RKMBs Forums .::Important::. Writer's Block Vanguard no. 18: "Sic transit gloria mundi"

At the La Perdita Hilton Hotel, a small group of strange individuals known collectively as the Vanguardians contemplated their next move. The Complex was destroyed, the company was effectively dissolved along with it, and the group had just received the official notice they were all expecting that new zoning laws would prohibit the old Dawson Apartments/Complex from being used as anything but a residential area. After several months of metahuman-related property damage and general aggravated mayhem, Vanguard was getting kicked out of its own headquarters...

Five Vanguardians sat around having breakfast at the Hotel diner. The notice from the La Perdita government sat untouched in the middle of the table, but that wasn't the only thing that was bothering the group. Another letter now in Grissom Montag's hand, having just been read out, had silenced all of them.

"I've lost my appetite," Ed Cicciotto said, pushing away a plateful of spaghetti.

Brianna Finula shook her head and said, "Did he provide a reason?"

"Seems fairly obvious to me, m'lady," Rama "Mason" Avatar replied as he rearranged the pieces of curry chicken around on his plate without taking a bite.

"I'm surprised he stuck with us as long as he did, really," Phil Smith said, staring at a piece of toast with one bite taken from it.

Grissom Montag said, "Prob'ly stayed out o' guilt after what 'e did... er..." Phil flashed him a warning look, and Grissom continued, "...I mean, 'e must've felt 'is promises for the prospects o' the company never quite matched up t'the reality."

The table fell silent once more.

Ed Cicciotto, the most senior Vanguardian, raised his glass and said, "To Kit Piper. May he find the kind of success in his next venture he never found in this one."

"To Kit Piper!" everyone agreed as they clinked their glasses together.

"Now, about housing," Brianna said. "What're we gonna do?"

"I don't know about the rest of you, but I've already got a nice villa of my own," Mason said. "I picked it up before I joined the team, in fact. You'll notice I never actually lived at the Complex."

"Eddie and I need a place to live," Ed Cicciotto said. "Some place stable, away from the madness of the Complex."

"If any of you're worried about funds," said Grissom Montag, "please don't be. I'll spot all of you until we get back on our feet. This goes above and beyond business interests, y'understand. You're my family."

Mason laughed, "You're not the only one who's independently wealthy, lad. I may not be rich, but I'm well enough off to help out with anyone's rent for as long as they need it. Money is never an issue."

"And the team?" Phil asked. "Since we're effectively locked out of the Complex, even if it wasn't destroyed, where are we going to base the team?"

The table went quiet again. Finally, Mason said, "What team, Phil? Danny's gone, Victoria Xiang is dead, we've got members leaving left and right, we have no headquarters, and the company is effectively liquidated. What's left?"

"We're left," Grissom muttered. "Y'know what we've lost, Mason? Overhead. That's all. The team isn't the company. The team is us."

Cicciotto added, "We never needed anything more back in the old days, when there was just five of us."

"I... I guess you're right," Mason said, taking a sip of his drink.

There was a bit of chuckling around the table, causing Mason to raise his eyebrow out of puzzlement.

"You really have changed, Mason," chuckled Phil. "A few months ago you would've pushed the table over and bellowed an angry retort before having your bird shit on Grissom's head." A slight chuckle went around the table.

"We've all changed," Mason said in a serious tone after a moment. "Everything changes. The glory days always fade away before we can even recognize them. Such is the nature of life..." Mason took another sip of his drink, swallowed, and said, "Sic transit gloria mundi..."

"...So passes the glory of the world," Grissom said.

"Aye, lad. Aye."

Everyone retired for the evening. Brianna found Grissom and Phil talking in the lobby of the hotel, and walked up to see them.

"--it seems we have a few options."

"Could go 'nd find a new spot to hang our hat. Just fer business, no living space." Grissom turned and looked at Brianna. "No need to have someone's home wrecked."

Phil spoke next. "Bree, Leslie said your stuff's in storage for now. You can get everything back when you've found a place to stay."

"Thanks." Brianna's few possesions were in storage with Leslie's boxes. Her suite and much of the Vanguard Complex was demolished a little over a week ago. The desruction had hit her particularly hard. Brianna depended on Vanguard for her finances and her shelter, and now the Complex was no more.

"Any luck with the house-hunting?"

Brianna grinned, but Phil could tell she was bluffing. "Great. Found lots of places. Trying to narrow it down."

His smile was just as false as hers. "Cool. Let me or Leslie know if you need some help. Heck, I'm sure she'd love to go looking with you." Phil and Grissom said goodbye. Brianna followed Montag as he left the hotel.

The British ex-mercenary looked at his Irish bird. "Why didn't ye tell 'im the truth?"

Brianna frowned. "The truth? Tell him that I can't afford anything on the island, and I've been staying with you the entire time? That we've been...you know..." Her voice trailed off, but one eyebrow was still raised.

"Yer heard wot I said back there. I'll loan you the--"

Brianna shook her head. "We've been over this. I couldn't pay you back. Ever." Brianna kicked the gravel at her feet. "Brandon's medical bills are draining me. I think I have six months before I'm in the hole."

Grissom wrapped his arm around Brianna's shoulder as he led her to his car. She always seemed calmer when he comforted her in that manner. Their strides matched perfectly. "Too bad the banks' froze his accounts." Brianna hopped into Grissom's vehicle. "Look, lass, I'll not have you angry at me all night. So at least until tomorrow, no worries about euros or dollars or pounds." Brianna laughed. "I'm serious, lass."

"Alright. Not another word about money from me tonight."

"That's better."

Brianna was silent for about fifteen seconds. "Griss...what's the average monthly wage for a mercernary?"

Grissom slammed the brakes just hard enough for Brianna slide forward in her seat. "I said no more talk about money!" He needed to get her mind off it somehow. Suddenly, Griss was hit with an idea. "Say, Brianna, I always wondered wot kind of place you'd liked to live in. Y' know, a fantasy house."

Brianna thought about it for a moment. "I haven't really thought about it myself. I suppose I'd like some quiet sort of home. Somewhere will I wouldn't be bothered much. Someplace high so I'd have to stretch my wings just to get there."

The pulled up to Grissom's villa. "A castle 'n the sky, eh?" Brianna laughed. Grissom was already at the passanger door. He opened it and picked Brianna up. "Well, lass, I can't give y' a castle...but I can make you feel like a queen tonight." Brianna held on as he carried her inside the villa. "I believe it was Virgil who said 'Love conquers all things; let us too surrender to love'."

He dropped Brianna on the massive king-sized bed. "You know, Mister Montag, when you're like this, I really can't say 'no'."

"So can I offer to loan you the money now?"

Brianna tossed him her pants. "No."

Phil sat at the Hotel’s bar. He rubbed his temples as he thought of his beautiful computer core, the trucks he has specially brought to the island, among a lot of other favors he had to call in to give Vanguard one of the most technologically advanced Headquarters in the world. And what happened. Boom. Big Boom. That’s it. And does anyone care? Nope. Well, Grissom did, but not even Leslie understood.

The Headquarters wasn’t just home. It was the heart of Vanguard. Phil lifted his glass in memory of Vanguard and drank the ice cold water. From the corner of his eye he saw a familiar face.

“Sam?” Phill asked, already knowing the answer but checking to get his former teammates attention.

“Smith.”

“Phil’s fine.”

“Phil. It’s good seeing you. I actually came here to see the team…”

“Bad timing man, we’ve split for the night.” Phil answered. Sam sat next to the telepath. “No one was really surprised when you left again with no word.”

“That place spooked me. I thought I could come home, but I really couldn’t.” Sam answered, before looking at Phil’s glass of water and waving the bartender over. “What he has.”

“So, you’ve come to join the team?”

“Not exactly”

“Exactly?”

“I’m not here to rejoin Vanguard. Not on missions or saving the world or any of that stuff. Just because someone has powers, does not mean that they are a superhero. It takes a special someone to be a hero. That ain’t me.” The bartender placed a glass of cold water by Sam, he took a sip, refreshing during the hot nights of the island.

“You proved some heroism on that other world.”

“Scared the hell out of me. Likely took 10 years off my life”

“Maybe you just don’t want to escape your destiny.”

“That’s not a word I thought I would ever hear from your lips.”

“You don’t know me that well.” Phil said with a smirk. And that was the truth of the matter. The two men met during a single adventure. Nothing more, nothing less.

“Anyway, down to business.”

“Business? You have a new-”

“Are you going to let me speak or just read me?”

“Go…”

“I own a small island…”

“You bought it for us?”

Sam shook his head, trying to keep secrets from a telepath was tough.

“Vanguard needs a home. You guys are good for the world. Take this card, talk to the others.”

“About?”

Sam pointed to his head and smirked, Phil read his mind and his plan for the new headquarters/offices.

“Call me.” Sam said and left the hotel, leaving Phil looking at his card.

Del Mar, La Perdita. The next day, in the morning.

"You bought the Fish Factory? Are you mad?"

Priest was standing in front of the large, brick walled old building, shaking his head.

Next to him, Edulcore Cicciotto smiled triumphantly. "Yes. It's mine, now!"

The big bald African American soldier from the future turned toward his friend. "And why in the world you have spent all the last of your money to buy this hole? The stench can be smelled from Puerta Mibela!"

Euro looked back, still smiling. "First, the smell will go after the restoration. Second, I love this kind of old building. Third, now that we need a true occupation, there is only one profession I know: cook. So, the Fish Factory will be a restaurant!"

Priest's eyes open wide. "You are going to open a restaurant? Now, with the fall of tourism trade on the island?"

Euro took a step back, like to embrace the place with a single look. "It will not be just a restaurant, Jon. Rose has some ideas for the place..." As he said the name Rose, his right hand raised above his shoulder, and the thumb pointed behind him, to the beach, where a pretty woman in bikini, evidently pregnant, was waving her hands joyfully at Priest. A small kid with dreadlocks was playing near her.

"Ed, don't tell me she's the babysitter of Eddie, I wouldn't buy it..." said Priest, one corner of his lips raising up maliciously.

"Nah, she's the magician that performed at Jake's. Me and her have been quite... close... recently..." said Euro.

"How much recently?" asked Priest.

"... nine months. Nearly."

"Maybe I can get a job," said Brianna to Grissom. They were in Grissom's living room. Piled on the floor were copies of brochures to various apartments and houses. "Did we look at this one yet? 'One bedroom, one-and-a-half bath...'"

"Let me see, Bree." Grissom 'ported the paper from Brianna. "I thought these wer' the folks that saw yer wings and said 'no pets allowed'?"

Brianna made a grab for the paper in an attempt to tear it up. "Come on, give it back." The two began wrestling on the floor. "Griss, come on, give --"

The phone rang, so Grissom 'ported the cordless into his hand. He looked at the caller ID. "Wot is it, Phil?"

"I've been trying to call Brianna, but she's not registered at any of the Puerta Mibela hotels. You know where she is?"

"Er...yeah, Phil, she's right here?"

"Can you put her on?"

Grissom handed the phone to Brianna. "What is it?"

"Sam gave me information about a nearby island he bought for us."

Brianna readjusted the phone as she pulled out some more lease papers. Rejected, rejected, rejected. "I thought we were going to avoid having another headquarters. Too much of a target."

"Think of it more as an office. No living space. And we all have easy access to it from La Perdita. Anyways, you're the first to hear about it. There's a chance we may find another idea. I was just wondering if you could do a fly-by for me. Just to get an idea of the area. Unless you're too busy looking for a pad."

Brianna laughed. "No, I have enough time today. Beside, the weather today's great for thermal-hopping. Just give me a general direction and I'll be off."

Phil told her to go north-northwest. "Thanks for the help, Bree. Mind putting Griss back on." She handed the phone to Grissom, grabbed her bag, and took off from the patio door. "So...she wasn't staying in a hotel..."

"The ground floor will be the restaurant" said Euro, entering the ample room that last Christmas held the Vanguard party.

Priest looked up, along the stairs and the balcony above. "What about our old rooms?"

"Private dining rooms" the Italian explained. "Like in Kill Bill vol. 1"

"It will be a Sushi restaurant?" wondered Priest.

"Nah, I don't like Japan food, just Japan architecture. The food will be a mixture of Italian, French and Greek. And some selected Spanish recipes."

Priest nodded, not really sure of the differences.

"The uppermost floor, with the original offices, will be my home... well, mine and Rose's. And down, in the magazines in the basement, there will be the disco club. Live music and performances..."

"Do you plan to compete with Jake's, eh?" asked Priest.

"No, not at all. I love Jake's place, but it's a ghetto for metas. It's the right place to go for a beer or a fight, but no norms would ever set foot there. I want create a place for norms and metas to meet."

"Revolution, XXI century style?" said Priest, raising his eyebrows.

Euro smiled. "I hope the long way will be a lot less harmful than the short".

