jwbullfrog

OK here go my views...

+1

All of the Costume contests went well. The two big ones were "Dress Your Badge" and "That's Clever. " I agree that Layla's dolls had a big part in those going off as well as they did. Even with that, the others had smaller participation but some incredible entries for them.

The PvP events seemed well recieved. In particular, Rasta's bounty hunt seemed to have a lot of fans. That we may want to keep on the list for a more regular affair.

The trivia contest was a good addition. That also could be a semi-regular event.

It had the potential to be an unholy nightmare of organization. Yet, we had very few hangups and only one event that seemed to fizzle. I am still shocked things went as smooth as they did. Having a copy of the event schedule in place and in everyone's hands made that go smoother.

The discussion panels went very well. I'm not sure what everyone expected from those but we got far more participation that I expected.

The TF/SF runs seemed to be a big hit.


now the downside

-1

Communications: We could have set up and tested communications earlier. I know the Ventrilo was sort of a last minute addition so, if we use it again, we need to declare a day where we get all the principals online beforehand to test and adjust that.

Pacing and spacing: We could have spaced things out a bit more during the day. We had a lot of events running right up against each other. for example: Character panel-PvP panel- Layla 2 CC. In the future we could build in a few open spots in the schedule just to allow for events running over. Maybe half hour windows every 2-3 hours.

CC speed run: OK, it was kind of fun in a frantic sort of way but 15 events in a 2 hour time block was a bit much. We need either more time or fewer categories.

Advertising: We could have gotten the word out sooner and broader. The forums are good to a point but not everyone has a forum account (even more of a point when F2P goes live). We might want to explore more ways of getting the word out. Maybe more advance coordination with PERC and other player groups on other servers.

Storyline: OK, I admit this is my personal concern. It was fun to do but I'm not sure it had the impact we were looking for. By the time we got to the PvP events, I dont know if most of the participants knew the idea behind it. If we do this again (and I am willing to entertain that idea) we need to find a way to get that more in the eyes of the player base.

Organizers: We had a small group of organizers and moderators/judges. By the end of the day we were all pretty exhausted. We might need to recruit a few more bodies just to spread out the workload. Also this would let the organizers get in on the fun a bit more.

Rewards: How the heck do we top that level of cash? I have no real ideas here. Just worried about doing things bigger/ better/ more...


Overall, it was a success. A few modifications on the planning side and we could do this again.

Sorry if this has been mentioned before....

Teleport.

I would like a finger snap, or salute, or some other simple gesture like that.
I can get close to that with a macro tying an emote to the teleport but its not quite right.

Good Afternoon Paragonners, Alexis Alexander here with what may be my final report.
　
I haven't had a good night's sleep in three days. I simply haven't been able to close my eyes without seeing slowly rising numbers on a computer screen and my own hand pressing a button, killing hundreds...

My dreams are irrational, playing over and over in a loop made up of what might have been. In my dreams, I condemned hundreds to death. In my dreams, I am a murderer.

In reality, I'm being called a hero.

I've recieved phone calls from city officials and a letter of Commendation from the Mayor. I've had invitations to appear on the morning talk shows and several lucrative book offers. There have been hints of several major Journalistic awards and even rumors of movie rights. For the next Fifteen minutes or so, I have become the Queen of Paragon City.

So why don't I feel like it?

As I write this, readers, I'm sitting outside a small cafe in Atlas Park that would have been within the blast radius. All around me are normal people talking, reading the paper, and doing the million and one things that make up a normal day. In the park just across the street, I can see people jogging and playing frisbee and, yes, even a few Hellions contemplating casual mischief. None of them know how close they came to death and who's hand was on the switch...

"Ms. Alexander?" My thoughts are interrupted by a tall brunette. At first I think she's another autograph seeker or an agent for yet another company wanting to film the story of my life but, before I can think of a polite way of declining her offer, she places three plainly wrapped boxes on the table and stands slightly to my right.

My first thought is to ask her to leave but, before I do, some facts start seeping back into my sleep deprived brain. She's wearing a gold tone, tailored blazer over a pale bronze blouse, and a pleated skirt that is even shorter than the one I had worn just a few days before.

She nods slightly before I can speak. "My name is Caridad. I have been asked to deliver those boxes to you and to make sure you are not interrupted while you open them. Please, take your time. I'll be nearby."

As she steps a short distance away, I pick up the first of the boxes. It feels like it weighs about two pounds or so with most of the weight focused on one end. The wrapping comes off easy reveling a simple, white cardboard box similar to something used for jewelry. Inside the box is a double edged knife about 18 inches long, a small golden dove lapel pin, and a note reading "Because you didn't have to, but did anyway."

Madam Masada. Who always claimed she had better things to do than to be a hero, yet was always there when it was important.

The knife is one of hers. The dove pin will mark me as one of her employees, and will provide no small measure of protection if I should ever need to travel to the Rogue Islands again.

The second box is about the same length as the first but a bit more square. It's a bit lighter though and, after the surprise of the first, I'm not sure what to expect. Inside is a matte black rectangle with gold highlights. Along one edge is a series of small lights. The first one glows green and the others, for now, are inactive. Along with this is another note reading "For Second Chances."

Stalemate. Who's finding his own way back.

A short technical sheet tells me that this box is tied into the medi-port system and, because its FREEM powered, will be able to bring me safely home from anywhere on the globe.

Honestly readers, I'm afraid to open the third box. I half expect Statesman's mask or Hero One's cape but the box is too small for that. In fact, given its size. I'm almost certain I know what it is.

Inside the box is a Blackberry. The outer shell is done up in a blue-silver pattern and the casing is a bit thicker than standard. The keypad is normal except for the addition of a key with a silver bird icon on it. Displayed on the screen is a single sentence. "For never giving up."

Etherfalcon. Who had every reason to stay down, but stood back up again.

A simple readme file tells me that this Blackberry, like my own, is far more than factory issue. Etherfalcon has packed it with a taser and rescusitator, 'Falcon Hotline' and as many other ideas as he could fit in. The file also tells me that he has opened a bank account in my name containing a sizable sum of money. "For Journalistic Excellence," is all the comment he makes on that.

I'm not sure I know what to say about this readers. I don't think of myself as a hero, but these people see me as one of their own. Maybe thats more important than the talk shows and book deals and movies.

My name is Alexis Alexander and I may not be a hero, but I know a few.

If you'll excuse me readers, I'm heading home for a good night's sleep.
After all, who knows what will need investigating tomorrow.

Reading through these I remember my first thought on finishing playing through all of the arcs in Praetoria


...They're all crazy here!...

