WB
Happy to see it resumed... 
In the sewers, the scrappers part 2
What ensued will remain unknown for twenty-seven years, until a man claiming to be Shadow-Step was rescued, by an inter-dimensional team trying to find a path from Earth to the Jupiter orbital station. The then aged scrapper, had been found wandering the wasteland dimension, talking to himself in a strange language. It took several months of rehabilitation for him to be able to communicate once more in English. He told an incredible tale of adventures, where he had found himself cast away from earth after closing down the Alankis portal, saving humanity from an invasion force by condemning himself to exile.
When Envoy of Shadows steeped across that bridge, bloody murder occurred for the scrappers, the first to die would be Silver Girl. While rushing headlong into the fight, she was grabbed by the nine feet tall beast and felt the sharp teeth of the monster bite into her ribcage. The bones gave easily under the powerful jaws, and blood flowed from her freely. Envoy of Shadows would use her as a club to fend off the others that were attacking him. Like a wet piece of steak, he swung her about, striking blindly with the poor girl, the beast mostly hit the walls and the floors. Silver Girl died well before Envoys of Shadows had let go of her, a broken heap of human flesh and bones, thrown away with disdain by her murderer.
Followed next Sir Langley, whom while attempting to free the poor Silver Girl from her fate, found his skull crushed into a cement wall by a muscular arm. The sound his head made when it was forced with great strength into the floor, apparently was close to that of a pumpkin being dropped from a rooftop. Feet dangling in the air, as the Envoy of Shadows used his free arm to shove the man towards the floor, face first and eyes wide. He would twitch there on bridge for a few seconds before breath left his body forever.
The battle was joined by the scrappers team, whom tried all that they could to stop the Circle Of Thorns beast, but to no avail. The red glowing ball of force hovering above its shoulder had turned all of their strengths into weaknesses, leaving them opened to the murderous rampage of the monster. One by one, they all fell in gruesome fashions, screaming for mercy as they died. Xanthion, in a desperate move, used a metal bar from the bridge railing to fend off the Envoy, and for a while, the wind seemed to turn. The fight between the leader of the scrappers and the evil monster took on epic proportions as they both held their ground on the bridge. Blow for blow, they refused to budge. But alas, Xanthion, weakened by the magical device accompanying the beast, fell too.
When all the scrappers were down, dying and praying for kinder and gentler realms, Xanthion, Shadow-Step and Cabaret remained fighting. Shadow-Step told of how he knocked unconscious the blaster at the very last minute before Xanthion fell. Sneaking behind her, he punched her lights out in the hopes the Envoy of Shadows would ignore her limp form once it came for him. As her shape fell to the floor, he looked onto the bridge, at the beast raising high above its head, the bloodied and broken form of Xanthion. With a desperate look on his face, the leader of the scrappers had pulled out the detonator, and in a last breaths effort, screamed to Shadow-Step:
Close that god damned forsaken door, you hear me, close it!
Then, Envoy of Shadows proceeded to throw Xanthion in the chasm below the bridge, impaling the scrappers on the metal rods that protruded twenty feet below. The same moment that his body was pierced by the rods, Xanthion pressed the switch. The entire room engulfed itself in flames, and the force of the explosion sent Shadow-Step flying backwards with flames already licking his feet, he flew through the dimensional door, to land without grace, next to the activation pedestal, which nestled the crystal. Standing up right away, he looked horrified through the shimmering blue, watery surface of the portal, and tried to run back through it. Only to be met by a force wall that sent him crashing on his behind. He was now stuck into this unknown dimension, unable to return to earth through this passage.
But, he couldnt bring himself to close the portal, that is, until he saw that the cave in on the other side of the portal had begun to be tossed away by a huge force. Envoy of Shadows was digging his way back to the portal, to ensure that it would remain open. Debating within himself about the options left, his train of thoughts were broken by the burnt shape, and yet still alive, of Cabaret. She was standing on earths side, skin burnt and hair melted away, pounding with a fist on the magical door. He couldnt hear what she was saying, no sound came through the door, but the look in her eyes told a story of pain and fear. She looked over her shoulder, and kept yelling something he couldnt read on her charred lips. Soon after, the rubble created by the cave in of the explosion, let through a huge bestial arm, and more of the remaining rubbles was moved away. Cabaret screamed, and Shadow-Step looked on in horror, as Envoy of Shadows emerged from the debris, burnt and bloodied.
