PERC Presents: Memory Lane

I looked at the final bar of XP waiting for it to fill. I was so nervous yet excited for what was about to happen. The anticipation was taking over me. Ding! I sat there, staring at the fireworks bursting colorfully out of my hero. I finally made it, filled with joy, I looked at the green arrow fading in and out in the circle of experience. All the hard work I had done to accomplish such a great thing. I made it. I hit the mission exit button, waiting for my zone to load I think of the great things I had done to have gotten this far. All the enemies I have defeated, the people I've saved. I walk out of the mission and go towards the Trainer. Looking at all the people nearby makes me feel great. I talk the trainer and pick my power, a new power to help me kill my greatest foes. I will never forget that day. The day that I had gotten to.... Experience level two.

My teammates and I (Patty-Sue Ivanova, a Mind/Kin Controller) were sent by Portal Corp to investigate a dimension over-run with psychic clockwork. The team had two tanks; one Invulnerable, one Fire-armor. Neither had any protection against the Clox psychic assaults, but they still fared well... until we came upon the Clockwork King!

He took the tanks down in scant moments, then went after the empath before she could resurrect them. A psychic shockwave sent more of my team retreating before they, too, fell. Without hesitation, I dove in, determined to save the rest of my team and give them time to regroup. Popping Indomitable Will and a few inspirations, I brushed aside the Clockwork King's attacks, either through dodging or healing. I used Mass Confusion to turn his summoned allies against him. And finally, just as my IW faded, his mez protection also dropped, allowing me to hold him so that my team -having recovered but were content to sit back and watch me work- could finally jump in and defeat him once and for all.

So yes, I tanked an AV. With a petless Controller. I've never felt more powerful before or since!

This is a slight dramatization of actual events:



The great steel whale rose from the depths of the sea, its blowhole opening with a metallic squeak, and from out of its depths Tardust flew forth, tank-topped, leather-pantsed and grinning like a maniac. Landing on the shore, he let out an enthusiastic albeit completely incomprehensible cry, surfing across the ground on a glowing purple cloud.

Cresting the hill, he saw the destination of his journey: The Elfin Kingdom. Great towering beasts of rock candy and hemp stood watch at its borders as the elves danced and played within. Their celebration would soon come to an end, however, for they had to pay for their crimes.

Oh yes, Tardust thought. They would pay.

One of the outlying elves spotted him, hopped towards Tardust with the intent to hug. Tardust greeted him by punching him out of the air, sending him flying towards his friends. Enraged, the diminutive hordes advanced, and soon he found himself locked in mortal combat with with nothing but his bare fists to defend himself against the tiny army.

For each he struck down another rose to take its place, clawing and flailing. Their numbers seemed as endless as their anger, and he found his strength waning. Retreat was unthinkable, however; it was vengeance or death, and when he spotted another squad of reinforcements streaming out of the barracks towards him, it was then that he knew what he had to do.

From deep within himself, Tardust called up the spirit of Jorgumand, the Great Serpent, and let spew from his mouth a wave of candy and rainbows and smiling shrimp and shimmering fish swimming through the air. The wave splashed upon the hordes, and they shrieked as they quickly began to melt into puddles on the ground. Fearful of his power, the survivors' ranks faltered before breaking entirely. The world around him exploded into lights and stars and comets as the elves fled in terror and Tardust fell to his knees, fists raised to heaven as the world cheered for him and his victory.

---

Meanwhile, in another part of Monster Island not under the effects of mind-altering drugs, two heroes on patrol were taking a short break in an attempt to rationalize what they had just seen.

"...did he just hit threat level fifty by throwing up on a monkey?"

"I would like to say 'yes,'" his friend said, "but that would mean acknowledging that it just happened."

"Oh. Do you think we should arrest him? Because, you know..."

"Are you kidding? I think I'm getting a contact high just by watching him."



Truth is always stranger than fiction. Except for the parts that people make up.