Makes the 'take off and nuke the site from orbit. it's the only way to be sure' option sound really good.

Actually, with two exceptions, I can agree to this.

1. the aging thing. I'm not too worried about this.

2. I don't mind one off or 'what if' issues as long as its perfectly clear that they are not part of the main continuity and never will be.

off to a good start there. but, as someone else said earlier...

and???

I would like to see more.

A few spring to mind...

The oft mentioned "O wretched man": I replay it every chance I get.

Jenni Adair's missions: The first time through ended up with a big NOOOO!

Penelope Yin's Faultline arc: I always get a bit of a warm fuzzy feeling with the words "You did it, you did it..."

Meet BV from the warden path in Praetoria.

"Rescue Tunnel rat" also from Praetoria. You can't help but like Ratty.

The final warden mission that takes you out to Primal earth. The first time I played this was when it WAS a one way trip. It was nice to get the goodbye committee.

and, finally in infamy...

Westin Phipps. I felt like I needed a shower afterward. Ugh.

[Protector: Day of Vigilance (Official Storyline)]

Good afternoon Paragonners, Alexis Alexander still here (for now) with my continuing report.

The lights had gone out.

It might have been a random power failure but I suspected that Etherfalcon was to blame. Personally readers, I didn't care. As soon as it went dark, I dropped to the floor and started scrambling for cover. I'd seen enough super human fights to know what was coming next, and I knew I was the snowflake in this particular blast furnace.

I had managed to find a set of filing cabinets when the first of the flashes started. Flash grenades have been used by the military and in Law Enforcement for decades. It's not uncommon to see PPD officers carrying three or four when responding to crisis calls.

It looked like Etherfalcon had brought a large sack of them.

"...The coms are out too. I can't get through to security. Demise, why can't you find him?..."

"He's got psi screamers running on those things. I can't...get...a ..."

"Fix?" growled Etherfalcon, his voice bouncing from shadow to shadow like a demented specter. "You think I'd make it that easy on you? Give up. Now." Whatever technology he was using made the last word thunder like the voice of God. If he was trying to unsettle Golden Ace, it was working.

"You can't stay in the shadows forever." shouted a slightly frantic Golden Ace. "I'll have a hundred soldiers here in moments and then there won't be anywhere you can hide."

"If they're your soldiers," mocked Etherfalcon's pinballing voice, "I could stand on top of the Atlas statue waving a big yellow flag and they would never find me. "

The lights flickered back to life. From my hiding spot (a server rack and not a filing cabinet as I first thought) I could see dozens of soldiers spreading out through the room in teams of twos and threes. Incompetent or not, even I knew that it would be impossible to hide from that many pairs of eyes. I was lucky that they hadn't seen me yet, but I couldn't count on that. Unfortunately, I had nowhere to go and no way to get there.

Hidden Demise shouted triumphantly and thrust her left arm toward a spot not far from where I waited. I heard a grunt and saw Etherfalcon fly backward from behind a monitor station. She had finally located him and, with a telekinetic push, sent him sprawling.

He rolled back to his feet quickly and flicked a pair of throwing knives back at Demise. With the barest of gestures, she sent them spinning away, but Etherfalcon had time to shift into a better fighting position. He circled slowly away from me, gesturing for her to bring the fight to him.

I could see her face and, readers, the change terrified me. Gone was the open, almost likable, woman from earlier in the evening. In her place was a predator. She had a slight smile on her face and eyes that were flat and calculating. She was working the fight out as a chess game in her head, a game where she already had declared checkmate and the only thing left was the tedium of actually making the moves.

"All those theatrics for nothing Falcon. How pathetic." A change had come over Golden Ace as well. Instead of civilian clothing, he was now covered from throat to toes in golden power armor. He now looked the part of a world conqueror.

" The FREEM units are already in place and my forces are simply awaiting my presence to begin fitting them to the dimensional stabilizers. Please forgive me for not finishing you personally, but I'm needed elsewhere. Demise, finish him quickly, then join us up above. You won't want to miss the beginning of my new world."

He swept out of the room with several soldiers in his wake. I had thought he would use the elevator to return to the surface, (and perhaps be careless enough to leave it active so I could use it myself) but there were obviously other exits that I had not been shown and my somewhat hopeful escape plan was flattened.

Etherfalcon and Hidden Demise circled each other, looking for an opening. The remaining soldiers in the room had taken up stations around the room while a few pulled back into a loose circle around them. Understand readers that I did not truly wish Etherfalcon harm, but I just couldn't understand why, if he was such a bit threat, they didn't just all shoot him at once and get it over with. This was obviously an important part of the 'Big Book of Superhuman Fights' that I had not read.

Hidden Demise broke the silence first. Her voice was more the leopard's promise of death than a human's offer of mercy.

"You always have to do things yourself, don't you Falcon. You have this unhealthy obsession with being some kind of solitary avenger. Well this time it will cost you. I'm certain you realize that this base is well off the grid for the mediport system. You fall here, I'll make sure you don't come back."

Her last words were punctuated by a silent howl that made my head ache and made Etherfalcon flinch. A little too late I remembered that she was a Fortunata and she could kill with a thought. All of Etherfalcon's combat skills would be worthless if she never came within his reach.

Etherfalcon took two quick steps forward then leapt forward turning his third step into a high, spinning kick which would have connected with the side of her head if Hidden Demise hadn't dropped into a low roll and passed under him. A sweeping motion of her arms threw Etherfalcon high into the air and into an uncontrolled spin. She calmly regained her feet while watching him tumble. She was an artist examining her own work, and she seemed satisfied with that she was seeing.

"You were a fool Falcon, coming here alone. What were you thinking?" He voice was calm, and dispassionate. "We're you expecting her to help you?" She glanced over her shoulder. "No offense Ms. Alexander but you are not worth my time right now. Please, don't do anything to change that."

Etherfalcon dropped to the floor like a sandbag. He was moving within moments but I could tell that he was shaken. He went on the attack with a flurry of short, fast punches that succeeded in forcing Hidden Demise back a few steps and giving himself some breathing room. He was smiling as he shifted his feet into a better stance. I could see Hidden Demise brushing something off of her cheek.

Something red. Blood.

I'm not sure I can describe the next few minutes of the fight since my limited knowledge of martial arts gave out somewhere in the first 10 seconds. Punches and counter punches, knives, blades and hits that could only have been the result of psychic attack. Etherfalcon was overmatched but, like a hero, he never stopped fighting until he simply could not stand any longer.

