The Brutal Warriors Order (Story: Chronicle)

((First, I'd intended for all the Kingdale characters and their respective allies and enemies to wind up all in one long story thread of their own. However, the story of the BWO members and their ongoing war against the Committee occurs far too parallel with too much hapening to stay inside the body of Grey's Army and allow everybody to keep track on a linear scale. So, they're moving here...

I'm going to start with when Solo Stryker unveils the Brutal Flier, a customized, more powerful version of an Arachnos Flier, built from pieces of the one he and his allies (Ragin James and Dirty Ice, mostly, but Draven and the other Hero members helped) had stolen earlier in the Grey's Army thread.))

The Independence Port bank's alarm clanged and blared about the Freak Tank that had just robbed it. The guards inside were all mortally wounded and getting teleported to the Bell Medical Center. Sadly (oddly) there were no heroes on hand at the moment to stop the lunatics and their deadly rampage.

The leader of the Freaks, the afore mentioned Tank named Chaingunzz (named for his heavily modified right arm that displayed a wicked and heavily modified Council Force minigun wrapped in a cage adorned in claw-like blades) stormed out of teh bank's entrance and cackled out a high-toned, maniacal laugh.

The police that had barricaded the bank's courtyard in with their cars and SWAT vans issued their warning.

"Freaks! You're completely surrounded! Drop the money and your weapons and put your hands... limbs... things up!"

"[censored] YOU, PIG!" Chaingunnz screached before firing off a burst at the captain, his car, and the nearby officers.

Nearly the whole crew teleported shortly after, and the car exploded as its electrical system shorted out and ignited the fuel line.

Finally, a hero arrived. Joe Durnan, officer of the Kings Row Precinct and recent inductee to the Paragon Police Hero Program, leapt over the flames of the burning vehicle, his assault rifle spitting tungsten ammunition into the Freak leader according to where his targeting drone said to fire. As the crosshairs blipped on the interior of his shooting glasses and he brought his own reticle to bear, he fingered the trigger of teh grenade launcher.

"Ho-HO!" Chaingunnz shouted at him, "No witty banter, hero? Well, I'll just cut you down as easy as..."

Joe squeezed the grenade launcher's trigger, and knocked all of Chaingunnz's minions on their butts. Bags of cash went flying everywhere, and those that didn't have weapons grafted to their bodies promptly lost them from the concussive impact.

Chaingunnz, however, still stood. He sighted in on Joe, and the hero noticed the central cylinder of the chaingun was much wider than a normal minigun's...

With a "PHOONT" sound, Chaingunnz reciprocated with a grenade of his own. Joe would later play back the event as his shooting glasses recorded the whole moment by default so he could learn from his past experiences, and he would notice, when played in slow motion, the grenade had a little monster face painted on it moments before it hit the dirt, and blasted him back over the burning car.

As Durnan gasped for air, Chaingunnz spat fire at the rest of the officers, who were busy pumping rounds into him and his goons. However, no matter what effort the brought, they could not dent Chaingunnz's thick armor plating. He even had a bullet-proof glass shield to protect his head. It seemed all hope was lost, and a fallback order was given.

The officers who could staggered away and Longbow troops started to move in, and a peculiar humming sound was heard. It was one not heard since the days of the Rikti War. Everybody suddenly paused and looked to the sky, even the Freaks and their demented leader.

Had a previously unknown warship suddenly emerged from the depths of the port? Had the Rikti invaded again? Was it an Arachnos Flier, which sounded peculiarly like a Rikti warship?

A dark gray and green vehicle suddenly emerged from the rooftop of the bank. It was unlike any vehicle previously seen by the populace of the city. More akin to a helicopter and smaller than a spaceship, more bulky than an Arachnos Flier, and dotted with three defensive turret emplacements, one on each flank (under the armored fixed "wings" bearing the hover pods) and one under the nose, the Brutal Flier descended. It's rear was much wider than an Arachnos type Flier as well, bearing thrusters mounted on twin dorsal pods, and a large cargo hatch covering the stern.

There wasn't much anybody could do, but stare. Joe Durnan, however, prepared his cord launcher. He recognized the triangular, burning barbed wire symbol on the side of the vehicle, which meant he knew its occupants.

----

"Well done, guys," Draven Erickson grimaced from behind the starboard turret, his hands getting sweaty on the pistol grips of the targeting/firing system, "Daren, where'd you get the idea for this thing? The unholy prequel trilogy? Or was it the other trilogy, the M-"

"Shut it, Jared!" the pilot replied, "Trust me, man, this is going to be awesome... Besides, this is more like a transport out of that one movie that's like cowboys in space... What was it? Selene? Sirius?"

"Come on, guys, knock it off," Ragin James, sitting in the port turret's control chair, "Daren, bring this thing, around, I can't see anything!"

"Hang on, James, I'm setting up for dramatic effect..." Solo's voice came over the headsets, "Hit that blue button that has three lines pointing straight up..."

Draven and Rage did as they were ordered and their turrets popped out of their positions and turned toward the bow of the vehicle. A plate of armor protected them on each side and the rear, and now the two gunners were aware that the vehicle had been brought around, just so Solo could stare down the bank robber and let Chaingunnz get a good look at what was about to do him in.

"I gotta tell ya, Daren, I'm feeling just a bit exposed out here," Draven muttered into his comm-unit.

"Yeah, it's feeling drafty..." James concurred.

"Oh, you guys are such [censored]!" another voice quipped, "Have faith in the technology that protects you, has protected, and will always protect you..."

"Shut up, Dale," Draven hissed, "You're not out here, where the elemetns and the gunfire can get you..."

"No, I'm in here," the Kingdale Referee sounded positively smug, "maintianing the shield generator that has this baby wrapped in a powerful energy based armor."

"Yeah, like that thing helped us in the ring..." Rage rolled his eyes, "I still remember when it failed as Matt hit me with that chair..."

"Or when it suddenly overcharged, sending everybody in the ring who wasn't you flying into the crowd," King Slater muttered as he helped his brother maintain the machinery.

Dirty Ice, Matt Jones, just chuckled from his seat next to the ammunition bins. For safety's sake, his fire auras were currently de-powered.

"Okay, guys, shut it!" Solo Stryker's voice was suddenly authoritative, "We're going to do this..."

----

Chaingunnz looked up at the hideous machine. Somewhere in his fractured mentality, he pondered whether or not the Freakshow had gotten a hold of some real hardware, and whether or not this machine belonged to his crew. It did, after all, look like something they'd have made, if Freaks were so inclined to build things...

"Is this our ride?" his nearest minion groaned as he clutched at his arm, his Excelsior Feeder depleted, but he still clutched the half-empty bag of money with the hand of his crippled arm.

"I... I don't know..." Chaingunnz pointed the wepaon up at the canopy that glowered down at him, "Hey, you! Are you our ride?"

"NO!" Solo Stryker's voice echoed off the walls loudly and caused some of the astounded Longbow troops and police to cover their ears reflexively.

Chaingunnz, however, licked his lips in feverish anticipation.

"Then you're in my way!" he yelled as his weapon started to rotate.

"NOW!" Stryker was only able to get part of the word out before Draven and Rage squeezed their triggers.

Bursts of anti-armor ammunition belted out of the flank turrets, ripping large, unsightly holes into the Freaks and knocking Chaingunnz to the ground. The guns stopped as suddenly as they'd started after only a few bursts, and what few Freaks left alive found themselves pumping the Excelsior into their bloodstreams as quickly as possible so they could survive another volley. The others that were still and broken were brought back from the brink of death to find that some of their limbs had indeed been blasted off.

A cacophony of grunts, groans, moans, and pleas to deities could be heard escaping the normally nihilistic psychopaths. For once, they'd felt pain, and they found they didn't really like it that much. Those that could, crawled away from their leader, leaving the bags of money where they lay.

"Give up?" Solo queried.

"Hooooooo-RAAAAAAAAAAH!" Chaingunnz screamed as he struggled to stand.

Sadly, he found the actuators in his legs had been severley damaged, leaving him crippled on the ground where he lied. That didn't stop him from sighting in on the dropship and firing off a long volley of ammunition that harmlessly bounced off the protective shielding the Kingdale Referee had mentioned earlier. AS the failure dawned on him, Chaingunnz "flexed" and another grenade was spat from the central barrel of his bizarre weapon. It bounced back, landed next to his legs, and obliterated them.

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!" the frenzied Freakshow Tank started flailing wildly with his arms, his chaingun draining itself into the walls of the bank.

"Now." Darren ordered again, and this time, all three turrets fired in unison, putting the boss down for good.

Police drones mopped up the rest. The ship, however, couldn't stay for long. Several Longbow Eagles made their way to it, and Daren couldn't let the true nature of some of those within be revealed.

----

"I don't get it."

Draven Erickson, Jared Simms, shook his head at his cousin. They'd been arguing for a few hours now, and again, their argument had come back to its starting point, illiciting groans from the entire crew.

They'd landed the Brutal Flier on an old abandoned offshore oil rig in order to let Daren take a break and so the rest of the group could discuss their latest victory. While the whole crew was quite pleased with themselves, Solo Stryker and Draven felt there were some areas they needed to work on.

However, practice was one thing, it was Daren's other plan that they were arguing about.

"What's so wrong with it?"

"You're saying you want to start a charter service between the States and the Isles," Jared chopped one hand into the other to punctuate, "Think about this Daren... You want to transport Heroes into Villain country and Villains into Hero country..."

"Yeah!"

"You don't think Arachnos, Freedom Corps, Longbow, Wyvern, and, oh, I don't know, every military for every sovereign nation on the planet are going to have a problem with that!?"

"They will at first..." Daren shrugged.

"And why? Why do it?"

"There's plenty enough Heroes who want to hit the Isles and take the fight to the enemy," James sided with Daren, "And there's plenty enough Villains who want to redeem themselves."

"Uh... try a few!" Slater spat, "Maybe you weren't there, James, when your brother and I had to patrol Bloody Bay for a couple weeks so Longbow would look the other way for you guys to enter the States, but we ran into some pretty heavy fire coming from some very unrepentant Villains."

"That was them!" Rage waved his hands up to his peripheral vision and shook them angrily, "I'm talking about guys who're just trying to get by in the Isles, just trying to figure a way out of the mess they're in... Guys like that Power Breaker, or Brother Mauthe, or that weird android... Ronny-something..."

"Ryat Prime," Matt explained, "I worked with him on a couple missions. Don't worry about him, he's got his own agenda."

"He? Isn't it one of Wallace's machines?"

"He feels he has a male personality. So, that's how he refers to himself, and has his robots refer to him. He refers to them the same way..."

"So, what's his agenda?" Draven grumbled.

"I can't say."

"Why not?"

"If any of you guys get caught, you're likely to tell them something for a reprieve. Me, I'll probably come off crazy enough that they don't believe a word I say."

"Fine," Dustin Simms, King Slater, interjected, "Now, let's get back on track. Daren, you want to use this thing to ferry people across the world, right?"

"Yeah," his brother replied.

"And, Jared, you disagree..."

"Right," his cousin curtly responded.

"Do you have an alternative plan?"

"We could use this machine to patrol Paragon City..."

"I'm the only one who can fly it!" Solo interrupted, "I'm a 'Stalker' according to their files! That makes me a registered Villain! Rage and Ice are Brutes! What about us!? What do you think they'll do when they find us at the controls?"

"Look, I'm just saying..."

"Enough!" Slater barked, his normally stoic demeanor cracking for a moment, then, after taking a second to recompose himself and make sure everybody was apying attention, "We'll put it to a vote... Everybody. Even Psycho and that Whirlwind guy."

"For now, let's have a show of hands, who wants to do what Jared says?"

Jared was almost alone. Dustin and Matt, however, slowly sided with him.

"Wow, cool, thanks," he whispered as a stunned reaction.

"Okay, Daren's plan..."

Dale, James, and Daren raised their hands.

"We have a tie," Joe Durnan walked into the room, his assault rifle held absently at his side. He thumbed the safety and shouldered the weapon.

"Officer Durnan," Dale muttered, "How'd you get here?"

"I grappled your ship and hitched a ride," he shuddered, "That was a very cold ride... I've been recovering in the hallway so I could hear you guys since I could force myself to move back there."

"Jebus," Matt laughed, "You're a tough little blaster, aren't ya?"

"I try to be," the officer replied calmly, "Now... You guys sure have come a long way since I arrested Slater and Draven for their impromptu performance on the bridge overlooking Promethius Park... The dropship's definitely new."

"Yeah, we built it back in Kingdale," the Referee smiled happily, "And we house it here, in the old rig Grey's Army cleared the Arachnos out of. Nobody else seemed to want it."

Joe nodded, "That's answered some of my other questions, thanks... So... Your vote is tied... Might I offer a suggestion?"

"Shoot," Dustin answered before anybody else could say anything.

"I see the merit in both sides of the issue. Daren, you guys stand to make a lot of profit from being a secure, super-powered ferry system across the planet. That is, if the ship can make the trips without frequent stops..."

"It's fusion powered," Daren smirked, "It can handle just about anything."

"And Jared," Durnan turned to the red-coated de facto leader of the hero-side BWO, "Your plan would undoubtedly provide a pardon for your three friends working on the 'other' side of the law, not to mention providing all of you witha massive reputation boost as you patrol the city in a way nobody else currently can."

"Still profitable," Draven shrugged, "after a fashion."

"Here's my proposal," Joe walked across the room and turned so he could take them all in, "Call up your last two buddies, ask them for their votes. If it's still a tie, I'll work out the compromise."

"No, you'll just have us go into service for the city," Daren spat, "I won't have it."

"Trust me, Daren, I wouldn't tell you to do anything you don't want to do. This is your machine, acquired through dubious means, but you still have labored over it. But you're all together in this... And as such, you all have to agree on the proper use of this machine. I trust you can appreciate the seriosuness of your situation."

"Yeah," the two leaders replied sullenly.

"Okay, then..." Joe indicated their communicators, "Call 'em up."

Project Whirlwind, the bizarre former Committee Agent, and Psycho13, James's brother, Levi Baker, replied immediately, without allowing for persuasion. Whirlwind had actually been eavesdropping on the group utilizing the "SG Chat" function of his communicator. He readily agreed with Draven's plan to utilize the dropship as a new, powerful weapon against the criminality of Paragon City. Psycho13, however, heard the current vote tallies, and voted for Solo's plan to use the ship as a transport service. He didn't really want ti to happen, truth be told, he didn't really care, but he wanted to keep the issue going until he and Whirlwind got back from Bloody Bay and saw with their own eyes the capabilities of the vehicle and got a chance to debate as well.

What he didn't realize, however, was that the situation was already well in hand. Durnan immediately started hammering out a plan with Daren and Jared. As the three discussed, the others patrolled the rig.

"Why'd you side with Jared?" Ragin James asked Dirty Ice, "Why would you want to defend a city you never cared about? You always hated heroes..."

"I do hate heroes," Matt replied, "Statesman's a tool, remember? Hell, most of them are tools. But that doesn't mean I hate what they do. I like heroes like Randy, or Joe, there. Blue Steel, I guess, would be the closest down-to-earth hero Paragon's got, and I guess I respect him. Besides, Daren's right. Just for participating in the antics that go on daily in the Rogues, we're branded traitors to our country, and are criminals. You think we'd be able to change any of that on our own? Uh-uh. And Joe's right, too. This Flier... The Brutal Flier... It is the safest, easiest way for us to redeem ourselves. It's got anti-tank missiles, high-explosive rockets, guns, knives, sharp sticks, Indian burns..."

The two chuckled at the impromptu joke.

"The point is... With this, we can go back to our old lives again."

"I thought you liked your new life?" James arched an eyebrow at hsi friend.

"I did," Matt took a drag from his cigarette, "But now... With Arachnos troops shooting at me, Longbow shooting at me, other rogues shooting at me and trying to cut me open... I gotta say, man... Sometimes I wish I'd made a better choice."

"I know what you mean, man," Rage clapped hsi friend on the shoulder, "I'm not changing my vote, though."

"That wouldn't matter anyway," Dale walked up behind them, "Am I interrupting a moment here?"

"Don't make us put you through that wall, punk," Matt barked.

"Come on, guys," the small Referee didn't even flinch at the threat, "Joe and them are gonna explain the plan."

They started walking inside, and Ice started to put out his cigarette. Then, remembering where he was, he put it back in his mouth and smirked.

"We're in the land that law forgot. I'm smoking inside!"

"Not unless you want me putting that thing out with my fist," Rage replied, "While it's still there on your face."

"I think I'll put it out, then," Dirty Ice's facial expression never changed from its bemused smirk as he deftly removed the cancer stick from his lips and flicked off the red lit ashes.

----

"Okay, so we're all in agreement..."

Matt was sitting, seething angrily, and barely hearing what was going on. King Slater was smoking his cigarette inside, and nobody was telling him to stop. Of course, nobody was going to tell the rock of their little group what to do.

"Waitaminute!" Dirty yelled as he wrenched his preivously used butt from his pocket and placed the filter between his lips, "Screw you, James, I'm gonna do this."

"Fine, I don't really care."

Matt flicked his thumb out of his fist and a small bit of flame sprouted from teh tip of it. Using this, he lit the remains of teh cigarette and turned to Joe.

"Continue," he said through puffs of smoke.

"That's disgusting," Durnan replied, "Anyway... You guys want a general plan of how to utilize your new piece of equipment. Now, as a representative of the city's authorities, I should be telling you to patrol our fair city and help the heroes put an end to the rampant crime. i should be telling you to turn the vehicle over to Freedom Corps, so they can dissect it and replicate it..."

"That won't be necessary," James raised his hand to interrupt, "Hector Wallace, the guy who helped us build this, already gave detailed plans for a cheaper, more mass-produced verison to the Army. You should start seeing them in a few years..."

"Alright, whatever..." Durnan waved him off, "I'm not going to tell you what I think you should do. I'm going to tell you what I think you will do. Even without my interference, you guys would have gone back and forth between the States, and whatever other nations you can get away with ferrying to and from your dubious human cargoes. Draven, you'd have likely foudn yourself stranded in Paragon with the rest of your Hero allies, fighting the good fight, still, but without the benefit of a super-cool dropship to back you up."

He paused.

"Only the dropship would back you up. I figure if Daren ever heard you guys werein seriously deep trouble, he'd be over here as fast as he could, pushing the Flier's engines to their limit to help his friends and family in their hour of need. Reputations and consequences be damned, right?"

"Right," Daren shrugged as if what Joe said was common knowledge, "So what's the proposal?"

"You do exactly that," Joe replied matter-of-factly, "Daren, you run your transport/courier service, Draven, you fill him in on the hub-bub of Paragon. If ever things look to be getting hectic or insane, Daren, I expect you to drop by and lend the support of your powerful vehicle. This way, you're getting both the profit from the one side, and the new defense for Paragon on the other. And I can guarantee you boys, after the stunt you pulled today, the villainy of Paragon City are going to be watching the skies extra carefully from here on out."

The crew agreed to the terms, even faraway Psycho13 and Project Whirlwind. They ate and drank to the plan and hammered out a new one at the same time.

The old rig would be their base. Though the Arachnos equipment was mostly gone, they could easily get stealth systems from Hector. Joe would be their liason to the rest of the community should the need ever be required. Draven would lead their Hero-side relations, with King Slater as his second. Solo Stryker would lead their Rogue affairs, with Ragin James as his second.

"What about the Committee?" they heard Psycho13 suddenly ask over the communicator; it sounded like he was on the helicopter headed back to Skyway City.

"We'll deal with that later," Draven grumbled back, "For now, we need rest."

"Come on," Solo smirked as he led the others to a series of furnished rooms, "Rage and I already prepped this place for habitation, at least..."

The rooms had little more than cots in them, and only one had a television and a video game system (Daren's), but there was enough space for all of them. Even Joe, though he was taking up a room that would have belonged to Psycho13 or Whirlwind.

"Down the hall is a working kitchen," Solo explained, "Electric stove, because we power the place with the Flier's reactor."

"So we won't wind up on the grid," Dale laughed.

"You didn't point this out to us earlier?" Draven sounded annoyed.

"Well, I would have, but you decided to start biting my head off when I mentioned my plans for the future of the BWO..."

"BWO?" Joe asked, "Your guys' sad little backyard gimmick?"

"The Brutal... Warriors... Order." Daren pasued between each word for dramatic effect, "Take notice, Joe Durnan. We're gonna make a mark on this world... Then, all will take notice."

They all stared at him for a moment.

"Look, it's late and I'm tired," Daren explained, "Let's get some sleep."

---

My Stories

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

“You know, Joe, it would save me considerable time if you could get me the access codes to the War Walls...”

“Not happening, Daren,” the officer replied through the internet messaging system, “Never mind the fact that “A,” the city doesn’t know about you, and “B,” they wouldn’t trust you if they did, but if you ever got captured, those codes would be in the hands of whatever crazies shot you down. Also, despite being a hero, I still rate little more information than your average run-of-the-mill cop.”

“You ARE a cop!” the rogue leader of the bWo spat at the screen, but typed, “Fine. But it would’ve really helped if I didn’t have to fly over the barrier limit, and could just go through the War Wall shields...”

“It’s not happening.”

“I know, I know. Bye.”

Daren made his way for the impromptu meeting room. Outside, his brother Dustin battled with their friend, James Baker, in what was both a mock battle, and a method for them to train. Jared, Dale, and Matt watched, with Dale serving as a referee for the fight. He shook his head at the cheers. Sometimes, you just couldn’t grow up.

In the meeting room, which was full of boxes of clothes and assorted nick-knacks that they hadn’t yet been able to figure out a use for (nor divide among their proper owners), James’ brother, Levi, and the peculiar man they only knew as Project Whirlwind. Levi was busy trying to figure out one of those wooden puzzles, while the masked Hero sat quietly.

“Hey, Solo,” Baker intoned without looking up, “Nice place you got here.”

“Thanks,” he turned to Whirlwind, “You got anything to say?”

“No, Master Simms, I do not.”

“Okay. Well, I guess we need to hammer out your association with us.”

“How so?”

“Well, Crazy here went missing a few years back. You know this. Draven says you helped him escape the Committee... I want to know how, and why.”

“Why do you need to know?”

“Call it a token of trust... If I can’t trust you, I can’t have you here. It’s that simple.”

“Tell him the story,” Psycho13 messed around with a part of the puzzle that seemed loose, but never really could be removed until another piece came out first, “I like hearing it.”

“Very well...”

Project Whirlwind removed his mask, revealing a normal looking, caucasian male face. He had short-cut brown hair that was matted (an exceptionally bad case of “hat-hair”), and brown eyes. His face was unremarkable, and clean-shaven. However, Daren recognized him immediately.

“Michael Brown?”

The Hero nodded.

“We went to high school with you... You graduated before us. What... What the Hell happened?”

“Well, like a lot of my classmates, I decided to hit the road after graduation. I made a beeline for California, and never looked back.”

“I take it that didn’t pan out?”

“I was a bum within months of making it to L.A. I walked home. Do you have any idea what being a drifter was like before the War? Well... I made it back during your Senior year... I was looking for work when this agency contacted me. I didn’t know what was going on, but I needed a job... I needed money...”

“They were the Committee?” Daren shook his head, “Dude, the Committee was a joke. An in-joke between me, Jared... Levi, here. The Committee was,” he slapped his chest with both hands and gestured around the room to where he perceived the others were, “It was us!”

“Somebody decided that wasn’t right...” Michael replied glumly, “I didn’t watch your show until after I’d signed on, and I figured they were with you. At first, I thought it was all cool, a form of entertainment that, who knows, probably could’ve taken off... Super-powered pro-wrestling...”

“Contending,” Baker corrected, “Once we threw powers into the mix, it stopped having any similarity with professionals, other than the scripting. It was carefully measured, painstakingly acted out contending. Folks didn’t realize just how much Dale’s shield protected them rather than us when we fought.”

“Well... In any case, I started to notice things taking a downward turn shortly before they ordered Levi’s kidnapping. Higher ups kept barking crazy orders to have the most bizarre things done...”

“Like?”

“Hidden cameras... Not just in the Arena or your guys’ homes, but in different Kingdale officials’ homes... Various elite... I was just a pencil-pusher at the time...”

“Get to the facility they had me in,” Levi had popped most of the pieces out and was looking at them on the table, “Daren knows the rest.”

“The cops found the cameras, and traced them to a guy they found with the types of flammables used to burn down the Arena... A guy with numerous prior convictions for arson, but was supposedly rehabilitated and on meds...” Daren sighed, “I think he was on his way to prison when the ships arrived.”

“Right...” Michael rolled his eyes, “I guess you guys already figured he was set up.”

“Yeah, too bad he died. Rikti mistook the bus for an armored vehicle. Blasted it off the highway.”

“I’m sorry about that... Now... The facility they had Levi in... It was like a... A... Hero factory. Only they weren’t building just heroes. They built villains, too. The idea was that the Committee would sell a mercenary to the highest bidder, Crey, the Fifth Column, the Nemesis Army... A lot of them outright refused the Committee’s various Projects. Crey bit a few times, the Column, too, if they wanted to set up a Hero with similar powers... A heavy bidder was some clandestine group in a group of islands off the coast of the U.S...”

“Arachnos...”

“Well, shortly before the Invasion, there was... A schism in the Committee. One of the directors brought a new concept to the Adirondack Factory. Where all of the different characters we cranked out were each unique in their own ways, the four Agents he brought were each exactly the same. I’m sure you’ve seen the Vahzilok zombies by now... Imagine something similar, but much better. Where the zombies have little mechanical bits to make up for where the decaying flesh can’t do the normal work, these things were high endurance metal and polymer combat chasses wrapped in gray, preservative drenched flesh. We had a theory that the ‘candidates’ were ambushed before being ‘converted.’”

“Sick...” Daren grunted.

“I saw the Factory’s director smiling and shaking hands with the other guy after the tests. The Agents could punch through brick walls, leap extraordinary heights...”

“Sounds like they ripped off a movie.”

“Well... They did, kind of. As unimaginative as the Agents were, though, they worked. There was even a stress test... It took a Helluvalot of bullets to put one of them down, and when it finally did go...”

“Boom,” Psycho13 finished, “Even doped up to my eyeballs, I knew that.”

“They wouldn’t need the Factory anymore, not the way it was. I knew what the Committee’s next logical step would be. Hell, it was already happening across the board. Various Projects were winding up dead from mysterious causes, though the mission objectives, assassinations of troublesome individuals, rescues of key Persons of Interest and the like for which they were ‘hired,’ were still succeeding as planned. I knew the Agents, and Director Thomas, were behind it all.”

“Thomas...” Daren repeated to himself, “Pseudonym?”

“Undoubtedly.”

“How big had the Committee gotten by the time you... Wait, you did what?”

“He was a clerk,” Psycho13 was busy trying to put the puzzle back together, which, oddly, was just as hard as trying to pull it apart, “He stole the Project Whirlwind outfit and artifacts...”

“Heh,” Michael’s serious tone finally cracked a little and he allowed himself a smile, “You didn’t think I dressed like this because I like to, did you? The entire outfit is designed to manipulate electricity. The gem in the center of my belt? Research said it could manipulate the local weather. So far, it’s just the extremely local weather...”

“But why steal Levi?”

“He could cobble the stuff together. We were coming across the most bizarre artifacts, the most random technologies, and he was able to take a few minutes and throw the stuff together into the various Projects we needed to make an impact. He wasn’t the only one. After burning down the Adirondack Factory, we tried to locate and rescue the others. The Invasion made it difficult, you understand...”

“How many did you find?”

“Three... One dead. Another was incapacitated, and the third... She...”

“She’s nuts,” Levi chuckled as he set down the completed puzzle, “So, Daren, you satisfied?”

“What are you tryin’ to do, Mike?”

“I... Well... For the first time in my life... I seem to be doing something right. I feel like I’m accomplishing something...”

“Alright,” Daren nodded, “I’ll accept that. For now. I’ll tell you now, though, those Committee bastards... Barring the War, they took something from us, and nearly caused me and Matt spend some time in prison...”

“I understand,” Michael sighed with relief, “Though... I don’t know who set up that arsonist for you... Frankly, it sickens me that it happened.”

“Maybe we weren’t alone with trying to burn down the Adirondack Factory,” Levi rasped, “Who knows what we’ll have to deal with next.”

“I know what we gotta deal with next,” Daren stood and headed for the door, “Come on, let’s get the others and get to work fixing this place up.”

---

My Stories

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

Though the Derrick was a poor base at the moment (far too drafty, and sometimes the creaks and groans were worrying), Dustin Simms knew they had a fairly decent facility.

He was a bit peeved that it was left up to Jared and him to fill out the proper paperwork, but Levi and Michael were too unstable, and Dale wasn't old enough to take responsibility for the wreck.

Their association with Grey's Army helped, though. By noon, they held a lease for the Derrick, and it was sanctioned as the Brutal Warriors Order supergroup base. It felt good to have the facility. It felt good to be doing something.

"Hey!" Draven ran up with his datapad raised high, "I got us a mission! Some old Crey facility is being thrashed, and they want us to clean it up."

"Cool," Dustin rubbed his palms together to clear some of the sweat and hefted his mace to his shoulder, "We bringing anybody along?"

"Nah. Hero Corps says somebody's already on site."

"What're we expecting?"

"Freaks... Freaks and Crey Security."

"They'll fight us, too?"

"Hey, they call it their jurisdiction," Jared smiled, "We can take 'em."

----

The facility was in Kings Row, next to the Skyway City tunnel entrance. It was a tall, dingy building, but no more dingy than the rest of the city zone. Inside, it was havoc. There were a couple Freaks that had somehow gotten back up after getting thrashed by whatever hero had already arrived. Draven and Slater made short work of the Freaks, and were quite pleased the twisted monsters didn't get back up.

Working their way up by the stairs, they encountered Freaks trying the same thing (apparently, nobody wanted to wait for the elevators). The stairwell was filled with the sound of crashing metal and primal screaming. On the third floor, Draven and Slater found themselves kicked through the stairwell door and they had to take the fight to the hallways.

Draven Erickson ducked and rolled, hacked and slashed, and whatever he couldn't deflect, his Obsidian Ring caught with a dark armor that it wreathed his body in. It wasn't perfect, but it helped.

King Slater, despite his lack of mobility, rooted to the ground as he was, was faring much better. His body had been altered since their "Backyard Wrestling" days in the Kingdale Arena. The Granite Grip, a stone tablet with a fist on it, had permanently mutated his body when he utilized it (bonding to him for life). Thusly mutated, King Slater was capable of "growing" a type of rock armor that was durable, effective, and surprisingly didn't ruin his various outfits. The Freaks had trouble cutting through, and Slater kept them from making many chances with the Black Mauler.