The freight elevator stopped at the last floor. They exited in an ample room, with large windows from floor to ceiling, opening over the Caribbean sea. All that was in sight was sky or sea.

"Wow. It's like to live in the sky, Euro!"

The last of the Revolutionaries smiled. "Yes, this is the place that made me enamored with the Fish Factory. But, come in. There is more to see.

Edulcore Cicciotto showed the way to the tall man from the future, across a few rooms, up to a wooden door. There, he stood for a moment.

"What there is here?" asked Priest.

Euro opened the door.

It was like a museum. In the center of the large room was a small round wooden table, with the letters M, B and L carved with fire in the middle. Around, hanging from the wall, or set over small columns, there were many memorabilia from past adventures of the revolutionaries, MBL or Vanguard.

"The table around which me and the other four originals gathered in a small log cabin on the lake Michigan" said Euro. "Then, the original pictures of the Revolutionaries made by Naecken. The first page of the Thunder Gazette of Christmas, 2001, with the photo of the Revolutionaries dressed as Santa and his elves. The swords of the Scorpion Brothers. Kristogar Velo's mask. Voodoo puppets of Ma Kalunga. The armors we brought from the world of Darkness. Pictures of various cows. The photocopies of the Book of Life. Drake Marshall's crutches. The...2

"Ok, Ok, I know what the rest is. You created the Vanguard museum?"

"I think of it more as trophy room. It's something I wanted to do for the Complex, now I have done it in my home, until we'll have a new place for us..." whispered Euro.

"If we are going to build a new Headquarter, it has to be underground or under the sea. A simple building, as much reinforced it is, it's too an easy target for our enemies" noted Priest.

Euro nodded. "And as long Vanguard is just a group of friends, what is the purpose of an headquarter?"

Priest shrugged. Then, turning to Euro, asked: "Now, let's get to business. Why did you ask me to come here? We have never been very close in Vanguard. If it was just to show your home, I guess you would have called Mason or Bree."

Euro nodded again. "Right. It' really a business proposal. Rose is sure the club will be a hit, and I need someone expert to take care of any problem should arise with costumers..."

Priest's eyes widened. "You are asking me to be the bouncer for your disco club?"

Ed raised his open hands. "No, no. I want you to take care of the security of the whole place. As a business partner."

At two thousand feet in the air, problems about money or shelter seemed very far away. Brianna loved flying at this time of the day. At two in the afternoon, thermals were strong enough to carry Brianna's weight, as well as the camera in her bag. She was hoping to take pictures of the site for Phil.

Thermals are created when the sun's rays heat the ground or the water. The warmed air rises, and this natural phenomenom is what allows massive seabirds and predatory raptors to soar in the skies. It wasn't a very fast way to move, but the slower pace provided a great view.

Brianna saw the island up ahead and lowered her altitude. She pulled out Grissom's digital camera and snapped a picture of some dolphins swimming underwater. They would jump up just high enough to spray at the flying metahuman before diving back down into the crystal-blue waters.

"Well, it looks like the camera's working. Time to do a wee bit of scouting."

There was nothing much to the island. Mostly white clifs with a little bit of sand and beach covering the remaining quarter of the island's edge. There were two smaller islands on the north-east side. Brianna snapped pictures of the island's jungle terrain and the surrounding waters. She called it a day when she had about two dozen photos ready to be loaded into Grissom's computer.

With a heavy beat of her wings Brianna turned one-hundred-eight degrees and headed back to La Perdita. The waves were more violent than the flight towards the island -- must have something to do with the tide, Brianna thought to herself. She did not noticed that the thermal she was riding was taking her too far west of Grissom's flat.

"Drat. I'll have to find another therm -- what is that?" Brianna tucked her wings in and dived down towards the northern edge of La Perdita's beaches.

An old lighthouse had attracted her attention. It was not built like the lighthouses you see in Cape Cod -- this one was more Spanish-styled, with a stony-walled first level. Centered in the middle of the roof sat a traditional-styled lighthouse.

Curiousity getting the better of her, Brianna landed in front of the lighthouse. She pulled Grissom's camera out of her bag and took another picture. The lighthouse was very old but Brianna liked how it looked, with the seagulls waving and ducking about around the walls and landing on the top of the lamproom. She liked seeing the birds.

"Aw, Missie, you best be gettin' away from the beaches. This area will all be underwater when the tide comes in."

Brianna spotted an old man with a fishing rod. "And where will you be when the tide comes in?"

He pointed to a rock, larger than all the others. "Water's never reached over that rock, Missie."

Brianna nodded. "Can you tell me anything about this lighthouse?"

"Yes I can, Missie. The Spanish built in her 1512 so the fleet wouldn't crash into La Perdita's rocks. The rooms on the first level were for the lad manning the lighthouse. The rocks in this area tend to isolate anyone living 'round here. Owned by some American that comes by once a month. Let's me fish here. I think he's some sort of VIP or VP or RSVP..."

"Do you think he'd mind if I take some pictures?" Brianna held up the camera.

"Don't see why not, Missie. Help yerself. I'll just be fishin'."

Brianna took enough pictures to fill up the memory card. "Oh...I better get going. By the way, the man who owns this...do you know what month he comes to stay here?"

"Sometime this season, I expect. What's that to you, Missie?"

Brianna put the camera away in her bag. "Oh...no particular reason. I better get going now, good day."

The heat from the midday sun had died down, but Brianna did not noticed she was flapping hard as she thought of the digital treasures she carried in her bag.

Two Days Ago

Danny sat nursing a beer at the bar in Jake's place, staring down into it and watching the bubbles intently as they rose. He took another sip, and glanced nervously around the bar.

"Hearn?" Came a voice from behind him. Danny spun around quickly in his stool.

A man in a long brown coat stood there a few feet away from the bar, his hands tucked into his pockets.

"You Max?" Danny asked.

"Sometimes," The man replied, and sat down.

"Do we have to make small talk or can I just give you the money now?" Danny asked.

"I like you," Max answered, and pulled a large envelope from the inside pocket of his jacket. Danny pulled a smaller envelope from his pocket and placed it on the bar. Max extended his arm and took Danny's envelope, sliding the larger one across as he did so.

Danny opened the large envelope and rifled through it.

"Passport. La Perditan driver's license. Couple of faked bank statements. Enough to convince anyone that you're Average Joe Nobody," Max said as Danny inspected the contents of the package.

"My new name isn't actually 'Average Joe Nobody', is it?" Danny asked as he pulled out the passport.

"Actually it's Gil Ellis."

"Right."

"Don't get yourself into any situations where the cops are checking you out out or anything. It's not airtight. Not for the money you're paying me," Max said.

"It's all I have left," Danny said, somewhat defensively.

"But the stuff in there will be enough to get you a ticket off this island."

"That's all I need," Danny said.

"You really want to leave that bad? Why?"

"Never liked the weather," Danny answered.

Today

Danny sat impatiently in the waiting room of the La Perditan airport. It was going to take him two connecting flights to get to Melbourne. Another drawback of living on a tiny island that only had two international flights per day.

He looked at his ticket again, purchased in the name of Gil Ellis to get around the new law keeping him on the island. Every now and then he glanced over his shoulder, certain that airport security was going to pounce on him at any second.

He watched people coming and going around him, keeping his eyes down and not talking to any of them.

Above him, a workman was suspended from a harness in the ceiling, working on some of the building's ventilation pipes. He only caught Danny's attention when the harness snapped, and the workman screamed. He shot his arm out and grabbed the dangling end of the harness strap, staring in terror at the floor below.

The airport had a very high ceiling. The man would surely perish if he plummeted. What was anyone to do?!

Danny remained seated, tearing his gaze away from the situation above. He stood slowly and stepped forward, then remained just standing.

A noise from outside caught Danny's attention, and the attention of everybody in the terminal.

It started as a low buzz, then soon grew into a high pitched whine. Everybody covered their faces as one of the huge windows shattered, and a silver streak entered the room. The streak headed straight for the dangling workman, plucking him from danger then heading slowly downwards.

It was then that everybody got a glimpse of the newfound saviour.

It was about three feet long, and made entirely of shining metal. At its front was a shiny silver squirrel's head, and at the back was a squirrel's tail. The tail was raised, and poking out from beneath it was a small propellor that seemed to enable the creature to fly.

The robotic squirrel lowered the worker slowly to the ground, then landed softly beside him.

People around the squirrel cheered. A small child hugged the robot.

"Mummy, it's cold..." The child said.

"Cold... and heroic!" The child's mother yelled. She was met with several nods of agreement.

"Thank you!" The workman said.

"Robo Squirrel is happy to help." The squirrel replied.

"Gee, Robo Squirrel... you sure saved my nuts!" The man added. Everybody laughed.

"Robo Squirrel does not understand. You do not have nuts of any sort."

"It's a joke, Robo Squirrel!" Somebody said.

"Searching database... searching... searching... Nuts is a euphemism for testicles. Robo Squirrel gets it! This joke is adequate."

"Oh, Robo Squirrel!"

La Casa Azul], home of the La Perdita Head of the Government. A few days ago.

"Mr. Prime Minister, I still don't understand why you have called me. I bore no representative role with Vanguard, beside the fact that there is nothing, as of today, that answer to the name Vanguard. Not a company, nor a no profit non-governative organization. You retired our license, we settled down. Some of the former member of Vanguard are looking for jobs, other for home, some for both. I still wonder what else you can ask us". Edulcore Cicciotto was angry. He felt the spirit of the eagle struggling to free himself from the mental boundaries in which Euro was keeping him. He concentrated, and sedated the eagle again. And smiled at the short, moustached man sitting on the armchair in front of him. Diego Alvarez Miguel Dos Santos. Prime Minister of La Perdita.

The short man raised his arms, his palms opened. "Mr. Cicciotto, you know it's not my... our ... faults. The request came from the United Nation Organization just after the seizing of Manhattan. We know you have no ties with the MBL, and it's just a coincidence your company bore previously the same name... and we grant you and your comrades political asylum on our soil. Still, I need you to hear something about Vanguard..."

"But why me? I don't have any ties anymore with «Vanguard». Like anyone else of his former members!"

"Mr. Cicciotto, your name is the best known among your former comrades. Beside, you have been specifically asked to be meet by some people". A single drop of sweat ran down the Prime Minister cheek.

Euro observed the impact of the drop over the desk, like in slow motion. "Who?" asked dryly.

"Members of the Strikeforce".

One minute later, Euro was accompanied to a different room. The Prime Minister himself opened the door, and without entering, saluted the Italian meta and left. It was all very far from the official protocol.

Inside the room, three people were waiting. One was a tall, muscular young man, with black curly eyes. The second was a man on his early fourties (or maybe younger), blonde, slightly shorter than the first. Both wore very formal black suits. The third was a short female, with a leather black miniskirt, white transparent shirt and black jacket.

"Wrong outfit for the island climate" said Euro, his eyes nothing more than narrow lines.

"The cooling system seems to work fine, Mr. Cicciotto" said the second one. "My name is Augustus Von Brown. My partners here, Miss Ursula Koester and Mr. Brandon Mullarney." He lend a hand toward Euro. The former Raptor looked at it, and stood still.

"Ah, well" said the man, retiring the hand. "we are here on the behalf of the United Nations Organisation and the free people of the world. The Nation of La Perdita has granted you political asylum on the island, hence you, that have been recognized guilty of terrorist acts toward nations member of the UNO, are safe from our police acts. But be warned. You, Edulcore Cicciotto, Grissom Montag, Phil Smith, Brianna Finnoungula, Danny Hearn, Mason Templar and the man known just as Priest are not allowed to leave the island. If one of you will be found outside the boundaries of the country of La Perdita will be captured and condemned, AND we'll be granted permission to enter the island and captured you and your former associates. If any form of resistance will be performed, the island will be invaded by conventional forcers and put under UN jurisdiction."

The younger man stepped toward Euro. His face just inches from Ed's own, he hissed: "Understood, bastard?"

Ed's face hardened. "You are mortally wrong, kid. You all are."

The young man stepped back. "I saw your skull faced friend killing my brother. All the world has."

The other man stood in the way. "As a partial contribution for your damages, we are confiscating your properties. Farewell".

The three people dissolved, leaving just a deep smell of ozone. Teleportation, Gaia tech style, though Euro. He was going to say "There is nothing left of our properties" but the disappearing left the words in his mouths.

A quarter later, seeing the Argo flying away toward north-east, Euro knew he was wrong. Just NOW there was nothing left.

