Grey's Army

“You guys aren’t in there yet!?”

Draven Erickson snatched Psycho13 back from the Longbow Warden on duty. She crossed her arms and glared at the bWo’s de facto leader.

“Sorry about him. He’s a little screwy in the head.”

“Regardless,” the Warden rolled her eyes derisively, “We’re assigned here to ensure nobody goes in without proper authority… There’s some pretty nasty fighting going on down there, and we’re waiting for proper support before we neutralize the situation.”

“Well, hey!” Draven waved his arms to his sides and gave the Warden a big grin, “Here we are, ‘Support!’ Let’s get crackin!”

The Warden laughed at his face, held him back with one hand and denied him entry.

“I’m afraid what’s going on down there is a tad above your security level…”

“We’re heroes!” King Slater suddenly shouted over his brother-in-arms, “Security Level doesn’t mean anything in these situations! We’re here! This is within our capability!”

“Regardless, you’re hardly the support we’re waiting for…”

“The longer you keep us here,” The Kingdale Referee got in her face, sneering and waving a finger under her nose, “the higher the chances the heroes and innocent people down there won’t survive! We were called in to help! Stand aside!”

“Despite wearing a sports-official’s uniform-“ the Warden began but was abruptly cut off.

“Hey guys! There’s another entrance over here! And it’s unguarded!”

“HEY!” the Warden tried to stop them, but a sudden gust of wind knocked her off her feet.

“I apologize,” Project Whirlwind bowed to her, “But I feel our purpose here is far more important than your bureaucracy. I hope you do not suffer professionally for allowing us to pass.”

The group ran into the side tunnel and presently found themselves staring down a set of sewers. The Kingdale Referee stood back at the entrance for a second, yelling at various Freedom Corps troopers to get their courage up and follow them. Surprisingly, the Warden decided to assign a fire team to them, and their small reinforcement operation was bolstered significantly.

“You guys got a minigun?”

“Even better!” the heavy-set dark skinned male exclaimed, “We’ve got TWO!”

He and his partner reached to their backs and drew their miniguns. They seemed bigger than a person could handle, but apparently Freedom Corps troopers all had something “super” about them. The small, cute blonde drew out a sniper rifle and the dark skinned female wielded one of the “super rifles” that were often designated to blaster types.

“Okay…” Draven shrugged, “You a Nullifier or just a Sergeant?”

“Just a Sergeant. Come on, Draven, let’s get this started!”

“Alright! Ref! Announce us!”

The Kingdale Referee flicked a switch at his hip and glared down the tunnel. Draven and Slater signaled the Freedom Corps troopers to cover their ears as Dale took a deep breath…

“AND NOW! PRESENTING! … IN THIS COOOOOOORNEEERRRRRRRRRRRRRR… Weighing in at a combined weight of ONE Thousand two-Hundred-and-SevENTYFIVE pounds… THE BRUTAL WARRIORS OOOOOOOOOORDERRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR!”

“How’d he know our combined weight?” the Sergeant pulled Draven aside, bewilderment and disgust evident on her face.

“Our communicators have scanners and calculators built into them,” Draven shrugged, “And you should feel fine. You only weigh in at a hundred. That’s great for a woman with muscles… and might I say, you look particularly fine…”

“I don’t know whether to smack you, or kiss you…”

“Hey, if you’re gonna hit me, hit me!”

*SMACK*

Draven stared at her in bewilderment for a moment.

“My mistake…” he finally said as he turned back to the task at hand and drew his sword, “Was opening my mouth…”

“You can say that again,” King Slater laughed at him.

“PAY ALL THE PEOPLE YOU LO-OVE…” Psycho13 screamed into the Referee’s microphone, “WITH A RIVER OF BLOOD… And don’t forget TO-“

“PSYCHO!” Draven interrupted, “Shut it!”

“Aw…”

“Look, man, I know you’re all hyped up and have MSI rattling around inside your skull through the holes in your brain, but now isn’t the time or place… Now get ready! Here they come!”

And no sooner had he said it, than the rear ranks of the Restructurist Lost burst from the dark.

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Randall Grey could hear the battlecries and screams of pain all around him. His granite encased limbs flailed about savagely and caught many of the Rikti troops full in the face, knocking them out cold. He saw Kipland Durj go flying, screaming, across his vision and traced the young man's flight back to his point of origin.

The purple-armored Rikti Commander.

With a savage roar, Randall stormed forward, the weight of his bizarre armor hardly hindering him, and he full on body-checked the commander. Unfortunately, the Rikti brought his blade up to absorb most of the impact and was knocked back a few feet but not really hurt.

The Commander chuckled through his armor and pointed at Randall.

“Situation: Duel… Combatants: You and Me. Irony: This is fitting. Considering the fact that you were the one that halted my unit’s assault to the west.”

“You’re the dastard that kidnapped my wife and tried to steal my daughter!” Randy’s irises started to turn white, “I… I’m gonna… RRRRRRRRRAAAAAAAAAAAAAARGH!”

The granite armor disappeared, replaced with the other peculiar types of rock-based armor other stone tankers used. In this mode, he hit harder and could move easier. He especially liked how the magma and stone wrapped around his fists. He didn’t notice it improve his damage output, but then, he didn’t really care too much. There was more hurting to be done…

The Commander was sent hurtling into the ceiling with a vicious uppercut and as he fell, a forearm smash to the chest sent him barreling into some of his troops. Randall was on top of him almost immediately, his Roots slowing him no more than the Granite Armor (though, if he were to combine the two, he’d barely be able to move…). He rained blows upon the Commander, but was eventually pushed back with a few choice slashes across his chest and against his arms.

He backed a few steps, clutched his head, and suddenly could feel the concrete beneath rejuvenating his body. He gritted his teeth and charged forward again, but caught the blade straight in his face.

“DAAAAAAAD!” Cedric screamed and started to charge to his father’s side, but Randy’s massive paw of a hand raised up and waved him back to his previous targets.

“I can handle this, son,” Randy grinned, “It don’t hurt no more than that chainsaw I took to the face when I was twenty-three!”

“Disbelief: You must be lying…” The Rikti pulled the blade away to reveal his sword had cut into a faint, wind-burnt and age-weathered scar, cleaved into by a surprisingly rapidly healing sword-cut.

“Got it before I got these fancy rocks growing out of my skin,” Randy’s gravelly voice growled, “It was an accident, but a dangerous one nonetheless. Felt like I got punched in the face, then I felt my lower lip next to my chin…”

“Disgusted: I think I’ll just kill you now.”

“You’re welcome to try!”

Randy caught the blade as it came down with his left hand, pulled it toward him and to the left, and gave a hard jab to the Commander’s armored faceplate. A resounding “DONG!” echoed even over the fighting and he followed it up with a series of punches to the armored chest of his enemy.

Back in the rear ranks, Sarah was getting Sheldon’s attention.

“You know, nnh… Sheldon… We could really use some crowd control in here… I’m getting tired… And a headache…”

Sheldon’s SMGs suddenly started clicking and he unceremoniously dropped them to the floor and extended his hands to the enemy. His expression never changed from its neutrally placid, stoic mask of determination.

“I know, Sarah, I have some stims on my belt, you can use them if you need… For now… Things are going to get very cold for me…”

His gloves hummed and crackled simultaneously, and suddenly, whole swaths of Lost and Rikti found themselves stuck in place, their bodies frozen in their last action before being caught in Sheldon’s invisible grip. The technological controller then waved his hands and a few of the injured refugees near the enemies found their bodies being instantly rejuvenated by nanites that required a kinetic contact with the enemy before unleashing their medicinal potential. He also threw a number of power siphons that boosted the fighters near him while draining some of the frozen. He breathed a sigh of relief that those kinetic nanites actually found their marks.

However, his fusion cells were severely drained, and his technology started draining from his body heat. Instantly, he broke out in a cold sweat from trying to keep the enemies in place. He gritted his teeth, though, and dug in. He had people counting on him, and couldn’t afford to botch this now.

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Psycho13 went down in a flurry of shotgun blasts with Lost Headmen all around him. Draven and Slater tried to get to him, but it was too late. The scrawny scrapper’s body sank into the sewage and was promptly best left forgotten. The Freedom Corps troopers stuck around the Referee and Project Whirlwind, pumping a seemingly never-ending stream of ammunition into the Lost and Rikti, trying to keep them at bay.

They had pushed past a number of chokepoints and Erickson could have sworn the fighting was getting louder… But it was probably his imagination. They were currently at a point where the sewer ended, though, and a solid concrete floor began. Unfortunately, it seemed Psycho just got sucked under the concrete into places no man, woman, or any living thing for that matter, was meant to go.

Whirlwind kept hitting the heroes with enriched Oxygen, making Draven a little light headed, but he seemed to be thinking easier and the sewer suddenly didn’t smell as bad. Slater seemed to be getting the same effects, and his Black Mauler drove home many times, toppling Headmen and Rikti alike. As more Restructurists arrived, however, all looked lost. It seemed the bWo and their new allies weren’t going to be able to push any further.

Then Psycho13 leapt up out of the water, black water dribbling out of his pulled back lips in a perpetual sneer that seemed to show his utter disdain for all things that seek his friends and him harm. He was a peculiar creature, prone to odd behavior, and this was no different. Draven did himself a favor in not considering how much of the water the weird little man may have drank, and instead focused on the fighting. Not that there was much left for him to do at this point.

Psycho leapt forward, yanking a pair of crude, "three-knives-duct-taped-together" claws from his belt and started carving his way into the midst of the enemy. He hacked and slashed at the Lost and Rikti who got too close and worked his way into the center of the group. When he seemed surrounded, he leapt up on one Headman, kicked at a nearby Rikti, then wrapped his legs around his victim’s head, snapped himself backward, raking his claws on the nearest enemy on his way down, and executed a “hurricanrana” on the Lost soldier, dragging his face into the sewage. As he scrambled back to his feet, he kicked several times where he figured the Restructurist’s head was, and was rewarded with the sensation of something giving. A small pop issued from the water and a trickle of red started to flow toward the underbelly of the concrete.

The other soldiers weren’t given a chance to get retribution for their fallen comrades, as Psycho13’s sudden and insane assault had given the rest of the bWo and their Freedom Corps allies the chance to catch their breath and rejoin the attack with bolstered determination.

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Sheldon almost collapsed from hypothermia, but Nester was suddenly there, slamming his friend with a healing bolt that restored his core temperature. The “Empathy” defender then tossed a couple stims and fusion cell batteries to Sheldon before jumping back to the fray.

In the center of the Rikti, Randall still duked it out with the Commander. The two didn’t seem to be getting weaker on either side, though the Commander’s forces were noticeably dwindling. Whatever resources the Restructurist troops had were being immediately scavenged by the human refugees and the heroes and Outcasts, thus helping them outlast the enemy and survive the seemingly hopeless battle.

At the entrance to the ruin’s main chamber, the Lost and Rikti suddenly fell inward, some dead, some unconscious, some dying or severely injured. A force bubble suddenly emerged from the opening there and a group of heroes and red-and-white clad Freedom Corps troopers stormed through, whooping and cheering excitedly. They seemed to be led by a man in a red coat…

Joe Durnan gave a brief bark of a cheer before a burst from his assault rifle drowned him out. The Restructurists were falling and there was nothing they could do about it.

“Randy! Ran!”

The Rikti Commander chuckled briefly as he swung at Randall Grey, then deftly deflected his swing to the tanker’s right. There was a sickening “slurch” sound and Randall turned to see his friend, Bob, dropping back from a vicious wound that left his chest gaping. The old, bald man’s eyes and mouth were open wide, his eyes seeing nothing but white, his lower lip quivering as his body’s nerves fired from the unfamiliar pain.

"What?" Randy asked in the moment of frozen time, "What were you thinking?"

Nester was there, suddenly, and pumping a steady stream into Bob’s open wounds. The man’s eyes were almost glazed over.

“BAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHB!” Randy shouted.

“Don’t you die on me, Short-stuff!” Nester yelled, “I’m looking forward to making fun of your height for years to come! Dammit, man! Don’t you give up on me! You’re made of tougher stuff than this!”

Randy turned to the Commander, who was in the middle of a swing aimed for the gruff tanker’s head. Randy sung his left fist around and smashed the blade aside, denting it. The next thing Randy knew, all he saw was red, and there was a horrible, jarring crunching sound that just kept repeating over and over. When he came to, he was holding the Commander’s broken armored body over his head and was preparing to throw him through the nearest wall.

“He has a wife! He’s got kids! You sonova[censored]! I’m gonna [censored] kill you!”

He threw the Rikti Commander through the wall and saw that he had done severe damage to the alien’s armor. There were parts dented in that he didn’t realize could dent, and little bolts and panels falling off that normally would have protected the pale gray skin of his arms and extremities. He wasn’t dead, however, and stood uncertainly from the injuries he had sustained. The left wrist of his armor popped open and he pressed a few buttons. Randall realized the Commander was attempting to flee and started storming forward.

He tripped a little on the Commander’s sword. Inspired, he reached down and picked up the wicked weapon. The Commander seemed to be having trouble with his device, and started rattling it against the wall. A few sparks issued from the device, but it otherwise did nothing.

Then, the Commander’s own sword was through his chest. The fighting stopped instantly. Lost, Rikti, Outacsts, refugees, and Grey’s Army all stood and stared at the purple armored Rikti who lurched back into the room, his own weapon impaling him straight through his torso. Randall Grey gritted his teeth satisfactorily and calmly walked toward the Commander, who was struggling to stand.

“Condition: Wounded,” he heard in his head, “Status: Mortal. I’m dying, and it’s thanks to you… You fought me… man-to-like-man… Your army faced mine… I concede defeat… Everything’s going dark… I ask… I ask that you shake my hand before I fall…”

Randall caught him by the shoulder as the Commander stumbled and held him upright. The rage on his face from earlier had disappeared, replaced with stark bewilderment, but the big man complied with the handshake.

“Last wish: Take my sword and know my name…” the Commander was bleeding profusely at this point, “I am Oet’Ko’Ertt… I was a middling… middle commander in the Rikti forces that… that never… never should have come here. I… I apologize for the pain I’ve caused you… Randall Grey… Regret: I will not get to see my wife… my children… We were quite similar… you and I… Pity we met under these… these circumstances… All is going black now…”

Randall laid the Commander on his back.

“All is dark. My mind is leaving me… Goodbye, troops. Farewell... my worthy enemy…”

Randall waited for a few minutes, then pulled the wicked sword from the Commander’s chest.

The War Under Boomtown was over, and the rescue of Charlene Daring Grey and the Dregs/Refugees was complete.

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My Stories

Look at that. A full-grown woman pulling off pigtails. Her crazy is off the charts.

The refugees were preparing to leave. Wounds were being bandaged, Nester was busy trying to revive Bob Jones, and anybody who could walk was busy packing what items they needed for the trip back to the Steel Canyon entrance.

“Martin…” Randall grunted at the refugee leader, “This fight… It proves these people could have left at any time…”

“We tried, Randy,” the bum replied, “In here… This is our turf. We know the lay of this place… Out there… Anything would get us. These Outcasts here? They’re the nice ones. Others would burn us down just as fast as the Council would use us for target practice. Trolls enjoyed playing ‘Tug-of-War’ with some of the older ones… Do I need to continue? I’m not some cult leader. I didn’t want these people stuck here any more than they did.”

“You still could’ve made a run for it…”

“Yeah…” Martin nodded, “And then we’d be far fewer than what survived this small war, here.”

“Amazingly, you were able to win this fight…”

“Only with your help.”

Freedom Corps troops started filtering in and helping with the wounded. The Warden that had stood in the bWo’s way earlier was stalking through the ranks, seemingly looking for something.

“I wonder why she’s here…” Randall intoned when she approached the Outcasts.

“What are your names?” she asked the orange-skinned fire tanker.

“Uh… I’m… Ashen Roast,” he replied, “This is Blizzard Front and that’s Microburst.”

“Michael…” Microburst sobbed as one of their compatriots wrapped a bandage around his leg, “I don’t care what I have to do… I’m getting out of this crap and taking back my old life… This [censored] is too [censored] crazy…”

The other Outcast members mumbled their names and repeated them as necessary. The Warden then made her way through the ranks of refugees, getting their names and plugging them into her communicator.

“Wow…” Draven breathed to Kipland, “It’s great to see you guys again… I haven’t seen you since high school…”

“Considering the fact we went to different schools, I guess I should be flattered you remember me,” Kip replied glumly, one of his eyes swollen shut.

“Well, not really, man. We did hire your brother to write some scripts for us…”

“Yeah,” Kip grunted and looked up to the ruin’s entrance, “What the…”

In strode the man, the myth, the icon, the legend… Statesman himself…

“Holy jumpin’ jehosafat!” Psycho13 screeched when he saw the newcomer and promptly leapt out of the way.

“What the [censored] is HE doing here?” Draven dropped to a crouch and hissed in the other scrapper’s ear.

“Massive Rikti movement across the city…” Kipland gathered his composure as he took stock of the new situation, “You said Freedom Corps was waiting for support… I bet he was it…”

“Yeah, but why?”

“He was ‘The Man’ when the Rikti attacked…” Kipland noticed Randall making a bee-line for Statesman, “This is either a show-of-force… or… Uh-oh… Gotta go…”

Kipland got to the two just in time for Randall to start getting agitated. It seemed Statesman didn’t like how this situation had gone down…

“Your supergroup has already been reprimanded…” the epitome of all champions for justice was in the middle of a long speech, one that was turning the larger tank’s face red with rage, “And now you pull a sloppy stunt like this…”

“You know as well as anybody else, that Cube incident had more than just my boys workin’ on it! Even Blue was in our corner on that one! You just needed someone to pin the blame on for it all getting out of hand…”

Statesman was unfazed, “Regardless, your group took responsibility then, and now… This situation could have been handled much better…”

“You sure as Hell got that right! Draven over there tells me your spandex troopers weren’t coming down here to help us until one of you showed up! We could have used ‘em a Hell of a lot sooner and a whole lot more than who came down!”

“They had their orders…”

“There were people down here who needed saving!”

“We had to be sure there weren’t more coming…” Statesman looked over the bloody expanse of concrete floor, “Besides… Despite the fact you were able to hold off the invaders, you were excessive. Lethal force is not sanctioned…”

“WHAT!?”

Randall towered over Statesman, but everybody in the room knew the smaller was far more powerful. The city’s champion knew this as well, as he stood his ground calmly before the massive tank.

“You need to learn to control yourself.”

Kipland saw the situation deteriorating and piped up, “Randall.”

“What was that, Statesman?” Randy’s voice dropped a few decibels…

“Randall…”

“You wanna tell me that again?”

“Randy!”

“You wanna tell that to the rest of these people, Statesman?”

“Randall!”

“Huh!? YOU wanna tell THESE people THEY can’t fight for their LIVES… YOU STAR-SPANGLED-SACK-OF-“

“RANDALL!”

Randall rounded on Kip, his face contorted in a mangled mask of rage that, up to this point, had only been reserved for Praetorians and arch villains…

“WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAT!?”

Kipland’s face, despite being marred, was stoic, and resolute.

“Go sit down.”

Randall’s head twitched back and forth. He was hanging on to reality by only a thread.

“Randall… I have a lot of respect for you. You and I have been through a lot here, in this city and back home…”

Kipland steeled himself. If he couldn’t get through to his boss in this crucial moment, all the progress he had made as a hero, all the progress his friends and family had made, would be lost in an instant. He could hardly believe he was in this situation again. The last time was in the aftermath of the Cube Incident, when he and Cory stood by Randall and had to convince a panel of Freedom Phalanx and Vindicator heroes to go easy on Grey’s Army. They were lucky that time… It turned out Council troops had been o the move all over the city under the orders of the twisted Archon Jazt, and nobody was able to put the puzzle pieces together in time. That didn’t stop Grey’s Army from being the fall guys for the slip-up. That had been Kip’s first time meeting Sister Psyche, Citadel, Infernal, Mynx, and Valkyrie… It was not a situation he wanted to repeat, especially not so soon. Such first impressions could be disastrous for a hero’s career…

“As second-in-command of Grey’s Army, I’m taking over in this on the grounds that I recognize you are unfit to handle the situation… Cory! I need you as a witness!”

“I bear witness,” Cory suddenly materialized beside Randall on the other side of Statesman.

Randall Grey was probably the only other man, aside from Statesman, that the two boys truly admired. The fact that they had to choose between the two was grating at them, but both recognized the correct choice in this instance. Randall was right, but he couldn’t articulate the proper notions or voice the correct words… He was too distraught and this whole series of fights and struggles was taking its toll.

“We’re not turning on you, Randy,” Kip’s voice dropped to a calming tone, “But you aren’t right for this… You’ve been through too much in too short a time… Far more than any of us… No man should have to watch his wife and children risk their lives like you just did… And then there’s everything else. Randy… I am not going to risk the integrity of this supergroup, that all of us, you especially, have poured so much of our blood sweat and tears into because you’re emotionally distraught. Please…”

He gazed into his boss’s sunken eyes and peered as well as he could into the Grey patriarch’s soul.

“Go sit down and be with your wife.”

Randall swayed a little as the gravity of what just happened dawned on him. Pressing his lips together, he turned back to Statesman, whose face was still stoically indifferent, and grunted an apology for his behavior.

“That isn’t to say I take back anything I said…” he thought on it, “Or was about to say. So if you’ve got any beef with it… Take it out on me some other time… Just leave these guys out of it.”

“Some other time, then,” Statesman intoned, then turned to Kip “Now… You… What do you have to say on behalf of your group?”

“We weren’t wrong,” Kip shrugged, “We sent information on the situation to Freedom Corps as soon as we realized what was happening. A request to help these people out of here had already been filed by Cedric and Roland Grey a couple days ago… The Rikti just happened to get fed up with their presence before the bureaucracy allowed for a proper evacuation to take place. We did what we could to save these people’s lives… lives that aren’t keyed into the hospital matrix reclaimators, mind you… and in the process, a lot of people, on both sides, died…”

He turned Statesman’s attention to a series of cloth-draped bodies. The refugees were quietly and tearfully preparing them for transport. Some of them were just mourning…

“There’s maybe one more we’ll be adding to this pile… My brother, Nester, and a group of the medics are working to save the man’s life… he had been trying to hit Randall over there with “reds” and “yellows” in the fight with the Rikti Commander.”

“Where is the Commander?”

“Dead. It’s kind of hard to survive a war blade through the chest. In any case, Bob’s in trouble over there… You want to go over there and tell him he’s dying because he was fighting too hard?”

“That’s hardly fair,” Statesman countered.

“Neither is your lording over us like this,” Kipland replied, “Don’t get me wrong, Sir, I have a lot of respect for you. You’re one of the inspirations why I do what I do, and I am happy for this opportunity you’ve presented for people like me to prove ourselves in this grand city…”

“As such, I would expect you to obey the rules you’ve been given…”

“This was not a situation where we could do that, Sir.”

“There is no excuse…”

Kip gestured to the corpses, “Tell them that.”

They were silent for a few seconds.

“I know, it’s not fair… But neither was what we just had to go up against. Nor was how these people have had to struggle for their lives since the War ended. I’m sad to say we never would have known of their plight if it weren’t for the fact we had personal reasons for looking…”

Statesman nodded in understanding.

“Look… I know this wasn’t handled in a discreet manner… I know things got out of hand… and… sadly… innocent lives were lost… But we did our damnedest to win this, and we gave our all. You need to recognize, this was an all-or-nothing situation, Sir. You can’t just let these people’s lives have ended for nothing but the arrest of my compatriots and I… You can’t tell these people that we ‘fought too hard…’ It just doesn’t make sense.”

Statesman thought on Kip’s words for a minute before finally answering.

“You know that this will be a ‘buried’ story, right?”

“Whatever it takes,” Kipland replied, “If you’ve gotta take credit for beating the Rikti back, that’s fine by me. I don’t think anybody here will be too bothered by it, either…”

“I don’t do that. This story won’t be hitting the news, however…”

“But… Most of the city already saw a Rikti Army head for Boomtown…”

“True, and the news will mention they’ve been dealt with…”

“But it won’t say by whom…”

“Your victory here will be registered in Freedom Corps’ official logs, however. You all deserve that much.”

“Thank you, sir.”

Statesman then turned to the Warden in charge of the Freedom Corps troops and set to work hammering out the details of the aftermath. The Outcasts involved with the rescue each got full pardons. Orders to bring in an escort for the refugees were placed on priority and a series of helicopters were en route. Finally, Grey’s Army was credited in the Freedom Corps logs for halting the Rikti Restructurist uprising, but steps were put in place to bury the story in the news.

“Kip! Kip!” Nester ran over to his brother excitedly.

“What, man?” Kip’s nerves were shot and he was sitting in a dark corner, shaking uncontrollably.

“We saved him! Bob’s gonna be okay!”

“That’s good news, man.”

“Are you alright?” Nester started keying in a command for mind-clearing nanites, “You’re looking kind of pale…”

“He’s fine,” Roland Grey walked over with a mug full of steaming liquid and handed it to Kip, “Just a little shock, is all.”

“I was hoping that when I finally got to meet Statesman, it would be under better circumstances,” Kip took a sip of the liquid and his shaking eased a little, “Tea?”

“Joe,” Roland replied, “When I need to ease my nerves, a cup o’ joe always helps.”

“You guys call me?” Durnan called from the group of refugees he was helping pack items Freedom Corps wanted to take in for study.

“No man, just talking about coffee,” Roland hollered back.

“Huh…” Kip almost chuckled, “A stimulant to calm nerves…”

“Yeah… yeah, that is odd.”

“So, are you gonna be okay, Kip?” Nester asked.

“For the most part, yeah…” Kip took another sip and shook his head slowly, “But things are gonna be rough for me for a while.”

“Why’s that?”

“Because Randy’s going on vacation. Him and Char. They need… alone time…”

The brothers looked over to their boss and his wife. Randy was obviously exhausted, if not in body, then in mind. His massive head was resting in her lap. Charlene ran her fingers through his hair, talking soothingly into his ear. Cedric was in front of them, waving his axe wildly around, pantomiming everything he and everyone else did in the fight. He was blissfully ignorant of the fact that the two were quite sick of the fighting, but his ever-present exuberance was definitely lifting the mood. In an odd way, he was actually making the whole battle seem far more heroic and epic than it had felt. He even made those who fell seem to be as great as the heroes they fought beside… indeed, he made them seem even greater than the heroes.

“It’s because those who sacrifice themselves willingly for the sake of others are the greatest heroes of all,” Roland explained, “Cedric doesn’t have to work hard to boost their image. Indeed, he’s doing us all a service by letting us know the last moments of those people’s lives, and none of them died cowering away from the fight. They all gave their all… just like we did.”

“Roland…” Kip finished the drink and turned to the rotund man, “I need to ask you something…”

“What’s that?”

“Are you going home?”

“Eventually, yeah…”

“Any idea when?”

The larger man shrugged.

“Roland… I don’t want to pressure you… But we’re really hurting for members in this group… We really need all the help we can get…”

“I hear ya,” Roland grimaced, “But… I just think all of this crap is stupid! When Sheldon told me what I was helping him program… I nearly stopped right then and there…”

“Round…”

“Listen to me, Kip… This stuff’s fine for people like you… But somebody like Nester? Snuffy? They’re going to wake up one day and realize just how dangerous this [censored] is, and they’re gonna leave it all behind as quickly as they can. This place is crazy, these jobs are crazy. I did what I came here to do… As soon as I’ve saved up enough, I’m heading home and I’m starting the bar back up.”

“So I guess that means you’ll be gone within the week…”

Roland almost went on to say more, but stopped with his mouth hanging open and his finger in the air. He finally nodded and Kipland bit his lower lip.

“Dammit.”

“Sorry, man.”

“It’s okay, Rounder… You’ve got your priorities,” Kip stood and started walking toward the groups to help with the evacuation, “I know Nester wishes you’d stick around. Your family, too, man. Kingdale may be where we grew up, but this place needs people like you and me more than ever… We’ll be done here some day… Maybe then we can go home…”

“I’ll have it waiting for you,” Roland clapped his hand on Kip’s shoulder, “I’ve made my decision, and I’m sticking to it.”

“I know, man. Let’s take care of business here.”

---

My Stories

Look at that. A full-grown woman pulling off pigtails. Her crazy is off the charts.

“Ugh…”

Roland was tired. The day had been long, and he dropped by a shooting range to let off some steam. It was a little surprising to him to see other archers at the range, but then again, it is a city of heroes…

He was headed back to his apartment in Atlas Park when he spotted the Hellion trailing the girl. He didn’t know the story, he didn’t care. One aforementioned grunt later, and he was drawing his bow and arrows… One was particularly nice for the situation.

“Hrk! Haaaaah… Aaaaaaah… C-c-c… COLD!”

The Hellion’s teeth started chattering and the girl whirled around to see him encased in a block of ice, his head and hands free to wave around impotently. Roland arched his eye at her as he realized she wasn’t anywhere near grateful, her body set in a martial pose usually reserved for a sharp side-kick, and her face was peculiarly set in an astonished mask of irritation.

“Don’t start calling kill-steal,” he grunted at her.

“You have no idea how well-in-hand that situation was,” the blonde girl replied.

“I reckon I don’t,” Roland replied as he looked at his communicator and screwed up his face in perturbed confusion, “Why doesn’t this thing tell me who you are? It just says ‘Jessica.’”

She stared at him for a moment before answering, “I… I haven’t registered yet…”

Roland smirked, then bapped the Hellion on the head with his bow. He groaned for a second, then the young Grey man bopped him again and again until the Hellion stopped groaning and just slumped into his melting icy prison.

“You should take care of that,” Roland replied finally, “Freedom Corps hates vigilantes… I should know. I think I watched them arrest one today…”

“The hobo on the news?”

“Huh?”

“Yeah, this guy in torn denim… trench coat and all… Freedom Corps said he was one of the super-types responsible for stopping the Rikti, but they had to take him into custody…”

“Yeah, that’s him…”

Jessica arched an eyebrow at Roland.

“How’d you see him get arrested?”

“It’s a long story I don’t feel like getting into…” Roland crooked the bow onto his shoulder and slid the shaft of his spent ice arrow into a quiver at his hip, “Suffice it to say… there’s some things about this city I really hate... But it’s the kind of stuff you see everywhere, so there’s not much that can be done about it…”

“What made you so angry?”

“I don’t know…”

He started walking toward his apartment, which was only a block away. Jessica followed. Behind them, a police drone zapped the Hellion to Ziggursky.

“I should be happy… I… I got my Mom back today. She’s been missing since the Rikti War…”

“Oh, wow, congratulations!”

“Thanks…”

“So, what’s wrong?”

Roland shrugged.

“You’re happy, right?”

“Yeah. But… I don’t know… A part of me feels like I missed something…”

“Hm…”

“Ah well, I’ll deal with it some other time.”

Jessica nodded then looked about, bobbing her head casually on the walk. She seemed to be taking in the sights of the city, but Roland felt her behavior was still odd. Soemthing about her psoture didn't come off as a "country-bumpkin" on her first trip into the city. She didn't have a costume, though, just jeans, a T-shirt and a brown leather jacket.

“How fresh are you to the city?”

“Uh… I just arrived today…”

“And you never checked in with Freedom Corps, didn’t even accidentally run into some of their spandex-clad troops and ask where to register? Or Hell! Even one of the not-so-regular troops, a spandex-clad hero?”

“It…” she bit her lower lip and looked down at the sidewalk, “It never occurred to me…”

Roland swore he smelled a lie somewhere. There was just something wrong about the whole situation, but he couldn’t put his finger on it. Whoever this girl was, whatever she was doing, though, it seemed… Mild? Roland had a knack for calling people on their schemes, their lies; he termed it “Calling people on their [censored],” but whatever this was, it seemed harmless.

So he shrugged it off.

