DeviousMe

OOC:

Not orders - though Scirocco may be the de facto big cheese of Arachnos until Recluse gets back, he still thinks of himself as just the go-to guy for things the Arbiters can't handle.

As for the message:

[ QUOTE ]
"Something's really getting to them over there." she went on with the last she'd heard, "Everyone with mental powers is dead in the water, and apparently there's a movie monster eating people. They think it might be some mutated from of Hydra."

[/ QUOTE ]
[ QUOTE ]
"Get a message to Tamesis." he told the communications operator, "He is to proceed to the airfield as soon as possible to correct this situation. Give him any aid he desires. If he cannot, inform our carrier in Independence Port to launch a flight."

[/ QUOTE ]
As for the situation there, some schmuck in the C&C center just got nabbed, so the rest are pointing guns at the ceiling.

Hey, it's a thread about philosophy. Where more appropriate to ponder the fate of humanity?

And sorry Dogma, but since I spend 0 time being "an unevolved, parasitic, ignorant and arrogant mammal with an overdeveloped superiority complex that destroys its surroundings and spends the majority of its time thinking of new and ever more creative ways to kill others of its species", I'm afraid I cannot partition any time to convert to BWERP.

Though it does make me wonder, what is BWERP anyway? Beware Warflies Eating Random People?

Now then, back to the point:

[ QUOTE ]
From what I've seen humans are much too elastic in how they respond to things. Elastic in that they will keep going till either they have to snap back, or something breaks and it all goes to hell.

[/ QUOTE ]
That's all well and good, but it doesn't really answer my question. Where do you think humanity will head off to, assuming only local context? That something will happen is quite clear, but I asked more what you think said something is. Sorry if my wording didn't get that across the first time. I know for a fact that my English isn't as good as that of a native speaker.

Hm, seems the existentialism discussion isn't coming back. So I think I'll hijack this thread and fly it somewhere else for a while.

So, there have been a few recent arguments about the place of humans on these boards, and thanks to a certain movie coincidentally being found and watched a little while ago, the discussion of course started up again between my crew and those of a different division.

As expected, it of course went nowhere. But that's not really relevant. What is was of course a part of me trailing down a different route yet again, specifically to the topic of what local significance the consequences of this little quote have:

YOU

ARE

VIRUS

And while this conclusion has surfaced many a time over the years, it seems that most people don't grasp that a species with viral behavior will of course have a destructive effect on its surroundings.

Now, I don't think that a discussion of 'humanity = virus?' has any merit, as the answer's fairly obvious. What is of importance, at least in my opinion, are the consequences arising from this behavior, as well as the choices not yet made. Long story short, referring only to a local context, and holding all outside variables to be constant for the duration, what do you think should be done with humanity?

Basically, do you think humans can achieve equilibrium with their environment again? Or would everything just be better off without them? Better yet, is there another option? Could this behavior be a part of some greater plan? What do you think?

((Actually, Project might very be waiting for you there. His character is fighting Enropy's and yours at the same time, after all. ))

"Contact: n-d energy."

Ken's hooded head swept around at the report, the veiled saurian's gaze wandering to the sensor station. It didn't look much different from any other console in the trapezoidal bridge; a standard touchscreen terminal that allowed direct interaction with its large display monitors, blending nominally to the same blue-gray terconium structure of the floor and walls.

The ceiling held an obtuse slant, sloping downward above the boundary that separated the two tiers of the bridge, a panoramascreen taking the place of the standard armor plating there. A few steps led down to the lower tier both at port and starboard, and a slim railing complete with more command terminals in turn seamlessly swept along said guardrail, just as they did at the other walls - with the exception of the 'narrow' head, of course.

"Position?" Ken wanted to know, already suspecting a linear departure. Luckily, this was of course not so, and to his great relief - the shadow tracker was supposedly one of the few things that hadn't been in need of repairs at the beginning of this whole mess.

