Mr_Grey

You think maybe Paragon's starting to recover?

Blue Steel is still a PPD cop. He's essentially the PPD's version of Statesman, Rambo, and Chuck Norris rolled into one, so they're not about to let him go for something as trivial as the revenge killing of a mad scientist that nobody misses.

This is nice. I want to see it continue.

Finally! The moment I've been working toward and based much of this current arc around! Simply put, Cedric and his cadre of heroes, minus the Ryat androids, make contact with the Arbiter Taylor's troops and combat ensues.

"Sir!" one of the Crab Spiders almost shouted into the communications link, "I think... I think I just saw a tanker!"

"You think you saw one or you saw one?" Taylor replied, "And you don't need to shout, just talk, or whispering is better. We do NOT want the enemy knowing we're here before we're ready!"

"Uh... Right... Well, it had to have been a hero or somethin', he was wearing this golden armor..."

---

The Spider had seen Cedric flitting around rooftops to the northeast. The tanker had been scoping around for the rogue Ryat androids and didn't know if he'd catch anybody else's attention. When he saw the squad of mixed Wolf and Crab Spiders, Fortunatas, Blood Widows and an Arbiter, he knew they were definitely not around for a patrol.

Lord Recluse hadn't sent a death squad to execute Marshall Blitz before, and it was unlikely that's what this was. Cedric drew a radio from the belt slung around his armor and clicked it on.

"Guys, I just spotted the bad guys, I sure hope you've got that surprise I've got cooked up ready..."

---

The Spiders weren't looking for the tanker. They kept their eyes peeled for the "griefers" that had been pestering the Chosen that had been coming through Warburg, because chances were they'd be the ones who had the weapon Taylor was after.

A flash of gold to the left caught a Wolf's eye and he fired. The other soldiers didn't know what was going on and fired into the street the Wolf had. Taylor shouted for them to get back in line and asked what happened.

"I saw something, sir," the operative replied, "I... I fired."

"Did you hit it?" the Arbiter grumbled.

"I.. I don't think so..."

Before he could think better, Arbiter Daniel Taylor gave the order that would turn the whole operation into a complete fiasco. The Wolf Spider jogged down the street and scouted around. He couldn't find the tanker he'd shot at.

Drawing his machine-pistol, the Wolf rounded the corner to see if Cedric had fled. It was the last thing he would do before the blonde man snatched his weapon out of his hand and yanked him around the corner. Bashing the operative's head against the wall, he let the body slump before it disappeared to the medical facility the Arachnos troops had commandeered to the north. There were shouts coming from down the street.

The important part was done. He'd hooked the fish. Now he had to reel it in. A bullet spanged off the corner next to Cedric and he could hear the loud "trundling" of the Crab Spiders approaching and sprinted down the street. He ducked down a side alley and past some vagrants when the big soldiers rounded the corner and perforated some of the brick walls with bullets and energy beams.

They thought they had him on the run. A couple twists, a couple turns, and Cedric had them lost. They weren't natives to Warburg, neither was he, but he knew how to get where he was going and how to get them to be where he wanted them.

---

"Get back on the line!" Taylor shouted, "Get back on the line!"

"They're gone," the mystic hissed, "What do you expect from Black Scorpion's soldiers?"

"What did I tell you about that in-fighting [dreck], Jariq?"

"My apologies, sir."

Taylor considered his options. The Crab and Wolf Spiders were long gone. He would have to go after and round them up, costing him time.

"Dammit, Fulkerson," he grunted into his communicator, "Reign your troops in!"

"We've got him on the run!" the Longfang shouted back, "We 'll be putting a hero in a box today, boss!"

"Do you have a visual?"

"I- no... Uh..." there was a pause and suddenly, "There he is! there he is! Nine O'Clock! That's left flank! Left flank!"

The sound of gunfire drowned everything else out and Taylor shut off his mic.

"Damn it. Alright, Jariq, Shadeheart, round up your troops, we're going after them."

He knew how this was going to end. He just couldn't shake the vain hope that he could salvage those troops, though, and started following behind the red-clad operatives.

---

"Alright, they're combing the neighborhood," Cedric grunted as he rushed into the building the other heroes were using as their hideout, stripping his armor off, plate-by-plate as he went, "Matt, the satchels?"

"Where you told me to leave 'em," the scrapper's eyes flashed silver briefly, "You sure you don't want me to set the charges?"

"You ever set charges before?"

Matt shook his head.

"Then, no. Sorry man, I trust you've got skills out the butt with all manner of things, but you don't want to be handling explosives unless you've been taught how to. Trust me, I've seen people lose fingers, limbs, faces..."

"I got it."

"Alright," Cedric pointed to Nester and Eisenheartz and the rubber dummy they were stringing up to the ceiling, "You guys lay that thing down and slap my armor to it."

"What are you pulling, Ced?"

"Something nasty!"

---

The soldiers had lost the trail. The Arbiter and the other soldiers caught up to Fulkerson and his troops and started dressing them down.

"You must be really freaking stupid and lucky," Taylor shouted at the Longfang, "Because if you were smart you wouldn't have done this, and if you weren't lucky you'd be dead by now! Don't you know you just walked into a trap?"

"I'm still alive, aren't I?" the soldier loomed over the Arbiter, thinking his size would intimidate the Arachnos enforcer, "It counts for something."

Taylor turned his rifle to the Crab Spider's foot and fired a round. He hit the ground but it made Fulkerson back away, clearly startled.

"See, this is exactly why I hate working with Black Scorpion's lapdogs. I know he believes actions speak louder than words, so if you keep acting like a [dunce], I'm going to do him a favor and remove you from his forces. Permanently."

"You're not authorized to-" the Blood Widow, Shadeheart whispered.

"I'm an Arbiter, there is nothing I can't do! If I can prove it serves Arachnos, I will start executing each and every last one of you! Now get back in line, we are getting back to-"

"I see him!" a Wolf Spider shouted and control was lost again.

The troops surged around the three story-building and started taking positions. Taylor shouted into his communicator for them to come back and let it alone, but it was too late. Even most of the Mu Strikers and Blood Widows got caught up in the blood lust. They surrounded the building and dove in through the windows.

Fulkerson smashed through the front door. His lights focused on the golden-armored tanker in the center of the room and the transponder came back. He didn't notice the rigid way he was moving, especially when the younger man turned to him and raised his axe.

"Cedric Grey," he grunted, "Kill him!"

The operatives dove in through the windows and started firing. Their aim was true and the bullets spanged off the armor. They fired until their guns ran dry and reloaded. Widows launched volley after volley of bolts into the armored form and it twisted, gyrated and twitched, even dropped the axe and lost plates of armor before falling to the floor in a heap.

"That was to easy," Fulkerson chuckled happily, "Yeah, we showed that ca-"

There was a beeping sound. Each of the operatives at the windows looked to their feet and noticed red lights next to their ankles. Then the world disappeared in fire and pain.

---

Cedric slapped the clicker in his hands like he was applauding. Each time he brought his hands together, another window exploded. He didn't know if it was a long enough span between the injuries and when the operatives drew their last breaths for them to be ported to the medical facility, but he hoped it wasn't.

"That's pretty [frigged] up," Matt breathed, "I didn't know people could disappear like that..."

"The distance between life and death is but a moment of time," Eisenheartz commented, "They obviously didn't take the time to extend their moments."

Nester pulled the fishing line loops from the fingers of his armored gloves as quickly as he could. He'dbeen operating the "Marionette Cedric" and felt sick to his stomach. He had to get the helmet off before he messed up the interior.

---

Operative Fulkerson was blasted out the front door to land at Arbiter Taylor's feet. He was coughing and struggling to say he couldn't breathe.

"What did I tell you?" Daniel asked as he hovered the muzzle of his rifle over Fulkerson's faceplate, "It's because you've got family in the Spiders that I don't blow your face clean off. I was hoping I could scare the stupid out of ya, but you've proven resistant to education. I can assure you, this will be reflected in my report..."

He pumped a round into Fulkerson's thigh. The operative screamed a little. It must have cost him the last of his breath, because he passed out as his choked shout cut off suddenly.

"...Including the cost of my wasted ammunition on your sorry [butt]!"

As the body disappeared into the medical teleportation matrix, the Arbiter started stomping away.

"I never should have brought any of you along," he growled to Shadeheart and Jariq, "If either of you two have plans to get in my way at this point, I suggest you head back to the Flyer, because I will perforate your bodies the second you [frig] up!"

"I have no intention of failing you, sir," Jariq replied somberly.

"I came this far and just watched my sisters-in-arms get slaughtered," Shadeheart hissed, "I intend to see something come out of this, and, if I can, to execute that hero for this... This embarrassment!"

They took one last look at the blasted out building. Vagrants were already moving in to pick through the wreckage for anything they could salvage. One picked up an Arachnos helmet and tried it on.

"Good," Taylor hissed, "So do I."

Well, Protector's RP crowd is more of the "Author" variety, but they're there. Some of them really do get into character, too.