Hidden Demise stood over him. She had taken more than a few hits and would be a mass of bruises in the morning but, judging by the expression on her face, she intended to make sure that waking up in the morning would not be an option for Etherfalcon.

"It's time to end this farce," she growled. "You'll die a useless death here, and for what? You should have brought help."

The room shook as a section of wall cracked and crumbled open into the mouth of a cave. Red-Orange lights glowed from within as a tall, broad shouldered figure stepped into the opening.

Stalemate. But not in the Black and Gold armor that I had seen before. He was now wearing what looked like a newer, sleeker set in White and Silver. It seemed that he had decided to be a hero again.

Etherfalcon began to laugh.

"Yeah, I wish I'd thought of that..."

Stalemate wasn't alone, I could see at least ten figures step up on either side of him, silhouetted by the light. Honestly readers, I swear that they practice that 'group photo' pose in the mirror and use it every chance they get. But, I wasn't about to complain, the cavalry had arrived.
From my vantage point I could not see everyone clearly but I could identify the Blood Red and black armor of Keltarn contrasting with the cool blues and whites of Lady Cryostat; The bright red of Sooner Spirit complimenting the signature orange and black of Stone Daemon, and the eerie purple and blue aura of a warshade surrounding NightVyxen. Major T stood off to one side, claws glinting dully in the red orange light, and next to him was an armored figure that was probably Electric Torch (at least, it matched the latest pictures). Closest to me was the most familiar and welcome face of the group. Madam Masada. Despite declaring that she wanted nothing more to do with this affair, there she was, knives out and ready.

I could see Stalemate's knees flex slightly before his suit's artificial muscles propelled him out of the opening and across the room toward Hidden Demise. His leap acted as the signal for a charge as heroes leaped into the air, soared out into open space or simply sprinted into the groups of soldiers.

Stalemate's first punch landed before his feet hit the ground. Hidden Demise was taken completely off guard and landed flat on her back, several feet away.

"Need anything?" he said to the still prone Etherfalcon.

"A day off and a couple of aspirin," Etherfalcon groaned as he slowly climbed back to his feet. He wasn't in any shape to fight, but he wouldn't admit it.

"Here she comes..." was all Stalemate had time for as Hidden Demise launched her counterattack. Again readers, I can't give you a detailed play by play of the fight since I didn't understand it myself. I'll describe it as best as I can.

Stalemate was slowly shifting his position keeping himself squarely in Hidden Demise's line of sight. It appeared that he was relying on his armor to absorb her strikes while using his own FREEM enhanced strength to deliver punishing blows. Etherfalcon was in constant motion, delivering disorienting strikes and keeping Hidden Demise off balance. Even with this teamwork, they were barely managing (forgive the unintentional pun) a Stalemate.

At this point readers, a question from earlier came back into my head.

Why don't the soldiers just shoot them?

The answer was simple. They were busy.

The heroes that arrived with Stalemate were sweeping through the room in twos and threes, taking apart groups of soldiers. I will give full credit to the soldiers, they were (despite Falcon's taunts earlier) a very professional and well trained group. They just weren't equipped or trained for close quarters combat with a dozen super powered individuals.

Short, controlled bursts of gunfire melted into walls of flame or flattened harmlessly on forcefields. Coordinated strikes were blasted apart by energy beams or buried under the concrete of the floor. Some soldiers stood in unnatural terror while others lay unconscious on the floor. A few had tried to bring up heavier weapons but it didn't look like they had any real effect.

Hidden Demise's support troops were quickly taken out of the picture, still leaving the Fortunata in a circle in the center of the room, but the circle had changed. Now the odds were 12 to 1 against her and, as good as she was, even Hidden Demise couldn't win. But something still wasn't making sense readers. She didn't look defeated or even intimidated, she looked....satisfied. Slowly, she raised her right hand into the air.

"Mr. Etherfalcon, sir. May I ask a question before you arrest me?" She slowly turned and looked at each of the surrounding heroes before facing Etherfalcon again.

"How stupid do you all think I am?"

There is no single word, other than pain, to describe what happened next. Hidden Demise threw her head back and unleashed a hellhound's wail which lashed every one of the heroes around her (and one innocent reporter who, for some still unexplained reason, hadn't run away yet) with massive psychic feedback. The effects were devastating. I saw the already overextended Etherfalcon collapse bonelessly to the ground. The others staggered back, stunned. I must not have been close enough to get the full effect but, I was still blinded and nauseated for a few moments.

Hidden Demise strode calmly out of the circle. She was still in bad shape, but she was the only person still moving. If she had really wanted anyone dead, they would have been.

"Golden Ace needs me on the surface if he's going to have any chance of success," she said slowly and painfully but clearly. "But, don't worry, I've invited a few friends to keep you busy. Feel free to join us on the surface. If you still can."

As the elevator door opened for her, I could see several figures step out, led by Evil Chiller X. I recognized some of them, and realized what her endgame had been all along. The heroes were weak and wounded and exhausted while the villains that had just arrived were all fresh and ready for a fight. Some of them, I knew, were looking to settle old grudges. Her fight club has just turned lethal.

Stalemate was the first to recover. Perhaps his armor had shielded him from the worst of the effects, perhaps it was something else but he was rallying the heroes still standing. They formed a loose semi circle around their fallen teammate ready to sell themselves to give him time to either recover, or...

Readers, I wasn't certain that there were any other options.

There was something I could do to even the odds though. I sprinted out of my hiding place and over to the fallen Etherfalcon. His breathing was shallow and irregular but he was still alive. I could use that, but the fight was going to begin again soon. I didn't have much time.

If you recall, I carry a Blackberry that was given to me by a past associate. That man was something of a technical genius and, noting the inherent danger in my chosen journalistic field, he added a few special features. Most notably, my Blackberry can provide a short burst of energy which was supposed to be able to revive an unconscious person. It can only do this a few times before it eats the battery but, if this worked, I'd bill Etherfalcon for a new one.

Either Stalemate and the other heroes guessed what I was trying to do, or they were just trying to keep me out of the line of fire, but, as a group, they started forward. A few walking steps became a slow jog, then that jog became a charge that hit the still ragged villain line. I had the time I needed.

I laid the Blackberry over his heart and keyed in the trigger sequence. His body convulsed upward and his eyes shot open. He took a deep gasping breath before his hand reached for his chest. Reacting quickly (and not wanting to see my property smashed against the floor) I grabbed my Blackberry and dropped it back into my pocket.

He was still blinking as he sat up. It was hard to tell through his mask, but it almost looked like one eye was dilated and one wasn't. Neither one seemed to be focusing on anything in particular. His lips were moving but, he couldn't quite form words. He coughed lightly once before he found his voice.

