rest of the story- the vast power 'released' by stuffing Rularuu's bits back together would be Rularuu falling apart- something they thought was great, since it would result in the Circle humiliated, at the very least, and, if the spell fragment that came with the prophecy fragment worked as promised, it would weaken them severely with the loss of their otherworldly allies."

Numina raised an eyebrow. "So... this spell? A multi-stage incantation, obviously... but where did you..?" "Joint effort by Akarist and Azuria- the first stage, cast by the Circle of Thorns, jammed Rularuu back together, causing Lanaru's madness to shatter the gestalt, and the second stage, cast by the Mu in an attempt to demoralize or weaken the Circle, made it so all the extradimensional entities in the area would be pulled into the spacetime rip that Portal Corp was trying to force Rularuu into... including the Circle's demon allies who had come to lend their power to the spell."

Numina nodded. "And Akarist provided what you needed, since it would weaken the hold the demons had on his kinsmen." "We also got Diviner Maros in on this- he agreed, I suspect for much the same reason, and also possibly to try and catch a glimpse of Ouroboros' inner workings." Energon X added. "He failed, I trust?" Lady Grey inquired a bit archly. "The Circle is enough of a difficulty without them jumping about through time, even if it would muddle things dreadfully for that Prussian twit... really, as if he were the only one who could do anagrams..." she trailed off.

"And it's fairly obvious why Marcus let his Mystics loose- he has access to Recluse' Victory as much as we do, and he would have seen that Circle-of-Thorns-world it turned into without being interfered with." Statesman murmured, having finally calmed down a bit. The Dark Watcher nodded. "And the Rikti reaction to the appearance of the demons and Rularuu, right under their guns, was... predictable, given their feelings on magic. A bold stroke." he finished. Gaussian held up a data pad. "Well... in the minuses column, the heart of the city is being wrecked up a bit- all these Soldiers of Rularuu seem reluctant to leave quietly." Energon X made to protest, but Lady Grey cut him off sharply and motioned for Gaussian to continue. "Of course, in the plusses column, Rularuu himself is gone. The War Lineage is weakened and scattered after their battle with Rularuu and his aspects, along with the Circle demons, who did not take kindly to the plasma bolts up the snoot- the latest reports out of Firebase Zulu indicate that once Lanaru the Mad recovered what few senses he posesses, space began to warp around him once more, causing the many of the Rikti ships to mis-jump when they tried to return to our dimension. The Circle of Thorns has been drastically weakened by the abrupt loss of so many of their demonic allies and a vicious Mu assault on Orabenga once they realized that they'd caught the Orabengans with their metaphorical pants down- the spell backlash when the demons disappeared laid a lot of the Circle out. In turn, the Mu have been dramatically weakened by losing a lot of their mystics in that assault on Orabenga, since they either badly underestimated just how many Orabengans were down there, or else their hatred overwhelmed their reason. Of course, this means that Arachnos has been diminished, thanks to losing so many of their mystic resources. And of course the Banished Pantheon was crippled earlier by our... reaction... to discovering that they were 'fated' to capture the Ravager."

Gaussian paused for breath. "So... in one stroke, the Circle of Thorns, Arachnos and the Mu, the Rikti, and Rularuu the Ravager himself were dealt crippling blows, and in such a fashion that they defeated themselves without ever suspecting a thing and almost zero collateral damage to us or any civilians." The head of Vanguard Counter-Intelligence gave the blaster a sidelong look. "Remind me never to play poker with you." Energon X gave a short bark of laughter and nodded. "Anyways, I think you've got a pretty good idea of what's been happening- will you excuse me? My Supergroup is calling, they've got a pack of Overseers and their minions at bay near the Steel tunnel, and they want all hands on deck." Statesman simply nodded, and Energon X turned to go, glancing back briefly. Now that the more formal hearing was ended, the Phalanxers and senior Vanguard were standing and milling about, getting ready to move out (a whiffle of wind and a red-and-blue blur told him that Synapse was already long gone), and chatting amongst themselves. Just before he left, the Dark Watcher caught his eye. The trench-coated teleporter nodded to him, tipping his hat, very slightly. Energon X nodded back, wishing he could still grin, and stepped out into the hallway, headed back into the fray.

Energon X hung in the sky next to the flyers of the Freedom Phalanx, cape flaring in the howling alien winds of the Shadow Shard. The guardian line of airborne heroes had already been dubbed 'the thin spandex line', or at least 'A thin spandex line' by the more literary-minded of those assembled. Before them, space shuddered and heaved as though trying to give birth, sundered shards of light spilling forth at irregular intervals to spike across the fantastic skies over the storm-tossed fragments of Atlas Park, momentarily turning the sky-islands into lightning-lit black and white tableaux.