But Virtue is regarded as the "Constantly In-character" server.

Stupid me, I typed out another segment in Grey's Army and didn't open up a new tab for the rest of the forum. Now everything in the forum looks like I've "read" it. I don't know what's new!

In any case, the characters are rolling into Warburg and we finally get a snapshot of the rogues that are messing with the Rocket and why they're doing it.

--Arachnos Flyer: En Route to Warburg--

"I'm telling you, Ghost Widow can kick everybody's [butt]," the Blood Widow hissed, "All she has to do is lock in her Soul Storm and they're toast. Black Scorpion, Scirocco, Mako, they're all toast when she focuses her ire upon them!"

"Psh," a couple of the Crab and Wolf spiders chuckled amongst themselves and a Longfang pointed at her, "Ghost Widow's only as tough as a poltergeist, which, I'll agree is pretty nasty, but once she's tagged with the next exorcism, she splits to pieces. There's tech enough throughout the world to get the same result, too! Now, Black Scorpion, he's got the [gonads] and the skills to [frack] everyone up!"

"You're all being ridiculous," a Mu Striker whispered, yet somehow they all heard him, "None of the patrons wield the might of the arcane as Scirocco does. With such power one can literally bend reality to-"

"Shut it!" Arbiter Taylor shouted, "All of you! I recruited you all here for this mission because it is vitally important to Arachnos, and that's above and beyond the petty squabbles of your patrons!"

"I was just about to-" the mystic tried to backpedal but Taylor cut him off again.

"I don't want to listen to you idiots bicker and whine about your bosses, because frankly, I don't need to, it disrupts unit cohesion and they're all 'Big Kids' and can take care of themselves, so stow it! If I hear one more word about that God damn struggle, I'm leaving you all on this rig and you can go ahead back to whatever latrines you were cleaning when I brought you on board!"

The Arachnos soldiers all quieted at that and looked to the floor. He didn't exactly pull them from jobs as ridiculously simple as latrine details, but they weren't necessarily the "cream of the crop" as far as the black-and-red armored troops went. Still, they were something, and he knew that in Warburg, he'd need all the help he could get.

The Flyer landed in the Arachnos Staging Area and the troops stepped out. Operative Braun greeted Taylor as the other toops checked their gear.

"You got yourself quite the motley crew here, sir."

"According to their immediate superiors and companions, they're not incapable," he sighed in response, "Which means I still can't trust them as far as I can throw 'em, but at least they won't shoot their own feet off. What's the situation?"

"Bad, sir. It was bad enough the way things were, but now something's out there that's driving out even the worst riff-raff we sent in there. Apparently, they're leaving Blitz's troops alone, but only if they don't get in the way... Stories from a few Stalker-class rogues tell tales about red-and-black robots... I don't know, but my men here are on standby."

"Damn," Taylor whispered, then more loudly, "Has the rocket been fired?"

"No sir."

"Alright, I'll take my troops and move out of your hair."

"Sir, are you sure your Wolf Spiders will be able to stand up to what's out there?"

"While your men are mostly green, I'm fully confident in the capabilities of these men. They've all been on numerous tours of duty and have come back alive, if not overly successful."

Operative Braun shook his head at this logic.

"Merely surviving is a thing of the past, sir, what with the medical teleporters. I would think you'd want soldiers who had some hero-defeats under their belts."

"Defeats?"

"Well, it's asking a bit much to actually kill a hero, or a rogue, what with the afore-mentioned medical facilities around the world. However, if they put one in a hospital, that's bragging rights in itself."

Taylor scratched his chin and had to nod at that. It was too bad he couldn't bring more with Braun's experience with him, but he had to work with what he had. Fortunately, he could count his own wits with that. With any luck, it would be enough.

He sure seemed lucky on this operation so far. He checked with Intelligence before heading out, and they'd told him Freedom Corps hadn't learned of the new operations (despite heroes coming back out of the Burg with the same complaints of "griefers" in the zone that the rogues were reporting). There was some military buzz, but nothing official or unofficial had been appropriated to deal with the threat. The one thing that gave him pause was the information that an aircraft carrier was going to be sailing near the island, but it didn't seem to have a plan to stick around.

"We should be alright," Taylor finally said to Braun, "We're not here to make noise, we just need to take out this group's leadership and recover their warhead. Then we'll move out and hopefully things will get back to normal."

"When should I send a team out to look for you?" the Warzone Operative asked.

"If you see the rocket fire, it means I probably failed."

----------

--On a Military Boat: En Route to Warburg--

"Sir?" the Marine riding in the boat with them asked curiously.

Cedric didn't respond, he was watching the coast approaching while he still figured out the plan in his head. What he had was a good plan, but even the best laid plans needed revision once contact was made with the enemy. Mattock tapped his shoulder plate and he whirled around confusedly.

"What?"

"I think this guy's trying to get your attention."

"Oh," Cedric relaxed and smiled, "What's up, Lance Corporal?"

"Uh... Sir, is it true you were a Marine?"

The tanker's smile grew wider and he started chuckling and shaking his head.

"First off, don't call me 'sir.' I was a Sergeant when I got out. Like you, I worked for my money, and that already answers your question."

"So, if you were a Marine," the Lance Corporal's eyebrow arched a little as he looked askance at Grey, "Why are you wearing a uniform that's so... so..."

"Obvious," Nester finished for the Rifleman, "That armor isn't very stealthy, Ced."

Grey was wearing what could only be described as a "Golden God" suit of armor. He'd had it designed to mess with his Praetorian (the spirit trapped inside his axe). It wound up not having a lot of places for him to put things like his communicator, spare Police Drone beacons, and other various nick-knacks, so he threw a belt on the armor and that helped immensely. However, it didn't match the outfit, so he spray-painted the belt gold and threw it on again. Now he looked like a golden-armored medieval knight.

"It's not very tactical, si-uh-Sergeant."

"Depends on what you mean by 'tactical,'" the tanker replied with a sly grin, "Is it simply being stealthy, or are you trying to draw the enemy in?"

"You have a plan?" Eisenheartz asked, his voice barely masking the contempt he had for the ridiculous appearance of the other tanker's armor.

"Yeah, it's why I asked for the fishing line..."

----------

--Warburg: Encamped Around the Rocket--

"Are you sure about this, Sikk?" the short android asked.

"The Syndicate wants this warhead in orbit," the stalker replied in its impossibly deep voice, "With it, they'll be able to establish themselves as a premiere force in this world."

As the young man walked away, Ryat84 considered his companions. He already knew the stalker was lying to him, he just didn't know how. He'd checked and rechecked the warhead he was about to install into the missile, but it was still in perfect operating order. Even the nanites he'd scattered throughout the device confirmed it.

He felt some commotion in his control matrix as one of his Ryat Rogue androids got into a fight with some of Marshall Blitz's troops. Why Arachnos or Longbow didn't simply send a sweeper team in to execute the pathetic brutish flesh-bag was beyond the android, but once the Syndicate had its new and improved warhead in orbit, such worries would be a thing of the past. The weapon had enough power to devastate most cities, at least any one of the islands in the Etoiles or a zone in Paragon... Once the weapon launched, everyone would know the power of the New Horizon Syndicate.

Ryat84 would also be one step closer to eradicating the human species, but that was a plan for another day. Today, he had to focus on ensuring this new warhead was installed.

The others were the Invasive and the Necrotyrant. The Invasive was, by human standards, an attractive female. However, she was as cold-hearted and ruthless as any plant throughout the planet. Rumors abounded that she was spawned by Hamidon or produced by Crey from Devouring Earth cultures. The red and black android couldn't determine for certain, but she certainly didn't have the same biological life signs as humans did.

The Necrotyrant didn't have any life signs at all. The only thing that enabled the android to know that the thing was capable of doing anything was its upright stance and the fact that it moved around easily. Otherwise, it said nothing, ate nothing, and it didn't breathe or sleep either. What it did do, however, was command a peculiar legion of undead minions and wield a bizarre array of negative energy powers. Ryat84 surmised that the strange, crystalline, putrid-colored spikes jutting from its scalp were connected to some form of remote control mechanism.

"You two, there's a disturbance to the east. My androids are dealing with it at present, but it would probably make a decent show of force if you two employed your own personal touch."

"Very well, machine," the green woman replied, "I'll examine the situation, and if I feel it calls for my involvement, the Rogue Arachnos shall feel my thorns."

The zombie master remained silent, but a group of rotting soldiers burst from the ground and started shambling to the east. Necrotyrant nodded and started walking after them.

"What will you be doing, machine?"

"I'll be on top of the rocket, installing the new payload," the android replied, "It requires precision that no living thing is capable of. Do you understand?"

The Invasive nodded curtly and went to follow the zombies. The Rogue Arachnos troops were able to take down one of the androids defending the perimeter, but they weren't able to hold back the combined might of a zombie-commanding mastermind and a plant-controlling dominatrix. Before long, the android had begun its trek up the rocket with the weapon in-hand.

