Sooner Nation - FICTION

That's awesome!

This chapter. The poem.

Just awesome.

Part VII

Vanguard Force Base
The shimmering pillar of light flashed, and Vir was teleported in a flash to a plain grey walled room. He strode forward, glancing around, and then his gaze locked onto his target.

Major T stood there, dressed as usual in camo pants, boots, and a tank top, with his dark hair in short dreadlocks. He was a very dangerous man, and he looked it. Broad shouldered and muscular, lean and strong, and with an air of barely constrained violence, as if at any moment he could erupt into action. He smiled, a wide friendly smile, and turned, “Vir! Welcome to Vanguard Force, my friend!”

“I thought better of you, Major T!” Vir growled, ignoring the outstretched friendly hand. “How could you allow innocents to get hurt? It was careless and irresponsible of you. It is the DUTY of a hero to protect those who can't protect themselves. What were you doing while some villain picked up that car and threw it?”

T rocked back his heels as if the words had been a physical battering ram, his eyes wide with surprise. “I was fighting against a super powered villain,” he answered simply and with as little emotion as he could manage. It was nearly instinctive for him to straighten up, face Vir, and stand with his feet wide and his hands clasped behind his back.

“Were you?” He advanced on T, “You were careless with the lives around you, and you stood by and did nothing to protect those people! You showed no regard for their lives or their safety! No regard for the families that depend on them and care about them. You stood by and did nothing to stop those two from being injured.” The way Major T stood, staring straight ahead, listening and not arguing just made Vir even angrier.”And now my brother is crippled!” T's eye's flicked to Vir's and then back again. “You let my brother get hurt, T, and I thought better of you! You call yourself a hero? A hero protects innocents, Major T! And you failed in that duty!”

Vir stopped, nearly nose to nose by that point with Major T, his brown eyes dark and flashing with anger. The two men stood silent for a long, breathless moment, then T took one step back, putting a bit of distance between them. “Your brother was the young man in that car. I am sorry to hear that.” Vir opened his mouth, and T put one hand up. “I did the best I could, Vir. I am truly sorry that your brother got hurt. Very sorry. But do you truly mean to tell me that in our dangerous line of work you have been able to protect every innocent from harm?"

Vir's eyes flashed and his jaw clenched as memory flared. He turned away, took two strides to the bast portal, and the Vanguard Force base vanished.

---
The time required to traverse a base portal can be subjective. In the moments it took Vir to step out of Vanguard Force and back into Kings Row, he relived the night he first set foot on the road to becoming a hero.

He was just Micheal Campbell, a young man who took great efforts to distance himself from his father's name. Their fight was fresh enough in his mind that Michael was still angry about it. But on that night, he couldn't let himself be distracted. He was about to commit a crime, and he needed to focus.

He approached the Crey facility where he was employed and turned up the collar on his leather jacket. The night was colder than he'd anticipated and the chill was working its way into his bones. Crey shouldn't have any reason to suspect trouble from him, so he didn't see any reason to hide his approach. He cut through an alley behind his favorite sandwich shop on his way to the door closest to his lab. A man younger than he looked was curled up in a doorway, trying to find shelter from the biting wind. Micheal shook his head and sighed.

"Gill, hey... Gill." he called out.

The homeless man stirred and opened his eyes. "Hey. Mike."

Michael dug into his pocket. He'd grown up with plenty of money to toss around, but walking away from his father's house had meant walking away from his father's money as well. He felt one bill folded over in the pocket and shrugged. He'd eaten a nice dinner and was wearing a warm jacket. He handed the $20 to Gill, "Get some coffee, get warm, ok bud?"

"Thank you, thank you," Gill answered, already struggling to stand.

Micheal helped Gill to his feet, glancing again at the USMC emblem tattooed on his forearm and a bold "Semper fi" inked underneath it. The colors were faded now, but the image was still clear. "Just take care of yourself, please?" Micheal coaxed.

Micheal turned away, focusing his mind back on what he was there to do, the files that needed to be destroyed, the back-ups located and destroyed as well. The computer logs, the videos... so much to do, and he didn't know when Crey Security would be alerted. He'd have to work very fast.