"If I apologize for being rude, will you never do that to me again?" I had to laugh, readers. For the first time since this all began, Etherfalcon didn't sound like a know-it-all. He groaned as he levered himself on to his knees and, slowly, to his feet. He was headed back into the fight.

"Get her out of here," shouted Stalemate from his part of the melee. "They need you to coordinate the surface teams. We can handle this."

Etherfalcon nodded weakly and we headed for the tunnel. As we slowly made our way to the surface, I could hear the sounds of the fight fading behind us. We were out of the fire but every step took us closer to climbing back into the frying pan. Etherfalcon seemed to gain confidence with each step forward. He was back in his element and he was already making plans. I could only hope he'd find a safe place to put me first.

As we stepped out under the open sky, Etherfalcon pulled out a small communicator and spoke rapidly into it. "PSF base, code red, port two," was all I understood before the sickeningly, unnatural process of matter transference grabbed me once again.

We reappeared in, well, kind of what I expected to see in a superhero base. High tech monitors, super computers, machines that beeped and flashed with no identifiable purpose. Etherfalcon motioned me to follow him and moved quickly through halls and rooms until we reached a room dominated by a floor to ceiling wallscreen and a single computer workstation.

Falcon moved to the workstation and typed a series of commands. The wallscreen came to life in a triptych of images. In the left panel was the familiar sight of City Hall in Atlas Park, in the right was a towering mass of cables, steel and concrete that could only be Lord Recluse's tower in Grandville. Between them was the image of some sort of satellite and a numerical display.

"Ms. Alexander, I deeply regret this but I am out of options." He indicated the numbers in the display. "This will show you the relative strength of the FREEM units reality warping ability. If we fail and this number gets above 95 percent then you will have to destroy the gates under Atlas Park and Grandville in order to cut his reality off from our own."

"Wait, Destroy?" I stammered. I was hoping I had heard him wrong.

"Yes," he said flatly as he pressed two final buttons. "You now have sole control of a particle beam satellite in geosynchronous orbit over the North Atlantic. Pressing that button, (a large red one, I noted) will fire a single beam to each of those locations, cauterizing the gateways."

"And what about the people near them?" I asked horrified.

"Everything within a quarter mile will be vaporized."

Before I could reply, or even make a sound in protest, Etherfalcon had teleported back to the battle.

Readers, this might be my last report. As I type this, I'm sitting at a computer console somewhere in Paragon City watching the numbers on a computer screen slowly climb, and hoping (more like praying) that someone out there will be able to stop Golden Ace's plan before I have to do the unthinkable...










For Annie...

But why would somebody want to wax a turtle? I've never understood that.

As far as I can see, if you have an existing paid account. Nothing changes for you.

You get all the bells and whistles, all the new toys, everything you've always known.

In other words, its City as usual.

I might have missed it but is the VIP only server going to be one of the existing ones or a brand new one?

[Protector: Day of Vigilance (Official Storyline)]


Good Afternoon, Paragonners. Alexis Alexander here with my ongoing report.

At the request of EtherFalcon, I had accompanied a group of adventurers into the time/space anomaly known as Recluse's Victory. Our mission (which, in retrospect, was a bit poorly thought out) was to infiltrate a local 'fight club' and locate and question an Arachnos operative named Hidden Demise.

From one point of view, our mission was an absolute success. It was surprisingly easy to get into close proximity to the Fortunata in question. Unfortunately, that was accomplished by being captured with embarrassing ease. With my party scattered among the crowd trying to find her, Hidden Demise simply walked out of the crowd and made it very obvious that I was her prisoner.

I must admit, readers, that in more ways that one, I was taken by surprise by Hidden Demise. For someone reputed to be second only to Ghost Widow in lethality, she was quite friendly and polite. Also, (quite unlike myself) she managed to make a ridiculous outfit (in the interests of accuracy it was a black and pink Roman Centurion-esque look) astounding. I was even able to ask her a few questions about her past and her career. For the most part, she was very forthcoming; except when I tried to direct the conversation back to FREEM tech, then she would simply reply "In due time."

She guided me through the crowd swiftly. She must have realized that it wouldn't be too much longer before one of the people I came with would start wondering what had become of the innocent civilian, and then all of the play fighting would become painfully real.

We approached a section of hillside that had started sliding aside revealing a hidden doorway. She casually waved a hand indicating, very clearly, that I should go inside. She stood aside and waited calmly, neither posturing, nor making threats.

She didn't have to.

Usually, when situations like this come up in fiction, the hallway is dark, lit fitfully with torches or a sputtering, sparking, fluorescent light. This is supposed to convey menace to the reader, and build up suspense. Honestly readers, I was already suspended as much as I could be. It came as a small relief that the hallway was dimly but quite thoroughly lit by small, cold blue lights placed every 3 feet or so.

"We're in night mode," Hidden Demise explained as the doorway slid shut behind her and she casually waved me onward. "The blue lights help ease the transition between night vision and normal. It also helps with concealment. He doesn't need anyone finding us until the time is right."

"He?" I asked as we turned a corner and stopped in front of what appeared to be an elevator. I couldn't be certain but it looked like a car was rising to our floor. Whoever 'he' was, it was pretty certain that I would have to go down to meet him.

As the elevator descended, and I tried to shake off some Dante inspired imagery, I could see Hidden Demise begin to frown. I knew it couldn't have been anything I'd done to irritate her but something was obviously annoying her. Before I could work up the nerve to ask, she glared at me and pointed at the small speaker set in the ceiling.

'...Gonna find my baby, gonna hold her tight
gonna grab some afternoon delight....'

Elevator music. I was in the hands of a villain who actually played insipid pop music inside his own lair's elevators. I was pretty certain at that point that I was truly doomed. I expected speeches, or the sounds of inquisitors at work, or (more practically) nothing at all. Hearing one of the most reviled songs of the last 50 years, made me deeply worried about my future survival. If nothing else, I would probably be collateral damage when Hidden Demise ripped the speaker down and smashed it.

Fortunately, the elevator stopped and the door opened before the song could get to the third verse. Hidden Demise almost leapt from the car, showing for the the first time that evening, an impatience with how slow I was moving. It wasn't until the door closed again that she regained her composure.

We were standing on a wide balcony over an almost improbably large space. The room tiered down through a series of ramps to a large circular platform surrounding a large flooded area which flowed out through a hole in the wall below us. The room was dimly lit with most of the light coming from idle workstations spaced around the platform.

