Kidnapped Heroes (open RPG)




/ooc This is my first post here, and, I hope, will be a successful one. Post up, and your character, and lets get going!
The Frost Fiend was making his rounds in Atlas Park. not that he really needed to, there were plenty of young kids ready to done a mask and cape capable of patrolling Atlas, but Frost had been here a long time. He wanted to make sure that it stayed the way it was. As he flew along, A civilian walking along the street shouted at him. "Hey, Ya big blue-skinned Freak! Get outa here! ain't nothing going on!" Frost Fiend groaned. That was sign one that something was wrong. He swooped downm onto the sidewalk, and noticed that the civillian who had shouted at him was carrying a gun. And a knife. THeir were several people nearby who looked like they were trying to blend in. They were all also armed. Frost Fiend felt an ulsar growing in his stomach. One of the armed civillians, leaning on a trashcan, gave it all away. THe bullet ment to kill Frost Fiend was intercepted by a large chunk of ice. "THat was a very very stupid thing todo." Frost Fiend said through gritted teeth. The Thugs didn't seem to think so. A group of five surrounded him, all with guns pulled. However, before a bullet could be fires, water in the air condensed, and grew cold. In a flash, The Frost Fiend was standing inside a wall of ice, with strange, human shaped bumps. Five of them. Let someone else take care of them. I'm curious as to what they were doing. Frost fiend thought. He stepped back into a close alley. Scattered around, under some derbis, were packs of 'Dine. "Not Surprising." He muttered. However, as he moved back, the derbis got more and more extensive. Some of it was charred. It looked like.. "Oh my God..." Frost Fiend breathed. A Battle had gone on here, and it had ended porely for the hero, or Heroine. He dropped down on his hands and knees, examining the ground. He came up holding a hypodermic dart. "Dear Lord, someone is kidnapping Heroes!" The Frost Fiend felt dizzy. Something was digging at his leg, and it hurt. He looked down, and a dart was sticking out his clavicle. As the drug took effect, he heard the clank of boots, and sharp German commands. Then he fell into a pool of black...
/ooc feel free to join in as a captured Hero, or A hero who managed to escape some sort of atempt, however, I would like One person to RP the 5th Column. But, if no one does, I'm perfectly willing to do it myself.



Piyerus was walking down the street looking for some thugs to bust. He was fairly new in Paragon, and he needed all the respect he could get. Perhaps sending a few criminals to jail or an early grave would make the civilians trust him a little more. He couldn’t blame them, his long pointed ears looked rather out of place, at least to the common person. There were quite a few heroes who looked a lot stranger. Piyreus sighed as he thought back to the lab accident that gave him his powers and made him like this. As he closed his eyes, he could clearly see the lab, dead bodies all over the place...

Shaking his head vigorously Piyerus forced himself to snap out of his flashback. He had to pay attention, because not paying attention to your surroundings could be fatal in Paragon City. Those were his last thoughts before he slipped on a patch of ice. Some police has already taken the frozen thugs away, but some ice still remained.

“What the... Ice? But it’s still hot outside”, Piyerus muttered to himself as he got up and looked around, hoping no one saw. To his horror, a group of civilians was laughing at him. “Some hero must have made it and not cleaned it up... Ice on the sidewalk is a danger to civilians... I’ll have to get rid of it...”. With that, Piyerus’s hands became engulfed in flames as he prepared his powers. With a swift motion he threw a small amount of fire into the air, letting it fall onto the ice and melt it. Unfortuantly, a small flame had also fallen on Piyerus’s shoulder and ignited his shirt. Piyerus slapped hastily at his clothes to put the blaze out.

The civilians were rolling on the ground with laughter.

Piyerus sighed again. That certainly could have gone better... it was the that he noticed that some junk in the nearby alley was arranged oddly. He went to look, and found the stash of Dyne. “What kind of idiot villain would leave this around... I had better take this to someone...”, Piyerus said to himself as he picked up a few packs and shoved them into his pockets. All of the sudden he felt something sting his leg, he looked down and saw a needle sticking out of it. “Crud...”, Piyerus muttered as he looked around for his attackers. He saw a few men with large rifles, but only barely... his vision was already starting to go. Piyerus shot a few fireballs at his assailants, but his aim was way off because of whatever they shot into him. He thought he heard one of the soldiers get hit by one of his fireballs before he passed out, but he couldn’t be sure.