He used his keycard to open the back door, then used a bit of trash from the ally to prevent the door from closing fully again. A short elevator ride took him to the 5th floor which was dominated by the lab. He let himself into the enormous dark room and paused to look at the suit. Urban Pacification System, version 2.2. Images of the previous versions were mounted in frames on the wall, but the current version waited patiently for him on a stand in the middle of the room. The suit gleamed with metallic armor plates and matte maroon panels. The helmet was nearly one third flat, featureless reflective faceplate, and the rest that same maroon, with short antennae and sensors marring the smooth line of the top and back.

He sighed once... this suit, this project, could have done so much good. But he now believed that Crey didn't intend to use it that way at all. He'd been suspicious for weeks, but that day's simulation had confirmed it. Civilian targets... Urban Pacification indeed. Not only was Micheal not willing to participate in further tests of that nature, he wasn't willing to walk away and let someone else put on that suit and continue it.

Micheal lifted the gleaming helmet from the stand and removed a tiny mechanism from his pocket. He located the appropriate slot inside the helmet and installed a very special mod. He tucked his street clothes into a duffle before quickly and efficiently stepping into the suit and powering it up. He knew that THIS was the most likely point that Crey Security would begin to take note, when the UPS 2.2 logged into the system. From this moment on, he needed to move quickly. As his Heads Up Display flickered on, he checked the readouts. Everything was green, including his extra mod, a mod that Crey knew absolutely nothing about.

Once suited up, Micheal worked quickly. He gathered every bit of paper he could find in the lab. A few pieces, like technical specs he intended to keep, went into cargo compartments on the suit. Everything else went into piles stacked closely around the mainframe. He dug up disks and tapes backing up the data. He was sure there were remote backups, but he'd had a friend whip up a very special little virus, and it should worm its way through the Crey systems, finding and eradicating every bit of information about the UPS project as well as wiping any information about one Micheal Campbell, Jr from their system. He knew there was next to no chance that he'd get everything, but he would damn well get everything he could.

He felt the moment that Crey tried to take control of the suit away from him. The UPS's computer system was controlled remotely, and someone had finally noticed that the suit had powered up in the middle of the night. The power locked up on him and suddenly instead of a smooth, strong, efficient machine, he was trapped inside a heavy, immobile chunk of metal and circuits. He triggered his little surprise with a motion of his chin. A deafening burst of static shot through the system and then Micheal and his suit were free of Crey. The remote circuit had been broken and the receiver and the GPS tracking unit melted into useless lumps of plastic. Micheal smiled and began working that much faster. Crey security would be along any minute, and it was very important to Micheal that the building remain empty.

When the lab was wiped as clean of any useful information as possible, Micheal started up the virus program and watched as the screens in the lab began to flicker. Finally, he set up a small, but powerful, incendiary device. He placed it between the wall and the body of the computer to funnel as much damage into the computer as possible. It should destroy the lab, but the building should remain intact. He checked his placement one more time, and glanced at the flickering screens. He sure hoped that virus did its job, or he suspected that Crey was going to come after him and everyone he cared about.

Micheal grabbed the duffel with his clothes and strode out of the lab still wearing the suit. He'd known his key card wouldn't work once he didn't exist in the system any more, so he was pleased to see the door still propped open. He glanced to his left, where Gill had been huddled before, but the homeless man was gone. Micheal hoped he'd found someplace warm, and a good meal.

He found a vantage point across the street, an angle where he could see the windows of the lab, and took a bracing sigh. He made sure there was no sign of Crey Security approaching, then activated the remote detonator. A brief second later, he heard a muffled whump! and fire flared in the lab.

Micheal had time for exactly one sigh of relief that it was over before something like a giant hand knocked him from his feet and flung him into the wall behind him. A heartbeat later and the overwhelming sound of a massive explosion hit him. Debris flew everywhere and a fireball rose into the sky. Micheal was horrified. He had no idea what had gone wrong, but thank God he'd been careful to conduct his sabotage when the building was empty.... except....

Horrible screams, a man shrieking in agony finally cut through the shock. Micheal stumbled forward and saw a man writhing in the middle of the street, covered in flames. Micheal ripped his leather jacket out of the duffel and wrapped the injured man in it, putting out the flames.

Whoever the poor guy was, he was a mess. Micheal wasted no more time. He carefully gathered the injured man in his arms, activated the suit's jet packs and flew at his fastest speed to Crowne Memorial Hospital. The man lapsed into unconsciousness as they traveled, and Micheal hoped with all his energy that he was still holding on.