“Well, the Registrar’s office is right over there, the City Hall in the middle of Atlas Park,” he pointed to the south, “Can’t miss it… It’s the building behind the big guy with the globe.”

“I…” Jessica suddenly looked very annoyed as she crossed her arms and arched her left eyebrow at the rotund hero, “…See…”

“Yeah, so, just… uh… go in, talk with the Registrar, let him know where your powers come from… and he’ll direct you to the proper office from there.”

“But… It’s like… Eight at night… Are you sure he’s still there?”

“I’m sure someone’s on duty,” Roland continued walking, “Remember, the sooner you get registered, the sooner you can break bad guy skulls and get that much-needed fame and prestige… Who knows, maybe they’ll build a statue of you someday.”

The girl stood there, staring daggers at him for a few minutes, before finally storming off. Roland, while typically cheery when messing with someone’s head passive-aggressively, instead grumbled to himself inside his head.

Why did I do that? I drove off a perfectly nice, cute girl… Who looks to be a few years too young for a guy my age… Hm… Maybe that’s why… I didn’t need to be so gruff and dismissive, though. Jebus… Why am I beating myself up over this…

He stared up at the window to his room.

Oh yeah… That’s why. To distract myself from the packing I have to do.

He didn’t want to leave. His family, his friends, even a whole new life were right here in this city. But he already had a life…

“Jebus…” he gasped, “Do I really want to tend a bar for the rest of my life?”

“Is that why you’re so rude?”

He whirled around to face Jessica, who must have creeped up behind him. Her face was sour, and her lower lip jutted out slightly in an annoyed pout.

“You look like you practiced that face in a mirror,” Roland almost chuckled, then continued in a more even tone, “Why’d you follow me?”

“I want an apology.”

“For what? I helped you.”

“You didn’t have to be so condescending!” she almost shouted, “Not everybody’s an expert out here, Mr. Hotshot!”

“Hotshot…” Roland started laughing at that one, “And a Mister at that… I should’ve called myself that…”

“Well, what is your name?”

“Roland Grey,” he replied through chuckles, “But you can keep calling me Mr. Hotshot if you like that one better.”

“No, I think I’ll report you with your own name,” she suddenly looked very smug.

“Uh-huh,” Roland smiled still, “Yeah… And what you’re doing here isn’t harassment. Look… you want an apology…”

He took a deep breath as he considered his options. Regardless of what anybody says about any situation, people are capable of a multitude of choices. In this instance, Round had considered two… One was a loud, resounding “NOOOOOOOO” right in her face that would probably knock her over. The other, the one he went with, went more like this:

“Okay…” he took another breath to calm himself, “I’m… sorry. I really am… I… I didn’t like how I was acting, and my head’s all screwed up from today… I snapped at you because… I’m just in a really weird place in my life right now.”

She at first stared at him, silent and unflinching. However, Jessica eventually pressed her lips into a thin line as she felt he was being sincere. Finally she nodded.

But she didn’t leave.

“Is there something else?” Roland asked.

“How does a hero like you get to be so fat?” she finally asked.

“Good question,” he replied, a smirk pulling back the right side of his beard, “Genetics, mostly. I’ve got a slow metabolism. I’m fit, mind you, and a lot of my mass here is muscle… but I can’t possibly get rid of a lot of this flab… well, I can’t without blowing most of my day at a gym.”

“So, you just ignore the problem?”

“It’s not a problem,” Roland started walking to his apartment, “Look, I’m a very active person. I walk, I run… Yeah, that’s one that freaks people out, I can RUN! Fast, too. I can do pull-ups, pushups… Crunches… I’m just a little fat.”

“But, other health problems…”

“It’s not like I’m sickeningly obese,” he laughed a little, then walked up to the door and gestured for her to follow, “come on, I’ll show you the only way I treat myself…”

Roland’s apartment was nothing like Jessica expected. Instead of a usual array of weird gizmos and gadgets, it was actually very neat and tidy, sparsely furnished, with only a couch, a coffee table, and a television. The television was hooked up to a VCR and a video game console. Roland continued into the kitchen after telling her to sit down and relax.

“You haven’t been here that long either, it seems,” she called to him as she sat down, “Ooh… This is a comfy couch…”

“Yeah, I know… I found it in a Hellion lair. It was the only thing they refused to burn, just because it was so soft.”

She turned on the television and watched the local news channels for a while. Hero work splayed across the screen for a few minutes, but she would always change to something else. Finally, she just turned it to a music-video channel and lounged back into the soft cushions.

“Roland, I’m sorry, but I’m stealing this couch.”

“You don’t even know me,” he replied, “Heroes don’t steal from heroes they don’t know… It’s just not how things are done.”

“What do you do here? You don’t… You don’t live here, do you? You know what I mean? This isn't your home...”

“You’re right,” Roland looked back into the kitchen for a second, “I don’t… This is more just a place I sleep, collect my thoughts… A place to relax while I figure out my next move.”

“But…” she gazed about and nodded to the few personal effects, “You still have some heart in this place…”

“Yeah…” the round hero replied, glumly, “Technically, it’s my apartment, assigned to me by Freedom Corps and it’s where I keep my stuff. However, I just come in to relax for a few moments… Well, I did until recently…”

“You spent your entire time here looking for your mother?” Jessica’s eyes almost twinkled as she said it.

“Yeah… It tore me up inside… The few times I wasn’t moving… The few times I wasn’t out there, putting bad guys to the question… I was always telling myself I needed to get back out there… The next guy might be the one who brings me that one step closer… I once caught myself falling asleep on one of the King’s Row water towers…”

Jessica nodded.

“But, it’s over now… I don’t know what to do…”

He ducked back into the kitchen and Jessica could hear the sounds of pans and ceramic clinking and clanging. She wondered what the fat guy was up to, but when the smell of chocolate hit her nose, she had a pretty good idea.

“Duh-du-du-duuuuuh!” Roland sang as he handed her a mug of hot-chocolate, “My Mom’s recipe. Home-brewed, piping-hot, and, for once, perfectly cooked. I haven’t been able to make myself a decent one of these since I got to this city… Odd that the first batch of good stuff I share with a complete stranger…”

She smiled as she clinked her mug to his in silent cheers.

“Well, think of it as passing on a spot of good luck,” she bubbled, “Maybe your fortune will rub off on me with this drink.”

“In a city where magic and such can happen spontaneously,” Roland shrugged before taking a sip, “Mm… a bit hot, still… Anything can happen, I guess.”

They talked for a while. She learned of Roland’s past, his days as a software programmer, and later as a bartender. She learned that his version of bar-fly life was far different than what she was accustomed to. His version was that of a community gathering, not a place where immature hoodlums got inebriated and proceeded to riot. In the meantime, Roland learned she was a martial artist with a magic belt that could protect her from incoming attacks.

“Ha-ha!” he slapped his thigh, “You gotta be careful with that one… People might think you’re ripping off Ms. Liberty.”

“Yeah…” she grinned sheepishly for a second, “Especially when I was thinking about calling myself ‘Spangle,’ or something…”

“Ooh…” Roland smirked, “Don’t go with Spangle… Trust me. There may be some bad memories associated with it, rippling all through the F.C.… If you’re gonna stick with that… I suggest you wait a few weeks, or until after a major crisis hits…”

She stared at him with horror clearly evident on her face, “What did you do?”

“Not me…” he waved his hands to his sides, “My dad… well… I guess if you know the truth, it couldn’t hurt…”

So, Roland let her know of what had happened during the day. She seemed shocked to learn the grisly details, and a little sad when she learned whom Martin Sanders was. Her face got absolutely pale when he explained the significance “Spangle” had to do with the story.

“He didn’t!” she exclaimed.

“Never got to finish,” Roland confirmed, “He got interrupted by my friend… That little loud guy I mentioned, Kip…”

“I bet that didn’t go well…”

“It went better than any of us expected. Dad at least didn’t explode, and Kip took over the conversation. He struck a deal with the big man to have that little media spin put on the whole situation.”

“What about Martin?”

“Don’t know, yet,” Roland bit his lower lip, “He might not pass Freedom Corps’ psychiatric evaluation… They say he’s also a former small-time criminal… from before the War…”

“I see…”

“Oh wow, look at the time…” Roland’s half-closed eyes had habitually checked the clock, “It’s like… Eleven… Eleven Twenty… -ish…”

“Oh no!” Jessica bolted up and started scrambling for the door, “I need to get home…”

“You’ve got an apartment already?”

“Well, yeah…” she shrugged, “I’m… kind of… living with a friend for now…” she turned to Round with her hand on the door handle, “Um… Thanks for the hot chocolate… It was really good… And… Um… Well…”

Roland nodded, “Yeah… Thanks for being someone I could unburden myself to. Sorry about the first impression…”

“Roland…” she paused for a moment, unsure of what to say, “I know you’re probably hearing this a lot… And I can figure out why you’re so agitated right now… You’re… leaving soon, aren’t you?”

“Yeah.”

“You only came here to find your mom?”

Roland Grey nodded.

“That’s a little selfish, don’t you think?”

“Of course it’s selfish,” he grunted, then slumped to the floor, "And... Seeing them all like that… Together… And being with them… kicking butt, like that… I just… It felt right somehow…”

“Then why are you leaving?” Jessica walked over, knelt in front of him and rested her hand on his shoulder.

“Because I keep my promises.”

“You made a promise to go back to your home town when you found your mother?”

“Yeah,” Roland nodded, “I’ve gotta get back to my bar…”

They were silent for a few moments.

“Roland…”

“Round.”

“What?”

“My friends call me Round. It started in elementary school… Kids picking on me, calling me all sorts of fat names, finally sticking with Round, but I never let it bother me. So, the name stuck… Eventually, nobody really called me it out of malice. But only my friends called me it. I got into too many fights in high school for anyone who didn’t know me or were on the wrong ends of those fights to call me anything but my normal name.”

“But…” Jessica’s eyes darted left and right in disbelief, “We’re… We’re not close friends…”

Roland stared into her eyes, catching their focus. She suddenly realized they were the brightest shade of green she had ever seen in a pair of eyes… almost like emeralds. The expression on his face was one of mutual respect and regard.

“I feel I’ve known you all my life,” he said calmly, “It’s weird, but I feel I can trust you…”

“I…” Jessica almost blushed, “I get that a lot.”

“Ah well… Call me whatever you want… Just… Thanks. Thanks for helping me with this.”

“You’re welcome,” she replied, then headed for the door, stopping to ask just one last thing, “Roland… would you mind if I checked on you from time to time? You know, to see how you’re doing?”

“If you can find me,” the rotund warrior shrugged, “I might give another week or so of fighting before heading home…”

“Okay, cool. I’ll be sure to find you. Bye.”

Roland stared at the door for a few minutes after she left. He got that feeling again that something was amiss. He couldn’t quite place it, but the feeling that the girl, “Jessica” was someone he could trust was far more clear, so he dismissed the odd sensation. He wasn’t uneasy, but he just couldn’t help but feel the girl wasn’t entirely honest with him.

“Then how can I trust her?” he spoke softly to himself as he pushed off the floor and started lurching to his bedroom, “Maybe she’s just got that feel… The feel of somebody who’s more real than other people… I guess if she was lying to me…” he hit the bed and started wrapping the blankets around himself, “She… had… a good… reason…”

And he was out like a light.

---

My Stories

Look at that. A full-grown woman pulling off pigtails. Her crazy is off the charts.

“Hey Round,” Kip muttered from the computer sitting in the Grey’s Army base workshop, “Come in to turn in your access codes?”

“Ah… No…” Roland replied.

Kip turned his chair to face his brother’s best friend from childhood, confusion evident on his face. Roland had his hands in his pockets and was rocking back and forth on his heels.

“I thought you were leaving today… I’ve seen your apartment, man, you haven’t got much to pack, and we had a stark conversation about how you felt you were done here.”

“Yeah…” Round stopped rocking and placed his hands on his belly, twiddling his thumbs, “You see… the thing is, I kind of got involved with a new hero… She said she needed someone to help her out around the city, and I’ve been giving her some pointers…”

Kip smiled incredulously.

“Don’t…” Round began.

“You’ve got a girlfriend!?” Kip shouted, “What’re the odds?”

“Round’s got a girlfriend!?” Cedric’s voice called form the main chamber, “No frickin way! Is she hot? I bet she’s a cow…”

“There’s a possibility that could be literal…” Kip muttered.

“Oh, knock it off you two,” Roland barked, “She’s not a girlfriend… She has plenty of other people she hangs out with here. I’m just… a pleasant acquaintance to her now.”

“Cool, cool…” Kip chuckled, “I know what you mean, man. People used to say the same sorts of things about me and Snuffy when we were in high school… Well, not her looking like a cow…”

“Cedric and I would have killed them…” Roland agreed.

“Not before me,” Kip nodded, “And I wouldn’t have the chance to get to ‘em before Snuffy got her claws into their throats. She’s a vicious little one, there…”

Sheldon Wallace strolled into the room and arched an eyebrow at Kip. Shrugging, he approached the cage sitting next to the desk and pulled a small paper bag from his coat. Opening the cage, he sprinkled the bag’s contents into the food dish. The gerbil continued playing happily in the sawdust and the wheel.

“What was that stuff?” Kip stared dubiously at the green crystalline concoction that now dotted the food, “He already had a full dish. You do know overfeeding those little guys decreases their already short life spans, right?”

“Of course I know that,” Sheldon replied, “It’s why I put in the additive.”

“Additive?” Roland asked.

“Look, I can’t work on building any more androids until Freedom Corps sees Ryat66 and Ryat99 aren’t dangerous to the public trust… So, to occupy myself, I’m concentrating my efforts on bionetics, super biology, and biological engineering.”

“Kip jumped out of his seat and grabbed Sheldon by the collar, “What the Hell is wrong with you!?”

“Relax,” Sheldon’s stoic face betrayed little of the irritation he felt, but Kip caught the subtle undertone in his voice, “What I have given Felix is an experimental, natural, boosted steroid. Nothing more. It’s supposed to help make him more resilient to the next phase of the project.”

The gerbil stopped playing and stared up at its owner. Roland could have sworn he saw apprehension on the little furball’s face.

“Project?” Kipland barked, “Project? Is that all he is to you!? That’s your frickin pet, [censored] dammit! Look at him! He looks up to you, he expects you to protect him, and love him, and just frickin be good to him!”

“I am being good to him,” Sheldon snatched Kip’s hand from his collar, “He’s old, Kip. Much older than he should be. Even if I wasn’t doing this, the poor little guy wouldn’t survive the year, anyway. With this process, I hope to make a whole new life form, and it’ll have Felix’s memories…”

“Will it hurt him?” Roland reached into the cage and gave the worried little rodent a soothing rub on its back.

“No…” Sheldon replied, “It’s supposed to be gradual… Maybe last a couple weeks before I see any noticeable change.”

“Man, that’s just crazy,” Cedric walked into the room, shaking his head in disbelief, “I’ve buried two dogs and three cats in my lifetime, man… and while I know the pain of losing a cherished pet, you gotta realize that when a critter’s time comes, a critter’s time comes.”

“I don’t think Bear would appreciate you calling him a ‘critter,’” Roland chastised his brother quietly.

“Sorry, bro, but that’s the skinny of it,” Cedric started heading for the portal aperture in their Entrance Room, “Look, Shel, do what you want, but remember, that little guy’s led a longer life than his kind usually get. You should feel proud that he lasted this long, and let him have a proper and decent end.”

“I can’t let go, yet,” Sheldon replied quietly after nearly half a minute, “Felix was with me when I made some of my coolest contraptions… The little guy was the runt of his litter… He’s a survivor… I just… He’s so cool, I can’t just let him go like that…”

“Maybe Sarah can talk to him,” Roland grumbled, “She talks to her cat all the time. Maybe we can find out what Felix thinks should happen.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Sheldon agreed, “So, Kipland, what’re you doing here?”

“Randy’s in Myrtle Beach with Charlene…” Kip replied as he turned back to the screen, “I’m in charge of the group’s affairs until he gets back. I’ve been going over the reports daily.”

“Man, wouldn’t it have been weird if something happened to the plane Dad was on?” Roland asked, “I mean, wow… talk about bad luck…”

“Nothing happened,” Sheldon replied, “ I was here when he called in. He and Charlene landed safely, and they’re taking in the sights and sun.”

“Cool.”

“Roland, you say you’ve been working with some new hero this past week?” Kipland started cycling through the menus and lists of the groups accomplishments.

“Yeah. A girl named ‘Jessica.’”

“Funny…” Kip intoned, “You worked with her as her mentor, right?”

“Well, yeah. I’m pretty sure I did…”

“I don’t remember seeing your listing as…” Kip stared dubiously at the screen, “Oh… There it is… A week’s worth of logged in mentor hours…”

“You really thought it didn’t log?”

“Well, you haven’t been ‘heroing’ that long, Round. I figured I’d have remembered a thin red bar in your badge list signifying you’ve been a mentor… I don’t think that was there, earlier.”

“Hm… Well…” Roland shrugged, “Maybe you were looking at someone else’s list.”

“It’s a small group Roland,” Kip smirked a little to himself and shook his head, “It’s kind of hard to get confused like that.”

“Even if you were right,” Sheldon interrupted, “Who’d be able to alter records like that?”

There was the sound of someone entering the base at the portal aperture, and they called to see if it was the youngest Grey sibling. Draven Erickson stepped through the doorway to the workshop, utterly disappointing them.

“Hey, Jared,” Kip called to the red coated young man, “What brings you to Grey’s Army?”

“Hi guys,” Draven greeted, then, turning to Sheldon, “Uh… Can I talk with you privately for a moment…”

Sheldon shook his head, “Anything you need to say, we can discuss right here. I’ve got enough problems working on the projects that pop into my head. You need my help with something, I want my companions here to know I’m working on it.”

“Alright…” Draven’s eyes flicked from side to side behind his rose-tinted glasses before he finally decided what to say, “Uh… Wallace…”

“Sheldon.”

“Right. Look… I’ll get right to the point… Have you worked with Arachnos technology?”

“Some… My Ryat androids use their processors to handle their A.I. software.”

“Right… Well…” Draven smirked a little and rubbed the goatee under his chin, “I meant more along the lines of one of their fliers…”

The three stared at the newcomer in dread silence. The squeaking of Felix’s wheel was audible over the drone of the worktable. Figuring he needed to explain further, Draven thought of the most suitable beginning…

“Okay…” he finally clapped his hands together as the story came to him, “You’re probably not going to believe this, but its true…”

---

My Stories

Look at that. A full-grown woman pulling off pigtails. Her crazy is off the charts.

“Let me get this straight…”

Dirty Ice, Solo Stryker, and Ragin James were sitting in a motor boat around five hundred yards northeast of the Arachnos base in Bloody Bay. Solo Stryker had been planning this heist for months, and the time had come to put the plan in action. However, he needed the support of his two closest allies in the Rogue Isles, and in a situation like this, it wasn’t a sure thing…

“You want us,” Dirty Ice paused for a second and snickered a little at the absurdity of what he was about to say, “to help you steal an Arachnos Flyer.”

“That’s right,” Solo replied as he opened a case at his feet and started fiddling with something inside, “I think the three of us can do it and get the thing out of here and to someplace safe.”

“Ye-heah, right,” Ice shot back, “I’m pretty sure those dipwads are gonna notice their Flyer suddenly going the wrong [censored] way! And you know what else? They’re gonna come after whoever did it! Hard! They’ll send some of those other crazies after us, not just those black armored troopers with no peripheral vision.”

“I know,” Daren agreed quietly.

“Then what the Hell are we doing this for!?”

“Freedom,” Solo replied and pulled a partially constructed rifle from the case, “To make a statement… To provide a means for people like us to escape the yoke of Arachnos… Especially people like us.”

“Whadaya mean?” Ice growled.

“We’re not criminals,” Daren explained, “Not like a lot of those other guys… We don’t hurt people for fun… Well, Rage and I don’t… I don’t know about you, Dirty…”

“Oh, I’ve hurt people for fun,” Matt smiled deviously, “But, trust me, they all deserved it.”

“But you know what I mean,” Solo fit the barrel onto the trigger housing and started pressing the fastening pins into place.

“Yeah.”

“Don’t you want to go home?”

“Maybe,” Ice shrugged, “I know I’d like to be able to go home…”

“Well, let’s have the means.”

Ragin James, who had been listening to his friends quietly finally pointed at Solo’s rifle.

“You expect to take a Flyer down with that?”

Solo smirked, then reached into the case and retrieved a black tipped bullet. It glistened in the sun slightly as he rotated it, then he promptly slapped it into the chamber.

“That,” he said before the other two could say anything, “Was the OTTO MCRC-E. This is a specially housed one… being that it’s housed inside a bullet. As opposed to its more common brethren, which are designed to fly autonomously to their targets and attach surreptitiously…”

“Huh?” Ice asked.

“It means secretly,” Rage explained.

“Oh, okay…” Ice turned blankly to Stryker, “Please, continue.”

“…Thanks… This type is designed to be fired from a rifle, like this, and catch up to a very rapid target… I.E…. An Arachnos Flyer.”

“What happens then?” Rage rested his hand idly on the motor, his hand near the rip cord in case they needed to make a hasty escape.

“Then, I flick on this wrist controller, as the OTTO MCRC-E takes control of their ship and hands it over to me.”

“It’s…” Rage suddenly sat up in surprise, “That’s a remote control?”

“Yeah. An aggressive type.”

“You’re sure this will work?” Dirty Ice grunted in disbelief.

“Yeah,” Solo gazed to the Arachnos Fort, “I’m sure it’ll work.”

They sat quietly for a few seconds. The sound of one of their quarry lifting off and flying to the east toward Cap Au Diable echoed back to them and signaled that there was a very strong possibility more rogues had arrived in the area. Solo stared meaningfully at his compatriots.

“I’m still going to try this, guys,” he flicked on a radio at his hip, “I’ve got Draven out there, too, and he’s got Slater and Psycho backin’ him up. We pull this right… Who knows what we can accomplish…”

Rage nodded as he looked to his two friends, “Alright. I’m in. I came to these islands expecting to find my brother in some [censored] up Committee facility, instead, I just found a bunch of lunatics trying to take over the world. I want outta here, and fast.”

Solo nodded, then turned to Ice.

“I don’t know, man,” the blonde brute replied, “I kinda got good things goin’ here…”

“How long will that last?” Daren hissed, “How long until you’re wrapped up in another scheme of Arachnos? How long until they throw you to the wolves to cover their butts? And what do you bet those wolves aren’t Longbow?”

“Look, man,” Ice started shaking his head, “I’m not saying you’re wrong… But a guy can do well out here if he keeps to the down-low and avoids the major authority…”

“They won’t let you do that!” Solo snapped a look back to the Arachnos fortress, “Look at that! We had to get here through them! Sure, the other rogues in these islands think they’re free, but I can see plain as day that we’re being held under the yoke of the Spiders. They want us to serve them, and they’ll twist us any which way they can to make it happen. If that doesn’t work… Well, they’ve got plenty enough firepower, tech, magic, mutant, whatever, to make it happen…”

“And you want us to go straight up against it all?” Matt crossed his arms over his chest, “You’re still not selling me, man.”

“I’m not saying we go up against it,” Solo calmed down and held his palms toward his friend in a calming gesture, “I’m saying we establish a means of circumventing it. We’re not the only rogues like us out here. There’s plenty that want to get away from these bastards…”

“Yeah, you said that.”

“Well, if we provide the means…” Solo smiled and started rolling his hands in the air.

“They’ll…” realization dawned on Matt, “Oh-hoo-hoo-hoo… They’ll owe us!”

“That’s a lot of protection on our end,” James agreed, “A lot of support Arachnos would actually be leery of going up against.”

“All we have to do is win here,” Solo raised the rifle and shrugged to his friends, “Now… Are you in?”

“Yeah,” Ice pointed to the beach to the west, “Crash ‘em there. Rage and I’ll burst out of the woods and put the hurt to the troops inside!”

Ragin James started flying in the direction indicated as Dirty started hopping through the waves. Solo switched on the motor and headed to the southeast. When he was in position, he could see the black dot of one heading in. Though he was leery of taking down an inbound helicopter, he suddenly got a paranoid thought that they might notice him and have troops sent to deal with him on arrival.”

“Not much chance when I’m in my shadow mode,” Daren said to himself, “But I don’t know what kinds of scanners those things have… They might actually be able to see me…”

With these thoughts in mind, he took aim…

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Okay, gentlemen,” the pilot announced to his passengers, “In a moment, we’ll be landing and…”

He was interrupted by a strange “THUNK” sound.

“Odd… It seems something hit us… No heroes in range… Hm…”

The vehicle suddenly lurched to the right.

“WOAH! What the—“

The ship lurched again, and suddenly started shaking violently. The Arachnos troopers started shifting nervously. The passengers, however, started clipping on their crash webbing and sat calmly in their seats. The troopers didn’t know what bothered them more, the fact that their normally smooth flying vehicle was out of the pilot’s control, or that the “super villains” with them weren’t bothered by it.

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“Draven Erickson…” Agent Eckman snapped in a disgusted tone of voice, “I cannot believe you would suggest I do something so… ridiculous.”

“Believe what you will,” Jared replied, using his best mysterious tone, “But I’ve told you what I know, how it will go down, and what’s at stake. Help me and my friends or not, we’re getting that hulk home.”

“Not if I don’t allow it,” she seemed resolute.

“Maybe if I explain matters,” Dustin Simms, King Slater to most others, interjected, “You see… our friends… in fact, my brother Daren, and that guy’s brother…”

He gestured to Levi Baker, Psycho13, who seemed to be dry-humping the tire of the helicopter that brought them in…

“…James… They’re not bad guys. They went to the Rogue Isles looking for something… Something bad… and try to put a stop to it. They didn’t find it, but now they’ve got no way of getting home…”

Eckman’s face softened, but she still seemed unconvinced.

“Look,” Draven got in her view again, “We’re not asking for troops here… We just need you to keep the guns off of us while we make our escape. We’ll also need clearance codes to get into the States…”

“No!” Eckman shot him down harshly, “You’re asking me to give secure information to bring an Arachnos machine into U.S. soil. It’s not happening Draven. It’s too risky. I mean, what if that Flyer has some sort of surveillance equipment, huh? Arachnos will get our passcodes, and then even more Arachnos troops will be knocking on Paragon City’s doors.”

“Oh yeah,” Dale Simms snorted, “Like they haven’t already got too many in there already…”

“Shut it!” Eckman shouted, “Draven… You give me credible evidence that you’re able to bring that machine in… I’ll see what I can do.”

“Fine. Here’s my communicator’s frequency. I’ll keep in touch with you.”

The group took off in different directions, Draven to the southeast, Slater and the Referee to the southwest, and Psycho13 and Project Whirlwind heading east. Draven keyed his communicator to Solo’s frequency to try to find out how the situation was.

“I shot one down, cuz,” Stryker replied, “You gotta meet Dirty and Rage on one of the northeast beaches to help take it!”

Frantically, Draven redirected his comrades, and they sped to the crash site.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The Flyer feel hard, birds throughout the forest scattered from their treetop dwellings and Dirty Ice waited in the shadows of the canopy. The doors of the machine popped open and Arachnos troopers started staggering out. One of them found the OTTO MCRC-E Daren had shot into the hull and cursed. It would be the last thing he would do before being violently sent to the Arachnos reclaimator.

Dirty Ice, body blazing with mystical fire, leapt from his hiding place, cleared the few hundred feet between him and the troopers, and brought his heavy, stone-wrapped maul down on the would-be detective’s head. The trooper fell without so much as a grunt, and Ice, screaming loudly, turned his attention to the other troopers, smashing first this one, then that one. When his hammer failed him, he simply let it go and turned to his trusty fists, unleashing a flurry of blows that would make most boxers proud. After dealing out damage in such a way, he’d turn back to the hammer, a weapon that was bound to him so it could not be wielded by another, and again crush some poor enemy’s head, chest, or legs.

Once he was done smashing the troopers all to Hell, he surveyed the carnage. The bodies started disappearing, one-by-one, as the troopers were teleported back to the Arachnos fortress’s reclaimators. Matt turned to the Flyer’s open door and started walking toward the downed machine.

“Was that all they’ve got inside that thing? Cripes! I don’t need Rage for this! Hell, I’ll fly the damn thing myself! Jebus… Look at this thing… It’s got turrets everywhere… and…”

He saw movement inside and stopped. There were more than just Arachnos troopers in there, and they had finally decided to make their presence known. When Dirty Ice saw them, though, he let loose a curse that can’t even be mentioned as a “[censored].”

“Hello, Dirty,” the business suit-clad Justin Steel stepped out of the Flyer and into the light, his Committee assigned operatives following to flank him protectively, “It’s good to see you again.”

“Steel…” Ice gripped his hammer tighter, “Come on… out of there you kids… Who else is with ya?”

“Another old friend,” Justin replied as he straightened his suit, “And someone you may recognize, but you won’t know him.”

The other two villains stepped into the light, both dressed in black, but in far different styles. The one to Justin’s left was in mostly black, and dark tones besides. On his head rested a cowboy hat that was a stark contrast to his bright blonde hair. His leather jacket, pants, and even his boots were all black. The Shadowmark Assassin held at his waist one of the weird “combo assault rifles” that some of the blaster types wielded. Matt wasn’t sure, but he could’ve sworn he saw the shadows moving around the guy.

The other looked more like a ninja. His uniform was black and white, a sinister faux-fire pattern wrapped around the legs and it’s shirt was plated with white armor pads. Dirty couldn’t tell who the man was, however, because the figure wore a mask to match the suit.

“Well, I know that tool,” Matt said to the Assassin, “Didn’t you used to fight with us in bWo?”

“Yeah,” he replied as he arrogantly rested his rifle on his shoulder, “Kicked your [censored] plenty of times in that ring.”

“What the Hell do you do now? The Committee?”

“I’m an assassin in Shadowmark’s employ.”

“What the Hell is Shadowmark?”

“It’s so secret, nobody’s heard of it,” the assassin smirked.

“Uh huh… Mark…” Ice shook his head and pointed at the ninja, “You! I’ve seen that look before, but you can’t be Levi. I already heard where he is, and you can’t be him.”

“Indeed,” the ninja replied, “I am but the creation of his nightmares, made flesh. As it is a role to be played, I shall play it for now. Perhaps, one day, the Committee shall retrieve your friend so he may once again assume his rightful role as their agent… The Project: Soultaker!”

“Oh yeah,” Matt gripped his stomach as if he had indigestion, “I needed that…”

“Enough,” Justin raised his hand and pointed at Dirty Ice, “Gentlemen, let us prove the Committee’s worth to Arachnos. Kill him.”

“Heeyah!”

Ice rushed Justin’s goons. There were three troopers and two special service types. One of the troopers fell fast, but Ice took a hail of bullets hard to the torso. The flames barely stopped him from getting perforated and killed on the spot, and the pain only made him angrier…

“Rage! Where the Hell are you!?”

The Shadowmark Assassin and Project Soultaker hadn’t acted yet, which was fortunate for Dirty. Had he been hit by their combined dark energy attacks, he probably would never have survived the fight. They seemed content to simply watch Ice get torn to pieces by Justin’s goons. This careless attitude would prove to be their undoing.

The opposite door on the Flier popped open, and Ragin James stormed through, electricity crackling off the skulls on his chest and shoulder. He smashed his forearms into Justin Steel’s back, slamming his curled up fists into the back of his neck, and immediately snapped around to the Shadowmark Assassin. One uppercut later, and the leather-clad corrupter was hurtling through the air.

Before James could get to Project Soultaker, however, Psycho13 was there. A gold and blue streak was all he noticed before Soultaker was knocked backwards and started tumbling toward the beach.

“NAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!” Psycho13 screamed at his enemy, “YOU! You [censored]! I’ll teach you to take my mind!”

Knives were in his hands, and he was trying to stab the Committee agent, but the blades kept impacting the armor plates. Finally, a burst of negative energy knocked him off the corrupter, and a gout of magic fire seemed to fix whatever damage had been done. Project Soultaker stood again, but he now faced very bad odds.

