Do any of you guys like each other? And I'm beginning to distrust SWAT, not a good result of this story 
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�How do I like my MMOs? I like them the way Paragon Studios used to make them.� - a fitting tribute from kiasa.org
EU, Union mostly.
Erm... no, not the ones we've seen. Much like any forced working environment, the personality conflicts stand out much more distinctly than the friendships. There are Powers that get on, but that'll remain to be seen!
As for distrusting SWAT? He's not naughty, he's intense and highly motivated 
Or he might be unhinged... don't know yet!
Here we go... part 5, complete with a cliff hanger...
Duuun-de-dun-dun-daaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah!
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Mathew Price tended to think of himself as indestructible. It had noting to do with the PowerMed-Regeneration-Systems technology, it was just that he had been gifted from birth with a knack for fighting, a huge ego and extreme arrogance. All these things conspired to make him unbearable to some, but strangely attractive to some women.
You know, the women that nice guys dont understand? The ones that go for the bad boys.
That being the case, you can imagine how relieved Price was to find that his only female counterpart in the project - Kat Harper, who was testing the G variant off the suit - was just such a woman, and found him irresistible.
The other Power testers he wasnt having such luck with, however. Seemed that, being men, they were simply so put off by his martial prowess that their jealousy had got the better of them. Maybe the big one was different, but he was too stupid to count.
Many thoughts of this nature passed through Prices mind as he walked as inconspicuously as he could through the streets of Skyway City. Through PowerSIEGEs links with the Paragon City Police Department and various rats and moles, they had learned of a number of locations which might yield results in their search for the Power projects saboteur. His armour hidden beneath a voluminous military cut great coat, he took the final turning into the small warehousing area which was at the heart of his end of the chase.
Everything looked quiet - as places of criminal activity were wont to do - and yet the creeping unease which had followed him from the station refused to dissipate. Sure, thered been Trolls aplenty heckling passers by on his way there, but nothing solid that he could identify as the source of his gut reaction.
Moving through the small courtyard, Price made for the door of the first warehouse and stashed his coat behind a crate - it would only impede him if he got into combat. Smoothly pushing the door ajar, he stepped inside, letting his eyes adjust to the darkness.
Around the first corner he expected to see either regular workers (heh, who sees them in warehouses?) or a bunch of gang bangers instead, though, the place appeared empty. Should he leave it? Or should he push further?
Price moved onward, painstakingly inspecting every inch of the warehouse, and finding nothing. Not a hint of a criminal, a worker, anything. Coming down off the anticipatory adrenaline high, he made his way out to move on to the next warehouse.
Hey there buddy you looking for me?
The man had been standing right outside the door - and Prices lack of success within had driven him to complacence. Clad in motorcyclists attire and wielding a fearsome looking rifle, the speaker kept his distance, aiming for Prices weak spot - his bare head. Whyd I have to turn down the helmet? Cmon, Peripheral Vision? I gotta get my brain checked
Price never had time to reply as no sooner had the man spoken, but he tossed a small sphere at the Med testers feet, which exploded to cover him with hundreds of strands of sticky fibre, rendering him helpless in seconds. The aggressor, who he could now discern to be wearing not a motorcycle helmet but some strange eyeless headpiece, stepped up to him. Goodnight, Mr Price was all he said before clubbing PowerMed-RS with the butt of his rifle, knocking him out in a single blow.
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What do you mean, Missing? Hes got the same transponder as the rest of us, right? And you were tracking his progress? Dammit, just find him. Find him NOW!
The Grey Haired man slammed down the phone and turned back to the people in his office, having been rather rudely interrupted by a most unwelcome call. Okay, so now not only have we had the remnants of the PowerSWAT suit stolen, but weve lost Med-RS. Apparently he was in Skyway checking out one of your leads, and hes disappeared.
Dan Malcolm stood as impassively as ever, cradling the helmet from the new and improved PowerSIEGE suit in his massive hands. He said nothing.
So what about your end of the investigation? You three were meant to be working together, and yet youve stuffed it up. What are you doing about it?
The small form of Kat Harper sat in a chair opposite her boss, as quiet as her police department counterpart. The chair almost swallowed her, and in her embarrassment she wished that it would. Meekly, she said Ill go find Matt, clambering out of the clutches of the chair and exiting.
