After shaking his new partner's hand, Psycho reached down and pulled the sharp bit of the wall out of his rear.
How the Hell did that get there? he muttered.
White Masque shrugged. Before he could think of something to say, or even properly explain their current situation or hammer out a decent plan of attack, the scrapper was bounding down the hall, the wound in his rear apparently closing at a rapid rate. The apparent energy being nodded at that, realizing that someone like that wouldnt be too keen on the idea of slowing down for a brief spell just to rest, especially not when they could heal and reinvigorate themselves much faster than their peers.
When Masque next found his compatriot, Psycho13 was tumbling out of the hallway that led to the vault. Bounding to his feet, the scrapper drew his blades, now tarnished heavily by soot and dust, and shouted.
Yeah! Big men! Takes two of ya to beat on little ol me, huh?
A shot rang out and the scrapper fell to the floor. He groaned for a second before popping right back up and hurling his smaller knife at one of the assailants. The blade tore through the Agents finger, and, more importantly, it stuck inside the trigger guard at an angle that made it impossible to fire another round without removing the impeding weapon. Psycho drew another knife from his pant leg and waved it menacingly.
Allow me, White Masque interrupted and glided toward the approaching agents. The one who was still able to fire did so, emptying an entire clip of hollow rounds into White Masque. They all hit his body, split open, and fell to the ground without penetrating.
Wont work, Realer-than-thou. White Masque said easily, conjuring his icy blade and using it to knock the pistol out of the offending agents hand, severing a few fingers in the process. He followed up by curving the blade and set a new horizontal cutting path aimed at the agents neck. The agent caught the blade with his injured appendage, and punched White Masque in the face with his free hand.
NOT THE FA-Bwerp
That was uncomfortably familiar. White Masques muffled voice blurted. He appeared to have learned from his last encounter with one of the dark suited men though, because he grabbed the agents punching arm by the shoulder joint before it could be pulled away, and blasted it with an icy missile at range zero, severing the appendage easily. Sparks flew as a metallic endoskeleton revealed itself, acting as bones for whatever creature the suited businessman really was. White Masques icy blast had hit upon a weak point though-The joints appeared to be made of weaker and less resilient polymers and ceramics.
White Masque didnt notice this though. He caught the falling limb before it hit the ground, froze it over, and then started to beat the poor agent to death with his own severed arm! The first blow knocked the agent into a corner, and White Masque fell upon him instantly, going to town with both frozen limb and icy blade. This left only one agent, facing Psycho13. As the small fight between White Masque and the other agent had gone down, hed wrenched the scrappers knife out, and emptied an entire clip of hollow bullets at Psycho13.
Ow, the scrapper grunted as he tensed up and the malformed bullets popped back out of his wounds, I think you hit my pancreas. Good thing it gets better. Id hate to have to keep giving myself insulin injections every day.
The young hero closed with his opponent and sliced his knife cleanly through the agents pistol. When he went to follow up with a cut to the extended forearm, the dark-haired man swung the targeted limb down, around in a circle, and back down to swat the scrappers weapon hand, causing Psycho13 to drop it. The agent then followed up with a kick to the chest that sent the hero flying through the air and into the wall. With a scattering of plaster and dust, the burnt, battered and repeatedly shot young man collapsed on the floor.
The agent stepped over his fallen comrade, the one White Masque had beaten upon his arrival, and lifted his target in the air.
Threat level: small, the agent corrected its predecessors earlier assessment, Subject seems tenacious. Execute-
There was a beeping sound and an explosion behind the agent that slammed him into the scrapper and the wall. The skinny young man was thrown into the office on the other side where he rolled over a couple times, covered in plaster dust and finally sprawled out on the debris. Gasping for breath, Psycho13 looked up at the android and saw that there were a lot of open wounds that revealed metal underneath, but very little blood. There was also a beeping sound as the cyborg looked up at the scrapper.
Epidermal layer damaged, he rasped out, Limbs: Unresponsive. Initiating self-
Psycho13 forced his muscles to move and dove over a nearby desk for cover. The agents last word was drowned out in the massive explosion that erupted from him in the same manner as one had from its predecessors. Fire filled the room and the concussive force shattered the mahogany desk. The scrapper was thrown against the corner of the room, hurt, but still alive.
White Masque presently turned his head towards the source of the explosive noise. Hungary? He said in a perplexed and slightly wounded voice.
The agent he had been mauling with his own severed arm was not in good shape. He had enormous bruises the size of eggs all over his body, lumps rising on his head, and cuts that should have severed critical veins and arteries, but there was no blood anywhere. There was some stale-looking brown liquid that seemed stagnant, and refused to move from the wounds the agent had sustained. Despite missing an entire arm and lacking several otherwise important flaps and folds of skin, the black-suited man was still in commission, and went on the offensive. His good arm came around like a missile, causing the air to pop as it made contact with White Masques chest. He followed up by kicking the tanker in the groin, and then recovering with his one arm and yanked his severed and frozen appendage away from White Masque, to start beating the strange man over the head with it, causing the ground beneath his feet to crack and split from the buckling amounts of force being driven into it through White Masque, who didnt seem to plan on flinching anytime soon. He turned back to the agent and, with a flick of what seemed more like annoyance than anger, severed his left and only remaining hand with his ice blade, brushing aside the assault as if it hadnt happened.
The agent recovered instantly and drove his elbow into White Masques gut.
Bwerp, you people are resilient. White Masque said almost in an approving tone, shoving agent and elbow away with his left hand.
-reat l-lev-vel, high. The agent stuttered, sparks emitting from one of its ears.
Better, but not enough. White Masque said flatly, driving his blade through the agents skull.
The explosion shook the building as the agent detonated.
Oh, FOUL! White Masque cried from the smoke. This was my only formal-wear! He emerged from the wreckage of his fight, walking in Psychos direction. Seriously, they dont sell this anywhere! I made this by hand, I did! He was having a hissy-fit over his suit, the top half of which had been blown away. White Masques body was odd. It was completely smooth, lacking any defining features, and was whitewash blue as opposed to radiant white like the rest of his costume/body? He helped Psycho13 out from his corner, who was freaking out.
"Why did they explode!? What if they all explode!? Masque! MASQUE! They EXPLODE!" He screamed.
Yes yes, they explode. Just like mages and Positron and Statesman whenever one of his slaves puts a toe out of line. He said soothingly, patting Psycho13 on the head. Calm down, [censored] happens.
Psycho13 suddenly felt much calmer, as if his mind had been cleared of all uncertainties. The world seemed neater and much more organized now, easier to view in full. He also felt completely unstoppable, as if nothing could hold him down.
Slaves? Of Statesman? the scrapper asked as he quirked an eyebrow, What are you talking about?
Never mind, White Masque replied, We should start moving.
I just
I just need a quick breather, Psycho13 replied as he took a couple cautionary breaths and steadied himself, Howd you do that? My mind feels
Clear
Oh, Im just slightly more complex than the average Tanker.
Once Psycho13 was ready, they proceeded down the corridor. The scrapper was able to retrieve his larger blade from the rubble on the floor. It was tarnished and nicked in a couple places, but it was in otherwise good condition. He couldnt recover a smaller knife, so he had to reach into the main pocket of his hoodie for another knife. A street-wise butterfly knife became his secondary and Levi cursed. Hed never been able to get that twirling open trick to work right.
How is it that your outfit cant handle pistol shots, but its relatively undamaged by explosions?
Psycho13 shrugged and replied, Im not a tailor. Ive seen people with road rash and had their pants be perfectly fine. All I can say is that clothes act funny sometimes.
The corridor, despite the sirens, was eerily silent. Bank clerks huddled up under desks in neighboring offices, waiting for the near-habit bank robbery to be over. However, thered been far more explosions than expected. There was far more to this than the normal Lost or Outcast thugs that usually conducted this sort of business.
At the elevator to the vault, there was a group of four of the agents standing in their way. Masque pulled Psycho13 back around the corner as pistol fire slammed into the wall.
Four, the tanker sighed, This will prove far more difficult than we first figured.
Makes me wish we had a healer, the scrapper chuckled, Or someone that could buff one of us up, you know? Id have put a call to my friends, but theyd never have gotten here in time.
We should be fine, Masque replied calmly, Ill take right, you take left
Follow my lead.
The odd man charged around the corner suddenly. The agents reacted instantly, filling the hallway with bullets. The tanker lived up to his designation and walked right through the hail of lead, not even changing pace. Psycho13 followed behind him, taking heed of White Masques words. There were times for fighting, and there were times for fighting foes that outnumbered and outclassed you, where you took every advantage you could get. The duo got within 3 feet before the agents figured out that their pea-shooters were about as useful as tinfoil and dropped the weapons, opting to simply charge the 2 heroes before them.
Aw Bwerp, they're aiming for the face. White Masque complained, conjuring his ice blade and stabbing the first incoming agent in the fist as it came around, stopping it from hitting Masque in the face. Wrapping his other fist in a thick sheet of ice, the whitewash man clobbered the dark-suited man with a solid blow to the chest, knocking him into the wall and freeing up room in the hallway. Then he charged, taking the initiative and slamming the remaining agent to the right against the wall along with his partner before he could attack.
Always with the face
Psycho13 found nothing between himself and the last 2 agents, who had apparently taken up the same strategy as the unusual pair: two for the hero. He gripped the two weapons a little more tightly and closed with the enemies.
Hero identified. One said coldly, Psycho13. Levi Baker. Regenerator.
Threat level: Mostly harmless, the other one said, charging and throwing a punch at Psychos head, while his partner charged around and prepared to follow up.
Mostly harmless, the scrapper replied, growling, You know what, Im tired of everybody underestimating me!
He felt his pulse quicken and his skin tingle. The fist approaching his head was stopped by a stab from his heavy blade. He followed this bastardized parry with a slice across the throat. Kicking the closer agent aside, he turned to the other and stabbed the blades deep into the area where there should have been a diaphragm. Having seen three of these guys explode already, Psycho wasnt surprised when his blades ground against metal.
He backed away and shoulder tackled the other agent. The ram drove the tough minion (lieutenant?) off his balance and the red-haired man was flat on his back. Psycho13 whirled back around and kicked the butterfly knife deeper into the stabbed agent. In the same motion, he yanked the thicker, heavier blade out and brought it back to stab into his enemys eye.
Normally, he exercised more restraint and his attacks were resigned to light lacerations and disabling strikes. When he had to, he used the flats of his blades or punches and kicks for the finishing blows. However, these guys were obviously not normal, and it seemed as if nothing short of their detonations was going to stop them.
However, as he jabbed at his targets eye, a pale hand shot up and caught the point through the palm. Psycho13 felt his arm get wrenched to the side and the agent head-butted him. It felt like a hammer to the forehead, but the scrapper was happy for his tough skull and shook the disorientation off fast.
The agent wrenched the butterfly knife from his abdomen, dropped it and started pulling the other weapon out of his hand. As the other agent stood back up, the scrapper between them drew another pair of knives from his hoodie pocket. His last pair, he had to make them count.
While Psychos fight raged on, White Masque was having trouble dealing with his pair of agents. White Masque kept trying to deal fatal blows, aiming for the heart, head, and necks of his opponents. The agents had a disturbing habit of catching his blade-made all the harder now that there were 2 of them and they worked together to prevent incoming damage. After trading blows, it was obvious the 3 were all on equal ground. White Masque was completely indestructible, but the agents were too coordinated for any of his attacks to do anything. That was when the agents started cheating.
Stop doing that. White Masque spat, yanking his sword away from the grasp of an agent for the 4th time. He reared back again, thinking he would try to catch the agent to the left off-guard and impale him through the spleen. White Masque had no idea what the spleen did, but it sounded important. The agent wasnt surprised though, and caught the blade yet again. The agent to the right suddenly leapt, and White Masque, in his ignorance, did nothing to stop him. Why should he? He couldnt be harmed by these two klutzes.
The agent wrapped both of his massive hands around Masques sword arm, and yanked. White Masque couldnt be harmed by these two, but he wasnt as strong as them. He stumbled, surprised, and the second agent took the opportunity to bend down and ram into the tankers legs. This knocked the whitewashed man over, sending his head crashing into the wall. Before he could do anything to recover, both agents picked him up by the shoulders and slammed him into the wall, completely breaking it and driving White Masque deep into it. Then they simply started beating upon the mans face and arms, letting the sheer power behind their blows keep the otherwise invincible man pinned between a rock and a hard place.
FUHOWL! White Masque cried, his voice muffled by the stone, struggling to pry himself from the hole in the wall, but helplessly immobilized by the two.
Unable to identify hero. One of his restrainers/attackers said, a touch of smugness in his voice. Threat level: Negligible.
White Masque stopped struggling to free himself for one moment, not flinching or reacting as the blows continued to rain down. He muffled something in a disbelieving tone.
EKSCUTH ME?
There was an explosion of blinding light from the wreckage of the wall, the entire area bathed in a milky white that no vision could penetrate. When it faded, White Masque was back in action, dicing a writhing agent on the floor into tiny pieces while shouting, TEACH YOU TO JUDGE ME! YOU ARROGANT LITTLE FREAK! With a series of unrelenting, heavy chops, he made extremely short work of the agent, which then exploded, fragmenting the pieces of the agent even further.
Oh, poo. I lost track of how many pieces.
White Masque pouted as black suit flambé rained down around him, the explosion apparently having no effect. The second agent was rolling around, writhing and clawing at his skull, pulling hair out by its roots and screaming like a maniac.
Oh shut up, White Masque muttered, You have it lucky. You wont know it when youre dead. He summoned a dagger of ice in his left hand, and threw it at the agent, skewering his head and causing him to detonate in the far corner.
Psycho13 suddenly barreled into the explosion. As the flames rapidly dissipated, he came racing back out of the corner, his blades held out like the point of an arrow. Masque followed his recent partners path and watched it end with one agent getting his head sliced off just under the jaw. The scrapper followed up the double slice with an elbow to the jaw, the agents head snapped backward violently and Baker shoulder-tackled his enemy into the remaining agent.
This time, however, there was no explosion. The remaining agent shrugged off his partner and stepped over the disabled body. White Masque moved to intercept, but Psycho13 held up his blade to stop him.
Ive got this, he rasped.
Threat level: High, the red-haired agent finally admitted, Engaging target.
As the pale-skinned man came in with a one-armed overhead smash, Psycho13 stabbed into his enemys armpit. The arm stuck in the air as the blade ground into the joints and stopped it. Psycho then drove his remaining knife into his enemys right eye, finishing him off before he exploded.
