This is it?
Gabe looked over at Fel. The amulet in his hand glowed a light red color in pulses, and felt rather tingly, but didnt strike him as potentially world-ending. Still, when he flipped open his HUD and overlaid a picture of the amulet, it matched perfectly. But, magic wasnt his forte by any stretch, so instead of explaining any of that, he shrugged.
Could be. Azuria will know for sure. Lets get out of here, huh?
They slowly retreated from the room, and while they kept their eyes open for anything new, the building was quite deserted, and any Arachnos soldiers in the area had already been ported into the Zigg. Deciding they were free, Gabe wrapped an arm around Fels shoulder, and dropped a kiss on the top of her head. She didnt grin so much as radiate contentment, and snuggled into his arm.
Frost Fiend and Subtle Inquiry. Whoda thunk it? To be sure, it wasnt the first time someone had fought crime with their significant other. Statesman, for instance, had fought with three generations from his wifes side. Just, Gabe and Fel were slightly more couple-ish than most heroes. They made no secret they were in a relationship, absolutely trusting that anyone stupid enough to attack one to hurt the other would be far too stupid to succeed, or simply not skilled enough. And, for the most part, it was true. Anyone stupid enough to attack either one individually was about to receive a large boot from the entire hero community. Being a high level hero couple had its advantages, including ethical and physical support from anyone who supported romance, getting some, or doing the right thing. Kidnapping someones girl was definitely considered not part of the above. But the events that were to take place simple did not care for that support, nor did they care for the odds. The events knew ways around them, and they were quite sneaky. Those events were named Harlequin Fear, the premier assassin for Ghost Widow, an all-around bad person. And, because she wanted it, he wanted the amulet Fel and Gabe had just walked away with. Vengeance was going to strike.
Youre sure they have it?
Ghost Widow rubbed her temple as though she had a headache. It was impossible, but human habits lingered even in the undead.
Mistress, by your will I consume. A deep, rasping, broken hiss of a voice echoed from behind a mask.
Ghost Widow gave a sad sigh.
My dear one, I know. I seek assurance, nothing more. Too many are uncertain all too often. Forget my remark.
Harlequin Fear did not move from his kneeling position, but his head dipped into a slightly deeper bow. I will obey your command, Mistress.
Widow nodded. I know, dear one. Tell me, do you know the two who took the amulet? It will save us work, and perhaps a spell or two. Fears head rose. A white mask, commonly called a bonehead by those who knew nothing, was framed by a pointed hood. A deep crimson sigil was etched into the masks left cheek, beginning behind the eye socket, and drifting around the cheekbone, until it swept back to the jawline, and followed it to just fore of the chin. Highlights of sanguine color, and deep lavender flowed around the form in a variation of swirls, spirals. It was a beautiful mark, reminiscent of flowing blood, of life, and of death. Passion, heated passion, and languor. It spoke of musk, of haze, of mortality. To most who saw it, it spoke of death. Such was Harlequin Fear, a man clad in straps of grey, sheathed in armor of black. A man so touched by shadows, it dominated every aspect of his life. A man so obedient to Ghost Widow, he was barely a man. A man, whose touch was as soft, immaterial as the tattered cloak gliding around him. Harlequin Fear was a man, and a shadow.
And as he knelt, gazing at Ghost Widow, who had just asked him if he recognized two people, shadows flared around him. Tendrils, which normal extended barely a finger off his body suddenly tripled in length, swinging in a brilliantly dark aura, reaching, flailing, for some unimaginable hold. Yet the gaze lowered, and the tendrils cooled. The entire outburst was so completely unexpected, so out of character for the most stoic, emotionless being in existence, that his words were dumbfounding. In stead of a hated name, grating out from a clenched jaw, a toneless voice, like all others, whispered two names.
Gabriel Jousin. Felincia Sevarde. I will consume. Ghost Widow absorbed the information like she did everything else. Tacit calm. And she pondered for a moment, before issuing her orders. No, my dear. Dont consume them. Bring me one of them. The girl. They have stolen from me. Let us break them in return. Harlequin Fear bowed. Of course, one couldnt see if smiled. He had a masked sealed to his face. Still, one who knew him could read subtle signs. When shadows flew from his eyes, like they did now, he was keenly excited. Harlequin Fear thrived on things such as this. I will leave at once, Mistress. He bowed once more, rose, and disappeared. The shadows had swallowed him whole.
Gabe peeled off the leather-and-Kevlar combination shirt he wore as torso armor. It looked good on him, ate lead for breakfast, and allowed him complete freedom of movement, but Oh! That thing was almost more trouble than it was worth to pull on and off. His bracers, wrapped chains of thick padding, lay on the bed next to him. The bed he shared with Fel. Such a beautiful girl, and, yes, it was true. They were affianced. By god, if that wasnt a sign he was doing something right, what was? Ah
long, dark hair. Light eyes, grey-ish, but clear. And her- Ouch! Gabe cursed as his shirt pinched yet more skin. He wasnt losing any hair to this fiendish thing, as he didnt have any, but he lost more than enough skin. Good thing he healed slightly faster than normal. Crey had zapped him good some years back. And while it had ruined his home life, the zapping process jump-started his powers exponentially, shot his skin blue, and granted him some minor regeneration abilities. Not nearly as powerful as some of them scrappers he met now and then, but way more than a normal person. Heh. He hadnt been normal before the procedure.
