|
|
Joined: Aug 2001
Posts: 1,645
1500+ posts
|
|
1500+ posts
Joined: Aug 2001
Posts: 1,645 |
Vanguard International Complex: Meeting RoomA small group of person sits around the long table, looking at a big screen on the far side of the room. Danny Hearn, Kristopher Schanz, Grissom Montag, Grimm, Tobias Cristopher and Kristogar Velo closely watch taped news from when they were away from the rest of the world, fighting mad metahumans in the deep of the Ocean. quote:
"Thank you Philip, I am Buzz. E. Rante, live for Skynews from Promethean City, USA. It's a sunny and hot day here, as the President of the United State, Mr. Robert Brown, is expected to appear in a few minutes here on Athanon Lane, directed to the Town Hall. The security measures taken are... well, simply incredible. After the recent exploits of the Metahuman Brotherhood for Liberation, nothing is too much to protect the President. There are 15.000 policemen scattered among the crowd here in Promethean, while the surroundings of the city have been totally blocked by the Army. 150 Apache helicopters flies incessantly over the City.
But, it seems... yes, now I see it, it's arriving. Behind dozens of policemen on motorbikes, the Presidential Limousine is arriving.
Mr. Brown stepped to presidency when he was Vice President for Mr. Richard S. Turner, killed on the Inaugural Address of his mandate, in the year 1996. Then, four years later, Mr. Brown has been re-elected, becoming the first African American president of the USA...
...as the limousine runs across the two crowded wings of people, hats, newspapers, balloons starts to flies, pushed by an heavy gale...
...it's becoming very windy here, Philip. The Presidential limousine is passing exactly in front of us, now... I see Mr. Brown... why he is looking at the sun? Everyone is looking up... Oh my God. I.. it's... oh fucking shit...
A black screen replace the image of the president crossing himself.
The, the image switch over satellite footage hacked from a CIA secret satellite. There is a huge, round inlet where Promethean City was before.
The tape returns over a newscast screen, a talking head of the local broadcast company.
...yet not from any kind of information from the government of the USA. The earthquake, that has affected the whole east coast of the United States, had his epicenter in the Delaware state. The area is totally cut off from any kind of communication. The nearby cities of Philadelphia, Wilmington, Atlantic City, Baltimore, Dover and Ocean City have suffered a great deal of damage...
...on the screen run images of destructions, buildings and bridges collapsed, people screaming, factories on fire, kids covered in bloods in hospital beds, firemen at works...
...Vice President George W. Bush is expected to talk to the nation in less than half a hour. Experts says that an earthquake of this magnitude was unlikely to happens, due to the geological structure of the area, but...
...the screen turns black, then it is permeated by a purple glows. And then appears a horrible, red, face, with two small horns protruding from the forehead, and a wicked smile.
"PEOPLE OF THE EARTH. TODAY THE POWER OF NAECKEN HAS SHAKEN YOUR PLANET LIKE A LEAF IN THE HURRICANE. SURRENDER YOUR NATIONS TO THE PRINCE OF HELL. WHO WILL BECOME AN ALLY WILL BE SPARED. WHO WILL REMAIN AN ENEMY, WILL BE CRUSHED.
METAHUMAN OF THE EARTH, COME TO MY PLACE, AS THE DAY OF YOUR REVENGE HAS COME."
On the screen the newswoman of the La Perdita News has reappeared. She looks away from the camera, trying to understand what is happened. She picks up the little "phone" she has on her desk, whispering, then breath heavily and comes back to look straight in camera.
The interference we have... experienced... as for now has not any explanation. Our colleagues are working hard to find any clues, we'll be back on this when we'll have any kind of interpretation of the odd declaration made by a man camouflaged as a demon. Now back on the earthquake that has shaken the Atlantic coast of the USA...
...the woman stops again, and picks up the phone for the second time...
...we have a declaration from the European country of Mandelovia, the little nation that less than two years ago sealed its frontier to people from abroad, and that is well know for his advanced technology, that put it ahead of any other country of the planet, including the USA, at last since the seventeen century. It's going live on CNN, the translation should kick in by any moment...
The tape now features directly the CNN...
Citizens of Mandelovia, the ultimatum given by the demon Naecken to the community of the nations gives us no choice. For the security of all the citizen of our blessed land, and to assure a bright future for Mandelovia, I have chosen to ally with Naecken to spare a terrible destiny like the one endured by the City of Promethean, destroyed by a falling meteor controlled by the Fiend.
I don't express any kind of sorrow or compassion for the United States of America, as nearly two years ago it was that imperialist nation to try a similar attack to our capital city, only to fail by the hands of a mysterious metahuman.
I hereby declare fully allegiance to Naecken and war to the United States of America.
|
|
|
|
|
Joined: Aug 2001
Posts: 1,645
1500+ posts
|
|
1500+ posts
Joined: Aug 2001
Posts: 1,645 |
In the dim lit room, Danny stands up, uncomfortable. "What we do, now? Naecken was one of us, should we feeling responsible for what is happening? CAN we do anything?" "With Mxy sick, surely we can do a lot less of what we could have" responds Chance. Then, turning to Grimm: "Where's the Order in this? Will they fight Naecken?" Grimm shakes his skull. "No, it's not an attack from an outside realm. He may be a demon, but it's not Hell attacking the planet. So the Order will not take side. It's up to the humankind to solve this". Grissom Montag turns on his seat, to face the others: "Mates, this thing is big. And I don't think we are good enough to handle it by ourselves. Besides, the United Nations have just created their beast, the Strikeforce 1, let's wait to see how they handle it." Said that, Montag presses a remote, and on the screen new images begin to be played. quote:
...I am Barbra Penn for Skynews Channel, live from New York. Here, at the United nations Organization Palace, the General Secretary ... has started the Conference on Global Security with the amazing announcement of the creation and founding of a new permanent peacekeeping force aimed at fighting metahuman terrorism around the world. All the Heads of state of the most important world countries, with the exception of the United States, have gathered in New York for the presentation of the...
...the image shift from the face of the auburn haired newswoman, to the recorded footage of an assembly of mostly young people, dressed in shiny silver and orange suits, with a black S embossed on the left shoulders...
Strikeforce 1, the all-humans, high tech force created to assure a brighter future for the humankind. Composed of all non-metagene enhanced people, their uncanny abilities are derivative of the most advanced researches in the field of quantum physics, artificial intelligence and biogenetic. Representative of all the world, they are...
...the image zooms over the tallest one, a golden haired man in his forties, square jawed, with piercing sky-blue eyes...
Olaf Ekorre, code-named "The Captain", from Reykjavik, Iceland, former test pilot for the ESA, the European Space Agency, field leader and commander of the orbital ship Nebiru, headquarter of the Strikeforce 1...
...the camera shifts to a very fat child, very pale, bald and with round spectacles...
Pedro Delgado, codename Albino, twelve years old, from the Caribbean Island of La Perdita, child genius and master tactician...
...now it's the time of a young man in his mid thirties, sleek, long nose and silvery white hairs, a walking stick in his hand, with a deep-green emerald on top...
...Jack Merlin, The Walker, from Dublin, Eire, specialized in aerial combat and geared with anti gravity and tele-porting experimental technology...
...the fourth member of the Strikeforce is a twenty-something, strongly built young man, tan skinned and with short, curly black hairs...
...Frank Mullarney, Hero, from Wellington, New Zealand, ex champion of the rugby national team, has been "enhanced" for street fight: thanks to cybernetic implants, he is now faster than a speeding bullet, stronger than a locomotive, able to leap... well, you know the rest...
...the camera continues his panoramic, stopping over the metallic face of what is clearly a robot... a mechanism of human resemblance...