Lightning arced out of the sky and jolted another of Justin Steel’s guards, and Ice wiped out one of the special ops operatives. Then, Draven Erickson, King Slater, and the Kingdale Referee were there. The three villains were no match for the combined might of the bWo heroes and rogues, and the Shadowmark Assassin and Justin Steel hobbled off before they could be trounced. Soultaker, however, was not so lucky.

Ragin James power-bombed him into a rock.

“You guys can do whatever else you feel like doing,” he grumbled as he started heading into the Flyer, “I got what I’m after.”

Inside, the pilot was screaming something about how he’d blow them all to kingdom come. His cries were suddenly cut short as Solo Stryker quietly put him to sleep with a choke hold and his Rings of the Moon Strider did the rest. In another minute, after some twitching and choking sounds, the body was disappearing to the nearby fortress’s reclaimators.

“Now, come on, guys,” Solo yelled as he hopped in the pilot seat, “We gotta get moving, and we don’t have much time!”

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“So…” Sheldon Wallace sipped a coffee that had been handed to him by Roland as they listened to Draven’s outlandish tale, “I’m supposed to believe you guys successfully stole an Arachnos Flyer… And not only brought it to Longbow authority, but all the way to the States and here in Paragon?”

“No…” Draven shrugged, “There’s no place safe we know of in paragon… not even these bases… ANd it wasn't easy, either. Solo couldn't get the turrets working and James had to drain a chaingun we found inside to keep pursuit at bay. If Eckman hadn't called those Longbow and COast guard helicopters off of us, we would've been blown out of the sky, too. That little stunt cost, su, though. Psycho, Slater and Whirlwind are gonna be patrolling Bloody Bay while the rest of us fix the machine.”

He looked from side to side sheepishly, shifting weight from one foot to another as he did so.

“So, where’d you take it?” Roland asked.

“Back to Kingdale…”

“What!?” Kipland Durj barked, “Are you crazy?”

“Well,” Draven nodded, “Yeah… You are talking to a former backyard wrestler who used mysticism to boost his performance…”

The Grey’s Army heroes simultaneously rubbed their temples in irritation.

“There’s nowhere safe to store something like that in Kingdale,” Sheldon muttered.

“Sure there is.”

Sheldon’s face, despite unflinching, suddenly seemed more serious as it snapped up to regard Draven, “Jared… You… You can’t possibly mean…”

“Dale said it would be safe with him…”

“No…”

“What’re you guys talking about?” Kip demanded.

“They took it to the only other person out of Kingdale who could work with that stuff besides me,” Sheldon explained, “The only other person with the military licenses, accreditations and contracts to be qualified to do it…”

“Hector Wallace,” Draven smiled, “Sheldon’s dad.”

---

My Stories

Look at that. A full-grown woman pulling off pigtails. Her crazy is off the charts.

“Thanks for the ride, Roland…”

The group composed of Sheldon Wallace, Jared “Draven” Simms, and Roland Grey exited a small family car outside of the Wallace residence in Kingdale, New York. Immediately, the sounds of machinery running and grinding, and the smell of burning was evident.

Roland’s nose twitched a couple times and he shook his head.

“I’d love to see what progress your old man’s makin’, Shel, but I got other things to take care of. I’ll see you all in a little bit.”

Jared and Sheldon nodded and said their goodbyes as Round got back into his car. They made their way to the barn behind the house as Roland drove away.

“Whaddaya think he’s up to?” Draven asked.

“Probably getting more clothes and furnishings for his apartment,” Sheldon replied, “Maybe also settling things with whoever he got to run the bar… Maybe all of his personal business.”

“Whew… Good thing I didn’t have to deal with anything like that.”

“Benefit of working for a large company…”

They entered the massive metal barn that Sheldon’s father, Hector, had built after the reconstruction. Inside, pieces and parts from many of the senior Wallace’s many projects, both old and new, were strewn about, forgotten. It wasn’t that Hector was finished with them, it was just that they were overshadowed by the current project taking up most of the room in the barn.

“Holy…” Sheldon gasped.

An Arachnos Flyer, in all of its crimson trimmed ebony glory, sat partially disassembled on the main floor. Daren “Solo” Simms and James “Ragin” Baker were busy cutting panels out of the Flyer’s armor. A Fort Drum officer was conferring with Hector on the floor.

“Relax, Major,” Hector’s voice was calm, but subtly enthusiastic, “How long has the U.S. military been looking to get one of these things and set to work reconstructing them… With our own… personal… aspects, of course.”

“I don’t question the fortuitous nature of this,” The major replied, “Nor your expertise I this field… It’s other issues I’m concerned with.”

“The price?”

“We’ve been needing an Infiltrator Unit for years,” the major hissed, “And now, we have one, and you want to cut it up like this? We need agents in that damn ‘City of Villains,’ and this would be the easiest way to do it!”

“Quickest,” Hector corrected, “And by far, most reckless. This is a 'give a fish/teach to fish’ moment. What happens if this particular flyer gets shot down or your agents get discovered, hm?”

“Well…”

“Daren! No don't cut that panel any deeper... start work on that forward bulkhead. James! Start working on the stinger’s armor plates,” Hector turned back to the major, “Surely, you understand the importance of this.”

“I do…”

“Major, I will provide the Army with a full schematic blueprint as soon as we’re done. You know I am, if anything, prudent.”

“I’m going to be sending down my own team, daily,” the major replied, “I want my boys getting practical working knowledge as soon as possible. We need to be able to reconstruct one of these things and fast. Arachnos won’t know what hit it, and we’ll be able to start work on taking those islands back in the name of freedom.”

Hector stared silently back at the major.

“Right,” he finally intoned, “In the name of freedom…”

The major left and Hector regarded the newcomers.

“Sheldon! How have you been, son?”

“I’ve been doing alright, dad,” the younger Wallace nodded, “Building things, busting up bad guys with said things… It’s been fun.”

“Ah, impetuous youth,” Hector turned to Draven, “Thanks for bringing him. I want to make a lot of progress tonight, and I know we’ll be able to do it, now.”

“No problem,” Jared shrugged, “So… When’s lunch?”

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Hey, Roland,” the bartender kept wiping down the counter.

It had been a slow day, and the only barfly remaining was on the far end, out of earshot and absorbed in himself. Roland waved to the guy and sat down in front of his replacement.

“I’m not going to be able to help ya,” Roland replied, “I’ve… I’ve got a pretty solid gig, Mike.”

Michael Flechette nodded and continued wiping the bar down. He gave the barfly one last drink and came back to his friend.

“So, what’s her name?”

“You know I wouldn't make an important decision based on that,” Roland replied, “Though, oddly, a woman is sort of the reason why I’m stickin around up there…”

Michael chuckled a little at that, “Hey, it’s cool, man. You get to do what so many of us wish we could do, and so few of us get the chance to. I know somewhere in that ‘cro-magnon’ head of yours, you like it all.”

“Heh-yeah…” Roland agreed, “I guess I do. Still… A large part of me wishes I could just come back to workin’ at the bar.”

“Nobody would hold that against ya. Y’know… I never met a family like yours before. I mean, I thought Ced was a fluke when we were fighting the Rikti together, a guy who seemed to just naturally kick the tar out of everything that came his way. Then I met your dad, your sister…”

“You should see my mom,” Roland grinned, “The legend goes my dad fell in love the second she knocked him flat on his back with a solid punch to the chin.”

“Jebus…” Michael laughed, “So… You need any help packing up?”

“Nah. I came by to let you know what’s up and to drop off my current info. I’m putting the house up for rent… No sense in nobody living in there, right?”

“Right man.”

Roland left a business card on the bar and headed for the door.

“We’ll be having a get-together at the Wallace’s at the end of the week. You know, old friends, last time meeting for some of us… You know.”

“Friday?”

“Saturday.”

“Cool,” Michael looked to a nearby calendar, “Yeah, I’ve got that day off. See you there, man.”

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Sheldon walked into the kitchen as the other boys were finishing dinner. He looked exhausted, but for once, he also seemed to have a smile cracking his porcelain face.

“I finally did it,” he gasped, “I cut that damn stinger off.”

The rest of the group just stared at him for a while.

"Just the Stinger?" Ragin James asked dubiously.

"No, the whole damn thorax section."

“You don’t think…” Hector was on the brink of either laughing or shouting, “You don’t think that was a tad excessive?”

“Dad, this thing has technology that we need to get to the heart of. If we want the resulting U.F.O. we make to look like an Arachnos Flyer, it’s a simple matter to utilize some form of holographic generation device to mask the vehicle’s appearance. Besides, I took careful notes as I worked. I just hated that damn thing… I mean, I get the point of it, now, but Arachnos could have used a lot of other appearances for the stinger’s purpose. Those guys are just a tad screwy in the head if you ask me. A stinger is just impractical. There’s so much more they could’ve done with the lost space.”

“Oh…” Hector looked a little confused, “Okay. You ready for dinner? Your mother cooked up some lemon-pepper chicken.”

---

My Stories

Look at that. A full-grown woman pulling off pigtails. Her crazy is off the charts.

Kipland smashed a Nemesis guard with a hammer fist across the face. He whirled around to the guard behind him, kicked each of the man’s inner thighs before a final sharp kick to his genitals. He then smashed his knee into the minion’s face after he fell to his knees.

It felt good to be in the field again. He’d been so wrapped up in the day-to-day doldrums of running Grey’s Army he was about to have himself a nervous break if he didn’t do something. As he crushed some poor dastard’s larynx, he idly wondered if he really was about to suffer a nervous break, or if he already had a long time ago.

Kip liked soloing. It helped him think. He was able to vent his frustrations in a whirlwind of rage and violence without worrying about hitting any friends or allies. He’d worked with plenty of other heroes, and he didn’t hate the experience, but he just felt he could truly exert himself when working alone. It seemed to be even more difficult to do such a thing in a team that had controllers. They seemed to be coming into their own lately.

A long-range shell suddenly impacted on his chest and Kip braced for the choking gas. Again, he found himself surprised to be saved by the alien armor as it was somehow filtering the air. He still suffered from the noxious fumes, but it was nowhere near as debilitating as it used to be. His eyes watering slightly, he rushed to the Tiralleur in the far corner, jumped, and slammed his knee into the sniper’s faceplate. The Tiralleur’s head rattled around inside his helmet as he bounced off the walls and he slumped to the ground.

At this point, there wasn’t anybody on the first floor of the base that didn’t know Kip was there. He could hear the thumping of their booted feet as they stormed through the halls to the entrance chamber. Irritated, he sighed and took a position next to one of the corners. He could hear the hissing of their steam-powered armor getting louder. He flexed his fingers in and out of fists to prepare for the next batch of fighting.

A rifle barrel appeared and he snatched it. Raising it up over his head, he stepped forward and spun about. The barrel warmed as the panicked soldier fired an instant before Kip’s knee drove into his gut. He could hear the other soldiers shouting and yelling, the rattling sound of rifles being readied and aimed at him only gave more reason for his next step.

Dragging the rifle muzzle to aim at the floor and then whirling it to the right, he wound up spinning the Armiger around, shot his arm around his opponent’s neck and kicked him in the back of the knee. The trooper fell limp, and Kip had himself a shield.

“You guys don’t even want to shoot, do you?” he shouted as the troopers hesitated to fire.

“We’re a bit more conscientious about our fellow soldiers, thank you,” a lieutenant replied, “Rest assured, spandex, we’ll fire if we have to. I suggest you let go of our compatriot so his life won’t be wasted.”

Kipland nodded. Yanking the rifle out of the Armiger’s hand, he stepped back and smashed the stock against his helmet, knocking him out cold. He then threw the broken weapon at the line and charged. Some Nemesis troopers fired, and Kipland was surprised some of them actually missed. The rounds that hit felt like light punches. He managed to turn his grunt into a battlecry, however, and cut down most of the line with a sweep kick. He didn’t ponder too hard on the fact that it felt like he had kicked through a set of old dried corn stalks. Instead, he leapt back up and rove his heel into the inner thigh of the nearest trooper.

The lieutenant tried to stab him with the massive bayonet on his rifle and Kip smacked the weapon aside. He usually shook his head at the ridiculously oversized weapon piece, but he just didn’t have the time. He could hear other groups preparing to fight him.

He grabbed the rifle by the barrel again, and yanked it hard toward himself and to his left. One of the Nemesis soldiers was knocked backwards by the resulting explosion as the lieutenant reflexively squeezed the trigger. Kip planted his foot into the lieutenant’s power-armored chest, breaking the impact resisting mechanisms and causing steam to explode everywhere. The lieutenant fell and writhed on the floor, choking on steam and what seemed to be some more of that peculiar gas Nemesis used.

“I guess inside your chest armor isn’t a good place to store volatile shells, huh…” Kip chuckled as he popped pins out of the rifle and split it into two pieces.

With the bladed barrel in his right hand and using the stock as a cudgel in the other, he whirled about and rained blows upon the remaining troopers. The next group of Nemesis soldiers fared little better, and Kip smashed the stock of his weapon on the lieutenant’s helmet. The one he stole the weapon from stood, anger evident on his face and he tried to tackle the young hero. Kip smashed his elbow into his attacker’s face and dropped him like a sack of potatoes.

There was a whirring and clicking sound and Kip turned to see one of the Jaeger robots that bolstered the Nemesis Army’s ranks. It hopped as if it were afraid and started running away. Kip leapt to the corner it disappeared behind and hurled the bladed barrel down the hallway. He didn’t hit the Jaeger, but an unsuspecting Tiralleur found himself suddenly clutching at his rear.

“Things are sharp, huh?” Kip laughed as he hopped back up and finished the sniper off with a snap kick to the face.

He could hear more troopers headed his way, so he started running to face them. Two rounded the next corner from his left so he jumped up, and smashed his knees into each opponent. He could feel the collarbone of the one on his left collapse. The one on his right bounced his head off a storage rack and was out like a light.

Kip picked up their rifles and fired each one down the hall. Two troopers fell and he stormed after the rest, wielding the bladeless weapons like a pair of clubs. In order to balance the weight problem, he had to wield them more toward their mid-sections, but he utilized the extra material as a sort of forearm guard when the other troopers and lieutenants engaged him in melee.

The final room of the first floor was a massive battle. Nearly thirty Nemesis soldiers, each one trying to bring an end to the young heroic Durj. He kept them off balance by jumping into the middle of them immediately and using the mass of humans as his shield. He kicked, punched, grabbed, clawed, and head-butted his way through the army. He could feel bullets smashing against the peculiar shield his armor left on him when it wasn’t "active." They seemed to be trying to shoot him in the head.

One of the troopers was wielding a gattling gun of some sort, and he bunched up the villain's arms inside his own. Slamming his back into the soldier's torso, he whirled the two of them around, sending rapid-fire bullets into the remaining Nemesis troops. After the gun went dry, he slammed the back of his head into the soldier’s nose, breaking it and dropping the opponent.

“Damn that was intense,” he muttered to himself.

There was a “ding” sound. He looked up to see the elevator was headed down. He didn’t have to guess where it was headed. Backing up, he licked his lips in preparation for this next attack. He didn’t know who was on the other side of the door, but rest assured, they were not going to like what he did to them.

In the unlikely event it was a hero, he could always apologize.

It was an ugly thought, and Kip could feel a warm sensation on his neck. Probably some form of guilt, he figured, and just as rapidly discarded the thought. As the elevator’s indicator neared his end, he let out a roar and started sprinting for the door.

It turned out the figure inside the elevator wasn’t a hero, but a Nemesis Warhulk. Kip’s warcry turned to a whoop of triumph as he grabbed the sliding doors and yanked himself through with even more momentum, driving his foot into the hard glass containment system that was the bulk of the Nemesis Warhulk’s design.

As the glass cracked and fluid started to spurt out, Kip back-flipped off the machine. Landing on his feet, he came face to face with a gout of flame from the hulk’s main gun. He noticed, however, that the machine had been taken completely by surprise, and was quickly falling onto it’ rear. There was a sickening crunch and Kip realized the Jaeger that he had missed must not only have brought the Warhulk here, it had been in the elevator when Kip attacked it.

Charging forward through the flames, amazed that he could barely feel the heat, he smashed the weapon aside with his forearms and brought his foot down hard on the glass container again. This time, the glass shattered, and whatever the fluid was, it had to be highly explosive because suddenly, Kip was airborne witha gout of flame following him. Screaming, he hurtled thirty feet, bounced with a groan, and rolled another ten feet before coming to a stop face down on the carpet.

He lay there groaning for a few seconds. Finally, he rolled himself over and opened his eyes.

Two girls were looking down at him. He recognized them instantly. It was kind of hard to forget who two of the city's favorite heroines were.

“No way” he grunted and clasped his hands over his face, “My luck can’t be this bad.”

“Well,” Mynx muttered down at him, “That’s a Hell of a greeting, wouldn’t you say, Libby?”

“Come on, let’s help him up,” Ms. Liberty replied as she tried to pick Kip up by his shoulders.

“AH-AAH!” Kip shouted and he waved her away, “I’ve got bruised, maybe cracked ribs here… And I’m conscious! If you’re gonna move me anywhere in this condition, at least K.O. me first…”

“You really want us to do that?” Mynx laughed.

“Hang on…”

Kip reached into his belt pouch and pulled out a pair of green cylinders with spring-loaded syringes. He pressed one cylinder into his thigh and the other into his neck. The two heroines winced at the one in his neck hissed, signaling the needle deployed. The appearance of the green stuff entering his body couldn’t have been too pleasant, either.

“In case I have a skull fracture,” Kip explained, “Can never be too careful… The nanites in the serums will do the trick of fixing me right up… But they can’t take away the ache… The brain can’t reconcile the rapid repair or something dealing with the memory of the impact… I don’t know…”

He sat up and rubbed his ribcage for a moment, checking to see if anything was out of place. Satisfied, he turned to his other limbs and was pleased to find that everything was in order… Except his transportation.

“Dammit! Those bastards broke my leaping system!”

He pulled up his pantlegs and started ripping out the exo-frame wrapped around his legs. It was made of plastics and polymers, and had been utterly shattered.

“You know, that’d probably be easier if you just took off your pants…” Mynx said before she realized what she was saying.

Kip, however, didn’t think past the actual words of the suggestion, “Normally, I would, but not in present company. I’m wearing boxers under here, yeah, but I still feel it would be indecent, unprofessional, and so on… Good thing I'm wearing wide-legged pants, though.”

Cursing, he wrenched the last of the Velcro-strapped apparatus off his thighs and yanked the broken machinery out of his pants. He then stood and hopped in place a little to shake out any loose bits he might have missed, but promptly fell to his knees and started clutching his stomach and head.

“Ooh… That’s not good… Probably just some side effects from the Warhulk… I should probably go to a hospital later, though…”

“Who’re you talking to?” Ms. Liberty asked.

“No one in particular,” Kip replied.

He shook his head a little to clear it as the two heroines wandered about the floor to see if anybody else was still around. When they returned, he was stretching his limbs as he walked toward the elevator.

“Hey, wait!” Ms. Liberty shouted at him as she ran to catch up.

“What?”

“What’re you doing here?”

“I wanted to ask you the same thing,” Kip laughed in response, “And I would think it’s pretty obvious in my case. I’m whomping Nemesis troops.”

“Yeah,” Mynx chuckled, “But we already had this place staked out.”

“Well, take it up with Freedom Corps,” Kip shrugged, “I checked the police band, and the cops hooked me up with an F.C. dispatcher. It seems there’s something big going on in Nemesis, and they sent heroes into cells all over the city.”

“We know,” Liberty stood in the way of the elevator.

Kip’s face betrayed nothing, not irritation, or discomfort. He looked at her stoically with his glowing, smoke tendril wreathed eyes.

“Look… Uh… Who are you, anyway?”

“Kipland Durj.”

“That’s your hero name?” Mynx chided, “That’s pretty stupid.”

“It’s my name,” Kip replied to the red-haired heroine, “And if you have an issue with it, take it up with my father.”

“It’s still stupid,” Mynx countered, “If any of the criminals found out where you live or where to find your family…”

“Then they’ll have a fight waiting for them in any case,” Kip finished, “My brother, my father, both are registered. Neither of them are hiding behind a moniker or a mask.”

His tone was perfectly neutral. His words were statements, without any emotion or implied derision.

Still, he looked at them both and said, “Not that there’s anything wrong with a superhero identity. I just don’t need one. I’m not a celebrity hero.”

“Celebrities?” Ms. Liberty started to chuckle, “We’re not celebrities.”

“You’d have to go to the other side of the world to run into someone who doesn’t know you, Ms. Liberty,” Kip smiled at that one, “Maybe not nearly so far for you, Mynx.”

Mynx almost slapped him, but thought better of it. Ms. Liberty seemed to find it amusing, anyway, and chuckled lightly into her palm

“Okay, I get your point.”

“In any case, I heard something about this place being a gas plant. So far, all I’m seeing is office space,” Kip shrugged, “Of course, if that elevator goes downstairs, we might find some kind of facility in the basement.”

“You’re willing to work with,” smirking, Mynx rested her fists on her hips and leaned slightly to one side, “What did you call us? Bad luck?”

“I didn’t call you bad luck,” Kip returned her smirk with a grin, “I was referring to the situation. But, yeah, I’m willing to work with you two. As I understand it, most heroes would give their left… eye… to work with either of you two.”

“Nice cover,” Ms. Liberty laughed as she turned to the elevator, “Try to keep up… Uh…”

“Kip,” he sighed, “Just call me Kip.”

“So, why is the situation bad luck?” Mynx asked, still not mollified.

“It’s just…” Kip pressed his lips into a thin line before he continued, “Members of my supergroup haven’t had much good luck when dealing with the much more well-known heroes. Just last week, I met Statesman… and had to stop my boss from calling him a sack of [censored].”

“Holy…” Mynx gasped, “And States just let him walk away?”

“Barely. He recognized my boss was in an emotional state. I sent him on vacation and assumed command while he’s gone.”

“Are you…” Mynx smirked at Kip, “usurping control?”

“Nah,” Kip waved off the idea, “Randy can keep the job. It’s been splitting my head in two trying to keep our records straight the past couple days. Freedom Corps is all screwy with one of my guys… Saying he hasn’t been mentoring this newbie… Then, not minutes later, there’s the missing clocked time. It’s odd…”

“You might want to check your friend’s communicator,” Mynx offered, “Synapse says those things have been kind of on the fritz lately.”

“Cool, I’ll try to remember that when my tech man gets back… Ope! Here we are!”

They found the facility in the basement and made short work of the troopers waiting for them. However, they weren’t finding much in the way of gas production systems. It all seemed to be minor processing labs and old junk. Eventually, they came to a heavy sealed and locked door. While Kip and Mynx were willing to try exhausting themselves by smashing through the massive metal thing, Ms. Liberty figured the cell commander would probably have the key on his person. They just had to find him somewhere else in the building.

“I guess that’s as good a plan as any,” Kip agreed, but still gave a few heavy kicks to the door’s metal surface, “Nope… Not budging…”

They made their way to the top floor and found the commander, who was, surprisingly, a normal human instead of a Warhulk or even a Fake Nemesis. The commander, Captain Burke, put up a decent struggle, but the three heroes made short work of him and his guards.

Kip was surprised when Mynx gave him a congratulatory pat on the shoulder.

“You fight better than I expected,” she explained in the elevator on their way back down to the locked door, “I was figuring you to be some loudmouth or lunatic…”

“So, when exactly did you two show up?”

“Shortly after you were using those two rifles as clubs,” Ms. Liberty explained, “Rather strange way to fight the bad guys, but it seemed pretty effective.”

“Thanks. So, I guess that was you two breathing on my neck before I attacked the Warhulk in the elevator?”

“Uh huh,” Mynx giggled, “I thought we were found out of sure, but you stopped right in front of us… Nice shampoo, by the way. After all that fighting and sweating you’ve done, you still smell like an apple…”

“Thanks.”

“And it’s so refreshing to run into a guy who isn’t using Hatchet…”

“Hey, I hear bad things about the ‘Hatchet effect,’” Kip laughed a little, “Like how women hate the smell of the stuff…”

“That’s a fact,” Mynx wrinkled her nose, “The stuff just smells like chemicals…”

Ms. Liberty just folded her arms across her chest and shook her head slowly.

“Yeah, but bees?” Kip paused for dramatic effect, “ They love that [censored]. Really big, crazy stinging bees…”

The three of them laughed at the joke and the elevator reached the bottom.

“So, you have tried the stuff?” Mynx finally gasped as they made their way to the door.

“Nah,” Kip grimaced, “I can’t stand the smell of colognes, perfumes, or other weird stuff like that… They make me choke. I’m good with deodorants and antiperspirants, though.”

“Well, that’s good,” Ms. Liberty intoned.

“I never would have…” Mynx suddenly frowned as Kip looked at her impassively.

“… never would have guessed I use deodorant,” Kip muttered, “Hm… Seems a bit of a low-blow at the moment, doesn’t it?”

“Well, you might actually smell bad to her,” Ms. Liberty explained, “Her sense of smell is a bit heightened.”

“Yeah, I can smell that guy you won’t tell any of us about, Libby” Mynx smirked.

“Okay…” Kip started putting his hands to his ears, “Right… That’s not something I need to know about.”

“Right,” Ms. Liberty stopped and turned to her friend, “Look, Mynx, I already told you, that guy and me… we’re just friends. We’ve discussed it, and he’s agreed to it.”

“I can’t believe you believe that!” Mynx shouted, “No guy ever means that!”

“Depends,” Kip suddenly gritted his teeth as he realized how he had just stepped into a hornet nest, “… rgh… That is, I know a guy in that sort of relationship. If I didn’t know the guy, I’d agree with you on that point, Mynx… But my old friend is an honest guy.”

“I don’t believe you,” Mynx hissed.

“Cool, whatever,” Kip shrugged, “Believe what you want, just… Look can we change the subject or maybe start breaking bad guys again?”

They popped open the door and found the actual operating facility. Nemesis automatons were performing the duties of mixing the volatile chemicals that made up the noxious gasses Nemesis snipers tended to use in their shells. Kip’s nose twitched at the familiar smell and he didn’t hesitate to start thrashing the mechanical humanoids along with the heroines.

It was a smaller facility than they expected, but apparently it had fulfilled its purpose.

“Hm,” Mynx flexed her claws as they left the building and police drones started filtering in, “What do you suppose were in those empty gun racks?”

“Guns, I would think,” Kip replied.

The two heroines glared at him sternly.

“Sniper rifles, okay? I’m thinking there might be a plan active right now that involves shooting someone important from very far away.”

“Yeah, but who?” Ms. Liberty pulled her communicator from her belt and started typing into it.

The results she got on the screen were less than promising, however.

“Dammit! It could be any number of things today! The mayor’s awarding a hero for saving members of the city council from the Circle of Thorns… There’s a few store dedications dotted throughout the city… A library is having Back Alley Brawler over to read to blind children…”

“Aw, that’s nice,” Mynx smiled.

“I think I see what you mean about us being celebrities, now,” Ms. Liberty muttered as she rifled through the lists, “Hm… I guess we better knock over a few more of these cells.”

Mynx nodded and the two started to head off. Suddenly, Ms. Liberty stopped and turned to Kip.

“You wanna come with us?”

“Actually,” Kip was answering a call on his communicator, “It sounds like my supergroup needs me. I’ll probably look into this back at my base, though. If I find anything, I’ll give you a call.”

The two exchanged numbers and Ms. Liberty promised to give Kip a call if they found anything, too. She and Mynx promptly leapt away, clearing hundreds of yards in single bounds. Kip jumped to a nearby rooftop and answered his communicator.

“What is it, Cedric?”

“Dude! I’m in the Folly!”

“You interrupted me for THIS!?” Kip almost shouted, “Do you have any idea what you’ve done!? Do you have a clue who I was working with?”

“Ms. Liberty?” Cedric laughed, then, in the silence that followed, “Oh my God, I was right, wasn’t I?”

“Yeah…”

“I thought you were working solo today,” Cedric chuckled, “Or is that what ‘working solo’ is to you? You have a whole secret life as the pet hero of some of the city’s elite, huh?”

“Oh shut the [censored] up,” Kip hissed, “It was a once-in-a-lifetime thing… Especially this time…”

“Well, I’m hanging in the Folly… Man, this place is filthy…”

“Yeah, Ced,” Kip chuckled, “But you’ll find plenty of Rikti in there for ya to rip into with that axe of yours.”

“Hells-yeah!” Cedric shouted, “Wow, what’s that big rock-like guy?”

“No Ced! Don’t get too—“

“Blergh!”

“Aw… Ced…”

“He hit me with a Dodge!” Cedric roared after the jingling sound of teleporting to the hospital faded, “[censored] can’t even kill me with a quality vehicle!”

“Cedric,” Kip rubbed his temple, “I’ll see you later at Nester’s for movies and cards, okay? Bring chips and beer. I’m bringing dip, beer, more chips, and napkins and paper plates.”

“Who else is coming?”

“Snuffy.”

“What’s she bringing?”

“The Ryats, Joe… I think they’re bringing a pizza, too.”

“Are Cory and Matt gonna be there?”

“I think Cory has a date in Croatoa. I wasn’t able to get a hold of Mattock, but I think he’s working with Nester right now.”

“Cool, I’ll give him a call anyway.”

Kip winced at the sound of a wind tunnel.

“Are you going back into Crey’s Folly?”

“Yeah,” Cedric shouted triumphantly, “I’m gonna give that big stone [censored] a piece of my mind!”

“Cedric, I don’t think that’s a good idea… No…”

“Blergh!”

Kip turned off his communicator and leapt away. In mid flight, he realized what he was doing and stopped at the rooftop he landed on. Looking around, he realized he was able to still keep leaping… even without the leggings Sheldon had whipped up for him and the other members of Grey’s Army.

He powered on his armor and found a nearby reflective surface to talk to. Despite the cold surface of the outfit, he felt there was something behind that mask besides his own face… Something sentient, and possibly benevolent…

“Did you do this?” Kip intoned at the reflection, “What more are you doing for me?”

Suddenly conscious of himself, and feeling watched, he powered off the armor, it disappeared as wisps of smoke, and leapt into the distance. Shortly after his passing, a man dressed all in dark black that seemed to absorb the light that hit it stepped onto the rooftop. He wore a red mask and reflective lenses over his eyes. His long ears, however, marked him clearly as “not of this world.”

“Hunter Zachariah here,” He grumbled into his communicator, “I’ve tracked that weird energy signature Hunter Malcolm mentioned. All I found was one of the costumed vigilantes known as a “scrapper” by most of the local community.”

There was no reply audible to most ears, but he nodded all the same.

“Yes, sir,” he finally said, “I will investigate this anomaly personally. Hunter Zachariah, out.”

---

My Stories

Look at that. A full-grown woman pulling off pigtails. Her crazy is off the charts.

Kipland got back to the base and started working what info he had found into the computer. He knew there was a connection to Freedom Corps putting out a massive hit on Nemesis (even if they didn’t call it that) and the facility he took down earlier that afternoon (also finding two, count ‘em, two major names in the city hitting the same place). He started rooting through the Freedom Corps database and comparing it to what he knew of Nemesis.

He probably wasn’t the only hero who had figured it out by now, but most of the Nemesis “experts” still had it wrong. Nemesis wasn’t a tactical genius… He was an inventing genius, utilizing a technology that relied on an exceptionally cheap power source, so Nemesis was able to pump more resources into the actual capabilities of his machinery. But Nemesis wasn’t a tactical genius.

“Five gas plants shut down today…” he muttered to himself as he read through the various cells Nemesis had dotted through the city, “Four weapons facilities… Another six training bases…”

“Hey boss,” Ryat99 walked up behind Kip and looked over his shoulder, “What have you got here?”

“Something a little over your head right now, Ninety-nine,” Kip replied.

