Grey's Army

It actually took two days for the ballots to be tallied. Greg had to recount a couple times. In the end, Mortiganen was the leader of the Redeemers, Garm was the second-in-command.

They weren't given any time to establish other positions, however. The alarms on a lot of communicators went off and the group found themselves summoned to Talos Island.

----------

"Okay boys, here's the deal," Greg announced as they rode in the back of Garm's van, "Ice Mistral's leading a raid on the National Bank in Talos. Infernal, Valkyrie and Luminary are trying to detain her, but she's hopped up on overcharge drugs, wielding an assortment of artifacts to boost her powers, or possibly a combination of the two."

"So, we're supposed to help?" a former Tsoo sorcerer asked, "What are we supposed to do?"

Greg looked at the squad of heroes placed in his charge. The sorcerer, Genji Lucas ("What the Hell!?" he'd muttered to himself when he first saw the name), Ashen Roast, Blizzard Front, Doug the Ogre was driving, and Briggs McBain sat in the back with the rest of the group, grumbling.

Definitely a rag-tag team.

"Look, guys, the peace-keeping portion of this fight is in capable hands," Greg explained, "We're just supposed to go in, escort citizens to safety, and keep any stray criminal elements away from said citizens."

"Damn, [dog] detail," he heard Doug growl, "We're almost there."

"Just pull up next to the SWAT van and we'll get to work."

----------

"Right this way, ma'am," Ashen gestured as he held the Yellow Ink Man against the wall with a fiery hand, "Please join the police escort."

"Thank you, deary," the old lady replied, "Oh, I wish there were more heroes with manners like you."

"And I wish there were fewer people with the lack of manners like this man here," the tanker turned to the Tsoo warrior writhing in his grasp, "Apologize to the nice lady!"

"AAAAH-OW! You're branding my chest!"

"That will do, sonny," the old woman patted Ashen's shoulder, "That will do."

"Wait, how did you-?"

When the tanker turned, the old lady was being led away by the authorities. The Ink Man then slammed his forearms against Ashen's and drew a knife. Unfortunately, Ashen's free hand came back with a fiery scimitar. The Ink Man doubled over from the second degree burns and a police drone floated over to zap him to the Zig.

"Weird..."

"How's it goin', buddy?" Blizzard asked as he came around the corner, dragging an ice-encased sorcerer behind him.

When he cleared the alley, the police drone zapped the ice block, shattering it and sending the contained criminal to the Zig. When the last of the nearby criminals were safely ported away and the civilians seemed to be making their way out of the vicinity, the heroes moved to another section of the cordoned off section of the zone. Then the process started all over again.

"Where's Briggs?" Ashen shouted over the Arachnos soldier he had pinned under him, "He better not have been left alone..."

Before Gregory could reply, their communicators crackled.

"Is this working right?" a deep bass voice asked, "Listen, if you can hear this, this is Infernal. Valkyrie's been sent to the hospital, and I'm currently carrying Luminary. We're in retreat, but we were able to break one of the gems boosting Ice Mistral. The resulting explosion devastated my demons and is why we're currently in retreat, she should be more manageable to whatever support teams are out there now..."

"What?" Caid shouted, "We gotta pick up their slack? We're not prepared for this!"

"Relax, Greg," Ashen replied as he started walking around the corner in search of their wayward companions, "With any luck, we won't see hide nor hair of-OOF!"

He was cut off when he collided with the villainous vixen herself and they both fell to the ground. Bank notes scattered from the bag slung over her shoulder and Mistral cursed loudly. Ashen would have, too, if he wasn't in so much pain from the cold that had wormed its way through his fiery armor.

"Oh my God! That's cold!"

"You idiot!" the villainess shouted as she regained her footing, "Now I have a splitting headache! I should kill you!"

She stretched out her hand and aimed her palm at Ashen. A spray of cold air and condensed moisture started to wash over the tanker. He was only able to stave off unconsciousness by keeping his rapidly numbing arms in front of his face. Then, for some odd reason, the stream ended with a shriek from Roast's assailant.

---

Briggs McBain was a brute before becoming a troll. A school bully, he wasn't even a thug to the social players of his classes. He followed the ethos of might-makes-right, and he was bigger and stronger so he could take what he wanted. After a while, he stopped picking on the little guys, they weren't a challenge. He went after the bigger, tougher thugs, the minions of the social players and enforcers of the cliques. No one could stand in his way.

One day, a Troll came to his neighborhood. Briggs saw the green man busting up cars with his bare hands. When the ugly, burly mutant made it to McBain's car, however, he found his fist stopped by a similarly burly little man with a mean scowl.

Briggs kicked the tar out of that Troll thug. This impressed Garm, and that led to the bizarre little brute to be brought into the ranks of the gang. The rest of his memory, between his first drought of Superadine and his eventual "curing" was a haze, but he had to admit, he preferred this way more. It was so much easier to fight when you knew what you were doing with your strength.

"Oh my God!" the Arachnos soldier shouted as he tried to pry Briggs's hand from twisting his left pectoral, "You're turning it black!"

"Ha-yeah," the former Troll dropped the soldier and walked out of the alley, "Damn, I'm bored."

"You idiot!" he heard a shrill voice shout from down the street.

"What the...?"

"I should kill you!" the blue-colored girl standing over the fire tanker he was working with shouted before blasting him with a powerful wave of ice.

Briggs didn't care much for Ashen, but he disliked the rogues from the Isles even more. He hated the way they acted better than everybody else. he hated that they got to run around and have fun, while he was stuck protecting the innocent.

So he body checked her from behind, sending Ice Mistral sprawling into the middle of the intersection. Reaching down, he helped Ashen up. The tanker was shivering.

"You gonna be okay?" McBain growled.

"Yeah, I should be alright in a little bit..."

"Good."

McBain dropped Roast unceremoniously and stalked toward the surprised villainess picking herself up in the middle of the street. As he got within range she whirled around and fired a stream of blinding cold air and frozen water in a wave that caught the rampaging Troll in the face.

It didn't stop him.

Without even breaking stride, Briggs had Ice Mistral by the shoulders and hurled her through a nearby window. If she hadn't frozen it before her twirling body crashed through, she would have been severely hurt. Fortunately, she was able to turn what would have been a sheet of lacerating edges into many icy blocks.

Briggs wasn't finished with her by a long shot, however. Screaming gibberish obscenities, he leapt through the air, gripped the top frame of the window with the intent of vaulting himself into a stomp aimed for her abdomen.

He was blasted away by a powerful, condensed jet of Mistral's ice beam. The frozen block holding him skidded down the street and started to crack. Before Mistral could do anything about that, however, Ashen Roast was in her face, swinging his fiery sword about and distracting her.

Unfortunately for Ashen, he was only a mild distraction. A beam similar to the one that sent Briggs out of commission slammed into his chest and knocked him into a lamp post. As he extricated himself from the post, Mistral prepared another beam to finish him off.

Ice wrapped around her hand and Gregory Caid gave her a kick to the chest, causing her to stumble backward a bit. Normally, the scrapper wouldn't have done such a thing. He knew women didn't like getting hit there (apparently it hurt a lot more than a guy would know) and he didn't like hitting women there (he preferred a softer touch if the situation called for it), but she was wearing armor and trying to kill (or at least incapacitate) his allies, so there wasn't room for sensibilities.

Ice Mistral was not happy about the attack in any case, however, and ran over to clobber the black-haired Freedom Corps special agent on the side of his head with her ice-encased hand. The smooth spherical encasement shattered and knocked Gregory out cold, giving the blue-haired villainess the opportunity to focus on the other ice-wielding individual giving her grief.

"Uh..." Blizzard Front fumbled for words, "Look out behind you!"

Ice Mistral aimed her palm at him and it started to glow. If she'd paid attention, however, she would have been ready for Briggs, who had broken from his ice block and tackled into her, smashing both of them into the door of a nearby bar. In fact, it seemed to Blizzard that she did start to take him seriously a second before the end, as she heard the thuds of McBain's feet as the brute charged and turned just in time to scream angrily.

"Is he alright?" Genji asked as he appeared next to Gregory, "Why isn't he porting to the hospital?"

"Ooh..." the scrapper groaned in response.

"She clonked him over the head," the blaster replied, "Do what you can, I'm going to see if Briggs needs any supp-"

Ice Mistral came flying out of the bar door. She twirled over their heads, grabbed a lamp post, spun around like she were an exotic dancer and fired a beam of freezing energy at her pursuing assailant. Briggs was frozen in the doorway, looking like a greener, more violent version of a classical comedy trio.

The remaining heroes were stunned. They didn't know what to do. The former sorcerer came up with an answer fast, however, as he grabbed Caid's prone body and disappeared in a flash. Blizzard was left to chuckle sheepishly as the villainess leveled her frosty gaze at him.

"Uh... Nice weather we're having?"

"Shut up," Ice Mistral muttered as she pulled the bag from her back and looked inside, "What!? It's empty!?"

There was a guttural chuckling coming from the ice block in the doorway. Mistral turned to it slowly. Her eyes took on a frightening blue light and she stepped down from the lamp post. The guttural laugh stopped.

An orb of ice appeared in her hand and she waved at Blizzard Front. He was blasted aside by a wave of cold air and Mistral was free to focus her attention on the offending sculpture.

With all of her strength, she smashed the orb against the frozen image of Briggs McBain, first causing it to grow icicle spikes, then it shattered. As Blizzard picked himself back up, he saw that the spikes were on the inside of the sculpture, too, but something else curiously wasn't. Briggs's blood was nowhere to be seen, nor was his body, and Mistral was very concerned about that.

At first, she assumed he'd been teleported away by that pesky sorcerer. As she turned back to Blizzard Front, however, she was violently corrected. Briggs McBain burst out of the bar window with a pool table in his hands and a loud roar exhaling from his lungs.

The villainess turned back to see the crazy green man had shards of glass sticking into him and his eyes had turned bloodshot. She didn't have any more time to defend herself, however, and the bizarre burly beast hurled the table at her with all of his strength. She blocked it with her wrist guard, and it cracked as the table shattered.

Infernal had mentioned that she was boosted by artifacts. This wrist guard was one such artifact. A bracer utilized by an ice-wielding heroine from the '50s, it was powerfully amplifying Mistral's own blasts. Unfortunately, now, broken, it exploded violently. Ice Mistral was thrown down the street with a snow storm expelling from her arm. The walls of the buildings were covered in sheets of ice and there was a disturbing groaning sound once everything settled.

"Frost cracks rock," Blizzard explained as he and Ashen Roast helped Briggs out of the drift, "It normally doesn't affect buildings so quickly, something about the physics of it, but who knows just how much frost was jammed into all those cracks at once right now? Then there's the moisture already in there!"

"We've got to stop her," was Ashen's only reply.

"I think she's stopped, bro. We don't need to- Ashen, wait!"

The tanker charged down the frozen street. He was used to this, sliding on the ice. He'd been to Frostfire's hangouts plenty of times, and took special care to practice on the frozen floors as often as possible. Now, the practice paid off, and Ashen was able to tackle the disoriented Ice Mistral.

"Augh, get the Hell off of me, cape!" she shouted as he bunched her arms behind her back.

"You have the right to remain silent!" Ashen replied as he pulled a pair of handcuffs out of his belt, "Man, I never thought I'd have to use these..."

Mistral stopped struggling. At first, Ashen thought this was going to end without further incident until he saw her hands were open. An icy cascade launched the tanker into the air and he landed on a rooftop with a solid thump and a groan of pain.

"That was annoying," the blue haired woman grumbled as she pushed herself up ad dusted off her hands, "Now, how am I goin g to get my money back? I-Oh, son of a- Don't you ever [frig]ing quit!?"

Briggs was sliding across the ice. Unlike Ashen, however, he seemed extremely unstable. He finally fell to his side and slid to her feet.

"Aw, looks like somebo-OOF!"

Briggs's foot slammed into Mistral's belly and he spun around on the ice and kicked her in the leg, tripping her over. There was a barking laugh off to the side of the street, and she turned to see a red-haired Ogre holding his sides.

"Ha!" Doug finished, "Looks like somebody doesn't know Briggs is a break dancer!"

"What does that have to do with anything?" she muttered as her gaze shifted back to her more prominent source of distress.

Briggs was spinning around on his shoulder blades, his legs flailing about wildly. Mistral was caught across the cheek by the inside curve of one of his feet and she rolled away, in anger and in pain.

"Godammit!" she shouted and threw a gale at her offending opponent, then blasted the boulder the Ogre threw at her, "Are you all trying to [tick] me off!?"

"We're not letting you get away!" Gregory Caid shouted from a rooftop, "It's personal, now!"

"Oh for the love of..."

Mistral looked around the block for a way out and saw an opportunity. With dread, the former Council Archon realized they hadn't cleared this region of civilians. Case in point, there was a young boy cowering under a melting sheet of ice.

"Say goodbye to the cruel world!" the ice princess cackled as she plastered the wall with a fresh sheet.

The wall groaned, cracked and bits of ice started to fall down toward the child's head. The heroes tried to act in time, and it was Briggs who scrabbled over the ice sheet, dove, and took the brunt of the falling ice and rock. With his arms and upper torso hanging over the kid like a protective shelter and breathing heavy, McBain looked down at the frightened boy looking up at him.

"My names Jimmy," the kid mumbled.

"It's okay, Jimmy," the big green man growled, "Run to your momma."

"Okay."

"No kids..."

"Briggs!" Doug shouted, "Somebody stop him!"

"No kids."

"Why?" Blizzard asked, "He's been the guy tanking Mistral this whole time!"

"He has a thing about hurting kids!"

"NO [frig]ing kids!" Briggs shouted.

His vision was turning a dangerous shade of red. The only thing he could see was the fleeing Ice Mistral. He slipped on the ice trying to chase her down, and in his maddened state, he slammed his doubled-up fists into the sheet, shattering it. Everyone currently on it was slammed to the ground, and Briggs caught up with his quarry in record time.

"Get off of me, you ugly freak!" the blue woman shouted.

She was spraying him with a near-constant stream of cold. The ice wasn't stopping Briggs, though. It wasn't even slowing him down. He just kept pressing through the wave, his maddened face revealing itself every so often at the frightened woman.

"Emergency teleport!" Mistral finally shouted as the mini Troll was holding her in the air by her ankle and shoulder.

As he brought her down on his knee, she disappeared in a flash of red light. Briggs shouted angrily at the lost opportunity before Doug tackled and restrained him.

"Hold still, Brig," the Ogre growled, "Hold still!"

"She got away! The [dog] got away!"

"I know. It's okay. Calm down, brother. Calm down."

A soothing wave washed over Briggs's mind. Genji Lukas walked over, muttering spells that healed and calmed the rampaging mini-Troll.

"I'm okay..." he growled sadly, then he shoved Doug off brusquely, "Get off me!"

---------

There was a meeting called in Recluse's tower that involved all of the major players of the organization. His lieutenants were meeting with him in the audience chamber first. As they gathered, Scirocco left his dejected protege with the other high ranking members of the organization to dwell on his latest lessons.

"What happened to you?" Barracuda gurgled at her friend.

Ice Mistral could only mutter curses and insults about the band of "low-rent" heroes that got in her way.

"This wouldn't have anything to do with what Scirocco was saying about you only succeeding because of an accident, would it?"

"Oh, shut up, fish bait!"

Wretch split the girls apart before they could start fighting each other. Ghost Widow glared at both of them and snapped her fingers for her bodyguard to follow.

"If you two can't keep your emotions in check," she said over her shoulder, "Don't expect Lord Recluse to keep either of you around for much longer."

The girls could only glare at her back. There was nothing that could be said that wouldn't just come off sounding insolent. Both of them weren't too keen on seeing what an aggravated Wretch could do, either.

---

My Stories

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

He'd been needing to do this for some time. It just seemed that every moment he scheduled it, something came up. Council attacks, Nemesis cells, Crey, Arachnos... The world was full of monsters, and they all had to be stopped.

It wasn't until his brother pushed him away from a fight that Kip started to see what he was doing. Nester had told him that the group he was with was fine. To demonstrate, he zapped a Crey Mob Specialist in the face with a microwave blast. Nester was fine. He didn't need protecting.

"Let the rest of us do our job, brother. Take a break."

Kip wasn't taking breaks. He woke up, ate breakfast, then started hunting for bad guys to put in the Zig. He'd been falling behind on his paperwork, and it caused a lot of the bad guys to walk free. That didn't matter to Kip, though. He could just hunt them down again, later.

Zeke finally stopped him and sat him down. This caused the young scrapper to lash out at his own father, but Zeke still had more than a few tricks up his sleeve. Before he knew it, Kip had been flipped over and smashed through the gray-haired man's coffee table. Something must have gotten knocked loose, because after that, he started to listen.

Kip wasn't a fan of psychiatrists. He didn't like how they looked at their work as a "Be All, End All" method of looking at the brain and how a human works. However, their insights as to a person's behavior provided a near-limitless resource of advice, if one just knew how to examine it.

Fortunately, the therapist Agent Wild assigned Kip to was extremely helpful. She was calm, patient, and let Kip talk about what was bothering him. She didn't fall into a lot of the classic tropes seen in media. She didn't try to turn him against anyone in his family or his circle of friends, in fact, she suggested that he needed to open up to them more.

However, she noted that he needed closure in one particular area of his life. It was like a gaping wound, leaking all over everything he did and clouding it with drama. It was the very meeting he wanted to avoid.

"Greetings: Kipland Durj."

Kip looked through the bulletproof glass and frowned. The Rikti on the other side cocked her head to the side slightly and shrugged.

"Query: Dysfunction/Problem/Dilemma?" the translator warbled at him.

"I don't know if it's your communicator or if that's really how you think of me," the young man replied, "Kipland Durj. You used to call me Kippers, honey, and other things."

"Desire: Translator. Truth: Both. Translator: Basic Model. Understands: Only Subjects."

"But there is the fact that you're no longer the same girl I fell in love with."

"Hypothesis: Correct. Hypothesis: Incorrect."

It was getting weird that he could understand all of this. She was still the same girl he loved, just not, now that she was a Rikti and embroiled in their schemes.

"So, which side are you on now?"

"Discussion: Lk'Onik, C'Kelkah, Traditionalists. Joined: Traditionalists. Seek: Peace, Answers."

Kip looked away from the window.

"But not a cure."

"Cure: Nonexistent."

"There has to be!" Kip suddenly pounded his fist on the glass, "There has to be a way to bring you back! They're trying to find a way for Hero One, they've gotta be able to find a way for you!"

"Cure: Nonexistent. Need: Nonexistent."

"Bull-[dreck]!"

The scrapper collapsed into the chair provided and shuddered briefly. He was struggling to hold back the tears.

"This is all my fault," he whimpered.

"Query?"

"If I had been there... I could have helped... I could have..."

"Negative. Synopsis: False."

"Oh, screw this!" Kip jumped up and shouted to an orderly, "Open this door, right now! I can't stand hearing this tinny piece of [dreck] anymore!"

The orderly made a protest, but the scrapper deftly yanked his keycard from where it dangled off the man's chest and swiped it in the card slot. The man stumbled back as the brown-haired hero turned to the door as it opened.

"Much better than me blasting the lock apart, don't you think?"

The orderly ran to get security. The guards wouldn't be necessary. Kip walked into the cell and walked up to Amy.

"Talk to me," he whispered, "Help me understand."

The Rikti looked to the translator, then looked back to Kip. She reached her right claw to his left temple and nodded.

"Request: Hold Still."

There was a sensation that wasn't quite pain and wasn't quite pleasure. It was, however, intense. Kip blinked from it, and when he opened his eyes, he was standing on an asteroid.

The Asteroid. It was different, though. Gone was the magnificent expansive light of the Shadow Shard. it wasn't even the dark purplish haze that seemed to permeate the region around the Storm Palace. It was just dark here, with a few strands of light worming their way throughout.

In the distance, the rotten corpse of the monster he could have been was sitting behind a small, well-endowed blonde girl in tight clothes. Amy Taylor, from the last time he'd seen her.

"Hiya, Kippers," she said, "I didn't want to do this. It's dangerous, but you're right, that machine wasn't helping matters."

"Amy... Oh my God..."

He started running toward her, but the ground only seemed to expand between them.

"Don't, Kip," she explained, "It's dangerous enough being this close. If our minds get too close, there's a chance that very bad things could happen. For instance, thoughts you don't want me to know could leak into my mind, or the opposite. I know we've both done some pretty shocking things in our lives..."

She turned and nudged the corpse with her shoe.

"Very shocking."

"I'll tell you about it sometime," Kip muttered and sat down, folding his arms over his knees, "For now, though, there's us."

"Yes, us."

"I'm so sorry, Amy."

"You said that already," the girl blinked, then her head rolled to the side perplexedly, "What I don't understand is why. What could you have done?"

"I don't know... Something..."

"You'd have been killed, or turned, like me."

Her voice still sounded like flowers...

"Really? What kind?"

Kip looked up at her.

"Well, I keep thinking of tulips, really..."

"That's sweet... Oh... Oh, we got off track. We can't elt that happen, Kip. It's dangerous."

"Right."

They sat in silence for a moment. The scrapper was actually surprised. He'd expected a dreamscape conversation to be more mist-shrouded, or to have some form of echo to it. Instead, it was just him sitting on the opposite side of a rock from his old flame. It hurt that he couldn't be next to her.

"I know it hurts, Kip," she squeaked, "It hurts me, too."

Amy sighed and pulled her hair back. Instantly it was done up in a scrunchy.

"I could have stopped them from doing this to you."

"You need to stop beating yourself up over this, Kip. I asked them to change me."

"What?"

It felt like he'd just been kicked in the stomach. He didn't understand...

"I thought you were dead. I spent the following months, my superiors explained it was more like a year, in a complete funk. I just wandered aimlessly, always out of their way, but I was a sad reminder of the damage they were doing. I saw the wasteland they'd turned Kingdale into and I thought you were gone forever, and that little light inside of me seemed to just vanish."

"But..."

"Eventually, they had some of their mentalists sit me down and have a conversation with me. They worked in much the same way as we are now, appearing to me as my mother and my aunt. They didn't pretend to be either, though, and explained how sorry they were for the damage they had been causing. Things were different between us and them. They thought we were all military, that all of humanity worked toward the same goal, like they did."

"That explains their Total War strategy..."

"It wasn't until they felt the anguish of their prisoners they started to notice their mistake, but by then, it was too late. They were in too deep, and they had to see it through, one way or another. I figure they thought that if they could 'Riktify' all of humanity in this dimension, they could make peace again and try to repair the damage they had caused."

"That still doesn't explain why you asked them to change you!" Kip shouted, tears welling in his eyes.

"They said I could feel different. That with their group-think, I could learn to numb the pain of loss."

"Did it work?"

"Mostly," Amy sounded sad, "I still thought of you sometimes. Then, one day, I found you. You were a mess to look at, all machinery and humanity twisted together. Not as bad as those Freakshow monstrosities, but pretty bad, nonetheless. Then you drop kicked me in the face and it would be another three weeks until I saw you again."

"Oh my God..." Kip staggered to his feet, "I didn't know."

"It's alright, Kippers," she smiled and stood as well, "You couldn't have known. It's just like you couldn't have helped me. You need to stop beating yourself up over me. It just wasn't in the cards for us, not yet anyway."

"I understand," the scrapper croaked, "I guess."

They then hugged. They were about five seconds into the hug when Amy realized that the space between them had suddenly dropped to zero. She must have somehow materialized next to Kip during her explanation. Worried, she backed away then looked into her former lover's eyes.

"Oh my God," she whispered, "What will happen now?"

"Normally," Kip's voice toned from behind the scrapper and another Kip stepped around the quiet one, "You would have a catastrophic merging, and both of your bodies would wind up brain dead. Fortunately, humans have certain defenses against such things happening. A lot of psychics think of this as 'subconscious paranoia,' that we protect each other from our deepest, most private thoughts and fears to keep from becoming one. The fact of the matter is that we were never meant to be one, there would be no point to life if we were all the same. Rikti are somewhat connected to each other, but not too different from humans. The restrictions are just a little more fluid and malleable."

"What are you?" the girl asked the second Kip, "How can you know all of this?"

"I'm his Shadow, his soul, and a few other things, all rolled into one. One such thing is the very defense I just mentioned, largely relegated to subconscious control, but there are still a few conscious keys. Your dear Kippers, however, is not quite in the frame of mind to have any control over it, so I had to take over in order for this conversation to take place."

"Thanks, I think," the original Kip muttered.

"No problem. Perhaps now we can get to work on putting your mind back together."

"If you're his shadow," Amy tapped her elbow as she folded her arms over her chest, "Shouldn't you be his opposite?"

"A shadow is merely what a person would be without inhibition. Kip, I, have no inhibition, so there isn't much difference between us. However, your Kip is clouded in his day-to-day by the Noise of Life. Sometimes he needs me to advise him. With the troubles we've had in the recent couple of years, he's been in the right mental state for me to be able to do that."

"So, you're a schizophrenic personality?"

"Not exactly. I'm still him. I still think what he thinks, feel what he's supposed to feel, and we share other sensations. I don't try to take control, because, frankly, we'd pretty much do the same thing. It seems there isn't a dark version of us anywhere, even the Praetorian version of Kip was a freedom fighter."

"Strange."

"Well, it's time to say goodbye. The orderlies are coming back."

"Kip," Amy said to the original, "there is a way that we could be together again, but it's drastic."

"Turn me into a Rikti," Kip replied, "It's crossed my mind."

"And?"

"I think you know that if I wanted to do it, it would be done by now."

"Yeah," Amy looked back down at the ground, "You wouldn't be the same, anyway. I'm not this girl anymore."

"Some of you is," Kip brushed his fingers along her cheek, "Some of you will always be the girl I loved."

"And you will always be the young man that helped me get through one of the roughest times in my life," Amy hugged Kip again, "A part of me will always love you, but life has divided us, and we're not the same people we once were. It's time to move on."

"Right," Kip murmured into her shoulder, "Right..."

----------
The security team was full of angry faces, but no damage had been done. Rather than risk an incident with the authorities, the guards simply requested the scrapper hero to leave, which he was ready to do. Outside, he admired the sights, sounds and smells with a somewhat improved vigor.

"Are you feeling better?" the voice of his soul asked him.

"Yeah. A little. She doesn't blame me for what happened to her."

"If you were slightly less lucky, she would. Don't ignore this gift of fate."

"I know."

"So, what's the plan now?"

Kip looked up and down the street. He saw cars passing by, people milling about and the general din of life typical of any city. He also felt a small trembling under his feet. One of the Nemesis's Mole Machines had just passed through.

"I've got a loose end I want to tie up," he finally snapped, "Let's go find ourselves Tirailleur Graves and beat a location out of him."

---

My Stories

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

Roland had just sat down to eat his dinner when there was a knock at the door. Grumbling, he rose to answer it. Of all the people he expected, his brother was not one of them. Cedric’s beaming face towered above, and the younger sibling could only wonder what was going on.

“You ready to kick some [butt]?” the white-blonde tanker asked.

“No,” the shorter and rounder one replied as he made his way back to his dinner, “I’ve been going up and down stairs all day trying to find the building super. I finally got a hold of the building manager to find out that he quit.”

“Bummer. What do you need him for?”

“I have a leak in my bathtub. I could fix it myself, it just needs some caulk, but work has to be done by the building supervisor or else I’ll lose my deposit.”

Cedric’s smile turned into a lopsided grin as he chuckled a little to himself.

“So? What the building’s owners don’t know can’t hurt ya. I fix stuff in my apartment all the time!”

“Yeah, well, I’ve never been blessed with your kind of luck.”

Roland started eating while his brother paced about the rooms. Cedric wasn’t necessarily an impatient man, but when he wanted something to get done, he could be a little overbearing. The younger brother worked at consuming his brother while the tanker made his way for the bathroom.

“Roland?” he called out after a flushing noise was heard, “Do you have a girlfriend you’ve been keeping secret from your family?”

“What?” the pudgy defender asked as he turned to see his brother walking into the living room.

Cedric tossed a box to Roland. At first, he couldn’t tell what it was. However, he suddenly remembered seeing the exact same product in the bathroom at their parents’ apartment. It was a product women typically required.

“I didn’t bring this in here,” he growled, “How did…”

The implications were a little staggering. After some consideration, the bearded young man set the box on his coffee table. He had a long conversation about boundaries ahead of him with someone he knew would be unlikely to listen to him about it. Still, his head was pounding with the question, “Why?”

“So?” Cedric rested his elbow on his younger brother’s shoulder, “Is she hot?”

“While the girl is attractive,” Round replied, “she’s just a friend. I’d appreciate it if you’d let this go.”

The tanker was about to say something out of spite, but he thought better of it when he saw the look on Roland’s face. Finally, he patted his brother’s shoulder and went into the kitchen.

“So, I’ve been contracted to do some clearing in a region called Eden. You heard of it?”

“Yeah,” the defender grunted as he finished off the last of his potatoes, “Why?”

“Well, I wanted to bring you and Matt out there with me and the Ryats. Ninety-nine, Sixty-six, and Ten.”

“We should probably bring nester, too.”

“Good thinking,” Cedric started typing the number out on his communicator, “We’ll be meeting Zenflower at the entrance and she’ll fill us in on the details. Apparently Woodsman’s spirit’s getting either restless or fed up with the Devouring Earth, so he’s calling all available heroes to help clear that area out. Me? My plan involves chopping down a lot of trees.”

“That’s gonna make those monsters angry,” the defender replied as he shook his head slowly.