"How interesting." came the audible smile from beneath his hood. It seemed these primitives weren't as inexperienced as he'd initially thought; then again, there didn't seem to be much control there. He'd need a closer look, "Dispatch a fire team. Observation procedure Seyga..."

Weaver Airfield

With a thunderous roar, a vicious explosion rocked the command and control center. But it hadn't been a bomb, nor any other sort of device even resembling an explosive.

"Aaaaaauuuuggggghhhh!" the base commander cried in frustration upon realizing the monitor his helmet had just smashed in twain would now have to be replaced as well, "I can't take this anymore! What in devil's name is going on here?!"

The staff about knew better than to interrupt their superior's fit. With any luck, it'd blow over quickly, before any of them made a noise that drew his attention.

Fat chance.

"Bjoernson!" the Huntsman bellowed in outrage at the clang of metal, his body whipping about to the man's station in a fury, "What...?!"

Against all expectations, the commander's voice suddenly grew silent. There was no Bjoernson. Not anymore, at least.

"Weapons." the Huntsman ordered with hard tone, his gaze slowly traveling to the vent cover above the unfortunate man's station; correction: the missing vent cover.

The Huntsman swore. He'd sent that message to the Fortress minutes ago! Why wasn't anyone responding already...?!

--------------------

With nobody answering, Groul and Danger departed the cafeteria in short order. There was work to be done. And true to their word, roughly ten seconds later, Danger's dark suit went up in smoke - almost literally.

The self-destruct sequence simply disintegrated the armor, leaving behind nothing but a mostly transparent cloud of greenish gas, which in turn traveled to the exhaust vents with speed. Even before it had reached them, however, the stuff had already dissipated into the air.

The same process disposed of Groul's battle-scarred armorsuit as the two passed it by the entryway once more, the towering draconian being carrying the diminutive Specialist upon his right shoulder, Danger holding the strap that secured Groul's heavy sword against his crimson scales.

"What an odd collection of people." the Specialist remarked after they'd left the final door behind them, the Field Commander trudging through a half-ruined subterranean parking garage, the claws of his sizeable feet crunching over rubble and debris, "I say we leave before they tick their planet off enough."

Groul only shrugged, the sudden motion of his shoulders eliciting a growl from Danger, "Hey, watch it, muscle head!"

"Sorry," the draconian creature chuckled with a toothy grin, "I'm a bit distracted."

"Aren't we all?" sighed the Specialist, "Don't worry - soon as Ki and I make sure Mr. Kaboom is alright, I'll head right over to the carrier. Acceptable?"

"Acceptable." Groul gave a nod as they emerged on the surface, the ATC already in view...

Sorry to be the bearer of bad news then, but you'll likely be waiting a long time. That 'secret' there - it's a fake.

Yar. This be a very enjoyable read.

"I hate bureaucracy." the inspector grumbled, taking the sonic cannon back to the armory, "Need a more streamlined system."

To add insult to injury, it was at that moment a certain message came over the Bane Spider's comm. link, complete with instructions to deliver to Tamesis posthaste.

"Eh, whatever." the inspector sighed, turning to walk back to the gathered Arbiters, "So long as we get to hurt people, I guess it's all good."

And completing his murmured monologue, he set about to deliver Scirocco's message...

"Well, this can't be good." Groul remarked to his diminutive comrade, looking to the Specialist for a second opinion, "No response. Think he ran into something?"

"I'd say it's likely." Danger answered with thought, placing a pair of fingers to his ear, but this time remaining at English, "Specialist Danger to the Dark Dragon - permission to pursue Energon X and intervene if necessary."

"Permission granted." came the prompt reply, "But try not to delay long. I'm sending over Fi once you're outside. I'm assuming your dark suits took enough of a beating to be rendered non-factors?"

"Essentially."

"You know what to do then."

"Of course, Chief. Danger out."

The Specialist then turned to his red-scaled compatriot, the towering draconian of course having heard the same, "You good with taking the carrier by yourself?"

"If worse comes to worse, I'll call for backup." Groul smiled toothily, "You know me."