“Are you sure… looks like data-crunching... I'm pretty good at that stuff.”

“Well, yeah,” Kip shrugged, then leaned back and started rubbing his eyes, “Augh! You think you can look through this… Maybe see what I’m not?”

“Sure thing, boss,” Ryat99 pulled Kip’s wheeled chair out of the way and plugged himself into the computer via a USB hook-up, “Let’s see… Here we go.”

The screen started flashing as Ryat99’s processor cycled through the information faster than human thought. Kip backed away, sighing at the display of sheer power that coursed through the android’s head. A rattling nearby brought his attention to Sheldon’s gerbil, Felix.

“Nraaaaaaaah!” the little fuzzy mutant started panting like a dog as it gripped the wires of its cage.

“Have you and Sixty-six been feeding this guy?”

“Yes, according to Sheldon’s regimen.”

“What happened to him? He’s barely recognizable as a gerbil anymore! He looks like… like…”

“Like a tiny bear,” Sarah walked up behind him and started playing with Felix by dangling a string through the top of the cage, “Aw, lookit you! You’re getting all big and strong! You’re a cute little guy, aren’t you? Aren’t you?”

The tiny tail on Felix’s rear started wagging rapidly and happily as he got a hold of the string and Sarah let it go to let him play with it and get all wrapped up. After a few seconds of playing, he rolled onto his belly with a snort and stared at his food dish. Ryat66 showed up shortly thereafter and filled it precisely.

“Normal mix,” Ryat66 explained as the gerbil mutate started gobbling down the kibble, “Helps fuel the transformative properties of the gene-altering formula…”

“Was that dog food?” Kip croaked, “You’re feeding a gerbil dog food?”

“Yeah,” Ryat99’s deep voice almost came out amused, “You ever see a cat eat that stuff? They get huge in no time quick. Felix says the Pure Chow brand tastes the best.”

“You can understand him?” Sarah squeaked as she patted her cat as he trotted past her feet.

“Well, yeah…” the big android replied, “If I’m going to work with the animal, I should know its language. Sixty-six and I know his behavior, mannerisms, and by now, we know his personality. He’s a happy little guy.”

“How’s the transformation been for him?” Sarah asked as she leaned close to the cage and watched him gobble down the food, “I mean… he’s being turned from a rodent… into… into… I don’t know…”

“It’s been painful at times,” Ryat66 explained, “His teeth fell out last night and we couldn’t feed him his normal kibble. We had to feed him intravenously… Good thing Sheldon had prepared us for that.”

"He lost his teeth?" Sarah held her hands up to her mouth, "How awful..."

"In a matter of hours," Ryat66 explained, "he had grown in new sharp teeth. The formula seems to give him terrific regenerative properties. Sheldon is bothered by the thought of his friend suffering, I guess.

“I’ve never seen, nor heard, of anybody learning new subjects so fast,” Kip muttered as he went into the control room to get something from the refrigerator, “The guy shouldn't know this sort of crap, and he must've speed-read nearly a dozen books on the subject and interviewed a couple biologists. Sheldon is a frickin’ prodigy, I swear… Imagine what he could do if he applied himself to selling his tech… selling his skills, even…”

“I guess it’s a benefit, then,” Ryat99 stood up as the printer next to the terminal started spitting out a page, “That he decided to stick to working with his friends. If he were in all of this just to make money, we’d have problems. Kipland… The most likely scenario you requested is right there.”

“Thanks,” he grabbed it on his way back and looked it over as he drank, then choked down the soda as he resisted the urge to spit-take, “Oh… This is bad… Are these number right?”

“Yes, boss.”

Kip pulled his communicator and started dialing.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------

“This place is a blasted wasteland,” Cedric muttered as he hopped from building to scaffolding to building in Venice, now affectionately called Crey’s Folly, “Wonder what it would take the city to start fixing this place up?”

His communicator started bleeping and he answered it.

“Joe’s Taxidermy,” he hollered, “You snuff ‘em, we stuff ‘em!”

“Cedric!” Kip’s voice seemed hysterical, “Listen, man! Are you still in the Folly?”

“Yeah, I’m still in the Folly…”

“Dude, take down any and all Nemesis snipers you see. Do it now!”

Cedric clicked off his communicator and went to work. He had been a trooper before, and knew that, usually, when a superior gave him such a curt assignment with such a specified target, it was gravely important. He flicked open his wrist panel and clicked on the jetpack. An instant later, he was airborne and scanning the region. Higher and higher he flew, but he couldn’t see anything.

Then his jetpack shut down.

“God damn thirty second timer!” Cedric screamed as he fell toward a warehouse.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Sighting in,” Tiralleur Graves intoned as the target’s head was aligned under his crosshairs. His compatriots, nearly fifty of them, signaled in that they, too, were ready to execute the target

“Alright gentlemen,” the mission commander breathed excitedly, “It’s time to make a statement for this city!”

“Was that a joke, sir?” another sniper asked amid the chuckles that started to pollute the channel.

“Alright boys, cut the chatter,” the commander cut them off, on my signal-“

Graves missed the rest as Cedric Grey collided into him. Screaming, they both went tumbling off the side of the warehouse. Cedric found himself landing in a dumpster, the garbage soaking up most of the damage. Tiralleur Graves, on the other hand, slammed into the edge of another dumpster on his back. His armor let loose some steam as it compensated for the impact, and he crumpled just outside the waste receptacle.

His rifle hit, butt-first on the concrete in front of him and fired.

“Oh…” Graves moaned, “Oh no… Commander… Some hero just crashed into me…”

“… Graves? What happened? Is your weapon functioning?”

“Uh… yes sir… It… it just fired when it hit the dirt…”

“… No worries… the shell doesn’t seem to have impacted anywhere the target would have noticed… Graves, if you can get back in position by the time I give the signal…”

Suddenly, an explosion tore through the radio frequency, and Graves clutched at his helmet. When the static cleared, Graves could hear screams and more explosions and the Mission Commander yelling desperately to cut the chatter and get back on target.

“Sir? Sir! What’s going on!?”
--------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Did you hear something?” Manticore asked Statesman as they continued their tour of Venice.

Statesman looked up into the sky. Then he saw a small ceramic shell sailing through the air.

“I don’t think it’s something we have to worry about,” the icon of Paragon City replied with a grin, “It looks like things have panned out okay… Still, we should probably get moving.”
-------------------------------------------------------------------------

“You [censored]!” Graves shouted as Cedric picked himself out of the dumpster, “You’ve ruined everything!”

“Alright!” Cedric smiled charmingly at the Tiralleur, “Drinks on me, then!”

“You don’t even know what you did!” Graves reached for his rifle, “I’ll kill you!”

Cedric threw his axe at the sniper’s head and Graves jumped down. He looked back to the weapon, then noticed the chain that had followed it. Slowly, he looked back to Cedric.

“Sorry, man,” the armored tanker shrugged before hitting the retract button on his right wristguard and snapping the flat of the axe blade against Tiralleur Graves’s helmet.

“Out cold.”

Cedric got out of the trash bin and strolled over to the sniper’s prone form. Kicking him over, he knelt down and inspected the ornate rifle.

“Huh…” he muttered as he admired the massive blade and intricate etchings and brasswork, “Seems a bit heftier than a typical sniper rifle… I wonder what kinds of rounds it uses…”

Cedric rolled over Graves and started rooting through his uniform. He found a belt with three rounds still in it and an empty loop. They seemed to be a type of ceramic shell, housed in a brass casing, typical for the Nemesis Army, especially, their snipers. Cedric wished he had more experience with their weaponry, though. The best he could gauge was that this rifle was a little different from the one his dad had on display back at the base.

“Well, I need a new weapon…” he declared happily as he strapped the ammo belt across his torso from his right shoulder to his left hip, “And this is as good as any. Can’t wait to put some of you goons down with your own guns!”

“What…” Graves started groaning, “What’re you... you’re… robbing me? What’re you doing?”

“Robbing you?” Cedric smirked, “No… I’m… ‘re-acquiring’ some gear… and as for what else I’m doing… I’m policing my brass…”

He pulled a tag from his belt and placed it on the sniper’s helmet. It started beeping happily, and Cedric slammed his fist into Graves’s faceplate, bouncing the trooper’s head against the concrete.

Graves groaned incoherently as Cedric walked away and a police drone moved in on the signal.

Cedric strolled through the alley humming to himself and started reloading the rifle. He was a little surprised that it was a lot like reloading a breach action shotgun or rifle. He had expected a more complicated mechanism, but wasn’t disappointed by the result. When he left the alley, he was again surprised.

“You again,” Statesman pointed at him, “I saw you in Baumton…”

“Uh… yeah…” Cedric replied with a sheepish grin, “Um… You haven’t happened to have seen a large number of Nemesis snipers around, have you?”

“No,” Statesman replied with a smile, “Something seems to have quieted them down… At least for this hour of the day…”

“Oh… cool…” Cedric shouldered the weapon in his hand, “Well… I’ll be on my way, then.”
-------------------------------------------------------------------------

"It seems the terrorists plans were foiled when a lone hero interrupted the attack, causing a chain reaction to occur that systematiclaly shut down the entire assassination attempt," the newscaster rattled out on the news channel, "From what evidence has been gathered, the gasses would likely have severely damaged their target, which we've been informed was an individual vital to the safety of our city..."

Cedric clicked off the television and smiled to Kip. Kip wasn't happy about the way the situation was portrayed on the news. It seemed the media was really straining to cut down the very real danger the city was in at nearly all times.

"What do you expect?" Cedric popped open a beer and tooka quick swig, "You can't have the whole city living in fear. Nothing'll get done!"

"This is true," Cory agreed as he meditated in the corner of the oversight center, "The newscasters here have a difficult job to tell the people what is going on without terrifying everybody into a state of near-paralytic panic. The fact they were able to mention the story at all is a testament."

"It would've been nice to have gotten mentioned, though," Cedric shrugged, "You know, so I could get in on that ticker tape parade they throw every so often..."

"You did good, though," Ryat99 said in a tone that seemed cheerful, "By my analysis, that compound, concentrated in one area, would have left that region of Crey's Folly uninhabitable for nearly a year. It was sheer luck that the whole network of snipers got taken out like that, though..."

"Yeah, I hopped up on a rooftop and checked through the scope," Cedric started chuckling, "Little puffs of smoke everywhere... And the already heavily corroded metal was getting worse. I don't know what happened to the snipers, but it couldn't have been good..."

Kipland Durj nodded and smiled. He wasn't feeling some sadistic pleasure at nearly killing a group of Nemesis troops. He was smiling because he and his crew were able to not only figure out Nemesis's plan, but bring it down catastrophically.

It just went to show that he was right. He didn't have to think like a general to beat Nemesis. He didn't need to be a detective to unravel the schemes. He did have to think, though. He had to think... like an author.

---

My Stories

Look at that. A full-grown woman pulling off pigtails. Her crazy is off the charts.

Ding-dong! Ding-dong! Dee-do-dee-do-dee-do-ding-dong!

Cobalt Black lurched out of the bathroom, pulling on a pair of shorts and ruffling a towel through his damp hair. He didn’t know who could be showing up at this hour of the afternoon, but he figured it must have been important.

“Jebus, Kipland, where are you?”

He opened the door quickly and violently with a shouted “WHAT!?”

And promptly choked on his attitude. Two young ladies in the outfits of the Carnival of Shadows were waiting for him. Despite the fact that his pulse-rate quickened in anticipation of a fight, he quickly noticed that neither of the girls were in a stance that exuded violence. Oddly enough, they seemed friendly.

“Hi!” the one in orange to his right shouted in a cheery, squeaky voice, “How are you today, fine sir?”

“Oh dear,” the other, dressed in blue, “It seems we caught this one when he was in the shower…”

“Actually, I had just got done when you started ringing my doorbell off the wall…”

“Oh, we’re sorry,” the orange one sounded sincere, “But we’ve been at this all day, and we really want to get this building done by six!”

“What?” Cobalt smirked at the pair, “Are you casing the joint?”

“No! No-no-no-no-no-no-no!” they pleaded in unison, then the blue one explained, “You see sir, I’m Misty, and this is Mindy…”

“Hello!” Mindy closed her eyes, smiled, waved and stuck out her tongue like a cat cheerfully (you know, the way cat’s sometimes leave their tongue hanging out after licking their paw and stare at you looking so adorable and cute).

“Uh…” Cobalt pointed at her, a question on his mind, but he promptly forgot it.

“…And we’re here to present a very special offer for you,” Misty finished.

“We’re here, for you!” Mindy chirped.

“That’s awesome,” Cobalt started reaching for the pistol he left on the counter next to the door. Cursing in his head, he realized he had taken it to his room to clean it.

“As you know, the Carnival of Shadows has been receiving a lot of negative press,” Mindy explained.

“And our efforts at the Carnival haven’t been effective at generating enough income…”

“To pay off your mounting legal fees,” Cobalt smirked at them, “Funny how that works… I’d have figured that with all the robberies you girls and boys do, you’d be rolling in the dough… Oh… That’s right… It all gets seized when your little troupes get arrested.”

“That’s not fair,” the girls said in unison, finishing with a puppy-dog pout.

“What the Hell?” Cobalt noticed they weren’t wearing masks, “What is that, face paint?”

“Yeah,” Mindy shrugged, “We’re just initiates. The Carnival Mistresses won’t issue us our masks until we’ve proven we’re worthy of them.”

“We bend over backwards for those [censored]!” Misty nearly screeched, “Literally!”

“That’s nice,” Cobalt smiled and stared into the far wall as a thought occurred to him.

“I’m serious!” Misty shouted him back into focus, “Now they’ve got us here, doing this… Being insulted by one of the thugs this city calls a hero. People like you have hurt a lot of my friends… I…”

“Misty,” Mindy patted her partner’s shoulder and ushered her out of Cobalt’s view down the hallway.

Cobalt leaned out his door to watch her go and noticed her getting something out of a medium sized cardboard box. He turned to Mindy, his brow furrowed in confusion.

“What are you doing here?”

“Well, sir,” Mindy answered with a wink, “I’m glad you asked!”

“Oh god!” he rubbed his temples, “Please… I thought they didn’t let you magazine salesmen in here anymore…”

“Oh, no sir!” Misty handed a box to Mindy as the orange-clad girl clearly explained her derision, “We don’t sell anything so useless and bothersome as magazines! Ugh… Trust me, sir, I’ve been plagued by those monsters myself. Too bad the heroes of this city can’t go after them!”

“I hear that.”

“We sell something much better than magazines! Something you’ll derive much more pleasure from!”

“I don’t know,” Cobalt scratched his chin, “Some of those magazines…”

“Grr…” Misty gritted her teeth and balled her fists at her hips.

Mindy, however, laughed off his comment and thrust the box into his chest. She lightly caught his diaphragm, causing him to cough a little.

“Cookies!” she shouted happily as he looked at the box.

“You’re selling cookies,” Cobalt frowned at the box as he examined the bright colors and looked back to the matching girls, “You heist these from a group of Little Lady Green Berets? That’s really… really low.”

“NO!” Mindy again laughed it off and punched him hard in the arm.

Cobalt was starting to see a pattern to the behavior.

“We acquired these perfectly legally. We bought one of the baking plants nearby, and now we’re making Carnival of Shadows brand cookies! When the Girl Scouts don’t sell them, we do! And, might I say, they’re quite tasty!”

“Right…” Cobalt laughed as he popped open the box and looked at the chocolate chip cookies inside.

“Uh…” Mindy bit her lower lip, “Sir… You’re not allowed to…”

“Tell you what,” Cobalt sniffed one of the cookies and put it back in the box, “I’ll buy these… and the rest of that box out there.”

“Um…”

“Oh, take the deal!” Misty crossed her arms over her chest and pouted, “Its not like we’re gonna sell anymore in this building.”

“What!?” Praetorian Kip looked to each of the girls, “Nobody bought cookies from you? You’ve been at this all day!?”

“We keep running into you… heroes,” Misty explained, “They tell people to ignore us…”

“Well, how much for that box?”

“A hundred and twenty dollars,” Mindy’s eyes gleamed and she smirked at him happily, she looked like a tan kitty, “Of course, since you’re ordering in bulk, I’ll make it an even hundred!”

“Sounds good, I’ll be right back.”

Cobalt walked back into the apartment and got his wallet from his room. Although he couldn’t believe he was shelling out his hard-earned cash for this, it had to be the easiest way to get a sample of whatever scheme the Carnival was cooking up. He got back to the door and heard the girls talking.

“I don’t care…”

Misty.

“But you haven’t had a guy since Bobby!”

Mindy.

“Ugh… Why do you think I don’t want to talk about this? Bobby was a jerk in the end. This guy’s a jerk, now!”

“But he’s cute!”

Cobalt smirked to himself. Cute. Nobody applied that adjective to him. He figured Kipland didn’t hear it a lot either.

“Look, just ask him out…” Mindy prodded her friend, “I know you like him. You love the small, muscly guys…”

“We graduated from high school a long time ago, Min. I don’t act like I hate a guy and secretly crush on him anymore.”

“Yes you do! You practically ignore the Strongmen we work with! Why? Because they’re not your type! But those guys who deliver our water… The cops you see patrolling the street… I see you swoon.”

“Oh shut the Hell up,” Misty grumbled in a high-pitched voice, “I don’t like him.”

“Do so, do so, do so!” Mindy laughed.

“Okay,” Cobalt opened the door with the money in hand, “Here you go, a hundred dollars and a twenty dollar tip…”

“Yay!” Mindy took the money with a laugh, jumped up and kissed Cobalt on the cheek.

She left a small black kiss mark there.

“Aw…” Mindy smiled at him, “Misty! Give him a quick peck on the other cheek to even him out…”

“No!”

“My friend likes you,” Mindy grinned at the young scrapper.

“So I heard,” Cobalt muttered, “You know, I came off rude, earlier. I’m sorry about that… Uh…”

“What the Hell is this!?” Kipland shouted from the elevator door.

“Oh my God!” Misty covered her mouth with her fingertips, “There’s two of them!”

“Kip, knock it off, I’ll explain later,” Cobalt shouted back.

“Uh… We should get going…” Mindy frowned a little, “Thanks for buying the cookies.”

“Now you’ve dug a garden spade worth of dirt out of the hole you’re in with your lawyers,” Cobalt replied, “Congratulations.”

“Remember what you said about being mean?” Misty hissed, “That was mean.”

“Sorry. It’s your uniforms… They inspire me to banter.”

Kipland passed them, glaring at the girls and his double respectively before entering the apartment. He headed for the bathroom and Cobalt laughed when Kip turned on the shower to find nothing but cold water. The girls giggled.

“Hey, look…” Cobalt snagged the box and pulled it into the apartment, “I’m sorry, girls. You seem nice… You really do. It’s just… I’ve gotten to a point where I’m wired to distrust you when you’re in those… outfits.”

“You want to know us without the outfits?” Mindy giggled as Misty suddenly pursed her lips in embarrassment.

“Right now?”

“No, silly,” Mindy laughed, “A date! You and us! Dinner!”

“Hm… I don’t know…”

“Yeah,” Misty started sidling away, “I mean, we don’t quite know our plans…”

“Nonsense!” Mindy pulled Misty back and gave her a hearty hug around the shoulders, “We’ll see you at that restaurant… Cuco’s… You like Mexican, right?”

“I’ve got no problem with it…”

“Great! Tomorrow at seven! And don’t be late! We know where you live…”

She finished with a mischievous smile that set both Cobalt and Misty a little on edge.

“Is, this place, uh… high class?” Cobalt scratched the back of his head.

“Well… You can’t come wearing rags,” Mindy explained, “If that’s what you’re asking. No work clothes, stuff like that…”

“Like your costume,” Misty seemed to smile as she narrowed her eyes.

“Ah, no problem then,” Cobalt smiled, “I’ve got civvies to spare.”

“Cool!” Midny chirped, “So… What’s tour name?”

“Oh… I’m… Aaron… Aaron Durj,” Cobalt used his middle name instead of “Kip,” it felt right for this world.

“Well, night, night Aaron,” Mindy started prancing down the hall to the elevator.

“Um…” Misty watched her friend go, then turned to Aaron.

She suddenly pointed behind him and to his right.

“What’s that!?”

“Huh?” Cobalt turned and she gave him a quick peck on the cheek, “Hey!”

“HaHA!” Mindy called as the elevator door opened, “I told you, you like him!”

“Shut up! Shut up! Shut up!” Misty squeaked as she ran back to the elevator.

Cobalt Black missed the rest of the conversation and walked back into the apartment. Kip was standing in the living room in sweat pants, drying his hair. He used his free hand to maneuver through the channels on the TV with the remote. He laughed when he turned to his double.

"You know you've got two black kiss marks on your face?"

"Yeah," Cobalt chuckled.

“So… What is all of that about?”

“They were selling cookies,” Cobalt shrugged, “I bought a case.”

“A case…” Kipland growled, “From one problem, straight into another… Cobalt…”

“Aaron…”

Kip turned and regarded his double for a moment.

“You were named the exact same as me, huh?”

“Yeah.”

“Freaky…” Kip turned back to the television and tried to find a decent program, “Anyway, you really think the Carnies are gonna sell you a straight up box of cookies? Dude! The Girls Scout cookies are suspect as it is! You and I have both put down plenty of Carnie cells that are easily not innocent… What makes you think anything that has to do with them is anything not evil?”

“A really good feeling,” Cobalt replied with a grin and a slap to his double’s shoulder, “’Sides, I didn’t buy the cookies to eat them.”

“Then why’d you buy them?”

“So when Shel gets back, we can have him scan them for their brain altering chemicals…”

Kipland stared at “Aaron” for a few seconds.

“What?” Cobalt shrugged.

“Nothing,” Kipland turned back to the TV, “It’s just that what you said took me back to high school… I remember doing the exact same thing to the Kingdale Girl Scouts troop… Granted, it was a few of them, and they were androids seeded into the group by an evil alien… thing… Just…”

Cobalt Black smiled.

“Okay, you’ve got a plan,” Kip turned it to the news channel and let the day’s events of heroes kicking butt prattle on, “Dammit, if it isn’t one thing, it’s another, isn’t it?”

---

My Stories

Look at that. A full-grown woman pulling off pigtails. Her crazy is off the charts.

Cedric Grey caught Cobalt Black coming out of Icon while on patrol through Steel Canyon.

“Hey man!” he said as he hopped nearby, “What’s up?”

“Nothing, just asking the opinions of some of Icon’s tailors.”

“For that date, huh?” Cedric nudged Cobalt in the ribs with his elbow and followed him leaping through the city zone.

“Yeah…” Cobalt replied at intervals, “I’m so used to my uniform, I kinda needed a reminder of how normal people dress…”

“Uh…” Cedric gazed at the citizens they passed, “Well, there’s shining examples of what to wear all around you, man…”

“I mean for a social occasion…”

Cedric pointed out a couple people in appropriate attire.

“That’s nothing like the tailor suggested…”

“Of course not…” Cedric started chuckling, “Those guys go into conniptions whenever Dad, me, Matt, or Kip hop in there for a wardrobe change. We aren’t conducive to the idea of crazy, outlandish apparel. We like to wear stuff that feels comfortable.”

“Hm…”

“Look man, I’ve been to Cuco’s, it’s a decent restaurant. Try the fried ice cream… It’s some tasty stuff.”

“Fried…” Cobalt’s face seemed to register disgust, “Ice cream…”

“Trust me, man.”

They leapt to a building at the north end of the city and determined there wasn’t anything out of the ordinary. Or, rather, there was nothing that the other lower security level heroes couldn’t handle. There wasn’t even a fire that the Hellions typically started every so often.

“Well, I’m gonna move on to I.P.,” Cedric shrugged, “Later man, later.”

“Yeah,” Cobalt’s hat blew off his head from a sudden gust of wind, “I… Uh… Hey, why’d it get so windy all of a sudden?”

The sound of a helicopter flying around caused them to look to the horizon. Nothing there... nothing that could explain the sound or the wind, anyway. Then, Cedric looked to the ledge of the building, and swatted Cobalt’s chest to get his attention.

A black helicopter hovered just off the side of the building. It was a troop carrying type, like a Black Hawk, only it had a pair of “wings” loaded down with rocket and missile launchers. It also had a sharper nose, as if it were a cross between an Apache’s and a Black Hawk’s, and the nose was dotted with four symmetrically placed machine guns. Barely discernable through the canopy, the pilot seemed to be wearing a hat similar to what had just blown off Cobalt’s head.

“The Malta Group!” the scrapper shouted before trying to push Cedric away.

“Move!” Cedric returned the shove and they broke away from each other just in time to avoid the rocket that passed between, detonating on the wall behind them.

Cobalt leapt from the edge and threw a grappling hook to the next building. Cheering with a whoop as it hooked one of the many protrusions, he swung through the air, machine gun fire following him. He could hear windows smashing and concrete getting broken apart. Landing on the wall, he started running as fast and as hard as he could, using the grappling hook’s cable to keep him “upright,” flicked on the kinetic thruster exo-frame that enabled him to “super leap” and made a desperate jump to the next building. The seemingly never-ending stream of bullets continued to pursue him.

Cedric had a different course of action. He leapt off the opposite side as Cobalt, but he threw his axe into the ledge and used the chain that trailed him from it to come right back up. After leaping off the side, he heard a Malta trooper take a few pot shots at him with an assault rifle, but they didn’t seem to be too interested in him.

“Big mistake,” Cedric laughed as he ran around the ledge to the other side of the building.

He saw the Black Helicopter chasing his friend. He gave a sharp whistle to Cobalt and set his wristguard to loosen the chain. The Praetorian scrapper leapt past and Cedric hopped off the ledge, hurling his axe at the helicopter as it flew after its target. The blade stuck into the tail, and Cedric hit the “retract” button. Unfortunately, the chain didn’t retract nearly fast enough, and Cedric was bounced off the side of the first building’s wall.

“Aaaaaaaaah-Oof!”

----

The pilot hit the comm-system and told his troopers to “check what the Hell happened.” One Malta operative looked to the tail and saw Cedric’s axe with a limp-hanging meta-human hanging from a chain by his wrist. Chuckling, he took a few pot shots, but again missed.

“Tell me you didn’t just shoot at the tail!” the pilot screamed into the comm-system, “Tell me you didn’t just try to knock this very expensive piece of equipment out of the sky!”

“Sorry boss...”

“Don’t let it happen again, Jenkins,” the pilot shouted, “Or I swear to God... In any case... He’s not our target. He’s just an insect compared to the betrayal we’ve suffered at the hands of this [censored] we’re hunting. His weapon may be stuck in the tail’s armor plating, but that’s as far as he’ll get.”

“Aye, boss...”

----

Cobalt hit the dirt outside the tunnel through the War Wall leading to the neighborhoods between Steel Canyon and Atlas Park. With a mad dash, he just happened to make it through the tunnel entrance as a series of missiles decimated it.

----

“Blast!” the pilot started cursing into the comm-system, then wheeled the helicopter at the Yellow Line, “I gotta let off some steam... Bye, bye lowbie metas!”

----

Cedric watched in horror as a series of missiles decimated the entrance and exit of the Steel Canyon Yellow Line train station.

“You bastards!” he shouted, then grabbed a hold of his axe and wrenched it out of the tail, “I swear, whatever it costs me, I’ll be the one who takes you down for that!”

The agents inside the helicopter didn’t reply. The noise canceling stealth technology must have kept them from hearing him. Regardless, Cedric started making his plan.

----

“Command, we need a War Wall section shut down,” the pilot muttered calmly, “Transmitting coordinates, now.”

“That’ll take you into Atlas Park...” Command replied, “Are you certain you can take that machine in there?”

“We’ve got two Sappers, and plenty of ammunition,” the pilot grinned, “Not to mention the Matrix Inhibitor... I’m sure we can handle it. Trust me, the city could use a few less MH’s.”

“Alright... Iron Eagle 0-0-4, authority to shut down War Wall has been granted...”

----

Cedric watched in horror as a single blue section of the Steel Canyon’s War Wall faded out of existence. The Black Helicopter wasted no time flying through the hole. Cedric started punching into his communicator a broadcast S.O.S. Hopefully, other heroes saw it. Hopefully, they could get some support to Atlas Park before all Hell broke loose.

“Get a hold of yer SG's 50s,” the message read, “And anybody you know who can whomp the Malta Group! Get em over to Atlas Park, and FAST!”

----

Cobalt Black emerged from the tunnel and started booking for the Yellow Line. A hail of machine gun fire pelted into his back. Crumpling to the ground, he coughed and hacked as he struggled to regain his breath. It wasn’t that they’d hit something vital. In fact, they hadn’t even hit skin. The Maltese Resistance supplied their troopers with the very best in physical protection.

Cobalt Black’s body armor was so far beyond military grade, it was frightening. First, a layer of padding akin to a gym mat made up the interior of the armor, which was fitted inside a ballistic/impact resistant plastic polymer (as “Kevlar” was never developed on Praetorian Earth) molded to form the main body of the combat armor. This plastic, it was determined in clandestine labs throughout Praetorian Earth, was five times stronger than an equivalent weight of steel. Layered upon the polymer shell was a set of armor plates composed of ballistic/impact resistant ceramic plates. These were each, in turn, layered with carbon fiber and then had molten diamond poured upon them. Left to dry and thrown together with a distinctive “black shirt” appearance, it made for a potent body armor that allowed the Maltese Resistance to stand up to some of the greatest threats the Praetorians can throw at them.

Unfortunately, it did little in the way of stopping a series of high caliber rounds from knocking the wind out of its wearer if the individual wasn’t adequately prepared for it. Cobalt Black was left coughing and hacking as a pair of Malta Group Agents rappelled down to him from the helicopter and signaled to the helicopter to continue to Atlas Park and the low-level heroes and few high-levels there.

One of the agents pulled a pistol and put the muzzle to Cobalt’s head.

“This is how we deal with traitors,” he spat moment’s before his wrist was snatched by Cobalt Black and he fired into the pavement.

“How’s that?” Cobalt coughed as he rammed his right elbow into the Agent’s inner thigh, “Poorly?”

Then, slamming his shoulder into the Agent’s belly, and rewarded with what felt like ballistic armor (what is commonly known as a flack jacket), he hoisted the Agent into the air and up into a fireman’s carry. When he saw the other trying to draw his weapon, he whirled around and launched his victim into the new target.

As they collapsed into a heap, Cobalt wasted no time in pressing the advantage. He leapt at them and caught a hold of the jacket collar of the one he threw. The other, he locked his legs around his neck and just started to squeeze. The collar, he cinched tighter and tighter and waited for the two to stop struggling. It didn’t take much longer than six seconds.

“That’s a blood choke for you,” he grumbled as he placed a tag on the first, and to the second, “And just a simple lack of heart for you. I can think of at least six different ways to get out of a leg-lock around the neck, many of which involve destroying the obstruction...”

Cobalt took their weapons and started walking away as the police drones swooped in to take teleport them to the Zig.

“I guess you were just afraid you’d shoot yourself.”

----

Cedric could do nothing as the Sappers started hovering next to the helicopter. Indeed, he had no idea what was about to happen. Then, the weird weapons they wielded started to glow more intensely and he got a bad feeling.

----

Mad Mat McGinty walked away from yet another Costume Contest in the middle of Atlas Park. He was headed for the train station and he didn’t get why his fellow heroes continued to waste their time with such vain activities.

Suddenly, his communicator started blaring a warning klaxon. Looking at it, he saw in big red letters “WARNING! THIS ZONE HAS BEEN DECLARED HAZARDOUS BY THE FREEDOM PHALANX! ALL HEROES NOT OF SECURITY LEVEL FORTY CLEARANCE, PLEASE VACATE IMMEDIATELY!”

“That’s new,” Matt looked around to see what could have caused it and saw above the City Hall the Black Helicopter with Cedric hanging from it.

“Like Hell I’m gonna just walk away from this fight!”

Drawing his katana, he started heading back.

