Mr_Grey

The heroes of the Brutal Warriors Order emerged into the daylight after having sending the remainders of the Arachnos troops to the Zig. No sooner did their eyes clear than they were staring into the green-glowing eyes of a group of Circle of Thorns mystics. The Defender leveled his crossbow at Draven, who batted it aside with Crow.

"What the Hell is this?" Project Whirlwind asked, his voice slightly muffled by his mask, "Has this ever happened before?"

"We've been scouting this cave for the past few weeks," a Madness Mage explained, "Was there somebody in it?"

"Yeah," Slater replied, "Arachnos soldiers."

"Sonova..." the wizard bit off the curse, "Alright, well, are they gone now?"

"Yes."

"Good. Well, we all know where this is going now. Take them, harvest their souls and wear their skins... Let's get this over with."

"Somebody's been broken open a few times," Draven chuckled.

The Defender brought his crossbow back around, but Draven hacked through the bit into soldier's wrist this time. As the husk dropped to the ground, rasping out a strangled cry as he lost his grip on his weapon, the red-coated scrapper kicked him in the face, knocking him out cold.

King Slater emerged from the ground next to the Madness Mage, his legs seemingly still a part of the ground. The wizard focused some psychic power on the tanker, but only succeeded in giving Dustin a slight headache. The tanker delivered a strike across the wizard's face with the Black Mauler and knocked him to the ground.

"Do yourself a favor and stay down," Slater grumbled, "Compliance isn't treachery..."

"For us, it is," the wizard replied, "Believe me, hero, I know how this will end. I would rather end this now and take my men away from here and this fight..."

Psycho13 and a pair of Thorn Wielders tumbled across the grass behind Slater. One of the Wielders had his strange-shaped sword stabbed into the hero's torso while the other, behind the scrapper, was being stabbed in the shoulder with a sharp "upward" jab from Baker's heavy blade.

"...But it seems that such a decision is well beyond us, now."

A pair of Spectral Demon Lords emerged from the ground next to the Madness Mage. Slater took another stance and readied himself for what was becoming an exponentially more difficult fight. The ghostly monstrosities started floating toward him when a terrible wind kicked up and knocked them back. Slater wondered why he suddenly felt like he could breathe a whole lot more easily and see more clearly.

"I got your back, K!" Project Whirlwind shouted, a rapid-swirling vortex of wind circling around him and pushing the foes back, "Let's cut 'em down!"

The madness Mage was resisting the effects of the wind, and he did something unexpected as lightning arced toward his demonic assistants. Instead of focusing his ire on King Slater, he turned his attention to Project Whirlwind, and invaded the defender's mind.

Suddenly, Michael was in his bedroom, back in his home when he was in high school. He could hear his mother calling to him, telling him he'd be late for school if he didn't get up.

"Okay, Ma," he shouted down to her, then said to himself, "Man, what a weird dream..."

Hurriedly, he got dressed in a white T-shirt and a pair of blue jeans. When he looked in the mirror, he wondered idly why his hair was white, but thought nothing of it and bolted down to get breakfast.

"What are you doing?" his mother asked.

"I'm just getting a bowl of cereal, Ma."

"Oh no... That won't do at all. You need a proper breakfast to start your day... I've been slaving over a hot stove all morning... And you didn't shower, did you?"

Her voice was getting louder, more shrill. Michael didn't like how her hands were wringing the butcher knife's handle in her hands.

"You're such a terrible son! Don't you ever think about anyone but yourself!?"

"Ma, this isn't like..." he stopped when he saw that she didn't have a face.

"I will teach you a lesson!" a mouth full of sharp teeth split open on the lower portion of the faceless head and she was suddenly holding the knife in a reverse grip like she intended to stab him in an over-arcing manner, "I WILL TEACH YOU A LESSON!"

"Ma!" Michael shouted as she attacked. He caught her wrist, twisted her over his shoulder and threw her into the table.

He couldn't spare any time wondering why that came so naturally to him, so he turned to the door and shouted for his father.

"Something's wrong with Ma, Dad! I need your help!"

The sound of a chainsaw revving up answered him and Michael looked to the window. Outside was nothing but a bright white light. Looking back, he saw his father, just as faceless as his mother, only he was holding a running chainsaw.

"Don't do this, Dad."

The big man-thing raised his weapon and started forward to charge. Michael raised his hands and shouted. Two bolts of lightning arced from his fingertips and tore through his father, throwing him back and slamming him through the wall. As his father crashed through, the world shattered...

"Ow!" Project Whirlwind shouted as he crumpled to the ground, "Dammit! I hate when that happens!"

Slater was busy burying the head of the Black Mauler into the Madness Mage's face. The wizard weakly fended the weapon off, then lied still.

"You okay?" the tanker asked.

"Yeah... Just another one of those damn nightmares."

"Blood was running out of your mask's eye holes."

"Jebus..."

As the defender removed his mask and started checking his face for more blood and where it might have come from, Slater turned his attention to the Spectral Demons. He was assisted by Draven and the Kingdale Referee. The rest of the minions were held back by Psycho13.

"You doing okay, Psych?" Whirlwind shouted to his friend.

"Yeah, I'm fine," the scrapper replied, the swords stuck in him saying otherwise, but he didn't seem to be slowing down like he should have been.

Whirlwind cast his healing and oxygenating spell on his friend anyway and turned back to the others. They were having trouble seeing through the waves of darkness wrapping around them and choking them. The defender jammed a green gem into his chest, healing himself, and started throwing lightning at the demons.

One of them suddenly lost its hold on its aura and Draven's blade struck home. Crow wavered a little inside the Spectral Demon's chest, and when it solidified, the monster screamed and faded from existence. King Slater and the Referee finished off the other with a one-two punch of Dale's Scream attack and Slater's upper-cut smash. When the ghost disappeared, it was missing a head.

"Damn it," Draven shouted when the battle was finished, "Why do we constantly have to deal with this crap? It's not like we're heroes!"

Psycho13 finished tagging the Thorn Wielders and Defenders he'd been fighting that now lied motionless about the clearing. He then pulled the thorn weapons from his chest and squeezed the wounds shut as Police Drones swooped in on the beacons.

"Well, let's see what the others are up to," Slater grunted, "Roland said he'd buy us drinks at the D tonight... What do you guys say to a night out?"

"Sounds good to me," Draven replied, "Lord knows the other guys are getting tired of being cooped up in the base. Hey, Slater... You know we're having plumbing problems, right?"

"So? Call a plumber, then. I just fix walls and the like."

Ah... One more in the BWO thread...

I just felt somewhat inspired.

Quick note, there's some discussion about the card game "Euchre" in this. As the characters are based largely on my friends (mostly), they tend to play this game as their pastime. It's a game similar to "Spades" or "Hearts," I suppose, but it has a few extra nuances (a lot of new players tend to dislike the shifting trumps, especially as they get more and more drunk as the game wears on; then there's the concepts of "euchring" and Left Bauer that have taken many an unwary team's momentum, if not victory).

This is another dialogue-heavy one.

While the heroes of the Brutal Warriors Order ran off to wipe out the Arachnos cell, the "rogue-class" members of the group set a table up in the base's ring and started playing cards. James dealt out a game of Euchre with Matt as his partner against the team of Mark and, oddly, Chuck.

"I can't believe this," the former business chairman muttered glumly, "Those guys go off to wreck some place, and you guys just chill out playing cards, here."

James snorted as he decided Hearts would be trump.

"You guys don't even care that you're being pushed around by an arbitrarily placed law?"

"Arbitrary implies randomness," Justin replied darkly as he turned the pages of his book, "Suffice it to say, there is very little that is random about the current attitudes toward one's particular employment of 'powers.' Dangerous people employ the abilities we wield."

"Dangerous people employ the other powers, too. All it takes is a positive spin. Imagine how your men would look to the public with uniforms that portrayed them as security guards instead of mercenaries."

"He's got a point, Just," Ice grumbled as he tossed a low card over Mark's, "You could probably make a lot of money providing security for armored cars."

"When our job stops paying so lucratively, I'll look into that," Steel replied, his tone calming, "However, as it stands, we find enough cash and freedom on the open seas and foreign nations to be able to handle life perfectly fine."

"Yeah, but the country that is your home treats you like common criminals."

"When we retire, we can use that propaganda crap to clear our names in the public eye. Or fade from it," James growled, "Throw your card, Chuck."

Reynolds tossed a spade on the pile and James shook his head.

"We're on diamonds. We should take the trick just for that."

"Pay attention, Chuck," Mark shouted, "[Jebus Cripes]! This is exactly why the Committee fell apart right under you! You've got your head in the clouds of what could be, and you've got no freaking clue what's going on in your own hands!"

"I'm distracted..."

"I know. I just said so."

Reynolds pulled back his card and looked at his hand. Tossing a diamond on the pile, he glared as James shook his head again.

"You just took your partner's trick..."

"I played this game, like, once in high school, [frack]-tard," Charles shouted, "The only thing I remember is something about Jacks of the same color being the highest for the trump and you can't talk to your partner."

"You can't strategize with your partner," Matt corrected, "But you're blowing this so hard out your [butt], you need help! Justin, you've played this some, come on, help him out."

"Let him help himself," the businessman replied and turned back to his book.

They sat in silence for a few moments.

"What does it matter if I took his trick?" Charles finally asked.

"It shows a lack of faith. It smacks of arrogance. The only reason you should throw a higher card down is if he threw a low one or it's all you've got! Is that the only diamond you've got?"

"No. The other's an Ace..."

"Well, okay," Mark breathed a sigh of relief, "Now we're getting somewhere. Now I don't have to feel like you're [fricking] me over."

"I don't get it, though... If I take the trick, what's the difference?"

"Well, on a tactical standpoint, if you burn his high card with your high card, that's two high cards your team just blew to take one trick," James explained, "It gets worse when this happens..."

He threw a Nine of Hearts on the pile.

"Trumped. I don't have any diamonds. Now, you've lost two high cards and the trick. If you hadn't used your King on his Queen, you'd still have that King to use later. You may not know what the future has in store for which suits we'll play, but you'll at least have high cards to use."

The game continued slowly. The other three taught the finer points of the game meticulously to Reynolds, who didn't take learning well. Surprisingly, Chuck and Mark closed the gap in points, though Rage grumbled it had to do with his luck in "teaching the newbies," and how they somehow always beat him (at least the first night). In the final hand, however, he threw a Jack of Diamonds over a set of trump Hearts.

"Damn," Mark grumbled.

"No way, that's a diamond!" Chuck shouted.

"Uh... Not right now, it isn't," Matt corrected, "Remember, Left and Right Bauers? Heart's trump, Jack of Diamonds is Left Bauer. It's the second highest card in the hand. Game."

"Don't feel bad, though, Chuck," James shook his adversary's hand, "You played a Hell of a game."

"Man, [frick] this!" Chuck kicked his chair over and threw his cup of beer against the wall, "This place sucks! It's a [fricking] hole in the ground! Whenever I flush the toilet, I can hear the pipes around this place shudder! I swear I saw brown water spew out of a grate in the floor!"

"Hey, calm down!" Mr. Kolt shouted, "Mister Remington, get a mop so our guest can clean the mess he's made."

"[frick] you, Kolt! Or should I say 'Wincott?'"

"It doesn't matter what you call me," the commando replied in his gruff voice, "I still outrank you here, and if we wanted, we could just chain you to a corner in the wall and make sure you just get three square meals and a chamber pot. We could toss you on a straw palette and meet our minimum requirements of supporting you. Calm the [frick] down and remember that we can always make things worse."

Reynolds breathed raggedly for a few seconds. Mr. Remington handed him a mop and a bucket of soapy water. Grumbling, the prisoner started scrubbing up the mess he made.