So there I was. True story. It happened exactly as I'm gonna write it. The following is a combination of sadness, euphoria and triumph.
Only one life was hurt in the process of this story, and no. It wasn't me.

i13 (Sadness). It came. It saw. It conq...It killed. But hey, how bad could it really be? I pvp'd before it. I certainly didn't think it would be very different from the previous incarnation, even though on test...I hated it. No. Hate isn't a strong enough word for i13 pvp. It was the most repugnant feeling I have ever had with this game (which I really love btw ). There we go. Anywho. I didn't feel like going into a zone to try and like it, so I decided to try arena, which I hadn't done on test. But who was I gonna fight?

I should say before I mention said defeated foe, that I was a casual at best pvp'r, but had fun. I thought it was exciting. I usually played my on weak *** rad/therm or my fairly decent mind/storm troller. Had more success with the troller so that's what I decided to use. Anywho again. I had recently rejoined my very 1st SG, Omega Sector and decided to try someone from there thinking that if I lost, it wouldn't be too embarrassing. But who would answer the call? Now, memory fades a bit at this part, but I do believe I answered the call, before I could ask. Memory also fades on what my opponent's power sets were, but I think said person was an Emp/. Who is this mystery caller/dead person you ask? None other than PHILLY GIRL!!! Duh duh duh daaaaah!!!

I wasn't sure how this was gonna work out since I saw here in zone and arena alot more than I ever was (we were/are global buddies). But. I was randy for a chance at ahem...nailing her b*** to the wall...My troller is a fem too so it was girl o* girl. Nice. Very nice. Hawt. Anywhox3. We started. There was the initial "feeling each other out" (Euphoria) process. Then when I realized that she had difficulty breaking through my cane wind, I knew she was done. Spamming "Dominateher" also proved to be advantageous. Then there was my app of fire. I had the shield which gave me s/l res of 66% I believe. Golden. I "nailed" her for 10 straight gratifying minutes and afterwards felt like I needed a cigarette even though I didn't smoke (Triumph). Needless to say dominating Philly's pixalated image was a close to a buddy ****..well, I'd better not finish this sentence. This is a PG environment after all right? And that's my trip down Chasey Lane.

Okay so I downloaded coh wasn't sure what to expect. I mean it looked okay on april 18 i made my first toon i did nt fall in love till 6 levels later ia friend asked me to join coh but I was in another mmorpg! 10 hair pulls later ichose my server
VirtueI chose scienceBlasterI chose fire EnergyMale 5 7SlimSurfer hairTightsRed n yellow comet chestDark skinBulge in pantsNo cape!!!!!!! Wtf o level20Okay name
Cienfuegos ( after Cuban part of island)Okay tutorialOkay street sweepYay level2Yay 3O diedO diedWhat a sg? No thanksWhat's influence?Okay level 6...I choose hover!Okay I'm up! Sokol low! Wait how do I get down! Omg I'm gonna die
O wait this is soooi coool!Yay!And in seven years I stayed and flying is still my favorite thing to do. Not sure if 150 words and a lot of typos and grammar errors but hey its the puppeh!

This happened while running the missions for Ghost Widow on my favorite character, Arsenic Widow. Our group was up to the mission where you get to trap Numina, and then have to fight her. Just as a joke I told the group to stand back while I try to fight Numina solo (just to see if I could).

Halfway into the fight, I realised that I was tearing through her health bar, and she was barely scratching me, so I was having a bit of fun with it. Both of us were running all over the room throwing psyionic attacks at each other, but the fight was entirely one sided (for me). Finally she drops, and I start celebrating, I believe it went something like this...

"Hah! I win! She couldnt even hurt me. Guys? um..."

Didnt know it before the fight, that Numina calls in reinforcements every time you knock off 25% of her health. So, as Numina drops, I turn to the group, and finally noticed they were all dead in the hallway before that room, with an army of Longbow standing on them. Yeah, my bad...