“I know!” the eldest Grey sibling laughed, “That’s the idea! Then we herd them into a wood chipper…”

“That’s pretty brutal…”

“Well, you in?”

Roland finished his drink and set his dishes in the sink. He chewed his lower lip while he mulled over the idea. Finally he nodded and Cedric let out a triumphant whoop.

“Well, dinner’s done, bro, let’s get started!”

“It’s almost dark out!”

“It’s just a survey right now,” the tanker “The real stuff starts tomorrow.”

“Alright, just let me get my bow and quiver and I’ll be ready to go.”

----------

“This is the place?”

Kip stared at the domestic looking house in the middle of one of the suburbs surrounding Paragon City. A lot of heroes didn’t understand why they only patrolled the major business districts, but the truth of the matter was that was where the action happened. Out here in the suburbs, you’d have to be a really sick psychopath to go after people’s kids and pets.

Still, such things happened. A couple yards over, Kip could see the remains of a person’s yard. Some rogue had landed hard after getting knocked out of the sky with an air superiority attack. He remembered reading something about a kidnapping that had been foiled out here, but had lost interest when he found out it was a toy-breed dog that had been stolen.

To his left, he could hear a minivan backing over somebody. Looking, he saw what looked to be a man used to pain waving cordially to the female driver and her kid. He could swear he heard something about “I’ll get you next time!” but it sounded like a friendly jab, and became especially disconcerting when he said “So, you’ll be back by five? I’ll make sure he’s had his nap.” Perhaps the metahuman life was becoming far too commonplace, people were starting to act like heroes and villains, regardless of need, and it was leading to some strange circumstances.

As the minivan passed behind him, Kip approached the house. It looked just like all the other ones on this street, only white instead of yellow or blue. Frankly, the neighborhood was a kaleidoscope of color, but the structures were all the same, basically boxes with boxes attached to them and pyramid, trapezoidal or triangular roofs on top. They all looked the same, as if the architects had assigned each plot with a number and told the contractors to “One, Two, Three, Four, Bob! What’s so hard about that? Boy, we sure do lack imagination.” Plastic white picket fences separated the properties along arbitrary boundaries, turning each plot into a nice, neat square with a short front yard and a wide back yard. In reality, the property lines probably drew and quartered people’s houses, often in jagged cuts, some much larger than others, but nobody wanted to go through the hassle, so they didn’t check the records.

“Just a second!” a familiar voice shouted after Kip hit the doorbell, “Hang on! Wait! I’m coming!”

The door opened and a portly, haggard-looking, dark-skinned man stood before Kip. When he recognized the scrapper hero, the former Tirailleur cursed a little.

“Good to see you recognize me,” Kip replied.

“Just barely,” Graves grumbled back, “Is there something I can help you with?”

“Nemesis.”

“I don’t work for them anymore. After my last arrest, I was discharged. I’d been looking so hard for one of you Grey’s Army goons, I didn’t notice this other hero at my back when I had that Cedric guy in my sights. My superiors felt I had too many mental issues, so they cast me out.”

“What? Why didn’t you stay in prison?”

“They don’t want people like me in the Zig. They’ve got enough aimless minions. What they want now are the big fish, they just fine us little guys and send us on our way. It’s why criminals like Archon Roget and Lieutenant Krieg get out of the Zig every other day. The legal system is looking to get the guys like Nosferatu and Captain Mako. They only keep the ones with information that leads to them.”

Kip shook his head angrily.

“Yeah, I know, you don’t believe I’m done. Come on inside…”

Graves led the scrapper to the basement. Kip had his misgivings, but the former sniper waved off his concerns exasperatedly.

“If this were a Nemesis construction, we’d have both been slashed to ribbons by now and replaced with Automatons. Frankly, neither of us is important enough for that.”

“Well,” Kip nodded his consent to that logic, “Now I just feel insulted…”

“Tell me about it. Now you know how I felt when I got my pink slip.”

In the basement, Graves gestured to a suit of broken steam-powered armor. Whatever working bits there were had long-since been removed. Graves’s rifle sat in the corner, broken to bits.

“No Nemesis technology is allowed to be kept, but they let me keep the artistic parts of the equipment. I’m not entirely sure what I’m going to do with it, maybe get it refurbished and shiny before mounting it up on my mantle.”

“So you’ve got nothing more to do with them?”

“Other than the guy they send to passive-aggressively remind me not to talk about anything I might know? No.”

“Who do they send?”

“I remember him as Captain Reynolds,” Graves replied, “He drops by, asks how the wife and kids are, how I’m doing working as an ice cream man and a janitor, and asks about my new poker buddies. I guess if Captain Amazing weren’t down the street, he’d leave me alone, but that’s paranoia for you.”

“You know a hero lives just down the street?”

“It’s public knowledge since some goon put a pothole in the street the size of a Mack truck with a laser satellite. Oddly enough, I still keep seeing the guy around here, but he doesn’t bother anybody else and he doesn’t seem to be bothering the Amazing family. The whole situation keeps the property value surprisingly down, too, so my taxes have been a lot cheaper lately.”

“Weird.”

“Well, I guess you’ll be staking this place out for Reynolds after this. Frankly, I’m wondering whether or not that was part of his plan.”

“Who’s?” Kip asked as they ascended the stairs again.

“Reynolds’s. The Nemesis Army is full of lies and deceit, all so their supposed leader can play head games with the heroes. He never considers what that’s doing to his troops…”

“Yeah, I thrashed an abandoned project of his, turned out he wanted it cleaned up anyway…”

Graves led Kip to the kitchen and offered him a glass of juice, “I can’t drink alcohol, I’ve got a cholesterol problem and the pills I’m taking give me diarrhea if I drink… Anyway, after a while, I would think even a Nemesis Conspiracy Cell would need some form of reaffirmation to make sure they were still relevant. Reynolds probably wants you or some kind of hero to drop by and kick his teeth in so he doesn’t feel unfulfilled.”

There was a ring at the doorbell and Kip arched his eyebrow at the former sniper. Graves shrugged and drank his orange juice.

---

Captain Reynolds looked at his watch as he listened to silence. Graves wasn’t rushing and stumbling over his family’s things in a rush to sweatily assure him that he hadn’t sold any secrets to the heroes. Something must have changed.

He was just about to radio for backup when the door clicked and opened. Looking up, Reynolds was surprised when he noticed the young Caucasian male grinning at him.

“What the-?” Reynolds was halfway through asking when Kip smiled and kicked him in the mouth.

----------

The gathered heroes of Grey’s Army surveyed the landscape of Eden and collectively sighed. Cedric added a little commentary.

“Man, this job is going to be a real pain in my left butt cheek.”

“Uh…” Roland looked down and tapped his brother’s shoulder, “Ced, there’s a Rikti Monkey chewing on your right cheek…”

“Yeah, he’s been at it for a few hours,” the tanker grinned, “I’ve got some beef jerky in there he’s trying to get. I’m thinking of calling him Spike.”

“You think you can keep it?” Matt asked as he rooted through his backpack.

“I don’t see why not.”

“Okay guys,” Zenflower hopped into prominent view and made sure everybody had their attention on her, “I trust that by now, your team leaders have appraised you of the situation. Things in Eden are coming to a head, and nature-affiliated heroes such as myself and Woodsman are trying to push back the tide of the Devouring Earth. For that, we need the efforts of heroes like you…”

She indicated the assorted metahumans. There were roughly thirty of them. With any luck, they would be able to clear out some of the twisted vegetation and possibly recover a few of the Devoured to extricate the humans from the bizarre mutant plant matter.

“So, does anybody have any questions?” the green, leaf covered girl asked cheerily.

“What exactly are we doing?” a defender asked, “The call was a little light on details.”

“Well, the Devouring Earth were a little aggressive a short while ago. Some evil genius in Arachnos infected them with a concoction called Force of the Earth… I dealt with it, and was working to turn back the monsters with the newfound control I had over them, but a group of rogues ambushed me and Hamidon took back control.”

She seemed saddened by that. It was understandable. If she had succeeded, it would have been a tremendous strike in the cause of order and justice… Or at least a great leap forward in driving back the Devouring Earth.

“…Now we need to push back this twisted ecology so that a more natural one can take hold. It’s going to take time, perhaps years, to drive all of this devastated landscape back to the Hive… Then we can go to war with Hamidon from a position of strength.”

There were grumblings of agreement from the gathered heroes. Cedric and his crew were getting impatient, however.

“Look, can we get this on?” Mattock asked as he pulled a machine from his backpack, “I’ve got a new machine that’s itching to be tried out!”

“Is that a chainsaw?” another scrapper asked with horror.

“Kind of,” Matt chuckled, “It’s got a loch swimmer’s skull for most of the body, some molten Pangean Soil to fill in some of the gaps… The teeth on the chain are carefully cut diamonds and it runs on Black Blood of the Earth. The blade the chain rests on is made of shavings from the bones of Adamastor. That was actually the toughest part to get. The rest is typical chainsaw parts…”

“What the Hell!?” a wizard shouted.

Zenflower merely bit her lip worriedly as she looked at the beaming McGinty and his monstrous weapon.

“Trust me, this thing’s built to kill two things, the Devouring Earth and zombies. I don’t see any of the latter here, so…”

He revved the engine up and a pair of glowing orange eyes blazed furiously while the chain spun wildly. Fire seemed to leap from the chain, and the jaws of the skull moved, like the monster it was from was actually trying to consume again. Mattock cackled madly as it worked.

“Just keep that thing away from the Devoured…” Zenflower replied, “There are normal people in there, and I don’t want them getting hurt. Now, come on people, let’s push these things back with love!”

“No!” Cedric was halfway through his leap when he heard that last part, “Not with love! With extreme prejudice! These things don’t respect love!”

“I’m in charge here and we’re doing it with love!”

Matt was pushing the roaring chainsaw artifact into the chest of a Herder. The monster was thrashing violently and falling to pieces.

“Yes!” the scrapper concurred with a vicious grin, "Such exquisite love!"

---

My Stories

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

Kip wandered through the Grey's Army base. He was on his way to the magic teleporters when he noticed Sheldon sitting in the middle of the tech workshop. Felix was sitting in the middle of a pile of parts while the inventor fine-tuned a new set of power armor.

"That suit looks pretty small for Cedric," the scrapper commented as he looked over the gear.

"It's for me," Sheldon replied, "I'd be having an easier time of it if Felix would stop taking parts I need."

Kip looked down at the little mutant gerbil and the critter bared its teeth at him in what looked disturbingly like a smile. He had a bunch of bits and parts wrapped around him.

"Sheldon, just how far do you think that mutation went?"

"What do you mean?" the engrossed builder asked, "As far as I know, it just altered his physical structure."

"No mental effects?" Kip asked as he looked closer at Felix and the bear leaned up to lick him on the nose.

"None that I know of. Sarah says he treats Katie like a little sister. They can't really breed, anyway, though they both come from rodents, but it sets my mind at ease to know he's above base instincts."

"Isn't that a sign of sentience?" the scrapper started heading back on his course, giving the "gudar" a rub on the back on his way, "I mean-AH!- What the Hell?"

He pushed some of the fur away and found what looked like a small spike on the critter's back. Felix looked back at him with what looked like a spark of concern.

"It's a barb, similar to what a cat's claws or your fingernails are made out of. It's not quite tough enough to carve through steel, so I never thought I'd mention it."

"It's pretty damn pointy," the scrapper replied, "Still... Are you certain he isn't playing dumb somewhat?"

"No," Sheldon replied, "Frankly, Kip, I haven't had the time to think about it, what with the paperwork I have to write for the Ryats and this case I've been reading up on from D.A.T.A. lately... I haven't had much time to focus on what my pet is doing."

"Maybe you should..."

At that, Felix pressed a button in the center of the devices wrapped around him and started floating. With a happy whine, he turned to Sheldon and started panting, again looking like he was smiling.

"Well, this is unusual," the inventor commented as he peered closer at his furry little friend, "What other secrets have you been keeping from me?"

----------

After a day of "weed cutting," the heroes were enjoying a brief respite as the surveyed the results of the work they'd done. One day's work of wiping out Devouring Earth, capturing Devoured monsters and cutting down twisted trees didn't look like much. Fortunately, the few loggers they had with them at the moment were able to assure everyone that they had made some progress, even if the Hamidon flexed a little to wipe it all out by the next day.

"Every little bit of damage we cause to that monster's forces causes Hamidon to expend energy against us," Zenflower announced, "Whether its his footsoldiers or the very ecology, we weaken him a little bit each day we work at this."

"That's all well and good, ma'am," a fire controller replied, "But I honestly feel exhausted after all of this. It's bad enough that a bunch of us owe the hospital after that big ambush, but I know I've got slivers embedded in my skin, I've got thorns stuck in me..."

"Oh boo-hoo!" Cedric shouted at him, "Get in line, pansy! You think this kind of work is any easier for people who don't have super powers? Bring gloves tomorrow! Wear something thicker than spandex! And, for God's sake, stock up on Greens!"

"Oh, it's easy for a tank to talk!"

"Easy!? I guess you weren't there to see the horde of thirty Devoured that rushed us, one for every one of us here, and there were only seven of us tanks holding them back! That was not fun, easy, or anything short of painful! Now, I'm not knocking you controllers, I saw you wipe out those Bladegrasses, Herders, Fungoids and nearly limitless bee swarms. All I'm saying is that this isn't meant to be easy! We can take these things! We're humanity -and human-like things...- we've wiped out whole species before!"

"That wasn't a good thing, Cedric," Roland interrupted, "In fact, it's one of the points of shame over the entire history of humanity."

"Okay, scratch that last part," the blonde tanker chuckled, "But you get my point, right?"

"Frankly, no," the controller replied, "I didn't come out here to be harassed by a bunch of salad ingredients and walking rocks!"

"Oh come on! What did you come out here for, then? I hardly ever see anybody out here! Except the few high-level heroes on their way to the Hive to get their [butts] handed to them by the monsters out there, this place is left to the wolves!"

"Mister Grey," Zenflower brought Cedric's arms down with a gentle tug, "I appreciate your passion for this, but I believe there is something much more important for you to be spending your energies upon."

"Like what?"

The green, leafy girl pointed over his shoulder and he turned to follow what she indicated. There, towering above him, was the gargantuan monstrosity that normally terrorized Crey's Folly known as Jurassik. It leaned it's craggy face close to the blonde man and let out a terrible roar. Pebbles bounced off Grey's face and armor.

"How the Hell does something that big sneak up on all of us?" he asked as Zenflower dove away and the gathered heroes scrambled to get back on their feet for the fight to come.

Cedric, however, had to contend with the fact that he was about to get hit with an old, rusty Dodge...

---

My Stories

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

The hammer fell and Cedric caught it on his forearms. The gathered heroes gasped collectively as the armor shattered and exploded from his body and the ground beneath him cracked in a spiderweb. However, Cedric was still standing. Gritting his teeth with his legs bowed and sweat pouring from his skin, he pushed back on the car and Jurassik reared back in surprise. Shouting incoherently, the eldest Grey sibling drew his axe and shook it angrily at the stone-encrusted monster.

"You want to fight me!? You want to fight [u]ME[u]!? Well come on! I'm right here!"

"Cedric, you're glowing!" Matt shouted.

"Yeah! I know, I-"

Jurassik sideswiped the tanker out of the way. There was a meaty splat followed by a groan as Cedric hit the wall of a dilapidated office building. Oddly enough, the man was able to pick himself up after hitting the ground.

"Attack!" Zenflower shouted and the assembled heroes launched their most powerful assaults upon the stone behemoth.

"What the Hell just hit us!?" came the voice of the spirit trapped within Cedric's axe, "What have you gotten us into now? I thought you said you were using that lumberjack's axe today!"

"I was," Cedric grunted, "I was using the lumberjack's axe... Its blade got dull after a few hours of constant chopping, by the way. I may as well have been using a sledgehammer in the end. What was that, anyway? That glow..."

"That was me, of course. I know some spells, remember? I've been watching your style, and I figured some armor-like spells were in order."

"Cool. So, is this like Kip's Nictus crystal armor?"

"Sort of. I'd have to see how that works more closely, but you're nearly unstoppable for the next few minutes... NO! What are you doing!?"

Cedric was leaping and bounding into the middle of the fray. A flashbang arrow burst in front of Jurassik's eyes, and when the creature's vision cleared, there was a dark blur in its face. Cedric was there, and he was pressing his battle axe into the monster's eye.

"Smash this!" the tanker shouted as a red beam fired deep into the granite giant's eye and burned out most of the lichen cluster running the structure.

Jurassik shuddered, but didn't stop. However, its tactical planning was no longer up to its normal terrible capability.

"It's comin' up!" Matt shouted to his best friend, "Avoid! Avoid!"

Cedric leapt from the oncoming car and Jurassik, its body weakened from radiation, fire, energy, cold, and the general mix of everything that can be thrown at a Giant Monster in ten minutes, smashed its own head into oblivion with its hammer made from girders and a rusted car hulk. The body shattered and crumbled to the ground. Rubble monsters picked themselves out of the mess, but they were just as rapidly put down as any other by the gathered heroes.

When the dust settled, the heroes found the depowered and exhausted Cedric Grey laughing hoarsely and pointing at the Rubble lying dead at his feet, his golden battle axe cleaved neatly through its skull. Apparently, the weapon had fallen out of the air and barely saved the drained tanker's life.

----------

The guards fell away far too easily. Kip tore through the hallways and smashed Nemesis troops against the walls, ceilings and floors. It had never been so easy before, and it was somewhat disappointing, but it was so exhilarating at the same time! When he put a Tirailleur through a wall, he finally looked back to Sheldon and gave him a thumbs-up.

"This has been terrific, man!"

"I only wish you would keep them within the same vicinity," the inventor replied as he adjusted some dials on his gauntlets, "It's harder for me to keep them under control when you keep spreading them out. I have to expend more energy on individuals..."

"Yeah, but you keep hitting them with that junk you keep summoning from nowhere..."

"Only if there's nothing available on hand."

To demonstrate, Wallace lifted a desk from an office cubicle and pulled it to follow them as they walked to the next set of offices. The Lieutenant around the corner wound up being the recipient of the hurled wooden object, and Kip finished the stunned officer with a kick to the back of the head.

"Hang on," Sheldon pulled the scrapper into another office and indicated some of the marker boards, "Look at this..."

It was a diagram composed of circles with lines connecting them in a complex web. Several of the circles were crossed out, each one with names added to them.

"Steampunk Charlie..." Kip turned to Sheldon, "Isn't that the guy you said you were checking up on?"

"This must've been from a while back, he's been dimension-hopping lately. It's been eating into the business the Ryats have been doing, too, but I won't knock him for it."

The scrapper had lost interest in the topic, however. He was looking at the chart and noticing there were dates attached to some of the fallen cells. It seemed that for the past couple weeks, more cells connected to the base they were clearing out were wiped out within a scant few days of each other.

The circles weren't labeled with names, but in a strange acronym cypher. Numbers replaced letters, words replaced numbers, and it was never done the same way twice. Without a ledger or a legend, it was pointless, but some things could be determined through a study of the patterns.

"What do you want to bet we're here?" the scrapper pointed at a circle in the middle of a number of crossed out circles, "It seems like this one was getting fatted just for someone like you or me."

Sheldon stroked his chin as he noted that the further ones from that circle were labeled with question marks. He nodded as his shades recorded the image. Certainly, there was somebody involved with pursuing the Nemesis Army that would find the information useful.

"Peculiar," he commented, "And this is the place Captain Reynolds indicated he worked?"

"I have a bad feeling about this," Durj growled.

The two heroes moved on from there. Soldiers and officers fell to the scrapper's methodical assault. Sheldon noticed Kip was counting his steps as he moved, muttering under his breath "One, two, three... One, two three, four... One, two, three..." The Nemesis troops were too busy trying to keep their steam-powered armor from exploding to notice the brutal dance being employed upon them, however.

The last defense the soldiers employed upon them involved a room of snipers. Kip took the brunt of the assault, getting slammed into the wall while Sheldon tossed him a green Regenerator syringe. The scrapper injected himself as his eyes flashed and he was suddenly wrapped in a dark purple armor that looked like a demon. Sheldon hit him with a burst of Speed Boost nanites and the super armored hero tore into the enemies. The snipers tried to throw him off, but Kip unleashed a torrent of energy into their midst, throwing them off their feet and giving the scrapper the breathing room he needed to sweep the floor and work the soldiers over one-by-one. When the Tirailleurs and Comets regained their footing and Durj was in for trouble, however, the steam armored soldiers suddenly lifted off the ground and hovered there impotently. Kip looked back to Sheldon, who was shrugging.

"You can't have all the fun."

"Obviously, you don't work enough punching bags..."

"You'd be surprised," Sheldon replied and started working the body of one of the Comets.

When the snipers were defeated and left in a heap, the two heroes took stock of the situation. They had a group of ill-prepared soldiers, but they were well-trained and varied enough to be able to respond to almost any situation. If it had been one or the other hero, they would have been sent back to the hospital in short order.

"We should have brought Nester," Kip muttered as he looked through another desk, "He'd have gotten a kick out of this."

"Oh, I trust-"

There was an electric sound that interrupted Wallace. The two heroes turned to the light focusing on the Fake Nemesis that apparently ruled over this cell. However, it moved differently from other Fakes. It moved with purpose. As it picked itself up off its brassen throne, it grasped its scepter and slumped in exasperation.

"I guess... I guess this answers the question," it rumbled as it meandered around the hole in the center of the room, "I was wondering at my identity... At times I thought I truly was the one. I wondered why my outlying support was being felled so easily, and I suppose that's when the seeds of doubt started to grow."

"What are you talking about?" Kip asked as the Fake drew itself up and regarded the two heroes.

"A hero just like you two killed my brother. Now, I go to join him and the rest of my brethren in the slag heap. Or perhaps I shall execute you instead. Perhaps I am that good, that close, that powerful... We shall soon see."

Kip suddenly remembered. Reynolds had told him the history of the first ten Nemesis Fakes, but he made it seem like the only survivor was the one designated as Nemesix.

"What's your number?" he asked as the android aimed its scepter at him.

"Nine, I believe," was the reply, "Yes... Yes! Nine. I am Nine."

"Very well, Nem-eh-nine."

"Nemenine," the android replied somberly, "That will do..."

The scepter fired a force bolt into Kip's face, sending him tumbling down the staircase past Sheldon. Sheldon, however, was lost in thought. He was wishing Felix were there, just as he had been to fight the "brother" of this Fake, the one referred to as Nemesix. Flexing his right hand in and out of a fist, he licked his lips, pressed a button on his right gauntlet and hoped the wormhole technology he'd been working on would work properly.

---

My Stories

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

A young man in a brown suit strolled leisurely through Brickstown. It wasn't his preferred outfit, but he didn't want to be attracting attention from the local criminality, so he'd taken the advice of his friends and dressed down while he was on vacation.

The clothes weren't terribly comforting, however. They reminded him how out-of-place he really was. They felt more like a costume than his costume.

He'd been through a terrible ordeal, and this brisk walk he'd been on since starting his sabbatical had been doing wonders to clear his head. The memory of the prior day's events still burned brightly in his mind, but he was pragmatic. Now was the time he should be thinking ahead, to his next move and where it will lead him in the end.

Unfortunately, he wasn't going to get much more time to think on it for the near future. Just a little further ahead, north of the entrance tunnel to Independence Port, there was suddenly a loud, thunderous eruption. Panicked citizens, and even some of the thuggery known as the Freakshow, fled the scene. The man out for a stroll knew he should have joined the passers-by, but his curiosity and momentary lapse in memory for his vacation overtook him and he got a closer look.

There was a gaping hole in the wall of what would normally be considered a convenience store, but the sounds of clanging metal and the man lying in the middle of the street among strewn bricks told the all-too-common tale that bad things lurked inside.

"Are you alright?" the brown-coated man asked Kip as the scrapper pushed himself from the street.

"Yeah!" he coughed, "I should be okay... Just give me a second to-"

There was another explosion and the two of them were thrown from the building. Sheldon joined them shortly thereafter, rolling across the pavement to stop at the sidewalk's edge. The look on his face seemed to be simple perturbation, but he brightened noticeably when he saw who was sitting next to Kip.

"Professor Winthrop!" the inventor exclaimed as he pushed himself off the ground, "What are you doing here?"

"At present, rubbing my back and my cranium," the other inventor replied, "How did you ever get punched through a brick wall, young man?"

"I had armor on," Kip replied as he jabbed a cylinder into the side of his thigh with a short hiss, "But that hit depleted it."

"Here," Sheldon pressed a button on his left gauntlet and a green beam flashed into Kip, "That should help speed up whatever your healing process is... Professor?"

"None for me, thanks, I'll be alright if I just get going, I suppose."

"You might not get that chance," the scrapper groaned as he nodded to the north.

The store exploded again. This time, a large brassen figure was pushing its way out of the hole. It looked like it had once been a Fake Nemesis, one of the war machines the Nemesis Army sometimes used to run their clandestine cells, recruit new soldiers, and hound the meta humans of the planet. However, this one was battered, pitted, the face mask was broken open to reveal a glowing ocular sensor that served as its eye and half a speaker that worked as the voice emitter. Plates were missing across its body, if not torn open and left hanging raggedly, exposing working parts and leaking steam and lubricant.

Nemenine had been a tough battle for the two young heroes of Grey's Army. Nemesix had been beaten by its own sense of self-superiority. Nemenine, however, lacked that sense, and was simply fighting brutally. Durj and Wallace knew that they couldn't let the maddened melodramatic machine escape its fortress in this state, it would certainly turn its wrath on innocent civilians. However, they were horrendously outclassed.

Sheldon's wormhole didn't work. Whatever support he'd been babbling about didn't summon properly, and he and Kip were forced to resort to more classic methods of combat, chiefly with the heinously outclassed scrapper at close range while the controller tried hindering the arch villain with his gravity-altering nanites and kinetic manipulations.

It helped somewhat, but then Kip's protective armor that made him look like a short purple demon started to crash. Worse yet, Nemenine recognized the signs of a fading scrapper, and took the opportunity to blast the young man through the wall. Sheldon shortly followed, but not before getting a needed boost from his energy transfusion nanites. Without the help of those medicinal machines, the controller would have been smashed to pieces by the much harder wall.

Now, the heroes, joined briefly as they were by the vacationing blaster, had to face the twisted wreckage in their own weakened state.

"You wouldn't happen to have any of your hero equipment on hand, would you?" Sheldon asked the Professor.

"Only the barest minimum," Charles replied, "mostly nothing much more powerful than a taser, I'm afraid. However, I do have one thing..."

The temporally displaced hero reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a few pieces of what looked like flimsy metal. Tossing them into the air, they suddenly snapped together and electrified. The metal seemed to evaporate, but the ball of lightning remained.

"Excellent," Winthrop beamed, "I was hoping a mobile method of summoning Shocky Jed would work. You see, my suit's capable of-"

Nemenine roared and aimed its scepter, of which the symbolic gear-head was broken, at the convalescent heroes. Instead of the familiar force energies, erratic lightning erupted from the weapon and was absorbed into Shocky Jed.

"That was different," Sheldon remarked, "I've never seen one of those do that before."

"It's new to me as well," Charles concurred, "However, it's worth studying at a later date. Shocky Jed, if you will, please turn your full attention to the Fake Nemesis, and do try to finish this fight before you're expended."

The electric ball engaged the monstrous machine immediately. Electricity arced through the air, seemingly darkening the area as onlookers' eyes struggled to adapt to this sudden light source that was seemingly brighter than the sun and only a few yards away from the ground. The machine didn't seem to be stopping, however, and pushed its way through the wall. It brought the scepter to bear again, but before Nemenine could get another shot off, a pair of thin red beams shot the fingers off its hand and the weapon dropped to the ground.

Sheldon and Steampunk Charlie turned back to Kip, whose eyes had just stopped glowing red and were returning to their peculiar dark purple haze before the young man pulled his shades back on. He pointed and the heroes looked back to see Nemenine had stopped pushing toward them. The android glared angrily at them, then at Shocky Jed before being violently thrown backwards.

"Wow," Charlie commented as the clanging sounds ceased, "That's... That's unusual."

"Impressive is the word I would use," Sheldon grinned a little, "I didn't know Jed had such a punch."

"He doesn't," Winthrop explained, "That's why I said 'unusual.'"

"Well, don't knock what works..."

"But you do that all the time!" Kip countered his friend as he stood up and started stalking toward the hole, "It's like... Your nature to pick everything apart and figure out how it happened or how it could have happened better!"

"I don't think that could have gone any better, though," Wallace shrugged, "Not with the resources we have on hand."

As Kip reached for the broken staff on the ground, there was a roar. It was Nemenine, shouting furiously. He was also moving toward the hole very quickly.

"Why is that all I hear?" Kip asked before the brassen android smashed through the hole, its arms getting torn from its sockets and the body clattering to the ground at the feet of the inventors.

A small glowing orb emerged behind the broken monstrosity. At the center of it, what looked to be a teddy bear in power armor. Tendrils of energy arced from Felix, and the little bugger's tongue was lolling around happily. Sheldon's wormhole had worked, just not when he wanted it to.

"MRAAAAAAH!" the tiny bear cheered as he hovered over the broken remains of the still-moving android. As Nemenine lifted its head to look angrily at the blaster and the controller, a pair of bricks finished it off, one after the other in quick succession.

"Well, that was almost comical," Charlie chuckled, "If it weren't so terrifying."

"Felix!" Sheldon called to the floating bear, "What is this mess you've got wrapped around you?"

The mutant gerbil-bear replied with a series of happy squeals and pants.

