finally!!! 
Absolutely brilliant. Fantastic. Crom is an amazingly complex character... his methods are apalling, and I heartily dislike him... but at the same time I don't really think he's evil and mostly I pity him. My favorite part was Eve's finding the ring... you really know how to inject emotion into a scene.
Can't wait to read more.
[ QUOTE ]
Absolutely brilliant. Fantastic. Crom is an amazingly complex character... his methods are apalling, and I heartily dislike him... but at the same time I don't really think he's evil and mostly I pity him. My favorite part was Eve's finding the ring... you really know how to inject emotion into a scene.
[/ QUOTE ]
QFT
I, Crom is Awesome
Global - @El D
Servers - Protector
Wow!
Now I have a goal to shoot for when writing my own.
I do not know my reasons for posting, but post I must. ~~Build
"We can't stop here, this is bat country."
--Johnny Depp
"I ain't bi-curious, I'm a man. Why do you think I'm wearing this tight spandex and got all these muscles?" Meatwad
Man, I just listened through my archives of City fo Stories, and I remembered how awesome this story is. Give us some more whenever you've got it, Ascendant!
RARR, you people and making posts in this thread! Every time I see it move, I get all excited because I think Acendant wrote another section, and then it's just this. Curse you allllll! 
"If I had Force powers, vacuum or not my cape/clothes/hair would always be blowing in the Dramatic Wind." - Tenzhi
Characters
This is absolutely spectacular stuff, Ascendant!!
I really, really look forward to more.... hopefully soon?
"I want Johnny Sonata to open his Moon Casino so we can have some damn Wailers on the Moon." - Johnny_Butane
"The vet reward for 1200 months of play is we move the servers into your house." - BackAlleyBrawler
A novel(s), have you? I'd buy it...
Brilliant writing, looking forward to the rest.
Is Ascendent still playing? I had the impression that he had ridden off into the sunset. I fear this is as much of Crom's story as we're likely to get.
[ QUOTE ]
Is Ascendent still playing? I had the impression that he had ridden off into the sunset. I fear this is as much of Crom's story as we're likely to get.
[/ QUOTE ]
Ascendant still plays.
Well I'm glad someone reanimated this thread... it has been a great read and I'd love to read more about this twisted genius. I mean, come on... he's gotta see the girl again, right? Maybe take on some American super soldiers?
[ QUOTE ]
Is Ascendent still playing? I had the impression that he had ridden off into the sunset. I fear this is as much of Crom's story as we're likely to get.
[/ QUOTE ]
No, I'm still very much here. There's more coming, I promise.
Ascendant
Now, more than ever, Paragon City needs heroes. Do your part to save it.
[ QUOTE ]
[ QUOTE ]
Is Ascendent still playing? I had the impression that he had ridden off into the sunset. I fear this is as much of Crom's story as we're likely to get.
[/ QUOTE ]
No, I'm still very much here. There's more coming, I promise.
[/ QUOTE ]
YAAAAAY! I'll bring the Dr.Pepper and cookies!
"I want Johnny Sonata to open his Moon Casino so we can have some damn Wailers on the Moon." - Johnny_Butane
"The vet reward for 1200 months of play is we move the servers into your house." - BackAlleyBrawler
Very nicely done sir!
@Oroborous and @Oroborous2
Avatar by HeroPortraitStudios
From the Groundhog Day Attempt at Citadel: GM, "There's no badge for breaking a TF."
simply incredible.
can't wait for more.
most recent 50 - psy/mm blaster
*bump in hopes for more*
most recent 50 - psy/mm blaster
You ebil sonofa.... I got all happy because I thought there was a new installment to this story! 
Seriously though, I'm waiting for more. I enjoy your stories Big A.
Stumbled over this story via the link in the writer's sig. I am astounded by how good this story is. I don't think I have ever seen a character I have been so intrigued with, presented on a forum.
The fact that the storyline just ends... well... it makes me feel like "the Pirates of Dark Water" all over again. 