Popped all the reds I had, charged into the Longbow group and fired off Psychic Wail (AKA "Delete All Minions"), which cleared out most of them. Then went tearing through the remaining enemies.

Really made my character seem powerful taking on Numina by myself, and then the massive group of Longbow afterwards, without much of a problem.

EDIT: Added image below of Arsenic.

I was doing a Manticore TF with a PUG, and I thought I was doing pretty well. This was about one year and 30 levels into my career with Modern Samurai, as I recall, and I'd finally gotten the quick heal/quick recovery powers for both Regeneration as well as Fitness (this was several years ago, mind!) slotted to four SOs, so at the time the net effect was, while soloing, at least three-quarters of the time my health and endurance bars pretty much did. Not. Move.

Needless to say, when jumping into a TF with a full group, running at +3 levels, I'd discovered how much that didn't hold true for these particular circumstances. And then the team got to That One Room in That One Mission where it was wall-to-wall baddies. (Or seemed like it. You know how it can go.) After some brief strategic discussion, our tanks attempted to pull a handful of them out so we could mitigate the chances of our getting bum-rushed by the whole room. Needless to say, it Did Not Go Well.

The wave came at us, and I, figuring I had nothing to lose, started trying to slash my way to the doorway, figuring maybe I could, maybe, cause them to bottle themselves up at the doorway. I didn't get much forward progress, but I kept dropping mooks, and slowly, oh... so... slowly... I carved my way through them, popping basically every inspiration I had to keep myself on my feet, plus most of the ones I picked up. Finally, the last guy dropped, and I turned around to see the rest of my team... either just coming back from the hospital or being rezzed on-site. I was the only one that hadn't gotten dropped, and I felt like an utter badass.

May 23, 2002, near midnight

"Got a light?"

Officer Trey Mercer slipped his attention away from the structural integrity of the sewer, to fixate on the fine tremor running through the cigarette in the man's hand. "Sure that's a good idea down here?"

The man gave a nervous laugh, verging on hysterics. "I've been trying to quit these things. It looks like I chose a really bad time." He coughed a little, gagging at the aroma filtering up from the fetid water around them.

Trey's reassuring half-grin briefly flashed in the wan illumination of the maglite, though his heart thudded fast and sharp. "Sorry, no matches, but...." He was cut off by a dull, echoing boom sounding just outside the Skyway City sewer. Someone in one corner of the entry shrieked, then whimpered. More booms followed, and a fine stone dust showered from the curved walls of the sewer.

The PPD patrol officer grimaced at the impacts. The unknown invaders had been bombing scattershot for the past four hours, their troops descending from their lurid red portals en masse to systematically destroy the city. His radio had been dead for about as long. Paragon's heroes had arrayed themselves against the foes, leaving public servants like him to do the best they could to serve and protect, which to him meant finding those alive and bringing them to relative safety, trying to treat those he found wounded... and recovering the dead. He tried not to look around the corner to the metal catwalks, where a few bodies had already been laid out.

"I'm thirsty, Momma," a child whined quietly. A woman made a few comforting noises, the sound having a strained edge. Trey glanced back at the voices, but couldn't see past the glare of the maglite between them.

He huffed a quiet breath to calm himself, running a hand through his short, unruly black hair. "'ll go see about getting us some clean water. Maybe a few other things." Tugging on his scuffed leather uniform jacket, he snatched up the metal handle he'd been using to lever the sewer entry open. He swallowed past the metallic tang of fear in the back of his throat, trying to keep his voice and posture steady as his eyes flicked back to the man with the cigarette. "Close this when I'm through. Back ASAP. I'll knock. 'Shave and a haircut', eh?"

The narrow, jagged end of the handle slid easily between the grate and the pipe. He grunted, easing the entry open just wide enough for him to squeeze through. With one final backward glance and a grim nod to the refugees huddled in the gloom, Trey steeled himself, checked his sidearm, and slipped out into the ruins of Skyway.