Taking a few steps back from the portal, Shadow-Step looked on at the horrific spectacle he was unable to stop. The beast ripped apart Cabaret, tore up her lovely shape in many pieces and fed itself on her remains, which began to regenerate the monster. Shadow-Step understood at that moment that there was no stopping the Envoy of Shadows, understood the importance of his presence in the team, there was no randomness to the universe. Only a black heart could close the portal, only he was left to do it. He turned around as the monster was walking towards the portal. The beast reached in with his massive arm, and was about to snatch Shadow-Step away from the energy crystal, when the scrapper shattered it. The portal closed, cutting clean off the forearm of Envoy of Shadows, leaving it to fall on the rocky floor of the dimension, inert and bleeding.
Twenty-seven years, Shadow-Step would look for a way back to earth, twenty-seven long years of wandering and adventures. When the exploration team found him, the scrapper fed himself on raw meet from fresh kills of what he referred to as fire lizards. Back amongst human, he stayed within civilization a few months, before asking to be returned to the dimension where he had been a prisoner for so long. The deadliest scrapper Paragon City had ever known, the unlikely hero he had become, couldnt find a place to fit in anymore. Of all the words to be used to describe him, this one would now apply until his death: Alien.
*shudders*
This was very gruesome, breakfast if out of whack... 
O_o
uhh...
*hurk*
X_X
wow voy that was tragic 
- i feel like some friends just died.
Esther, babe, how you been!
Voy Ive been great!! My life got a lot busier recently lol but
its been good busy so I cant complain except to morn the fact
that I dont have quite as much time for CoH and story
writing. How about you? 
life's been busy, like always, no complains, work is work. Aside from that, wrote so much to end up deleting all of it, it ain't funny. 
But all in all, all's well and good in the northern reaches of the world we call Canada.
why the delete?
Made the mistake of rereading myself too much...
LOL never - let someone else edit 
The nature of the sword
The Paragon University offered its population a curriculum both specific and adapted to its growing population. Center stage, in a city known for super natural occurrences of various genres, its academia was sought after all around the world, as far as break through discoveries were concerned. One of its departments, the academy of arcane magic and studies, became famous in the last few months through a major find concerning the historical dating of Orebanga. At the head of that said department, sat Professor Mary Jenkins, one of the most well versed figure on magical knowledge and its practical applications.
Since early morning, her team of specialists had been analysing the sword left behind by the now infamous leader of the Ghost army, Ghost Starr, after his disappearance a little before the dawn that followed the massacre of Kings Row. Nether Spirit had been sent along with the sword, on a reluctant guard duty. He had been watching them debate and analyse the nature of the sword for quite some time now, and found their argument quite redundant.
A swords nature is to draw blood, it brings pain to the one wielding it, the one at the receiving end of it, and to the families of the ones fighting. He said with exasperation in the voice. The academicians all raised their heads and looked at him perplexed to find cold and merciless eyes staring back at them. Nether knew of death, pain and suffering, in an intimate way. This body he was occupying was nothing but a shell. His essence, his very presence came from beyond the grave, from the realm through which the river Styx flowed.
Earlier today, when he had walked into Jenkinss laboratory, magic crystals had begun to glow fiercely all across the shelves cluttered with various artefacts. Jenkins, taken aback in finding out that Nether Spirit was indeed a magic manifestation on earths plane, had asked him to remain seated in the corner of the study. She had then proceeded to scatter blue ashes around his position, as a safety ward, to prevent any accidents during their evaluation of the mystic blade. Annoyed, but compliant, Nether had been sitting on a stool, in the corner of the room, for five hours straight. When they broke for lunch, he remained there still, rarely feeling the need to ingest food or drink, he maintained his guard duty over the sword.
While Jenkins and her team were gone, he decided that it was time to snoop around a little, get a feel for the place. The first thing he noticed, as he stepped across the blue ash line, was a tingling sensation all across his hosts body. Intrigued, but not disturbed, he started to walk around the room, looking here and there at some odd things and animals in jars, intricate charms and items cluttering shelves. Some symbols he recognized easily, others were unknown, and of course, some had a familiar look to them. Nothing out of the ordinary was here, for such a place.