The emergency staff flew into action at first sight of the suited man with the burn victim. Micheal identified himself as UPS 2.2 to the nurse taking his information and informed her that the injured man's medical bills would be covered in full by the Campbell Family Trust, and promised himself that he would do whatever it took to make sure that was true.

Micheal waited, wracked by his guilt. He didn't know what had gone wrong, but he knew no one was supposed to get hurt. That was the plan... no one was supposed to get hurt. He hadn't been good enough, he hadn't been careful enough. Someone had gotten hurt. My fault... my fault... he repeated to himself over and over.

Micheal didn't know how long it had been, but dawn was lighting up the sky when a nurse told him he could visit his John Doe... for just a moment. Still hiding his face behind the featureless helmet, Micheal walked back into the burn unit. "Superpowered healing has already helped him regain a lot of damaged skin," the nurse explained in a quiet voice. "He'll have extensive scarring, and it appears he's lost quite a bit of lung function. But your John Doe will live." She smiled her reassuring smile and stepped back. Micheal took one more step into the room and gasped.

"His name's not John," Micheal said bitterly, "It's Gill. I don't know his last name." There on one of the few undamaged areas of skin was a faded USMC emblem with the words "Semper Fi" underneath. And Micheal knew what had happened. Gill had followed him into the building. He'd gone in through the door Micheal had left propped open. Did he go in hoping for more money? To say thanks? Or just because it was warm? Micheal didn't know... but knew it was doubly his fault. He'd screwed up, he'd been careless, and someone had gotten hurt. Micheal stood and walked out of the room, promising himself that Gill would have the best care he could provide.

The explosion was covered up completely by Crey as a planned building demolition, but Micheal had enough contact with people who knew people to learn that the main electric and gas lines had run right behind that wall. When his device went off, it ruptured the gas lines and turned his small explosion into a massive one. Micheal had filled out the application himself for the Campbell Family Trust for Gill's medical care, and was not surprised when an application signed by Micheal Campbell, Jr. was quite promptly accepted. And some would say that all in all, Gills' life improved. He was off the streets. He would need lifelong medical care due to the damage to his lungs, and he would get it. He would be warm and fed and get treatment for whatever problems had put him on the street in the first place. None of which made Micheal Campbell feel any better about his mistake. He resolved that he would learn from it. He registered as a hero the next day, taking the name UPS 2.2 and promising himself that no more innocents would get hurt on his watch.

[Note: This was SUPPOSED to be just a quick blurb illustrating that even the most respected heroes can make mistakes... but as happens often... once your start writing, the stories take on a life of their own. As it happens, I like it.

Read my stories!

UPS 2.2 (now called Vir) has been around since just before Issue 5. I was inspired by the stellar play of some tankers I knew in the early days of CoH, and I made him so I'd have a toon to watch my friends' backs in ways my Blaster and Peacebringer could not. For nearly four years, he existed without a meaningful backstory, just a rough idea but nothing specific. Over the last nine months or so, Sooner and I have worked out a deep, rich backstory for him and added it to the complex weave of character plots and subplots we've shared with you in these stories. She's done a great job with this one, Vir's failings not withstanding, he's still a pretty good guy to follow into a nasty fight.

Part VIII

Campbell Family Trust Shelter
Cydney dragged the loaded dolly into the kitchen of the Campbell shelter and started unloading donated cans of soup and vegetables. She glanced around the dining room and admitted to herself she was looking for Rory. She liked the old man. She found something drew her to him, and she was disappointed that she didn’t see him anywhere in the shelter. With the added worry of trying to find the spy among the Ghosts and now Vir distracted by his brother's injury, Cyd would have really enjoyed the opportunity to chat with the interesting old man.

She unpacked the last of the cans, broke down the boxes and stashed them neatly in a closet when she felt something tingle off her own magic. She glanced out into the dining room, and sure enough, there was Rory Flynn. She took one look at his threadbare appearance and resolved that she would find him a better sweater somewhere in the donated clothing.

“Rory!” she called, “Come sit with me. I was just about to have some coffee.”

“Afternoon, Miss Nation,” he answered. “I’d be glad to join you.”