(For my character Tarosvan/Calawesa/Seven - The Chariot, Virtue Server, primary globalname @Morvani)

(This is a fictionalization of the roleplay that took one of my main characters from hero to vigilante, a career move from which the character has never fully recovered, even though he has returned to the path of a hero, albeit with a much darker soul. The story itself, sans title, clocks in at just shy of 600 words. I'm chatty.)


Over the Edge

Nat Prudeau was early to dinner with his mother and sister, who was in town from college. He knocked on the door of his mom’s Atlas Park apartment and was both surprised and alarmed to see the door swing open at his touch. He cautiously but quickly stepped inside, being careful not to make himself a target to would-be attackers.

It was in the kitchen that he found them, bloody and mutilated almost beyond recognition. The house was terrifyingly untouched otherwise. Nothing had been overturned, nothing had been searched through. Whoever did this came in for one reason, and one reason only – to kill the inhabitants of the house.

The only clue was a piece of paper that had been left in a pool of blood on the counter and had somehow slid off, so that it was hanging precariously on the edge, kept in place by the tacky, drying blood. He reached for it, thought better of it to preserve evidence for the police, and crouched so he could possibly read what was written on it. There, at a jaunty angle, upside down, were the following words:

“Psychotical: This was a warning, hero. There will be others.”

Nat called the police, filed his report, politely declined the offer of a grief counselor, and asked if he was free to leave. The police let him go, and he walked out in the muggy August evening toward the train station, his mind abuzz with the plans that he would have to make.

Calls to friends, distant relatives, his work followed. Days of funeral preparation took up his time. A week passed, during which the perfunctory ceremonial goodbyes had passed and the well-wishers had thinned out. He felt it was finally safe to move forward with the next stage in his life.

He went to the nightclub to pick up the package from a contact that he had met there previously – no questions asked, as promised. He got the package back to where he was staying – he couldn’t bring himself to go home for more than a few minutes since the murders – and checked its contents: tactical armor, supplies, disguise, falsified paperwork and palmprint, keys to a safe house, currency for the tiny nation he was about to visit. He packed the bloody piece of paper he lifted from the crime scene in with his care package, then made sure things were in order at home before locking things up for an extended vacation. On his way back to the nightclub to arrange passage, he dropped his enormous tabby cat Leo off with a friend for safe keeping. He said he was going out of town for a while to clear his head. Well, that was a partial truth, at least.

Back at the nightclub, he slipped into the washroom, changed into his new disguise, affixed the latex palmprint he paid a fortune for, and headed to the rose-tinted elevator door. He placed his doctored hand on the scanner while holding his breath. It all hinged on whether this worked, he thought. After a moment, there was a soft beep, and the doors slid open. He stepped inside, went through the elevator and antechamber, and stepped for the first time on his own into the musty air of the Rogue Isles, bloody revenge on his mind, all thoughts of doing well long gone.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

At that moment, a special, encrypted phone rang at Nat’s apartment. The machine silently picked up.

“You’ve reached Psychotical’s secure voicemail. Sorry I can’t come to the phone right now …”

-- a true enough story, only the names of the characters who aren't Hephaestus 1 have been changed to protect the innocent

So, a police cyborg, a martial artist and a katana-wielding guitarist walk into a Council-infested base. Hephaestus 1 had just gotten promoted from fighting exploding zombie backpackers and other horrors of Dr. Vahzlok's undead army and right into defeating a horde of fascists from outer space. Thankfully this time they were just using robots: a crowd of hastily-repainted Mek Men and Warcry stood at the intersection between two tunnels. He walked up nonchalantly to his two teammates, Ms. F and Izzy. He'd only been in Paragon City since Christmas of 2004, but now a few months later he'd been tasked to fight some of the more persistent enemies of the peace.

"What have we got?" Hephaestus 1 asked.

"Well, Heph," Ms. F said, "There's an excessive amount of robots blocking our way to get to Archon Vermetti."