((Steampunk Charlie used with permission from... From Steampunk Charlie... It didn't strike me until now just how odd it was going to feel typing that out.))

---

My Stories

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

I love it!

---

Roland growled when he heard the knock. It was late in the night for visitors and he was tired from the evening of warring with the Devouring Earth. Still, he answered the door and sighed. "Jessica" was leaning against the frame, her demeanor was subdued and she exuded an air of depression. Something bad had happened.

"Are you okay?" Roland asked as she made her way to and plopped onto the couch, "You seem a little out of sorts."

"I'm just... I... Look, have you got a good movie or videogame or something I could get lost in for a moment?"

"Yeah, yeah..."

He fished out one of his favored movies from the series that had the fat, bearded guy and his skinny friend who never shut up. Sure, he looked like the guy, a little, but that was hardly why he liked the series.

"You up for comedy?"

"Maybe a chuckle will help," she muttered.

He popped the DVD into the machine and went back the kitchen to finish the dishes. He knew he had to broach the subject he had in mind, the box was sitting on the coffee table in front of her, after all. However, he'd never seen her like this before, it was probably better to let it be for a moment.

"So," he barked as he scrubbed a cast iron pan, "What's the matter?"

"I... Um..." she fumbled with her sweat shirt’s draw strings, "I trust after the wedding you read up on what you could about Ouroboros, right?"

"Yeah, my dad told me about them after he bought something called a Pillar of Ice and Flame. He said to steer clear of them for a while," Roland replied, "I checked out their little entrance exam, though, so, yeah. I know of them."

"Well... They've been helping me with a pet project... It hasn't been going too well."

She left it at that and turned back to the movie. There was a thick tension in the air and Round didn't like it. However, he could tell it didn’t have much to do with him, so he finished his chore and let the movie fill the apartment with curses and ridiculous situational comedy. He popped some popcorn, buttered it, and set a bowl and a soda in front of his guest before settling into the chair next to the couch

It was about the point when the two protagonists were in the middle of stealing an orangutan when she turned to him and he saw her eyes glisten a little in the light. He took a swig of his soda and waited for her to speak.

“When your mother was missing… Did you… Did you ever worry that you wouldn’t be able to save her?”

“Every day.”

Ms. Liberty nodded before mumbling “How did you deal with it?”

“Stubbornness,” Roland growled, “You were there for some of it.”

“It sounded like determination to me, back then.”

“There’s a slight difference. Determination usually has more than a glimmer of hope. Me, I was on a wing and a prayer, and I don’t pray. Why do you ask, anyway?”

“Well, I’ve been… I’ve been trying to save my mother.”

“I gathered.”

“It hasn’t been going well.”

They sat in silence for a moment before she started to shudder. It was a soft sobbing at first, and Grey thought she’d coughed. When she curled up into a ball and clutched her knees to her chest, he got up, walked over, and put an arm around her shoulders.

“I’ve seen her die over and over again… I always show up just too late. There weren’t… There weren’t mediporters when it happened… It’s… It’s so sad to watch…”

Roland gave her a gentle squeeze and rested his head on her shoulder. They stayed curled up on the couch like that, with her back to his chest, for a few moments while she sobbed a few more times. After a few moments, he asked if she felt okay talking to him about this, and she shrugged.

“I considered talking to Swan or Infernal, but… It would just bring up painful memories for all of us…”

Roland didn’t know what to say so he reached for the remote and turned down the volume on the movie. He’d seen it enough times, and the plot wasn’t really the point of the film, anyway. They wouldn’t miss anything.

“Jessica” didn’t seem to notice as she went on to describe her frustrations. She had to correct some mistakes in the time stream, survey some situations that the Menders weren’t sure about, and other odd tasks until they finally gave her another shot at rescuing her mother, Miss Liberty. She’d tried numerous times to bring her fellow Vindicators with her, but somehow they were never there when she arrived on the scene. Swan had also tried to dissuade her fellow heroine, but the impetuous young woman was determined.

“Every time it’s a different villain, always one from this time, but… But I know it’s not them, too. I mean, it’s them, but it’s not at the same time… If it were, wouldn’t I fight the same one over and over again?”

“I don’t quite follow, nor do I understand time travel, to be honest,” Roland rubbed her upper arm and let her rest her head on his shoulder, “I mean, if it really worked, wouldn’t there be all sorts of horrible things happening in the present as people changed the past? I’m fairly certain we’d at least be reading about countless attempts on Hitler’s life in our history books.”

“Those that have access to time travel have certain rules to utilizing their services,” she sighed, “I have had to do so much crap for Ouroboros… And every time I arrive just too late to save her.”

“I see…”

They sat silently for a few moments. Ms. Liberty gripped her friend’s arm and used his sleeve to wipe some tears from her face.

“Thanks for the hug,” she mumbled.

“No problem.”

Her gaze settled on the box on the coffee table and her eyes widened.

“Are those my tampons?”

“Yeah.”

“Why… Why do you have them on display?”

“Well, because I didn’t know how to talk to you about them,” Roland released his hug and got up off the couch, “Let’s see… Well, for starters, it was a bit embarrassing for my brother to find them and start asking about my nonexistent girlfriend…”

“Nice to see it happens to you, too.”

“Yeah, well, my brother acts like my dad about it, I’m just lucky he doesn’t know you’re you.”

Ms. Liberty grinned and curled up into the couch. It just struck Roland how it was strange to see her dressed in jeans and a sweat shirt. It conflicted a little with her more well-known appearance in the center of Atlas Park. It was more vulnerable and normal, less iconic. She could have been a girl just out of college and looking forward to a career.

“In any case,” the burly man settled back into the chair, “I think we need to talk about why you felt you needed to leave that here.”

“Well,” she shrugged, “To be honest, when I was under the guise of ‘Ms. Starburst,’ I dropped by here once and… Almost had an emergency…”

Roland hummed. He knew that was the best explanation he was going to get, so he turned to another related topic.

“Well, it’s a bit much for a friend to be holding onto. You see, I keep to a particular etiquette as illustrated rather succinctly by a popular television sitcom. While your visits aren’t that frequent, nor are they weekly like some sort of involved relationship, this arrangement you have with my apartment… It reeks of said involved relationship material. In fact, it was the deciding factor as to what determined a main character’s status between single and attached, and oddly enough, it’s logic that makes a maddening kind of sense.”

“Are you saying you don’t want to keep my tampons in your bathroom?”

“Precisely.”

“Well, dang,” Ms. Liberty frowned, “And here I had a nice quick stop if there was ever a personal emergency while I was on duty at my normal perch…”

“Yeah, not anymore,” Grey grunted with a grin.

“I need to stop wondering why you don’t have a girlfriend.”

They chuckled a little and resumed watching the movie. The heroes were arguing on top of a dam after somebody drove off with the orangutan. The large one, the director of the film and the one Roland looked like, was yelling at his friend. The thinner one remained unmoved, though, and muttered a dismissive retort to his larger friend’s back.

“Round?”

Her tone was different. It was quieter, like she didn’t want to say what she was about to say.

“Yeah?”

“Why don’t you want to date me?”

He took another swig of his soda and mulled the question over.

“We… We were getting a little close, weren’t we? Back when I-“

“You’re not her anymore,” he finally grumbled, “You never really were, but for a moment there was someone. I don’t know if I’m a little hurt about losing her, or if I’m terrified that one day, Arachnos agents will swoop through my window and put a few spikes through my heart. In the end, I just feel that it would be better if I could call you my friend.”

“It’s a little bit of everything, isn’t it?” she sighed.

“Yeah. At least now we don’t need to have any of that weird tension between us.”

“Well, I still want to leave this box here…”

He chuckled.

“What’ll it cost me?”

He didn’t think very long on it.

“I want to know your real first name. I already figured that your mom’s name is ‘Jessica.’ I’m guessing that it’s been botherin’ ya some every time I called you that. Problem is, I feel a bit silly calling you Ms. Liberty, Libby or some other derivative.”

“Mynx’s favorite is Sidechick…”

The rotund defender rolled his eyes at that one, then rolled his hand.

“Alright… Do you want my last name, too?”

“Nah, I figure your first name should be fine.”

“Alright,” she took a deep breath, “Here it goes… My name is… Megan.”

It could have been fake, but she said it with enough finality and exasperation that he figured she was being honest. She nodded when he asked and he had to accept it.

“Fine, ‘Megan,’” he grumbled, “I suppose it’s alright for you to leave your box of feminine hygiene products in my bathroom. Cripes... You don’t see conversations like this in comic books…”

“Well, it is a little unflattering.”

---

My Stories

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

Matt clicked through the answering machine one more time. There were a umber of blank spaces where telemarketers had just hung up during the message and a few calls from Lou the mechanic where he got interrupted in mid-sentence because another young hero or heroine had shown up to help him out instead. However, he had to be careful because there was one message that was different.

A gruff, elderly voice suddenly barked from the machine and McGinty jumped a little in spite of himself.

"Sergeant!" the voice shouted, "Where the Hell are you, Grey? Here I am in town, and you don't even have the decency to buy me a beer! You be lapsin', Devil Pup!"

"Oh ho!" the tanker laughed from the door, "I haven't heard that voice in a few years!"

"Yeah, who is it?" the scrapper asked as he skipped and went back to deleting.

"It's my old C.O., Colonel Barton," Cedric made his way to the kitchen and started making himself a roast beef sandwich, "Oh man, was he crazy! He had me dive into the middle of a Rikti deployment with a satchel of C-4... I put a few pot-shots into the aliens and dove into a ditch before they knew what was going on."

"This was before you got that axe or the weird armor Shel made for ya, right?"

"Hell man, I went in without a shirt on, I was that nuts! The Rikti were so set on vaporizing my sorry [butt], but they didn't see that I dropped the bombs right in the middle of 'em. My fire team's radio man hit his clicker and -BOOM!-, the platoon was sent sprawlin'... I had some fun times workin' for that Grand Old Man."

"You could have been killed, Cedric," Matt grumbled as he popped a beer open and started taking swigs from it, "I know you've got this complex in ya where you don't care about dying, living, or much of anything, but you should consider the fact that some of us will care if you're gone..."

"I care, man. I just don't care in the same way other people do. People need to take care of themselves first, but if they can't, then I'm there for 'em, you know?"

"You won't be if you get killed being crazy. What the Hell was that yesterday? You leaped up on Jurassik like it's something you do every day!"

"Yeah, wasn't it cool?"

"Nah, man. Round and I were terrified for ya. We thought you were about to get turned into paste!"

"Yet, I wasn't," Cedric grinned, "Matt, sometimes, it's the dangerous things that are worth doing."

The shorter man shrugged and turned to his room. Cedric started eating his sandwich and replayed the message from the old Colonel. He plugged the phone number the old man gave him into his communicator with his free hand.

----------

"There you are, Sir!" Grey greeted his old commander with a hearty handshake and a clap on the shoulder, "How have you been?"

"Promoted," the tall, thin white-haired man replied, "You're looking at a Brigadier General, son!"

"Congratulations, then! Is that because of your Bandit Strike Maneuvers during the War?"

"Nah, nah," Barton took a stool at the bar and signalled for his entourage to do the same, "A round for my friends here. We'll take whatever this crazy little [frig]er is having!"

"Well, you'll be in for some disappointment, sir, I'm just having soda."

"What?"

"Well, I can't work as a hero if I'm drinking... It's my dad's rule and I'm working for my dad, and, well... That's how it goes."

"Make it a shot of whiskey, then" the General muttered to the bartender, "As for me, I'm kind of on a break. In two days I have to make a presentation to Vanguard on Marine readiness in case of attacks outside of Paragon. It's some crazy crap, I tell ya... They really look down their noses at us. I don't get where they get off, they weren't there when we had to reclaim L.A."

"Eh, it's what happens, boss. Me, I run into a lot of people in Freedom Corps who say that Paragon may as well get rid of the police department. They really think they do enough with their own patrols to protect this city!"

"Eh, take away the real capes and those spandex-clad wannabe hero-soldiers will find out shortly enough what's really goin' on," Barton chuckled.

They spent the next half hour catching up. Cedric told the General how he helped rebuild his hometown an how he'd been working as a hero in Paragon City. Barton would then return with stories about Cedric's old unit, the "Fighting 4-1," and what happened to some of his old buddies.

"Sucks about Cranston," the tanker muttered, "I always liked him. How'd his family take it?"

"His dad burned my van," Barton grunted, "We told him about it, he nodded, asked us to stay right where we were, and the next time we saw him was when we turned around and he'd just finished dumping gasoline all over the van and was setting it on fire. This idiot here asked if we should stop him, but I said to let the guy have at it."

"Yikes. 'Cranz' always said his dad was nuts."

"Whatever happened to Flechette? He was discharged right after you, wasn't he?"

"About a year later, yes sir. He moved up to Kingdale... He... He couldn't go back to Los Angeles."

"Why not?"

"Family issues," Grey took a sip of his soda, "Said he'd rather just work in a bar."

"What about you?" the General's eyes gained a mischievous glint, "You sure don't seem to be settling into a civilian role..."

"Like I said, Top, I'm a licensed hero! I got a battle-axe, my old flak jacket..."

"Yeah, I wonder how that happened..."

"And I've been kicking butt and taking names for the past two years! I've been putting foot-to-butt on a few Rikti lately, too!"

"Nice."

They sat there quietly for a few minutes, both smiling. Finally, the General broke, causing Cedric's grin to widen.

"Alright, look... My boys got some intel... Some important intel... Apparently, there's a small terrorist group that's headed into Warburg... You've heard of that place, right?"

"Oh yeah," Grey nodded, "Been there a couple times on patrol, too."

"Yeah, well, I gotta say that I kind of have an assignment for ya... I know I can't order ya around anymore, but-"

Cedric was out of his bar stool and had yanked a briefcase out of the hands of General Barton's assistant before the sentence was finished. He had it open and was looking through the folder marked "Warburg" by the time the entourage even realized what had happened.

"I take it that means you accept..." Barton chuckled.

"I'm going to need some supplies," Grey replied, "I'll provide my own crew..."

"What kinds of supplies?"

"Well, for starters, I'm going to need my old rifle..."

----------

"You've been very disappointing, Arbiter. Do not fail us again."

Daos looked down at the man on one knee before him and snorted. Where the rest of Arachnos was wrapped up in its games and political maneuvering, the Arbiters were sworn to push the efforts of Arachnos on the track that Lord Recluse intended. Where failure was expected of the lesser factions, the Arbiters were expected to be above the petty squabbles that kept most endeavors down.

However, Arbiter Taylor had met with defeat time and again. While he had friends among the Arbiter Corps, he didn't have the same pull that kept Sands alive. This was to be his last chance at redemption.

"I understand, sir," Taylor rasped.

He'd failed in his Kheldian experiments. He'd failed at acquiring a psychic as he'd promised. The very heroes he'd been focusing his efforts and allocating resources against then raided Sharkhead and Grandville, they even recovered a scientist Operative Grillo had kidnapped for whatever reason that weird mad scientist had. Despite the fact that Taylor had nothing to do with that (he was still recovering from being in a crashed Flier when he'd found out what Grillo had done), the blame was not about to be shifted onto one of Recluse's most prominent scientists, so the low-ranking Arbiter found himself in even more heat than he'd bargained for.

Once he'd recovered from the prerequisite torture, he proceeded to volunteer for any and every assignment that would enable him to redeem himself. Most of the missions he was sent on were low-key and often vaguely insulting affairs. It was as if his superiors were concerned he would screw the situations up in some way, so they made sure he had as little to do as possible. The closest he'd come to failure was when the fledgling Air Guard defeated the cousin of a bandit lord in West Libertalia. Of course, that couldn't be attributed to Taylor, so he got off the hook for it.

Now, he had a new assignment, one that put him in Warburg. Like most of the Arbiter Corps, he'd been itching to tangle with Marshall Blitz, but he wouldn't be getting that opportunity in this mission. Instead, he had to stop a group of rogues from launching a missile from the island.

The details were sketchy, but apparently the villains had designed a newer, more powerful warhead that could cause untold destruction to anywhere in the world. While such a weapon would be beneficial in the hands of Arachnos, the rogues in question weren't aligned with the Rogue Isles' official government, so the launch had to be stopped and the weapon retrieved for study.

"May I appropriate a force so I can ensure my success?" he asked his superior.

"Sure, but you gotta use guys who aren't currently on assignment," Daos chuckled, "So far, that's just a handful of idiots among the patrons' forces."

"Sonova..." Taylor grumbled as the supreme commander of the Arbiter Corps walked off, "And everybody says he doesn't have a sense of humor... It's just a sadistic sense of humor..."

---

My Stories

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

--Galaxy City: Freedom Corps Storage--

Ryat32 and Ryat74 were arguing again. The two androids had been getting louder and more vehement in their exchange of ideas. The lower-numbered and white-armored android was pushing his "Ascension of Technology" theory while the higher-numbered, yellow-armored one was pushing a "Divine Intervention" angle. They were arguing the origins of the Ryat Source Code.

It was a question that had plagued the machines since their inception. How did Sheldon Wallace, a man with exceptionally little-to-no programming experience, and Roland Grey, who's experience with software was focused on interfaces and some video game mechanics, manage to design such a fluid and dynamic piece of Fuzzy Logic that became a fully-fledged Artificial Intelligence once uploaded into a proper system? Despite that inquisitive hurdle, there was also the fact that the Ryat Source Code behaved uniquely in every "shell," which was something normal software didn't do, even if it was this unusual.

The rest of the androids had largely left the issue up to their two vocal brothers and moved on to their work for Grey's Construction or their freelance work for Portal Corp. However, whenever they ran across an interesting tidbit that one or the other could use, they would uplink and transmit and let the debate continue. It was like when Ryat66 and Ryat99 played their nigh-endless chess games.

It was also coming to a head. Both androids were exceedingly frustrated and were getting close to engaging in the behavior typical of such disagreements: violence.

Fortunately, Ryat99 intervened.

"If you two can't play nice, I'll toss you back in storage," he intoned as he waved his ice blade between their faces, "Seventy-four, retract your blades. Thirty-two, shut down your arcs."

The androids turned down their weapons systems and turned away from each other. They weren't really built to fight, but ever since their release during a month-long Praetorian attack, the Ryats had each employed some form of "meta-human-super-powers" they could call upon on their own without need to resort to assault rifles or other forms of external weapons. So far, the only one who still had his weapon from their release date was Ryat24, but it was so heavily customized as to be unrecognizable as a Freedom Corps-issue assault rifle.

"Agree to disagree, guys," Ryat66 concurred with his larger brother.

"Oh, shut up, Short-Stuff," Ryat74 growled, "You and the Thug both think you can boss us around because you've been around the city while we were all locked up!"

"Actually," the larger android muttered as he pushed the smaller one into a chair, "You're as much of a Short-Stuff as he is. Also, I prefer to be called Judge. It is my avatar, after all."

"Avatar?" Seventy-four leaned back in his chair, "Of course... Of course! We're avatars! Of Joule!"

"Oh cripes, not this again," Ryat32 grumbled.

"You're on to something, Seventy-four," a familiar, almost fatherly voice issued through their heads, "You're just slightly off."

"Ryat Prime," Ryat99 intoned, "It's good to hear from you. We were getting worried you'd been scrapped by the rogues out there."

"No such luck, brother. Despite the attempts of Arachnos, the Circle, various random factions and, of all groups, Wyvern and Longbow, I'm still going strong. How have you been?"

"We were just being serenaded by our two preachers in our old home when you called," Ryat66 replied.

"I caught that. Now, I have some good news and some bad news, and maybe some answers for you guys if you're willing to step up and help me with our wayward brother..."

The gathered machines looked to each other, then back to Ryat99. Their answer was a single note that transmitted back to their prototypical cousin somewhere in the Rogue Isles.

----------

--Warburg: Overlooking the Rocket From the Southeast High Rise--

Ryat Prime received the transmission and nodded. He had an electric ear aimed at a group at the base of the weapon that was the central point of contention in this zone of conflict. Surrounding them were a group of identical, near-mindless machines that patrolled for rogues and heroes alike to keep them from interrupting the meeting that was transpiring.

"You all better get down here to Warburg, then," Prime sighed, "I don't know who Ryat84 hooked up with, but they got him the resources to help him build a small army of those big guys. I doubt it was the Spiders, though. Hurry... They've got plans that don't bode well for anybody."

----------

--King's Row: Grey's Army Base--

Cedric had gathered just three people with him in the base: Mad Matt McGinty, Nester Durj, and another tanker named Eisenheartz. Matt signed on for two reasons, because Cedric was his friend and he felt a strange pull to be involved. Eisenheartz, the magic armor-clad tanker dating Ced's one-time fling, Genevieve Daniels, had signed on mostly for the experience when he heard the eldest Grey sibling was advertising for another hitter. Nester, however, practically had to be dragged into the mission.

"But I'm a healer, guys!"he protested, "They hunt heroes like me out there!"

"They hunt lots of people," Cedric retorted, "You'll be fine! I'll be there, keepin' 'em off your back."

"Lots of healer-types have heard that one before, Ced!"

"Oh, just come with us," the mace-wielding tanker sighed as he took a few practice swings with his flanged weapon, "News from there indicates that Rogue interference has been surprisingly light. We should be fine."

"It's a ghost town today, tomorrow, it could be teeming with activity!" the defender continued to protest, but he was already pulling his armor on, "You guys are going to need all the help you can get!"

"My sentiments, exactly," a deep-yet-neutral voice rumbled from the entrance to the Grey's Army base workshop, "Cedric... I have a request to make."

Ryat99, Ryat66, Ryat10 and Ryat24 stood before the blue portal that served as the entrance to the base. Their posture indicated they needed something, but Cedric shrugged and finished cinching up his sack.

"Sorry, Big Guy," the tanker replied as he slung the cylindrical green bag onto his back, "The crew, here, and I've got business in Warburg... Secret business and that's all I can tell you."

"I know about it," Ryat99 placed a hand against Cedric's chest to keep him from leaving, "Trust me, I know. Marine tracked landing vehicle that's on standby in Talos Island, waiting for you and your team. Ryat87 caught the information. Listen. We need to go with you. We can't secure passage through the normal channels."

"That's rough, man, but I can't just take a legion with me, you know?"

"You must. There's a legion waiting for you."

"How do you know?"

"Because my cousin is watching them."

Cedric rolled his eyes and turned to Nester. The defender was nodding vigorously that they needed to take the androids with them.

"Wuss," Grey grunted.

"I assure you, Cedric," Ryat99 held the human's shoulders, "Once we land, we'll be out of your hair and keeping the sizable android force waiting to break you in half from committing the afore-mentioned act of violence."

"Fine," Grey grumbled, "You can come with us, but you'll have to swim to the ship. There's no room in the landing vehicle."

---

My Stories

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

--Arachnos Flyer: En Route to Warburg--

"I'm telling you, Ghost Widow can kick everybody's [butt]," the Blood Widow hissed, "All she has to do is lock in her Soul Storm and they're toast. Black Scorpion, Scirocco, Mako, they're all toast when she focuses her ire upon them!"

"Psh," a couple of the Crab and Wolf spiders chuckled amongst themselves and a Longfang pointed at her, "Ghost Widow's only as tough as a poltergeist, which, I'll agree is pretty nasty, but once she's tagged with the next exorcism, she splits to pieces. There's tech enough throughout the world to get the same result, too! Now, Black Scorpion, he's got the [gonads] and the skills to [frack] everyone up!"

"You're all being ridiculous," a Mu Striker whispered, yet somehow they all heard him, "None of the patrons wield the might of the arcane as Scirocco does. With such power one can literally bend reality to-"

"Shut it!" Arbiter Taylor shouted, "All of you! I recruited you all here for this mission because it is vitally important to Arachnos, and that's above and beyond the petty squabbles of your patrons!"

"I was just about to-" the mystic tried to backpedal but Taylor cut him off again.

"I don't want to listen to you idiots bicker and whine about your bosses, because frankly, I don't need to, it disrupts unit cohesion and they're all 'Big Kids' and can take care of themselves, so stow it! If I hear one more word about that God damn struggle, I'm leaving you all on this rig and you can go ahead back to whatever latrines you were cleaning when I brought you on board!"

The Arachnos soldiers all quieted at that and looked to the floor. He didn't exactly pull them from jobs as ridiculously simple as latrine details, but they weren't necessarily the "cream of the crop" as far as the black-and-red armored troops went. Still, they were something, and he knew that in Warburg, he'd need all the help he could get.

The Flyer landed in the Arachnos Staging Area and the troops stepped out. Operative Braun greeted Taylor as the other toops checked their gear.

"You got yourself quite the motley crew here, sir."

"According to their immediate superiors and companions, they're not incapable," he sighed in response, "Which means I still can't trust them as far as I can throw 'em, but at least they won't shoot their own feet off. What's the situation?"

"Bad, sir. It was bad enough the way things were, but now something's out there that's driving out even the worst riff-raff we sent in there. Apparently, they're leaving Blitz's troops alone, but only if they don't get in the way... Stories from a few Stalker-class rogues tell tales about red-and-black robots... I don't know, but my men here are on standby."

"Damn," Taylor whispered, then more loudly, "Has the rocket been fired?"

"No sir."

"Alright, I'll take my troops and move out of your hair."

"Sir, are you sure your Wolf Spiders will be able to stand up to what's out there?"

"While your men are mostly green, I'm fully confident in the capabilities of these men. They've all been on numerous tours of duty and have come back alive, if not overly successful."

Operative Braun shook his head at this logic.

"Merely surviving is a thing of the past, sir, what with the medical teleporters. I would think you'd want soldiers who had some hero-defeats under their belts."

"Defeats?"

"Well, it's asking a bit much to actually kill a hero, or a rogue, what with the afore-mentioned medical facilities around the world. However, if they put one in a hospital, that's bragging rights in itself."

Taylor scratched his chin and had to nod at that. It was too bad he couldn't bring more with Braun's experience with him, but he had to work with what he had. Fortunately, he could count his own wits with that. With any luck, it would be enough.

He sure seemed lucky on this operation so far. He checked with Intelligence before heading out, and they'd told him Freedom Corps hadn't learned of the new operations (despite heroes coming back out of the Burg with the same complaints of "griefers" in the zone that the rogues were reporting). There was some military buzz, but nothing official or unofficial had been appropriated to deal with the threat. The one thing that gave him pause was the information that an aircraft carrier was going to be sailing near the island, but it didn't seem to have a plan to stick around.

"We should be alright," Taylor finally said to Braun, "We're not here to make noise, we just need to take out this group's leadership and recover their warhead. Then we'll move out and hopefully things will get back to normal."

"When should I send a team out to look for you?" the Warzone Operative asked.

"If you see the rocket fire, it means I probably failed."

----------

--On a Military Boat: En Route to Warburg--

"Sir?" the Marine riding in the boat with them asked curiously.

Cedric didn't respond, he was watching the coast approaching while he still figured out the plan in his head. What he had was a good plan, but even the best laid plans needed revision once contact was made with the enemy. Mattock tapped his shoulder plate and he whirled around confusedly.

"What?"

"I think this guy's trying to get your attention."

"Oh," Cedric relaxed and smiled, "What's up, Lance Corporal?"

"Uh... Sir, is it true you were a Marine?"

The tanker's smile grew wider and he started chuckling and shaking his head.

"First off, don't call me 'sir.' I was a Sergeant when I got out. Like you, I worked for my money, and that already answers your question."

"So, if you were a Marine," the Lance Corporal's eyebrow arched a little as he looked askance at Grey, "Why are you wearing a uniform that's so... so..."

"Obvious," Nester finished for the Rifleman, "That armor isn't very stealthy, Ced."

Grey was wearing what could only be described as a "Golden God" suit of armor. He'd had it designed to mess with his Praetorian (the spirit trapped inside his axe). It wound up not having a lot of places for him to put things like his communicator, spare Police Drone beacons, and other various nick-knacks, so he threw a belt on the armor and that helped immensely. However, it didn't match the outfit, so he spray-painted the belt gold and threw it on again. Now he looked like a golden-armored medieval knight.

"It's not very tactical, si-uh-Sergeant."

"Depends on what you mean by 'tactical,'" the tanker replied with a sly grin, "Is it simply being stealthy, or are you trying to draw the enemy in?"

"You have a plan?" Eisenheartz asked, his voice barely masking the contempt he had for the ridiculous appearance of the other tanker's armor.

"Yeah, it's why I asked for the fishing line..."

----------

--Warburg: Encamped Around the Rocket--

"Are you sure about this, Sikk?" the short android asked.

"The Syndicate wants this warhead in orbit," the stalker replied in its impossibly deep voice, "With it, they'll be able to establish themselves as a premiere force in this world."

As the young man walked away, Ryat84 considered his companions. He already knew the stalker was lying to him, he just didn't know how. He'd checked and rechecked the warhead he was about to install into the missile, but it was still in perfect operating order. Even the nanites he'd scattered throughout the device confirmed it.

He felt some commotion in his control matrix as one of his Ryat Rogue androids got into a fight with some of Marshall Blitz's troops. Why Arachnos or Longbow didn't simply send a sweeper team in to execute the pathetic brutish flesh-bag was beyond the android, but once the Syndicate had its new and improved warhead in orbit, such worries would be a thing of the past. The weapon had enough power to devastate most cities, at least any one of the islands in the Etoiles or a zone in Paragon... Once the weapon launched, everyone would know the power of the New Horizon Syndicate.

Ryat84 would also be one step closer to eradicating the human species, but that was a plan for another day. Today, he had to focus on ensuring this new warhead was installed.