When the smoke cleared, Masque turned to find Psycho13 coughing in the corner on the other side of the hallway. Looking down on the broken form, the tanker extended a hand to help the scrapper up.
How do you feel? Masque asked.
I feel good!
Ready to finish this?
Lets kick it! Psycho13 chortled as he kicked the call button on the side of the elevator, Ope! I didnt mean to make that literal
***
To be Continued
Both White Masque and Psycho13 stepped into the elevator, Psycho pressing the button for the vault. Classical easy listening muzak was playing from the speaker above them.
Thats horrible, White Masque said disgustedly, How can people STAND that, and who is tasteless enough to make it?
Illusion or empathy controllers make this kind of stuff in their free time when the villains are kickin the tar out of them in Sirens call, Psycho joked.
Masque treated him to an unusually hostile eyeless glare, as if he had been offended by the remark. Before Psycho or the whitewash tanker could continue their conversation, however, the elevator doors opened. Scrapper and Tanker rushed into the scene, expecting more agents as the elevator doors closed behind them.
What they found was a huge man who literally defined the word, with blue skin, and black triangles on his eyes. He was bald, but jutting black spikes erupted from his skull where his hair should have been, and his outfit, a tank-top and pants with curving colored slashes, matched the black-and-blue motif of his body. The only alternate trace of color was the set of demonic tattoos on his upper arms.
Whoever he was, he had lifted the wrecked vault door up above his head with monstrous strength, about to hurl it at them. Both heroes looked at him, at each other, and then split apart just in time for the vault door to whoosh past them as it hurtled like lightning through the space they had just occupied, missing them completely, to slam slam into the wall.
Hahaha! You missed, you [frig]ing loser! Psycho13 burst out laughing, his face scrunched up in a horrid mask of mirth while both White Masque and Shadowshock looked at him like he was crazy.
Whatever goes around comes around, however, and the vault door was tilted at just the right angle to roll over from its position against the wall to collide with Psycho and pin him helplessly against the floor by his shoulder. He screamed a lot, but there were only three people in the room, and he was a regenerator, so nobody cared.
That was nothing, the scrapper grunted, Just gimme a sec.
Several loud thuds and a curse later, and Psycho gave up. He wasnt strong enough to lift the weight off himself and he was at a bad angle for leverage, besides. His only real benefit was that most of the stress was being taken up by the wall and floor.
Ok. I give up. This things got me pinned for a three-count.
Ill get you out there, after finishing up here, White Masque called to him, repressing a laugh as he turned to face the villain, Who do I have the pleasure of ki-
Arresting today?
He summoned his ice sword and held it steady in front of him with both hands. The pose was almost smooth enough to make up for his tattered and ragged appearance, with the top-half of his radiant white costume blown away to leave his sky-blue whitewash body to clash with his white pants and blindingly brilliant blank face. Almost was never enough, and he wound up looking really silly instead.
Im called Shadowshock, the brute replied gruffly, his spiked gloves suddenly crackling with electricity, I figure you should know whos about to put you in the hospital, cape!
Oh hey! Psycho suddenly shouted, I remember you! Youre that loser who couldnt keep up with that bartender chick last year! I hope you make a better fighter than a tracker, cause this guys gonna [frig] your world up!
The brute extended one of his hands and a red bolt of lightning zapped into the vault door. The current shocked through the metal and zapped the pinned scrapper, causing him to scream again. For good measure, Shadowshock did it one more time and smoke started to trail out of the young mans ears, nose and mouth.
Now, he chuckled back at Masque, where were we?
"I believe I was about to [frig] your world up," White Masque chuckled right back at him. "Come-come, let's dance! Dibs on Comedy!"
White Masque leapt, eliminating the distance between the two almost instantly, his icy blade crashing down.
"Because Comedy always wins!" the tanker hissed in a surprisingly dark tone.
Holding the edge of the ice blade with his forearm, Shadowshock grinned. It was the grin of a bully who had found himself an entertaining surprise in the pipsqueak he was about to pummel into the dirt. Flexing his fingers in and out, there was an audible popping sound that accompanied the electric sparks.
Sounds like somebody hasnt had themselves a healthy heaping of Tragedy! he growled before charging forward and slamming his fist into the tankers chest.
White Masque just laughed. It had been a long enough day of dealing with enemies that just didnt realize what they were up against. The fact that he didnt know either was irrelevant, considering he was still standing and they werent. Judging from how perplexed Shadowshock looked, there was about to be a repeat performance.
What the Hell? the brute slurred, That was harder than the vault door
What are you?
Im funny, Masque replied as he twisted around and rapped his ice blade on the side of Shadows head, Laugh.
Shadowshock snarled and shot another red bolt of lightning from his raised fist, which curved as if it were alive to direct itself into White Masques face. The tanker completely ignored the attack and nicked Shadowshock in the chest, cutting through his tank top and drawing a faint trail of blood.
Seriously, what is it with you people and aiming for the face? White Masque conversed with the brute casually as he deflected yet another punch that had, naturally, been aimed at his face. If I were pretty I might become enraged whenever that happens. Its not like Im even asking for it. He tried to stab Shadowshock through the neck, but his blade was blocked by the villains forearm again. See the obvious impenetrable white radiance that cant be seen through? This time, the tanker allowed himself to be grabbed by the throat and electrocuted. He rewarded the brute with a stab to the arm, causing him to withdraw it. That should tip everyone off right from the start. Nothing to see here, move along. He lunged with his blade suddenly, trying to catch Shadowshock off-guard, but the villain saw through it and dodged just in the nick of time, bashing the whitewash tanker over the head as he shot forward. The hero didnt seem to notice. But, NOOOOOO, everybody INSISTS on trying to either rip or flay or tear my face off. Or all three. I dont even HAVE a face! White Masque complained, twirling around and jabbing Shadowshock in the side, cutting deep.
The brute suddenly roared, and his body surged with power, electricity crackling and sparking off of him like a storm. He charged, tackling White Masque with enormous fury and conducting over 50,000 volts through him. He actually managed to ram the radiant tanker against the wall, cracking it and causing small eruptions of static to bounce and bound across the floor. Before the hero could recover, the brute had assaulted him with rapid electrical punches all over his body, smashing him in places with enough force that he would have outright killed or at least maimed even scrappers or other tankers. He finished his onslaught with a two-fisted punch that screamed of havoc and destruction, right in the face.
Ok, NOW youve just pissed me off. White Masque snarled, stabbing Shadowshock right through the gut, before kicking him away. The attacks hadnt even broken his concentration. Were you EVER listening to what I said? He sliced the brute across the face, and he just barely turned his head in time to have his right ear and cheek take most of the damage. He could have sworn the strike had gone right down to the bone. Lets see how much YOU like it.
Shadowshock was knocked straight off his feet and across the room as White Masque slammed him straight in the face with a fist covered in a thick and nasty layer of ice. He smashed against the opposite wall, barely keeping on his feet.
What
the
[censored]
are
you
? He breathed heavily.
Better than you. White Masque said coldly, approaching and readying for the finishing blow. Right as he got into range, Shadowshock made his move. He still didnt know too much about his full potential, and his dark powers were still under development. That didnt change the effectiveness of what he did. A broiling, living mass of seething darkness covered his body, and the very air in the room darkened as Shadowshock filled the place with a greedy, sucking force that absorbed life in order to strengthen his own. Psycho13 felt something intangible slip away from him, and he felt strangely weak pinned beneath the massive vault door. His life force was taken in by Shadowshock and used to heal many of his wounds.
White Masque was also affected by this. Or at least hit by it. The power behind Shadowshocks dark regeneration rummaged around his persona for something to steal, and didnt find anything, so it moved on.
To the other person in the room aside from White Masque and Psycho13. The dark power latched onto him and pulled away a chunk of life force to fuel Shadowshock with, and the hidden figure was revealed. The man was tall, brooding and cloaked, little more than a shadow imposed upon the air, Shadowshock had a brief glimpse of an ivory mask, with murderous red eyes glaring at him. Then it was gone again, vanishing.
Shadowshock had been entirely healed by his move, but even now, back at full power, he knew something was incredibly funny here, and it wasnt a hahaha kinda funny, it was the gee, thats interesting, kinda funny. White Masqu-No, this thing before Shadowshock couldnt be given a name. It was just a decoy. A diversion disguised as a main attack.-The decoy looked to the space the figure had been in the brief moments it had been revealed, then it turned back to look at Shadowshock.
Huh. Looks like Comedy loses. Lets do things your way, lets have some TRAGEDY.
Shadowshock literally exploded in a shower of blood and gore as a million, million wounds all over his body simultaneously decided to open up for no logical reason. White Masque hadnt even touched him or moved.
From Psycho13s point of view, Shadowshock simply slumped where he was standing, crashing to the floor without putting up any more fight. He snorted and shrugged as best he could.
Hey Psycho, you ok? White Masque called out, turning and approaching the trapped Scrapper.
My shoulders pinched pretty bad. I think it might bruise!
Here, let me get you out from underneath there
the specter sighed and started lifting the vault door.
What the Hell happened to him? His eyes just widened, then it looked like he fainted. And I could have sworn I saw someone in the corner, there, but that couldve been a symptom of a flash fever
Lord knows I felt woozy
I didnt see anything, White Masque replied as the vault was levered up by his surprisingly durable ice blade, Now, come on out of there
Psycho13 didnt have to be told twice. He slid out and looked to the mangled mess that was his shoulder. Almost instantly, the skin started to heal, and the blood dried and flaked away. He had to pull some of the threads of his hoodie out of the wound however. Gazing at the wreck, he sighed.
I have to go to the Salvation Army to find good hoodies like this. Icon doesnt keep them in stock.
Come on, Psycho, Masque sighed, We have to catch the escape vehicle these gentlemen came from.
What about him? the scrapper indicated Shadowshock, who was now shivering on the steel floor.
What about him? was the ambivalent response.
The scrapper reached down to his belt and pulled something out of his communicator. It was a small black dot that emitted a beeping sound. He placed it on the fallen brutes forehead and gave the tanker a thumbs-up.
Okay, were good to go. A police drone will be by shortly to pick him up."
----------
When they reached a couple floors higher (Psycho was sure it was the tenth floor they had to get to), a breeze hit them. With a cheer and a whoop, the scrapper charged down the hallway at a dizzying speed. Just around the corner, he found it, a blasted out room with a black vehicle hovering outside.
It looked like a car without wheels. The paint job was a mirror-black finish, and it had tinted windows, which gave it the appearance of a flying oil-slick.
Okay, I gotta do this right, he took a couple deep breaths, Wanna bet I can leap on that thing and take the driver out?
If we want to find out whats going on, Masque intoned, Try to make sure you take him alive.
The scrapper was off like a shot. Yelling, he erupted from the hole in the wall, leaping with his arms outstretched, the knives angled downward like hooks and his tongue was lolling out like a hungry animal. The car, however, pulled just out of the way and he fell ten stories to the pavement below.
Ungh
he grunted as his bones started knitting back to their proper places, Ah-haow
Idiot, White Masques summoner sighed, But an excellent potential candidate, nonetheless.
The car swiveled in place until the grill faced the hole of the building. As White Masque regarded it, a set of machine guns emerged from panels flanking the grill. Bullets filled the hallway and tore into the walls. Some impacted the supposed tanker, but others whizzed past to the stealthy figure guiding him. It was a little close for comfort, so he ducked behind a wall that wasnt currently being turned into Swiss cheese. The image of White Masque wavered slightly before a rocket hit it.
The pilot of the vehicle must have felt this was enough, because the machine started to float away. Before Masque could recover, it disappeared. Perceptive individuals could have noticed a slight distortion in the air, but it was faint and hard to keep track of. The heroes couldnt keep their eyes on it, and the flying limousine was gone.
----------
Well, that was an adventure, White Masque muttered to the scrapper scraping himself off the pavement, You sure youre going to be okay?
Yeah, Psycho13 dragged himself to a nearby bench and sagged into the seat, I just need another lunch. Damn, now I wont be able to get those funds transferred like I was supposed to.
Theres always tomorrow. I think I see the reconstruction crew headed this way.
A group of light blue-uniformed men with the word Sinclair emblazoned on their backs filed into the building as the police drones filed out. The scrapper smiled and shook his head.
Sometimes I wonder if anything we do really makes any difference.
Its a city in turmoil without a police force to adequately support it, Masque patted him on the shoulder, Couple that with great power irresponsibly portioned out among the world, regardless of worthiness, and the large number of economic and political forces centralized here, and its a situation thats bound to seem nigh-insurmountable. However, with such a formidable task set before us and those like us, perhaps we should consider that each day this city hasnt turned into an orange ball of fire is a step in the right direction.
Good point, Bakers eyes widened noticeably, Wow. When I consider some of the weird things Ive heard about
Perhaps we should keep in touch. This threat we faced today
Its unusual. It would possibly be a wise idea to pool our resources when researching and dealing with it.
Good idea. Whats your number?
The white-wash tanker shifted in a manner that could only be described as uncomfortable. Finally, he extended his hand.
Perhaps you should give me your number. I
I currently lack
a proper residence
Cool
Psycho tapped a number into his communicator and a business card printed out, Man, I love these things!
He handed the card over and White Masque accepted it. He nodded as he recognized that it was a super group card, not a personal one.
Just ask for me and theyll listen to ya.
Thank you, White Masque said loftily, Well, I must be off now. So much to see and do, you know? Do enjoy yourself. Now I have to go off and get some fresh clothes, if it wasnt for that half naked defender that just ran past my appearance might even be considered indecent!
The tanker waved a hand at Psycho13 in a friendly manner, turned, and walked off down the street. He turned around the corner of a building, and then fell down dead, his body vaporizing before it hit the ground.
Yes, do enjoy yourself, hissed a voice higher up, on the roof of the bank almost twelve stories up, But dont go spoiling that wonderful body of yours before Ive had a chance to use it.
An invisible hand held up the business card that Psycho13 had handed White Masque. Before the invisible being could mutter or chuckle, however, a bird flew by overhead and covered an invisible space above the roof with guano.
FOUL! shrieked a furious voice.
The patch of dung, suspended in the air, leapt from the building and flew off into the distance, spitting and cursing.
***
End of Story 1
((Written in collaboration with Yosef Vanya.))