"Verducci," Izzy said.

"Gesundheit!" Hephaestus 1 cheerfully replied to Izzy. Izzy just gave Heph a "you did not just say that" stare.

"What?" the big blue cyborg asked.

Ms. F shook her head. "Anyway, there looks to be about 20 of them in there. The odds aren't in our favor."

"I can sneak past them, but then I won't have any backup," Izzy said. "Besides, this katana isn't doing me a lot of good against robots."

Hephaestus 1 scratched the side of his metallic head. "Got it. I'll go negotiate. They're machines made by science. Science uses logic. Logic is used to form arguments. Arguments should work, then, against these machines. So I'll reason with them. Since I look like a robot, I should be able to at least get a neutral reaction from them. To show my goodwill I'll even speak to them in their native tongue, binary!"

"You can do that?" Ms. F asked incredulously.

"The people who built my cybernetic body put a bunch of useful software in with the operating system, a converter is one of them," Hephaestus 1 said. "Back in a sec."

Ms. F and Izzy shrugged and hunkered down, hoping for the best. Hephaestus 1 strolled to the awaiting horde of laser-armed robots.

"Greetings, my mechanical friends!" Hephaestus 1 said with a smile in his voice. "0100110101101001011011100110010000100000011011000 11001010111010001110100011010010110111001100111001 00000011101010111001100100000011101000110100001110 0100110111101110101011001110110100000111111"

The robots stared and the whine of lasers being charged up could be heard.

Moments later, gunfire and explosions could be heard as a now-singed Hephaestus 1 ran back to his teammates.

"Run!" he shouted. "It didn't work! The robots are chasing me!"

Ms. F and Izzy scrambled after their big blue partner. "I thought you could reason with them," Izzy said.

"It turns out they didn't like my accent!" Hephaestus 1 said as the team retreated to a more defensible position. "Who knew that creatures of pure, cold logic could be set off by an accent?"

"Accent?" Ms. F said as she turned a corner.

"They're robotic bigots! They said my cyborg accent was insulting!" Heph said.

The trio continued running, lasers flying in their general direction.

(This story stands out because since Pheo tends to be gruff, annoying and a little hardened from his years as an operative before his powers manifested... this very short piece shows that through all of that, there are things that still matter to him and deeply affect him emotionally)

Birthday

Dante "DJ Pheonyx" Andersen walked through the streets of Atlas Park, the sun setting on Christmas Eve. He had his hands in his pockets as a chilly wind blew between the buildings.

Dante sighed as the sun set and the stars started to shine... this day brought back a lot of memories, and it always unnerved him. He needed to get away from the crowds of shoppers and heroes getting their last minute gifts, so he activated his battle armor, the piston boots airing up in preparation of an extended upward leap. He activated the boots and they launched him skyward. After several leaps, he landed on the roof of one of the tallest buildings and powered down the armor, shifting back to his normal attire of black t-shirt with a picture of a phoenix, leather jacket and jeans with Doc Martens on his feet.

He moved to the edge of the building, looking to see the stars starting to twinkle above the statue of Atlas in front of City Hall. He sat down on the edge of the building when his cell phone rang. He promptly answered, "Hello?"

"Hi Dad... it's Emmy. Just wondering when we'll be heading over to Jaiden's for Christmas tomorrow." The voice on the phone stated.

Dante smiled at hearing the voice of his daughter from a different dimension and timeline. "Hey Emmy... I'll give you a call tomorrow when I am awake and have some coffee in me, okay? There's something I have to take care of tonight, so I will talk to you later." Dante cut the phone call short and looked out into the starry sky once again. After a long pause, a single tear slid down his left cheek as he stood up again, and before he activated his armor once again to bound towards his home he said something so softly that even someone standing next to him wouldn't have heard it, yet he hoped that the person it was intended for heard it all the way up in Heaven:

"Happy birthday, Dad."