"Precisely what I'm worried about." Danger smirked in a superior manner, walking back to the armorsuit he'd left at the edge of the table, "No repeats of that last Shade, Mr. Muscle Head."

"I'll be careful, mother." Groul chuckled, "Want a lift to the door?"

"I sure won't say no." the Specialist replied, climbing back into the exosuit for a few seconds, his tiny fingers tapping something into its systems.

TIME - 00:11:82

"Don't forget to hit yours too." Danger reminded the red-scaled being as he climbed into the palm of Groul's ready hand, "No sense in leaving any loose ends we'd have to come back for later."

"I'll punch in the destruct sequence on our way out." the draconian assured his associate as he placed the tiny blue man upon his left shoulder. He then turned to Wolffe and the others assembled, showing them the communications device in his claws, "Offer's still open if any of you change your mind. Oh, and don't stand near that suit when it goes. It'll smell awful..."

((Actually, you'd probably be surprised at the sheer versatility of plasma physcis so long as the proper application fo directed force is present. ))

Scirocco did just so, boarding the lead Flyer of the quartet he'd traveled to the Fortress with.

"Status of our air cover?" he inquired of the pilot, once more running through his strategy.

"Twitchy." the aviation specialist retorted calmly, having contacted the airport not a few minutes ago.

"Something's really getting to them over there." she went on with the last she'd heard, "Everyone with mental powers is dead in the water, and apparently there's a movie monster eating people. They think it might be some mutated from of Hydra."

"Hmh." Malak huffed, in no hurry to handle yet another problem personally, "Very well, one step at a time: are the attack bombers ready?"

"Affirmative."

"Good." Scirocco's eyes closed for a moment in the nod that accompanied his response, "Next: have the other factions present at the airfield been engaged?"

"Negative. However, personnel of the Council, Malta Group, and the Knives of Artemis have joined Arachnos patrols. Their effectiveness is...questionable, though."

Malak huffed. He knew well what that meant - they pretended to work and mostly stood around to chuckle at their Arachnos counterparts. Real help was not to be expected.

"Get a message to Tamesis." he told the communications operator, "He is to proceed to the airfield as soon as possible to correct this situation. Give him any aid he desires. If he cannot, inform our carrier in Independence Port to launch a flight."

The man gave a nod as his answer, then sent the call out. However, thanks to Arachnos communication protocols, chances were close to zero that it would get to Tamesis before Daos did; the reason why Scirocco hadn't included an order not to kill Cynic. He knew the Arbiter would be there before the message.

And thus the four Flyers departed...

--------------------

The inspector shook his head. Despite their extensive armed forces, Arachnos still relied on metahuman powers for a great deal of specialty operation. A radiation wielder, or the like of was needed here - someone capable of cutting through strong defenses.

The Bane Spider, however, didn't know of any presently within the Fortress with the necessary skills...

((Until said plasma gets above around 1600 C, anyway. But yes, there are metals that can take 'standard' plasmas - around 5500 C.))

"Bugger." the inspector growled, "Where's someone with magic radiation powers when ya need 'em...?"

--------------------

"I dearly hope you're not referring to our last intruder." Malak told the Arbiter, "If so, I recommend you get to him before Tamesis does..."

--------------------

"Oh come on, it was only a question." Groul's voice came from Energon's communicator, "There's no need to give me the silent treatment..."

OOC:

Ah-HAH! It's not just me! I'm not insane...oh...wait.

Argument settled in PMs. Dogma was kind enough to remind me that Arachnos doesn't exactly run on common sense and that they've got enough red tape to choke a wormhole. In fact, would you care to volunteer for general happenings? So far, Krazy and I seem to be the only ones making those happen, and I can see you've got a better grasp of the game villains than me.

As for Arachnos being in charge, I saw it more of them being the instigators and holding the other villain groups in their alliance; more of an advisory role than an authoritative one. Personally, I've only focused on them because I wrote in Scirocco as part of my plot, and thus have no need for other groups; nor do I want to step on people who might want to control said other groups, but haven't told anyone.