"He's right, you know," James said when they were away from the others and Charles was rinsing out the mop, "A lot of people in your position wouldn't be seeing the light of day ever again. You'd just be badgered for information until there was no reason to keep you around, and then -BAM!- back in the slammer you go!"

"I'm used to being treated better."

"Where!? In your old life? Yeah, maybe. You've just spent the last year in prison, though! What was par for you at that point is hoping you're not headed for a three A.M cornholing! Now, we've brought you back out here, we've taken you into the sunlight, and you're still [ticked]!? We're treating you like a human being, for [Cripe's] sake! Despite what you did to us in high school! Is it so terrible? Are you that bothered by us?"

Chuck wrung the mop out and sighed.

"They're rich on my ideas. They made money from my designs..."

"My brother's designs," James corrected, "His and a whole lot of other people's. Your idea was to throw them in a Hurt Locker until they vomited their visions to ya."

"...And now they're selling their designs to the highest bidders... Or making something entirely worse from them. I have no idea what this Syndicate is, but if they have my projects in their hands, they've got plenty to make a bad mark on the world."

"Well, then work with us, Chuck. Tell us who we need to hit next and we'll take this new group apart, piece by piece."

"No..." Reynolds slouched on the toilet and sighed, "I... I can't have you just go off and rip into my father's business partners. I have to be involved in this, too."

"How?" Rage threw his hands in the air, "How else can you hel- NO! No, Chuck!"

"Come on, Baker, I know how to fight! Just let me get a suit and get payback in my own way!"

"It's not happening!"

"Fine."

Defeated, the other man slumped a little lower. For some unknown reason, he flushed the toilet and the pipes started to groan and shudder. Some dust fell from the ceiling.

"We should probably have Slater look at that," he muttered.

"Look, I'll run it by the guys," James relented a little, "but I seriously don't think you'll be seeing the inside of a power armor anytime soon. It would take a serious situation for that to happen, and, frankly, I don't see that happening again."

He walked out of the bathroom and paused at the door when Chuck coughed a slight chuckle.

"You're just remembering when I upper-cut you off the roof of the building."

"I'm remembering having to fly back up and tackle you across the tarmac up there. How hard did your head hit that helicopter, again?"

"Hard enough to forget that part... I was wondering how I got beat..."

"No, I didn't stop there. I lifted you up and let the propellers work some on your helmet. That was some tough metal... After that, I took you into the sky and bombed us both through five floors."

"Jebus..."

"It was like that power move the Stone did... How he would hook his opponent's arm over his shoulder and behind his head then hoist him up and plant him in the floor... Like a reverse half-nelson slam."

"Ow," Chuck rubbed his back.

"I'm not scared of having to fight ya, Chuck. I'm leery of having to chase ya. A suit like that is bound to make you stupid again. You might think you can pull off getting away from us and starting up your own organization. I'm not letting that happen, capiche?"

"Okay, okay... I get it."

"Alright... Well, we're going to throw in some movies, maybe call some friends over or play some music... If you want, you can come join us."

"Sounds kind of-"

"Finish that sentence, and I'll break that toilet with your face."

"...Fun..."

"Good cover," James shook his head and chuckled breathily, "Look, man, we've got girlfriends... Some of us... It's just hard to find people we can trust, you know? For now, we just get drunk, watch movies, talk about good times and current times, and try to move on through the day. Get it?"

"I understand, man," Chuck nodded, "I just don't know who the center man of the entourage is."

"Tonight... Nobody. We're just getting drunk and forgetting the fact that we have to live in a hole in the dirt while we're here in Paragon."

Huh. I was just thinking about you today, Briggs.

Welcome back.

Another segment to BWO. It's more of an interlude, with some references to a movie I watch when I'm in a "chill-fun" mood.

-----

Now, where are you guys!? Protector used to have stories bursting the proverbial seams! I was having trouble keeping up! Where did it all go!?

--Super Lanes: Atlas Park--

"So this is what you guys do in your off time?" Chuck muttered as he watched Daren's ball roll down the lane.

"Sometimes, yeah," Dale replied, "I love watching my bowling ball smash the [dreck] out of those pins."

Reynolds barked a laugh at that as Daren's ball wound up with a seven-ten split. The Stalker whirled around at him, his eyes blazing furiously.

"You think it's funny, [butt]hole?"

"What? That? Yeah."

Daren's hands started to darken visibly as his dark powers were manifesting. Suddenly, a hand clasped on his shoulder and he stopped. It was his cousin, Jared Simms.

"What's goin' on, Solo? You letting Chuck get into your head?"

"What took you so long?" the Stalker replied as he took his ball and prepared to throw, "We had to start a game without ya."

"We ran into some trouble trying to get Roland to come," Daren's older brother, Dustin, replied, "Arachnos was trying to kidnap him. He couldn't come, anyway, said he had to get his jeep inspected."

"Why would he need a jeep?" Dale laughed, "He's got one of those jumping machines wrapped around his legs, right?"

"There's leaping around, looking for trouble, and then there's actually having to carry stuff around," Draven replied as he pulled the bowling shoes on, "God, why do these things have to be so ugly?"

"So you don't steal them," Levi replied, "You want stylish bowling shoes? Build, find or buy your own. So, since this game just started, can we team up?"

"I got no problem with that," Charles muttered, "You, Daren? Dale? Dust-... God, all 'D' names? What was your dad's name again? Dave? Didn't you have an older brother named Dirk?"

"And another named 'Dave,'" Dustin replied, "I'll partner up with Chuck. You guys?"

"Solo, of course," Draven smirked, "You know we always roll together."

"I'm with Dale, he knows what he's doing!" Psycho13 chortled.

"The [frick] you say!" Solo shouted, "I know what I'm doing!"

"That's your seven-ten, right?"

They picked up where the game left off, each teammate alternating from the one who bowled the last frame. Dustin and Chuck, "Team Poo," barely won the first game, but it was so much fun that they decided to play a second.

Nearby, they heard a loud man shout "OVER THE LINE!" When they looked, a large, balding man was threatening another patron with a ham sandwich. Despite the large man's agitated appearance, he and his friends started laughing and bought a round of beers for the alley.

"They got a bonus," the waitress explained as she handed the drinks to the meta humans, "So they're in a celebratory mood. Plus, because of their similar appearance to certain movie characters, they reenact scenes sometimes."

"Sounds like a fun bunch of guys," Levi chuckled, "Tell 'em thanks."

They played a singles game that Dale, whose skills were actually much better than the rest, came out well ahead in. Daren came in second, but Levi somehow came in third.

"It's all about the power throws, baby," he declared as they exited the bowling alley.

"If that were true," Dale retorted, "You'd have come in first. Were you in first, Levi? No. You weren't. I was in first!"

"Don't take this away from me, man. I'll cut you... In the hair."

Most eyes turned to the odd, skinny scrapper. He shrugged and continued walking. Jared, however, stopped the group suddenly.

"You guys hear that?"

There was a crackling sound in the air. The meta humans turned to their left and saw a car burning in the parking lot. Three Arachnos soldiers were standing there, one of them had a mace resting across his shoulders.

"Is this really happening?" Dustin asked, "Whose car is that?"

The companions shrugged and exchanged "I-don't-know's."

"You owe us, heroes!" the center-most soldier soldier announced, "You ruined our operation, and now we're going to [frack] you up!"

"Well, you're going about this all wrong, then," Draven shouted back, "There's only three of you, and we have four, six if you count our 'rogues.' Besides, any one of us could take you guys. Heck, Dale could take you guys."

"Uh... Draven, I don't have my gear..."

"Okay, so maybe we're officially three on three, but still, any one of us could take you all on!"

Then, Slater proved it. Without a word, the tanker sank into the ground and reemerged in the center of the triad. The soldiers reacted poorly, and the tanker slammed his bowling ball bag into the center of the chest of the one with the mace. He then brought the impromptu flail crashing into the helmet of the one who'd been talking.

"Damn it," he grunted as he took a round in the back, "Haven't you learned not to take pot-shots at a stone tank?"

He tripped the last guy by knocking his feet out from under his legs and dropped the bag onto his chest. The last soldier grunted and started to roll over when Slater kicked him in the face.

"Now we have to go to the cell you guys came from and wipe it out," the tanker grumbled, "Come on, guys, let's get our stuff and do this."

Draven looked at his watch and shrugged.

"I've got an hour to kill. Can't be any longer than that, though. I've got a date tonight."

"Yeah? Who is it this time?"

"Warden Ross," the scrapper smiled happily, "The same one who gave us crap when Ringo brought the Dream in. She's pretty nice once you get through her shell."

"Well, let's get cracking, then," Solo muttered, "I'll keep Chuck in the Staging Area, you guys wipe these idiots out."

...

I'm getting discontent with this game.

I'm intrigued at the possibility of helping out in this. I like when things get shaken up (at least a little).

I was halfway through writing a closing post for the BWO when I decided I didn't want to finish it up, yet. So, to whet my appetite for writing for the characters based off my friends from high school, I decided to make a story that was more "down-to-earth" and see where it took me.

I already had an idea for the characters helping Roland fight off some Arachnos, but I didn't know where it would end up. Here, I can at least put in some commentary that my characters do have lives outside their hero work.

I also have a little humorous moment with a Clockwork Oscillator thrown in.

--Time passes, as it does... Atlas Park--

It was going to be a long day for the portly young man. He had menial tasks to do, and a lot of distance to travel to get it all done. However, he had the benefit of not having to do any hero-work, he was off-duty for the day. Or at least, that was what he thought.

"Oh man... How'd I forget this downside?"

Standing before him, just outside his apartment, was a squad of Arachnos soldiers. They didn't have their weapons drawn, nor were they organized into any kind of battle formation. This was obviously intimidation in action.

"We're here to escort you to our lair, where you'll then be detained before being carted to the Rogue Isles," the Huntsman explained.

"You guys aren't very good at this, are you?"

"What?"

Roland cracked his knuckles.

"Oh, he's going to try to make this tough. Get him, boys!"

"Look, I don't have time for this, guys. I gotta get my jeep inspected, I gotta..." he noticed them closing in, "Look, I may not have my bow, but I've fought enough of you idiots to know the tricks."

"Roland! ROLAND!"

The operatives turned to see a skinny young man in a tan hoodie and blue jeans calling to their target. One of the Wolf Spiders aimed his pistol and put a round in the new guy's chest.

"Oh, you're gonna wish you didn't do that," Grey grunted.

"[Frack] beaten!" the man screamed, "All I wanted to do was invite you to go bowling!"

Psycho13 drew his blades as he stood back up. The Arachnos soldiers were taken aback, and when they turned back to their boss, he was slapping his forehead and grumbling something about "stupid capes that don't wear capes" while he drew his assault rifle.

"Kill him! Put him in the hospital, HURRY!"

The soldiers aimed, but that was about as far as they got. In the blink of an eye, Psycho13 had closed the distance between him and the nearest Wolf Spider. The soldier screamed as his forearms were stabbed into and the inner-ligaments of his left knee got severed. He crumpled to the ground and the scrapper moved on to the next soldier.

As the blur moved among the group, the Huntsman made for Roland. Normally, the defender-class hero would have put a few arrows into his assailant's armor, maybe slowed him down with a glue bomb, or frozen him in place with his ever-trusty ice arrow. However, he left his bow and quantum quiver in his apartment. All he had were his two fists (there was no way he was going to be trying any fancy kicks) and his wits.

Unfortunately, one didn't become an Arachnos Wolf Spider Huntsman without knowing something about fighting. Roland threw a punch at the squad leader that was promptly deflected and he was popped in the chin for his trouble.

The Huntsman followed up with an attempt at butt-stroking Grey in the head, but Roland dodged around and came back with a flurry to the chest. He didn't accomplish much, but he did wind up in a good position to body check his assailant back.