Wrong Place at the Right Time
Elevator shafts are cold, dark, damp places. You never quite know what you'll run into. You could run into a guy talking too loudly on his cell phone, you could run into a nightmarish creature from the Abyss beyond imagining, your evil twin, or even death's cold touch. In this case, something entirely different.
Devlin Skjebne was on his weekly commute to work. He had flown to the island known as "Spider Land", more formally known as Warburg, on an Arachnos helicopter along with his personal guard. Unfortunately for Skjebne, his personal guard was not allowed into this section of the lab. It seemed too quiet here in the WEB on this day. There was usually typing, people walking around, but today, nothing, however, this could be explained as there was to be a meeting on the technological discoveries of himself and his coworkers. In the melancholy of the silence, only the smell of death filled the air.
It was his death. Or was it his rebirth?
Today he had chosen to wear what he usually wore to meetings, his "good" lab coat, which was no more than a shade lighter than his "work" lab coat. Te work lab coat had been a hue of black and grey, no one was really sure how it had been turned that particular color, but it was and it was weird. He normally wore what was left of his hair in a loose pony tail that more or less hung over his left shoulder, but on today, he wore his in a neatly tied pony tail that hung evenly between his shoulders.
The elevator's roof buckled under the pressure of something too even to be anything organic. It pressed in only slightly before bits and pieces fell on to the floor. The pieces began to form into feet, legs, arms, a torso, a head, arms, clothes, and everything else a normal human being has. The face of the man was that of himself. The figure disappeared. Doctor Skjebne collapsed to the floor and dissolved into the elevator floor. The roof regained it's normal shape and from the floor rose the good doctor himself. However, this all had happened too quickly for any eye to see, organic or technological.
"Doctor Skjebne," reached for the communications box on the elevator and pressed a series of keys which established live video feed and voice communications. "How long until the meeting on our newest adancements start?"
The system crackled and the voice of just another droned response answered. "It will begin in exactly fifteen minutes, Doctor Skjebne."
"That sounds about as planned." He then entered the code to shut down the audio and visual communication. The elevator soon came to a sudden halt, and the Doctor's clone stepped out.
-----
He had arrived at the meeting without much incident; his way through the WEB, having been previously vacated due to said meeting, went largely unimpeded, only the occasional Arachnos patrol stopping him for his ID. He eventually arrived in a small chamber, dim lights and black metallic panelling giving the entire room an overall morbid and negative feel. None other than the inner-circle sat in the center of the room at a large circular table, steadily rising at an incline, with who else but Lord Recluse sitting at the head, his hands tented just under where his chin should be. Many different representatives from many different branches filled the chamber, each ready and willing to give whatever reason for funds being allocated to their division, or why their branch should deserve a salary increase. Very rarely did these meetings actually surmise of anything productive.
Which brings us to the appeal of what our clone had to say. After the end of a speech by a certain Mu Mystic, something involving more supplies for rituals, 'Doctor Devlin Skjebne' stepped up, a platform elevating him for the entirety of the room to see, however, not so high as to meet the eyes of Lord Recluse. An extremely subtle but effective display of dominance and authority.
"My lord," he began, giving a slight bow, almost as if Recluse himself were royalty rather than the militaritive dictator the world knew him to be. "I have, in lieu of begs for money and pleas for equipment, a rather effective plan to propose."
"Recently, several things have come into my possession, namely several million U.S. dollars and the promise of full cooperation from a benefactor who wishes to remain anonymous." It looked as if Recluse wished to speak, but Devlin held up a hand. This alone should've been enough to indicate that he was not who he claimed to be, but his suspiscion gave way to intrigue, and he continued to listen.
"They promise us funds, materials, research, and skematics for extremely advanced pieces of technology. They express the desire to assist Arachnos in its noble goal, and ask that you use these resources in any way you and your inner-circle see fit."
"This is absurd." Ghost Widow interrupted, always the voice of reason. "I find it extremely unwise to accept help from a completely unknown source. Heaven knows who or what could be hacking our computer system from those devices, and that's not even the biggest worry that we-"
"Silence!" Black Scorpion bellowed, slamming his fists down on a desk. Fortunately, it had been steel plated beforehand in anticipation of any such outburst. The man, if you could call him that, was extremely predictable. "Are you an idiot!? He's offering us technology! Technology that could go into improving my suit! How could you ever deny a generous offer like that?"
"Please." Malak, better known as Scirrocco, interrupted, waving Black Scorpion's claim off with a wave. "You're a buffoon and not suited for your position."
"That's enough!" Recluse shouted over the voices of his seconds in command. Black Scorpion snickered, oblivious to the fact that he, too, had been scolded. "We will accept the offer. While I am curious of the source, there is nothing that they can offer us that cannot be run though a simple scan for safety. We will incorporate these resources into our plans. Dismissed."
The others seemed to be forgotten. Lord Recluse, already wrapped up in the possibilities that now faced him, had chosen to simply ignore them, instead wishing to explore matters further. His metal boots clanked as the large crowd dispersed for him, allowing him to exit largely unimpeded. He had plans for these materials. Oh, did he have plans.
But first, the master of the Rogue Isles needed to speak with a trusted advisor of his.
"Skjebne. Come with me."
The clone smirked. "Yes, my lord."
-----
Roughly fifteen minutes later, the two of them were relocated to a private room in Recluse's Tower, found right in the heart of scenic Grandville. It was often used for one-on-one interviews the Master of Arachnos wished to conduct with his subordinates. From interrogations to simple status reports, the room had been used for all. Again, the lighting in the room was as dim as any human could possibly imagine, however, despite this, it had a very pleasant atmosphere. Lush red carpet lined the room, accenting a large mahogany desk located toward the back. Recluse beckoned his researcher to have a seat, which he politely accepted, the cushiony upholestery attempting to make his time their as comfortable as possible. Recluse, himself, preferred to stand, thus keeping the air of superiority. He paced back and forth, the clank of his boots muffled by the carpetting.
"Earlier," He began, "You briefly mentioned a plan. What is it?"
He smiled. "Ah, my Lord, nothing escapes your ears. True, yes, I have a plan for these components. I, personally, would attempt to use these materials to better our failing Arachnoid program. I've looked at a few of the skematics, and I believe that we can convert their function to turn their rogue-like nature into machine-like efficiency."
Recluse seemed slightly taken aback by this. The Arachnoids? Could they truly be tamed? He had considered the project a failure, and had nearly been ready to call the entire project off on the suggestion of one of his advisors, yet here sat his top researcher informing him that to do such would be folly? That hope for not only success, but utter obedience from the Arachnoids was well within reach?
Needless to say, the Lord of Spiders was estatic, if not skeptical.
"You can honestly sit here and tell me that a mystery benefactor from nowhere can provide to me the means with which to complete my greatest triumph ever? When Arachnos, the most powerful force known to man," Clearly a bit of egotism going on here. "Has yet to uncover its secrets?" Finally some of that logical skepticism that Ghost Widow had displayed was shining through. In all of his thoughts of victory, he absolutely had to question the credibility of something so impossibly convenient. Just as informercials claim to cure hair-loss or reduce weight, it was most likely a farce.
But it was a very intriguing farce.
"Very well. We will incorporate this technology into the Arachnoids. However, I would like to request a meeting with this benefactor, anonymous or not."
Skjebne's clone, had it any emotions, would have burst out laughing at the irony of the situation. Instead, it only smiled. "Of course, my Lord. I will contact them immediately."
"The Die is Cast"
Skjebne's Private Lab,
Under the WEB,
9AM, local time
Skjebne's lab was nearly spotless, the only dirty places were the places of extermination of failed Arachnoids. Almost every wall not hung with shelves, containers, and other storage means was completely covered in LCD panels. One by one, they flickered on and off every minute or two to show the different subjects and test "volunteers". But there was something wrong about them today; they all had simply switched to show seven silhouettes sitting around a silhouetted table in a very dark room.
Skjebne could hear movement, people talking, doors opening and closing, guns being fired, but the image stayed the same. It then hit him that this was merely a picture projected with audio. He took his glasses off, ran a hand though his hair, and smiled to himself. It had been too easy, far too easy.
Minutes passed but seemed more like hours standing there looking at the seven men's pictures. Finally, audio was established on his end. "It's been done."
The figure on the left end of the table spoke, "He wishes to have a meeting with us, correct?"
"Correct."
Another figure spoke, "Then let him have it. What harm can be done in sending a proxy?"
The middle figure responded, "True this, but who shall we send as our proxy?"
"Shall we consult the book?"
"It would be wise."
The second voice could be heard flipping though pages of some book until it found what it was looking for. "Ah... Here we are. Will this one do the job?"
"Obviously, he won't willingly."
"Then it's agreed." They all spoke in unison. "Assimilate him."
The attention shifted back to Skjebne, it was his turn to speak but he had nothing to say. He thought of a few possible subjects for assimilation, but he could not think of someone who could be the proxy they were speaking of. Finally, he began to talk. "Recluse is willing to gamble, and so are we. I suggest we give him everything he wants with in reason."
"Agreed."
"Agreed."
"Wise words from a not so wise 'human'."
Skjebne cut the audio, shut off the video feed, and went to destroy the hard-copy of the conversation.
-----
Recluse still sat in his dim office, reclining in his executive chair as he pondered over the situation.
This was a golden oppurtunity for Arachnos. If the Arachnoids could be perfected, the military might of his organization would double- no, triple, even with the production of only several dozen. It was too good to be true. Literally. Nothing came this easily. Nothing. He knew that his suspiscion was well founded, but the temptation of such an increase in strength was too much to outright deter him from considering the offer. It would be absolutely foolish to completely discard their proposition.
But then, it very well may be just as foolish to accept it.
A loud beep resonated throughout the room, a small screen on his desk flashing with a 'Call Waiting' message. He hesitated, having only just been knocked out of his thoughts, however, quickly accepted the call after the noise registered in his head. No one could call him without going through the Arachnos mainframe, so he didn't suspect this one to be malicious in the least, despite his current state of paranoia.
The face of Doctor Skjebne appeared on the screen, his face as unmoving and unemotional as a rock. "My lord, I've contacted the benefactor, and they have agreed to meet you unconditionally. They ask that you set the location and time."
"Ah, good, good." Recluse stated, a rainbow finally showing through the overcast in his thoughts. He would be in contact with his benefactor after all!
And, of course, Skjebne had made one crucial fact clear. Said benefactor was an organization. His loose use of the term 'they' made this much clear. But just how much did he know of them? Such knowledge, especially such knowledge kept from Recluse, hinted at something larger. Why wasn't this brought to him sooner? Did he think it trivial and not worth mentioning? Did he assume Recluse, in all his genius, would already know?
Regardless, it was yet another reason to suspect this organization and their too-good-to-be-true offer.
"Ask them to come to my office in Grandville, set for tomorrow evening. I'll clear my schedule from six to nine."
"Understood, sir." Skjebne replied, the screen blacking out and retreating back into his desk.
Tomorrow evening. Recluse thought, tenting his hands beneath his chin.
The die is cast.
OOC:
Written with Acanous_Quietus
BIC:
[u]Roses and Rainbows[u]
The red rays of sunset pierced in through cracks in a cave wall, painting the cavern's contents an eerie crimson.
Not that they wouldn't have been anyways, as tonight, Death stalked the cavern.
The Circle of Thorns had been minding their own business, so far as they ever do, really, when the Arachnos strike team descended. They had taken a flier, and used it's impressive Plasma batteries to bore a hole through the side of the mountainous island wall into the corridors of ancient Oranbega.
Circle mages, of course, do not take kindly to this sort of incursion. Two Death Mages, a handful of Ice Thorn casters and an escort of Guards immediately poured through the network of tunnels towards the offending flier.
Oddly, no Arachnos troops had yet descended.
The mages, angered and unsure, sent a volley of dark energies at the hovercraft's hatch. Necrotic powers pried the doors apart. It was dark inside the hold. One of the Thorn casters ventured forward at a signal given from an elder mage. Creeping towards the door, he began chanting under his breath. A thick Skein of Ice covered his body. He got all the way up to the broken doors before looking inside.
Sighing, he turned around.
"Empty." he breathed.
The Death mages were confused. Surely Arachnos wouldn't attack them unprovoked, send one of their expensive fliers, for no reason. That's when something caught the thorn caster's attention. A moan from inside, as quiet as a breeze, as fetid as an old grave.
"Braaaiiins..."
He turned just in time to see the pallid hand reach out from beneath the flier, grab his ankles, and pull him screaming out into the twilight. He dropped down the side of the wall, and his screaming was cut short with a wet crunch.
Shadows began playing along the inside of the cavern walls, and torches guttered and went out. The telltale sound of teleportation signaled the arrival of Arachnos' forces, and the scream of a tortured soul began the skirmish.
***
Inside an Arachnos base some 3 miles away, Vernon von Grun grinned over a monitor, as Magus Mu'Drakhan floated silently behind him.
"Today marks a new era for SCIENCE!" he cackled, "The field test of our new 'Recycled' Soldiers has started off Brilliantly! Even if it fails, I can still use this new research gleaned from adding Magic to Technology. Recluse will promote me for sure!" The Mu Mystic didnt even acknowledge his colleagues ranting, his eyes glued to the monitor.
"Even so, I detect a presence..."
All communications and visual feed of the scene suddenly cut off into static in response to the nosy Mu Mystic poking his nosy nose where it didnt belong.
***
Back in the cave, the attack was still going smoothly. The Arachnos troops hadnt even realized communications with high command had been cut off, and the last of the mages were just now being executed with cold efficiency. They started to realize something was wrong once all their electronic equipment started to malfunction. The air crackled, and little bursts of cobalt static bounced along the ground.
Two rooms away, a large, thin piercing white line, like a pole, shot down from the ceiling of the cavern, hitting the floor and then expanding like a pool. The beam disappeared, having poured down into the room, and figures arose from the pool, spawned from pure light, so it seemed. The light snapped off, and the pool of radiance vanished with it, leaving Commander Cynic and 6 battle drones where it had been. The Commander had a large, five foot long staff of inky black metal at hand, tipped with a white, glittering crystal. His 6 drones were equivalent to the normal drones most robotics masterminds of the Rogue Isles used, 3 battle drones, 2 protector drones, and 1 assault bot.
To the Arachnos group, it seemed like something like an EMP pulse had just gone off from somewhere inside the cave. And because somebody started speaking in a loud, blaring voice that could have woken the dead and knocked them out again, the source was obvious.