OOC: Piyerus isn't as much of an idiot as this post makes him seem, but sometimes stupid stuff just happens to him



/ooc Hey, thanks for posting.
The Frost Fiend's eyes snapped open. He looked around. He was in a cell. His glowing blue eyes flared off something. He was in a cell with a mirror of some sort. Sweat beaded on his shaven crest, and dribbled down his back. That's odd He thought. Usually my armor catches sweat before it can reach my... My Armor! Frost Fiend stood. Or rather he tried to. He was somehow shackled to the floor. Enough to stop him from standing up, yet not enough to pin him to the floor, the manacles glowed. They shouldn't be a problem The Fiend thought. A thin blade of ice should cut through these in a jiffy. He concentrated on his finger, and let the air cool. he let the warmth leech into his own body, where his mutant metabolism fueled it back into his powers. Nothing happened. His powers weren't working. not a useful development.



Patriot Strike shifted her position slightly to keep her feet from going to sleep, moving slowly to keep her rifle from drifting too far off target. The afternoon sun beat down on her shoulders, and sweat beaded on her back. Her finger resting lightly on the rifle's trigger, Strike peered through the high-powered scope and sighted in on the mouth of an unremarkable alley two blocks away.

She been tracking an active Fifth Column cell for two weeks, chasing them from office complexes and warehouses, always catching little fish, and always a step behind the leaders. Desperate for results, she had decided the evening before to use one of the little fish as bait. Her bait had wandered up that alley an hour ago, and she and her rifle had been in position at her rooftop perch since then.

I could do an hour standing on my head, she thought. I'll do a week on my head if it gets me closer to these scumbags. A hero type had wandered down the alley just after she'd set up, leaving a few frozen goons in his wake. Strike had been sorely tempted to change positions and get a better angle, but she remained in her current position -- when one was dressed in a star-emblazoned blue motorcycle jacket and a red cap, one did not casually bound from rooftop to rooftop while tailing a target.

Eventually the cops had shown up, toting the frozen offenders away with no sign of the hero, or her bait. Now, she was giving little fish two hours to come back out a seemingly dead end alley, before she lobbed two grenades down there and called it a day.

Several minutes passed with Strike staring intently through the scope. Soon, another hero type -- this one some sort mutant or pixie with pointed ears -- wandered onto the crime scene and promptly spilled himself on some ice. Supressing a grin, Patriot Strike sighted in on the back of the guy's neck as he manifested some pyro powers to clean up the ice, and promptly set himself ablaze.

One thing about this town, Strike thought, is that it is never boring. The new hero wandered up the apparently popular alley, and Patriot Strike relaxed her trigger finger and let her breath out. Still no little fish, and two heroes lost in her stakeout alley.

"This is ridiculous," Strike whispered. Easing back into a crouch, she slung her rifle and prepared to move. As she moved to the edge of the building and prepared to jump, a flaming figure bolted out of her alley and into the street. Strike snapped her rifle into position and sighted on the figure, expecting to see the new hero trying out his powers on his own costume.

What she did not expect to see was a Fifth Column goon in full uniform, desperately trying to put himself out. Grinning, Patriot strike turned off the safety on her grenade launcher and leapt from the roof.

OOC: Hopefully, I haven't screwed up anyone else's narrative here. I just wanted to get Patriot Strike peripherally involved, without bungling whatever you have in mind for the plot of this thread.



Opening his eyes, Piyerus looked around. He was in a lab of some sort. It was then he noticed that he could only barely move his neck, the rest of his body was still numb from whatever drug they shot him full of. He was in a tube full of some liquid, and there was a breath mask attached to his face. Some scientists were working in the lab... they looked very militaristic. It was then when someone important entered the lab. Piyerus couldn’t move his neck enough to see the person’s face.

“Why is it you called me here?”, the important man said in a cold voice. One of the scientists turned to look at him. “Well, it’s this hero’s blood sample. It contains a chemical we have never seen before. It seems to be the source of his powers, and if we can duplicate it...”, The scientist began to explain, the important man seemed interested. “Do what you can with the sample you have now. For the moment, put this hero in the jail like the others. Be sure to keep him alive, he may be very important to our cause”.

Piyerus closed his eyes. He was too weak to make an escape attempt now, but maybe he could later. The jail must have other heroes in it... if he could break free there, he might have a chance.



/ooc wow, more posts! I fear I have committed the biggest sin of all. Failure of good charcter development/imagery. Allow me to enlighten you all posting, and those posting in the future. Note that I am cringing and feeling very ashamed of myself for having to do this. The Frost Fiend Stands at a Near 6 feet, has skintight armor on his chest, weres those creepy tech payldrons that go down the back of you arms, skin tight pants, and fat armoured boots. Everything is a royal blue with black camo linings and such. His afored mentioned skin is a pale blue, blue glowing eyes, shaven head, and pointed ears as well. Did I miss anything?
It was the middle of the night, at least it felt that way, when the door to Frost Fiend's cell clanked open.A pair of guards dragged in a flambouantly dressed hero and shackled him to the floor similar to the way they had shackled The Fiend. The soul difference was that, instaid of the shackles glowing a light blue, they glowed orange. Frost Fiend shook his head, and tried to clear it. so much had happened since... whenever it had been. The guards were speaking. "The boss said they wanted to bring this freak here into the lab." Grab him, then." said another. Frost Fiend struggled as they grabbed him, but a one stabbed a dart in his leg, and the world moved upsidedown...