“Hmm, Head of Security?” Priest asked himself as he walked up to the entrance of his new apartment, “I led a World Police Force, I think I could do Head of Security. Plus, who can say no to those dental and medical plans Euro set up.” Suddenly, Priest realized he was talking to himself out loud and stopped. I’ve been living with too many split personalities…

Priest stopped at the entrance of his new apartment building, a brownstone in the beautifully rebuilt Uptown of the island. He had a modest apartment on the third floor, having gotten the rent cheaper from the little old lady that owns the building (she has a meta grandson). The first floor is a “New York” style pizza place, yeah, the smell rising up through the various apartment windows is a definitely a benefit.

Priest stopped and took in the fresh pizza smell for a moment when a young women stepped out of the building.

“Michelle?” Priest blurted out, accidentally catching the attention of Michelle Campbell, one of his new neighbors.

She stopped and throw a smile towards the ex-solider, “How do you know my name?”

I have to stop doing that!

“Ahhhh.” Priest looked around, “Well, you see”

Michelle squinted her eyes, trying to pin point where she had… or if she had ever seen the huge man in front of her.

“I’m new to the building, yeah, that’s right. I’m on the third floor and was hoping that a few of us new residents, well and old residents, could get together tonight and meet and know each other and that sorta stuff tonight with each other. Here for pizza.”

Michelle looked at the much older man for a moment and cracked up, “That’s a good idea, we have had quite a few new entries in the past few weeks. Nine PM okay? I’ll let Terry and the second floor know.”

“Yeah, that’s good.”

“Well, it was nice meeting you…?”

“Jon. And you too.”

Michelle walked away and Priest hit himself on the head.

That was smooth old man. She probably thinks you’re a stalker or something.

Huh? Am I really now talking to myself in my own head?

Appears so.

I hate those guys, I really do.

Priest shook his head to clear it out and picked up his cell.

“Howdy,” Phil’s voice sounded through the other end.

“Hey Smith, by any chance did Sam leave his contact number with you…?”

"He certainly did," Phil replied, "but I've got him on the other line at the moment. One sec." The telepath hopped over to his second line. "Sam - Priest needs to speak with you."

"Go ahead and transfer him," Dawson replied. "You can make the deposit sometime later today. I've already put the deed transfer through the system."

"I appreciate that," Phil said.

"I hope you find everything to your liking," Sam said. "You can take a boat over this afternoon if you want. And don't worry - you're not cheating me out of anything by paying asking price. Money isn't much of an object to me."

"Thanks again," Phil repeated. "Later."

He switched back over to line 1. "Priest?"

"Yeah?"

"I'm just gonna transfer you to him."

"Even better," the soldier from the future replied. "Thanks a lot."

"Anytime," Phil replied as he transferred the call and hung up.

"So you went ahead with it?" Leslie Kline asked as she walked in.

"I figure I can bounce it off the others later," Phil answered as he sat down on the bed in the hotel room. "I just wanna be able to have my own place for once."

"That doesn't seem like reason enough to buy a whole island sight unseen," Leslie mused as she set her handbag atop the dresser by the television.

"I've seen the surveys," Phil countered. "I know what the place looks like. On top of that, I don't have any reason not to trust Sam. And quite frankly, for the price he wanted, it's a winning proposition even if the structures in place turn out to be condemned." Phil chuckled. "If I don't like it, I can always sell it to some resort mogul and turn a hell of a profit."

"But what about the team?" Leslie asked as she sat on the bed across from him. "I thought Sam wanted to sell the island to the team for them to use."

"They can still use it," Phil pointed out. "All someone has to do is ask me, and I'd be happy to give them some space on it. I'd enjoy the company, honestly. But I personally just want a place of my own, and not have to be a drag on somebody else."

Phil got up and walked over to the window looking out over the harbor. "I like it here, Leslie. I love La Perdita, don't get me wrong. But things are different now. I don't feel that I can live on La Perdita anymore without causing - directly or indirectly - bad things to happen to the people around me. Trouble follows me - you know that. Between the trouble that follows me and the trouble that follows this team, I'm amazed this island hasn't been leveled by now. By moving to that little island, I'm hoping I can put some distance between what the team does - and what I do - and all those civilians. And I want the team - what's left of it, anyway - to feel welcome there, and maybe even use the place as a staging point for missions and what have you."

"I just don't want to leave all of them," Leslie insisted. "I'd like to be able to spend time with Brianna - and I'm sure you'd like to be able to see Grissom and Priest once in a while."

Phil sat back down on the bed and put a hand to Leslie's face. "We won't be leaving them, honey. It's a ten minute boat ride between La Perdita and the island. By helicopter, it's maybe two or three minutes. We can travel back and forth as much as we like." He kissed her cheek. "I just want the island to be a safe place for us, away from all this. If others decide to join us, I want it to be a safe place for them too."

"That's not going to be easy," Leslie said. "And making it livable might not be cheap."

"From what I've heard," Phil said, "the old mansion on the little island is in decent shape. I can put a generator there for now, until I get a decent power system going, and fix the plumbing, and it could be pretty comfortable until we decide to build a house of our own."

Leslie smiled. "I'd like that."

"I would too," Phil agreed just as his phone beeped.

"Voicemail," Phil muttered as he got up to check the number. "I better go see Ed. He doesn't usually leave me messages unless it's important."

"I probably need to get moving too," Leslie sighed as she got to her feet. "I'll see what Bri's up to."

"Have a good day, sweetheart," Phil said as he kissed her. "We'll talk about this island thing later." He shook his head. "As soon as I try to explain it to the others."

On the base of the western slope of La Perdita's single volcanic mountain, facing the Caribbean Sea, an isolated little villa lay amidst the tropical jungle. It had been built some 20 years earlier by a reclusive American novelist who sought an escape from his former uptown New York lifestyle. Within three years this novelist, already extremely reclusive, had become completely dissociative and paranoid. Three years to the day that construction had begun upon the villa, this novelist put a bullet into his brain. The bullet did not kill him, however, but merely caused slight brain damage. The novelist's ex-wife soon moved in with him and hired a nurse to take care of him, but one year later the novelist decided to go for a walk down to the nearby beach. He was never seen again.

Shortly afterwards the novelist's ex-wife sold the villa to an unknown party, believing the place to be under a curse (though she had never been a superstitious woman), and left for Europe to live off her former husband's inheritance.

In late 2003 Mason Templar moved in, and a new lodging was built for his gigantic pigeon-hawk, Erasmus.

It is now September 2004. Mason Templar is dead. Long live Mason Templar... or as he is now known: Rama Avatar. But you may call him Mason. He won't mind. Too much.

Erasmus hovered a moment over the villa just before she swung her large wings towards the ground, buffetting herself with air to slow her final descent upon the side of the mountain. Upon landing, Rama "Mason" Avatar, a tall, muscular and slim East Indian with dark hair and a close-cropped beard, dressed in a modified version of traditional warrior's garb, caressed her beneath her beak and hopped off, whispering something in an ancient tongue. He began to brush her feathers of the chemical film caused by the pollution of the air.

Two young Oriental men, aged 17 and 20, were at his side in a moment, gently grasping Erasmus's harness in order to lead her to her own lodgings and then remove that bulky harness. Mason nodded his thanks as the two men did their best to keep from staring strangely at the brown-skinned man who stood before them who only loosely resembled their former master.

Mason began to walk towards the rear entrance of his villa and was met with a bow by an elderly Oriental man with a long white beard who spoke with a crisp British accent, "You have changed once again, Master."

"Aye," said Mason.

"I trust it was not too painful this time?"

Mason said nothing at first, considering his answer. "No. But it happened to soon. I shouldn't have let myself die over such a futile thing as the kiss of the spider-woman."

"My grandchildren are all amazed," said the elderly manservant. "They have never seen the Change before. I have never spoken to them of your secrets."

"I would never suspect your betrayal, King," Mason said, finally smiling for the first time in a long while. His new self was much more brooding, it seemed, than his former self. He was still trying to figure out what his new self held in store for him. It would take a great deal of time for him to discover his new persona. He hoped there would be no need for a return to the Cave before he finally made peace with his new self. "And in any case, Jean-Paul and Phillipe don't seem to be too bothered by the new me. But where is Rebecca? I would like a... word with her."

King's face fell as he spoke. "I am afraid she has... stepped out for the moment."

Mason's right eyebrow rose. "What do you mean, King?"

The old man's face became as serene as ever, once more. "I mean she will be back shortly. That is all."

"Ah."

"And how shall you be called, Master?" King asked him. "It has been a long time since you gained the soul of a non-European."

"Over a century, in fact," said Mason. "And to answer your question, I am to be called Rama Avatar. I will need your numerous skills to gain my new credentials, as well as to transfer all assets of Mason Templar to me."

"As you say, it will be done... Rama." The old man seemed to smile, then, though his countenance did not change.

Mason laughed. "Do not forget who found you as an orphan on the streets of Peking and paid for your extensive education in the best schools in the world, young sir. Appearances may change, but I am more ancient than thee."

"Touché."

The swordsman stepped into his villa at last and took a deep breath of air as he headed for another room for a change of clothes. "Have one of the boys ready my Aston-Martin. I'll be heading into town for a visit. It's about time I looked into another young orphan's situation."

"Very good, sir."

Phil Smith stepped inside Euro's apartment, greeted by the Italian on the door.

"You know Rose, right?" asked Ed, looking at the direction of his girlfriend.

Phil had the usual impression that Euro was delighted by the knowledge that the mental shield, heritage of his hybrid birth from an Annunaki and a terrestrial sorceress, was impervious even to his own extraordinary mental powers, possibly the most advanced on Earth. while lending his hand to Euro, for a moment Phil tough if it was that that made him always not at full comfort when near Euro.

With Rose there was no shaking of hand, nor a single word. When two telepaths meet, the greetings are not comparable to anything that words can express. It's like two oceans of feelings that meets. especially when the telepaths master their art like Phil or Rose.

The first words coming from that meeting left Euro very puzzled.

"We'll take my car. It's faster" said Phil.

"Ok. I'll take the bag!" responded Rose, but the dialogue was just for the use of Euro, because the two didn't need words.

"What the hell are you talking about?" wondered Ed.

The answer come at unison: "THE KID, ED!"

"Fuck fuck fuck fuckety fuck!" Euro was in panic. "Where is Eddie?"

"He's with Octavia, YOU brought him there!" said Rose, laughing off the lack of coolness of her partner.

"My camera, I don't find my camera!"

"It's hanging from your neck, Ed!"

"Let's go, let's go!"

"There is all the time we need, Ed. Phil read in mind a vision of the near future. There will take hours for the birth!"

SEVEN hours later, at Puerta Mibela Hospital...

"Isn't she beautiful, Ed?"

"I can't believe she is my daughter! I'd say it has been cloned from you, Rose."

"What? The eyes... and the ears... are exactly like your own, Ed."

"But thank the Heaven the hairs are like yours, Rose!"

Phil was shaking the head. The former Raptor, bloody swordsman, reduced to care-bear. What a shame!

"It's been... difficult."

The raven-haired beauty brushed a few stray hairs out of her face as she looked at her dining partner sadly. She had barely touched her chicken roti, but had managed to go through two glasses of wine... and was nearing the bottom of her third.

"I can imagine," the man across from her said, taking another sip of his own wine.

This man knew her well. He'd hired her right out of high school for two reasons: 1.) he knew her father and owed him a favor, and 2.) because he realized the young girl had the potential for greatness.

And she had never failed to disappoint.

She was unlike any woman Grissom Montag had ever seen. She had a thick skin on her and the ability to solve problems with ease. She was extremely left-brained, preferring to think through things logically, rather than losing her head like most women would. After a few years, she'd risen through the ranks of Sandcrawler Securities and become Grissom's head of maintenance.

And, when Griss found that his new group of friends - Vanguard International - needed the services of a maintenance technician, there was no one he thought better suited for the job than Charlene Montoya.

But Vanguard has a way of weighing you down... especially with all the loss suffered over the past year and a half. It's enough to wear down anyone...

...even a woman as valiant and thick-skinned as Charley Montoya.

"It's not just Kris, though, Griss..." she sighed, leaning back in her chair as she folded her arms across her chest. "It's everything. It's Danny flipping out. It's Mick going nuts. It's Grimm leaving. It's Phil and Leslie, you and Bri... it's everything, y'know?"

A small tear ran down her face. Grissom slowly reached out a hand, lightly touching her arm.

"My dad is dying," she whispered after a moment.

"What?" Griss asked, his eyes widening as his breath caught in his throat.

"You know what a smoker he was," Charley whispered. "His lungs just can't take much more. The doctors give him a week at the most."

A heavy silence hung between the two as Grissom let the words sink in. Finally, he managed to bring himself to break the stillness.

"Is there anything I can do?" he asked.

"Let me go, Griss," she said finally. "I need to be with him."

"Of course," the merc responded, nodding responsively. "What else?"

"Let me go... for good, Grissom," she said, more tears running down her face. "I won't be coming back to Vanguard... or Sandcrawler. I'm going to help my brothers... maybe open up an auto repair shop in China Lake..."