Walking up to the table where the sword was resting, he took a moment to look at it more closely, and admire the beauty and simplicity of it. The magic energy emanating from it, gave him a basking sensation of dark and forgotten realms, where even one such as he, had never set foot into. What a strange sensation it was, mingled with fear and desire, to feel it pulsate so close to him. With a hand, he softly touched the hilt, sliding his fingers along the blade, like he would along a womans spine. The sounds of a thousand painful screams bolted across his mind as he did so, and he jerked back from the sword. Indeed, a very powerful blade it was, a soul drinker. Jarred by this event, he looked around the room, letting his animal instincts reassure him that all was well. A picture on a desk got his attention, but why he couldnt tell. Mary Jenkins, and a man with dark skin, were holding a baby and smiling to the camera. Something about it was familiar, but what he couldnt tell, but his eyes remained glued to it for a few seconds. What was it that was familiar about this picture?
When he heard Jenkinss team laughing and walking in the corridor, coming back from lunch, he walked back to the corner of the room, stepping across the blue dust once more, he resumed his position. The six scientists entered the room, threw a look over at Nether Spirit, nodding to him in silence, and went back to their duty. Mary Jenkins followed in, a few minutes later, and stopped as soon as she was in the room, looking at him. Shaking her head in disapproval, she said:
Could I see you in my office please.
She then turned her back to him, and walked towards a side door, where her name was written on the glass frame in bold letters. She opened the door, waiting for Nether Spirit to stand and come to her. He did so, but was unable to walk another step passed the blue dust on the floor.
As I suspected, you moved from the ward while we were gone. She then said
What trick is this, Professor Jenkins? Asked Nether Spirit, unable to identify the nature of the spell that was holding him back.
Since you are of a magical nature, I had to make sure your presence didnt trigger any of the artefacts present here. The blue ashes I had put there, were to prevent you from leaving. Somehow, you have managed to step across them and return to your seat, but the damage is done. One, or many or the relics here, became aware of your presence and are now seeking to know more about you. The blue ashes are protecting you from them. As she spoke those words, she walked slowly towards him, her eyes carving deep into his.
So, in other words, I am trapped until you remove these items from the room? He asked her, remembering well that she was a trustee of Apocalypse and as such presented no threat to him. In a funny way, she carried the blessing of Turbo Starr with her, allowing her free passage in the most sensitive areas of the Academy of Heroism, where she thought students about the arcane.
I have invited a friend to come over, and help us. She replied, instead of answering his question. He should arrive shortly. Do not be alarmed by his presence, he is
Different.
You did not answer my question, am I trapped in here?
Until sun down, you are. She smiled warmly to him, inspiring trust right away. Grumbling, he sat back on the stool and watched them work for two hours, without a word. Then he felt it, creeping up his spine, an old, very old sensation. One his essence hadnt felt in millennia, a kindred and yet not, almost the same as he and yet not. Jenkins went on:
The ward itself will dissipate when the moon rises, and I am certain that until then, I will find out which of these artefacts is trying to consume you.
The door opened, but the person remained at the entrance. Dressed in a black cloak, hiding his features under a hood, his presence nevertheless told of powerful shoulders and a muscular build.
You may enter. Spoke solemnly Jenkins, bowing her head in unison with her students.
The dark figure stepped into the study, searching the room with hidden eyes, it came to rest upon Nether Spirit.
You. The dark shape spoke.
Nether Spirit was visited by a vision, flashing at the speed of light in his minds eye. A picture of dark deeds, of long forgotten rituals and of times well before humanity came to be. He saw the images of the Nameless Ones and of the Spirit People, the countless battles between them and the price his kin paid for it. He saw the dark river, at the bottomless pit of hell, where this being came from, saw the vision of innocents wailing in despair, trapped in it. All this, he saw in the fraction of a second, all this and much more. Such images, that his hosts body couldnt help but throw up there and then. The dark figure stood there motionless, eyes beginning to blaze as he looked at this ancient enemy, from the times before time. Then, it removed its hood, and showed its face to Nether Spirit, he spoke in a tongue only a handful few could understand on earth.
My name is Ghost Starr to these people, what be yours?
Poor guy, he's gonna get it huh?
Voy asked me to post 150 meters for him. This is what he has written not me, just posting for him.
The nature of the sword part 2
They stood there, facing each other, silence occupying the space between them. Nether Spirit, trapped behind a magical detention field, was desperately trying to figure a way out of it. He would not, could not die in such a way, cornered like a rabid dog. While his eyes darted left to right in the room, Ghost Starr had begun to walk calmly towards his sword.