--------------------

BIC:

"Curses." the Arbiter still at the console growled as Commander Cynic's file vanished into oblivion. The other member of the corps stood by the base of the mainframe, where a set of technicians had just extracted a certain piece of hardware, which apparently held a dead man's switch to erase all traces of its presence once removed.

A backup file was of course not present in the hidden routines only the Arbiters knew of, for various reasons. Now all they had was the hardware, and the hope that whoever had manufactured it had forgotten to remove all traces from the thing. Of course they had no record of that either. Damned bureaucracy...

((Okay Dogma, take it away. Please feel free to have them order what they would. ))

--------------------

The inspector's smile only grew broader. While it was true that many evil underlings were rather incompetent (there existed a reason for the saying that good help was hard to find), the upper echelons retained a chance for a brain. True, the unofficial recruiting slogan of "We're looking for a couple of idiots with no future." generally managed to weed those out at the beginning, but every once in a while, someone with a little sense made it far.

Like the inspector.

The Bane Spider's original shout had been nothing but a ruse. All he'd wanted was a reply from Cynic, which he'd promptly gotten. That moron had no idea he'd given the inspector all the information he'd needed to draw the following conclusions:

Cynic's shields were strong; even strong enough to ward off an Arbiter. However, he'd answered the inspector's shout. Oh, he Bane Spider didn't care what he'd said. The content of the answer wasn't important. What was important was that Cynic had heard him.

Sound could penetrate the shield.

The inspector concluded that to be its weakness. Therefore, a sonic weapon would pass through the shield without so much as a care for it.

How fortunate the armory had some of those in stock.

Sure, the sonic missile launcher didn't much look like what it did. Generally everyone assumed it to be just a really big gun.

A fatal mistake.

Cynic had about half a second to react as the inspector pulled the trigger, the weapon roaring to life and blasting a concentrated vortex of thunder at the Commander; a 'sonic missile'. Sure, it wasn't a true missile, but it was destructive enough to kill a human - and since it of course traveled at the speed of sound, it was rather hard to dodge.

If by some remote possibility the sonic missile struck the door behind Cynic, however, it would weaken it enough to generally allow a force bolt to blast it open...

OOC:

Dogma, unless this network stuff is critically important to Cynic's story, I would appreciate if you dropped it. I've given you a way out without any ill effect to your characters twice now, and both times you just shoved it right back at me.

This time, it doesn't even make sense. There's no way Arachnos wouldn't have noticed an additional part sitting on one of their mainframes when they perform routine maintenance, which common sense says they do quite often.

I know some people like to think of their characters and organizations as the best of the best who can do anything they want without being noticed by anyone else no matter what, but if it was this easy to pull one over on Arachnos, they wouldn't be ruling most of the world right now.

The Bane Spider grinned devilishly under his helmet.

Haha. Sucker fell for it.

One of the armory guards gave the inspector a nod, then quickly accessed the storage chamber and handed his superior a weapon that greatly resembled a Hercules Titan's plasma cannon...

--------------------

"How annoying." the left of the Arbiter duo huffed, her fingers wandering over her terminal. Again the filter underwent deletion, and this time the subroutines for replacement went with it. All of them. The thing wasn't coming back.

The problem of location, however, took a little more effort. Arachnos' mainframes weren't intelligent, nor anywhere near so artificially. They were data management devices, nothing more. Ergo, this left the Arbiters with two possible conclusions:

One - the mainframe wasn't a mainframe. It had never been. While possible, the likelihood of this was so low as to be effectively negligible. Arachnos designed and manufactured their data management systems in-house, and with very stringent quality standards. Chances nobody would've noticed this hovered around zilch. There was a reason Arachnos sat atop the food chain of global organizations, after all.