Cyd poured two cups and settled herself at the kitchen table, then politely glanced away as Rory poured something from a flask into the cup. “Call me Cyd, please.” she said.

“My father taught me never to refuse a request from a lovely young woman,” he said with a smile that had likely broken some hearts in his younger days and still possessed plenty of charm.

“How have you been, Rory?"

“Passable.” He sipped. “Can I ask you a question about your family, Mis - ah.. Cyd?”

“Of course you can,” she said with a smile.

“Was your father Danny Nation?” She blinked, stunned into silence for a moment, and he reached out a hand and laid it over hers.“Ah.. I’m sorry. Should I not have asked?”

“No.. I was just surprised. Yes, My father’s name was Daniel. He died when I was very young.” She paused, then went on, “He was killed when I was very young.”

Rory nodded. “Was he a marine?”

A faint trickle of suspicion arose in Cyd. “How do you know this?”

Rory withdrew his hand and stared down into his coffee. “I knew your father, Cyd. I served with him, my last tour before I retired." He sipped his coffee and met her eyes again. “I thought about the name, and how you have his eyes, and I wondered if you might be his daughter.”

Cydney shook her head, as if trying to shake off a punch. "You... knew my father?"

Rory nodded, and she could see him considering his next words carefully. Finally, he spoke again, low and reluctant. "I was there. When it happened.”

"You were...." she shook her head again, "I don't understand."

"I was there when your father was killed," he said.

---
Conall sat across the table from his enemy, and did not allow his borrowed face of a tired old man to smile. Of course he hadn’t been there. He’d still been behind the veil of the demon world when the father had been killed. But he knew what happened, and he knew how Ciara had caused it to happen. And.. If he could manage it just right... Sooner Spirit would soon know as well. He would tell her the truth about her father. And her desire to end Ciara would go up.

“What did they tell you about your father’s death?” He reached with his hand again, and then stopped, as if afraid she wouldn’t welcome the touch. And then felt the glow of triumph when she reached out her hand and laid it over his.

“Ah... he was killed by insurgents when they attacked a hospital.” She smiled. “I was just five years old. They didn’t tell me much at all.”

Conall allowed his hand to tremor. He had to play this just right. She and her sisters were all very intelligent women, and he couldn’t allow her the time to consider the coincidence of meeting an old man in Paragon City who was not only related to her mother’s family, but had served with her father and been there when he died. No... he had to keep her off balance, and that meant the story he was about to weave needed to be just right.

“Would you like to know what happened? Or would it be too painful for you?”

“I barely remember him,” she answered. “Just a whiff of cologne and... and a pair of strong arms. No.. It wouldn’t be painful. I’d like to know what happened.”

Now he looked down. “I’ve never told anyone what really happened. I was afraid they’d think...” he patted the flask in his sweater pocket. “I was so close to retirement, I didn’t want them to bust me out before I made it. So I didn’t tell them everything I saw.”

“What do you mean, Rory? What happened?” She squeezed his hand.

“We were well behind the action, at a field hospital. We escorted some supplies in. It should’ve been safe, but we were Marines, we were ready for anything. Your father, he was a good man. So many young officers, they seem to think that commission gave them an extra ration of brains. But the Captain, he got it just right. He knew what his job was, and he did it, and he knew what our jobs were, and he let us do them.” He took that moment to turn his hand under hers so they were palm to palm, and gave her hand a gentle squeeze.

“The medical personnel were so happy to see us. They were out of everything... There was this young woman doctor there, tough little thing, but acting like a kid at Christmas when she laid eyes on a box of antibiotics.”

“The attack was a complete surprise. Almost as if they showed up by magic....” He felt her twitch and knew he’d scored a point. “They were everywhere. I saw the captain, your father, grab that little doctor and throw her inside the truck before he found cover. The medicals were running everywhere, getting in the way, our men were confused and probably a quarter of us were down before we ever got our weapons out. The captain was trying to get us together, but it was... it was just noise and confusion there for a few minutes. And then the charges started going off. They’d set charges all over. They'd been waiting for us.” He paused, allowing another tremor, then sipped his coffee.

She was silent, taking it in, and he knew he had her in the palm of his hand. He waited for her to speak. “Were you injured? What happened?”