Piyerus looked around the jail room. Eigth... no, nine heroes were shackled to the floor like him, most didn't look very healthy. Every cell seemed to have two people in them, so Piyerus looked over to see who his cellmate was. Oddly, there was no one there. Either the spot was never filled, the hero was currently in the lab, or dead. Piyerus also noticed that the chestplate armor he usualy wore was gone. He was only wearing his under-suit, no armor at all.

Focussing all of his energy and power, Piyerus tried to create a fireball, but couldn't. The glowing orange shackles that were holding him down glowed a little bit more. "So they're restricting my power...? Hmmm... my strength too, it seems", Piyerus muttered to himself as he tried to break free, "Well, I'll either have to wait until they try to bring me back to that lab so I can break free, or someone will have to release me".



OOC: ((I'd like to RP the 5th Column. Here goes.))

Frost Fiend : Frost Fiend was roused from unconsciousness through the use of another chemical. By now, he had a plethora of drugs running through his system. As the grogginess faded and the stimulant inside him took control of his body, he regained use of his limbs one by one. When the feeling returned to his face, Frost Fiend opened his eyes and saw the image of a female form staring back down at him. With her head tilted slightly to the side, she was observing the pitiful Superhero with a keen gaze. "Looks like another has fallen from grace," she commented. "Welcome to the Path of Illumination." As the woman stepped away, a bright light shined down into Frost Fiend's face. It was the kind of light one would see in a surgery room.

The woman paced around Frost Fiend. She was slender and tall. She wore a firm fitting military outfit that was as black as her raven-colored hair. When she fixed her gaze on Frost Fiend for a second time, it was obvious something wasn't right about her, for her sky-blue eyes simmered with a mysterious secret. "No doubt," she began in a voice that carried a proud German accent, "you are wondering why you are here. To make a long story short, Paragon City is unique to the world in that it produces a surprising amount of heros. The 5th Column would like to know why that is. When we find the answer, we will implement it into our ranks. And when that happens, this city will be ours. What do you think about that, Frost Fiend?" Trailing off, the woman smirked and idly played with a small scalpel in her hands.

Patriot Strike : The commotion caused by Piyerus had several 5th Column members stirring about in the shadows of the ally. As the one on fire put himself out, he scolded himself for allowing himself to be hit by the fledgling Super Hero. Cursing loudly in a gruff voice, he sighed and stepped out of the ally and into the blistering sunlight to make sure no one had seen the event which had just transpired. Several concerned citizens turned and fled after gawking into the ally. What they saw was about a dozen 5th Columns members dragging Piyerus' body into the back of a parked car. When the trunk slammed shut, the car peeled out and sped away. The remaining 5th Column members regrouped and proceeded to set another trap for the next Super Hero. No doubt, this would require a change of location. It wouldn't be long before one of those concerned citizen notified another Super Heros about what had happened. As the 5th Column soldier with the charred uniform took one long last look at the horizon to make sure the coast was clear, he was supried to see Patriot Strike charging towards him. It seemed a Super Hero had been notified faster than he had expected. "Psst!" He said over his shoulder. "We got company. Put the operation on hold. We'll move to the next location after we take care of this next joker." And with that, about a dozen 5th Column members spilled out of the ally and readied their weapons. "Ready!" The squad leader spoke as soon as he caught sight of Patriot Strike's fast-approaching form. "Aim!" The men trained their sights on the woman and pressed the butts of their rifles into their shoulders. "FIRE!"

Piyerus : Soon after Piyerus' addition to the underground 5th Column prision, an interrogator stepped into his cell and hooked him up to a mobile lie detector. "I'm going to ask you some questions," the man said in a voiced that made it sound like he did this sort of thing on a routine basisi. "If you lie or refuse to answer my questions I will take this device here and slowly press it around your fingers, tighting centimeter by centimeter with each lie you tell me, until your fingers have been crushed." The interrogator raised the device into the air and waved it curiously in front of Piyerus' face. "Now," the man continued as he slipped the device around Piyerus' fingers, "when did you first realize your you were a so-called Super Hero?"



ooc: I'd like to help with the rping of the bad guys. Here's my contribution, if you hate it ignore it.

The room was immaculate. The pictures and plaques were exactly in symetry to each side. The desk was devoid of any personal effect. Even the writing implements were in order. A long figure stood at the window gazing down at the dark city below. There was sharp and concise knock at the door.