With another of her simple but, very definite, hand gestures, Hidden Demise indicated that we were heading deeper into the facility. As we walked she started pointing out features of the room, almost as though she were a tour guide.

"... and they had a mini sub stationed here at one time. The tunnels were supposed to extend all the way to the ocean but we haven't been able to trace exactly where they come out. That would be useful to know back in reality, don't you think?"

I nodded my head, a bit astounded by it all. It was pretty common knowledge that Longbow had hidden facilities all over Paragon City but that one of this size was buried directly below Atlas Park was a bit unbelievable.

I could see office spaces that looked like they saw daily use and others that looked like they were used more for storage. We passed large spaces that were set up for what might have been briefing rooms and others that looked like well equipped gymnasiums. There were break rooms and even what might have been a rough cafeteria. Overall I got the impression of the kind of bunkers built for government officials during the Cold War. This was a facility built to withstand a siege but why was it here?

Our path through the complex led, not to a giant, high tech, command room like I was expecting, but to a relatively plain oak door. A small polished plaque on the door read 'Chief Operating Officer.' At my puzzled expression, Hidden Demise simply shrugged and frowned slightly. She opened the door then stood back both clearing my path in and making it plain that backwards was not an option.

"Ah, Ms. Alexander, good evening. I do hope you've enjoyed your tour of the grounds. Tell me, what do you think? Please, be honest." The speaker stood up from behind a dark Mahogany desk and spread his arms in a sweeping gesture.

He was a tall, broad shouldered man, perhaps in his late 30's. He was dressed in gold tone Khakis, expensive running shoes, and polo shirt. He looked more like the president of an Internet startup company than a criminal mastermind but it was his way of moving that suggested otherwise.

"I suppose that it's time I introduce myself. I am Golden Ace and, thanks to that poor fool Stalemate, I will soon be master of the world."

You know as well as I do readers that there's usually a bit of maniacal laughter or maybe a clap of thunder or some dramatic music at this point. I was almost disappointed that there wasn't. Golden Ace looked as though somebody had missed their sound cue.

I'd heard the name Golden Ace before. He'd been a semi regular feature in the headlines during the 90's but he was always considered a second tier (perhaps third tier) villain, more notable for flashy crimes than for being a credible threat. He'd dropped off the radar the last three years or so and everyone had assumed that he'd finally gotten tired of it all and gone into retirement.

His frown lasted only for a moment but shifted back to the friendly, open smile of a salesman as he stepped out from behind the desk and placed a hand on my shoulder to guide me out of the room. He was obviously proud of his current scheme and he wanted to talk to someone about it. I calmly pulled my blackberry out of my pocket, smiled, and got ready to take notes.

"Now, Ms. Alexander, you're probably wondering how I can make such an outlandish statement like that with a straight face. After all, World Domination is the number one mental illness among folks like myself. But where they fail is in trying to take the world as it is and change it to what they want it to be.

My plan is much simpler. I intend to take this improbable bubble of theoretical time/space and use it as the core template for my new world. Stalemate's amusingly labeled FREEM technology is what's going to make it all possible. You see, not only is FREEM an energy source but it has an interesting effect on the barriers between dimensions. In large enough quantities, such as I now possess, it can actually warp reality.

My associates have been constructing catalyst devices which, when combined with the dimensional anchors that hold Recluse's Victory stable will turn this probable reality into actual reality. Once that happens, I will be able to extract concessions from both Lord Recluse and the United Nations, making me supreme ruler of the world. Then I will be able to guide events away from the future I have seen and lead the world in a different direction, a better direction, MY direction!"

Hidden Demise, who had quietly taken up position behind us as we walked, interrupted him, "Don't you think it would be a good idea NOT to tell the reporter who is holding a wireless device, everything?"

"Demise, " he laughingly replied, "What could she possibly do? She's all alone here and, not to be insulting Ms. Alexander, but she doesn't look like she could fight her way out of a wet paper sack. I doubt she could outfight you, and I know she cannot beat me. Also, you know full well that this complex is shielded so, even if she had the extra dimensional plan on her phone, she couldn't get a message out."

I must admit readers that he was correct on almost every count. While my Blackberry is not exactly factory standard, it was never intended for pandimensional phone calls. Also, I was even more certain than he was that I could not outfight Hidden Demise. Where I had to disagree was in his estimation of my fighting skills. I knew I could beat a wet paper bag and, if it came down to it, Golden Ace as well.

I was alone, and I didn't see any immediate hope of rescue. I figured that my best chance was to target his ego. It was so large that I could not possibly miss.

"Well, Mr. Ace," I began in the tone of voice all reporters learn to use in situations like this, "Can I call you Mr. Ace? Or would you prefer Golden? Since you're about to be ruler of the world, how about a little background for your new subjects. A human side to the Supreme Ruler kind of thing..."
Out of the corner of my eye I could see a mixed expression cross Hidden Demise's face. She almost seemed to be stifling a laugh while at the same time giving me a glare that clearly said 'don't push it.' I had no choice, I had to keep him talking. I wasn't sure why, but maybe I could buy time for Kult and the others to figure out where I was and come up with some kind of rescue plan.

"... And that's when I decided to become ruler of the world. Yes, I know, who'd have thought that a boy from such humble beginnings could ascend to the pinnacle of humanity and become a legend in his own lifetime..."

"And you'd have gotten away with it too," said a familiar, infuriating, and oh so welcome voice from the shadows, "If it weren't for those meddling kids."

Etherfalcon had arrived.

[Protector: Day of Vigilance (Official Storyline)]


Good Afternoon, Paragonners. This is Alexis Alexander with a continuation of my ongoing report.

Readers, if you never have the misfortune to be subjected to a dimensional portal crossing, consider yourself exceedingly lucky. I've travelled quite a bit in my career of a journalist without a single instance of motion sickness. I cannot, in all honesty, say that I have ever had the sensation of being pulled into the thickness of a fine wire and having my head propelled forward at the speed of light without consideration for the location or relative speed of my feet.

"Shouldn't have had Ramen," was all the sympathy I got from Kult as she, very kindly, gave me a few minutes to ... recover... from the crossing. Once I had composed myself (and accepted a few subtly offered breath mints) our group moved outward into the streets to find signs of Hidden Demise and her 'fight club.'