"Bullshit," Grissom said sternly, but softly. "A'int no way I'm gonna allow that. You're not just an employee, Charley. You're family. That may not've meant much to me before... but I'll be damned if I'm gonna let you out like this."

Charley smiled. "That's really sweet of you, Griss," she said softly, placing a hand on his stubbly cheek. "I've always thought of you as another brother. But you don't have to do this..."

"I know," Grissom said. "I want to."

As he spoke, a checkbook and pen appeared on the table. Before Charley could open her mouth to stop him, Grissom was already scribbling an amount onto the check, ripping it out of the book and handing it to his friend.

"And I won't take 'no' for an answer," he said, slipping it into her hand.

Slowly opening the check made Charley light-headed. Her eyes widened, her breath stopped, and her heart skipped a beat. "Griss..." she mumbled, completely at a loss. "I--I don't know what to say."

"You don't 'ave to say anything," he said with an air of finality. "Javier Montoya was a good friend of mine and 'e shall not be soon forgotten. As for that, 'owever," he continued, indicating the check, "I want you to spend on you. Take an extended vacation - as long as you need. When you start to miss it, there's always a place for you at Sandcrawler Securities... if you're interested, that is..."

Without saying a word, the Hispanic beauty stood to her feet, crossing to where her employer sat, and kissed him lightly on the cheek. Tears streaming down her smiling face, she struggled in vain to find the right words to say.

But she didn't need to. The look in her eyes - that twinkle that Grissom had not seen in a long time - was reward enough for the adventurer.

Holding her hand to her mouth, Charley cried a bit more, than waved a soft goodbye to her 'brother'.

"G'bye, love," Montag answered, taking her hand and kissing it lightly.

With that, Charlene 'Charley' Montoya turned and walked out of the Joe Caribbean restaurant in the La Perdita International Airport to catch a train back to the States.

And Grissom Montag sat, running his three-fingered hand over the small crucifix that hung from his neck, whispering a silent prayer for his friend...

Brianna was on the phone while her digital pictures printed on Grissom's printer. "Look, is there any way some of Brandon's funds can be transfered -- just to pay for his medical fees?"

"I'm sorry ma'am." Brianna was speaking to an FBI agent. They were the ones that had frozen her brother's accounts when they discovered what he had done at Aisling. "The money was never part of the deal. You claimed he was mentally incapable of a trial, so we permitted you to take him to La Perdita. We had to seize his bank accounts -- all his money was made illegally."

"Okay." Her voice was dull and unemotional. "I just thought I'd ask. Thank you."

Brianna set the phone down. She pulled out Brandon's expenses and looked at the list. "Maybe I can save a little if they take out some of these medications and put him in a smaller suite..."

She heard the door open and slam shut. Grissom was not in a good mood. He spotted her by the computer and headed towards her. "What happened?"

"Charley left."

Brianna kicked the wall. Grissom had not expected this. "It's not fair! It's all falling apart!" She leaned her head far back and closed her eyes. There were no tears in her eyes, but the wrinkles on her brow and the frown on her lips betrayed her feelings. Brianna was wearing out.

Griss had nothing to add to this. He spotted the photos that were printing. "Wot's this?"

Brianna tilted her head back up. "Photos for Phil. I'll fly-by his place and drop them off."

"No. I mean these." Grissom held up the picture of the dolphins swimming in the ocean. "Real good, Bree."

Brianna blushed. "So you don't mind if I print those as well?"

"Nah, go 'head." He looked at the photo, then Brianna, then the photo, and back to Brianna. "You took these?"

"Yes! What, is it hard to believe?"

Grissom laughed. He was still depressed by Charley's choice, but his bird was cheering him up. "Sort of. I just ne'er saw you as a photographer." He picked up the new lighthouse pictures that were printing. The old Spanish lighthouse was illuminated with the light from the setting sun. "Looks like somethin' out of the National Geographic."

"The what?"

Grissom went out of the room for a moment. He came back with a yellow-bordered magazine. "I forgot 'ow sheltered you are sometimes. Take a look."

Brianna flipped through the pages. This particular issue featured articles on the Hubble, Cuba, tree frogs, and insects. "These are good. Real good." She looked up at Grissom. "People get paid for this sort of thing?"

"Sure. Trick is to be bett'r than the rest." He pulled out the dolphin photo again. "And there's no way any normal human can take a photo from that angle."

Brianna thought about Grissom's words for a moment. "Griss...you have any books on photography?"

"I think I have one or two in the library. I'm sure Phil has some too."

Brianna nodded. "Do you think...do you think I can borrow the camera again? Like...maybe tomorrow?"

Puerta Mibela Hospital

Ed held his baby tightly in his locked arms. In this moment, not even an atomic bomb explosion would be able to hurt the lad; his father would never let it happen. A soft knock rang on the door. Before Ed could approach it, Phil opened the door revealing Priest.

Priest stumbled in with his mass enlarged so he could hold all of the gifts he bore for the lad and family.

“I might not have known until now about your secret-“ Priest winked, “-but you didn’t think that would stop me, now did ya?”

Priest unloaded his arms, dropping all sorts of Kiddie toys to the ground, both boys and girls toys. Phil laughed as Ed and Rose thanked the almost unrecognizable with a smile ex-solider from the future. Phil picked up a toy that was obliviously too complex for a new born and threw Priest a look.

“Hey, I never even thought of having one let alone what they use…” Priest joked. The once brooding member of Vanguard had let his worries go along with his new lease on life, which came in the form of a mechanical heart.

“I don’t think she’ll need this-“ Ed said lifting an American style football off the ground.

“Never know?”

“Ok Ed,” Phil broke in, “What are you going to name her?”

"Amara" said at unison Euro and Rose, suddenly looking at each other and laughing.

"How do you know?" said Ed. "Now you are able to read my mind?" he asked somewhat alarmed.

"No, Ed. It's the name of your mother, you spoke about her a thousand times. I simply knew you wanted to call the kid like her. And it's a beautiful name, so, let it be Amara."

In the small, and nearly crowded chamber, the door opened again, and Doc Quantos, the director of the clinic and the man who delivered personally the baby of his Italian friend, entered, followed by his adopted son, Axel Magus.

"The baby and her mommy needs fresh air, people..." said the doctor, with a paternal tone, waving his hand like to make room for the newborn. "Congratulations again, Ed" he added, not to sound to hard.

Euro stood up from the bed, where he was sitting next to his woman, passing the kid to Rose.

"Thanks, Doc. And you are right, let's make room for more friends. Besides, I have something to finish at the restaurant". He kissed Rose lightly over the lips, and then looked at Phil and Priest.
"Are you coming with me?"

Phil nodded. Priest looked at his watch: "I have two hour left before my date... if it's going to take little time, I am coming".

"A date?" asked Euro, faking an inquisitive look.

"Just a pizza with the other peoples of his building" said Phil.

"Are you reading my mind, Smith?" said Phil, frowning, and then smiling.

"No, I am not scanning you, but your thought are very loud, Jon. I guess it has to do with a certain girl..."

###########################################

A few minutes later, at Euro's apartment in the old Fish Factory in Del Mar...

"You forgot to lock the door, Euro" said Phil, pushing it open.

"Strange. I am sure I did closed it with the keys..."

Priest unscrew a light-bulb from a post over the main door, and pushed his index finger in it. "Ahhh. Better to be prepared..." he observed.

Euro stepped in. The tropical sun had fallen behind the horizon by a quarter of hour, and now it was a moonless, black night. before he could switch on the lights in his apartment, they did it by themselves. Sitting relaxed on the sofa, tipping his hat to salute Euro, was...

…was the man known simply as Agent Turner. The once worn Ex-Government Agent looked well, with his face flushed with color and his hair nicely trimmed, not to mention his new Hawaiian shirt and long floral shorts.

“Turner?” Ed stated in a semi surprised tone, but before he could say anything else, Priest jumped in front of his friend and now business partner.

“You’ve come the wrong time looking for a fight!” Priest shouted, and was joined by an armed Phil.

“I don’t need to read your mind to know what your up to… EPS.”

As both men kept on guard, waiting for the electricity based EPS field leader to make his move, Ed simply walked between the two men and gave his good friend a hug, welcoming him into his new home. Priest and Phil turned and looked at each other in shock.

"Do we befriend everyone that tries to kill us?" Phil asked only to be met with a raised brow from Priest.

Later – Priest’s New Apartment

Priest steps out of his bathroom with a towel over his shoulder and a fresh shave. He stops and looks into a mirror on the way out, not used to seeing his smile with out his beard in sometime… 60 years to be exact. Priest laughs and continues on his journey, looking through the many boxes scattered along the floor for his “clean” clothes. Oh, clean and nice clothes… that weren’t wrecked in the destruction of the Tower/Complex/Building thingie that the team used to live in.

After much frustration, Priest finds a clean black dress shirt… wrinkled to the maximum. Priest shrugs and uses his powers to ignite his hand with fire like energy. Placing the shirt on a table, Priest simply irons it with his open hand.

Priest’s chest appears almost bionic, with Grissom and Doctor Q’s special heart device that has not only stabilized his powers, but keeps his heart beating. Priest rubs his hand over it, thankful for what his “family” has done for him, and then puts his freshly ironed shirt on. Time to repay Samuel Dawson for giving him a home for so long.

Time to reunite him with his lost love.

At the Party

Priest is walking around the party he helped put together, meeting neighbors and having a good time. He is relaxed and comfortable. Finally having found his place in this time. Charles Walker was like a father to Priest and the future President and current head of the EPS’s actions in the future (to destroy the future) was the only reason that Priest ever came to this time. Priest’s mind can’t help but think of him from time to time. Maybe, just maybe, Walker knew exactly what he was doing. Fixing the world before it would become his world. Saving everyone from a military dictatorship. Making the world free again.

For the first time in his life, Priest feels “free.” Priest meets an old lady who pinches his cheeks and says that he is one “hunk” of a man for early forty. If only she knew that he was 13 years her senior. Priest nods his head, before turning and seeing Michelle…

…and her boyfriend. Nah, it has to be just a friend, right? Priest quickly introduces himself and she gestures towards the man, “I’ll like you to meet my boyfriend, Robert.”

Priest’s jaw drops, but he quickly recovers, “It’s nice to meet you,” he states before patting the guy on the shoulder and almost knocking him over, “Sorry.” He blurts out before excusing himself.

He steps away from the main party and yanks out his cell phone. He fumbles with it, wondering why mind monitoring cell devices haven’t been created yet and finds Sam’s number.

Ring.

Pick up man.

Ring.

Damn Island mountains. No service?

Ring.

CLICK: This is Sam, you know what to do. BEEP.

“Hey Sammy, this is Priest, that thing that I invited you to… it’s canceled, yeah, don’t come, I can’t even be here to hang out or watch the game and stuff, so just stay home, do work and don’t-”

Priest turns and sees Sam walk in. Directly in front of Sam is Michelle and her boyfriend.

“Oh my God!” Michelle cries out and hugs Sam, who firmly hugs her back, “It’s so great to see you.”

“I had no idea that you lived here, I was coming to see another old friend.” Sam replies, than notices the curious guy standing behind Michelle. Michelle pulls him forward.

Priest watches in horror and can only think, oops.

“This is Robert, my boyfriend” is spoken from the lips of Michelle.

Sam smiles and shakes his hand, “It’s a pleasure.” Next to Sam is Megan (from World of Darkness). He introduces her to Michelle and Robert as his girlfriend.

“So, I’ve read all about you, its nice to finally meet you.” Michelle says before hugging Megan, who hugs back, “Likewise.”

Priest opens his eyes and sees the four of them talking and laughing. Oh.

Months Ago – Just after the Team Returned from the World of Darkness

Sam is on the 14th floor of the Apartment Complex. The exact spot where he returned from his year long absence… the small piece of the complex that wasn’t destroyed by the hurricane.

“I love you guys and I’m sorry that I was too afraid to tell you. To afraid to face what I had become.” Sam lets his guard down and resumes his normal appearance, with his face and back scared badly. “I didn’t want to accept what had happened. Why I was spared and your lives were cut short.”

“I always used to read about heroes. In comics and movies. I never thought that I would become one. I helped free a World. Saved millions of lives. They are free to live. And I’m free. Finally I get it. I was spared to help others and to make the world a better place. Mom, you always saw something in me that I never did. Thank you for always being with me.”

A white glow falls over Sam and his scarred face is healed, much to his surprise. For a moment, he is sure that he is able to see three figures, his parents and little brother. A tear forms in his eye.

“I love you”

That Night

Sam and Megan are talking about what happened on the other World. She knew that he would be back and that he would be there for her. In her heart she knew that it was right. She leans in to kiss him, but he stops.

“I’m sorry, but before we can be together there is something that I have to do.”