Suit yourself Spirit Warrior, I care not for your name nor for your reasons being here.
A sense of dread began to creep into Nether Spirit, the Nameless Ones had no reasons to be on the earths dimension anymore, unless
What is your claim here, Unknown One, am I to believe the rebirth is coming? Asked Nether Spirit, who had figured his way out at the same time that he spoke those words. Ghost Starr stopped and looked at Jenkins, then at her researchers. Faster than they could react, in three swift motions of the sword, he cut the six scientists down, leaving Mary Jenkins trembling and standing in the middle of the room. Her face and clothes were spattered with blood from the kills, and she looked at Ghost Starr as a rat would a cat.
Leave us. Spoke softly Ghost Starr, winking at Jenkins as he did so. While his back was turned, Nether Spirit pressed his emergency button on his belt, which sent a signal directly to the Apocalypse HQ. When Mary Jenkins disappeared through the door, running and afraid, Nether Spirit felt relieved that she was alive.
You didnt have to kill them. He spoke, while positioning himself inside the limited space he was trapped in, making ready for his move.
Cant be helped, this sword, this blade, hungers all the time for essences of life. He swung it expertly about himself, before letting it rest along his body, like an extension of his arm. I must admit that I am surprised to find one such as you in this plane of existence, and according to the pact, I will banish you. He then raised the sword high above his head, and assumed a fighting stance with the blade pointed towards Nether Spirit.
You will die, trapped like a mouse, Spirit Warrior. Ghost Starr then rushed ahead, dark blade dancing, swift and deadly towards Nether Spirit. Certain, the leader of the Ghost Army was, that there was nothing his enemy could do to break free. So convinced he was, that he made the mistake of rushing headlong towards him. His eyes grew wide when the stool Nether Spirit had been sitting on all day, flew into his forehead where it impacted with great force. Ghost Starrs head snapped backwards, and both his feet flew off the ground. The leader of the Ghost Army landed flat on his back, and his momentum made him slide forward, where he came to rest at Nether Spirits feet.
I was trapped, not the stool, thank you for freeing me. Spoke Nether Spirit, when Ghost Starrs body came to an alt at his feet, brushing away the blue magical dust at the same time. Followed a scuffle between the two of them, which broke every fragile thing in the laboratory, setting free unknown terrors into the world, opening Pandoras Box once more on earth. The two combatants faced each other, testing strengths, flaws and techniques for a few minutes, trying to figure out the other.
Try as he might, Nether Spirit soon realized that his enemy was much stronger than he was, more powerful than he should be. But he fought on with determination and grace, dodging and striking at the right moment, the two fighters were caught in a deadly dance. In a swift motion, Nether Spirit threw over his shoulder his adversary, which sent him crashing through a cement wall, then another. The fight went on two rooms away from the science of magic arts laboratory.
Angry and confused, Ghost Starr nevertheless proved to be an enemy of choice. No sooner had Nether Spirit reached him to resume the battle, no sooner was he kicked with such force, that he too, flew back through two cement walls, to land in a broken heap, back into the magic classroom. They were a match for each other, if not in raw strength and power, certainly in determination.
Were you summoned for the rebirth? He asked the leader of the Ghost Army. Deep inside, part of him never wanted to believe a new war would occur in this plane of existence, but prophecies had a knack for aligning the universal constant of the universe. A Nameless One on earth at the same time that a Spirit Warrior was present, had never been heard of before, only once through a prophetic tale of doom.
I know your friends are coming, but they will be too late. Roared Ghost Starr when his blade sliced in half a wooden table, where Nether Spirit had been standing a moment ago. Seeing the leader of the Ghost Army opened, he side kicked him in the stomach, which sent all the air out of his lungs. He then kneed him in the face with his other leg, and watched him fly backwards, across another table, to vanish in a crashing sound on the other side. Nether Spirit then jumped across the table, to follow through with a deadly throat punch, and as he flew in the air, he understood his mistake.
Ghost Starr had risen much quicker than he had anticipated, it dawned on him at the same time that the cursed blade pierce through his abdomen, exiting out the back. Knees weakening, he buckled on the long study table, both hands holding the blade.
I am unstoppable, Spirit Warrior. Spoke Ghost Starr as he twisted and wrenched out the blade from Nether Sprits chest. Blood poured down freely, the wound was deep and true, his host would not survive long. The room began to roll, and he fell backwards to the floor, bringing a few objects along with him. Ghost Starr shoved the long study table away as if it were a twig, and it went crashing across the room, opening the space between him and Nether Spirit.