"Sonova..." the Huntsman growled, "'Take the job,' she said, 'It'll be good for your career... It'll be easy,' she said... Last time I ever take a job from Silver Mantis again."

"That metal [dog] sent you over here?" Psycho13 shouted as he wrestled around with two Wolf Spiders, "Why?"

The portly defender rolled his eyes. He wasn't about to explain what was going on. Fortunately, neither was the Huntsman, who was (unfortunately) busy leveling his rifle at him. Before he could squeeze the round off, however, another hero seemed to simply emerge from the ground and took the bullet to his chest. There was a "spang" sound as it ricocheted.

"Slater!" Baker shouted as the Wolf Spiders picked him up and tossed him aside, "What are you doing here?"

"Draven was wondering what was taking you so long," the bigger man replied as he drew the Black Mauler from his belt, "And as for you..."

He smashed the rifle with the heavy, spiky ball of his war mace. The Huntsman drew a knife from his boot that was promptly batted away. Slater had also broken his hand with that swing.

The Spiders closed in and started trying to muscle through the two heroes to the "depowered" third. However, King Slater proved to be quite the rooted, immovable obstacle. He pushed the nearest one back and jabbed him in the face with the Mauler, busting his lips and breaking a few teeth.

"You boys are obviously ill-prepared for this," he muttered with a smirk, "How about you do yourselves a favor and beat it?"

"Never!" another Wolf Spider shouted as he drew his own mace and charged toward the tanker, "For Recluse!"

Dustin swung hard and shattered through the weapon. With a backhand swing, he took out the operative as he stared glumly at his broken haft.

The rest scattered and the heroes were left to look at one another. The Huntsman remained, though.

"So..." Roland grumbled, "About that base..."

"Here are the directions, send me to the Zig," the operative sighed as he handed over a device that looked similar to a hero communicator, "I knew I shouldn't have agreed to this."

"Cool..." Slater tapped the information into his own communicator, uploading it to Joe so it would be another base in the Police Band queue, "Goodbye."

He lightly tapped the operative on the chest and a small beeping dot was left on the armor plate. Before the Huntsman could grab and pull it away, a passing Police Drone whirled around, zapped him to the Ziggursky Penitentiary, continued its spin and went back on patrol without losing speed.

"Woah, they're getting more efficient!" Psycho13 chortled as he pulled his blades out of his belly, "Damn, they got me good... At least this one wasn't crisped. I can get it fixed. So, Round, you comin' with us for bowling?"

"We were just in a firefight," Grey replied, "You got shot, stabbed, and tossed around..."

"I got some of them a whole lot worse than they got me."

"...And there are all sorts of people freaking out about what just happened! Don't you guys think it's a little strange that we're... You know... Taking this all in stride?"

The other two looked around and shrugged. People were indeed running around, terrified. A few were walking like everything was still normal, and they'd watched the black-armored soldiers fleeing past them.

"It's nothing to worry about," Slater replied, "We're equipped to handle this crap. I guess it just seems like clockwork to us... No offense."

An Oscillator warbled indignantly at them as it flew past. The fact that it seemed to be on a leisurely glide was yet another cause for concern. Then it flew back.

"*Bzzt!* You guys wouldn't happen to know where I could find a descent flower shop around here, would you?"

They stared at it for a few seconds, finally Roland pointed down the street.

"Around the corner... What do you need them for?"

"Well, *whir* Penny is a little ticked at... *hum* My King, and he was asking us to bring him the best flowers in the city..."

The heroes looked at each other. They knew from rumors and other heroes just who was talking to them. A small bead of lubricant seemed to seep from the little robot's head as they remained in a bit of an awkward silence.

"Well," Slater almost chuckled, "You're not... You're not robbing them, are you?"

"I have money..." the Oscillator showed them a wad of heavily soiled bills, "I'd rather not say what my brothers and I had to go through to get it..."

"Sewers?" the heroes asked at once.

"Sewers," the robot admitted glumly.

"Well, you..." Roland looked at the bills, "You really should wash those things, first... They're not exactly paper, they're like cloth. It wouldn't ruin the money."

"Yes, but... Well... Look at me."

They had to admit, the robot was a rusty, oily, grimy little thing. Roland looked to the others and shrugged.

"I've got stuff I need to do, guys, you want to help him?"

Levi was already standing there with a bouquet, wrapped in plastic, and was handing it to the little robot.

"Watch out with those propellers," he explained as the robot gleefully grasped the plastic, "Don't worry about paying me back."

"Thank you very much!" it warbled happily as he floated away, "I'll... *bzzt!* I'll make sure my King knows what you've done for him!"

"See, now it's just getting weirder," Roland grunted, "I think... I think maybe I should make plans to get out of here."

"Well, what're you gonna do?" Dustin asked, "I mean, not a lot of us ever thought we'd get out of Kingdale, and now look at us! We're running a transport and courier service, your dad has his own super group, a new construction company... We've got power and influence now."

"Among lots and lots of other people with power and influence. Frankly, the whole thing is starting to bother me. I can't go a few steps without getting the attention of some dumb[butt] paparazzo..."

"Paparazzi follow you?" Psycho13 asked, "But... You don't do anything out of the ordinary. You even make being an archer hero seem boring."

"It's not... It's aged me horribly..."

"Well, what's keeping you here, then?" Dustin asked.

"I don't know... I've become the de facto superintendent of my building, but anybody could do my job with a little training..."

"If you ever need help, give me a call," the tanker chimed in.

"...And there is an issue where I've been helping out this girl I know... But she can get that kind of help from a lot of people."

He expected them to say something derogatory, but they were passive. Roland nodded as he made a realization.

"Ah yes... You're not Draven."

"We don't all have to assume dumb things," Slater chuckled, "So... Let me get this straight, you've been wrestling with this issue for a while?"

"Yeah..."

"What keeps you doing this?"

Roland rubbed his chin before shrugging. He honestly didn't know why he wanted to leave, but he also didn't know why he wanted to stay.

"Sounds like you're trying to get into some sense of normalcy," Psycho13 remarked, "Problem is, in this world, there's no such thing as normal. Heck, we were in high school with a wizard and a mad scientist. Kip was fighting all sorts of weirdos, in and out of school, and who knows what madness you and your family has seen... And that's from before any of us even came to this city! Face it Roland. There is no normal."

"Well, I've got something normal I've gotta do," he grumbled, "I gotta take my jeep in to get inspected. Then I've got groceries to get, and after that, I gotta get some pots and pans."

"What? Why?"

"Dad's holding a benefit in King's Row. Or maybe it's a block party... I don't know what. All I know is he's bringing in a whole lot of chicken from back home and he corralled Cedric and Snuffy's husband, Joe, into helping him make baked beans."

"Is it legal to transport poultry like that?"

"I don't know how he's doing it," Grey threw his hands up, "Maybe it's just Bob to come by and help him marinate the birds and he has a more local source. In any case, the event's happening, and I'm helpin' out. I can't go bowling with you guys."

"That's cool, man," Slater clapped his friend on the shoulder, "Maybe another time."

"Tell Jared it was cool he thought of me... Or was it you, Levi?"

"Nah, Jared wondered if you'd like to come with, since we were in the area."

"Well, thanks anyway. If you guys hadn't shown up-"

"Another group of heroes would have saved ya..." the regenerating scrapper chuckled, "Maybe your dad would have gotten involved! It would be cool to see that!"

"Yeah, he seems to only really show up if everything's gone to Hell..." Dustin commented.

"He's a tough old bear," Roland shrugged, "He's letting the young cubs sweat the small stuff. Plus, he's got mom back. He doesn't see much reason behind throwing himself from one dangerous situation into another. Well... It's been cool, guys, but I gotta go. I'll buy you a couple drinks in the D tonight."

"Awesome."

They shook hands and went back to their originally planned day. Meanwhile from a nearby hedge, a pair of Arachnos soldiers plotted and planned how they would make the intrusive heroes pay for causing their operation to fail.

I've posted an aftermath to the Battle of Warburg arc. Just some things to tie up that I've been meaning to explain, such as where the Ryat Source Code comes from and how exactly Arbiter Taylor became Operative Taylor (instead of being, you know, executed).

--Steel Canyon: Nester and Mindy's Apartment--

"Oh God, Nester, where have you been?" she shouted as she tackled him into the wall, "I was getting so worried!"

"-I- -had- -to- -help- -Ced- -ric- -in Warburg-!" he said between kisses.

Mindy stared at him in shock for a few moments before giving him a long, lingering hug.

"Don't ever scare me like that again. You tell me when you're going to get yourself killed next time, got me?"

"And let you change the lease that much quicker? I think not..."

Any further discussion was lost in snuggles and kisses. Once again, Nester thanked whatever god was looking over him that he was lucky enough to find someone willing to be with him, even when she knew what he did for a living.

It also reminded him of the necessity of his job. As much as it pained him to have to do so, he knew he would have to go out into the streets again to keep the world safe for future moments just like this.

--Grey's Army Base--

"Why didn't you bring me along?" Kip asked as he and Cedric made their way to Sheldon's workshop, "I've been to Warburg, I could have helped."

"Little Dude," the older man replied with a sly grin, "You've got enough problems on your plate. You need to take a vacation, you know?"

"I guess..."

They were surprised by the turnout to the base. The rooms were filled with androids varying in size between tiny and skinny to huge and burly. Fortunately, there weren't as many on the huge and burly side.

There was a scent of pizza, and the two humans worked their way to it. Randy, Charlene, Sarah and Joe were relaxing at a small card table with the pizza box lain upon it. There were a few slices left, and the two latecomers took one apiece before turning back to the drawn out presentation of Sheldon poring through Ryat Prime's workings.

"Alright... I haven't found any bugs," the inventor muttered, "How about you, Ten?"

The green android shook his head and closed the panels he'd been checking inside.

"A scan through Prime's nanite-rich lubricant revealed nothing, Boss."

"Well, whatever the Slinger might have in you, we can't find it. Let's get you closed up and move on to the next order of business."

"If you don't mind, I'll get on with it right now..." Prime muttered, "Is everyone here?"

"Yes," the androids replied at once.

Somehow, it sounded almost lyrical.

"Excellent, alright... The questions have been prevalent. What drives us? How are we so unusual, so diverse, so intelligent and sentient? How did this happen? What is our purpose? Our future?"

"We've been blessed by Joule!" Ryat74 suddenly shouted.

"No," was the calm reply, "But again, you're close. Very close."

"So, we're something dealing with the New Pantheon god of Technology?" Ryat32 asked, "Wow... I... I don't know what to say..."

"Don't dwell on it," Prime assured the android with heavily marred white armor paneling, "It's not nearly so involved as Seventy-four makes out."

"So what are we?" Ryat66 asked, "What made our source code?"

"I'm curious, too," Sheldon said, much to the surprise of many in the base.

"Didn't you design the code?" Randall asked, "You and my boy, Roland..."

"First off," Prime raised a claw and interrupted Randall, "Did you truly believe that a man who has barely any understanding in computer programming, and another who has only the basic understanding and a severe lack of imagination could fumble together a working artificial intelligence source code?"

"...Well, that did confuse me a little..."

"Sheldon and Roland were having trouble. While Mr. Wallace was working on the bulk of the code through research he gleaned across the Internet, he was corresponding with Roland on how to throw it all together. By the time he had my body ready, the code itself was maddeningly incomplete. I seriously would have been a rampaging monstrosity until he was forced to destroy my body and dip my hard disks in battery acid, maybe my boards, too."

"So what changed?" Ryat50 asked.

"In a fevered haze, Sheldon stumbled across what looked like an old chat room. As he started to exit, realizing that it wasn't what he thought he needed, he received a peculiar e-mail. No address, no subject, and he realized too late that he had preview on, still."