Elsewhere. Michelle is writing in her Journal when there is a knock at the door. She answers it to find Sam. There is an awkward silence between them and distance.

“You broke a promise.” Michelle states, visibly hurt by Sam’s second disappearance.

“I’m sorry. I was hurt and ran again, but as I was running I wrote you a letter-”

Cut to a quick glance of Sam on a plane to Italy. His mind races as he writes a letter to Michelle. He finishes it with I will always love you but now is not our time. He folds the letter into his pocket and sits back. He notices the woman next to him, Megan, is nervous about the flight.

“Don’t worry, everything will be alright.”

Back to Michelle and Sam.

“A lot happened and I was unable to give you the letter.”

Sam pulls out a half crumbled and burnt sheet of paper. “I fought through worlds to see you again. I couldn’t leave things as I did. I’m sorry about how I acted and what I had become. (Sam extends his arm with the letter) Here.”

Michelle reads the letter and it warms her. Everything she wanted to hear all those months ago. Sam’s true self and feelings. Michelle folds the letter.

“Thank you.”

Michelle gives Sam a sweet kiss on the lips, to which he kisses back.

A tender goodbye kiss.

“I’ll be staying around town this time.” Sam spoke with a smile, “We’ll keep in touch?”

Her answer was simple and fast, “Always.”

Present Time

Priest says hi to Sam, who realizes what he wanted to do and thanks him. They toast with a non-alcoholic beverage and enjoy the gathering of the community.

Sam has successfully taken over his father’s companies, is in love and finally happy. Priest feels the acceptance of the time, his friends, a great new job and home, only something is missing… Priest’s eyes lock with the eyes of a beautiful African American woman in her early forties.

“Excuse me guys,” Priest states, “It’s about time that I’ve truly lived.”

…AND ALL MY CHARACTERS LIVED HAPPILY EVER AFTER

"That was pretty nice," Phil Smith said as he strode through the door of his suite.

"I heard," Leslie replied with a smile. "I'm sure Ed's pretty relieved."

"He was shittin' bricks the whole way to the hospital," Phil said. "I honestly have no idea what that must be like."

"Children?" Leslie asked.

"Yeah," Phil replied as he tossed his keys onto the bed. "I never really thought about settling down or ever having a family or anything like that. I guess I thought this place was home, at least for now, and the team was the only family I really had."

"And now the team is coming apart," Leslie observed.

Phil nodded sadly. "I got the call from Griss. We won't be seeing Priest anymore, I don't think."

"What are you going to do, then?" Leslie asked. "Are we going to go ahead with the island like you planned? Or is it time for us to leave too?"

"I'm not sure," Phil replied just as the room phone beeped. Phil hit the speakerphone button. "Suite 700."

"Mr. Phil Smith?" the concierge called over the phone. "There's someone here to see you."

"I'm not taking visitors at the moment," the telepath replied.

"They're from the UN, Mr. Smith."

Phil looked at Leslie, puzzled. Leslie shrugged.

"I'll be right down," Phil answered before he hung up.

Leslie looked alarmed. "You're not actually going down there, are you?"

"What choice do I have?" Phil asked as he went to his closet for a jacket. "They're not going to go away. I have a feeling this is about the team, and I have no desire to jeopardize the others - or you - by being stubborn. This is a chance I'm gonna have to take."

"Be careful," Leslie murmured worriedly.

Phil slipped his shoulder holster on before donning his leather jacket. He slid his .44 into the holster and headed for the door. "I intend to."

And with that, he was gone.

An hour and a half before:

"Turner!"

"Ed!"

The two men shrugged in front of the other two Vanguardians, Priest and Phil Smith, which looked at the scene with big, wide open eyes.

"But... but..." said Phil.

Priest looked again at them, and then turned to Phil. "can you tell me what's going in their head?"

Phil shook his head. "No. Ed is shielded, and Turner seems to generate an electrical powered magnetic field that scrambles his alpha wave mind generated signals. That means I can get any readable line from both of them".

Priest shrugged. "Can you tow, then, tell us what's happening?"

Ed turned toward his friends. "Turner, here... is a friend. He helped me a lot when I was in the EPS... too badly, when we got to Chicago with the team I was under the spell of Ladnikia... things could have been different... anyway, I contacted him to tell I was going to have a new kid, and he has come for a little holiday... you know, to help with the restaurant opening and such..."

The last words had the deepest impact. "Help with the opening.... him?" Said priest, again.

"Hey, why not?" said the man in the Hawaiian shirt and cool sunglasses. "Do you think I can't enjoy a permanence on this island? The sun is great, the sea is nice... great for fishing, I have read... the money with which the restaurant has been built are half mines... I could think of moving here, after all..."

"It would be great, Turner..." said Euro.

"Yeah... but I would miss the wind down the towers..." said smirking Turner.

And Priest: "We have nice hurricanes here".


An hour before:

Sitting on white flax armchairs on the terrace, as the sun went down, the four men were sipping rum in front of the sea.

"You really want to talk of the team's future in front of an EPS?" said Phil, alarmed.

"Why not? He's a friend, and also Walker had infested the Complex with spy gadget to look over Eddie. He had always known what was going on..." explained Ed.

Turner nodded. "True. And I assure you nothing I will should hear here will ever be revealed to Walker".

Phil stood up. "Like you did not came here to put bugs all over this place. Euro can be blind, but don't think it's not obvious."

Turner smiled. "You're paranoid, Smith".

"Actually, Phil, I put myself control devices connected with the EPS here myself. It's a sort of agreement I had with Walker. Eddie is developing powers, the EPS help could be invaluable."

Phil opened is eyes even wider, if it was possible. "What! You bugged your own place and then invited me and Priest to talk about Vanguard knowing all it was broadcasted to Walker! Are you mad or what?"

"Actually, I asked you and Priest... and Turner, too... to talk about the situation in Manhattan. I don't know what we could say about the team... as there is no team anymore."

Priest looked at his wrist watch. "I am late for my party. Before you have your talk, I want to say two things. First, I am happy with your job offer, Euro. I love this island, and I love the people that inhabit here. I have come here for a mission, and although in a different way than I had planned, the mission looks to have been accomplished. I want to live my rest of the life happily here. Second, with the mission accomplished, it is also possible that time, re-alining itself, could cancel my existence. I mean, if what for I was sent here didn't happen, I can't be sent, so I will never arrive here. I don't want to disappear during a mission, when maybe you rely over my action. So, I don't know what you have in mind, Ed, but don't count over me. As much as I am sad to tell you this, yet I can't let any of your action fail for my cause."

"And what about the team, Priest?" asked Smith.

"There is no team, Phil. I will be here for any parties you want to held, and to help you anything should happen here. But don't ask me to come into missions abroad. I wouldn't come." and shaking his head, a sad face as Phil never saw before, Priest left the room.

Turner eyebrows went up. "I know him!" he said.

"Me too" said Euro, nodding. "Me too."

Forty five minutes later:

"You have Tweed in Manhattan?" asked Ed.

"Yes. He's there, invisible and intangible, totally undetectable, spying over what is happening" said Turner.

"Can't he kill whoever is the leader of that operation?"

"Hardly" said Turner. "The moment he return tangible, he could easily be killed before he can do anything. There is any sort of metas there. Mind readers, shapeshifters... who knows who is the true Ludlow? Also, it's a military organisation. An army. It will survive Ludlows death. It's like an organism, a cancer, it's spreading... soon it will saturate Manhattan and will explode on the outside world. But it will took a lot of time to get to that point. That's why Walker has not yet nuked New York."

"What?" shouted Smith. "It's your kind of joke?"

"Do you think I am joking, Smith?"

"Yes, he is" cut the conversation Edulcore, not too convinced of his own words. "The MBL... they are building an army... while Merlin has managed to blind us in the island, and the Strikeforce acts both as protectors of the inviolability of Manhattan and as ours jailers." He stopped, looking pensive.

"That's why we can't say just that there is no team anymore, Ed. We have to fight back. Sam has this island... we could build a new headquarter... rebuild a new company... me and Griss have enough money."

"No Phil. Rebuilding a Complex, even if on another island, is what exactly will bring the Strikeforce here again. And whatever they will do, whatever nasty thing they will be able to perform over us and the island, the world will believe they are the good guys and we are the baddies."

"And you want just to sit there, cooking and playing with your kids?2

Ed shook his head. "No. Don't get me wrong. I say there is no need of a headquarter, and no need for a company... but that doesn't mean the team is dead. Vanguard will be alive until the last of us will be dead. It's like the days of the revolutionaries... we had to hide, but that didn't mean we were not able to destroy the Tri-vex, or the Chicago demon."

"What do you have in mind?" The question was asked by both Phil and Turner at unison.

"Enjoy the sun. At day. Without giving the slightest hint of suspect to Merlin. Or Ludlow, in the case he's spying over us. And preparing for the War, at night."

Phil frowned. "Actually, I mean... "

Turner smiled. "He tends to be showy on these occasion... There are no cameras around, Ed."

Euro smirked. "Sorry. What I want you to do, Phil, is to mind scan Manhattan. My woman, Rose, is a mind reader like you, you know... not as powerful like you, sure, but she also is able to peer into possible futures... I am asking you to work with her, to explore the possible outcomes of an attack on Manhattan... reading the minds of the MBLers and seeing what the futures have in store for them."

"Reading their minds... from here?"

"I saw what you did on the Darkworld. And that's why I called Turner... with his electrical powers he can direct your probe along the magnetic field of Earth, up to the selected destination..."

The Unidentified frowned. "It's... it's interesting. I never though of doing anything like that without the use of technology..."

"That's the point, Phil. To win the war, we have to learn to use our powers at our fullest potential... that's the lesson the MBL gave us, we have to learn from that."

Phil Smith nodded. "I will think about it".

Now:

"Do you think he will agree?" asked Turner at Euro, after Smith was gone by some time.

"I don't know. He has too much faith in his .44 than in his powers. If not, he would be the best of us all."

Turner nodded.

Euro sat back over the chair, looking at the stars. "If only Mick would be still here..."

Now

The elevator door opened and Phil stepped out into the lobby. A valet met him there and led him to one of the hotel's conference rooms. The engraved teak-paneled door swung open noiselessly and Phil entered, taking note of the three individuals in expensive-looking suits seated at the far end of the table.

"Mr. Smith," the apparent leader greeted him. "Augustus von Brown... although you might know that already." He smiled. "Or do you?" The fortyish man shrugged. "No matter, really. I've often wondered why you insist on maintaining this silly 'man of mystery' charade."

"Here to make small talk?" the telepath asked, hesitant to sit down. "Or did you have something to tell me?"

The other man, a younger-looking one with dark hair, tensed visibly. Phil merely looked his way and smirked, which did little to defuse the situation.

Von Brown laughed. "It appears someone enjoys living dangerously. Mr. Mullarney here doesn't take kindly to those who address us as equals. I, of course, am old enough to know that some of the most interesting individuals are those who rarely tell you what you want to hear." He leaned forward. "You've probably been told that we're from the United Nations. We are here on what you might consider a diplomatic visit. You see, while we are... content with having you and your associates contained on this island, we want to express that we truly mean you no ill will."

Phil feigned relief as he sat down. "That's good to hear. After all, we can't have the UN harboring resentment toward us, especially when... there's... you know... no reason you should. But yeah. Good to know."

"We know what you did in New York, Mr. Smith," the woman on von Brown's other side chimed in with a stern glare. "Even though the CIA had your criminal record expunged, we're well aware of what you're capable of. The UN and most of the major world governments that know of your existence consider you one of the most dangerous men alive today."

Phil raised an eyebrow. "Because I killed a bunch of kidnappers and murderers or because I played a minor role in my 'associates' fighting off an alien invasion? No matter what that pissant Merlin and his spin doctors tell you, this team has committed zero acts of terrorism. Zip. Zilch. Nothin'. You and whatever governments feel like it can consider me whatever you want." Phil leaned back in his chair. "So... why are you really here?"

Von Brown cleared his throat, unfazed. "I've told you that. Regardless of your past deeds, Mr. Smith, we are offering you and this 'team' of yours a significantly commuted sentence. I told Mr. Cicciotto the same thing I'm telling you now. As long as you and the others stay here, in this nation, and mind your own business, we will leave you all in peace."

"I take it he didn't really react warmly to your thinly-veiled threat," Smith mused with a smirk. "What makes you think I will?"

Von Brown nodded to Mullarney, who set a Samsonite briefcase on the table and opened it to reveal rows of American bills in bankrolls, his expression one of disgust.

"We are prepared to offer you a token of our good will," von Brown stated calmly. "I am a rather pragmatic man myself, and so are many who I represent. We know that you are a very resourceful individual, and one we would much rather have as an ally than as even a potential adversary. We have benefited from the work of the various Strikeforce teams Merlin has assembled, but we would prefer to have other options available when problems arise. Perhaps individual... consultants, if you will." Von Brown leaned forward. "We are prepared to compensate you quite well for being just such a consultant. We would have many opportunities to make use of your abilities in... operations of a military and/or clandestine nature."