Any last words? He asked him as he raised the blade high above his head, in a stabbing motion.
Ka-shik jan. Whispered Nether Spirit as the sword pierced once more the chest of his host.
But it wasnt him, another man felt the pain that was destined for Nether Spirit, one who hadnt had control, nor freedom to decide what happened to his body, in a very long time. Back then, he had been known as Dauntless, an obscure scrapper from the early years of the last decades who had been reported missing a long time ago. A man whom, underneath the mask the Nether Spirit had been wearing, was finally getting his life back, for a brief moment. His eyes saw the screaming angered face of Ghost Starr as the blade pieced through him, through the floor underneath. He felt the agonizing pain of it coming back out of his body, slicing through his organs like hot metal, as his mouth filled with blood, which he spat trying to scream.
Where he was, he did not know, what had happened to him, he could not fathom, how he had gotten here would remain a mystery. Eyes loosing focus, his hand reached across the floor, to a broken picture frame which he grabbed and brought to his bleeding chest. What was so important about that picture, he asked himself, a few seconds before his last breath came.
[ QUOTE ]
Voy asked me to post 150 meters for him. This is what he has written not me, just posting for him.
[/ QUOTE ]
He's gone, isn't he?
Voy has not left he just asked me to post for him.
I am feeling a bit better that my guy isn't in this story. He'd be killed faster then a token black in a horror flick
lol that makes me wonder - Voy are the dead people retired
toons people that left the group or does signing up with Riders
an automatic liscense to allow your toon to be killed in 150
meters?
[ QUOTE ]
lol that makes me wonder - Voy are the dead people retired
toons people that left the group or does signing up with Riders
an automatic liscense to allow your toon to be killed in 150
meters?
[/ QUOTE ]
Riders's motto : Join Riders of Apocalypse and die horribly! (dental plan and pension included!) 
lol - looks that way
bump
A lot of the ones he has killed off are people that do not play anymore. some that have died are still around. I think he has something against our scrappers he has killed off a lot of them.
[ QUOTE ]
A lot of the ones he has killed off are people that do not play anymore. some that have died are still around. I think he has something against our scrappers he has killed off a lot of them.
[/ QUOTE ]
Not to mention if he hasn't killed them, they are severly wounded. Like Brahma Bullseye, my toon, he has a metal leg, and is somewhat crippled, but still works as a hero. he left me to die in the very first 150 meters before he brought it to the Forums. then he left and we never found out what happened. Then with Shadow-Step, a scrapper, he has like one "piece of anatomy" left now. You guys can figure out that part.
[ QUOTE ]
Like Brahma Bullseye, my toon, he has a metal leg, and is somewhat crippled, but still works as a hero. he left me to die in the very first 150 meters before he brought it to the Forums. then he left and we never found out what happened.
[/ QUOTE ]
You mean to tell us there is another story he wrote somewhere???
I guess until Voy renews his account I will be posting 150 for him. I keep telling his wife to force him to, not sure how well that is working.
Task Force: Retribution
Electrobolts office was an austere place, every item in it had a specific position, to center the energies of the room on the red maple desk. Not one to leave anything lying around, the room presented a picture perfect image of tidiness and organisation. Compared with some offices in the Apocalypses HQ, especially Cavaliers, Electrobolt set the example for all to follow. Sitting behind his desk, reviewing headlines from the various newspapers that had covered the Kings Row Massacre, and having read the recent internal reports concerning these events, he sighed heavily and looked at the man sitting across his desk.
Youve put me in a difficult situation, Cavalier.
Sitting straight, uniform in place and hair groomed, Cavalier remained silent, awaiting further comments from his superior, also Chief of Staff for the Super Group.
Newspapers have been feeding themselves into a frenzy about your desertion from the battle line, some calling you a coward, others a deserter. Then here, we have a report that because of you, Hormesis left us and since then has refused flat out to return until you personally apologize for your conduct. Recruits have lost confidence in you, our members feel you need a vacation. Do you realize what kind of day this has been for me so far? Electrobolt was annoyed at having to give a talk down to one the most prestigious icon of Apocalypse, but such were the demands of his job. He handed out promotions for Apocalypse, he reviewed all the dossiers, and on his council, Apocalypse relied.