Two - the mainframe had been compromised upon its installation. Infinitely more likely, this possibility was really the only reasonable one. Therefore, someone had accessed the system at that time and planted these programs. Since the thing had come online with said routines already running, it had of course never had any need to detect them, as they hadn't disrupted normal operating procedures.

Now, however, they had. As a result, they had been purged. Now all that remained was to find out who had inserted them at the time of installation; and where. Since the secret records showed this also, the Arbiters had no trouble discovering just that.

Sadly, chances were quite high said someone had just been a very sneaky person who'd managed to plant the programs during installation. If so, they'd have used a captured access code (or some means of breaking into the system without tripping an alarm), and all the records would show would be something akin to, 'Technician Whoever installed these at this time.'

The result of such would of course be (assuming said man or woman was still alive, of course; Arachnos employment wasn't exactly the safest job around) a proverbial witch-hunt - which would end with some random sap in an interrogation room and no usable results whatsoever...

--------------------

Weaver Airfield

"Why me?" the base commander of Arachnos' airport subsection placed a hand upon the front of his helmet. Yet another operative had just arrived in the facility's hospital...well, what was left of the man, anyway. It wasn't much, and didn't look very appetizing.

"Do we have any leads yet?" the Huntsman questioned his lieutenant with trembling fists, "Any at all? I'll take a hair!"

"Sorry, Sir." the TacOp shook his head, "All we've got is that slime. I think we're in a horror story and the Hydra's the monster...or not. Doesn't explain the Fortunata."

The base commander only nodded silently. The man was right. Unless the Hydra had suddenly gone psycho...er, psychic, there wasn't any way it could've disabled all mental power in the vicinity.

"Keep looking for now." the Huntsman ordered, "Groups of four, keep an eye on your partner at all time. Don't need any more suckers being pulled into vents...why're those things so damn big anyways...?"

Down the hall, a trio of Bane Spiders quirked their heads at what had just come around the corner there: an Arbiter, some random dude, and a whole gaggle of troopers in hot pursuit.

"Don't see that every day." the Executioner's hand drew a squiggly line on the clipboard as his attention was diverted from inspecting an armory guard post to the debacle down there, "Aw dang, now I'll have to start over."

"Hey, you!" he yelled down the corridor at Cynic, "Yeah, you! Get lost! You're being a distraction to facility operations...!"

--------------------

Actually, the technicians knew quite well why an extermination squad had entered the mainframe chambers. After all, they were the ones who'd called them.

The duo of Arbiters that led the unit didn't bother with words, instead stepping to the closest access terminal to work their authorative magic. Since the technicians had traced the filter to within the database, the solution was really quite simple and self-evident.

Delete the program.

The Arbiter Corps held command override permissions as well as access to background records - the very existence of which was completely unknown to any other entities (with the exception of Recluse himself of course) - and if two or more were present, could work their authority with terrible absoluteness.

After all, there was a reason people generally didn't break into Arachnos networks by remote, instead taking information in person and by tangible copy. Since Arachnos seemed to have an uncanny knack for sniffing out hackers, it was just common sense.

And while the filter ended its existence, the secret records gave the Arbiters precisely the moment the system had been compromised, as well as the location of its origin. There was no practical way to prevent this, as no one even knew about this system aside from Recluse and the Arbiters. The filter expired, this was a fact, and the records would show where it had come from. Sure, the source might no longer be there, but the data certainly didn't care about presence, only time and location. When and where did it yield...?

((Negative. Commander Cynic appeared as Jake, Scirocco, and Tamesis were already well inside the base. As I mentioned earlier)

[ QUOTE ]
Cynic's idea wasn't bad. Ultimately, however, his plan carried a fatal flaw - the Fortress housed an amalgamation of villain groups, and though Arachnos technically oversaw proceedings, each faction still had been quite adamant about privacy; common sense, really.

There was hardly a path not blocked by some sort of gate after less than a dozen meters, and these doors were of course secured by a colorful assortment of means to prevent the unauthorized from opening them.

[...]