Gabe managed to extricate himself from the shirt without any further trouble. His pants and boots, which were a lightly plated armor, slid off far easier. Gabe then entered his shower, and let water slough off him, and take the day with him. Oh, it felt good. The rinse lasted a long ten minutes, or maybe a short half-hour, ended with a good rubbing down with a massive towel, and a change into a pair of baggy sweats. Gabe strolled down the stairs into the kitchen, where Fel was setting out dinner. Lasagna, salad, fresh bread, it looked wonderful. Gabe set their places, she poured the wine, and it began to look like a perfect evening. They sat down at the table, made light conversation, and enjoyed the mood. Pleasant it was, and almost had that dinner-by-candlelight-in-a-really-expensive-restaurant feel.
Then came the knock. Gabe decided later, that was the problem. That knock, when hed gotten up to answer it, that was when things went south. Heck, went? Things plummeted south like an anvil dropped from twenty thousand feet. He answered the door, but no one was there. A shadow from something he couldnt see, but that was it. And then, that shadow became something real. It turned into Fear, Harlequin Fear. Gabe attempted to throw a bolt of ice at him, but Fear was simply to close. Before Gabe could even [censored] his arm, a clawed hand had his neck gripped in a deadlock. And then, he was lifted off his feet, and carried backwards. Into the kitchen, where he heard a glass shatter as Fel dropped it. The hand around his throat shifted a wee bit, as he heard Fel grunt. Shed tried to attack him mentally, but clearly Fear was prepared for that. Then, the hand left his throat, and Gabe staggered to catch his balance as well as his breath. Shadows danced around the room as Harlequin spun between them, leaping from one dimension to another like most people inhaled. In retrospect, the outcome of this battle was obvious from the start. Gabe was too disoriented to put up an effective attack, and Fel wasnt able to puncture Fears mental defenses, so she couldnt attack at all. Fear was simply letting them fight to build the tension, and the exhaustion.
And it worked. Gabe could barely see straight, could barely move, and he certainly couldnt fight. Its a gift from the Mistress. Harlequin whispered in his ear. Youll pass out in several minutes. Youll lose motor control slightly before that. And then, it will simply be myself and Miss Sevarde here. And, oh, how the Fear she exudes tastes. Wait until she realizes how alone she is. Shell scream like no other, you think? Then he swung a massive side-armed blow into Gabes back, which threw him into a wall on the other side of the room.
Gabe! He heard Fel call. It was too late, though. His body was overloading. A sudden beating, adrenalin, and whatever Fear had poisoned him with had all conversed with his system, and they made profound arguments for him to shut down. As the blackness ringed his sight, he saw Fel leaning over him, and a clawed hand clad in leather grab her shoulder. Then, there was nothing.
--------
Three hours, 5 minutes, 42 seconds, and a maybe a freckle past a hair later, a blue-skinned man in a torn T-Shirt and Sweats stumbled into city hall. His eyes were dripping, the snot had been beaten out of him, and in his hand he clutch a small note, reading, to anyone who cared to ask, Dont steal from me again. Love,, and was signed with a kiss of black lipstick. The man barged past various officials, staggered down into the hero sections of the building, and collapsed into a heap at the door to the Freedom Phalanxs Headquarters. He slapped a hand across the access port, and it flashed green. The door opened, and he fell inside. Help! He cried, before passing into unconsciousness.
A hour after this, Statesman released a citywide broadcast to all heroes. A task force was forming, and it was heading to Rogue Isles. They were going to hunt down Ghost Widow, and rescue a kidnapped heroine. They were forming a rescue operation. And they were going to the Isles.
Experiment, being one of the first to get the call of the Task Force due to his base's knack for swiping things from incoming air-waves (including HBO), was also one of the first to leave his base, and get ready to fly from the PCT building. An arm grabbed his, causing him to turn and face his sister, Jenny.
"You can't come." he said matter-of-factly, as if he thought that would end the discussion.
If anyone knew his sister, they'd think him mad for thinking it.
"Why not?!" she yelled, causing a few heads to turn to the siblings... Although, nobody knew they were siblings, John Ballard in his Experiment 2.0 costume, and Jenny in her street-wear.
"Simple- You're not ready. This is a TASK FORCE to the ROGUE ISLES, Jen, not an escapade across the Atlas Platform. It'll be DANGEROUS." he muttered, pinpointing every argument against her coming. She huffed in return.
"Dangerous? You're supposed to be teaching me how to become a hero!" she hissed, clutching tighter (Which, in all honesty, did nothing, as the red armour surrounding 2.0's arm was kind of, y'know, strong?).
"And I will keep doing so after the TF, alright? Just stay here, make sure PDA doesn't blow up my base, and we'll talk later."
With that, Experiment's jet-boots activated, pushing him from the ground and upward, away from the Paragon City Times entrance and toward the tram.
"...Jerk."
Cedric Grey was finishing his corn flakes as the phone rang. He looked over to the edge of the coffee table, where his communicator sat silently. Why weren't they calling that? His roommate, Matt McGinty answered the phone.
"Grand Central Station, Lum speaking," the scrapper half-shouted into the phone.
Cedric chuckled a little as Matt corrected himself. A few "uh-huhs" later and he hung up.
"Who was it?" Cedric asked between mouthfuls of cornflakes.
"Freedom Corps," McGinty replied as he heated up a bagel, "Seems we got ourselves an interesting offer on the plate..."
"Oh?"
"Yeah... They said they were looking for crazy heroes, and we seem to be near the top of the list."
"Who's the craziest?"
"I don't know..." Matt chuckled as he got out some cream cheese, "Frankly, I'm concerned there's somebody out there ahead of us in that department."
"So, what were they asking us to do?"
Matt's bagels popped up and he started spreading the cheese over them. He seemed to be considering what to say.
"There's a problem... It needs fixing... A heroine's been kidnapped and she apparently had some kind of Macguffin on her person... Some sort of 'End-of-the-World' trinket..."