The Commander spoke in a crude, loud and brash voice that also spoke a lot about his age. Old, that is to say. So this is the Arch-nose base? Looks like things have gone south for them since last time I was here. Caves and stone and crap?
No Commander, it looks like our insertion missed its target destination by over 16 miles. One of the Protector bots said helpfully. And chronologically, we are 21/365/7665 before our last insertion.
Great chow and stuff, looks like the [censored] cheapskates short-changed us yet again. Remind me to air strike Hyperboles office when we get back. The Commander growled. Now where are we...?"
***
The flier crashed down the side of the mountain, following the path the poor circle mystic had taken in a comic parody of 1980's cartoons. Meanwhile, the regular Arachnos troops had been rendered helpless. Even the lights on their helmets had gone dark, leaving the fading light from outside the only illumination. One among them, however, stood calm and stoic, despite the sparks now flying from his eyes.
Evincar silently appraised the situation, then walked directly toward the Commander, his zombies shambling with him- neither following nor leading.
"Well, I never thought I'd see a man more ready for the grave than I, but you sir, seem to be up to the challenge." He looked over his shoulder toward the regular troops, head tilted at an awkward angle.
"Captain, we have an X-factor. Please advise."
One of the Arachnos regulars, clad in purple, waved him off.
"The mission remains the same. Proceed to the Thorn Tree. Eliminate all opposition."
Cracking his neck back into place, Evincar looked straight into Cynic's eyes, his own sallow yellow eyes mostly hidden by gouts of flame.
"Well then, are you opposition?"
Cynic slowly took out a cigar, lit it by striking it against the head of one of his battle drones, and put it to his mouth-only to have it bonk off his face plate. Im in charge here, solider. He growled, trying his best to ignore the falter. Arbiter Cynic is ordering you to stand down.
The enchantments and technology that kept Evincar alive- well, a parody of alive, anyhow- also served to bind him. There was a computer memory with a ranking hierarchy installed in his Command and Tactics subsystem (CATS), directly interfaced with his brain.
The rank of Arbiter had been given out to quite a few people. Most of these Lord Recluse didnt want the outside world to know about. As a result, none of the names were actually listed. This would normally present an Arachnos agent with a problem, requiring command codes and secret passwords or somesuch to ensure that someone wasn't simply *Pretending* to be an arbiter.
However, as Ghost Widow could tell you, belonging to Arachnos was not simply a job. It went deeper. To the soul. Evincar's Mu bindings were enough to verify Cynic's claim, as flabbergasted as they had left the Arachnos captain behind him.
The zombies straightened, almost in mechanical fashion, as they gave a salute.
"Identity confirmed. What are your orders, Commander?"
The Commander threw the cigar down to the ground and smote it with his foot. It sounded oddly crunchy. I could actually use a bit of background noise, go ahead and chop down the mean green machine back there. I need to take care of some last-minute preparations. Once youre done, just come on back. Ill be waiting. Oh, and before ya go off, where the hell are we?
"We are on Thorn Isle, in the Nerva archipelago."
The caped zombie gestured, and his cadre of the undead began slinking off into the tunnel behind the Commander.
Screams shortly followed.
Cynic grunted in affirmation as they left. K then. Dane, configure for extreme range transmission. One of the battle drones that he had arrived with suddenly folded up like a giant Transformers toy and sprouted something a bit like a satellite dish and a small monitor. The Commander quickly typed a series of commands into his wrist gauntlet, which must have been linked to the setup in front of him. The screen fuzzed with static, and a figure came into view.
Hyperbole, we need to talk. He said menacingly, tapping another button on his gauntlet marked Remote Air Strike.
***
Deeper into the caverns they slinked, lurking through the winding corridors. If Evincar were capable of true worry, he'd be worried right now. Ever since the initial skirmish, he hadnt sighted so much as a single Circle initiate. Since he hadnt, he simply proceeded with all the caution one who had no regard for his own existence could muster. Which wasn't much, really.
Coming out of the dark tunnels and into the glow of torchlight, Evin stood across from a waterfall. The reason for the lack of circle mages became immediately apparent in the form of a group of heroes. They stood in the pool, five in number. Evincar's internal scanners began calculating threat level.
***
"Man, I can't believe those noobs, dropping against what, 4 villains? Do we really have to wait for them to get all the way back from Independence port?" a young blaster, clad in black and gold armor whined.
"Nah, we can get to the tree and wait there." an older hero replied, already mounting the stairs to another tunnel.
"Hey, could be worse. I heard some noob scrapper couldn't even handle his own safeguard in Steel earlier today, had to get another tanker to help him and everything." said a big, burly tank of a man clad in Blue and Black.
Evincar got an easy scan of three of the heroes. Future Flare, Angus MacGinnie, and Sno Plow. Two blasters and a tank. With three of their number "Coming back", he could assume they had lost their support. Even so, he did not care for the number disadvantage. His common sense, rotted as it was, told him to wait for the heroes to expend themselves against the Thorns guarding the tree. He would pick off stragglers as they went, and hopefully the heroes would blame it on Circle mystics.
Restraining his cackle of glee was difficult. It really wasn't often that Heroes ventured into the isles, despite Longbow's attempts to the contrary.
***
Cynic was EXTREMELY delighted at what he was watching on the little monitor that his drone had transformed into. He was laughing so hard he was probably crying beneath his helmet, and he was already bent over and audibly gasping for breath. What he was laughing at wasnt obvious-The monitor just showed a scene of continuous explosions and a fuzzy, low quality background crackle that might have been a scream.
Sno Plow, that you? Echoed a voice.
The hell? Cynic thought, his mind instantly snapping to attention. It was either time to fight or shove more pesky Arachnos from the room, and he doubted it was the latter.
But he couldnt stop laughing!
He choked as he struggled to activate his Night Staffs secondary combat functions, such as shielding. Two things struck: The first being he was running out of air due to laughing so hard, and second, that wasnt really fair considering that he didnt smoke. The cigars were really pretzel sticks that looked like cigars at range, and were kept purely for the moment-or a quick snack.
When he saw who stepped into the room, he started choking.
YOU! Hissed a voice. Emerging from a side passage was a hero-He had probably gotten separated from his group by accident. He was tall, walking hologram man. His body was composed of rainbow swirls and sunshine, devoid of any other features. In all appearances, he was an energy melee/super reflexes scrapper by the moniker Ether Masque.
Cynic knew better than that.
My
line
Cynic gasped for air, still laughing his [censored] off and unable to stop.
Ether Masque, instead of immediately lurching into scrapper-lock like any good scrapper, turned high-tail and ran.
Get!...Back!...Here! Cynic choked, recovering and chasing the phantasm down the rocky halls.
***
The Heroes had gone through a portal. Evincar had followed. Only four of their number had regrouped and continued on. Evincar absentmindedly wondered what had happened to the fifth.
A silent command to one of his Grave Knights had his rear guarded, just in case the scrapper came back. Meanwhile, the Heroes were dealing with a large group of Thorn Mages. Sno was covered in a much thicker layer of ice than that of the thorn casters, Flare was literally on fire, and Angus had activated some sort of cloaking device.
Taking stock of his options, Evincar selected a target from down the hall and around a corner, using one of his expendable zombies to sight for him.
Grasping the ancient Mu magics that coursed through him, he bent time and space slightly, teleporting the young blaster into the middle of his horde.
"What the?" Flare managed to get out before a Grave Knight's sword sliced neatly into his collarbone.
Screaming, he let loose with a barrage of fire that left the zombie naught but ash.
That would have been enough, had it not been for the 5 other zombies now scratching, biting, and hurling gobs of necrotic energy at him.
Evincar cackled as he shot a Paralytic poison at the Blaster. The color began draining out of his face.
Struggling to move, Flare managed to vaporize another zombie before he dropped to the floor. Zombies dog piled on him as the EMT kicked in, transporting him to Independence Port before Evincar could properly finish him off.
From the room, the sounds of combat had faded.
***
"Where's Flare?" Angus asked. Plow just shrugged. "Probably ran off to take on the next group. impetuous kids do that."
***
Cynic chased his glowing rainbow prey down the twisting halls of Oranbega, shouting and spitting and swearing all the way. He couldnt gain any ground, but he wasnt losing any either. He always could just catch sight of his foe flashing around the next corner or bend. Following Ether Masque around yet another curve, Cynic expected to see another one. What he did not expect was to walk into a hallway filled with landmines that had been recently planted.
Once all the noise had quieted down and the smoke had cleared, all of Cynics drones had been reduced to useless piles of blown apart metal. The Commander had, thankfully, been blown straight back by the first explosion and out of the resulting storm of explosive power.
Boom, [censored]! Chuckled Solid Point, the assault rifle wielding, booby trapping praetorian counterpart of the villain Hollow Point. Really, whos stupid enough to run in a circle through the same 4 corridors over and over again while I set up as many traps as I please elsewhere?
Ill be the first to admit Im not too bright, Cynic grunted as he picked himself up and dusted off. But neither are people who set off heavy explosives in an underground cavern.
The ceiling caved in.
Boom, [censored]! Cynic chuckled. He resummoned his drones, taking plenty of time, and got them to clear most of the rubble away. Solid Point had been buried beneath the rubble, still alive, not quite injured enough for his medi-porter to whisk him away. The same couldnt be said for Ether Masque, who wasnt to be found. After sending the blaster on his way with a solid smack to the forehead, Cynic considered what he had seen.
His target was supposed to be over 1000 miles away, in Paragon City. But one of his lackeys had been HERE, in Nerva of all places
Why?
----------
On the Trail of Destiny
(Chapter 1: The MacGuffin Rears Its Ugly Head)
Authors: Mr. Grey and Masonic Templar
----------
Mr. Harrison, a smooth female voice asked the young man sitting at the desk, Would you please come in here?
Yes, maam, was the crisp reply.
Mark Harrison stood and walked briskly to the nearby door. Most of his co-workers couldnt understand why he was so at-ease in his job. The last twelve people in his position had disappeared under mysterious circumstances. He wasnt at the heart of it all (indeed, he was just a mailboy before this position), but the idea that Ms. Ryans was the cause of the missing secretaries was actually rather plausible. They rarely lasted more than a few months, but Harrison had been at his current position for almost a year. He preferred to think that it was because he was good at his job, and kept his mouth shut about the glowing red eyes he saw in the dark office.
You summoned me, maam?
Has there been any new information regarding that bank robbery in Steel Canyon?
Yes maam, unfortunately, its not good. The request for Horizon Security was buried under paperwork, and it seems that whomever was at the heart of the request was wise enough to make it look like
Harrison cleared his throat, Computer error.
Ironic, Ms. Ryans muttered, her red eyes glittering fiercely, What measures are being employed to discover the source of this error?
We could turn the mystic corps toward the research. However, that would mean losing resources on other projects theyre working on, strained as they are for human resources.
Indeed, and theyre already working on another project that cannot be strained. Get some more hackers on the paper trail. Lock them in their cubicles if you have to, but inform them Im paying them double their normal wages, with stock options going to the one who discovers who our traitor is.
----------
Mr. Simmons?
Azuria! Cory suddenly announced into the empty base of Greys Army, How are things?
Mostly well. We just had the Wheel of Destruction returned to us
Again
I tell you, theres something fishy going on in our vault.
It doesnt help that most hero activity is in Atlas Park. Most heroes believe Back Alley Brawler is enough for that city.
Indeed. Well, thankfully, there are enough members of the hero community who are capable of helping pick up the slack where it appears, there was a slight pause as the head of M.A.G.I. in Atlas Park collected her thoughts, Cortland
I have a special assignment for you
Oh, excellent. Im glad to help.
I want you to speak to me with just your mind, Mr. Simmons. The information is
Well, its sensitive. I cant even tell you anything about it unless you agree to help first.
You have my solemn vow to hold the information in the strictest confidence, the warlock replied, and that I will set forth upon the task you request of me promptly upon receiving the information.
Excellent. It concerns a matter of artifact recovery
----------
I dont get it, Matt replied after Cory told him the information, Arent there more powerful, more reliable heroes than us she can call for a mission like this?
Yes, Infernal and Valkyrie were high on that list, Simmons replied, However, the forces guarding the object will be on the lookout for heroes like that. While a pitched battle might enable the recovery of the items in question, it might be best to have a small force sneak into the fortresses holding them and take them with the enemy being none the wiser.
Alright. Im willing to give it a shot.
Cory smiled at his apprentice. Mattock wasnt a wizard, not by most senses, but he had a skill with magic that was rapidly fading from the world. A skilled mechanic, Mattock McGinty was also disciplined in a few martial arts, including Dim Mak and Praying Mantis, though he preferred his Kendo and sword wielding. These arts helped him hone his bodys energies, and he often found the focus necessary to turn artifacts into more powerful artifacts. With time, Cory expected his friend would be able to construct his own artifacts, but the lesser ones scattered about the city would help enough as it was.
Before we go, the scrapper grunted as he hopped on a cruiser motorcycle, I gotta make a quick stop over at a doughnut shop I know. If were gonna be gone a while, I want to have somethin to snack on.
What? the warlock was shaken by his reverie, and he took note of the machine the blonde man was sitting on, What happened to your motorcycle?
Oh, I bought this one off Lou, the mechanic. Im letting Malaise borrow the one I built.
Why?
I dont know. I ran into him, he looked all depressed
We got to talking and he said he was getting sick of everybody thinking he would go nuts any second.
Cory shook his head.
Yeah, I know, Matt smirked in an unusual, concerned way, In all fairness, it already happened a couple of times. But he says hes better now, or at least medicated, and he just needed something to take his mind off the issue for a while. I suggested he take a vacation, ride around the countryside
You didnt!
What?
Kipland is going to be very cross with you, Simmons chuckled, The Vindicators arent going to be happy that their comrade just up-and-left at your urging.
I care, McGinty replied in a sarcastic tone, Sheesh, with everyone as tightly wound as they are, its amazing the city hasnt gone down in flames just from everybody flipping out at a cockroach fart. I say let him have his ride, get the stress out of his system, and if he goes back to being an insanity-inducing art thief, Ill lead the charge to take him down. Heck, I want my bike back, after all. For now, let him find himself. Hes been letting too many other people try to do it for him.
The warlock chuckled as the motorcycles engine was revved up. His friend had little to no concern for any danger that came his way. Considering the fact he was the best friend of Cedric Grey, it only made sense. Cedric tended to inspire that in people.