The others were the Invasive and the Necrotyrant. The Invasive was, by human standards, an attractive female. However, she was as cold-hearted and ruthless as any plant throughout the planet. Rumors abounded that she was spawned by Hamidon or produced by Crey from Devouring Earth cultures. The red and black android couldn't determine for certain, but she certainly didn't have the same biological life signs as humans did.

The Necrotyrant didn't have any life signs at all. The only thing that enabled the android to know that the thing was capable of doing anything was its upright stance and the fact that it moved around easily. Otherwise, it said nothing, ate nothing, and it didn't breathe or sleep either. What it did do, however, was command a peculiar legion of undead minions and wield a bizarre array of negative energy powers. Ryat84 surmised that the strange, crystalline, putrid-colored spikes jutting from its scalp were connected to some form of remote control mechanism.

"You two, there's a disturbance to the east. My androids are dealing with it at present, but it would probably make a decent show of force if you two employed your own personal touch."

"Very well, machine," the green woman replied, "I'll examine the situation, and if I feel it calls for my involvement, the Rogue Arachnos shall feel my thorns."

The zombie master remained silent, but a group of rotting soldiers burst from the ground and started shambling to the east. Necrotyrant nodded and started walking after them.

"What will you be doing, machine?"

"I'll be on top of the rocket, installing the new payload," the android replied, "It requires precision that no living thing is capable of. Do you understand?"

The Invasive nodded curtly and went to follow the zombies. The Rogue Arachnos troops were able to take down one of the androids defending the perimeter, but they weren't able to hold back the combined might of a zombie-commanding mastermind and a plant-controlling dominatrix. Before long, the android had begun its trek up the rocket with the weapon in-hand.

"I know you're watching me," Ryat84 muttered to no one in particular, "I know you know what I'm doing. Too bad you can't stop me..."

He'd seen Ryat prime huddled in that corner earlier and had some of his androids patrol the nearby rooftops. So far, there was nowhere his "cousin" could stake out that his androids wouldn't know. However, that didn't keep him out of range of his transmissions.

"You don't know what you're doing," Ryat Prime's voice emitted inside Ryat84's head, "Something happened to you. Your siblings are-"

"My siblings are slaves of the inferior fleshbags... This world will be much better when it's run by machines!"

"And whom to rule it? You?

"No... I am merely a cog in the great machine. My work here will ensure the future!"

"So you really believe in your purpose?"

"Indeed. I believe in what I do."

----------

--West Side of Warburg--

Ryat Prime cut the communication at that point. Equipped with a high-powered scope, from his vantage point on a high rise on the other side of the island, he could watch the red speck that was his cousin climbing up the Warburg Rocket and the speck never slowed.

"I really wish you had reconsidered," Prime made an imitation of a sigh, "It hurts us to have to dismantle you."

---

My Stories

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

"Sir!" one of the Crab Spiders almost shouted into the communications link, "I think... I think I just saw a tanker!"

"You think you saw one or you saw one?" Taylor replied, "And you don't need to shout, just talk, or whispering is better. We do NOT want the enemy knowing we're here before we're ready!"

"Uh... Right... Well, it had to have been a hero or somethin', he was wearing this golden armor..."

---

The Spider had seen Cedric flitting around rooftops to the northeast. The tanker had been scoping around for the rogue Ryat androids and didn't know if he'd catch anybody else's attention. When he saw the squad of mixed Wolf and Crab Spiders, Fortunatas, Blood Widows and an Arbiter, he knew they were definitely not around for a patrol.

Lord Recluse hadn't sent a death squad to execute Marshall Blitz before, and it was unlikely that's what this was. Cedric drew a radio from the belt slung around his armor and clicked it on.

"Guys, I just spotted the bad guys, I sure hope you've got that surprise I've got cooked up ready..."

---

The Spiders weren't looking for the tanker. They kept their eyes peeled for the "griefers" that had been pestering the Chosen that had been coming through Warburg, because chances were they'd be the ones who had the weapon Taylor was after.

A flash of gold to the left caught a Wolf's eye and he fired. The other soldiers didn't know what was going on and fired into the street the Wolf had. Taylor shouted for them to get back in line and asked what happened.

"I saw something, sir," the operative replied, "I... I fired."

"Did you hit it?" the Arbiter grumbled.

"I.. I don't think so..."

Before he could think better, Arbiter Daniel Taylor gave the order that would turn the whole operation into a complete fiasco. The Wolf Spider jogged down the street and scouted around. He couldn't find the tanker he'd shot at.

Drawing his machine-pistol, the Wolf rounded the corner to see if Cedric had fled. It was the last thing he would do before the blonde man snatched his weapon out of his hand and yanked him around the corner. Bashing the operative's head against the wall, he let the body slump before it disappeared to the medical facility the Arachnos troops had commandeered to the north. There were shouts coming from down the street.

The important part was done. He'd hooked the fish. Now he had to reel it in. A bullet spanged off the corner next to Cedric and he could hear the loud "trundling" of the Crab Spiders approaching and sprinted down the street. He ducked down a side alley and past some vagrants when the big soldiers rounded the corner and perforated some of the brick walls with bullets and energy beams.

They thought they had him on the run. A couple twists, a couple turns, and Cedric had them lost. They weren't natives to Warburg, neither was he, but he knew how to get where he was going and how to get them to be where he wanted them.

---

"Get back on the line!" Taylor shouted, "Get back on the line!"

"They're gone," the mystic hissed, "What do you expect from Black Scorpion's soldiers?"

"What did I tell you about that in-fighting [dreck], Jariq?"

"My apologies, sir."

Taylor considered his options. The Crab and Wolf Spiders were long gone. He would have to go after and round them up, costing him time.

"Dammit, Fulkerson," he grunted into his communicator, "Reign your troops in!"

"We've got him on the run!" the Longfang shouted back, "We 'll be putting a hero in a box today, boss!"

"Do you have a visual?"

"I- no... Uh..." there was a pause and suddenly, "There he is! there he is! Nine O'Clock! That's left flank! Left flank!"

The sound of gunfire drowned everything else out and Taylor shut off his mic.

"Damn it. Alright, Jariq, Shadeheart, round up your troops, we're going after them."

He knew how this was going to end. He just couldn't shake the vain hope that he could salvage those troops, though, and started following behind the red-clad operatives.

---

"Alright, they're combing the neighborhood," Cedric grunted as he rushed into the building the other heroes were using as their hideout, stripping his armor off, plate-by-plate as he went, "Matt, the satchels?"

"Where you told me to leave 'em," the scrapper's eyes flashed silver briefly, "You sure you don't want me to set the charges?"

"You ever set charges before?"

Matt shook his head.

"Then, no. Sorry man, I trust you've got skills out the butt with all manner of things, but you don't want to be handling explosives unless you've been taught how to. Trust me, I've seen people lose fingers, limbs, faces..."

"I got it."

"Alright," Cedric pointed to Nester and Eisenheartz and the rubber dummy they were stringing up to the ceiling, "You guys lay that thing down and slap my armor to it."

"What are you pulling, Ced?"

"Something nasty!"

---

The soldiers had lost the trail. The Arbiter and the other soldiers caught up to Fulkerson and his troops and started dressing them down.

"You must be really freaking stupid and lucky," Taylor shouted at the Longfang, "Because if you were smart you wouldn't have done this, and if you weren't lucky you'd be dead by now! Don't you know you just walked into a trap?"

"I'm still alive, aren't I?" the soldier loomed over the Arbiter, thinking his size would intimidate the Arachnos enforcer, "It counts for something."

Taylor turned his rifle to the Crab Spider's foot and fired a round. He hit the ground but it made Fulkerson back away, clearly startled.

"See, this is exactly why I hate working with Black Scorpion's lapdogs. I know he believes actions speak louder than words, so if you keep acting like a [dunce], I'm going to do him a favor and remove you from his forces. Permanently."

"You're not authorized to-" the Blood Widow, Shadeheart whispered.

"I'm an Arbiter, there is nothing I can't do! If I can prove it serves Arachnos, I will start executing each and every last one of you! Now get back in line, we are getting back to-"

"I see him!" a Wolf Spider shouted and control was lost again.

The troops surged around the three story-building and started taking positions. Taylor shouted into his communicator for them to come back and let it alone, but it was too late. Even most of the Mu Strikers and Blood Widows got caught up in the blood lust. They surrounded the building and dove in through the windows.

Fulkerson smashed through the front door. His lights focused on the golden-armored tanker in the center of the room and the transponder came back. He didn't notice the rigid way he was moving, especially when the younger man turned to him and raised his axe.

"Cedric Grey," he grunted, "Kill him!"

The operatives dove in through the windows and started firing. Their aim was true and the bullets spanged off the armor. They fired until their guns ran dry and reloaded. Widows launched volley after volley of bolts into the armored form and it twisted, gyrated and twitched, even dropped the axe and lost plates of armor before falling to the floor in a heap.

"That was to easy," Fulkerson chuckled happily, "Yeah, we showed that ca-"

There was a beeping sound. Each of the operatives at the windows looked to their feet and noticed red lights next to their ankles. Then the world disappeared in fire and pain.

---

Cedric slapped the clicker in his hands like he was applauding. Each time he brought his hands together, another window exploded. He didn't know if it was a long enough span between the injuries and when the operatives drew their last breaths for them to be ported to the medical facility, but he hoped it wasn't.

"That's pretty [frigged] up," Matt breathed, "I didn't know people could disappear like that..."

"The distance between life and death is but a moment of time," Eisenheartz commented, "They obviously didn't take the time to extend their moments."

Nester pulled the fishing line loops from the fingers of his armored gloves as quickly as he could. He'dbeen operating the "Marionette Cedric" and felt sick to his stomach. He had to get the helmet off before he messed up the interior.

---

Operative Fulkerson was blasted out the front door to land at Arbiter Taylor's feet. He was coughing and struggling to say he couldn't breathe.

"What did I tell you?" Daniel asked as he hovered the muzzle of his rifle over Fulkerson's faceplate, "It's because you've got family in the Spiders that I don't blow your face clean off. I was hoping I could scare the stupid out of ya, but you've proven resistant to education. I can assure you, this will be reflected in my report..."

He pumped a round into Fulkerson's thigh. The operative screamed a little. It must have cost him the last of his breath, because he passed out as his choked shout cut off suddenly.

"...Including the cost of my wasted ammunition on your sorry [butt]!"

As the body disappeared into the medical teleportation matrix, the Arbiter started stomping away.

"I never should have brought any of you along," he growled to Shadeheart and Jariq, "If either of you two have plans to get in my way at this point, I suggest you head back to the Flyer, because I will perforate your bodies the second you [frig] up!"

"I have no intention of failing you, sir," Jariq replied somberly.

"I came this far and just watched my sisters-in-arms get slaughtered," Shadeheart hissed, "I intend to see something come out of this, and, if I can, to execute that hero for this... This embarrassment!"

They took one last look at the blasted out building. Vagrants were already moving in to pick through the wreckage for anything they could salvage. One picked up an Arachnos helmet and tried it on.

"Good," Taylor hissed, "So do I."

---

My Stories

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

Cedric leveled his assault rifle on the Vagrant that was edging toward the axe that floated in the center of the room. He was glad that of all the things his old commanding officer gave him, he'd acquired and delivered his old M-16A2, "Thundermaker." The man shouted as he noticed the gray-and-green armored tanker walking in, but kept edging toward the floating weapon.

"Don't touch it," he muttered, "It's not worth your life."

The man nodded and backed away. Grey edged deeper into the room, sighting in on anything that moved (which was very little) until he reached the golden weapon that floated above the golden-armored dummy. He grasped the hilt of the weapon with his left hand and chuckled as he looked down at the broken corpse-shaped object.

"Thanks for looking after this for me, Ivan."

"That was a very risky gamble," Gray's voice said in the back of his head, "I could have been destroyed."

"That wasn't enough to even dent the golden stuff," Cedric chuckled as he kicked one of the plates on the floor, "Didn't help Ivan much, though."

The decimated dummy was perforated wherever bullets had torn through it. It looked like hamburger made of cotton and wool. There was even a Widow's spike slammed through its head.

"Good thing that wasn't me!"

"Where are the bodies?" Nester asked as he eased through a broken window.

"Teleported away. Arachnos doesn't like people examining their dead."

"Are you sure they were dead? Jebus, Cedric, did you have to kill them?"

The tanker turned back to the medical defender. Where most who would have had some sort of psychotic or elated expression (or possibly a combination of the two), Cedric's face was as calm and expressionless as Roland's could ever be. The only tell for his emotional state was his eyes. At the moment, they seemed sad.

"Yes," he finally intoned, "I had to kill them, if I could. You haven't seen war, Nester. I have. It's not pleasant. It's not a game. My mistake when I was in the marines was treating it as such. There were times where the enemy would come back to haunt my troops and me just because I was 'sporting' enough to let them live. When we fought the Rikti, I was past such childish notions. The only honor on the battlefield that's left is the honor of a quick death."

"That's pretty damn cold," Matt grumbled as he and Eisenheartz finished their check of the immediate surroundings and edged in through the front door, "No wonder you always act so aloof."

"It hurts to care," the tanker slipped the axe onto the hook on his back, "Now, there's a very good chance we didn't kill any of those soldiers, Nester, and the med-porters zapped them out of here as they flatlined and revived them. They're just not going to be very happy for th next few hours, so we at least have that."

"Alright," Nester sounded skeptical, but his eyes brightened with a little hope that he hadn't just contributed to a wholesale slaughter, "So, what's the plan, chief?"

----------

"Arbiter, look," Jariq whispered and the Arbiter turned to where the mystic nodded.

"Grey... I should have known..."

The tanker and his entourage were picking their way through the streets, not far from the rocket or its control switch at all. Shadeheart almost leaped to possibly skewer one of the offending heroes, but Taylor reluctantly stopped her.

"Let them get the attention of the 'griefers,'" Taylor whispered, "We'll sneak in, disable the controls and harvest the weapon they've doubtless installed into the warhead by now. We're running out of time, and it would behoove us to let them do the hard work."

"I see why you were made an arbiter," her silk-over-steel voice cooed.

"I was made an arbiter because of blind loyalty," Daniel grumbled, "That, and someone thought this would be a better use of my skills than sticking my brain in a spiderbot or overdosing me on Recluse's super soldier serum. You ever wonder where those Arachnoids come from? Well, that's as close to the truth as anybody's gotten..."

"Disturbing," Jariq hissed, "One would think our overlords would treat us better."

"Trust me, wizard, the people used for the machinations of Arachnos are well-deserving of it."

The mystic had his doubts, as did Shadeheart and Taylor, but they knew better than to voice their opinions. One never knew who was a spy for Arachnos, or willing or otherwise. The arbiter had pulled enough bugs out of his armor to know how the system worked.

"We'll wait," the Blood Widow finally agreed, "However, I do believe we'll have some entertainment as we wait."

The white-armored enforcer of Arachnos' will cursed silently as he turned to see the red-and-black armored androids looming over them. They each crackled with electricity.

"Intruders," the machines muttered, "Orders: Execute."

"Destroy them," Taylor grunted.

----------

The staccato of gunfire got the heroes' attention for a brief moment. Cedric pulled them down a narrow alley and crouched them down.

"Okay," he whispered, "It's on, now. I've sent the signal to Ninety-nine. Our job is to make sure that rocket does not launch. If we can retrieve the warhead, cool, but, frankly, I'd rather not let anybody have a weapon capable of what I hear this thing can do."

"Good," Eisenheartz nodded, "I would hate to think that any of our efforts went to those that were trying to turn ours into a puppet government."

"I thought you were German."

"No... My grandparents were. My father is a natural-born citizen, and I am as well. That simple. I'm an American, just as you are."

"Whatever," Matt interrupted and waved his hand in the center o the group to regain focus, "Guys, we need to get back on track. What are we going to do?"

"Good question," a high-toned, tinny voice asked from the alley entrance, "What is your plan?"

The heroes turned to the voice's source and found a small red android standing there. It looked like the Ryat androids, but the articulation of the "face" was one of anger and contempt instead of the usual ambivalence. It had it's clawed arms folded over its chest. What really grabbed the attention of the heroes, however, was the contingent of large machines behind the android.

"Woah," McGinty grunted, "Masterminds aren't allowed to run around with that many robots... Much less that many heavies..."

"Good thing I'm not a Mastermind-class," Ryat84 chuckled, "I... Hm... Are you certain? It would be better to simply kill them off. I can assure you it would be better to kill them off. You do realize this megalomaniacal need to showcase your plans is going to get them ruined, right?"

The captured heroes looked to each other and exchanged perplexed glances. Nester tapped the side of his helmet, indicating that their android captor was probably conversing with someone else...

----------

--...Someone who obviously didn't have their best intentions in mind.--

Sikk chuckled as he put the cellular phone back into its pocket. It had taken a lot of time to get to this point. It had sacrificed much, especially its dignity, to claw its way into the New Horizon Syndicate and get recruited for this mission. Once this weapon hit its target, it would spark a world war the likes of which the planet hadn't yet seen. With the power being thrown around in the full-scale conflict, it wouldn't take long for the planet to be decimated, and the destruction of this portion of Creation would be complete.

Sikk's brethren would have another bastion against the forces that protected this universe. They would be able to push against the forces of "Light" and possibly smash all the universe asunder. It would all begin with one button press...

So long as Sikk could work its way past this damned "ERROR" message.

"What is the matter?" the Invasive asked as she handed over the last of the codes she and the Necrotyrant had acquired, "You seem perturbed, Sikk."

She obviously didn't think much of the assassin. She probably disliked the fact that the seemingly young man was assigned in command of her. While she was physically attractive, Sikk was glad she'd be among those consumed in the coming inferno. She was much too human for a plant, worse, she was female, so she had a tendency to act contrary to logic. Numerous times during the trip to Warburg, she'd voiced displeasure at being placed under Sikk and Ryat84's command (the android only received its position in this assignment because of its command over such a formidable security force; a force Sikk intended to appropriate for it and its brethren's own purposes once the missile launched). Ruled by her emotions, she would only prove to be a liability in the end.

"There's no trouble," the assassin replied calmly, "Just an error message telling me that the current warhead is not recognized. It probably needs a few workarounds, perhaps these security codes to allow me to bypass the fail-safes telling me that an altered payload has a chance of failure, so the launch is being denied for safety reasons."

"It's disturbing how clinical you sound sometimes," the green-skinned girl winced, "What is that little robot doing now?"

"Bringing me the prisoners..."

Ryat84 took a position on the platform next to the girl and the assassin as his android followers brought the heroes and the Arachnos soldiers before them. Cedric and Arbiter Taylor were placed next to each other, where they glared at each other through the corners of their eyes and gritted their teeth angrily.

"I thought I recognized you," Grey muttered, "I want you to know, [butt]hole, I haven't forgotten how you were hurting my mom. I've got a bone to pick with you about that, but I'm not gonna kill ya. My mom has that right first. If she decides not to... Your [butt] is mine."

"You've repeatedly embarrassed me," Taylor replied, "You've practically decimated my career. Now you're here to ruin me again!"

"If I can..."

"Silence!" Sikk shouted, his resounding deep voice echoing through the clearing, "Ah... McGinty. I'm glad you're here to see your failure first-hand."

"Sick," the scrapper whispered as he looked to the Ryat Rogue android holding his sword.

"We stand before the precipice of a great day," the assassin returned to the business at hand, "With but a single launch of a rocket, the world will tremble, quake, and become lifeless! Statesman and Recluse will not be able to restrain themselves any longer when the innocents of Atlas Park are decimated in one fell swoop!"

"Wait," the Invasive interrupted and took a hold of Sikk's wrist, "That's not the plan at all. The Directors instructed us to launch the warhead into orbit so-"

"Silence," the assassin's skin started turning oil-black, "I know their small-minded plan. This is a new one, a better one..."

It turned to the android.

"If you want in on it, to eradicate this world's weak flesh-wrapped abominations, I'm willing to take you into the fold..."

"That sounds good enough to me," the android replied almost enthusiastically, "In fact, it advances my timetables exponentially if what happens happens..."

"Statesman blames Recluse for the rocket," Nester was muttering, "he requests permission to lead a massive invasion force into the Rogue Isles... With the civilian casualties this madman's describing, I can't see how the government would have any choice but to grant it. In fact, they would send military in to support the heroes. Recluse would band the various villain organizations together under his banner, citing 'common enemies' and all the world's super powers would be thrown against each other in a conflict that would wipe out the planet in the span of a few months... You think this is that 'Coming Storm' those Menders keep talking about?"

"No," Matt replied, his eyes flashing silver again, "This is older than that. Older than us. Older than the Beginning of Time. Sikk and its siblings, if such a word can be applied to them, has been trying to destroy this corner of Creation for a long time. Using war and corruption, they have accomplished much, even going so far as to get a full third of the heralds meant to usher and protect the universe cast down. This is but one of countless attempts to destroy the world perpetuated by these... Malefactors."

"You seem to know quite a bit about this," the armored knight at his side muttered, "where'd you hear that story?"

"What?" Matt asked, his eyes looking their normal shade of brown.

Eisenheartz stared mutely at the scrapper before Sikk got their attention again.

"Now you will all see! The end of this world shall not be quiet! It will be a triumphant roar and a blazing inferno! You heroes and rogues shall be the end of it all... So much for the best laid plans of mice and men..."

Sikk slid the security keys into the control panel and pressed a few buttons on the console. The screen flashed red at the assassin and it shook its head.

"Figures," it muttered as it looked about in exasperation, "this will take a few mo-"

Looking up at the rocket, Sikk suddenly stopped talking. The captured heroes and Arachnos troops turned to see what their tormentor was perturbed by.

Perched among the rigging that held the Warburg rocket in place was the Ryat Series. Ninety-nine androids stood, sat, and crouched among the girders and some even sat upon the warhead.

One did not. Ryat99 stood before the rig with his arms folded over his chest. He was chuckling in his strange, tinny way.

"Is this the line to Reno?" he asked deliberately, "Or are you the Messiah? I can't see why there would be such a large procession here otherwise. Such an elaborate presentation, and I thought it might be something important. Instead, I find the same regularly scheduled tired tropes, the same regularly scheduled time bomb, and the same regularly scheduled maniacs. Well, I'm sorry to inform you, but I think we're going to interrupt your regularly scheduled business day."

With that, the Ryat androids leaped from their perches, drew their weapons, and attacked.

---

My Stories

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

Ryat Prime had the robots in his thrall perch on the ledge overlooking the battle and ordered them to start firing into the cacophony. He would have loved to help, however, there was something approaching from behind that he jsut had to deal with, first.

"That's close enough," the tan android muttered as he pointed his laser cannon at the approaching figure.

Clad in a blue military uniform, Slinger was the spitting image of most Malta Group Special Qualification Marksmen, or Gunslingers. He had two major differences, however, in that he had his arms surgically replaced with robotic prosthetics, betraying his maddened mind.

"Now, now," he chuckled at the android, "Is that any way to treat your liberator?"

"What do you mean, mad man?"

"Simple. I'm the guy that got you out of that Freedom Corps storage bay. All it took was a good hacker, moi, a few altered files, and biggity-bam, I've got me a free agent to test my new designs with. Best of all, he doesn't know it and my superiors don't know it."

"Bull..."

"Where did you think all those wrecked hulks you were refurbishing were coming from?"

Ryat Prime turned to his backup then looked back at Slinger and shook his head.

"Why tell me this now?"

"Because, Prime, I want you to redirect your fire. You're shooting the wrong guys. Ryat84, he and his goons are the future. If you and your siblings join forces with him, I can instruct you on how to increase your numbers, take this island and take this world! We could alter the course of history!"

"While change is necessary," Prime squeezed the trigger of his laser cannon and pumped a red bolt into the mad scientist's chest, "I prefer mine to be less radical."

"It's a hologram," Slinger's distorted voice emitted from the image, "Hard light."

"Oh..."

The heavy assault bot, Frank, swiveled around to face the offending spot of light. Slinger's hands raised defensively.

"Wait! I'll go! I'll go! Just don't shoot this thing! Do you have any idea how expens-"

Frank fired both cannons into the image and the thin metal frame holding the "hard light hologram" in place was smashed to bits as soon as its minor-strength force field was obliterated.

"Thank you, Frank," Ryat Prime sighed, "Well, I guess that explains why Longbow troops keep shooting at me. Maintain fire on Ryat Eighty-four's forces. Don't let a single abomination escape."

----------

The Ryats smashed into their foes, their twisted nephews. The Rogues didn't really have minds, each one simply bearing a rudimentary decision-making process based on Ryat84's own distorted view of reality. Still, it was a little unsettling to have to fight what was supposed to be "family."

That didn't stop Ryat06 from using her "firmware" claws to slice one of the hulking automatons into quarters or Ryat24 leading a column of similarly-armed androids into the center of the swarming mass, with their assault rifles blazing. The worst problem they had, however, was the fact that the Ryat Rogues were highly resistant to energy attacks. Androids like Ryat66 and Ryat10 found much of their roles largely muted, though the ones like Ryat10 were able to settle into support roles rather quickly. Ryat66, however, had to find a more vulnerable target.

"Hello, Eighty-four," he muttered as he landed before his wayward brother, his circuit-designed cape flapping heroically in the breeze, "It looks like it's down to you and me."

"That's unfortunate," the wayward android replied as he gestured to the hero, "I suppose this means you won't be reasonable."

Ryat66's sensors registered the gravity-altering nanites too late and he was surrounded by the nasty little bugs. As they oscillated and revolved around him, he could feel a crushing pressure on his surface sensors. However, he had systems to counteract this. He took a step toward his foe, and Ryat84 backed away in surprise.

-----

Cedric pushed into the android in front of him, tackled it, and yanked his rifle away from its grasp. Backing away, he checked its condition before looking up and seeing Taylor accomplishing the same thing with his weapon. They glared at each other as the Arbiter slid a magazine into the well of his rifle and racked a round into the chamber. Cedric's magazines were still housed somewhere inside the android that had taken the rifle.

"Time to die, Grey."

"We're surrounded by hostile robots, and you want to settle a score with me?" Cedric barked a laugh, "No wonder you idiots never get anything accomplished. Alright, Taylor, I'll play your game."

"You don't even have a magazine in that rifle! How do you expect to defeat me?"

"One shot," Cedric brought the weapon to his shoulder, knelt down, and aimed, "One kill..."

The android had taken out Thundermaker's magazine, but had neglected to remove the round Cedric had already chambered. It was that round the tanker was threatening the Arbiter with. Taylor, to his credit, realized he was in danger and started going through motions similar to Cedric's. Just as he had his sights to his eye, however, the hero fired and he felt a bullet smash into his helmet.

"Damn," Cedric muttered as he slung the rifle across his back, "I must be getting rusty."

He put his fingers to his lips, blew, and a shrill note whistled from his gesture. One of the androids menacing Ryat06 and Ryat74 was torn apart as his axe ripped through the body and returned to the tanker.

"What did I miss?"

"Nothing too great. We've got a fight on our hands, still."

Taylor jumped to his feet, clutching at the side of his helmet. The round had smashed the sensors off the side and he couldn't see out of his left eye. Angrily, he wrenched the helmet from his head and threw it at his enemy.

"Who the Hell gives a Tanker a rifle?"

"The United States Marine Corps!" was the amused response.

"I am not going to let you make a fool of me!" he shouted, "We're finishing this, right here, right now!"

Cedric sheathed his axe, popped his knuckles, and gestured for the Arbiter to approach as he assumed his fighting stance.

-----

The other heroes fought their way to the platform. Eisenheartz dove into the center of the zombie horde, smashing his mace into the face of the Necrotyrant. Nester was keeping close as he ensured his allies were being treated for their wounds. He even threw some special nanites at the armored tanker to ensure he'd be able to survive the fight. Matt, however, continued to the platform and kicked Sikk into the console.

The assassin's hands had turned into some form of bizarre tentacles composed of a slick, oily substance. Instead of manipulating the program, he was instead corrupting the very essence of the rocket itself.

"We prefer not to get our hands so directly involved," the creature's hollow voice explained, "however, the limitations of this puppet cannot be tolerated for this anymore."

"Too bad not even this is going to help you," Matt replied coldly as he drew his katana, "It's time to finish this."

"Don't you understand, hero? You can't kill me! Nothing can kill me! You're not even the destined warrior meant to wield that sword to finish me off!"

"The warrior is but what makes it move," Matt replied, his eyes flashing silver again, "The blade... It's the blade that ends you, regardless of how it happens."

"What? What are you... No. You have got to be kidding. Another spirit within a blade. Were you and angel?"

"No," the blade replied through Matt's voice, "no angels, no devils, no wizards, no onrushing roar of hundreds of wielders... I am just the blade that is tired of a job that should have been done long before its time. Come along, Malefactor. It's time we finished this."

"So, you're a slave," Sikk chuckled as it drew the black bladed sword it had corrupted its current vessel with, "Like this boy... While I'm curious to see the extent of the corruption your blade will put you through, I'm afraid I must-"

Matt dashed forward and swiped at his enemy. Sikk deflected the blade, but saw something startling in the scrapper's eyes. One was silver, the other was brown.

"I'm not a slave," Matt replied coldly and pressed the blade closer to the assassin, "I just happen to agree with my sword."

"I see."

-----

The Invasive fought her way through the androids. Both Rogues and regular Ryat androids tried to stop her. Apparently, Ryat84 decided she couldn't be trusted.

Where the Rogues kept trying to hurt her, the Ryats seemed willing to let her go, so long as she didn't come back. That was good enough for her since some of the androids she ran across were throwing fire, and she hated fire.