The door swung open as one of the soldiers entered and snapped to attention.

"Sir, we have currently captured three hostiles. Two are in the process of being 'interviewed.' Once is still being transported to the facility."

"Excellent. Please make sure to keep me updated on their progress."

"Yes sir!" With a final salute the soldier exited the office of the high commander.

"We will know these heroes and we will find a way to turn this to our advantage..." The Commandant smiled as he watched the vermin on the street below. There was too much chaos in this city. And he was not a man who would tolerate chaos. Those who could be convinced to appreciate the Fifth Columns sense of order would be welcomed. Those who did not, well, they would no longer be a problem.

"To Order," he said as he made his vow. "Always to the greater honor of order."



OOC: Whoo! Someone's playing the 5th Column. Nice work!

Patriot Strike hit the ground running, palming a handful of caltrops as she sprinted the two blocks between her sniper perch and the alley. The 5th Column scumbag she had spotted had managed to put himself out, and had disappeared back into the shadows. Hissing a curse between her teeth, Strike slapped the activation stud for 'porting harness, and cleared a half-block of distance in the blink of an eye.

In the second that it took to re-orient upon entering normal space, Patriot Strike's tactical situation took a turn for the worse. A dozen 5th Column soldiers spilled from the mouth of the alley, weapons at the ready, with the singed joker in the rear, issuing orders.

"Aim!" he barked in a harsh Teutonic accent. The front line of Nazis dropped into a prone position, weapons trained on Strike's position, with the back row kneeling behind them. At least three of the troopers had grenade launchers, and a tall soldier with the look of an officer about him was toting one of the 5th Column's notorious freeze rifles.

This is not a fight I can win, Strike thought. Gritting her teeth, she flung the caltrops at the line of 5th column troops, but the spikes fell well short of the enemy line. She could imagine the self-satisfied grin on the face of the 5th Column officer.


At the sound of the officer's voice, Patriot Strike triggered her 'porting harness, blinking into the extra-dimensional space as her position was engulfed in fire. Multiple grenades erupted geysers of flame, as bullets and ice bolts sizzled against the pavement. A taxi that had the misfortune to be parked at the side of the street caught fire, and then exploded with an eardrum-shattering roar as the gas tank ruptured and ignited. Still the Fifth Column poured munitions into the street.

"Hold your fire!" the 5th Column officer shouted over the roar of gunfire. As though a switch had been flipped, the sounds of gunfire ceased, leaving the too-quiet crackle of flames and the wails of innocent citizens.

"Find the body," the office barked. "I want that wonderful rifle she was carr-"

He fell silent as Patriot Strike pressed the multiple barrels of her rifle into the man's back. Grinning, she tightened her finger on the grenade launcher's trigger until the pre-fire articulator clicked loudly.

"What do you think would happen," she said quietly, "if I fired a grenade at this range? My theory is that the shell would go through you, leaving a nasty hole. Or it might go off, taking us both out."

She jabbed the rifle sharply into the man's back, and he grunted.

"Shall we find out," she cooed, "or do you tell me what the hell is going on here?"



Piyerus sighed as he looked at the man questioning him and then at the torture device. “You realize that some heroes can regulate their vital signs, right? That lie detector may not work”, Piyerus said with a slight amount of sarcasm.

“Our preliminary tests show that you do not have any abilities that would allow you to circumvent our procedures. Answer the question”, the 5th column interrogator said coldly.

“Hey, I was just pointing something out, no need to get mad. I suppose I could endure the pain and lie, but since you’ve been so nice I’ll tell the truth. It’s not a very interesting story, I’d imagine it’s fairly common. Lab explosion, nano machines or something like that getting blown into my body, I suddenly have my powers”, Piyerus spoke sarcastically, but the lie detector read that he was telling the truth.

The interrogator wrote something on his clipboard, “Explain in more detail”.

Piyerus was starting to get annoyed with the man. “I don’t like talking about it. However, since I seem to have no choice... I was working on a project to create a new technology that would increase a hero’s power. I was just transferred in, it was only my third day on the job so don’t expect me to tell you anything about the research. Turns our one of the scientists was a badguy or something, and he tried to steal the formula. He injected it into himself to give himself powers and tried to kill me, but he missed me and his a machine. It exploded, chain reaction, the entire lab went up in flames. I guess some shrapnel from one of the test machines hit me and infected me with the stuff, because when I woke up at the hospital I had all these powers”, Piyerus explained, “That’s about it. Anything else?”



((Davis Slate, Science/Scrapper, Melee/Regen. Large metal gauntlets slightly enhance strength. Gray T-shirt, brown cargo pants. Pale skin, almost white, head shaved. Dark rimmed, sunken in, eyes.))