----------
Cuppa Jos was an interesting coffee and doughnut shop. A small establishment, in a little-used corner of Skyway City, it was regarded as the best coffee in town, but just to people who knew how to find it. Most people preferred Drenched Doughnuts, in Overbrook, but Mattock was a fan of the old fashioned, hardier varieties. It probably helped that Cuppa was probably enchanting her pastries so they lasted longer, too.
So, tell me, Cory, the katana wielding scrapper muttered as he looked over the menu, Do you think an éclair will handle an extra-dimensional trip, or will it get torn apart upon reaching the mouth of the vortex, covering a small portion of the multiverse in cream filling?
So long as that small portion is only the inside of your pack, and not all over your companions, I dont think anybody will care, Simmons shook his head, then thought at his friend, Watch it! There are other meta humans in here! Azuria is keeping me, and what team I recruit, in the strictest confidence. We cannot risk being discovered by the enemy before we have at least some success with the mission!
Relax, Mattock thought back, Im testing the waters. Were gonna need more than just us, and Im checking to see whod like to give it a shot.
Hm, The warlock grumbled as Matt placed in an order for a variety pack of doughnuts, a half-dozen of plains, and a collectors vacuum flask of coffee.
The flask had Cuppa Jos! written on the side, and it was a white background covered in confetti-style color patches. It conveyed the image of a party, despite the relaxed attitude of the actual establishment.
The Jaded King sat with his back against the wall, leaning back in his chair. He was munching on a cake donut underneath his black mask and staring out the window of Cuppa Jo's Doughnut Shop in the Land of the Lost district. This was one of his favorite places during downtime. He looked over to his friend, teammate and companion, the massive Cycron, and said with doughnut that still could be heard in his mouth, "Hey Bucket O' Bolts what ya thinkin'?"
Cycron had been staring blankly at the far wall, which of course meant he was calculating and processing billions of pieces of information through his computerized brain. He replied in his deep, slightly metallic voice, "Just checking the police and hero scanners, the weather channel, my electronic mail, progressive talk radio and all the AM bandwiths for what we might want to look into next."
Cycron was a massive cyborg. He was imposing even sitting down, especially when the unfortunate chairs he usually had to rely on would creak meakly under his weight. Luckily, Cuppa Jo's was built by a hero for heroes and had the largest, most fortified chairs in all Paragon City.
The goldenrod head said in a non-chalant voice, "Nothing spectacular this afternoon, Im afraid, J.K. Just the usual stuff we normally find around here in Skyway."
Jaded just shook his head. How many more Arachnos, Lost, and other thugs could they arrest? It never seemed to end and nothing ever seemed to change much. Jaded just looked out the window more and wondered about home, his teammates and their mission here when he suddenly picked up on other mental telepathy going on in the room. He whispered very quietly to Cycron who's cybernetic hearing could probably pick up a rat farting a mile away, "Hey, Bolts, I think I'm overhearing some things. Coming from that table near the counter. Intriguing things. Hmm. Wanna check it out?"
Cycron shrugged his massive shoulders and replied, "If you wish, J.K., better than sitting here passing the time."
Jaded easily got up from his sitting position and walked over to the table. He moved close to the waitress and let her move out of the way. He touched the brim of his duster and the waitress blushed a bit as he passed. Cycron shook his head as he watched the entire scene and thought to himself "Such a playboy. He ought to keep him mind on task sometimes..."
Jaded walked up to where the two most likely meta-humans sat and said in a very off handed way, "Looking for a little help I heard
Well at least what I picked up in my head," he smiled underneath his mask, "Me and my big friend might be a tad bit interested in learnin' more about whatever journey ya might be on..." Jaded stood there and waited not only for their reply but perhaps a bit of surprise from his ability to hear things that maybe should not be able to be heard.
Well, pardner, Matt grinned back at the dark-dressed man leaning over him and a strange silvery glint flashed in his eyes, Are you ready to look destiny in the eye? Gaze into the chasms of the Great Beyond and take back a piece of the night sky from the gods themselves?
Uh
Yes?
Good! Dont know if itll come to that, but at least we know well be ready for it.
Im Cortland, the dark skinned wizard stood to shake the newcomers hands, This is my apprentice, Matt. Now, if we are to negotiate your joining our team, were going to need to know with whom we are dealing with. The task the two of us are about to set forth on
Its a bit difficult.
Well, Im Cycron, the large cyborg replied as he showed his official identification, And this is the Jaded King. We come from
A difficult place. Suffice it to say, our skills translated here rather well.
Jaded pulled up a chair, turned it so the back of the chair faced the new heroes they just met. Cycron just pulled up a reinforced stool and his cybernetic eyes went on an info gathering blitz to quickly sum up the metas at the table.
Jaded just cooly and easily began the story:
"Well my new found friends, what can I tell you? Where do I ever begin? First, you must believe in alternate timelines and alternate universes
"
He looked for their collective reactions and then continued, "You see, myself, Cycron and two others: Amberk of the Red Eyes and his sexy love, Rialia the Vixen, were part of a team that Amberk started, called the 'Force of Ten,' to combat the insanity of our world. You see in our world, there was a time of great peril called the Shadow Wars, or as Jake would call 'em, 'World War Three,' that caused the world to change drastically. The consequences of that war caused the creations of Mutants and other varieties of things to exist but in the end solved nothing as our world was still filled with endless violence and hatred.
He paused for a moment. Matt was scarfing down his doughnut, but the two were otherwise still paying attention. Cortland gestured to continue before taking another sip of his coffee.
Amberk and the team tried to solve the issues and tried to bring peace to that world, but it was to no use. Instead, we all journeyed to a place called 'Alberquerque Starport' and reactivated the ancient time portal installed there. The four of us jumped through; unfortunately, the jump was not only through time but through alternate universes, and we ended up here. Paragon City. A city filled with its own trouble and unique situations."
Jaded paused a minute and cracked his knuckles for effect then pulled down his midnight black shades, his eyes were glowing white and fierce and his voice became more menacing, "Now listen to me Matt and Cortland, Cycron and I have seen some of the worst acts of violence, hatred, bigotry, and anything and everything you could imagine in the worst ways. If you have a mission that requires someone, or 'ones,' that can handle any and all situations, and you want it done with absolute completeness, then we are exactly what you are looking for."
The King sat back, pushed his shades back up and then reached over to Cycron and patted the massive cyborg on his huge metal shoulder and said, "And if we get in trouble, Cyc here, can get us out of the situation."
Jake chuckled a bit and Cycron looked over to him and then back to Cortland and Matt and shook his massive head.
Cycron then said, "Look, there aren't many enemies who wish to face us, our reputations are building by the day. If you want our assistance, then we'd be honored to help you."
He put his massive right fist into the palm of his massive left hand with a loud "clang!" that had the intended effect of making some of the patrons in the cafe actually stop and look at them.
"Now, what about you two? What are your stories?" Cycron's voice was deep, metallic and without emotion cybernized or otherwise.
Jaded relaxed his arms on the back of the chair and listened intently to the tales from these two metas...
Well, Cory sipped some more of his coffee and turned to Matt, Would you like to start?
Sure, the blonde scrapper replied as he finished off the doughnut he was eating, Jusht lehet meh geht shumthin do drink
After swigging back some coffee, he took a moment to consider some of his prior adventures. Finally, he settled on one.
Alright, have you ever heard of the Banished Pantheon cult? Well, a little while back, they were trying to summon up a powerful- wait, that was another guy
Ive been carving through them so long, a lot of the stories Ive been reading about their foiled attempts at turning the rest of the city into a bigger Dark Astoria are starting to blend together. Dont worry, Im not conceited. Theres things Ive done that I attribute to others
I think the adrenaline is getting to my friend, the wizard chuckled, Hes usually a much better conversationalist. The two of us have been working as heroes in one capacity or another since we were children. Early on, we recovered an artifact being used by the Devouring Earth. They were utilizing its unique power to mask their presence in Salamanca, also known as Croatoa. Weve warred against Arachnos in the Rogue Isles themselves and were, like many of the heroes of this grand city, instrumental to turning back the Rikti in this latest assault theyve been pushing on us.
Yeah, too bad they build another series of bombers every few months and skitter them after us, his companion grumbled.
Simmons nodded and took another sip of coffee. Seeing it was almost empty, he set it aside and regarded the two heroes. They had confidence, and if their story was to be believed, they had the experience necessary.
Alright, if you two wish to help us, well be going on a trans-dimensional excursion of our own. That is all I can tell you, unless you wish to come with us.
Jaded King nodded his head and replied, "Sounds like another great adventure. We've had so many
" He chuckled a bit and then said, "Let's get it on and see how many heads we can make roll."
Cycron shook his head again and said to the other two heroes, "Do not be concerned with Jaded's bravado; it is just his way of psyching himself up. He sometimes has a way of 'freaking out' others when he does it. So, where do we begin?"
Well, well be beginning in the offices of M.A.G.I. in Atlas Park. Azuria said the Portal Corp portals could help, too, but she wants to minimize the chances of certain individuals finding out about our endeavors, so well be using a magic-generated portal. Before we go, however, theres someone I would like to enlist the services of.
Can we finish our lunches first? Matt and the Jaded King asked at the same time.
Of course.
The heroes settled in and watched across the street to find that a group of heroes had attracted the attention of a massive clockwork behemoth. By now, everybody knew who Babbage was, and the call for help to take the rusty walking pile of shaped wreckage rarely failed to get much help. As sizeable forces started assembling, Matt, with half a doughnut jutting from his mouth, joined his team in a pre-quest monster fight. As was normal in such instances, the numerous heroes gathered together proved far more overwhelming than Babbage was prepared for.
----------
Below the Skyway City Public Transit Yellow Line was the General Purpose Super Group Base Portal. One of these was set up in each of the city zones by Freedom Corps and Portal Corp so aspiring heroes would have easy access to their scattered bases. Some, like the group Cory was taking his rag-tag team to see, didnt even know to what corner of the disused sewer system theyd been relegated to.
The Base Portal was usually manipulated by signals from the heroes communicators. However, Cortland knew a few mystical tricks that achieved the same effect. Concentrating lightly on his intended destination, he walked calmly into the portal.
We can handle this ourselves, man! Matt shouted as he appeared out of the portal behind his mentor, Cycron and J.K. following shortly thereafter, We just helped tank that rusty bucket of bolts! Come on! We can take anything!
No, Mattock, Simmons replied, After seeing how we fared from that fight, Im more convinced than ever before that we need the support of-
Hello? a young man shouted from deeper within the Brutal Warriors Order Staging Area, Is somebody there?
Psycho! Its me, Cory! Is Whirlwind available?
Yeah, there was a slight pause, Whirly! WHIRLY! Wake up!
[Jebus CRR-RIPES]! Get the [frig] out of my ear!
Cycron and the Jaded King stared at the two young men before them. Exchanging glances briefly, they considered that perhaps they were getting themselves embroiled in a conflict they were ill-prepared for. Still, it was something new, and their two new acquaintances had proven to be adequate fighters during the Babbage fight at least. Curiosity was still getting the better of them, so they silently agreed to keep on this endeavor.
A man dressed in a blue trench coat with white-spiked shoulder pads walked into the entrance chamber. His hair was white and he had a white slash running down one side of his face. If there was one thing to describe the mans outfit, it was blue, white, and lightning bolts.
What happened to your hair? Cory asked.
The magic bleached me, the man, apparently Whirlwind, replied, Id been using these artifacts for a couple years, I wasnt expecting this.
Well find a way to restore your follicles. For now, Id like you to meet the team.
Project Whirlwind shook hands with Cycron and the Jaded King. When the introductions were done, the artifact wielding magician turned back to the warlock.
So, whats going on?
I was hoping my communiqué reached you through the Aether, Simmons sighed, You should have seen it as a dream.
Nothin.
Well, were on a quest
----------
I have assembled my team, Cory announced as the group walked into the M.A.G.I. offices.
Azuria looked them over. Mattocks involvement sent a chill through her spine, but Cycron and the Jaded King looked to be more than adequate for the task at hand. She also knew of Project Whirlwinds skills as a magic wielder, and hoped his weather control would be enough help.
This is all youre taking? she asked, to which Cory nodded, Very well. Gentlemen, if you will come with me
They proceeded into the back rooms of the M.A.G.I. office. While most recovered artifacts went to the vault in Galaxy City, a few still remained in Atlas Park so Azurias mystics, assistants and clerks could inspect them. As the group traveled down the hall after the seer, they could hear all sorts of chanting, mumbling and very minor explosions (some of which were so energetic they created light). Azuria paid the noises little mind, not even the surprised yelp that caused Matts head to swivel to the left and check if everything was alright.
Finally, they reached a door marked Experiment Chamber 12. Aside from the sign, there wasnt anything particularly remarkable about the door. It seemed to be made of a heavy wood, though.
Ironwood, Azuria explained, From around your hometown, I believe, Cory.
Fascinating, the warlock replied, I should ask my parents if they know any dealers.
The chamber was mostly empty. Its center was dominated by a large, plain stone altar. On the far wall was what looked like a spice rack. Azuria walked directly to the rack, selected a few choice bottles, and turned back to the altar.
If one of you could grab those wooden steps, she said as she indicated the object in the corner, The portal Im about to summon is going to appear above this altar, and it will be quite annoying if one of you were to lose a limb trying to climb inside.
Cycron took the small staircase in hand and waited for the ritual to be completed. Azuria poured one of the vials out and they materialized into a single red page.
A page of the Red Dust Tome! Simmons breathed, Amazing!
Azuria continued to read the page, her face remaining calm despite the strain evident in her eyes. A pair of wizards entered the chamber and placed crystals at four equidistant points on the surface of the circular slab of stone. Once they were finished, the red-headed seer then poured the fluid contents of a second vial out and started tracing lines to connect the four gems.
Black Blood of the Earth? Matt asked as he noted the color.
Mixed with pigs blood, Simmons nodded appreciatively.
It sparkles a little, too, Project Whirlwind noted, Like tiny crystals
In the fluid.
Cycron and the Jaded King watched the process intently, absorbing every little detail of Azurias display. Despite the fact that it was still a fluid, the lines connecting the crystals never flowed out of where theyd been traced. Satisfied with her work, Azuria returned to the page and scrutinized it. Finally, she raised her right hand, grasped the pages vial in her left, and the page disintegrated and coalesced back into the bottle.