Cynic's encapsulating shielding, however, rendered him unable to interact with them at all. Ergo, a closed door might as well have been a solid wall to the man. If he did nothing to remedy this, Tamesis and his troops would have all the time in the world to figure a way to do the officer in.

Luckily, it seemed the same applied to the hacker bothering the Arachnos network. Since someone or something actively blocked a part of the system, it was just about the easiest thing in the world for the technicians to trace it back to the source. At roughly the same time as Malak and his escort departed, an extermination unit received the order to head to said source and perform the action their name implied...

[/ QUOTE ]
---------------------

Sadly, Energon's transmission never reached the Dark Rover. Radio communication had been obsolete out in the galaxy for such a long time practically no one remembered just how long it had been anymore.

Groul and Danger, having access to the map still, were a different story.

"We know." the red-scaled being's voice replied, "And we already know precisely what will happen. Didn't the Dark Dragon tell you...?"

OOC:

Yeesh, alright, alright; I'm movin', I'm movin'.

1. So far, there is one hero base (the Bastion) and one villain base (the Fortress). All actions at Cry's office, as well as the appearances of Commander Cynic and Blightlord, have taken place at the Fortress.

2. Soviet began his Sky Raider attack before Wolffe announced that the Fortress was too heavily defended to be attacked (and vice versa that the Bastion was hidden too well). Since it was too late to edit, things went ahead. Others jumped on the bandwagon, so the excuse was created that the Sky Raiders had managed to temporarily disable the Fortress' defenses. It was about the only logical explanation.

NOTE: Scirocco has ordered the defenses brought back up ASAP. As of a little while ago, they are once more functioning at full capacity.

3. Scirocco lied.

4. Blightlord is a master arcanist. I have little doubt he'd have spells in his repertoire that can conceal him both mentally and mystically. Therefore, Mu and Fortunata forces are highly unlikely to flush him out. Hence the security camera comment - unless he does something that would draw notice, there really isn't any logical way he could be found out.

A terrifying terrorist!

OOC:

Well, guess this thing ain't happening this year. Too bad. In any case, merry Christmas everyone.

((Ya got me; I can't tell up from down in Project's posts. ))

A sigh came through Energon's receiver, but of no more than a moment's duration; almost as if it had slipped out in reflex and Groul had attempted to conceal it.

Still, how much sense did that make? None of them had tried to hide their thoughts of human behavior earlier, and they certainly hadn't given any suggestion they would in the future. Not only that, but Energon's remark hadn't exactly been the pull of a trigger.

Groul gave him no chance to inquire, replying quickly, "Good. Then head toward the airport. Try to stay low until our monster's job is done. Your best bet is to be one yourself; out of sight, but always in mind..."

--------------------

Scirocco scowled as news of the happenings at Weaver Airfield reached the mystic. Apparently, today was just one of those days. Thankfully, the site commander seemed competent enough to handle things - he'd already called for backup, and Scirocco knew well that Arachnos wasn't the only group with personnel there.

Tamesis would handle the new intruder, and Walsh would certainly deal with the ones who'd thought themselves already escaped and safe. Machines weren't Malak's thing either, and though some of his mystics were of course on station to resolve the network incursion, he personally wouldn't have contributed much.

These thoughts and more occupied the mind of the mystic as he stepped out onto the Fortress' airdock once more, the trio of Flyers he'd come with already awaiting departure.

Perhaps, he surmised, there weren't even unique events at all. If this was so, his investigation could be even more pressing than he'd formerly thought...

--------------------

((Hm...we seem to be short on general happenings volunteers. ))

Cynic's idea wasn't bad. Ultimately, however, his plan carried a fatal flaw - the Fortress housed an amalgamation of villain groups, and though Arachnos technically oversaw proceedings, each faction still had been quite adamant about privacy; common sense, really.

There was hardly a path not blocked by some sort of gate after less than a dozen meters, and these doors were of course secured by a colorful assortment of means to prevent the unauthorized from opening them.