----

The Sappers fired and filled the square under the statue of Atlas with bright, white, incandescent light. Every hero with any kind of powers active suddenly reverted to their base costumes and looked about confusedly. When they saw the Black Helicopter, what few high level heroes that knew what was going on were too late to do anything about it.

Cedric stared at the helicopter’s rotors and determined the only thing he could do. Taking careful aim with his axe, he tried to ignore the sound of gunfire as the helicopter started pumping rounds into the suddenly de-powered heroes. Missiles flew, and his aim was distorted by smoke. The helicopter moved around the globe, and Cedric had to compensate for the momentum. Finally, with everything in mind, and everything on the line, he reared back with the axe.

“All or nothing,” he licked his lips, “I miss, and those gunners cut me down... I hit...”

He threw as hard as he could, the chain trailing behind the axe. It seemed to go in slow motion, and Cedric felt he had indeed failed. The blade hit the blur of the rotor and exploded in a shower of sparks and steel.

The effect was instantaneous. The helicopter started losing what little altitude it had and the two Sappers grabbed a hold of the open doorways to avoid getting clipped by the still spinning propeller blades and pull themselves back in. The machine was descending slowly and was out of control.

Cedric retracted what was left of his chain, which surprisingly went all the way to the broken shaft of his axe, and leapt from the helicopter tail. Spinning about, he threw the handle into the rotor, further destroying what control the helicopter had, and guided himself safely, albeit roughly, to the ground.

Running as hard as he could, he found the nearest leg of Atlas and wrapped the chain around it. It was the more forward right leg, and many heroes were clearing any and all civilians out of the region. With the helicopter tethered as it was, there was very little damage it could do to the surrounding buildings, even if the pilot could have steered it. Still, Cedric felt it was safer to keep the wreckage nearby...

As the machine neared the end of its descent (read: crash), the tanker noticed a pair of heroes suddenly port in from the training zone commonly referred to as the Outbreak. Ripping off his glove and kicking on the super leap system, he sprang forward with a heroic yell. He was just in time and shoved them out of the way when the Black Helicopter landed on his back.

“Ah...” Cedric stayed standing for nearly a second, his super leap system screaming and he fell forward, the weight of the helicopter crushing into his armor.

“Aha... This had to be one of those wheeled helicopters, huh?”

He could hear the kinetic impact resistance system Sheldon had thrown into the armor screaming for mercy. So far, he couldn’t feel a thing, but the armor wouldn’t last forever. Apparently, though, it seemed that Cedric wouldn’t be alive long enough for that to matter.

“You must think you’re hot [censored],” the Pilot stepped out and put a pistol muzzle to Cedric’s head, “That machine cost a couple billion. How do you expect to pay that back?”

The others must have piled out the other side to fight the other heroes.

“I’m gonna take a wild guess here and say we can’t handle this in installments,” Cedric croaked out a chuckle as he started to feel the machine’s weight.

He wished he could have looked up so the Malta Agent could see the complete lack of concern in his eyes. Nothing... Absolutely nothing fazed Cedric. Not even his impending death.

“No...” Iron Eagle replied, “All at once, right now...”

He thumbed the hammer back.

“Don’t expect a light on the other side... The medical can’t bring you back while this thing’s engine is still running.”

A flash of steel later and the pistol was in the air. Mad Matt McGinty held the edge of his katana to the Agent’s throat. The Agent held his hands up.

“You okay, Ced?” Matt asked over the cacophony of heroes trying to regain order.

“I’m doin’ as good as a guy getting slowly crushed can do, man.”

“That’s nice,” Iron Eagle flicked his right wrist and a small hold-out pistol popped out of his cuff.

He then aimed and blew a hole into Matt’s left shoulder. McGinty fell back with a yell and Eagle turned back to Cedric.

Before he could pull the trigger, however, his chest exploded in flames. Screaming, Iron Eagle backed into an iron wrought fence, got hung up a little on it, and the two heroes that Cedric had saved proceeded to freeze and pummel the snot out of him. Cobalt Black stepped through the helicopter and stared at the controls for a moment. Finally locating the ignition controls, he shut the machine down and any heroes who had been incapacitated were teleported to Chiron Medical Center.

A Malta Agent was sent hurtling through the air over the helicopter and Cedric watched him fall with a thump. Suddenly, there were a pair of boots flanking his head. Stiletto heeled boots...

“Uh...” Matt croaked to Ms. Liberty, “Ma’am, you might want to move...”

“Why? What’s wrong?”

“Relax, Matt,” Cedric said, much to the Vindicator leader’s mortification, “I can’t look up.”

“Oh, good, then.”

Ms. Liberty stepped away from the machine and inspected Cedric’s situation. A couple super strength heroes approached and started lifting the wreckage off his body. A few other heroes helped pull him out and Cedric realized he was hurt worse than he thought.

“I might never eat hamburger again...” he said as he looked at the damage, “Oh! Hey! Cobalt! Could you get me a burger from Hero Burger! What?”

Cobalt exited the machine with his hero I.D. clear to see. It almost didn’t save him from Ms. Liberty’s wrath, but she stopped when she saw the name on it.

“Kipland... Durj?” her face screwed up in confusion, she glared at the other scrapper as he pulled off his mask, “What is this, undercover?”

“Look up Cobalt Black in your Freedom Corps files,” Cobalt replied, “That’ll tell you who I am. I hate to say it, but it looks like this was a huge misunderstanding. These agents think I’m a traitor to their cause when I’ve never been associated with them.”

“But... the uniform...”

“It’s my uniform in the dimension most here commonly call ‘Praetorian Earth,’” he lowered his eyes at that, “Make of that what you will... I know your history with the place...”

Healer heroes restored what others didn’t need to go to the hospital, including Cedric’s smashed legs. He thanked the female healer profusely, even offering to take her out to dinner in payment. She replied by saying that she already had a girlfriend.

“Sonova!” Cedric grinned, “Figures... Now, how is it a guy as ugly as you gets a pair of cute girls, and a guy as handsome as me... with my winning smile... can’t even get one?”

“Maybe because the girls can smell how much of a loser you are,” Matt laughed as the healer hit his shoulder with her magic.

“But I’m not a loser,” Cedric grinned, “Maybe I’m just asking the wrong people. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to get me a weapon...”

Cedric made for the MAGI offices under the City Hall. Cobalt and Matt followed him, trying to dissuade him as soon as Matt realized what they were after.

“Cedric, this is a notoriously bad idea!”

Matt.

“That weapon needs to stay in that vault!”

Cobalt Black.

“Why, so some Circle of Thorns mystic can just steal it?” Cedric strode into the office and grinned at Azuria, who smiled warmly back, “Sorry, but I don’t think so.”

“Don’t think so, what?” Azuria asked, “Am I missing something? I’m confused. There hasn’t been a break-in today...”

“Where’s Mider Caid?” Cedric asked, “That guy owes me an axe.”

“Oh, we promoted Mider once his brother was cleared of his charges. He’s a field agent, now.”

“WHAT!?” Cedric barked, “We arrested that guy! This guy’s double, Kip! He’s the one who made the arrest! What the Hell?”

“Well, it was discovered Mider’s brother, Gregory, was actually a Freedom Corps secret agent.”

Cedric’s jaw hung agape for a moment. He was joined by Matt and Cobalt simply stroked his chin. Finally, grumbling to himself, Cedric shook off his discomfort.

“Alright... Fine... It’s not important. Ma’am... I am here for my axe.”

Azuria tilted her head to one side, then arched her eyebrow at him.

“It seems we already gave you an artifact like that.”

“Well, yeah,” Cedric bit his lip, “And maybe if I had the one I want now not twenty minutes ago, we wouldn’t be having this conversation.”

Azuria glowered at him. She knew what eh was asking for, but was loathe to grant his request. By all rights, she had to give him the weapon, as it was his. But it still seemed to be a tremendous risk.

“Mr. Grey,” she began, “This is a dark and wicked thing you’re asking for...”

“I know,” Cedric replied, “But I know that, now. And as long as I know that it’s Cedric the Gray, I can fight him. When I took that other axe from Mider Caid... I was in effect saying I didn’t have what it took to fight back. If that’s how I feel, what am I doing here? I’m not afraid... Hell, I don’t even know how fear feels... Except when I accidentally looked up when hacking at Jack in Irons’s feet last Halloween... But still! I owe it to myself to master that weapon. If I want to be one of the greatest heroes in this city... I need that axe.”

Azuria stared at him. Her posture hadn’t changed and she seemed to be resolute in her determination to keep Cedric from wielding the weapon of his Praetorian. Finally, muttering to herself, she shrugged.

“Fine. It’s done.”

Cedric felt a weight in his hand. He looked down to see the gleaming axe.

“Alright!” he shouted.

“I’ve been waiting,” he heard in the back of his head.

“I know,” he thought back, “We’re gonna have us some fun!”

“What!?” Cedric the Gray sounded confused.

Good, that’s just how I want him.

---

My Stories

Look at that. A full-grown woman pulling off pigtails. Her crazy is off the charts.

“I don’t get this,” Matt muttered to himself, “I haven’t dealt with the Skulls since I was security level 15. There’s plenty enough heroes out there that can deal with this, why am I doing a recovery mission?”

“Because, my apprentice,” Cory replied through the Aether, “Azuria asked us to handle it.”

“She only asked us because she met us again recently,” Matt grumbled again, “And how do you do that? And when did I become your apprentice?”

All he got in response was a whispery chuckle.

The abandoned office building was deathly quiet. Matt tiptoed quietly through the hallways, sword drawn and set defensively. He had no clue as to what to expect, but from what eh remembered about the Skulls, they should have been a lot louder than this.

“Cory... How are things from your position?”

Cory, across the street and looking through a second story window, sipped his tea casually. He didn’t know how to tell Matt that this was the strangest building he’d ever seen, especially for the Skulls. It looked to be a massive block of obsidian, but it had a swirl pattern that flowed and warped constantly. Sometimes, the actual building came back into view, other times, it got darker.

However, the warlock was an honest sort.

“It’s bad, Mattock...”

“Finally got my name right, huh?”

“Yes... Matt... The building is a complete blank to me. There’s something inside, maybe one of the artifacts we were sent to acquire, blocking all scrying attempts...”

“Great...”

Matt continued his stealthy investigation. The fact that he wasn’t running into any guards was unnerving. The first and second floors were both completely barren. This third was shaping up similarly.

Then he heard it. A gunshot. It came from upstairs and Matt scrambled like mad for the elevator. There still weren’t any guards between him and the lift, and upon exiting, he saw why.

Dead bodies littered the floor. It looked like they had all been shooting and fighting for their lives, but nobody was riddled with bullets. All of them, every dead body, had been slashed with some type of blade. Whatever happened, somebody was in there with him and whatever Skull survivors were left.

A shuffling at the corner caught his attention. Bringing the blade back up defensively, he started approaching the corner as cautiously as he went through the first couple floors. A black jacketed Skull leader lurched into view.

“All dead...” his voice sounded almost hollow, “That monster... killed them all...”

“Come here!” Matt hissed, “Get over here!”

The Skull, a Bone Daddy by the looks of it, grabbed the back of his own head and chin.

“I will not feed him...”

“No!”

There was no sickening crunch, however. A thin blade protruded slowly from the Skull leader’s chest. The body twitched and convulsed violently for a few seconds, then fell limp. He slid easily from the blade held by a longhaired, dark eyed freak in a trench coat decorated with faux skulls on its shoulders.

“Ah, a hero,” the lunatic chuckled, “And a fellow ninja sword wielder...”

“This here’s a katana,” Matt replied, “Not a ‘ninja sword,’ whatever that means...”

“Still...” the figure held up his clean blade and admired it with a disturbing affection, “The similarities are almost uncanny, don’t you think?”

“There’s nothing uncanny about a poor imitation.”

“Funny... the sword seems to disagree!”

The murderer lunged at Matt. The Grey’s Army scrapper sighed as he set a stance for himself and deftly caught the blade with his own. The other brought his blade back inexpertly to swing it again and Matt caught him in the gut with a swift kick. Coughing, the murderer backed away, stumbled over a body, turned, and bolted away. Matt started chasing after him.

When he rounded the corner, however, he found that his perpetrator had disappeared.

“[censored]! CORY! I think I’m dealing with a stalker!”

“A stalker?” Simmons was strolling across the street and cracking his knuckles, “I’m on my way...”

Finding himself in a wide chamber with a few staircases that led up to offices that overlooked the floor, Matt set his blade defensively and moved for the wall. With his heel against it, he glared into his closest vicinity and edged around the room. Around him, he could hear a chuckling. Up by the nearest elevated office, over next to the corner he just rounded, even across the room. Matt didn’t know where the suspect was, and the sick little weasel wasn’t going to make it any easier.

So, Matt decided to make it easier.

“I remember when I was a kid...” he said to the air, “Playing hide-and-seek...”

“What?” Cory asked through the Aether, “Matt? What are you doing?”

“There was this one kid... When he caught ya’, he beat the living Hell outta ya’.”

He listened carefully. Nothing. No steps, no breathing... He had to get this right, he had to keep talking...”

“So... One night... Yeah, you wanna play good hide-and-seek, you play at night, when you can hide just laying on the ground if you’re good... Anyway, I see him headed my way... He’s creeping closer and closer, and I can hear my pulse getting louder and louder in my ears...”

The assassin stepped slowly and gingerly toward the scrapper. One stab, and the hero would fall. Sikk would gain a ridiculous amount of power, and he would go on a killing spree across the city... He would feed on the souls of his victims, and nothing would stop him. He just couldn’t figure out why the hero kept rambling on...

“So... With him not ten steps away... I came to a decision...” Matt paused for a second and turned to his right.

You fool! Sikk laughed to himself, I’ll strike you down, now! He raised the blade over his head and prepared to chop through Matt’s neck.

“I decided,” Matt maneuvered his feet slightly and brought the blade vertical next to his right shoulder, “To beat the living hell out of him.”

The assassin’s blade made a swooshing sound as it was brought down. Matt sidestepped and whirled around, swinging his own blade in a tight arc. His katana made a deep gash in the perpetrator’s shoulder, causing Sikk to drop his weapon with a loud, unflattering scream. When he gripped the wound with his other hand, McGinty put a nick into his forearm, eliciting another nails-on-chalkboard scream. Satisfied, Matt jumped, spun in the air, and delivered a savage driving roundhouse kick to Sikk’s gut, putting him through the cheap plaster wall.

"Since that day, Cedric and I have been best friends."

Glaring at the criminal, Matt placed the tip of his blade next to his opponent’s weapon. Cory arrived and cursed.

“Mattock, step away from that device!”

“Why?” Matt stepped forward and hoisted up the quivering goth reject by the collar, “Never mind. You know about these things. You, on the other hand, have no idea what you were dealing with! You’re going away, kid... And they don’t put you in juvie or ‘A’ Block down at the Zig for the stunt you just pulled! You’re gonna find yourself rotting away in the Zig’s special “Super” Block, the place where they put sick, twisted, and especially super-powered individuals like you, strip ‘em of their powers, and laugh at the results! You’re gonna wind up hating life, kid.”

“Sick...” the assassin quivered out, “They called me sick...”

“I can’t imagine why!”

“I think that was the moniker he chose to use,” Cory intoned as he lifted the stalker’s blade, now coated in ice, “We better get moving. I have an enchantment on this so the ice won’t melt. It won’t last more than an hour... I’ll look around for any other artifacts.”

Matt took the ice-coated blade and nodded, then, with a strong grip on Sikk’s left upper arm, he dragged the would-be super villain outside. Cory found a black, leather bound book, a pair of human skin gloves, and a black crystal skull. Encasing all of the artifacts in ice, he joined his friend outside and turned their findings over to the waiting police.

It was just another case of the daily insanity in Paragon City. It just went to show that it was always a good thing that there were heroes available to help put it down.

---

My Stories

Look at that. A full-grown woman pulling off pigtails. Her crazy is off the charts.

Kip stared incredulously at Matt and Cory. Not only had they recovered a set of disturbing artifacts from the Skulls, but they had also put down a would-be super villain and Matt had just helped take down some Malta operatives earlier in the morning. Now, they were having a meditation session in the far corner. Matt, however, didn’t take too well to meditation. So, when Kip arrived, he took the opportunity to inform their acting General about the events of teh day.

“I’d heard about the helicopter...” he shook his head as he braced himself against the main table, “I never realized you would keep going after that...”

“Pft...” Matt smirked, “I handle multiple cases every day. My life’s a Hell of a rolelr coaster ride.”

“Among our junior members, Matt is by far one of our best,” Cory added amusedly, “I wish he’d take to other studies as well...”

“Cory’s getting on me about improving my magic training.”

Kip cocked his head to the side with a silent question written clearly on his face.

“I’m registered as a magic hero. My katana has a minor enchantment, it never dulls, never breaks. I... I also used specialized war paints when I was first starting up... Stuff my master gave me as a gift when I graduated from high school. It gave me a boost to my reflexes, but now it seems to have left an imprint on me.”

“I’ve been trying to train Mattock for the past few weeks to harness the mystic imprint before it leaves him,” Cory continued, “If he can learn this, he should be able to gain much power from such a tiny spark.”

“You sound like Kim sometimes,” Matt chuckled.

Kip was still rolling the week’s events in his head. It seemed that as soon as Randy left for his vacation, things just went from bad to worse. The Nemesis gas plant where he ran into the Vindicators, the attempt on Statesman’s life, and then there was even the random craziness of just getting from place to place.

Kip was rubbing his eyes as the phone rang. Cory got Matt to assume a meditative stance as he answered and took the phone into the workshop.

“Hello?”

“Yes, I’m looking for Kipland Durj.”

Ms. Liberty?

“That’s me.”

“Yes... um....” she sounded distressed, “I’m...”

“I know who you are,” Kip rolled his eyes, “Your face is on every other commercial talking about how we should be vigilant. I would think I know your voice by now.”

“Right...”

“I hear you ran into my double today.”

“Well... That’s what I’m calling about... I need to know if... If it’s safe to have him around.”

“Hell, you could’ve checked the Freedom Corps records for that,” Kip half-spoke, half-whispered, he didn’t want to interrupt Cory and matt, “Cobalt’s been registered as sharing my tags for a couple months now.”

“I had to hear it from you...”

“Alright. He’s a fine example of heroism in the city. Is that good enough?”

“This is serious!”

She was starting to sound annoyed.

“I am being serious. I’m as serious as anybody else could be! You’re asking me about a guy who lost his whole family to Tyrant’s onslaught. A guy who later joined one of the many resistance groups of his dimension, one that happens to mirror our Malta Group, and has been helping wage a guerrilla war against the Praetorians ever since. You’re asking me about the integrity of a man who single-handedly wiped out an Arachnos unit, twenty-to-one, and willingly surrendered to Longbow forces were tipped to the incursion by my General. Finally, you’re asking me about the integrity of a man I consider to be my brother because he has stood by me, my family and my friends through the thick and thin our little super group has been through since we started this mad little experiment! Now... I know about your misgivings about the denizens of Praetorian Earth. I know you have serious issues you’d like to hammer out with your double, and as I understand it, you’d prefer to be the one with the hammer. But that’s no reason for you to be going nuts over everybody else’s.”

Kip immediately felt bad. He didn’t know the reason why he had gotten so defensive about this. Several times, he could hear the legendary heroine on the other end of the line try to interrupt him and correct what she had asked, but he never gave her a chance. Now that the moment was done and his emotions were drained, he could only hear silence.

“Very well, then,” Ms. liberty finally said, “I accept your estimation.”

“Uh...” Kip never got to say more as she hung up her phone.

“I’m sorry...”

“Are you okay?” Cory was at the entrance to the workshop.

“No... I...” Kipland turned off the phone and rubbed the bridge of his nose, “These past two weeks have been taxing. It doesn’t help that we seem to be the flavors of the month for all of the top dogs.”

“That’s more related to chance than desire,” Cory shrugged, “Neither they desired to have any involvement with us, nor obviously us with them. They’ve got their own problems to deal with, we have ours. For a brief moment in time, those problems overlapped and we met some of the people who help make this city great.”

“Cory...” Kip held up his hand before the wizard could say anymore, “That’s not helping.”

“Well, I could have told you it was fate that we’d meet them, but that’s never reassuring.”

“Cripes... That’s not what I... Look... We’ve got a couple more days before Randy and Char get back. Then, a couple days after that and it’s Valentine’s Day. Then, the whole damn town goes bat-turd-crazy for a day, even a few weeks, then some more bad news comes down the pipe.”

“You seem a tad more cynical than normal,” Matt said as he passed by on his way to the teleporter room, “Everything alright?”

Kip shook his head.

“I’m just tired.”

Matt shrugged and headed out. Cory gave their boss a reassuring pat on the shoulder and headed back to his corner of the oversight center. As he settled into a lotus position, Cedric arrived in the entrance portal.

“Guys!” he shouted as he burst into the workshop with a big box under his arm, “I got a great deal on Valentine’s decorations from a store I helped rescue from Freaks!”

“What’re you gonna do with that?” Kip asked as the tanker dropped the box on the worktable and ripped it open.

“Whaddaya think!?” Cedric laughed as he pulled out a noise maker, “I’m throwin’ a party!”

He then enthusiastically tooted the noisemaker. In the oversight center, they could hear Cory curse as his concentration was broken again.

“Find your inner peace, man!” Cedric called to him.
----

Saturday, Roland got back with Sheldon. Dropping the inventor off at the city hall base portal so he could do a quick check-up on his mutant gerbil, Roland swung by Steel Canyon to ask Nester for help. His childhood best friend agreed readily and before long they were outside his apartment with boxes of stuff.

“It’s good to see you’re moving out here for a while,” Nester said as Roland unlocked the door, “I hope things go easier for ya, now.”

“Yeah,” Roland got the door unlocked, opened the door and looked inside for a second.

“Hm...”

“What?” Nester hoisted up his share of the boxes, “What’s going on?”

Roland shrugged, lifted his boxes and walked in. Nester followed and stopped at the doorway just like his friend did. Only he did it with a stupid look o his face.

There, laying on the couch, was a thin blonde girl.

Granted, she was fully dressed in jeans and a T-shirt, and her torso was curled up in an afghan blanket. Roland acted like it was an everyday occurrence. Nester followed his rotund friend around behind the couch to the kitchen.

“There’s fine.”

As Nester set the boxes down, Jessica woke up, startled, and let out a yelp. Roland laughed and introduced the two.

“Nester, this is that heroine I told you about. Meet Jessica Starburst.”

Nester’s reaction was instantaneous. He restrained a laugh and looked to his friend.

“Can I? Please?”

“Can he what?” Jessica asked with a hint of trepidation.

“Go ahead...” Roland palmed his face and grimaced a smile.

“Are you lemon flavored?” Nester asked.

Jessica just stared at him angrily.

“Oh, come on! You had to know somebody was going to ask!”

She shook her head at him. Frowning, she wrapped the blanket back around herself and curled back up on the couch.

“Good names are getting harder to come by,” Roland laughed as he opened a box and started pulling out plates, “So, Jess... How’d you get into my apartment while I was gone?”

“Why are you in his apartment while he’s gone?” Nester asked as well.

“Well, as per your question, Roly-poly, I asked the super really, really nicely... And as for your question... Um...”

“Oh yeah,” the Grey’s Army medic extended his hand to Jessica, “Nester Durj.”

“Nester... Durj?”

“Yeah.”

“Well...” she looked really confused for a second, but eventually came up with an answer, “I really, really like this couch. It’s so soft.”

“I see...”

Roland ordered a pizza and they spent the evening playing video games and chatting about the next week. She expected Roland to be a little bothered when she said she had plans for Valentine’s Day, but he just shrugged.

“You’re not bothered?”

“Nah,” Roland waved off her concerns, “Dad says this city goes nuts for Valentine’s Day, and I figured most heroes would be headed for the party DJ Zero holds over in his club.”

“Well... There’s other stuff, too.”

“Still, I’ve been gone a week, so I figured if you were gonna have plans, you’d have ‘em set by now.”

“You’re a good friend, Roly.”

“Who the Hell is Roly?” Nester shouted from the other side of the couch, “I thought we call you Round.”

“He’s right,” Round’s face was set to reflect his quiet humor, “This is new. What’s with the nickname?”

“I don’t know... It made me giggle when I thought of it.”

“Right... Don’t ever call me that again.”

“Aw,” Nester paused the game and turned to his friend, “That’s not nice.”

“Yeah,” Jessica pouted, “Roland... Roland? Roly-poly?”

“No...” Roland’s false stone face broke too quickly, “D’oh, okay. It’s cute.”

“Aw, Roly-poly,” Nester laughed moments before his friend rocked a fist into his shoulder, “AH! You mushed my muscle!”

“I can’t crush what you don’t have. Now! Let’s game!”

“Oh yeah, this is gonna be easy for you! You just went and made my whole left arm numb...”

Jessica smiled and shook her head at them. What a couple of nutty guys.

---

My Stories

Look at that. A full-grown woman pulling off pigtails. Her crazy is off the charts.

“Hi everybody!” Charlene said happily as she ported into the base, “Wow, the place hasn’t been destroyed...”

“Hey Ma!” Cedric came around the corner, covered with red and white ribbons, “I was... uh... just trying to get things set up...”

“What for?”

“A party... We’re gonna try to have a V-Day aprty here?”

“Oh? Who’s the sweetheart?”

Cedric replied with a “deer-in-headlights” stare that clearly answered how he was pretty much holding a kegger with red and white decorations. Charlene patted her son’s shoulder gently.

“Don’t worry, son. You’ll find someone someday.”

“Yeah...” Cedric headed back to the main office, “So, where’s Dad?”

“He... uh...” his mother rubbed her shoulder worriedly, “He had one more thing he wanted to take care of...”

----

“Hello, Martin.”

The former leader of the refugees in Baumton didn’t turn to regard Randall Grey. He just kept to his surveillance of the Council cell. Another scrapper next to him offered Randy a bag of potato chips.

“Hi Randy,” Gregory Caid said as the big guy took a handful (half the bag), “How’s the crew?”

“What do you care?” Randy arched an eyebrow at the odd guy.

“Your crew’s the one that blew my cover,” Caid chuckled, “Kipland Durj and Matt McGinty, right?”

“Those are some of my boys... yeah...”

“Yeah, sorry about the whole Cube thing,” Greg pulled a couple chips for himself, “I tried to get info out to the F.C. as soon as I could, but Jazt was moving faster than anyone could’ve expected. Well, that’s power-hungry madmen for ya.”

“Oh... kay...”

“What’s this about, Randy?” Martin finally asked as he lowered his binoculars.

“I just want to know about you and Char.”

Martin still didn’t turn around. This conversation had been a long-time coming, and the former street dweller hadn’t prepared well. He waited for Randall to ask the first question.

“Did you ever...” Randy narrowed his eyes, “sleep with my wife?”

“No.”

Randy’s paw came down on Martin’s shoulder in a friendly clap.

“Well then! I believe ya.”

“You do?” Martin turned, surprised, “That’s different...”

“I’m not some high school kid or a mid-twenties insecure jerk,” Randy sighed, “I’m an old man. Even if you did... I’m old enough to know a situation...”

Martin grimaced, “It’d ‘ave been alright?”

“Oh no...” Randy shook his head, “I’d have punched ya in the face. Once, but it would probably ‘ave still killed ya.”

“I see...”

“But you knew this is a serious conversation,” Randy pulled over a chair and sat on it.

Greg and Martin winced a little as the chair creaked and groaned. It seemed to be begging for mercy. Randy didn’t seem to notice.

“You gave me a serious answer, and a truthful one. I’m old enough by now to know when someone’s feeding me [censored].”

Greg took a look back out the window with the binoculars.

“Alright then,” Martin extended a hand to Randy, “I guess I can stop being nervous when you’re around, huh?”

“Yeah,” Randy shook (crushed) Martin’s hand, “It’s okay. Feel free to drop by anytime.”

“I’ll try...” Martin shook the pain out of his hand, “That’s a helluva grip...”

----

“So... I hope that explains things...”

Kip was a little leery of the crowd of heroes around that had gathered since he’d started talking to Ms. Liberty. Most of them were simply asking for pointers on what the next phase of their training they should undergo. A few were wondering who this upstart was that was gobbling up her time, however.

“It’s okay...” Ms. Liberty waved him off, then turned to another hero, “Oh no... Don’t focus on that just now... It’s much too taxing for too low an output...”

“So, you accept my apology?”

“Yeah,” Ms. Liberty returned to Kip, “I’m sorry if I insinuated... Oh... Yeah, yeah, I’d totally go with that... Sorry... I’m sorry if I made it seem like I thought... Aaron you call him?”

“Right,” Kip turned to another hero, “Dude, go with the next blast. Trust me, man, you’ll love it.”

“Thanks,” Ms. Liberty grinned, “Sometimes, I wish I got more help with this... In any case, I accept your apology...”

“Right, I had no right to snap at ya like that.”

“And like I said, I’m sorry, too.”

“No problem,” Kip turned to go.

“Kipland?”

“Hm?”

“I remember when you said it was bad luck when you ran into Mynx and me...”

“Yeah...”

“I don’t want any heroes feeling like that... I want you to know that you shouldn’t feel apprehension at working with me.”

“It bothered ya that much?”

“Well...” Ms. Liberty seemed to be thinking about something else, “Nevermind.”

“Don’t worry,” Kip shrugged, “I think I’m getting to a point where my bad luck’s finally panning out and I’m breaking even.”

“Well, that’s good.”
----

Cory and Mattock glared at the door. It was a typical “mineshaft” style door like out of any dozens of old “Wild West” movies.

“Okay, on three...”

They played a game of rock-paper-scissors and Matt lost. He drew his blade and started walking toward the door.

“What are you two doing?”

They stopped and turned to Mider Caid.

“Well, I’ll be,” Cory smiled warmly to Mider, “Congratulations for getting out of that stuffy office!”

“Thanks, Cortland,” Mider bowed slightly to Matt, “Mattock.”

“What brings you out here?”

“I wanted to see the sights of the city through a hero’s eyes for once...” the young wizard grinned, “I live in New Corinth and I saw you two arrive on the Green Line. I thought I’d say hello.”

“Wanna help us take out a few Circle Wizards?” Matt stretched his shoulders in a circular motion, “Cory and I feel these dipwads need some attitude readjustment.”

“While I would like to assist in putting the Circle in their place, I’m afraid I must decline,” Mider turned to the canoe he’d taken to the island, “Pft... I can’t believe they won’t let me fly yet... So many years filing those papers...”

“Why don’t you burn off some aggression on the Circle,” Matt chuckled, “All we gotta do is invite somebody over to help and sign you on as a sidekick...”

Cory was already putting signals into his communicator.

“Hm... Most of the heroes don’t seem to like fighting the Circle...”

“They just don’t like exploring. You know, ‘can’t see the forest for the trees’ types...”

“Here we go... A level lower than me in security level, and a tank...”

“Cool,” Matt took a few practice swipes, “Just watch, Mider, we’re gonna kick some wizardly butt...”

“Howdy!” a voice came over the communicator in Cory’s hand, “I’m Megaton Crush!”

“Cool,” Matt replied, “Hurry on over, man. I’m getting bored just waiting...”

A heavily armored tank suddenly landed in their midst.

“Was that fast enough?”

“Hell yeah!” Matt hopped up and swatted him on the shoulder, “Let’s go kick some butt!”

“I hear they give you a special reward if you put down enough of these guys,” Megaton quipped enthusiastically as they started heading in, his magic armor sparking up in flames and his fists glowing “And they always hang out in the coolest looking places!”

---

My Stories

Look at that. A full-grown woman pulling off pigtails. Her crazy is off the charts.

Randy stared down the office hallways. Some Council soldiers had commandeered the building for one of their bases, and he had to put a hurting on the Archon at the end. Typical hero work. He sighed and walked around the corner.