Once the last of the Red Dust had floated back into its container, the seer handed the vial to one of the assisting wizards and started chanting. What light there was in the room (provided by a series of overhead phosphorescent bulbs) suddenly darkened. The area above the altar started to glow and the four crystals started to crackle with power. Azuria kept chanting. A gust of wind started to rush through the room and her hair was whipping violently behind her. Indeed, the wind seemed to come straight from the area above the altar and was trying to throw everybody in the room back.
The electric sparks erupting from the crystals started to wrap about each other and the heroes watched in awe as a hole appeared in reality. It wasnt like the Portal Corp portals, where the energy wrapped back in on itself to form an orb of energy that sucked the passenger in and deposited him in the destination. This was like a window, or a doorway to another world, where it seemed one could just walk in or out.
There, it is done, Azuria announced as the wind and excessive sparks of electricity finally died down, Its hidden from view on the other side, but you should be able to find it yourselves. It will appear as a white spiral floating in the air. As you pass through, the portal will attune to you, so you should be able to reactivate it by simply tapping the center of the spiral.
Sounds simple enough, Cycron rumbled.
Be careful going through, though. Dont touch the edges. Its sharper than a laser, and it will simply whisk off your body parts.
Good to know! Jaded gasped, I was wondering if I could just grab the edges and vault myself through.
Not unless you want to irrevocably mangle your hands. Are you ready? I warn you, the environment of this world youre about to enter is
Unusual. Not toxic or anything, but it has oddities.
Were ready, the big cyborg announced as he set the stairs in front of the altar, Lets do this.
Jaded looked into the portal, looked at Cycron and the others and said with a hint of sarcasm, "Deja Vu is in the air. Deja Vu is in my hair. Deja Vu will bring you down. Deja Vu, down, down, down..."
Then the dark dressed hero took the leap into the vortex first as Cycron audibly sighed and said, "I hate it when he does that..." and went immediately afterward hoping they all wouldn't end up trapped in ANOTHER alternate universe...
My Stories
Look at that. A full-grown woman pulling off pigtails. Her crazy is off the charts.
((Written with MrKrazy))
Deception
The day passed normally until exactly six local time. Grandville's busy docks were calm and quiet - so quiet you could hear a pin drop from fifty feet. That's what had happened exactly, a pin had fallen and everyone stopped and looked in the direction.
Men, women, children, metahumans, and all the rest stopped where they stood and stared at this pin that had fallen from seemingly no where. What fell next was stranger - come on people, you don't see a book falling from the sky every day do you? It's paged flipped around to reveal micro-thin sheets of metal that had a strange script written upon it. What ever the script it's entire alphabet had to have at least 200 characters. Or were those characters combinations of two? Truly it was nonsense. Or was it?
Just then a seemingly normal individual walked to the strange book and the pin, it bent down and picked them up. He spun around looking though the crowds to see if anyone or anything was watching him. He was clear and he began walking. Walking towards the center of the city.
Grandville had alot of steps and alot of Arbiters. Each Arbiter looked at this thing strangely and let him pass though the gates, the scanners finding nothing strange - magical or technological. It was in the clear. The city that day was quiet, there wasn't a cloud in the sky either. A slight breeze picked up as it looked upwards at the entire height of the Grandville tower. The breeze died as the figure walked inside the tower.
Security checks were made, checks were passed, checked three times, made again, and passed. It wasn't an everyday occurrence that Lord Recluse would take audience to a "third party contractor," as he would soon call this man -- no, group. Four Bane Spider Elites surrounded this individual as he walked the corridors of the tower, making sure it stuck to their paths and saw no more than what was necessary. They didn't plan on this obvious proxy living longer than the meeting any ways.
A flash of light. A deafening sound. A silent word spoken. A page turned in the book of time. Time was slowed.
One by one, faster than you could blink, they disappeared and reappeared in the same places. True and complete assimilation, what a horrible and beautiful thing it was. The ability to mimic and replace virtually anything and everything with machines instantly was a scary thought to ponder. The truth of the matter was that it was possible and it was being used to infiltrate the highest branches of government undetected and faster than any plague has ever spread before - only this plague could not be cured or stopped.
The four, freshly assimilated elites rounded the corner with the proxy. The five were greeted with a curt nod and another security check. Nothing was wrong. Obviously, they needed better security devices. The hallway to Recluse's personal chambers was lined with defenses, magical runes of warding, force fields, and yet more Elites, all futile in their attempt to defend the most powerful man in Arachnos. The door clicked open, and all five of them entered, the false Elites bowing to Recluse in order to keep up appearances.
"Ah, the long awaited representative. I hope you find Grandville to be accomodating in your stay." He greeted, untenting his hands and lifting his head, almost lounging in his chair in order to give a more relaxed mood. "Well, don't just stand there, sit down." He gestured to a seat vaguely with his chin, a Bane Spider pulling up a chair.
It took a seat and listened to Recluse, "What would you know about my organization, Mr. Recluse?" The representative spoke more like a machine rather a man with a free will. He had somewhat of a lawyer-like tone. He could almost pass as a lawyer with his looks, black suit, black suitcase, tie, fancy glasses, all that jazz. Recluse also took particular notice of his obvious use of the word organization.
So, my suspiscions were sound.
Recluse would not be one to reveal his cards so early in the game, choosing to answer his question with a slight shrug and the phrase, "Enough to hypothesize at the reason for your helping Arachnos." To anyone other than a fake man, this would sound completely truthful, however, given the organizations mysterious nature, it was obviously a bluff, at least to the mechanoid.
"Over the years, we have been watching you. We have recently made the decsion to help you publically with funds and technologies we have researched ourselves or we have empolyed people to research. These will be delivered directly to Doctor Skjebne and to no one else. We choose to help you because we beleive that you have the capibility and the will to rule the entire world one day. With our help, you will be able to acheive this goal sooner and with fewer casualties in your ranks." The proxy leaned forward and looked Recluse in the eye. A dangerous move, however, effective. His gaze gave the desired effect to the lord of spiders.
"Ah, yes, I suspected as much." Again, a bluff. "However, one thing does bother me. Why Arachnos? Unless you are based in the Rogue Isles, there would be no reason to look at Arachnos to assist. I am not going to lie to you, Arachnos is not as powerful across the channel to the west as I'd like it to be, and companies such as Malta and the Council have a much firmer foothold in Paragon than I, surely a more desireable position than here." He leaned forward, matching the challenge made by the proxy. "So again, I reiterate. Why Arachnos, specifically?"
"Why Arachnos? We chose Arachnos because we beleive they are the right organization for the job. You have the man power, you have the name, you have the notierity, you have the super-powered. We have only a few of those, Mr. Recluse." The proxy blinked. "We can make you the most powerful channel in the west -- no, the entire world. All it requires to a little cooperation."
Despite his obviously flattering response and his somewhat... Odd, word choice, Recluse felt that no more would be gotten from him on this particular matter, instead choosing to lean back yet again and change the subject.
"So, this organization of yours. What is its nature? I trust there's no hidden agenda involved in giving us these resources?"
"Obviously we're all lawyers trying to trick you into selling us your soul, Mr. Recluse. The only 'hidden agenda' would be our hopes of gaining a seat of power after the eventual world domination. Say, 40% of the world? You split it into 10 population zones, we get the low and very low population zones and we call it even?" The proxy laughed to himself.
The sarcasm included in the first sentence was not appreciated by Lord Recluse, and his laser-pointer eyes narrowed at the statement. "I see" he stated, again leaning forward and tenting his hands beneath his chin. "I suppose that could be done. Which areas did you plan on getting? I suppose I could surrender Siberia and Greenland, if you'd like."
What was he saying? It wasn't like him to speak as if he'd already won. However, something about this man made him feel... Confident in his victory. Something about him made him feel sure that he would win.
In either case, his offer had been made.
"Mr. Recluse. Let's set a number of population that is set to be 'low', so my bosses know what to expect. A fair number would be what to you?"
[censored]. Recluse thought, realizing the trap he'd been lured into.
"Well, I suppose roughly ten or fifteen people per square mile would be fair." Negotiation was always a pain.
"That sounds fine. I personally, would like to see the number raised to fifteen or twenty per square mile, but the number you have supplied is fine. It's better than what Malta threw at us. I will get back to you on details of our confirmation of the deal or not. If we accecpt, expect to see Skjbene's personal bank account skyrocket, along with any stocks he currently holds in the world wide market. If you wanted to make a fair sum of money, I'd suggest looking into those."
So, it was true! Arachnos had not been their first choice. Recluse inwardly fumed at this. They were toying with him! And worse, lying! However instead of outwardly showing this, he simply stood up and offered his hand. "Thank you, I will look into those. I appreciate your taking time out of your busy schedule to visit me regarding this deal, and I do hope that you get back to me soon."
The proxy stood up and shook Recluse's hand. He turned around and walked out of the room. He turned the corner and melted.
On the Trail of Destiny
(Part 2: Getting Oriented in a Strange Land)
Authors: Mr Grey and Masonic Templar
----------
After the dark of the ritual room, the heroes had to take a moment to adjust to the brightness of the world they found themselves in, except for Cycron whom, as per usual, had to adjust to the intense amount data he was receiving from all his sensors; this new place was full of extraordinary paradigms, so immediately, he began to calculate EVERYTHING. Once the other's vision cleared, they still needed a moment to reconcile precisely what they were seeing.
What they stood upon was like a grassy plain rimmed with mountain foothills. However, the foothills suddenly stopped to open air beyond. The only reason any of the heroes knew this was because of the floating, craggy islands this way and that.
Cortland muttered something about a Shard while the others looked about. Cycron, Project Whirlwind and Mattock took off to examine what lied over the edges while the Jaded King turned to look where theyd come from. Sure enough, there was the little white spiral, spinning in place just like Azuria said it would. The warrior from an alternate future Earth had to make sure he wouldnt be stuck here like he was stuck in Earth Prime, so he decided to test what the M.A.G.I. seer had instructed. As he poked at the center of the spiral, he could swear he felt the hairs on his body stand up on end for a brief moment before the portal opened up. He could see the mystics looking back at him quizzically.
Sorry, he chuckled, I just had to make sure.
Quite alright, just be careful nobody saw you do that. We dont want to have any unwelcome and unexpected guests crashing through here. If a few of the rituals were conducting here got interrupted, well
Quite right. How long until this thing shrinks again?
It should last about a minute in its current state before it reverts back to the smaller, less-draining version.
How long do we have until it fades?
Dont worry about that. The dimension youre in isnt overtly hostile to ours, so there arent any wards we need to break through. Whenever the portal needs a little energy well provide it. Dont worry about your exit.
Jaded shook his head and said sarcastically under his breath, "Oh great, our lives held by geeks, eggheads and overconfident scientists."
He walked back to the group to get the lowdown on everything so far.
Were surrounded by open air, Matt announced when he and Cycron returned, It seems to just fall forever, too.
Theres probably land of some kind below, Cory mused, Magic can only do so much. Certain laws simply cannot be broken. However, that land below is likely not inhabitable by any stretch of the imagination.
What do we do if its down there? Project Whirlwind asked worriedly.
I dont believe it is. If the artifact were after were lost over the side of one of these flying mountains-
Islands, Matt corrected, I dont care what you want to call them, its pretty obvious what these things are.
Very well, flying islands. In any case, if the artifact were lost to the depths, its likely that the pressure placed upon it would crush it to dust, and whatever power it contained would be long gone by now.
Cycron adjusted his sensors, broadened his spectrometers, tweaked his extreme range finders and many of this other internal mechanisms. He then stood for a minute and then said in his usual, low mechanical voice, "So what now? We need a plan. We need to gather information. We need to know what exactly we are dealing with."
He looked to them for their response. Jaded chuckled under his mask and remarked, "Ahh, as usual, the tin man sure knows how to break the ice..."
Ill fly over to the nearest island and teleport you all to me, Simmons offered.
Hold up, Jaded stopped him, Let me put some shields on ya before you go. Never know what youll run into out there.
The dark-coated controller proceeded to wrap shimmering force fields around the wizard. There didnt seem to be any kind of machinery involved, and Cory couldnt sense any magic. He assumed, since this individual was from an alternate future, that it could likely be nanotechnology at work.
The wizard always appreciated the work of force fields. With a couple applications, anybody could be a tank. Combined with sonic fields, and whole teams were nigh-unstoppable. He cursed himself for not thinking to bring Sarah Durnan along, his bosss daughter, for she had the capabilities for such an endeavor. Still, they could make do. If he remembered correctly, they just had to stick close to Project Whirlwind for the damage resistance.
Thanks.
The dark-skinned warlock was in the air in an instant. There was no flash of light, no great explosion, not even a puff of smoke. He just started floating and flitted to the nearest island. However, he wasnt alone. Project Whirlwind was right there next to him, and Corys notions were correct. The defender-class hero was capable of manipulating one of his weather control artifacts to produce a powerful, condensed fog.
This fog was capable of hiding those within it from the eyes of foes. If the enemy got too close, the heroes would be discovered, but the steamy mist would still be able to defend and protect Whirlwinds allies. The exact physics of the magic werent important; the heroes just had to stay inside.
In case there are hostiles, Michael explained.
I understand, Cory replied before muttering an incantation and the air shimmered around the two of them, I think were about as defended as we can get now.
They proceeded across the sky. To observers, they seemed to be nothing but a gray cloud caught on a gust of wind. Fortunately, the only observers were the birds, strange, raptor-like creatures with sets of four eyes on the sides of their heads. Their multiple colors indicated different purposes for each eye. Fortunately, the birds didnt seem inclined to worry about a cloud that crashed unerringly into the crags of one of the flying islands.
The two wizards alighted on the rocky surface and checked each other. It had been a graceful landing, so there were no bumps or bruises, but Cory wanted to be sure his protégé hadnt pulled a tendon or sprained his ankle. Michael gave the thumbs-up sign that he was okay and they proceeded to climb over the ridge to get a good view of the grassy portion of this particular island.
There were people here. They looked like normal humans. Cory muttered another spell and the air around the two wizards shimmered again. The mist covered the effect from errant eyes, and he was able to get a better glimpse of the workers.
They were farmers, that much was certain. This was a field of what looked to be maize corn. Several squarish patches of land were neatly arranged to allow for the plants to grow. It wasnt like a lot of the fields Cory was familiar with, that took up several acres all at once without interruption, but the grid-like style allowed for human interaction without the need of machinery.
All in all, it seemed a rather peaceful operation.
Hows it looking? came Matts voice through the Aether, Is it safe?