"That woke me up, fast," the controller hero muttered, "I almost killed my computer that night."

"Instead," Prime continued, "You wound up with a very odd lump of code. Code that shouldn't have existed. Whatever holes were in the source code were suddenly filled and it was ready to upload into my disks. The rest, well, you all know the rest. There are a hundred of us, now."

"Ninety-nine," Ryat99 corrected, "I don't know about the rest of you, but Eighty-four is dead to me. The only way to fix him is to format his brain, and then he may as well just be molten down. Now, that mysterious e-mail... What was it? Who sent the e-mail?"

"Well, in a way, Joule... Sheldon, in his mad quest for information, stumbled into an Internet incarnation of the Technology God and received a very small token of the deity's essence. This essence was then uploaded into our code, making it dynamic and fluid, and now... Here we are."

"I thought that was a dream," Sheldon muttered as he scratched his head, "It just never seemed... I don't know, real."

"Sleep deprived fevers do that to people," Ryat10 explained, "You need to learn to not get so obsessed, Boss."

"So, we really are divine!" Ryat74 went back to his original argument, "We have the very essence of Joule running through our motherboards, coursing through our nano-lubricant, permeating our very thought processes!"

"Are you finished?" Prime asked.

Ryat74 sat back down.

"I like your enthusiasm, brother, I really do, but you need to tone it down. Two notches. Yes, we're of Joule... But no more than a television is Joule. No more than a car is. Better yet, we're no more than Positron or Citadel, in fact maybe even less than that last one. Think of it as being a shed hair somehow rewriting a page of text into perfect poetry as it mingles with the ink. It's not probable, in fact it's downright unlikely, but we're fortunate to live in this world, where the improbable is, well... Look at us."

"So, we're an accident?" Ryat74 sounded defeated.

"Bring the enthusiasm back up a notch," Prime replied, "No. We're not an accident. Sheldon here wanted us constructed. He wanted to prove himself and we're here to do just that. We are a standing testament that somewhere within that brain lurks genius."

"But-"

"He got some help from on-high, yes. We can't begin to fathom the reasons why Joule decided to help this mad scientist. Perhaps it's because Sheldon accepts that magic is a real force in this world. Perhaps he just took pity on the young man with great dreams and this is the bone he decided to toss. I'd say, for the most part, we've been a success."

"Where do we go from here, though?" Ryat01 asked her tinny voice quivering somehow, "We just... We just got done fighting a war, and... And..."

"We do what we've always been doing," Ryat99 gently clapped her shoulder, "We run exploration for Portal Corporation and construction for Randy. Right, sir?"

"Sounds good to me," the big man replied, "Just don't stay all mopey like this... It's unsettlin'."

"We'll work on it," the cherry red android replied.

----------

--One Week Later: Galaxy City: Freedom Corps Administrative Offices--

"Thanks for coming to see me, Cedric," Agent Wild said as he made for his desk.

Cedric remained standing, he hadn't been offered a seat. He didn't practice a lot of his old Marine traditions for such a situation, such as standing at attention before the desk until informed to be at ease, but there were some forms of etiquette one should adhere to regardless. As he waited for the agent to get his files arranged, he took stock of the office.

It was starting to get a little dusty and cluttered. Wild didn't work here much anymore, he just reported in, checked his messages, and headed out to put foot-to-butt. As such, the office's appearance was starting to suffer.

Still, it was good to know that at some point, Wild could have Cedric's back instead of having to worry what the paperwork was going to be like. Well, he'd still have to worry about the paperwork, but at least he could preemptively burn off his aggression.

"Here we go," Wild finally said as he pulled up a folder, "Please, sit down."

"So, what's up, Kevin?"

"You, ah..." the Freedom Corps agent cleared his throat, "You killed some Arachnos agents in that little stint in Warburg."

"How'd you know I was out there?"

"Oh, the report Citadel sent me about you and the Ryats' involvement in that last big rocket firing. He was wondering if you guys had anything to do with the 'griefers' who'd been camped out there the couple days prior to the day he got the message from your android companions."

"I trust he doesn't think I would go causing a problem to fellow heroes," the tanker barked a laugh, "I didn't make that situation. I helped deal with it."

"Well, in the course of dealing with it, you blew out a building and killed five Arachnos operatives. Their med-porters didn't kick on in enough time."

"Well, my heart bleeds [urine] for them."

"That's not very nice, Cedric..."

"It's not like they'd care if they killed me. Actually, they probably would, and throw a party to celebrate. I'll do them one better and simply drink a toast to the dead."

"You're a frighteningly hard man," Wild whispered, "Well... I guess the part that should concern you is that Arachnos has filed a hit on you. Well, not officially, but, you know..."

"Cool. What place do I come in?"

"Uh... Let's see... Statesman's number one... The Phalanx and the Vindicators take up most of everything between two and twenty... Ascendant ranks thirtieth or so, it hovers depending on what he's done recently... So you're around four thousand, three hundred nineteenth in line. I know it's not bad, but I understand a former Arbiter and one Operative Fulkerson may try to make it their personal missions in life to make you pay for their suffering."

"Former Arbiter?" Cedric asked, "What happened to Taylor?"

-----------

"He got cast out..."

--Grandville: Floor-level Audience Chamber of Recluse's Tower--

"You've failed me for the last time, Taylor," Daos said with a hint of satisfaction, "Now... Now you-"

"Stop!" Arbiter Sands shouted as he made it through the door.

Two red-and-black armored Bane Spider Executioners tried to bar his way, but the Arbtier tossed his hot coffee into one's face and kicked the other in the knee, crumpling the big man to the ground. With his rifle butt, he smashed open the visor and some broken bits of glass found their way into the Executioner's eyes.

"You really think I-AUGH!" the still-standing one shouted as the coffee seeped into his armor, "Dammit, I can't see, ee-!"

Arbiter Sands planted the muzzle of his rifle against the Executioner and squeezed the trigger on the grenade launcher. The projectile thunked into the large man's chest and sent him sprawling before the explosion knocked him out.

Arbiter Daos applauded the junior Arbiter. Sands reloaded a grenade into his rifle and slung it as the two Executioners were zipped to their medical teleporters.

"I don't know what your problem is, boss," Sands growled, "but the Arbiter Corps is supposed to be a brotherhood. We're supposed to look out for each other, help each other, and defend each other. You've been among the crazies in this tower so long, you're starting to think like them. What's worse, what would killing Danny do? You're not gonna get promoted for it, it's not going to serve a purpose among the Arbiters, I'll see to that."

"And how would you do that?" the gold-plate booted Arbiter grunted back derisively.

"Simple, I'd talk to the rest of the boys and tell them how much of a raw deal I thought Dan got at your hands. Bad news for you, they like me more."

Arbiter Daos was silent.

"Come on, Dan... Let's get you some new digs..."

---

--Arbiter Dormitories: Dorm Formerly Owned by Arbiter Taylor--

"I... I'm back at the beginning..." Daniel Taylor, no longer an Arbiter of Arachnos, was packing the bright plates of his armor into a duffel bag, "My career.. My training... Everything... Gone."

"It'll be okay, man," Arbiter Sands replied, "You'll spend a year or so as an Operative, then, once you've reapplied to the Corps, I'll pull some strings and you'll be back in the gray and white before you know it."

"I hate the work we do... I wish we'd just cleanse these islands of the Circle, the Snakes, the Coralax... I wish we'd get on to making this a place to live instead of wallowing in the same pit these islands were when Recluse took over."

"That takes time and resources we don't have, though. It's why we fund those little excursions the Chosen Ones go on..."

Taylor slammed his helmet into the duffel bag and cursed.

"The Chosen Ones... I've seen those guys zip in and out of hospitals all day long. I've seen them torch whole Arachnos operations, and still Recluse refuses to raise a hand against them! Out of all those multitudes of idiots who are so small-minded they actually take pride in calling themselves villains, you'd think Kalinda would finally be able to point at one and say 'Found him!'"

"Maybe she'll point at you."

"That's not funny. You're not funny."

Arbiter Sands reached into a case at his hip and pulled out a card. Handing it to the newly rated Operative, he nodded.

"I don't quite trust the guy," he explained as Taylor looked at the card, "But he's running some special stuff on the side for Arachnos Soldiers like you."

"Arachnos solders..."

"Think of it as being a special agent. You won't have anyone to report to, but the bad news is that there will be precious little support from the rest of us... The rank-and-file will certainly still take pot-shots at ya, for instance..."

"If they were any good, they wouldn't be rank-and-file, they'd be Arbiters."

Daniel packed the last of his clothes into his duffel bag and finally took a look at the business card. It had "Alan Desslock" written on it in small black letters along with location and contact information.

"Mercy Island..." he grumbled, "That fricking pit..."

"Well, look on the bright side..." Arbiter Sands clapped him on the shoulder as they walked out of the dormitory, "You get to kill Snakes like you wanted."

"Why do you insist on thinking you're funny?"

----------

--Nerva Archipelago: Crimson Cove--

The Coralax approached the coated figure cautiously. It had washed ashore just as they were preparing to head back into the depths of the ocean. As the fish-people closed in on the individual, the black ooze pulled together and the man pushed himself from the ground.

"Ugh... My head..."

"It's one of the Spider King's Chosen Ones!" the Red Hybrid leading them gurgled, "Convert him, quickly!"

The Green Hybrids got close first, and they died first. A black blade shot out from his sleeve and tore them open like they were soda cans. The blues turned to their boss, who hissed and pushed them forward.

"That's always been the problem with this place," the young man muttered as they came within range, "Nobody knows to quit when they've been beat."

The trench coated young man waved his other hand and disappeared. The two Blue Hybrids looked to each other, but were distracted by an unusual gurgling sound coming from their boss. Turning, they found a black blade protruding from her mouth, the point was facing them. As she fell away, the assassin pulled the shadowy weapon out of the back of her head and into his sleeve, or rather, it seemed to slide back into his sleeve and become his hand again.

"Do you wish to continue?" he asked, but the Blue Hybrids were already running for the water.

Sikk turned toward the buildings and the nearest bridge that would take him back to the ferry. He'd never felt so good, not even when he first gripped the sword that made him feel better than he had before. However, then he always knew the power wasn't his. Now, though, he could feel the power within him, flowing through his veins, pulsing in his mind. It was a part of him, and it was his.

"The dawn of new days..." he sang softly to himself in a deep voice that was both his and something else, "Has nothing changed? The Sick knows no pain... The dawn of new days... Has nothing changed? The Sick knows no pain..."

And I've wrapped up the Battle of Warburg. Mad Matt McGinty duels his enemy on the Warburg rocket as it speeds toward Paragon City. While there are contingencies in place, there is still much that hinges on this battle, not the least of which is the blonde-maned scrapper's life!

"Ninety-nine!" Cedric shouted over the receding roar and the clanking metal around him, "Ninety-nine!"

The android was busy pulling the head of one of the Rogue androids into an icicle spike protruding from his chest when Grey found him. A second was held at bay with a large ice sword shaped like a claymore jabbed into its chest. Cedric finished the second machine off by cleaving through its face.

"I had that situation under control," the blue machine muttered as he faced the tanker, "It looks like things are wrapping up here."

"The rocket launched."

"I know."

"Ryat, the rocket launched!"

"And we've sent signals to Paragon City. Citadel is actually getting ready to intercept as we speak..."

----------

--Paragon City, just outside the Talos Island War Walls--

Two of the city's iconic heroes stood on a rocky crag, each of them gazing to the south. The one dressed like a cape, like most other patriot-themed heroes, sighed as he massaged the ache out of his left shoulder.

"Sometimes, I really dislike having so many disparate heroes and their groups in this city," Statesman muttered, "You would think that just once they would coordinate with us or give us at least a day's warning when something like this is about to happen."