"Let me get this straight," Phil said, on the verge of laughter. "You want me to work for the same people that have made my life and the lives of my friends a living Hell?"

"We're prepared to... to offer an... impressive sum for your... cooperation, Mr. Smith," Mullarney said, red-faced, the words seemingly prying themselves from his lips.

"It's a lot of money, Mr. Smith," Koester agreed. "And no more trouble from us. Isn't that what you want?"

"Money's helpful for things," Phil conceded. "I assume this offer would extend to my aforementioned 'associates', of course."

The three looked at one another, baffled. Mullarney spoke first. "Are you... serious?" he choked.

"No, Mr. Smith," von Brown explained, holding up a hand. "We have no use for them. We're making this offer exclusively to you." He smiled and leaned back. "With what we're offering you, I believe you will find in time that you have very little use for them yourself."

Von Brown paused. Mullarney and Koester saw his expression and exchanged quizzical glances.

Phil stood up slowly, smiling. "Since you put it that way," he began as he made his way over to the briefcase.

Mullarney and Koester leaned forward expectantly.

The lights dimmed momentarily before the briefcase full of money burst into flames, sending a small fireball toward the ceiling and singeing Mullarney's eyebrows. He and Koester jumped back, terrified.

Phil Smith stood there with his arms crossed and a smug expression on his face. "I'm not sure why out of all the people you could have tried to buy off, you picked me." He pointed at the still-smoldering briefcase. "Did you know that I have more than that in my casual spending account?" Phil looked at von Brown, who sat there, not looking very surprised but not particularly pleased either. "Did you honestly think I would sell out my friends and become your yes man for money?"

"I didn't imagine you would," von Brown said, "but I doubted we could reach any other sort of understanding. It appears we are at an impasse. We can't convince you to cooperate with us, and you haven't offered us anything to make us reconsider confining you and your associates to this island."

"You want an understanding?" Phil asked, leaning forward over the table. "Check this out. You won't have any trouble from us as long as you leave us the hell alone. None of us did anything to deserve having the world hate us. I had no reason to cause trouble with the UN before you walked in here. You would all be wise not to give me any more reasons."

"Mr. Smith," von Brown began, "I would advise against-"

"No need," Phil interrupted. "I haven't caused any trouble with any of you before, and as long as the UN stays out of our way I don't intend to. You claim to know what I'm capable of. I could very easily have killed all three of you, right here, right now, and gotten away with it. Yet I didn't. Why would you pull something like this and try to buy me off? If you'd try not being so suspicious of us because of what we are and trust that we don't want to harm anyone, we could all save ourselves a lot of trouble." He nodded toward the briefcase. "And you could have saved yourselves a good amount of money, too." Phil nodded toward the furious Mullarney. "You might wanna clean that up. The staff here doesn't take kindly to littering."

And with that, he was gone, leaving three rather displeased UN executives to write up their situation reports.

The wind was cool, and somber that night. Unlike most nights on this tropical island, scarce few wandered the outstretch of the wide, sandy beaches. There was no neccessary phenomenon for this. It just happened to be one of those nights.

With the moonlight stretching wide across the white sands, an actual shadow followed a solitary figure. His bare feet meeting the surface of the swaying waves, this man strolled across the surface of the water with a confused nonchalance.

Making landfall without missing a step, he continued to walk quietly, leaving no footprints in the sand. The tattered crimson t-shirt hanging from his near-six-foot frame rippled with the constant ocean gust. Shaggy, unkept black hair sat mercilessly down his shoulders. A full black beard covered most of his face, showcasing dried morsels of old bread lodged in dirty bits. Tattered bluejeans whipped against his ankles as he made his way.

He strolled for over an hour, his stride seemingly with purpose. Yet, there was a great confusion to his eyes. Walking under a humming streelight, he paused to glance up at a shaded building nestled up on a cordoned hill.

He stared into the darkness with stark ambiguity. Then, without sound or word, continued on his way.

Walking on for another hour, he passed by a dimly lit factory, pausing again. Staring along the drive towards the building, he studied the quiet calm, barely catching the drifts of laughter from within.

The light hint of purple from his eyes caught the silver glow of the streetlight above, giving off a brief moment of confusion in his expression.

And, again, he continued on.

After another two hours of steady pace, and silence, he suddenly came to a dead halt. He looked around slowly, taking in the long stretch of night road. Then, turned, walking directly off the side of the road, and into the jungle.

Branches and vines brushed his body with constant molestation. Yet, he felt nothing as his wandering lead him on some form of path throught the dark, dank growth.

Forty-five minutes later, he walked out of the jungle into a clearing. Never pausing, he stared up at the massive volcanic horizon. And, just for a moment, a look of recognition passed his expression. But, just for a moment.

Striding across the clearing, he neared what appeared to be an old villa, of a sort. Kerosene lamps dotted a gravely drive, giving the lavish place a subtle, homey charm. An enormous stable sat off to the side of the small estate, a strange cooing sound coming from inside.

As he neared the front door of the home, it suddenly opened quickly, releasing seven men of asian descent. They swarmed around the figure with a stern silence, causing him to come to a complete halt.

He looked at the young men, some no older than seventeen. Each one stared at him cautiously, holding his journey in check with merely the glare of their eyes.

"Good evening, sir...." an elderly figure appeared in the doorway. "....may I help you with something?"

The stranger looked at the figure for a moment, still silent.

"You..." he began. "....you are not him...."

"I'm sorry, sir..." the elderly gentlman replied. "....who exactly are you looking for at this time of night?"

The stranger stared at him confused.

"I...don't know...." he replied sincerely. "....but you are not him...."

He turned, starting to walk away. Two of the men blocking him suddenly stumbled back, as something only felt brushed them back. The stranger simply continued to walk away without a word. The two young men looked at each other, all of them looking back at the elderly gentleman in the doorway for intructions. He nodded, putting them at ease.

"Sir?" the elderly man called King addressed the leaving stranger. "Perhaps we can help you?"

The stranger paused, looking back.

"...I...thank you....but I do not believe so..." he replied.

"Who are you, sir? What is your name?" King asked.

The disheveled man turned, beginning to walk away...

"...don't you know?" he said, the calm voice drifting over his shoulder, as he made his way down the driveway. "...I am Jesus Christ..."

Tucked quietly against the rocks of the shore, the stranger dozed off with a fatigue that was foreign to him. He would find....would find....something...someone....he did not know. But, it would be tomorrow, whatever it was.

His dreams came easily and light, as sounds, images, and feelings poured over him.

He dreamt of a dark god called Viper, and a shining champion called Gooz. He drifted through years of heroism and tragedy. Eras of success and failure. He heard the static-pop of an electrical Shock, dancing to a groove that only he could hear. He saw a shape-shifting Vanguardian, and a mercenary from the future. He watched as rows of smiling female faces darted through his consciousness. Maria, Michelle, Megan......Malvana.....

He watched as a god of light bestowed a cloak of prophecy and wisdom upon the hero. He saw the timelines meet, sway, and fray, giving birth to sons and doppelgangers. The X. The W. Richard. Ritchie. The son becomes the father, and the father, the son....

His deeds well met with honor, his lives showcasing only the true heart of hero.

Gooz. The W. Richard. Shock. Sam. Priest.

These names would live forever in the blazing imaginations of those who dared to believe in such things.

And, when the stranger awoke.....the dreams faded....and the words became, once again, meaningless to him.

But, the emotion they carried.....that was forever....

In a small suburb slightly to the left of Melbourne, Australia there sat a small building, and in that small building where several apartments. The apartments were, of course, small. One of them, apartment 2B in particular, contained one Daniel Hearn.

He sat there at the small kitchen table, a copy of the local newspaper spread out in front of him. He was circling job advertisements with a pen, figuring out which ones he would be qualified for. He stopped briefly to wonder whether he had the hips to be a lingerie model, then quickly discounted the idea.

His left hand shot out sideways and grabbed a bottle of bourbon, his right still clutching the pen.

The money he had left from his La Perditan account was just enough to cover the bond and first month's rent for the apartment, the bourbon, some food, the newspaper, and the pen. He was tapped out. So... he needed a job.

And more bourbon.

The following day...

The small dock was full of small boats, waving gently at the movements of the sea. Flocks of gulls were leaving the night roosts to head for the open sea to fish.

Five people, four men and a girl, were calmly strolling along the wooden boardwalk. Phil Smith, Rama Avatar, Grissom Montag, Brianna Finnula and Edulcore Cicciotto. Five people that were all that remained of Vanguard International.

Stretching the wings, Brianna said: "Hey, Phil, why did you want us to get up so early?" The previous night the time to start to sleep for the girl seemed never to come.

Grissom Montang stayed silent, but the bags under his eyes were eloquent.

Phil, that was at the head of the group, turned 180 degrees and stopped. "I know that no one of you seems excited at the idea, but Sam Dowson has given us an island as a present, and the last we can do is going there to see it. And knowing how we are under observation by so many eyes, it's better if we depart from this obscure place, and at this time". He walked again for a few metres, and then stopped in front of a sleek, back speedboat.

Euro seemed the most enthusiast about the beast. "Phil! It's yours?"

Smith nodded. "Do you like it?"

"I can't understand your taste for cars, but this one is fantastic."

Phil produced an unnoticeable smile. "Let's go, the sun is about to rise".

There were dolphins playing in the sea. The air was fresh, and the colours were glowing in the orange light of the rising sun.

"Being observed my ass!" laughed Rama. "You wants us to see Dowson Island under the best light, Phil. You should sell estates to tourists, you will get millionaire in days!"

"I AM millionaire, Rama " laughed Smith in return. Ed was standing still, taking the air on his face. On his back, a big backpack that could have contained the needs for a week long trekking, and not a short trip of mere hours. Brianna was shooting dozens of photos at the dolphins, and grissom was simply looking at her.

"It's not with these golden sunlights that will convince us to build another headquarter, Phil" said, all of a sudden, Euro, his eyes still closed as he was taking the air in the face. "We have homes. We stay separated, Merlin will leave us in peace. And La Perdita too. And if an enemy will come, it will have to attack one for fist, and the other will have the time to regroup and defend".

"I am not telling of building something ON the island, Euro. There are many caves, we could go underground. Undetectable by anything. And your reasoning doesn't consider if the attacker are more than one. I have checked the files, the Complex has been attacked by what you dubbed the anti-MBL. They were many, a team of your worst enemies. If the MBL of today or the Strikeforce should attack, if we are separated they could take us down very easily" responded Phil, very calmly.

Brianna put down the digital camera, and sat next Grissom. The eyes of the three Vanguardians were moving from Phil to Euro, and vice versa.

Euro remained silent. The young agent had a point. something to which he had not though. "The best way to avoid the Strikeforce spying at us is to live always in the open, Phil..."

"My idea is not to live together... what I am proposing is to build houses in various part of Dawson Ilsand, and connect them to an underground cave... with intelligence and defensive facilities..."

"I, for instance, need to work, Phil. I have opened my restaurant, and I want my children to be raised among other kids. Your idea makes some sense, but also would turn us into monks, completely separated from the life of the island... They fear us enough, to isolate from them like this... They have to learn to trust us... many of them do that... but the UN decree is putting distrust on us again..." said Euro, turning back and seating.

"And that's why I think they would love us easily if we stay removed from them, so that they can't fear we'll bring attract any menace over the island..."

"Look, Phil, I can't say you are wrong. Probably, you are righter than me. But I have made my decision. I concede we must take a look at the island, but if we want to stay on La Perdita... and I think the same is for Rama, and also for Bree that has found that beautiful lighthouse..." and the two mentioned Vanguardians both nodded..."even building just a secret meeting place here would be impractical, because aside me and Bree that can fly here quite fast, and Rama with Erasmus, you and Grissom should take a boat to come here... not the easiest and fast way to arrive."

Phil smiled. "Never heard about helicopters? There is room for a landing strip. Griss could land with his jet, too."

"And you?"

"I would no need any transportation, Ed. I am going to build a villa for me and Leslie there in any case."

Ed nodded, and leaned back, to take the sun. There was no way to win consensus. And there was no need. each one of them five had taken a decision for his own future from long before. Just, like Phil wisely said, there was the need of a common meeting place, that was not the home on any of them... a place that everyone would feel his own, not just the five of them... also their two comrades still in the bed of the hospital, and also whoever in the future would have come to look for them and offer their help for their goal.

Vanguard could not be limited to the five of them... Vanguard had to grow again, find new members... or else it would slowly die.