“I never took more than a bruise in that action. I was lucky.” He paused again. “The captain... he was like the Archangel Michael himself rising before us. He yelled out orders, getting us back together. Some of the younger men had never seen anything like that before, but the captain.. he helped us rally, we finally started finding targets. The medicals, they got it together too. They were dragging our injured out of the way, and that doctor... she was right there in the thick of it. I saw her pick up a rifle and put it back into a man’s hands, pat him on the shoulder, and then go to the next man. Then she came to the captain. He’d taken a hit to the thigh, and he kept trying to shoo her away, but she wouldn’t go. She dropped down, started ripping into those boxes and wrapping a bandage on him right there.”

One last pause, a deep bracing breath, and a sip of coffee, and time for the finale. “The captain, your father, ordered us forward. We were advancing, cover to cover, and I heard him yell something. I think I was the only one who looked, and I know I was the only one to have an angle on it to see... what I saw. That doctor, she’d just finished the bandage and was getting up. The captain had turned and he was looking at...them. I don’t what they were. They were the size of a cat, maybe, but they were red, and had... little wings and horns...” he looked up and her expression was telling. Oh.. Yes.. He had her. “They were.... giggling and they were carrying a charge. One of them said something, it sounded like 'the father of the three' and then, 'so she can go free,' and then... it exploded. The blast threw me into the trees, and it killed them both, the doctor and your father. And it took most of the medical supplies with it. I... I never told anyone about the things carrying that bomb. I didn’t want them to think I was seeing gremlins.”

“Oh my god....” she whispered. “Oh my god.. She killed him, it was her...”

Conall had to duck his head at that point because he couldn’t completely hide his triumphant smile. When his expression was back under control, he looked back up. “I shouldn’t have told you this. I’m sorry.”

“No... no, thank you. You’ve helped more than you could know.” He could see her eyes getting shiny with tears and she squeezed his hand again. “Thank you for telling me. But I have to go...” She stood and hurried towards the door.

“Will you be alright?” he called after her.

“Yes, thank you again. I hope I see you again, soon, Rory.”

“You will, Cyd. You will.”

He waited till she was gone, and finished off the coffee... a foul human drink he could barely abide, but it seemed so important to some of their social rituals that he made himself tolerate it.

He stood, stretched, and then resumed the awkward slouch of his disguise. He went to the same door that Sooner Spirit had used and ducked into the alleyway there. He headed north, he just needed to get out of sight, then he could return to his home and resume his true form.

And that’s when he saw the “hero.” Six-Four. Conall faded back into the shadow watching his enemy with three other young heroes, two women and another man. They were engaged in verbal confrontation with one of his Hellion converts. His eyes narrowed. What was a hero of Six-Four’s stature doing in Kings Row, talking to Conall's own little human army? As Conall watched, hidden in the shadows, a group of a dozen Hellions wearing Conall's Black Hand mark approached. The younger man and the dark haired woman with Six-Four drew shining swords and but the third, a lovely blonde woman with a sweet face and lush curves stood back, offering support. The efficient team made short work of Conall's Hellions.

Conall could not tolerate it. That human had tried to oppose Conall too many times. Conall would not stand by while Six-Four tried to stand against him again. But... too many questions. Why were none of them wearing Ghosts Reborn uniforms? Who were these young humans? And why now? Why had the bothersome human chosen this time and place to begin working against Conall? He must know what the human was about, and soon. His life and freedom were in the balance here, he could not allow this interference to stand. He cast another glance at the blonde woman. The other two, they were fighters. The blonde.. Yes... her. He would make that one a plaything for his little imp.

Read my stories!

... plaything??!!?!?!?!?!!!!??? *shudders*

Great read as always Sooner-hun

Pax

Ahh, Sooner... Conall is just so deliciously wicked. }:>

I wonder...

Demons are treacheous and cunning, but Conall plays with emotion and passion. It's almost like his power or experience comes from elsewhere...

And, he hasn't lied himself into a corner, yet, but he's dancing on a razor's edge with the tales he's spinning for the Nation sisters. If they ever sit down and talk with one another... that could complicate things for him. Or, spur them into the very fight he needs them to take on.



Yes, some of the above is a hint/tease for my fellow readers, but have faith, the wait will be so very worth it.