I believe I have mentioned earlier that I am much more at home in moderate clothing styles. Being dressed normally in Recluse's Victory would just shout, in Kult’s words 'I don't belong here. Hurt me now!' So, in order to avoid any unnecessary trouble, Kult offered to build a persona for me.That, readers, is how I found myself standing in a hostile, possible alternate future wearing an outfit that was a mix of Catholic prep school girl, steel spiked dominatrix, and leather clad biker babe (at least it was not bunny ears and a pink steel bikini, an embarrassing subject, readers, that I will not discuss further at this time.) Also, for some reason known only to Kult, I became known as Trickksy.

Just to give you a frame of reference, readers, Recluses' Victory is, exactly like the Atlas Park we know, with the exception that, in this future, Lord Recluse has defeated Statesman and the other heroes of the city. Our reality's version of Freedom Corps has established an armed presence there for the purpose of denying Arachnos full control.

As far as I understand it, the only thing keeping this pocket reality stable, are several dimensional anchors built into bunkers around the area. These bunkers are under regular assault since controlling them can either permanently establish or destroy this pocket dimension.

As fascinating as all that information was, I had far more serious concerns. My group had to dodge Arachnos patrols while at the same time looking for a group of people who were there simply for the purpose of beating each other senseless and improving their reputation ( or street cred, or whatever it might be called.) In a small stroke of fortune, we arrived at night which gave us some additional freedom of movement. Also, both sides of the conflict tended to halt operations after dusk. It seemed that the fight for control of the future,could wait until after breakfast.

The slopes around Prometheus Park were full of people. A large crowd had gathered and were staring down into the natural arena formed by the old river basin. A fenced in platform had been constructed in the middle of the lake and was the focus of several, bright lights. "Someone's been watching MMA fights," said Kult as our group spread out slightly and drifted into the crowd.

Our group had worked out a rough plan for finding Hidden Demise. Our stronger fighters would, solo or in small groups, actually sign up for matches hoping to draw the Fortunata's attention. The rest of our group would move through the crowd and gather what information we could. We had all agreed that, at no time, would I be expected to enter a match. Again, in interests of full disclosure, that was my personal preference, but I was not the person who suggested it.

I admit to some preconceived notions about what I would find. I expected a ravening, bloodthirsty mob, ready to rip each other limb from limb at the slightest provocation. In reality, the crowd wasn't much different than one you might find at, say a minor league baseball game or, perhaps the infield of a major NASCAR event (with, perhaps, the exception of three foot arm blades.) I could see some folks with grills and coolers, others had set up tote boards and were doing a brisk business in wagers; still others were queuing up to join the fighting. It might have been an enjoyable evening out, if it weren't so surreal.

The fights carried on into the night. Each round was well organized with fighters of similar abilities paired off to avoid mismatches. Generally the combatants favored the more purely physical combat styles (like my own Karate only far, far deadlier) but, occasionally an elementalist or something more exotic appeared in the ring. One of the more amusing moments of the night came when two energy projecting types blew each over the fence and into the water. I believe that fight was officially declared 'a draw.' A truly surprising realization was that none of the fights were to the death.

"They just want to fight. Dying would ruin the fun, " said a redhead who had walked up next to me. "Many of them aren't that good and they just keep coming back for...pride?...to deny their own worthlessness...who knows." She shrugged. "But," she continued indicating one of the next contestants "Some of them are truly gifted and those, Ms. Alexander, we may be able to use."

The sound of my name was a shock. I'd spent the night as 'Trickksy' and had all but given up on finding Hidden Demise; the very person standing next to me.

The very person with a hand on the back of my neck.

"Please come quietly, Ms. Alexander. Or..."

I had seen her file. I could think of several options she might apply to the conjunction 'or.' I decided very quickly that going quietly would be in my best interests.

In the movies I would be obligated to say something along the line of "you'll never get away with this" or "my friends will be here any moment" or "HELP!" But, having the well developed survival instinct I've mentioned before, I stayed quiet. I was being taken somewhere and I was still conscious and (most importantly) alive. I was certain that it would all make sense soon enough

[Protector: Day of Vigilance (Official Storyline)]



Good Afternoon Paragonners, this is Alexis Alexander with my continuing report.


After the events of the previous day, my uneventful return to Paragon City was a welcome relief. Although I would not be accompanied by Madam Masada (who had stayed behind proclaiming that she 'had wasted enough time on this foolishness already') I once again had the use of her yacht and crew for the journey. More importantly (and much to my surprise) I would be accompanied by Stalemate himself.


Readers, if you have not had the opportunity to see a suit of powered armor close up, you might want to take the time. The idea of a walking tank isn't really new to those of us who grew up in the city, but usually its something we see from a safe distance. It's an odd thought I admit, but it was comforting knowing that anyone who intended us harm would either think twice, or kill us outright with a massive damage weapon (trust me readers, dying in an instant beats the alternatives.)

Stalemate spent most of our return trip monitoring the newsfeeds and other computerized reports from inside his armor. Perhaps its not what etiquette books would require of a host, but, after a single question, I got the feeling that he was a little too preoccupied with recent events to be interviewed. I would have to try again later.

Our final docking in Independence Port took a little longer than expected. We had to be diverted to a safe but slower route since Lusca had reappeared right in the middle of the main channel just inside the breakwater.

In some parts of the world (outside of, say, Tokyo) the appearance of a gargantuan octopus would be cause for major concern. As those of you who have lived in Paragon City for some length of time know, Lusca is now classified as a 'natural reoccurring navigational hazard' and local Superhumans regularly patrol the area to drive the so called 'Devil Fish' back out into deeper waters.

Although we were well out of the Cephalopod's reach and I couldn't see everyone clearly, I could see some familiar heroes already engaged and fighting back. Hovering on boot jets, Kreetch's massive blue and gold armored figure was holding the center of a loose wedge while, in a daring series of quick strikes, Sionaraa was using her Martial Arts skills to sting and (if such a thing is possible) steer the animal back away from the docked ships.

Once we got clear of the combat, it was just a few minutes later that we slid into our berth and disembarked. Stalemate had made his polite, if distracted, farewells and had moved a few feet down the dock when EtherFalcon stepped out from behind a stack of loading crates and addressed me with a simple "Ms. Alexander. You will be kept informed." He then walked over and began walking with Stalemate. It was obvious that they were having some kind of conversation that I was not meant to be a part of and that there were things happening that, as a reporter, I wanted to know about but neither of them was very forthcoming. I was certain that I would hear more about those 'things' soon enough.

It was, in fact, less that 48 hours later that 'things' reappeared. Another anonymous E-mail, this time reading:

"PCMSH, Hall of Armor, 8 PM. Briefing"

It had to be EtherFalcon, he had a tendency to speak in short phrases like that. Or, it could have been that he was texting his messages and was getting charged by the letter. In either case, it looked like I had plans for the evening.