A Council trooper saw him, screamed and started firing. The bullets pinged and panged harmlessly off Randy's hard-as-stone skin, and the massive tanker gave him a right hook so hard it bounced him off the wall to the left and into the hero's still-hanging fist.

As the body crumpled to the ground and his comrades started preparing to shoot, Randy sighed again. It was getting so boring, walking through the buildings, beating everybody inside to a living pulp, arrest the boss, leave, get another mission from the cops, wash, rinse, repeat. The bad guys always seemed surprised, though, and there was a little thrill in that.

"I just wish there was something I could do to liven things up," he grumbled as he punched down the last soldier after he turned into a wolf, "Bad dog! No treat for you! Stay! I SAID STAY!"

A solid overhead smash later, and the War Wolf lay still.

"It's just becoming so tedious... And now... I'm not depressed enough to drink myself into a stupor when I'm done."

He grimaced.

"I don't get to work off a hangover anymore!"

He wasn't sad, really. He was happy his family was whole again. He was glad he'd found a new justification for all the work (damage) he'd done. He was pleased that these powers of his hadn't been wasted...

But where did he go from here?

"Could... could you please stop sitting on my head?" the War Wolf gurgled as the massive tanker pondered, "For one thing, it really hurts... For another... Your pants, couches, chairs, whatever, all must really hate you... This is torture for someone with a heightened sense of smell, man..."

"And I'm supposed to care?" Randy mused.

"Just... Just hit me with the drone tag, please. I can't take much more of this..."

The stone tanker complied, and in a moment, the troops he'd just thrashed were gone. The police drones, however, hung back. It wasn't that they couldn't clear the building... But if they tried, it was likely they'd be damaged, or worse, some could be destroyed. These were just the mass-produced models that cleaned up the buildings when the heroes were done, not the heavy-duty types like those that were stationed at the hospitals, War Wall exits/entrances and Railway Stations.

"Man... I could be doing something else..." the tanker grumbled.

In reply, some Council troopers a little further down the hall barked inquisitive phrases, but didn't really check to see what had happened.

"They probably just called these guys and figure a hero's on deck. Hm..."

A wicked grin split Randy's already hideous face, somehow creasing it even more deeply and making him seem almost a monster. One of the nearby drones beeped, and it sounded almost frightened.

----

"So... We move outta here, join up with Archon Jones and his crew, and move on to project Lemon Meringue..."

Archon White shuddered at the mention of the project name.

"We had to call it Lemon Meringue, didn't we? Not Project Pumpkinfall, or Project Overnight... No, Lemon Meringue. We want you guys to know, we don't care. Sincerely, Center."

White turned to his closest minions.

"I'm telling you guys, I'm starting to think this Center guy is actually Statesman... [censored] with all of us."

"No way, boss, couldn't be that big," one of the flamethrower troopers quipped, "I figure Manticore, tops. He'd have the money to pull it off."

"I'd have pegged one of those kheldians..." another muttered.

"Alright, shut it!" Archon White roared, "Now look, we know a hero's here, so lts pack up and move out!"

A deep bass sound accompanied a tremor throughout the building. It sounded like something falling over. White flicked on his radio and called down to the sentries downstairs.

"What's going on? What the Hell is all that noise?"

"Mein GOTT!" was the only reply before there was static.

"Frickin Fifth Column vets..." White rubbed the bridge of his nose, "Okay, boys, grab what you can, we're heading out."

They grabbed what weapons and equipment they could carry and started moving for the elevator. They inched around each corner, bringing other groups of troopers with them as they caught up with them. Although radio silence was being kept up, any time they came across another crew, they had to hear how one of the groups downstairs fell to the monstrous crashing sounds reverberating throughout the building.

"The whole place is shaking, Boss," a Cor Leonis Force trooper whimpered, "It's like being stationed in the Hollows... I got a bad feeling about this..."

The carpet in front of them suddenly jumped up a little. It was right in front of the elevators. White turned to his troops, shock just as evident on his face as it was on theirs. Good thing they wore those masks.

"You don't think..." he was able to murmur shortly before a massive fist smashed through the floor and tore away a piece of it.

Randall Grey started ripping pieces and chunks of the floor down to his level, and was tearing his way in their direction.

"Retreat, retreat!" the Archon shouted, then grabbed a trooper armed with a grenade launcher, "Get back there and blow a hole in the floor! This guy's crazy, we need a crazy way out!"

"Aye sir!" the trooper ran like mad ahead of the rest.

They entered a corridor that circled around an office and stopped at the doorway leading to another hallway.

"Okay... You boys, get up on that loft down the hall... You guys, get ready... whichever way this guy goes, I want you on the opposite side, ready to jump down and put bullets in him..."

"What about you, Boss?"

"I'll figure that out when we get there... Move!"

"Wait," a Force trooper stopped them, and White resisted the urge to shoot him in the head outright, "Listen..."

Silence. Randy hadn't been tearing the floor out from underneath them...

"Oh my God..."

There was the sound of an explosion on the other side of the office suddenly and the troopers readied their weapons. They weren't in time. The nearby wall burst out at them, with a dusty, rocky Randall Grey in the center of it. Screaming, the troopers tried to shoot, but the massive tanker stomped, smashing through and dropping them all to the floor below.

Coughing, Archon White struggled to his feet and met the face-sized fist of the hero. The other troopers met similar ends, the last two falling to a flurry of punches, one hand for each chest. They crumpled to the ground, clutching at their bruised ribs.

Lying on the floor, the cell leader was able to get a good look at the destruction done to the whole building. It seemed a massive tunnel of destruction had been bored through the third floor of the offices. There were still unconscious bodies strewn about wherever Grey had burst through a wall from one room to the next.

"Holy..."

Randy picked him up by the "scruff" and turned him so he could see his smile. White's face was masked, but Grey could picture the mortification on the tall man's face.

"I figured this place could use some renovation... Like the progress so far?"

"You... You smashed a bee-line for the elevator..."

"Both floors. One solid line one way, one line all the way back. Figured I'd just smash through the floor and get it over with at the end, there. There were a few moments where I hit soft, fleshy things with bits of aluminum and steel that tried to stop me."

He turned the Archon so he could see the damage again.

"It didn't work."

"I see..."

"Now... I'm gonna knock ya out, and it's gonna hurt. You don't happen to have that annoying wolf serum in ya, do ya?"

"Yeah, a little... All of us do. We never know if it'll work."

"Ah, [censored] it," the tanker grunted moments before punching the Archon through the ceiling.

White came back down as a wolf and tackled Grey. They fell through the floor, wailing on each other.

"Man!" White punctuated his sentence (and the next) with a punch to Randy's jaw, "This building was cheap material!"

They landed in the basement, and Randy threw the wolf off of him into the concrete wall. Thankfully, that didn't crumble or shudder. At least the foundation was solid.

"No wonder you guys get these buildings so easy... I figure somebody's making money on the insurance. You guys show up, building owner abandons the property and puts a claim to his insurance company. This time, he... she.. whatever, they didn't use proper materials to fix the place up... They were counting on you to take over. Probably made a tidy profit... I should probably report this."

The wolf stretched his shoulders and looked about their surroundings.

"What do you want to figure the court will say it was MY responsibility to fix this place up, since I was occupying it?"

They looked at each other, shrugged, and finished their fight. It was quick, as Randy didn't waste any time ramming his fist down the wolf's throat and forcing White's gag reflex (an effective method for dealing with vicious dogs, especially when your arm is thicker than most people's legs). While the wolf dry heaved on his hands and knees, Randy lifted him up and threw him against the wall. When it looked like the villain was going to struggle to his feet, Randy's massive, Root covered foot put an end to the fight.

----

A few moments later, he was dragging the human version of Archon White out of the building. As police drones moved in to clear up the bodies, Randy set the man on a bench out front. Lacking a tag and his uniform in tatters, the drones didn't even stop to consider if he was a criminal.

"What? What're you doing..." he mumbled.

"I'm lettin' ya go," Randy replied as he checked to see if anything was broken, "But there's a price."

"What's that?"

"You're going to be my informant."

White looked into Randy's eyes. He knew the hero was serious, but he wanted to make sure Randy knew he was serious, too. The moment his delerium cleared, he spoke.

"Okay," when Grey looked incredulous, he explained, "I was involved in a mission called Operation Lemon Meringue. Lemon Meringue! It's like we don't even care, anymore, like we're waiting for somebody else to do something... Or maybe they just didn't care about us, huh? I joined these guys a year ago because I thought they'd give me a purpose... Now I just get headaches and piddly-crap harrassment missions."

"You wanted to hurt people?" Randy started reconsidering his choice of stoolie.

"No. I thought we were working to make a difference... A new government with less bureaucratic red tape... Streamline the whole process, you know? Now, I've been doing this a year... It seems this is a group of idiots who barely even understand what they originally wanted... Like it was some guy who saw the Fifth Column as an army he could use and decided to just take it to play around with... I want out... But I want out in a big way. I don't want them to know it was me, but I want to know my betrayal meant something!"

Randy nodded.

"Keep me informed, and that may just happen...."

A section of the building collapsed inward and police drones started rushing out the doors and windows.

"As you can see, my crew's starting to do things in a big way."

---

My Stories

Look at that. A full-grown woman pulling off pigtails. Her crazy is off the charts.

Sheldon put some feed in Felix's dish, and started taking notes in a datapad. The little critter gobbled the kibble up quickly and made happy little grunts and smacking sounds. It probably helped that the kibble wasn't the hard, brick-like kind, but rather semi-solid.

"What the Hell are you doing to that thing, Shel?" Aaron Durj asked dourly, "You do realize it's unnatural, right?"

"Felix wasn't much longre for this world, Cobalt," Sheldon replied, "I had Sarah determine beforehand that he agreed to do the experiment. I am not a monster, and he seems quite conent..."

"You've got the same problems Dross has..."

"Dross?"

"Your Praetorian..." Cobalt grumbled, "Look... Dross made headway as a scientist and inventor... He caught teh attention of Antimatter and Neuron because he was a bright mind, eager to please, and quick to come up with new concepts and put them to work. You? You share similar traits, only you've doen something with your machines he didn't."

"Locked them up?" Sheldon walked to the refrigerator in the Control Room and retrieved a soda, "I don't believe the Praetorian overlords would let my double's machinations run wild..."

"No... Dross's work... largely went into the Praetorian Clockwork army and the machines that follow Siege and Nightstar. Neuron and Antimatter refuse to let the inventors in their command let loose their own personal armies... The Praetorian ranks already have enough of those... The difference is, your machines are autonomous. They think on their own, they feel..."

"I didn't exactly make life... And the AI is far from perfect..."

"True," Cobalt looked into the Oversight Center that doubled as the Grey's Army meeting hall.

Inside, Ryat66 and Ryat99 were busy using the display screen on the main table to play a game of chess. The games lasted them, on average, ten minutes apiece. The little characters hardly moved, the two droids instead discussed strategies, starting with move one. They had started with workarounds for the Blitzkrieg strategy, the first attempt being to keep a solid wall of pawns present, then to slowly trickle the rest of the "pieces" out, starting with the ones at the edge of the board. That match had lasted nearly an hour, but only because the two androids kept switching back to certain settings of the board so they could analyze other angles of attack. They were becoming quite adept at the game.

"Is there a reason to your rant?" Sheldon intoned between sips.

"I'm just saying," Aaron sighed, "You need ot be more careful..."

"Cobalt... I know it seems I'm acting quickly. However, I need you to understand that I am taking every precaution. Nobody in this group has any idea how many AIs I ran through before stumbling, yes, stumbling, onto the one I call Ryat. Even this one, I find I'm unsure of at times, as those two keep surprising me. I thank the gods that every surprise has been a pleasant one. For instance, Ryat99 seems to be shirking off that peculiar quirk in his programming..."

"Are you the Messiah?" they heard the deep bass of the heavier android rumble from the chess game, "Is this the line to Reno?"

"Exactly," Sheldon shrugged, "And with Felix... well... I'll admit, I was being selfish. I've grown attached to the little guy, and I knew his end was near... I don't want to let him go yet. I just feel like... like... he has something more to offer the world..."

Cobalt stared blankly at his comrade for a moment, then shrugged.

"Okay," he relented, "I guess I believe you. It's just that I remember how Dross and Jrud Retsen levelled a city with the machines they called Reconstructors. Antimatter and Neuron's reaction is why Jrud's a cybernetic android now. He's little more than a human brain inside a tin-can. You think on that, man. They've got enough technology around here to do the same to you if you aren't careful."

"We're heroes, Cobalt," Sheldon's tone was mildly humorous, but hsi face was still stoic, "We don't do that sort of thing."

"We don't," Cobalt agreed, "But there are those among us who do. Your experiments and inventions draw attention to you... I suggest you be exceptionally careful."

"Oh, I am."

"Nrah! Nraaaaaaaaaaaaah!" Felix was gripping the wire of his cage, bending it slightly between his front paws' toes.

"Aw... are you all done?" Sheldon saw the dish was empty, and pulled the happy little living teddy bear out of the cage.

Aaron watched him hug the pudgy critter and shook his head with a bemused expression.

"What did you feed that thing to make it change so fast?"

"Well, I felt traditional chemical compounds would be too... inefficient. So, I programmed the nanites in his food to target key portions of his genetic code during the diet."

"Does that work?"

"It did..." the inventor poked the his pet in the belly, "I wasn't surprised. The nanites can see the microscopic things better than we can. I just told them what to look for and gave them the tools to fix it."

"During the diet? What, he's not on it anymore?"

"Nope," Sheldon held up Felix by his torso so it's little forelegs hung limply over his hands. The little pudgy thing panted happily at Cobalt, it's thick red tongue accentuating a deceptively vacant face.

"Felix is every bit the Gudar I want him to be."

Cobalt stared at Sheldon blankly as he tried to wrap his head around the new "non-word."

"What the Hell did you just say?"

"Gudar. It's what I call Felix, now."

"I think I feel a tumor growing..." Cobalt pressed a point of his head near the crest of his scalp with one finger, "Right here..."

"Well, I can't very well call hima gerbil, now can I? And 'mutant gerbi'l just isn't nice. So, since he's a new species, he gets a new common name."

"Hm... What about in Latin?"

"I haven't decided, yet."

"Uh huh... You know, once this little critter goes public, you're going to have quite the mess on your hands."

Sheldon smiled and hugged Felix again before putting him back in the cage. The little furball licked its owner's hand happily before curling up and going to sleep.

"Well..." Wallace grinned, "I'll burn that bridge when I get to it."

---

My Stories

Look at that. A full-grown woman pulling off pigtails. Her crazy is off the charts.

Kipland hated coming to Pocket D. It just wasn't his crowd. however, it was the only recognized neutral ground throughout the worlds of Heroes and Villains. So, sometimes, Hero business brought him here, to conduct business with those who weren't Heroes.

"Mr. Durj," a deep voice behind him called to get his attention, "Over here, please. The music's quieter, and I'd like to discuss a current issue with you."

Kipland turned and beheld a Nemesis lieutenant of some sort. With the lighting, it was hard to tell what rank or unit the man was with, but knowing the Nemesis Army, it would all have been a lie anyway. When the scrapper reached the table, the soldier extended his hand to shake.

"I don't shake hands with the enemy."

"I see," the soldier frowned and withdrew his hand, "Well, I hope you will indulge me one thing. You see, my employer wished for me to speak with the real Kipland Durj, and I have a simple request. Please remove your sunglasses."

Kipland's lip twitched. Most people didn't notice his eye tendrils, which were a constant mark that denoted the alteration his body had recently undergone. However, someone had noticed them, and worse, knew about Cobalt Black.

"Relax, Mr. Durj. My employer keeps tabs on all would-be Heroes and vigilantes, no matter how minor."

Kip made a mental note to get in touch with the City Representative and the Atlas Park and Galaxy City Freedom Corps offices to weed out automotons or moles. Once he was certain he had the plan in mind, he removed his shades, revealing the tendrils of energy.

"Excellent, you may replace your shades. Now we can get down to business."

Kip sat down across from the soldier.

"What's your name?"

"I'm Captain Reynolds. One of many Captain Reynolds's throughout the noble Nemesis Army. I happen to be one of the more proficient, as well, as I am one of the inner circle."

"Inner circle?"

"Yes... Well, with an army designed around deception and deceit, it helps to have a group to keep everything in order. We're a group that keeps the Army moving in line according to our King's design."

"One of several groups," Kip smirked, "Should Nemesis ever feel he needs to dispose of one of you. Of course, he'd feed you a batch of disinformation, then allow some aspiring Hero to get a hold of you."

"Yes, I wouldn't put it past him," Reynolds shrugged, "However, I have done great work for my King, and helped many people. We may be villains here, but we are heroes and liberators in other nations. Besides, we have a marvellous dental plan, a medical program that puts your city's crude system to shame, and the pay is fantastic, among other perks."

Kip was growing aggravated by the British accent, "Are you trying to recruit me?"

"No, my King has no need of Supers of any sort on his payroll. However, Nemesis was impressed with the footage of you and the two Vindicator girls. Or, rather, your work before they showed up and stole your thunder..."

"Hey, we trashed a Nemesis gas lab. I don't care who gets the credit."

"And there's the rub," Reynolds smirked, "You see, that wasn't a Nemesis operation. That whole event wasn't even masterminded by my liege."

"What do you mean?"

"You're familiar with the Fake Nemeses, right?"

"Yeah..."

"Well, they are designed to not only work and act like King Nemesis, but also to think like him. When the first batch came out... There were... Problems."

"Bull," Kip leaned back, "I took out the prototype myself..."

"You took out a prototype. Fakes were long in production before that. You set back my liege's plans to have a new and improved body, and indeed, many of your fellow Heroes do that on a nearly daily basis, but a few do get through, and my Lord's body improves monthly. However, we're off the subject. Let's get back on track, shall we? The first batch of Fakes were... imperfect..."

"Okay, they didn't act like Nemesis?"

"Actually, no... Quite the opposite. They worked exactly like him. They talked like him, fought like him, planned and even thought like him."

"I think I can guess where this leads..."

"There were ten, initially," Captain Reynolds handed the waitress a twenty and thanked her for the drinks, "Nemesis informed me you prefer this root beer while you work, and I'm technically off duty, so I'm having myself a Bloody Mary..."

"I don't drink anything offered me by the enemy," Kip pushed the glass aside, "Especially something already opened."

"Suit yourself," Reynolds sipped his drink, "Ah, Schayde must have mixed this. Such an efficient, yet artistic woman. I don't believe she's paid quite enough... Perhaps that's part of her reason for her after-hours lifestyle... Now, back the the original Fakes, ten, yes?"

"Get on with it!"

"Right, Fake One got the idea in its head to take over the whole operation. The battle was spectacular, so I've been told by some of the veterans in my unit, and our Lord managed to destroy half of them before they fled. His armor is still superior, you see."

"Right, right... So, what does this have to do with me?"

"I'll get there... The other half, we have weeded out ourselves, and one was even destroyed by heroes thinking they were fighting the True Nemesis. In fact, that was Fake One, perhaps a testament to my lord's genius, that he was able to replicate himself as a machine."

Kip rolled his hand rapidly, "Come on..."

"Yes, well, one remains," Reynolds sighed, "We've dubbed it Nemesix."

"Let me guess, Fake Six?"

"Right. Sometimes, when heroes say they've spotted us fighting ourselves, we're actually trying to put a stop to a Nemesix operation. Nemesis then puts a spin on the situation, makes it look like we were being manipulated by the Carnival, or the Circle, and gets some heroes to wipe out a troublesome cell..."

"That's creepy..."

"Indeed, but it works. However, since you not only enthusiastically put a stop to one of its operations, but also seemed to out-think the offending machine, my lord believes you may be the perfect candidate to handle a particular problem."

"You're kidding, right?" Kip's face screwed up bitterly and he frowned at the soldier, "Work for Nemesis? Screw you, man. I'm leaving."

He made his way for the exit, but the captain followed persistently. He shoved a datapad into Kip's chest and pointed into his face.

"I know this is rude, but you leave me little choice. You're not the only Hero we've finagled into our service, and you won't be the last. However, since you spectacularly caused the end of Nemesix's plan to assassinate Statesman, you've garnered Nemesix's ire. He's gunning specifically for you and your ilk, now..."

----

Randall Grey smashed another Fake Nemesis into the pavement. They were disturbingly persistent today...

"Look, brass-[censored], if the first thirty didn't win, then there's a good chance you're not gonna either! So, you go on back to Nemesis, and tell him to stop bothering me! I've got other things to worry about."

"For Nemesi-"

Randy smashed its head into the pavement again.

"Nevermind, you'll jsut get it wrong any-"

A sniper's grenade collided with his back.

"Ah! Dammit!"

An instant later, he had leapt up and was staring face-to-face with the Tiralleur.

"Uh..." Tiralleur Graves stammered as he looked up at Randall, "You're a lot uglier up close... Um... I was, um... shooting at a Zeus Titan and missed..."

"Try again," Randy's face split in a wicked grin, "The Crey boys already try that one every time they peg me. It doesn't end well."

"Wait a minute... Randall... Grey? Dammit! You're oafish son ruined a perfectly sound operation! What kind of-"

Randy didn't listen to the rest. He just upper-cutted the Tiralleur off the side of the building and moved on to the Portal Corporation property. There was word of some explorations of other dimensions, and Randy figured if he wasn't on the planet, then maybe some of the Brass King's thugs wouldn't be able to bother him.

"Lousy punks, what the Hell's going on?"

----

"Fine, I'll take the info," Kip grumbled, "I still don't like this..."

"Nemesis uses Heroes all the time, Kipland. The difference between you and others at this point, however, is that you know it. Don't expect a paycheck. Toodles."

After the captain was gone, Kip glowered to himself for a moment.

"I hope I get finagled into kicking your sorry [censored]."

---

My Stories

Look at that. A full-grown woman pulling off pigtails. Her crazy is off the charts.

"See the ring on my finger? It's twinkly!"

Ezekiel nodded and grinned to the happy young couple. Sarah and Joe had been acting funny since he and Nester had called them in to help clear out a group of Warriors. Now, outside the warehouse the gangers were using as their hideout, they had finally gotten the answer. Or rather, Nester had given the answer thanks to the fog clearing on his memory of Valentine's Day.

"Congratulations," Nester grinned, "So, Dad, who won the pool?"

Zeke drew his communicator and flipped through a few menus.

"Let's see, you're how old? Twenty one? And this is February..."

"You guys voted on when we'd get engaged?" Joe arched an eyebrow at Nester. Sarah snuggled against his arm with a giggle.

"No, we bet on whether or not Cedric and Randy would beat you to a bloody pulp before it happened," Nester said, causing Snuffy to disengage herself from her fiance and swat his shoulder, "Hey, hey! We also had an ancillary bet running that he'd beat your Dad and brother to the punch! Who won, Dad?"

"Char," Zeke said with a short laugh, then he showed them the datapad "Wow... Look at that date... Just days before the invasion..."

"Woman's intuition," Sarah squeaked before a quick chuckle.

"Intuition, nothing..." Nester intoned, "Look, at that date! That's damn near prophetic!"

Zeke just shook his head at the kids, "There's nothing supernatural about it. Char knew your plans for the future, Joe, if not the location. She knew you'd keep at the relationship, Sarah, and Valentine's Day is just romantic. She estimated that you'd start feeling like adults at 21 and took a gamble. Look, she only listed last Valentine's Day, too."

"A single day?" Joe stammered, "So... Does she get a special payoff for such a risky bet?"

"Joe!"

"I'm just asking," he shrugged, "For your Mom's sake."

"Well, the pot would get divided by a certain percentage for every day the gambler had taken, and they'd only get so much," Zeke explained, "But since Char only took one day, she gets all of it."

"Who'd have gotten the rest?" Nester was trying to work the math out in his head, "I mean, it's not like any of the rest of us involved deserve to get anything..."

"You're right," Zeke cycled back through some more menus, "Huh... That kind of stinks. The rest of the money would have gone to either pay for Joe's hospital bill or funeral cost..."

"That's heartening," the supercop croaked.

"...Or it would have been given to the happy couple as a wedding gift..."

"Aw," Snuffy moaned disappointedly, "Well, I guess I should be happy Daddy and Ced didn't beat up my boyfriend..."

She nuzzled Joe's nose with her own.

"I mean my feeee-an-say!"

"Yeah, be glad," Zeke smirked at the datapad again, "Says here, Randy had February Fifteenth, Two Thousand Seven."

"As a counterbet?" Nester squinted in disbelief.

"No, as the day he'd beat Joe to a living pulp."

"HEY!" a voice shouted down to them.

Zeke turned around and glared up at the Warrior swordsman shouting down at him.

"We've got an army in here waiting to smash, cut, and [censored] you up! What the Hell's takin' so long!?"

"We're talking!" Zeke shouted back, "Hold your horses, dammit!"

He turned back to the rest of the team.

"Okay, kids, here's the plan. We call in Cedric, and watch him beat the tar outta these guys."

"Deal," Nester started dialing in Cedric's number.

----

Beedee-bedee! Beedee-bedee! Beedee-bedee!

"Ugh..."

Cedric dragged himself out of his bed. The previous night had been a hideous nightmare of drinking, partying, and random bar brawls. It wasn't his fault, he just wanted to have a good time. But the damn villain groups kept showing up!

First, there was a group of Nemesis soldiers. Then, a group of Council soldiers, then another group of Nemesis. Then he found a group of Council troopers fighting with Nemesis troops over who got to ambush him.

When the fight was over, he remembered picking up a broken Council trooper to interrogate him, but all he seemed to manage was a question of where he could find a new pair of pants. He looked over to a nearby chair and saw the pants he'd bought shortly thereafter sitting on the back of it.

"Oh good," he groaned, "wasted money..."

The beeping continued.

"Oog..."

He looked to the nightstand and saw that his shirt was laying on top of the clock. A red blur shone through the fiber, and, oddly, the beeping didn't stop as he repeatedly swatted the top of the offending technology.

"What the Hell!" he screamed as he wrenched the clock off the nightstand with his shirt and flung it across the room, "Agh! My head! So much angry!"

The beeping continued, unabated, and Matt was suddenly at the door.

"You okay? Why're you going nuts?"

"Aw, it's my communicator," Cedric half chuckled (half groaned) as he reached for his discarded camouflaged pants (don't worry folks, he wears sweatpants to sleep).

"God forbid it's something important," McGinty commented, "Jebus, man, you reacted like it was the end of the world!"

"Huh... Nester's calling me in on my day off... I sent him back a message saying I'm too hung over to help... Ah, geez... He says it's the Warriors... I hate them so much!"

Matt shook his head and headed for the kitchen.

"That didn't take much convincing... Hokay, breakfast, then weapons, then bad guys, huh? Talos, right?"

"You got that right," Cedric headed for the bathroom, "But first, aspirin! Ow!"

---

My Stories

Look at that. A full-grown woman pulling off pigtails. Her crazy is off the charts.

Power Breaker left the Flyer and headed in the direction of the temple. He hated what he was about to do. If people made no beef with him, ha made no beef with them, that was one of his rules.

However, sometimes, life presented an event that caused a man to break his own rules. The event in this case was an unfortunate disagreement with the Ice Mistral.

----

"He's not a villain!" she had shouted at Scirocco while he held an audience with his students and apprentices, "We all know he works for the Heroes!"

"Lady," Power Breaker had retorted among the glares and grumbles of his fellow gathered rogues, "I tolerate you so long as I don't have to lsiten to ya, but now yer makin' me want to hurt ya!"

"It doesn't change the fact you're a traitor!"

"Funny... I thought treachery was largely the reason a lot of use were here in the first place... Sit down, you [censored], I'm no traitor..."

"Indeed, Mistral," Scirocco intoned with a grin that sent chills down everybody's backs, "I trust Power Breaker as much as I do everyone in this room."

Again, this did little to ease the tension, but most of the other rogues sat back down, waiting to receive their assignments. Many of the other Brutes, however, did not.

"Well I don't!" Mistral snapped again, "He's... he's..."

"Not like you," Breaker growled, "a lunatic."

"I'll kill you!"

Ice Mistral hurled a blast of ice at Power Breaker, who barely got his energy shields up in time to deflect the attack. She charged at him afterwards, but Power Breaker had been itching for this fight a long time.

He could hear the other rogues cheering on the frosty vixen. They booed and hissed whenever he knocked her down. They roared triumphantly when she slammed him against the walls. Back and forth they went across the room, the spectators uproarious, save their patron, who merely watched with a bemused expression. Finally, it came down to one shot, and Power Breaker put his all into it. His nanites went into overdrive, and he could feel his muscles burn as he drove his fist through her chestplate, knocking the breath out of her lungs and putting her down for the count.

The rogues stopped cheering. The room was silent. Power Breaker looked down at the unfortunate girl and staggered to one side before shurgging and slumping down to one knee.

"I'll kill him for you, sir!" one of the Brutes, an upstart Harris knew as Shadowshock, "Let me answer this insult!"

"Stay seated," Scirocco muttered as he reached his apprentice and looked her over, "Oh dear... Power Breaker... You have certainly done it, now. Very well, Mistral... You get your wish... Power Breaker, I have a new assignment for you..."

It turned out he'd actually cracked the mantle that granted Ice Mistral her power. Scirocco must have been furious, but he'd covered whatever emotions he had about the situation well. In private, it was almost scary as he handed Raymond the mantle and stared into his eyes.

"You were ordered to keep me from using the Malleus Mundi. You're not the first Chosen to have to deal with such an assignment. By far, you won't be the last. I appreciated the conversation we had, however, as opposed to a crude game of fisticuffs... For that, I'm giving you a chance to keep your life."

"I saw you didn't use the book..." Harris replied.

"Not for lack of trying, my young student... But I'm pleased to note you were not among those who stopped me."

"I guess we all have to make our choices..."

"Indeed... Now, you have chosen poorly. This mantle I've handed you... It can only be repaired in a complicated ritual. One nobody in our order can perform."

"Wait... Don't tell me..."

"Yes... I need you to go to the Temple of the Four Widns and have the monks there repair it."

"They'll kill me to take it back, you know," Power Breaker glared dubiously at his mentor.

"I'll kill you if you fail."

Despite the seriousness of the promise, Harris didn't even flinch.

"Or if I don't go, I don't doubt it... I just don't get why you're wasting time with that girl. She's not the caliber of person you want her to be. She never will be."

"And you are?"

"Not only 'no,' Boss, but 'Hell no.'" Breaker stuffed the mantle into a pack and strapped it to his back, "I don't belong here... Among the crazies. You don't either, but that's your issue."

----

That was how Power Breaker had left it. Shortly after that, he was on a Flyer headed for the Temple of the Four Winds. Shortly after that, he'd landed and proceeded on foot.

Upon arrival, he found the Monks engaged in a battle with the Circle of Thorns. Pausing for a moment to consider whether or not the wizards might just be a little desperate to be going after everyone with ties to magic, he proceeded to help clear out the Circle's ranks from behind. The monks were not grateful, however.

"We know who you are," one of their leaders shouted, "We were warned why you're here!"

"Boss, you couldn't make this easy, could you?"

Four of the monks stood in his way. Each was dressed in what appeared to be a black ninja suit plated with blue armor pads. Harris scratched the skin of his scalp for a moment.

"You know, I think I played a game that had someone like you guys in it... Is your boss Sub-"

The monks proceeded to throw ice at Power Breaker, and his words were lost to a cacophony of breaking ice. This didn't stop him, however, and Power Breaker started making his way up the temple's steps. Hammering his way past the guards, he moved into the main chamber and found himself fighting even more of the Temple's guards.

A mound of snow and ice sat in the entrance before the monks stopped, each of them panting heavily. Their leader stepped forward, motioning the others to step back as he examined the crystallized rogue.

The mound shuddered and cracked. Before their eyes, Power Breaker shrugged off his frosty prison and glared perturbedly at the High Monk.

"You in charge here, Boss?"

"You will agin nothing from here, monster!" the Master replied, "And we will take back the artifact stolen from us!"