Now true, said means weren't perfect. Blightlord's postulations were quite correct - biologically, he was still the same Arachnos soldier, after all - therefore, about the only thing he had to fear were surveillance cameras with someone actually paying attention at the security desk. Chances were, of course, that the arcane mastermind had a way around this.

Cynic's encapsulating shielding, however, rendered him unable to interact with them at all. Ergo, a closed door might as well have been a solid wall to the man. If he did nothing to remedy this, Tamesis and his troops would have all the time in the world to figure a way to do the officer in.

Luckily, it seemed the same applied to the hacker bothering the Arachnos network. Since someone or something actively blocked a part of the system, it was just about the easiest thing in the world for the technicians to trace it back to the source. At roughly the same time as Malak and his escort departed, an extermination unit received the order to head to said source and perform the action their name implied...

Gorgeous.

Whichever way Cynic's plans truly went time-wise, Scirocco didn't much care so long as things finally returned to normal - which they did, slowly but surely.

Mu mystics gradually restored protective spells and reinstalled wards, and Arachnos technicians worked to get network security and exterior defenses back online. Hopefully, the turrets would be back before the Sky Raiders tried something else; and this time, with better protection from hackers.

"Oh, and have someone contact the airfield." Scirocco told one of the Arachnos personnel not presently engaging the intruder, "Even if it's not Kheldian, it would be wise to have a few attack bombers standing by..."

--------------------

"Understood." Danger's diminutive tone remarked in the otherworldly dialect they'd used to communicate with the Dark Rover thus far. Apparently, the Specialist had received new instructions while Groul conversed with the others.

Removing the pair of fingers from the side of his ear once more, the tiny humanoid turned to his towering compatriot, demanding Groul's attention with a wave of his arm. It didn't take but two sentences to inform the red-scaled Groul of Energon's departure.

"Actually, that we could use." the Field Commander remarked in English, taking in hand the map the hero had left and tapping a claw upon the communications contact, "This is Groul calling Energon X, do you read? If you'd like to draw enemy forces your way, I've a suggestion where to head..."

--------------------

Weaver Airfield
Former Paragon City International Airport

"Get a hold of yourself!" one of the Arachnos soldiers finally stepped forward, grabbed his stammering comrade, and shook the man to and fro. The others standing in the gloomy corridor of standard Arachnos decor still debated heatedly on what to do and whom, if anyone, to report this to.

"Look, just calm down." the TacOp held the other soldier firmly by the shoulders, "Now just tell me: what did you see? What came after you?"

"I don't know!" the terrified man burst out, shaking like dry branches in the wind, "Just big...fast...lots of teeth..."

One year later...

"O hay, lookit what I found!"

AGS-3
Status: In transit
Heading: Luur System

Heavy eyelids blinked gradually open. He knew that voice. Slowly but surely, his mind groggily caught up.

He couldn't see through the blanket that lay draped over him, but there was definitely bright on the other side. What in blazes was bright doing here? He wanted to sleep - bright was not something that accommodated sleep.

"Up and at 'em!" Vern's voice reached him yet again, full of cheer and energy, "Time to celebrate you-know-what."

Acid's eyes burst open with the same speed the Krayten flung the blanket from his friend. With horror, he beheld the quadruped at the door to his cabin, flooding it with that dreadful bright from the corridor.

Still, even that couldn't compare to the terrible chill the line of colorful Christmas lights inspired, snaking its luminescence toward him with inevitable certainty.

"No!" Acid protested with a shout. Too little, too late. Vern only grinned toothily as the snake of rainbow light encircled the reptilian, dragging him toward the door without mercy.

"Not this idea again!" the Khelari desperately tried to dig his claws into the floor. Fat chance with terconium, "I don't have enough self-confidence for this!"

"Nope, not listening." Vern but smirked even more broadly, "I've dragged everyone else into this. Did you really think you'd escape me? Feh. SENECA, new heading please."

AGS-3
Status: In transit
Heading: Sol System
Sorry, boss...heh heh heh_