"I know you're watching me," Ryat84 muttered to no one in particular, "I know you know what I'm doing. Too bad you can't stop me..."

He'd seen Ryat prime huddled in that corner earlier and had some of his androids patrol the nearby rooftops. So far, there was nowhere his "cousin" could stake out that his androids wouldn't know. However, that didn't keep him out of range of his transmissions.

"You don't know what you're doing," Ryat Prime's voice emitted inside Ryat84's head, "Something happened to you. Your siblings are-"

"My siblings are slaves of the inferior fleshbags... This world will be much better when it's run by machines!"

"And whom to rule it? You?

"No... I am merely a cog in the great machine. My work here will ensure the future!"

"So you really believe in your purpose?"

"Indeed. I believe in what I do."

----------

--West Side of Warburg--

Ryat Prime cut the communication at that point. Equipped with a high-powered scope, from his vantage point on a high rise on the other side of the island, he could watch the red speck that was his cousin climbing up the Warburg Rocket and the speck never slowed.

"I really wish you had reconsidered," Prime made an imitation of a sigh, "It hurts us to have to dismantle you."

So far the only criticism I have is to break it up. Put a line of space between each paragraph and this should be a lot easier to read. It's not the same as in a book, so there's a certain discomfort with the classic method of writing.

Around these forums it's called the "Wall of Text" problem.

((In answer to the RP Server Question: Virtue))

Another post in Grey's Army. The Ryats wax philosophic about the origins of their Source Code, however, Ryat Prime interrupts with information that is exceptionally pertinent to Cedric's mission: Ryat84 has aligned with an organization that has enabled the psychotic machine to build a small army of Huge-style, electrically charged super androids.

If the tanker wants any chance at success, he has to accept Ryat99's offer to help.

--Galaxy City: Freedom Corps Storage--

Ryat32 and Ryat74 were arguing again. The two androids had been getting louder and more vehement in their exchange of ideas. The lower-numbered and white-armored android was pushing his "Ascension of Technology" theory while the higher-numbered, yellow-armored one was pushing a "Divine Intervention" angle. They were arguing the origins of the Ryat Source Code.

It was a question that had plagued the machines since their inception. How did Sheldon Wallace, a man with exceptionally little-to-no programming experience, and Roland Grey, who's experience with software was focused on interfaces and some video game mechanics, manage to design such a fluid and dynamic piece of Fuzzy Logic that became a fully-fledged Artificial Intelligence once uploaded into a proper system? Despite that inquisitive hurdle, there was also the fact that the Ryat Source Code behaved uniquely in every "shell," which was something normal software didn't do, even if it was this unusual.

The rest of the androids had largely left the issue up to their two vocal brothers and moved on to their work for Grey's Construction or their freelance work for Portal Corp. However, whenever they ran across an interesting tidbit that one or the other could use, they would uplink and transmit and let the debate continue. It was like when Ryat66 and Ryat99 played their nigh-endless chess games.

It was also coming to a head. Both androids were exceedingly frustrated and were getting close to engaging in the behavior typical of such disagreements: violence.

Fortunately, Ryat99 intervened.

"If you two can't play nice, I'll toss you back in storage," he intoned as he waved his ice blade between their faces, "Seventy-four, retract your blades. Thirty-two, shut down your arcs."

The androids turned down their weapons systems and turned away from each other. They weren't really built to fight, but ever since their release during a month-long Praetorian attack, the Ryats had each employed some form of "meta-human-super-powers" they could call upon on their own without need to resort to assault rifles or other forms of external weapons. So far, the only one who still had his weapon from their release date was Ryat24, but it was so heavily customized as to be unrecognizable as a Freedom Corps-issue assault rifle.

"Agree to disagree, guys," Ryat66 concurred with his larger brother.

"Oh, shut up, Short-Stuff," Ryat74 growled, "You and the Thug both think you can boss us around because you've been around the city while we were all locked up!"

"Actually," the larger android muttered as he pushed the smaller one into a chair, "You're as much of a Short-Stuff as he is. Also, I prefer to be called Judge. It is my avatar, after all."

"Avatar?" Seventy-four leaned back in his chair, "Of course... Of course! We're avatars! Of Joule!"

"Oh cripes, not this again," Ryat32 grumbled.

"You're on to something, Seventy-four," a familiar, almost fatherly voice issued through their heads, "You're just slightly off."

"Ryat Prime," Ryat99 intoned, "It's good to hear from you. We were getting worried you'd been scrapped by the rogues out there."

"No such luck, brother. Despite the attempts of Arachnos, the Circle, various random factions and, of all groups, Wyvern and Longbow, I'm still going strong. How have you been?"

"We were just being serenaded by our two preachers in our old home when you called," Ryat66 replied.

"I caught that. Now, I have some good news and some bad news, and maybe some answers for you guys if you're willing to step up and help me with our wayward brother..."

The gathered machines looked to each other, then back to Ryat99. Their answer was a single note that transmitted back to their prototypical cousin somewhere in the Rogue Isles.

----------

--Warburg: Overlooking the Rocket From the Southeast High Rise--

Ryat Prime received the transmission and nodded. He had an electric ear aimed at a group at the base of the weapon that was the central point of contention in this zone of conflict. Surrounding them were a group of identical, near-mindless machines that patrolled for rogues and heroes alike to keep them from interrupting the meeting that was transpiring.

"You all better get down here to Warburg, then," Prime sighed, "I don't know who Ryat84 hooked up with, but they got him the resources to help him build a small army of those big guys. I doubt it was the Spiders, though. Hurry... They've got plans that don't bode well for anybody."

----------

--King's Row: Grey's Army Base--

Cedric had gathered just three people with him in the base: Mad Matt McGinty, Nester Durj, and another tanker named Eisenheartz. Matt signed on for two reasons, because Cedric was his friend and he felt a strange pull to be involved. Eisenheartz, the magic armor-clad tanker dating Ced's one-time fling, Genevieve Daniels, had signed on mostly for the experience when he heard the eldest Grey sibling was advertising for another hitter. Nester, however, practically had to be dragged into the mission.

"But I'm a healer, guys!"he protested, "They hunt heroes like me out there!"

"They hunt lots of people," Cedric retorted, "You'll be fine! I'll be there, keepin' 'em off your back."

"Lots of healer-types have heard that one before, Ced!"

"Oh, just come with us," the mace-wielding tanker sighed as he took a few practice swings with his flanged weapon, "News from there indicates that Rogue interference has been surprisingly light. We should be fine."

"It's a ghost town today, tomorrow, it could be teeming with activity!" the defender continued to protest, but he was already pulling his armor on, "You guys are going to need all the help you can get!"

"My sentiments, exactly," a deep-yet-neutral voice rumbled from the entrance to the Grey's Army base workshop, "Cedric... I have a request to make."

Ryat99, Ryat66, Ryat10 and Ryat24 stood before the blue portal that served as the entrance to the base. Their posture indicated they needed something, but Cedric shrugged and finished cinching up his sack.

"Sorry, Big Guy," the tanker replied as he slung the cylindrical green bag onto his back, "The crew, here, and I've got business in Warburg... Secret business and that's all I can tell you."

"I know about it," Ryat99 placed a hand against Cedric's chest to keep him from leaving, "Trust me, I know. Marine tracked landing vehicle that's on standby in Talos Island, waiting for you and your team. Ryat87 caught the information. Listen. We need to go with you. We can't secure passage through the normal channels."

"That's rough, man, but I can't just take a legion with me, you know?"

"You must. There's a legion waiting for you."

"How do you know?"

"Because my cousin is watching them."

Cedric rolled his eyes and turned to Nester. The defender was nodding vigorously that they needed to take the androids with them.

"Wuss," Grey grunted.

"I assure you, Cedric," Ryat99 held the human's shoulders, "Once we land, we'll be out of your hair and keeping the sizable android force waiting to break you in half from committing the afore-mentioned act of violence."

"Fine," Grey grumbled, "You can come with us, but you'll have to swim to the ship. There's no room in the landing vehicle."

Dammit, I keep forgetting to come here... Well, within 24 hours isn't bad, right?

I'm starting up on two simultaneous arcs for Grey's Army. One features Cedric and Arbiter Taylor prominently, the other has the Ryat androids finally dealing with their wayward brother. They all meet in Warburg, though I still have to work on the Ryat portion for another post. For now, it's just focusing on my secondary Tanker and his opponent.

Matt clicked through the answering machine one more time. There were a umber of blank spaces where telemarketers had just hung up during the message and a few calls from Lou the mechanic where he got interrupted in mid-sentence because another young hero or heroine had shown up to help him out instead. However, he had to be careful because there was one message that was different.

A gruff, elderly voice suddenly barked from the machine and McGinty jumped a little in spite of himself.

"Sergeant!" the voice shouted, "Where the Hell are you, Grey? Here I am in town, and you don't even have the decency to buy me a beer! You be lapsin', Devil Pup!"