Ed closed his eyes, as the sun was getting brighter.

he didn't noticed, like the other four, that from the coast of La Perdita, as they were passing by, two eyes were looking at them.

Two eyes with a light hint of purple, glowing fiery in a face nearly full covered by a black, savage beard.

The boat cut through the waves off the coast of La Perdita, heading quickly towards Dawson Island. The five Vanguardians on board sat silently, staring at the rapidly growing shape before them.

A high pitched whirring noise drew their attention to the starboard side of the boat. There was a gleaming shape off in the distance, and it was moving closer to the boat as the boat moved closer to the island.

Ed narrowed his eyes and stared at the shape, and was the first to make out what it was.

"Does anybody know why we're being followed by a robotic squirrel?" He asked, as Robo Squirrel moved close enough for everyone else to see it.

"Vanguard!" Robo Squirrel said in his robotic monotone by way of a greeting.

"Um... Robotic flying squirrel," Phil said, as the squirrel levelled off and matched the pace of the boat, flying a few feet to the side of the Vanguardians.

"How are you?" Brianna asked.

"Scanning system for current status... scanning... scanning... scanning..."

Robo Squirrel went silent.

"...um..." Brianna began.

"Scanning... scanning... current status: Robo Squirrel is fine. Thank you for asking."

"Well... that's nice."

"Robo Squirrel enquires as to your destination," The robot asked.

"That way. To Dawson Islandm" Ed said, raising his finger to point.

"Destination acknowledged. Still within the legal boundaries of La Perdita."

"Why do you want to know?" Phil asked.

"Robo Squirrel's programmed objective is to patrol the harbour for safety. Boat fun. Boat safe," The squirrel said.

"Um... okay."

"Robo Squirrel must leave!"

The robot disappeared into the distance.

Ben Phillips looked at the cordoned off Vanguard Complex with a touch of wistfulness in his heart. He hadn't stayed there long, but he'd enjoyed what little time he'd had.

His stay at Glover Memorial Hospital had been very rough, as was the rehab he'd had to go through upon recovering from the venom injected into him. He felt bad for Phouka, who was still in a venom induced coma. "Poor guy. . ." he muttered to himself as he began walking away from the complex, his hands buried inside the pockets of his overcoat, which barely concealed the black with blue highlighted uniform he wore.

He wandered the island, no money, no job, and no place to stay. No idea how to even contact Vanguard or even if they still existed. Although the doctors at Glover Memorial had not charged him for his stay. Something about all the good Vanguard had done for the island and the people in the time they'd been there. BF smiled a bit at this, although he'd not actually been with the group long, nor had he saved anyone on the island that he could recall.

He felt a bit like Elvis in that movie where he fought the evil mummy in the rest home. Damn, that was a good movie. He'd always wondered what had happened to Elvis. . .

BF found a quarter in one of his jacket pockets and bought a newspaper. Rifling through it, he sat down on a bench in the park and began looking through the classified ads. Maybe he could go back to bouncing. He'd been okay at it. Better than at this superhero gig it seemed. What had he been thinking?

He scanned the ads and saw indeed, that there was a bar hiring. How far was it to this "Jake's Place" he wondered.

The island was just that: one of the thousands of isle of the Caribbean. A small (but not to small) island, with cliffs on one side, a white beach with coconut trees on the other, jungle in the middle. There were all the features you need on a typicl caribbean island.

Plus a cave.

The entrance, a narrow crevice in a rocky hill in the middle of the jungle. Phil leaded the other four Vanguardians to it, a map in one hand, one of the aerial photos made the day before by Brianna in the other.

"It should be right here" said Smith, and turning behind an enormous fig tree, they found it. A towering cliff, like a wall of white rock, with a very narrow, vertical crack, that in the map was indicated as being the entrance for a network of caves. The entrance was hidden by a luscious vegetation of dense scrubs, sprouting out of the rocky wall.

"So, are we going?" asked Phil, looking at his friends.

"Mhhh" mumbled Rama. "It's like to entering the womb of Mother Earth... doing in the reverse the path of any human being... I don't like this..."

"It's just a cave, Mason" replied Phil.

"I am going in" said Grissom, as a torch materialised in his right hand. Euro turned to Rama Avatar: "You are not coming?"

Rama shook his head: "I am coming, I am coming. Just, we'll regret this..."

The internal of the cave was obviously dark and cold and wet. Phil had prepared in advance torches and equipment for spelunking, although the cave bottom was flat and horizontal, and there was no need of ropes to move around.

"Mhh... so you would built a new headquarter here?" asked Euro. "How do you think it will be possible to conceal all the necessary stuff to the eyes of Merlin. He will know of the existence of the secret lair even before you'll have completed the wiring..."

"Oh, shut up, Ed. We are here for fun, Ok? Stop acting like mother goose" said Grissom.

Euro frowned, not sure to have understood.

"Actually, Ed, I have though also about it: I will build my villa vertically over the cave, and all the material will be brought into the cave from above while I will have my villa built."

Ed nodded. "Yes, clever" he hissed, and began panning the torch beam over the roof of the cave.

Suddenly, all the torches went off.

"Fuck"

"Merda!"

"Shit"

"Crap!"

"!"

"There is a light down there" observed Brianna, after the initial surprise.

"A light? Impossible. That's the inner part of the cave..." replied Phil.

"I see it too" said Euro.

After a few steps in that direction, the others, too, saw it, but it took ten minuts of walking to reach it.

It was a security light, above a locked door of plastic and metal.

"It look someone had your same idea earlier, Phil" said sarcastically Ed.

Grissom knocked on the door, like to test the resilience of the surface. "Seems heavy".

"Who could have put this thing here, seriously?" asked Phil.

"The question would be: what there his beyond?" added Euro.

Rama touched the door. "It could be an old facility of the PSI-Unit... or it could also be the place from which that robot squirrel is coming..."

"It has Strikeforce written all over it" said Euro, snorting.

"I guess the only way to know is to open it" said Brianna.

"Eh, easy to say. It looks totally indestructible..." observed Grissom.

Brianna smiled, and the door opened.

"How did you that?" asked at unison the four males.

"I pushed the button" giggled Brianna.

On the side of the frame of the door there was a big, green button with the word OPEN written over, with thick, Old English types. Another, red, had the word CLOSE.

Grissom pushed it, and the door closed suddenly.

Euro kneeled, to look at the button. "Maybe it's one of those secret bases of nazi, built after the second war world. The type used was typical of Germany, up to the '45."

"It would be written in German, then" said dryly Grissom.

Euro turned red. "Yes, I guess so".

Phil pushed the OPEN button again. "Only one way to discover what it is. Let's get inside".

The door slid open, and the five Vanguardians got inside.

On the other side there was a small room, not larger than an elevator cabin, lit by a red, low light. There were many buttons, each one corresponding to a big sign: AIR; UV BATH; PRESSURE BALANCING; HELP; OPEN; CLOSE. And there was one other door, on the opposite side.

Phil looked at the others, and took one of his guns in his hand. A small handgun appeared in Grissom hand, Rama usheated Caliburn, Brianna put a dart in her small crossbow and Euro opened the backpack to take out his mace. Phil whispered "One; two ; three", and then pushed the other OPEN button.

One after the other, the five Vanguardians sneaked out of the door. They were in what looked like the corridor of a Victorian house. Wooden floor, wallpaper decorated with small flowers, small wooden little tables lining the corridor, with flowers in vases.

All the Vanguardians frowned a the same time. The look of the place was very odd. because the style was clashing totally with the dimension of the place. The corridor was three meters wide, and there were no ends at both directions.

Phil sight was caught by one of the countless windows, the nearer one. he went there, and gulped. "Guys, come here. It's night!"

"What?" said Euro, looking at his watch. "It's nine in the morning." Going near the ex-special agent, he gulped, too. The others joined them.

Outside, it was really night. The sky was totally black, and the stars were very bright. And they were millions, much more than each of them had ever experienced looking at the sky. The familiar constellations, that Ed and Brianna instinctively looked for, were nearly unnoticeable in the middle of so many stars.

And then the jaws of the five Vanguardians dropped at unison.

Above the horizon was rising... the Earth.

Robo Squirrel was in front of the steel door the Vanguardians had just disappeared through, using the propeller underneath his gleaming silver tail to keep himself hovering a few feet in the air. He reached out a shiny paw and pressed the button labelled 'OPEN', and hovered there for a moment as the door swung open in front of him.

With a burst of force from his propeller, he propelled through the door.

On the other side, he found the five current members of Vanguard Not-Really International standing, dumbfounded, in a Victorian style hallway.

"Robo Squirrel senses you are dumbfounded," Robo Squirrel says.

"Oh, crap, don't tell me..." Phil Smith said, still facing away from the squirrel. Phil turned around. "...oh, crap."

"That thing? Again?" Ed said, somewhat surprised to see the robot in this bizarre place.

"The five bio-forms constituing current membership of Vanguard International left the island of La Perdita. Robo Squirrel demands situation report!"

"You 'demand'"? Rama Avatar asked, taken aback.

"...what the hell is a 'bio-form'?" Brianna said.

"SITUATION REPORT!"

"Well, Robo Squirrel... we definitely aint in Kansas anymore," Phil said, gesturing towards the window.

"We were not previously in Kansas. We were off the coast of La Perdita. Exactly seven hundred and four miles from Kansas," Robo Squirrel replied.

"It's an expression, Robo Squirrel," Brianna said.

"Wait, La Perdita isn't seven hundred and four miles from Kansas..." Phil said.

"Yes it is!"

"No it's not! You're just making this stuff up!"

"ROBO SQUIRREL'S CALCULATIONS ARE PERFECT!"

The metallic rant of the robot was cut short by the piercing buzz of sirens and by the intermittently dimming of the lights in the hallway.

"Shit. They found us!" exclaimed Euro, as two groups of soldiers swarmed in from both the "ends" of the endless corridor.

As they approached running, it became evident they were robots, humanoid in shape, with a rust appearance and very complex floral decoration on the outer shell.

A female voice, warm yet impersonal, began to repeat: "Alarm. Intruders in bay 7-b. Alarm. All honourable personnel is kindly required to retire in the emergency sectors."

The Vanguardians looked at each other, and at the Robo Squirrel, unable to convince themselves of the authenticity of the odd situation.

The, like awakening from a dream, Brianna got airborne, and aiming her crossbow at the incoming robots, shouted. "Vanguard, move your ass!"

"With pleasure, luv," Grissom said, leaping into the air. A triple somersault in the air ended with a kick in the head of one of the robots, taking it completely off.

Guns blazing, he managed to shoot a few, but battles like this weren't won with bullets. Grissom knew enough about this sort of thing to know that. Closing his eyes, he began teleporting large hunks of circuitry and wiring out of his cyborg assailants.

Rama Avatar stood with silent indignation, Caliburn glowing bright green. As the robots entered into close proximity, the man who would be Mason would hack them to pieces. It was a glorious sight.

Thunderbird's mace crackled with otherworldly energy as he smacked a robot in the chest, simultaneously shorting it out and bursting it to shrapnel. He let out a furious warcry, charging for more of the robots.

Brianna Finnula swooped down, shrieking as she dove. As she did so, several of the robots began to crack at the seams. After that, a crossbow bolt to the chest pretty well took care of them. Brianna smiled as she did battle, exhilirated to be having something to do.

The Unidentified Man fired off a few rounds, before going mental... literally. A telekinetic force blast lashed out at a group of four or five of the androids, splitting them in two. Smiling, he holstered his weapon... for the time being.

Robo-Squirrel took a few moments, processing the situation.

"Current coordinates: non-global. Sensors indicating dozens of synthetic lifeforms, possibly hostile."

Looking around for a few moments more, he saw several robots firing off rounds at Phil, which he deflected with a telekinetic shield.

...and he processed.

He saw Rama slicing through them with the verdant Caliburn.

...and he processed.

He saw Grissom Montag skillfully dodging robotic laser fire as he fired off a few rounds from his gun.

...and he processed.

He saw Banshee using her 'banshee cry' to shake a pursuing robot before flying higher in the room to avoid oncoming fire.

...and he processed.

He saw Ed Cicciotto laugh as he smashed another robot attacker with his mace.

...and he processed.

Finally, a laser bolt flew by him, narrowly missing his tail.

"Sensors indicate definite hostilities. ROBO-SQUIRREL... AWAY!"

And, with that, the robotic rodent joined the battle...

Banshee turned quickly to find herself face to face with a robot attacker. She opened her mouth to scream when something shot through the shielding on the side of the robot's head. Sparks flew from the crack in the robot's head, and it fell to the ground.

She wasn't certain, but she thought she had seen something that looked like a shiny metal acorn slamming into the robot's head. She turned to see Robo Squirrel flying across the room, his mouth open and metal acorns shooting from it at lightning fast speed. The acorns were slamming into robot attackers all around the room, denting and cracking and scrambling circuitry.