"Of course," Cedric shrugged with a callous smirk on his face before just drinking the last of the milk and cereal fromt eh bowl.
"Well, Freedom Corps wants us to help out the retrieval team."
"Is this that Task Force I heard about on the news this morning?"
"Yeah."
"Will there be a badge involved?"
"Since this is a one-time thing," Matt's eyes rolled for a second then focused back on his friend, "No."
"Aw..."
"We get to bust up bad guys, though."
"That's a plus," Cedric grinned.
"Well, I'm going," McGinty munching on his bagel, "It's about damn time I started leaving a mark on this city that wasn't just a grease stain."
"But..." Cedric's eyes rolled, "You've always been a really good fighter... Damn near nobody can take you down."
"I know," Matt smirked, "I was talking about the bad guy blood loss."
Cedric laughed and headed for his room. A moment later, he returned with a shiny axe. Few knew that not too long ago, it used to hold his Praetorian. Now, nobody knew what the deal was, but the weapon seemed more than a tad indestructible. The tanker class hero was also wearing his armor, a technological construct produced by a fellow supergroup member.
"So, you're coming along?"
"Yeah!" Cedric cheered as he gave a slight stretch, "One energy smoothie, and I'll be all set! Come on, man, finish up the bagel!"
"I'll meet ya there... Freedom Phalanx headquarters, of all places."
Grey was out the door shouting "BYE!" just as Matt finished the sentence. Humming to himself as he finished his breakfast, Matt was suddenly reminded of his old instructor's words before every sparring match.
"This is going to be... Interesting."
My Stories
Look at that. A full-grown woman pulling off pigtails. Her crazy is off the charts.
"Sir, it appears there is a distress call on the Imperial channel. A mission of intense importance is being organized to go deep behind enemy lines and rescue a downed vessel." One tiny holographic crewman stood before his captain on the bridge of his "vessel".
"Alert Imperial command that we will be assisting. Set a course for the rendezvous point and make best speed. Alert the crew to stand by for combat. The Empire will be proud of her flagship this day." The holographic captain stood and headed to his office off of the bridge, to muse over charts and plan strategies.
The holographic communications officer signaled Freedom Corps. "This is designation War Bird transmitting on encryption channel four two five niner, Imperial command, do you read?"
"Oh, this guy again. Yes, War Bird, we 'read' you. What can we do for you today." The Longbow radio operator was simply thrilled to receive another transmission from this whacko.
"Our captain wishes to inform you that we will be answering the distress call sent at fourteen hundred hours marked Xray, Foxtrot, one, Alpha, six
"
As the communications officer prattled off the bulletin ID number, the Longbow agent scrambled to find what the heck he was talking about. "You want to join the task force to the Rogue Isles? Oh! OH! Why, yes War Bird, you're um, authorized to dock with our.. um
space station and Rendezvous with Captain Kirk or whatever. By all means! Yes, we'd love to have you along. Do
um, do the Empire proud! We're counting on you!" With that the Longbow radio operator released the mic button and turned to the guy next to him. "That ought to get rid of that freak. I swear, why can't he just talk like a normal guy?"
War Bird took to the air and cloaked, heading for the Freedom Corps building, hoping to rendezvous with the other vessels and start their infiltration of the Rogue Isles sector of space.
Penny Arcade sat on a rock, overlooking the sea. It was a tall rock, and the surf pounded relentlessly on its base, but the spray did not reach so high. From here, at just the right time of day, and in just the right lighting, it was sometimes possible to see Paragon. Not the city, itself, but rather the edge of the landmass upon which it was built, which showed as the tiniest of blue dots over the horizon, when the sun and sea were just right. This, Penny knew, was really a reflection, as the landmass was much farther away. Nevertheless it was a reflection of Paragon City, and she liked to come here sometimes, to try and see it. Most days it was not visible, but on those rare occasions when she caught a glimpse of it, she felt it was a good omen.
Her cover story had nothing to do with the reflection, of course. Here in the Rogue Isles, it was always necessary to ensure that one's actions could never be construed as anything but self-serving. Penny Arcade was very good at cover stories, and it helped that this one happened to be true: it was far from a coincidence that this location was the sole spot in all the Isles where one could receive a transmission from Paragon with minimal possibility of detection.
'Transmission' was, perhaps, too strong a word. Coded security channels were only as good as their encryption, and Penny Arcade understood Paragon encryption better than most. The receiving unit, a small handheld device with a woefully tiny screen, was adequate for its purpose. She read the data with a frown, going over it twice before snapping it closed.
A task force was coming. Now that was interesting news indeed. Lacking any access to backgrounds or briefings, the information was sketchy at best, but the basic framework was clear enough. A hero had been taken, along with some important object. The task force was coming to rescue him (her?) and retrieve the item. Simple enough. The snag (undoubtedly the first of many) was contained in the coordinates: if correct, the location would put the heroes in Ghost Widow territory. At the very least, that meant heavy firepower on both sides.
In the hands of someone else in the Rogue Isles, such information could have spelled disaster for the strike team, leading to ambushes and possible capture for the lot of them. In fact, Penny Arcade knew several individuals who would pay top dollar for such information, not to mention the boost it would give her "criminal career." However, the street value of the information held no interest to her. She had no intention of selling out those whom she would have liked to have had as compatriots, had her own fortunes been better.
Penny Arcade knew that Paragon City was not for her, and never would be. She had been created specifically to be placed here, knew it, and recognized the importance of her work. She did see the merits of the theory. Arachnos, as an organization, would not stand if it was attacked both from without and from within. But being on the ground, behind the front lines so to speak, she could also see that the theory would not work in practice. Through diligent effort, she had discovered the full extent of the Paragon cloning program which had put her here, and its implications were staggering.