Throwing a Freak through a window, Draven pointed Slater down the hall.

"Get to the top floor! Save the lab!"

"You go, man, I can take this..."

"Just do it!" Draven shouted, "We need this victory, and nothing beats a Stone Tank, no matter how slow they move!"

"Draven... I've had some bad experiences in Bloody Bay..."

"Just go!"

Draven shoved his cousin toward the elevators and turned back to the Freaks closing in. As Dustin rounded the corner, he gave one last look to see if his cousin would be okay. Draven was leaping into the air in a twisting motion, the sword singing moments before making contact with most of the Freaks surrounding him.

----

At the top floor, Dustin found the other hero. He was entirely green, and covered in spines. In fact, he looked like a walking plant.

The Freak Tank was some moron named "73h 800M3RZ," and wielded two massive mallets for arms. The plant-man didn't seem to be faring too well. A massive "CLUNK" signaled the end for the green scrapper, and he crumpled to the ground.

"Ha-HA!" 800M3RZ screamed in triumph, "I 4M the Ultimate Tankzorz! N-"

The Black Mauler slammed into his face and started sliding back across the floor to Slater. He had a thin polymer line he used to tether the weapon, and it helped when he had to throw it as a weapon or as a grapple. The line itself could support a little over six hundred pounds.

800M3RZ was not pleased. He followed the weapon to its owner, and hammered into Dustin's chest. There was a grating sound, and Dustin could have sworn he felt something break. When he looked to his left pect to see the damage, however, he saw a hairline crack "healing" by itself. He looked back to 800M3RZ with an annoyed sneer.

"Tsk... Now it's my turn, [censored]."

The Black Mauler sang like Draven's sword. Unlike the blade, however, the Mauler's tune had a heavy bass line, roared like a lion, and clamored throughout the halls in a rhythmic tribal beat. Whenever Dustin had an opening, he would smash his fist into the Tank's face.

Finally, 800M3RZ crumpled to the ground, gurgling something about "stupid heroes" and "suxorz." Slater was dusting off his jacket when he heard the breathing. Turning, he saw the green man happened to still be alive.

"Are you alright?"

"You..." the green man seethed, "You dare to interrupt me!?"

He was a little disconcerting to look at, what with his six eyes (three on each side of his head), complete lack of a mouth and spikes jutting from everywhere on his body. Fortunately for King Slater, he recognized this was a "this guy wants to hurt me" moment.

"Before we do this," he hefted the mace and held it like a baseball bat, "Mind giving me your name?"

"I am Bull Thistle," the Hero hissed somehow, "And I will end you!"

Thistle started by jutting some spikes out of his forearm and hurling them at the stone tanker. The spikes bounced harmlessly off Slater's shoulder and stuck into the wall. The scrapper then closed and started swiping.

Slater tried to take it easy on the guy. He seemed a little angry to have failed his mission, though the lab seemed to still be intact. However, knowing Crey Industries, Slater figured they had recorded the entire event, and that it wasn't Bull Thistle that would get the reward for the capture of the Freak leader.

He deflected most of the attacks, and would often push the scrapper back with the mace. He tried several times to tell Thistle to stand down, but the plant-man refused. However, all of the springing attacks in the world couldn't save the scrawny hero from being totally broken by King Slater.

As the fight tapered to its end, Dustin was suddenly struck with an inspiring thought. Thistle's attacks grew more and more exaggerated, leaving him more and more open. Finally, Dustin dropped his mace on the ground and grabbed the green guy by the throat after an exceptionally errant thrust. Bull Thistle couldn't comprehend what was happening before Slater had him in the air, and slammed him to the floor flat on his back. Spikes flew all around the hallway, some bouncing into the Tanker, but Dustin found he was relatively unharmed.

"NRAH!" he raised his fist into the air and cheered triumphantly, "Yeah! Nothing beats a stone tank!"

He looked down at Bull and chuckled.

"Want me to give you a three count?"

"No," the mutant gasped, "I'm... I'm done. You knocked the wind outta me and now I've got a headache. I... I concede."

Draven stumbled into the room at that. He was beaten, bruised, and bleeding in places. The wounds, however, were staunching by themselves, and they even seemed to be closing. It was slow, but it was there.

"This the other guy?"

"Yeah," Dustin snorted a little, "Bull Thistle."

"Pleased to meet you," the green man started struggling to his feet, "Please don't mind my appearance... It's like a combat armor..."

"So you're human underneath?"

"Human... Seeming..." Thistle shrugged, "It's a long story."

Before anything more could be said, however, some motion caught their eyes. At the end of the hallway was a man in a business suit. Normally, they'd have figured he was simply taking stock of the situation. He could have been one of Crey's many bean counters, simply getting an estimate as to what the insurance payoff for the damage would be.

He could have been...

If not for the dead Paragon Protector being dragged by it's snapped neck in the businessman's left hand.

The three heroes stared blankly at him. He stared right back. No words were uttered. The Agent simply dropped the corpse and started walking slowly toward them. A pistol slid out of his sleeve and glided smoothly into his hand.

Draven went to hit the elevator button, but the Agent shot a hole into it. It was a strange noise. It didn't sound like a pistol shot, but more like an energy weapon. The weapon began to hum, and the Agent didn't slow and didn't quicken.

Bull Thistle was muttering something under his breath. Slater could only hear something along the lines of "No way" and "This can't be happening," before he turned and smashed the Black Mauler into the elevator door. It took five smashes for the magic in the weapon to work its way through, the doors suddenly violently tearing into the elevator shaft as if a massive bullet had smashed through. The Mauler hummed a little and Slater had to exert some effort to pull it back. Draven leapt in immediately, taking flight and diving for the ground. Slater grabbed Thistle by the shoulder and yanked him through the hole.

"Break my fall!" he shouted as he backed through the hole, catching a blast in the shoulder.

It felt like fire coursing through his arm. He couldn't believe something could get through his armor so easily, much less keep burning for what seemed an eternity. He'd heard of White Phosphorous, a material that burned when it came in contact with oxygen and could cut through steel, it was so hot. He figured this must have been what it felt like.

Below him, Bull Thistle had caught the sides of the shaft with his spikes, and he slowed for a moment, but just enough to catch Slater in his back.

"AAAAAAAAUGH!" Thistle screamed as the spikes tore from his arms and legs, "Oh my God!"

They fell fast again, and Slater looked up to see the Agent falling after them. He fired again, and the energy bolt passed harmlessly by Slater's shoulder. He didn't know what to think about that, but apparently it was still something flesh and blood, and capable of making a mistake.

Speaking of mistakes, Dustin saw one, and decided to capitalize on it. Hurling the Mauler (with his fortunately good right arm), he watched the line coil around and around, the drag causing the handle to stay well behind the head of the weapon, which smashed into the pistol's muzzle and smashed through. There was a brief flash of light, and an explosion.

For a moment, the Agent was gone, and Dustin breathed a sigh of relief. The Mauler was still safely at the end of the line, and he started reeling it back in. Bull Thistle caught the walls and Draven caught them both, helping ease the descent.

"Who the Hell was that?" Draven gasped as they were safely waiting on the roof of the elevator, "And why was this thing down?"

"God knows, and God knows," Thistle replied, "We gotta get outta here!"

Slater was still looking up.

The smoke cleared and the Agent was gripping the ledge of one of the higher floors. Dustin noticed they weren't yet on the first floor.

"We're on the fourth..."

"So?"

"Hug the wall," he barked as he swung the mace at the cable box.

The other two heroes didn't need to be told twice. The box broke away from the elevator on the third swing, and the elevator immediately fell away. King Slater leapt up as the Agent leapt down. Bull Thistle jumped across the shaft and barely avoided getting pegged by the Agent's elbow. Dustin met the offender at the apex of his jump, just below the third floor door and caught him in the chest with the Mauler, deflecting the Agent's flight and slamming him into the wall. They fell onto the elevator; and Dustin found himself falling through the lobby door, which had blown outward from the elevator's impact. The Agent had landed on it's back on the now sharp corner of the elevator's roof and wall. Electrical sparks seemed to be erupting from its torso.

"Dude," Draven turned to Bull Thistle, "Why'd you jump across the shaft like that?"

"Counterweight," was the reply.

Dustin struggled to his feet, but only managed to make it to his knee. Looking back, he saw the Agent trying to pull itself back up. Its body was broken open, and he could see the exposed electronics where his right hand used to be.

"What are you?"

The Agent never answered. It never even had a chance to answer. There was a loud "CLANG" and the elevator's counterweight slammed into the bizarre cyborg, flattening it before a massive explosion spewed fire and metal out the elevator's door. Slater was blown backward and he sprawled into a pillar. In massive pain, but alive, he last remembered seeing Crey Security forces moving in before he passed out.

----

He came to in his bed. Looking around, he saw it was the bed in the Derrick. Draven was sitting at his side. On the other side was Nester Durj, Grey's Army's medic.

"See, I told you he'd be fine," he smiled to Draven and started pulling off his gloves, "I bet he was just exhausted is all."

"I thought..." Dustin turned to his cousin, "I thought I was done for."

"Nah, man," Draven shrugged, "Cops were outside, guiding in drones. B.T. and I were still alive and kicking, too. Those goons weren't about to try anything."

"How long was I out?"

"Five days."

"What?"

Nester grinned, "Yeah, man. Rikti and Praetorians aligned, too, man. They've laid waste to Paragon and the Rogue Isles, and this here rig's one of the few bastions of freedom left."

Draven punched Slater in the arm, "Yeah, man! We could've used your help! Where the Hell were you?"

Dustin glared at them.

"It's only been half a day," Nester laughed, "You stone tanks rock. Nothing can ever truly put you down."

"Can I leave the bed?"

"If you're up for it," Nester replied, "My nanites are making sure nothing vital’s punctured, and any hairline fractures you may have are being patched up lickety-split. There's some mind-clearing nanites rooting around in your gray matter, too, they should keep you perfectly alert and alleviate any dizziness you may incur."

"Cool," Dustin pulled himself out of the bed and followed his friend and cousin out.

The rest of the Brutal Warriors applauded him as he arrived in the dining hall. Psycho13 set him a plate of steak, potatoes and green beans and nodded to him respectfully.

"Alright," Solo turned to Project Whirlwind, "Draven's filled us in on what happened. Now, the question on my mind is this: Was that a Committee Agent like you mentioned?"

Whirlwind nodded.

"Great," Solo grumbled as he turned to his beer, "We're already dealing with this [censored]."

----

Justin Steel and his minions, Mr. Smythe, Mr. Weston and Mr. Walter, his foot soldiers, Mr. Hackler and Mr. Coach, his agents, and Mr. Kolt, his heavy commando, executed the Circle minions ruthlessly and efficiently. As the bullets stopped firing, Justin answered his cell phone.

"Yes, sir?" he intoned.

"We encountered some of your old friends again," the Director replied, "Some of our contacts have learned they may have organized again, and are now establishing a base of operations somewhere between Paragon City or the Rogue Isles."

"I understand, sir. I shall investigate promptly."

"No," the voice commanded coldly, "Continue your operations to prove the value of the Committee to Arachnos. There is much profit to be had there, among other perks. I'm assigning the Soultaker and the Assassin to investigate this."

"I understand, sir," Justin's face, even his tone of voice betrayed no emotion, "We shall continue to support Magus Mu'Drakhan."

"A high ranking Mu priest... Keep your eyes open for anything we may use to our advantage."

"Yes, sir."

Inside, Justin Steel seethed. He'd known the BWO had reformed. He'd informed the Committee of his worry about the threat they posed. They were brash and reckless, and they had a knack for ruining the plans and machinations of scary people. Now, the Committee had lost something, and they dangled the assignment to hunt down his former friends and end them.

"Sir?" Mr. Smythe shouldered his rifle and approached, "Sir, are we moving out, now?"

"Yes. I will call the Magus and see where he wants us to go now."

----

Mark Daniels was really getting into his video game. On the screen, demons died in horribly gory ways. Daniels relished in the slaughter.

"Heh-HA! DIE! DIE!"

The phone rang, and Daniels kicked it. This engaged the hands-free system.

"Shadowmark! This is Bossman. Speak to me!"

"Mr. Daniels, this is Director Thomas. Please pick up the receiver."

"Screw you, man," Mark flipped off the phone and stuck his tongue out to wag it at his chin, a stud rested in the middle of it and pressed into his upper lip, "You guys owe me for my last job!"

"You received your advance..."

"Yeah, I know, so where's the rest?"

"You failed."

"There were circumstances you did not make me aware of! Now, I am getting sorely tempted to take a page out of the Family's rulebook, and breaking into a collections racket. I happen to know where a few of your key 'Projects' are!"

"Do you, now?"

The Shadowmark Assassin glared at the phone and just noticed the dark hand grabbing at his throat. Screaming, he leapt from the chair for his gun, only to get hammered in the chest with a burst of dark energy.

"Augh! Soultaker! Yeah, I'll fix you!" Mark raised his hands and the black rings around each finger flashed briefly.

A cloud of black smoke hurtled toward Project Soultaker and passed harmlessly by.

"You're out of practice with your dark arts," the mysterious man croaked, "Don't reach for your rifle. I'll kill you where you lie."

"Soultaker... Please try to be civil with your partner."

"Partner?" the Assassin grimaced, "I ain't workin' with this psycho!"

"You have no choice, Mr. Daniels. I'm checking the books here, and I can see that we indeed failed to pay you for a job you finished for us. Failed, yet you finished, nonetheless. However, there's also the ammunition costs, the finder's fee for the mission, as well as the training you still owe us for."

"Huh?"

"Precisely," the Director chuckled on the other end, "You signed the contract, Mr. Daniels, and you're ours until we say your debt is paid."

"Bull-"

"Watch your tongue!" Project Soultaker smacked Mark across the face.

"Thank you, Soultaker. Now... I have a mission for you two..."

"Do I get paid?" Mark half-croaked, half-whimpered.

"Yes... This should cover a percentage of your dealings with us..."

"I should have remembered that saying about dealing with devils..."

---

My Stories

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

Draven Erickson took a moment before knocking at the door. He'd been dreading this. Of all the crap assignments, to have to do this...

"Psycho!" he started knocking, "Come on, Levi, wake up!"

"Aw... Come on... Gimme until the crack of noon!"

"Get out here!" Jared wrenched at the door handle, and was glad his partner for the day hadn't remembered about the locks.

Of course, he kind of wished Levi had when he got a look at the room.

"Oh my God..." he muttered as he winced, "Is that a teddy bear?"

One eye popped open on Psycho 13's face and he grimaced.

"Don't you look at me!"

"Tell me you're not naked under there."

"Does nude work for you?"

"No."

"Well good, because I'm neither!"

Jared gripped his temples, "Then why would you... Never mind. Get your costume on, and we'll head out. We're patrolling Terra Volta."

Psycho whistled at that and started gathering his things. Draven grimaced at the tattered kilt his friend(?) wore and was relieved that Levi hadn't been lying about wearing clothes (a pair of shorts) to sleep. He started heading for the landing pad and was met by Daren.

"Busy day?" his cousin asked.

"Yeah. I'm workin with Levi."

"Yeesh... Glad I don't have to do that."

"Wait until we're cleared to patrol Warburg," Draven poked Solo hard in the shoulder, "I'll make you two stick together like glue!"

"[censored] you, man!" Daren pushed Jared in the shoulder, spinning him about slightly, "You're not the champ!"

Draven stared back, his mind a complete blank.

"Champ?"

Daren paused for a second, then chuckled.

"Yeah," he finally got out, "It's an idea Dustin and I were tossing around... That our rank system works something like-"

"Pro wrestling," Draven grimaced, "So all our new guys are 'Jobbers,' I bet."

"Yeah!"

"I..." Jared couldn't find the words, "How do the others feel about this?"

"Well, Matt laughed about it, then declared himself Hardcore Champion... Dale had a few laughs until I told him he's still a Jobber... You, me, Dustin and James are the only contenders for Heavyweight Champ..."

Draven's face twitched slightly.

"Psycho and Whirlwind, they're Jobbers."

"Great..."

"I don't know..."

"No, no," Jared went back to the landing pad hatch, "I like it. If we ever get into a disagreement, I could always fight you for the decision. Much better than democracy."

"Ooh..." Solo was suddenly struck with an idea, "How should we bring Joe into this?"

"He's just an investor."

Outside, they started their pre-flight inspection. Draven checked for missing equipment, Solo checked the actual working parts. So far, Daren was the only one that could do a proper hardware check, but he was rapidly training the Baker brothers to match him. James took quickly to the training because he helped build the machine. Surprisingly, Levi was really taking to the lessons, and reminded Solo many times that they would need a back-up pilot if ever he was out of commission. Though Daren knew he was right, he wasn't sure if he wanted Levi to be that pilot.

"Everything look clear?" he asked as he finally found himself satisfied with the checks.

"Yeah," Draven replied, "Everything's good to go. Daren, tell me something."

"What's up?"

"You were one of the first people to just ease into a normal life... I mean, after Dustin... You snapped out of the funk some of us were in after the Arena fire and got to work being a normal guy... So why the 'Championship' ranking system?"

Daren shrugged.

"I don't believe you."

"Look," Solo Stryker rubbed his forehead and looked to make sure nobody was listening, "I might share this with Dustin, but none of the others, okay? We are in a dangerous situation. We're using a warship, a technological wonder, to run a ferry service. This is our T-Bird, our Millenium Falcon... It's unique and recognizable... We haven't really considered what we're getting into, and we're going to have a lot of angry people, on both sides of this struggle, chasing us."

"Yeah," Draven sighed, "Makes ya kind of reconsider this whole endeavor..."

"Too late..." Daren shrugged again and started unlocking the magnetic grips Hector had supplied them with to keep the Flyer wherever they landed it, "Wallace wants us to test this thing to its limits, and this is the best situation for it..."

"Right-right... So, the ranking system?"

"Eventually, the seriousness of the situation is going to catch up to us..."

"Sounds like it already has."

"It hasn't," Daren assured his cousin, "Trust me. If it had, we'd be at each other’s throats, shouting, screaming, and maybe some of us wouldn't survive. We'd go bat-[censored] crazy from the magnitude of the danger we're in."

Daren shook his head again.

"So... I'm not getting this..."

"Remember when the Committee started sending us those checks? When we realized that someone was trying to get rich off us? How'd we react?"

"We started looking for them," Draven smirked, "And we found some of their goons and put them in the hospital. The BWO was ours, and we weren't about to let someone manipulate us."

"Right," Daren grinned, it was a dangerous, conniving grin, "We fought back. Sure, the situation wasn't nearly this magnitude, but by feeling like we were in the middle of our own project, defending it from all outsiders, and constantly fighting each other to keep ourselves tough... We felt we could take on the world."

"But we can't take on the world," Jared reminded his cousin, "We're going to have to realize that sooner or later."

"Hmf," Daren smirked again, "Spoken like someone who doesn't have what it takes to be the Heavyweight Champion."

Draven shook angrily suddenly. Somehow, Daren's statement brought out a primal urge in him. He felt he needed to fight his cousin... Not because it was necessary, but because it would prove he was the best...

"This is nuts," he said as he sat down, "What the Hell was that?"

"A distraction," Daren replied, clapping Jared on the shoulder, "And it works. James and Dustin were what inspired me, when they were fighting while I interviewed Levi and Mike. Shortly after, I took them to their respective locations, and where they used to question whether or not they were doing the right thing, they just leapt into their missions with gusto."

"Yeah, I was workin' with Dustin, then... He was a bit antsy about taking a job for Crey, but when it came to the action, he never hesitated for an instant. You'd never know that a year ago, he was a construction worker."

"If we think like warriors, we'll fight like warriors," Daren summarized, "We can do this... We just need to stay in the mindset..."

"So..." Draven thought about it for a second, "I guess that makes me Heavyweight Champion of the Heroes division of the Brutal Warriors Order."

Daren's grin turned to a full-blown smile, "I'll take Grand Heavyweight Champion, thank you..."

"[censored] you!" Dustin's voice called behind him, "If anybody's Grand Champ at the outset, it's me."

"Like Hell it is!" James suddenly interrupted, "I'll take all of you down!"

"Grahrgh!" Psycho 13 stood at the door, his face twisted into a maniacal mask, "I... will... break all-of-you!"

"Later!" Draven shouted over them, "Later! We'll work this out later, okay, guys... Right now, Psych and I are slotted to patrol Terra Volta, and I don't want to be late."

"Cool," Dustin started getting on board the Flyer, "I'm gonna be hitting the grocery store."

"Cool," Ragin' James waved them off, "I'm gonna be working on setting up the sensor grid with Dale and Mike."

"What's Matt gonna be doing?" Daren inquired as he climbed into the Flyer's cockpit.

"Sleeping."

"Good, good. Everybody's accounted for, then..." Daren nodded then hovered his hand over the canopy's "open/close" button, "Slater and I'll be back this afternoon to help out."

---

My Stories

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

"So..." Psycho13 hollered as he ripped into one of the Sky Raiders they were patrolling for, "I was thinking..."

"I doubt it, but continue," Draven replied as he deftly hacked through the armor plating of two more Raiders.

"It's about -oog- what we were -ow- talking about back at the base..."

Psycho had run into a bit of a rough spot. Several Sky Raiders had him surrounded, had his arms pinned behind him and were taking turns pounding his stomach. He tried kicking at them to keep them off, but it was mostly in vain.

"Hang on," Draven muttered into his headset.

"Nah, nah... -oof- I got it."

Psycho suddenly pushed back into the Raider holding his arms. The back of his head connected with the minion's chin and the skinny scrapper stomped into his assailant's ankle. He was rewarded with a satisfying crunching sound.

The other Raiders were closing in, their serrated machetes drawn for some serious pain delivery. Psycho13, however, wasn't worried. Reaching into the back of his "hardcore" belt, he withdrew a set of hunting knives.

"Come on, boys!" he shouted, his face twisted into maniacal glee.

Draven dropped out of the sky onto the first two in his partner's path. Psycho let out a disappointed "aw" but gleefully turned to the next couple Raiders as Draven dispatched another set to the opposite side.

Eventually, their quota had been filled.

"Alright!" Psycho13 cheered, "Drinks on me!"

"I thought you didn't drink, Levi," Draven muttered to his friend.

"Dude! Name!"

"Right, right, sorry..."

"And yeah, I do drink... sometimes... When it's appropriate, you know," the skinny, disheveled hero started making his way to the south, "We done hunting Sky Raiders?"

"Yeah..." Jared muttered as he checked his communicator's menus, "According to this, we gotta hunt some Freaks now."

"They're always fun."

"So... What was that you wanted to talk about?"

"We should hold a tournament," Psycho replied, "Draw our names out of a hat and we pair up... then each team fights each other. Winners go on to fight winners and so on..."

"King of the Ring style, eh?"

"Or something," Psycho pointed to a group of Freaks just chilling out next to a warehouse, "Bingo!"

The first set went down quickly, and then got back up.

"Augh! I hope they count double!"

"They do," Draven laughed, "Thanks guys..."

The Freaks charged at them with complete disregard for how quickly they'd been taken out in the first place. They fell again just as easily. Psycho thought it was cool, the green stuff that spewed all over the place when he severed the tubes from their bodies. The Freaks didn't seem to like it, shouting "My Excelsior!" and "You [censored]!" whenever he did it. Draven followed his lead and the two of them utilized the method to clear out the rest of their quota in record time.

"Whoo!" Psycho13 cheered as the police drones mopped up the bodies, teleporting them to the Zig, where they'd get medical treatment, new (less powerful) limbs and spiffy orange uniforms.

"Nice," Draven sheathed his blade and turned to his communicator, "Looks like a batch of Devouring Earth and I think we're done after that."

"Great!"

Focusing on just the grass-types of the Devouring Earth eco-terrorists, the two were able to make short work of the monsters with their blades. Every so often, they had to flee, however...

"BEEEEEEEEEEEEES!" another group of patrolling heroes heard them screaming, "They've got BEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEES!"

Finally, after several five-minute episodes of fighting and running (from bees), Draven and Psycho13 came to a panting conclusion to their day's activities.

"You did well out there, man," Erickson slapped his partner on the shoulder.

Psycho13 leaned forward and arched his back.

"...beeeeeeeeees..." he gasped hoarsely, "big... angry... stingy... beeeeeeeeeeeees..."

"Yeah... I forgot you're not wearing much..."

"They hate blue..."

"Yes..." Draven grinned, trying to suppress laughter, "Yes they do."

Psycho13's veins suddenly popped out of his skin and he gritted his teeth. The sores all over his torso faded and he stood refreshed. Draven whistled.

"Thanks," Psycho replied quietly, "Hey, I got an idea in mind... We don't owe Freedom Corps anymore Sky Raiders, right?"

"Right."

"Cool, let's go get us a skiff..."

"What?"

"A skiff! Come on, Daren got that dropship; let's get a support vehicle for it! Who knows, we could probably fit it in the cargo bay!"

Draven pointed at his friend. He knew he should say something, but nothing came to mind.

"Alright," he finally agreed, "Let's get us a Skiff."

They made their way to the hill just south of the Terra Volta entrance. Several sets of Skiffs hovered over the road there. Psycho licked his lips, and then turned to Draven.

"You're gonna have to knock 'em outta the sky."

"Dammit, man..." Draven muttered, "I'll see what I can do."

He flew up to the Raiders and tapped on the canopy of the nearest Skiff. The three vehicles turned toward him with dubious regard.

"I was wondering," he drew his sword for emphasis, "if you wouldn't mind handing over one of your nifty vehicles..."

"Not happening," came a stereo sounding voice from one of the farther Skiffs.

"Uh, guys," the nearest one muttered, "Maybe you haven't figured this out, but I'm fairly certain he's gonna cut me down first..."

"Yahahahahahaha!" Psycho suddenly screamed, a pair of Raider assault rifles in his hands, their owners collapsing behind him.

"Jebus!" Draven shouted as he dove out of the way of the incoming hail of bullets.

Levi Baker filled the sky with ammunition, and the Sky Raiders replied in kind. Unfortunately, the stolen weapons ran dry long before the Skiffs were done returning fire. When the firestorm was over, Psycho was stumbling with each tiny step and covered with blood.

"Psych!" Draven yelled, "Aw, you miserable bastards!"

As he closed with the Skiffs, they fired off a volley of missiles at Psycho. A massive cloud of dirt and dust erupted in the scrapper's vicinity, and Draven spat out a curse. His blade sang with each strike, and finally, he severed a fuel line. The first Skiff exploded, and the red-coated hero moved on to the next.

There was a telltale clicking sound, and he realized their weapons were done reloading. He dove under them and aimed for the top of the wall. He could hear the vehicles following quickly, and then they started firing. As he cleared the concrete, he could hear the bullets impacting.

"Suddenly, I wish I'd invested in bullet proof vests..." he grumbled, "Something more than this shadowy stuff..."

The Skiffs crested the wall and their pilots were smiling wickedly at the hero.

"You've made a grievous error, boy!" the left pilot heckled, "Any last words before we riddle you with holes?"

"Yeehah!" Psycho suddenly screamed from the south, and Draven looked to see his friend running at super speed along the top of the wall.

"What the!?" the left-most pilot got out before Psycho had slammed into his canopy and started wrenching it open.

"Don't worry, I'll get him off," the other pilot yelled.

"No, don't!"

Psycho got the canopy open just when the other pilot opened fire. He was still hanging onto it as it swung aside, pulling the vehicle around with him, and the bullets were impacting on the vehicle's pilot. Psycho winced a little as the guy looked like he was getting punched repeatedly, and then slumped still.

"Here," he barked as he injected a syringe full of medical nanites into the guy, and then yanked him out of the chair.

As the Raider fell, Baker stamped a police drone tag on his butt and took the pilot's seat. Grinning broadly, he slammed the canopy shut and thumbed one of the triggers, causing a rocket to speed past the remaining skiff.

"No!" the pilot screamed, "I won't let you take it!"

Speeding rapidly, Draven snagged the fuel line with his sword. The Skiff blew moments later below him.

"Yay!" Psycho13 enthusiastically shouted, "We got a Skiff!"

"Hey!' he heard over the Skiff’s communication system, "Somebody's stealing a skiff!"

"Get 'em!" came another voice.

"Draven," Psycho yelled into his communicator, "I'll see you at the base, and I gotta lose these guys!"

"Go, go, GO!" Erickson replied as he made his way for the siege doors, "That was too close, man..."

"I'll explain how I survived later, man... Later man!"

---

My Stories

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

A week later, Ragin' James found himself patrolling Mercy Island. His brother, Levi, was making an impression back at the base. In fact, he'd contributed significantly with hat beat-up Sky Raider Skiff he brought in.

Though it looked like it had been through a firefight, they figured they could have it refurbished in no time... They just had to figure out where to begin... As it stood, Dale was tinkering around with it in his spare time.

"Even my lunatic brother's contributing!" he shouted at Daren, trying to explain his latest plan, "Come on! You gotta let me do this!"

"We don't even know where to begin!"

Rage knew where to begin. He'd seen Committee agents all over the Rogues... Kidnapping the Snakes... Any Skulls or Hellions that displayed super powers... The Stricken... Even some of the Slag Golems. All were candidates for the Committee's "Sweeper" teams.

He didn't know what they were kidnapping the people for, but he figured it had something to do with the "Projects" like Whirlwind, or that Soultaker guy who's spine he broke.

"Man, that was an awesome power bomb," he muttered as he floated by a burning building.

"What?" Daren was a few miles away, well out of the range of the Arachnos Flyer that patrolled Mercy Island, "You say somebody got powerbombed?"

"Nah... Just remembering what I did to that Committee guy..."

"Well, watch the chatter... You never know when somebody's listening."

"Shh!" James hissed, "I see something..."

A group of Stricken were in the middle of a fight with a group of the Rogue Isles Police. Just as corrupt as any of the various lunatics who populated the Etoiles, for once, the "Rippers" were probably in the right. Given half the chance, the Infected, mutated homeless men that were even worse off than their counterparts, the Contaminated in Paragon City, would send the men home in a body bag.

However, what had gotten James' attention was the black truck that pulled up next to the fight. A man in a black suit stepped out of the driver's side, walked to the back, opened it, and ushered out a group of men. Rage had seen mercenaries before, and he figured the Committee would bolster its ranks with various rejects from the Council, the Sky Raiders, even Arachnos itself.