"As I hear it, you gave it up..." Power Breaker pulled off his backpack and started fishing through it, "Ancient artifacts... Clockwork parts... Crystals... Metal bits... An Inanimate Carbon Rod? Man, I gotta clean this thing out... Ah, here we go... The Mantle of the Ice Mistral!"

The monks stared at him, dumbfounded.

"You really brought it," the Master finally gasped.

"Yeah... It needs to get fixed, and yer the only guys that can do it, right?"

"As crudely as you put it, yes, we are, but this is by no means a simple ritual..."

"Blah-blah-blah, get crackin!" Breaker tossed the mantle to them, "And don't make me chase after ya to get it back."

"Why would we allow you to take this relic back to our enemy?"

"Because you still have to deal with yer enemy," Power Breaker grunted, "Cripes! It's like I'm dealing with four-year-olds here! Look, I read up on the history you've got with that little [censored], and if it were up to me, I'd let ya keep the damn thing and have the whole issue be done with."

"But it is up to you. You brought us the mantle..."

"That's a fluke, and you know it," Breaker shrugged off the last of the ice and worked his way to the Master, "Now, look, Boss... I don't know what yer ideas are about 'honor' or 'justice' or even the basic concepts of right and wrong, but don't you think that it's a might low to just take the damn thing because it needs to get restitched?"

----

"Power Breaker, you're back," Scirocco seemed mildly surprised, "And you have the Mantle. Excellent. I'll get this to Mistral as soon as... What?"

"You told 'em I was coming," Power Breaker narrowed his eyes, "Don't try to lie to me."

"And your problem with that is?"

"It made a bad situation worse, is all."

"Did you have to kill them?"

"Oh no," Harris started plodding away, "No, no, no... I had me no reason to be breaking those boys. I had to pop a couple, but they'll get better. No, you want the Monks to stop hounding yer pet, you take her and the two of you will have to take care of that yourselves."

"They let you walk away with this," Scirroco stared dubiously at the Mantle.

"It's the real thing, don't worry about it. The Monks got my point about doing the simple right thing. They know if they want it back, they'll have to come for it."

"If they come here, I'll kill them."

"And good luck to you when that thing breaks again. I'm going to the club, later."

---

My Stories

Look at that. A full-grown woman pulling off pigtails. Her crazy is off the charts.

Cobalt Black awoke with Misty and Mindy cuddled up next to him. It was an odd thing. He'd never figured he'd wind up in a situation like this in his life.

To get it out of the way, there was nothing carnal about their relationship. Cobalt was very adamant about that fact. He didn't want to leave the possibility that he had a child in this world when he had to leave. It was important to him, and the girls understood.

The girls udnerstood plenty, in fact. They had talked about their childhoods on that first date, how the girls initially hated each other (as they were pretty much the only competition either one had), but grew friendly over time. They had excelled in most scholarly achievements, but after college, they found their pursuits were very taxing to their emotional health.

The Rikti War interrupted everything. Though they were mostly unharmed (fortunately), their lives were irrevocably shattered. After doing a few jobs (waitressing, movie theater ushering, and other low-pay fare) they came to a realiation: they were unhappy.

Cobalt had chuckled a little when they told him the whole reason they joined the Carnival in the first place was because they'd wanted to do something and have fun doing it. They had both taken gymnastics in school, and kept it up weekly through college as a hobby, and now it was helping them to entertain people daily.

Cobalt filled them in on his life as a renegade. He couldn't remember much of his life as a child... So much of it was running and hiding. So much was just struggling not to starve...

To keep from depressing the girls, he started to focus more on his life in this world. His adventures with his impromptu "family." The conversations, the times where they jsut sat around and talked about life... They often giggled at the antics of Cedric.

After dinner, they went to Pocket D. He wasn't too sure on his feet when it came to dancing, the girls were patient and were more just thrilled that he at least made the attempt. He wound up staying the night in their apartment, and woke up with the two of them cuddled up to him.

He didn't get it. With Grey's Army, it was an eerily familiar transition. The only member of their group who was as chaotically affectionate as this was Randy's daughter, Sarah, and she typically had a sense of what proper bounds were. The only problem he'd had with her was when she "glomped" him, which led to him slamming her to the floor and her rolling him over and beating his face bloody. She never glomped him again, though. That was kind of sad...

But here were these two girls. They barely knew him, and yet, they felt comfortable enough with him to just snuggle with him while he slept on their couch. Mindy explained it just felt right. Misty was a little busy drooling (lightly) on his neck.

So here he was... Another day with these two girls happily cuddling with him, just because it felt nice. It did, too, even for "Aaron," who knew little of such comforts. He sighed and gave the two an affectionate hug before carefully picking his way off the bed.

----

Roland woke with a crick in his neck. It was nearly ten in the morning according to his video player. That should have concerned him, it meant he was late to the base for his patrol assignment.

However, his mind was far more occupied with the weight on his shoulder.

Gingerly, Round looked over at Jessica Starburst, the strange young scrapper hero who'd somehow inspired him to stick around in the city. He was honest with himself, if not his friends and family, that she was the primary reason why he was still a "Hero." If not for her, he'd have packed up his few belongings at the time and headed home.

But he'd grown attached to this new friendship. In high school he'd been an antisocial, an outcast. He'd "earned" the nickname "Round" in his elementary years because the other kids thought it bothered him. Later it became his moniker as he clearly demonstrated that it didn't.

His adoption of the insult, however, didn't mean he'd earned acceptance. He and Nester were fortunate their fathers were such good friends, they probably would have been lost in their own little worlds if their fathers hadn't been good friends.

Nester probably would have gone mad. Roland, too, but in a far different way. He could see himself being much more of a curmudgeon. He was curmudgeonly, no doubt, but he recognized the fact he could have easily wound up figuring that absolutely nothing would work out right, and he'd eventually become some anarchic radical, hiding out in the back woods of norhtern New York until he got cancer and suck-started a shotgun.

He shuddered at the thought and reminded himself how glad he was to have grown up the way he did. Which brought him to Jessica. He didn't even really know the girl, but they'd already become fast friends. She appreciated his cooking, for one, and he had been an excellent ear for when she needed to vent about her super group or their coalition members. She was part of one of those big ones, the ones that were heavily publicized in the media for all the massively great work they did for the city and the nation at large. They made the things Grey's Army had done already seem like buttering toast.

Their friendship was different from any one he'd had before. There was no necessity, no prior introduction. Just, "hey, you stole my 'arrest'" and they just kept talking.

She said the more animal-like members of her group had been calling him her "mysterious boy-toy." It made him chuckle to think about it. He just didn't see it, but then, a lot of people tended to see something that really wasn't. They'd already talked about their "situation," and Roland assured her he only felt they were friends. She seemed pleased about this, and not in that "hesitant" way. It was more like relief.

He woke her up.

"Um... Uh..." Jessica mumbled as she stretched, then suddenly was shocked as she realized where she was, "Oh my God! What time is it?"

"Almost ten. I keep my clock fifteen minutes fast..."

"Oh-my-God-oh-my-God-oh-my-God! I'm-late-I-need-to-go!"

Roland waved as she bolted for the door. He didn't get why she was freaking out, it wasn't like there weren't other heroes out there, putting the hurt on the villainy of the city.

As he prepared to cook himself some eggs over easy, he heard hsi door lock click and unlatch again. Looking through the divide, he saw Jessica's head pop through the opening of the door.

"Uh... Roland..." she bit her lower lip, "About last night..."

"I guess we both had a long day... I know I did. Those Clockwork can be an irritant. I was exhaustd last night, and I fell asleep during the movie."

"Oh... Okay... So did I... I just... I didn't want you feeling any... you know... weird..."

Round chuckled.

"You're okay?"

"Yeah," he went back to his cooking, "We're cool. No misconceptions."

"Okay, cool. See ya later, Roly Poly!"

Roland chuckled to himself as she left. She didn't need to worry. He didn't have any plans to look into having a relationship until he was at least twenty eight.

"Of course," he chuckled again, "Life has a funny way of turning somehting like that around on ya..."

---

My Stories

Look at that. A full-grown woman pulling off pigtails. Her crazy is off the charts.

Ezekiel finished his shaving and gave his face a quick study in the mirror. Ever since he'd gotten his powers, he hadn't nicked himself. Every day he realized a new benefit.

"Hmm..." Catherine, Zeke's formerly estranged ex-wife walked up behind and hugged him affectionately, "Ready for another round?"

"Sorry, hun," the gray haired man gave her a sly grin, "As much as I'd enjoy it, I've got patrols to go on today."

"Mmm..." Catherine sighed, "I understand. I guess I should start looking into getting a job. I'm certain there's a job opening for a travelling secretary out there somewhere..."

"You still taking those Judo lessons?"

"Of course!"

When she left, Zeke got to work on flossing. Halfway through the bottom row, a sudden thought came to mind.

Who was that?

He stopped in mid-floss, and stared at the mirror.

Hello? You can hear me, right?

Zeke looked around the bathroom, floss string dangling from his mouth.

Ezekiel! Come on, think about this... I thought we'd already been through this.

"Geizzer?"

Oh good! You remembered my name!

"What... What's going on?"

Well, for starters, I'm awake...

"Yeah, I gathered," Zeke whispered as he closed the bathroom door.

You don't need to talk, you know. You can communicate with me through surface thoughts...

Good to know, Zeke shrugged, then went back to his flossing, Huh... This might take less getting used to than I thought.

Androm'Geizzer, Ezekiel's Nictus and the source of all his power. A Kheldian, but a Nictus at the same time. Formerly one of the dark captains that fed on typical Kheldians to preserve his own life and utilized scientific theorems, elixirs, and technologies to enhance his capabilities to make him a more effective hunter.

Until he'd met the love of his life. She was a Kheldian, and he'd known her before he'd become a Nictus. He'd found her on this world, and sadly, she was shortly thereafter executed by Arakhn to feed her and Requiem's ever-growing hunger.

That was all Zeke knew from the dreams...

I prefer to keep it that way, Geizzer sounded solemn, Once I'd learned the truth, I knew I could serve them no longer. They hounded me and I came across you moments before a Void Hunter caught me with one of those nasty Quantum guns... As you can imagine, I was quite desperate to find a suitable host after that.

This piqued Zeke's curiosity, Is that why you went catatonic after we merged?

Yes. Quite. I apologize for leaving you in the dark like that...

Among other things, Zeke started getting dressed, pulling on his armored polypropylene top first, You could've told me you were a criminal, even among the Nictus...

Among the Nictus I was a decorated war hero... there was a moment's pause, At least, that's how your kind would term it. It's kind of hard to pin medals on an energy being...

They say you're imprinted with your crimes.

Who says that?

Sunstorm and Shadowstar were quite... vivid... as to the kinds of punishments they had in store for your crimes. Several Nictus I've faced, Arakhn among them, concur that you're hardly worthy "Hero" material.

Androm was quiet for several minutes. Zeke had finished dressing, snatched up a bagel and a bottle of orange juice and kissed Catherine on the cheek before heading out into the wild blue yonder.

He was chilling out on a rooftop in New Sparta, watching some Freakshow goons deal, plot and "psyche up" for their next rampage. He heard something about a new Freak named Chaingunnz making a reputation for himself before it got all scrambled up.

I won't lie to you, Ezekiel. I did the things they say I did.

"Great," Zeke muttered, "Couldn't this have waited for later?"

No... Androm's "voice" sounded quite sullen, I think we need to clear the proverbial air between us before we go on working together.

"I suppose you have a good explanation."

Of course not. Saying I was a soldier and just following orders is never a good excuse. It doesn't matter that I thought what I was doing at the time was the right thing to do, and the fact that my joining with you to fight as a Warshade to help absolve my sins does little to actually accomplish that goal.

"So, what part about this is supposed to make me trust you?"

Nothing, except my honesty. Ezekiel... I don't think you quite understand how close I was to my friend...

"I'd probably understand better than you think..." Zeke smiled, "I was married, after all."

Is that what your kind call it? Hm. Well, in any case... I owe my kind, my original kind, my service. It may take me a great many of your lifetimes to accomplish this goal, but I hope you can trust that I'm sincere in all of this.

"Just tell me about one thing."

Yes?

"Tell me about the Arachnos Soldier you turned inside out."

There was no reply.

"Well?"

I don't know how to answer that. What's Arachnos, and... Well, honestly, I never turned anybody inside out.

"I've seen your dreams, Geizzer," Zeke hissed as another hero landed on the rooftop next to him.

"Uh..." the blaster stammered, "Sir? Are you going after those Freaks? I... I kinda gotta hunt a whole bunch of 'em down..."

"Knock yourself out, kid. I'm having a private conversation here."

The power-armored blaster looked around curiously.

"Uh... Sir?"

"In my head, kid. If you ever get yourself bonded with a Kheldian, you'll understand."

"Uh... I'm gonna go hit the Freaks now."

"Have fun."

Other Nicti have done what you mentioned... By utilizing a sickening method of using gravity and wormholes... But I refused to conduct such a revolting act on anything. It may have been a less-than-fatal attack, if devastating, to one of us... But corporeal, flesh-and-blood creatures? No thank you.

"So, you saw somebody do it, once?"

Yeah... I guess it haunts me more than I like to admit.

"Well, let's get back to work, and we can work out a way for you to rock the Nictus World."

---

My Stories

Look at that. A full-grown woman pulling off pigtails. Her crazy is off the charts.

"...So the tanker goes charging into their midst," Nester threw his hands up in exasperation, "And I gotta go chasing after him. My nanites are barely helping deflect the Sky Raiders' shots as it is, both my Defensive Matrix and my Fortitude Amplifiers... And the Healing Wave Generator shorts out."

"No way," Kip was washing dishes as he listened to his brother prattle on about his day's misadventures, "Dammit... I gotta stay on top of these better..."

"Well, this has happened before, so I'm prepared for just such an event. I take a spare power pack from my belt after popping the original at one of the Raiders, which explodes, incidentally, and slap the spare into my wrist panel."

"What about the exploding one?"

"Blinded the guy a little for a few seconds. I think the contact pad was facing him, blocking most of the light..."

"You know, Nester, there's something I've always wondered..."

"I..." Nester snapped out of his reverie and turned to his little brother, "Yeah?"

"You're working with a highly volatile suit and various gear that could explode at any one moment... Doesn't it ever worry you? I mean, Aaron says your Praetorian isn't too different from Antimatter or Positron... The same thing could happen to you..."


"Yeah, well, I have something the Praetorian me didn't have when he had his little accident."

"And that is?" Kip almost regretted asking the question as soon as it was out of his mouth.

"A really good feeling!" Nester smiled.

"What happened to the tank?"

"Eh, face plant. I didn't have the Wave Generator up in time... I was able to bring him back from the brink, though. Man, was he ticked..."

"A little debt to the hospital is a small price to pay for his stupidity," Kip finished rinsing off the last of the cups and plopped it into the strainer, "He could have paid for it with his life."

"Damn straight, brother," Nester turned on the television and flipped to the comedy channel, "The rest of the team was on my side of that little debate, for once. Everybody kept calling him L.J. after that... Even long after he quit and we got a more competent Tank."

"You called the new guy L.J.?"

"No, we kept joking about the old guy."

Kip "Aaron" Durj walked through the front door and took stock of his two "brothers." Looking to his opposite in this world, he winced.

"Ah, jeez... I shoulda done that."

"It never stops freaking me out, seeing you two in the same room."

"You shoulda seen your mother, then."

Kip and Nester's eyes went wide. The younger scrapper dropped the plate he'd been washing and it shattered on the floor. It did little to stop the two from staring.

"Our..." Nester finally started, "Mother?"

"How'd you know who she was?" Kip half-croaked as he knelt to pick up the ceramic pieces.

"I ran into her at Zeke's, I was dropping off a data stick and she hugged me like I was you," he pointed at Kip, "She kept asking if I was still a little Hell-raiser..."

"Yeah..." Kip laughed, "I guess I am."

"Dad didn't mention she was in town," Nester winced as he pondered, "I wonder why..."

"Probably because of what happened last time..."

"Bad history?" Aaron asked quietly.

"Yeah, but it's been taken care of," Kip shrugged, "We're all on good terms, now, but parents... No matter how good they are..."

"They still get some funny notions," Nester watched a football collide with some poor man's groin, "Ha-HA! Oldest joke in the book, and it still makes me laugh!"

"I love when they do the stupidest criminals specials," Aaron chuckled as he took a seat next to Nester.

"So, Coby... About those Carnies you've been dating," Kip had thrown the dish pieces away and was moving back to his task at hand.

"I'm not dating both of them," Aaron replied, "The first time was a date with Misty... The times after that... We just hang out. Man... Those Carnies are running the girls ragged, but they love their jobs..."

"What do they do?" Nester arched his eyebrow.

"Mostly children's parties for the upper-class," Aaron shrugged, "Misty has a neat trick where she spins three rings at once around her neck..."

"Rings?"

"Well, more like hula-hoops... She gets the middle one spinning around the opposite way than the other two, and the top one spins faster than the bottom one..."

"I guess resulting kaleidoscope is very entertaining for the kids," Kip chuckled, "And Mindy?"

"She's a natural... Showman..." Aaron winced at saying it, "I would have used a more gender-specific word, but it means something so different... and so much more wrong..."

"She hypes up the shows, huh?" Nester suggested with a grin.

"That, and she tends to bring boxes of kittens and puppies for the kids to play with."

"I bet the parents love that part."

"It's part of a deal she has with the SPCA. The animals already have their shots and flea baths, and by bringing them to the parties, there's a chance they'll be adopted. She's really good at reading people... She usually knows the right kinds of parents to approach..."

"Cripes, to think there's two more people like Snuffy, huh, Nester?"

Nester was stroking his chin.

"What's wrong?"

"I think I've met this Mindy before... Is she tan?"

"Yeah," Aaron replied, "and like Kip said, 'Snuffy's' personality."

"Last name Jakobson?"

"Yeah..."

"I know her!" Nester shouted, and then turned to his brother, "She was at the top of a lot of the classes we shared!"

"Yeah, they're both smart girls," Cobalt sighed.

"You really like 'em, don't ya?"

"Well... Misty, yeah... She's quick to say how she feels... I like that."

"I guess that's cool..." Kip shrugged, "But she's a Carnie... And Carnies intend to do bad things to Heroes..."

"Speaking of which," Cobalt suddenly looked serious, "Did we ever get back to Sheldon about analyzing those cookies?"

----

"So! What d'ya think?"

Mindy clung to the back of their sofa, he eyes twinkling with mirth. Misty was blushing as she snuggled up inside a comforter.

"He's sweet... A little gruff, but he's got a nice side..."

"I knew you were sweet on him!"

"But..." Misty bit her lower lip, "He's a Hero... They don't like the Carnival."

"Oh... Nuts to that!" Mindy chirped, "It's not like the Carnival's ever going to admit us! We're too smart for them!"

"We lit our Troupe's Ring Mistress's hair on fire!"

"No we didn't... The Seneschal slipped... And anyway, she had it coming."

Misty narrowed her eyes at her best friend.

"I know you orchestrated that... You may have been on the other side of the tent, but I know you somehow finagled that little event into motion..."

Mindy merely giggled.

"Yeah," Misty joined her, "I guess it is pretty funny."

----

"Sheldon!" Kip shouted as he clapped the Grey's Army inventor on the back (he felt a slight buzzing under his palm), "We've got questions, you've got answers."

"Don't I always?" Sheldon's lightly buzzing voice replied, "What is it about, this time? More queries as to the loyalty or capability of the Ryats? More confusion about Felix's new life? Perhaps you'd like to know about this new weapon I'm working on to help me in my battles against the villainy of this city on a more... personal level..."

"Well, I... A new weapon? Jebus, man, don't you ever quit?"

"No, not really."

"Well, in any case... Shel... This is about the cookies..."

For a brief moment, the "mad" scientist's face registered shock. Then disappointment.

"Damn... I was so off..." he went to his computer and pulled up one of the files, "Damn thing takes forever to load..."

"Should we be worried?" Nester asked nervously, "I mean, we got a hold of only one box of those things... What if they’re dangerous and people have been eating them all this time?"

"Ah, here we are..."

"Well? What's in there?" Cobalt barked.

"Okay... Oh dear... You're right, these cookies are dangerous! They're composed of heavy amounts of flour, sugar, cholesterol (I suppose that's from eggs), trace amounts of salt, baking soda, and (the most lethal ingredient of all) chocolate."

"My God," Cobalt breathed.

"What!?" Nester balked, "You're kidding! There’s nothing? Nothing at all? No brain altering chemicals (sorry Kip)? No parasitic nanites? No... Jebus... What would people put in cookies? No razor blades or syringes?"

Sheldon pulled off his shades and stared at Nester.

"You have a twisted mind at times, my friend..."

"So... They're harmless," Kip started biting his lower lip and grinning at the same time, "Plain old ordinary cookies..."

"Actually," Sheldon pulled a bag out from a desk drawer and withdrew a cookie to pop into his mouth, "They're remarkably well kept. Nice and chewy."

"Did you eat any before testing them?"

"Of course not!"

"So... What's worrying you, Aaron?"

Sheldon looked to the Praetorian Kip, "Aaron?"

"It's something new," Nester explained, "Now, Aaron, what's up?"

"I... I paid for those cookies, man. I helped the Carnies legitimately pay for legal counsel."

"Ouch," Kip clapped him on the back and pulled a cookie form the bag to offer it to his twin, "Here. Have a cookie."

Cobalt Black stared back at him with a slightly angry grimace.

"I think I'm starting to hate you like I'm supposed to."

---

My Stories

Look at that. A full-grown woman pulling off pigtails. Her crazy is off the charts.

Cory Simmons was busy setting his little corner of the base for his dinner guest. He was pleased Randy had thought to build him the tiny niche. Where much of the rest of the base was sterile steel, there was one cozy little corner made of wood panels, filled with books, and the location of one of the more comfortable couches in the city.

"It's not the same as Roland's couch, but it's plenty soft," he intoned to Gertrude "Raven" Youngs.

"Roland's couch?" she inquired, "What's so special about his couch?"

"Well, for starters, somebody enchanted it..." Cory smiled at the thought, "A complex blend of mystical energies... I've been trying to duplicate it myself, to little avail... But I'm getting there."

"Enchantment... To improve comfort," Gertrude smirked and sat in the seat Cory had offered, "Interesting it hasn't been considered before."

"Or since," the Warlock waved his hands in the air and a pair of plates appeared, each with its own steaming meal, "Be careful, these are piping hot!"

"How'd you manage this trick?"

"A bit of temporal tweaking," he chuckled back, "I'll have to remember to make this meal tomorrow evening, or we're going to suddenly get very tired very fast."

"I think it's a tad more complex than that..."

"You'd be surprised how often that actually isn't the case."

They ate in silence for a while. Eventually, Gretchen pointed at her boyfriend's hair.

"Cortland... Why is your hair always red like that?"

"It's a ritual," he replied, "A tradition handed down through my family. I apply the dyes every week on Sunday. They're mystical, and supercede whatever color already exists in the hair, but it fades after nearly seven days. The red signifies that I'm a practicing sorcerer among my family's tradition. I'm not yet a master magician, but I can take on students, and train them in basic spellcraft. Heh, heh... It was easy in my teen years. I had to dye my hair black, which it already really is..."

"How do you get your hair so straight, though? Most..."

"Black men, African-Americans, etcetera," Cory sighed, "I know... The hair. It's part of the ritual. That, and I hate 'afros.'"

She chuckled and they finished their meals. They discussed rituals and spells, components and incantations. They shared tales of adventure and eventually just sat silently for a moment, admiring each other.

"Well, this is nice," Matt was grinning down at them, his arms folded across his chest, "You two cozy? Comfy? Chummy?"

"Chum is fish parts, often used as bait. We are hardly either." Cory looked up to his apprentice, "And yes, we are quite comfortable. I think this is my best approximation of that spell, yet."

"Great," Matt's face suddenly morphed to a shocked expression, "Oh man! I didn't realize I was coming off as an [censored]! Woah... Hey, I'm sorry..."

He entered the niche and shook hand with the wizard and sorceress.

"I guess was still on an adrenaline kick..."

"You've been fighting?" Cory arched an eyebrow at his friend, "Mattock, I thought we agreed that you would hold off on your fighting, so I could monitor your progress..."

"Nah, man, nah!" Matt's face suddenly reflected his enthusiasm, "I got something totally cool today! You know Lou, the mechanic, right?"

"He's the poor soul who keeps running afoul the Clockwork King."

"Right," Matt nodded, "Well, I got something from the Freaks a couple weeks back, and Lou just told me we can work with it."

"What is it?"

"A motorcycle!"

Cory and Gertrude looked to each other with slightly amused expressions before turning back to the neo-samurai.

"I thought heroes could fly or run really fast..." the sorceress replied perplexedly, "Why would you need a vehicle?"

"Mattock here is a master of his art," Cory explained, "He didn't take any time to learn how to utilize the 'Leaping' devices Sheldon built for many of the members of Grey's Army, nor did he learn how to utilize his magic to achieve flight or teleport..."


"And I run fast enough as it is," Matt shrugged, "But a motorcycle? That's just coolness! It's a ratty old thing, but Lou and I are gonna make that thing into a beast!"

"I bet he'll take it for a spin to try to get some much needed payback against the Clockwork," Cory chuckled, "Good luck to you in your endeavor, my friend. Perhaps you'll find this form of hobbyist meditation more enjoyable."

"Yeah!"

Smiling to the couple, Matt finally got the idea, and gave them a curt bow. It wasn't like the bow his mentor taught him, but one where he pressed his fist over his heart and leaned forward to an almost right angle. On his way out, he made one last request.

"If Cedric comes by, let him know where I am, 'kay? We could use his help down there."

"Will do," Cory replied psychically.

---

My Stories

Look at that. A full-grown woman pulling off pigtails. Her crazy is off the charts.

The Council.

Originally operating as the Fifth Column in the U.S., that all changed when the Center came to power. An elderly man, and rumored to be a psychic, the Center was a tactician who gave even Nemesis and the Malta Group pause. He was a peculiarly regal figure, calm and collected, and exceptionally fit for his age (he seemed to have the body of a man forty years his younger).

And Archon White was currently in the same room as him.

"Arakhn," he was talking into a communicator clipped to his ear while he sipped tea, "I'd like an update on your current dealings with the Heroes and such in Paragon City. I want information from Requiem as well. Don't keep me waiting."

He sounded cheerful. It was creepy. Archon White realized he probably didn't have much longer to live.

He felt he might as well get the whole thing over with. Yes, they were going to torture him, extensively, before he died. Yes, he was going to scream, and cry and wet his pants. Everybody who was being tortured (especially by people who knew what they were doing) suffered such things.

So maybe that was why he kept his dignity at this moment. Maybe that was all that was helping him maintain his discipline among the other Archons standing by him.

He knew them. Each of them. Archon Kendell had botched a robbery. Archon Smith (the one to his left, not the one at the end of the line) lost a munitions depot to a group of fledgling Heroes. The other Smith (B, White thought was his initial) had his entire cell wiped out by "Villains" in the Rogue Isles (funny that...). Franks and Gilbert... Well... He didn't know their stories, but he knew they'd failed in some way shape or form.

Just like him.

Only not like him... He'd made a deal with Randall Grey, a Hero, to provide him with information on Council operations. He didn't plan on selling out the whole Council, but just the things he felt... The things he felt went too far. Oddly, he figured that's exactly all Mr. Grey had asked of him, too.

"Hm... That's an interesting idea, Vandal. Tell you what. Take fifty Mech Men and work out a prototype. If you can come up with a cost effective way of improving their armor, I'll let you run your recall. But I'd still like to see how you plan to do that and avoid vigilante involvement."

He turned to the gathered Archons and pursed his lips. It was a brightly lit office. It was designed so it looked like a high-rise, but they all knew it was underground. It was one of many offices the Center used. Yet still, nobody in the cell knew exactly where they were. They weren't even certain they were still on Striga. Each of the members was selected to handle the temporary job of acting in the Center's cell for a day, and then he'd call a meeting in another location later. Upon arrival, the Center's Personal Guard of Ascendants would blindfold the soldiers and escort them to the real location.

White suddenly had a nasty thought that maybe every meeting with the Center actually happened in the same building. In the same room.

Maybe they were in the middle of Paragon, somewhere.

"Just a moment, gentlemen," the Center called to the gathered Archons, "I have to type something out to Maestro, then we can get on to the business at hand."

The soldiers stood silently and resolutely as the sound of plastic clicking and tapping filled the chamber. After several minutes, the Center finally hummed to himself, took another sip from his tea, and made one final click.

"Oh, I made a typo," he suddenly moaned, "Oh well. It'll just annoy Maestro, and what can I say? So much the better, right?"

Some Archons chuckled. Their lives were ended rapidly afterwards. The Center employed only the best Marksmen.

"Shut up!" the Center shouted as other troops moved in to clear out the bodies, "Shut the Hell up! This is exactly why we are failing at claiming this city! Your constant tomfoolery and jackassery!"

One trooper grumbled something under his breath. He too, was put down by snipers.

"What was that, Archon Roberts? Oh, you're finished. Well, thank you for yielding the floor."

The Archons reformed their ranks to make their formation more-or-less square.

Archon White stepped to where Archon Smith had been. He was one of the ones who laughed. He was one of the ones being carted to an incinerator.

"Every day I have to hear how your cells are broken and emptied! Your troops are scattered and arrested! You spend half of your time trying to escape from the Ziggurat! If you were ordinary troops, I wouldn't be talking to you! Instead, you're my Archons! My leaders! My Elite! And you never cease to fail me!"

Bad! Bad! Bad! I'm going to die! I'm going to die! I'm going to die! Archon White could feel his composure slipping, when he suddenly had a crazy thought, Shut up! Calm the [censored] down! Keep your head straight, listen, and keep focused. He wants to get a point across. If he wanted you dead, you'd be dead!

"I'm growing weary of this issue, gentlemen," the Center continued, "We are supposed to be the best! We push ourselves to the edge every day! And we show the world we're more than capable of mastering that edge!"

Another body dropped. Odd... Archon White hadn't heard any murmurings or chuckles.

"I am tired of finding, day after day, you... My Elite... Are consistently proving me wrong. You're supposed to be setting an example, and that example so far has been failure."

Another round of bodies hit the concrete.

"Well... Now that THAT unpleasantness is out of the way... Are there any questions?"

Archon White stared forward. He was still alive. Still standing. He was one of a handful, and still didn't know why.

"White?" the Center turned to him, "What was that?"

"Uh..."

"It's okay. The true incompetents are dealt with. Now, i want to hear from my would-be traitor."

----

Archon White stood in the Center's personal audience chamber. Four Ascendants stood at attention at the corners of the cramped room. The Center walked in after a few minutes, reviewing a clipboard.

"White, stand at ease," he muttered as he reached his desk, then flipped open a box and offered a cigar to the traitor.

"I... I don't smoke, sir."

The Center stared at him for a moment, then shrugged.

"Suit yourself."

He went back to flipping through the notes he had on the various Archons in attendance. Finally, he stopped at a page and hummed gently to himself.

"Sir?"

"Yes?"

"Why am I still alive?"

"Because I want you to be."

They remained in silence for a few more minutes. White couldn't even hear the breathing of the Ascendants. Maybe they didn't breathe...

The Archon busied himself with taking in the room. It was a deep brown wood paneling. It looked like real wood. He wished he could tell the difference between different types of wood, but it just wasn't something he had any knowledge in. He had been a high school athlete... Not a scholar or even a carpenter.

"It's oak," the Center answered his unspoken question, "Yes, I am psychic. Not like the ones you see on television, no. I couldn't fight Sister Psyche in a psionic duel... Though I can shield myself from her. Every so often she probes the Phalanx's haunts, from Atlas Park to even our Striga Island, trying to find me, but I've mastered keeping myself masked. I keep my fellows protected in a similar fashion, but they're not too good at sweeping their tracks."