It was only recently that she had discovered the cloning was not voluntary and had been conducted in the greatest secrecy. None of the donor heroes knew that they had been cloned! She wondered what they would have thought, if they had somehow found out. Penny Arcade herself, not having developed any inherent paranormal abilities, was actually considered a failed effort in the very program which had spawned her.
But there had been other clones - a number of others. These creations had been successful, and were as heavily powered as their Paragon City counterparts. A few had gone over to the Arachnos side of the field. Many others had followed their original heroic instincts. It wasn't to be denied that Arachnos had taken some fearsome damage at their hands. But at what cost? Most had died. Penny Arcade, herself, knew of no other survivors.
It was a maddening situation. She had been created precisely to be expendable. Had she been locked up in Ghost Widow's tower, there would have been no task force sent after her. Her fate was a harsh one: to do what she could, for as long as she could, until she failed and was ground under Arachnos heel, to be replaced by the next clone coming down the line. Was such a thing really approved by Paragon officials? Perhaps not: presumably the reason her own villian threat level had been so upgraded in the Paragon hero databases was that someone knew she had found out, and was afraid she would blab to the wrong people. She had been enraged when she found out, so much so she had actually considered turning to a life of crime for good.
But there was no real momentum behind the thought. In her heart of hearts, Penny Arcade wanted to be a hero. Heroism being the equivelant of suicide in the Rogue Isles, she had settled for being a sort of anti-villain. There was plenty of work for that sort of thing here: all sorts of groups plotted against Paragon, and given the constant infighting with the various factions in the area, it was rarely difficult to find reasons to take down any threat that seemed too severe.
And speaking of taking down threats... the task force. Hm. The cause was noble, and Penny Arcade liked noble causes when she could get them, which wasn't often. She couldn't risk being captured by the task force. No soft jail cell at the Zig awaited her: certain persons in Paragon would want her returned to the laboratory, to find out what went wrong. Vivisection. She shuddered. Nor did she care to go up against Ghost Widow. Widow owed her a favor, but Penny Arcade knew better than to cross her.
Still... she spared the capured hero a moment of sympathy, to be locked up in such a place. The trinket, whatever it was, could be left to fend for itself, but the hero ought to be extricated with all possible haste. She did not wish to fight against the task force, and could not fight for it, but perhaps she could arrange to be in the area around that time. For her own reasons, of course. A spanner in the works.
Sure, why not? Spanners could be useful things. There must be some work to be found around there...
"Fancy meeting you here." Jake called up to Penny from the beach below, his hands in his pockets and his mouth in a smirk. "Penny Arcade, right? I believe we've met before." He flicked a switch on his belt and very casually flew up to where she was via rocket boots. He landed softly on the large rock and flipped the switch on his belt to 'Off'. "So what brings you here?" He said, genuinely interested.
"Oh... hi, Jake." Penny's eyebrows rose. She wore leather and cloth now, her armor having been all but destroyed in her last excursion to Paragon City.
There were no allies in the Rogue Isles, not really. But Jake... well, at the very least he could be classed as a non-hostile. For the moment, at any rate.
"I am considering," she said, "Whether or not to take a certain high-stakes job. " She looked at him curiously. "And you?"
This stone wasn't exactly a high-traffic area, and she didn't like the idea that he might be listening to the Paragon broadcasts too. So far as she knew, she was the only one on the Isles who had any inkling of the events that were transpiring for the task force, and she meant to keep it that way.
As citizens walked down the streets of Paragon, some could have sworn that they felt more tired for a few seconds than usual. However, as the passed a group of shadow, or another person's shadow, they felt themselves again.
This caused a few heads to turn, a few people worrying, the usual. This moment of weakness passed through the city shadow to shadow, until it found a nice little bird's shadow. The bird fluttered across the ocean, stopping every once in a while, until it approached the Rogue Isles. It then took its true form.
The shadows bunched together, forming a dark cloud of energy. Two blue eyes floated in the cloud as it flew down the street toward a certain someone in red and black clothing, missing a few usually-needed things, mainly skin.
"J0, m4st4h." it said.
Blind Messenger's nerves rolled in his head as he turned. "What's going on, and try to keep it primarily in English."
"W3ll, s33, th3r3 1z d1s m4d |-|4X TF g0in' 0n, 4nd th3n th3r3 1z d4t omgwtfbbq 1337 c4rn1v4l, 4nd--"
The D4rk S3rv4nt froze in the air, eyes close to closed in happiness.
A ghoul appeared next to him, raising his hand and creating a mind link.
"The only thing that would be a threat, m'lord, would be the Task Force organizing." it said, eyes closed in concentration.
The skeletal necromancer leaned against the wall. "I'm in the Isles, why would it be a threat?"
"They are trying to rescue someone... A female hero... She had a very strong item in her possession, but was captured by Mistress Widow."
"Ah, my lovely, undead Patron. Continue."
"...It also seems that our smokey little friend saw some circus people."
As if on cue, D4rk S3rv4nt came unfrozen. "Y34h! Th3r3 w3r3 th3s3 f3m4le circus p30plez, 4nd th3y w3r3 like 'W3'll 34t y0ur SOOUUUUL!!!!' 4nd I w4z like 'N0 wai!' and th3y were like 'Y4 w4i!!!' and I w4z like 'O RLY?' 4nd th3y were like 'Y4 RLY!!!' 4nd I w4z like--"
The cloud dissipated. "First of all Ghoul, follow me to my next location. Second of all... Once we're there... Dissipate, find that idiot of a servant, and punch as many holes in him as possible."