Each squad of Committee goons was apparently handled by a Suit...

James thought he recognized the guy, who simply told the Rippers that he had the situation. He tossed them a couple bills and they headed off. The Infected weren't about to be so easily placated.

"Take them down," he heard the Suit order, and the Committee soldiers went to work with tranquilizer darts and tazers.

In seconds, the poor bums were unconscious and rolled into the back of the truck. The guards hopped in behind them and the Suit drove the truck off. Ragin' James followed in the sky.

It was something the Skulls he wore had recently enabled him to do... Flight. It was an incredible experience, and he hoped to never lose it.

The vehicle made its way to an old warehouse on the western side of the island. Flying up to a window, Rage spied inside.

----

"What the [censored] is this [censored]," yelled a thickly Slavic accented man.

He was of an average height... maybe slightly taller. His skin had been turned a darker shade, almost brown, by the elements. Bright green paint adorned his body wherever skin showed. Despite seeming to have some form of control over the situation, the man wore ragged clothing. His fists seemed to glow with a bright green to match his paint, however.

"We told you, Bioserj," the Suit replied calmly, his own assault weapon cradled casually in his arms, "We need all the super types we can get. Wherever we can get them. Resources are constrained, otherwise..."

"I am not carink about your resources!" Bioserj kicked over a set of crates, "I am tired of your 'projects,' your 'schemink...' I am tired of you kidnappink these men to be your slaves!"

"We did the same to you, and look how you turned out..."

"GET OUT!" Bioserj fired a pair of beams from his eyes at the Suit's feet, "I said OUT! Leave those men here! I will deal with them..."

"I'm afraid..."

"You don't scare me," Bioserj stepped closer, glowering down at the Suit, "I am Russian... I am proud... I can take you and your goons. I will break you..."

The Suit's sunglasses blocked his blinks from view, but Bioserj knew he'd made an impression. Calmly, the Committee Agent signaled to his operatives, and they withdrew to the truck outside.

"You've made a grievous error, today, Serj," the Suit started following his troops, "I don't have authorization to take you out right now, but I will. When that happens, I'm going to make sure you live to regret turning your back on us."

He left, with Bioserj heading back to his lonely corner of the warehouse. He'd have to wait until his Infected "brothers" came to before he could begin trying to help them.

"On second thought," the Suit and his soldiers were back in the entrance, "I think I'll just take the initiative on this one."

Bioserj dove behind a ramp as the soldiers opened fire. Bullets impacted all around, and few actually made contact at the long range.

"Damn you, Steel!" Bioserj shouted as his body suddenly radiated and his wounds closed, "I promise, you will die before today ends!"

"Dead by dawn?" Steel chuckled, "Serj, you should know better than to make promises you can't keep..."

"I'm sorry, Ilyana..."

The advanced Infected bum suddenly jumped up and launched a torrent of radioactive energy at the soldiers. Steel ducked out of the way just in time, but his Special Ops operatives, Hackler and Coach, were sent to the ground, choking and gasping. The other troopers returned fire, this time with much more success. Bioserj collapsed to the concrete floor, his body bleeding from multiple wounds.

He still lived, though. Slowly, his body began regenerating the damage. Justin Steel wasn't about to let him get back up again.

"I'm sorry we couldn't come to an amicable arrangement," he calmly stated as he pressed the muzzle of his assault rifle to the Russian's face, "I'm certain you could have gone far with this company."

"I'll see you in Hell..."

"Dasvidania..."

The sound of broken glass from above interrupted them. Ragin' James flew into the warehouse and landed between Justin Steel and his troops.

"What the Hell?" he shouted at the skull adorned Brute, "You! You're the freak from... Oh no..."

"Steel!" Rage shouted and started charging toward the Committee Agent, "You [censored]!"

There was a resounding crack as his fist connected with his former friend's jaw, sending the Agent sprawling. The soldiers started firing at their boss's assailant, their bullets being harmlessly deflected by the electric waves radiating from the Skulls of Cord.

"You [censored] are gonna have to try harder than that!" he shouted at them as he wrenched a piece of concrete out of the floor and hurled it at the medic.

The block connected with a sickening crunch, and the medic, Mr. Walter, crumpled to where he fell. The soldiers stopped firing and looked in confusion to their boss.

"Mr. Steel?" one of them shouted, "What do we do?"

"Hold your fire Mr. Smythe," he gurgled through his broken jaw, "Hold... your fire...."

Rage turned his attention back to the Mastermind.

"I should have known," he murmured, "All the signs were there... Everything we were doing, where we lived, how we behaved... You were telling them how to handle us..."

"...yes..."

"Give me one good reason why I shouldn't put you into the nearest Arachnos med bay?"

"You... *cough* owe me!" Steel finally rasped out, crawling on his back away from the Brute, "If it were... weren't for me... You'd be rotting in... prison right now..."

"What?"

"I set that... pyro up... to get you out..."

Rage looked down at Justin Steel. He'd been one of the referees they used when they held shows at the Kingdale Arena. He was a diehard fan of the act, and fairly decent at perpetrating it himself. When the BWO ended in Kingdale and he disappeared, well... James wasn't in town at the time to put two-and-two together...

"I should have broken your neck back in Bloody Bay," he grunted.

"You... *gasp* you owe me..."

"Get the Hell out of here," Rage turned to the wounded Bioserj, "Leave your weapons."

The resounding clattering of alloy on concrete followed by the shuffling of rubber-soled boots signaled the departure of the Committee's minions. Rage knew they'd have to deal with Steel later, but now, all debts were paid.

"Come on, let me take a look at you," he muttered as he attempted to pick Bioserj off the floor.

The Corrupter smashed his fist into Rage's face, firing an incandescent beam of radiation energy at the same time. With a roar, he jumped up and body tackled the Brute. Rage threw him off and slowly stood, rubbing the part of his face that felt suddenly very numb.

"What the [censored]!" he shouted at the advanced Stricken, "What the Hell is wrong with you? I just saved your life!"

"You let them get away!" Bioserj's fists started glowing again, "They will hunt me down like dog! I will not be dog!"

He fired a torrent of the energy at Rage, who deftly floated over it, came back down and crashed into Bioserj with an elbow to the shoulder. The Russian crumpled, but rolled backwards and was up on his feet in no time. Bright green energy lasers erupted from his eyes and warmed the skull hovering centimeters from James' chest, but otherwise did nothing.

"Is that all?" James shouted as he started stomping toward his opponent, "Is that all you've got? Every trick up your sleeve?"

"Every trick? No."

Bioserj charged forward and dropkicked the Brute, sending James sprawling. A set of crates he crashed into shattered when they hit the floor. Bioserj sent blast after blast heading Rage's way, but the Brute stood again and started running for him.

They crashed through the brick wall a second later and Rage threw the desperate Infected man over the side of the cliff. Bioserj yelled obscenities at him, and continued to fire energy at his assailant. When he hit the dirt, he stopped. Groaning, he radiated again, and his (hairline) fractured bones began to knit together and his bruises started to fade.

"It will be lonk life for Serj..." he muttered as he picked himself up.

Gazing to the sky, he wondered what had become of the young man who'd saved his life. True... He'd be hunted down by the Committee, but at least now he had a chance to fight back. He suddenly regretted his hasty actions born of anger. The fact that the young man was coming down after him, not in flight, but just falling with his arm crooked out to slam his elbow into Serj, further added to the regret.

Rage connected with his elbow raking across Bioserj's chest. He impacted the dirt, sending a plume of sand into the air and leaving him gasping for breath. Bioserj, screaming, recovered from the crazy Indian Burn across his torso and attempted to press his advantage by putting Rage into a chokehold.

Gagging for breath, Rage hefted himself into the air and fell backward, using Serj to protect himself from the pointy rock he fancied. The Russian Stricken released his hold and the two lay on the beach, gasping for breath.

----

I don't know, man," Solo Stryker muttered as Bioserj came to in the cargo bay of the dropship, "You think we can trust him?"

"Yeah," Rage rasped, "I think we can... He's run afoul of the Committee, just like we have. He's also got his finger on the pulse of this island... I think he'd be very useful in determining just who we can trust."

"Hey!" Daren snapped his fingers in Serj's face, "What's your name?"

"Serj... Serj Gorvinof... They call me... Bioserj..."

"Well, Bioserj," Solo grinned at him, "You play nice, this may be your lucky day."

"No... No more... lucky day..."

Daren looked back to his friend. James handed him a bottle full of a dark brown liquid.

"Here," he said as he handed the bottle to the Stricken Russian, "you drink this to ease your pain. We're gonna get you somewhere to fix what's been done to your back, and then we'll talk. Okay?"

"Okay..." Serj took a quick drink, "Brown water?"

The other two glared at him. Finally, James started chuckling. Daren grinned and patted Serj on the shoulder.

"You'll be alright. James, let get this hulk moving."

---

My Stories

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

Bioserj stared at the group of young men that were currently hosting him as he recovered from his fight with Ragin' James. The hero who'd given him the serum that repaired his spine was nowhere to be seen, though the one they called Solo Stryker said the man made frequent visits to make sure they were doing alright. Otherwise, his care was being left in the hands of a back brace and a few canisters of the regenerative serum. His own irradiated biology helped a little, too, but nowhere near the rate he needed.

The others seemed to be pairing off. One hero versus one villain. There was a skinny guy streaked in blue-paint lightning, a belt of golden fake skulls holding up a tattered kilt and various knives sheathed throughout it. He was pitted up against a masked man with spikes coming off of it whose outfit was blue on black, and he was wearing a trench coat over it.

They had constructed a small fighting ring next to the landing pad of the dropship that had brought them to the... It looked like an old oil drilling platform... In any case, the ring appeared to be a standard boxing style... maybe a little bigger, maybe a little smaller. It was hard for Bioserj to tell from his vantage point. Four corner posts supported three ropes that circled the ring and provided a boundary for the day's competitors.

"What... What id this?" he finally croaked out.

"Well," the little blue guy, they called him Psycho, answered despite his friends' protests, "We're gonna settle a little problem we've been having with leadership!"

"You're going-k to fight over who gets to lead?" Serj's tone was more than a little doubtful, "This seems very foolish, this plan..."

"Yeah, well, it's fun!" Psycho13 grinned widely and started bounding for the ring, "Come on, Whirlwind, I can't wait to kick your butt!"

The masked hero started laughing and joined his opponent. A third hero stood in the center of the ring, decked out in a black and white striped suit. He hit a few buttons on the back of his left glove and a green energy field enveloped the fighting area.

"This is..." Serj looked to the other guys, one of whom (Ragin' James? Yes, it was!) was operating a camera and recording the event, "Odd..."

----

The two contenders circled each other for a few moments, but otherwise did nothing.

"Psycho13 and Project Whirlwind are circling each other..." Rage muttered, "They don't seem to be doing much..."

"What're you waiting for?" the guy who had talked to him earlier and given him the watered down alcohol shouted, "Ding-ding! Bell's rung, get fighting!"

Psycho13 turned to his friend and made to say something, but Project Whirlwind threw a bolt of lightning at his back.

"Ah! You sonova..."

He whirled around and leapt at his opponent. Though he was heavily armed, he seemed to stick largely to unarmed fighting. Project Whirlwind had a distinct advantage over his assailant. He let Psycho13 get a few hits in, but they only impacted on his shoulders and forearms. Once the skinny scrapper got close enough to start doing some real damage, however, Project Whirlwind was suddenly wrapped in hurricane-force winds, and Psycho13 found himself thrown against the far corner.

"Ooh!" Draven shouted, "Psycho's gonna have some trouble getting through that!"

Project Whirlwind pressed his advantage with a dropkick to his opponent's chest. The group of heroes and rogues watching all gave a resounding cheer as the attack connected. Whirlwind snapped back up, and started to kick into his opponent's chest, Psycho13 crumpled lower and lower down the ropes.

----

"I recognize this," Serj nudged King Slater, "You boys... You're a little sick in the head, da?"

"You're pretty coherent for an infected bum," Dirty Ice retorted.

"I was born in aftermath of Chernobyl, and not far from. My body was already damaged by radiation... Brain... Brain especially."

"Is it bad?" Dustin asked, sympathy clearly evident on his face.

"It was... Learning-k was... Hard. I... struggled through, however. When I realized I was drinking-k the wrong water and it was too late to stop the changes, I was lucky to find my body was already able to take the change."

"That's good," Matt reached over to shake his hand, "Welcome aboard, man. I'm Dirty... Dirty Ice. How's your back?"

"It good," Serj replied, and then turned back to the fight.

----

Psycho13 had the advantage now, his body chemistry reintegrating and adjusting to handle the winds his opponent kept throwing at him. However, Project Whirlwind had the ring clouded in a fog that made it hard to see. Psycho13 was following the sounds of his opponent's steps and the vibrations in the mat.

At one point, he aimed a kick to where he figured Project Whirlwind would be, and his leg landed on the top rope. Whirlwind was hopping off the corner, and he had a kick aimed for Psycho's head. The scrapper fell away before the attack and rolled on his shoulder, slamming his extended leg against the mat and using that to prop himself back up at the end of the roll.

Whirlwind was hovering in the air. Psycho grinned at him, and launched himself into a body tackle, slamming Project Whirlwind into the corner pads.

----

"This is almost entertaining," Serj grumbled.

"It's not fake," Dustin muttered back, "Not like what we based it on."

"Really!? So... They really try to... Hurt each other?"

"Yeah!" Matt chuckled, "Me and Slater are next. It's gonna be fun!"

"So... Anyone can do this?"

"Not you," Dustin replied, "Not right now. One, your back's still busted. Two... Well... You're not exactly with us..."

"If I were... I could fight?"

"Well... We're fighting for something pretty important."

"Da... Who leads..."

"It's more of a deciding vote," Matt explained, "But we'll burn that bridge when we get to it."

----

Project Whirlwind Had Psycho in the air, gripping him by the back of the neck, and bracing him with his palm on the scrapper's lower back. He sent charge after charge into Psycho's body until he finally stopped struggling, and then unceremoniously dropped him to the mat.

He was a little surprised that the others were cheering him on.

"Top rope!" he heard Draven shout, "Go for a high flyer move!"

Michael nodded and leapt into the air, but he didn't go for any of the corners. He kept flying up, and up, and up... When he came back down, it was going to be with the impact of a gravity bomb.

Baker's eyes snapped open and he saw the tiny dot that was his opponent.

"Oh... Not good."

The dot got bigger, and bigger. Whirlwind had one foot aimed down for Psycho's face. Though he could have taken the hit, and regenerated, it would leave him in unnecessary pain, and cost him the match.

Psycho rolled out of the way, and Whirlwind pulled himself out of the hard dive, arcing widely, grazing the mat, losing control and bouncing through the ropes, into the energy shield centered on the Referee. There was an odd squeaking sound as he slid to the ground.

Psycho13 leapt out of the ring after him, colliding his knees with his prone opponent with an enthusiastic "Yeehaw!"

The Referee started counting off as they pummeled each other outside the ring. He got to eight before they bolted back in and Whirlwind surprised his opponent with a kick to the face (causing the crowd to cheer with a resounding "Ooh!"). Psycho13 stumbled a bit, bounced off the rope and into Whirlwind's waiting boot.

The masked hero pinned the scrapper for the three-count, and leapt up cheering.

----

"I still don't see difference," Bioserj muttered as the group congratulated Mike on his victory, "It all looks so... Practiced! They even followed formula of jumping-k back in at last second!"

"Yeah, well, Psych's a sucker for classics..." Dustin replied, "Now... Psych... You okay?"

"I think my nose is broke!" the scrapper shouted, and sure enough, the nose popped itself back in place, "There it goes. Ow."

"Good Lord..." Bioserj muttered as he took Dustin's vacated seat, "You guys will kill each other before the day ends..."

"We can only hope," Daren chuckled, "Slater! Dirty! You're up!"

---

My Stories

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

King Slater and Dirty Ice circled each other in the ring. Neither had activated their powers, but their weapons were obviously on their belts.

Suddenly, they lunged at each other, bunching up each other's arms and struggling to gain an advantage from the grapple. Slater had a distinct advantage in this endeavor, as he was the taller of the two. A quick twist later, and Dirty was sent flying through the air to land flat on his back near one of the corners.

"Aw... Come on..." he turned to Solo Stryker, "Hey! Do we get to use powers here?"

King pulled the black mace from his belt and answered Ice's question with a hard smash to the mouth. A spurt of blood flew through the air and disappeared in a salty breeze. Ice staggered a couple steps and leaned hard on the corner.

"Ow!" he spat, "What the Hell, man?"

"That's right, Dirty, take it like a [censored]!" Ragin' James yelled into the ring.

"Aw... sonova..."

Fire wrapped around the brute and he yanked the Earth Maul from it's loop. Salt crystals wrapped around the weapon, and he smashed into Slater with a ferocious assault. The crystals exploded on impact, swirled in the air, and came back to the hammer for a second swing.

Slater was thrown to the ground.

"Yeah-heah!" Dirty Ice shouted triumphantly, "That's what you get, Slater! That's what you get!"

Stone wrapped around King Slater's outfit. The tanker stood again, gripped his mace tightly, and dove into another attack.

----

The day wore on... Slater defeated Ice, Draven defeated Slater. Rage defeated Project Whirlwind, and got a by to wait for who would win between Draven and Solo Stryker.

The fight between the cousins was methodical. Solo Stryker had a few nasty tricks, such as disappearing from Draven's sight and catching him in the back of the head with hard hammerfist.

Draven cleaved through Solo's defences with his sword. It sang with a high note, and the sound reverberated as he smashed the flat of the blade against the red-clad stalker's belly.

Solo crumpled to the mat, coughing and gasping. Draven brought the blade whistling through the air to slam against the back of his head. The stalker ducked away, rolled, bounded to hsi feet and bounced off the ropes. Draven recovered from his failed attack in time to see Solo's arm crashing into his head.

----

"Unbelievable..." Bioserj shook his head, "You expect me to take you seriously after all of this?"

"Man, believe whatever the Hell you want..." Psycho13 replied from the camera, "We have fun doing this stuff... You want in, cool. If not, that's cool, too."

----

Solo and Draven were bouncing off the ropes. They were just picking up speed, it seemed. Finally, Draven leapt into the air, the pommel of his blade facing toward Solo Stryker's nose. Stryker leapt up with a drop kick and the two connected with a sickening crunch.

They lay on the ground for a few seconds. Dale was counting them to ten. If neither could stand in that time, they'd both be disqualified, and Ragin' James would go on to be the leader that made the overall choices for the BWO.

"Nine!"

Dale shouted and Draven picked himself up. His jaw was broken.

"Aw..." he gasped as he held the injury, "Ungh..."

Solo Stryker lied on the mat. He seemed unconscious and was suffering from a broken nose.

Draven moved to get the pin. Solo suddenly stood, and his face seemed a hideous mask of blood and fangs. Draven fell back, screaming, and Solo faded from view again. Cowering in the corner, the red-coated hero attempted to regain his composure.

Solo drilled his cousin's head against the corner pads. Draven tried to fend him off, but the stalker pressed his advantage, capping it off with a set of stomps.

----

"I thought you were friends..." Serj arched an eyebrow to Slater.

"Worse, family," the tanker replied, "Those two... Psych and Rage, they're brothers. Ice there is on his own... So's Whirlwind. The Ref and Solo are my brothers. Erickson's our cousin. We're all close friends, though... At least... Tsk... We know each other."

"Close friends?" Serj's eyes widened, "And you do this damage to each other for fun?"

"Well, Whirlwind's not too much of a friend... But we've learned to trust him. Otherwise... Yeah."

"You boys are absolutely crazy..."

----

Draven flew into the air. He popped his jaw back into place and slammed a green gem against his chest, healing the damage, but it left a slight ache.

"Rrrrrrraaaaaaaaaaah!" he screamed as he came back around in a dive.

Solo met him in mid-air with a forearm smash, and the two fell to the ground pummeling each other. Seconds from hitting the mat, it looked like Draven's coat turned to blood and was sprouting spikey tentacles. Stryker shielded his eyes and popped his opponent in the eye before they broke contact and fell to the mat.

"You guys have gotta watch that [censored]," Dale yelled at them.

They were lying next to the corners. They had been inches from smashing their heads against the pads.

"I'm not cleaning it up if your brains go splat!"

"Don't worry," Solo grunted, "I'm good... I'm... Woah, Drave... Your eye's swollen..."

"I just got done fixing the broken jaw you gave me..." Erickson replied, "Come on, Solo... It's time to end this."

"Yeah..."

They charged and dove at each other, meeting in the middle of the ring and catching each other's arms. Solo twisted to his right and pulled Draven through the air to throw him against the corner he'd just run from. Draven fell back, but he stopped right at the pads. Most people thought flight was a useless power, mostly useful for just getting from point A to point B... But sometimes... Sometimes it could save your life.

Solo came flying at Draven with a hard body check. Unfortunately, he'd left his arms wide open. Draven caught Solo in the face with his boots and the stalker dropped to the ground. From there, the scrapper hopped up on the top rope and came back down on his cousin with a flipping shoulder slam (commonly referred to as a "Senton Bomb," but also referred to as a "Swanton Bomb/Dive" or "Senton Splash").

Draven hiked up Solo's leg and the Ref got in the three count. There was a brief cheer from the BWO heroes and rogues. Draven got a hold of his cousin and looked him over.

"You okay, Daren?" he whispered.

"Yeah..." Solo groaned, "Don't use my real name right now... That was a Helluva kick..."

----

"So... Rage is up against Draven next." Project Whirlwind muttered as he administered to their injuries, "I wish I had more experience with this... Here we go..."

He cast a mild healing spell he had learned form hsi work with the artifacts he wielded. The magic did its trick, and the wounds on the competitors started to close and heal.

"So..." Psycho13 piped up, "Do we watch the tape, or have Draven and Rage duke it out?"

"You really were recording-k?" Serj asked, "Good lord... I thought it was habit..."

"No! Man! We use this to determine strategy... What we're doing right, what we're doing wrong..."

"Seems to me it's being-k wrong to fight your friends and family..."

"Well..." Daren rolled his eyes, "If we get more people in on this... It won't be so dumb."

"You understand foolishness?" Serj grinned at the stalker, "You are recognizing-k that this is... stupid?"

"Dude, we knew it from the beginning," Ragin' James laughed, "But look at it this way... We get the mistakes out of the way here... We won't make them out there."

"You'll go easy on each other..."

"There was nothing easy about that," Psycho13 rubbed his nose, "And I'm the only friend Whirly really has here..."

The rest nodded in agreement, even Project Whirlwind. Bioserj was still unconvinced.

"Well, look at it this way," Solo Stryker gripped his shoulder, "You... Are an enemy of the Committee. They... Are an enemy of you. They have more friends, more men, more guns, and more money than you can hope to even smell. They'll hunt you down to keep their secrets, whatever few you may know..."

"I only know of efforts to make Infected into super agents..."

"Right... Still, they'll kill you for it. We... Are enemies of the Committee. We're still outmanned, outgunned, and outflanked, but what friends we do have outpower them a scooch more. What we lack in numbers we make up for in raw determination, ingenuity, and straight-up [censored]-kicking."

He gestured to the rest of his friends and family.

"And we're offering you a chance to join us."

Bioserj glared at Solo Stryker. The man was crazy. To go up against the odds they were up against... But he was right. Bioserj would be hard-pressed to find support among the rest of the Rogue Isles. Especially people who would believe this criminal Committee existed. As it was, he had little choice, and these guys seemed... Friendly enough.

"I ask only one thing-k..."

"Please don't ask us to keep from making fun of your accent," Psycho13 interrupted.

Bioserj punched him in the mouth.

"No... I don't want you doing-k that either... I... I am needing-k your help finding-k... friend..."

Solo nodded.

"No problem," he replied, "Right Drave?"

The red-coated scrapper nodded.

"Hey!" Rage interrupted, "I think I have some say in that! I mean, we still gotta fight, Draven."

"Do you disagree?"

"No..."

"Then we'll be helping Serj find his friend," Draven turned to the Russian, "Be honest with me... It's a girl, isn't it?"

Bioserj nodded.

"Is she worth it?"

"She's worth dying-k for..."

They stood in silence for a few moments. The sea wind blew past, accenting how alone they were on the old derrick.

"Okay..." Psycho13 piped up, "Let's watch the tape and figure out where we're wrong!"

---

My Stories

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

They never got the chance to have that last fight... Daren suddenly announced he'd gotten a call from Joe, and they had a job. A big job.

"I'm takin' all you hero types," he grumbled, "Rage, Dirty... You'll be stayin' here with Serj..."

----

The next day, the hero element of the BWO assisted Grey's Army in raiding a Council base. Rage and Draven expressed concern about getting into a major offensive so early in their careers, but Solo pointed out the fact they'd already agreed to do this. Joe called, and they were accountable.

Besides, Grey's Army was good people.

In their absence, Ragin' James, Dirty Ice, and Bioserj played cards.

"Got any threes?" Serj asked glumly.

"No!" James shouted as he threw his cards on the table, "I don't have any [censored] threes! God! I hate this game!"

"It's not like we can play anything else..." Dirty responded as he tossed a card to Bioserj, "I'd love to get a good game of Euchre going..."

"Euchre?" Bioserj sounded surprised.

"Yeah, it's a fun card game..."

"I know it!" Bioserj interrupted with a smile on his face, "My uncle... He taught me..."

"How'd your uncle learn it?" James mused as he got a beer from their cooler, "Spy school or something?"

"Well... Dah..."

Dirty dropped his can of beer, and it lay on the concrete floor, hissing. Rage let out a single breath of laughter, then sat back down.

"He was learning to work for Soviet Intelligence," Serj explained, "And Euchre was a game they taught him so he could say he was from Wisconsin..."

The radioactive man chuckled.

"So... What happened?"

"Well, Soviet Russia was in decline... They didn't have the money to keep him in training-k... So... He wound up being-k a farmer instead. He liked the game, though. He taught my Da and me... Am I speaking-k right?"

"Actually, you're talking better than most Americans," James replied, "That's a Helluva story..."

"Too bad we don't have fourth player..."

A set of spikes sailed through the air, over their heads, and thunked into the wall behind Bioserj. He pointed in the direction they came from.

"That green guy a friend of yours?"

Ragin' James and Dirty Ice bolted to their feet. Rage's body crackled and the veins in his arms suddenly popped out. Dirty Ice was suddenly on fire, and he gripped his sledge hammer tightly.

A small, green man stalked toward them, bristling with thorns and... leaves? His face was... He was Bull Thistle!

"You're going down, villains!" he shouted before hurling another volley of thorns.

Rage deflected the missiles, but Matt and Bioserj were smashed into. Dirty Ice screamed hoarsely as the thorns started to burn out of the wounds on his arms, legs and torso. Bioserj grunted, flexed, and forced them out with his radioactive regeneration. James didn't wait for them to join the fight. He charged forward, red arcs of electricity radiating from his body, and he connected his fist with Bull Thistle's face.

The green man went sprawling out the doorway and across the platform. He was followed by Ragin' James, who howled angrily and proceeded to pummel the green man mercilessly. Bull Thistle thunked another set of spikes into James, the one aimed for his heart bouncing harmlessly off the Skull on his chest, the other two plunging into his belly.

Rage acted like he hadn't felt a thing. He delivered an overhead smash (erroneously referred to as a"Haymaker" by most superpowered circles, as a Haymaker was actually a wide-arc uppercut like the "Knockout Blow") that broke Bull Thistle's collar bones (yes, both of them).

He staggered away, leaving the man broken and crumpled on the ground. Yanking the spikes out of his belly, he collapsed as well. Bioserj arrived suddenly and started radiating his peculiar healing energy.

"This will help... I've done this many times."

As Rage’s wounds started to close, Dirty Ice approached Bull Thistle.

"What the Hell!?" he shouted as he hefted his sledgehammer and it started to get wrapped in rock, "You think that was funny or something!? You think we were jsut gonna let you [censored] us up!?"

"Ice, wait!" Bioserj tried to stop him, but it was too late.

The hammer went up, then came crashing back down. Bull Thistle howled in agony as his left forearm was crushed. For Ice's credit, the scrapper was planning to throw another volley of thorns at them. The broken tell-tale spikes littered the green man's demolished left arm.

"Yeah, you sonova-[censored]! What are you gonna do now!?"

Bull Thistle pushed himself up and threw another volley from his right arm. There was a repeating thunking sound and Dirty Ice fell to the ground, writhing in agony. His torso, arms and legs were covered with thorns. They were burning away and the wounds were closing, but it all still hurt like Hell.

Bull Thistle picked himself up. His collar bones had already fit themselves back into place, and were knitting audibly. It sounded like scratching... His arm was also repairing itself. The broken thorns fell harmlessly to the platform's surface, and the muscles started to "re-inflate."

"That hurt, [censored]," Bull Thistle grumbled, "I'm gonna enjoy this..."

Bioserj blasted him with a burst of radiation from his eye beams. Bull Thistle winced in pain and some of his skin withered visibly. The rogue stood and threw a few blasts of radiation beams into the scrapper before bolting away. Bull Thistle hurled another batch of thorns after the Russian, but missed, and didn't notice that Rage was delivering a powerful uppercut into his chin.

----

The BWO dropship arrived shortly after six in the evening. It sounded like they were already having a party.

"No time for losers... 'Cuz we are the Champions!" most of the males all sang off-key.

Charlene visibly shuddered as she exited the vehicle. She was followed by Roland Grey and Mider Caid, each grimacing bleakly. The rest of the group piled out afterward, several coolers being transported by Ryat99, Cedric Grey and King Slater, and Randall Grey was hauling a barbecue apparatus after them.

When they got to the main building, they found the four characters there, playing cards.

"That's the left bower," Rage explained to Bull Thistle without looking up, "The second most powerful trump... you just took this trick, Bull."

"Oh..." the fully regenerated Bull Thistle stared blankly at the table still, "I don't get it..."

----

"I had to change my registration to Bull-Thistle..." the green had pulled away from Thistle's face, revealing a perfectly ordinary-seeming human, "And I was instructed by my contact to come here and take out the villains I found..."

"Who was your contact?" Draven almost laughed, "Gordon Stacy?"

"Uh..." Bull Thistle scratched the back of his bald head, "Actually... I work for... The Committee..."

They stared at him for a few moments.

"No way," Solo muttered, "No [censored] way..."

"I thought they were the good guys!" Thistle held up his hands defensively, "Look, I didn't know these guys were with you..."

He pointed at Draven and Slater.