(This story is about my character Sultry Siren and how she freed her city in a previous incarnation. I how you enjoy!)

Her bare feet moved silently against the marble of the temple floor. Slipping out into the shadows, the midnight blue cloak hid her shining white hair from the peering eyes of the moon.

He had inexpertly plied her for information, thinking she was some addle pated temple maid. She had flirtatiously agreed to this nocturnal meeting, but she selected the docks where the lapping water would mask her approach. She slid quiet as death through the dark until she was directly behind him, his hidden form crouching watchfully for her. His naked blade gleamed in the moonlight, the muscles of his bared back bunched to strike. An angry smile slid across her lips and she pulled the small serpentine dagger from her belt. She placed the wickedly sharp curves of the blade to his neck, her fingers twining tightly in his hair, jerking his head back to stare at the stars. She kicked at the pommel of his sword, connecting sharply with his wrist. The blade clattered away and a surprised cry escaped his lips.

"So." Her voice dripped venomously. "Did you really think my mistress would look kindly upon this treachery?"

"No..." he strained.

"Speak."

His tongue was loosed. General Valerian thought the temple was thwarting his control over the populace. A death or two of a temple girl would put them at his door begging for protection.

She bristled and the knife dug in further, cutting several small nicks, the blood running in tiny rivulets down his clammy neck. "Know you this, Roman" She spat his nationality as an invective. "Unlike -your- priestesses whom you take against their will, we do NOT do such things here.” Her voice turned icy and hard. "I should kill you."

He rasped "And if you do, little priestess, he will descend with such fury, no one will be left alive to know the tale."

She laughed, raising the hair on the nape of his neck "I said 'should', spymaster."

He gasped at her discovery as she suddenly released him and sent him sprawling with a kick between the shoulder blades. She ran for the open space along the quai before throwing back her cloak and rending her dress with the knife, exposing herself. He scrambled for his sword with a curse and charged after her.

Then she screamed. It reverberated off the stone walls and along the waterfront, small lamps began to light.

He skittered to a stop in front of her, confused.

Behind her, people exited their homes in various states of undress with a myriad of weapons. She offered him one final smirk and turned her back on him, despite his carried blade. The townspeople gasped as the moonlight illuminated her disheveled gown.

"Hear me! See what this Roman has done to one of Demeter's own!" Her voice echoed thunderously.

The crowd, tired of the growing pressure for more tribute, more foodstuffs, more everything from the encampment, rose up with an offended cry. A familiar shape strode past her, quickly followed by a truncated scream. She did not stay to watch, but walked into the shadows.

The ring of weapons was short, what with the legion caught sleeping and unawares. A messenger would be sent back to tell how they were slaughtered by the Gods themselves in the night for their trespass.

She had nearly drifted back to sleep when he slid onto the pallet beside her. She smiled in the dark "You are up late."

She heard the grin in his voice as he leaned down to nuzzle her neck "Just a little trouble at the dock, nothing more."

Brass Bombshell played by @Pretty Hate

The blonde girl tapped on the heavy wooden door tentatively. “Dad?” No answer. She knocked again, harder this time. A crash sounded and she cringed as footsteps moved towards her.

“One second dear!” Her father's voice was calm as he moved things out of the way to get access to the entrance. The door opened and he smiled kindly at his only child. “I'm sorry Victoria darling, I've been in here a long time again, haven't I?”

Victoria nodded, scuffing her running shoes against each other. “That's ok, daddy, I understand.” She was tall for her age, all long arms and legs like a colt. Fidgeting made it more obvious. “I know you don't like to be interrupted, but I...” Her mouth went dry and she tucked her hands behind her back. “I fixed something, sorta...” More nervous movement. “Can you... I mean... Do you mind...” She stopped talking and looked down, letting her long hair fall in front of her face.