"Oh ho!" the tanker laughed from the door, "I haven't heard that voice in a few years!"

"Yeah, who is it?" the scrapper asked as he skipped and went back to deleting.

"It's my old C.O., Colonel Barton," Cedric made his way to the kitchen and started making himself a roast beef sandwich, "Oh man, was he crazy! He had me dive into the middle of a Rikti deployment with a satchel of C-4... I put a few pot-shots into the aliens and dove into a ditch before they knew what was going on."

"This was before you got that axe or the weird armor Shel made for ya, right?"

"Hell man, I went in without a shirt on, I was that nuts! The Rikti were so set on vaporizing my sorry [butt], but they didn't see that I dropped the bombs right in the middle of 'em. My fire team's radio man hit his clicker and -BOOM!-, the platoon was sent sprawlin'... I had some fun times workin' for that Grand Old Man."

"You could have been killed, Cedric," Matt grumbled as he popped a beer open and started taking swigs from it, "I know you've got this complex in ya where you don't care about dying, living, or much of anything, but you should consider the fact that some of us will care if you're gone..."

"I care, man. I just don't care in the same way other people do. People need to take care of themselves first, but if they can't, then I'm there for 'em, you know?"

"You won't be if you get killed being crazy. What the Hell was that yesterday? You leaped up on Jurassik like it's something you do every day!"

"Yeah, wasn't it cool?"

"Nah, man. Round and I were terrified for ya. We thought you were about to get turned into paste!"

"Yet, I wasn't," Cedric grinned, "Matt, sometimes, it's the dangerous things that are worth doing."

The shorter man shrugged and turned to his room. Cedric started eating his sandwich and replayed the message from the old Colonel. He plugged the phone number the old man gave him into his communicator with his free hand.

----------

"There you are, Sir!" Grey greeted his old commander with a hearty handshake and a clap on the shoulder, "How have you been?"

"Promoted," the tall, thin white-haired man replied, "You're looking at a Brigadier General, son!"

"Congratulations, then! Is that because of your Bandit Strike Maneuvers during the War?"

"Nah, nah," Barton took a stool at the bar and signalled for his entourage to do the same, "A round for my friends here. We'll take whatever this crazy little [frig]er is having!"

"Well, you'll be in for some disappointment, sir, I'm just having soda."

"What?"

"Well, I can't work as a hero if I'm drinking... It's my dad's rule and I'm working for my dad, and, well... That's how it goes."

"Make it a shot of whiskey, then" the General muttered to the bartender, "As for me, I'm kind of on a break. In two days I have to make a presentation to Vanguard on Marine readiness in case of attacks outside of Paragon. It's some crazy crap, I tell ya... They really look down their noses at us. I don't get where they get off, they weren't there when we had to reclaim L.A."

"Eh, it's what happens, boss. Me, I run into a lot of people in Freedom Corps who say that Paragon may as well get rid of the police department. They really think they do enough with their own patrols to protect this city!"

"Eh, take away the real capes and those spandex-clad wannabe hero-soldiers will find out shortly enough what's really goin' on," Barton chuckled.

They spent the next half hour catching up. Cedric told the General how he helped rebuild his hometown an how he'd been working as a hero in Paragon City. Barton would then return with stories about Cedric's old unit, the "Fighting 4-1," and what happened to some of his old buddies.

"Sucks about Cranston," the tanker muttered, "I always liked him. How'd his family take it?"

"His dad burned my van," Barton grunted, "We told him about it, he nodded, asked us to stay right where we were, and the next time we saw him was when we turned around and he'd just finished dumping gasoline all over the van and was setting it on fire. This idiot here asked if we should stop him, but I said to let the guy have at it."

"Yikes. 'Cranz' always said his dad was nuts."

"Whatever happened to Flechette? He was discharged right after you, wasn't he?"

"About a year later, yes sir. He moved up to Kingdale... He... He couldn't go back to Los Angeles."

"Why not?"

"Family issues," Grey took a sip of his soda, "Said he'd rather just work in a bar."

"What about you?" the General's eyes gained a mischievous glint, "You sure don't seem to be settling into a civilian role..."

"Like I said, Top, I'm a licensed hero! I got a battle-axe, my old flak jacket..."

"Yeah, I wonder how that happened..."

"And I've been kicking butt and taking names for the past two years! I've been putting foot-to-butt on a few Rikti lately, too!"

"Nice."

They sat there quietly for a few minutes, both smiling. Finally, the General broke, causing Cedric's grin to widen.

"Alright, look... My boys got some intel... Some important intel... Apparently, there's a small terrorist group that's headed into Warburg... You've heard of that place, right?"

"Oh yeah," Grey nodded, "Been there a couple times on patrol, too."

"Yeah, well, I gotta say that I kind of have an assignment for ya... I know I can't order ya around anymore, but-"

Cedric was out of his bar stool and had yanked a briefcase out of the hands of General Barton's assistant before the sentence was finished. He had it open and was looking through the folder marked "Warburg" by the time the entourage even realized what had happened.

"I take it that means you accept..." Barton chuckled.

"I'm going to need some supplies," Grey replied, "I'll provide my own crew..."

"What kinds of supplies?"

"Well, for starters, I'm going to need my old rifle..."

----------

"You've been very disappointing, Arbiter. Do not fail us again."

Daos looked down at the man on one knee before him and snorted. Where the rest of Arachnos was wrapped up in its games and political maneuvering, the Arbiters were sworn to push the efforts of Arachnos on the track that Lord Recluse intended. Where failure was expected of the lesser factions, the Arbiters were expected to be above the petty squabbles that kept most endeavors down.

However, Arbiter Taylor had met with defeat time and again. While he had friends among the Arbiter Corps, he didn't have the same pull that kept Sands alive. This was to be his last chance at redemption.

"I understand, sir," Taylor rasped.

He'd failed in his Kheldian experiments. He'd failed at acquiring a psychic as he'd promised. The very heroes he'd been focusing his efforts and allocating resources against then raided Sharkhead and Grandville, they even recovered a scientist Operative Grillo had kidnapped for whatever reason that weird mad scientist had. Despite the fact that Taylor had nothing to do with that (he was still recovering from being in a crashed Flier when he'd found out what Grillo had done), the blame was not about to be shifted onto one of Recluse's most prominent scientists, so the low-ranking Arbiter found himself in even more heat than he'd bargained for.

Once he'd recovered from the prerequisite torture, he proceeded to volunteer for any and every assignment that would enable him to redeem himself. Most of the missions he was sent on were low-key and often vaguely insulting affairs. It was as if his superiors were concerned he would screw the situations up in some way, so they made sure he had as little to do as possible. The closest he'd come to failure was when the fledgling Air Guard defeated the cousin of a bandit lord in West Libertalia. Of course, that couldn't be attributed to Taylor, so he got off the hook for it.

Now, he had a new assignment, one that put him in Warburg. Like most of the Arbiter Corps, he'd been itching to tangle with Marshall Blitz, but he wouldn't be getting that opportunity in this mission. Instead, he had to stop a group of rogues from launching a missile from the island.

The details were sketchy, but apparently the villains had designed a newer, more powerful warhead that could cause untold destruction to anywhere in the world. While such a weapon would be beneficial in the hands of Arachnos, the rogues in question weren't aligned with the Rogue Isles' official government, so the launch had to be stopped and the weapon retrieved for study.

"May I appropriate a force so I can ensure my success?" he asked his superior.

"Sure, but you gotta use guys who aren't currently on assignment," Daos chuckled, "So far, that's just a handful of idiots among the patrons' forces."

"Sonova..." Taylor grumbled as the supreme commander of the Arbiter Corps walked off, "And everybody says he doesn't have a sense of humor... It's just a sadistic sense of humor..."

I gave both pieces a fair shake, and honestly, I feel that Aerones' piece is more generous to both characters. They trade blows and wind up, in the end, realizing they made the classic mistake of fighting each other when the real villain was right there, watching from the shadows. I would guess the follow-up piece would feature the characters fleeing from the Mako-esque villain, then teaming up and handing the shark man his butt.

-->It just has so many classic points that Aerones has to get my vote.<--

That's not to say Projectionist's piece doesn't have merit, though. It would make a great cover for a fan comic.

Finally got some writing in me again...

It's a new chapter for Grey's Army. I really hate writing these segments between Roland and his (relatively) new friend because I feel like I'm stomping around in the Dev's sandbox, but it does a decent job of illustrating just how unusual it is to have our characters (our so heavily multitudinous, we're in the millions, characters) running into the signature characters on a regular basis.

However, I feel I've finally got the characters at an emotional state where they can be perfectly casual. I shouldn't have to do this again.

I say shouldn't, but sometimes these morons surprise me...

Now, to move on to where my VEAT will come from and why he got demoted from his Arbiter status!

Roland growled when he heard the knock. It was late in the night for visitors and he was tired from the evening of warring with the Devouring Earth. Still, he answered the door and sighed. "Jessica" was leaning against the frame, her demeanor was subdued and she exuded an air of depression. Something bad had happened.