"I was given orders to collect a team and raid this base... If I'd gotten a team together, we probably would've wiped this place out... Rage wouldn’t have clobbered me to the ground, and explained things, and there probably would’ve been an ambush waiting for you... Rage and Ice here were explaining the situation to me... We played cards to pass the time..."

"Good thing you're antisocial, then, huh?" Solo chuckled.

Bull-Thistle chewed his lower lip and blinked.

“Look...” he sighed, “I’m really sorry. Tell me how I can make it up to you guys.”

"This may end up working out for us," Draven intoned as he addressed the rest of the group, "Bull... Did you have to report to a central building to see your contact?"

"Yeah..." he replied, "It's inside Skyway City... One of the southern ones..."

"I think we've got a raid to plan..." Draven smirked, "We've got some Committee to thrash!"

"Steak's done!" Randy hollered from the platform.

"After dinner!" Draven finished.

---

My Stories

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

--Paragon Police Department HQ: Hero Division--

"Durnan!"

Joe's head snapped up from his desk. He must have dozed off while filing reports on his latest missions. It was too late to act like he'd been working, so he turned around to receive his reprimand.

Blue Steel was just showing up to his cubicle. He couldn't have seen Joe sleeping...

Had he been sleeping?

"Got your reports done?" the legendary hero asked calmly.

Joe looked back to his desk and saw they were, in fact, nearly finished. He hadn't been sleeping, just a little zoned out. Steel must have hollered for him from across the room. Why?

"I'm almost done, sir..." he replied, "What can I do for you, sir?"

Blue Steel looked about the room, then leaned close to the registered blaster. If Joe didn't know better, Blue Steel's posture almost seemed conspiratorial.

"You wouldn't happen to know anything about a certain gray and green dropship and the people who operate it, would you?"

"Um... Yes sir... Yes, I do know about them," Joe whispered back.

"Tell me about them."

They sat in Joe's cubicle and talked. Durnan didn't know what Steel was getting at, but eventually, they got to the point where the BWO intended to work as a ferry service...

"I can't say much about their intent to bring..." Steel paused, "Rogues... To the states..."

"They haven't done anything like that, yet," Joe replied, "And they intend to make sure the people they bring are truly seeking redemption."

"We'll see about that when it happens... I'm more interested in their more... Heroic... undertakings..."

"Ferrying to the Rogue Isles?"

Steel nodded.

"Why?"

"I can't say."

Joe's eyes darted left and right. Then he realized that it had to be something gravely important.

"Alright... I'll check with the guys to see if they're willing to help."

"They can't know why, either," Blue Steel stood to leave, "But if they help with this, they'll be well compensated."

"I'll make sure they know."

Joe dialed up his communicator as the legend left, and hoped he got Draven...

----
--Mid-Atlantic: BWO Base--

Daren answered the communicator buzzing in their common room. Rage and Draven were hashing out the last match, and though Rage was a decent fighter, Draven was obviously quite skilled himself. If Daren had been a betting man, he would have had a hard time deciding between the two.

Dustin, Mike, Matt and Levi were working on reinforcing some of the legs. Dale was reffing the match. Bioserj and Bull-Thistle were spectating. That left only Daren to answer the call from Joe.

"Yeah, I hate you, too," Daren replied to Durnan's curse with an amused sneer, "What can we do for you, man?"

He listened with a bit of amusement to his friend's proposal. It was intriguing, but it sounded dangerous.

"I don't know, man..." he muttered, "We'll probably only be able to provide transport, but not fire support."

"I think that's the idea," Joe replied, "I don't think my boss wants you guys to make a huge show of it."

"Alright, I'll run it by Rage and Draven. I don't know who's winning, but they should be done soon."

"You guys... That has got to be the dumbest way to choose your leader..."

"It's the oldest way, actually," Daren countered, "Going back to the days of cavemen clubbing each other and bashing each other's brains in with rocks for the right of ascension. Of course, we're not so much choosing our boss as we're choosing a judge."


"Whatever... Let me know by four, okay?"

"Right."

----

Ragin' James hefted Draven Erickson into the air and powerbombed him to the mat. There was a thunderous boom and the scrapper rolled away, coughing.

This was an odd match. No powers. Nothing that wasn't inherent, anyway. Draven stuck to acrobatic and "high-flying" maneuvers, oftentimes disorienting his opponent. Ragin' James had his own acrobatic skills, too, but stuck typically to a brawling and Greco-Roman blend. They both threw a few popular pro-wrestling moves into the mix for fun.

Draven wound up delivering a drop kick to Rage's face, and rolled up to a knee as his opponent hit the ropes and started coming back. Hopping up from his kneeling position, Draven delivered a whipping snap-kick to Rage's mid-section and caused the brute to crumple to the ground.

Draven wasted no time in trying for any theatrics. He hooked his friend's leg and Dale started counting. As the hand was falling for the third time, however, Rage shot his arm out and wrapped it around Draven's head. Rolling hard, he put his opponent into a pin, and tried to lock in place.

The scrapper kicked violently, breaking the hold and shot out from underneath his opponent. Rage backed up in a crouching position, and charged forward as Draven got back to his feet, tackling him into the mat.

His momentum was too great, though, and he wound up sliding under the ropes and onto the concrete of the platform under the ring. As he struggled back to his feet, Draven hopped over the top rope and crashed into him.

"Yay!" Bioserj mocked from a few feet away, "Draven is the death-defying-k!"

"That was SO fake!" Bull-Thistle chimed in, "I want my money back!"

"Nice to see you guys are feeling comfortable," Draven grunted as he struggled to pick himself up, "And that wasn't fake... I think I slipped my collar bone..."

Rage reached over and gripped Draven's shoulder, then whipped him around and tapped the other shoulder.

"What the Hell?" the scrapper shouted at him, then he saw the marring across James's face, "Jebus!"

"Nothing's broken," the brute grumbled, "Get back in that ring."

They crawled into the ring and went back to fighting. Solo started walking up just as Draven found himself getting thrown to the mat from a grapple. He took a position next to Bioserj and Bull-Thistle.

"Who's winning?"

"Fairly even," Bull-Thistle replied, "This is pretty damn crazy, man. You built a ring instead of setting up a decent kitchen or rooms. I'm amazed you guys expect to get much repeat business with a facility like this."

"Look man, the ring is just a means to an end right now. You hungry or something? That why you mention a kitchen?"

"Well... Yeah, kinda..."

"Drave!" Solo shouted up at him, "Hurry up and lose so I can talk to you guys about a job!"

"We got a job?" James turned, distracted.

His face registered a few unusual emotions. First, there was the surprise at getting the job. Then, there was a bit of confusion as he realized he did something wrong. Then, his face softened as he understood what that something wrong was. He'd fallen for such a cliché distraction, and now was paying the price for it. His face scrunched up in disgust (and pain) as Draven's boot caught him with the back heel. Dale pulled his cousin away when he saw blood spray out of Rage's lips, and the brute fell to the ground.

"James. James!" the Referee shouted in his face as he slapped him to keep him cognizant, "How many fingers am I holding up?"

"Two," the brute muttered, "Aw... My teeth..."

Dale looked him over. He gave his friend a quick check around the mouth, then asked if he felt like anything was missing. Rage licked his tongue throughout his mouth and shook his head.

"Just bloody... And a couple of the front ones feel a little numb."

"We better get you to a dentist. I'm calling Draven as the winner of this match."

"Fine... Fine."

----

"So, that settles it," Solo shrugged, "I take myself, Rage, Draven, Dale, and Slater... We make our pick-up, drop Rage at a hospital, head for the Isles, and come back by lunch. That sound cool?"

Matt and Levi nodded. There hadn't been much of a vote, but they needed money, and they needed a bit of fame. This job would probably do that for them, so everybody was in agreement that it had to be done.

Leaving Rage at a Paragon hospital was fine, seeing as how he didn't have a record. He just couldn't use his powers. The skulls on his chest and shoulder were another matter, but sometimes people just wore crazy junk...

In a few moments, they were loaded up and on their way. The day was waning, and the remaining group was tired.

"I could whip us up some steak," Psycho13 offered, "Or burgers..."

"Sounds good," Matt agreed as he headed for the common room and the videogames, "Come on, Serj, I'll show you how to dominate in Car Thief, Mafia Stories."

"Never heard of it," Serj replied.

In the commotion, they never noticed the sound of rapidly approaching Sky Skiffs headed their way...

---

My Stories

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

Solo was out of the Dropship's cockpit and running for the derrick's main building before the engine's even started to wind down. Smoke was everywhere, the platform was wrecked. Ragin' James started calling out, almost hoarsely for his brother.

"Levi! Levi!"

The damage was intense. Gaping holes were tore through the main building, cracks and lines of bullet holes were scattered all over the concrete and steel platform.

Psycho13 emerged from the doorway, Bioserj and Bull-Thistle trailing behind.

"Who did this?" Solo shouted at him, "Who shot this place to Hell!?"

"The Sky Raiders," Psycho13 replied glumly, "I was cooking... And there was an explosion... Then nothing but pain and gunfire."

"The attack only lasted about twenty minutes," Bull-Thistle explained further, "I think they were trying to send a message..."

"Whirlwind and I..." Bioserj gestured inside, "We kept everybody patched up as much as we could..."

"I'm gonna kill those [censored]!" Dirty Ice yelled from inside, "They broke my game!"

After they inspected the damage, they found that the northern section of the building had been blown open and was now entirely exposed to the elements. The southern sections had steel reinforcement, while there was damage, it was by no means as severe. Their ring had been carved up by machinegun fire, and the platform had craters wherever bombs or missiles had impacted.

Psycho13 was glad he’d left the Skiff he’d stolen earlier in the back of the Dropship. Solo told him he’d have to remove it, though.

“It throws the weight off,” he explained, “You’re just gonna have to find another place to put it... But, yeah... That is lucky.”

"One of the generators is toast," Dale muttered as he joined the rest in their little circle next to the Dropship, "I can probably get parts out of it, but it'll never run again."

"That's okay," Stryker grumbled, "Everybody ready?"

Rage's face was intense.

"Oh yeah. We're bringin' those [censored] down!"

"No need for a vote here," Draven replied, "I think we're all agreed that vengeance is in order."

"Operation Cry Vengeance," Psycho13 hissed.

"I would like to help," Bioserj bowed to them, "It's the least I can do for your letting-k me stay for this long-k."

"Sounds like you've got yourselves a small army," a gravelly voice barked from inside the Dropship.

The door popped open and a large man with dark purple spires jutting from his shoulders appeared at the hatch. His glowing magenta eyes regarded each of the young men. It seemed he approved of what he saw, as his smile was without derision.

"Mind if I join the party?" Power Breaker asked.

"The more the merrier," Solo replied.

----

"This is Blue Two calling back to the Nest..." the Sky Skiff pilot called into his radio, "South patrol all clear."

"Roger that Blue Two, continue with patrol."

"Aye, Nest. Blue Two out."

The pilot kept a constant check on his radar. After the attack they'd done to that supergroup that thought it could muscle in on Raider territory, Wing Commander Rachek wasn't taking any chances.

"Watch your back, Jack," the pilot sang softly to himself moments before the radar blared, "What the Hell?"

Whatever it was, it was big, and it was headed his way. It looked to be the size of an Arachnos Flyer, but... Different. Blue Two flicked on his lights and beheld the green on gray BWO Dropship.

Anti-aircraft fire barked out of the Dropship’s bow and starboard turrets, reducing the Skiff to slag. Blue Two had ejected before the canopy blew, and fell screaming to the ocean.

----

“Okay, boys,” Solo called over the intercom, “It’s time to show these [censored] what happens when you [censored] with us!”

He flicked on the stereo system and started playing “Homework” from the Fight Club soundtrack. Once his blood got pumped, he flicked on the spotlights and took aim on the fortress’s defense turrets.

----

An air raid siren sounded as the Dropship came into view. The Sky Raiders on the platform struggled to get to defensive positions before turret fire cut them down. The turrets were unable to do much damage before being likewise destroyed because they could barely get through the energy field keeping the Dropship in a bubble of protective energy, much less its armored layers.

As pilots started heading for their waiting vehicles, the Dropship’s turrets aimed for the grounded aircrafts. Explosions rocked the platform and a scream was barely heard over the commotion.

Ragin’ James, his body crackling with red electricity, leapt from the Dropship and flew down in a spiral. His outstretched arm clipped one of the remaining turrets and sent it spinning, pumping rounds into turrets, Sky Raiders, and the Brute alike, but doing far more damage to the two former than the latter. Rage took a hold of the offending machine, ripped it out of it’s mount, and hurled it into the next one in line, destroying both.

Dirty Ice followed, his body wrapped in flames, and a heavy, stone-encrusted hammer smashing a Wing Raider out of his path. He hit the platform with a heavy smash to a lieutenant, and turned his attention to the turrets on the other side of the platform from James.

Other Sky Raiders made their way to the top platform, but they met their end at the hands of King Slater, who was operating the starboard turret, before they even made it out of the building’s doors. The platform was covered with rapidly disappearing broken bodies.

The port turret, operated by Draven Erickson, was busy fending off the other Sky Skiffs and various Wing Raiders that made their way into range. Assisting in the port-side defense was Bioserj and Project Whirlwind, both utilizing their powers from their position at the port hatch to throw the flying enemies off balance and to wither their defenses so Draven’s guns could blast them out of the sky.

Inside, Psycho13 and Dale Simms made sure the two side turrets were kept properly loaded. Every so often, the shielding defender would check the shields to determine if any power balancing had to be engaged.

Power Breaker leapt out and joined the other two Brutes on the platform, only he focused his attack on the Raiders who weren’t getting pegged by the starboard turret. His fists glowed a bright red as he railed into each soldier, his body wrapped in a nimbus of energy.

“Where’d you get him from?” Psycho13 had asked Draven shortly after they’d left their destroyed base.

“He helped Blue Steel for some odd reason,” Draven replied, “He cleared a path to us for Steel’s strike team. I figured we’d take him along instead of leaving him to deal with Arachnos. He seems to be a decent guy.”

“Okay...” Pscyho13 shrugged, “Hey, what happened back there, anyway?”

“A rescue... Steel needed a transport that would be able to take him to the Isles without raising too much of a fuss, but also would be able to handle itself if the going got tough. We took him to the Nerva Archipelago, and he hooked up with the Longbow base there. Shortly after that, the base contacted us, told us to head for coordinates off the coast of the northernmost island and to expect a hot landing zone. Sure enough, there were Arachnos and mercenaries. Blue Steel and his charge were surrounded, but before we could do anything about it, Power Breaker showed up in the middle of it all, pointed toward us, and started hammering away. We fired a few rounds over their heads, and picked ‘em all up.”

They’d taken the heroes back to Paragon before coming home to the destroyed base. They also picked up James from the hospital, who had kept a surprisingly low profile despite the massive skulls mounted on his chest and shoulder.

“They said they saw that sort of stuff all the time,” he shrugged, “Hero fanatics who buy minor mystical merchandise that doesn’t really do anything, but it looks similar to what their favorite heroes wear... Sounds stupid and expensive to me, but, hey, they didn’t call the cops on me, so I guess we’re in the clear.”

All flashbacks aside, the BWO were putting a thrashing to the Sky Raiders. As soon as the fortress’s defenses were down, the Dropship landed, and the group’s members piled out. King Slater cracked his knuckles and started lumbering toward the doors of the Fortress’s main living structure.

A single Sky Raider stepped out. He was clad in a dark navy blue outfit, as opposed to the dark turquoise most Raiders typically donned. He wore no helmet, but instead a navy blue beret. A gray mustache sat on the upper lip of his craggy face.

“Come on, boys,” he growled as he drew his serrated machete in his left hand and bunched up his assault rifle under his right arm, “Let’s have us a fight you won’t ever forget!”

A shield drone floated out from behind the commander and radiated an even smaller than normal defensive field. It had to have been a powerful one, but could only really protect the commander.

“What’s your name, first,” Draven intoned as he drew his broadsword, Crow, “If we’re gonna remember this, we better have a name to put to the memory.”

“I’m Wing Commander Rachek, of the fighting 31st Flight Battalion, the Bloody Talons. You boys were in our waters, so it was our duty to hit ya hard and hit ya fast, nothing personal.”

“Funny thing about that,” Draven chuckled, “Is that it’s personal now.”

“Ain’t that the truth,” Rachek chuckled back, “So! How we gonna do this? You all gonna come at me like the rest of the panty-wastes, or are we gonna settle this like men?”

Dirty Ice stepped forward. His hammer sprouted its stone block covering and his bright blue eyes glittered crazily in the flames wrapped about him.

“I’ll go one-on-one with ya, old man. You owe me a Gamestation!”

Dirty charged Rachek. The commander fired off a few bursts of rifle fire into the Brute, side-stepped as Matt got close, and hacked into his left hamstring with the machete. It didn’t cut through the leg (or the tendon), but it dropped Dirty Ice like a sack of rotten potatoes.

“Next!” Rachek barked.

“Looks like we’ve got ourselves a challenge,” Solo muttered, “Who wants to take him?”

“We’re going-k to keep fighting-k one-on-one?” Bioserj asked worriedly, “Is not that... Foolish thinking-k? I mean, look what happened to your friend!”

“He’ll be fine,” Rage muttered, “Look, he’s trying to get back up.”

“Thanks for the warning,” Rachek hollered as he fired a round into Matt’s leg, “Keep it up, runt, and I’ll put one in your kneecap, and I know for a fact that’s a very painful place to be shot.”

“Yeah?” Ice hollered as he gripped his shin, “So’s the rest of the leg! OW!”

“If that don’t stop ya, you can guess where I go from there.”

“I-“ Ice stopped and shuddered, “Okay... I’ll stay put.”

“Good boy. Maybe when I’m done stomping your friends, you’ll get a rematch. Now, who’s next?”

“I am,” Rage raised his hand and started marching toward Rachek.

James lasted quite a bit longer than Matt. This was largely due to the fact that Rachek had forgone his assault rifle and stuck to his machete. It was almost like watching a one-sided fencing duel, except Rage’s electric aura kept him protected from the bite of the blade. Eventually, Rage ducked under a swing and hooked Rachek’s arm, lifted him into the air and slammed the Wing Commander against the wall before lifting him up and slamming him against the deck. When he went to finish the Commander off, though, Rachek bunched up James’s legs inside his own and brought him down with a figure-4 leg-lock.

“Ha-HA!” he laughed as Rage tapped out, “Damn! If I didn’t have to hate you guys, I’d almost like ya! This is some of the most fun I’ve had in my life!”

“You just got bombed onto concrete!” Project Whirlwind hollered, “That’s not fun!”

“Sure it is!” Psycho13 yelped as he got into position, “Heal him up! I want a fair fight!”

“You sure, boy?” Rachek chuckled, “You don’t wanna work off what your friend here chipped away?”

“He’s not my friend,” Psycho13 smiled wickedly as he pulled a claw off the right side of his belt in that hand and pulled a heavy-bladed hunting knife from the back with his left, “He’s my brother!”

“I never would’ve known...”

“Heal him up!”

“Okay,” Project Whirlwind cast the healing spell he knew and Rachek’s injuries disappeared, “Good luck...”

The fighting continued in this vein. Rachek was skilled, he obviously hadn’t gained his rank through bureaucratic back dealings; he fought for his position, and earned it.

Psycho13 got hacked up pretty bad and had to concede, but five minutes later looked good as new. King Slater wound up getting his arm bunched up behind his back in a hammerlock, so he tapped. Bioserj did pretty decently for a “squishie,” but Rachek cut him down like all the others.

Finally, Draven Erickson took up the challenge. Project Whirlwind, who the rest had agreed would stay out of the fight until it was absolutely necessary, healed up the Wing Commander and the match was underway. This was more like a sword duel, Draven’s “Crow” versus Rachek’s humming machete. The two circled each other, jabbed and deflected, each testing the other’s defenses.

Then Draven just disappeared. Rachek hacked at where he thought Draven was, but nothing was there. A sudden motion to his side and he swung that way, only to find Solo Stryker standing there, catching the machete blade between his hands and kicking him in the knee. Draven reappeared not much further back from where Rachek had predicted, and he cuffed the commander across the head with pommel of his sword.

“Wussies...” Rachek gurgled as everything went black

----


“Yeah, I know it was a sneaky thing to do,” Draven muttered as Rachek awoke, tied to a chair just inside the doorway, “So, we’re not gonna arrest ya. Instead, you get to stay here and tell your buddies among the rest of the Sky Raiders not to mess with us.”

“They’re gonna come after you anyway,” Rachek growled, “They’re gonna blast your sorry base right out of the water!”

“They can try...” Draven stepped out of the way of his friends, who were carting stuff to the Dropship, “Hope you don’t mind. We helped ourselves to some of your equipment.”

“Argh!” Rachek shook violently in his chair, “Dammit! No! That stuff’s sensitive... And that’s my T.V.!”

“Yeah,” Matt rubbed it lovingly, “It’s really gonna help me get over my lost Gamestation. Thanks.”

“Besides,” Draven shrugged, “it’s not like you guys are gonna be using any of it. Your troops are gone, man.”

“They’ll be back! And by God, we’ll show you what for!”

“We’ll try to have the barbecue up by the time you get there. Don’t be a stranger. Bye.”

As the Dropship took off, Rachek pondered what had just transpired. typically, a group didn’t come mixed like that. There were “Rogue” types mixed in with “Vigilante” types. It was an odd collection of metas. Also, they were quick to fight him honorably, even if they had wiped out most of the base’s defenses in a sneak attack.

Of course, he couldn’t blame them for the sneak attack. That was just good tactics (and revenge).

Really, the only things he was mad about were his own failure (he should’ve known they’d pull a stunt like that, and he fell right into the trap) and the loss of his television. He just hoped they hadn’t found and plundered his... personal entertainment... collection. It had taken him a long time to accumulate all of the videos and edit them so they only had the good parts...

---

My Stories

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

"This is terrific!" Matt hollered as they hooked the big screen television up in the old rec room, "Y'know, if every raid turns out like this, I wanna do it every week! I get why the bad guys do it now!"

"Hang on, man, hang on," Psycho13 waved calmingly to his friend, but grinned despite himself, "We don't want to go too far down this slippery slope... Sure it was fun... Sure we probably could have gotten away with a lot more stuff than we took... Sure they had it coming and it was like carving an axe through butter... Sure... I lost my train of thought. I was trying to dissuade you?"

"We're not bad guys," Rage muttered as he stuffed a tape into the television's VCR, "One sec..."

The video was what he thought it would be. Nodding approvingly at the... material... he hit the Stop button and ejected the tape.

"That'll be worth watching later."

"Put that back on!" Matt shouted, "I wanna see that!"

"No!" Levi shouted, seriousness making his eyes blaze, "You do not watch anything like that when we're around! Ever!"

"Care to fight over it?"

"Gladly!"

"Guys! Guys!" Draven pushed them apart, "Enough! We've got two weeks of work to do and maybe not even two days to do it. Those Sky Raiders we thrashed are gonna come back, and they're not gonna go easy on us like last time."

Dustin gestured to the holes throughout the walls, "That was easy?"

"They were sending a message before... Now they're gonna try to eradicate us... Solo!"

"Yeah?" the Stalker asked between sips of beer.

"You better keep an eye on the Dropship's sensors... In fact, you should probably be pretty much living in that cockpit for the next couple weeks. Try to get word to Grey's Army, we'll need help constructing things out here..."

"Got it," Solo started heading out to the vehicle.

"We really gotta come up with a name for that thing," Psycho13 muttered, "It's not right calling 'the Dropship.' We should come up with a badass name for it."

"Yeah," James half-snorted, "what're you gonna call that skiff when you're done with it?"

"The Runtime Exception!"

"What the Hell?" Matt laughed, "What does that mean?"

"I don't know... I've seen it a couple times when computers 'blue screen...'"

We'll come up with a name for the Dropship later," Draven pointed at his cousin, King Slater, "Get a team prepared and start patching up these holes. Especially on the rec room, here, since it's where we're keeping the new equipment... Dale! I need you to start working on fixing up the generators... Alright... Let's get cracking..."

After that, Slater was basically in charge. He instructed the rest of the group on how and where to work. He then directed them (including Draven) to various sections he figured they'd do well in. Psycho13 got much of the "front" wall to himself, his super speed helping him move quickly and efficiently. Rage and Draven took the walls overlooking the ocean, and Slater and Dirty Ice handled the roof. Surprisingly, Power Breaker helped out where he could, offering to ferry parts and tools to whoever needed them and sometimes help weld or bolt things in place if necessary. Bioserj, Bull-Thistle and Project Whirlwind kept busy by bringing water to the other workers. Serj also helped Dale work on the broken generators.

"Always have to keep learning-k," he explained, "It helps exercise my brain."

"Is that why you speak English so well?" the Kingdale Referee asked.

"No... I speak English well because I practiced. My Ilyana and I... Uh..."

"Sorry, man," Dale looked to a spot on the far wall, not really at anything in particular, it just helped to take some of the edge off the brief silence.

"It's okay," Serj got back to helping refit the generator casing together, "I feel I'll meet her again."

They wound up tearing apart the remains of the north section to get materials for the rest of the structure. When they had extra, they used what they could to shore up the building's walls. By the time night fell, they had a decent hovel sitting upon the wreck.

"This isn't even worth squatting in," Matt grumbled as they huddled inside their torn blankets and sleeping bags around a kerosene heater, "Who wants to bet those [censored] show up tomorrow to blow us all to Hell and back?"

"Matt..." James sighed, "Let it alone..."

"Dinner!" Psycho13 showed up with a platter of burgers, "That electric stove we ganked ain't too bad."

"These burgers ain't too bad, kid," Power Breaker lauded, "Kinda make me feel at home..."

"This is a Hell of a victory banquet," Solo intoned, "No roast beef, no champagne..."

"I got the next best thing," James pulled a bottle from behind himself, "Now, we toast to Wild Turkey..."

--

The next morning, Solo got a hold of Grey's Army's tech, Sheldon Wallace. The inventor said that Ryat99 and Cory would be there shortly. Oddly enough, the wizard was there almost instantly, with a small witch at his side.

"Greetings," Simmons shook the hand of Dale and proceeded for the edge of the derrick's platform, "Gertrude and I will be working on inscribing defensive runes into your derrick's legs."

"Hello," the witch shook Dale's hand as well, "I'm Gertrude. You wouldn't happen to have any wizardly types in need of training, would you?"

"Uh..." Dale looked back to the patchwork hovel, "Mike! Are you a wizard?"

"Technically, I guess," came the reply.

"Then I guess you better be out here..."

Project Whirlwind didn't do much, he just watched as Cory and Gertrude burned and energized runes into the concrete and steel legs. It was an incredible light show, and he was a little jealous.

"Wow..." he murmured as Raven fired several arcs of lightning into a pentacle formation, energizing five separate runes and sigils, "I wish I could do that."

"In time, you may be able to," Cory called to him, "Even if you acquire your power through those artifacts adorning your body... In time, the magic may leave an imprint, and with the proper training, you may be able to harness and cultivate the power of that imprint."

"I detest such trinkets," Gertrude sighed as she prepared her next set of spells, "I prefer the natural method of arcane mastery."

"Most people don't encounter wrinkles in time that would allow them to live almost forever, my dear," the dark-skinned warlock chuckled up to her, "I strongly suggest you let this young man take what he can get."

"Uh..." Project Whirlwind stammered a little, "Should I just go, then?"

"No, no," Cory replied, "You can learn much from our endeavors down here... Just pay attention, and try not to interrupt us."

"Will do."

Ryat99 and Ryat66 showed up shortly afterward. They were attached to each other, and had an assortment of tools and materials towed underneath them. Upon landing, they scanned the situation and immediately set to work.

"I wish we had our brothers and sisters here on this," Ryat99 said as they set to work with inhuman efficiency, "We'd have this place able to handle a nuclear blast by noon..."

"Yeah, well, tank shell resistance will have to do," Ryat66 chuckled.

Solo Stryker emerged from the building with a sandwich when they started hammering and clanging on the bulkhead, the sound reverberating through the metal and concrete walls. When he saw the pair working, he almost did a double take.

Ryat66 was firing energy beams into the walls. Instead of burning holes into bulkheads, a thin layer of liquid metal was left glowing in the trail. Ryat99 then pressed his hands together, there was a flash of light, and he snapped his wrist joints like a person would a towel, and a plate of steel was in his hands (albeit a thin plate). He would then press the plate into the cooling liquid steel, effectively “gluing” it to the wall.

"Where are you guys getting the metal for that?"

"Mini-porters," Ryat66 answered, "Built into the wrists... Sheldon feeds scrap into a machine he calls the Forge and it sends the molten metal into a sort of dimensional ‘queue.’ Our ‘mini-porters’ then patch into the peculiar pocket dimension and pulls the molten stasis steel to wherever we are. Can't use it every day, experimental technology and the power drain's too extensive..."

“I’m just porting whole plates,” Ryat99 added, “Simpler system in some ways, more complicated in others. Mine doesn’t need a pocket dimension, for instance, because I’m dealing with solid, cooled materials. I need to make sure I have the right dimensional conditions on my end, which is surprisingly easy when utilizing nanites, clear ice crystals for energy focusing, and mechanical precision. His materials are in stasis so they’re always molten. Sheldon calls the pocket dimension ‘Mini-Purgatory.’”

By lunchtime, it was almost as if the attack had never happened, except for the craters and bullet holes across the platform, not to mention the slag pile that used to be their ring. However, the main living quarters were covered in a dense layer of armor. Most ammunition wasn’t going to be able to pierce the thick “hide,” but the androids had no idea how strong it would be against rockets and such. Solo nodded approvingly to the androids and turned to the approaching wizard and witch.

"Great job, guys. Care for some lunch?"

"Solo, we need to talk..."

"Cory, you don't have to worry about Grey's Army's debt. It's as good as..."

"No, not about that..."

"Well, you certainly don't think we owe you..."

"No, not that..."

"Because if that's what you think!"

"Stryker!" Gertrude shouted, "Lusca's headed this way!"

He paused. There was a rumble through the derrick.

"How much longer do we have?"

"I think we're out of time," Cory muttered.

"You should really learn to listen to people when they're trying to talk to you," Gertrude added.

"Shut up! Shut up! Shut up!" Solo bolted for the main building's door, "Guys! Guys! Get up, wake up! Something! We've got trouble!"

Cory sighed.

"He really needs to learn how to relax..."

"Think we should help them fight it off?" Ryat99 asked as he approached, "Or are we just flying the Hell out of here?"

"No, I think we're staying. I'd like to see how these boys handle themselves..."