Robo Squirrel ducked to avoid the outstretched arm of one of the robotic guards. He swerved upwards again, narrowly missing the floor. He whipped his propeller-like tail sideways as he flew upwards again, shoving it into the robot's shoulder joint and slicing its arm off like a buzzsaw cutting through... um... a robot's arm. Hey, that happens sometimes. I've seen it. My dad used to cut robots down for scrap metal in our garage.

Robo Squirrel headed to the ceiling, then suddenly changed his trajectory and dived nose first at a robot in the centre of the room. It was diving towards Ed, trying to grab him around the torso. Ed ducked as Robo Squirrel dove towards them, shooting acorn bullets at the robot's chest plate and throwing it backwards.

"Thanks," Ed said, acknowleding the squirrel as it flew above him.

"All in a day's work for Robo Squirrel," The squirrel replied.

Euro looked at his mace. Since the time he "found" it, he never tried to do what he remembered, from the memories of a past incarnation of the Eternal Champion, it was able to do.

He weighed the mace in his hand, while around him the Vanguardians and the Robo Squirrel were fighting the robot in a complex choreography. Then, he heavily hammered it in the ground, and...

...nothing happened. Euro looked at his weapon embarrassed.

Rama Avatar, weaving Caliburn at the robot, went near Ed. "Don't be sad, friend. The mace of Lei Gong can't call the lighting where there is no atmosphere!"

Euro felt stupid like never before. "Oh, right. Sorry." He hit a robot again with the mace, effectively putting it out of commission, and then put the handle of the mace inside the belt, and opened the backpack, taking out a long scabbard.

Ed took the hilt at one end of the scabbard, and took out a long, gleaming sword.

Caliburn sang, at the sight of her sister sword.

"Durendal?" frowned Rama. "Euro, you have Durendal?"

The Italian warrior smiled. And raising the sword, he began to heavily hit the robots, side by side with Rama Avatar.

Grissom leaned over a fallen robot. A wrench appeared on his right hand out of nowhere (really from his backpack) and with it began to open the back of the head of the mechanical humanoid. "Phil, came here to help me" he said.

While Robo Squirrel, Brianna, Euro and Rama were battling the robots, the two computer wizards were hacking into the positronic brain of the robot. At some point they raised their eyes from the metallic carcass. Suddenly, all the robots froze. The two friends high fived.

Brianna and the Squirrel landed. "Well?" asked Euro, opening his arms.

Griss stood over. "Well, they weren't fighting blindly at us, mate. They were co-ordinated, yet no one was shouting orders, nor they were talking. So, I guessed they were communicating with radio-waves. I opened up their brain, hacked their circuitry, and used their radio to command the others to stop. Thanks to the help of Phil, obviously.

Euro looked at one end of the hallway, and then at the other. "Which way?" he asked, to no one in particular.

"That way" said Phil, pointing at one side, "I feel human minds".

Euor looked at all the presents. "That way, then."

Euro led the team around the corner and into brightness as they stepped out into the dingy wooden floors of the bar known as Jake's. Ahead of them, posing, flexing his muscles with two women sitting one on each shoulder was. . .

"Brute Force!" The Vanguards said in unison.

"Hi, guys! When did you get here?" BF said, smiling as flashbulbs popped.

"Us? How is it you are on the moon?" Euro asked, holding a hand to his face.

"Not so sure we are still on the moon. . ." Grissom noticed a large sign on the wall announcing Jake's Place welcomes Vanguard member Brute Force to it's staff!" "Nothing like a little publicity, eh, mate?" Griss said lighting a cigarette.

The world shifted and turned again, as the Vanguards found themselves pulled back into the hallway where they battled the robots.

"What's going on here?" Phil said, clutching his stomach.

"I donna feel so good." Banshee woozily leaned against the wall for support.

"Dangit! This is not good for my first day at work!" BF complained.

"All systems processing. . ." Robo Squirrel floated in the air.

"Hey! Look at the cute little robot squirrel! Where'd you guys find him?" BF grabbed Robo Squirrel out of the air and tried to tickle him under the chin.

"Robo Squirrel is NOT cute! Robo Squirrel is a sophisticated and deadly. . .that feels pretty good. . ."

"Guys, I feel their presence again. . .something's coming. . ." Phil faced the group ominously.

"You sure it's not just some residual effect from... whatever it was just 'appened, mate?" Grissom asked.

"Not entirely," Phil confessed, "but would you really like to take that chance?"

"Point."

"Any clue what it is that's supposedly coming?" Brute Force asked timidly.

"Working on it," the telepath replied.

"Can't you just... use your ESP or whatever to look through the walls or something?"

Phil smirked briefly. "Doesn't quite work that way, man. There's a door down there," he explained as he pointed off down the corridor, "but I can't see through it at the moment."

"Think we ought to see what's behind it?" Grissom asked.

"Robo Squirrel recommends sending one individual to investigate to warn the rest of any potential hazardous condition."

"Are you volunteering?" Brute Force asked. "'Cause I... just... got here, and... yeah."

"Robo Squirrel is not expendable. Robo Squirrel is too important to risk damage to investigate. Choose another individual."

"We should stay as close together as possible," Euro advised, brandishing Durendal warily, "in case something like that happens again."

"I agree," Rama chimed in. "We would not want to be separated somehow. Does that flying rodent have anything more to add?"

"Robo Squirrel will not be affected by the outcome of your decision," the increasingly irritating artificial creature droned on.

"So do we all rush the door at once?" Brianna asked.

"In such an occurrence, Robo Squirrel will remain in current location to monitor the situation."

Brianna glared at the robot. "Why can't you just scan the door with your sensors or something?"

"Robo Squirrel is not a space probe."

"Does that mean you can't do it or won't do it?" Euro asked impatiently.

"Robo Squirrel does not understand the question."

"What if there's something really dangerous behind it?" Brute Force objected. "Or even worse... what if there's nothing behind it?"

"Robo Squirrel does not understand the question."

"Robo Squirrel," Phil called.

"Robo Squirrel, ready to assist," the annoyingly cute automaton chimed.

"How long, hypothetically speaking, would it take you to fly down this corridor, if you actually wanted to, and give us a readout of what's behind that door down there?"

"One moment please..." The hovering robot seemed to hesitate. "At maximum safe flying velocity, the estimated distance to the door can be covered in no less than seventeen point six two-"

"Right, right." Phil shook his head. "How strong is your construction?"

"Robo Squirrel is proud to reveal that its structural strength is vastly superior to most common-"

Without warning, the hovering metal squirrel shot down the corridor toward the door at dizzying speed. The rustproofed rodent chirped frantically in alarm as it hurtled ass-backwards down the corridor, unable to slow itself with its own propulsion system. All heads (save Robo Squirrel's) turned to gape at the telepath.

"With any luck," Phil explained, "he'll probably be the first one through the door, like it or not."

Nobody blinked.

"It's not gonna hurt him," Phil insisted. "Trust me!"

Brute Force shifted his weight back and forth uneasily. Everyone else kept staring at Phil with quizzical expressions.

Phil held up his hands. "Come on! It was the only way to shut the damn thing up!"

The others shrugged and nodded.

The squirrel darted through the door, remaining struck half way across it. The propellor located under the tail of the metallic Sciuridaea burst up again, forcing the door to swivel all of a sudden around its hinges, finding abrupt rest over the internal wall.

A metallic and impersonal "Ouch!" was heard by the Vanguardians, followed by a warm and welcoming voice. "Vanguardians! Luckily you have arrived! Come in, come in!".

The Vanguardians looked at each other puzzled and then all of them looked at Phil. "Well? It's safe going there?" asked Brianna.

Phil nodded. "I feel no harm from the minds inside. It's like they were waiting for us".

"Who is waiting for us?" asked Ed.

Grissom snorted, spitting the cigarette and squashing it under the foot. "Just one way to know: let's go inside!" He moved firmly toward the door, followed by the others, a little more hesitant.

The British adventurer stopped over the door. There were many people inside, all sporting an apprehensive look, minus a tall, bearded man, around sixty years of age, smiling at he newly arrived heroes.

Grissom's eyes widened. "Doc? Doc Quantos?"

The man came forward. The others Vanguardians stepped in, and while Griss shook hands with Quantos, BruteForce freed the Robo Squirrel from the wooden embrace of the door.

"It's Doc Quantos the third. The Doc Quantos you knew was my great-great-grandfather."

Grissom frowned. "Then, how did you recognised us?"

Grissom pointed his finger at a point behind Griss and the other Vanguardians. "Look. Everybody remember you"

The six Vanguardians plus Squirrel turned at unison. behind them, in the vast hall, there was a big holographic monument, featuring images of many people: there was Dirk Bell with guns in hands, Grimm weaving his blue glowing axe, Chance pointing his finger outward, like leading them, Edulcore with spread wings, Blackwulf, Mxy with his top hat, Agent Turner surrounded by crackling lighting-bolts, a sort of turtle man and a furry and fuzzy being.

The Vanguardians' jaws dropped at unison.

"Baahgrupta?" wondered Rama.

Ed shook his head: "And... and Uncle Otto?"

Phil slapped his forehead.

"Don't tell me...we're in the future, right?" he asked dryly.

A sudden wave of absolute respect and awe washed over the entire crowd. And, it wasn't some form of emotional reaction they were having at the moment, or, even a brief eddy of delriousness brought on by hopping dimensional planes. It was artificial. Something....external....

It was a wave of awe and respect.......for Phil Smith.

Everyone stared at Phil, including his teammates, even as he frowned working out the loud chorus of footsteps coming down the wide, circular hallway.

They rounded the corner....a squadron. Each in perfect synch with others footsteps. Disciplined. Focused. And, in perfect formation.

They appeared to be soldiers of some type. All dressed in what the Vanguardians could only guess as being formal dress. Each with nearly the same trim of hair. Each broadcasting on a wide, passive telepathic frequency.....a network between them.

Thoughts, emotions, intent.....a swarm of information and feeling that trickled out among the other non-psychics.

The squad......seventy, at least.....came to a perfect halt, turning as one on their heel, to come faces-to-face with one, single Vanguardian....

|||Sir.....|||

The word crashed into every language center of those present.

|||....it is our deepest honor to think in your presence....|||

They all bowed, as one. And, even as Phil stared out over them, he realized they weren't straightening back up.

After a moment, he nodded....bewildered....but, accepting.

"Uhhh...thank you....I think...." he shrugged.

Nothing happened.

Phil looked back towards Quantos' group, the doctor just smiling.

"They cannot hear you." Quantos commented.

He glanced at the other Vanguardians, who were just as confused as he was. He looked back at the squad, who were still bent over in their formal bow. His eyes suddenly lit up as it dawned upon him....

"Oh..." he nodded, closing his eyes.

|||Thank you....I appreciate...ummm. this...|||

The squad rose instantly to attention at the mention of his thoughts, pride beaming from their minds.

|||Who....are you?||| Phil asked, splicing the telepathic transmissions into everyone else brain, as well.

|||By the Smith, we come to serve!||| they began chanting, barking their creed with gusto and courage. |||St. Phillip, he who gave birth to the thought! He was the one! We are the many! He was The Thought! We are The Mind!|||

A guttural "Hoo-ah!" bellowed once in everyone's head.

|||...The Mind?||| Smith asked.

"This....is The Army of One, sir...." Quantos explained. "...our...'military', if you will..."

"They're all telepaths..." Euro stated.

"Yes, The Army of One is a network of our best and brightest telepaths, each trained and groomed under the International Psychics Guideline Treaty..." Quantos continued, turning to look at Phil. ".....a treaty, I might add, that you developed, lobbied, and helped get signed into existence."

RoboSquirrel had been looking back and forth this entire time, trying to grasp all the information that was being passed.

Conversation is incomplete. Explain presence of hostile unit. the electronic voice chirped, absolutely no telepathic frequencies reaching the wiring of his own artificial brain.

"Model one! Model ONE!" one of the men behind Quantos began squeeling, pointing at RoboSquirrel. "Matta! Hymae! Get over here! Model one!"

Two other men, each of who could be scientists, rushed from the adjacent alcoved room. All three cooed with awe, circling around RoboSquirrel, not really daring to go to close. They continually punched things into handheld keyboards, alternating between being fascinated and crunching calculations.

"Look at the hydrogen exhaust....the semi-conductive rivets..." one of the scientist mumbled.

"...the A.I. is as calculative as we believed..."

"Oh my god, the prototype fibermedulla has to still be in perfect condition...."

RoboSquirrel studied their responses, and continued to whirl slowly in place.

RoboSquirrel approves the attention.

"Why do I feel like I'm going to see an entire flock of winged-people somewhere around here?" Brianna asked Grissom.

Rama grinned, turning to Quantos.

"Please....it is time for explanations, wouldn't you say?"