Archon White's mouth went dry.

"Relax. If I wanted you dead, you'd be dead, remember?"

"What do you want with me?"

"You're working as an informant for the Hero Randall Grey, correct?"

The Ascendants readied their sonic cannons.

"Yes..."

The Center was chuckling, "I'm sorry about that. You see, I always wanted to pull a stunt like that, ask a question, and have my guards ready their weapons, put my subject on edge. Ah... What a feeling."

"Sir..."

"Relax, White. You're perfectly safe here. Even if you could muscle your way past my Ascendants, you'd find I'm quite capable of defending myself. So, since I'm not in fear of you, please, offer me the same respect."

"So I'm offering you the respect of a mouse to a cat too full to eat it."

"Sure."

"So what do you need from me?"

"What was it you said as you agreed to be Grey's informant? You joined us because you figured we'd bring about a more 'streamlined government?' A government without all of the 'red tape?' Interesting sentiment."

"Sir... I..."

A young lady with short, blonde hair and a tight-fitting uniform (that fit rather snugly around her curves) suddenly entered the office and placed a fresh cup of steaming tea on the Center's desk. He nodded to her and she left. Archon White noticed she had a peculiarly vacant look in her eyes, but it didn't seem unnatural. She seemed to be happy with her work, her situation, and her life. Oddly, she looked a little like...

"How strange," the Center was immediately back to business, breaking White's thoughts about his secretary, "A traitor who betrays me because he's a true believer."

The Center set the pad down and regarded the man before him.

"You maintain your composure remarkably, do you know that?"

"Yes, sir."

"I feel I can trust you," the Center finally finished his musing and got down to business, "I have some information I want you to deliver to Mr. Grey."

"Sir?"

"I like Grey... He's a down-to-earth kind of Hero. He has drinks with a man he put in prison for something he didn't do. He regrets that, you know? He really wishes he could do something to fix the poor man's condition, but the Villain in question feels he would have wound up in there in any case. So, they get drunk in that interdimensional bar and exchange information on our good friends Arachnos or they exchange toys, depending on whichever one wins their fight. You don't see Statesman getting into drinking contests..."

"Uh..."

"Oh yes, the information."

The Center reached into a drawer in his desk and rooted through it for a while. Eventually, he sighed happily and withdrew a disk.

"Deliver that to him. It's the location of an island fortress."

"What do you expect him to do with this?"

"I expect him to take the total forces of his super group and anyone he can muster, and level the base."

Even the Ascendants were startled at that.

"Sir?" Archon White stammered, "Why?"

"Because it will [censored] off Arakhn," the Center waved the disk impatiently at White, "It's one of her facilities. Some kind of massive Shadow Cyst Crystal, but they can't get it working properly. For one thing, I don't want her getting it to work. I know full well what she's trying to do, and I would rather she not succeed. For another, she and my partner need a reminder as to who truly runs the Council. And finally, I want Grey's Army to do it because they have a member who has rather close ties to this particular base's commander, though he doesn't quite know it, yet."

"I understand," Archon White took the disk and placed it in his pocket, "Why me, though, sir?"

"Because you were hired by Mr. Grey. I've been looking to give him this information for a few weeks, now, and you just landed in my lap."

"What happens when I deliver?"

The room stayed silent for several minutes. The Center knew the silent question. Archon White didn't know what to think, and remarkably, wound up blocking his superior’s attempt to probe his mind form the sheer fact there was nothing there to find for the moment.

The Center hummed to himself at that bizarre little notion.

"We'll deal with that when the time comes," The Center turned back to his pad and started flipping through the pages, "You may go, now. Don't bother with the formalities, just tell Archon Smith, B. that I'm ready to see him."

Shortly afterward, Archon White was ushered to a private room. He was provided a hearty dinner and found himself exceptionally sleepy shortly after. Realizing he'd been gassed, he simply crawled into the bed and figured that if he died, he'd be leaving a terrible mess for whoever took over this base and wound up with this room.

----

He came to in his new base. His troops were out in the main chamber of the warehouse, engaging in their morning formation and his second was walking in with a report.

"It's good to see you're back, sir."

"Thank you, Adjutant Jordan."

"A meeting with the Center, sir," Jordan sighed, "I'm in awe of you, and I'm glad you made it back alive."

"So am I," White breathed as he felt the corner of the disk press into his thigh, "So am I."

---

My Stories

Look at that. A full-grown woman pulling off pigtails. Her crazy is off the charts.

"Gather 'round, gather 'round," Randy told his family and friends.

They'd come a long way from home... Maybe not as far as many of the city's heroes, but much farther than they'd ever anticipated. Maybe even farther than they believed.

Kingdale was a rural community. A small town, even though it was almost as large as Watertown (the county seat of a nearby county), it was still ridiculously undersized compared to major cities like Dallas, Los Angeles or Paragon City.

Coming to Paragon was shocking for Randy. Kipland, too. They were the first to come here, and paved the way for those that would follow. They had hit the pitfalls first and foremost, found what worked, and what failed.

In that time they made many friends, and a greater many foes. Throughout all of it, they'd been able to rely on their family and friends to fight through whatever obstacles lay in their paths.

"You still drink," Charlene had said to him the night before as he explained what they were about to do, "Heavily..."

"I was worse before we found you," he replied solemnly, "Much worse... I'm... I have a hard time finding the words, Char... You know how I feel..."

He looked to each of his supergroup's members.

Cedric... His eldest son. Looking at 27 years of age in the middle of April. Knowing him, it was a matter of time before he wound up doing the work he was so obviously born to.

Kipland... Kip had been his successor as the Kingdale Warden back home, protecting the local community from mystical threats. The boy had obviously found his niche.

Cobalt Black... Kip's Praetorian. Randy hadn't even met his Praetorian, yet. He already knew it was the Acme of foolishness to hope that the Gray Render would be as friendly as this Malta Agent from another world. In his world, they're freedom fighters, like the Carnival of Light. It was strange this other Kip would be so much like the original... Then again, Praetorian Earth wasn't exactly Opposite World... Just different... More brutal. They could count on Cobalt Black... He was every bit the skilled fighter as the original, if not more.

Cory... The wizard. Randy didn't know much about the boy. He had been the favorite contractor of the boy's father, Richard, however, and all those times up to the present Cory had demonstrated he was an enthusiastic, wise and polite young man. A very welcome addition indeed, and well worth his role as their mystic advisor.

Sheldon... Randy had been hard on the boy early on. He'd seen enough history about people just like him who devolved into the quick and easy path of villainy for power, money and fame. Not pride, though, and Sheldon had that. Despite the fact he had a hundred androids, each more powerful than the bots found littering the city by at least five times, the young inventor continues to work with his hands and strives to impress.

Nester... Kip's brother. He'd always been a bit odd in Kingdale, as if his head was wired to a different way of looking at the world (as opposed to Kip's, which really was). He was one of the few people who could take an idea, and see what its progenitor was trying to achieve. Now, he was employed in the necessary task of healing his fellow heroes, and did it with gusto.

Roland... Randy's middle child, and second son. He was a bit of a loner among the group. He never worked with anybody else within the super group... Not since they'd found Charlene... Randy knew their days with the boy were numbered. Round didn't see the point to all this Hero mumbo-jumbo. Truth be told, neither did Randy anymore, but he was far too entrenched now to walk away. Still, while they had the young man, he'd fight tooth-and-nail and whatever he could get his hands on to help.

Zeke... Randy's best friend and former contracting partner. Now, still a friend, but a part of him is something else. He’d come to bid farewell to his dying son (Kip), and wound up on the receiving end of some of the most formidable powers known to the Heroes. He was a definite asset, and a good friend. A level head whenever they need one, Randy was glad Zeke still stuck around.

Charlene... Randy was leery of including her in this, but they needed all the forces they could muster. He'd lost her once already, he didn't want to risk it again... But if the information was right, she had a personal interest in this matter, and she'd give him Hell if he thought of keeping her out of this.

Sarah... Snuffy... His daughter. In high school, all the boys were afraid to date her because they thought he'd kill them. They were right, of course, but Randy hadn't yet found where to bury the bodies, so he'd have only maimed them. In the War, she'd gained a mutant power of telepathic capabilities, and now she was using that power to further aid the people she loved. Randy knew she was trying to show she was strong, but he didn't know how to tell her she'd proven that a long time ago.

Matt... Mad, mad Matt. Cedric's best friend from high school. His father was known as Crazy Old Man McGinty, or Mark... The old man had saved a martial artist's life, and had the guy train the boy in Kendo. Matt's personality, though, was left to be influenced by his father and his friends. The wild-maned young man had a knack for Hero work, and had proven many times to be a brutal little brawler.

The Ryats... Two of Sheldon's androids. The only two Longbow lets him let loose. They're autonomous, artificially intelligent, and peculiar. Sheldon said he and Roland were working out the bugs in their software, but Randy had the sneaking suspicion they were simply letting the machines work it out for themselves. It seemed to work. Ryat99, the Tanker of the two, had gained a peculiar sense of self-awareness and was refreshingly humble. Ryat66, the blaster on the other hand, was quite obnoxious in a polite sort of way. The two continued to demonstrate all sorts of bizarre capabilities, and had proven to be vastly superior assets that Randy was happy to have on the team.

Joe... Durnan... The cop... The man taking Snuffy away... Randy had given the young man a hard time when he first met him. Now, he was about to give him an even harder one as his father-in-law. Still, the boy had a good head on his shoulders. He was like Kip, at times, and other times he was like Nester... Still, there were the times he was entirely himself, and demonstrated a certain noble spirit so rarely seen these days...

This was who and what he had to work with. More than enough.

"I've got a big job... Not like those Task Force missions you see advertised throughout the city, but just as effective. I got me an informant a little while back, and he's paid off big time. We're going to take a chunk outta the Council Army, and it's gonna hurt."

They stared back, shock somewhat registering on their faces. They seemed to be rolling the idea around in their heads, trying to determine how to respond. They were also probably trying to decide whether or not he was drunk again.

Finally, Ryat99 raised his hand and Randy gestured for him to speak.

"Uh... Don't we take huge chunks out of the Council every day? I mean, they're kind of a Terrorists R' Us group..."

"Yeah," Randy chuckled, "They are... But sometimes they do something right, and a lot of innocent people get hurt. Taking out this base will put a damper on a number of such plans, not to mention crippling their Nictus forces..."

"Nictus?" Zeke suddenly looked concerned.

Charlene didn't quite know what the problem was, but she knew enough to suddenly look just as worried as Zeke did.

"Yeah..." Randy plugged the disk into the table and keyed up the holo-emitter, "The fortress is situated on an island a few miles south of Striga... It was never too important until recently. They seem to have been adding to it, a little bit at a time... Before anyone knew it, a rather impressive base had been constructed, and now someone has to deal with it."

"Us," Kip stated, "Well... Let's work out a plan..."

"I..." Sheldon interrupted before anybody could say anything, "...Have something that will probably help..."

----

"Where in Hell did you get this?" Cedric laughed as he marveled at the contraption sitting in the (supposedly) disused storage bay.

It looked like a Zeus Titan, only bigger, and with the two Hercules Titans welded and bolted together. The chambers meant to house human brains had been removed for a larger, sleeker mechanism, making the Titan resemble a Nemesis Warhulk with a metal dome instead of glass.

"What is it?" Randy asked without a hint of awe.

"It's a Titan..." Sheldon replied, "For presumptuousness, call it a Grey Titan..."

"What's with its arms?" Kip pushed one with his index finger, thinking it would probably fall off, "You made this thing look like a giant iron gorilla..."

"Yes, well..." Sheldon walked over to a control panel, "You see... The arms house a massive, heavier weapons system..."

"Heavier than the energy weaponry they utilize?"

"Not in damage output... Sadly, I had to scrap the energy cannons for a side project... No... I put something more... contemporary on the arms..."

Another holo display came to life, and Sheldon started running a computer graphic simulation for them. It showed Hercules and Zeus Titans, and the Grey Titan off to the side. A pair of miniguns were mounted to each of the Grey's arms, each with it's own belt of ammunition, a left shoulder mounted missile pod and a right shoulder mounted rocket pod. Looking closely, Randy could see that much of the actual design behind the Malta Group's Titans had been scrapped. Little more than the outward appearance remained, and little of that as well.

Sheldon must have scrapped much of the original design to create this monstrosity.

"How long have you had this?" he asked.

"A couple weeks, now..." Sheldon replied nervously, "I... I need your approval to activate it."

"That didn't stop you before."

"I didn't need anything from Grey's Army before..." Sheldon scratched the back of his neck, "Randy... Sarah..."

"What?" Snuffy arched her eyebrow at him, "What do you need me to do?"

"I need you to put this on," he handed her a technological device that looked like a bulky crown with wires coming off of it.

"Sheldon?" Randy thundered over to where the inventor stood and looked at the monitor, "Why do you need her help?"

Sarah put the circlet on and looked around.

"Nothing's happening..."

Sheldon hit a button at his console and the Grey Titan came to life. Cedric got out of its way as he took a step forward to balance itself.

"Woah!"

Everybody turned to Sarah. Her mouth hung agape and she held her arms out forward. Looking from her to the machine, they could see their stances matched almost perfectly.

"Sarah!" Joe called out to her, then turned to the Titan, "Sarah?"

"Oh, real nice, Joe," she shouted from where she stood, "Here I am, over here, and you're talking to some robotic bimbo like you know her!"

"Yeah man," Cedric leaned against the Titan's knee, "I thought you had taste."

"This'll be a Helluva story for the kids," she pouted.

Joe just kind of looked at them all, mortified. After a few seconds, he turned to Sheldon.

"What's going on?"

"I wasn't able to cut out the human control necessary to operate a machine of this size... The Malta Titans require human brains because the brain is able to help regulate the machine's balance. It's what makes bipedal vehicles so difficult and impractical right now, the balance point. Humans are able to walk upright because their posture and their internal organs provide the necessary balance to maintain the upright stance. The Titans have the posture... But that's not enough. So, the next step was adding a series of 'organs' that reverberated, moved and oscillated according to a carefully scripted algorhythm... That worked for a bit, but if the machines ever got knocked down, the AI would crash. It couldn't get back up."

Sheldon sighed, and then gestured to the Titan schematics.

"The Malta Group figured out how to fix the problem in the simplest, most efficient way they could. Human brain transplants. They took people nobody would miss, dissected them, removed their brains, hooked them up to these machines and voila! Instant balance. The brain would automatically maneuver its new 'organs' and the machine could focus on the fight."

"Wouldn't the brains have an opposing effect?" Nester queried, "I would think the Malta Group would be fairly leery of putting resentful minds at the helms of their most powerful weapons..."

"The brains don't have control," Randy answered, "I've seen it with my own eyes. The random Titans you see on the streets, the ones with unwilling vagrants, thugs, and drifters' minds inside them, have a second brain. A Malta Group AI that controls the machine's actions. The brain can only watch helplessly as its used as a tool for the Group's cause."

"Right," Sheldon sighed, "Disturbing efficiency... Some Titans I've helped study didn't have the AI in them. We can only assume those Titans were operated by brains volunteered by the Malta Group's various agents. Some may have been exceptional, others may have been injured too badly to keep up the 'good fight...'"

"The point is, they're loyal..."

"Now, as for Snuffy," Sheldon waved to the younger girl, "I tried to use this thing myself... I figured my mind, as powerful as it is, would be able to exert the necessary control."

"It didn't work," Roland finished.

"Precisely. My brain couldn't get a 'feel' for the artificial organ parts. So... I operated on a new theory..."

"You need a psychic." Sarah guessed, "Someone who can naturally move their consciousness away from their body and project their being to anywhere they need it."

"Exactly."

"Yay!"

"Sarah can do this?" Randy asked, his face turning grim, "This isn't a trick?"

"Of course not, Daddy!"

"Mr. Grey," Sheldon turned his attention to the monitors, "Sarah, move your left arm out to your side... See, sir? Perfect harmony... Naturally. What would take a pilot months of training, Sarah's able to master in moments. Her psychic projection capabilities enable her to do exactly as I said. She is at once the machine and herself."

Randy inspected it, all of it. The whole contraption suddenly gave them an edge he hadn't even considered possible. The situation just jumped several notches from "Outlook Grim" to "Yeehaw!"

"I like it," he rumbled, "I like it a lot. So, you must have something in mind on how best to use this thing... What do you have in mind?"

"See.." Sheldon suddenly looked very sheepish, "This is where things get interesting..."

---

My Stories

Look at that. A full-grown woman pulling off pigtails. Her crazy is off the charts.

"I know you don't like listening to my suggestions, Randy..."

The leader of Grey's Army looked over to Joe suddenly.

"So... We've grown a pair today, have we?"

Durnan suddenly looked mortified, but Randall waved him off. The walls echoed with the sounds of Sarah and Sheldon training to get his new mech working properly. It was currently loaded with foam-rubber rockets and they were calibrating its targeting system. Sarah seemed to already have its moevment down.

The others had all gone off to handle various daily cases they wanted to finish up or help with Some of them also went out to simply collect their thoughts, like Roland. He hoped his son and Char were doing okay. The past couple years had been hard on their family, now, these past months, it was a little confusing.

"Relax, boy. What's your idea?"

"Well... I know these guys... Guys from home, actually..."

"Those BWO kooks," Randy chuckled for a moment, "Yeah-heah, I met them since our little scuffle with the Restructurists. I heard they got themselves a new toy."

"Yeah..." Durnan took a seat at the Meeting Room table across from his future father-in-law, "A Flyer they boosted off Arachnos. Took them a fair amount of convincing to get Longbow, the Coast Guard and Customs to bring it into the States. Thank goodness they know Hector Wallace..."

"He still got those military research contracts, huh?"

"Apparently. Well... I've got a deal with them... We could probably get them to lend us transport and fire support. Maybe even some extra bodies to help with the fight."

Randy rubbed his chin. It sounded all right. From what he remembered, the young Heroes in the BWO were fairly capable in that fight. If they were able to steal an Arachnos Flyer, too, that only furthered his opinion of them. Joe also seemed confident that the machine would be formidable. He thought it was funny that this event was bringing all sorts of nifty, nasty toys out of the woodwork.

"Alright," he finally answered, and smiled, "Give 'em a call, arrange a meeting. I'll see what funds I can set aside for their help."

----

"Kipland?"

Kip turned around to see one of the girls he'd teamed with that fateful Valentine's Day.

"Talia?"

Talia "Corazon Hielo" Medina was one of the two tankers. She was also vocally lesbian. At least, that was Kipland's take on her. It's hard to get a good impression of someone who feels compelled to explain her preference upon meeting you.

Which made it even more odd when she started hitting on him.

"You okay?" he asked as she shifted her weight from one foot to the other.

"Uh... yeah," she crossed her arms over her chest and sighed a little, "Um... You been good?"

"I've been cool. You?"

She suddenly tackled him against the wall. It was a hug: a giggly, passionate hug that was completely out her character to anybody who knew her.

"Still bad I see," he muttered stoically.

"I've been thinking about you all month...” she whispered into his ear, "Oh... I..."

"You need to take a cold shower..."

Kip glanced over at Genevieve "Wrathfire" Daniels, the other tank from that day. It wasn't entirely out of the realm of possibility, they were in the same supergroup after all. What were they called? Tough Girls, Strong Girls... Eh, something trite like that.

Genevieve was a more even-tempered girl. She had resisted the effects of the Arrows of Eros as well as she could. She eventually relented, asking Kip to go to the Valentine's Day Party in Pocket D and dance with her. He relented, which led to sudden friction in the group.

The rest of the day, he'd had problems whenever he was near female Heroes. He found out what had been happening when he got a hold of one of Cupid's aides (using something he thought long gone) and got the whole story out of "Steve." He'd wondered if the effects persisted, and now he had his answer.

"Talia, get off Kip," Genevieve wrenched the poor girl from the smaller man and rested a hand on Kip's shoulder, "You okay?"

"What do you think you're-" Talia started screaming.

"Stop it!" Kip suddenly shouted over her.

He could feel something in his forehead. It was a new sensation, yet familiar. That's it, a headache. But why now?

"Look," he covered his left eye in a vain attempt to do something to stop the pain, "Something's seriously wrong, here. Talia, you made a point of telling me you're a lesbian."

"Well..." she stammered, "I..."

"He's right..." the other tanker looked to Kip, "So... What's going on? Ever since that day... We've been having trouble keeping our heads clear..."

"Hang on, I'm working on it," Kip pulled his hand away from his left eye.

It had gone completely black. The white, the iris, everything. In fact, it had stopped reflecting light...

"EROS!" he shouted as reality started to shudder and lose its color, "I'm calling you out!"

"What the Hell?

Eros looked about the alley. He was exactly as the Greek legends described him, not the cherubic child, but a young man with wings. Impossibly attractive, if anybody nearby could have seen him, other than Kip, they likely would have gone blind.

Durj, however, found himself in severe pain. Pain that was not caused by the proximity of the god, but was related to it.

"Hi there," he grumbled, "And by the way, Hell is Norse in origin."

"Our immortality is not an excuse to fall behind on lingo," he replied.

"I see it hasn't done anything to improve your aloofness," Kip replied, "You've done gone and made a mistake... Now the consequences are spilling over."

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"You do," Kip spat, "You do. Look me in my eye and tell me you don't!"

Eros winced as he looked into the hero's face.

"How dare you... Speak... To a god in such a fashion?"

"I'm sorry, nimrod. How many followers do you currently have? How many people sacrifice pigs or squirrels in your name? How many people thank you for the love they feel? Zero? Zilch? Nada? Maybe if there were a more active worship of your pantheon, I'd be less effective with this, but I've dealt with situations like this before, and it's time for a reckoning."

"What are you talking about?" the golden skinned young man intoned, "What are you?"

"I was a Warden."

"Like those red and white spandex clad troops?"

"No," Kip growled, "Something else entirely."

The winged god glared at him for a few seconds. It was peculiar. Mortals weren't supposed to be able to do what this young man was doing. Namely, he was standing up to him. But... There was more. The entire environment surrounding the two of them had been frozen. Everything was slightly gray... There was an echo...

The two young ladies behind the man... Eros recognized the golden arrows in their backs. Suddenly, he remembered the young man. Kipland Durj, from his "Overdue List." One of the few he hadn't been able to influence. In fact...

"Young man... Do you realize you have an errant soul?"

"I had an inkling," Kip replied, "Now, I'm calling you out. You've left a problem in your wake with me as the focal point. Thank whatever forces are at power that you and yours can only affect the world for a day..."

He gestured to the two heroes behind him.

"...But as you can see, the effects can be long lasting."

"And if I don't?"

"Then I beat the bejebus outta you until you do or the effect disappears."

This gave the god pause. Not only was the mortal resistant to the effects of his presence, he felt confident he could beat him in battle. Granted, Eros had never been one for combat prowess, but he was certain that, by default, he bore enough skill to handle any mere mortal.

Only this was obviously not a mere mortal.

"Well?" Kipland Durj's voice started to sound like an inhumanly hollow growl, "What'll it be, Cupid!? Snap your fingers and call it a day, or do you explain to Mommy how you fell down some stairs!?"

With every word, he stepped closer. He was a short guy, but obviously tough. His body was thick with muscle, and that hideous black eye seemed to distort reality, even unreality (especially unreality, it seemed). Kip stepped right under Eros' chin, and glared into his face.

"Done," Eros blinked.

Kip looked back to the girls. The arrows were gone from their backs.

Kip turned back, and the strange little pocket they stood in started to fade back to normal.

"Alright," he sounded like his old self again, "I'm glad it went like this."

"You figure you could've beaten me?"

"You did," Kip shrugged, "That's all it takes sometimes. A little confidence on my part, a small lack of it on the offender's..."

"Offender?"

"My role, back home, was to keep the balance," the Hero explained, "If something mystical or otherwise in nature started 'freaking the norms' as it were, I had to put it back in its place. I did. With enthusiasm. Anything and everything that affected the people around me... And you just caused me to have to do it again."

"I see..." the god looked shocked, "This is... A rare phenomenon..."

"But not outside possibility," Kip explained, "The rule was simple. If it seemed wrong to me, it was deemed worthy of my attention. What seems wrong to me is your wholesale victimizing of completely innocent people, causing them to act contrary to their nature, and, worst of all, you simply walked away like nothing was wrong. If you make a mess, clean it up. A simple rule, don't you think?"

"Are we done here?"

"Yeah."

The shimmering gray field started to waver and fade.

"Interesting," Eros mused, "I would have figured you would have tried to 'lay me low.'"

"And what good would that have done?" Kip punched a wall with a light hammer fist tap, "It'd have made you angry and would have imbalanced our situation. I ask for no more than to fix what you did wrong. Now we're done."

"No," Eros withdrew from the pouch on his belt a golden scroll, "We're not done, Kipland. You have a problem. My assistant explained to me your situation... Your loophole to get around my influence... Being sad is one thing... Grieving is understandable for suffering the loss you did. But several years are far too long. It's borderline psychotic."

Kip folded his arms over his chest and leaned against the wall. The god was running out of time, and Kip wasn't in the mood for an "emotions lecture." But that didn't make the god any less right.

"I know," he murmured, "I know... It's just... Any time I think about Amy... I..."

"I understand," Eros gave the young man's shoulder a gentle squeeze, "Look, I'm not in the habit of giving advice to people who... tick me off... But for you, I'm making a special case. Find a girl who can handle your abrasive nature, and spend some time with her. Who knows... If you pretend to open up and get on with your life, you just might do so on accident."

"You ripped that off a movie!"

"Who did what now?" Daniels asked as reality cleared, "Kipland... What happened?"

"I..." he turned back to them, "Well, how do you feel?"

Talia looked embarrassed.

"Did I tackle you?" she gasped, "Holy crap, boy, I think I was planning to-"

"Talia... It's over," Genevieve reassured her Latin friend, "No harm, right Kip?"

"Right," he rasped, "Well, except for this whanging headache... That's never happened before..."

"That's because you're not supposed to do what you just did."

Kip's errant soul. Still tethered to his body, but capable of its own thought. Typically, it didn't affect his daily life (being ethereal and all), but talking to Kip's corporeal mind was something new.

"Never mind that now," it hissed, "You and me have a long talk ahead of us, but we don't have time for it just yet. For now, I'll let you alone to finish what you started with these two. Know this, though: I'm here, and I'm watching you."

"You going to be okay?" Genevieve asked as she placed the back of her hand against his forehead, "I read up on that Obsidian Blight once for college... I recognized your name..."

"Small world," Kip chuckled, "Yeah, don't worry. This was caused by something completely unrelated to that."

"Are you drinking enough water?"

The tanker's eyes suddenly darted from left to right.

"Huh... It just occurred to me I would have offered to take you to my place yesterday."

"And now?"

"Not."

"Good," Kip nodded, "That's really good. It means you're making your own decisions, and not what some ethereal golden arrow's telling you to think."

The two girls stared at him perplexedly. Finally, they shrugged to each other and bid their farewells to the young scrapper who, up until a minute ago, had been the object of their affection.

"And suddenly, I have a wholly different, and unwelcome challenge," he muttered when they were gone, "Ah well... It is about time I got over it."

His hands in his pockets, he slowly strolled down the back alleys of Founder's Falls. He was aware of the Nemesis troops ghosting him. They didn't seem to be aware of the thirty or so Heroes ghosting them, however. Kip just kept with his slow-paced herd and let the various scrappers, tankers, blasters, and so on, even a few Kheldian types, have their fill of "Nemesix" troops.

Technically, they were the same.

----

"So when were you going to tell us Mom was here?"

Nester had gone alone. Kip was fairly indifferent to this situation. Nester, on the other hand, didn't like the deception.

"Look, Nester..." Zeke began, but stopped abruptly.

"Dad..." Nester removed his shades so his father could see he was being serious, "Look... We've been through this once already. Last time, you didn't have a problem telling your kids that you were having a casual chat with the woman who abandoned them when they were in the first grade and kindergarten. Now... Now you tiptoe around the issue, even after we're all cordial and friendly. I mean, what's the big deal, Dad?"

"We're [censored]." Zeke answered simply.

"Good God!" Androm shouted in Zeke's mind.

"You're..." Nester looked as shocked as Androm sounded, he just seemed a little more tripped up by it, "With..."

"Right," Zeke pressed his lips together in a thin line and shrugged, "Have been since Valentine's Day."

"Ah..." Nester didn't know what to say, so he found himself sitting on his father's couch.

"See, this is why I didn't tell you," Ezekiel explained as he headed for the kitchen, "I knew you wouldn't understand."

"I understand plenty, Dad..." Nester shouted back, "Y'know, Kip would say you've forgotten how she hurt you."

"Doesn't sound like he's the one saying it."

Nester sat silently for a few seconds. Why was he so bothered by this news? He was the one who was willing to give his mother a chance when she first came back. Kip was the one who freaked out and tried to shut her out. Though his little brother eventually relented (on his own terms, of course), it was still a highly dramatic, and aggravating time for them.

"So... Is she still a traveling secretary for that company?"

"No... But we're confident she'll get a new job in no time," Zeke sat in his easy chair with a clear glass mug of beer in his hand, "She moved here for a job offer that didn't pan out and we ran into each other at that bar outside the King's Row Yellow Line station. Well, she ran into me. I hadn't been expecting her."

"And you're sure she's Mom..."

Zeke smiled. Nester suddenly felt a chill run down his spine.

"Never mind."

"Nester, you know if we hadn't done it, you and Kip would never have been here."

"I know! It's just... After we're here... Can't you stop!?"

"Aren't you a little old to be making such a demand?" Zeke was laughing, "I mean, come on, you've had sex."

"Yeah..." Nester winced, "And thanks for reminding me of something I've been missing..."

"Look Nester... I guess I just figured you couldn't handle the news... I mean... Your Mom and I... We... We never really hated each other. She just got scared when the firm went bankrupt and I got laid off. There was so little keeping her together... When she heard the news, she nearly had a psychotic break."

"I know," Nester leaned back in the couch, "And I know she was still sending you checks after the divorce was finalized, with no demands for alimony or child support. I bet your lawyers were really ticked about that one."

"We didn't have any," Zeke shrugged, "Like I said, it was a mutual break-up until Cathy got herself back together."

"Ah..."

They sat there silently for a few seconds. Nester turned on the television, but he wasn't really interested and he couldn't stay for much longer.

"So... What do you think of Randy's plan?"

"I think we're being toyed with," Zeke answered curtly, "I think the information's legit, but I also think we're being employed in some sick Council power game."

"You really took to this Hero stuff, didn't ya, Dad?"

"Of course," Zeke gestured to the rather well furnished and well-kept apartment, "Look at this place! Even for an apartment, this place is a Helluvalot nicer than any place back home."

"You ever think any of us will go home?"

Zeke took a long drink from his beer. Finally, after licking the foam from his upper lip, he had an answer.

"Yeah," he nodded, "Some of us will. Others won't. Kip, I see him staying here a long time. You... You make your own choices in everything you do, so you might just wind up going somewhere else entirely, or even just sticking with here. Randy'll probably head back to Kingdale when he feels he's done. Char'll go with him, but she'll probably come back here a lot to help with any archaeological digs. Your friend, Round, definitely wants to go home."

"Yeah. Who knows what Sarah and Joe will do. Or Cedric."

"Or Matt, or Cory, or Sheldon..." Zeke sighed, "We've all got our choices to make."

"What do you think Mom will do?"

"That's up to her," Zeke replied, "It's been too long since I've known her. It's like I gotta figure her out all over again. I seem to be doing okay."

"Heh, yeah..." Nester thought about that for a second, "Aw!"

"Look son... We're all tough. Regardless of what happens, I have a good feeling we'll get through all of this okay."

Nester nodded. Despite the brutality of those they fought, he had a gut feeling his father was right.

---

My Stories

Look at that. A full-grown woman pulling off pigtails. Her crazy is off the charts.