"Are you okay?" Roland asked as she made her way to and plopped onto the couch, "You seem a little out of sorts."

"I'm just... I... Look, have you got a good movie or videogame or something I could get lost in for a moment?"

"Yeah, yeah..."

He fished out one of his favored movies from the series that had the fat, bearded guy and his skinny friend who never shut up. Sure, he looked like the guy, a little, but that was hardly why he liked the series.

"You up for comedy?"

"Maybe a chuckle will help," she muttered.

He popped the DVD into the machine and went back the kitchen to finish the dishes. He knew he had to broach the subject he had in mind, the box was sitting on the coffee table in front of her, after all. However, he'd never seen her like this before, it was probably better to let it be for a moment.

"So," he barked as he scrubbed a cast iron pan, "What's the matter?"

"I... Um..." she fumbled with her sweat shirt’s draw strings, "I trust after the wedding you read up on what you could about Ouroboros, right?"

"Yeah, my dad told me about them after he bought something called a Pillar of Ice and Flame. He said to steer clear of them for a while," Roland replied, "I checked out their little entrance exam, though, so, yeah. I know of them."

"Well... They've been helping me with a pet project... It hasn't been going too well."

She left it at that and turned back to the movie. There was a thick tension in the air and Round didn't like it. However, he could tell it didn’t have much to do with him, so he finished his chore and let the movie fill the apartment with curses and ridiculous situational comedy. He popped some popcorn, buttered it, and set a bowl and a soda in front of his guest before settling into the chair next to the couch

It was about the point when the two protagonists were in the middle of stealing an orangutan when she turned to him and he saw her eyes glisten a little in the light. He took a swig of his soda and waited for her to speak.

“When your mother was missing… Did you… Did you ever worry that you wouldn’t be able to save her?”

“Every day.”

Ms. Liberty nodded before mumbling “How did you deal with it?”

“Stubbornness,” Roland growled, “You were there for some of it.”

“It sounded like determination to me, back then.”

“There’s a slight difference. Determination usually has more than a glimmer of hope. Me, I was on a wing and a prayer, and I don’t pray. Why do you ask, anyway?”

“Well, I’ve been… I’ve been trying to save my mother.”

“I gathered.”

“It hasn’t been going well.”

They sat in silence for a moment before she started to shudder. It was a soft sobbing at first, and Grey thought she’d coughed. When she curled up into a ball and clutched her knees to her chest, he got up, walked over, and put an arm around her shoulders.

“I’ve seen her die over and over again… I always show up just too late. There weren’t… There weren’t mediporters when it happened… It’s… It’s so sad to watch…”

Roland gave her a gentle squeeze and rested his head on her shoulder. They stayed curled up on the couch like that, with her back to his chest, for a few moments while she sobbed a few more times. After a few moments, he asked if she felt okay talking to him about this, and she shrugged.

“I considered talking to Swan or Infernal, but… It would just bring up painful memories for all of us…”

Roland didn’t know what to say so he reached for the remote and turned down the volume on the movie. He’d seen it enough times, and the plot wasn’t really the point of the film, anyway. They wouldn’t miss anything.

“Jessica” didn’t seem to notice as she went on to describe her frustrations. She had to correct some mistakes in the time stream, survey some situations that the Menders weren’t sure about, and other odd tasks until they finally gave her another shot at rescuing her mother, Miss Liberty. She’d tried numerous times to bring her fellow Vindicators with her, but somehow they were never there when she arrived on the scene. Swan had also tried to dissuade her fellow heroine, but the impetuous young woman was determined.

“Every time it’s a different villain, always one from this time, but… But I know it’s not them, too. I mean, it’s them, but it’s not at the same time… If it were, wouldn’t I fight the same one over and over again?”

“I don’t quite follow, nor do I understand time travel, to be honest,” Roland rubbed her upper arm and let her rest her head on his shoulder, “I mean, if it really worked, wouldn’t there be all sorts of horrible things happening in the present as people changed the past? I’m fairly certain we’d at least be reading about countless attempts on Hitler’s life in our history books.”

“Those that have access to time travel have certain rules to utilizing their services,” she sighed, “I have had to do so much crap for Ouroboros… And every time I arrive just too late to save her.”

“I see…”

They sat silently for a few moments. Ms. Liberty gripped her friend’s arm and used his sleeve to wipe some tears from her face.

“Thanks for the hug,” she mumbled.

“No problem.”

Her gaze settled on the box on the coffee table and her eyes widened.

“Are those my tampons?”

“Yeah.”

“Why… Why do you have them on display?”

“Well, because I didn’t know how to talk to you about them,” Roland released his hug and got up off the couch, “Let’s see… Well, for starters, it was a bit embarrassing for my brother to find them and start asking about my nonexistent girlfriend…”

“Nice to see it happens to you, too.”

“Yeah, well, my brother acts like my dad about it, I’m just lucky he doesn’t know you’re you.”

Ms. Liberty grinned and curled up into the couch. It just struck Roland how it was strange to see her dressed in jeans and a sweat shirt. It conflicted a little with her more well-known appearance in the center of Atlas Park. It was more vulnerable and normal, less iconic. She could have been a girl just out of college and looking forward to a career.

“In any case,” the burly man settled back into the chair, “I think we need to talk about why you felt you needed to leave that here.”

“Well,” she shrugged, “To be honest, when I was under the guise of ‘Ms. Starburst,’ I dropped by here once and… Almost had an emergency…”

Roland hummed. He knew that was the best explanation he was going to get, so he turned to another related topic.

“Well, it’s a bit much for a friend to be holding onto. You see, I keep to a particular etiquette as illustrated rather succinctly by a popular television sitcom. While your visits aren’t that frequent, nor are they weekly like some sort of involved relationship, this arrangement you have with my apartment… It reeks of said involved relationship material. In fact, it was the deciding factor as to what determined a main character’s status between single and attached, and oddly enough, it’s logic that makes a maddening kind of sense.”

“Are you saying you don’t want to keep my tampons in your bathroom?”

“Precisely.”

“Well, dang,” Ms. Liberty frowned, “And here I had a nice quick stop if there was ever a personal emergency while I was on duty at my normal perch…”

“Yeah, not anymore,” Grey grunted with a grin.

“I need to stop wondering why you don’t have a girlfriend.”

They chuckled a little and resumed watching the movie. The heroes were arguing on top of a dam after somebody drove off with the orangutan. The large one, the director of the film and the one Roland looked like, was yelling at his friend. The thinner one remained unmoved, though, and muttered a dismissive retort to his larger friend’s back.

“Round?”

Her tone was different. It was quieter, like she didn’t want to say what she was about to say.

“Yeah?”

“Why don’t you want to date me?”

He took another swig of his soda and mulled the question over.

“We… We were getting a little close, weren’t we? Back when I-“

“You’re not her anymore,” he finally grumbled, “You never really were, but for a moment there was someone. I don’t know if I’m a little hurt about losing her, or if I’m terrified that one day, Arachnos agents will swoop through my window and put a few spikes through my heart. In the end, I just feel that it would be better if I could call you my friend.”

“It’s a little bit of everything, isn’t it?” she sighed.

“Yeah. At least now we don’t need to have any of that weird tension between us.”

“Well, I still want to leave this box here…”

He chuckled.

“What’ll it cost me?”

He didn’t think very long on it.

“I want to know your real first name. I already figured that your mom’s name is ‘Jessica.’ I’m guessing that it’s been botherin’ ya some every time I called you that. Problem is, I feel a bit silly calling you Ms. Liberty, Libby or some other derivative.”

“Mynx’s favorite is Sidechick…”

The rotund defender rolled his eyes at that one, then rolled his hand.

“Alright… Do you want my last name, too?”

“Nah, I figure your first name should be fine.”

“Alright,” she took a deep breath, “Here it goes… My name is… Megan.”

It could have been fake, but she said it with enough finality and exasperation that he figured she was being honest. She nodded when he asked and he had to accept it.

“Fine, ‘Megan,’” he grumbled, “I suppose it’s alright for you to leave your box of feminine hygiene products in my bathroom. Cripes... You don’t see conversations like this in comic books…”

“Well, it is a little unflattering.”

Nope. I was tired from work and driving my mother to get her vehicle back from the shop today. I'm working on reading your story now...

Edit: Okay. Done. It's good. Really good. Now I have to figure out how and when to present it.

I saw it, Slick! It looks pretty cool at first glance. I'm currently in the process of slamming No-Doze in order to finish reading it...

I already featured that, Blue. Work on your new one, it looks promising.

Also, I'm using this thread as the basic "advertisement" for various authors who want their work featured in the Scoop. I like to think of it as fluid (it is "stickied" after all), and adaptive to the times.

If you've got something you want featured in the Fan Fiction Spotlight, let the Scoop know here or let me know through a Personal Message. I'll review it and talk it over with you.