I arrived at the Museum at 6PM, partially to avoid looking suspicious, partially because I freely admit to being a bit of a history nerd. The Paragon City Museum of Superhuman History was established in 1985 and has become the largest public collection of MetaHuman memorabilia. It was extensively rebuilt after the Rikti destroyed it and since that time, the primary feature of the museum has been a collection of armored suits used by both heroes and villains.

Most of them are detailed reconstructions but the museum does hold one of Positron's early suits, an actual, nonfunctioning, crab spider suit, and (my personal favorite) the red and green, rocket finned, enamel finish, suit worn by Kaptan Wunderfaal just before his retirement in 1966. By today's standards, Wunderfaal's tech is considered quaint and archaic, but most people forget that he was considered cutting edge in his day.

It was with that thought colliding in my mind with the events of the previous 48 hours, that I drifted aimlessly through the Hall of Armor as the clock ticked over to 8PM. It was, oddly enough, Wunderfaal's suit that EtherFalcon chose to step out from behind.

Over the last few days, I've begun to wonder if its some kind of learned response or some kind of psychological flaw that makes EtherFalcon unable to enter a room without first finding a shadow to hide in. While it might be impressive, and scare the living daylights out of criminals, it can be a bit overdramatic for a casual conversation.

"Ms. Alexander, you've done suitable work so far but we need you for a further assignment." He handed me an SD chip. "Here is the entire file on an operative named 'Hidden Demise.' Her name has come up as a possible lead in this case. We need you to interview her and find out what she knows.

Now, if you've been following my earlier reports, you'll remember that most reporters, myself included, have given up carrying notebooks in favor of more modern electronics. In my case, I carry a modified Blackberry (a small gift from one of the heroes I've worked with before) and that allowed me to slot the chip and look over the file.

"Arachnos operative... assassin... Hunted by all major Hero groups...Longbow file sealed due to demoralizing effect on field agents .... ARE YOU CRAZY!?"

EtherFalcon's crimefighting career has included epic fights with men, monsters, and (possibly) a demigod or two. He's faced the worst humanity has to offer but even he could not help taking a step or two back as my voice suddenly climbed in both pitch and decibels.

"As if sending me into the Rogue Isles wasn't bad enough, " I started as I stepped toward him, "now you want me to track down an assassin."

Step

"And not just any assassin, "

Step

"a Fortunata that even Longbow is afraid of."

Step. Step. Step.

"What have I ever done to you?"

Step

"Did I maybe kick your pet poodle when you were twelve?"

Step

"Did I write something that hurt your feelings?"

Step

"Did I, perhaps kill your parents in some dark alley forcing you to undergo a traumatic, life changing event?"

Step

"And do you even say Thank You? No! All I get from you is 'suitable'! Get. Someone. Else!"

In the interests of full disclosure readers, I honestly cannot remember how I ended up across the hall crowding EtherFalcon into the corner behind the 'Steampunk throughout the Ages' display. I can only attribute my lack of injury to the fact that EtherFalcon was either amused or unwilling to injure an innocent, if hysterical, citizen. In a small corner of my mind I realized that asking which might not have been the best of ideas.

It took him a moment to compose himself before he answered. "You- ahem- you will have suitable protection. I promise you. I'll be sending you in as part of a larger group. They will be acting as your escort when you travel to Recluse's Victory..."

"Where?" I had to ask.

"Recluse's Victory. " he replied, back on more certain mental ground. "Its a recursive time loop where good and evil are battling to change the future..."

"Ok, right, enough," I interrupted. Talk of time travel always made my head spin. I had enough trouble meeting deadlines without worrying about advanced temporal physics. "Why there?"

"Hidden Demise hosts a regular 'fight club' there for all comers. Going in with as part of a larger group should give you enough cover to learn what you can while they keep everyone occupied. You should be fine Ms. Alexander."

[Protector: Day of Vigilance (Official Storyline)]

(This article appears in the Paragon Daily Sentinel for May 29, 2011)


Hello again Paragonners, Alexis Alexander here with part three of my continuing report.

A quick recap is in order for those of you just joining in. At the request of EtherFalcon, I have travelled to the Rogue Islands in the company of one of his associates, Madam Masada. Under the cover of reviewing her business interests around the Isles, she would act as my guide and bodyguard while I tried to uncover information which could help prevent a massive raid on Paragon city.

Now, if you recall earlier, I said I would be taking on the role of Madam Masada's new 'assistant'. To add some veracity to that role, Madam suggested I wear one of her company uniforms. Now, readers, given Madam's profession, I do admit to a great deal of initial reluctance.I am not puritannical in my views but I do prefer a more understated wardrobe. I was pleased to discover that the company uniform consisted of a gold tone, tailored blazer over a pale bronze blouse and pleated skirt. A quite tasteful ensemble, even if the skirt was a little shorter that I was comfortable with.

We arrived at Nerva shortly after noon. As we pulled into the marina, I noticed that the crew were now wearing sidearms and Madam Masada herself had added a pair of double edged fighting knives. "Arachnos doesn't encourage knife fights on the streets," she mentioned as we stepped down to the dock, "but it happens. Unless you're trying to cut up one of his people, Lord Recluse pretty much looks the other way."

The day quickly settled into a pattern. Madam Masada would lead me through the city to a small restaurant, or dry cleaners, or some other perfectly normal storefront where she would speak with the staff and look over some paperwork. While she managed her day to day business, I had the opportunity to ask questions. Readers, it might surprise you to know that some of the greatest spies in the world are right in front of you every day. It might be a bartender at your favorite club, the waitress at the diner, the little old lady behind the counter of the pet store; all of those nameless, faceless, people that are such a part of the background, you don't think twice about holding a cell phone conversation in front of them. Every single one of those people are listening and while, individually, they don't hear much, collectively it adds up to a large amount of information.

My last interview of the day was with someone who could, hopefully, make sense of that information. As a crimefighter, he called himself Stalemate but he disappeared from Paragon City, according to rumor, to pursue a private vendetta against Crey Industries. I made a mental note to see if I could get a more formal interview with him once this affair was over.

Again readers, I'll lay the blame on an early love of detective fiction for thinking that this meeting would take place in a dark alley or a smoky speakeasy. In reality, we met him outside a modest third floor office not more than four blocks from Crey's Nerva campus. His appearance hadn't changed much from the file photos I had been able to find. He was tall, and his auburn hair still had touches of brighter red. He had miantained a solid athelete's build, but the easy, slightly askew smile that was a prominant feature of his press conferences was missing. As he greeted me, I could see that his gaze was far more dull than expected. Not the glossy stare of a person under the influence, but more a resigned weariness.