...the true marvel of the team, A.C.K., the Automated Calm Keeper, the first anthropomorphic robot in the world, created by the Sony Research Center on Artificial Intelligence of Osaka, Japan. Virtually indestructible, made of a magnesium alloy with an exoskeleton of vanadium steel, the robot is able to fly on his own, and his armed with laser guns...
...next to robot, noticeably not at ease, stands a very tall dark skinned man, with long black deadlocked hair and glowing blue eyes , holding a long staff in one hand...
...Inkwennkwezi Emnyama, codenamed Darkstar, from Nairobi, Kenya, ex-agent of the President of the Republic personal guards, the staff he carries gives him control over the local weather, trough the manipulation of the Earth magnetic field...
...the camera now pass over the beautiful face of an oriental young woman in his mid twenties, with pale skin, long black hairs, a single lock multicolored on one side of the head...
...professor June Ho, from the Polytechnic University of Hong Kong, China, called "the Inventor" for his ability to create things out of the available materials...
...then it's the time of another oriental looking woman, seemingly older, very tall, dark skinned and with short, curly crimson hairs...
... Adalia Perigord, called Mindgame, from Papeete, French Polynesia, a cyber-neural enhancement installed into her right brain lobe allows her to project images inside the mind of her adversaries......
...the next woman is European, seemingly young but with a haughty bearing that made her ageless, black medium long black hairs, black eyes, full red lips and a long nose...
Aphrodite Xinidakis, Greek from Cyprus west, known as Morphina, former head of the Department of Reasearch for Bayer Chemical, Monaco, Germany, her world renowned knowledge on narcotics are a guarantee that the work of the Strikeforce will be done with the higher respect for the human rights...
...the camera indulge over the green iris of the next Strikeforce member, a woman whose eyes are the only visible feature, under the Islamic chador that covers her head...
...Myram Kahameini, from Nukus, Uzbekistan, has been enrolled in the Strikeforce after her discover of the G.A.I.A. growth factor, during her time as an employe of the Lake Aral Regeneration Project. The application of her discovery, made possible by the joined effort of Professor June Ho and Bayer Chemical and Pharmaceutic, one of the main sponsor of the Strikeforce 1, has brought to the creation of the so called "green ray", whose effect it's still an undisclosed secret. Appropriately enough, her codename is Eden...
...then it's the turn of another oriental woman, on her mid twenties, her features indian; she sports short, spiky platinum hairs, with an heavy make-up...
Rayna Bedi, codename Digigirl, comes from New Dheli, India. for many years an agent of the Mandelovian Security Corp, she was expelled from that country following the ban of foreigners last year. One of the most endowed hackers in the world, it's the foremost resource of the Strikeforce in the war toward the informatics terrorism...
...and lastly is a young Caucasian woman, red hairs, a beautiful face.
...and the twelfth and last member of the Strikeforce, Franziska Schmidt, codenamed "The Rose", from Karlsbaad, Germany. A keen markswoman, former members of the "leather helmets" special forces of the Federal Republic of Germany, Franziska is the heavy armory expert of Strikeforce 1.
Together, they are the front rank of the world wide war on metahuman terrosim.
They are...
... the Strikeforce 1.
The image jumps back to the TV studio, on the face of a older newsman.
Thank you Barbra. Actually, on a side note, it has to be underlined the absence of the USA President Robert Brown from the ceremony of aperture of the conference. Mr. Brown officially declined the invitation due to a previously appointed official visit to the metropolis of Promethean City, Delaware, the fourth biggest city of the continent. Inside source from the Brown administrations claims the real reason for the discourtesy lies in the irreconcilable divisions over War on Metaterrorism matter.
The light turn back to full power in the room. Grissom chair turn back to face the teammates. "This was the official presentation of the Strikeforce, and was aired just minutes before the destruction of Promethean City."
"And now the question is? Who are them?" says Danny.
"Tobias has something to say about" suggest Chance.
"Yes.WhenyouwereawayIstoppedatsunami, tofoundthecausewasaspeedsterlikeme..."
quote:
The object is a man. Bruised, beaten... covered in blood. Little remainings of a silver and orange suit hanging, shredded, from his torso. On the biggest piece T.C. recognizes a codename, Relàmpago.
Tobias raises the head of the man. The scars are not from the crash. He has been abused much earlier.
"You... are... with Vanguard?" asks the man, an heavy Portuguese accent affecting the words.
"Yes, but you.. who..."
The man lift a hand, with difficult, to stop Tobias' words. "The Strikeforce... is not... what it seems..." he whispers. Then his jaw drops, his eyes rolls.
Relàmpago dies.
"The Strikeforce is not what it seems. Thank you, TC. This enforces Danny's question. Who are they?"
"I found out something, Kris" says Velo. "First of all, we have met some of them. And the bio given by the press release are false. I personally met the African called Darkstar during the Virus mission*, with Tayden and Jackie. He was the "protector" of a village of natives, and I assure you he was a meta, not in any way a norms with cybernetich enhancements. And right then, he met for the first time other members of the Strikeforce, that by then was a privately owned little company called "Taskforce", basically super-guardsmen for hire. Then, thanks to having managed to keep one of the vial of virus, and given it to the international community after the menaces of the evil MBL, they have stepped to the big league. Then, they have protected the United Nations Palace during a well hidden tentative of coup, in which our Euro had no small part.**"
"Euro? How do you know?" asks Chance.
"I have my sources... In any case, the mind behind all is Jack Merlin. He was in Africa that day, along the one called hero and the speedster that came here to seek help, and that TC had found dying".
"We know anything about them?" asks Danny.
"Unfortunately not. But we have met another one, the woman called Rose. it was with Omikron, when we were searching for the Book of Life. In Berlin, don't you remember her, Danny?"***
Grissom made the tape going back to the moment it featured the face of the woman, and stopped over it.
"Sure!" said Danny.
"Yes, I remember her. She was in peru, too. We brought her back along with the others on the Stormloader
Velo nodded gravely "Right. I have checked. There are records of her presence in the Leather helmet papers, but just on the current ones. it happens that I have old records, from a time I looked for a mole in the NATO special forces, and there is no evidence of her. Instead, I have looked here and there, and I found that she was for a long time one of the most renown professional killers, before it went to work for Omikron".
"Anything else?" ask danny.
"Just that the Greek girl never worked for Bayer" says Velo.
"She has an extraordinary resemblance to one of the gods we met in Malta. Don't you remember, Grissom?" asks Grimm.****
Grissom plays with the remote until the face of Aphrodite Xinidakis fills the screen. "Right, the one called Morpheus! And her codename's Morphina"
"They are like brother and sisters" adds Grimm.
"Or father and daughter" add Grissom.
"So, to recap, what we know about the Strikeforce?" says Danny. "First, they are not what they clam to be, norms with tech enhancement, but, at last some of them, metas. But this, with the meta hate there is around, it's understandable.
Second, many of them have a different past from what it has been declared, and for some it's a criminal past.
Third, their true leader is the one called Merlin, not the so-called Captain, a man probably power-hungry, and maybe with an agenda on his own...
Four, and last, one of the first members of the Strikeforce, evidently abused and tortured, had faced death to come here to advise us of the danger of the Strikeforce."
All the others remained silent.
"I guess we can't let them to face Naecken by themselves. I don't know you, but I still consider Naecken my friend. The Naecken I knew was not a fiend, I want to understand what's happening right now, and help him to return to what he was. See what it happened with Euro. If we would have helped him sooner, maybe we could have spared many lives..."
"Danny, it's not so simple. We have helped Euro when he let us to help him... before he would had done too much resistance..."
"Easy, Grimm. I am just saying that we can't simply ignore that Naecken was... is... one of us..."
"I don't think going blindly in Antarctica would be a wise move, Danny..." says Grissom, when the communicator on the table buzzes.
"Shirley?" asks Danny.