Okay, when I got to ""I was there when your father was killed," the hair on the back of my neck stood up.

and OMFG! >.<

Part IX

Crowne Memorial Hospital
Michael Campbell, better known as Vir to his friends in the Ghosts, slouched in a chair that looked far more comfortable than it actually was, sitting at his brother's bedside. His right hand rested on the blanket where his brother's hand should have been. It should have been a comforting touch, instead, it was a reminder of what had been lost. Micheal's eyes were closed. He was exhausted and would have liked to doze, but the noises of the various machines crowding the room, and concern that each breath his brother drew might be his last, kept him awake.

Seamus was getting worse. Each hour that passed, the doctors began using more medical jargon, and Micheal realized that they were shielding themselves behind words and phrases like "Multi-drug resistant," "Reperfusion injuries," and "Renal insufficiency." Lately "Metabolic alkalosis" had started making an appearance and they liked to spend time hovering over Micheal's EKG. The doctors' faces were less and less reassuring as time went by, and the emotionless masks of the nurses told the rest of the story. They expected Seamus to die.

"Mikey?" a raspy voice called.

Micheal sat up, blinking, and smiled to find his brother awake. "Seamus! Can I get you anything?"

"Sure," Seamus rasped, "You could lend me a hand..."

"How bout a drink of water?" Micheal offered, holding the cup up so his brother could reach the straw. Seamus was pale, with a faint yellow tinge to his skin and the whites of his eyes. Even drinking a few sips of water seemed to have exhausted him.

"Seamus, I'm calling our father. He should be here. He should know."

"No... no, Mikey don't. I don't want him to see me like this. We can let him know when I'm better, ok? You can call him when I'm out of ICU."

Micheal said nothing, but nodded. No one expected Seamus would set foot out of ICU. But, he would respect his brother's request as long as Seamus was well enough to keep making it.


Conall's Lair
Conall stormed into his lair and bellowed, “Excruciatrix!” He kept moving, further into the lair, knowing the habits of his pet imp by now... she would be scurrying along after him shortly. “Trix!” he called again, “come to me!”

He found his way to the heart of his cave-like home, but she had yet to respond. It might be one of her small rebellions. No matter. He reached out magically, found the reins of his compulsions on her and pulled. She resisted for just a moment, then relented.

Her face peek around a door frame at him, but before she could enter the room, Conall heard Arano's deep, raspy voice, "Your master is calling you, you contumacious creature. Answer him!" She yelped a startled protest. Arano strode into the room, dragging Trix behind him by a firm grasp on her human-like yellow hair. She was spitting and twisting, clawing like a cat. She curled up around his hand and managed to sink a claw into Arano's wrist. He cursed and tossed her down, shaking his hand where her claws had raked it. As she clambered to her feet, he kicked her, one heavy black shoe sinking into her belly.

Trix's tiny form tumbled across the room to come to a stop at Conall's feet. With a wail, she scrambled to hands and knees and scampered behind Conall's legs. He heard her hitch in a sobbing breath and moan quietly.

"Discipline it properly, Conall, and it will come when you call," Arano sneered.

Conall drew himself up to his full height, with wings mantling over his shoulders and eyes flaming like the torches on the walls. "Get out of here, Arano. Now. And there is no need for you to put hand - or any other part of your body - on my imp ever again. Do you understand me?"

Arano straightened, his dark eyes flashing, but after a long pause, he nodded once and turned on his heel.

Conall let out a his pent up breath and turned to Trix. "Stand up!” he commanded. Outside of the pout on her face and her shiny eyes, there was no sign that she'd been injured. “You must learn something.”

He stood tall before her in his true, demonic form. His wings flared over his body, his eyes glowed with flame, his face framed by curving horns. He held his clawed hands stiffly outstretched to the side, and planted his clawed feet squarely. “Watch me.”

His control had grown so that he could make the change instantly if he chose, but he did it slowly so she could see how it was done. Her eyes were fixed on him, studying him intently as his wings wrapped around his body and vanished. His horns flowed back into his head, and faded ginger hair began to sprout from his scalp. His skin faded from blood red to a pale human tone. His leg bones reshaped themselves so he stood like a human. The whole process took just several seconds, and when it was done, the human form known as Rory Flynn stood before the imp where the giant demon had stood.

He cocked his head at her. His voice lacked the same power in this form, but he was still her master. “Show me,” he commanded.