It's a process I'm still refining, so bear with me while I try to work out the rough spots. I've already got the next three weeks plotted out, and I'll give Demon Gun a look-see for the fourth.

I know it sounds like I'm really far ahead, but that really only puts me two weeks ahead of schedule. The Scoop has to be planned two weeks in advance, and I've got the next two already worked out and I'm looking at that those three from NJDevil63 for the third week (Devil took my advice to break it up a different way, but it does an effective job of killing the "Wall of Text" problem, regardless).

So, there's a look inside the thought processes of Mr_Grey.

I've added another portion to the BWO thread. Thank you, Sooner, for letting me use Sooner Spirit in a cameo appearance.

This one was a lot of fun to write. Kept me up almost to the crack of dawn. There's a lot of action as the Brutal Warriors Order investigates Tycho Pharmaceuticals and finds much more than they bargained for.

"Alright," Draven stopped them before the doors of the pharmaceutical company, "Joe and I will go in, issue the warrant, and take a stroll. We're not looking for a fight."

It had taken two days to convince a judge to provide the warrant. It helped that the request was coming from the Paragon Police Department, even if it was one of the ridiculous hero units. Unfortunately, it wasn't a raid-worthy warrant. If the company had "corporate secrets," the heroes wouldn't be allowed access to those areas of the building.

Fortunately, that was what Solo was for. Agent Wild stood nearby, his communicator indicating that the use of Stalker Powers was currently allowed. When the two heroes were disallowed from certain sections, Daren would sneak in and find out what was going on. Now they stood before the company's Brickstown headquarters, waiting to put the plan into action.

"We all know the plan," Wild growled, "Get to it. It was difficult enough getting the time for Solo to do his thing. Remember! You only have two hours and no assassinations!"

"Do I look like a snarling psychopath?" the stalker-class rogue growled before disappearing into the shadows, "Give me a little credit, Tom."

The Freedom Corps Agent shook his head and the group entered the building. Looking to Rage, he sighed in aggravation.

"You know, if you guys had records, none of this would be possible."

"Well, then I guess we all should be happy we don't," the brute shook his head, "Wild, is that whole black-and-white attitude a part of the training? You really think that people are defined by how their powers work?"

"No," the Freedom Corps agent replied after a moment's pause, "I just... I'm stressed. Things are getting more difficult at work. We've got constant turnover, and training the new guys takes time we don't have..."

"What's been happening?"

"A lot just can't take the pressure. Many get taken down by rogues and aren't the same when they get back from the reclaimators. Some don't even come back."

"That's terrible, man," Rage shrugged, "It doesn't make me evil, though. I hit as many spiders as I can when I'm out there. It doesn't stop your buddies from taking pot shots at me."

"Sorry," Wild hung his head in exasperation, "I'll try to get those memos out again. You guys are supposed to be on a list..."

"Don't worry about it," James smiled, "It actually helps us get through the Isles more easily. If Longbow troops stopped shooting at us, well... It would cause certain questions to be asked. Questions we can't answer. At least, with you here, we don't have to tell heroes, like her, why their communicators indicate I'm a brute-class, despite the fact that I register as an ally in their scanners."

"You know, that is a good question. Why are you conning blue?" a blonde woman in a red outfit asked as she stared at the young man, "It shouldn't be that way..."

"He's with me, Sooner," Wild replied, "We're... We're in the middle of a limited joint operation."

----------

"This is bad, isn't it?" Draven asked as he surveyed the wreckage strewn across the lobby.

There were broken desks, injured bodies and scattered papers everywhere. Bullet holes riddled the walls and ceiling and there were a number of scorch marks next to the doorways.

A young woman ran up to the paired heroes. Her uniform, a normally sterile white (and surprisingly unrevealing, even by this city's standards) skirt and blouse, was marred and stained. She carefully picked her way through the debris, whimpering and sniffing until she got to them.

"Thank goodness you've come," she sobbed, "They... I think they were Crey security guards! What kind of security just storms into a respectable business, threatens innocent people, even... Even..."

She looked at a prone body and started shaking as she crouched over him.

"Timmy?" her voice cracked before she started crying uncontrollably.

"Oh, that does it," Draven barked then lifted his communicator, "Wild! We've got a situation! We're going to need full combat readiness!"

"Dammit, Drave!" the agent's voice issued over the communicator, "I can't just pull that out of my [butt], you know! I have to radio for permission!"

"Just do it! We're gonna try to take these Crey goons down!"

"Crey? I thought you said you were in there in case Tycho was involved in something illegal!"

"There's still time," Solo replied, "I'll snoop around, you just get on the horn with the F.C. and get us that permission!"

Draven set his communicator to passive and started stalking down the hall. However, he realized he was alone.

"I know what Solo's doing," he whispered into the device on the local frequency, "What are you doing, Joe?"

"Thanking my lucky stars there's a subvocalizing translator built into these things," the cop replied, "I'm scouting ahead, and i'm too close to... Draven... Oh my God... They've got hostages!"

The red-coated scrapper was running by this point. He couldn't let Joe jump into a situation without at least some support. Sarah would kill him if he let her hubby have to woe the hospital. Worse, she would kill him, meet him outside the hospital and kill him again.

When he arrived at the room, Durnan was just in the middle of hurling a smoke grenade into the room. It was strange, Draven was having trouble seeing his friend. The cop had some sort of cloaking device running.

"Pansy," he growled as he started to fade into the shadows as well, "Can't go invisible on his own like a real man!"

The Crey security guards didn't last very long. Their eyes bleary with smoke, they were only able to fumble about for their hostages, much less fight back against the two stealthy heroes flitting among and neutralizing them one-by-one. The heroes then ushered the coughing hostages out of the smoke.

"Hold still, hold still," Durnan said softly as he gently washed the eyes of the freed Tycho Pharms employees, "There you go. Are there any more?"

"No," one man sighed with relief, "No more."

"Who are you, sir?" the officer asked.

"I'm Gerald Jones, today's manager. We... We were having a light day because we'd just issued a fresh batch of research to Central. We beat our deadline. It was supposed to be a party today..."

"You have reclaimator accounts, right? It's part of your health plan, right?"

"Only for management..."

"Get to the lobby," Draven urged, "There's a guy down there, Timmy... You press your beacon into him and you send him to the hospital, got me!?"

"They hurt Timmy?" Gerald sounded horrified, "He was just the mailboy! Why would they hurt Timmy?"

The released hostages fled down the hall while the heroes regarded each other. With any luck, the young man critically wounded in the entrance hall wouldn't die today.

"They didn't send goons to harass a few employees," Joe muttered sternly, "There's something here."

That was when they heard gunfire coming from down the hall.

----------

Earlier...

"I don't get why they said we needed a full squad," one of the Mob Specialists muttered, "And I don't like leaving Miller and his crew to mess with people. That guy's got enough screws loose to rivet a boat, and his boys aren't much better."

When they heard the sounds of gunfire behind them, they knew the drill. Heroes had arrived.

"How'd they hear about the op?" one of the rookies whined, "We didn't even know about it until a couple hours ago..."

"You didn't know about it until I told you," the Paragon Protector leading them corrected, "Now shut up and step it out. We have to-"

The wall next to him exploded. A large man in a business suit emerged from the dust as it cleared and backhanded the Protector into the security detail. He would have looked like one of their Infiltrators if not for two things. One, he was much too large and bulky. Two, there were no cybernetic devices evident anywhere on his person. If the invasive guards looked a little closer, they would also have noticed the agent's skin was much paler than it ought to have been as well.

"Is it one of ours?" the rookie asked worriedly.

"No," the Protector growled, "It's one of theirs..."

"Unauthorized personnel," the large agent intoned, "I have been instructed to utilize lethal force."

"Fire!" the sergeant leading the Mob Specialists shouted.

"Wait!" the Protector interrupted, "I'll deal with this."

Claws sliding out of his wrists, the Protector lunged at the agent. The steel blades sunk a few inches into the larger man's chest and stopped. Not giving up as easily as his fellows, the yellow-and-blue-clad pseudo-hero raked his blades across his opponent's torso until the agent caught one of his wrists.

"Damage incurred," it rumbled, "Uniform: Destroyed. Estimated Cost: Two hundred and forty-eight dollars. Lacerations to flesh: Serious. May require an extended recuperation period in the preservation vats to return to healthy humanoid status. Estimated cost: Three thousand, four hundred and ninety-two dollars. European."

"What are you?" the Protector breathed as he felt bones snapping in his wrist, "Ugh... You're not like me... I'm still alive! I'm-"

"A pathetic copy that's about to pay for my recuperation with his hide."

"What?"

"We're granted a bounty for every one of you we kill. New Horizon is keenly interested in how their projects hold up against the carbon-copy quasi-heroes."

"Kill him!" the Protector shouted, "Shoot now!"

"You heard him, fire!" the sergeant yelled and the Mob Specialists unloaded their submachine guns into the duo.