I have no excuse for my conduct, Bolt. Replied flatly the famous scrapper. If anything, given the circumstances and how the events piled up against me, all I can say is that I lost it.
Loosing it, it happens to all of us, at one time or another. But people in our position cannot afford to do so. Electrobolt slammed the newspaper on the desk, and got up to walk to the window, to look at Steel Canyon. But it still doesnt change the fact that I cant just let it go. Our public image, our prestige, suffered because of it, and the Super Group has to react accordingly.
You want my resignation? Asked Cavalier, standing up at attention, ready to speak the words that would end his relation with Apocalypse once and for all.
No, unless that is, you refuse the decision I am about to render.
I will abide by the decision. Spoke solemnly Cavalier, letting a breath of relief out at the same time.
So be it. Electrobolt turned to face Cavalier and said: Attention. The squared jaw scrapper stiffened himself like a soldier, arms to the side, eyes staring straight ahead.
Cavalier, it is my judgement, which will be reported to the leadership, that you are no longer fit to occupy the rank and duties of Leader of Apocalypse. The scrappers eyes squinted as he heard the words. Electrobolt was well known for his sense of humour, but he also had a reputation for being ruthless when defending the interests of the Super Group. Therefore, and effective immediately, you are suspended from duty.
Oh bloody hell, why dont you just fire me? Replied the Cavalier, anger showing in his reply.
I am not done. Went on Electrobolt, and Cavalier gulped.
Your record up to this date has been an example for others to follow, and I will not see it end this way. I am demoting to the rank of Captain, on probation might I add. If I so much as hear that you stepped out of line, even the sliver of an inch, I am going to send you back to the Academy as a recruit so fast, that you will believe in time travel. A moment of silence passed then : Do you accept my decision?
Sir, yes sir. Replied the scrapper, still at attention.
Then, Captain, you are dismissed. Assemble your team as you see fit, submit your roster to X-ecutioner once you are ready. Electrobolt saluted then turned around to face the city once more, thinking to himself that he hated his job at times. Cavalier made a crisp salute and then left the room, a smile began to make its way across his lips. He walked to his office, happy to find it as it should be, like a tornado had passed through it twice. Sitting down, he flicked the computer screen on, and called up the mission reports and status.
He scrolled down the list, searching and looking for a suitable duty. Apocalypse had made him a Captain once more, but his mindset was such, that he would return to his leadership position soon enough. Eyeing the LCD screen, he found what he was looking for, and registered his name on the task. Bringing up another screen, he called up the entire roster for the Super Group, and searched it thoroughly, then his eyes stopped on a name and grew wide.
Bringing up another page, he reviewed the rules and regulations concerning team rosters and their selections. Specifically, the captains privileges in such matters, and then smiled like a three years old seeing his first horse in a field. He picked up the phone and called X-ecutioners office, but there was no answer. He dialled up central dispatch and asked where X was, to be answered that the tanker was in the building, in the holding blocks. Wasting no time, he took the elevator, and headed down there. Once in the corridor for the interrogation rooms, only one red light was on, and Cavalier headed for that door to open it, saying :
X, I need
Oh god, Im so sorry!
The naked, slim figure of Cymbaline disappeared behind the interrogation table, while X-ecutioner stood stark naked to face him.
God dammit man, havent you ever heard of knocking? He yelled at Cavalier, not even attempting to hide himself from sight. Cymbalines eyes were seen just above the table line, she looked straight at Cavalier.
Hi! She simply said to the famous scrapper.
So sorry guys, didnt mean to, didnt know that, you see I just wanted to
He blurted out, while backing out of the room and closing the door. God, I wish I was blind at times. He muttered while trying to forget what he had just seen.
What do you want? Asked in a strong voice X-ecutioner from the other side of the door.
I just want to verify something with you X. Replied the scrapper.
What? Spoke X with some degree of anger in the voice.
Are Apocalypse Captains permitted and allowed to choose any active members for their missions, or is there a review of it by a Leader?
Captains have free choice, they just need to submit the roster for review to my office, now get the hell out of here will ya?
Thanks X, and sorry for this, no one will know. Replied the scrapper as walked away, a plan had formed in his head, which would redefine some rules for Apocalypse in the future. But for now, he knew that according to rules and regulations, he would get away with it, and repay an old debt to a dear friend.
I don't know where to say 'BOUT DAMN TIME! or fall to my knees and praise jesus