As he turned to greet Madam Masada his gaze, and in fact, his entire body language changed. His eyes widened and he took one stumbling step back. His mouth opened as though to say something but no words came. It took him a moment to regain his composure and stammer out a brief if very...neutral...greeting. As he ushered us into his office Madam declined, offering to stay outside so we wouldn't be disturbed. "I remind him of someone and somthing he's been trying very hard to forget, " she said quietly. "You'll get more done if I'm not there." I looked into this later and discovered that Madam Masada bore a strong resemblance to Stalemate's late wife. Again, there was another story there, but it had to wait for another time.

After a few moments with Masada safely on the other side of the door, Stalemate seemed to wake up and refocus. Once he seemed ready, I gave him a synopsis of the information I had gathered. Most of it he dismissed as 'typical Rogue Island boasting' but one thing caught his attention.

"Someone buying up FREEM tech?" he asked. "Are you sure about that word?" I told him that it had come up often enough not to believe that it was important. "I haven't heard about this but if it's true it could be dangerous." FREEM, he explained was from the more unstable side of physics. "Damn near magical, " was his best definition. It looked like he was about to explain further when very clear sounds of fighting came through the door.

I've accompanied heroes on several fights readers so I knew exactly what to do in these kind of situations... I got out of the way. I hold a green belt in Karate which is a reasonable rank but nowhere near what is needed when energy bolts start flying. Stalemate was on his feet and through the door before I could move.

The hallway was a scene of minor chaos. From the doorway I was able to make some quick estimates. It appeared that a group of six men, none of them obviously superhuman, armed with knives and other handheld weapons, had come up the stairs and attacked Madam Masada. Two of them were already on the ground, alive but obviously bleeding from several cuts to their chest and torso area. Madam Masada was pressing the attack against two more who didn't seem to be able to adapt to her fast, two handed style. Stalemate had gotten the attention of the final two and was holding them off with a combination of Boxing, Savate, and moves from some other style that looked like a cross between Akido and the Three Stooges.

One of Masada's pair went down first as she dodged under his attack and thrust one of her knives between the ribs on his right side. At best that wound would result in a punctured lung; at worst, it would be fatal. It didn't look as she cared either way. Stalemate evened the score with a vintage Muhammad Ali style right cross.

Now readers, in a sensible world, anyone who went from a 6 to 1 advantage down to a 2 on 2 fight in less than ninety seconds, would either surrender or retreat. The Rogue Islands, it seemed, was not a sensible place. With a roaring shout, Masada's opponent made a short rush that knocked her backward off her feet. He seemed to be about to try and put his foot into her windpipe when Stalemate executed a Hollywood style Judo throw that launched his opponent into Masada's attacker. Both men went down in a tangle as Masada bounced to her feet with her left hand knife held outward at chest height and her right pulled back and reversed for a throw. Before she could make that throw, (which readers I firmly believe would have resulted in a knife in someone's brain) Stalemate pulled his cellphone out of his pocket and pointed it at the men. A short, barely audible screech sounded from the phone nearly blinding me but completely scrambling the neural impulses of the attackers. They collapsed bonelessly. Two minutes after it had started, the fight was over.

"Someone's taking this seriously, " said Stalemate calmly as he checked the bodies for identification. After a few moments he gave up; he hadn't really expected to find any. "You can tell EtherFalcon that he's on to something."

From down near the floor where she was wiping her blades off on the fallen attackers' shirts Madam Masada answered. "You can tell him yourself. I've already wasted enough time." She stood up and faced him, pale hair and eyes taking up his field of vision. "Make sure she gets back home, " she said pointing at me. "And while you're there, maybe you'll remember that you were, once, a Hero."

[Protector: Day of Vigilance (Official Storyline)]
　
Continuing Coverage
(This article appears in the Paragon Daily Sentinel for May 26, 2011)

Good Evening Paragonners, Alexis Alexander here with a continuation of the special report I brought you earlier.

At the request of EtherFalcon, I'd agreed to travel to the Rogue Islands in hopes of uncovering the details behind a threatened attack on Paragon City. Now readers, I'm well aware of the stories that have circulated about the Islands; that they're Lord Recluse's private playground full of killers, murderers, and ne'er do wells; that they're a haven for pirates, smugglers, and monstrous abominations of science; that anyone travelling there will disappear without trace...

In some respects readers, those rumors are all true. Perhaps not as dramatic as the stories make them, but true enough that a healthy dose of caution is recommended. That is the reason I found myself standing on the Talos Island docks waiting for someone who would, in theory, be able to keep me out of harm's way while I investigated.

After an hour on the docks, enduring catcalls from the dockworkers (flattering in their own way but, guys, please) and glares from some of the more intimidating members of the local gangs (that is, before they decided to fade into the background when Monk Brawlin decided to stop and check something on his phone before heading out toward Icarus and the other out islands,) I was approached by a tall woman with pale hair.

"You the reporter?" she growled. When I nodded she started walking back to the far end of the docks. "You were supposed to meet me an hour ago."

At this point I felt compelled to defend myself. Of the many things that reporters can be accused of, being late to meet a contact is not one of them. "EtherFalcon just said 'the docks'. I suppose he is a busy punisher of evil but he could have been a bit more specific." This caused the pale woman to stop and look at me again. What looked like the beginnings of a rebuke faded into a disgusted expression and slight frown. "What did I expect from a man," she said to herself before gesturing me forward. There was a story there but I wisely decided not to press the issue.

I guess readers that I'm guilty of reading too many detective novels. I expected a tramp steamer or some other slightly questionable form of transport. What I was led to was a small yacht, complete with crew and a cook. It seemed that my escort was truly an ESCORT.

As we got underway (and sat down to a substantial breakfast) she introduced herself as Madam Masada; a very successful and highly placed 'procurer of exotic companions' for the elite of the Rogue Islands (and elsewhere.) She was the origin of EtherFalcon's tip about the raid. By taking the role of a new 'assistant' I would be able to accompany her on a tour of her 'business interests' in the islands, and hopefully be able to gather useful information.

Our Port of Entry would actually be in the Nerva Archipeligo, a small group of islands that functioned much like cold war Berlin. It was unofficially claimed by Arachnos but the UN, backed by a strong Longbow presence, had declared it 'neutral territory.' Neither side had yet to really press the issue, but small skirmishes were not uncommon. According to Madam Masada, she had several contacts there but one in particular that she believed would be our best bet.

A man called Stalemate.