"Kk-- I mean, Yes sir."
The War Bird settled outside the Freedom Phalanx building, still cloaked. From the outside it appeared to be a Crey droid from the Urban Pacification project that was due to be turned into scrap metal, aside from the light green shiny armor with the glowing pattern through it and the giant black bird emblem on the chest. Of course, it remained cloaked so as to avoid undue attention and remained airborne to avoid making noise.
War Bird made radio contact with the front desk and inquired who would be leading the task force. The holographic coms officer inside War Bird's head made a note of the name of the "vessel" and requested frequency and encryption codes.
Then the War Bird sent the following message. "Message commander of Task Force, War Bird standing by at rendezvous point awaiting orders. My crew and ship are at the disposal of the Empire."
The holographic captain left orders to be disturbed when a response was issued. In the mean time, dozens of holographic crew began running diagnostics and prepping for battle stations.
((Hi! Don't mind me jumping in.))
Taking a deep breath, Carnacki released her tense muscles. A rush of warmth and the need for a much needed massage filled her immediately afterwards, and she turned her face towards the sky, feeling the sunlight. She felt movement beside her, and could sense the young woman she had just saved bowing frantically to her.
"Thank you so much! I don't know what would've happened if you hadn't-"
Carnacki brushed the woman's hand off her shoulder. Shrugging, she gave a gentle smile in her direction. "It's quite all right," Carnacki said, "I'm just doing my job."
"Oh, okay." The woman said. "Say, are you really-"
"Yes."
"What happened? Like, I know the newspapers have interviewed you and all, and it's a touchy subject, but I'm so curious!" Carnacki could feel the girl pointing at her face, and she frowned. She ran her own fingers over her face, and felt the black cloth that was bound around her eyes.
"It's a long story." Carnacki said. She could feel the younger woman's yearning curiousity. Stretching her senses a bit further, she could hear the woman reach into her purse and take out something... A notepad? Was she a reporter? A lick and a flip of a page confirmed it. Carnacki sighed inwardly.
What makes you think I'll tell you when I've turned down over half a dozen others, all from more major papers? She thought angrily.
The reporter, unaware of Carnacki's thoughts, clicked her pen and asked, "Long stories are my favourites. So, how old were you when you went blind...?"
Sighing, Carnacki hoped something, someone, or anything would save her. And, as if on cue, her honed senses immediately picked up a mental broadcasting. Tuning out the still talking woman, she turned away, trying to pinpoint the source of the broadcast...
To every available hero out there, the city is in dire need of your help. There has been a kidnapping of one of our own and along with the captured is an object of immense powers. The assembly of a task force is underway, restricted except for the higher security level heroes. Report to Atlas City Hall ASAP... To every available hero out there, this city-. Carnacki's senses returned to normal as she realized it was a mental recording. Smiling, she turned to the reporter and said, "Gotta go." Ignoring the girl's protests, she teleported herself away, envisioning City Hall in her mind.
((Well, quite the cast list brewing, and more on the way! This is great. Thank ya'll for joining up, I really appreciate it.))
The broken man who had stumbled into Freedom Corps HQ had faded away when Gabe passed out for the second time in as many hours. And, when he awoke, that person was gone. All that remained was Frost Fiend, a nationally acclaimed and decorated hero, who happened to know a fellow hero had been kidnapped. And for Frost Fiend, all that remained was a mission, save that hero, at all costs. He wouldnt fail, couldnt fail. It was simply unthinkable.
Gabe rose from the bed hed been stored in. The room was typical of all hospitals: white, antiseptic tiled flooring, and a wallpaper trim that looked older than the building. Someone had decided the sweats hed been wearing were too raggedy for him to wear again, and had set out a pair of Freedom Corps Gym gear. He shrugged into it, and then opened the door out of the room. Maybe someone around here could tell him where he was. He needed to help organize a rescue operation.
The hallway outside his room was definitely a hospitals. White antiseptic, white wallpaper, white ceiling, wooden chairs designed for sleeping in. And
what a surprise. Manticore, of Freedom Phalanx fame, was waiting for him, sitting off to one side of the doorway. He rose when Gabe exited, and looked around for a moment, before offering his hand. Gabe took it, they gripped tightly, a motion that conveyed complete sympathy and support, while returning gratitude and weariness. Manticore rested a hand on Gabes shoulder, and said Well get her back, Gabe. Gabe nodded. I know. They turned, and walked down the hallway.
States just finished releasing a city-wide broadcast, actually. Youll have quite the list of support. Were rooting out the applicants that are too inexperienced, too young, too conspicuous, whatever. Youre going to have massive support here. All of Freedom Corps, Wyvern, the Phalanx, and every hero in the citys got you back on this. Manticore pulled Gabe aside to let some doctors pass. Listen to me, though. You guys can have all the support in the world, but one you get there, youve got nothing. Youll be on your own. Be careful, okay? Gabe nodded again. Good. Step in here, please.
The hospital look completely transformed into utilitarian tech. Freedom Corps funding at its best. A passageway and a ramp led to a long, circular room, with a table taking up the majority of the space. A screen on the far side showed flashing maps of Rogue Isles, but other than that, the room was bare.
Your team will filter in as we let them. Youll have a few minutes to prepare, and after that, its all on your call. Good luck again, Gabe. We all feel for you. Gabe nodded one last time at Manticore, and then waved as the other left. He flipped several switches on the screen, and then toyed with the hologram projector in the middle of the table. On an impulse, he toggled several buttons, and opened a comm channel set to low frequency, but a high enough range to cover the entire planet, and most of the immediate space around it.