A faint groaning, on the distant edge of ordinary hearing, leant an uneasy suggestion that the continuum itself was in pain, as unearthly energies stabbed through the fabric of space and time, terrible forces dragging the dimension-devourer back to his prison. The tension was almost palpable, when...

Energon X' train of thought was interrupted when Target Lad elbowed him sharply in the ribs. "Y're narratin' all this, aren't you?" the boy demanded, rubbing his elbow where he'd forgotten that his uncle wore armour plate. "In your head, like. I c'n tell, y'know. Y'get this funny abstracted look." The elder blaster raised an eyebrow, but declined to comment, instead saying "So what are you planning on doing when Rularuu pops through? Did you get an arrow labelled "godslayer" from Manticore, or something?" "Oh, no. Y're na gettin' out o' this that easy." Target Lad snapped. "Y'promised me 'some fun', an' y're goin' to deliver, one way or another, e'en if it's just me gettin' to make fun o' your mental bloggin'." "Wouldn't that be... get one of your magic-killing arrows ready, by the way... 'mlogging'?" Energon X riposted, his tone light, almost playful, but the warning there nonetheless.

The creaking and groaning had intensified steadily throughout their conversation, indescribable sounds of time and space being put through a cosmic wringer. Civilians lined the rooftops, tense, bloodless faces rendered even paler by the harsh light pouring out of the rift. The shrieking vortex of wind spiralling into whatever oblivion awaited within the hole in space threatened to overwhelm the airborne heroes before an enemy could even be seen, but they held the line.

Finally, as the noise reached proportions where a relay team of sonic-empowered heroes had to shunt the vibrations around the space-lost city pieces to prevent them from being shaken to bits, a psionic whisper could be heard, sussurating across the edge of consciousness- K'ssn'dreh's "voice", shaking with dread and amplified by a subtle boost from Sister Psyche- He: comes! The Ravager: magic: stinking of!

Then everything went white.

With a roar that was more shockwave than sound, a noise so vast that the human mind simply tuned it out, (although Target Lad would, in later life, always swear that it sounded like a million people saying "WOP!" at precisely the same time) Rularuu the Ravager was forcibly ejected from the rift. A frozen instant... and then the rift expanded hugely, spitting out in rapid succession, Ruladak, Chularn, Kuularth, Aloore, Uularur, and finally, a very, very angry-looking Lanaru... along with thousands of Circle of Thorns demons, Behemoths and Nerva Spectra alike.

The warped pieces of Atlas Park shimmered a little, then began to evaporate like heat mirages, replaced with their Shard counterparts as both sides of the mirror began to reassert themselves in their proper place. All this was overshadowed, though, by the Rikti reaction to the abrupt presence of the mad demigod and the demons that seemed to be dancing attendance upon him... or at least, were as stunned by the sudden transition as he was.

A wordless scream of rage from the lead ship could briefly be heard over the terrible cacophony of worlds not-quite-colliding, and a volley of blazing plasma so thick it briefly outshone the space warp exploded from the Rikti position, shattering through the demons and hammering Rularuu and his aspects mercilessly.

All this had taken barely ten seconds. The thin spandex line twitched towards the pitched battle, but Energon X (backed up, to everyone's surprise but his own and theirs, by Sister Psyche and Manticore) barked out "Into the rift! Quickly!" before bolting straight through the disputed area of space and into the warp.

The pitched battle (or possibly extended munchies run... it was hard to tell) in Independence Port had finally tapered off somewhat, if the news reports were anything to go by- the stuffed Warshades had retreated (to general mumblings about Pepto-Bismol, Maalox, or Tums) after nearly two hours of feasting, and Lusca had put up a spirited brawl for nearly that long before retreating beneath the waves to sleep off the psionic equivalent of a really, really, really bad acid trip.

The slack had been picked up by the Midnighters and the Vanguard Mages, magically harrying the mad titan. A brief call to Montague Castanella indicated that the Midnight Squad was aware of the ancient Circle of Thorns prophecy and the Mu corollary, and that the Midnighters were ready to do their part to make sure things went smoothly. Montague also hinted that he was aware of exactly how 'ancient' the prophecy was, but Energon X cut him off before he could pursue it.

Planting himself in front of the window, the blaster pulled out a coin and held up a hand. facing his little team. "Alrighty, gang... heads we jump back to dear old Atlas Park, and tails, we hang here and help with the fireworks." Counting silently, the blaster hit 'three... two... one...' and flipped the coin.