"Hooooooooooo-raaaaaaaaaaaaaaah!" Psycho13 bounded out the door and bolted for the Dropship, "I can't wait to see this bad boy's rockets turn that critter into calamari!"

"Shotgun!" Rage yelled from the door.

"Other shotgun!" Psycho chirped and started hopping into the starboard turret.

The BWO piled into the vehicle and Solo started the lift-off. Below the derrick, the Lusca's arms wrapped around the legs. Because of the mystical and physical reinforcement, the legs held strong, but they could have buckled later.

Solo brought up the HUD's targeting reticle and locked onto Lusca's head.

"We're driving this thing off now!" he shouted into the intercom, "[censored] shooting the arms, this [censored] gets lost or gets its [censored] head blown off!"

Cheers resounded through the intercom and Solo fingered the trigger on the turret control stick. Fly-by-wire was a wonderful thing, especially the advanced, almost "intelligent" type Hector Wallace had helped the boys install. Solo Stryker could control the Dropship with his left hand, his weapons with his right. Much of the rest was automated, it was like piloting in a video game. He just had to keep an eye on his altitude and speed. It was a tough system, not like the older types of FBW he trained on when he studied piloting. Failure in one of those led a pilot to have to take personal control of the craft, practically flying by gut, which was exceptionally unpleasant.

He eased the dropship past the lip of the platform and started lowering it. The Lusca didn't seem to be trying to eat the derrick, but its curiosity couldn't be encouraged.

"Here's your newspaper to the nose... Okay guys, three bursts, aim for the base of the head... Try not to hit it in the eyes... We're just driving it off, not trying to make it angry and thrash the legs out from under the derrick..."

"Solo!"

Cory Simmons was calling him from the base.

"There's trouble!"

"Oh, what is it now?"

"You might want to have your extra boys pile out and deal with the Lusca personally... You have more company and they look quite unfriendly."

"Who?"

A tank shell slammed into the deflector shield and shook the vehicle into a slight spin that Daren easily corrected. Turning the vehicle to port, he saw something he didn't even realize existed.

It looked like a flying whale made of metal. Two tank cannons were mounted on its front end, flanking the canopy of the cockpit like bull horns. The "fins" were actually wings, four of them, exceptionally stubby when compared to most vehicle wings, but each one bore a thruster that constantly emitted a bright blue flame (they must have been some form of Vertical Take-Off and Lift system).

"[censored]!" Daren shouted, "The Sky Raiders are here! New plan! Anybody not on a gun, pile out and hit the squid! Everybody else, we've got ourselves a dogfight!"

---

My Stories

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

Solo brought the dropship into a climb over the Sky Raider airship. Psycho13 was hammering rounds into the hull, swinging the turret around to cut down any clusters of rockets heading their way. On the port side of the ship, Rage shot Skiffs and Wing Raiders down.

On the legs and across the platform of the derrick, the other BWO members, the Grey's Army troopers, and Power Breaker hammered into the various Raiders that hopped onto the derrick and seemed to be trying to use demolition charges to bring the whole rig down. They'd have used the airship's main guns, but they were damaged earlier in the fighting.

Rachek chuckled as the super-powered combatants waged their war against his overwhelming numbers.

"Sir?" one of the helmsmen asked worriedly as he tried to compensate for a rocket cluster barrage that pelted the hull.

"This is the kind of action that makes a man's blood boil, boy," Rachek barked, "Desperate men, both sides... Us with something to prove, them... They've got everything to lose! Who knows, we may even wind up actually killing some of these morons..."

"And the Lusca?" the airship's captain intoned.

"Just more flavor..." Rachek hissed approvingly, "In fact... I'm headed out there. Captain! I trust you know what will happen if you leave me down there?"

"Yes, sir."

"Good! Tech Sergeant! Get me my jet pack!"

----

Power Breaker ripped a wing off a Raider and tossed the man screaming over the side. One of Lusca's tentacles swung around and batted the man aside. He was one of the lucky ones... Others wound up in the monster's jaws.

"Damn, but they're like a swarm of mosquitoes!" Breaker seethed as he turned toward other Raiders who were firing rounds into his body (fortunately, he radiated an energy field that deflected most of the impact).

Before he reached them, however, there was a flash of light, and a white-bearded man in a dark-blue Sky Raider jumpsuit appeared. He wielded a heavier type of assault rifle, and opened up a heavy burst that started pushing the heavy Brute toward the edge. A burst of flames erupted next to Rachek and the Raider stopped shooting long enough to swat the few bits that actually ignited on his flame retardant uniform.

Cory Simmons floated down, spun, hurled a fireball at a cluster of Wing Raiders, and turned back to the Wing Commander.

"Am I to understand that you're to blame for this unruly mob," he muttered through his mask, "Your appearance and demeanor are befitting a man who tends to carve his own path, and expects others to follow."

"Indeed you're right, boy," Rachek laughed, "Wing Commander Rachek, and I owe these boys a debt for thrashing my base!"

"As I understand the story, the debt should be downright even, considering the state of this place when my companions and I arrived..."

"Oh, you know how these things go," the older man laughed and shrugged, "We're in the heat of the moment, now!"

"No..." Cory's eyes blazed brighter and flames started to wrap around his hands, "Now we're in the heat of the moment!"

----

Draven and Whirlwind flew in a complicated double-helix formation trying to avoid Lusca's tentacles and to smash their pursuers against the pillars, each other, and possibly the afore-mentioned tentacles. Whirlwind sometimes threw arcs of lightning to his partner's sword, making an electrical net that sent Wing Raiders to the watery depths (or the surface of Lusca's skin).

"Draven," Whirlwind called through the breeze, "I have an idea... But I need you to get the rest of our friends out of here..."

"I'll try," Erickson replied as he hacked at another Wing Raider with a backswing, "You better know what you're doing..."

----

Solo levelled the dropship at the air ship. The Sky Raider guns took aim as Solo's turret swivelled up. The reticle went red and he pulled the trigger. Psycho13 and Ragin' James added to the barrage and a hail of bullets filled the air.

The major problem with the Sky Raider ship, it seemed, was that it lacked an energy field to protect itself. Instead, it maintained a seperate teleportation matrix (similar to the ones in Paragon City and the Rogue Isles) for the Raiders assaulting the base. This was beneficial for raids, as it left the Raiders with a nearly limitless assault force. However, for a dogfight like this, it was a little detrimental, as the constantly running matrix cut on the ship's thruster power and maneuverability.

Which meant the bullets the BWO dropship fired each hit their marks and tore through the Sky Raider's turrets. There was a bright blue explosion and a thick gray smoke started pouring out of the rear windows. The rear port thruster sputtered and died, then sputtered randomly after that.

The most the Sky Raider bulelts had wound up doing was bouncing off teh BWO dropship's shields.

----

"Gertrude," Project Whirlwind called to the cabal witch, "I think I need your help on this..."

"Very well," the witch replied, "Follow the patterns I make... I will state the incantations... Soon... We will be..."

There was a flash of light, and most of the Raiders were gone.

"Oh..." she muttered, "That was... Different..."

----

Simmons and Rachek dueled, the Raider's machete buzzing like a miniature chainsaw against the wizard's ice sword. Snow flurried about them, and Cory coalesced it around the Raider's legs, tripping him up and swinging a death blow into...

Nothing.

With a flash of light, Rachek was gone. Simmons cursed, but wasted no time. One problem seemed to be done with, it was time to deal with the giant squid.

----

"What the Hell!?" Rachek shouted in the ship's med bay, "What's going on?"

"We've been hit hard," a lieutenant pushed through the other injured troops and started leading the Wing Commander out, "An engine's gone... Sir... We're done here. We have to flee."

Rachek almost barked something really nasty at the lieutenant, but bit the curses off. Swallowing his anger, he asked the lieutenant if there had been any success.

"It's too early to tell, sir," the lieutenant breathed as they made their way for the bridge, "But any damage we've done so far is neglible... They were pretty far gone when we got here..."

"Ah well," Rachek chuckled, "I guess Lusca will finish the job."

----

Project Whirlwind and Gretchen Youngs conducted their ritual. Electricity crackled throughout the underside of the derrick. Lusca reached hungrily for the pair as the dropship brought its guns to bear.

"I hope this works," Daren muttered, "We're running low on ammunition..."

The hero and the witch suddenly exploded into massive electric spheres of energy flooding the region and arcing the plasma down at the monster's waiting tentacles. Lusca screamed as its body started getting singed and toasted. A moment later, and the air was filled with the smell of dead fish. The octopus pulled away, not dead, but finished with the fight.

----

"That... That was a tad bit of torture..." King Slater rubbed a bruise on his face, "I'm gonna be feeling this for a week."

"I hear ya," Matt grumbled, "Hey, Psych, throw this tape in the VCR."

Baker caught the tape and nonchalantly smashed it against the corner of a nightstand.

"Oops," Psycho13 muttered, "Greasy fingers..."

"Why the Hell would you go and do that!?"

"[censored] it!" Solo yelled, "Look, guys, we're not messing with that [censored] anymore! No more [censored] around!"

"Does it look like we're [censored] around?" Dirty chouted back, "My body got perforated out there!"

"You look fine," Draven intoned.

"I don't feel fine!"

"Guys... Guys!" Simmons intoned as he strolled through their rec room, "Look, now is the time to calm down. You have had your war... You have fought your battles. Now, it is time to work toward what you intended. You can't be losing your focus now."

"What do you care? You're not out here with us!" Ice shouted.

"Ice, shut it!" Solo shouted the brute down.

"He's not wrong," Rage muttered, "I mean... What are we doing here? We're just a few guys with a flying hunk of metal in the middle of nowhere..."

"We're..." Solo started, but didn't know how to finish.

"I think it's pretty simple what you boys are..." Cory shrugged.

"And what's that?" Slater asked as he placed an ice pack against his face, "And what are those two idiots doing out there?"

Outside, Ryat66 and Ryat99 were finishing the work they'd started.

"They're getting back on schedule," Simmons explained curtly, "Now, you had an inquiry. A question about what you are... I have a simple answer."

Draven gave a curt slash from his throat to the rest of the room. Everybody kept quiet.

"You're modern-day pirates..."

"Oh come on!" Psycho13 shouted, then pointed in the direction the Sky Raider ship had flown, "They're pirates! It's what they do! Sky Raiders! Pirates of the sky! I mean... Come on!"

"True..." Cortland grinned at the enthusiastic scrapper, "They are epitomize the more... unsavory qualities of piracy... But you boys... Look at your motley crew here. Some of the most bizarre types you can imagine... I mean, you Matthew... It is Matthew, right? You're a fire-armored Brute with a big stone hammer! There are so few characters out there like that!"

"So?"

"Look..." Simmons sighed, "You boys are like swashbucklers... You boys are out here, free. You're engaging in a personal endeavor to, quite possibly, revolutionize how, not just heroes, not just villains, but everyone, how we all view super powered individuals just like you."

"It's not that epic," Solo sighed, "Thanks for seeing us like that, but we're not revolutionaries."

"We just want to get by," Ragin' James concurred.

"I guess..." the warlock gave a simple smile to them, "But all of us who bear the mantle, from Rogue to Hero, have a mark of destiny upon us. You will all see your fate, you will all make your choices..."

He stared intently into Matt's eyes.

"And, amazingly, they may just be the right ones."

"Okay," Dirty turned to the rest of the crew, "No more drinks for this guy."

"How about I cook dinner," the wizard offered, "You can mull your future over a meal you didn't need to stress over."

"Sounds good," Draven replied.

---

My Stories

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

"Modern day pirates..." Draven muttered as he stalked through the warehouse, "Like Hell pirates would do this..."

Psycho13 rounded a corner in front of him and shrugged. It seemed this section was clear.

"How're things on your end, Roland?"

"Looks clear," the portly defender replied through the intercom.

"Alright, boys," Draven sighed, "That's another Skull den cleared out. Let's head back to the streets and ring up another one."

Draven was partnered up with Roland Grey, Ashen Roast, Blizzard Front and Psycho13. The motley crew had been formed mostly because of their past experiences of working together, and also because most of everybody else was already teamed together.

"So, guys..." Roland grumbled as they made their way to the next Skull haunt the cops sent them after, "There's this girl... And I gotta let her know I'm leaving town... Probably never to come back."

"Did you [censored] her?" Draven asked glibly.

"No," Grey glared at the red-coated scrapper harshly, "Our relationship is nothing like that... It's just... She takes the whole hero thing a little seriously. If I didn't know any better, I'd say she's always been a hero... There's a lot about her that reminds of Kip, y'know?"

"One of those people who does what's right for the sake of it, huh?" Psych grumbled as he worked the lock on the door, "Huh, these guys actually closed up shop..."

"Look, man," Draven sighed, "If you didn't boink her, then-"

Roland whirled around and threw the scrapper against the wall. His cold emerald eyes leveled with Jared's hazels.

"I'm getting real tired of that talk," he growled, "Don't... Don't say another word. If you say anything relating to sleeping with her again, you just might wind up walking into a few beams. Hard. Capiche?"

"Alright... Alright."

"You do pretty decently as a Defender," Ashen pulled Roland gently away from the scrapper, who sullenly rubbed his shoulder and scowled, "Why would you want to give this life up?"

"Because it feels... I don't know... Ridiculous. I feel like I'm in a game."

"Feels real enough," Blizzard chuckled as he wreathed his right hand in ice, "And it's a little hard to do this stuff outside city limits without people pointing and gasping..."

He pressed the ice against the back of Psycho13's neck.

"Hai!" the scrapper screeched and the door lock came undone.

"Alright!" Blizzard laughed as the ice crumbled away, "Who knew all ya had to do was shock the little guy?"

They piled into the warehouse and wasted no time putting the hurt on the gang members. Today was not a good day to be a Skull.

"I mean, how do you tell someone who basically started her career with you that you're opting out?" Roland continued as he thunked a pair of Gravedigger Slicers in the legs with arrows, "She'll be crushed... At worst, she'll wind up turning rogue... At best, it'll hardly affect her and she'll go on fighting the good fight. The middle ground, however, is that she quits, too."

"Definitely a quandary there," Ashen sighed as his fiery blade carved through a Gunner's mask, "And, unfortunately, it's not something you can just avoid."

"Oh, he can," Draven dismissively quipped as he brought down a pair of Gravediggers with a final swipe of his blade, "But it's considered very irresponsible to just leave without telling your girlfriend."

"I..." Roland started, but bit his lip, "Nevermind."

"I wish we had Dale here," Draven muttered, "Some shields would really help keep these guys from hurting us."

"Pft... Speak for yourself, man. I'm doing fine," Blizzard quipped.

A blast of dark energy slammed into his back and sent the blaster tumbling to the ground, coughing and gasping. A couple Bone Daddies stepped out of the shadows, chuckling darkly.

"AIEE!" Psycho13 shouted as he leaped onto the one on the left, slamming his elbow into the ganger's head and pulling his right claw from his belt to rake it across the man's back.

"Great, just great, Mike," the other one chided, "Here we were, being all cool and foreboding, and you go and ruin it. Nice job."

"Get him off my face!" Mike shouted, "He's chewing my ear off!"

"Oh... I guess heroes can be like that, too. You know..."

Psycho13 brought his head up and spat a gout of red from his lips.

"AAAAAAAAAAUGH!"

"Oh jeez..." Draven grimaced, "I really hate when he gets like this..."

"You're on your own, Mike..." the uninjured Bone Daddy started running for the exit, "No way am I letting that freak near me!"

"Lou! Lou! Help me! You gotta help me find my ear, Lou!"

"It's over there in the corner, man," Psycho13 laughed as he kicked the villain in the direction he spat, "Be glad that's all you lose!"

"Ashen! Stop him!"

Fortunately, they were able to subdue the gang leader. With two short, deft fights, the efforts of the Bone Daddies, Michael and Lou, were thwarted for the day. Oddly, Michael seemed to fight a little harder than his partner, but without Lou, he fell as easily as any other Skull boss.

"I can't believe you bit his ear off," Ashen grimaced at Psycho13, "That's just... Not right."

"Well, it wouldn't be right if I bit his ear off," Baker agreed and grinned mischievously, "I chewed his ear a little, maybe broke a blood vessel, definitely left some bruising, but what I spat was a ketchup packet. Remember how [censored] he looked when we got back to him? Too bad his buddy wasn't around to help anymore, huh?"

"You..." Blizzard pointed at the crazy-eyed scrapper, "You're a weird-minded little man."

"Thanks."

----

"So... How'd the security system upgrade go?" Daren asked his brother as he stifled a yawn, "This gonna work like Sheldon said it will?"

"It's weird," Dale muttered as he cycled through the monitors and checked the readings, "It seems to be working fine, but every so often I get peculiar glitches that seem to fade away. I don't know if it was wise throwing parts of the Ryat code in here..."

"Parts?" Daren winced at the thought, "Isn't that dangerous?"

"Well, I don't know. All they really are is a series of algorithms, each one complete in and of itself, but can combine to make something more, something like the stuff in those androids' heads, provided we link up a particular program..."

Dale held up a communicator.

"Sheldon said the last piece of the Ryat Source, or the copy of it we have, is loaded into here. He said we probably shouldn't upload it unless we're in dire straits."

"Why?"

"It'll probably take over our network, go sentient, hop onto our internet connection and spark a world war from here..."

"That would be bad," Daren grinned, "So why even have it?"

Dale shrugged again and pushed his chair to another monitor, "The software we have installed is pretty sophisticated stuff. I can hardly believe Sheldon made it... I mean, don't get me wrong, but Roland was never a really great programmer, and Shel's like his dad, mostly building hardware he can use with the push of a button, the squeeze of a trigger or the pull of a lever. He's not a software programmer."

"So, what's your theory?"

"I don't know... Serendipity?"

Serendipity?" Daren mulled over that for a second, "You mean our genius isn't the genius we think he is?"

"Well, I've studied a little coding, and the stuff he's thrown in here? Nothing out there is like that. I think there's some magic symbols in it, too. It's a lot of stuff Shel wouldn't have considered and Roland would've outright laughed at. I think they stumbled on it and ran."

"Crazy..."

"But it works," Dale sighed, "Now we just need more hardware on the base. A new sonar system, a few sets of turrets..."

"Let me know what you need, we'll be looking into getting work, man," Daren started heading out, "After dropping Power Breaker and Bioserj off back in Mercy, that's the end of our pro bono work. Who knows, maybe on a job we'll find some of the equipment you need."

"Well, about that..." Dale wheeled closer and looked down to the room they designated their infirmary, "After what Whirlwind and that witch did... I got an idea."

"Yeah?" Daren sounded half asleep, but his interest perked a little, "What's that?"

"Well, first off, Lusca's not going away. No matter how many times the heroes cut that critter down in Independence Port, it keeps coming back..."

"So it's gonna do the same here..."

"And we have no idea if Whirlwind can do another lightning burst like that again. Now... If we had a weapon that could do the same thing..."

"What do you mean?" Daren leaned closer to his brother and arched an eyebrow, "A weapon?"

"Something like a massive Tesla coil... I'll need some time to work out the design, but I think I can come up with something cheap and effective."

"Sounds good... Me? I need sleep," Solo muttered and started heading for his new room.

The Ryats had done a terrific job. Each room was less a set of walls welded onto a floor, but now seemed to be caverns dug into a steel mountain. Anybody trying to blast through the fort now would be having a very difficult time of it.

Furnishing, however, was another matter. Solo was still down to his sleeping bag and a space heater. Since they had so few of the latter, he was currently bunking with his brothers and cousin. Dustin's slow snoring resounded rather painfully off the metal walls.

"But it's solid," Solo Stryker muttered, "And... It feels more like home."

---

My Stories

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

Much of the rest of their time became a sort of crazy routine. Not so much because it was eventful at times; indeed, it was always eventful, but because of the various characters they found themselves associating with.

Initially, it was a couple heroes Joe Durnan or Blue Steel introduced to them. These characters usually had something covert or personal they wanted to accomplish in the Etoiles or elsewhere in the world. Rogues? Rogues were a different matter.

First, they had to be screened by Bioserj. Serj usually had a few of the Infected who worked with him scope out Rogues who didn't seem to... fit the mold of the typical villain.

Brother Mauthe (and his band of loyal thugs) was one of the first rogues to make use of their services. He didn't so much want transit to Paragon City or the mainland of the United States, but had paid handsomely in recovered scrap technology for a tour of the islands. Despite his somewhat skewed look at the world ("The world is run by the big corporations! So big we don't even see 'em! Don't think Crey is behind the evil things they do! Think about what's driving them!") he seemed genuinely friendly.

Others weren't so good. Bioserj thought he'd pegged this one guy, a Brute type. He had given a classic sob story about being wrongfully accused and the city's penchant for summarily tossing super-types into jail with little more than a mock trial. All he asked was that he be taken "to see his dear mum." It turned out he'd found (through whatever bizarre contacts he'd made in prison and the Isles) the witnesses for his trial, and he'd hoped to at least off the key one.

Psycho13 wound up cutting his legs out from underneath him at the knees with the starboard turret before he could complete the dastardly deed. Since then, they started issuing stern warnings to any Rogues who made use of their services.

"Listen up, pukes... We're going to make this very simple! If you try to use us to go back to your dastardly ways, we will run you down and turn you in ourselves! This is your only warning!"

Or something to that effect.

Eventually, their base started to act more functionally, too. With the money they pulled in (from their heroes' salaries as well as the heists in the Isles their Rogues made to keep up appearances, not to mention their lucrative transport service)), they were able to buy a series of turrets to help defend the base, the raw materials Dale needed for his Tesla coil "Anti-Lusca, Lightning on Demand" weapon, as well as the stuff Psycho13 needed for his personal vehicle, which turned out to not be a personal Sky Skiff...

"You're building a what?" Daren had asked incredulously.

"It's a Hover Bike!" Levi had shouted back enthusiastically, his broad smile and twinkling eyes nearly polluting the air between them, "Every kid's dream come true!"

"Yeah, but I think this is going to be quite a tad impractical," Solo replied coldly.

"Not with an M240-G mounted in the nose and the rocket pods mounted on the flanks... Maybe Dale and I could rig up another shield generator for it..."

The vehicle wound up working (surprisingly). It was lighter and faster than a Sky Skiff, but it also bore the poor misfortune of being quite a bit weaker, structurally. To make up for it, the weapons payload turned out to be equivalent.

"Hit 'em hard, hit 'em fast, and it'll be enough," Psycho beamed proudly at his and Dale's creation, "That's the Blaster way, right?"

"I guess," King Slater replied as he looked over the machine, "I wouldn't know, really. I'm not a Blaster."

On one dark day, they wound up having to face a remnant of their past. During a pick-up, a large crew of Freakshow gangers showed up, brimming with guns, blades, and Excelsior.

It wasn't the gangers that were cause for alarm, however. It was the distinct sound of a heavy diesel engine and treads headed their way. Instantly, the contact had disappeared and the boys knew they'd been set up.

Solo Stryker considered briefly hauling out of there, and being done with it, but he was curious. Why had they been sold out? To whom were they sold out to? How did the Freaks get a genuine tank into the Rogue Isles?

He was answered in a most vulgar fashion.

While they were able to easily dispatch the Freaks that came into view, it wasn't so easy to take down what came next. Simply put, it was a Tank Freak with actual tank treads instead of legs. His torso was a lot bigger and tougher, too, and the massive chaingun that took up it's right forearm was a lot bigger than the last time Solo had seen it.

Chaingunnz still had those odd bayonets mounted on each barrel, though...

"Hoo-AAAAAAAAAH!" he shouted, his head encased in a large shell, but his manic face was still visible through a screen of thick bullet-proof glass, "I knew I'd hit paydirt! Ho-ho! Dreck's gonna be REAL proud of me now! Isn't that right, Bee-Dubya-Oh-oh-OH-YEAH!"

"God, he deserves to die just for that corny dialog," Psycho13 shouted through the intercom.

"Agreed," Solo Stryker barked before squeezing the trigger on the weapons control stick.

The battle was tremendous, though rather uninspired. The two monstrosities seemed to just unload their ammunition into each other without much consideration for aiming anywhere in particular. Chaingunnz may have had difficulty getting through the shield protecting the ship, but he had a lot of ammunition rattling around inside that body. The body upgrade was just the beginning, too.

Chaingunnz had access to rocket pods (even shoulder mounted missile launchers), anti-personnel turrets, a light howitzer battery... His left arm had been altered as well to end in a wicked claw, almost like two construction digger buckets hinged together... He also had the typical back-mounted mortar launcher, only now there were four launch tubes instead of the normal one.

Of course, the BWO boys didn't just get money for their jobs against the various villain groups operating out of the Rogue Isles. Ragin' James opened up the cargo bay and leveled a personal rocket launcher down at the giant metal monster. It seemed Chaingunnz forgot one important detail... He didn't have a personal shield like the Dropship did.

"Open wide, you sonova..." Rage pulled the trigger and the explosive projectile went hurtling toward the monstrosity, "ONE'S COMING IN!"

Unfortunately, Chaingunnz's armor was too thick. No matter what they hit him with, he just kept on chugging along. Maybe if they'd had some energy weapons they could have actually done some decent damage, but Chaingunnz was no longer a typical Freak. He was the living weapon that the crazy bastards all seemed to aspire to become. Maybe Dreck had ordered his boys to patch up the holes in average Freak circuitry that made them so susceptible to energy attacks... Who knew?

So the battle ended with a draw. Most of Chaingunnz's weapons were destroyed or depleted, the BWO were out of ammunition. Oddly enough, even though he hadn't killed (or even humiliated) the guys that caused him such an epic folly not so long ago during a bank heist, Chaingunnz seemed elated at how the battle went. They retreated and he was, for the most part, perfectly fine.

----

It was getting back to the base that day that caused the Brutal Warriors the most concern.

Specifically, it was the black helicopter sitting on their platform that concerned them.

It was the assorted group of figures that concerned them.

"Justin Steel," Daren muttered into the loudspeaker, "I hope you just came to talk..."

"Come on down," Steel replied through his own, "We'll talk..."

"It's gonna be hard if I can't land my ship," Daren hissed, then switched on the intercom, "Psycho, you get on that hoverbike of yours. The rest of you, fly, hop, or whatever it is you do to get from place to place and get down to that platform."

On the platform, Draven Erickson led King Slater, Ragin' James, Dirty Ice and Project Whirlwind. Dale had to stay behind, as he still had to maintain the ship's engines and shields.

"What do you and your..." Draven noted Steel's goons, "Cronies, want with us?"

Justin Steel had come with his full compliment of Committee guards as well as a couple choice Rogues. Bull-Thistle was behind them, too. He seemed sad, despite having a face that lacked human features. Project Soultaker, Soul taker, or whatever it was called, stood at Steel's left, while the "gun-for-hire", Mark Shadow, or Shadowmark, or whatever he was calling himself these days stood to his right.

"It's very simple," Steel replied calmly, "My colleagues and I are here to remove you from the face of this earth. Nobody can know about the Committee or its involvement in worldly matters."

"What involvement?" Draven barked, "The Committee's an upstart group of idiots, unimaginative idiots, I might add, who're playing the dangerous game of corporate espionage! You're way in over your heads, no matter what money or bravado you throw at the situation!"

"We are well aware of our situation," Steel snapped his fingers and his troops armed their weapons, and Mark Shadow activated a shield generator, "Now... It's time to prove your mettle..."

Draven drew his blade and charged forward. The fighting was a blur after that. Slater decided to take on the three Committee guards who dressed alike (except their medic). Project Whirlwind raised up his own defensive cloud, obscuring his friends from the vision of his enemies, and started hurling lightning into their foes.

Dirty Ice smashed his heavy stone hammer into the face of one of the special-ops looking goons, and immediately turned his attention to the other. Project Soultaker assaulted Ragin' James with dark blasts. There was no fire this time... Perhaps this was a different Soultaker.

If that was the case, then maybe the Committee had more resources at its disposal than Draven gave them credit for.

Rage delivered a fierce uppercut to Project Soultaker's face, and was immediately riddled with bullets fired from the machine gun of the massive Mr. Kolt, the heavy commando-style guard.

They were outnumbered, and possibly could have been overwhelmed at that moment, except for the fact Psycho13 showed up with his hover bike and unleashed a torrent of ammunition into the platform, just next tot eh fight, and fired a rocket between Bull-Thistle and the quarrel. The explosion knocked everybody down and Psycho13 brought the vehicle back to hover over the green "hero."

"I think we all need to take a deep breath and calm the [censored] down," he shouted over the hum of his bike.

"You killed my brother!" Project Soultaker suddenly shouted back, and threw a stream of dark energy at the regenerator.

Psycho13 took the hit, and fired a burst of ammunition back at Soultaker.

So, that answered it. It was a different Soultaker, and the Committee could probably build more. That didn't spell good news for projects like Bull-Thistle. With any luck, it was cheaper to make Soultakers, too, and they wouldn't face many of the Agents like Draven and Slater had dealt with in King's Row...

All of this was irrelevant at the moment, however, as they still had to finish the fight. Project Whirlwind started casting his healing spell for his comrades, and suddenly, they were awash in personal shields. Solo Stryker had pulled the dropship up to the side of the derrick during the confusion and excitement as a cover. Dale then opened a side hatch and started projecting shields to his friends.

Suddenly, it was the Committee crew who were outmaneuvered. Justin Steel thumbed a capsule around in his hand, and eventually tossed it to one of his guards. The man's (Mr. Coach) wounds started to close as the capsule broke open upon contact and spilled its contents all over him. The green fluid evaporated rapidly, too.

"Well?" Draven shouted.

"Well what?" Justin replied, "This engagement is not over... We just have to increase the intensity of our attack..."

The helicopter creaked a little, and the problem Draven hoped wouldn't show up, well, showed up. A Committee Agent. It looked a lot like Justin Steel, only bigger, and the suit was straining under the pressure of its ridiculously developed body.

The Agent started rushing forward. It didn't have a pistol like its predecessors, but the entire crew had a bad feeling that it was more than capable of taking them all out by itself.

Suddenly, a set of massive barbs flew threw the air and connected with the Agent's leg, causing him to stumble and buying them all some time. Dirty Ice, Ragin' James and King Slater eliminated the guards protecting Justin Steel, knocking them out of commission in a scant few seconds and turned their attention to the Agent. Draven held his blade on Steel, then glared at Mark Shadow, daring him to do something stupid.

Project Soultaker turned to Bull-Thistle and pointed.

"You will die," he rasped, "Betrayer!"

Bull-Thistle turned to the corrupter and snorted.