December Night. He whispered into the receiver, and then shut down projector. Theyd pick it up quickly. They always did.
"Nothing much, I just came here to do some thinking. I'm off-shift, so to speak." He chuckled and folded his arms across his chest, his smile beginning to fade and the expression that comes with a sigh taking its place. "I've been contemplating lately as to the reason why I follow Arachnos. Seems like the plan I originally thought Recluse had set-up isn't what it seems." He chuckled and that same smirk came back across his face. "Guess that mental corruption that Arachnos had on me is wearing off. Anyway, I didn't expect to see you he-..." He stopped mid sentence as the upper left portion of the display on his blast goggles began flashing red, informing him of a minor radio disturbance. His goggles generally weren't designed to pick up and interpret transmissions, but they had a tendancy to pick up a stray signal every now and then. Normally this wouldn't be strange, but the message noted something unique about this particular signal.
It was from Paragon.
There was no doubting it, the source was clearly right across the ocean, and there were no Rogue Islands in that particular direction. He grinned and mumbled, "Even when I'm off the clock..." He stored away the frequency in his goggles limited memory, making a note to analyze it further later.
"Sorry." He continued. "Zoned out for a minute there. As I was saying, I really didn't expect you to be here. I had thought that this spot was all my own." He chuckled and sat down, crossing his legs to conserve space.
Mad Matt McGinty parked his motorcycle in front of the Freedom Phalanx headquarters. Grimacing slightly, he started marching up the steps.
"Well, here goes..." he grumbled as he hit a button on his communicator and a shield wrapped around his conveyance, "Time to see if I'm the caliber they're looking for."
He knew they'd called for Cedric. Well, Agent Wild called for Cedric. That didn't make this by any means a sure thing for either of them, but the tanker had definitely been tagged by an FC agent, not Matt.
Walking through the front doors, he looked about for any agents, clerks, or whatever other office personnel could help him.
"Hello?" he called out, "I'm looking for whoever is accepting applications for the Task Force into the Rogues."
Cedric Grey walked in behind him, slurping away on his smoothie. He looked to his friend, his expression staying on the razor's edge of calm amusement and outright hysteria. The grin that flanked the straw indicated to which side he was leaning.
"Careful," Matt grinned back and pointed at Cedric's face, "We're not accepted, yet."
"We will be," Cedric chuckled into his straw, "I have a really good feeling about this."
The two of them went deeper into the facility, waving and nodding to the heroes and heroines they passed.
My Stories
Look at that. A full-grown woman pulling off pigtails. Her crazy is off the charts.
Portal Incorporated, Paragon Campus
Peregrine Island
1452 Hours Local Time
Gabe didn't know how right he was.
ENERGY SPIKE DETECTED ON DESIGNATED ULTRALOW BAND.
There were many things about the mysterious Portal Corporation the public did not know.
LANGUAGE: ENGLISH. TRANSLATING.
One of these was that a small section of the ULF band was constantly monitored for certain eventualities.
DECEMBER NIGHT. CODE CONFIRMED.
This was one of them.
ACCESSING SATELLITE.
REACTIVATING DRIVE PARTITION ALPHA_
--------------------
Geostationary Orbit
Nobody quite knew for what purposes Portal Corp. had shot a satellite into orbit. Few even knew it existed, but it wasn't any great secret.
Supposedly, it was a communications hub to allow the Peregrine Campus supercomputer accessible to any of their facilities on the planet. Indeed, this was true.
But there existed an ulterior purpose - a small part of the satellite allowed the complete opposite. It allowed the mainframe to access any other facility, among other things.
One of those other things was a hypercom unit, no larger than a fingernail.
But it was powerful.
BEGIN TRANSMISSION_
--------------------
Deep Space
GLX 0249.
TRANSMISSION RECEIVED.
REROUTING.
It had always been a prerogative - a very important one.
GLX 1742.
TRANSMISSION RECEIVED.
REROUTING.
Terra's position was nobody's beeswax.
GLX 0261.
TRANSMISSION RECEIVED.
REROUTING.
Especially not the Concile's.
GLX 1102.
TRANSMISSION RECEIVED.
REROUTING.
That's why long ago, someone had set up a galaxy-wide network of tiny relay stations that shot transmissions from and to Terra all over the place. Every now and then, one of them was discovered, but that didn't matter - it would terminate upon capture, and there were far too many to ever find any scheme between them.
And only a few of them had any relevant data at any given time, which was passed on constantly. Being this, the relays bounced the transmission around until it hit one that currently had relevant data.
In this case, GLX 1019 - which had the current position of the APOCALYPSE...
---------------------
Freedom Corps Headquarters
Galaxy City
1501 Hours Local Time
The beating of rotor blades echoed from above as a MI-26 HALO arrived on the scene, and had it not been for the pitch-black paint job, it may very well have been just one of the many cargo lift choppers Longbow operated.
Then again, the people that this thing belonged to had never felt they looked good in red and white, so their helos weren't either.
Still, it seemed to have clearance, descending slowly onto one of the free helipads on the roof of the building, powerful hydraulics gurgling the rear cargo ramp open before the wheels had even made contact with the pad.
On the ramp stood a tall and slim figure covered entirely in a heavy, drab-gray cloak, every feature hidden by the veil complete with quite the large hood.
Longbow agents on the roof continued their drills, but couldn't help but give a raunchy glare ever now and then as the figure stepped off the chopper and started toward the roof door at a brisk pace.
Some of them knew who he was, others thought they knew, and still others had heard who they knew thought they knew, but didn't really know anything.
What they did know for sure was that the Red and the Black had always had their differences, but for now the guy wasn't to be shot at on sight.