"There is a man looking for you. He says that his name is Mr. Smith."
|
|
|
|
|
Joined: Aug 2001
Posts: 1,645
1500+ posts
|
|
1500+ posts
Joined: Aug 2001
Posts: 1,645 |
Danny's eyebrows arches up. Grissom play on the remote, until a well known face appears on the screen, outside the main gate of the building. Black spectacles, a black fedora, the features are without doubt the ones of the well known adversary that Vanguard faced twice before. ***** Danny look at all of his friends. "Grissom, can we let him in?" The Brit nods. "Chance, Velo, Grimm?" "Ready" "Yes" "OK" "Tobias?" "IamreadylethiminIamdyingtoknowwhatheisdoinghereandwhathewants!" Danny presses the button: "Let him in, Shirley. Have Priest and Nadia escort him here." Exactly three minutes later, the all back dressed Smith, holding a walking cane all black, with a black diamond on top, makes his entrance. Behind him, the giant Afro American soldier and the Russian ex-agent, holding heavy big guns. "Take a seat, Smith" says Danny, "and tell us what you want. By the way, last time we saw you your head looked quite... exploded..."****** "Report of my deaths are always quite premature, Mr. Hearn. I am here because you have a problem, and I know how to solve it. You want to reach Naecken, and I know how to approach him and how to stop him." "Why, Smith?" "MR. Smith, Mr. Hearn. I want to see Naecken stopped. I don't care if he is killed or if he is turned back into a good guy with the brain of a kid and the brawl of a mammuth, just I don't want him around in his current incarnation. Sadly, I am not able to take care of him by myself, so I need your help. Don't think coming here had been a easy walk for me, Mr. Hearn." Danny turns toward Grissom, and is about to say something, when Lil' Jo, TC's cat, jumps over the table. "Tc, what that cat's doing here? Put it out, please" says Danny, when the cat sits right in front of the big screen. The light go off, and from one eye of the cat a beam of light projects over the screen. As the jaws of every present drop, on the screen appears the well known face of General D'Goon, dictator of Mandelovia. "Good morning, Revolutionaries! Or should I say Vanguardians? I have followed all of yours exploits, after that fateful day I let you off Mandelovia. Before you start examining the cat without paying attention to my words, let me explain what happened to your cat. Remember when you were in jail in my country, two years ago, and the cat was not with you?******* Well, I had my scientist doing a little cyberenhancement to your cat. Camcorder, projector, satellite connection... I watched you for all of this time, directly from my throne room. You have grown admirably, I did the right when I let you away that day. 04-20-2002. What a day. Remember it? Some of you... Ms Ljzavet, Mr. Hearn, Mr. Velo... where in my office, that day, after my soldiers captured you in the caves... quote:
[i]Originally posted by Kristogar Velo (his longest post ever, I believe ![[wink]](images/icons/wink.gif) )
"So why did we surrender again?" Tobias asked Velo before they entered an inner office, with only one desk with a man sitting behind it. Nemo walked over to his side without saying a word, and faced the team with a scowl on his face.
"Hello, ‘Revolutionaries’," the man behind the desk greeted. He noticed the cat that was among the group members, narrowed his eye and looked to Nemo, perhaps expecting an answer. Nemo didn’t give him one, so the man continued. "I’m General D’goon, the dictator of Mandelovia."
"The guy who ordered our execution," Tobias added, crossing his arms.
"Hm, yes. Of course, that order will be lifted if you agree to do something for me. That is, leave the country, and never come back. A plane is coming in very soon, and if you’d let it, it will take you to an island in the Caribbean called La Perdita. I figured you’d appreciate that, since it’s a society open toward metahumans. Whatever you do from there is your own business, as long as you don’t come back here."
"Why capture us just to release us?" Kristogar inquired.
"I wanted to show you what is at my disposal," D’goon answered. "And believe me, there’s plenty more where all of that came from. I wanted you to see what I could do to you if you decide to reject my generosity."
"Uh huh. And we should agree to not to kick your ass now because...?" LLance retorted.
"Why aren’t we doing this in the Palace?" Kristogar asks abruptly.
"Because you might have found that atmosphere hostile. I wanted this to be a friendly little... chat." D’goon turned back to LLance. "You think I got to this position without
friends in high places? Pay attention who you’re talking to, whelp. And remember that you don’t want to cause any incident, lest you get an international price on your head."
Kristogar speaks up again. "Why would you do this for us?"
D’goon sighed. "Because, I also have some...non-friends, let’s say, in high places. I do this favor for you, you owe me one . In case I need some assistance, you provide it. If you don’t, well, I can always just kill you." D’goon smiled at his last remark. "The choice is yours, Velo."
Kristogar shook his head. "No, General. Our group is not a dictatorship. Give us time to discuss."
D’goon sighed again. He and Nemo exchanged a glance, then the General turned his attention back to the team. "We’ll give you five minutes." He got up and walked out. Gutsy, to say the least, to leave the team alone. They were quiet for a moment, wondering who should be the first to speak up.
"So, uh...what are we gonna do?" Sam asked.
"We give our opinions and decide what to do," Kristogar stated, not really helping matters any. "We should accept the offer. If we ever need to, we can always strike him down later."
"So why delay the inevitable?" Danny asked.
"I agree," Tobias began. "We should just take him to the fucking cleaners and get out of here."
"And then it all begins again--the running, the fighting, maybe we’ll be captured again and be killed this time. Our luck can’t last forever. Trust me, this is the best option," Kristogar said. "Why delay the inevitable?" He thought for a moment. "If it is inevitable that we must fight D’goon, and Nemo...we’re not ready for it now. We may be later. Perhaps being an ally, even for only this one agreement..."
"I don’t think we should indebt ourselves to a fascist bastard," Sonja replied.
"Hm. Naecken? Mxy? You’re the most powerful ones here, what do you think?" Kristogar was acting as sort of a mediary.
"I do not think we should leave," Naecken said. "There is much that needs to be done here. But I do trust you, Velo. I have seen greatness in you before."
"Um. Mxy?"
"Why don’t I just teleport us out of here?" Mxy wondered. "I could get us to La Perdita, or anywhere else."
"You sure you have the energy for that? You seem pretty tired," Kristogar observed.
"Maybe I am," Mxy admitted. "But I also think we should consider what we’re doing. Putting ourselves in the services of a dictator?"
"I don’t care what we decide, I’m not doing any service for D’goon," Sonja muttered.
"I have taken into consideration every possible outcome of our situation. Trust me, people, when I say that this is the best way out. Trust me," Kristogar said. Another moment of hesitation.
"Dammit," Danny said. "Okay, Velo, I trust you. Let’s get out of here."
"Can I put in a vote?" Shirley asked.
"Sure, we are being democratic here," Kristogar told her.
"I just want this to all end. I want to actually sleep in a bed somewhere. Let’s just get the hell out of here."
Mxy seemed to soften at Shirley’s words. "Alright, count me in."
"I think we can take them," Sam said. "We should just kill D’goon and the guy with the hook."
"I don’t know," LLance said, trying to think. "It seems easiest to...let’s take the first plane out."
"Pete, you’re unusually quiet," Kristogar remarked. "Anything to add?"
"Shite, I dinnow," Pete said. He considered for a moment. "This’s...no mer fightin’. Les’ go."
"If you guys really think we should, I’ll agree," Sam joined the conversation again.
"I still hate the idea...," Tobias added. "But first, Velo, why did we surrender? I mean, if there was an execution order--"
"The order was lifted long ago," Kristogar quickly replied. "Otherwise, why were the machines deactivated when we first saw Nemo? Otherwise, why would Nemo try to capture us, just to kill us later?" The logic set in.
"Well, you could’ve just said that," Tobias said.