It's not finished. If you see him, tell him he needs to get back to this!
My Stories
Look at that. A full-grown woman pulling off pigtails. Her crazy is off the charts.
I didn't mean "end" as in "finished" but "end" as in "stopped abruptly." His last comment in the thread is that he is still working on it after all.
Yes Ascendant your fans wait impatiently.
Master Gabriel
*shameless bump*
I bugged him about this the other day, let's see if we can get more people and pester him for the finale!
Alibi
Ravensbürg Concentration Camp, Germany
December 22, 1944
Crom observed the Camp below him as he did every hour. It was close enough to his camouflaged temporary base of operations that he could easily make out individual guards and prisoners through the standard-issue Kriegsmarine binoculars he had enhanced for clarity, focus and nightvision. The “base” he had built secretly overlooking the German Camp was just a small room dug out of a few square meters of dirt, but Crom was certain that it would accomplish his goals without discovery. Furthermore, once he departed it for good and was actually On Site, a series of explosives would render the immediate area indistinguishable from a random artillery shelling.
The evening was unexpectedly chilly, and Crom noted the pain in his deliberately broken, imperfectly healed bones. He quickly recalculated his transit times to take into account his reduced mobility.
Timing, after all, would be everything.
His objective would be difficult even in the best of circumstances, but to his advantage, the Germans kept to schedules if they were part of a religion governed by a particularly unforgiving god, which, upon further reflection, he admitted was probably true in a sense. Still, as far as Crom was concerned, predictability was a weakness well evidenced by history. He was thankful that he Germans had seemingly failed to notice that particular drawback.
Robot drones, launched from the extensively rebuilt U-Boat Crom had taken from Ross Island to the coast of Europe, had dutifully mapped out the area surrounding Crom's target for days. They flew quietly on pulse jet engines, the champagne pop of their engines' firing every half second easily lost in wind between them and the surface more than a kilometer below. They obediently relayed their findings back to a heavily refitted U-Boat a hundred kilometers south. The Lothar unit aboard the automated vessel studied them and transmitted its suggestions back to the drones, which passed them back down to the portable Lothar system in Crom's makeshift, one-room base.
The drones also tracked the movements of axis and allied units, from bomber squadrons to individual platoons, and reported what they found back to Crom via a signal he had designed specifically to sound like common static. Crom took some grim amusement that among all the superpowers fighting in the conflict, he alone had the full view of what was happening.
The camp was moderately fortified, designed to keep people in and relying on the rest of Germany to keep them out. It wouldn't take much to get in, but it would take an army to get out. In that respect, Crom suspected he would have little concern.
Crom examined the output from Lothar, and considered it against what he was personally able to observe through the binoculars. Tonight, he noted, everyone was in their proper places.
Yes, he thought as he noted the positions of the nearby Allied forces, tonight is definitely the night.
He pressed a button, and watched the chaos unfold.
They seemingly came from nowhere, which was, of course, not true. In truth, the squad of soldiers erupted out of the ground as if given birth by it. They had been buried in the road, just over the rise of the hill, for over a week, dormant, quiet, but most of all, unexpected.
The soldiers trudged towards the gate of the camp, their guns firing occasionally, never needing more than three bullets to kill a given target. Round after round of enemy bullets tore into them, but they continued striding forward, killing anything that dared try to stand against them.
By the time they reached the front gates, their US Army uniforms were in tatters-- not surprising, since that had been more or less their condition when Crom looted off of a full platoon of former American “heroes” unfortunate enough to happen across his path to the Camp. The sophisticated rubber compound that composed their faces was enough to make them look human from a distance; by the time an observer noticed how lifeless their expressions were, or how empty their eyes were, they'd be dead.
Across the Camp, alarms sounded, and soldiers moved to counter the seemingly unstoppable American soldiers moving inexorably towards the main gate. Even as they did, drones above the Allied command post fifty kilometers north flooded the radio waves with static, and the Lothar system aboard Crom's refitted U-Boat began barking instructions in a surprisingly convincing imitation of the Allies' local radio operators.