Yes, Mattock. I will be teleporting you and our companions over shortly. Let them know what to prepare for
Jaded immediately looked over to Cycron and asked, Ok big guy, whats the scoop? Looks like we can barely make it over there. Cycron gauged the range and calculated the distance and replied, You are correct JK. Even with our talents the length will be a challenge.
Jaded thought for a minute and said, Looks like we need to do what we did at the Battle of Incans Grove, Cyke. Grab me, throw me and Ill leap with all the strength I have, reach the other side and then teleport you and anyone else who needs it.
Cycron nodded and added, That was always one of my favorite maneuvers.
The big cyborg knelt down a little, allowing Jaded to leapfrog onto his back; then the massive cyborg ran forward, stopped at the edge of place they were and threw Jaded at the same time the controller began his leap.
The sight of the maneuver would have been incredible to witness. The machines strength was clearly obvious as it seemed so effortless for him to throw a man of two hundred and thirty pounds like he was the weight of a baseball.
Jaded soared through the sky, but pretty well unseen since he had cloaked himself in his usual stealth mode. He looked around at all the incredible sights of this unique world as he began his decent. The color of the sky, the floating islands, the interesting shaped clouds and all the other interesting flora and fauna he could spot. He hoped that at someday, when all the hostilities may be calmed down, perhaps this would be a very great place to retire.
Jadeds attention soon returned to the floating island coming rapidly at him. He began to alter his falling direction and aimed for a less rocky part where the landing wouldnt hurt as much. He put a personal forcefield around himself and braced for impact. His powerful legs hit the slanted side of the island and he began to dig in. The side of the island was rocky and slippery, but it was the only place where he could have landed even with the extra boost he received from Cycron.
It took all his strength to come to a sliding stop. His hands, legs and back hurt pretty good, but nothing he wasnt used to already. Struggle was the daily way of life where he came from.
He placed a small medpack on himself, got himself to a more level place and then radioed back to Cycron, Ok tin can, I got here relatively unscathed. Are you ready? And does anyone else need a teleport?
Do it now, good buddy, the blue-armored cyborg radioed back, And fast! Air pressures mounting at an incredible rate.
The King reached out, and with a sort of reflex, yanked through dimensional space and opened what could only be described as a hole in the air beneath his heavy cybernetic partner. Cycron fell through, landing next to his friend instead of tumbling into the gaseous depths below.
Cut it close, there, the big guy rumbled, Were doing fine, wizard.
Further above, Cory, gazing down at them, shook his head in consternation.
You guys, you didnt need to do that, he had to cast his voice along the wind, which was a difficult art, I can summon you in a much less complicated way.
Yeah, but then Id feel like I was just being dragged around, the Jaded King replied with a snicker.
Cory shook his head, chuckled and went back to Project Whirlwind to cast his spell to bring Mattock to the new island. As he conducted the ritual, the other two climbed up to the flat rock the wizards were waiting on. The kendo practicioner appeared in a flash of light, but, as mentioned before, the fog cloud obscured the spectacle and their presence remained unrevealed.
Whats the situation? Cycron asked once everyone was oriented.
It seems to be a farm, Project Whirlwind explained, Perfectly normal people. They seem to be tending to corn.
American corn or the rest of the worlds corn?
Theres a difference?
Yes, Simmons chuckled, Yes there is. Its maize, Cycron.
Ah.
So, what do we do now? Mattock asked as the sound of a whip cracked, What the
?
The group moved along to where the farmers were suddenly looking nervously. A quiet had settled on the land, and the assorted meta humans could now clearly hear what the work and their struggles to reach the floating island had masked earlier. It was voices, and angry ones at that.
Peering between some crags, the Jaded King was the first to see what the problem was. A hill dove to the edge of the island, and would have gone over the side if not for the rocky bowl it rested inside. The result was a peculiar cul de sac that ended in a cavern at the bottom of the hill. It wasnt a terribly long distance, and the controller could see a number of figures at the mouth of the cave.
Some were prostrate, another was motionless on the ground. Standing before them was a robed man in bright colors. His hands and eyes were glowing, and recognizing the Oranbegan wizard caused the King to curse.
Weve got problems here, he growled to the others as they looked quizzically at him, The C. O. T.
What are the demon zombie wizards doing here? Cycron muttered.
Theyre probably here for the same reason we are, Cortland replied, Damn
So? We can take em! McGinty growled as he drew his katana, Its not like they got any tougher just by crossing over to here. Heck, its much more likely that they got weaker!
The same concept can be applied to us, my friend.
How so? I dont feel weak.
Even still, we need to plan this carefully.
There was another whip-crack, and the heroes looked through the crag to see the wizard was swinging around a long line of blue energy that looked like an ice whip. The people cowering in front of him were clearly terrified, now.
Simmons hissed as his anger got up, but before he could say anything, Cycron and Matt were bounding over his head and charging toward the cavern. The scrapper hero pulled a pistol from the back of his belt and started aiming at the wizard. The others looked to each other with the same dread.
Cyke can handle himself, Jaded assured them, In the beginning, at least. However, we dont know how many more wizards or what are in there.
Agreed, Simmons sighed, Well, we better go help them. I really hate following the alpha strike
So do I, Project Whirlwind worked his gloves a little, I dont heal fast enough for the damage incurred.
You two are a couple of whiners, the controller chuckled before bounding after his friend, Well be fine!
My Stories
Look at that. A full-grown woman pulling off pigtails. Her crazy is off the charts.
Written with Corsage, starring the deadly and icy Arctic Amazon, and the mysterious Masquerade. Part 1/3
[u]A Cold Acquaintance[u]
A ball. Yes, thats what it was. A Masquerade Ball to be precise. Sadly enough, there were only eight attendees. And only one of them was real.
Levi Baker. I would like to hear your thoughts. Three voices spoke. One high and feminine, one low and masculine, the last a perfect balance between the two. The speaker was a Shivan Decimator.
A regenerator. Nigh indestructible even after being shot, caught in the epicenter of several high-magnitude explosions, thrown through two reinforced walls, crushed by a nine ton slab of steel, and enduring a ten story fall. Said a Malta Gunslinger in a calm, civilized voice.
Slightly insane. Bloodthirsty. Chaotic. Skilled. Warriors spirit. Said a Freakshow Tank, spitting and snarling more than speaking.
The Legacy Chain Radiant and the Unseelie Court Hell Rider remained silent. A Ring mistress of the Carnival of Shadows laughed softly and copied the various shifts in movement of the Shivan.
Overall
An excellent candidate
But not worth the time and effort. Said a Cabal Sorceress. Parasitic Empathy isnt an option due to his healing speed. His mind is a maze of mirrors. Too difficult to navigate before he recovers.
How disappointing. I would appreciate it if the Light Masque would keep an eye on him, and inform us if he dies. He would be quite useful then. The Shivan spoke again in its odd voice. In the meantime, we must find a candidate immediately. I believe you saw the True Pillar, Ether Masque?
That I did. The Ring Mistress cooed. The hypocrite is already here.
Then we need to time this perfectly for the next sweep. The Shivan declared. Black Masque. Who am I?
The Freakshow Tank mulled over this question for a few moments before answering: Arctic Amazon.
***
High in the skies above St. Martial, a star arced through the air to vanish at the horizon. Trouble was brewing
***
She paused in her carefree and aimless pacing as she caught a glimps of herself in the full length mirror that adorned the western wall in her spacious living room. She was rapt with the vision that stared back at her. It was the Arctic Amazon, successful super villain and unearthly beauty. Her vanity smiled back at her.
Hello? You still there?
She snapped out of her mild trance as she realized that her right hand was still holding her cell phone to her ear.
Oh, yea, she responded, Just, uh, admiring my view.
Dont rub it in, the young womans voice spoke, Im living in a giant submarine that smells like feet.
Arctic Amazon prowled over to her couch. It was white like most of her things and was accompanied by a pearl coffee table. Contrasting the décor was a small brown satchel resting unzipped on the surface.
Oh, sweetie. Youre young. You have plenty of time to get rich and conquer the world.
The sound of an explosion suddenly erupted from the floor below, vibrating Arctics apartment slightly.
What was that? Corsage asked.
Arctic Amazon sighed as she heard gunfire on the lower levels as well.
A grenade. I think Im under attack.
Are you gonna be okay?
I got security. They should be able to handle it.
As she spoke, the sultry super villain opened the brown bag. She retrieved a rubber tube, a syringe and a vial of morphine and laid them neatly on the table in front of her. Suddenly, her call waiting signal beeped rudely in her ear.
Hold on Corsage, she said and switched calls, What?
Sorry to disturb you, maam, the new voice spoke, But the Tenemen have invaded. Theyve breached the compound. I dont think we can hold them.
The Tenemen? Youre losing to the freakin Tenemen? Are you kidding?
Theyre all over the place!
To punctuate that statement another grenade blast rocked the area and the automatic weapons suddenly sounded much closer.
Arctic Amazon fumed, Fine. Ill be right there. Oh, Clarissa? If youre not dead by the time I get there, consider yourself fired.
She switched back to Corsage then cradled her phone between her head and shoulder.
Sorry, girl. I gotta go deal with this. Call you later?
Arctic peeled back her long glove revealing bruised and punctured veins. She picked up the syringe.
Is it serious? Corsage asked.
Not really, she replied and flicked off the plastic tip with her thumb, Ill cope.
***
This place is filthy. Isnt St. Martial supposed to be clean? Complained a muffled voice amidst the mayhem below.
We need to find a good view-point. Ether, you have our mask? Said another muffled voice, anyone listening closely would have pinpointed the source near an empty corner.
Yes, I do. Said a third voice. Black, find the contact and observe. White, youre on containment duty. Once the last thug is inside, I dont want anything to get out or in. Grey, Ill ne-
Hey cake dream, a rough voice fourth interrupted the third, Think youre elaborate plan just went kaput. I present Exhibit Freem.
One of the thugs radios suddenly started to squawk. A panicked and rushed voice screamed out of it, Shes in corridor B next to the stairw- Before being cut off.
***
So strange, this. Why do I rush? Surely there is no danger. This is a large risk. A large and bold step into the unknown. I know nothing about this actor. All I have are the assurances of my lower servant. What should happen, if
? No. That cannot happen. Everything shall go just according to plan.
I do so hate
Unpleasant surprises
***
Her private sanctuary rested atop a three story office building. The second floor, the one that was now swarming with invaders, was much less impressive. It was primarily housing for her minions, most of them cast off carnies or Freakshow. The walls were spray painted and the carpets were stained and burnt in places. It was a dump, but it was her dump. Arctic Amazon stormed down the stairs determined to make examples of all of the uninvited guests.
She saw the front wave in the hall. There were four of them. They were finishing off some of her henchmen and rifling through their pockets like vultures. She took a moment to settle her indignant rage. It would be crass to charge in screaming. Emotional outbursts were for weak and petty humans. In the mind of Arctic Amazon she was a goddess and her wrath would be dealt out cold.
She identified the leader and immediately froze him in a block of ice from the waist down. He tried to shout to his followers, but barely could make a sound. His lips turned blue and he was in shock before they realized what was happening.
Arctic Amazon stalked casually forward and formed an ice spear from the water molecules in the air. She held it out like a javelin as she approached the next Teneman. He saw her and fumbled for the radio in his belt. The other two caught on and raised their sub machine guns. With the same intensity one might stroke a kitten, Arctic raised her hand and summoned a gale of freezing wind. It slammed into those two and sent them flying down the corridor. Bones cracked as they collided with the far wall. The one with the radio pulled it up to his quivering lips.
Shes here! he shrieked, Shes in corridor B next to the stairw-
She plunged her spear into his chest. He dropped his radio and stared with awe at her with his dying gaze. The Arctic Amazon grinned.
Thank you, she told him, Saves me trouble of having to track down all the vermin.
She dissipated the spear and the Teneman punk collapsed wheezing and bleeding onto the floor. She caught her reflection in a glass door to her right. With a few moments before the next wave arrived she took the time to fix her hair and straighten her tiara. She owed it to her foes to look her best. After all, she was the last thing they would ever see.
***
In the end, it was she who was chasing them. The final two members of the Tenemen assault team died in the womens restroom. One had the indignity of having his head frozen in a toilet, while the last one had the honor of having his neck broken in the gloved hands of the icy beauty. She dropped the ragdoll that mere moments ago had been living and walked back into the hallway. There was always an intangible but ever-present odor that lurked on the lower level restrooms and she did not want it to linger in her magnificent attire.
As she strolled through the path of dead and beaten henchmen from both sides of the conflict she wondered how the Tenemen who were nothing but street thugs working for the Slumlord managed to bypass the traps on the first floor. An insider helping them out was the most likely answer. She decided to find Clarissa to see if she was still alive enough to torture to death. Only the two of them knew the codes to deactivate the devices. She scanned the bodies on the ground looking for her naughty employee as she headed back towards the stairs. Suddenly, she stopped in her tracks.
Someone was still here. Not one of hers. She could sense the presence of someone or something lurking just out of her peripheral vision.
Whoever you are, you had best be ready to talk, she said in an even tone, For when I turn around I have had better heard your entire life story. I must know the reason a fool like you would dare to linger in my private headquarters after more than a dozen of your friends died so painfully only moments ago at my hands. Paint me a picture of sadness and retardation and maybe I will not pull out your bowels.
She paused a moment before continuing.
Ready? Here we go.
Arctic Amazon turned around.
There were three figures. A glowing and radiant man in a white tux, wearing a hood that obscured his face with pure brilliance. A rather plain-if one could use that word-grey ninja, his face swathed in cloth. Finally, a dark and menacing figure in dark rags and sinister leather, complete with a bloody brilliance that shrouded the face behind his hood.
The man in the tux was babbling incoherently. Ijustcameintobeing
twodaysagoohwoeismeIhavent doneanythingyetexceptstandaround
andhelpstopabankrobberywithsome
randomheroandIdonthaveabowltract
butohpleasegoddonthurtme.
Black, settle him down. Ill explain. The Ninja said coolly before addressing Arctic Amazon. We apologize for the intrusion. We arrived not a few moments ago. The door was open, we assumed nobody was present. We had and have no intention of staying. We were just looking for something that we were correct in thinking was located here.
All of this was entirely true. If not misleading.
Ah Tender crisp
Levi Baker strolled calmly through the streets of Steel Canyon with a box in one hand and a half-eaten drumstick in the other. Most heroes didnt like off time, but Psycho13 reveled in it. Especially when it was a bright, sunny day, the birds were twittering Wait, those were just pigeons
They wanted his chicken. Lousy, creepy scavengers
Scram, before I sic the cats on ya! Ill do it, too! he shouted at the trees, Ill pick them up and heave them in there Flying cats Youll never know what hit ya!