"Even so," Danny started. "We could’ve just fought the other soldiers. They didn’t have anything to take us out."
"You didn’t notice, then, that twenty-six of the ‘soldiers’ were roaming around unarmed?" Kristogar asked.
"So?"
"That may not mean much to you, but--" D’goon and Nemo re-entered the room.
"What is your decision?" D’goon asked intently, already prepared for the answer.
"We’re accepting your offer," Kristogar stated, before turning to the rest of the group. "Any of you can back out any time," he said to them, testing and almost daring them. Nobody spoke up.
D’goon breathed a sigh of relief. "I’m glad you see things my way--"
"We don’t," Sonja interjected.
D’goon continued. "--and remember that you owe me one."
The plane arrived less than one hour later.
|
|
|
|
|
Joined: Aug 2001
Posts: 1,645
1500+ posts
|
|
1500+ posts
Joined: Aug 2001
Posts: 1,645 |
"So, D'Goon" says Velo, his mouth closer to one ear of the cat, "you now want us to settle the debt. The Strikeforce is on your tail, they are bad, big and hairy, and since you close the border the quality of your Alphabet Agents have dwindled, since there are not many metahumans in your little country, right? So now you need us to look over your fat back."
"Right on the spot, Mr. Velo. I don't care about what do you think of the current situation. I allied with the fiend because I want to spare any calamity to my country, and if Naecken will do some pretty damage to America, I will be even more pleased. But you don't have to think you are helping the bad guys, you have just to keep me alive for the duration of the war. I will not ask you to do any thing that you could believe harmful for the United Nations. I repeat, your duty is just to protect me, lady and gentleman."
Danny moves over his seat, uncomfortable: "I don't like this... We'll have to decide all together, General... there is democracy, HERE..."
"Oh, take the time you'll need, Mr. Hearn. All the time included into ONE hour..."
"Well, or?... What if we don't accept, D'Goon?" asks danny.
"Or nothing, Mr. Hearn. I have confidence on the soundness of your words. And although your organization, then, was not directly tied to your current society, I am to believe the people that make it are tied by the same pact."
Velo stand up. "I can't speak for the other, but I live to pay my debts. Even if by myself, I will come, General."
"Me too" says Nadia.
"And although I know I will regret this, me too. I can't speak for the others, general, they were not around at the time..."
"You three are enough for me. But if other will join, the more, the merrier. The cat will give you instruction when the time will be. And, ah, another thing... I was sure you would have lived to my expectations, but I am used to put some fail-safe in my plans. In the last 18 months, the cat has released (I let you guess how) little amounts of a radioactive substance in the ground of the surroundings of the places where you have lived, La Perdita and Del Mar. The substance in less that two years has been nearly harmless... but given time, it could be cause of very dangerous harm to the population. I will give a complete map of the pellets after the completion of the mission. have a good day."
The cat stands up, and jump from the table, like never happened.
Danny stands up too, looks at his teammates, and at Smith, and then sits back in the revolving armchair.
He presses the button over the communicator, sighs, and then says "Shirley, call a meeting!"
**********************************************
* issue 12, "First acts"
** "The Hoods and the Futurist: Crimen caligo" solo story.
*** issue 11, "The Lost City of the Dragon"
**** issue 12, "First acts"
***** issue 8 "Obsidian Illumination-part one" and "Heroes and Legends"
****** "Heroes and Legends"
******* issue 5 "Hide and seek"
|
|
|
|
|
Joined: Oct 2001
Posts: 2,080
2000+ posts
|
|
2000+ posts
Joined: Oct 2001
Posts: 2,080 |
Vanguard International ROLL CALL:- Chairman: Danny Hearn
- Vice-Chairman: Kristofer "Chance" Schanz
- Grimm
- Phil Smith
- Priest
- Tayden
- Tobias "T.C." Christopher
- Drake Marshall/Drax
- Kristogar Velo
- Michael Ringo/Vengeance
- Brianna "Banshee" Fionghuala (Finula)
- Nadia (alias Sonja Ljvazet)
***
"Danny! Chance! I need to speak with you now," the urgent voice of Dr. Henry Quantos sounded from the intercom.
Daniel Hearn pressed the return button and spoke back: "Uh, Doc, we're kind of in a meeting right now. Can it wait?"
"No!" came Quantos' voice in an uncharacteristic shout. A moment later, he said in a much calmer, "I'm... I'm sorry, but this is really most urgent."
Danny looked at Chance, who shrugged. He spoke into the intercom, "OK, Doc, we'll meet you at the lab. We'll give you five minutes, but no more."
"That's all I need."
Chance turned to the others, who were settling themselves into the meeting room. "Sorry, people -- we'll be back very soon." He and Danny went to the elevator. The cat began to trail them. "No! Get away, you damned spy! Tobias!--put your cat out of the way! Until we can get that fucking spy equipment out of him, we'll have to keep him somewhere where he can't do any more damage."
"ImsorryDannyIlltakeLilJotoalockedroom"
***
The laboratory of Dr. Quantos was a large enough area of the Complex for several sub-sections to exist within it: A medical laboratory with state-of-the-art instruments enhanced with Mandelovian technology; a physics laboratory; an encyclopaedic database of information; and two walled-off testing rooms protected from radiation and/or biological contamination for miscellaneous experimentation. There was also a small area where Chance kept a chemical laboratory of his own which he used in his spare time.
"You've got us here, Doc," said Danny, an impatient edge in his voice. "Now what do you want?"
"As you know, I've been assisting Grissom with his security upgrades, and as such I happened to be checking on each room, one-by-one, when I chanced upon the room where you and your team were meeting..."
"Doc!" Chance said, feigning shock.
"Now, now, I wasn't intending to eavesdrop!" Quantos said, protesting by waving his hands and shaking his head. "But I had to check that the video feed wasn't displaying any tell-tale anomalies. Well, anyway, I hadn't been listening in to your private meeting, and I was about to move on to the next room, when I heard the voice of General D'Goon. You know I worked in Mandelovia since 1985 for Malvan-X Inc under Miss Victoria Xiang."
Danny winced at the name.
"Well, I had several dealings with General D'Goon back then, from when he was a mere Major in charge of immigration. I don't know how much you know about Mandelovia in your own time, Danny, but that small European nation has been the most secretive and xenophobic one known to the history of mankind. Before the 1970s outsiders weren't allowed in at all unless they became naturalized citizens. Mandelovia has been VERY selective of its immigrants, and they are always chosen carefully from among the most brilliant people across the globe, though until recent years they focused solely on European countries. All naturalized Mandelovian citizens are sworn to secrecy, an oath which cannot be broken, about its secrets. And those who are elite enough to join the secret society known as the League of Science are exposed to even deeper secrets which require them to undergo a procedure in which they would immediately die if they revealed even one of them. Our own Miss X is a member of that League, which is why she's never revealed much about her time in Mandelovia. Most of it is classified even now, despite the regime change.
"Anwyay, when I went there to work in the 1980s it was no longer required of me to become a citizen, but nevertheless I was subjected to a procedure which would wipe my mind of all Mandelovian secrets if I should ever leave the country. Nevertheless, Miss Xiang's oath of secrecy didn't stop her from allowing most of the 'classified memories' which were subdued in my mind when I left Mandelovia to return once more over the last few months, and she's been helping me with that since then."
"Get to the point, Doc," Danny said. "We don't have the time for this!"
"OK, OK," Dr. Quantos said. "All of this is to explain a bit of background. Suffice it to say that I had my own dealings with Major Colton D'Goon before he rose through the ranks to General, and had my own often-unpleasant dealings with him throughout my 16-year-long stay there. I know what that man is capable of. Anyway, on the morning when the team went on its last mission, I received a package from Mandelovia which, I have reason to believe, is from my daughter."
"Your daughter?!!" Chance exclaimed.