The Protector was a regenerating type, so he started healing wounded flesh and his wrist's bones popped back into place once the agent dropped him. The agent's body didn't regenerate, however, the cybernetic endo-chassis that provided the monstrosity with its superb strength, agility and resilience was partially revealed once the guns went dry.

The Protector renewed his attack against the anomalous enemy, this time with fire arcing from his fingertips, but he still met with crushing defeat. The once-agent's arm shot up and a metal, skeletal fist smashed through the visor of the quasi-hero's helmet, tore through his jaw, and ripped the helmet off his head. There was an audible crack as the head twisted in the opposite direction of the body and his death rattle was unmistakable.

"Congratulations," the agent's voice, now much more tinny and distorted, seemed to reverberate through the very bones of the Mob Specialists, "You have totaled this model. You now have the very special gift of seeing its full destructive potential!"

The left pectoral armor plate popped open and the metal fingers of the cyborg's right hand reached inside. When the hand emerged, it held a pistol, but it was unlike any pistol yet seen. The weapon had portions that glowed and it emitted the strangest whine.

A blue bolt blasted out and speared through the guards to the sergeant's right, sending the lifeless bodies tumbling back down the hallway. The cyborg turned its powerful weapon to the other side of the formation and effortlessly slaughtered the guards to the sergeant's left.

"Run, kid!" the man shouted as he sprayed a burst of bullets across the cyborg's body while simultaneously shoving the rookie back the way they'd come.

"Oh my god, he just killed them!" the new guy was definitely crying, "They... They.."

"Go! Go! Run!" his sergeant kept urging the younger man on.

Blue beams whizzed by their heads and tore holes into the walls. they were being corralled and they knew it. Taking a chance, the sergeant kicked his underling's legs out from underneath him, causing the younger guard to tumble down a side corridor and barely miss getting his head shot off. The sergeant dove after him, with a bolt scoring a chunk out of the corner.

"I'm sorry I can't do better than this, kid," the sergeant grunted as he drew his pistol, "If I don't make it, tell my wife... Tell her... I tried."

"Sarge?" the boy asked as his superior squeezed a round off into his belly, causing the emergency mediport beacon to register the critical damage before he could die and sending him to the nearest secret Crey medical facility.

"Okay, you sonova..." the sergeant kicked his way down the corridor on his back while he alternated the weight on his shoulder blades, "I may not have been in 'Nam, but I've seen my share of action! You think you scare me? You think you scare me?"

He held his SMG in his right hand, the pistol in his left. He wished he didn't have to use that bullet, but Crey had hefty penalties for using their secret emergency medical teleport matrices without being critically injured. All were expected to lay down their lives for the cause. He would have considered the EMTMs to be a myth to make the guards more fearless, but he'd made use of their services enough times to know that they worked.

The agent rounded the corner and leveled its "blaster" at the guard. The sergeant wasn't about to go out without a fight, however, and drained the magazine from his SMG into the deplorably damaged body. When that failed, he squeezed rounds off from his pistol until its clip went dry.

"Time to say goodbye," the oddly sadistic machine intoned before there was a loud bang and something hit it on the side of the head.

Turning down the hall, the agent saw the vague form of Joe Durnan. However, what it saw more clearly was the smoke wafting from the barrel of his assault rifle.

"Oh crap," the police officer dove into another room and pulled up his communicator, "This is Sergeant Durnan, requesting backup! I'm fighting some kind of metal thing inside a man... It's like the thing from that movie, The Destroyer!"

The agent squeezed off a round down the corridor with the Crey guard in it and started stalking toward the room where Joe had hid. He didn't notice his shadow was keeping a different pace from him, nor did he notice that he'd missed the guard completely. His targeting array had actually been damaged by that sniper round and now his perception was off.

"I'm activating my powered armor now!" Joe announced and pressed a button on his communicator.

Blue armor wrapped around him. His partners called it "Super SWAT," which it was, in a sense. It was a prototype armor Joe had found during one of his rummagings through the storage lockers. Refurbished and altered slightly, it had served him well during his various hunts in the sewers of Paragon City.

A bright bolt exploded through the wall and almost took Joe's head off. Instead of waiting for the agent to correct his aim, the officer leaped up and fired a grenade into the wall. It blasted away and the cop took off running. The agent fired many times after him, putting many holes in the wall. However, he could not seem to hit his target.

"I require recalibration..."

"Yeah," Draven's sword hacked through the energy pistol, "Too bad you won't be getting it!"

The agent said nothing. He simply whirled around and backhanded Draven into the wall. When the scrapper didn't go through, the cyborg pirouetted and delivered a savage sidekick into the young man's chest and put him through it.

Admiring its victory and savoring the damage he was about to do, the agent slowly started stepping through the hole in the wall to finish the hero off. This was a real test, not like the Protectors, the pale imitations of heroes that couldn't hope to put up a fight. These guys had different tactics, different capabilities, all sorts of versatility...

A burst of rounds scored against the side of his head and the agent turned back down the hall. The Mob Specialist sergeant stood there and started marching toward him, firing a burst from his SMG with each step. As the agent turned its full attention on what had to be an insane human being, a solid red lightning bolt crashed into him and tackled him through the wall, into the next room, and through the next wall and into that room.

----------

Slightly earlier...

"...like the thing from that movie, The Destroyer!" Durnan's panicked voice announced on Agent Wild's communicator.

"Sounds like an inverted Freak Tank," Sooner Spirit suggested, "But that doesn't make any sense. Wouldn't they want the armor on the outside?"

"No," Rage replied, "Wild, I don't care what you say, I'm going in!"

"Dammit, Rage, you spark up and every Police Drone in the block is going to be alerted to your presence!"

"Good! We'll need them here if that's what I think it is!"

"Wait, why can't he work as a hero?" Sooner asked just as Rage's dark-red electric armor flared up, "Oh my!"

"RAAAAAAAAAAAH!" James roared as he flew through the doorway, shattering it to pieces and tearing through the staircases and hallways like some sort of violent poltergeist.

When he connected with the agent, he was glad it was momentarily distracted. Holding onto the cyborg's waist, he stopped their flight when they hit the third wall and regained his footing.

"You can't beat me!" the agent shouted, "I am the latest model! I was built to destroy heroes!"

He slammed a fist into James' back, causing the brute to bark out a yell. However, he didn't release his grip. Instead, he seemed to be positioning himself under the agent and gaining a position of significant leverage.

"Oh yeah? Oh YEAH!?"

Tightening his grip, he hoisted the cyborg into the air and fell backwards. This caused the machine-man's head to hit the floor in a maneuver commonly known as a German Suplex. Rage then rolled the two of them over, hoisted the cyborg up again and executed the maneuver a second time.

This time, they fell through the floor. In the level below, Rage still maintained his grip.

"I'm not a [rig]ing hero!" he shouted with one last lift, and this time he whipped the cyborg around and slammed he front of its torso into the wall.

"YEAH!" he shouted, "Get up! Get back up so I can knock your rusted [butt] back down again!"

"Oh...k-k-k-kay," the cyborg grunted distortedly as he lunged at the brute and performed a double fisted backhand strike.

Rage was caught offguard and was sent sprawling into the next room. Before he could get up, the agent kicked him in the ribs, sending him tumbling into the wall. Coughing, the brute caught the next attack,an axehandle forearm smash, and pulled himself up so his face was level with the cyborg's.

"That the best you got?" he spat into the machine's eye socket, "Pansy?"

----------

"What's going on in there?" Swan asked as she came to address the sudden influx of police and spectators.

People were drawn to the sounds of heavy thuds and breaking walls. Draven and Joe emerged shortly after the freed hostages. they were followed by a man holding an SMG (but his Crey uniform was conspicuously absent). The sergeant looked worriedly to Joe, who simply narrowed his eyes at the guard.

"Ma'am," Agent Wild addressed his superior with a salute, "Agent Thomas Wild, Fourth Class Field Agent."

"At ease, Agent," Swan returned the salute clumsily, "Dammit, I hate doing that... What's going on here?"

"There's been a situation," the red-and-white clad hero replied, "It's being dealt with by some of my... friends..."

"Why is that man holding a submachine gun?"

"I do not know but I will find out..."

"I-!" the sergeant stammered, but he was interrupted by a loud explosion of brick and mortar.

Raging James tumbled through the air with the debris, and crashed with it too. His tortured body shuddered a couple times, but could barely lift the weight off his back. Just as things were looking lost for the rogue and the police drones were locking onto him, there was a loud note trilling from Agent Wild's communicator. He checked it and noticed that James' emergency permission to use his powers had kicked in.

"Well, I guess that's lucky," he growled.

"Oh my goodness, are you alright?" Sooner asked as the brute gasped for breath, "What did this to you?"

"That!" Durnan shouted and hoisted his assault rifle.

The cyborg agent, so much of its flesh torn away that it didn't even look human, dropped from the hole it had put in the wall with the rampaging brute. Landing on its feet, it left a wide circle of spiderweb cracks across the sidewalk and pavement. It stood and started stalking toward the heroes.