Davis Slate had no luck whatsoever. His hands and forearms were bound in chains that hung from the ceiling of the small room he was in. The chains were short enough to keep his arms firmly pulled above his head, leaving him to dangle from them like a piece of meat while large 5th Column soldiers took turns pounding him in the abdomen and head.

Blood ran from his mouth, nose, and several gashes on his face. Normally they would heal almost instantly, but something was suppressing his body's healing abilities. "Haven't taken a beating THIS bad since I left the army," Slate thought to himself between blows. The thing that really ticked him off was that he had no idea what any of this was even about.

A contact of his had given him a lead on a Vahzilok base in an abandoned warehouse. The building had been empty, but while searching, he had suddenly been hit with a dart in the back of the neck. He shook his head as he felt powerful drugs flood his system, but his accelerated healing kept him standing. He had turned, rushing the group of 5th Column that had appeared behind him.

Even hanging in the small room, bleeding all over himself, Slate couldn't help but grin in satisfaction as he thought about the broken soldiers he had left on the warehouse floor. One of the others had gotten the jump on him though, letting loose with an assault rifle into Slate's torso at point blank range. The powerful drugs were already taxing his healing abilities, and having his guts blown out by gunfire was enough to put him down.

He woke up in this very room, hanging from the ceiling. He could have pulled the chains free, but they had taken the large metal gauntlets that fed him strength, leaving him no stronger than any other ex-military vigilante. The soldiers finally ceased their beating, turning and filing out of the room. Slate hung limply from the chains as the heavy door slammed behind them and he was left in the dark room, his shirt soaked in red, the only sound being the random drip of his blood hitting the concrete floor. He knew it wasn't over. They'd be back eventually. Heck, maybe this time they'd actually ASK him something.



*Analysis complete. Dart contains highly potent tranquilizer. No matching records of the chemical combination*

The voice of his internal systems echoed though Calash’s mind as he looked at the dart he found in his leg. It was a strong toxin and would have knocked him out in a moment had it not been for the fact that his legs were robotic. It was a small dart, so small his sencers did not detect it striking him, so he had no idea of when it had happened.

His thoughts were interrupted by a gunshots and a series of explosions rocking the street, The warm glow of fire illuminated the street as a taxi cab went up in flames. Moments later several 5th column solders walked around the corner.

*Enemy detected. Eliminate threat.*

Before the signal completed Calash charged forward, striking the lead solder and sending him flying. He turned to face the others but stopped when he saw that they were not facing him. They were staring at there commander and the female hero behind him.

*Hero scan: Patriot Strike. No file available*

*Directive 21: Do not interfere with another Hero unless requested or target hero is in danger*

Flames enveloped Calash as he activated his plasma generator. He stood there for a moment trying to analyze the situation and determine the next path.

(Calash: Fire/SS tanker. Cyborg, about 7ft tall, one robotic arm. Whole body encased in black armor with blue detailing.)



Piyerus : The interrogator in front of Piyerus frowned deeply at the Super Hero. The answers were coming too easily. He needed to let Piyerus know what was going to happen to him if he didn't obey. Pressing a small red button on the mobile lie detector, the clamps around Piyerus' fingers tightened considerably, but not enough to where they caused extreme pain. It was just enough to make Piyerus squirm.

"So, science is responsible for your abilities? And yet, you have no information about these... nanobots?" the man smirked and slowly shook his head from side to side. "Tisk, tisk, tisk. I'm sure you can give us SOME idea where to look for these... nanobots? If you don't have the answers, then who does?"

The interrogator's finger hovered over the red button.

"Speak now," he said, "and think clearly... least I tighten the clamp's grip a little more."

Davis Slate : After the beating, several uneventful minutes trickled by--just like Davis' blood. By the time Lt. Ovilo entered the room, a small crimson puddle had formed around Slate's feet. Lt. Ovilo removed an elegant white handkerchief from the front pocket of her uniform and proceeded to gently wipe the blood from Slate's face.

"Military justice," she said, "for killing their comrads, you understand." She said, clearly in reference to the 5th Column men Slate had killed before he received a stomach full of lead. "Now, on to business. How did you obtain your powers?"

Philbe : Later that evening, after several interrogations had been conducted with varying results, Lt. Ovilo returned to her commander's office and gave its entrance a firm rap. When she received the command to enter, she stepped into the tidy room beyond and observed it with a keen gaze. She admired her commander's discipline. To her, he was a great leader. The 5th Column would go far as long as he was at the helm.

"Sir," she spoke in her characteristically proud German-accented voice. "We have received several leads on how to further increase the efficency of our troops. The most promising lead so far belongs to a technology called nanobots. We are looking into the matter now with a gentleman named Piyerus, sir."