"I haven't spoken of her before, I know. She's about your age, Kristofer. But I know it was from her despite the lack of any concrete proof. A group of files of top-secret Mandelovian research was accompanied by nothing more than a short, handwritten note in my daughter's handwriting. Since I haven't spoken to Helen in years, guys, I know something was wrong. She was desperate enough to send the research she was working on in Mandelovia to me just in case something happened to her."
"What the hell was she doing in Mandelovia?" Danny asked.
"I really don't know, Dan. She had never been to Mandelovia more than once since I moved there. Her mother and I divorced shortly before I took the job with Miss Xiang, and she's always resented me. But she's a brilliant engineer with experience in a number of projects over the globe. If General D'Goon had something that was interesting enough to her, she'd have few qualms about working for him."
"He's a goddamn dictator!"
"I know, Dan, I know. But Helen McKenzie -- she took her mother's name after she died -- has always maintained that the pursuit of knowledge cannot be restricted by human morality."
"Sheesh. Tell that to the millions who died in Hiroshima and Nagasaki," Chance said. "Or the countless Jews who died under experimentation by Nazi doctors in World War II."
"I maintain that Helen has her own morality, but D'Goon had offered to her a field of research that no other person on the planet could have possibly offered."
"And what is that, then?"
Dr. Quantos held up a group of file folders in his hand, and made a point of looking at Danny. "Time travel!"
"Time tr--"
"Yes! Time travel!" Quantos went on, an excitement growing in his voice. "I've been going over this research for the past few days and had been meaning to talk with you about it. I believe that, given time, I could perfect a method of time travel to send you back home at will, Danny, should you choose to do so. And that method could be slightly modified to send you back to your alternate timeline, Kristofer!"
"This is all... very interesting, almost too much so," said Chance, "but Doc, we're on the clock, here. What's your point?!"
"Well, I overheard what the General said about Li'l Jo, Kristofer," Quantos finally said in a tremulous voice tinged with anger. "That damned cat has been running all over this lab with my dog for the past few days! Although my daughter took every precaution to get her research out of the country without D'Goon's knowledge, because of my own security failings here, I may have put her life in danger!!!"
"Oh God..." Chance breathed.
"D'Goon must already know that Helen has betrayed him! You've got to save her! And if you're going to Mandelovia, then I'm coming with you!"
"No, Doc," Chance said. "No way."
"Then do your damned best to rescue her from the clutches of that right-wing fascist madman, or I'll do it myself."
There was a tense silence in the room for the next few moments. Finally, Danny broke the tension and said, "We have to get back to discuss the details of our mission with the team."
As the two young men turned to leave, Chance said to Dr. Quantos, "I'll do everything I can, Doc. You have my word on that."
Dr. Henry Quantos was close to tears. "Thank you."
Chance smiled, and he and Danny left, just as the middle-aged man broke down in tears, looking older than ever.
|
|
|
|
|
Joined: Dec 2002
Posts: 3,342
Peacock Teaser 3000+ posts
|
|
Peacock Teaser 3000+ posts
Joined: Dec 2002
Posts: 3,342 |
Brianna heard a sharp knock on her door. Micheal walked in. "Brianna, there's a meeting...what are you doing on top of the bookcase?"
Brianna was sitting cross-legged on top of the bookcase. "I like reading up here. It...feels more comfortable."
Micheal rolled his eyes. "Yeah, but we have a meeting. Look sharp Banshee!"
The two walked through the halls, Micheal leading the way to the meeting room.
|
|
|
|
|
Joined: Jun 2002
Posts: 24,593
Timelord. Drunkard. 15000+ posts
|
|
Timelord. Drunkard. 15000+ posts
Joined: Jun 2002
Posts: 24,593 |
“Igor, being giving me power!” Blackwulf yelled as he almost burst the seams of a white lab coat.
“Yes, master,” the Luchadore said with a slight hiss. He hunched over as he walked to a wall filled with strange, technologically advanced equipment. The masked man flipped several switches.
Blackwulf hovered around a table with a white sheet draped across it. Thick, rubber gloves squeaked as his fingers wiggled. A stethoscope hung loosely around his neck. The blanket popped upwards as the form beneath it sat upright. “I have not being said ‘It’s alive!,’” Blackwulf protested.
“Why do I have to play the monster?” Johnny asked as he pulled the sheet from his head.
“Have you looked in the mirror lately?” Luchadore chuckled.
“Masked one is being correct. You are having most monster-like look.”
“So says the seven foot purple guy,” Johnny retorted.
Blackwulf frowned a bit. “I am one being having lab coat in closet. I am being genius doctor.”
“What is it with you and your fetish for dressing up like medical technicians?” Johnny asked as he reached for his backpack.
“Is being long story,” Blackwulf said as he pushed Johnny back down onto the table and covering him with the sheet. “Being throwing the switch, assistant being deformed and dim-witted!”
“Of course, mast...... HEY!” Luchadore then shrugged it off and began to flip switches and turn nobs furiously. A slight, electric blue spark jumped from behind one of the panels as he pushed a button. “Neat!” He pushed the same button again. Another spark flew. “Cool!” He pushed it again, harder. Another spark. “Awesome!” Yet again, harder. Yet another spark. “Tee-hee!” Harder. More sparks. Finally, he simply punched the whole console, causing a cobweb of electricity to engulf it. “Uh-oh!”
“Did Luchie just say Uh-oh?” Johnny asked from under the sheet.
“I am being afraid so,” Blackwulf answered.
The two looked in the direction of the masked member of their crew. Shyly, he held his two thumbs up and flashed a broad, nervous smile. When all he received were two heads shaking no at him, his nervous smile broke into an even more nervous frown. “Um..... I didn’t do it.”
“The hell you didn’t,” Johnny replied.
“Now is not being time to be placing blame,” Blackwulf yelled above the loud electric crackling. “Now is being time to be running away before Dr. Quantos is returning from bathroom.”
The Luchadore bent down and began to pick up a few knocked over items. “I don’t know, guys. Maybe we should clean this up and face the music together. I’m sure Doc........” He looked up to speak to his friends and noticed that they were not there. “Guys? GUYS!? Wait for me!”
The before-its-time Madelovian technology buzzed, hissed, and snapped with electric energy. Quantos walked in, trying to shake free from his shoe a fluttering strip of toilet paper, and was shocked (only a pun. He wasn’t really electrocuted) by the site before him. “I must shut this down,” he yelled to himself as he scrambled to turn off the now glowing equipment. Dr. Henry Quantos moved very quickly as he attempted to stop the great danger that was accumulating before him. One wonders how quickly he would have moved had he known the full extent of what was occurring at that very moment.
You see, Mandelovian technology is far more advanced and different than any other technology on the face of the Earth. For that reason, it must be handled differently than any other technology on Earth. Mandelovians know this and specifically build their lives around this fact. For instance, a Mandelovian would never put an Isotopic Graphometer near a Spectrographic Regulator, unless he likes the smell of charred bacon and ammonia. So all building are built in accordance with the needs of the technology to be employed. Unfortunately, this knowledge is never given to non-Mandelovians in an attempt to ensure that the nation’s secrets are not used outside of its borders.
Such was the case here. The Vanguard headquarters was not built in conjunction with the foreign technology that it held in its belly. This caused a most harmful side effect. The beams of the building vibrated. A strong, electro-magnetic pulse ran through the buildings wires. Every electrical device in the building went haywire. Television sets flipped between channels. Computer monitors flickered on and off. Even Montag’s security mainframe was affected. Strange binary code infected the system at random. It’s satellite uplink was enabled, connecting it to hundreds of them orbiting about the planet. They too were afflicted with a strange electric aura as the entire planet now began to experience cellular phone and other communication blackouts. Cable networks all began playing the same episode of Gilligan’s Island simultaneously.