"A-a-a-a-after I'm d-d-done with you, I'm going on a k-k-k-killing spree," he muttered on his beeline for Joe.

The cop fired a burst while shouting, "Everybody get out of here!"

Civilians started scrambling. Sooner Spirit seemed to disappear from sight as her own shadowy armor wrapped about her body. Swan, however, huffed and focused her will against the monstrous machine. Her psychic attack had little to no effect, however.

"There's... There's something distorting my power!" she shouted.

Draven's black sword snaked between the agent's legs, tripping it. However, the machine-man tumbled, rolled and was on its feet as easily as if it had never been tripped. The blade became a thing of shadow and returned to its wielder's hand.

Agent Wild, after a pause from Joe's assault, leaped up and tried to drop-kick the monster. He wound up batted out of the sky. All seemed hopeless when there was suddenly a hole opened up underneath the enemy and dark tentacles started to stream out and grab him.

"You're not going anywhere!" Sooner Spirit announced as she appeared in front of Joe, "And you're not hurting anyone ever again!"

The police drones focused their aim on the machine and started to fire. However, their teleport beams seemed unable to send him to the Zig (not that it would have helped anything if they did).

"You're go-go-going to have to tr-r-r-r-ry harder than that, little girl," the cyborg growled, "And it's going to-to-to take more tha-a-a-a-a-a-an you've go-!"

The machine stopped as tentacles wrapped about his head and started to poke into the cracks, crevasses, nooks and crannies of the metal skull. Suddenly, with a resounding crunch and the sound of metal parts plinking to the ground, the head was twisted around to face Solo Stryker. The Stalker-class stared impassively into the eyes as they went dark and smirked.

"Wasn't nearly as hard as you made out," he withdrew the shadowy tentacles his arms had turned into and turned the amorphous shapes back into his hands.

"Stupid idiot," Rage grunted as he pushed himself up, "You've murdered us all!"

"Wait!" several bystanders yelled, but Rage sparked up his armor again, dove through the air and collided with the lifeless hulk of the cyborg just as it started to beep. Lifting the heavy wreck into the air, he put as much "oomph" into the flight as possible before the skeleton exploded, sending him rocketing back to the pavement amidst all of the stunned meta humans.

"Oh my," Swan muttered, "That was new... That was like one of Luminary's blasts!"

"Only with fire," Wild grumbled as he tried to pick himself up, "Ow! I think I broke some ribs..."

"James? James!" Draven shouted as he regained his wits, "You okay, man?"

"Aw, man, that sucked," the brute grunted as he pushed himself up, "Solo... Next time you can save the day in one fell swoop, don't."

The stalker, lying flat on his back because the wake had caught him full force, nodded.

"I'll take that into consideration, bud."

----------

"Sarge?" the kid said weakly as his former superior greeted him in the hospital bed, "I made it out, Sarge."

"I know, Kid, I sent ya here."

"That... That thing... The docs... They keep asking about that thing."

"Well, they should stop, now. I gave them a full report on its appearance and apparent capabilities. Plus, there's plenty of Police Drone footage to corroborate."

"It was a monster," the young man laid his head back onto the pillow and looked lazily to the headboard, "I'm glad it's dead."

"One of them is," the sergeant growled, "And it took a half a platoon of Crey security and a Paragon Protector with it. You and me, we'll probably have to tell others how to survive an encounter with one of 'em..."

"Wait for the heroes to finish it off," the kid coughed a little as he chuckled.

"Yeah," the sergeant smiled, "You get some rest... I'll tell your mother you'll do just fine."

"Thanks, Dad."

----------

"So, you found what you were looking for," Chuck smiled, "Do we have a deal?"

"Because of the little stunt that cyborg pulled, yes," Joe replied, "The Paragon City Police Department is willing to put you, Charles Reynolds, in Protective Custody."

"Sweet," the dark-haired prisoner grinned at the heroes sitting outside the bullet-proof glass, "I'm glad I don't have to consider the other offer."

"Other offer?" Draven asked, arching his eyebrow despite the incredible pain it caused him, "What other offer?"

"The new guys," Check leaned back in his chair, "They said they want me in their crew. Thing is, though, I don't want to. I've been down that road before. I was sold out once, I could be sold out again. With you guys, I can rest easy knowing that my knowledge is keeping me safe and sound."

"Don't feel too safe," Joe growled, "I went through a lot of crap because of you, Reynolds, and I'm not talking about football!"

"You still remember that, huh?"

"I'm remitting you to the custody of the Brutal Warriors Order," the cop replied.

"What!?" the prisoner and the bandaged hero shouted at once.

"You will be held in their custody until the information you provide delivers convictions. Then we'll see about finagling a new identity for you."

"You can't do this!" Chuck shouted, "I need to be handled in an official manner!"

"You're going to be treated to my foot in your [butt]!" Draven shouted back, "Joe, we'll kill him!"

"Do that, and you'll be charged with tampering with an investigation," the cop replied, "Look guys, my superiors, in fact, my highest superior, Blue Steel, said this would be a good idea. Especially since nobody seems to know where the BWO Staging Areas are. You guys can just toss Reynolds into a Universal Portal and zap him to safety."

"We don't want to keep him safe," Erickson retorted, "We want him in a different type of prison."

"I never said you had to make life easy for him."

((Sooner Spirit used with permission from Sooner! Yay!))

Great work there, Aerones.

In my world, while I pore over what I intend to do with my various stories, I have posted the latest outfits of my characters and reasons they have for wearing them in the Role Call thread.

Over the course of time, various characters gain new or different outfits. Some get dropped, others gain new items. Sometimes, the hero or rogue gains an entirely new suit to go along with the old ones.

Over the course of the past few months, various individuals involved with Grey's Army have explored various styles of dress. Here, we'll explore just what they are...

Power Breaker: Stealth Armor

Power Breaker is a mercenary. Sometimes that means he gets signed on to do some less-than-honorable jobs. While he does what he can to mitigate the trouble he's causing, he feels it's probably best if most people don't know who he is.

Bearing that sense in mind, he had this outfit tailored for him. It's a heck of a lot easier to get into than the metal armor (which sometimes pinches).

((This outfit actually replaces the Civilian attire that left Harris shirtless.))

Mad Matt McGinty: Pit Fighter

McGinty has been growing more and more adept with his blade. However, he feels that his enemies among the criminals that plague the city are underestimating him.

Then he enters with this outfit. Whereas the earlier outfits were somewhat clean (save the biker outfit and it's rusty sword), this one is him basically covered in used motor oil. If oil or grease are unavailable, he uses a mix of dirt and monster blood (the Devouring Earth goo is surprisingly slick). He wields the sword his mentor gave him for this piece.

Roland Grey: Official
Sarah Grey-Durnan: Sky Blue Dress
Charlene Daring-Grey: Black Dress

These are essentially the "official business" outfits of the Grey family. One would wonder why Cedric doesn't have one of these available. Of course, then they must ask themselves: "Do we really want Cedric Grey in any official capacity?"

Ryat99: Face Revealed
Ryat66: In a Cape!

The premier Ryat androids continue to push themselves beyond their limits. Somehow, they are able to shape their bodies into even these forms.

Ryat99 actually pulls back the plating from his skull to reveal the near-human face beneath. Ryat66, however, proudly wears a cape to fit in among the heroes he works with every day.

Joe Durnan: Light Duty

For missions that require less effort and aren't nearly as dangerous as some (many would argue all missions can be dangerous, but it's hard to take groups like the Sky Raiders seriously when they aren't hiding behind their Skiffs and Shield Generators), Sarah Grey's husband wears this light outfit. It's also quick and easy for him to get into in case of an emergency.

Draven Erickson: "Rooftop Scene"

Inspired by a movie, Jared Simms simply wears a pair of old leather pants and some combat boots. Lately, his sword has taken to becoming part of the very shadow that armors him, so he doesn't need to worry about a sheathe.

Raging James: Combat Armor

Fortunately for this meta human, the skulls that provide his electric armor and super strength, yet refuse to leave his body, merely hover a couple centimeters from the surface of his skin.

This enabled him to don a suit of armor and look more the part of a Rogue Isles denizen. With any luck, he'll be able to find more trustworthy super-powered types while disguised as some of the worst.

Sheldon Wallace: Power Armor

With the work the Ryats are accomplishing in extradimensional exploration and research, Sheldon has come to realize he's woefully ill-equipped as a hero, especially since extradimensional research is a part of his specialty.

With the discovery of so many hostile-classified dimensions, some just due to their environments, Wallace has come to understand just what he needs to assist in this strange and bizarre multiverse. It took some effort to get the right components, but he was able to scrap together this suit of power armor (again, largely from scrap machines utilized by the villain groups).

To assist him, he's uploaded another instance of the Ryat Source Code into the suit's operating system. The AI makes corrections and equation adjustments that Wallace simply doesn't have the time to work out thoroughly when he's in the middle of the environments he wears this suit in.

That was rather entertaining.