The chopper's turbines idled as it sat there on the roof, its crew not bothering to show themselves, nor any Longbow going aboard. They had an understanding about that, and so the figure made its way downstairs with suspicious direction, almost as if there was an exact spot in the building this man had to get to.
Indeed there was.
Soon he came upon it.
But the spot was not a spot. It was no location, instead a person.
Gabe.
"Yyyoouu rrang?" the figure imitated a Lurch voice almost perfectly, coming up behind the hero with all the telltale noise of a ghost's shadow...
"If I had Force powers, vacuum or not my cape/clothes/hair would always be blowing in the Dramatic Wind." - Tenzhi
Characters
[ QUOTE ]
"Nothing much, I just came here to do some thinking. I'm off-shift, so to speak." He chuckled and folded his arms across his chest, his smile beginning to fade and the expression that comes with a sigh taking its place. "I've been contemplating lately as to the reason why I follow Arachnos. Seems like the plan I originally thought Recluse had set-up isn't what it seems." He chuckled and that same smirk came back across his face. "Guess that mental corruption that Arachnos had on me is wearing off. Anyway, I didn't expect to see you he-..." He stopped mid sentence as the upper left portion of the display on his blast goggles began flashing red, informing him of a minor radio disturbance. His goggles generally weren't designed to pick up and interpret transmissions, but they had a tendancy to pick up a stray signal every now and then. Normally this wouldn't be strange, but the message noted something unique about this particular signal.
It was from Paragon.
There was no doubting it, the source was clearly right across the ocean, and there were no Rogue Islands in that particular direction. He grinned and mumbled, "Even when I'm off the clock..." He stored away the frequency in his goggles limited memory, making a note to analyze it further later.
"Sorry." He continued. "Zoned out for a minute there. As I was saying, I really didn't expect you to be here. I had thought that this spot was all my own." He chuckled and sat down, crossing his legs to conserve space.
[/ QUOTE ]
+++++
One of the more wretched aspects of Penny's existence involved the lack of human companionship. Oh, the isles were populated heavily enough, but any suspicion of Paragon sympathies was a death-sentence. Knowing this, Penny was always obligated to speak only of jobs at hand: where to go, what to obtain, what price would be fetched for her troubles. This had led to a sort of enforced solitude, and this in turn had lead to a terrible hunger for even the simplest interactions.
She knew better than to hope for friendship on the Isles. It was filled with cutthroats and theives as a rule, and she knew if she left her back unguarded for a moment, someone would find a place to put a knife. Still... Jake came close to being something that almost resembled a friend. His affiliation with Arachnos meant that she couldn't tell him anything that was really on her mind: still, the chance to have a conversation, any conversation, was a very rare opportunity, and one not to be passed up.
She frowned when he got the transmission. She knew perfectly well what had distracted him, and thought about leaving on the spot. No one could know that she came here to try to listen in to transmissions. But the promise of a conversation was too strong.
"I come here to think sometimes," she smiled at him, but then frowned, watching him sit down. "Why do you stay with Arachnos, Jake?" She didn't bother to hide her contempt - not for Jake, but for the people who employed him. Paradoxically, it was possible to survive, and even thrive, while having a terrible opinion of the Arachnos organization. Penny Arcade herself was known as a mercenary, with no ties to anyone. "Haven't you ever wanted to try your own wings? Be the master of your own fate? Do something other than... than march in lockstep with a bunch of buffoons who have half your wits and twice your gall? Haven't you ever wondered if..." She hesitated for just a moment, wondering just how much she could say. "...if there is something out there that is... better... than Arachnos?"
War Bird settled into a spot above one of the chairs and waited for the briefing to begin. The robot decloaked, but kept his shields up. So he was there, with a light green hue, swept point shoulders and a wide, light green visor marking where the "bridge" is. He was all compacted in a way that might look uncomfortable to a human, but since he was not a human, comfort was not a problem.
For some reason, instead of hovering completely still, he swayed slowly and slightly.
Jake frowned and looked intently at a seemingly random part of the horizon. "Well, I don't know if you know this, but my mind was altered for the sole purpose of serving Arachnos. I'm still me mind you, perhaps a bit more cynical and sarcastic, but more or less the same." He sighed and averted his gaze downward. "However, I digress. To answer your question, yes. As of late I have wondered about that." He laughed. "Like I said, looks like their corruption of me is starting to reverse itself, for whatever reason. My only problem with following through on that is that I'd have no place to go. I can't return to Paragon, they'd slaughter me, and to betray Arachnos and remain the Isles is suicide..." He chuckled and faced her. "But I'm boring you, surely. Mind if I ask you a question of my own?" He gave her a look of almost friendliness mixed with that of curiosity. It was clear he was going to ask her something similar.
A large, hulking figure towered over a captured civilian. It raised up one decaying arm, but insted of having a hand, there was a brutal, huge axe blade attached to the end.
"What are you going to do, my once faithful Reaper? Save the civilian or Yourself?!" the evil Dr. Vahzilok roared down at the hero standing at the sewer gate entrance, where Elidolon Archer stood.
The Archer had his bow trained on the evil Doctor, but he knew if he released the arrow, the Embalmed behind him would recieve their destruction order.
And he knew that the single arrow would not be enough to halt Dr. Vahzilok's axe from killing the scared civilian.
"What Will You DO?!!?" the Doctor raored, and he raised his axe few more inches, then sent in hurling down...
-------------------------------------------------------------------------
Elidolon Archer sat up quickly in his bed, breathing heavily, and heard his police band going off from his bed-side dresser.
He quickly lifted the small communications device, and heard an emergancy broadcast about a capture hero in the Rouge Isles.