"That's why we're here now," Citadel replied, "If I hadn't received that transmission, we would still be inside the city when the rocket reached us, instead of out here where we can take it down safely without innocent people being hurt."

"You're right... You're right. I don't know... I guess I'm just a little grumpy about leaving Jessica to deal with fighting Adamastor."

Citadel quirked an eyebrow at the Avatar of Zeus.

"Don't you mean 'Megan?'"

"Isn't that what I said?" Cole asked quizzically.

Citadel didn't reply. It had been happening a lot the past couple years, Marcus's confusion over his grand daughter's identity. There were a number of theories as to the reason. Citadel's was more in tune with Ms. Liberty's, that when he saw the costume, he assumed he was looking at his daughter. Whatever the reason, however, it was still a sign of the hero's growing aloofness.

"I hope you realize how much we care about you, Statesman."

The other hero nodded glumly.

"You know, Citadel. You don't have to be here. I can handle this. I've done it before."

"If you're talking about the time you took a nuclear missile to the chest, I would rather you didn't attempt that here. There are a lot of us that would rather you didn't attempt that here. Come now... There are more heroes available to help. You don't have to carry the entire weight of the world on your shoulders."

----------

--Warburg--

"Ryat, Matt's on that rocket."

The android looked up at the receding trail, but didn't respond. Cedric shook visibly and lost his cool.

"Well!? Are you going to do something?"

"I am. I'm calculating the trajectory to determine the best route of interception... Done."

The android's combat armor folded into his frame and was replaced with a new layer of sleeker flight armor. Without another word, he spread his wings and took to the sky. Panels in his boots and back popped open to reveal rockets that discharged powerful afterburners, propelling the machine faster than most flying heroes were capable of.

----------

"Where, oh where, did you get an axe like that?" Sikk asked as Matt flourished with his sword and stabbed into the side of the rocket.

"Lots of heroes have them," McGinty replied through clenched teeth, not knowing or caring if his enemy could hear them, "Special training and all that... I decided to go with undead slaying."

"Even in that, you remain a slave," the assassin replied, "How much does the blade decide for you? How much more could you have become if not for that ridiculous piece of steel?"

"The blade only made one decision for me, unlike what you did to that thug. The rest is my life and my decisions, unlike you. I wonder how much is left of the idiot I kicked through a wall, or are you just the monster that wears his face like a mask?"

"I am so much more than a monster..."

Sikk drew its black sword and started walking casually toward the scrapper. Despite all the air rushing around them, it was able to stroll upright as if it were a calm summer day. Matt still had to keep his weapons jammed into the side of the weapon, as the laws of physics still acted upon him.

Suddenly, the rocket leveled off. Instead of going into orbit, it was flying over the ocean to its intended target. If Matt didn't stop this weapon, it was going to crash into Atlas Park and possibly kill everybody there. First, he had to deal with Sikk.

The assassin brought his blade down and to the scrapper's right. Matt deflected it with the axe, barely held his footing long enough to slam the weapon back into the rocket and ducked the follow-up swing aimed for his neck.

"You can't hope to win this," Sikk chuckled, his words worming their way into the hero's brain, "You're weak... If you had any power at all, you would be able to resist the elements, take flight, or do something instead of hold yourself there and vainly hope I don't end your life!"

Matt drew his blade out of the side of the rocket and made a feeble swipe at the assassin. Sikk deflected it and nicked his shoulder in retribution. Grunting, Matt jabbed the blade into a new spot and wondered vaguely how he hadn't lost his grip.

"I'm considering just spiking you to the side of this rocket and watching the look on your face as it collides with the city! I might just let your soul last a while longer as the virulent gasses shrivel up the weak, pathetic... humans... And you cna watch the totality of your failure!"

Matt released his grip on the axe. He'd had enough and it was time to start surprising this monster. As Sikk chortled over what it assumed was the scrapper losing hope, he reached to his back belt and drew the pistol he had there.

It was one of the first things he built and he'd kept it a secret from everyone in Grey's Army, even his roommate, Cedric. It was one of the first weapons with which he'd tested blending magic and technology. It wasn't a particularly powerful enchantment, but it did enable the pistol to be able to handle the white phosphorous rounds he'd loaded into it for fights just like this.

Aiming the pistol at his foe, he squeezed the trigger repeatedly and winced as the burning rounds went wide. Sikk moved a little, though, it wasn't expecting that. Still, it felt that it had the upper hand, and started to laugh. Matt squeezed off one more round.

Sikk screamed as the bullet aimed for its chest instead deviated off course and slammed into its left cheek. That side of the face exploded and the assassin was flung around from the pain of it.

As it was distracted, Matt pulled himself forward by the axe and placed his foot on the head of it. Using it as a brace and leaning against the wind, he stood up while he drew his sword up with him. Sikk whirled back around and he could see what looked like black smoke wafting out of the side of its face.

"Now, you die," the assassin rasped as it dove at the wild-maned man.

As it dove, it disappeared. Matt could see a slight darkness snaking through the air. This was not his only problem, however, as the rocket was starting to spin.

As Sikk reappeared behind him, the Scrapper whirled around and deflected the blade aimed for his spine. Hopping a little, he kicked the black-coated assassin in the chest, knocking it off balance and sending Sikk sprawling. Matt reached out with his left hand as the rocket passed beneath him and barely caught a hold of the axe handle.

He couldn't hear himself scream in pain as the rocket rolled over. Still, he was alive, and he intended to stay that way.

Coming back up, he jabbed his katana into the side of the rocket again and hoisted himself up. Sikk attacked and Matt deflected with the axe. Shoving the black blade wide, he wrenched the katana out of the rocket and spun through the air, smoothly slicing the upper torso of the Malefactor open as he brought his blade around. Whirling back around, he slammed the axe into the wall of the rocket and started picking himself back up.

Sikk, roaring unintelligibly, drove its blade into the side of the rocket next to Matt's head. It's not that he would have missed, it was just that Matt had lost his grip on the axe and fell away. However, the scrapper caught a hold of Sikk's pant leg.

The stalker yanked his black sword out of the side of the rocket and spun about. As it started to stab into Matt, the scrapper stabbed his katana into Sikk's belly. There was a flash of light, and the Malefactor screamed. Pulling himself back up, Matt wrenched the blade about and tore open the monster's body.

Oily black tentacles reached out of the assassin's body and grasped at Mattock, the rocket, and anything it could find purchase on. It wasn't much, and Matt hacked away more and more. As he cut away the writhing mass, the pieces burned out of existence as they fell away.

Finally, the scrapper pulled his way through the ethereal oil to his axe. Gripping the handle, he slashed at the low parts of Sikk. The mass was clinging to him now, and he cut that away as best he could. Sikk's face, whole again, appeared from the depths of the monstrosity, its face pleading.

"Matt... Matt! Please... You're killing me! You're..."

"[Freck] off!" Matt kicked the face and slashed at the rest of the tentacles gripping him.

The black mass fell away and was consumed in the fire of the rocket's exhaust. However, the hero could still see the dark weapon falling away. Somehow, he knew what the purpose of the aberrant weapon was.

"I can't let it get away," he hissed as he hoisted himself up.

As he wrenched his axe out of the side of the rocket, he started sliding toward the exhaust flames. With a leap, he rode the wake of the rocket and was thrown out of the path of the flames and smoke.

The blade was spinning through the air, leaving a darkened trail as it fell. Matt folded his arms over his chest and dove. Closer and closer he got, and his weapons were causing him to spin around like a corkscrew. The dark weapon that was his enemy's anchor to this world was the only thing keeping him from getting disoriented.

---

He didn't notice Ryat99 fly overhead. The android was able to cling to the side of the rocket and pull his way to the warhead. Wrenching into the panel Ryat84 used to install the new payload, he tore into the point of the rocket and pulled out the bizarre apparatus.

It ticked, it whirred, and it beeped. Black tentacles writhed from it, and the tanks of whatever the gas was inside were hissing. Unceremoniously, Ryat99 wrenched the device apart. After opening a panel in his torso, the android placed the tanks within himself and tossed the rest.

Then, once he was certain his fuel cells had properly recharged, he engaged his afterburners and pushed against the rocket. The weapon turned slowly, but surely, toward the ocean below. Once Ryat99 was certain it wouldn't be able to correct itself, he let go and started flying back to Matt, whom he saw falling earlier.

---

Matt came in close to the falling blade and performed a somersault to stabilize himself and build up the momentum he needed for his swing. With a triumphant yell, he lashed out and could feel the magic of his sword carving through the otherworldly power of Sikk's. Suddenly, the black blade shattered and there was a massive, sickly green explosion.

Matt fell out of the cloud, passed out, but still gripping his katana. Briefly, he came to as he fell, only to wonder idly what was to happen before he would pass out again.

Suddenly, there was an impact, and he felt cold. He opened his eyes in shock and saw that there were a pair of ice-coated metallic arms cradling him as they skimmed over the surface of the water.

"Don't move," Ryat99 explained, "I've got this worked out just right, but if you do something to mess this up, we're gonna get torn apart by the water."

"That would be fitting," Matt replied, "Could you power down your ice armor? It's really cold."

"In just a moment..."

They pulled up and away from the ocean, and Ryat99 obliged the scrapper. Behind them, the rocket imploded and discharged an explosive payload of its own, sending a few hundred gallons of water spewing into the air as they made their way back to Warburg.

----------

--Talos Island--

"Good news," Citadel informed the leader of the Freedom Phalanx, "They were able to handle it themselves."

"That's... That's a relief," Statesman allowed himself to smile a little, "It's good to know that some of this madness is still in capable hands."

"Hands that aren't yours for once, right?"

"Indeed."

----------

--The U.S.S. Jormungandr: Aircraft Carrier off the coast of Warburg--

"Well done, heroes," Brigadier General Barton clapped each of the humans on the shoulders, "You've won a great victory for us over Arachnos... What's wrong with him?"

He indicated Matt, who was shivering inside a wool blanket the Marines on the landing craft had provided for him on the way back to the carrier. Cedric explained what his friend had gone through and that it hadn't been Arachnos they were fighting.

"While they had some people out there, they were dealing with the situation just as we were. It was a third party, General."

"Third party? Weird. From the surveillance photos, we thought for sure it was some brand of Arachnos troops..."

"Actually," Ryat99 walked over from his siblings, "It was a small army of androids... Similar in build to the rest of us, but only using a rudimentary, vastly imperfect copy of our source code."

"And that means?" Barton growled.

"Family issues," Nester quipped, "Bad oil between cousins."

"Right..." the android concurred sarcastically, but he let the issue slide, "I'm gonna check on the others. There were a lot of injuries."

Many of the androids were missing arms, legs, and other body parts. They had deep gashes in their torsos and one, Ryat35, was left with just her head.

"Are you sure you'll be okay?" Ryat66 asked as they had her running off Ryat10's energy cell.

"Sure," she chirped, "I feel right as rain. I just need a new body."

"And soon, I hope," the medical android murmured, "It's not that my battery can't take the extra strain, it's just that I don't like having two heads..."

"You're not Zaphod, that's for sure," Ryat66 chuckled.

"So," Ryat99 turned to the android the rest were huddled around, "When do we get our explanation, Prime?"

"Soon," the tan android replied, "Once we get back to Paragon and I get Sheldon to get me checked out. I just... I just found out that my purpose in the Etoiles wasn't what I'd thought."

"Very well."

"As for you boys," General Barton pulled the human heroes along to the inner workings of the ship, "Let's hit the chow hall and we'll discuss how to properly compensate you for your time. And someone get this man a cup of hot coffee!"

Hm... I say we give it a couple weeks before we try an article on the Co-Op project.