“Of course I'll have a look!” Her father excitedly wiped his hands on the tough leather apron that he donned for creating his inventions. Backing up, he gestured for her to follow him into his workshop, a cluttered mess of half-finished, forgotten creations and miscellaneous items. Every available surface was covered in bits of things, gears, tools, scribbled notes and detritus. Once in a while she tried to tidy up, but it was mostly an excuse to explore. Since her mother passed away, this space had grown increasingly chaotic, albeit making sense to the man that worked here. Victoria carefully picked her way through, making sure to not touch anything, though her eyes drank in each detail that had changed since she was last inside. He guided her towards the main work area and pulled up a stool, quickly clearing debris off of it. “Now, let me see.”

Victoria carefully handed over the precious package, warm from being held, and sat down. A small music box, made by her father for her mother before she was born. The lid hadn't worked properly in years, and there was a loose gear inside, but he was never allowed to fix it because she didn't want him to make any of his improvements. “I don't need this to be made fancy.” She would say, gently taking it from his hands. “I love it the way it is. Don't. Touch. It.” The humour in her words took the edge off, but he knew better than to push it.

Her father put the box down on the table and pulled over a magnifying glass. His eyes went wide. “It's... perfect. Exactly the way it was before.. Except.. ” The young girl kept her hands nervously in her lap as he inspected it further, opening it to see the gears inside as quiet strains of Somewhere Over the Rainbow drifted out. “Oh my, I never thought of that..” He looked at her with new appreciation. “She always said you had my mind, even though you are her spitting image. I suppose I should have listened.” Handing the music box back, he leaned forward to clasp her shoulder. “Victoria, my dear. You are going to be my new assistant.”




2011-04-30 16:17:54 by damianamae, on Flickr

(( This is an older story, bit it was inspired when DJ Shecky did his first ever RPVP show. I'm not a PVP, but it was great to get to use my villian Vorn in a way I rarely get to and it ment alot to me. Plus it was alot of fun. ))

We interrupt your regularly scheduled program for this important news report.

Hello Paragon City, this is Parker Kent of Paragon City News. It has come to my attention that last night was not as quiet of a night as we all expected. Information has come to my attention that, less than 24 hours ago, Bloody Bay saw a very brutal and bloody battle.

I know what you’re thinking; big deal, Bloody Bay is famous for its battles, meteor troubles and the occasional shivan. This is different. What started out as a simple skirmish turned into a full-scale battle.

My sources have told me that DJ Shecky of the Infamous CAPE Radio was hosting a show that turned into an all out war. According to reports, several famous heroes were seen during the events, but we have no confirmation and the city officials aren't talking. Go figure.

What we do know is this: A madman known as Vorn seemed to be leading the villains at some point in this battle. This is the same madman who several months ago tried to launch a campaign against the city using stolen Ritki tech.


Wait... This just in, folks, we have footage from one of the battles. It appears at one point this Vorn challenged DJ Shecky to a duel. It appears during the battle this Vorn attacked a young woman named Lydia Chapman. We don't know the details, but we have footage. We warn you this might not be suitable for children.

*From a shaky camera you see footage of Vorn and Shecky battling it out, each combatant giving it their all. The battle rages on for several minutes as you see them both take everything the other has to dish out. Tired and exhausted, you notice both combatants growing tired as Vorn manages to bring his fists down on Shecky, dropping him to the ground. Before Vorn has a chance to unleash the killing blow he's struck from behind by a group of heroes led by Lydia Chapman. The video cuts off there.*

We are still trying to identify everyone involved but it appears there were no known casualties. We do know that this was not the first, nor was it the last time that night those two would battle. According to sources this went on for several hours. Reports claim that someone else calling himself Vorn lead a final attack against the heroes, his army pushing them back before it was over. The only problem is this Vorn appeared to be human. Are they the same man? We don't know at this time, but we will!
Paragon City didn't want you to know about this battle but we here at the station feel you need to know. A war is being fought and heroes and villains alike are risking their lives. We will continue to keep you updated.