/ooc wow. A person tunrs his back and a thread multiplies like rabbits. No complaints, of course.
The Frost Fiend stared defiantly at the woman pacing back and forth. He spoke. "So, you want Heroes. You want to make super-soldiers. Why me?" He asked with a hateladen voice. "I'm no better than any other hero,I just work with ice-" "No." Came the cold reply. "You are different. You are one of the most powerful Heroes in the area, however, you aren't well known. No one will miss you." The Fiend smirked. Time to find out just how much they knew. "You seem pretty sure of your selves. How do you know my roommate hasn't called the cops, who will have called Heroes?" "Hmmph." Came the perfectly articulated reply. "You have no roommate, in fact, you live alone, in a small apartment on the south end of Atlas Park, where you, as Kip Xela, are an author of several semi-successfull books. You make no real contacts, and you have enough money to retire, and slip out of memory." The Frost Fiend felt the one thiong he never thought he would ever feel. His stomack was cold, frozen solid, even. "H-how do you know all that?" He sputtered?



Slate's eyes raised to look at the woman asking him a question. But it was not Davis Slate who responded to her. The combination of the drug, bullet wounds, and the beating had weakened him enough that the Rikti brain graphs welded to his brain stem were starting to take over. Eyes that had an alien quality to them regarded the woman.

"Stupid human," the voice croaked, clicking like noises coming randomly from Slate's throat. "Humans are nothing. Will kill you all. All humans dead. Rikti will KILL YOU ALL!!!" Slate suddenly lurched forward. The woman held up her arm to fend him off, only to have him sink his teeth into her forearm. Bashing him in the head several times, she managed to throw him off, backing up to a safe distance.

Slate went back to hanging limply from the chains, but his eyes stayed fixed on the woman, daring her to come close again.

"Kill you all," the voice croaked.



The Commandant began to look over the reports. His troops had been very successful. He sipped elegantly from his coffee as he looked at the dossiers. So many warriors and there was simply no method to their madness. It seemed that each individual would simply go where ever they felt and try to fight what they deemed evil.

"Ridiculous," He smirked. There was no organization to these vigilantes and that was both their weakness and their strength. There was some paper-thin officials that would supply them with leads and on more than one occasion they had come into contact with the Fifth Column as well. The Commandant did not worry about the few instances of success, even a broken clock is correct twice a day.

"So it is time to teach these children that running wild is not to be tolerated."

He singled out a few of the ones who seemed more interesting.

"Nanotechnology? Hmmmm, that has some promise."

He was almost finished reading the summaries on the newest arrivals when he saw something that caused he to nearly drop his cup. There was an injury report.

An injury report? He set down the cup and began to read how one of thier 'guests' had managed to actually injure one of his soldiers. It seemed that this animal actually had bit thier interogator.

"" his hand reached toward the cup and gripped it. "Un....acceptable...." His knuckles whitened only slightly and the cup was crushed. Little shards of ceramics cut into his hand, unnoticed. A slight trickle of blood began to seep from his fist but before it could drop unto the paperwork it seemed to hang and then suddenly seemed to go backward back into his hand.

"It is time I pay a visit to the facility." He only then just realized the mess in his hand. His lips frown distastefully. He hated mess. He wiped his hand with a hankerchief and used the intercom to call for his aide.

"Yes sir?"

"I am going to be going to the facility."

"Yes sir. Anything else sir?"

"Yes, have someone clean my office. I want it spotless when I return. The coffee cup.....was defective."

"Yes sir."

He rose from his desk and adjusted his uniform. He checked his image in the small mirror he kept on the wall. He knew he was the picture of the perfect commander. His close-cropped dark hair was slicked back. Although he didn't care, he knew he was considered attractive. It proved to aid his ambition to rise through the Column.

"Now to see our guests," He replaced his soiled hankerchief and pulled down the front of his uniform one last time. "And teach them some manners."



OOC: Hope I'm not treading on toes by not getting abducted...I thought it might be interesting to have heroes fighting their way out while other try to get in to...well, whatever this Facility is.

Patriot Strike rapped sharply on the 5th Column commander's helmet, and jabbed her rifle into his back. "Start talking, Fritz!"

The commander chuckled, a harsh sound through the helmet's breath mask. "Lieutenant Klink," he said, addressing the trooper with the freeze rifle, "Shoot her. If your shot hits me, I shall see to it that you are roasted on a spit and served in the mess before I expire."

Well, thought Strike, so much for things going as planned. As the trooper raised his rifle, she crouched quickly, kicking out at the back of the commander's knee. With a faint "pop", the knee went, and the commander dropped, clutching at his wounded limb.

"KILL HER!" the man shouted, his voice hoarse with agony. The 5th Column squad snapped into action, bringing weapons to bear on Strike as she squatted behind the commander's body.