Her brow furrowed and her lips pursed. She straightened her posture and stood straight. Her fiery eyes narrowed in concentration and she extended her hands and wings out stiffly. For a long moment, nothing happened. He was afraid she didn’t have the power to make the change. And just like that, it happened. Her form shifted and changed. She hunched over and made a tiny, surprised sound, and then it was over.

Conall ran his eyes over her new form, and his lips quirked in a satisfied smile. “Perfect...” he said.

King's Row
Moon Dancer followed her friends through the streets of Kings Row back to their apartments. Rosemarie and Pipe Hitter were excitedly reliving the day's adventures, but Moon Dancer was thinking about Six-Four. He had joined them for another dinner, and then headed off to his own home. She liked the older hero, even though some of his stories were really sad. He seemed so angry and bitter all the time, though, and that made her sad for him. It was as if something stopped him from seeing the joy the in the world. She wondered if there was a way to teach him to see it again.

She loved Paragon City. It was so different from their hometown. So much activity, some of it was frightening, but Moon Dancer loved that they were helping people. She was just glad that she could help her friends without having to hurt anyone herself.

She looked up into the cloudy night sky of Kings Row and smiled at the moonlight turning the clouds into a pearly glow. It was pretty, and it made even the rough streets of Kings Row seem prettier and magical.

She stopped when she heard a faint noise as they passed an alley. She peered into the darkness. “Hello?” she called. In the dim light of the alleyway, Dancer saw a pale child’s face peer out at her. A little girl, from the blonde pigtails, dressed in a dirty puffed sleeve top and jeans.

The girl sniffled. “I’m lost...” she said, "I'm scared," and then a single sob hitched her chest.

Moon Dancer turned down the alleyway, “Oh, honey...” she exclaimed as she reached her hands out to the little girl.

“Dancer?” she heard Pipe Hitter call out.

“What are you doing?” Rosemarie asked at the same time.

“There's a little girl here. She needs my help,” Moon Dancer answered.

“Wait, Dancer,” Pipe Hitter called out, "Wait for us." but by then, Dancer had reached the little girl in the alley and put her hands out to help the child up.

The pretty, if smudged, face turned up to her and smiled a happy smile. Tiny little hands grasped Dancer’s and the little girl stood. “He says I get to play with you,” the sweet innocent voice said.

“Who says we can play?” Dancer asked.

“My master,” the little girl answered, only, suddenly it wasn’t a little girl, it was a little demon with red skin, horns and wings, and she held Dancer’s hands so tightly that Dancer couldn’t pull away.

Dancer had time to scream only once before the bricks beside her began to swirl and a monster stepped through the wall. It looked like the little demon, but this one was monstrously huge. Dancer let out a shriek of pure terror. She heard Pipe Hitter yell her name, and heard their footsteps racing towards her, but the demon scooped her up like she weighed nothing at all. She pushed ineffectually at his shoulder as he turned back toward the wall. The tiny demon scurried through, and her captor looked back at Pipe Hitter and Rosemarie. “Tell Six-Four that this one is enjoying the company of Conall Cian now,” he said.

Moon Dancer screamed again, utterly lost in terror, and the demon carried her through the portal.

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Oh DAYAM!!! *cringes as the hair on my neck stands up*

$%&@

As soon as Six descends from orbit, there'll be hell to pay.

Well, let's see...

Vir's brother, Seamus, is fading fast, and big brother is all but powerless to help him at the moment.

Sooner Spirit is twisting on a string of cleaverly spun lies from "Rory".

Sooner Magic is wrestling with recent visions of her lost lover Ben, how long before she deduces Ciara's role in his suffering?

Sooner Red is slowly wrapping herself up in a blanket of lies and deception given to her by a traitor, allowing her to deflect dealing with the horror of her family's destiny and her disappointment in Six-four.

Meanwhile, Six finds himself, and three all too inexperienced heroes, in a life and death struggle with one of his oldest and most deadly foes.



The story twists and lifts us higher and higher still...

The Nations vs. The Beast - What role will Conall and Ben end up playing, exactly?

Conall vs. Six - What will become of the fair Moon Dancer, and what role with Trix and possibly Ciara play in it?

Vir and Seamus - How might his brother's condition affect Vir and his role in the coming storm?



These questions/observations are directed to my fellow readers, not for Sooner to answer.
Yes, I'm playing the role of the chorus, if you get my meaning. =)