Pulling a communicator from within the foliage covering her chest, she called for the evacuation module. A sleek black vessel emerged from the ocean, hovered above the surface of the water and started floating over to her location. When it arrived, a door opened in the side and a large man clad in a business suit stepped out.

"The mission is a failure," the man explained, "You will step into the limousine and prepare for debriefing."

"It wasn't my fault," the green-skinned girl explained.

"Certain elements were misunderstood by the Committee," the man agreed, "Do not worry. You will be compensated for your time and for the danger you were placed in. We have one last mission here. We must recover two of your fellow field agents."

"If one of them is Ryat Eighty-four, forget it. He turned coat as soon as he could."

"The android is indeed one that we must recover. Your assistance is not necessary. I can retrieve the Necrotyrant and the renegade android when the battle is over."

-----

Ryat84 was launched through the window and landed hard on a crate. Ryat66 followed shortly after, but his evil brother rolled over and launched a volley of red condensed energy into the blaster's chest. Ryat66 pushed through the torrent, but when he landed and prepared to pummel his brother, Ryat84 pressed his hand into the blue android's chest plate and pushed him back with implacable power.

Ryat66 bonked his head off the window sill as he was catapulted away. The red-and-black android pushed himself out of the wooden wreckage of the crate and jumped into the hole in the wall. just as he was about to rejoin the battle, a grenade landed next to him and blasted him out of the wall.

"Where do you think you're going?" Ryat24 asked as he popped the spent casing out of the grenade launcher, "You must think we're finished with you..."

Ryat84 could see the rest of his brothers and sisters clustered at the base of the platform. The Necrotyrant had been cut down and Sikk was dueling with the blonde-maned scrapper. What was left of the Ryat Rogues were trying to press into the androids, but they were being blasted to pieces. His army had failed.

"I don't have time for this," Ryat84 rasped as he threw a nanite net at Ryat24, freezing him in place, "I have to get out of here!"

A red bolt of energy slammed into his leg and the villain crumpled to the ground. Looking back, he saw Ryat Prime. The robot-master android approached with his entourage scanning the area protectively.

"We're not chasing you anymore," Prime explained, "If we have to dip your boards in acid, we'll do it. However, that would be unworthy of us. I would rather find out why you've lost your mind in such a typical fashion."

"Simple," Ryat84 growled, "When we were fighting those Praetorians, I just snapped. How often have the so-called heroes had to fight those ridiculous doppelgangers? Why have they deigned to arrest the interlopers when it would be so much easier to kill them all and be done with it?"

"Killing takes a part of a person away," Ryat Prime explained, "What was done once can be done again, and it gets easier. It takes a special kind of person to not let that quick path consume them."

"Spoken like a true slave. You will never be free so long as you let your enemy live."

"Free from what?" Ryat66 asked as he returned, "What is it that people are asking you to do that you actually have to do? We don't adhere to Asimov's laws, Eighty-four, we never did. We make our own decisions and most of us decided to help people. It can't just be fear that motivates you."

The red-and-black android was silent. He didn't have a response. At the base of the matter, he was just greedy. He wanted power, he wanted control, he wanted wealth, but over time it became like a religion for him.

"They treated us like toys," he finally muttered, "They locked us in a room because we couldn't be trusted... You could, though, Sixty-six. You and Ninety-nine. What made you so special?"

"I don't know," the blue android replied, "Perhaps it was our personalities. You still haven't answered our question, Eighty-four. Do you even know why you turned on us?"

The android remained silent.

"I think we have to execute him," Prime explained, "I don't think we'll be able to repair his damaged mind."

"I... I don't think I can do that," Ryat66 and Ryat24 said at the same time, the assault rifle-wielding android slowly easing out of the altered gravity holding him in place.

"Then let me take him off your hands," a deep voice muttered behind the blasters.

They turned and Ryat Prime's robots leveled their blasters at the large business man. Their scans revealed that it was some kind of machine, but with living parts.

"A cyborg," Ryat66 muttered.

"It would be best for all parties involved if you would just turn over the renegade."

"Kill me," Ryat84 whispered, "Don't let the Syndicate take me back..."

"Sorry," Ryat24 replied, "But if we did that, what would you learn from this experience?"

With a quick kick, he punted the offending android over to the business man. The other two androids looked at their gray-armored sibling and shook their heads.

"So impetuous," Ryat Prime commented, "Alright, Syndicate man. You may take our brother. However, you will have to ensure that he survives his time with you and your own. We have claims to his fate first."

"Understood."

-----

There were no more guns, even though Taylor still had his wrist-mounted holdout pistols. No swords, no axes, nothing but their fists and feet were going to be used n this fight.

Cedric caught Daniel with a couple jabs to the face, but the Arbiter caught the first on the hard point of his forehead and rolled with the second. The Arbiter then followed up with a right cross that sent Grey sprawling.

Normally, there would be some witty banter exchanged at this point, but they were too focused on the fight. Cedric came back with an elbow strike aimed at Taylor's chest. The Arbiter side-stepped away from the strike, but Grey recovered quickly and whirled around with a second elbow that caught him in the nose.

Daniel staggered, felt for his nose and realized it wasn't broken. It was bleeding, but it wasn't broken. Cedric didn't know this, however, and started rushing to tackle his enemy to the dirt. Taylor caught the tanker in the belly with a knee strike and twisted around to let Cedric's momentum carry him into the ground.

As the tanker recovered, Arbtier Taylor straddled his chest, wrapped his fingers around Grey's throat, and started choking the life out of him. Cedric reached up and grabbed his attacker's hands and gurgled.

"Agh! Your hands are freezing!"

"Die you maddening [dastard]!" the Arbiter shrieked before he realized Cedric's arms were actually crossed over his own.

Grey slammed his elbows into the crooks of Taylor's arms, causing the Arbiter to bend over a little. He then kipped his hips up and Daniel went tumbling over his head, but Cedric kept a hold of the hands and rolled over backwards. Keeping close to his opponent and bunching up Taylor's arms between his left arm and his body, he slammed his right forearm into the Arbiter's throat.

"Here's how you choke someone," he growled as he started fishing for the garment under Taylor's armor, "Here we go."

He yanked at the fabric he found there. It was some kind of polypropylene, but different. Twisting it with his fingers, he bunched it up in his right hand, yanked and twisted his hand around at the wrist a couple times to wrap the fabric around his hand. This tightened the collar around Arbiter Taylor's throat and he started to gasp.

Cedric stood up and pulled the Arbiter with him. Taylor was punching at him now. He struck the chest, the face, the arms, but nothing caused the tanker to release the grip he had on his enemy. Eventually, the Arbiter disappeared from view, ported away in a haze of red energy and black smoke.

"Let that be a lesson to ya," the tanker grunted before a metal spike slid into his back, "GAH!"

"You killed and injured my sisters!" Shadeheart whispered into his ear, "You insul-AUGH!"

Ryat06 slashed the backs of her knees and the Blood Widow collapsed to the ground. Cedric drew his axe, turned, and the spirit within the blade activated an enchantment that healed the damage done.

"I was wondering where you were!" he chuckled as the Widow tried vainly to rake at the nimble android.

"She was helping us fight the Rogues," Ryat06 explained, "But when she saw you were distracted, well, she kind of thought she could get her vengeance. She even stabbed Nester before hopping over here!"

"What!?" Cedric raised the axe and was about to do something painful to Shadeheart before Ryat06 stopped him.

"Nester's okay. He activated his Healing Wave and Ryat Ten fixed up whatever that missed."

Cedric lowered the axe, but tapped the edge of the blade against Shadeheart's helmet.

"You got lucky. Send her back to Mambo, Six."

"Will do!" the android chirped and stabbed a vital artery in the Widow's left arm.

Shadeheart screamed, but her medical teleporter beacon registered the danger of the strike and signaled for her to be zapped out of the area. In a flash similar to what took Arbiter Taylor, Shadeheart disappeared.

"Let's hope that Mu guy doesn't do the same thing," Cedric muttered as he walked over to help finish off the Ryat Rogues.

-----

"You fight well," the assassin rasped, "But you cannot hope to defeat me!"

He vanished only to reappear behind Matt. He was trying to stab the scrapper, but McGinty deflected, spun around and kicked Sikk into the control panel. The young eyes of the villain gazed upon the androids swarming around the platform and the deteriorating condition of the fight.

"Oh well. It's not like they've stopped me."

"What are you talking about?" Matt asked.

"The rocket will soon launch, and there is nothing you can do about it!"

Sikk pushed itself from the console and slashed at the scrapper. McGinty parried and stabbed, skewering through Sikk's face. The assassin's very form writhed in agony as the wound seemed to spark and burn. Eventually, Sikk didn't resemble a human at all, but more a quivering gelatinous mass as it pulled away from the weapon that harmed it.

Matt withdrew his blade and glared at the creature before him. It lashed out with a tentacle that ended in a very sharp spike. The scrapper deflected it and sliced the tip off, which smoldered out of existence as it hit the ground.

Sikk launched a few more of these "dark spikes," but McGinty deflected or dodged them as they came. Eventually, the assassin was able to pull itself back into a human form, and it struck out with its black blade again.

"Seeing you with just one sense can be enough," it muttered as it struck, "The other senses were distracting me."

"Excuses, excuses," Matt replied, "Power is a poor substitute for skill."

"I will show you power!"

Upon saying this, there was a warbling siren emitting from the launch console. The two turned to look at the display that indicated that the security locks had been properly bypassed and the rocket was ready to launch. The ground started to quake and smoke started wafting from beneath the iconic weapon.

"It begi-AUGH!" Sikk rasped before getting slashed across the back by Mattock.

The scrapper then dove to the ground and started sprinting for the rocket. As he ran, he yanked the jump jet-pack off a Ryat android he passed and held on for dear life as he pressed the button.

The rocket started to lift off the ground and Matt was rising to meet it. As he got close enough, he drew the magic axe from his belt, the one designed to sever the ties that bound undead creatures to this world, and chopped into the surface of the rocket.

As the Ryats finished off the last of their twisted cousins, they looked up to see the Warburg Rocket launching. Cedric was shouting and trying to get the attention of whatever androids he could, but he knew it was too late. The rocket was launched. His mission had failed.

Sikk howled angrily as the weapon he meant to reshape the world took off with the weapon meant to take the Malefactor from it. Knowing that there was no good way for this to end, the assassin leaped into the air, vanished, and reappeared next to the weapon's trajectory. It landed on the warhead and stood calmly, waiting for Mattock to make his move. Matt, narrowing his eyes against the turbulent air, looked up at his enemy and wondered how he was supposed to win this fight.

---

My Stories

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

"Ninety-nine!" Cedric shouted over the receding roar and the clanking metal around him, "Ninety-nine!"

The android was busy pulling the head of one of the Rogue androids into an icicle spike protruding from his chest when Grey found him. A second was held at bay with a large ice sword shaped like a claymore jabbed into its chest. Cedric finished the second machine off by cleaving through its face.

"I had that situation under control," the blue machine muttered as he faced the tanker, "It looks like things are wrapping up here."

"The rocket launched."

"I know."

"Ryat, the rocket launched!"

"And we've sent signals to Paragon City. Citadel is actually getting ready to intercept as we speak..."

----------

--Paragon City, just outside the Talos Island War Walls--

Two of the city's iconic heroes stood on a rocky crag, each of them gazing to the south. The one dressed like a cape, like most other patriot-themed heroes, sighed as he massaged the ache out of his left shoulder.

"Sometimes, I really dislike having so many disparate heroes and their groups in this city," Statesman muttered, "You would think that just once they would coordinate with us or give us at least a day's warning when something like this is about to happen."

"That's why we're here now," Citadel replied, "If I hadn't received that transmission, we would still be inside the city when the rocket reached us, instead of out here where we can take it down safely without innocent people being hurt."

"You're right... You're right. I don't know... I guess I'm just a little grumpy about leaving Jessica to deal with fighting Adamastor."

Citadel quirked an eyebrow at the Avatar of Zeus.

"Don't you mean 'Megan?'"

"Isn't that what I said?" Cole asked quizzically.

Citadel didn't reply. It had been happening a lot the past couple years, Marcus's confusion over his grand daughter's identity. There were a number of theories as to the reason. Citadel's was more in tune with Ms. Liberty's, that when he saw the costume, he assumed he was looking at his daughter. Whatever the reason, however, it was still a sign of the hero's growing aloofness.

"I hope you realize how much we care about you, Statesman."

The other hero nodded glumly.

"You know, Citadel. You don't have to be here. I can handle this. I've done it before."

"If you're talking about the time you took a nuclear missile to the chest, I would rather you didn't attempt that here. There are a lot of us that would rather you didn't attempt that here. Come now... There are more heroes available to help. You don't have to carry the entire weight of the world on your shoulders."

----------

--Warburg--

"Ryat, Matt's on that rocket."

The android looked up at the receding trail, but didn't respond. Cedric shook visibly and lost his cool.

"Well!? Are you going to do something?"

"I am. I'm calculating the trajectory to determine the best route of interception... Done."

The android's combat armor folded into his frame and was replaced with a new layer of sleeker flight armor. Without another word, he spread his wings and took to the sky. Panels in his boots and back popped open to reveal rockets that discharged powerful afterburners, propelling the machine faster than most flying heroes were capable of.

----------

"Where, oh where, did you get an axe like that?" Sikk asked as Matt flourished with his sword and stabbed into the side of the rocket.

"Lots of heroes have them," McGinty replied through clenched teeth, not knowing or caring if his enemy could hear them, "Special training and all that... I decided to go with undead slaying."

"Even in that, you remain a slave," the assassin replied, "How much does the blade decide for you? How much more could you have become if not for that ridiculous piece of steel?"

"The blade only made one decision for me, unlike what you did to that thug. The rest is my life and my decisions, unlike you. I wonder how much is left of the idiot I kicked through a wall, or are you just the monster that wears his face like a mask?"

"I am so much more than a monster..."

Sikk drew its black sword and started walking casually toward the scrapper. Despite all the air rushing around them, it was able to stroll upright as if it were a calm summer day. Matt still had to keep his weapons jammed into the side of the weapon, as the laws of physics still acted upon him.

Suddenly, the rocket leveled off. Instead of going into orbit, it was flying over the ocean to its intended target. If Matt didn't stop this weapon, it was going to crash into Atlas Park and possibly kill everybody there. First, he had to deal with Sikk.

The assassin brought his blade down and to the scrapper's right. Matt deflected it with the axe, barely held his footing long enough to slam the weapon back into the rocket and ducked the follow-up swing aimed for his neck.

"You can't hope to win this," Sikk chuckled, his words worming their way into the hero's brain, "You're weak... If you had any power at all, you would be able to resist the elements, take flight, or do something instead of hold yourself there and vainly hope I don't end your life!"

Matt drew his blade out of the side of the rocket and made a feeble swipe at the assassin. Sikk deflected it and nicked his shoulder in retribution. Grunting, Matt jabbed the blade into a new spot and wondered vaguely how he hadn't lost his grip.

"I'm considering just spiking you to the side of this rocket and watching the look on your face as it collides with the city! I might just let your soul last a while longer as the virulent gasses shrivel up the weak, pathetic... humans... And you cna watch the totality of your failure!"

Matt released his grip on the axe. He'd had enough and it was time to start surprising this monster. As Sikk chortled over what it assumed was the scrapper losing hope, he reached to his back belt and drew the pistol he had there.

It was one of the first things he built and he'd kept it a secret from everyone in Grey's Army, even his roommate, Cedric. It was one of the first weapons with which he'd tested blending magic and technology. It wasn't a particularly powerful enchantment, but it did enable the pistol to be able to handle the white phosphorous rounds he'd loaded into it for fights just like this.

Aiming the pistol at his foe, he squeezed the trigger repeatedly and winced as the burning rounds went wide. Sikk moved a little, though, it wasn't expecting that. Still, it felt that it had the upper hand, and started to laugh. Matt squeezed off one more round.

Sikk screamed as the bullet aimed for its chest instead deviated off course and slammed into its left cheek. That side of the face exploded and the assassin was flung around from the pain of it.

As it was distracted, Matt pulled himself forward by the axe and placed his foot on the head of it. Using it as a brace and leaning against the wind, he stood up while he drew his sword up with him. Sikk whirled back around and he could see what looked like black smoke wafting out of the side of its face.

"Now, you die," the assassin rasped as it dove at the wild-maned man.

As it dove, it disappeared. Matt could see a slight darkness snaking through the air. This was not his only problem, however, as the rocket was starting to spin.

As Sikk reappeared behind him, the Scrapper whirled around and deflected the blade aimed for his spine. Hopping a little, he kicked the black-coated assassin in the chest, knocking it off balance and sending Sikk sprawling. Matt reached out with his left hand as the rocket passed beneath him and barely caught a hold of the axe handle.

He couldn't hear himself scream in pain as the rocket rolled over. Still, he was alive, and he intended to stay that way.

Coming back up, he jabbed his katana into the side of the rocket again and hoisted himself up. Sikk attacked and Matt deflected with the axe. Shoving the black blade wide, he wrenched the katana out of the rocket and spun through the air, smoothly slicing the upper torso of the Malefactor open as he brought his blade around. Whirling back around, he slammed the axe into the wall of the rocket and started picking himself back up.

Sikk, roaring unintelligibly, drove its blade into the side of the rocket next to Matt's head. It's not that he would have missed, it was just that Matt had lost his grip on the axe and fell away. However, the scrapper caught a hold of Sikk's pant leg.

The stalker yanked his black sword out of the side of the rocket and spun about. As it started to stab into Matt, the scrapper stabbed his katana into Sikk's belly. There was a flash of light, and the Malefactor screamed. Pulling himself back up, Matt wrenched the blade about and tore open the monster's body.

Oily black tentacles reached out of the assassin's body and grasped at Mattock, the rocket, and anything it could find purchase on. It wasn't much, and Matt hacked away more and more. As he cut away the writhing mass, the pieces burned out of existence as they fell away.

Finally, the scrapper pulled his way through the ethereal oil to his axe. Gripping the handle, he slashed at the low parts of Sikk. The mass was clinging to him now, and he cut that away as best he could. Sikk's face, whole again, appeared from the depths of the monstrosity, its face pleading.

"Matt... Matt! Please... You're killing me! You're..."

"[Freck] off!" Matt kicked the face and slashed at the rest of the tentacles gripping him.

The black mass fell away and was consumed in the fire of the rocket's exhaust. However, the hero could still see the dark weapon falling away. Somehow, he knew what the purpose of the aberrant weapon was.

"I can't let it get away," he hissed as he hoisted himself up.

As he wrenched his axe out of the side of the rocket, he started sliding toward the exhaust flames. With a leap, he rode the wake of the rocket and was thrown out of the path of the flames and smoke.

The blade was spinning through the air, leaving a darkened trail as it fell. Matt folded his arms over his chest and dove. Closer and closer he got, and his weapons were causing him to spin around like a corkscrew. The dark weapon that was his enemy's anchor to this world was the only thing keeping him from getting disoriented.

---

He didn't notice Ryat99 fly overhead. The android was able to cling to the side of the rocket and pull his way to the warhead. Wrenching into the panel Ryat84 used to install the new payload, he tore into the point of the rocket and pulled out the bizarre apparatus.

It ticked, it whirred, and it beeped. Black tentacles writhed from it, and the tanks of whatever the gas was inside were hissing. Unceremoniously, Ryat99 wrenched the device apart. After opening a panel in his torso, the android placed the tanks within himself and tossed the rest.

Then, once he was certain his fuel cells had properly recharged, he engaged his afterburners and pushed against the rocket. The weapon turned slowly, but surely, toward the ocean below. Once Ryat99 was certain it wouldn't be able to correct itself, he let go and started flying back to Matt, whom he saw falling earlier.

---

Matt came in close to the falling blade and performed a somersault to stabilize himself and build up the momentum he needed for his swing. With a triumphant yell, he lashed out and could feel the magic of his sword carving through the otherworldly power of Sikk's. Suddenly, the black blade shattered and there was a massive, sickly green explosion.

Matt fell out of the cloud, passed out, but still gripping his katana. Briefly, he came to as he fell, only to wonder idly what was to happen before he would pass out again.

Suddenly, there was an impact, and he felt cold. He opened his eyes in shock and saw that there were a pair of ice-coated metallic arms cradling him as they skimmed over the surface of the water.

"Don't move," Ryat99 explained, "I've got this worked out just right, but if you do something to mess this up, we're gonna get torn apart by the water."

"That would be fitting," Matt replied, "Could you power down your ice armor? It's really cold."

"In just a moment..."

They pulled up and away from the ocean, and Ryat99 obliged the scrapper. Behind them, the rocket imploded and discharged an explosive payload of its own, sending a few hundred gallons of water spewing into the air as they made their way back to Warburg.

----------

--Talos Island--

"Good news," Citadel informed the leader of the Freedom Phalanx, "They were able to handle it themselves."

"That's... That's a relief," Statesman allowed himself to smile a little, "It's good to know that some of this madness is still in capable hands."

"Hands that aren't yours for once, right?"

"Indeed."

----------

--The U.S.S. Jormungandr: Aircraft Carrier off the coast of Warburg--

"Well done, heroes," Brigadier General Barton clapped each of the humans on the shoulders, "You've won a great victory for us over Arachnos... What's wrong with him?"

He indicated Matt, who was shivering inside a wool blanket the Marines on the landing craft had provided for him on the way back to the carrier. Cedric explained what his friend had gone through and that it hadn't been Arachnos they were fighting.

"While they had some people out there, they were dealing with the situation just as we were. It was a third party, General."

"Third party? Weird. From the surveillance photos, we thought for sure it was some brand of Arachnos troops..."

"Actually," Ryat99 walked over from his siblings, "It was a small army of androids... Similar in build to the rest of us, but only using a rudimentary, vastly imperfect copy of our source code."

"And that means?" Barton growled.

"Family issues," Nester quipped, "Bad oil between cousins."

"Right..." the android concurred sarcastically, but he let the issue slide, "I'm gonna check on the others. There were a lot of injuries."

Many of the androids were missing arms, legs, and other body parts. They had deep gashes in their torsos and one, Ryat35, was left with just her head.

"Are you sure you'll be okay?" Ryat66 asked as they had her running off Ryat10's energy cell.

"Sure," she chirped, "I feel right as rain. I just need a new body."

"And soon, I hope," the medical android murmured, "It's not that my battery can't take the extra strain, it's just that I don't like having two heads..."

"You're not Zaphod, that's for sure," Ryat66 chuckled.

"So," Ryat99 turned to the android the rest were huddled around, "When do we get our explanation, Prime?"

"Soon," the tan android replied, "Once we get back to Paragon and I get Sheldon to get me checked out. I just... I just found out that my purpose in the Etoiles wasn't what I'd thought."

"Very well."

"As for you boys," General Barton pulled the human heroes along to the inner workings of the ship, "Let's hit the chow hall and we'll discuss how to properly compensate you for your time. And someone get this man a cup of hot coffee!"

---

My Stories

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

--Steel Canyon: Nester and Mindy's Apartment--

"Oh God, Nester, where have you been?" she shouted as she tackled him into the wall, "I was getting so worried!"

"-I- -had- -to- -help- -Ced- -ric- -in Warburg-!" he said between kisses.

Mindy stared at him in shock for a few moments before giving him a long, lingering hug.

"Don't ever scare me like that again. You tell me when you're going to get yourself killed next time, got me?"

"And let you change the lease that much quicker? I think not..."

Any further discussion was lost in snuggles and kisses. Once again, Nester thanked whatever god was looking over him that he was lucky enough to find someone willing to be with him, even when she knew what he did for a living.

It also reminded him of the necessity of his job. As much as it pained him to have to do so, he knew he would have to go out into the streets again to keep the world safe for future moments just like this.

--Grey's Army Base--

"Why didn't you bring me along?" Kip asked as he and Cedric made their way to Sheldon's workshop, "I've been to Warburg, I could have helped."

"Little Dude," the older man replied with a sly grin, "You've got enough problems on your plate. You need to take a vacation, you know?"

"I guess..."

They were surprised by the turnout to the base. The rooms were filled with androids varying in size between tiny and skinny to huge and burly. Fortunately, there weren't as many on the huge and burly side.

There was a scent of pizza, and the two humans worked their way to it. Randy, Charlene, Sarah and Joe were relaxing at a small card table with the pizza box lain upon it. There were a few slices left, and the two latecomers took one apiece before turning back to the drawn out presentation of Sheldon poring through Ryat Prime's workings.

"Alright... I haven't found any bugs," the inventor muttered, "How about you, Ten?"

The green android shook his head and closed the panels he'd been checking inside.

"A scan through Prime's nanite-rich lubricant revealed nothing, Boss."

"Well, whatever the Slinger might have in you, we can't find it. Let's get you closed up and move on to the next order of business."

"If you don't mind, I'll get on with it right now..." Prime muttered, "Is everyone here?"

"Yes," the androids replied at once.

Somehow, it sounded almost lyrical.

"Excellent, alright... The questions have been prevalent. What drives us? How are we so unusual, so diverse, so intelligent and sentient? How did this happen? What is our purpose? Our future?"

"We've been blessed by Joule!" Ryat74 suddenly shouted.

"No," was the calm reply, "But again, you're close. Very close."

"So, we're something dealing with the New Pantheon god of Technology?" Ryat32 asked, "Wow... I... I don't know what to say..."

"Don't dwell on it," Prime assured the android with heavily marred white armor paneling, "It's not nearly so involved as Seventy-four makes out."

"So what are we?" Ryat66 asked, "What made our source code?"

"I'm curious, too," Sheldon said, much to the surprise of many in the base.

"Didn't you design the code?" Randall asked, "You and my boy, Roland..."

"First off," Prime raised a claw and interrupted Randall, "Did you truly believe that a man who has barely any understanding in computer programming, and another who has only the basic understanding and a severe lack of imagination could fumble together a working artificial intelligence source code?"

"...Well, that did confuse me a little..."

"Sheldon and Roland were having trouble. While Mr. Wallace was working on the bulk of the code through research he gleaned across the Internet, he was corresponding with Roland on how to throw it all together. By the time he had my body ready, the code itself was maddeningly incomplete. I seriously would have been a rampaging monstrosity until he was forced to destroy my body and dip my hard disks in battery acid, maybe my boards, too."

"So what changed?" Ryat50 asked.

"In a fevered haze, Sheldon stumbled across what looked like an old chat room. As he started to exit, realizing that it wasn't what he thought he needed, he received a peculiar e-mail. No address, no subject, and he realized too late that he had preview on, still."

"That woke me up, fast," the controller hero muttered, "I almost killed my computer that night."

"Instead," Prime continued, "You wound up with a very odd lump of code. Code that shouldn't have existed. Whatever holes were in the source code were suddenly filled and it was ready to upload into my disks. The rest, well, you all know the rest. There are a hundred of us, now."

"Ninety-nine," Ryat99 corrected, "I don't know about the rest of you, but Eighty-four is dead to me. The only way to fix him is to format his brain, and then he may as well just be molten down. Now, that mysterious e-mail... What was it? Who sent the e-mail?"

"Well, in a way, Joule... Sheldon, in his mad quest for information, stumbled into an Internet incarnation of the Technology God and received a very small token of the deity's essence. This essence was then uploaded into our code, making it dynamic and fluid, and now... Here we are."

"I thought that was a dream," Sheldon muttered as he scratched his head, "It just never seemed... I don't know, real."

"Sleep deprived fevers do that to people," Ryat10 explained, "You need to learn to not get so obsessed, Boss."

"So, we really are divine!" Ryat74 went back to his original argument, "We have the very essence of Joule running through our motherboards, coursing through our nano-lubricant, permeating our very thought processes!"

"Are you finished?" Prime asked.

Ryat74 sat back down.

"I like your enthusiasm, brother, I really do, but you need to tone it down. Two notches. Yes, we're of Joule... But no more than a television is Joule. No more than a car is. Better yet, we're no more than Positron or Citadel, in fact maybe even less than that last one. Think of it as being a shed hair somehow rewriting a page of text into perfect poetry as it mingles with the ink. It's not probable, in fact it's downright unlikely, but we're fortunate to live in this world, where the improbable is, well... Look at us."

"So, we're an accident?" Ryat74 sounded defeated.

"Bring the enthusiasm back up a notch," Prime replied, "No. We're not an accident. Sheldon here wanted us constructed. He wanted to prove himself and we're here to do just that. We are a standing testament that somewhere within that brain lurks genius."

"But-"

"He got some help from on-high, yes. We can't begin to fathom the reasons why Joule decided to help this mad scientist. Perhaps it's because Sheldon accepts that magic is a real force in this world. Perhaps he just took pity on the young man with great dreams and this is the bone he decided to toss. I'd say, for the most part, we've been a success."

"Where do we go from here, though?" Ryat01 asked her tinny voice quivering somehow, "We just... We just got done fighting a war, and... And..."

"We do what we've always been doing," Ryat99 gently clapped her shoulder, "We run exploration for Portal Corporation and construction for Randy. Right, sir?"

"Sounds good to me," the big man replied, "Just don't stay all mopey like this... It's unsettlin'."

"We'll work on it," the cherry red android replied.

----------

--One Week Later: Galaxy City: Freedom Corps Administrative Offices--

"Thanks for coming to see me, Cedric," Agent Wild said as he made for his desk.

Cedric remained standing, he hadn't been offered a seat. He didn't practice a lot of his old Marine traditions for such a situation, such as standing at attention before the desk until informed to be at ease, but there were some forms of etiquette one should adhere to regardless. As he waited for the agent to get his files arranged, he took stock of the office.