A couple pigeons fluttered off, but it didnt stop the young man from looking like a lunatic yelling at the trees. He noticed some of the passers-by looking askance at him, but he shrugged it off. He had other business to attend to anyway.
The Exchange Bank of Paragon City was one of the banks in Blyde Square. Being just across the street from the chicken shop, it made Bakers lunch trip all the more efficient. Solo had called him up while he was standing in line, and it only irked him slightly that he couldnt sit down for his meal, but he could chew and walk at the same time.
Just as he reached the door he heard a peculiar sound. It was like humming. Licking his fingers, Levi looked up, expecting to see, possibly, a Rikti dropship. It would have been surprising, especially considering the fact that there hadnt been any alerts and the War Wall shields were still up.
However, what he saw was decidedly not a Rikti Dropship. It was, in fact, much too small and box-like. From below, it appeared to be some kind of car, but it didnt have wheels or anything, just a set of glowing domes, similar to the ones that kept the Arachnos Flyers aloft. The rest of the underside was black to a mirror finish.
Just as the off-duty hero was about to make speculations as to just what the machine was, an explosion rocked the side of the building, cascading stones and mortar down on him. He felt his shoulder crack and started rubbing the bones back into place as they started to knit together. Last thing he needed now was a bone spur, an unresponsive joint, or worse, a constantly tearing ligament. Certainly, he could regenerate the damage, but it was always best to minimize when one could.
Looking back up, he saw a group of individuals leap into the hole that now gaped in the side of the wall. A big dark blob followed them. Shortly after were the sounds of gunshots and alarms. Pulling his hood up over his head, the scrapper pulled up his communicator and broadcasted to every other hero in the city that there was trouble. The responses he got were unsettling, to say the least.
Newb cant hndl safegurd on his own! LAWLZ! flitted across the screen of his communicator first.
Psycho13 arched his eyebrow at that and hummed sharply. The rest of the responses werent much better.
Leave the baby alone, maybe he just doesnt know how to fight and needs help. Youre a defender-class, right, Psych?
No, scrapper-class
HA! NEWB!
Are you guys really going to go on like this? Theres people getting hurt!
They did indeed go on like that. It was disheartening enough to make the tan-hoodie-clad scrapper to chuck his lunch into the nearest waste receptacle and brace himself for what would be the fight of his life.
I must have caught the bums rush to Sirens Call, he grumbled as he drew his knives and marched to the door.
A crowd of civilians exploded from the doors when the scrapper opened them. He had to grab the central frame to keep from being dragged away. Psycho13 knew better than to explain to these people that he was here to help. Theyd just laugh or ask if hes sure and that he looked like hed get torn apart
Their concerns were all well-founded, and indeed, sometimes had happened, but they didnt need to know that and the young scrapper didnt feel like going through the explanations. Once the initial push was finished, he let himself in.
Marching down the hall, he found one of his first targets. It looked like any other person in a business suit, but his movements were far too perfect, too precise and he was currently threatening one of the tellers. He didnt look like a Crey agent, and they werent in the habit of robbing banks in any case. It must have been one of those Nemesis automatons.
Hey! Lug-nuts! Psycho shouted as he drew his mismatched blades, Ive been waiting all day and I really need to make a withdrawal!
The business-suited man turned precisely to the hero and narrowed his eyes. There was something odd about the mans movements. They were much too perfect, even automatons had clicks or stutters, and they certainly didnt have flesh that could bend and articulate the way this guys could. There was something odd about this mans skin, too It seemed pale. That was a strange thing to see on someone of African descent.
What are you? Psycho13 breathed moments before the business suit-clad criminal leaped over the counter and drove his knee into Psychos ribcage.
He heard a cracking sound and felt something akin to several bones popping before he realized he was hurtling through the air and crashing into the wall behind himself. Baker had been hit by a couple vehicles and Freaks in his career, and this was similar to that. As he gasped for air, he realized he was coughing up blood. Before he could gather his wits about him, a heavy hand landed on his collar, gripped him vice-like, and lifted him into the air.
Hero identified, the dark man said blankly, Psycho13. Levi Baker. Former subject of the Committees think-tank programs. Regenerator.
Almost as if on cue, Psycho13s ribcage popped back into place and the bones started knitting. Able to breathe easily again, the scrapper kicked off the wall behind himself and drove the point of his steel-toed boot into the sternum of his assailant. There was a wet crunch, but little else.
What the Hell?
Threat level: negligible, the agent finished before hurling Psycho13 into a corner.
Augh! the scrapper grunted as he got tangled up in the dividing ropes used by the Exchange Bank, Dammit!
As he got free, however, it turned out the agent hadnt quite turned his attention away from the young hero. Staring down the barrel of a high-caliber pistol, Psycho13 gulped and licked his lips. The agent squeezed several rounds into the scrappers belly, chest, and forehead. They were hollow points, and he could feel his flesh being torn apart by the bullets as they split open. Stuttering, the scrapper fell to the floor and the remaining tellers screamed in terror and desperation.
Now, the agent turned to the man hed been harassing earlier, The codes for the vault, if you please.
Theres nothing in there, just personal effects and lock boxes! the man replied, Money is stored digitally now!
We both know thats simply not true. Plenty enough people deposit cash. Give me the co-
A knife point suddenly protruded from the agents throat and withdrew. Dropping the teller, the agent turned to his assailant, and saw the man hed just shot repeatedly standing before him, seething. The agents lip quirked to the side in mock-amusement.
Regenerator, Psycho13 hissed, Hero. And you just [frig]ed up my favorite hoodie! Icon doesnt make these! I found this thing in the Salvation Army, and its insane trying to find a tailor tha-oof!
The agents fist was now deep in Psycho13s gut. Pulling himself away, the agent was still smirking, but it wasnt for a lack of trying to resume a neutral posture. The hero looked up at his enemy and saw the mouth slowly pull back to normal.
Ive seen zombies move quicker than that, he choked out, and you nearly jacked up my diaphragm! What do you want me to do? Drown on air?
Hero is resilient, the agent got out before the scrapper carved through his right pectoral muscle.
Baker then followed up with a series of strikes across his enemys torso. It was strange, but he could swear that it felt like he was carving into a Zenith Mech Man. When he finally kicked the agent back, the criminal slumped to the floor, and exploded, sending the unprepared hero careening into the corner of the wall and skidding down the hall back to the entrance.
Psycho13s head cleared moments later. He still had work to do. The teller he helped was shaking him awake and saying something about there being more and that his knife was currently stabbed into his thigh.
Thanks, he muttered as he started yanking it out, It always sucks to have to find these things later. Its worse when youve looked all over only to realize its been stuck in your shoulder or your butt cheek
Uh the teller rolled his eyes and backed away sheepishly, Wait You said you were here to make a withdrawal Youre not here to rob us, too, are you!?
What!? No! Psycho reached into his back pocket, retrieved his wallet, and revealed his identification to the teller, See? Hero I.D. Im here to help I was here to make a withdrawal, but then all hell broke loose
We were kind of hoping for Synapse, or at least Castle.
The scrapper blinked glumly and frowned.
Nobody ever wants the newbies.
Oh, no Were not ungrateful!
Its fine! Psycho13 smiled and clapped the teller on the shoulder, Now, if youll excuse me, I have a lot more pain to endure and aching to suffer.
Um Dont you mean Dish out?
Thats a great idea! Ill try that, too!
***
And so the star fell through the clouds, and it ignited the heavenly skies! The garden quaked and the people knew the fear of the transcended ones once again! The abomination crept through the grand plains, wearing the flesh of the innocent and perverting truth! The high ones in their golden towers found their aim to always slip as it passed by! And then, in that single defining moment !
..Hmmm?
Ah, and what is this? It appears the past has silently slipped into the future. Fate and its dark eyes are all-seeing, so I must be as well. Otherwise how can I hope to survive? Those bound by Fate and its dreadful strings are doomed! And I am eternal! I must catch up now. What can I do?
I sneak into the library like a thief, and this time, it is different. They know I am here. Last time they merely sensed that something was wrong, but they have learned. I do not have the luxury of time to choose which tale I want. I cannot go into the depths, for those who are ahead know I am coming. They are prepared. What is this? Alas, I am now trapped! Or am I? I am surrounded by a multitude of tales, all of which I can use! I must throw caution to the winds, let Lady Luck and her cursed blessings reign!
What story am I in this time?
My oh my.
To think I always overlooked this sparkling gem of opportunity every time I passed by! Truly, one should never judge a book by its cover! The very air here is BRIMMING with the most ideal of conditions! Neglect! Despair! Sorrow! Fear! PAIN! Tragedy and his dark mask loom around every corner. Comedy is nowhere to be seen. This will not do, for they shall be no other Tragedy than my own. The story shall never end until I have shaped the outcome to my liking! Comedy shall bring down Tragedy, and then Tragedy shall devour everything!
So Comedy, come come, let us dance! Let us sing and let us dazzle the world! Excitement abound, joy in the sky, life in the air, heart in every sound! Let there be light, let shadows cast be only solitary! Let the flames of passion roar and cause the heavens that support the miasma of misery crumble!
Let truth temper fanaticism!
Let reason expose deception!
Let grace repel darkness!
Let law smother anarchy!
Let duty subdue instinct!
Let purity reject artifice!
LET THE MASQUERADE BEGIN!
***
Paragon City, Steel Canyon, National Bank
A shooting star raced across the sky, leaving a trail of glittering matter in its wake as it tore through the heavens. It raced from one horizon straight to the other. And was it just a trick of the eyes, or did the star appear to be arcing?
Not that anybody noticed it, because it was still the middle of the day.
***
Already I see a cry for assistance! Let it never be said that I am not benevolent! Let us see what I can stir up
***
White Masque went in through the back door, and was disappointed to find a long series of narrow hallways. He needed to find whoever had sent out that broadcast, and quickly, before the scent went cold. There was a pair of double doors straight ahead though, so White Masque advanced and opened them
Only to get a haymaker smash on the head. The attack split the ground beneath the radiant figure and drove him downward a few inches. White Masques attacker appeared to be a black-suited businessman, with an abnormally pale face. He was leaning back for another attack with movements that were perfectly coordinated. Being hit by this man dead-on was like being hit by a truck.
Ow. White Masque said disdainfully. He conjured a long and nasty blade made of exothermic reactions. Something cold and chilling, a blade of ice. Before the black-clad man could withdraw his hands from the top of White Masques head, his left arm was skewered by the thing. It ripped through his neat suit, and through his abnormally pale skin like a hot knife through butter. *har de har har* Then it stopped.
White Masque looked closely at the wound, and instead of seeing the normal gore and spurting of blood, he saw a solid joint of reinforced polymers and ceramic that had stopped his blade dead in its tracks. Instead of blood, there was just a still and crusty-looking dull brown liquid. Before he could discern anything else, the man-or whatever the hell he was-withdrew his arms and leapt a good distance back.
Identity not recognized. Analyzing, The pale man said in a blank voice, looking White Masque up and down as he did so.
That wasnt nice. White Masque said in a playful tone. His voice was high-flown and almost angelic in nature, You need to learn to play with others.
Suddenly, White Masque was upon the businessman, having moved like whitewash across stone, rearing back the arm and the blade it held for another strike, this one aimed for the heart, if he, it, had one. White Masque never found out, because the pale man CAUGHT his blade with the same arm that had previously been skewered. His right arm came around in a punch that could have knocked a wall over. It shot right through the radiance that covered up White Masques face, and into the unknown beyond.
*Ka-sunk*
Not the fa-Bwerp! Too late. Youre fast, arent you? White Masque swatted the fist out of his face with his free hand, wrenching his sword free as well and leaping back to put some distance between himself and the thing. He didnt appear to have retained any damage from the blow.
Powers identified. Invulnerability and Ice manipulation, The man in the business suit said in his blank voice, Threat level: Average.
If they could have been seen, White Masques eyes would have been narrowed.
I BEG your pardon? Did you seriously just say what I think you said? Oh! OH! This will NOT do! White Masque said furiously, and understandably so, Yes, nobody will see Plenty of time
The agent cautiously advanced to deliver another blow, seeking a weakness in his opponents invulnerable structure. So, naturally, he never saw the blow coming from behind him, above him, and from both sides as well
***
After finishing, White Masque carefully observed his surroundings. He was in a carpeted hallway with lavish wallpaper and a few desks with couches in the corners. Unknown to him, it was the hallway connecting the main area of the bank to the vaults. Further unknown to him was that the man he had just fought had been left behind as a guard while everyone else went to the vault. To his right was the open doorway leading to the public area of the bank, behind him being a LOOOOONG corridor leading to the vault. He thought momentarily about which way to go when he heard an explosion coming from the right. So naturally, he went that way. Emerging into an area with a wooden floor and stone walls, he found a few frightened civilians helping what looked like a torn-up homeless person with a sharp shard of stone stuck in his buttocks out of a large cracked impression in the wall. There were the fried remains of a black business suit scattered everywhere.
[ QUOTE ]
Its fine! Psycho13 smiled and clapped the teller on the shoulder, Now, if youll excuse me, I have a lot more pain to endure and aching to suffer.
Um Dont you mean Dish out?
Thats a great idea! Ill try that, too!
[/ QUOTE ]
White Masque walked forward to confront the two then. He moved like whitewash flowing over stone. Ah, excuse me then White Masque said in his lofty voice, with only a hint of anxiousness. Would you be Psycho13? The guy who asked for help with the bank? Sorry Im late, had to come in through the rear entrance. Im White Masque, and if it isnt a problem, Id like to help defend this bank and everybody in it with you. He leaned to the side a little, as though he was looking at something.
And pardon me if its supposed to be there, but there appears to be a sharp rock sticking out of your buttocks.
Psycho13 was very perceptive for a hero. His use as a Committee think-tank to puzzle together meta human concepts had given him a knack at recognizing the capabilities in other heroes. It came in handy when planning for major operations, and it also helped him to figure out the kinds of people he was working with. And something wasn't quite right about White Masque. For one thing, he could see straight through the radiance blocking the other man's face, and it was completely blank.
But that was just Paragon City for you, nothing too weird about that.
***
OOC:
Please refrain from posting here and see the secondary 'Support Thread' for details!
To be continued!