Behind him, space went mad, distorting wildly into twisting shapes, shattered fragments of light sleeting across the displaced buildings with a roar. Huh... what do you know. Old Akarist predicted how long it would take them to figure it out nearly to the second..

Outwardly unperturbed, he snagged the coin and slapped it onto his forearm. "Tails. Maybe just as well... not sure I want to try a jump when that's happening." he commented, jerking his thumb at the stressed area of spacetime.

The rest of the team was looking at him oddly- K'ssn'dreh inscrutably, Target Lad with a speculative gleam in his eye, Flashpoint Zeo with a kind of resigned amusement, and Sergeant Allerdyced with something that bordered on awe. "You made the call already, Danny?" Target Lad just nodded, still looking thoughtful. "Good... let's join the Phalanx out 'front', then."

A few minutes later, Energon X and Target Lad were soaring above City Hall, watching the Phalanx as they stood down the Rikti fleet, preventing them from jumping the portal and interfering. Flashpoint Zeo and Sergeant Allerdyced were holding the line, along with the majority of the other non-flying heroes who had gotten pulled through, on the main City Hall "Island", standing guard in case the Rikti got any smart ideas about landing ground troops.

"So... when d'we actually get t'do anything?" Target Lad demanded. "Oh... don't worry. We've got some fun coming our way very, very soon."

The small team once again found themselves on the windswept plain they had left hours before, give or take twelve millennia or so... although, if one was in a position to see Energon X' wrist-mounted display, it would be revealed that they were actually arriving less than ten minutes after they left. "Everybody, run silent- get cloaked, no active EM transmissions, voice communication only." the Blaster whispered hoarsely. "Flashpoint, with me- I need you to channel some of your flame into the crystals we planted. Assuming we did it right, we'll get an impressive lightshow with ten-metre-high flaming runes. The rest of you, stand watch over our LZ- there may be an Ouro taskforce through to try and stop us." Energon X and the big fire tanker started to move out, but then the Blaster paused. "Here, Flashpoint- rather than us trying to synchronize the fire and the vocals, just hit this remote- should trigger the recording in my armour." Handing over the indicated piece of equipment, Energon X led the way again.

Back at what Energon X had colourfully dubbed the "LZ", the remaining three stood at nervous attention, Target Lad with heavy stunning arrow nocked and ready, an odd premonition prompting him to have one that punched through invulnerability out. Sure enough, a moment after the team's second arrival, Mender Lazarus stepped out of another golden flash, then folded up with a sigh as Target Lad's arrow (and K'ssn'dreh's psychic attack) hit at the same moment as Energon X' promised 'lightshow', towering runes of mystic fire throwing the landscape into sharp relief as a sonorous voice roared out 'prophecy' in ringing tones, the harsh gutturals of the Orabengan 'trade language' echoing across the dim strand.

As the voice began to fade, the opposing armies rushed forwards to claim the crystalline remnants of the awe-inspiring 'visitation' they had just seen, with the Orabengans (as planned) claiming just enough of an advantage to grab the main part of the slab... but not quite enough of one to have time to search more thoroughly, resulting in one of the Mu mystics snagging the smaller 'endpiece' of the prophecy that a short bluff had kept the Orabengans from seeing, either in fiery letters or slab form.

Target Lad sat thoughtfully on Mender Lazarus' prone body, glancing up as his uncle reappeared, prodding his wrist control. "Is it jus' me, or is this bloke the only one who ever does anything f'r that pack o' gits on their funny floating islands?" he questioned. Energon X just laughed shortly, sounding a little strained, as the little archer was abruptly deposited on his rump when Lazarus distintegrated in a shower of golden light, returning to Ouroboros central. "You could be right, Danny, but it doesn't matter right now- we're up against the clock. Let's go, all."

And with that, they leapt back into the present.

Yeah, cameos are kinda fun. I'm good with 'em.

Energon X hovered silently and invisibly above Diviner Maros, keeping a wary lookout for Arachnos troops or any of the more 'freelance' villains of the Isles. Sergeant Allerdyced, wreathed in concealing shadows, was conferring quietly with Maros, although the snatches of conversation that the Blaster was able to catch were along the lines of "So..." "I have foreseen what you will request, and the gist of your plan. You have my support." "But..." "The shifting flows of time indicate that you will help further my agenda." "Well..." "I will be ready for my part."