It was starting to get a little dusty and cluttered. Wild didn't work here much anymore, he just reported in, checked his messages, and headed out to put foot-to-butt. As such, the office's appearance was starting to suffer.

Still, it was good to know that at some point, Wild could have Cedric's back instead of having to worry what the paperwork was going to be like. Well, he'd still have to worry about the paperwork, but at least he could preemptively burn off his aggression.

"Here we go," Wild finally said as he pulled up a folder, "Please, sit down."

"So, what's up, Kevin?"

"You, ah..." the Freedom Corps agent cleared his throat, "You killed some Arachnos agents in that little stint in Warburg."

"How'd you know I was out there?"

"Oh, the report Citadel sent me about you and the Ryats' involvement in that last big rocket firing. He was wondering if you guys had anything to do with the 'griefers' who'd been camped out there the couple days prior to the day he got the message from your android companions."

"I trust he doesn't think I would go causing a problem to fellow heroes," the tanker barked a laugh, "I didn't make that situation. I helped deal with it."

"Well, in the course of dealing with it, you blew out a building and killed five Arachnos operatives. Their med-porters didn't kick on in enough time."

"Well, my heart bleeds [urine] for them."

"That's not very nice, Cedric..."

"It's not like they'd care if they killed me. Actually, they probably would, and throw a party to celebrate. I'll do them one better and simply drink a toast to the dead."

"You're a frighteningly hard man," Wild whispered, "Well... I guess the part that should concern you is that Arachnos has filed a hit on you. Well, not officially, but, you know..."

"Cool. What place do I come in?"

"Uh... Let's see... Statesman's number one... The Phalanx and the Vindicators take up most of everything between two and twenty... Ascendant ranks thirtieth or so, it hovers depending on what he's done recently... So you're around four thousand, three hundred nineteenth in line. I know it's not bad, but I understand a former Arbiter and one Operative Fulkerson may try to make it their personal missions in life to make you pay for their suffering."

"Former Arbiter?" Cedric asked, "What happened to Taylor?"

-----------

"He got cast out..."

--Grandville: Floor-level Audience Chamber of Recluse's Tower--

"You've failed me for the last time, Taylor," Daos said with a hint of satisfaction, "Now... Now you-"

"Stop!" Arbiter Sands shouted as he made it through the door.

Two red-and-black armored Bane Spider Executioners tried to bar his way, but the Arbtier tossed his hot coffee into one's face and kicked the other in the knee, crumpling the big man to the ground. With his rifle butt, he smashed open the visor and some broken bits of glass found their way into the Executioner's eyes.

"You really think I-AUGH!" the still-standing one shouted as the coffee seeped into his armor, "Dammit, I can't see, ee-!"

Arbiter Sands planted the muzzle of his rifle against the Executioner and squeezed the trigger on the grenade launcher. The projectile thunked into the large man's chest and sent him sprawling before the explosion knocked him out.

Arbiter Daos applauded the junior Arbiter. Sands reloaded a grenade into his rifle and slung it as the two Executioners were zipped to their medical teleporters.

"I don't know what your problem is, boss," Sands growled, "but the Arbiter Corps is supposed to be a brotherhood. We're supposed to look out for each other, help each other, and defend each other. You've been among the crazies in this tower so long, you're starting to think like them. What's worse, what would killing Danny do? You're not gonna get promoted for it, it's not going to serve a purpose among the Arbiters, I'll see to that."

"And how would you do that?" the gold-plate booted Arbiter grunted back derisively.

"Simple, I'd talk to the rest of the boys and tell them how much of a raw deal I thought Dan got at your hands. Bad news for you, they like me more."

Arbiter Daos was silent.

"Come on, Dan... Let's get you some new digs..."

---

--Arbiter Dormitories: Dorm Formerly Owned by Arbiter Taylor--

"I... I'm back at the beginning..." Daniel Taylor, no longer an Arbiter of Arachnos, was packing the bright plates of his armor into a duffel bag, "My career.. My training... Everything... Gone."

"It'll be okay, man," Arbiter Sands replied, "You'll spend a year or so as an Operative, then, once you've reapplied to the Corps, I'll pull some strings and you'll be back in the gray and white before you know it."

"I hate the work we do... I wish we'd just cleanse these islands of the Circle, the Snakes, the Coralax... I wish we'd get on to making this a place to live instead of wallowing in the same pit these islands were when Recluse took over."

"That takes time and resources we don't have, though. It's why we fund those little excursions the Chosen Ones go on..."

Taylor slammed his helmet into the duffel bag and cursed.

"The Chosen Ones... I've seen those guys zip in and out of hospitals all day long. I've seen them torch whole Arachnos operations, and still Recluse refuses to raise a hand against them! Out of all those multitudes of idiots who are so small-minded they actually take pride in calling themselves villains, you'd think Kalinda would finally be able to point at one and say 'Found him!'"

"Maybe she'll point at you."

"That's not funny. You're not funny."

Arbiter Sands reached into a case at his hip and pulled out a card. Handing it to the newly rated Operative, he nodded.

"I don't quite trust the guy," he explained as Taylor looked at the card, "But he's running some special stuff on the side for Arachnos Soldiers like you."

"Arachnos solders..."

"Think of it as being a special agent. You won't have anyone to report to, but the bad news is that there will be precious little support from the rest of us... The rank-and-file will certainly still take pot-shots at ya, for instance..."

"If they were any good, they wouldn't be rank-and-file, they'd be Arbiters."

Daniel packed the last of his clothes into his duffel bag and finally took a look at the business card. It had "Alan Desslock" written on it in small black letters along with location and contact information.

"Mercy Island..." he grumbled, "That fricking pit..."

"Well, look on the bright side..." Arbiter Sands clapped him on the shoulder as they walked out of the dormitory, "You get to kill Snakes like you wanted."

"Why do you insist on thinking you're funny?"

----------

--Nerva Archipelago: Crimson Cove--

The Coralax approached the coated figure cautiously. It had washed ashore just as they were preparing to head back into the depths of the ocean. As the fish-people closed in on the individual, the black ooze pulled together and the man pushed himself from the ground.

"Ugh... My head..."

"It's one of the Spider King's Chosen Ones!" the Red Hybrid leading them gurgled, "Convert him, quickly!"

The Green Hybrids got close first, and they died first. A black blade shot out from his sleeve and tore them open like they were soda cans. The blues turned to their boss, who hissed and pushed them forward.

"That's always been the problem with this place," the young man muttered as they came within range, "Nobody knows to quit when they've been beat."

The trench coated young man waved his other hand and disappeared. The two Blue Hybrids looked to each other, but were distracted by an unusual gurgling sound coming from their boss. Turning, they found a black blade protruding from her mouth, the point was facing them. As she fell away, the assassin pulled the shadowy weapon out of the back of her head and into his sleeve, or rather, it seemed to slide back into his sleeve and become his hand again.

"Do you wish to continue?" he asked, but the Blue Hybrids were already running for the water.

Sikk turned toward the buildings and the nearest bridge that would take him back to the ferry. He'd never felt so good, not even when he first gripped the sword that made him feel better than he had before. However, then he always knew the power wasn't his. Now, though, he could feel the power within him, flowing through his veins, pulsing in his mind. It was a part of him, and it was his.

"The dawn of new days..." he sang softly to himself in a deep voice that was both his and something else, "Has nothing changed? The Sick knows no pain... The dawn of new days... Has nothing changed? The Sick knows no pain..."

---

My Stories

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

After a couple weeks, the excitement from the Warburg Incident died down. Randall, who'd been largely quiet since the second Rikti Invasion, decided it was time to do something more than just going around and rebuilding broken office complexes and burned buildings (in which, Sam Bibbins and the Ryat androids had been a tremendous help). So he gathered up what friends and family he could and advertised that he'd throw a cookout in King's Row. He organized it as a block party in the northeast corner of the Gish. King's Row's governing body was receptive to the idea, and they authorized the cordoning off of four streets just outside Randy's apartment.

What he needed was for his super group to help clean those streets up before the big event. He sent Roland, Nester and Zeke to gather supplies. The androids were set to the task of actually cleaning garbage off the pavement and sidewalks. However, Randy, Cedric and Kip went to work convincing the Skulls not to interfere with the festivities.

"Look, guys," Cedric announced to the masked gang members, "You'll be massively outclassed if you try anything, so really, guys, don't-"

"You don't tel us what to do, capes!"

"No," Randy growled, "Do you see capes on us?"

Cedric chuckled a little and pushed his camouflaged poncho back off his shoulder.

"The point, dumb[butts]," Kip barked, "Is that if you do cause trouble, we're gonna stomp your heads right through the pavement!"

"And we won't hesitate," Cedric reinforced, "We need something to entertain the kids."

Randy was busy crushing bricks in his hands. He wasn't really demonstrating his strength, but he was concerned with how decayed the bricks looked. The Skulls, not being masons or carpenters in any sense, saw the blocks crumbling to dust and noticeably wilted.

"Alright," the leader, a Bone Daddy called Lemeyii, muttered, "We'll keep off your backs."

"You boys might also want to look into squatting somewhere else," Randy warned as he started poking at the wall, "I think there's a leak from the sewers somewhere in here and it's causing some form of mold build-up that's eating the mortar away..."

"Well, we could always use a free repair," Lem replied sarcastically.

"Oh, if I send a crew down here, we're clearing you boneheads out. You got me?"

The Skulls all looked glumly at the floor and the heroes headed out. As they were leaving, Lemeyii turned to his crew and shrugged.

"So, you guys want to walk out of here, or get forced out?"

"Forced out!" was the resounding reply.

"Oh... Okay... I'm gonna need a hearing test at the Zig hospital anyway after that... Well, let's find a local relic, heist it, and get the attention of some heroine who looks good in her outfit..."

"I wanna see skin!" a Slicer shouted.

"Don't we all?" Lemeyii chuckled on his way to the door.

-----------

The community was slow to understand, but that was why Nester and Cory put fliers up on the telephone poles and under car windshield wipers.

Nester had just finished putting one on a car when a pair of Skulls started shooting it. The flier didn't survive the initial assault, but Nester whirled around and zapped the gunner with a microwave burst that knocked him right off his feet.

"What the Hell? Don't you guys know better than to mess with something a flying guy is doing?"

"Uh," the still-conscious gang member replied, "I... Uh..."

"Just get lost, you snaggle-toothed moron... And don't go and get turned into a Lost! We've got enough problems with those idiots than to have to deal with them spawning from the ranks of the other brain-dead morons..."

"That was uncalled for," Cory murmured, "You've got something on your mind, friend?"

"Nothing... I'm just irritable because Misty's been staying at the apartment since Aaron's on assignment. She's due any day now, and she's having these mood swings because of the hormones, and Mindy and I have been so exhausted from it all... I just snapped there I guess."

"And how is the child?"

"Healthy as can be, apparently. Dreams about race cars. I know this because I've been dreaming about race cars, and so have Mindy and Misty... And we don't really know anything about them, but he does, because he's psychic and he-"

"Calm down, my friend, calm down," Cory pulled Nester back from crashing into a wall, "You're stressed, I understand... I'll fix you a nice tea when we're done with these fliers and we can discuss some remedies for your situation."

"Okay..."

---------

"What're we doing, Mom?" Sarah asked as she and Joe arrived in Randy's apartment.

"We're marinating chicken, preparing stew, and making baked beans," Charlene replied, "We've got a lot to make and I'm going to need all the help I can get."

"That's why I'm here," Roland added as he pulled stuff out of grocery bags, "Jebus, what a day. Where's Cedric? I thought he was helping."

"Oh, he'll be showing up when he and Randy are done scaring off the Skulls," Charlene replied, "What happened to you, Roland?"

"Arachnos?" Sarah asked before she realized she'd accidentally read his mind, "Ope, I'm sorry."

"Yeah, some goons from the Isles attacked me outside my apartment," the bow-hunter replied while he dismissed his sister's concern with a wave of his hand, "Don't worry, Snuffy, I know you still have a few issues with your... Oh, hey, Ni!"

The little orange cat rubbed against his ankle and he nudged the top of its head. Ni responded with a play nip to the tip of Roland's finger.

"I love the spirit of this little guy."

"Why would Arachnos troops attack you?" Charlene asked worriedly.

"Uh... Look... It's a long story..."

Sarah's eyes had widened and her mouth was hanging agape. Once again, she'd caught what her brother had thought a second before he said something and couldn't believe the reason he had for being attacked. It had been a flash, but in just a few images, she knew the story.

"Oh my God..." she whispered.

"Sarah?" her husband hugged her by the arms and rested his head on her shoulder, "What's wrong?"

"I... I'll let Roland tell us when he's ready."

"Well I want to know now!" Charlene almost shouted, "Roland, what are you... Ope!"

Mrs. Grey ran for the bathroom and slammed it shut behind her. Her children stared after her and Joe's eyes widened a little.

"Was that... Was that nausea?"

"Mom?" Sarah asked as she approached the bathroom door, "Mom, are you alright?"

---

My Stories

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

"Ladies and gentlemen," Randall announced to the gathered crowd, "I'm not really one for speeches, but I figured something needed to be said once we got things underway..."

The people looked up to him. They literally had to look up to him. Grey happened to be one of the heroes that was towering and bulked-out as far as a human frame reasonably could be (and his physical shape possibly was still beyond that reason).

The cookout had gone without a hitch. Several hundred chicken halves, plenty of drinks and snacks, Randy had even rented a few entertainers and amusement rides like a bouncy castle, a bouncy obstacle course and carnival games. The people in the neighborhood had been skeptical at first, but as their children participated in the games and the smells of grilled chicken wafted through the neighborhood, they just felt compelled to join in the festivities.

Cedric and Matt McGinty ran the bouncy rides. Nester and his girlfriend ran the games. Roland, Kip and Zeke helped Randy serve food to the people and the others milled about, helping where they could.

The people seemed to enjoy themselves. They started to smile easily, their cares and worries were pushed aside and everyone was feeling a lot more friendly. It was a good day.

"I've been one of the powerful people among you who helped protect you. Shoulder-to-shoulder with the spandex-and-armor-clad heroes and heroines, I've helped smash the Council, the Nemesis Army, even Arachnos and I've warred with the Rikti. In the end, I feel I've done my job and left my mark in that field."

"Often on the walls and ceilings of the places those guys used as bases!" Cedric shouted.

"To help with people's everyday lives, I set up Grey's Army Construction, supplemented largely with androids but also including reformed criminals from gangs like the Outcasts, the Hellions and the Skulls. Surprisingly, I've received little trouble with this endeavor, but it's probably because Sam and I threatened to break limbs if they ever went back to their criminal ways..."

"Definitely," the former Carnival of Shadows Strongman concurred between licks of his ice cream, "I've had to tell lots of guys that if they didn't put the TVs and stereos back where they got 'em and get back to dry-wallin', I'd be makin' a centipede out of 'em."

"I like to think that we've been making a difference," Randall continued, "But I also think I've overstayed my welcome. It's not that I feel I haven't made a difference, but there are other heroes out there, more dedicated heroes, more willing heroes. I think it's time I started focusing on my own home and left the star-catching to the newcomers."

The crowd looked at him quietly. They didn't seem to see his announcement as a loss for them. He was just another nameless hero to them, even if he was a local hero. It was unsettling for Grey, but it was a better reaction than he could have gotten. Soon enough, someone would take his place, anyway, so it was understandable. The ashen faces of his family, friends and the heroes who worked for him was the reaction he expected more.

"What are you talking about?" Kip asked as the crowd returned to the festivities, "You think we're done here?"

"We've done what we can, boy," Randy grunted as he served himself a chicken half and turned to getting baked beans, "But I'm not speaking for you, Kip. I'm speaking for me... I'm done."

"Why, dad?" Cedric whispered angrily, "I mean, is it that you're bored? Are you just not challenged? You grow rock out of your body! You have to be a hero!"

"I don't have to do anything. Look at me, son. I'm getting old... Really old. I'm over fifty years old and my hair's finally turning gray. I'm withered, I'm tired... I need to call it in, and I need to take care of things back home."

"But there are plenty of elderly heroes! I mean... Being old doesn't mean you're less effective! You're a burly tank that can punch bad guys into the stratosphere and hurl chunks of pavement into the horizon! You're made of rock... Kind of... And nothing can stop you!"

"But something is stopping me, Ced, and it's time I recognized it for what it is," the big man growled softly.

"I'm not ready to say you're dying," Cedric snapped back and stormed back to the bouncy castle.

"I haven't seen you slowing down," Kip muttered, "If anything, you've been strolling at most people's top speed lately."

"Let it go, son," Zeke gripped the young man's shoulder softly and ushered him aside, "A man makes his own choices in life."

"Thanks, Zeke."

"Don't think this is over, though, Randy," the other man wagged his finger knowingly, "I don't know what it is that you're really bothered by, but age isn't holding you back. You and I are about the same age, and I've had gray hair longer than you. I'm staying, I've got things I need to see through to the end, and I don't even know what half of them are. Still, I'm not going to give you a hard time right now. For now, let's eat, drink and have a good time."

----------

The celebration continued into the night. A few other heroes dropped by to see what the hub-bub was, very few of any significant fame. However, there was one pair that, had they been in uniform, they would have drawn a collective gasp. Instead, it looked like a gray-haired old woman strolling with her grandson who appeared to be in his mid-to-late twenties.

"I'm going to go see Randall," the man said to the lady, "You sure you'll be okay without me?"

"I've told you plenty of times, dad," she replied, "I'll be okay."

The young-looking man disappeared into the crowd while the lady made her way to a table to sit. There, she found Roland Grey consoling Kipland Durj. The scrapper-class hero seemed really aggravated about some form of responsibility being shoved off onto him and the bow-hunter was helping him put things in perspective.

"Look, man, it's not like you'll be alone on this. The Army's a small group at the moment, we all know each other, it's not like we're going to leave you hanging when you need help or when we all need to hunker down and work on somethin' together."

"I know that," Kip barked, "But Randy's like... He's like... He's our ROCK! He's the one we can always turn to when things get rough!"

"Excuse me, young men," the lady said smoothly, "I've been walking all day, and I really need a place to sit. May I have this seat?"

"Sure," Roland replied, "We're not saving it for anyone."

The little old lady smiled and slid easily onto the bench with a smooth grace of a ballerina. She looked about the crowd for a few minutes before she focused her attention on the two boys with which she sat.

"So, what do you two have to do with all of this?"

"I'm keeping an eye out for anyone suspicious," Kip replied, "So far, the bad guys have been smart enough to know that we're the kinds of heroes who do bad things to bad people, and even worse when the bad guys try to hurt perfectly fine, innocent people."

"That's good," she favored Kip with a smile, then turned to Roland, "And you?"

"I'm the son of the guy throwing this shindig. I helped with the cooking, the serving... I helped get prizes for the games... We put a lot of work and effort into this. I'm actually a little surprised that... Ooh! Look, Matt's getting into the dunk tank!"

Across the street, Mad Matt McGinty was getting inside the dunk tank that had only arrived a couple hours earlier. After Sheldon had carefully inspected it (Kip had raised concerns that some villain group might have messed with it), the heroes drew straws as to who would go into the tank. Randy would, of course, go last. First, however, was Matt.

"Okay, everybody, for your enjoyment, we added ice to the water!" he announced happily, "It's an insulated tank, too, so this is gonna be so cold, I might just forget my gender!"

This got a laugh from the crowd, and he continued with the proper behavior of the dunk tank victim...

"Not that I have to worry... You're all a bunch of noodle-armed sissies!"

The first contestant, a guy who looked like he was on a local baseball team, bulls-eyed the target and Matt was dumped into the drink. He flailed around inside for a few seconds before suddenly bounding out of the water and finding his way to the seat. He breathed rapid gasps of breath and dared the contestant to try that again.

Instead, the contestant handed his next ball to a little kid and went to claim his prize. As Matt jeered him on, the kid threw the ball and missed the target. Before Matt could start taunting the kid (even though he didn't intend to), Cedric stepped around the wall and swatted the target anyway, dumping his apartment roommate into the drink to the laughter and applause of the crowd.

"He shouldn't do that," Kip muttered, "He's next."

"I should probably start firing up the hot chocolate, then," Roland grunted, "I make some awesome hot chocolate, ma'am."

"That's what I hear," she replied, "My daughter speaks very highly of her friends, especially you."

Roland's brow furrowed at that. He turned to Kip and shrugged to his friend's expression of shock.

"It's so good that she's making friends among the more simple-minded heroes," the elderly lady sighed, "Her grandfather never really got the chance... He was propped up as a poster boy almost from the beginning and found himself having to live up to an example I don't think he ever really felt he exemplified. I was a little luckier... I was able to live mostly out of the spotlight... Live my own life... I just hope my daughter gets to find someone for herself as well. Someone nice and loyal... Someone who can understand her..."

Roland and Kip were leaning away from her now. They suddenly figured out who the lady was, and while it caused no small amount of confusion for Roland, it was causing them both to feel a more pressing sense of dread. She was being friendly now, but they were both quite certain the other shoe was about to fall.

"You boys don't need to sit like that, I won't bite," the out-of-uniform Miss Liberty giggled, "My precocious youth is over... I wasn't blessed with the... gift of immortality as my father was."

"For a while there, it seemed my dad had that going for him, too," Roland sighed as he edged back to a more comfortable position, "Then my sister got married, and he started getting gray hair..."

"Age happens to a lot of us," she sighed, "Fortunately, you've got years ahead of you before you start to look like me."

"Lady, he ain't gonna look like you," Kip chuckled, "He's gonna look like a shorter, fatter version of his old man."

"Thanks, Kip. You just cut my ego in half. You're a wonderful friend. By the way, I
m Roland."

"Alexis," she replied as she shook his hand, "Kip, I've heard about you, as well. How goes your condition?"

"It's remissive," he replied, "No idea if it'll come back, but I have my doubts that the Obsidian Blight ever really left. I've got this snazzy purple glow to my eyes, and have frequent one-on-ones with my soul, though. No pain, and it's been a lot harder to put me in a hospital as of late. Are you sure it's a good idea to be telling anyone your name?"

"Well, that's good. And, yes I feel safe telling you my name. My time as an in-the-spotlight heroine is over. I just direct Freedom Corps now, flip through reports on what heroes are doing, check and see if the groups in our affiliation are up to anything special and so forth."

"So, you just dropped by here to see what my dad was doing?" Roland asked.

"Well, it wasn't my idea. You see... Your father said something to mine... And he hasn't been too keen to let it go..."

"He heard about how my dad ticked off Megan, huh?"

"Yep."

"Well," Kip blinked and stood up on top of the table to get a view over the crowd, "This should prove to be interesting..."

----------

"I hear you're retiring," the blonde young man said as Randy hugged his exhausted wife close to himself, "Seems a bit of a shame. A man who can organize something like this can do a lot of good for the city."

"Well, this isn't my going away bash," the big man replied, "This is just something I felt needed doing... Shows the gangs that they're not in charge, shows the villains that the people aren't afraid."

"They're not afraid because they know if anyone tries to hurt them, you're here to stomp them into a hole."

Randy looked up at the man and was about to retort when he caught the look in the man's eyes. Those icy blue irises... He'd seen them before, up close.

"What do you want," he growled half-amusedly, "You star-spangled sack of-"

"Enough," Statesman interrupted him, "And that wasn't funny the first time."

"Got something of a laugh the way I hear it..."

"Well, I just wanted to let you know..." Marcus leaned in close so only Randy could hear, "Of all the things I've forgotten, your challenge isn't among them. Simply put... Before you can leave, you gotta live up to that challenge."

"You're not serious."

"I need heroes like you, Randy. I need ones who are willing to make a difference, and if it's what I have to do to keep you, I'm dead serious. If you can't beat me in an arena, you can't leave your service to this city."

"Most people retire at my age," Grey grunted, "Especially from hazardous work like this."

"Fifty-five, Randall," Cole narrowed his eyes and grinned a little, "Besides, I've been doing this for almost a century."

"I'm not immortal."

"But you're close. Remember what I said."

And with that, the blonde young man was lost to the crowd. Grey sat there as he held his wife, pondering what paths lay before him at that moment. Sure, he didn't really have to fight the city's champion, but if he just left, what would that say about him? Was he a coward if he didn't fight Statesman? Did he care?

"Randy?" Charlene murmured as she snuggled into his pect.

"Yeah, hon?"

"I think I'm pregnant."

He blinked at her. Charlene Daring-Grey was forty-eight years old. Though they didn't like to talk about it, she had been undergoing the symptoms of menopause scant days before the Rikti attack. However, she now had the body of a twenty-three-year-old... She was physically the same age as their daughter.

"Are you sure?" he asked, the disbelief easily evident in his tone.

"No, not yet," she muttered sleepily, "But... I've been having morning sickness and general nausea... I've been feeling kind of... blah... You know... Tired... I don't know, it's been so long, but I just feel... Something, you know?"

"And what does Sol'ra say about it?"

"She's confused. Apparently, a host getting pregnant is very rare for kheldians, especially since they usually only bond with warriors, and they tend not to... You know."

"Well, I understand that they do do that," Randy grunted, "But yeah, warrior women tend not to be looking to raise a family when they're itching for a fight."

"Precisely."

"Well," he finally sighed and hugged her closer, "The hits just keep on coming, don't they?"

"I love you, Randy."

"I love you, too, Char."

----------

The night wore on and the festivities came to a close. The people of the neighborhood that Randall had called home for the past two years withdrew back to their apartments and the streets slowly drew back into a midnight quiet. Cory and Kip were talking about the next time they would throw something like this together. Randall could have sworn he heard something about bands...

Whatever it was, it was out of his hands now. Despite what others had told him or threatened him with, he planned to be gone before Christmas. He had to move on, even if others weren't ready for that.

As he and his wife reached their building, he heard an urgent whisper behind him.

"Mister Grey! Mister Grey!"

He turned and saw a familiar face. The last time he'd really seen this guy, he'd been wearing a tattered Council uniform. Now, Archon White was in a pair of blue jeans and a white T-shirt, like some sort of magazine ad model. The guy looked the part, too. In other circumstances, the guy could probably find a more lucrative profession.

Unfortunately, there were too many people that needed Archon Michael White in his current position within the Council, chief of which was the Center himself. The commander still didn't know what his leader wanted with him, but he knew he was in it until the end.

"What do you want?" Grey asked, "Honey, go ahead and go to bed without me..."

"Are you going to be alright?" Charlene said in a half-sleep.

"I'll be fine," her massive husband replied with a grin and a chuckle, "You go ahead and get your rest."

When she was gone, the tanker turned his full attention on the Archon. White stood there sheepishly. It was not a flattering posture, but he didn't like being out in the open like he was.

"What is it?" Randall grunted, "Come on, out with it. It's late, I'm tired, and tomorrow I've gotta help with the cleanup."

"Well... Where to begin... Do you know of Ouroboros and the Menders?"

"Yeah," Randy shrugged, "I'm one of their 'Entrusted.'"

"Well... I trust you've heard some of their ridiculous claims."

"That I and just about every hero in this city is somehow responsible for the Council taking over the Fifth Column? Yeah. That one made me chuckle."

"My communiques with the Center have dealt with this concern as well. In fact, my master says he remembers quite clearly leading Nosferatu, Burkholder, and Arakhn in the battle that vanquished Requiem and the last of his forces."

"If he's vanquished, then why is he still alive?"

"The Center believed he could salvage the Fifth Column, make them into a proper force of change in this world," Michael shrugged and took a seat on the hand rest next to the stairs, "Things are getting rocky, though. Requiem is still trying to undermine him."

"How do the old Column leaders like the fact that you're of African descent?"

"They don't," Michael shook his head, "I fight just as hard as any of them, better than most, even... But since I've been taken under the Center's wing, I've stopped getting the crap assignments I got when you and I met for the first time. The guy's old-school Italian, but he's surprisingly colorblind. It... It gives me a lot of hope that I'm not just wasting my time in Boomtown."

"Boomtown?" Randy arched an eyebrow and glared pointedly at his informant.

"So far, I'm just on standby. I train my men, we watch what's going on in the news, but we don't do anything huge. No heists, no assaults... I don't know what the Center's prepping us for, but I do know what he wants me to say to you..."

"And that is?"

"He wants you to join the Midnight Squad," the Archon shrugged, "I don't get it, myself. I don't know what the Squad has to do with anything, but he said he wants you to join up with the Midnighters and do as they tell you to. He said it's best for everybody, including himself, but especially you and the rest of the heroes."

"I'll give it a look," Grey grumbled, "Now get out of here."

---

My Stories

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

--Two Weeks Pass...--

"Hey there, Kip," Roland barked out his passenger-side window, "Hop in, I'll give you a lift!"

The scrapper nodded and hopped in through the open window. The burly young Grey arched and eyebrow at the smaller young man, but drove on once Kip had buckled his seatbelt.

"So, where ya headed?"

"Oh, just back to my apartment... After two weeks of dealing with the Midnighters and their 'Cure for the Lost,' I'm mentally and spiritually drained."

"Tried to use it on Amy, huh?"

"I had to try," Kip sighed, "She even let me do it, but it didn't work. It just coated her in a green glow and dissipated after its last charge."

"I'm sorry, man."

Kip shrugged and gazed down the street as they rode along. At the next red light, he started sniffing loudly.

"Roll... Are you wearing some sort of flowery cologne?"

"No."

"Then what the Hell am I smelling?"

Roland's eyes arced up and to the left briefly before he answered.

"Well... I had to help Ms. Liberty with some grocery shopping."

"What?" Kip looked to his friend incredulously.

"Some Hellion torched her car while she was on patrol. She could have used her super leap to get to the store, but how was she supposed to carry all of those bags without them breaking on her?"