Also, I'd like to wait on working with Zigg until the Grumblethump story is done. I'd hate to be a distraction against that work of heart.

No, I'm sure they know about us, Bwer-Paradigm, we're just not their flavor. Some of them do venture over to some of the RPs we throw up, though. I think we still lack something they prefer, unfortunately.

I tried advertising in Protector, but it seems they already had their "co-op" moments, so getting them to warm up to the idea would be difficult.

Unfortunately, my partner has run afoul of Real Life Drama, and our story is currently on hiatus.

This means I'm free to work with somebody.

It's also causing me to consider the success of the Co-Op Story Thread. It doesn't seem to be turning out so well, does it?

Is it symptomatic of the fact that it was started just as a lot of our friends left, seemingly never to return? Do we really not play so well together?

It was a pair of phrases the NBC (Nuclear, Biological, Chemical Warfare; Read: Gas Masks) Sergeant (who acted as OIC, SNCO, and NCO of the NBC division of my unit) in my first duty station, MWSS-171 in Iwakuni, Japan. He was dragged along to Camp Fuji for a training deployment that we all referred to as varying names of "MCT Redux." It was actually a lot of fun once you got past the exaggerated imposition of importance.

However, they had NOTHING for him to do. No NBC agents (basically he'd have used CS gas) to work with, no platoon to manage, there wasn't even any paperwork for him to fill out. He was there, literally, to keep the numbers up. He was just filling a seat.

So, he and one of my partners in the ISC (Information Systems Coordinator, which is supposed to be the military equivalent of the step below JanLee's job, but they treated us like we were on Jan's level) were gabbing along while everyone was in line for rifles.

Now, I don't think this is how it started, but it's when I caught on to what they were saying. The Sergeant started going "Are you the Messiah?" whenever anybody said "Hello, Sergeant."

My partner replied with "No, but I'll tell you if I see him."

NBC Sergeant: "Oh. Well, is this the line to Reno, then?"

Partner: "No... Why?"

NBC Sergeant: "Damn. I need to get the Hell out of here."

Another LCpl: "Hiya, Sergeant."

NBC Sergeant and my partner: "Are you the Messiah?"

They continued like this until we got up to the armory window. I turned in my ID to get my rifle, and said "Is this the line to Reno?"

The assistant armorer took my identification and said "What!?"

Me: "Are you the Messiah?"

Assistant Armorer: "Huh?"

Me: "Nothing."

Armorer (this freaking HUGE Staff Sergeant): "You giving my armorers a hard time, <Grey>!?"

Me: "Nah, nah, Staff Sergeant."

And that's where it came from. They just struck me as something really odd to throw into a situation. Also, from personal experience, they seem to be the sorts of phrases nobody ever expects to hear in most given situations, so they have a particular unsettling effect.

As to why Ryat99 exclusively says them, well, he was the only character I said the phrases in-game with. I was in Atlas Park once, and saw what looked to be five social circles.

I couldn't stop myself and said in the middle of the platform under Atlas "Is this the line to Reno?"

Then I saw someone bowing to a female character. I looked to her and went "Are you the Messiah?"

Ryat99 started out with that as a flaw to his programming. Over time it became deliberate. Unfortunately, he's a minor character, so I couldn't show that as gradually as I would have liked.

I've posted the Battle of Warburg in Grey's Army.

I think I'll let the description slide on this one.

Ugh, this storyline has been exhausting. I think the next one will wrap it all up.

Ryat Prime had the robots in his thrall perch on the ledge overlooking the battle and ordered them to start firing into the cacophony. He would have loved to help, however, there was something approaching from behind that he jsut had to deal with, first.

"That's close enough," the tan android muttered as he pointed his laser cannon at the approaching figure.

Clad in a blue military uniform, Slinger was the spitting image of most Malta Group Special Qualification Marksmen, or Gunslingers. He had two major differences, however, in that he had his arms surgically replaced with robotic prosthetics, betraying his maddened mind.

"Now, now," he chuckled at the android, "Is that any way to treat your liberator?"

"What do you mean, mad man?"

"Simple. I'm the guy that got you out of that Freedom Corps storage bay. All it took was a good hacker, moi, a few altered files, and biggity-bam, I've got me a free agent to test my new designs with. Best of all, he doesn't know it and my superiors don't know it."

"Bull..."

"Where did you think all those wrecked hulks you were refurbishing were coming from?"

Ryat Prime turned to his backup then looked back at Slinger and shook his head.

"Why tell me this now?"

"Because, Prime, I want you to redirect your fire. You're shooting the wrong guys. Ryat84, he and his goons are the future. If you and your siblings join forces with him, I can instruct you on how to increase your numbers, take this island and take this world! We could alter the course of history!"

"While change is necessary," Prime squeezed the trigger of his laser cannon and pumped a red bolt into the mad scientist's chest, "I prefer mine to be less radical."

"It's a hologram," Slinger's distorted voice emitted from the image, "Hard light."

"Oh..."

The heavy assault bot, Frank, swiveled around to face the offending spot of light. Slinger's hands raised defensively.

"Wait! I'll go! I'll go! Just don't shoot this thing! Do you have any idea how expens-"

Frank fired both cannons into the image and the thin metal frame holding the "hard light hologram" in place was smashed to bits as soon as its minor-strength force field was obliterated.

"Thank you, Frank," Ryat Prime sighed, "Well, I guess that explains why Longbow troops keep shooting at me. Maintain fire on Ryat Eighty-four's forces. Don't let a single abomination escape."

----------

The Ryats smashed into their foes, their twisted nephews. The Rogues didn't really have minds, each one simply bearing a rudimentary decision-making process based on Ryat84's own distorted view of reality. Still, it was a little unsettling to have to fight what was supposed to be "family."

That didn't stop Ryat06 from using her "firmware" claws to slice one of the hulking automatons into quarters or Ryat24 leading a column of similarly-armed androids into the center of the swarming mass, with their assault rifles blazing. The worst problem they had, however, was the fact that the Ryat Rogues were highly resistant to energy attacks. Androids like Ryat66 and Ryat10 found much of their roles largely muted, though the ones like Ryat10 were able to settle into support roles rather quickly. Ryat66, however, had to find a more vulnerable target.

"Hello, Eighty-four," he muttered as he landed before his wayward brother, his circuit-designed cape flapping heroically in the breeze, "It looks like it's down to you and me."

"That's unfortunate," the wayward android replied as he gestured to the hero, "I suppose this means you won't be reasonable."

Ryat66's sensors registered the gravity-altering nanites too late and he was surrounded by the nasty little bugs. As they oscillated and revolved around him, he could feel a crushing pressure on his surface sensors. However, he had systems to counteract this. He took a step toward his foe, and Ryat84 backed away in surprise.

-----

Cedric pushed into the android in front of him, tackled it, and yanked his rifle away from its grasp. Backing away, he checked its condition before looking up and seeing Taylor accomplishing the same thing with his weapon. They glared at each other as the Arbiter slid a magazine into the well of his rifle and racked a round into the chamber. Cedric's magazines were still housed somewhere inside the android that had taken the rifle.

"Time to die, Grey."

"We're surrounded by hostile robots, and you want to settle a score with me?" Cedric barked a laugh, "No wonder you idiots never get anything accomplished. Alright, Taylor, I'll play your game."

"You don't even have a magazine in that rifle! How do you expect to defeat me?"

"One shot," Cedric brought the weapon to his shoulder, knelt down, and aimed, "One kill..."

The android had taken out Thundermaker's magazine, but had neglected to remove the round Cedric had already chambered. It was that round the tanker was threatening the Arbiter with. Taylor, to his credit, realized he was in danger and started going through motions similar to Cedric's. Just as he had his sights to his eye, however, the hero fired and he felt a bullet smash into his helmet.

"Damn," Cedric muttered as he slung the rifle across his back, "I must be getting rusty."

He put his fingers to his lips, blew, and a shrill note whistled from his gesture. One of the androids menacing Ryat06 and Ryat74 was torn apart as his axe ripped through the body and returned to the tanker.

"What did I miss?"

"Nothing too great. We've got a fight on our hands, still."

Taylor jumped to his feet, clutching at the side of his helmet. The round had smashed the sensors off the side and he couldn't see out of his left eye. Angrily, he wrenched the helmet from his head and threw it at his enemy.

"Who the Hell gives a Tanker a rifle?"

"The United States Marine Corps!" was the amused response.

"I am not going to let you make a fool of me!" he shouted, "We're finishing this, right here, right now!"

Cedric sheathed his axe, popped his knuckles, and gestured for the Arbiter to approach as he assumed his fighting stance.

-----

The other heroes fought their way to the platform. Eisenheartz dove into the center of the zombie horde, smashing his mace into the face of the Necrotyrant. Nester was keeping close as he ensured his allies were being treated for their wounds. He even threw some special nanites at the armored tanker to ensure he'd be able to survive the fight. Matt, however, continued to the platform and kicked Sikk into the console.

The assassin's hands had turned into some form of bizarre tentacles composed of a slick, oily substance. Instead of manipulating the program, he was instead corrupting the very essence of the rocket itself.

"We prefer not to get our hands so directly involved," the creature's hollow voice explained, "however, the limitations of this puppet cannot be tolerated for this anymore."

"Too bad not even this is going to help you," Matt replied coldly as he drew his katana, "It's time to finish this."

"Don't you understand, hero? You can't kill me! Nothing can kill me! You're not even the destined warrior meant to wield that sword to finish me off!"

"The warrior is but what makes it move," Matt replied, his eyes flashing silver again, "The blade... It's the blade that ends you, regardless of how it happens."

"What? What are you... No. You have got to be kidding. Another spirit within a blade. Were you and angel?"

"No," the blade replied through Matt's voice, "no angels, no devils, no wizards, no onrushing roar of hundreds of wielders... I am just the blade that is tired of a job that should have been done long before its time. Come along, Malefactor. It's time we finished this."

"So, you're a slave," Sikk chuckled as it drew the black bladed sword it had corrupted its current vessel with, "Like this boy... While I'm curious to see the extent of the corruption your blade will put you through, I'm afraid I must-"

Matt dashed forward and swiped at his enemy. Sikk deflected the blade, but saw something startling in the scrapper's eyes. One was silver, the other was brown.

"I'm not a slave," Matt replied coldly and pressed the blade closer to the assassin, "I just happen to agree with my sword."

"I see."

-----

The Invasive fought her way through the androids. Both Rogues and regular Ryat androids tried to stop her. Apparently, Ryat84 decided she couldn't be trusted.

Where the Rogues kept trying to hurt her, the Ryats seemed willing to let her go, so long as she didn't come back. That was good enough for her since some of the androids she ran across were throwing fire, and she hated fire.

Pulling a communicator from within the foliage covering her chest, she called for the evacuation module. A sleek black vessel emerged from the ocean, hovered above the surface of the water and started floating over to her location. When it arrived, a door opened in the side and a large man clad in a business suit stepped out.

"The mission is a failure," the man explained, "You will step into the limousine and prepare for debriefing."

"It wasn't my fault," the green-skinned girl explained.

"Certain elements were misunderstood by the Committee," the man agreed, "Do not worry. You will be compensated for your time and for the danger you were placed in. We have one last mission here. We must recover two of your fellow field agents."

"If one of them is Ryat Eighty-four, forget it. He turned coat as soon as he could."

"The android is indeed one that we must recover. Your assistance is not necessary. I can retrieve the Necrotyrant and the renegade android when the battle is over."

-----

Ryat84 was launched through the window and landed hard on a crate. Ryat66 followed shortly after, but his evil brother rolled over and launched a volley of red condensed energy into the blaster's chest. Ryat66 pushed through the torrent, but when he landed and prepared to pummel his brother, Ryat84 pressed his hand into the blue android's chest plate and pushed him back with implacable power.