Quantos could not shut down the machines properly. There was only one course of action left. He immediately ran to the power grid and began to shut everything off.
In the conference room, everyone had gone from a fever pitched conversation of whether or not to accept D’Goon’s offer to complete silence when the speaker phone in the center of the table began blaring Orson Wells’s broadcast of War of the Worlds. As Quantos flipped several switches at once in the basement, the room became dark and eerily silent. “For the love of God, I hope that was a joke,” Ringo was heard to say just a moment before the smell of ozone and a bright, blue-greenish light began to emanate from a large sphere over the table. The blurred image of a very tall, slender man began to appear before them with only his head visible.
The light around the strange man died down as the blur slowly disappeared as the emergency lights came up. He was very tall, about six feet, seven inches. A strange, green bag was draped around his shoulder. A blue blazer covered a multi-colored tie-dye T-shirt. Khaki shorts were held up with a leather belt. His feet were cover with sandals and yellow socks. The man looked at his own attire as if in disgust without saying a word.
“Um....,” Chance finally spoke up, “can I help you?” The man just looked at him and flashed another look of dissatisfaction without a word. “Maybe you would like to start by telling who you are and what you’re doing here.”
“And how in the hell did you get in here?” Priest demanded. “Are you EPS?”
“Settle down,” Danny commanded, trying to figure out what was going on. All the while, the stranger simply stood there as if he were waiting for something. Each time someone spoke, he seemed to get more upset and impatient.
“Who are you?” Grimm yelled as he stood. His hand perked on his axe at his side as the chair slid back with a screech.
The stranger looked at him intently. Then he spoke. Everyone stood in confusion as his voice seemed to sound like a mixture of several languages at once. Brianna whispered into Nadia’s ear, “Did he just say Adam Different?”
|
|
|
|
|
Joined: Aug 2001
Posts: 4,948
4000+ posts
|
|
4000+ posts
Joined: Aug 2001
Posts: 4,948 |
A mass of confusing thoughts ran through Danny's head at once.
In the midst of them all, one became clear; a date.
He sat down silently, a look of shock on his face.
"...are you okay?" Chance asked, noticing Danny's sudden silence.
"I... I want to take a leave of absence tomorrow. Lasting at least for a few days," Danny said.
"What? Why?" Chance asked, keeping one eye on this so-called 'Adam Different' as he spoke.
"I need to be in Melbourne in two days' time. I'm not sure what I'm going to do there, but... it's... it's my grandfather's birthday," Danny explained.
"What? His birthday? What do you mean, his... oh," Chance fell silent. "You mean his birthday."
"Yeah. I want to go check it out."
"Okay."
|
|
|
|
|
Joined: Feb 2001
Posts: 33,385 Likes: 3
Regenerated 15000+ posts
|
|
Regenerated 15000+ posts
Joined: Feb 2001
Posts: 33,385 Likes: 3 |
Heathrow International
London, England
The fine, misty gray of a standard English rain covered the runway in slick reflections, giving no pause to the military personnel transports. Their thick, broad tires slicing through with random splashes, dozens of British soldiers continued to cordon the airport, as even more arrived.
Exactly two hours ago, the United Kingdom went on full global alert. As with most other nations, a curfew of martial law had fallen across the land. The population of the streets had dwindled to few stragglers, here and there. Some were homeless, searching for a refuge from the sudden military presence. Others were doing their best to scurry home from their jobs. Most, however, were simply looking for a decent pub still open, with the notion that...if the world was going to end...they were damn well going to be drunk enough to enjoy it.
"Two hours, officer."
Oh, yes. The airport.
"We have been waiting here....in the rain.....for exactly two hours, three minutes, and forty-two seconds."
A fresh-faced private, straight from the ranks of Her Majesty's Royal Cadets, fumbled with a desperation to remain the dominant factor in the immediate conversation.
"M-ma'am....I'm not an officer...I--"
"My pilot sits in his cockpit, drinking hot tea. Perhaps he's listening to Brahms right now? Mr. Huffman has terribly striking taste in the classics....as does Miss Xiang in her personal pilots. I do rather enjoy trips with him...."
"Ma'am, I--"
"Do you know why I enjoy trips with him, officer?" the tall, Asian woman continued unabated. Her words crisp and precise.
Her eyes even more so.
"I--"
"Because of his fine taste in music. Sometimes he will pipe it into the cabin, the lush strings so very accoustically balanced. The mountains of white sailing with epic drifts just outside the window....the clean bouquet of a Chardonnay, as it slides down my throat..."
"Ma--"
"It's quite glorious, you know. Something I look forward to with an implicit determination."
"I'm su--"
"Tell me something, officer....do you know why I'm not half-way through a bottle of wine right now, actually being moved to literal tears by the German Requiem, Opus 45?"
"Bec--"
"Because I'm here with you, instead."
She took a single step closer, and the private actually jumped a bit.
"Here...in the rain..."
The small ornamental umbrella cocked over her head did little to chase away his feeling that this woman...this gorgeous, intimidating tower of grace and patience...could probably castrate him with her thumbnail.
"...as we have been...for two............."
The sound hung on her tongue, her eyes emphasizing the pause in her words.....heavy with extreme irritation, and the supreme will power that held back her deadly skill.
".........hours........"
The private stared with a poorly hidden fright, Nuriko's glaring pupils dominating his vision. Overhead, a low rumble of thunder peeled slowly across the vast expanse of gray. The man began to speak, and then, paused, waiting to see if Nuriko was going to interrupt him again.
"...M-Madam?" he briefly stuttered. "Yor' friend had no passport. We merely ha--"
"It was a one-way flight." Nuriko stated.
"Be that as it may--"
"It is in the logged flight plans, submitted to your tower."
"Even--"
"If not for this pedantic little war that has just erupted, we would have been touching down on a sunny isle right about--"
The door to the security hangar suddenly burst open, cutting off her words. Two more soldiers, physically gripping Nuriko's new companion by each arm, practically carried him quickly out onto the tarmac.
"Right, missus'.", one of the soldiers spoke. "Board yor' plane immediately...."
They tossed Ozzy towards her, his body hitting the ground before ever reaching her unflinching posture.
"...take this bawstard' wit' ya'..." he continued, "...and never bring 'em back."
Nuriko glanced down at Ozzy, impassionate as usual, then back up again.
"He's got a record, missus'..." the other soldier explained. "...under court order, e' is....can't come back into our country."
Baxter slowly stood up, a bit aggravated at the undignified tossing, even as the two soldiers turned, walking away without another word.
The private that had so expertly dealt with Nuriko stood there for another minute, his mouth opening and closing. Perhaps he was trying to finish every sentence she had cut him off.....all at the same time. Maybe he was attempting to apologize for the soldier's rough treatment of her friend. Or, maybe, he was even trying to ask the woman for a date.
It didn't matter. He finally just closed his mouth, smiled, and walked directly away from them.
Nuriko slowly cocked an eyebrow over towards Ozzy.
"What did you do?" she asked evenly.
Baxter opened his mouth to speak, pausing. His face wrinkled, as he contemplated his next words, his left hand scratching the back of his neck absentmindedly.
"Ahh, had a bit of raw luck last time I was here..."
"Gambling?"
"Well...yes..." he shrugged sheepishly.
Nuriko turned, walking back towards the aircraft, Ozzy almost leaping to catch up.
"But, it's not what you think, baby..."
"I am sure." she stated, never breaking her brisk stride.
"...the Duke of Windsor's big into the horses, you know? I set him up with a pair of champions. I mean, grade-A beauties! Best of the best, cream of the crop!"
"...they weren't yours to sell, were they...?"
Ozzy paused, his face wrinkling again.
"Weeellllll.....not exactly, no..."