"Maybe this might be the redemption I'm looking for...." the dusky skinned, dark haired man said to himself as he got up from his bed.
He looked over at the clock. It was just about time for the meeting to begin.
He quickly changed into his black-leather/kevlar combat suit, pulled on his bandolieers of pouches, clipped a similer belt around his waist, and slung his modified, obsidion-colored Wyvern bow over his shoulder.
Last but not least, he pull open a secret compartment on the top of his dresser and pulled out his favorite pair of shades, flipped them open, and slid them over his grey-blue eyes.
Then he headed out the door of his Atlas Park apartment, and walked on to Freedom Corps. HQ.
Global - @El D
Servers - Protector
A man in a brownish armored suit and helmet started at the sound of his communicator. He tapped the button on the side of his helmet and the transmission appeared on screen. He read the message thoroughly before pressing the button again to close it.
Static Therapy had once been a hero before becoming disenchanted with the whole world saving thing and had turned to villainy, making a profitable career in the Rogue Isles. But lately he'd been having second thoughts. Using his knowledge of the Hero Corps broadcasting systems he'd been able to keep his ear open to hero communications.
Redemption , he thought. He pressed a button on the PDA mounted on his wrist. The screen glowed green and he typed in the destination for his teleport. "Here goes nothing." he said and the teleporter shot his molecules toward Paragon City.
He rematerialized in Atlas Park. He looked around to get his bearings before turning toward City Hall. He walked toward the old building. A meter showed up on the bottom right corner of his visor. His suit was low on energy after that long distance transport. He just hoped no foolish heroes decided to take out their frustrations on the former hero as he opened the doors to city hall and stepped inside.
"You guys here for the task force too?" he said upon seeing the axe wielding hero and his smoothie drinking friend.
((Note darkvaper, the Freedom Corps HQ is in Galaxy City, not Atlas, but I'm goin by us all being in the right place for continualities sake))
Elidolon arrived just in time to see a man in brown armor teleport himself near the HQ and walk into the building.
He didnt pay it much mind, scince these things were pretty common, and if the man were a villian, someone would have stoped him already.
He finaly walked up to the door, pushed it open, and crossed the threshold.
He saw the brown armored man again, aswell as an axe weilding man and another guy drinking a smoothie.
"Hello. I guess were all here for the rescue mission huh?" Elidolon asked, looking from face to face at the people gathered around the room.
((ok, heres the screenie of Elidolon))
Global - @El D
Servers - Protector
(Thanks, it's been so long since I played I forgot.)
[ QUOTE ]
Jake frowned and looked intently at a seemingly random part of the horizon. "Well, I don't know if you know this, but my mind was altered for the sole purpose of serving Arachnos. I'm still me mind you, perhaps a bit more cynical and sarcastic, but more or less the same." He sighed and averted his gaze downward. "However, I digress. To answer your question, yes. As of late I have wondered about that." He laughed. "Like I said, looks like their corruption of me is starting to reverse itself, for whatever reason. My only problem with following through on that is that I'd have no place to go. I can't return to Paragon, they'd slaughter me, and to betray Arachnos and remain the Isles is suicide..." He chuckled and faced her. "But I'm boring you, surely. Mind if I ask you a question of my own?" He gave her a look of almost friendliness mixed with that of curiosity. It was clear he was going to ask her something similar.
[/ QUOTE ]
"Sure," Penny - smiled at him. She rarely smiled, and it briefly made her look younger, not so much like someone aged ten years by the weight of her worries.
Her mind was already turning over the possibilities.
She guessed that the best way to help the heroes, while remaining unimplicated herself, was as a distraction. If timed properly, she might be able to draw off a good portion of the Arachnos forces which would be arrayed against them, and give them an easier time of it. The trick to that, of course, would be remaining alive through the raid, not to mention avoiding the political fallout from attacking the tower in the first place.
The other possibility consisted of scouting out the tower, maybe finding out where the hero was being held... but then she would have to be able to convey that information to them, and hope that they believed her.
But for now... it was nice to talk to someone.
((So, I've been on these forums for several monthes, and gotten myself back into posting, writing, and generally enjoying myself. Now, I haven't seriously posted for an RP forum in almost 4 years. But, one of the things I still held something of a grudge against was starting my own thread. It never worked. So, I wasn't feeling enthused about starting one here, as I figured it'd be a quick way to burn myself out. But, as things progressed, I got several PMs from various people talking about plots in some of the threads I write for. And, it always came up that I hadn't written a thread, and that I should, and that it'd be a good time. So, I finally ended up brainstorming, with the help of some select people, a scenario that I think is enclosed enough for me to direct a chain of events, but open enough that others can really join in and feel they have a say in the plot. It evolved into Rescue Operations: A Force Into the Isles. Suffice to say, I'm excited about this whole project, and definately can't wait to see how it goes, but I'd like a couple things clear before things start.
1. This is an open RP, but I will be handling events villain-side. Please, unless you send me a request ahead of time, don't jump in as an antagonist. That isn't to say we won't need villains, as this will take place primarily in the Rogue Islands. Just, don't plan on your character ruling the world, or something.
2. This is the standard 'No Auto-ing, No God mode, etc.' rule. If you wouldn't want something done to yourself, don't do it to someone else. This shouldn't be a problem, but I do want it out of the way.
3. This isn't so much a rule as a notice. This thread is Forum Canon. It applies to all future events on this Forum. However, it is not Game Canon. These events don't necessarily follow CoX ingame laws, don't expect them to, but don't violate Rule 2 in response.
Other than that, feel free to do as your character would. I want a high post count on this baby, and am stoked for what's to come.
Thanks for joining in!))