Ryat66 bonked his head off the window sill as he was catapulted away. The red-and-black android pushed himself out of the wooden wreckage of the crate and jumped into the hole in the wall. just as he was about to rejoin the battle, a grenade landed next to him and blasted him out of the wall.

"Where do you think you're going?" Ryat24 asked as he popped the spent casing out of the grenade launcher, "You must think we're finished with you..."

Ryat84 could see the rest of his brothers and sisters clustered at the base of the platform. The Necrotyrant had been cut down and Sikk was dueling with the blonde-maned scrapper. What was left of the Ryat Rogues were trying to press into the androids, but they were being blasted to pieces. His army had failed.

"I don't have time for this," Ryat84 rasped as he threw a nanite net at Ryat24, freezing him in place, "I have to get out of here!"

A red bolt of energy slammed into his leg and the villain crumpled to the ground. Looking back, he saw Ryat Prime. The robot-master android approached with his entourage scanning the area protectively.

"We're not chasing you anymore," Prime explained, "If we have to dip your boards in acid, we'll do it. However, that would be unworthy of us. I would rather find out why you've lost your mind in such a typical fashion."

"Simple," Ryat84 growled, "When we were fighting those Praetorians, I just snapped. How often have the so-called heroes had to fight those ridiculous doppelgangers? Why have they deigned to arrest the interlopers when it would be so much easier to kill them all and be done with it?"

"Killing takes a part of a person away," Ryat Prime explained, "What was done once can be done again, and it gets easier. It takes a special kind of person to not let that quick path consume them."

"Spoken like a true slave. You will never be free so long as you let your enemy live."

"Free from what?" Ryat66 asked as he returned, "What is it that people are asking you to do that you actually have to do? We don't adhere to Asimov's laws, Eighty-four, we never did. We make our own decisions and most of us decided to help people. It can't just be fear that motivates you."

The red-and-black android was silent. He didn't have a response. At the base of the matter, he was just greedy. He wanted power, he wanted control, he wanted wealth, but over time it became like a religion for him.

"They treated us like toys," he finally muttered, "They locked us in a room because we couldn't be trusted... You could, though, Sixty-six. You and Ninety-nine. What made you so special?"

"I don't know," the blue android replied, "Perhaps it was our personalities. You still haven't answered our question, Eighty-four. Do you even know why you turned on us?"

The android remained silent.

"I think we have to execute him," Prime explained, "I don't think we'll be able to repair his damaged mind."

"I... I don't think I can do that," Ryat66 and Ryat24 said at the same time, the assault rifle-wielding android slowly easing out of the altered gravity holding him in place.

"Then let me take him off your hands," a deep voice muttered behind the blasters.

They turned and Ryat Prime's robots leveled their blasters at the large business man. Their scans revealed that it was some kind of machine, but with living parts.

"A cyborg," Ryat66 muttered.

"It would be best for all parties involved if you would just turn over the renegade."

"Kill me," Ryat84 whispered, "Don't let the Syndicate take me back..."

"Sorry," Ryat24 replied, "But if we did that, what would you learn from this experience?"

With a quick kick, he punted the offending android over to the business man. The other two androids looked at their gray-armored sibling and shook their heads.

"So impetuous," Ryat Prime commented, "Alright, Syndicate man. You may take our brother. However, you will have to ensure that he survives his time with you and your own. We have claims to his fate first."

"Understood."

-----

There were no more guns, even though Taylor still had his wrist-mounted holdout pistols. No swords, no axes, nothing but their fists and feet were going to be used n this fight.

Cedric caught Daniel with a couple jabs to the face, but the Arbiter caught the first on the hard point of his forehead and rolled with the second. The Arbiter then followed up with a right cross that sent Grey sprawling.

Normally, there would be some witty banter exchanged at this point, but they were too focused on the fight. Cedric came back with an elbow strike aimed at Taylor's chest. The Arbiter side-stepped away from the strike, but Grey recovered quickly and whirled around with a second elbow that caught him in the nose.

Daniel staggered, felt for his nose and realized it wasn't broken. It was bleeding, but it wasn't broken. Cedric didn't know this, however, and started rushing to tackle his enemy to the dirt. Taylor caught the tanker in the belly with a knee strike and twisted around to let Cedric's momentum carry him into the ground.

As the tanker recovered, Arbtier Taylor straddled his chest, wrapped his fingers around Grey's throat, and started choking the life out of him. Cedric reached up and grabbed his attacker's hands and gurgled.

"Agh! Your hands are freezing!"

"Die you maddening [dastard]!" the Arbiter shrieked before he realized Cedric's arms were actually crossed over his own.

Grey slammed his elbows into the crooks of Taylor's arms, causing the Arbiter to bend over a little. He then kipped his hips up and Daniel went tumbling over his head, but Cedric kept a hold of the hands and rolled over backwards. Keeping close to his opponent and bunching up Taylor's arms between his left arm and his body, he slammed his right forearm into the Arbiter's throat.

"Here's how you choke someone," he growled as he started fishing for the garment under Taylor's armor, "Here we go."

He yanked at the fabric he found there. It was some kind of polypropylene, but different. Twisting it with his fingers, he bunched it up in his right hand, yanked and twisted his hand around at the wrist a couple times to wrap the fabric around his hand. This tightened the collar around Arbiter Taylor's throat and he started to gasp.

Cedric stood up and pulled the Arbiter with him. Taylor was punching at him now. He struck the chest, the face, the arms, but nothing caused the tanker to release the grip he had on his enemy. Eventually, the Arbiter disappeared from view, ported away in a haze of red energy and black smoke.

"Let that be a lesson to ya," the tanker grunted before a metal spike slid into his back, "GAH!"

"You killed and injured my sisters!" Shadeheart whispered into his ear, "You insul-AUGH!"

Ryat06 slashed the backs of her knees and the Blood Widow collapsed to the ground. Cedric drew his axe, turned, and the spirit within the blade activated an enchantment that healed the damage done.

"I was wondering where you were!" he chuckled as the Widow tried vainly to rake at the nimble android.

"She was helping us fight the Rogues," Ryat06 explained, "But when she saw you were distracted, well, she kind of thought she could get her vengeance. She even stabbed Nester before hopping over here!"

"What!?" Cedric raised the axe and was about to do something painful to Shadeheart before Ryat06 stopped him.

"Nester's okay. He activated his Healing Wave and Ryat Ten fixed up whatever that missed."

Cedric lowered the axe, but tapped the edge of the blade against Shadeheart's helmet.

"You got lucky. Send her back to Mambo, Six."

"Will do!" the android chirped and stabbed a vital artery in the Widow's left arm.

Shadeheart screamed, but her medical teleporter beacon registered the danger of the strike and signaled for her to be zapped out of the area. In a flash similar to what took Arbiter Taylor, Shadeheart disappeared.

"Let's hope that Mu guy doesn't do the same thing," Cedric muttered as he walked over to help finish off the Ryat Rogues.

-----

"You fight well," the assassin rasped, "But you cannot hope to defeat me!"

He vanished only to reappear behind Matt. He was trying to stab the scrapper, but McGinty deflected, spun around and kicked Sikk into the control panel. The young eyes of the villain gazed upon the androids swarming around the platform and the deteriorating condition of the fight.

"Oh well. It's not like they've stopped me."

"What are you talking about?" Matt asked.

"The rocket will soon launch, and there is nothing you can do about it!"

Sikk pushed itself from the console and slashed at the scrapper. McGinty parried and stabbed, skewering through Sikk's face. The assassin's very form writhed in agony as the wound seemed to spark and burn. Eventually, Sikk didn't resemble a human at all, but more a quivering gelatinous mass as it pulled away from the weapon that harmed it.

Matt withdrew his blade and glared at the creature before him. It lashed out with a tentacle that ended in a very sharp spike. The scrapper deflected it and sliced the tip off, which smoldered out of existence as it hit the ground.

Sikk launched a few more of these "dark spikes," but McGinty deflected or dodged them as they came. Eventually, the assassin was able to pull itself back into a human form, and it struck out with its black blade again.

"Seeing you with just one sense can be enough," it muttered as it struck, "The other senses were distracting me."

"Excuses, excuses," Matt replied, "Power is a poor substitute for skill."

"I will show you power!"

Upon saying this, there was a warbling siren emitting from the launch console. The two turned to look at the display that indicated that the security locks had been properly bypassed and the rocket was ready to launch. The ground started to quake and smoke started wafting from beneath the iconic weapon.

"It begi-AUGH!" Sikk rasped before getting slashed across the back by Mattock.

The scrapper then dove to the ground and started sprinting for the rocket. As he ran, he yanked the jump jet-pack off a Ryat android he passed and held on for dear life as he pressed the button.

The rocket started to lift off the ground and Matt was rising to meet it. As he got close enough, he drew the magic axe from his belt, the one designed to sever the ties that bound undead creatures to this world, and chopped into the surface of the rocket.

As the Ryats finished off the last of their twisted cousins, they looked up to see the Warburg Rocket launching. Cedric was shouting and trying to get the attention of whatever androids he could, but he knew it was too late. The rocket was launched. His mission had failed.

Sikk howled angrily as the weapon he meant to reshape the world took off with the weapon meant to take the Malefactor from it. Knowing that there was no good way for this to end, the assassin leaped into the air, vanished, and reappeared next to the weapon's trajectory. It landed on the warhead and stood calmly, waiting for Mattock to make his move. Matt, narrowing his eyes against the turbulent air, looked up at his enemy and wondered how he was supposed to win this fight.

The problem with cameos in film and TV is that there's too much money involved. Writers, producers and the companies they work for all hold claims to characters in their stories, and they hold onto them like their first-born. I think characters have to wait until they're on "public domain" before they're usable for cameos.

It's different for us, though. We've got no money coming back to us for our characters. As long as we feel our characters are being treated properly, we tend to grant permission easily. Heck, sometimes we even volunteer our characters for these moments.

The Ryat Rogues capture Cedric, the heroes and the surviving Arachnos operatives and Sikk reveals its disturbing plan to the characters. There is dissent among the ranks, but that won't be enough to dissuade the demented creature from its plans to push the world into another conflict with the potential to destroy it.

However, the heroes still have a rather powerful ace up their sleeves.

Cedric leveled his assault rifle on the Vagrant that was edging toward the axe that floated in the center of the room. He was glad that of all the things his old commanding officer gave him, he'd acquired and delivered his old M-16A2, "Thundermaker." The man shouted as he noticed the gray-and-green armored tanker walking in, but kept edging toward the floating weapon.

"Don't touch it," he muttered, "It's not worth your life."

The man nodded and backed away. Grey edged deeper into the room, sighting in on anything that moved (which was very little) until he reached the golden weapon that floated above the golden-armored dummy. He grasped the hilt of the weapon with his left hand and chuckled as he looked down at the broken corpse-shaped object.

"Thanks for looking after this for me, Ivan."

"That was a very risky gamble," Gray's voice said in the back of his head, "I could have been destroyed."

"That wasn't enough to even dent the golden stuff," Cedric chuckled as he kicked one of the plates on the floor, "Didn't help Ivan much, though."

The decimated dummy was perforated wherever bullets had torn through it. It looked like hamburger made of cotton and wool. There was even a Widow's spike slammed through its head.

"Good thing that wasn't me!"

"Where are the bodies?" Nester asked as he eased through a broken window.

"Teleported away. Arachnos doesn't like people examining their dead."

"Are you sure they were dead? Jebus, Cedric, did you have to kill them?"

The tanker turned back to the medical defender. Where most who would have had some sort of psychotic or elated expression (or possibly a combination of the two), Cedric's face was as calm and expressionless as Roland's could ever be. The only tell for his emotional state was his eyes. At the moment, they seemed sad.