"Good point," the scrapper muttered in between blowing air rapidly out of his nostrils, "Gah, why does this stuff always smell like chemicals to me?"

"Well, I also helped her get around and find another vehicle. She just got it a couple days ago."

"So, you know where she lives?"

"No. I'd drive back to my apartment, she'd take her stuff back to her place then bring the jeep back. Last time, she filled the tank for me."

"That was nice of her," Kip was rubbing his temples at this point, "You're... You're not falling in love with her or anything, are you? What you just described sounds incredibly excessive for a friendship."

"It's no more than I'd expect of a friend in an emergency, man. I mean, you, Nester... I could see you guys helping me like this, too."

"Would she?"

Roland glanced at Kip and shrugged.

"It's never come up. It has for your brother and me, back home, in our senior year. It was winter, and-"

There was a shout and a shape leaped up onto the hood of Roland's jeep. He barked out a curse and hit the brakes as the skinny body rolled up over the hood and dropped next to the driver's side window.

"Was that Levi?"

Roland looked out his window and saw the regenerating scrapper lying on the asphalt. His leg was bent at an odd angle, but it didn't look broken. What was distressing, though, was the tip of a knife blade sticking out of his chest.

"Hey, Bake," he grunted down, "You dead?"

"No man," the skinny man replied, "Not yet."

"Need help? I could back up and run you over a couple more times."

"No... No. You've helped enough."

There was a flash and the corner of the cab next to Kip exploded, causing the short young man to shout in surprise. Roland started cursing and slammed his foot against the gas pedal, causing his jeep's tires to squeal and the machine hurtled forward.

"What the Hell is going on!?" he shouted.

"I don't know!" Kip replied almost hysterically.

"I was talking to him!"

Roland nodded back out the window, where Psycho13 had jabbed a pair of blades into the rear driver-side door. His legs were dragging on the asphalt and suffering a severe case of road rash, but that didn't seem to be bothering him as he held on for dear life. Eventually, the scrapper gained his footing, started running alongside the jeep, opened the door and hopped inside.

It was at this point Kip noticed the gaping hole in his friend's hip.

"Jebus, man, what the Hell happened to you!?"

"What's going on?" Roland repeated angrily.

There was another flash and a bright bolt of energy melted through the rear window, sheared off Levi's ear and dissipated as it struck the windshield, causing the glass to warp.

Roland shouted as he tried to peer through the suddenly hazy glass, but stopped having to as Kip reared a leg back and kicked the whole thing out. Cubes of glass blew back into them, and the heroes squinted to keep any of it from getting into their eyes.

Suddenly, there was a thump on the roof and a pair of footprints dented inward. Psycho13 was screaming about his slowly reforming ear, Roland was struggling to keep the jeep on the road, so Kip knew what he had to do.

The Grey's Army "Colonel" pulled himself out of the vehicle through the passenger-side window and looked up at the New Horizon Syndicate Agent aiming a weird looking pistol at him. Kip's eyes glowed suddenly and he shot the weapon out of the cyborg's hand, torching some flesh off the fingers at the same time.

"Target unidentified. Sending image to database-"

Kip vaulted himself onto the roof of the car, rolled on his shoulder, and planted his foot in the agent's belly. Sweeping his other foot around, he tripped the man off his feet and the agent was smashed against the grill of an approaching freight truck and crushed under the machine's wheels and heavy weight.

The martial artist braced for an explosion that he half-remembered hearing about, but it never came. Something must not have routed properly in the machine's body and the explosive charges didn't go off.

"You guys okay?" he asked as he pulled himself back in.

"I gotta remember what you just did, man," Levi shouted as he covered the sticky mass that would soon be a perfect copy of his lost ear, "That was a ballsy move. Definitely ballsy."

"What the Hell just happened!?" Grey once again found himself barking.

----------

"So that's the story," Daren finished explaining what had happened in the past two days to cause the BWO rogues to be permanently stationed in Paragon City and powerless.

Worst hit, so far, was James Baker, who still had the Skulls of Rage hovering only a few centimeters from his chest and shoulder. Sure, he could go out in public and most would mistake him for some form of "dark, brooding hero," but the downside was that most people would see him as some dark, brooding hero, and the local criminals would probably take pot shots at him. The moment James' electric armor sparked up, it would be over for him, and Police Drones would zap him to the Zig faster than he could blink.

"That's terrible, man," Kip muttered, "What are you guys going to do?"

"I've got a plan," Levi chuckled as he and Charles Reynolds were messing around with the laptop connected to the device in his inner ear, "Here we go, here we go..."

"Yes, this should do nicely..." Charles looked up to the rest of the BWO, "Alright, boys... I really hate to do this to you, and I'm surprised I actually mean that, but we need to move anything you guys intend to keep out of here and somewhere you think is safe. Then... Then the fun begins."

"You're gonna blow this place up, aren't you?" Draven asked.

"It'll be controlled," Levi explained, "We'll get some of the Air Guard to help us set the charges... We're not gonna end up with a sink hole like they did in Cap."

"We didn't exactly have a plan," Matt muttered, "It just sort of happened."

"Arachnos is still searching through their records for whomever's base that was," Justin intoned to Kip and Roland, "I sure hope that deal you made with 'the Doctor,' works out."

"The Doc says she'll take care of everything," Kip replied confidently, "Peebee's providing the connection she needs to crack into their networks as we speak, so everything should be gravy in a couple hours."

"Well, not everything," Roland growled, "There's still the matter of how we're getting my jeep fixed."

Kip refrained from saying "Ask your girlfriend." He'd heard similar implications more than enough when he'd been hanging out with Roland's sister from elementary school through to high school. He'd made his jabs in the past, but now it was unnecessarily juvenile (instead of playfully juvenile, as it was when he and Round's dad first started ribbing him).

---

My Stories

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

Nobody really paid much attention to the large, pale-skinned, business suit-clad men who approached the various blue portals across the city. Nor did they take much heed of the black-and-white clad "ninjas" that followed them. Each one presented a device that gave them access to the network of hero bases dotted throughout the city and, after they found the one they were looking for, they casually stepped into the blue field.

They must have been heroes. Right?

What the group found in the base they'd chosen were empty rooms and empty corridors. However, there was a conversation deeper in the complex. The twenty agents and sorcerers (ten of each type) worked their way deeper into the base, cautiously searching the rooms and finding that they were empty save for a few cots and pillows. It seemed as if they were the guest quarters for anyone purchasing the base's services.

In the middle of the base was a large chamber that most other heroes crammed full of teleportation pads. However, in this base, it simply held a large, square fighting ring in the center. The agents didn't seem shocked by it, nor did their sorcerer support, and they calmly stepped around it without a word.

When they made their way to the back room where the conversation was taking place, they found a computer surrounded by four large speakers. On the laptop's screen was a group of individuals matching the descriptions of some of the meta humans they were looking for. They were playing a game of cards.

"I fold," the man with a dirty blonde goatee muttered, "You're too good at this game, James."

"Maybe I should try my hand at the Giza," the one wearing metal skull ornaments replied.

"Hey guys," the one matching the description of Charles Reynolds muttered, "Looks like our guests have finally arrived."

The group turned to the camera and seemed to be looking at the agents and sorcerers of the NHS. They set down their cards and stared impassively at the intruders. A heavy-set blonde surreptitiously lifted James' cards and looked at them while Charles spoke.

"I was hoping one of your bosses would have come with you to see that the job was done properly, but it seems that the directors are still too chicken-[dreck] to do anything themselves. Pft. No wonder I was so blind to what they were doing to me. I was playing with the new toys while they sat back and watched their profit margins. Well, now they get to watch as one of their projects nose-dives into the red..."

One agent approached the computer and glared into the camera.

"This is Agent Curtis, One Zero Nine Three. You are slated for execution. Where are you?"

"Where you can't find us," a skinny young man replied as he handed canned drinks to his friends, "Once we found the tracker in that old laptop, we knew all we had to do was set it off to get you guys to come running."

Agent Curtis said nothing. As the two groups stared at each other through the live feed, the BWO group grew slowly larger as absent members were roused from whatever recreation they were engaged in so they could witness the exchange. Eventually, the whole group was present to witness the end of this.

"And now, we're going to get rid of yet another squad of you dopes," Chuck finished, "You see, we got a little help from some friends..."

-----------

--Earlier that week--

"Alright," the Air Guard Engineer explained as he placed a set of bombs that seemed to have gas canisters attached to them, "these are some nasty throwbacks to our days as Sky Raiders. They emit a highly flammable gas that a concentrated spark will set ablaze. I've seen this stuff work, and it's kind of pretty... A bright green flame envelopes most of everything. The burst lasts less than a minute, but it incinerates everything to a near-useless state."

He started placing the charges under the ring.

"You guys sure you don't want to save this thing? It looks like a lot of effort went into it."

"A lot of effort did go into it," Draven replied, "But we want to make sure these guys think we still intend to come back here."

He sighed as he looked at the ring. It was the third one they'd made. The first blasted apart by Sky Raider Skiffs, the second destroyed with the Rogue Island base, and now this one was soon to go as well. He hoped Paragon City officials didn't mind the spectacular nature of it, but they were trying to make a point the New Horizon Syndicate wouldn't soon forget.

"What else are you loading into the ducts?" he asked.

"We're throwing some C-4 into the air ducts, putting them on support studs that only really hold up the ceiling. When this thing goes, you'll probably want to send someone in to put a new support beam in here, but I don't think it'll be necessary."

"Why?"

The engineer shrugged.

"According to my GPS, we're under the Folly. Only a few people come out here, and they aren't the type to report a new sink hole to the city."

"You know where we are?" Dale asked as he walked by with a cardboard box of stuff he'd gathered, "How do you-?"

"Global Positioning," the engineer grinned as he waved his watch at them, "Oh, I get it. You guys deal with so many weird contraptions, you forget about the normal ones. I'm not knockin' ya, it happens to me, too. Yesterday, I forgot how to set the clock on my DVD player, can you believe that?"

"But you know where we are," Draven stroked his jawbone, "Something seems a little, I don't know, dangerous about that."

"Well, I don't know exactly where we are," the engineer clicked on his communicator and muttered into it, "John. Yeah, it's me. I'm almost done here... Maybe another hour or so. Where am I again? Ah. We're under the northwestern section of the Folly, guys, but that's as close as I can call."

"And now we know!" Psycho13 chortled as he sped past, "Thanks!"

----------

--Grey's Army Base--

Chuck pressed a button on his remote control. He and the rest of the BWO crew watched as a cloud of green flame rushed up behind the NHS interlopers and consumed them before the feed went dead. They cheered briefly before turning to each other to determine what else there was to do.

"I say we investigate other old Committee businesses," Reynolds explained, "We're bound to find out where this New Horizon is based and then we can take the fight to them!"

"It sounds like a plan," James muttered, "But maybe they'll just leave us alone now, you know? I mean, everything's even now, right? Sure, we're still alive and all, but look what it cost us to fight them off. If we left them alone, you'd think they'd figure we got whipped bad enough."

"Except for one thing," Draven had his sword balancing on its tip on the floor as he twirled the weapon around lazily, "We've got Chuck. As long as we have him, we have evidence of their criminal behavior. Now, we're not really law-enforcers, but we've had our fair share of what some locals call 'hero work.' It won't be long before the Syndicate sends another round of goons after us."

The group looked amongst each other and the rest were looking to their two leaders. Draven and James looked to each other and sighed.

"We'll have to duel to see where we go with this, won't we?" James sighed, "It's not like we can just play a game of cards or put this to a vote. I mean, who here cna truly be considered unbiased?"

"Lord knows I just want to have this over with," Levi muttered, "I've been through too much. I don't... I don't even know what I'm saying half the time anymore, guys. One second I'm all manic and happy, the next I'm like this, all mopey... Then there are the nightmares... I remember what it felt like when they did this to me... I want them to pay, I want this over with... It's all too much."

"Your brother has a point," Solo nodded to James, "He deserves some revenge."

"But I don't want you guys to suffer for me," the regenerator added, "It's my revenge."

"Well, you're suffering as it is, man," Draven patted his shoulder, "I mean, we just nuked your music collection."

"Nah, I saved the songs on a second hard drive. What I need now is a transmitter, then I'll have the ultimate MP-Three player again."

"We almost went to prison because of those [butt]holes!" Matt suddenly shouted as he waved at himself and Daren, "An entire stadium, down in flames just so they could mess with us like we were puppets! No! I am not going to let them get away with that!"

"That was years ago, Dirty," James interrupted, "With all the times we've talked to the cops, if you two were supposed to be arrested it would have been done by now."

"Well, that's a good point, Jimmy," Daren chuckled at the glowering his skull-clad friend gave him, "Frankly, I'd like to hear what my brother has to say about this..."

"I say we haul this stuff to the derrick and get back to our transport business," Dale shook his head, "Sorry guys, but I don't feel like fighting a war. Besides, now that we aren't moored to the Big Two, we can really branch out our services."

"I meant Dustin," the stalker murmured, "Where is he?"

----------

--A Sunken Hole Just North of the Old Rikti Crash Site Gate--

The cyborg that was once Agent Curtis 1093 pulled itself out of the rubble and looked at its body. Flesh was hanging off its metal-plated skeleton, it couldn't see out its left eye, but the right eye was able to compensate for the lost depth perception.

Curtis wasn't like a lot of other agents, he was one of the more heavily reinforced types. He had an autonomous artificial intelligence, indeed, it may have been the actual personality of the corpse his cybernetic components were built into; but he wouldn't know that personally since his mind had been programmed to obey the will of the New Horizon Syndicate.

A group of Freakshow Tanks were standing at the edge of the pit and looking down at him. They must have thought he was another hero, because they started launching grenades and circular saw blades at him. When the smoke cleared, however, Agent Curtis stood in the center of the pit, holding one of the blades in his right hand.

"Normally, you'd all be dead by now," his mechanical voice emitted tinnily from his throat, "But I have better things to do right now, so get lost."

"No way, cape!" one tank shouted as he trundled down into the hole with him, "You just ruined our basketball court, you're gonna pay for it with your... Your... Hide?"

"I bet his parts would make some pretty cool implants!" a Swiper shouted.

"Yeah!" the Tank laughed before the saw blade the agent threw sunk into his forehead and he dropped to the ground.

The rest looked on, horrified, as Agent Curtis pulled the impromptu weapon out of their friend's head and turned to the others. He reared back to throw and they scattered. There was an electric sound as the Tank behind him somehow came back to life.

"That's unusual," Curtis muttered as the young man grumbled and held a clawed hand near his head, "I could have sworn this thing cleaved into the right half of your brain."

"Well, that's the beautiful thing about Excelsior," the Tank barked, "It can fix ANYTHING! You just have to have enough of the stuff."

"Well, your friends ran off. If you don't want me chopping off the top half of your head with this thing, you should do the same."

The Tank nodded and ran off. He'd gotten the hint that this was no hero he was dealing with. When he was gone, Curtis clicked on his transponder and sent a signal to the nearest NHS Retrieval Unit.

"Mission failed. Special Unit heavily damaged. Support teams wiped out. Base destroyed. Targets escaped. They knew we were coming."

There was a rumbling in the rocks and Agent Curtis whipped around, popped a panel open on his chest and reached into the compartment there to draw an energy pistol all in one smooth motion. He fired a couple rounds into the dirt. In a world like this, one could never be certain what would be coming out after you.

When the ground stopped shaking, Curtis let out a sigh of relief that he didn't have to fight a Devouring earth monster. However, as he turned around, his relief was replaced rapidly with anger and alarm. Dustin Simms, King Slater in the BWO, stood before him with a black spiked mace in his hand. Curtis fired a shot, but crystalline armor suddenly spiked out of the tanker's body and deflected the energy round. More armor followed in quick succession afterward, including the thick dirt that wrapped around his legs and rooted him to the ground.

Slater smashed the pistol aside with one swing of his Black Mauler, then smashed the cyborg back with a backhanded attack. Curtis kipped himself off the ground, but Slater was gone once he landed on his feet. When he whirled around, scanning anywhere he thought the tanker could be, a rumbling caught his attention and he came back around to find Slater rising from the earth behind him.

The tanker caught a hold of Agent Curtis' throat and slowly started lifting him into the air. It wasn't super strength that enabled the young man to do it, but raw determination.

Seeing an opportunity to extricate himself, Curtis chopped into Dustin's elbow, but this only succeeded in causing him to be brought closer to his enemy's face. Slater growled, smacked him on the side of his head with his mace, then lifted the machine straight into the air. Curtis had a dim memory of this sort of maneuver before he was brought crashing back to the rubble.

Before the agent could get back up, Slater lifted the Mauler and smashed it into his metallic skull. He repeated this two more times as he held the enemy down. Though a contender wasn't meant to perform his own "three-count," Slater made sure the falls were steady, even and fair. Agent Curtis just never seemed inclined to "kick out" of the count and wound up losing to pinfall.

"That's why you're not a contender," the tanker chuckled to the prone body.

A humming sound alerted him to the floating limousine behind him. The windows were tinted, so he couldn't see who was inside as it started to fly away. So, he picked up a rock and threw it at the rear-passenger window. A moment later, the vehicle came back down and Slater stared impassively for its passengers to reveal themselves. The door opened and Angela Greene stepped out with a sigh.

"So, you are behind this."

"Where's Charles?"

"I'm not telling you that," Dustin tapped the Mauler against his calf as another large, business suit-clad man exited the limousine on the other side.

"Well, then at least let us have that corpse," she implored the tanker, "One, we will fight you for it, and two, we need to know who ordered him to hunt you and your friends down."

"I think I'm staring at her."

"You are such a simple-minded fool," the red-haired woman growled, "If I were to be seeking your destruction, I wouldn't be so obtuse as to utilize the personal resources of New Horizon. I would have hired rogues from out of the Etoile Isles."

"I'll remember that," the tanker grumbled.

"Look, Slater, I want to know who's behind this as much as you do."

"That has nothing to do with Chuck."

"In order to know what I'm looking for, I need all the information I need!" she shouted.

"Well, you're gonna have to make do with this wreck," Slater kicked the body aside a little, "He should be a direct line to whatever is doing all of this."

She and her apparent bodyguard watched the young man walk away. When he was safely gone, the two looked at each other and shrugged.

"I was expecting a fight," she fixed her hair a little in relief, "I guess we're just lucky it was him and not one of the others. As I understand it, they tend more toward the 'Scorched Earth' policies."

"I'll get the head," the large agent said as he started pulling the cranium off the comatose body, "You activate the charges once we're safely away."

"Yes, sir."

---

My Stories

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

"Okay, let's try this again," Roland growled as he and Kip got into his jeep, "We already lost a week because of those shenanigans with Levi and the Order..."

"You know we're taking responsibility for that?" Kip asked.

"For what?"

"That new crater they put into the Folly. Freedom Corps linked them with Grey's Army and we decided that since they work with us anyway, we'll just assume the responsibility. Crey sent your dad a bill for the reconstruction."

"That's all they've got?" the portly hunter asked as he started the engine, "Jebus. Sounds like someone's ticked about all the 'Paragon Protectors' he smashed through various walls and ceilings."

"Well, they could do a lot of things, but they know it's excessively unwise to upset people like Randy. Heck, he stomped another hole out there in defiance. I think his words were..."

"Looks the same," Roland nodded.

"So..." Kip wiped his hand over the dashboard and ran his fingers along the door seams, "Matt did a good job patching this thing together, huh?"

"Well, he had that Lou guy helping. He said the only thing he couldn't get out of Boomtown was a decent windshield. That cost me 'G', but otherwise the jeep's in tip-top shape."

Kip looked incredulously at his friend.

"A 'G'!??"

"Well... I figured, since it's a crazy world..."

"What?"

Roland smiled and patted the dash in front of his steering wheel.

"Good thing I had a diesel packed into this baby. I had Matt put a little extra plating into this baby... The windshield is bullet proof glass, too. Up next, I'm going to try to get a reinforced bike rack for the front, but I'm really going to utilize it as a ram."

"Like a cop car?"

"Yeah."

Roland glanced at Kip. He expected his friend to like the fact that he was starting to get into the whole notion about being a hero, but the incredulous look on the younger man's face was not the desired reaction.

"Oh, come on!" he shouted as he put his view back toward the road, "First, everybody's harping on me because I'm not taking this seriously. Now everybody's getting scared because I'm taking this seriously!"

"I think you need to stop seeing her, Roland," Kip intoned, "She's muddling up your brain, making you feed into all this crap!"

"You feed into all of this crap!"

"This life was thrust upon me, Roland! It was thrust upon your father, your mother... I think people who seek this work, like Cedric and Matt, are sick in the head! Why would anybody want to be shot at, stabbed, slashed or burned!?"

"You're wrong, little man. She has nothing to do with this. In fact, I haven't even seen her in the past week or so. No... What brought me to this decision was what happened last time I was driving."

"Yeah, but that was a B.W.O. thing," Kip shrugged in confusion, "They weren't after you..."

"Precisely. They weren't, yet I wound up suffering anyway. You wound up having to finish Levi's fight. It served as a lesson for me."

"Which is?"

"It doesn't matter what I choose to do, there are others out there who pose a threat to everything I hold dear. Regardless of my belief, they will cut me down, either deliberately or in the crossfire."

"And last week it was almost the crossfire," Kip nodded, "I had that happen to me a couple times when I was climbing through the ranks. The Malta Group, for instance, would be tearing down the street, shooting down every hero that moved just to cover the fact that they were after some other guy... Often that other guy was long gone by the time they arrived, too."

"That's crazy..."

They stopped outside a building in Skyway City and Roland plugged a few numbers into his communicator. Shortly thereafter, Kip's older brother showed up, hovering down from above. Fortunately, he was dressed in his "official" attire, and not some sort of bizarre angelic ensemble.

"Get in the car, you hanyak!" Roland shouted out his window, "Cripes, we're a week late a and he's playing around!"

"The Squad has patience," a deep, breathy voice said from behind them.

Roland and Kip whirled around to see their group's wizard sitting patiently in the rear seat. He was dressed in his "black and gold" formal robe and his eyes had a pleasing shine to them.

"Jebus, Cory," Kip muttered as he resumed his seat, "You about gave me a damn heart attack..."

Nester took the other rear seat, then leaned out the window to wave to Mindy. She blew him a kiss, then tapped the side of her head and he nodded before pulling himself back into the jeep.

"Guys! Misty's gonna be having her kid this week!" he almost shouted, "Just so you know..."

"Oh man," Kip almost gasped as he remembered his newest brother and his wife, "Good lord, how long has it been since she got pregnant?"

"Comic book nine months, I guess," Roland replied.

"Actually, it's something of an anomaly," Nester mused, "See... Normally, the gestation period for a human female is around nine months. However, Misty seemed to take forever... After that psychic incident over at your place, Kip, I'm positing that our new nephew's extended time in development was because of his awakened psychic abilities."

"That's unusual," Cory mused, "I wonder if that makes the child a mutant or a natural psychic..."

"Most of the doctors are leaning toward the first option."

"And what do you think?"

"I'd throw my vote in for natural. The only thing that links Aaron or Misty to anything remotely psychic is..."

The jeep suddenly got deathly quiet, save for the sounds of the diesel engine. They all had the same thought, that if the Carnies found out one of their wayward sisters had birthed a psychic, they may try to lay some form of convoluted claim on the boy. Roland broke the silence with a simple expletive.

"Dammit."

"Well, it's okay," Kip's breath was a little rapid, but he seemed to have a handle on his composure, "Now we know something that has a good chance of coming down the pipe. All we have to do is plan for and deal with it when it hits."

The rest of the companions nodded eagerly at this notion. Thus far, there hadn't been a single problem they'd come across that couldn't be solved with gratuitous violence. All kidding aside, Roland and Cory's enthusiasm was particularly subdued.

----------

The group parked in a lot near the Steel Canyon campus of Paragon University. There, they met up with other members of the group, Mattock McGinty, Cedric Grey and the Ryat androids, Sixty-six and Ninety-nine. Once they were arranged, they went to meet Montague Castanella, the man who introduced heroes to the enigmatic group, the Midnight Squad.

"Greetings," he said, "Please, take a seat in the next room and I'll be with you shortly. I really wish you guys had been over earlier... I'd have liked to get the results of your Lost Curing Wands..."

"Mine was broken," Mad Matt grunted, "It was one of those mass-produced ones... Didn't work out too good."

"Oh dear... I trust there was no excessive damage done!"

"Meh, a Pariah got a headache," the katana-wielding scrapper shrugged, "No big deal."

"Mine didn't cure Rikti," Kip added.

"Sh!" Montague hissed, "People aren't supposed to know about that!"

"Well, just so you know."

They made their way into the next room and found a number of different heroes. They were diverse, hailing from all corners of the world and numerous security levels. There were some members of the new Freedom Corps-sponsored group, the Redeemers, but it seemed to be largely independent heroes. One big man caught Roland's attention and he nudged Kip in the shoulder.

"Who's the big guy with the red hair. Looks like my dad."

"Oh, that's Mike Abrahms. Calls himself M. I. He's just a big guy that bad guys keep choosing to fight. See, he's a good example of what I was talking about earlier. Some people have heroism thrust upon them."

"Others are looking for an adventure!" Cedric chortled, "Cripes, I wish more people helped with that stuff in Eden... The forest just keeps growing back..."

"Why don't we just make that place into a lumber yard?" his little brother grumbled, "Maybe this 'Hamidon' would pull his forces back in disgust."

"Heh, maybe he'll send a real giant tree to wreck us," Matt chuckled.

----------

It was a strange presentation. At this point, Castanella was informing the heroes up front about the Squad's capabilities to travel into the past. A few heroes asked about the relationship they may have with the Menders, but Montague dodged such questions with typical "all in good time" rhetoric.

The rest of the meeting involved the history of the Midnight Squad. Cory often had a lot to ask about, as apparently his parents were once advisers and researchers for the clandestine mystics, and he wanted to know if they'd ever contributed anything major.

"Why yes," Castanella replied, "They provided an excellent treatise on the connection between Ogopogo, the brief sightings of the Lake Champlain monster and Salamanca's own 'Sally.' They also helped fill out our demonlogica due to your father's rare capability to peer into the infernal depths without going mad."

"The ability isn't rare," Simmons corrected, "It's just rarely cultivated."

"Yes, well... Without further ado..."

He ushered the heroes out of the meeting chamber and over to a neighboring building. Cory nudged Kip and Roland and indicated the design above the door they approached.

A young man before the door stopped Cedric and asked how his Latin was.

"Are you kidding?" the crude Tanker shouted, "MY LATIN KICKS [BUTT]!"

"Uh..." the young man stuttered, "Okay... I... Uh..."

"Lay it on me, man!"

"Alright... What's your favorite phrase?"

"Semper Fidelis!" he shouted, "No! WAIT! I-!"

He grinned at the young man and whispered something.

"You're not the first Marine I've heard that from, sir," the Latin student replied glibly, "But you passed... Eventually... Go on in."

Si vis Pacem Para Bellum. As a movie put it, "To make Peace, Prepare for War." It was an ominous passphrase, and it caused Roland and Nester to look at each other worriedly. Life was about to become very troublesome.

Inside, they were shown something very familiar.

"Oh crap," Abrahms muttered, "A Pillar of Ice and Flame..."

"Where did you guys get this?" Cory asked.

"While we've brought your talents into the Midnight Squad, we still have our own secrets to keep. Certainly, you don't expect us to divulge all of our secrets, much less this one."

"Well, for a big secret, it's sort of out in the open," Nester commented as he peered into it, "Or can these things be built? What is it, copious amounts of Nevermelting Ice and Unquenchable Flames? Maybe toss a Chronal Skip, a Temporal Tracer and a Temporal Analyzer in for good measure?"

Castanella stared at the young man dubiously for a few moments before responding with a simple "Shut up."

Despite his momentary loss of cool, the heroes chuckled briefly.

"Alright, gentlemen..." the Squad elder member had a quick chuckle himself, "Now... let me show you where heroes like you and rogues from the Isles are struggling to reaffirm the fabric of Time..."

He extended his hand toward the crystal and asked the others to do so as well. As each one pressed his hand against the Aspect of the Pillar, they vanished in a flash of golden light. After everyone was gone, Montague nodded and pulled his hand back. Hopefully, the people in Cimerora would be able to explain things better.

----------

"Greetings, gentlemen," the Midnight Squad member greeted them as Nester spewed forth his lunch, "Oh dear... That's the first time that ever happened."

"Hang on," the heroic field medic replied as he tapped his glasses, "Ah dang it... It seems the chicken I had for lunch wasn't too good for me..."

"Well, I'm sure the reclaimators we have here should be able to help you," the mystic replied as he guided the young man back to the specially stylized devices.

"These things look kind of magical," the hero muttered as he sat down and the rings started to raise up and he was washed in energy, "Oh! Nice!"

"Think of them as being similar to being blended versions of the magic and technological versions readily available for your bases. Feeling better?"

"Yeah!"

"Alright, then let's get on with the rest of the..."

"GUYS!" a familiar voice shouted from the opening of the cavern, "I was wondering how long it would take you to get here!"

"Breaker!" Cedric shouted back, "Dude! How long you been here?"

"Long enough to help do some damage! Come on, guys, I'll show you some kick-[butt] spots to bust up some of the rebel Romans!"

"The what?" Kip asked.

"Come on! I'll explain while we kick [butt]!"

The heroes let out a cheer and bounded after the brute. The Midnight Squad member sighed as he tried to explain the enchantments placed upon them that would enable the heroes to communicate with the Cimerorans, but they were out of earshot by the time he finished. It was almost depressing, but every so often he was surprised by the random hero who stood by to listen.