Within the hour, every combat capable Allied asset within twenty kilometers would be at the camp. By the time they arrived, however, Crom expected there would be little for them to do.
Crom hurried down the ridge towards the Camp, sticking to a path he had selected days ago, and personally run enough times that he was familiar with every possible obstacle or snare. His very skeleton protested at this-- many of his hastily healed bones were literally grinding against his muscle tissue, but that, he conceded, was to be expected.
The night was briefly lit up as the invincible “American soldiers” detonated the camp's main administration building, precisely on time. From his current vantage point, Crom was able to make out the chaos in the camp a few hundred meters away. Guards, painted in amber hues by the flames from the burning building, were rushing to assist the dwindling defenders at the Camp's front gate. Once the flames died down, he crossed the 50 meters of no-man's land that stretched between the forest and the camp, then spent a few terrifying moments cutting away at the outer fence.
He expected that history would record this as being the the only time someone had ever willingly broken into a concentration camp, then chuckled and discarded the thought. If he was successful, history would never know his actions tonight.
Once in the Camp, Crom kept low, ignoring the protests of his malnourished body and battered frame as he ducked between the prisoner housing buildings, gagging at the pervasive stink of human waste and death. He finally made it to his objective: solitary confinement. The boxes were only a square meter in size, built by efficient German engineers to be too cramped to afford sleep to the occupant, too hot to ensure their prolonged survival.
There was still a guard there, although his attention was clearly directed towards the conflict at the main gate. Crom crept to within a few meters, then pulled what had once been Erikson's Luger and took careful aim. A sudden explosion gave him cover enough to fire the weapon, and the guard was dead before he hit the ground.
Crom examined the dead guard for a moment before turning his attention to the solitary confinement cells. There were no locks on them, just a U-shaped metal rod that kept the door's latch in place. Crom removed the first one, and opened the cell.
The stench hit him like a solid blow. The man inside was old, beaten, and covered in his own filth. Across his frail body were wounds, untreated and infected, seeping pus. He held up his hands defensively, assuming from long experience that Crom was another German intent on visiting violence upon him.
“Please, I am to be having no threat to you,” the man said in broken German.
“I know,” Crom answered in fluent Yiddish.
Upon hearing his native language, the man's eyes lit up with hope. “You're not a German?” he asked.
“No,” Crom replied, “I'm not a German.”
“Then you're here to rescue us?”
Crom considered the question for a moment.
“I'm here to rescue us.” He gestured to the prisoner quarters, and then to himself.
He waited until a protracted staccato of machine gun fire could cover the sound of the gun's report before firing the Luger at the prisoner's head.
“Unfortunately,” he whispered with genuine sadness, “I'm not here to rescue you.”
Ascendant
Now, more than ever, Paragon City needs heroes. Do your part to save it.
Yes, it's back!
"If I had Force powers, vacuum or not my cape/clothes/hair would always be blowing in the Dramatic Wind." - Tenzhi
Characters
Departure
Mount Terror
Ross Island, Antarctica
December 3, 1944
Solitude was nothing new to Crom; all his life he had eschewed the company of others to purse his own ends in peace. However, until now, people had always been nearby, so the choice had always been his to make. Since taking over the base, though, he no longer possessed the option of human contact. For the first time in his life, he was truly alone. He didnt mind; aside from Eve, there was no one in the outside world he truly cared about. If anything, he felt relieved that he didnt have to suffer any further distraction.
He had built ingenious devices to scan the outside worlds radio waves, and in this way he kept abreast of the changes that occurred in the World of Man. Over time, however, he found that the news his equipment gleaned from distant antennas to be of less and less interest, and thus rededicated himself to his work.
He was becoming increasingly successful at his work, too. He spent those solitary months pushing the boundaries of science with an alacrity which even astonished him. Free of all interruptions save the need to eat and sleep, he developed entirely new theories on energy, matter, even the very structure of the universe itself. He pioneered fields of science which would not even occur to the rest of the scientific community for decades to come.