Eventually, Allerdyced faded completely from view to rejoin Energon X, muttering on the commlink about finding something to stab, and the two jumped to the D, using it as a shortcut to get back to Paragon. "I take it the conferral went well?" the Blaster asked drily as they traversed the club. "Bloody ghost git's a total flake, bu' if e's got the pull in Club Dead he claims he does, that bit's in the bag... pendin' fixing time n' all, o'course." Energon X just nodded- he couldn't smile enigmatically, what with the metal plate covering where his lower face used to be, but gave off the definite sense he would've liked to have done so.

Back in the Row, the two heroes hopped a tram back to the displaced Atlas Park... bizarrely, the trains still functioned through the dimensional barrier, disappearing into whatever dimensional interface allowed the wine-red water to flow from the Shard into where Atlas Park used to be, and out again.

A short floating island-hop later, and Energon X, K'ssn'dreh, Flashpoint Zeo, and Sergeant Allerdyced were in the empty side room in City Hall they had been using as an unofficial 'headquarters'. Target Lad was still hovering in the Freedom Phalanx' room, ostensibly still trying to get Manticore's autograph, but in reality more practising 'kid invisibility'- he wasn't doing anything annoying, posed no threat, and thus, as such, pretty much didn't exist insofar as this mighty assemblage of heroes was concerned.

Once they had regrouped and restocked, Energon X simply nodded briefly to K'ssn'dreh, who sent out a very gentle mental nudge to Sister Psyche.

In the conference room, the redheaded telepath glanced back at the (semi-) patiently waiting Danny, and elbowed her husband in the ribs. "Come on, Justin- let the poor kid have his autograph. A short break would probably do you good." Manticore gave his wife an odd look, but a telepathic whisper of This could be important... across their shared bond stifled any objection he had been planning to make. He grabbed a pen from the table, took the paper Danny offered him, and glanced at it for a moment. Then, his expression not changing in the slightest, he scrawled his name across it and handed it back to the smaller archer and sat back down at the table, absent-mindedly pocketing the pen.

Danny nervously stammered his thanks, not really acting, and then ducked out of the room as if expecting the Phalanxers to take the bullseye on his shirt as a literal invitation to target practice. Taking to the air as soon as he was out of the room, Target Lad zipped through the halls, fetching up with his Uncle and the rest of their little 'superteam'. Energon X prodded the crystal set into his wrist again, and, with a flare of golden light, the team was once again off into the timestream.

The small superteam materialized on a windswept plain near the sea. Sergeant Allerdyced and Target Lad both reacted with conscernation as they realized that they were 'off the grid'- no City teleportation backup, no database access, no GPS... until Energon X poked his nephew sharply. "You sure you're related to me? I'm positive I spoke... well, vocoded... clearly when I said '11,987 B.C.'- there's not going to be a whole lot of that around, neh?" The little archer flushed faintly and subsided, muttering. "Worries, historical contamination?" Flashpoint questioned. "Unlikely: massive buildup: magical energies." K'ssn'dreh retorted, sounding shaky.

"K'ssn'dreh's got the right of it. This whole place is going to be spell-nuked to glass and slide into the sea within a few days. We just need to make certain that the right people see the right things before that happens." Energon X said. "Those of you without invisibility or cloaking devices, switch on the hyperphase units we picked up from S.E.R.A.P.H. before we left. We don't want anyone seeing anything they shouldn't. Then split up and find the point directly between the two high commands." The blaster paused. "And be careful- this is the era of magic at its peak. Don't get any closer than you absolutely have to to anyone or anything more exotic than dirt. K'ssn'dreh, you're with Flashpoint Zeo, Danny, you're with me, and, of course, the Sarge is solo." With that, the team split apart, zipping across the barren landscape in search of the warring armies that would shatter this continent in a matter of days.

Less than twenty minutes later, Sergeant Allerdyced signalled the group that he had found their targets. "Great. Th'git's gonna be insufferable aft' this..." Target Lad mumbled as the team closed on Allerdyced's position. "Knowledge acquired how?" the big Tanker wondered, to a bark of laughter from the not-quite-ninja. "Hah... s'easy. Wi' th'Orabengans, just look f'r the biggest hats. Wi' the Mu-twits, look f'r the ones wi' the most belts." Energon X just snorted in amusement briefly, then judged the distance between the two factions.

"A'right... we need to make sure it's closer to the Orabengans, but not so close that the Muvians are too far away to snag the last bit, which, terrain allowing, they'll see and the Orabengans won't..." The blaster mumbled, mostly to himself as he shifted position, sighting with a surveyor's precision as he moved invisibly between the armies. "Alright... perfect." he murmured, planting the small device. "Flashpoint, Sarge... plant your bits of crystal on top here. Then we have to bail, if my understanding of how all this works is correct..." Energon X stepped back to allow his compatriots to do exactly that, then the team cleared out at speed.