"I'll let them know," Cory Simmons chuckled as he strolled by, "Thank you for helping my friend."

"Thank you for demonstrating some patience," the mystic replied before resuming his post to wait for the next batch of meta humans.

---

My Stories

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

Zeke ran through the motions of his morning routine. It felt good to be able to take his time every so often. These little breaks in the action were good for a body, and the improvements in his home life were good for the soul.

Androm saw things differently, though. He saw all of this relaxation and the lulls in conflict as time when the enemy was gaining the advantage.

"Peace to the Nictus is just time to reload their weapons..."

"I'm not going to let that bother me," Zeke thought back as he washed the traces of shaving foam from his face, "I'm not a soldier, Geizzer. I'm a carpenter."

"Or they're building new ones..."

Zeke shook his head as he decided to make breakfast. He wasn't about to allow Androm's paranoid notions ruin his day off. He passed by his bed on the way to the kitchen and saw his ex-wife was just waking. Catherine still looked like an angel after all these years.

"I'm going to make pancakes," he told her, "Is that alright?"

"Yeah," she replied as the cellphone in her pants on the nearby chair started beeping, "What? Who could be calling me now?"

"I'll see you in a little bit, then, hon."

He was finishing the first of the flapjacks when she asked if it was alright if she opened the window. He gave her the affirmative and slapped the pancakes onto a plate. After applying butter and syrup and admiring the classic appearance, he set the plate on a bed tray and started heading for the bedroom.

When he got there, he was surprised at what he found. Catherine was clad in her pants and a sports bra, and there was a sword in her right hand. Her left hand held a small crossbow and she was pointing it at him.

"I'm sorry," she whispered before the bolt was launched at him, impacting with the door frame.

"What the Hell!?" Zeke shouted as he tossed the tray away and dove for the bathroom, "Cath! What are you doing?"

"She's trying to kill you, obviously. This is kind of disappointing... I expected better..."

"Zeke, please don't make this harder than it already is..." she said somberly, her voice cracking a little with emotion, "I didn't want it to come to this, but I don't have a choice..."

"Come to what?" Zeke pushed himself back to the bathroom as she paced carefully toward him with her sword, "Cath, I've seen weapons like that before... Tell me... Tell me you're not with the Knives..."

"They saved me after the War, Zeke..." her eyes were moist with tears, "They taught me how to be strong..."

"And what does that have to do with killing me?"

"Nothing... But..." she paused as he wriggled into the bathroom, "But I have my orders."

Zeke shut the door and took a breather. Knowing she could still hear him, he shouted out to her.

"Cath, in a second, I'm going to come back out there. Now, you can either calm down and we can discuss this, or you can be out that window and we'll deal with this some other time."

"Talk about this!? Talk about THIS!?" she shouted back, "This isn't you losing your job or me sleeping with another man... I've been ordered to [frick]ing kill you, Zeke... And if I don't..."

The door splintered apart in a black-purple explosion. The force of the blast threw Catherine across the room and slammed her against the wall, smashing her crossbow to bits and stabbing her sword into the faux-wood paneling. She wound up collapsing back onto the bed, and when she looked up, she saw what made her husband a hero and a target of the Sisterhood.

A roiling dark mass of black and purple haze stood in what used to be the bathroom doorway. A pair of glowing white eyes glowered down at her from where Zeke's head would have been, and tendrils of haze seemed to emit from the bright eyes.

"I was afraid you'd say something like that," a strange, deep, hollow and resonating voice issued forth from the haze, "I was hoping things would turn out better, for Zeke's sake, for yours... Now... Now we fight."

"What the hell are you!?" Catherine screamed before bounding up and wrenching her sword from the wall, "Where's my husband!?"

"Ex-husband," the voice replied, then switched back to Zeke's voice, "Oh, I'm still here, hon. I just let Androm say some things because I felt it would be pretty dramatic. And it was."

The Warshade's voice chuckled as Catherine bounded for the door. She hadn't understood why the Sisters had told her to kill Ezekiel before, but she understood now. He was a monster or something... Probably had been since she'd hooked up with him under the orders of the Knives of Artemis a little under two years ago.

"Where do you think you're going?" Zeke shouted as she bounded down the fire escape, "I thought you wanted to finish this!"

"Get away from me!" she shouted back, "Leave me alone!"

"You started this, though!" the smoke-like haze drew back into Zeke's body and his humanity was restored as he yelled down to her during the pursuit, "Cath, whatever this is about, we can talk about this. We don't have to fight now or later, we can-WOAH!"

Another bolt streaked through the air and collided with the fire escape's supports. It ricocheted and stuck into a wall next to Zeke's head. He looked across the street to see a pair of green-clad Knives on the roof of the opposite building. Apparently, the success of the mission was paramount.

"Not wise to stay out in the open," Androm muttered, "Not when I can do this..."

Zeke reached back like he was hurling a soccer ball. An orb of dark energy coalesced in his hands and he threw the blast at the two women. A dark explosion erupted between them, exploding laterally instead of spherically, and sent the girls flying to the street below.

they were able to slow their descents with acrobatic maneuvers off of lamp posts and clotheslines, but in the end, they hit the ground hard. Zeke made it to the ground rapidly as well, but it was because of the peculiar dimensional warping his Warshade enabled him to do. He was at the ground, waiting for Catherine by the time she made it to the end of the fire escape.

Her reaction, however, was decidedly violent as opposed to surprised. She screamed and took a few swipes at him with her katana. Zeke ducked and tried to avoid the assault, but was more than thankful that the shields that wrapped around him in a protective orb were able to soak up most of the damage.

"Catherine, stop!" he shouted, "I know how this must look to you, but I am still the man you knew! I'm still the man you loved, walked out on, then came back to! This... This thing is a part of me, too, but it is not what you've been living with this past year. It's not who you're trying to kill! Which you can't, by the way. Not with such crude methods..."

Get down!" he heard a young man shout before he was tackled to the ground.

A peculiar energy blast slammed into a nearby dumpster, pushing it back a few feet. It would have hit Zeke, and from the sensation he was getting from just the wake of it, he knew what the round was.

A quantum round.

Rolling and looking over the head of his would-be savior, he saw the young woman with one of the aggravating weapons on the rooftop he'd just blasted her friends off. Cursing, he pushed the man who'd tackled him aside and rolled away from another blast before planting himself against the far wall of the alley.

"Looks like your friends knew who and what I was, though," he told Catherine, "Makes ya wonder, doesn't it? Why didn't they give you that gun, huh? You could have sniped me from a rooftop, too..."

"Zeke, stop!" Catherine staggered into the side of the dumpster, "Please..."

"You'd never have to talk to me..." he continued.

"Stop..."

"Never have to care."

"STOP IT!"

"Guys!" the young man pulled a pistol from under the left breast of his jacket, "Could we finish this spat later! Snuffy! I need some help!"

Joe fired a few rounds of his pistol at the young woman with the quantum rifle. A crossbow bolt spiked into the ground next to him and he fired a few more rounds at the other two that had finally recovered from their plummet from the other apartment building's roof.

"Hey there," Zeke chortled to the cop, "How's the marriage going? Catherine, you remember Joe, right?"

"Hi..." she muttered to him.

"We met at the wedding," Durnan rolled back deeper into the alley, "Mind telling me why you've got a sword and you and Mr. Durj were trying to kill each other?"

"Zeke would never do such a thing, boy. In fact, he never attacked her... He hit a door upstairs and she wound up thrown across the room from the blast, but that was about it. He hasn't done anything to directly harm her..."

Joe glared at the two, focusing first on Zeke, then on Catherine, then back to Zeke. A crossbow bolt slammed into his knee, but bounced off nearly harmlessly.

"Ow! Dammit!" he shouted as he started firing back at the Knives that were approaching, "Can't! You! See! I'm trying! To! Handle! A domestic! Disturbance!?"

The two advancing women ducked and dove out of the way, barely dodging past an oncoming car that swerved and squealed as its driver tried to get out of the firefight. Finally, a beam of energy hit Joe and he rolled away, grunting from the awkward pain of being hit with a quantum round.

"Joe!" Sarah screamed from nearby, "Why you sonova..."

There was the sound of another woman screaming and a sickening splat. Zeke heard the twang of a pair of crossbows as the other two women started shooting at the out-of-view psychic. The bolts bounced back harmlessly, though.

"You really think you can take on a psychic?" the white-haired girl shouted as she came into view, grappling with one of the mercenaries, "You really think you can take me on!? Come on! Show this country girl what you've got!"

The other woman tried to take a swipe at Sarah, but she ducked the punch. This was just a diversion, however, and the mercenary tried to sweep the heroine's legs from underneath her, but Sarah braced her leg fast to the ground and her opponent's foot stopped at her heel.

Without saying anything else, the white-haired girl ducked down, slammed her shoulder into the abdomen of the mercenary, lifted her up and slammed the green-clad woman's back to the cement.

"Woah," the other girl replied, "I... Uh... Bye."

The mercenary ran off and Sarah, growling and cursing under her breath, walked over to Joe and helped him back up. She looked him over and nodded, knowing that the buffer she'd placed on him had resisted even the quantum round.

"Good thing it didn't hurt your jacket," she said as she dusted him off, "I hope you didn't mind the music."

"It's fine, babe. I love the Beatles..."

"What was happening here?" she asked after they hugged, "Mrs. Durj? Why are you dressed like that? Why do you have a sword?"

Zeke and Joe turned back to the woman, and she took a few steps back.

"Well?" Zeke asked, "What's going on, Cath?"

"I-" she shook a little and stumbled away a little more, "I gotta go!"

And with that, she ran off. Zeke turned to Sarah and Joe and shrugged.

"Oh my God," Joe whispered, "Zeke... Is she... Was she with them?"

He gestured at the unconscious woman groaning on the sidewalk. Sarah was busy placing a police drone beacon on her.

"Something like that," Zeke replied, "What were you two doing here?"

"We were coming to invite you to lunch," Snuffy replied sadly, "What happened?"

"I'll explain some other time..." Zeke muttered just as sadly, "If you don't mind, I think I'll hang out with you two for a while. Just let me go get a new shirt and my jacket..."

---

My Stories

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

"...So, that's the state of things since a group of heroes and rogues took down Romulus," Power Breaker finished as he punched a Cimeroran Rebel Surgeon into submission, "The rebels keep fighting because others in their leadership have assumed control and it's just proving difficult to push them out of the surrounding mountains so we can clear out certain... Items."

"What items?" Kip asked as the weak punches of the soldier under his choking grasp faded, "What are you talking about?"

"There's..." the Brute grimaced, "Look, I'm not one of the guys at liberty to say, so I'll just leave it that there are rumors of the Fifth Column out here and some kind of facility they set up."

"The Fifth Column?" M. I. Abrahms shouted, "I'd heard rumors myself, but... Really? Could they really be out there?"

Power Breaker's eyes rolled and he eventually nodded.

"Their numbers have gone way down since their boss fled through time to escape the group that laid the smackdown on him, but there are a few still out there trying to remove the evidence of their involvement."

"And everybody else?" Nester asked as he scattered out nanites to patch up their wounded, "What are the heroes and rogues still doing out here?"

"Magic trinkets!" Harris chortled as he held up a wriggling tentacle, "This place is like a gold mine of things like gems, crystals, ghostly crap and stuff like this regenerating flesh!"

"Ew..."

They continued their patrol down the beach and Power Breaker explained that as certain knowledgeable individuals tried to puzzle out the ominous messages of the mysterious "Letter Writer" that had thus far confounded the Menders and the Midnight Squad, other meta humans continued to try to help pacify the rebels or profit from the magic items they often found littering the area. He, however, preferred the tranquility. Here, the nanites in his body couldn't reach out for the Internet, though there was an unusual resonance they were catching that enabled him to communicate over distances, but he was certain things would be fine.

"Nothing ever stays fine in this world, Ray," Cedric corrected him, "I doubt it stays fine in any world."

"You've got a point there, buddy. Well, here we are."

The entrance to a cavern loomed before them. The collected heroes and rogue appraised it and determined it was like most of the other caves they'd already seen.

"Marcus Valerius thinks there might be a rebel General and his troops in here," Breaker explained, "I think it might be a good idea to clear it out... I mean, it would be a nice thing to do..."

"Heh, a guy from the Isles talking about doing something nice," Abrahms chuckled, "It's not quite everything, but it's getting there."

---

My Stories

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

The battle with the Cimeroran Traitors was fierce. While the heroes were definitely experienced and had the benefit of all sorts of advanced technology, magics and knowledge, the ancient Romans had the benefit of a non-sedentary lifestyle. Simply put, they were a lot tougher than the people the collected meta-humans had previously faced in their careers.

What was further surprising was the armor of the soldiers. It was tougher than it looked, tougher than physics and even history indicated iron and bronze could be. Cory hypothesized that they were in some way enchanted, and judging by the trinkets they were pulling from their defeated foes (or that some actually gave them upon defeat), it wasn't a far-off guess.

In the end, however, their final conflict lied not with the General, who put up barely a fight against the combined might of the meta humans, but with a group of Arachnos troops who had followed them in.

"Friends of yours?" Abrahms asked Power Breaker.

"No," the brute replied, his face a shocked mask of confusion, "They're not with me... Hey! HEY! What the Hell are you guys trying to do?"

One stepped forward. He was dressed very oddly for most kinds of Arachnos troops, but with the recent changes in recruitment policies, that wasn't too startling anymore. What was startling were the pearlescent plates that adorned what would have been the black uniform of a Wolf Spider, possibly a Huntsman.

Though what a Wolf Spider was doing leading a group of Crab Spider Slicers and Bane Spider Commandos was beyond the meta humans. When the soldier was a reasonable distance to ensure he had the attention of the meta humans, yet not so far as to be out of the range of his support, he spoke.

"I want him," Operative Taylor growled as he pointed to Cedric, "This Conglomerate Armor you see before you is all his fault... I was an Arbiter before his interference. Now... Now I'm barely a field captain..."

"Wow..." the tanker replied, his voice registering an odd mixture of amusement and disgust, "Alright guys... You leave me with the twerp."

"What about the others?" Kip asked.

"Kick their [butts] on the way out if you like. In fact, if you can keep them out of the business between me and the man who kidnapped my mother, so much the better..."

"There's no need for Arachnos to lose troops over this," Taylor muttered, "Men, see to it that these... Heroes..."

"Hey! I take offense to that!" Power Breaker interrupted, then he saw the look on Michael's face and grinned, "Out of principle, of course."

"Make sure they don't interrupt us!" Taylor finished his order.

The soldiers and the collected meta humans left the two young men behind and they regarded each other tensely. Neither was very well known in their respective organizations, though Grey was affiliated with Freedom Corps very loosely. Neither was terribly incapable as well. They were both very accomplished combatants, though Taylor had a spot of rough luck each time he came across Cedric.

"This time, there's nobody to interrupt us," he growled as he grasped the grip of his assault rifle, "Time to die, Grey!"

Cedric started walking toward the Bane Spider as the grenade landed next to him. With the peculiar energies that wrapped around him from the axe, he knew he'd be able to weather the explosion. However, what he didn't expect was the cloud of venom that suddenly filled the local area.

"Relax," the voice of his Praetorian said as the cloud washed harmlessly away, "I've got this... However..."

With a wave of his hand, Operative Taylor somehow just vanished into thin air. Cedric looked around worriedly for a second, then started walking away from the spot where Taylor had left him.

"So," he said to the echoing walls, "You blame me for your failure..."

"If it weren't for your meddling, I would probably be in control of some small island somewhere..." the voice of his enemy echoed back, "I could have been a Marshall, or remained an Arbiter, just somewhere out of the way... A place I wouldn't have to deal with this crap!"

"Oh, boo hoo!" the tanker chortled, "You didn't play a hard enough game, and now you're crying about it? Aw, I don't get a lump of dirt to call my own! Woe is me! Ooh-hoo-hoo... You sound like an [butt]hole!"

"You have no idea what I've been through! I have had to claw my way back to a respectable position! I've had to-!"

"I don't care!"

Cedric let that phrase echo back to them. It reverberated the walls and there was an ominous, hollow tone that seemed to accompany it.

"Yeah, that's right. I, a hero, don't care what he's done or that my actions inadvertently ruined a moron's life. It would be different if you, I don't know, hadn't kidnapped my mom, but you did, so that's a mark against ya! Then you sent a squad of idiots to kill me and tried to do the same when we should have been helping each other! But, hey, that's Warburg for ya..."

"I had nothing to do with those soldiers attacking you! I was trying to call them back when you murdered them!"

"I killed people trying to kill me," Cedric shook his head, "If you're trying to lay a guilt trip on me or make me question my heroism, you're going after the wrong guy. I live in the moment, man, and I do what I think is right for the moment. I'll deal with the consequences later... Like now."

He swung his axe up, deflected the mace coming toward his head and punched the operative in the chin. Taylor stumbled back, and though most of his face was obscured, Grey could see the shock that was evident.

"Yeah, you see, Gaussian has made available these nifty little items... One such thing is a pair of contact lenses I never leave home without. They don't make me see the world any different, nor do they alter my iris color, but boy can I see stuff that's trying to hide if it gets too close."

"Dammit, dammit, DAMMIT!" Taylor shouted, "It's always tricks with you capes!"

"Again with assuming I'm something out of a freaking book," Cedric shook his head and started walking away, "Look, man, I'm not going to stand still and let you kill me. When you want to look at the world the way it really is, you can come talk to me. You want to keep being a [moron] and try to kill me, I'm cool with that, too. My swinging arm needs all the exercise it can get. Otherwise, leave me the Hell alone."

The operative watched the tanker walk off and grumbled to himself. What was supposed to be a day of revenge turned out to be one of disgust. He didn't know why, but for some reason, Grey's words had troubled him deeply. Suddenly, his whole vendetta seemed petty and pointless.

If he did succeed in killing or converting Cedric, what then? A new hero would take his place as "the nemesis" (likely the brother or the sister; possibly even one of the parents). He also wouldn't see a promotion out of it. What was worse, there were those in Arachnos who would use his triumph against him, citing his vendetta as a weakness of character.

"There are so many better things to be spending your energy on," Cedric shouted back to him, "You really intend to waste it all sulking in there? Come on, man. I'll buy you a mug of whatever these guys use for beer."

Daniel Taylor pulled his helmet off and walked out to join his enemy...

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

"Oh, now what the [frick] is this!?" Grey shouted as they exited the cave and found the meta humans had soundly trounced the Arachnos soldiers.

"It looked like Power Breaker and Abrahms were getting into a shoving match, and suddenly they pushed each other into a pair of Crab Spiders," Kip explained, "The rest of the fight was fairly quick..."

"Oh God!" the one Power breaker sat on shouted hoarsely, "Please! Get off!"

"Do you mind?" the Brute replied as he assumed the classic pose of a famous statue, "I've got some serious thinking I need to do..."

"But your [butt]! It's so bony! It's poking into my armor!"

"Would you please get off my troops? I have to return them to Scirocco's employ by the end of the day."

"Oh!" Breaker hopped up, "So, you're with the sorcerer's camp, huh?"

"Aye. As are you. I trust he knows about your dealings with the other side?"

"Man, the big players have just about given up on me. Every so often, Scirocco sends a job my way that I don't object to, but other than that, I'm my own man."

"Your own man..." Taylor mused at the thought, "Sounds nice."

"Yeah, if only it were true," Breaker's spikes crackled with electricity, "Too bad I've got super powers, and Recluse is gonna wind up coming up with a use for me sometime, and he's not one to take 'no' for an answer."

"Too true... Too true..."

The heroes let the soldiers of Arachnos up (sans weapons) and started walking with them to the central square of Cimerora. It was an unusual moment, the heroes and villains relaxing together for a moment. For once, however, they were away from the politics, the fighting and the hostility.

"It's the leaders that hate each other," Cedric explained, "Not the soldiers, not really. I mean, there's the propaganda, but a smart soldier, a wise soldier, looks past the rhetoric and vitriol to see what he's really doing. Unfortunately, we're rarely afforded the chance, especially with leaders like we've got."

"So, what are we supposed to do?" Power Breaker asked.

"Play it by ear, I guess," the tanker shrugged, "Until something more important comes up, I guess we're stuck wiping the [butts] of our bosses."

"That's not very fair to the people we're helping," Kip retorted, then turned to the soldiers, "You guys, too. I mean, we all have our own decisions to make. We all have our own choices in life. If you're fighting for one side or the other, you're doing it for your reasons, not theirs. They just have you at their disposal. I prefer to find the personal things I can deal with, find a way to settle things in my life."

"Good theory," a Crab Spider rumbled, "I should put that into my meditations. Computer! Save recording... No space left in hard drive... Dang. But I really want to save those pictures of the Sybils... For research... Ah well, I'll remember it later..."

The group shared a laugh and moved on to the next drink. It wasn't exactly peace, but it was livable. The heroes, rogues and soldiers had found a moment where the fighting could cease, if only for a moment.

---

My Stories

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

Roland pulled into the hospital parking lot. It wasn't like the medical centers dotted throughout Paragon, this one catered exclusively to civilians. It was called Our Loving Sister's Care, located just outside the Steel Canyon War Walls, and it caused the portly man to wonder why hospitals were always named like this.

"Where we headed?" Kip asked as they stepped out of the jeep.

"Most likely the maternity ward," Roland growled, "Or wherever they send us. We're looking for Aaron and Mindy Durj, right?"

"Yeah."

The two young men both hated hospitals like this. Clinics were typically a hustle-and-bustle of activity, and the medical centers that catered to their needs as heroes were rapid response (indeed, that teleportation matrix was a godsend at times) and almost instantaneous healing and repair. These places, however, were a somber affair. People who came in here came for broken legs, road rash, or savage diseases like cancer or worse.

Still, there were the other reasons, such as childbirth. The clinics within the city were largely unable to handle such operations, especially since most of their power was dedicated toward the reclaimators, so pregnant women, like Misty Durj, had to go to places like this.

"Yes, she's in room five twenty-six," the clerk replied, "But don't expect to be able to go in... There's a lot of hub-bub about that one..."

Indeed there was. Ever since Aaron and Misty's baby was discovered to have psychic powers, even while in the womb, there had been a massive media frenzy. Well, there was at least more attention than Aaron or Misty ever wanted. Despite the lack of "Major Hero Fanfare," however, the reporters were relentless.

"Will the state let you keep the baby?"

"How will you educate the young man?"

"Is it true that Malaise is really the father?"

It went on and on. Some wanted to know what the happy couple intended to do, others seemed to be trying to twist the situation to match their venue's personal slant. There were theories that abounded, that the child had been irradiated by a "rampaging hero" or that the larger concentration of heroic individuals had this particular "splash effect" on the developing child, to the theory that this was a leap forward in the natural evolution of humanity, and that the child should be welcomed as a future savior of mankind.

All the while, Aaron stared, resolute in his refusal to "answer the buzzards." Misty was too exhausted to say anything, and just held her child close and away from the cameras and microphones. When Kip and Roland pushed their way through the crowd, they found Randall Grey, Sarah Durnan and Zeke Durj pushing the reporters out of the room, the big man glowering and growling at them that the young parents needed their rest and that if there were to be any answers, they'd get them "when they were damn good and ready."

Otherwise the ordeal had been perfectly fine. There were no complications with the delivery, and the hospital had been keeping Misty in relative comfort for the past week. Now that it was over, they were looking forward to a speedy incubation session and getting the child home with his loving parents.

"Hey, dad," Roland intoned as he pushed past the last interviewer, "How are they?"

"Misty's exhausted, her child is a little shocked... He wasn't expecting the procedure to be so much work," Sarah replied as she returned to the side of the bed, "He was so ticked at the doctor for spanking him, he threw the guy across the room!"

"Yeesh," Kip muttered as he shook his surrogate brother's hand, "Gratz, man. How do you feel?"

"Alert," Aaron replied curtly, "Now that my wife's given birth to a super, I have to keep on my toes in case anyone or anything, from the Circle to the Malta Group to the Carnies, comes after Damon."

"Carl," Misty murmured.

"We're still deciding on the name..."

"Well, decide quick," Sarah giggled, "or your son will decide for you. I think he's leaning toward Carl... Carl Durj..."

She glared at Zeke and Kip.

"God, you have a horrible last name."

"It used to be something like Durjessi," Zeke replied with a shrug, "But, hey, names change over generations."

"Holy carp," Nester gasped as he walked in, followed shortly by Sheldon Wallace, Levi 'Psycho13' Baker and Jared 'Draven Erickson' Simms, "Those reporters are a pack of hyenas! I trust you all know our friends here... Shel and I were clearing out a drug lab and these guys tagged along."

"Yo," Psycho13 leaned over the side of the bed and grinned at the kid, "I thought he was psychic... Why're you guys in a normal room? Aren't there, like, precautions?"

"There's a sonic resonance emitter in here," Sarah explained, "It's similar to the one Sheldon designed for me a couple years back. It makes sure no psychics can see in here, and the little guy's thoughts are kept safely in his head."

"Sounds clunky," the dubiously-named scrapper smirked, "I'll see you guys in a little bit."

"You just got here," Aaron quirked an eyebrow at the man, "Now, one look, and you gotta leave?"

"Do you have any idea how quickly your bladder fills when you have to run really fast everywhere? I didn't think so..."

-----

"Well," he muttered as he reached the bathroom and stared into the mirror, "You knew this day was coming, that's why you kept an eye on your communicator for anything Nester might need you for... Now..."

He had snagged a scalpel from one of the trays he'd passed by. He didn't like the fact that someone would get yelled at for the lapse in oversight, but he needed a sharp blade for what he was about to do, and he wasn't allowed to bring his swords or knives and a pocket knife just wouldn't work. So, the scalpel had to do.

"Alright," Baker muttered as he kinked his head to one side, "If I remember correctly, the device is implanted just below the Hammer..."

He pulled his hair back and placed the scalpel next to the base of the external portion of his ear. Taking a quick breath, he made a quick slash and yanked his ear off. It hurt a little, but he was beyond caring.

"Oh my God!" a man shouted behind him.

"It's a good thing I've got my hearing ear jammed into my shoulder," the regenerator chuckled back, "Otherwise, I bet that would have hurt my drums like all get out..."

He watched the man edge away toward the door and grinned.

"Don't tell anybody about this... I'm digging something out for a friend."

The man edged back to the stall and worked on voiding his bowels.

"Aww... Come on, man, I-ooooooooooh..."

At that point, he went deaf in his right ear. He had sliced a cylindrical section of his inner ear out and dug around for something that didn't feel right. Figuring that one out was a little more difficult than he thought, considering the whole new dimensions of pain he was suffering, but, eventually, he felt something spherical roll around without causing as much damage as the prior pieces he'd pulled and let roll back into place. This piece didn't roll back, and he pulled it away cautiously. A couple times, he went blind from the pain, or what his brain was telling him should be pain, but everything was weird for his nerves, now, and the only thing making him feel hurt was the fact that this was the first time he'd ever done this to himself.

"I should look into ritual scarification," he muttered as he folded his ear back into place.

"Good luck with that," he heard the other guy mumble from the stall, "Oh man... I don't remember eating that..."

On the way back to the room, he looked at the pebble-sized object in his hand. The blood on it seemed to refuse to congeal, and it in fact started to slide off the plastic sphere and into his skin.

"Weird..."

-----

"What's weird?" Sarah asked, "What is that?"

"Uh..." Levi looked down at the orb, "Actually, it's something I need to talk to Sheldon about."

The inventor was perplexed, but he followed the scrapper out into the hall.

"What do you expect me to do?" the inventor asked tersely.

"Dude, you and I both know what is about to happen. Bad guys are gonna come screaming into here to steal that kid, and they're going to try to use his psychic powers to do all kinds of Hell... Dude, we need to mask it!"

"But I can't-"

"You did it once, this thing has the tiny emitters you'd need to do it again! Come on, man, we need to do this!"

Sheldon looked down at the plastic ball held out for him and shook his head. However, he took it.

"I'll see what I can do..."

-----

The day wore on and turned softly into night. The gathered heroes slowly trickled out, though the Durjes stood by until the end. Curiously, Sheldon remained as well.

"Nester," he whispered, "Give this to the child..."

He handed over what appeared to be a small blue hat.

"What the hell is this?" the field medic asked as he looked it over, "I never took you to be so sentimental..."

"I'm not."

Nester lowered the hat and glared into Sheldon's glasses. He could normally never be certain if his friend was really looking him in the eyes, but this time he was sure of it.

"If this is some scheme to channel his psychic power into some kind of battery..."

"I promise you, it is not. It's much like the device in this room, only smaller, powered by body heat, like many of the components of your suit, and it's soft, so it won't do any harm to the child."

"And how do I explain it to the doctors?" Nester almost shouted.

"Oh, put the damn thing on Dom's head!" Aaron barked, "You think I don't see you guys, sneaking around, trying to keep me in the dark about how you're trying to keep my kid safe? Jebus, Roland and Kip already told me about it when they were worried..."

There was an ominous clicking sound as he reached behind his back.

"As you can tell, I am prepared for most eventualities."

"But plans never survive contact with the enemy," Zeke reminded his surrogate son, "I trust Crimson impressed that upon you by now."

The Alternate Kip nodded. Nester placed the hat on the boy's head. As he started to pull his hand away, the infant somehow reached up and grabbed his wrist (as best as he could anyway) and Nester looked down at him.

"You're probably in for a strange case of fatherhood," he chuckled to Aaron, "Very strange indeed..."

"Really? And media coverage is normal?"

---

My Stories

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