Desperate, Patriot Strike dropped a grenade to the ground between the commander's legs, and then slapped the activation stud for her 'porting harness. As the harness hummed to life, she felt an icey pain in her shoulder, and then she was gone.

But unfortunately, not gone far. Strike materialized behind a dumpster at the far end of the alley. Falling to her knees, she reached up and touched her hit shoulder, feeling the glaze of ice over her leather jacket. The shoulder and arm were completely numb.

With a soft thump, her grenade went off at the mouth of the alley. Peering over the edge of the dumpster, she saw the commander enveloped in silky threads of "web" -- actually a high-tensile polymer coated with a viscous adhesive. She grinned as the commander tried to wiggle free, but to no avail.

Unfortunately, not all eyes were on the commander. Klink, the goon with the freeze rifle, locked eyes with her.

"There she is!" he yelled, pointing at her position. A moment later, a 5th Column grenade went off in front of the dumpster, creating a noxious cloud that smelled of gunpowder and burnt garbage.

Patriot Strike raised her rifle with her one good arm. There are worse ways to go, she thought. If I'm going out, I'm taking a bunch of you Nazi scumbags with me!



Slate looked around the room again. He had managed to push the Rikti personality back down, but he was still worried. He would have expected the woman to become angry and order the guards to "soften" him up a little more. And two guards DID burst in the door and move towards him, but she had stopped them, motioning them to leave.

She just stood there, smiling a little as she watched him. Slate didn't like it. With guys, you pretty much knew what to expect. Beatings, torture, and/or death. But women; women could get mean.



"We have our sources." THe woman responded to him. "And sa you can see, we've had our eye on you for quite some time." Frost Fiend looked down, as if in defeat. Actually, he was using it as a cover to look at the restraints holding him in place. They were imple steel, no glow what so ever. He grinned. The air thickened, and hardened around the restraints. ice wworked it's way into the molecular structure, and the steel turned brittle. With a lunge, the Frost Fiend broke completely free of his prison. A quick punch knocked the woman down, but gaurds were already apon pushed him to the floor, and the other inserted a syringe into his arm. The world swirled, and black was eternal.
The woman stood up. "Take him back to his cell, and refuse to feed either of them until otherwise instructed." The guards nodded, but as they moved off, no one noticed the Woman's scappel was missing.



((ooc: Shadowborn is a dark/dark magic scrapper, wearing black medieval armor with red celtic interlacing. Her shoulder armor sweeps out into smooth points. Black hair, held back by a tiara and green eyes))

Soaring through the clear sky, Shadowborn glanced down at the sound of a grenade. Cursed Fifth. Who were they bothering this time? Her emerald gaze first saw the semi-robotic hero standing away from an alley. As she swept the earth with her eyes, she saw the other hero, fallen and the Fifth converging on her. Help or no? Bah. Easier to apologize than take the time to ask.

Dropping out of the embrace of the wind, Shadowborn landed heavily beside the cyborg. "Are you waiting for an invitation?" She snapped. "She's in trouble! Move!"

Without waiting to see if he was listening, she summoned a dark writhing cloud to shield herself and launched into the alley, slamming into the back of the nearest soldier with a flurry of blows.



Oh, if only he had just a minute with his powers back, Piyerus would teach this interrogator what pain really was. “When the facility blew up all the research was destroyed. There is nothing left except for me and... maybe that evil scientist if he survived. I have no idea where he would be even if he was alive, so don’t bother asking!”. Piyerus was getting mad, he didn’t like talking about his past. The interrogator pressed the button slightly to apply a bit more pressure, “Keep talking. Tell me about the research”.

Piyerus stayed silent for a moment, then decided it was best to just talk. It wasn’t like the information would help them. “The project was originally intended as a medical device. The nanobots would go through the bloodstream and get rid of any clots. After the Rikti started invading they switched the aim of the research. The scientists wanted to use the nanobots to make the heroes more powerful so they could defeat the Rikti easier. The war ended before the project was completed, but so many heroes had died that the survivors still needed help.”

“After the war was when I joined as a research assistant”, Piyerus continued his story when he saw the interrogator’s finger hovering over the button again, “I was only there a few days, and because of the security they wouldn’t let me see any of the important stuff yet. All I know is that the nanobots, aside from cleaning the bloodstream and increasing the amount of oxygen getting to the muscles, made some kind of membrane that makes a chemical that gives me my powers. I don’t know where in my body the membrane is, and I don’t know how it works. I just know the nanobots are programmed to destroy it if my vitals flat line, as a security feature so villains can’t use my corpse to get it”. Piyerus looked up at the interrogator with a slightly cocky smile, “So that means that if you guys want it, you need to keep me alive and well. I’d expect that eliminates quite a few of the threats you could have used”.