In no case was his research theoretical, however. Every theory he pursued had been required by need or problem, and every hypothesis which bore fruit was given an immediate application. He devised weapons and equipment far beyond the grasp of his contemporaries, all of which were dedicated toward fulfilling his destiny.
The base also grew to suit his purposes. His ever-improving robots toiled endlessly in the depths, carving out new rooms as Crom dictated. Still more of them spent time building machinery and devices which had been nothing more than a random thought in Croms mind a few days prior. The bases defenses were updated almost constantly as Croms relentless mind would determine some new vulnerability and just as quickly devise a way to counter it. If mens homes were their castles, Croms home would be nothing less than a citadel.
He would often muse that it would take nothing short of an extremely powerful bomb to force him to leave his beloved Citadel against his will.
That was, ironically, exactly what happened.
He had known the U-Boat was in the area for several hours. Robotic sentries, cleverly disguised to look and sound like whales, had detected the German submarine long before it reached the Citadel and relayed its position to the Command Center. Crom was, unfortunately, accustomed to the occasional visit from the German Navy, so much so that it threatened to become routine.
Five times since he had claimed the base, U-Boats had arrived, filled with frightened refugees, and five times, the automated response mechanisms in the Command Center had dutifully sent Bruckner's codes, supposedly proving that the base was safe and ready to accept them.
Five times, Crom had paused in his work as the Citidels lights dimmed and the docking cavern glowed with artificial lightning.
Five times, the Citadel had stunk of ozone and charred flesh for days.
He hoped each one would be the last; he didnt enjoy killing defenseless men under any circumstances, but he knew he couldnt let them go, either. So, he consoled himself afterwards with the thought that perhaps no more would follow. It was, after all, possible that the handful Germans who knew of the base's existence had finally run out. It was also possible that the remaining members of the High Command had deduced that there was nothing awaiting them at the base other than a swift death, and now sought new places to hide. Inevitably, though, a handful of weeks later, a chime would ring through the hallways of the Citadel to announce the arrival of a new submarine full of casualties.
This time, a second chime rang out a few hours later, announcing the need for his immediate supervision. Something was different with this visitor, and any departure from the clockwork routine he had come to expect from the German Navy was potentially dangerous.
Upon arriving at the Command Center, he scanned the transcripts of the U-Boats conversation thusfar with the Logical Operation Terminal Human-like Automated Responder. Unlike the previous U-Boats, which had simply requested clearance to dock, this one was requestingdemanding, in fact-- an immediate audience with the bases chief Scientist as well as the highest ranking Intelligence Officer.
Crom pondered this for several moments, then, sitting at the transponder, keyed in a response.
Permission Granted. Requested staff will meet you at dock.
36 hours later, the last survivor of U-734 woke up. He was seated in a chair in front of a small table inside of a featureless room. There was a man standing in front of him, holding a familiar looking folder. The man placed the folder on the table.
Good. You're awake, the man said, Your name is Krieger, correct? Oberstleutnant Krieger, attached to Ausland-SD, Department B, yes?
The survivor nodded, then asked, What happened?
There was an accident which incapacitated the crew of your U-Boat, Oberstleutnant. Fortunately, you were close enough to the docks for us to effect a rescue. This was partially true; Crom had harpooned the side of the U-Boat shortly before it docked and filled it with anesthetic gas. He had been interrogating them on an individual basis since then.
The man seated himself at the opposite end of the table and studied Krieger with opaline eyes. He slid the folder across the table. We're going to talk about this intriguing bit of intelligence you've picked up, Oberstleutnant."
He paused briefly, then leaned in, placing an old doctor's bag on the table. His next words were simply a whispered promise.
"By the time I leave this room, I expect to know everything you know about this 'Manhattan Project'.
Ascendant
Now, more than ever, Paragon City needs heroes. Do your part to save it.