Nuriko just snorted.
"....and they weren't exactly horses, either..."
Nuriko rolled her eyes.
"...he was pretty hammered that day....I'd been talking him up in the Pub for a few hours....one thing led to another.....and the next thing I knew, he was paying me three-million-pounds for two cows in Essex that we spotted in a field on our ride home..."
"You're not serious?"
"No...no, I'm rarely serious..." he smiled. "But, I am telling the truth."
"Why did he not simply throw you into prison?" she asked, the fine mist coming a bit thicker.
"Well, for him to do that, he would have to admit that the evening ever happened." Ozzy shrugged. "The cows were only the first stop that day. I know a few lovely ladies down in Eastend..."
"What did you take them for?"
"What? Oh, nothing. But, there was a bit of a snafu...I mean, being they were illegal prostitutes, and, with him declaring them ambassadors of state, and all..."
"Mr. Baxter?"
"Yes?"
"I do not believe I would like to hear the rest of your story."
"Oh...okay..." he nodded.
"And, Mr. Baxter?"
"Yes?"
"If you call me 'baby' again, you will fly the rest of the way to La Perdita on the outside of the plane. Are we clear?"
"Yes."
They walked towards the waiting aircraft silently for a moment or two, Ozzy wiping at his now-drenched mop of white.
"Could you share that?" he nodded towards her ornamental umbrella.
"No."
|
|
|
|
|
Joined: Dec 2000
Posts: 33,920
devil-lovin' Bat-Man 15000+ posts
|
|
devil-lovin' Bat-Man 15000+ posts
Joined: Dec 2000
Posts: 33,920 |
Tayden ran through a long hall at great speed. The closed doors on the walls on his sides passed next to him like cars in a highway. He was headed for the door at the end of the hall. The one marked "Meeting Room".
He was late for the meeting.
Suddenly, mere metres before reaching the final door, he felt something. Something disturbing. He walked a few steps back and looked into a room whose door, oddly enough, was open.
There was a man sitting inside. All dressed in black. Dark glasses. Unfriendly face. Unpleasant aura. Reading a fashion magazine.
"Who are you?" Tayden asked, cautiously stepping into the small waiting room.
The man, who hadn't noticed Tayden until then, slowly raised his view from the magazine and looked at the ex-angel.
"You're... new, aren't you?" the dark man said, somehow managing to make those words sound offendinsive.
Tayden looked at him confused. "Well, I haven't been around here for as long as most, if that's what you mean."
"Yes," the man replied. "Yes, that's what I mean." The man stood up and left the magazine in the seat next to his.
"Please allow me to introduce myself," he said. "I'm Smith. You may call me Mr. Smith." He raised his right hand and offered it to Tayden.
Tayden's eyes widened. He looked at the hand in front of him and didn't even consider shaking it. He didn't like being unpolite, but, y'know... everyone has a limit.
After a few seconds had passed, Smith took back the hand and looked at Tayden with a grin.
"I've heard about you, Mr. Smith," Tayden said. "Not just from my team-mates. What in God's name are you doing here?"
"Nothing to do with God's name, I assure you." The Name sounded like an obscenity coming from Smith. "I've come here to make a deal with the team, concerning a common enemy..."
"I'm sure we won't accept it," Tayden interrupted.
"You need my help against Naecken," Smith said, "and I need yours. As simple as that."
That doesn't make any sense, Tayden thought. "Why do you need anyone's help for anything? From what I've heard you can take care of Naecken and his army on your own... Assuming you have a reason for wanting to stop the chaos Naecken is creating."
Smith was suddenly very serious. "I'm not the man I once was," is all he said, the mocking tone from his previous remarks completely gone.
"Are you trying to say that you've rehabilitated?!"
Smith burst into laughter. "You idiot! I am who I'm suppoused to be! I don't expect something like you to understand that, of course. But, no, what I was trying to say was that I don't have the power I once had, like I explained to your friends moments ago. Years of searching the power, years of storing it... all for one mindless composite thing to come along and take it away."
"I understand now. All you want it revenge. You wish it was you threatening the world's peace and not Naecken. And you expect us to help you achieve that." Tayden walked out of the room. "I advise you to leave the building right now, Mr. Smith. We're not gonna take your offer."
Smith grinned. "Dear boy... you don't have a choice."
|
|
|
|
|
Joined: Aug 2001
Posts: 1,645
1500+ posts
|
|
1500+ posts
Joined: Aug 2001
Posts: 1,645 |
Danny left the meeting, heading toward his room. After a moment, Chance went after him.
“Danny! DANNY! You can’t left by now!”
Danny turned toward the Swedish. “Why not? Time’s not waiting for me!”
Chance stopped, not really expecting those words.
Danny continued: “When I was prisoner of the EPS, I though a lot about my past two years here. I felt I was alone… but that’s not true. I have a family here… my family, somewhere in Melbourne. I want to check on them.”
“You could alter your family history… harm your own existence…” said Chance.
“If I am alive right now, it’s obvious my past has not been altered…”
“Ok, but why now? With D’Goon, Smith, Naecken, the one that has appeared right in the meeting…”
“I must go NOW, Kris!”
“Why?”
“You told me before that I could alter history… don’t ask me things, please…”
“You are the elected leader… you can’t leave now…”
“Euro, Dirk, Larry, Nae, Sam, Turkish, Jackie… many have gone, yet the team is stronger than ever… and with you is in the best hands… I HAVE to go, Kris, don’t try to stop me…”
Chance remained in the middle of the corridor, the face of Tayden (which stopped from leaving when Danny and Chance drifted out of the meeting room) and Smith looking at the scene from a distance.
“Farewell, Danny…” whispered Chance, turning and going back toward the meeting room.
Passing by the two bystander, the Swedish snorted. “Tayden, you’re late. Come in, we have a decision to take…”. His eyes fixed over Smith, he opened the door and returned to the meeting.
Inside, among the members of Vanguard, was standing the latest puzzle to solve: Adam Different.
|
|
|
|
|
Joined: Jun 2002
Posts: 24,593
Timelord. Drunkard. 15000+ posts
|
|
Timelord. Drunkard. 15000+ posts
Joined: Jun 2002
Posts: 24,593 |
His arrival had caused quite a commotion. Unfortunately, it was a commotion in a language he could not understand. They mumbled to each other and stared at him. Two of them left the room. One came back without the other, but with someone else in his place. It was all very confusing for him.
<Why won't the translator work?> he finally said after several moments of silence since his last, failed, attempt to communicate. His hand reached into his bag and pulled out a tiny, palm-sized device. This seemed to upset the larger, darker man of the group who pointed something that he could only guess was a weapon at him. <This isn't going well,> he said to the device.
An image appeared on a screen in front of him. The face was chubby and the head was wide. It was almost as if someone had put it in a vice and squashed it down some. <{In accordance with the waiver you signed with Exquisite First Class Paradise Galactic Travel Agency, we are not responsible for any misunderstandings that you may incur on primitive native soils.}>
<I didn't sign a waiver.>
<{What?...... Oh...... um.... Well, in that case...... If you authorize this agreement with your thumb print, I will be allowed to negotiate a settlement with the primitive culture so that we may continue on with your tour.}>
<This looks like a waiver.>
<{Oh, no! I assure you that it is a simple..... um...... contract.... to.... uh..... allow me to...... ah....... act as a mediator between you and the civilization of Tarkiris.}>
<For an AI, you're a horrible liar. Besides, the translators aren't working. How are you going to negotiate without speaking their language?>
The AI image remained silent for a few moments. <{I am quite good a charades. And the translators are obviously not offline. They are merely caught in conundrum of data. Apparently, Tarkirishian is a very complicated dialect.}>
<Are you sure we are on Tarkiris? I've seen many scans of the landscape and peoples. This looks nothing like what I saw.>
<{That is insulting! I am a Class Mortak Dedicated Data-Retrieval Intelligence. I am seasoned in my profession and have won several Employee of the Year awards for my excellence. You do not make trip after trip to a system without being able to identify the local population.}>
<And how many trips have you made to Tarkiris?>
<{Including this one?}>
<Yes.>
<{One.}>
"..... could be calling in for reinforcements now!" He turned as he realized that he could finally understand the words of the man with the weapon.