OOC: This is as much as Piyerus will say about his past. He knows a bit more than what he's telling. but he won't talk about it regardless of the amount of torture he is subjected to.



The 5th Column soldier moved towards Slate again, casually unsheathing a small military knife as she walked.

"You seem to be having some 'control' problems," she talked calmly, as if discussing the weather, "and I'm inclined to wonder if you're losing control of yourself or something else in you." She paused in her movement to wipe some of her own blood from Slates mouth.
"I would like to find out," she continued, "and so I'd also like to apologize in advance." The knife suddenly sunk into Slate's side. Not too deep, but she held it there, pushing ever so slightly on it.

Slate grit his teeth against the pain, his vision starting to get red and cloudy at the edges. The woman pushed the knife in a little deeper, twisting it only slightly. Slate shut his eyes, hoping that the loss of sight might help him keep it together, but now his sense of smell was suddenly full of the soldier in front of him.

Not any perfume or shampoo she might have on her, but the smell of humanity, sweaty and earthen. It poured into his nostrils until he could almost taste it. Images of ripping out her throat began swimming into his mind. The knife was suddenly pushed in deeper and twisted more violently, sending a white-hot flash of pain through Slate's mind.

"Forget alien influences," his mind raged to itself, "I'll kill her myself."



As soon as Shadowborn arrived Calash jumped into action. Running into the mob he sends a flurry of punches into one of the solders, quickly sending him to the ground. His friends quickly turned and opened fire sending a flurry of bullets into the fire shield, melting them before they could strike his armor.

Realizing that there bullets were no help the solders began attacking with fists, punching at the Cyborg. In retaliation Calash reached out and one of the attackers, throwing him into the group and clearing a path to the dumpster. With bullets peppering his back the Cyborg ran to the dumpster and took position near Patriot Strike. Bullets peppered his body, sending sparks flying as they chipped away at his armor.

“Creating defense area, please watch your step.”

A moment later the ground around Calash ignighted, sending flames high into the air, and catching one of the approaching solders on fire. In panic several of the nearby solders scattered as the flames threatened to burn them.

Calash looked at the nearby hero for a moment before speaking again.

“Are you damaged?”



As the melee, and the flames, slowly died down, Patriot Strike stood up from beind the dumpster, awkwardly slinging her rifle with one arm. She pushed a few stray blonde hairs back under her bandana and, wiping sweat and grime from her face with the back of her hand, leveled an appraising gaze at her saviors -- some kind of flame-spewing robot, and a woman in dark armor who was still busy pounding one of the 5th Column troops into submission.

"Are you damaged?" the robot repeated. Strike thought she detected a bit of inflection in the voice -- perhaps the creature was not entirely robotic?

"I've had worse," she said. And it was true, though the feeling returning to her shoulder was an agony. Her hand and arm were still numb -- probably a blessing, considering how uncomfortable her shoulder was.

She threw a quick salute to the robot. "Thanks for the assist. Let's see what we can do with the leftovers."

As she walked to the mouth of the alley, Strike glanced surreptitiously at the two "super-heroes" that had rescued her. That chafed -- having to be rescued, especially by two of the ultra-powered "protectors" of Paragon City. Back in the service, it was humans looking out for humans -- you knew who, and what, was watching your back. In Paragon, plain humans had given up on defending their own liberties -- and why shouldn't they, when there were god-like beings walking the streets who could do it for them?

At the mouth of the alley, the 5th Column commander was still encased in strands of webbing. Her cursed at Strike, and the new arrivals, with a colorful string of German. 5th Column soldiers were strewn about -- some singed, some beaten and stunned -- though, judging by their numbers, at least a couple had escaped. Strike glared at the officer, and then struck him across the jaw with the butt of her rifle, dislodging his mask to reveal a hard, age-lined face with piercing blue eyes.

"Nice try there, Fritz," Strike said, holding his gaze.

The man smiled. "Lucky for you, girl, that the real heroes were around to rescue you, no?"

Strike grabbed the man by the front of his uniform and slammed his head into the ground.

"They're pretty good, aren't they?" she snarled. "Let's see if they're fast enough to stop me before I can shove a handful of caltrops down your pants."

The officer smiled, but said nothing. This guy is a serious hard case, Strike thought. This isn't going to be easy.

Strike dropped the man and sat back on her haunches. "So, what's so interesting about this alley, Fritz?"

OOC: I hope that no one's offended by Strike's attitude -- the distrust of super-powered heroes is something I'm trying with her. As a player, I'm genuinely glad that two new heroes have joined the fight.

In lieu of posting a detailed physical description, here are some of the covers I've done for Strike over in the Screenshots forum. If anyone's interested...
Patriot Strike #0 Cover
Patriot Strike #2 Cover