Ill recover the SWAT armour, then, came the deep voice of Sergeant Malcolm. Donning his helmet, his seldom heard voice took on a metallic tone. I know where to look.
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Pete Baker sat in his kitchen, his hair tied back behind his head, his new eye providing him all the magnification he needed to work on his new pet project.
Hed thoroughly scoured the components hed recovered for any forensic evidence - he knew enough from his initial studies in college - but now was working at repairing enough of the systems in the gauntlets to make them function. Seemingly he would be able to get at least 80% efficiency out of the energy projectors, making a relatively strong blast - just so long as he could find a way to power it.
Setting aside his work for a few minutes, he went through to his study to get some schematics. His earlier meal still sat on the desk, unfinished. He looked with distaste at the weak coffee, the limp sandwich, and his heart cried out for the return of his wife - as did his stomach. Sullenly, he picked up the sandwich and took a less than eager bite.
He was just returning to the kitchen when his front door flew inward, knocked off its hinges as if by some rampaging monster, splinters cavorting through the air accompanied by a hellish red glow. Silhouetted in the doorway stood a huge figure.
Baker considered running for his gun, but it was behind him in the study, hung with his badge by the door - disused for many months. Another option was the kitchen, where a weapon of some sort was sure to be found, but any villain capable of wreaking such destruction on a heavy oaken door in a single blow probably wouldnt be put off by a steak knife.
You took the SWAT components. Where are they?
The figure stooped to come through into the hall. As the ceiling light finally met the intruder, Baker realised it was none other than his new colleague, SIEGE.
What are you talking about? And what the HELL are you doing in my home, noob?
You broke in to the crime scene and removed evidence. I know it was you. Hand it over, and well forget this ever happened
It was the longest sentence that Baker - or anyone else for that matter - had heard Sergeant Malcolm utter since he joined the project. His electronically projected voice seemed flat, however, and devoid of emotion or inflection, lending a very eerie quality to his side of the conversation. Baker glanced at the schematics in his hand as a plan hatched.
Okay. Through here
The armour-less PowerSWAT turned away from the man whod guessed his guilty secret. Entering the kitchen, he heard the heavy footsteps of the SIEGE unit behind him. He knew from personal experience that the peripheral vision of the helmets wasnt so good, so he knew that as he ducked sharp left around the doorframe, Malcolm wouldnt see.
Its good that youve been " SIEGE couldnt finish his platitude as Baker pounced. A vertical jump landed the cyborg officer knees-down on the wooden sideboard, the pine insulating him from any mishaps in this tricky manoeuvre. As his left hand brought down a heavy silver serving platter at SIEGEs head, his right darted downward. The overhand silverware was easily batted aside - as expected - but Bakers replacement hand found exactly what it was looking for the hidden quick release for the power packs that was common to all the suits.
The belt came away in his hand, and he pushed himself away with all due haste. SIEGE would have power enough for a few seconds more action - enough in an emergency to throw the belt as far away from himself as possible - so it was a matter of evading the big Sergeant for mere moments. SWAT skidded over the dining table, landing in a crouch in the corner of the room. A second later, the table was no longer there as SIEGE batted it out of the way as a man might shoo a cat. Stepping through the space it had occupied, Malcolm suffered the indignity of slowly grinding to a halt, a real-life analogue of Ozs Tin Man, leaving Baker panting with the adrenaline of a close escape.
Im sorry Dan. I have to do this myself. Ive got responsibilities.
A series of greatly muffled curses came from inside the helmet. Baker unhitched the safety toggles and lifted the visor a touch. Ill get you little man Im gonna kick your sorry back Baker shut the visor again and went to gather up the SWAT units gauntlets.
Tonight he would hunt.
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Mathew Price awoke in darkness. He awoke in silence. He awoke in the nude. No matter how he moved his head, he could see nothing. In fact, the only sensations that proved he was still alive were the rasp of rope on his wrists and ankles, and the faint smell of motor oil and gun grease.
Hello again, Mr Price. came a voice from somewhere near him. A light flicked on overhead, blinding and stark white. He winced. The speaker gave him a few moments to recover. He could still see nothing save for a plain, if dirty concrete floor with a simple steel trolley. Atop the trolley perched the black Arachnos style helmet and a jar of strange green fluid, complete with an ominously large hypodermic needle.
We need to discuss a few matters