"I could care less. In my eyes, you're the betrayer..."

Project Soultaker launched a blast of dark energy at Bull-Thistle, who deftly ducked under it and surged forward to stab his thorns into the monster.

The Agent didn't go down easy. In fact, it didn't go down at all. No matter how hard they hit it, no matter what tactics they employed, it stayed standing and hammered into them with strength to match Rage's and a resilience that defied explanation.

Finally, Slater got a crazy idea, and he caught a hold of the Agent's throat. The Agent immediately hacked into Slater's arm (with a force that would have shattered anyone else's, but King Slater was a Stone Tank), but the tanker hefted him into the air anyway.

Slater turned to Psycho13 and shouted, "Rockets!"

The other BWO members ducked away and Psycho13 hesitated only an instant. It was an instant long enough for the Agent to kick Slater in the stomach and cause the grip to be lost, but it also separated the Committee pawn from the hero, and Psycho13 lost his qualms about firing.

The first rocket tore through the Agent and dragged it toward the edge of the platform. The missile exploded a few meters away from the platform and left a gaping hole in the Agent's torso. Remembering the story about the last one, and not wanting to have an explosion up here (or maybe he was just proud), Psycho13 fired the machine gun into its body, knocking it over the edge with the force.

There was a golden glow from below as the Agent's body detonated.

Project Soultaker was knocked toward the edge of the platform, Justin Steel and Mark Shadow were pushed next to him. Ragin' James crushed the shield generator in his hands and smirked at them.

"It's over," Draven Erickson waved his sword at Steel, emphasizing the futility of the situation, "You go back to the Committee and tell them they've made a big mistake. We weren't hunting them before, we were ready to move on with our lives... Now they've called down the thunder. They better be ready to reap the whirlwind!"

"Hey!" Project Whirlwind shouted.

"You haven't won," Justin dusted himself off and started to stand slowly, "You will be assassinated in due time..."

"Forget due time," Soultaker hissed, his eyes glowing red, "They die now!"

"Hang on! Hang on!" Mark held up his hands as the BWO heroes and rogues started to close in on them to finish the job, "This man does not represent me!"

"Steel! Shadow! You do as the Committee commands!" Project Soultaker was definitely in an odd place inside its head to be spitting fanaticism rhetoric, "We are but pawns! If it is our time to die, it is our time to die!"

"Who said anything about dying?" Rage shouted.

"I'm all for it," Dirty Ice hefted his heavy maul, "Step up! Who wants to be the first [censored] to die!?"

Calm down, Ice," Slater muttered, then turned to Steel, "It doesn't have to come to that."

"I know," the human Committee agent replied flatly, "I..."

"Betrayer!" Soultaker shouted and started to throw a torrent of dark energy at his superior.

However, he'd failed to notice Mark Shadow, who was still smarting from their initial encounter. Mark Shadow, who up to this point had been little more than a spineless follower and mercenary thug. Mark Shadow stomped on his rifle, which flipped the weapon onto the top of his toe, and he lifted his leg, effectively "footbagging" the weapon into his hands. He brought the butt of the weapon to his shoulder, sighted in and squeezed the trigger in an instant, popping a slug into Soultaker's shoulder and sending it sprawling across the deck.

"I'm not the Committee's pawn anymore!" he shouted as Draven held the edge of his blade to the hitman's throat, "He had it coming..."

Justin picked up his discarded assault rifle as well and turned morosely to his enemies. His former friends and colleagues. His targets. Despite all the years since their endeavors in the Kingdale Arena, despite his time as a Committee stooge, he still felt a grudging respect for them.

He fired a burst into Soultaker, and the corrupter disappeared in a dark cloud.

----

"I can't say they won't come after you, he said to Draven before getting into the helicopter, "But I can deliver my report that you're not worth chasing anymore..."

"You think they'll buy it?" Draven asked cautiously.

"No," Steel replied with a sigh, "But there's a chance they'll have more important things to deal with."

"There's always that hope..."

"Thanks for not killing my men," Steel looked to his soldiers, who were all busy nursing their injuries, "Unlike others classified as Masterminds, I actually care for my troops."

"Thanks for the ammunition," Draven replied, "You can keep your weapons this time."

Steel and what remained of his crew fled the scene, heading for Paragon City. Knowing the Committee, they had all the required paperwork. Now, however, they had another issue to deal with.

"Why was Soultaker a fanatic, but Bull-Thistle wasn't?" Psycho13 voiced, "I mean, who knows what Bull's doing, but he's got to have his reservations about who he's working for. Especially now..."

"Meanwhile, Soultaker seems to know exactly what's going on, and he wholeheartedly accepts this petty little war," Slater finished.

"I don't know," Draven sighed, "Maybe we're not meant to know just yet..."

---

My Stories

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

This part occurs a while after the prior section... Missing details will be covered, as for now, the Brutal Warriors Order's ranks have filled a few new positions. Mark Shadow, Justin Steel and Steel's entourage of guards have joined the group following a schism within the Committee's ranks.

Steel now acts as a financial head for the group while Shadow, surprisingly, is their chief defense coordinator and a back-up medical officer. The mercenaries fulfill guard jobs and can, in a pinch, operate the engineering and weaponry systems of the dropship.

However, this next story takes place after the Praetorian attack had been repulsed, life was getting back to normal in Paragon City. The Rogue Isles had been unaffected by the attack, though it was strange that most of the forces there had been unable or unwilling to assault the city in those harrowing weeks.

After Randall Grey's barbecue, the Brutal Warriors set about determining what it was they were going to do about reestablishing themselves.

The dropship still flew, which surprised just about everybody except Solo Stryker and the Kingdale Referee (the former through a sort of deep faith, the latter from simple knowledge of the machine). However, its main weapons systems were destroyed.

"We need to hammer out the dents, and get new guns..." Daren muttered as he looked over the printout Hector Wallace had sent them, "Hector says we should probably switch to a more general purpose type of gun..."

"Like what?" Draven Erickson asked, his eyebrow arching at the implication that this would be costly."

"Well, the guns mounted on the crew sections of helicopters like those Freedom Corps 'Red Hawks' and Black Hawks, they're usually miniguns, nowadays. Wider field of fire, able not terribly accurate, but spitting enough ammunition per second where it doesn't really matter..."

"I don't know..."

"Plus," Psycho13 came into the meeting section of their base (their former rec-room, now a just a wreck due to a battle that occurred just before the Praetorian attack that they still haven't cleaned up) and started tossing beers to his compatriots, "miniguns would be good for use against flying targets, like the Sky Raider Skiffs and Council Hoverbots."

Draven scratched his chin.

"We've still got that money from that one guy..." King Slater offered, "It should be more than enough..."

"I'd still rather not use it," Draven looked over to the silver case still sitting in the corner, "There's something very unsettling about the guy that gave it to us, not to mention the people he worked for..."

Justin Steel drummed his fingers on his own briefcase and shook his head.

"We should feed that thing to the Lusca. The last thing we need is to be attracting the attention of quasi-deific figures again..."

"Right, so..." Draven rubbed his temples and stared at the papers Solo had put before him, "We have how much money left?"

"Too little."

"And these new weapons cost how much?"

"Too much."

"I have a job for us," Steel intoned after a few minutes of depressed silence, "But it's iffy... I want to run it by you three, first."

He pointed to Draven, Solo and Rage.

----------

"I don't like this," Psycho13 muttered, "Mercenary work..."

"We need the money," Solo sighed into the intercom, "I don't like it anymore than you do, but hey, it has to be done."

Hovering a few miles off the coast of Mexico, a not-so-abandoned oil rig was having a bit of a standoff. Union workers were dealing with a group of mercenaries who had been hired to make sure the oil rig was "secure." Secure in this case meant that the mercenaries were really there to bully the workers into maintaining ridiculously long hours.

Solo and Steel had taken a job here, and had refused to tell anybody what the intent of it was. Now that they'd arrived, Psycho13 was more than a little peeved.

"So now we defend the unscrupulous interests of corporate fascism," he shouted back to Solo, "Stryker, I never really thought you'd go for [stuff] like this! Come on, man! It's just money! We can find a better way!"

Solo brought the vehicle closer to the riot on the platform. Project Whirlwind stood at the exit, looking down. Looking back, he saw Dirty Ice and Ragin' James in line behind him. Behind them, Psycho13 still sat stubbornly in his chair, looking pleadingly to his friends.

"I don't know who you're fighting," Whirlwind intoned, "But I'm going after the guys in fatigues. People across the world have the right to safe working conditions, not to be bullied into feeding the bottom line."

Psycho13 arched an eyebrow at him.

"Have at it, Whirly," Solo's voice issued over the intercom, "Bioserj, if you can, put a foot in Psych's butt and get him out there. Look, man, Steel's connections to Reynolds' faction of the Committee got us info on this deal. Reynolds wants influence out here, he doesn't care which. Frankly, both sides have done some nasty things, but the Union is the lesser of two evils here... So that's who we're helping."

The back hatch popped open and Psycho13's hover-bike, the Runtime Exception, hummed to life. The scrapper hollered a triumphant war cry and started flying hard for the platform.

"Time to win one for the people!" Project Whirlwind shouted happily as he leaped from the doorway and started flying down to the crowd.

Dirty Ice and Ragin' James followed, with Bioserj waiting a moment before joining in to help. They were smacking the mercenaries left and right, with Bioserj and Project Whirlwind ushering the workers elsewhere to avoid the fighting. When a helicopter arrived to reinforce the mercenaries, Solo did his part in the form of an anti-aircraft missile blowing the tail off the vehicle. It landed safely in the water, but when the pilot fired an RPG at the dropship (that was deflected by the shields, but caused a moderate amount of concussive force damage), Solo was forced to fire another missile that destroyed the machine. A few mercenaries escaped the assault, but Solo knew he'd killed some people.

"Damn," he muttered, "So that's what it feels like..."

From there, the battle went south for the mercenaries. They had been counting on meta-human support, and instead got the tables turned on them from the get-go. Demoralized and outmaneuvered, the few mercenaries still able to stand gave up and turned themselves over to the Brutal Warriors.

"A job well done!" Psycho13 grinned from ear to ear, then added in a faux-Irish accent, "We're damn good at this!"

"Yes we are!" his brother, Ragin' James, agreed in a similar accent.

---

My Stories

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

Psycho13's boot crashed into Project Whirlwind's mask. Despite the spikes on his opponent's face, the scrapper emerged from the attack unscathed. Whirlwind, however, had a broken nose.

"Sonova..." he grunted as he backed into the corner, blood starting to cloud his vision, "Psych!"

"Dude," the scrapper laughed from the opposite corner, "I told you! Fight as hard as you can!"

"Come on Whirlwind!" Solo Stryker shouted to the ring, "Don't make us come in there and show you how it's done!"

"I got ten bucks on you!" Rage chimed in.

"Hey!" Psycho13 shouted back, "You're my brother!"

"So? I don't bet on the underdog."

The two glared at each other a moment before Project Whirlwind zapped Psycho13 in the back. Growling in pain, the scrapper whirled around and started bolting for another go.

Unlike in a normal fight, he was wielding a pair of training batons. However, Levi had proven that he was extremely effective with them; even if they were just blunt objects with light padding, he could make them hurt.

He proved it again here. The right baton, held in the classic grip, with the striking surface extending past the thumb, smashed against Whirlwind's thigh. Nobody could see it, but the muscles there started to spasm wildly from the pain and Whirlwind let out a quick groan.

Psycho13 continued to press his advantage, using the stick in his left hand to deflect incoming attacks as well as his knees, feet, and (of course) the stick in his right to bop his opponent in the face every so often.

Of course, Project Whirlwind wasn't about to take all of this lying down. In fact, he was still standing for much of it, Psycho liked to wear his opponents down. The artifact wielding magician erupted in a windstorm similar to his namesake.

Psycho was hurled into the far corner, and Michael wasted no time in getting his hits in. Where Psych had to get close and personal, however, Project Whirlwind only had to throw lots and lots of lightning bolts.

"AUGH!" Psycho13 screamed as the electricity coursed through his body, illuminating his bones and making a rather ugly barbecue smell (well, ugly if you dislike really white meat).

"Whoah..." was the collective gasp as the body dropped, smoking, to the ground.

"Uh.." the Referee winced as he inspected his friend, "Technical... I think..."

"Is my brother alright?" Ragin' James called up to them, his face halfway between laughing uproariously or screaming incoherently.

Psycho13 coughed, and laughter ensued. Project Whirlwind, the only one not laughing approached his friend and helped him stand, casting a minor healing spell as he did so.

"Are you alright?"

"Yeah," Levi choked out, "I... *cough* Oh... That was lung... Don't worry, it's already grown back. Yeah, I'm fine. How about you?"

Whirlwind nodded, and pulled off his mask. His eyes were still an unearthly blue from the use of the magic. He looked surprised.

"It worked!" Psycho13 chuckled, "What was it? What was new?"

"The... Well... The whirlwind I hit you with... I'd done gusts before, but this was particularly useful..."

"Yeah!" Psycho laughed, "That's what this was about!"

The rest of the group glared at him. As Baker led the egress from the ring, Draven approached him.

"Say that again, Levi."

"The idea, guys..." the super-speeding scrapper whirled around, walking backwards to the quarters as he addressed his friends, "Is that as we fight each other in teh ring, utilizing our full potential, never holding back, we'll unlock hidden talents within ourselves..."

"I'd never done that whirlwind thing before," Project Whirlwind scratched the back of his head, "Which is kind of funny, now that I think about it..."

"So?" Ragin' James asked as he pushed past his brother to open the door, "It doesn't mean that psych brought it out of ya."

"I don't know, Rage," Solo folded his arms over his chest, "I think the idea has some merit... Maybe we should go a few rounds..."

The conversation continued into the cafeteria. Rage and Draven were a bit put off by the idea. Unlike the rest of the group, they were well aware of the fact that the Committee, the Sky Raiders, or anybody could show up and try to visit great harm upon them at the wrong time. It wouldn't be a good thing to have any of their number suffering from a broken nose (like Whirlwind was) to say the least.

"Let me set that for you," Mark Shadow intoned as the defender cradled his head forward, "Come on, buddy, a moment of pain and we'll get some Regenerator on that..."

----------

It was strange how quickly Mark and Justin had joined with them. As stated before, there had been a schism within the Committee.

Shortly before the Praetorian invasion, the BWO was led to a skyscraper in southern Skyway City. They'd been instructed that a high-ranking member of the Committee would be trying to met with Crey officials there.

What they didn't know was that it was all a setup. The Committee official was actually Charles Reynolds, a rich boy from their very high school. It turned out he was the original progenitor of the Committee that had harassed them years ago, funded largely through funds from his father.

Whether or not he was responsible for the destruction of the Kingdale Arena was anybody's guess, but he didn't keep idle in the aftermath. Turning his attention to the various Committee Projects, he got to work at "hero building," disdaining Crey Industries' generic "Paragon protectors," and focusing on stylized heroes that could be turned toward more "personal" goals.

Bull-Thistle was one such project. As was Project Whirlwind, had Michael Brown not stolen the outfit.

Justin Steel found himself part of a separate group, however. A group that felt that uniformity and assembly-line constructed heroes (and rogues) was the way to go. The Agents started getting cranked out, and the various "custom" Factories started getting scrapped.

That seemed to have petered out after Psycho13 and Project Whirlwind escaped the Adirondack Factory. Charles Reynolds rose to power again, pioneering his side of the Committee, the "Custom Freaks," they were termed derogatorily.

Constantly, they were pitted against the Agents. Sometimes, genuine heroes would see them fighting in the streets or on rooftops. What Reynolds didn't understand was that he was making enemies. As his Projects continued to decimate the Agents (often with disturbingly explosive results), and he proved that versatility won out consistently over the brute force of the cyborgs, a lot of men on the other side of the fence were losing money.

They decided to deal with it. At first, the Coalition of Directors pitted Justin Steel, Mark Shadow, and various Soultaker projects (it turned out they were far more numerous than just one or two) against the Brutal Warriors.

Their aggression sufficiently whetted, the BWO jumped at the chance to strike a blow against the Committee when they were fed the information.

As Chuck Reynolds departed from the building, heading for the corporate helicopter waiting on the rooftop, he was surprised with a loud shot blasting out the rotor of the machine. Looking back, he saw the BWO dropship slowing to hover overhead, one of the front turret's guns smoking slightly.

From there, all Hell broke loose. The rest of the BWO dropped out of the sky, lacing into the Agents "protecting" Reynolds in record time. One went over the edge of the rooftop early, thrown by Ragin' James and Dirty Ice, exploding halfway to the ground. The others fought slightly harder, giving the BWO pause, and Reynolds some breathing room.

Surprisingly, Charles was ready for something, anything. A suit of power armor erupted out of his business suit, wrapping him in a protective encasement and enabling him to stand on his own in a fight like this. Originally, he intended to use it against his own bodyguards, should his enemies within the Committee ever launch a kill order. Since it was designed to take on four Agents (and Lord knows how many meta-types), it enabled him to stay in the fight to the bitter end.

The BWO, bloodied but not beaten, stared down their enemy.

"So, you're the man," Draven growled, "I should've known. You never really did have any brains, Chuck."

"Speak for yourself, Jared," Reynolds's voice issued from the rebreather, "I'm th one with cash money."

"Yeah? Good luck spending it in prison."

"Enough talk!" Rage shouted as he felt his supernatural adrenaline fading, "Get him!"

The group closed, only to get violently blasted back when Reynolds's power armor glowed briefly before exploding an energy dome that extended halfway to the roof's edge. Unfortunately for the BWO, the launching sent them hurtling over the edge.

Draven and Rage were able to save the members of their crew who couldn't fly (Psycho13, mostly), and Project Whirlwind took the fight to his former employer. Charles didn't recognize the design, or the voice. It didn't matter. It wasn't their fight anymore, anyway.

Another back-up plan had arrived. As Chuck's armor recharged and he circled his opponent, a group of ninjas scaled the walls and drew their weapons before closing with the Committee top shareholder. Whirlwind tried to warn his enemy of the dishonorable attack he was about to suffer, but Chuck misread his body language, expecting an attack from the hero, and blasted Whirlwind out of the sky with an energy beam.

That was when the katanas slashed through his energy conduits, severing his power core from his control and the suit engaged an emergency shutdown. As he lay there, screaming for help, the BWO members struggling to get back to the rooftop, the ninja leader, Agent Brown, approached for the deathblow.

The death would have been pinned on the BWO and the heroes and rogues would find themselves fugitives from the law. It would have decimated their business to say the least. It also would have landed each and every one of them in the Zig.

For whatever reason, Justin Steel and Mark Shadow disagreed with that. A burst of gunfire and a few bombs of acid and venom flew through the air and decimated the ninjas gathered around the Committee boss. Brown, seeing he was outmatched, immediately signaled a retreat, his ninjas disappearing in an explosion of smoke.

This didn't stop Mr. Kolt from firing another long, steady burst into the cloud. When it dissipated, there was a single ninja's body on the rooftop next to Charles Reynolds.

"Too bad," the big man muttered, "I was kind of hoping I'd get Brown."

----------

From there, the BWO worked out a deal. Reynolds still wound up going to prison, but the charges against him were dropped. Justin Steel became a liaison to the new Committee for the heroes, Mark just signing on to hang out with his old friends. Steel's minions turned out to be a loyal group, and even took well to manning the dropship's turrets. Steel even took to handling the group's financial matters. Bull-Thistle also signed on with the Brutal Warriors, eager to redeem himself for their initial meetings.

There's still distrust. Bioserj, Dirty Ice, Psycho13, Project Whirlwind and Solo Stryker tend to lead the front on arguments against Steel. Draven Erickson, King Slater and Ragin' James keep trying to be a mitigating force. The rest tend to go with what sounds good.

((Now... We're somewhat up to speed. The moments described here in the second half of this post (after the dotted lines) took place before the Shadow Manor RP, which occurred shortly before the Praetorian Invasion quasi-RP. I was just a little focused on other matters at the time. I apologize for the erratic behavior of this thread. I'm still not entirely sure what I'm trying to write here. These guys are either talking WAY too much, or beating the Hell out of each other and everybody around them.

It would probably make an awesome comic.))

---

My Stories

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

((We now return you to your regularly scheduled mayhem.))

The sound of a helicopter landing on the roof platform got their attention. Steel shook is head as his friends looked to him. No Committee goons should be coming in today.

Outside, they found the latest source of distress. Freedom Corps and Longbow. Draven sucked in his breath sharply.

This was bad.

Freedom Corps (and Longbow, by extension) was staunchly "anti-villain." This category of behavior extended it's hatred range into the ranks of people considered to be quasi-rogues, like Solo Stryker and Ragin' James. Sometimes, it even turned to the heroes that associated with them...

"Greetings," Erickson said after gulping down his fear.

They were armed, but not at an active stance, their weapons slung over their shoulders, standing in a sporadic formation. In a moment's notice, they could easily be all be armed and firing without hitting each other.

So, why weren't they at the ready?

"Draven Erickson," an unfamiliar voice shouted as it descended the steps from the roof platform, "I'm pleased to finally meet you."

"And you are?" the scrapper asked as he turned to regard the speaker, "Oh. Wild."

He'd seen Agent Wild before. The guy wasn't necessarily hard to pick out of a group, what with that reticle installed into his face. Of course, they hadn't officially met, yet. Last time was at Randy's barbecue, and then it was just to shake hands, say hi, and be done with it. It would probably be a bad move politically for the prim and proper young man to admit to being at the event.

"Yeah, we've met before. How can we help you, sir?"

"Oh, I don't want anything from you," Wild admired their dropship for a moment, "You still got that nasty dent on the side of it."

He was referring to the man-shaped impression left in the armor paneling by Tyrant. Ever since it got that, they'd been having problems with the rear hatch.

"Yeah," Draven sighed, "It's... Kind of a mark of pride..."

"As well it should be," Agent Wild turned to Draven again, a smile clearly evident on his face, "We've been watching you for a long time, Erickson. You and your crew. All of you."

He nodded to Solo.

"I've come with a declaration. Orders enabling you and your group to have access to Paragon City, un-inhibited. Providing, of course, you stay within guidelines..."

Rage glowered at Agent Wild.

"What sort of guidelines?" he growled.

"Simple. For you... Rogues... No use of your powers unless you are directly defending the city or its inhabitants, or are fighting for your life."

"You mean we can't even fly?" Rage shouted.

"Or leap?" Dirty added.

"You can see," Solo intoned, "This is already making us quite aggravated."

"I understand," Wild nodded, "But you also have to understand that the citizenry will still see all of you as, well, monsters. A lot of people don't view meta-types like you as anything other than hidden evil... For instance, Frostfire isn't helping that problem. Whenever people think of non-costumed metas, they think of him."

"Uncontrolled," Draven corrected darkly, "Not the costume part. People could care less what we wear. I've seen goons running around in little more than underwear, swinging a big heavy mace to bludgeon bad guys into submission."

"So long as they have identifiaction, marking them as heroes, they're fine," Agent Wild handed Draven a sheet of paper, "For you and your crew. It has all your known acquaintances..."

"How'd you guys know about Bioserj?" Psycho13 asked as he looked over Draven's shoulder, "He's been in the Rogues for a while, now..."

"We've been watching you. Now, look, just follow the guidelines, and nothing should bother you..."

He walked up to Solo and whispered, "Technically, so long as you put thugs in the Zig, nobody's gonna care if you struck from the shadows."

And with that, he and his entourage left. The BWO were left to try to decide how to spend their next few weeks...

Vacation?

Work?

Gladiatorial Combat?

----------

"Bro! Bud! ... I don't get this..."

Chaingunnz was leaking fuel, oil, and not a small amount of blood. Dreck stood over him, triumphantly savoring the thrill of victory.

"I've..." the massive tank gasped weakly, "I've always been loyal."

"I know, Shane," Dreck replied gruffly, "And that actually made this difficult. You were like a brother to me, but I couldn't jsut let you go along letting the others think you were more powerful."

Dreck started the fight with smashing out Chaingunnz's anti-personnel turrets. He then put a grenade inside the pit of the Freak Tank's weaponized arm. Effectively disarmed, Dreck went to work on the rest of him, breaking the massive cyborg down until there was little else than a battered mess.

"Bile put you up to this," Chaingunnz wheezed, "Told you I was... I was... Trying to take over..."

"Yeah, he did," the Freakshow leader hopped off the tank chassis that supported Chain's torso, "But, to be perfectly honest, I knew this day would come sooner or later. If it's any consolation, the fact that I beat you single-handedly is gonna insure my rank as leader of the Freaks for a solid month."

"Alright!" Chaingunnz cheered, then winced, "Ooh! My bones are tender..."

"Well, Shane... Sorry to do this, bro, but I have to leave you here. As a message. Don't worry, someone will put you out of your misery, or the life support will fail. Hey! If you get real lucky, what's left of your fuel will catch fire and you'll go up in a ball of fire and steel!"

"Oh man, that would be so cool!"

And instantly, Chaingunnz wondered whether or not he should get the Hell off the Excelsior. On the one hand, he'd be thinking clearly again, more level-headed, like when he worked on his dad's farm. On the other hand, he'd be off the Excelsior...

He decided to stay on.

Still, this whole death thing was bumming him out.

"Dreck?" he asked as his former leader walked away triumphantly, "Can I ask you for something?"

"What's that?" the Freakshow leader asked without turning.

"Can I have that bottle of whiskey you always carry around? You know, so dying won't be so painful..."

"Freck no, man! I'm saving that for when I take out Statesman!"

Chaingunnz watched his friend go. Freakshow to the end. He should have expected such a response. Then, his motion tracker detected something flying at him. Figuring Dreck decided to grenade him anyway, he raised his left arm to deflect the blow, not ready to die.

The bottle glanced off the side of his arm and landed in the basin with him. It was Dreck's whiskey, inside a tough enough polymer bottle to withstand even Super Strength punches. Apparently, the guy had a heart after all, to eb giving the fluid to his broken opponent.

"Thanks boss!" Chaingunnz shouted before trying to pick the bottle up with his tongue.

----------

Brother Mauthe stared at the wreckage that had been his camp. What few survivors he had among the vagrants were sailing away on a set of emergency rafts, heading for the next uncharted small island they knew of.

"Recluse must not have liked our thrashing that last cell," Brother Skrap intoned.

An Arachnos Flyer had been brought in to decimate the camp. As soon as they saw the dark vehicle descending on them, Brother Mauthe ordered the retreat. He and his companions held the invading machine off.

Arachnos must not have thought the camp to be a major threat. Instead of the Bane Spider troopers usually associated with the vehicle, it dropped average shock troops. However, it also wound up utilizing a powerful missile to decimate what few structures the vagrants and dregs had erected in their few short months on the island. Mauthe and his guards were able to fend off the enemy, but the damage had been done.

"No..." Brother Mauthe replied to his friend, "That wasn't Recluse... That was calibration."

"Calibration?" Skrap sounded unconvinced.

Of course he would. Skrap used to be a Council soldier until Arachnos decided they wanted the space. His confidence in the villain group shattered, he turned to Mauthe, where he provided plenty of information on both the over-reaching villain group as well as word from the streets. He was also a capable fighter, making him a solid member of Mauthe's entourage.

"We know why they did it," Mauthe clapped a hand on Skrap's shoulder, "But who knows what bugs or spies they seeded among us at the moment? Until we've sniffed them out, we have to sound like we're oblivious to the tyranny of the mad men and women of the spiders..."

Skrap nodded. With that, they rejoined the rest of their brothers, War, Hand, Eye, Blade and Staff and the makeshift skiff that would carry them to the rest of their army.

---

My Stories

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

"Well, this is disconcerting..."

Brother Mauthe and his entourage were looking over the twisted remains of a gigantic Freak tank. It was bent over its own tracks and riddled with dents, holes, and other signs of a bizarre conflict. At first, they thought Chaingunnz was dead, until one of their fellow refugees found the head.

The Freak formerly named Shane "the Pain Train" Davis was still alive.

"Kill... Me..." he wheezed as Mauthe examined him.

"You poor boy... You must be in so much pain."

"It... It hurts... So much... With... Without... Ex... Excelsior..."

"We should just put him out of his misery," Brother Skrap hissed, "Better to put the Freaks down when you can than have to deal with them later."

"I hear that," Brother War agreed.

The massive brute drew a powerful war blade fashioned from a car hood from the folds of his trench coat and proceeded to plod toward the hulk. Brother Mauthe, however, raised his hand and the brute halted.

"No... We will help him..."

"How?" Brother Hand shouted, "And why? He's a Freak! they don't care about anything! He won't care if we helped him..."

"Yes... Yes he will," Brother Mauthe leaned closely to the freak's head, looking deep into Shane's eyes, "I'm going to help you, my brother. In more ways than you care to know. You will survive this day... If only to see your revenge, or to live to redemption, that is up to you... But I am not going to give up on you."

Chaingunnz simply replied with his weak epithet, "Kill... Me..."

----------

Ragin' James was thrown over the top rope as Dirty ice entered the ring in a fury. He was swinging his stone fists left and right, smashing his opponents, Ragin' James and Solo Stryker, like a man possessed. Outside, Project Whirlwind was trying to regain his composure.

"Come on, man!" Psycho13 shouted into his face, "Have you got any idea how much money I paid to see this?"

"You didn't pay a God damn thing!" Michael replied, "So sit back down!"

A gust of wind knocked the regenerator scrapper back into his seat and caused his popcorn to burst all over the collected audience. The other meta types pushed and shoved him, grumbled, but otherwise kept their eyes on the fight.

Gladiatorial combat had won out. Despite their misgivings, the boys just couldn't resist the draw of getting to pummel each other for fun. Welcome to Fight Club and all...

Ice was getting smashed into the corner by both of his opponents, despite the Referee's constant protests to stop, before Project Whirlwind hopped back in and struck the other two with a thunder cloud. Solo was thrown aside, shaking violently as the lightning bolts shocked and electrocuted him. Ragin' James, however, turned on the Defender class hero and charged with a (literally) flying forearm smash that sent Project Whirlwind hurtling back toward the living structure of the Derrick.

"Ooh!" Mr. Kolt smirked at him as he tumbled, "He ain't pretty no more!"

"He never was!" Psycho13 laughed.

"Prettier than the both of you," Project Whirlwind was pushing himself up already, "All i need is some drugs, some nanites, and some of those cool crystals that magically heal all damage..."