"Yes," he finally intoned, "I had to kill them, if I could. You haven't seen war, Nester. I have. It's not pleasant. It's not a game. My mistake when I was in the marines was treating it as such. There were times where the enemy would come back to haunt my troops and me just because I was 'sporting' enough to let them live. When we fought the Rikti, I was past such childish notions. The only honor on the battlefield that's left is the honor of a quick death."

"That's pretty damn cold," Matt grumbled as he and Eisenheartz finished their check of the immediate surroundings and edged in through the front door, "No wonder you always act so aloof."

"It hurts to care," the tanker slipped the axe onto the hook on his back, "Now, there's a very good chance we didn't kill any of those soldiers, Nester, and the med-porters zapped them out of here as they flatlined and revived them. They're just not going to be very happy for th next few hours, so we at least have that."

"Alright," Nester sounded skeptical, but his eyes brightened with a little hope that he hadn't just contributed to a wholesale slaughter, "So, what's the plan, chief?"

----------

"Arbiter, look," Jariq whispered and the Arbiter turned to where the mystic nodded.

"Grey... I should have known..."

The tanker and his entourage were picking their way through the streets, not far from the rocket or its control switch at all. Shadeheart almost leaped to possibly skewer one of the offending heroes, but Taylor reluctantly stopped her.

"Let them get the attention of the 'griefers,'" Taylor whispered, "We'll sneak in, disable the controls and harvest the weapon they've doubtless installed into the warhead by now. We're running out of time, and it would behoove us to let them do the hard work."

"I see why you were made an arbiter," her silk-over-steel voice cooed.

"I was made an arbiter because of blind loyalty," Daniel grumbled, "That, and someone thought this would be a better use of my skills than sticking my brain in a spiderbot or overdosing me on Recluse's super soldier serum. You ever wonder where those Arachnoids come from? Well, that's as close to the truth as anybody's gotten..."

"Disturbing," Jariq hissed, "One would think our overlords would treat us better."

"Trust me, wizard, the people used for the machinations of Arachnos are well-deserving of it."

The mystic had his doubts, as did Shadeheart and Taylor, but they knew better than to voice their opinions. One never knew who was a spy for Arachnos, or willing or otherwise. The arbiter had pulled enough bugs out of his armor to know how the system worked.

"We'll wait," the Blood Widow finally agreed, "However, I do believe we'll have some entertainment as we wait."

The white-armored enforcer of Arachnos' will cursed silently as he turned to see the red-and-black armored androids looming over them. They each crackled with electricity.

"Intruders," the machines muttered, "Orders: Execute."

"Destroy them," Taylor grunted.

----------

The staccato of gunfire got the heroes' attention for a brief moment. Cedric pulled them down a narrow alley and crouched them down.

"Okay," he whispered, "It's on, now. I've sent the signal to Ninety-nine. Our job is to make sure that rocket does not launch. If we can retrieve the warhead, cool, but, frankly, I'd rather not let anybody have a weapon capable of what I hear this thing can do."

"Good," Eisenheartz nodded, "I would hate to think that any of our efforts went to those that were trying to turn ours into a puppet government."

"I thought you were German."

"No... My grandparents were. My father is a natural-born citizen, and I am as well. That simple. I'm an American, just as you are."

"Whatever," Matt interrupted and waved his hand in the center o the group to regain focus, "Guys, we need to get back on track. What are we going to do?"

"Good question," a high-toned, tinny voice asked from the alley entrance, "What is your plan?"

The heroes turned to the voice's source and found a small red android standing there. It looked like the Ryat androids, but the articulation of the "face" was one of anger and contempt instead of the usual ambivalence. It had it's clawed arms folded over its chest. What really grabbed the attention of the heroes, however, was the contingent of large machines behind the android.

"Woah," McGinty grunted, "Masterminds aren't allowed to run around with that many robots... Much less that many heavies..."

"Good thing I'm not a Mastermind-class," Ryat84 chuckled, "I... Hm... Are you certain? It would be better to simply kill them off. I can assure you it would be better to kill them off. You do realize this megalomaniacal need to showcase your plans is going to get them ruined, right?"

The captured heroes looked to each other and exchanged perplexed glances. Nester tapped the side of his helmet, indicating that their android captor was probably conversing with someone else...

----------

--...Someone who obviously didn't have their best intentions in mind.--

Sikk chuckled as he put the cellular phone back into its pocket. It had taken a lot of time to get to this point. It had sacrificed much, especially its dignity, to claw its way into the New Horizon Syndicate and get recruited for this mission. Once this weapon hit its target, it would spark a world war the likes of which the planet hadn't yet seen. With the power being thrown around in the full-scale conflict, it wouldn't take long for the planet to be decimated, and the destruction of this portion of Creation would be complete.

Sikk's brethren would have another bastion against the forces that protected this universe. They would be able to push against the forces of "Light" and possibly smash all the universe asunder. It would all begin with one button press...

So long as Sikk could work its way past this damned "ERROR" message.

"What is the matter?" the Invasive asked as she handed over the last of the codes she and the Necrotyrant had acquired, "You seem perturbed, Sikk."

She obviously didn't think much of the assassin. She probably disliked the fact that the seemingly young man was assigned in command of her. While she was physically attractive, Sikk was glad she'd be among those consumed in the coming inferno. She was much too human for a plant, worse, she was female, so she had a tendency to act contrary to logic. Numerous times during the trip to Warburg, she'd voiced displeasure at being placed under Sikk and Ryat84's command (the android only received its position in this assignment because of its command over such a formidable security force; a force Sikk intended to appropriate for it and its brethren's own purposes once the missile launched). Ruled by her emotions, she would only prove to be a liability in the end.

"There's no trouble," the assassin replied calmly, "Just an error message telling me that the current warhead is not recognized. It probably needs a few workarounds, perhaps these security codes to allow me to bypass the fail-safes telling me that an altered payload has a chance of failure, so the launch is being denied for safety reasons."

"It's disturbing how clinical you sound sometimes," the green-skinned girl winced, "What is that little robot doing now?"

"Bringing me the prisoners..."

Ryat84 took a position on the platform next to the girl and the assassin as his android followers brought the heroes and the Arachnos soldiers before them. Cedric and Arbiter Taylor were placed next to each other, where they glared at each other through the corners of their eyes and gritted their teeth angrily.

"I thought I recognized you," Grey muttered, "I want you to know, [butt]hole, I haven't forgotten how you were hurting my mom. I've got a bone to pick with you about that, but I'm not gonna kill ya. My mom has that right first. If she decides not to... Your [butt] is mine."

"You've repeatedly embarrassed me," Taylor replied, "You've practically decimated my career. Now you're here to ruin me again!"

"If I can..."

"Silence!" Sikk shouted, his resounding deep voice echoing through the clearing, "Ah... McGinty. I'm glad you're here to see your failure first-hand."

"Sick," the scrapper whispered as he looked to the Ryat Rogue android holding his sword.

"We stand before the precipice of a great day," the assassin returned to the business at hand, "With but a single launch of a rocket, the world will tremble, quake, and become lifeless! Statesman and Recluse will not be able to restrain themselves any longer when the innocents of Atlas Park are decimated in one fell swoop!"

"Wait," the Invasive interrupted and took a hold of Sikk's wrist, "That's not the plan at all. The Directors instructed us to launch the warhead into orbit so-"

"Silence," the assassin's skin started turning oil-black, "I know their small-minded plan. This is a new one, a better one..."

It turned to the android.

"If you want in on it, to eradicate this world's weak flesh-wrapped abominations, I'm willing to take you into the fold..."

"That sounds good enough to me," the android replied almost enthusiastically, "In fact, it advances my timetables exponentially if what happens happens..."

"Statesman blames Recluse for the rocket," Nester was muttering, "he requests permission to lead a massive invasion force into the Rogue Isles... With the civilian casualties this madman's describing, I can't see how the government would have any choice but to grant it. In fact, they would send military in to support the heroes. Recluse would band the various villain organizations together under his banner, citing 'common enemies' and all the world's super powers would be thrown against each other in a conflict that would wipe out the planet in the span of a few months... You think this is that 'Coming Storm' those Menders keep talking about?"

"No," Matt replied, his eyes flashing silver again, "This is older than that. Older than us. Older than the Beginning of Time. Sikk and its siblings, if such a word can be applied to them, has been trying to destroy this corner of Creation for a long time. Using war and corruption, they have accomplished much, even going so far as to get a full third of the heralds meant to usher and protect the universe cast down. This is but one of countless attempts to destroy the world perpetuated by these... Malefactors."

"You seem to know quite a bit about this," the armored knight at his side muttered, "where'd you hear that story?"

"What?" Matt asked, his eyes looking their normal shade of brown.

Eisenheartz stared mutely at the scrapper before Sikk got their attention again.

"Now you will all see! The end of this world shall not be quiet! It will be a triumphant roar and a blazing inferno! You heroes and rogues shall be the end of it all... So much for the best laid plans of mice and men..."

Sikk slid the security keys into the control panel and pressed a few buttons on the console. The screen flashed red at the assassin and it shook its head.

"Figures," it muttered as it looked about in exasperation, "this will take a few mo-"

Looking up at the rocket, Sikk suddenly stopped talking. The captured heroes and Arachnos troops turned to see what their tormentor was perturbed by.

Perched among the rigging that held the Warburg rocket in place was the Ryat Series. Ninety-nine androids stood, sat, and crouched among the girders and some even sat upon the warhead.

One did not. Ryat99 stood before the rig with his arms folded over his chest. He was chuckling in his strange, tinny way.

"Is this the line to Reno?" he asked deliberately, "Or are you the Messiah? I can't see why there would be such a large procession here otherwise. Such an elaborate presentation, and I thought it might be something important. Instead, I find the same regularly scheduled tired tropes, the same regularly scheduled time bomb, and the same regularly scheduled maniacs. Well, I'm sorry to inform you, but I think we're going to interrupt your regularly scheduled business day."

With that, the Ryat androids leaped from their perches, drew their weapons, and attacked.

A lot of us already use cameos, Slick. Just obtain permission from the owners, first. The owners might have questions about how their characters will be used, of course, you probably already have an appropriate use in mind, so it shouldn't be difficult to explain the situation and still get permission.

Heh, I can see that demon now...

Demon Joey: "Oh... My head... What happened to my twelve other senses and... What is this... This... PAIN!"

*Looks into a mirror*

Demon Joey: "AAAAAAAAAAAAAAUGH!" *gasp* "AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAUGH!"

*Starts pulling at face*

Demon Joey: "AAAAAAAAAAAUGH! It hurts so much! This body won't come off! Why can't I pull harder? OW!"

*Stops pulling at face*

*Rubs reddened cheek somberly*

Demon Joey: "So... This is what happens when you get too far into the possession."

*Looks down at self*

Demon Joey: "Man, it sucks being human!"

My theory has it that if he were to operate a more powerful, more complicated form, he would wind up losing control of a lot of his hordes. A lot of junk would just simply litter the streets.

My take on it was the Inevitable, a Clockwork warrior with a heavily armored, articulated body. It was covered in winders that CK had to rewind every couple of minutes, but they powered the body's abilities to fly, through lightning, and wield the triple-blade propeller "hand" as a weapon. Since the actual motor functions of the body were powered by the winders, CK still had control of his Clockwork hordes.

However, if he were to still maintain his original body, he would probably lose control of part or all of his hordes because of the concentration involved in keeping the Inevitable going. Also, because of the effort to keep the new body running, CK lost a lot of his psychic attacks, though those could have returned in time as he grew more comfortable and efficient with the body (which he was never given the chance for; he was torn out of it after trying to kill Blue Steel, then Penelope Yin destroyed it when she was remotely piloting it against Ghost Widow).

So, that was my take on a new body for the Clockwork King...