This is Parker Kent returning you to your regular scheduled programming.
　
*From the shadows, a figure sits, his eyes glowing red as he smiles. You cannot see who he is, but he is pleased. In his hands are several locks of blonde hair.*

People say that no one walks away from the Knives of Artemis, that if they decide to go, they leave in a body bag. Riot Red's out to prove them wrong. Again.

Dressed in clothes she hasn't worn in seven years, Red shorts the base's security system, then enters through a side door. She gave up sneaky when she took a Hero's License, but today isn't the day to bring the whole building down on her. She picks her battles until conversation catches her attention: Sister Phoebe gloating over Jocasta, Jocasta's retorts. Red slips into the room.

Phoebe stops mid-sentence when Red steps out of the shadows and Jocasta's eyes go wide. "You got my message." Jocasta's voice holds a hint of relief.

Phoebe turns and looks at Red. "You're helping a vicious woman."

Red laughs. "I am a vicious woman."

A sharp gesture from Phoebe brings a squad of Knives running into the room. "Deal with her."

#

Phoebe and her backup lay on the floor. Breathing hard, sweat trickling down her spine, Red crouches in front of Jocasta and unfastens the mercenary's cuffs.

Jocasta rubs a wrist. "You're pretty good at that."

"Mmhmm. I'm better at putting them on." Red tries to read Jocasta's expression, but she gives nothing away.

Jocasta looks over Red's shoulder. "Company." She picks up Phoebe's sword and throwing knives.

Riot Red turns, side-steps Silent Blade's katana, smiles. "You hanging with these lovely ladies for business or pleasure?"

Silent Blade doesn't rise to the bait. "Business. Her, then you, Riot Red."

"You should really play more." As Silent Blade turns to Jocasta, Red drops down and lands a fist to the back of her knee. "And never turn your back on me."

Static hiss from the security system precedes the tell-tale sounds of incoming Knives. Red glances at Silent Blade, on the floor clutching her leg. "How many in the base?" Red asks, kicking Silent Blade's katana away.

"More than enough," Jocasta says.

Red raises an eyebrow. "That a challenge?"

"Definitely not. Let's get out of here."

#

Jocasta stops a corridor's length behind Red, panting. "Having second thoughts about our arrangement?"

Red pauses at the stairwell, looks back. "You having second thoughts about that love letter?"

That actually brings a smile to Jocasta's face. "No."

"Then hurry up."

#

Outside, Red leads Jocasta to her motorcycle, then holds out her hand. "Knives and sword." Jocasta hands over the blades reluctantly. Red tosses them aside, then throws Jocasta the helmet. "Get on and hold on."

Jocasta presses against Red's back, arms around her waist. The helmet is awkward between Red's shoulderblades and she's still not convinced that this isn't a plot to take her out.

Red flips on her Bluetooth comm. "How do the Knives know that Melissa Taylor is Riot Red?"

There's a long silence.

"You are having second thoughts about that love letter."

The helmet shifts against Red's back as Jocasta shakes her head. Finally she says, "They don't."

Red almost pulls the motorcycle over. "How do you know?"

"Latch." Such a matter-of-fact answer.

Red hasn't heard that name in years. "Latch?"

"When we were... He said..." Jocasta sighs. "He knew I was getting in over my head, told me how to get your attention."

Who else might he have told? "I'm going to kill him."

"Please don't."

Red pulls up to the gate of a Longbow base. "Ride's over."

Jocasta gets off the bike and hands Red the helmet. "Walking me to the door?" She looks at the entrance, then back at Red.

"Whatever you do from here is up to you."

The Player Event Resource Committee would like to thank all those who participated in "Memory Lane." We will do our best to get the winners announced in a timely fashion, and we thank you in advance for your patience as there are many entries to read and score! We had a wonderful time designing this contest and watching so many different styles of entries pop up. We hope you enjoyed this contest!

If you have any ideas for future contests, events, etc. please do not hesitate to contact a PERC Representative.

XD I like the first guys.