Ragin' James was about to go out after him before Matt slammed into his back with the Earth Maul. Since this was a "Powers" match, it was perfectly legal. James whirled around and caught Dirty with an uppercut. Project Whirlwind wet to do something to his distracted opponent, but Solo Stryker had apparently recovered, snuck up on the defender, and struck him with a condensed block of darkness that hit much like the hammer Ice had just wielded. Whirlwind, in his weakened state, couldn't take anymore and slumped to the ground, defeated. Dirty Ice was then easy pickings for the other two.

He wound up being powerbombed by both of them into the concrete of the derrick, something that caused the spectators to collectively cringe. Psycho13 still hopped up and cheered, though.

The count nearly up, Solo and Ragin' James hopped back into the ring and claimed victory on a technicality. There was little talk of a rematch.

"What the Hell, man?" Matt asked as they were getting patched up by Mark Shadow, "I thought you had tricks up your sleeve!"

"The storm cloud was my trick," Michael replied glumly, "It didn't work like I'd hoped."

"Well, la-dee-dah!" Matt shouted, "Here we are, in a serious fight, and you go and rain on them. Big freaking deal, you [frick]ing loser!"

"You're just [ticked] because you lost," James finally interjected.

"Guys," Draven walked into the infirmary and looked his friends over, "We got a job... Extraction in St. Martial. Get ready to move."

"Heroes?" James asked as he threw his shirt back on, the skulls on his shoulder and chest moving just enough to allow for it.

"No... Brother Mauthe."

----------

The Rikti Freaks had to be some of the weirdest Freaks in the world. So blase about the normal cybernetic enhancements, they had to go and get the attention of some really crazy flesh mechanics to get hardwired with Rikti technology. They probably had to do some evil things to get the machinery, too, so they weren't about to just give up to a group of pushover rogues.

Mauthe and his entourage, Brothers War, Skrap, Hand, Hood, Brick and Ringo, were surrounded, but they were holding their position. Gunfire shot out from the center of their circle, tearing into Rikti Freaks while War marched and hopped around them, tearing into the Freaks with his war blade.

They'd come to steal Excelsior, and by God, they were gonna get it!

The shield Mauthe had erected was failing, so he set up another. This was followed by an Acid Mortar and a Triage Beacon. The devices they'd stolen from Crey and Council stores had been well worth the risk. Mauthe took a few pot-shots at the Freaks, but he knew his job of keeping his friends alive was more important.

Suddenly, the energy beams stopped flying. The Freaks were down. Brother War slumped down on one knee, barely propping himself up with his blade. Brother Skrap handed him a green injector cartridge and War healed up.

"That was crazy," Brother Ringo shouted, "But man, was it fun!"

"I'm glad you held off from burning the place down, Ringo," Brother Hand intoned, "It would have been terrible if we'd lost any of the... cargo..."

Brother Mauthe frowned at Brother Hand's dark sarcasm. His lieutenant was a former Longbow trooper. He'd been caught in an ambush that decimated his patrol, and he was alter separated from his emergency medi-porter. Mauthe found him half starved next to a burned out television a few weeks later and helped rehabilitate him. Lately, his "heroic" leanings had been taking precedence, and while Mauthe hated the criminal life, it was the only option they had left to them.

For now.

Mauthe tolerated the former Longbow trooper for one very important reason. He was a calming Yin to Skrap's troublesome Yang. When Skrap, who was former Council, called for arms, Hand called for negotiations. Listening to the two bicker and argue helped Mauthe make his decisions, because they would both cover the pros and cons of any situation. When it came to tactics, though, they generally agreed wholeheartedly, plus, both deferred to Mauthe when it came to important decisions.

Such was why they were in his entourage. Such was why they were his lieutenants. Such was why he considered them friends.

Their only better was Brother War, who was largely just a powerful brute the Lost had thought to turn to one of their own. The endeavor failed and Mauthe's crew rescued the poor monster of a man from a fate worse than death as the Rikti started to turn their attention toward him.

The others, Hood, Brick, and Ringo... They were mostly new to Mauthe. The guards who'd been in Hood and Brick's places before were now dead, having long since sacrificed themselves during the conflict with the Arachnos Flyer that had raided their last camp. Ringo, however, was a veteran of Mauthe's personal guard. The man was a demolitions expert, specifically when it came to improvised weaponry, like fire bombs.

Brother Mauthe hoped he wouldn't have to lose anymore of them.

"Alright, boys, let's pack up what we came here for and roll out. There's a life depending on this stuff..."

"Hraaaaah!" some of the Rikti Freaks suddenly shouted as they got back up from where they'd been shot down.

They didn't last much longer, either. Brother War, weary of the constant fighting, hurled his war blade through the air. It wound up cutting off two heads and burying itself in a third's chest while he tore after the other two with his bare hands. The first three got off easy compared to what the massive man did to them.

"Brother War!" Mauthe shouted as the rest of the crew prepared to leave, "Cease and desist!"

"Yes..." came a voice from above.

Lights clicked on with a circuitous electric sound and there were normal Freaks everywhere. They were armed with conventional weaponry, but it was still effective conventional weaponry.

"Drop the Excelsior," the Freak leader, not a Tanker type, but the leader nonetheless, "Pappa needs his fix this month..."

"No," Brother Mauthe sighed and snapped his fingers.

The high warehouse windows crashed inward and a large force of less-skilled soldiers in Brother Mauthe's camp stormed the building. In seconds, the Freaks were splintered, first with trying to fend off the mob rush, then with getting shot down and beaten around by Mauthe and his guards.

Seeing that all of his troops were satisfactorily alright, Mauthe nodded approvingly and proceeded to vacate with a box of Excelsior. His troops did the same, Brother War carrying two at once while grumbling.

"This'll probably last that monster a week."

"No..." Mauthe corrected, "This would last something like him, and only him, nearly a month. I hope to make it so it lasts him the rest of his life."

"You plan to kill him in a month?" Brother Skrap asked.

Brothers Brick and Hood glanced at each other, unsure what to think.

"No," Mauthe replied with a depressed sigh, "I intend to cure him of his addiction."

"How? This stuff twists minds," Skrap was still incredulous, "I've seen it happen, boss. It only takes a taste..."

"His mind is already twisted, " brother Hand corrected, "But I agree with Skrap on this. This will only fed his addiction, Mauthe."

"My brothers, moderation is the key. All things in moderation."

With that, they made for the small island off the west coast of Black Mariah. Moving quickly and stealthy, they were lucky to avoid the patrols of Arachnos and other groups that would possibly have tried to take them on.

the sound of Solo Stryker's approaching dropship made his entourage a little uneasy, but Mauthe was confident. In defeat would come victory, and in time, success enough for him to take his friends into a better life.

"Greetings, Solo," Mauthe said as he hopped into the cockpit with the pilot, "My my, is this thing roomy..."

"Yeah, I normally like to have it to myself..." the stalker class rogue replied bitterly, "Where, to, man?"

"A new home, I'm afraid. I will direct you. It's actually a rather well secluded island. I think it will probably be our new home from now on..."

---

My Stories

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

"There was a camp... And an old temple... Both have been devastated and abandoned."

Mauthe was explaining to Solo some of the particulars of his island while the cargo was unloaded by the Brothers, Ragin' James and King Slater.

"From what records we've been through and deciphered, Arachnos took the island from the Circle, tried to do some research, got assaulted by weird fish people, then bomb blasted the site and most of the local waters..."

"What do you intend to do with it?" Solo looked around uneasily, thoughts of the Coralax in his mind.

"I'm going to lead an expedition into the deeper levels of the temple one of these days, but for now, we've got armed guards making sure nothing comes out... Or if it does escape, we'll know. Our camp is over there, near the beach but out of sight, allowing for a quick escape to the next island, but I'd rather not go there. I think there's a Circle camp there..."

"You'll probably have to deal with it sometime," Daren sighed, "They might be planning their own assault."

"I know."

Brother Mauthe took a report from one of his men and looked it over. Nodding he turned to Solo Stryker.

"I'm afraid that at the moment I have very little to pay you with, but we do have some beds for you to sleep in. They're fairly comfortable, you know."

"Thanks, but I'll take payment in installments on that one," Daren sighed, "Sometimes... Sometimes you know that you gotta do something because it's important."

"I see..."

"So, you have a discount on the price... Just..."

"Yes?"

"What the Hell's with all the Excelsior? What do you guys need it for?"

Mauthe nodded and started to walk away. Solo started following as they went deeper into the forest. When he saw the destination, he suddenly wished he hadn't asked. He grabbed a hold of Mauthe and pulled the Dregs leader away.

"Do you realize who-no-what that is?" he shouted.

"Yes," Brother Mauthe replied calmly, "A brother in need of help... A troubled young man abandoned by his fellows... Even savaged by them."

He turned to the dropship pilot and looked calmly into his eyes. The eye piece that had replaced his left eye made a whirring sound.

"I intend to rehabilitate him."

"How!?" Solo shouted again, "I've seen the Freakshow, man! There's no rehabilitation for them!"

"There is," Mauthe replied calmly, "It just takes time. Even in Paragon, there are Freaks that help operate jewelry and pawn shops. It takes patience that most aren't willing to practice."

Solo sighed and turned away exasperatedly. Ragin' James and King Slater showed up a moment later with Brother War and a box of the Excelsior. A couple more Dregs walked up behind them, some with toolboxes and first aid kits.

"I hope this is enough," Brother Mauthe sighed, "Alright, gentlemen, you can get to work on fixing him up. We won't stand in your way."

"What will we be doing?" James asked as he surveyed the work about to be done, "Do you know we've fought this guy once?"

"No," Mauthe replied, "I mean, I knew about that bank robbery, but not that you met Shane in this form..."

"What are you doing?" they heard the Freak feverishly shout, "Get away! GET AWAY!"

"Oh dear," Mauthe turned and shook his head, "War, please restrain our friend and I'll call in the rest of the crew..."

"If you don't mind," Solo cracked his knuckles, "I'd like to help take a crack at this."

"Yeah, me too," King Slater and Ragin' James added enthusiastically.

"I'll need all the help I can get," Brother War grunted as Mauthe talked into his radio and waved them all along, "I appreciate it."

It was strange, Solo figured as they worked to restrain the delirious cyborg, all of these people that the world called villains, and they came together so readily to help even a monster. Sure, it was help that involved a lot of violence and even pain, but if this panned out, the good of the results would go well beyond the cost of violence... Violence that was much lower than expected, even.

During the course of the fight, Slater did very little. Somehow, Chaingunnz had gotten his non-gun arm to swing about again, possibly utilizing what was left of his repair systems to activate a last line of defense. It was crude and haphazard, but still dangerous.

Screaming, the Freak Tank swung his massive arm about like a club, trying to smash the people trying to help him because they looked like warped humanoid monsters. The fist came down at one of the impromptu mechanics only to connect with the skull on Ragin' James's chest. The skull didn't break and a burst of lightning erupted, wrapped around the fist and shorted out a couple circuits. It didn't stop the arm, however, so James wrapped his arms around the fist and tried to slow down its movement. Until the arm stopped flailing, the doctors and mechanics backed away to Brother Mauthe.

The Mastermind was watching calmly, his posture indicating little of his mood on the situation.

Solo and Brother War were trying to do enough damage to the shoulder joint to lock up the arm, but nothing was working. Finally, King Slater, who'd been circling the fight since it started, made his way to a point on the cyborg's back and popped open the hatch he found there.

"NO!" Chaingunnz shouted, trying to roll back to crush the tanker, "NOOOOO!"

Slater yanked the wires inside the compartment, causing the arm to stop. The freak continued to scream, but the fight was over.

"Brother Skrap, Brother Hood... Please administer the Excelsior."

The two thugs nodded once and set to work. As soon as the drug was into the tank, the screaming stopped. The medics and mechanics set back to work.

Chaingunnz, however, looked less than appreciative.

"I told you to kill me!" he shouted at Brother Mauthe.

"I know."

"THEN DO IT!"

"No."

The Freak screamed, rolling his head around violently like a child in the throes of a tantrum. Finally, his eyes focused on the Dreg leader. The anger was gone from his eyes... It had been replaced with hurt.

"You don't understand..." Shane's voice cracked a little, "I can't live with the pain..."

Mauthe looked to the others. Skrap and Hood shrugged. The Excelsior basin access had been clearly marked, and they'd emptied the box's supply. The rest of the group was equally at a loss.

"I don't understand," Mauthe intoned as he approached the Freak's head.

"Everybody thinks we don't feel... Don't care..." Shane looked somewhat exhausted, "They were my brothers... All of them... I joined after my older brother did, even... He died in a fight with the Council, I lived on. Life's a drunken, drug-addled haze for the Freaks, but it's not the Excelsior that does it. We live with the monstrosity of what we are because we're surrounded by other monsters, and we keep ourselves in an adrenaline and drug induced frenzy..."

Mauthe waved for the others to keep silent. He'd seen that Solo had something to say, and whether it was snide or not, now wasn't the time.

"It's all worn off now," Shane sighed, "and I'm alone. My family would never take me back... My brother's gone... And the Freakshow... They kicked me out."

"You need a family, I see," Mauthe sighed and grinned to the teen, "We're willing to accept you."

Chaingunnz looked up to him, disbelieving. However, Mauthe's eye, bereft of deception, was somehow able to make him understand.

"We'll repair you," the mastermind intoned, "We'll accept you. Don't worry, with us, you'll always have a family."

Chaingunnz nodded twice, then slumped his head. His neck was starting to cramp from the strain of looking up. Solo turned to his own brother and James.

"Dude, anybody else, and that would sound seriously cheesy... How the Hell does Mauthe do that?"

---

My Stories

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

The next few weeks went almost like clockwork again. The Brutal Warriors were practically a business again, ferrying heroes and rogues not just to the two regions where much of their work was uncontrolled, but also to other regions of the globe where they might have to engage in "quasi-legal" operations.

Every so often, they even got to ferry Blue Steel. After just such an operation, Solo brought the dropship back to the derrick and made straight for the rec room. It was just about finished at this point, and the rest of the crew was busy building a new pool table and media center.

"Cripes, I need a break!" Daren shouted as he plopped down onto the couch, "Psych! You said you wanted to give flying a go, right?"

Levi didn't even look from where he was working on arranging cords and wires for the media center as he replied, "Sounds awesome, man. When do we begin training?"

"Tomorrow," his friend sighed, "After some of the crazy maneuvers I had to pull off today, I need a break. Oh yeah... Justin!"

The BWO Committee liaison walked into the room shortly afterward, trailed by Mr. Kolt. The large commando whispered something into his boss's ear and left the room before Steel approached Daren.

"You bellowed?" he asked irritatedly.

"Two packs of swarmers and an anti-armor missile gotta be replaced," Solo grunted, "And since your up, could you get me a beer?"

"No. I'm not your butler. And were the two packs of swarmers really necessary? Is it true you took down an Arachnos Flier today? Couldn't you have just hit them with the anti-armor?"

"Yeah, I thought I could scare 'em off... And I didn't take it down, just broke it enough to make the pilot want to go somewhere else."

"Well..." Steel was cut off by the sound of something approaching the derrick.

Something big. Something serious.

As the group wandered outside, Draven Erickson took the time to chide the Referee.

"So, how long until radar and sonar are up, huh? Think maybe you cna get that going this week? last thing we need is another Longbow or Arachnos vehicle dropping by for a casual chat."

"Hey!" Dale shouted at Jared, "I don't see you making any repairs, [censored]! You think you can do it faster, by all means, get right at it. I'll go help the guys fix up the rest of the base..."

"Guys!" James shouted them both down, "Now's not the time, okay?"

Outside, hovering above the deck, was the Sky Raider sky ship, the Thunder Nimbus. Below it, on the deck, was a small squad of Raiders. Their weapons were still slung and sheathed, and they seemed to be debating on who to send to knock on their door. Seeing the group, the conversation changed to who was going to talk to them.

"Alright," Draven sighed, "Rage and Dale will come with me to talk to these guys. The rest of you... Be prepared for anything."

---

My Stories

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

"Howdy boys," Wing Commander Rachek shouted as he materialized (much to the relief of the other Sky Raiders), "I've got a job for ya!"

"We're not mercenaries, Rachek," Draven growled, "I thought you said you'd be leaving us alone."

"Aye, and I have. I know we had a bit of a spat earlier, but I was helpin' somebody we owed a favor to..."

"What happened to Shadowshock after that, anyway?"

"Don't know. I heard that big guy you helped wound up smashing the bejebus out of him when-"

"When he warned Angela Greene to stay away from us," Draven finished, "Okay... Okay... Well... You know we don't take well to your visits. You better have a damn good reason for dropping by."

"Like I said, I've got a job for ya..."

After allowing Rachek to select an honor guard of four Wing Raiders, the BWO worked out a deal with him in the recreational room.

"Let me put it to you guys like this," W.C. Rachek grunted, "How long do you just want to be a business? How long do you want to be suppressed by the blue side except in cases of emergency? I saw what you did during that interdimensional war back there... And I gotta say that I'm not too keen on the reward. About half of you can't use your powers in paragon City? how does that make sense?"

"Get to the point, Rachek," Solo grumbled.

"Look... Something came to my attention... A job. It's a small village on the coast of Nigeria... One of those impoverished ones. They found some artifacts and now one of my associates is pressin' 'em to turn 'em over."

"Pressing?" Psycho13 asked.

"He's threatening them. A small contingent of military have been assigned to support the village, but who knows how effective they'll be..."

"Not too much confidence there, huh?"

"I've been alive long enough to know not to hold my breath in situations like that. That country's relatively new at its stability, and I'm not so certain that their top military commanders are above bribery."

"So..." Justin Steel was writing notes on the conversation and tapped it lightly, "Why do you want us to do this? Why hire us to turn on the Sky Raiders?"

"A number of reasons..." Rachek sighed, "One... I joined when we broke away from the Jay-See-Ess-Tee-Arr-Bee, or Vigilance as others remember it. Duray actually sold it to me as freedom from heroic dependence... But what I've seen so far is just pirates in the sky and other kinds of criminal mischief that never pans out. I'm still trying to figure out why Duray and Castillo want to blow the Paragon Nuclear Reactor sky high... But I can't vent these sorts of things myself. I may command much of the Atlantic fleet, but my political clout within the Raiders is next to nil... Duray still remembers me as the numb-nuts Gunny who took the place of one of his best friends."

"This doesn't add up," Steel pressed, "You could still simply order the officer in charge of those Raiders to stand down."

"Not without raising red flags with Duray and Castillo."

"What else is it?"

Rachek sighed, then fingered the hilt of his machete. It wasn't threatening, it was a nervous tick.

"Magic makes me uneasy," he replied, "These artifacts... a suit of armor, some swords, a mummified corpse... These things all apparently have some sort of magical signature that stretches back to the days when the Oranbegans warred with the Mu. Frankly, I'd rather let 'Magi' take 'em and let them be forgotten."

"Seriously? You don't want to sell them to the highest bidder?"

"There are other, easier methods of going about that. Money would go to the Raiders, anyway, simple as that. No... I've got a bad feeling I don't want this stuff getting out into the world. But I can't let word get back to Duray about that, or else I look weak or unfit for duty..."

"Sounds interesting..." King Slater finally stated, "And it sounds like something we should do."

"I can leave the coordinates here... Make up a ruckus over at one of my bases..."

"You don't think word will still get back to Duray?" Draven suddenly asked as he took the datapad.

"I trust the men under my command, which is more than I can say for my counterparts. Besides, once he finds out that I orchestrated this, I'm certain we'll have other things on our plate, and this is fairly minor in the broad scope of what the Raiders are up to."

"Okay..."

"I'm glad you boys are up to this... I'll negotiate a price with your money-man here," Rachek indicated Justin, "I'll see you boys around."

---

My Stories

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

Aside from buzzing past a couple Arachnos Flyers, the trip was uneventful. Solo briefly considered what that meant. Despite the Etoile Isles' status as a "Rogue Nation," it was still offically sanctioned by the United Nations, and conducted official business with the rest of the world. Sometimes, the Arachnos troops were just as altruistic as the "Blue Side" heroes in a number of situations where Recluse hired out his army.

Sometimes they did jobs just like this one...

The small town was nameless. Daren found that slightly unfortunate. It had the feel of a place that should have been named. Captain Carter, the Sky Raider liaison Rachek assigned to them, explained.

"This town has only really existed for the last twenty years. Everybody here still thinks of it as a new place, and they were just starting to see progress with their farming... The mission has been a real help in keeping the community together, too, especially in dealing with their recent troubles."

Carter had switched out of his uniform, opting instead for a typical faux-military appearance that still seemed a little too-military. His machete he kept in a sheathe at his hip and his assault rifle he strapped over his back. He would, at most, look like a mercenary to the locals. None of the Brutal Warriors argued the point.

They had brought Ragin' James, Psycho13, Draven Erickson, and Project Whirlwind. Solo would be leaving the group in the area until they called for him again, in the meantime he'd be getting back to their transport services and rebuilding the group's capital.

As the dropship landed, a crowd gathered. Despite the fact that the missionaries had been explaining that help was coming, the vehicle that arrived was very different from their expectations. Again, Solo was reminded of the fact that he was taking all of this super-powered nonsense for granted. Much of the world still didn't see the sorts of things he did on a daily basis. Most people outside of Paragon City or the Etoile Isles were lucky to see one super-powered instance in their lifetime, or unlucky, as the case may be.

It was likely the Rikti hadn't even come here, and that these people had no idea of the global conflict that rocked the world just a few years ago. With any luck, his cousin and friends would be able to keep anything of that scale from happening here.

The young heroes and rogue exited the vehicle, Psycho13 exiting out the back hatch with his hover bike. The crowd was a buzz with questions, but the person Captain Carter directed them to was a man in his 40s with some gray in his dark beard.

"This is Father Morgan," Carter explained, "Commander Rachek didn't explain how they know each other, just that he regards this as a personal favor..."

"I think they're cousins," Draven muttered, "I bet Rachek gets his looks from his mother..."

"That's not nice, man," James looked askance at his friend, but Draven waved him off.

"You know what I meant."

Father Morgan was talking with a couple of the village's leaders, and they began pulling the crowd away from the ship. Solo gave a quick salute to his cousin before engaging in his departure and Draven turned to the mission's leader.

"Father Morgan?" he asked.

"Indeed," the priest replied, "I suppose you're the ones the other Sky Raider mentioned..."

"I told them you two know each other, Father."

"Ah... So I don't need to play coy," Morgan smiled and reached out to grab Draven by the shoulder.

Despite the fact that Jared had problems with religion, there was something about this man. His reaching out to him didn't have the same condescending feel he normally got from religious leaders. In fact, the gesture seemed almost... Brotherly.

"Come, come," the priest said with an even-toned voice, "I'm certain you must be hungry... Flight in a vessel like that is not conducive for eating during transit. Please, my fellows and I will treat you to a hearty dinner."

Draven couldn't argue. Baker followed behind the group, his bike carrying much of the supplies they were going to be using on this trip.

----------

Dinner had been pleasant. Draven and Psycho13 were the two who had some problems with the before-meal prayer, but they kept quiet. Draven bowed his head, but said nothing, the other scrapper didn't bow his head, his face held in calm reflection.

"What is your faith?" one of the missionaries asked them.

"Not," Psycho13 replied, "I've never seen anything to make me believe any of them are right."

"So you're-"

"No, not an atheist, either," the regenerator chuckled, "I've seen my fair share to see that there has to be something out there."

"So an agnostic?"

"I suppose that'll do for now. Just don't expect lip-service from me. Not out of disrespect, mind you. I just don't view lip-service as respect."

"I fall in his same boat," Draven explained, "I don't know about those two, though."

"I'm like my brother," said Rage, "He and I... For the most part, we grew up the same. Well, he was always an oddball, and I usually did better at fitting in, and we came in conflict a lot, but some things we readily saw eye-to-eye on."

"That's good," Father Morgan stated warmly, "it's good to see that brothers can keep from fighting long enough to find what's truly important."

"But, Father..." one of the missionaries next to him, a young blond lady, seemed at a loss, "Shouldn't they be working to prepare their eternal soul for the afterlife? These are good people... Shouldn't we be saving them?"

"Angela, I admire your zeal, but like I keep telling you, we must let people make that choice for themselves."

"But-"

"If you wish to convince them, try to work on a personal level. However, if you cannot, please, do not think that it reflects negatively on you. Remember, God puts the choice on each of us, but we cannot make the choice for others. Down that path lies tyranny and devastation."

"I understand, Father."

She seemed sad, but not entirely disappointed. Morgan gave her a reassuring pat on the shoulder and turned to Draven to address the situation.

"Now... Why you're here..." he explained as he poured himself glass of milk, "At the edge of town is a site... At first we thought it was just some gravel and that perhaps the village could see some real income. When we started digging around in there, however, we found some... Artifacts..."

"What kind?" Rage asked, "Certainly nothing dangerous like these skulls on my chest and shoulder..."

"The source of your power?" Morgan asked.

"Yeah, good luck breaking them, though."

"Hm. Well, in any case, it's looking like an ancient tomb at least. However, some of what we've been able to translate... Well, it's been troubling..."

"How so?" Captain Carter asked, "I only know a few snippets... Commander Rachek just said I have to try to convince Captain Lukas to leave..."

"I'm afraid diplomacy has failed," Morgan sighed, "Lukas got a hold of some of our translations, and now he's pushing his troops to excavate the site as rapidly as possible."

"What could be down there that's worth such effort?" Project Whirlwind asked between mouthfuls, "Rachek said something about swords, armor... A mummified corpse..."

"I'm afraid the corpse part is true, but it has little to do with the actual tomb so far... Possibly just a servant who had the misfortune of being in the wrong place at the wrong time. The swords and armor, however, may just be writing on the wall. The images we've been finding throughout the tomb... If I'm translating this right," the priest looked to each member of the group, ensuring he had their attention, "It's the Sanguimancer."

----------

"Blood Reader," Psycho13 explained to Draven a little while later as they rifled through their equipment, "much like how a necromancer is a Reader of the Dead."

"The few Necros we've seen, though, did a Hell of a lot more than just read..."

"Well, it goes to show that this Sanguimancer can do more as well."

"It's not just a sanguimancer, it is the Sanguimancer, one of a kind. The secret to its power is still a mystery, all we know is that it needs blood, and lots of it. It was an assassin in the times of the war between the Oranbegans and the Mu," Father Morgan said from the doorway, "Used rather exclusively by the Oranbegans whenever they needed a gory distraction, and the Sanguimancer definitely delivered."

He handed the boys a book. It lacked a title.

"This came in a few days ago... It has details on some of the lesser-known problems the Vatican has been having regarding demonic interference... Everything from the Oranbegans to Infernal and Lilitu..."

"They've got issues with the demon binder?" Whirlwind asked as he took the book and started flipping through it, "Hey, these pages are heavily edited... And what's with all these little sticky notes?"

"The black bars indicate material that was either viewed as blasphemous or it was an issue that has been tested and likely failed," Morgan actually showed some disgust, "I would prefer they keep the information there, but nobody seems willing to sit down and write new editions of it... Apparently when the original authors set to scribing this edition, they kept meeting with strange demises. You might find the later chapters are less censored... the sticky notes usually cover details that were either reinserted due to the importance of the information to the situation, new theories yet to be attempted, or even new insights from other cases that have some similarities."

"The people dying..." Psycho13 whispered, "You think the Vatican was killing its own people?"

"No... Not exactly. It's no great secret that demons permeate our world. However, many regard the Vatican to be particularly safe from such insidious corruption... Little could be farther from the truth. There have been incidents where we've discovered infernal intervention at the heart of the matter, and usually it takes little more than a suggestion, even to the most innocuous individual, to cause a chain reaction that gets one of my brothers killed."

"That's terrible."

"Here's the Sanguimancer chapters..." Whirlwind placed his finger on the page to keep track of where he was reading, "Huh... These are largely uncensored..."

"There isn't much blasphemous to say about the Sanguimancer..." Morgan intoned quietly.

"Germanic?" Project Whirlwind shouted incredulously, "It's Germanic in origin? What the..."

"Read on."

"It says here that it was little more than a brute that revelled in the slaughter of... Of anybody or anything. It says that his armor was painted a deep shade of red from all of its victims, both innocent and those that tried to stop it..."

"Oh good," Draven muttered, "A challenge..."

"There's stuff here that doesn't make sense, though... Stuff about angels fighting him, demons, nothing about the Oranbegans or the Mu..."

"You have to read between the lines," Father Morgan explained as he examined Psycho13's hover bike, "The angels very likely mean the Mu, considering the fact they had their floating island... Atlantis, possibly... but they could easily have been some of the demons the Sanguimancer fought as well; Mu wasn't an altruistic wizard nation by any means. As for why he would fight the Oranbegans, well, he was a mercenary, selling his services to the highest bidder, or perhaps the greatest challenge."

"And the demons must be, mostly, the Oranbegans..." Project Whirlwind waved his free hand to the side, indicating that he understood now, "This is amazing... It says it took the concerted efforts of an angel and a demon to take him down. It was a duel that cost all three their lives, though the angel was able to survive long enough to bury the Sanguimancer's temple in the earth."

"Some of the research I've found indicated the two were an Oranbegan and a Mu wizard that were distantly related... They recognized the threat the Sanguimancer truly posed, that as he killed, he grew more powerful. The thing was, however, that it didn't matter what he killed. Over time, he was just feeding his own power, and wound up becoming the stuff of nightmares. Villages were left torn asunder in his wake... Dead bodies littered the fields when he was done with the various armies thrown at him, and he usually hunted down every last man that stood against him. No one was safe, not man, not beast, not woman or child... All were slaughtered in the most gruesome methods imaginable."

"Sounds like some of the horror stories from Portal Corp," Draven whispered.

"Indeed," the priest sighed, "And now, the Sky Raiders under Captain Lukas are trying to see if this is the burial site. They've been digging for the past two weeks... Sometimes 'requesting' the assistance of my parishioners or the local villagers."

"They're not all in your faith?" Project Whirlwind asked dubiously, "I thought your job was to... you know, convert them..."

The priest gave a light, yet strained chuckle before answering.

"My job is to stay here, out of the way, where nothing is so I don't cause anymore trouble for the Vatican, the Catholic or Christian church, or anybody that could be construed as my superior. I could be eaten by a lion for all they care."

"You haven't lost your faith, have you, Father?"

"Of course not, my friend," Morgan smiled, "It's just that my eyes have been opened to a different version of the truth... One that isn't mired in socio-political subterfuge and deceit."

The group stared at the priest for a few moments as the older man opened his robe slightly and withdrew a thin-bladed sword. It didn't seem particularly special, but it was odd for a man of the cloth to be wielding such a weapon.