A flare of gold, and the empty strand they had entered on was, somehow, emptier still.

The quintet appeared back in the Shadow Shard, and Energon X, once again, started barking orders. "Unfortunately, the crystal either can't microjump in time, or else I haven't figured out how to do it. Meet back here in a three hours; we need to return to that time period. K'ssn'dreh, I need you keeping a mental eye on the War Lineage. Keep it as passive as you can manage and still stay in contact- we can't afford to have you 'made' quite yet. Target Lad? Get back to City Hall and keep pestering Manticore for an autograph. If anything changes with the Phalanx, we need to know. Flashpoint, you stay on point here- you're our 'starter's gun' if things go wahoonie-shaped. Allerdyced, with me. We need to pay a visit to a certain mystic in the Isles."

Glad people have enjoyed this little mental doodle.

I'm not entirely certain I'll be continuing Henchie's adventures, but the current plan is to check out the VEATs before continuing on- unfortunately, that means that I have to get my (currently level 39) villain to 50, and then wait (or maybe not wait >.&gt for i12 to go live.

As an aside... Hostile_V, you canot claim Samuel L. Jackson as a 'secret' weakness. This is like claiming Bruce Willis or Chuck Norris as a secret weakness... it's really not much of a secret. If Samuel L. Jackson is coming for you, you are screwed.

... and who's Maynard?

A scream like a man having his soul pulled out his ears scraped across the musty walls of Orabenga as Energon X forcibly banished yet another ghost in a torrent of blue-white fire. "Bloody things don't 'alf scream, do they?" Sergeant Allerdyced commented as he pulled his fury claws out of a yowling Behemoth with a *glitch* noise. The fiery blur that was all that could normally be seen of Flashpoint Zeo in combat paused momentarily, a struggling Agony Mage suspended from one shovel-sized, burning hand, writhing in... well, agony. "Banishment unpleasant?" the huge tanker suggested drily. "Oh aye... y'think?" Target Lad commented, putting an arrow into a threatening Thorn Wielder, who collapsed with a bubbling noise. "I can think o' summat worse than bein' banished, though..." the little archer continued. "Notice tha' th'ones tha' ha' been listening to th'limey ninja wannabe flap his gums do na' scream when they go?" "Oh, ha-bloody-ha." the Sergeant responded irritably, stabbing a Behemoth Lord and twisting his claws viciously. The giant demon bellowed, but no more Circle emerged... the quartet of heroes (and one tagalong Rikti) had cleared the area quite thoroughly.

"Alright, knock it off, you two. We have to work fast." Energon X said hurriedly as Target Lad helped Allerdyced dispatch the Behemoth Lord. "Flashpoint, find me one of the larger crystals that could be easily carved by either you or me, and that has a natural crack about 5/6ths of the way down- these things have been soaking ambient magic for millennia, they'll light up like they're going nova when we get where we're going. K'ssn'dreh, portal Akarist in, we'll need his help inscribing the runes; Target, Sarge, start laying out the runic barrier that Azuria built for us. We don't want any of the incorporeal Orabengans to get too close." the Blaster said, barking out orders rapid fire.

The team exploded into action, peeling off in different directions while Energon X fiddled with an ornate crystal he had slotted into a control panel in his armour. When Akarist arrived, fretting at the time he was losing that could be devoted to helping MAGI mystically augment the city's defenses and buffer Portal Corps' efforts to... 'deport'... Rularuu, the Blaster quickly explained what he had in mind. Akarist stared at him for a moment, then gave a single bark of laughter. "Aye, it could work... work well, too. Let me give you the phrasing..." Working quickly, Energon X inscribed the ancient runes with a hair-thin beam of energy. Then, with a sharp, precise blow from the huge tanker, the crystal was split into two uneven pieces, the smaller of the two being handed off to Sergeant Allerdyced while Flashpoint Zeo held the larger. "Alright, children... it's time to take a look behind the curtain. Next stop, Eleven Thousand, Nine Hundred and Eighty-Seven B.C., the height of Mu'Rhakmet's rebellion." Energon X commented once Akarist was once again safely portalled back to MAGI's temporary headquarters. He touched a control next to the shimmering crystal at his wrist, and a golden portal opened on the floor.

Sergeant Allerdyced faded from view and hopped through, clutching the smaller crystal fragment, quickly followed by Flashpoint Zeo, then Target Lad, then K'ssn'dreh, and finally Energon X himself, the portal closing quietly after that, leaving Orabenga, once more, to the ghosts.