"To keep it short," Father Morgan smiled, "I kick butt for the Lord."

----------

"We did it, sir!" one of the soldiers shouted, "We found the door!"

"Excellent," Captain Lukas was practically licking his lips in anticipation, "Soon, we'll have an edge beyond anything the heroes could throw at us. Why is this door still shut!? Blast it open and let's claim out prize!"

"Sir?"

"DO IT! Get the See-Four!"

As the Raiders rushed to get the explosives, Lukas stayed at the door and sighed triumphantly. Soon, he would bring before Colonel Duray the weapon that would guarantee his promotion to Wing Commander. Then he would see to taking the place of that incompetent Rachek and ruling the skies over the Atlantic the way the Raiders were meant to.

He placed his hand on the door. Lukas could almost feel the power beyond. Soon, that power would be his to command.

---

My Stories

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

As the heroes and their Sky Raider guide approached the Raider camp, Carter rounded on Draven and raised his finger to his lips. Gathering the group closer, he started whispering.

"Look, there aren't any medical teleporters out here, so I need to be certain you boys are in this to win it."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Project Whirlwind asked.

"It means," Carter readied his machete, "That people are going to die tonight. There's no getting around it. Understand? Now, look, the reason I was assigned to you guys is that I'm Rachek's knife in the back alley... I can take this... If you want, you can go back to the village and let me work... You're hands don't need to be bloodied."

"No," Draven replied, "We're all going in there."

"Are you sure? All we really needed was your presence. Enough witnesses, enough word of mouth... Duray will easily think you guys did this..."

"So will the rest of the world," the red-coated scrapper countered, "At least if we help you, there's a chance we can avoid unnecessary bloodshed."

An explosion suddenly rocked the earth and the cadre crouched low to ensure they hadn't been seen. Carter's eyes narrowed.

"That came from below..."

"They're blasting?" Ragin' James hissed, "But... Don't they know how dangerous that is? If the temple is what we think it is, they could have collapsed this whole region!"

"Well, let's be thankful that they didn't and get to stopping them."

Carter led the group down, picking this way and that. It was like an Oranbega site, all claustrophobic through the tunnels and passages, and suddenly wide open in the chambers. The major difference was that there had been no rock growth intruding on the old structure. It looked as pristine as the day it was submerged.

All across the wall were chipped frescoes and statues. They all depicted a red-armored warrior, wielding a pair of wicked looking red blades. One curved forward, the other back, the warrior's armor was also adorned in spikes and horns.

Every chamber's artwork depicted the warrior in battle or in gory triumph. One room had statues of the people the warrior had defeated, in the poses he'd defeated them in.

"Oh my God..." Draven whispered as he approached one statue, "I'd say this one broke, but it's got the bones and organs worked into it... He quartered the guy this is supposed to be!"

"I think Father Morgan may be right about this place," Carter whispered, "We're probably in a lot of trouble..."

"We probably should have brought him with us," Whirlwind breathed, "There's something about him... A priest like him... He doesn't wind up here without having a reason to be here."

"What?" Carter drew his rifle and pulled up to another doorway, "Come on, that sword doesn't mean anything. He's obviously going mad from not being laid... Or from not having any-"

"Shut it!" Draven aimed the point of his blade at Carter, "I don't want to hear it."

Carter grinned for a second, as if another dirty idea had come to mind. However, just before Jared could take issue with it, his face returned to its mask of cold professionalism and he whipped around into the corridor. He fired off a couple shots and shouted.

"Dammit! Get down!"

Someone was screaming nonsensically (at least to the mainly English speaking meta humans), and finally Carter replied in the same language. Finally, the Sky Raider pulled the unfortunate man out of the corridor and shoved him roughly back the way the group had come from.

"Says he's spooked," the captain grumbled over the man's distressed pleading, "Says the place is cursed and he jsut wants to go home..."

"You didn't kill anyone in there, did you?" Psycho13 asked as he bounded for the corridor.

"No, it's just a dead end," Carter replied, "I saw it wasn't one of them just in time... You!"

He shouted a few more words at the man, then roughly pushed the guy toward the exit, shouting a few more instructions.

"Do you have to yell?" Draven asked, "We're trying to help these people, remember?"

"Look, I don't want any civilian casualties any more than you do. The faster he gets out of here, the better. Don't worry... There really isn't anybody he can call to sue you for being a little rough on him."

"That's not the point!" Whirlwind hissed, "Jebus Cripes, man... No wonder you guys didn't turn out to be heroes... You jsut don't get the idea..."

"Hey!" Carter wheeled around and jammed his finger in the defender's face, "I've been a hero in my own right plenty of times, boy! You weren't there when whole squads of Vigilance were wiped out by the Rikti onslaught! You weren't there in the early days, when we were barely funded enough to have bullets to provide a distraction so the 'hero' could come in and mop up the villain! Did I give up? Never! I faced all the same craziness as you ever will and then some, and I didn't have any wussy powers to back me up!"

"Is that what the whole Sky Raiders thing is about?"

Carter shook a little, then his whole angry facade dropped. He started walking to the next corridor and grumbled.

"No... No it's not. I thought it was. Rachek thought it was. Over the past few years, though, Duray has proven time and again that it's not. We're just pirates, assassins, and mercenaries. We work for Crey, we work for Lockhart Aerotech... We sell to the highest bidder and hardly ever are we sticking up for the little guy..."

"Except under Rachek..." James intoned.

Carter remained silent for a few minutes next to the doorway.

"Yeah," he finally sighed, "A lot of us under his command... We're veterans from before the war and just after... Not the rookies Duray's been recruiting left and right from Council and Army rejects... We still remember people thanking us for saving their neighborhoods or getting awards for defending major military installations... Why do people think we rushed headlong into the Rikti assault?"

they were all silent for some time. It was obvious what Carter was talking about. There was a schism developing within the Sky Raiders. On one side, Duray and his band of outlaws. On the other, Rachek and his band of renegades. Duray's camp was obviously the larger, and still had charismatic leaders like the Colonel and Captain Castillo. All Rachek had was battle-hardened pride, and on the surface, his crew wasn't actually that different from Duray's.

Before they could elaborate further, however, there was a scuffling sound down the corridor Captain Carter was standing next to. The Raider hefted his assault rifle and sighted in on the open doorway. A gray gloved hand emerged from the opening, reached a little further across the floor, and dragged its body behind it.

"Holy crap," Carter shouted as he rushed to to inspect his former comrade in arms, "What the Hell happened?"

"Look... look," was all the dying man got out before the light of the world left his eyes.

"Lukas?"

The BWO members drew their various weapons and activated their various defensive powers. Project Whirlwind even raised a cloud of steamy mist to mask their presence. Moving down the corridor, everything seemed fine.

Everything was fine, that is, until they reached the door Lukas had his men blast down. Beyond the door was the burial chamber of the Sanguimancer. At the center of the back wall was a throne, at its feet a destroyed mummified corpse. When the group walked in to see what had happened, they found the bodies of the various Raiders in Captain Lukas's employ. Lukas, however, was still standing.

The raider had just got done fitting himself into the oversized armor of the Sanguimancer. He still held the helmet under one arm as he pulled the glove on. Though Lukas's back was to them and they were shrouded in mist, somehow, he knew they were there.

"What do you think?" he asked, "Power worthy of the price, eh?"

"What the Hell!?" Captain Carter shouted, "These were your men! Why did you slaughter them?"

"They weren't strong enough to be called men," Lukas chuckled as he approached a slowly dying soldier and stepped on his neck, "But in answer to your question, it was either me or any one of them. I took the hooked sword..."

He gestured to the sword at his hip that had a wicked looking curve that arched backward toward the hilt.

"And Jones there," he indicated a man spiked to the wall with his own machete, "he took the one that curved forward... Instantly we were seized with the urge to fight! We killed a couple others before turning on each other. I slew Jones thusly, and claimed his blade for my own... Now... Now I wield both blades, I wear the armor... I am the Sanguimancer, reborn!"

"You're a monster..." Carter whispered.

"And you're..." Lukas placed the helmet on his head, oddly, he seemed to fill it out immediately, "Meat."

As he drew his blades, the BWO members rushed out of the mist. Draven caught the first attack with his broadsword. Psycho13 caught the second with his twin knives. Though the blow sent him sprawling across the floor, the smaller scrapper had absorbed most of the force of the attack. Ragin' James used this to his advantage as he flew into the Sanguimancer at full force and body tackled the armored monstrosity with its left arm pinned to its side.

The forward curved blade clattered to the ground as the two bodies hit the far wall and Rage backed up just enough to have room to swing his fists and hammer the enemy in the face a couple times. In a brief pause, Lukas shoved the hero away and went to retrieve his sword. That was when a grenade launched from Carter's assault rifle exploded under his feet and the room started to shake.

"The place is coming down!" Psycho13 shouted, "We gotta get the Hell outta here!"

Carter retrieved a Raptor pack from the ground and nodded to his companions. The group flew and sped down the corridors, the whole place shaking. A loud, vicious roar behind them, however, alerted the group to the fact that Lukas was hot on their trail. The blurry image of Psycho13 speeding back caused Rage to shout.

"No! Levi, come back!"

"I know what I'm doing!" his communicator squelched back.

The Sanquimancer was tearing through the chambers when it suddenly crumpled to the floor. His legs had been taken out from underneath him, the cause was still rolling like a pin. Psycho13 hit the far wall with a shout, but bounded back to his feet. As the monstrosity attempted to stand, the scrapper closed the distance between them, ran up the berserker's back, cut him across the neck and ramped into the air for the doorway, leaving the Sanguimancer screaming in pain.

The others waited tensely outside. The ground stared to sink a little further away and Rage started fearing the worst. before he could rush in, however, there was a loud, triumphant shout emanating from his communicator. The shout was echoed by his brother emerging from the tunnel opening scant seconds before a cloud of dust billowed out after him. The next few minutes were a little tense as the temple collapsed, turning the region into a sink hole.

"Man, good thing it was over there!" Psycho chuckled, then he noticed the aggravated look of his brother, "What?"

"Don't you ever do that again!" Rage shouted, "I am NOT telling mom that you got yourself killed doing some damn fool stunt..."

"If I didn't do what I did, Lukas would have escaped!"

Rage didn't have anything to say to that. In fact, the scrapper was quite right, his momentary distraction was capable of distracting the berserker long enough to keep him in the forgotten temple until he was buried.

Too bad that wasn't enough to hold him.

There was an explosion accompanied by a savage, triumphant roar from the center of the massive pit. The group moved stealthily toward the edge and saw the massive black figure moving in the moonlight. Just as they saw him, Lukas took to the sky, leaping into the distance.

Carter checked the fuel in his jetpack and started flying after him, the BWO members not far behind. There was no discussion of a plan, just knowledge that they had to act and they had to know their roles in the coming conflict. They didn't have time to plan, Lukas was headed for the village, and he already had a rapid head start.

----------

"What's going on down here," Father Morgan asked as he descended the stairs from his room and saw the villagers shouting and arguing in the mission's church, "Mr. Malkaji?"

The village mayor approached the priest and stated in hushed terms, largely in his own language, the excitement that was agitating his fellows. Father Morgan nodded repeatedly as he worked to understand the situation. Apparently, the Raiders had breached the inner chambers of the temple and the last "volunteer" to leave bore witness to them slaughtering each other. Terrified, the man remained, listening to the screams of battle until the group Father Morgan had brought in arrived.

They were a bit aggravated, as one of them shot at the man while he hid. The priest frowned at that, and made a note to talk to his cousin about the behavior of his men. However, the insult was just a minor concern. What was really frightening the village was the story that a monster was on its way to there.

"It comes... The Dark Beast comes tonight to slay us all!" one of Morgan's parishioners shouted, "We must flee!"

"No!" Morgan's voice echoed throughout the room, silencing the tumult immediately, then, he added more calmly, "No. You don't want to go out there."

He started walking for the door. One of the villagers that remained yet unconverted stepped in his way.

"You're just going to bar us inside! We've seen that before! Mud walls and wooden doors don't stop bullets, and they [untranslatable] will not stop that... That thing!"

Morgan calmly pushed the man aside and continued walking to the door. Angela ran up as soon as it seemed the priest intended to go outside.

"Father! What are you doing!?"

"What I must, my dear," he replied, "I am the shepherd of this flock, and it's time to fight the wolf. bar the door as soon as I leave, and remember the basement's secret passages... Hide the children first."

He turned to the rest of the villagers.

"Is there anyone that yet remains out there?"

"Just the wizard," one of the parishioners replied.

The old man had been the village's prior spiritual leader. An odd individual that had come from the wild. He spouted mostly obscenities to the Sky Raiders, but had, oddly, left Father Morgan alone. The priest nodded.

"Then I know where I must go."

"What about us!?" the villager that had earlier stood in his way shouted, "We just sit here and pray!?"

"If you feel it will help," Morgan shrugged, "Frankly, I think you'll do better boarding up the windows with the benches and hiding your children in the basement. Feel free to use the torch stands as you would spears if the fight should come to this hallowed hall."

"Father?" Angela was pleading, "Please don't go."

"I don't have a choice in this matter. I have followed the paths to bring me here, and this is the task set before me."

He brushed the tears from her cheeks.

"Do not cry, my dear. Have faith. It is what protects these walls."

"What if we don't share your faith?" that same man growled angrily.

"You need not worry," Morgan shrugged to him, "Just remain. As long as I live, he will not enter here. It is my faith that protects these walls... That, and my steel."

He drew his blade from his robes. The angry man (Morgan was a little distressed he didn't remember his name) gulped loudly and backed away. He misunderstood, but understanding came with moderation and time. Eventually, he would come around and start learning with head as well as his heart, and then he would be able to make the choice for himself. Angela whispered something that the priest couldn't make out, but his history was unknown to the young woman.

"Worry not my dear," he whispered as he opened the door, "All will be well. Lock and bar the door behind me. Do not open it, regardless of what happens. Above all, have faith."

"Yes, Father," she choked out, "Yes.."

As the priest walked out into the darkness of the dirt-path streets, she whispered to herself.

"I love you."

----------

"Mr. Waki."

The old man was sitting on his front porch, smoking a pipe. When Morgan had first heard of the man, he'd expected a wiry little fellow, with a great mass of gray hair exploding from his head and ending in a beard that covered much of the man's clothing.

The old man didn't disappoint.

"Father Morgan," the old man replied in perfect English.

Only it wasn't English. Neither of them were speaking.

"So, you are the guardian of these parts."

"I try my best. I suppose you're the Wanderer I keep hearing of."

"One of them."

"Something wholly evil is headed this way," the old man narrowed his eyes at Father Morgan, "Are you sure you're up to facing it?"

"Long enough. We do have allies here, and it's not just two enemies facing the greater threat this time."

"Those wizards weren't the first to face this monster, they were just two of the most powerful on the planet."

"Certainly, the Sanguimancer has weakened over the millenia..."

"True... true... Well, I guess we had better prepare."

"Mr. Waki" stood from his rocking chair and stepped over to the priest's side. He was bent and crooked, his limbs thin, but muscular. As he placed his staff in the ground, the whole village seemed to shake. The mission, however, rippled visibly, and the people inside noticed nothing.

"I hope that doesn't become a problem later," Mr. Waki grunted at Father Morgan, this time in the language of the villagers.

His tone was like a light, humorous jab, however.

"I hope it doesn't," Morgan replied with a smile, "In time, perhaps, we can work in harmony."

Any further discussion, however, was ended when the black silhouette of the Sanguimancer flitted into the moon. It was still some distance away, but that would end all too soon. The two spiritual warriors steeled and prepared themselves for the coming attack.

---

My Stories

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

Lukas landed. One more bound, and he'd be able to start smashing his way through the vill-

Psycho13 caught up with him at that moment and raked one of his knives across the monster's face, earning a growl of rage as the Sanguimancer stumbled backward.

"Now... Where was it that you thought you were going?" Levi asked as he rested his elbow on one hand and waved the dagger in front of his face like an inverted pendulum, "Certainly not the village... Not without our permission."

"Our?" Lukas growled, wiping the blood from his eyes, "You're the only one here."

"I-" Psycho13 looked about, then cursed, "Dammit... That's right... Not everybody has super speed..."

"And nobody's here to help you," his enemy drew his blades with a chuckle, "I owe you one, boy... You dropped that whole temple down on my head."

"Well, I can't take all the credit..."

They started circling each other, Psycho13 with his knives crossed in front of him, the Sanguimancer with his wicked blades pointed somewhat to the sides, inviting attack. Baker took the bait, but he was still quicker than Lukas was prepared for. In the blink of an eye, the skinny young man was raking his blades against the black and red armor. Some of the red flaked off, much to Psycho13's amusement, but it sent the armored warrior into a rage.

The hooked and curved blades snaked out suddenly and tore into the scrapper's flesh. Sent sprawling, Psycho13's eyes went wide with shock as he realized what had happened to him in that short instant.

His right arm had been cut off just below the elbow.

Before he could consider a course of action, the Sanguimancer closed the distance between tham and stabbed into his belly. Dropping his other knife, Psycho13 rested his left hand on the horned helmet, his mind wandering into strange places. Mostly, he wondered why he couldn't see Lukas's face anymore.

The monster didn't just drop him. With a tug and a jerk, he wrenched the blades free of Psycho13's torso, tearing a vicious "X" into the body and opening the body cavity wide. It lay still, even after the armored brute kicked it a couple times and stabbed it in the leg for good measure.

As soon as it had leaped away, however, Psycho13 blinked.

"Ow."

The arm he'd just lost crawled over to him, somehow guided to the rest of itself by instinct. Feeling the fingers crawl across his flesh was a little unsettling, but the scrapper wasn't in any situation to prevent it. The arm lined itself up with the stump and he pressed the arm against its lost piece. There was an odd snapping sound, and something that sounded like fluid, then he got that horrid tingling sensation as the feeling returned to his nerves (or maybe his brain was just reacquainting itself with his limb). As he pushed himself off the ground, he realized his organs had held within the body cavity as well, and that his torso had been knitting itself back together while he waited for his arm. When Levi was able to look at himself in the moonlight, he was as good as new, save the lines where his body had been torn asunder.

"Wow..." he grumbled, "I don't want to go through that again... Every time it happens, it brings me one step closer to masochism..."

He shuddered a little before his stomach started growling loudly. All that repair had cost him his last meal.

"Oh man... I gotta save the village or I won't be eating anytime soon!"

As Draven and Rage crested the trees that ringed the clearing (followed shortly by Captain Carter), Psycho13 sped off. His brother shouted a curse, but it was only heard by his flying companions and the wind.

----------

Lukas would have overshot the two guardians of the village and sped for the church, ready to break in and tear apart the people inside. From there, he was going to wash his armor and blades in their blood, further empowering himself and increasing the heady drunk feeling he was getting from the whole experience.

Unfortunately for him, the two had other plans. He simply bounced off an invisible barrier and landed flat on his back in front of Father Morgan. The priest took a few steps closer and drew his own sword. The brute was cursing obscenities as he righted himself.

"I'm sorry," Morgan said honestly, "But I cannot allow you to harm a single member of my flock."

"You [jerk]," Mr. Waki chuckled, "I already had something incoming to stop him."

The priest arched an eyebrow to the mystic, but the answer was soon forthcoming. A large boulder fell out of the sky, smashing into the Sanguimancer and knocking him back to the ground. As the dust and pebbles settled, the sound of Waki's cackling laughter echoed through the night.

"You will pay for your insults!" Lukas shouted as he lunged after the two.

He moved fast, but Waki's magic was faster. Tapping his staff into the ground, a set of stone spikes jabbed out and smashed into the brute's face and chest. Father Morgan followed this up by waving his sword, and instantaneously disappeared and reappeared before Lukas, swinging the blade again to tap each of the villain's weapons and his helmet before disappearing again. Lukas wound up smashing his swords through the stone that had stopped him momentarily when he tried to attack, and Waki brought another boulder crashing on his head.

Only this time the Sanguimancer didn't go down. Instead, it charged for the wizened old mystic, the red blades almost glowing in the moonlight. Waving his hands frantically, Waki sent stones and boulders to intercept the monster, but Lukas deflected and destroyed the ones that would have severely impeded him and just weathered the ones that wouldn't.

Morgan appeared in front of him again in a puff of black smoke that coalesced into his outfit. His left hand burning with white fire, and his blade shining like a torch, he dueled with the brute. His skill was superb with the weapon, and his face betrayed nothing of the consternation behind his brow. It was exceptionally difficult for a man of his refined thinking to duel with a feral beast like Lukas had become. When his sword was knocked away, he raked his left hand across his opponent's armor, but the damage was negligible. All he could do was mutter a small prayer as the Sanguimancer brought his blades down to his head.

Suddenly, there was a blur and Psycho13 was on the enemy's back, stabbing furiously at the armor. Lukas twisted, throwing the scrapper off, but before the brute could get an actual attack in, Baker was on his feet and raining blows upon him.

The Sanguimancer was surprised at the sudden surge of assault from the boy, but it couldn't last. There was desperation in his face that belied the hero's fatigue. Catching the knives on his blades, Lukas lifted Psycho13 into the air. The boy actually kicked him in the face and held himself in the air for a few seconds.

They stood like that for a few seconds, the brute wondering at the maneuver, the boy simply smiling. With a rush, the answer bowled over the Sanguimancer as another one of Waki's boulders smashed into his torso and placed him between the anvil that was another boulder smashing into Lukas's back. Psycho13 flipped to the ground and gave a whoop of triumph.

Roaring angrily, the brute smashed into the boulder pressed against his chest with the hilt of his left blade, causing the rock to explode in a shower of gravel. He did the same to the rear boulder with his right blade's hilt simultaneously, but when he brought his right arm forward, it was with enough force to throw his sword at Mr. Waki.

The old man wasn't spry enough to avoid it, but Psycho13 was quick enough to intercept. Unfortunately, he caught it with his stomach, and Mr. Waki disappeared as Father Morgan pulled him away from the fight.

"Ow," Levi grunted as he pulled the sword out of his belly.

"I don't know how you survived," the Sanguimancer intoned as he stomped forward, retrieved his blade and held it over the scrapper's neck, "But I will make sure you won't this time."

"Yeah, good luck with that," Psycho13 chuckled as he stabbed his knife into the brute's ankle and disappeared a moment before the blade came down.

As the Sanguimancer screamed, the three took stock of their situation. Psycho13 was in serious pain, possibly out of the fight entirely.

"You wouldn't happen to have any of that holy Christian 'laying on hands' power, would you?" the scrapper asked.

"I do not," Morgan replied quietly, "Mine is the power of the Fiery Sword, not the Rod or the Staff."

"Damn... Well... How about those Communion wafers?"

"What?"

"The wafers, man! Gimme something to eat!"

"You do realize there is a ritual involved with-"

"Just give me the [censored] crackers!"

Frowning, Morgan pulled a fresh package of wafers from his robe and handed it to the young man. Psycho13 ate rapidly, and the wound in his stomach closed visibly, but it wasn't nearly enough.

"Dammit... There's a lesson in here somewhere," Levi frowned, "But I'll bet I missed it."

"At least you know the lesson is there," Morgan patted him on the shoulder reassuringly, "Now you just have to look."

As he removed his robe and placed it around the wounded young man (he still had a black dress shirt), Mr. Waki watched the Sanguimancer. The brute had recovered from the fight, but had lost some of its power. Psycho13's stab to its ankle had hobbled it as well, and it was now limping toward the mission.

"We have to stop him," Morgan whispered as he tightened his shirt cuffs and made sure his collar was straight, "I suggest we stop postponing our work in harmony."

"You finally willing to admit our power is one and the same?" Waki asked almost derisively.

"I don't believe that is the issue," Morgan leveled his gaze at the old man, then extended his hand, "Accept me.. As your friend, if not your brother."

Waki gave the priest an odd glance.

"You're not like the ones who came before you," he said in that strange way so they both could understand each other, "You talk like a man who knows what he's saying... Like them... but you don't quote the book they hid behind. I've never even seen you read it."

"I read it once, the different volumes of it, as much as my mentors would allow. That was enough for me. My fellows may have used it to justify themselves. Some do it for corrupted ends, and I apologize for their sin, though I cannot tell you to forgive them, I only ask. Others were virtuous, though they may have lacked the will to properly employ the goodness of their spirit. I view the book as it is... Poetic stories to help people in their lives and times of need. However, just quoting scripture doesn't serve the people. It doesn't educate them. It simply doesn't help. I'm a man of action as well as words, and I like to think that I serve the people as best as I can through my endeavors. Now... Will you take my hand so we may put an end to this threat to my flock, and your friends?"

Waki stared at Morgan for a few seconds. Finally, he reached out and clasped the outstretched hand.

The Sanguimancer had been tearing at the church for a few minutes. His blades were powerful enough to rend through the barrier Morgan had erected, leaving medium scars in the wooden walls and doors, and smashing in the windows when he got to them. Lukas, if given enough time, could have brought the structure down on everybody's heads if it weren't for what happened next.

The ground quaked, and a stone wall rose up from under the brute, vaulting him into the air moments before enclosing the structure, swallowing the villagers in darkness. before claustrophobia could set in, however, a series of quartz-like crystals snaked through the barrier and rattled off of the walls as they fell. The crystals started to glow when they hit the ground and air continued to steadily flow through the mission.

As the Sanguimancer recovered, he noticed that the priest and the wizard were standing between him and the church.

"I'm getting mighty tired of you two," he grunted, "I'm going to drink your blood when I'm finished."

"What maddening corruption must this armor bear?" Morgan whispered, "Lukas was not nearly this insane when he arrived..."

"He had the madness of ambition, though," Waki explained, "That was enough to corrupt him."

The brute charged then, and Waki raised another wall in his path. Though Lukas stopped in front of it, he wasn't nearly safe. Waki snapped his fingers and the wall came tumbling down on the armored monster's head.

Both guardians knew that wouldn't be the end of it, though. The Sanguimancer burst out of the rocks, leaping and screaming into the air. When his silhouette appeared in the moon again, the two on the ground shook their heads.

"He's rather repetitive, isn't he?" Waki asked.

"Apparently," Father Morgan sighed, "Think he'll attack us with his swords again?"

"Of course!"

but they were wrong. A red lightning bolt seemed to streak across the sky, slam into the Sanguimancer's back, and slam him into the rock dome. Ragin' James then picked him up and dragged the armored brute all the way down to slam him into the ground. They kicked up a plume of dust when they hit, and the two blades fell, sticking into the ground next to the hole.

"Well done," Father Morgan intoned as he helped the young man up, "How do you feel?"

"I feel great!" James laughed, "He made a great cushion!"

"You'd think, with the pointy armor, the opposite would be true," Mr. Waki chuckled.

The Sanguimancer pulled itself out of the hole and gripped the handles of his blades. The three defenders of the mission let out a collective groan.

"You can't stop me," a bit of blood and spittle dribbled out of the helmet, "You... You can't... cantsssss.... Stop me..."

Stretching his arms wide, Lukas threw his head back and let out a bellow that chilled the blood of the warriors before him. That was when Draven arrived, backed up by Captain Carter. While Carter fired his assault rifle and kept at a distance, Draven swooped in and hacked the enemy in the back of the legs, effectively hamstringing him.

Lukas fell backward. They had him surrounded, out-manned, and outmaneuvered. This Sanguimancer didn't have the power or the experience as his predecessor, and now he was laid low by a group of upstarts.

The shame was unbearable. Exploding from the ground, ignoring the ridiculous pain coursing through his leg and ribs, he batted the flying scrapper aside and dove for the priest and the hedge wizard. Morgan held his own sword up defensively, barely deflecting the attack, but disappearing in a cloud of black smoke. The other blades snaked out after Waki, smashing into a stone shield and sending the old man sprawling.

Lukas wheeled around. Ragin' James and Draven Erickson stood in his way, each one ready to fight to his last to put him down. The brute charged and the two set themselves in defensive stances. As Lukas leaped into the air, the hate in his eyes causing them to glow, there was a ghostly screaming sound and he suddenly stopped in mid-air.

The two blades clattered against the stone behind the two BWO warriors and fell to the ground, this time on their sides. The two young heroes were more concerned, however, with the specter floating behind the Sanguimancer. It was someone they never expected to meet in their lives.

Ghost Widow.

"Oh my god," Draven whispered.

"Not quite," her hollow voice echoed through the village and their heads, "But I'll accept it as your thanks."

"What do you want?" James asked, not dropping his stance for a second.

"I'm taking this cur back to Arachnos... Do you have a problem with that?"

Draven cursed himself a fool. Of course! the Arachnos flyers they'd passed! What other reasons nearby did Recluse's organization have to come here?

"We've been researching this for a few weeks," Recluse's favored assassin raised the large body closer so she could inspect it as Wolf Spider troopers carefully retrieved the blades and placed them in special sacks, "It's so good that it actually paid off."

She glowered down at the two young men remaining.

"You're the ones that stole a flyer and corrupted it to your own purposes..."

"Yeah..."

"You're fortunate my Lord has decided you may survive... The troops foolish enough to allow upstarts such as yourselves to acquire the vessel, however, were not so lucky. Now... I wish to leave this dank excuse of a cesspit..."

Draven and Rage helped the wizard to his feet while Father Morgan returned with Psycho13. The regenerating scrapper's belly had knitted shut and he seemed to be alright, albeit a little pale. With a gesture from the wizard and the holy man, the shields protecting the mission came down, much less violently than they went up.

As the last of the rock sank into the earth, Angela opened the door and rushed out to hug the priest. Morgan looked down at her as she sobbed how thankful she was that he was okay and he smiled.

"There, there, Angela," he pulled her off of himself and guided her tear-streaked face to look up to him, "Is everybody alright?"

"They're a little spooked, Father, but... Something about that thump against the roof really put them at ease."

"Excellent," he chuckled as he reached out and brought Ragin' James to view, "Well, he's the one to thank for that. His efforts signaled the wane of the Sanguimancer's power."

"Too bad that's not the end of it," Captain Carter grunted, "But at least it's over here. I'll call W.C. Rachek and make sure he knows this was a success."

"I don't think he'll like how it ended," Draven sighed, "Man... The Widow herself..."

"I saw that," Psycho13 shivered, "Oh... yeah... Father Morgan... Here's your robe..."

Morgan looked at the state of the scrapper and shook his head.

"Keep it. I can't wear it again."

Though it was hardly the ending any of them had hoped for, it was an ending. Life could go back to normal for this small community, perhaps even prosper. At least now there would be no more supernatural interference...

---

My Stories

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