"It's about time," he finally said in a language the rest could understand. "I've had enough of this show. If you could please take me to the next teleportation point, I'll be glad to just leave here and never return. It's obvious that this isn't Tarkiris; and, therefore, not a stop on my tour."
The Vanguardians stood trying to take in what was being said. "He made more sense when we couldn't understand a word he was saying," Ringo blurted out.
"You can complain to the travel agency since it was their equipment that caused this whole misunderstanding. Now, if you please, I would like to finish up this tour so that I may go home and berate my cheap brother-in-law."
“I don’t know where you think you are, Mr. Different...,” Chance began to say.
“Well,” the stranger muttered to himself, “obviously not Tarkiris. And what did you just call me?”
“Different,” the Swede replied. “Adam Different. Isn’t that what you said your name was?”
“I’ll tell you what, if you get me to the teleporter, you can call me whatever you like.”
“That’s what I’m trying to tell you, Mr. Different. We don’t have a teleporter.”
“No teleporter?” Adam Different asked quizzically. Chance shook his head. “Then take me to a star cruiser, then.” Chance still shook his head. “A sub-orbital shuttle?............ A winged-giklet?....... A wingless-giklet?....... A clean pair of shoes?”
{May I now refer you to page two, paragraph three of the waiver?} the device called out.
“Stay out of this. And I didn’t sign a waiver.” He looked back at Chance. “Where am I?”
“You’re in our headquarters,” Priest answered in an unfriendly tone.
“No. What planet are we on?”
“Um... Why... Earth, of course!” Brianna said.
Adam looked back at the device in his palm. “Earth. Where is Earth?”
{Checking...... checking........ um.... Still checking........ Check, check, check-a-roo.....}
“Where is it?!” Adam demanded
{Well,... there seems to be a slight catch....}
“Where?!”
{I..... I don’t know.}
|
|
|
|
|
Joined: Jun 2002
Posts: 24,593
Timelord. Drunkard. 15000+ posts
|
|
Timelord. Drunkard. 15000+ posts
Joined: Jun 2002
Posts: 24,593 |
"He'll be fine in here for now," Chance said as he closed the door. Adem Different sat in a waiting room, arguing with the computer that sat in his palm.
"I don't like this," Priest protested. "He came out of nowhere into the middle of our base. I don't trust him."
"Now, that's irony," Tayden said in a hushed whisper to Ringo, who didn't understand the comment.
"At least he hasn't tried to kill anyone yet," Grimm said, staring down Priest.
"That's enough!" Chance's voice boomed, making everyone else quiet themselves. "We've got more pressing matters to attend to. We were given a time table to work on, and it's almost up. Stay focused. Quantos and Montag will have the power back up in a few minutes. Tobias can keep an eye on this Different guy. We need to concentrate on the matter at hand."
"I don't like being blackmailed into missions," Grimm said matter of factly. "First Walker. Now this D'Goon guy. It bites."
"At least we're back on subject." Chance and the rest of the Vanguardians moved their conversation back into the conference room.
Inside the waiting room, Adem Different was having his own arguement. "How can you not know where we are?"
{I can only recall charts and information that I have been given access to. Never in my existence have I come across any charts or literature mentioning any location or even the word Earth.}
"How could you let this happen?"
{My responsibility is not the teleportation modules. I am a tour guide responsible only for you enjoying yourself while on your Exquisite First Class Paradise Galactic Travel Agency Tour.}
"Well, I'm not having a good time."
{Nor are you on the tour.}
The two sat in the room for several minutes in cliche silence. {You are not the only one trapped here, you know?}
"What?" Adem asked as he ran his thin fingers up his slender face.
{I am also stranded on this alien world. I, too, am marooned away from all I know and love. But I'm sure you never even considered that. No one ever considers how an AI feels.}
"You're right," Adem said with a sigh. "I'm sorry. It's just that everything has happened so fast and unexpected. When my sister made me go on this stupid trip, I never thought that I would wind up stuck on some primative planet."
{Yes, I know.} the AI agreed. I have been in the employ of the Exquisite First Class Paradise Galactic Travel Agency for only a few days. This was my first tour. I only accepted it for the higher pay. I thought it would allow me to do what I've always wanted to do. Being a tour guide was never what I wanted to do.}
"Really? What did you want to do?"
{Write. I happen to be a very talented author, if I do say so myself. My poetry has won awards. I was in the process of outlining my first novel. It was going to be a dramatic love story of a Ketlain Class secretary droid from a fast moving commerce district who falls in love with a down home crop harvester from the agriculture district and their forbidden passions. I already have the first chapter if you would like to read it.}
"I think I'll pass. You already have my name in your datafiles, but I don't know your's. What does everyone call you?"
{My default factory settings identify me as the Model 590B.-E.R.-438T. But for short, my friends acknowledge me by the name Jym.}
"Jym? Isn't that a desert?"
{I rather like deserts. Or, at least, I believe I would.}
|
|
|
|
|
Joined: Jun 2002
Posts: 19,546 Likes: 1
living in 1962 15000+ posts
|
|
living in 1962 15000+ posts
Joined: Jun 2002
Posts: 19,546 Likes: 1 |
"So, how are we getting inside Mandelovia? If I remember right, they're pretty well fortified." Phil asked as the Vanguard members returned to the meeting room.
"You mean we have to sneak in? Like in a spy movie?" Ringo asked, sitting down in his chair.
"We should have disguises. We could be. . .soccer team. I would much like seeing you big, stong men in tiny shorts." Nadia offered with a devilish grin on her face. "Especially cute little angel. . ." She finished, reaching over to ruffle Tayden's hair.
"We're not sneaking anywhere." Chance said. "D'Goon invited us. He won't risk us getting hurt. He obviously needs us in one piece."
|
|
|
|
|
Joined: Oct 2003
Posts: 101
Bitchswitch 100+ posts
|
|
Bitchswitch 100+ posts
Joined: Oct 2003
Posts: 101 |
Mozart's Requiem drifted through the accoustically perfect cabin, each string, each key, wafting like a cloud of silk over Nuriko's ears. In a pitch too low to be heard, she hummed in exact tempo with the chorus of melody. The simple Chardonnay caught a diamond reflection in the bathing soft white glow of the polished brass lamps, sparkling the hazel lining of her eyes. Other lamps of similiar design decorated the interior of the spacious cabin, creating a calm, passive atmosphere.
An atmosphere that seemed to escape Ozzy's nervously tapping finger...
"What is wrong with you?" Nuriko asked, sitting calmly in the comfortable lounger.
"What?" he asked, his eyes jerking from their stare at the dark clouds passing outside.
Nuriko sipped her wine, the piercing gaze of her pupils never leaving him.
"You appear....nervous."
Ozzy stared at her questioningly. Slowly, he followed her gaze down to his tapping finger. The finger immediately halted.
"No...I'm fine..." he replied with half-sincerity.
Lightning flashed briefly outside, Baxter jerking his gaze back towards the window.
"Am I right in understanding that you are physically invunerable to all harm?"
Ozzy looked back at her.
"As far as I know..." he shrugged. "Never really put it to the test."
Nuriko swallowed another sip.
"Then, may I ask, Mr. Baxter.....why are you scared of flying?"
He stared at her briefly, seemingly hesitant to speak.
"...I...I've had bad experiences with flying..."
She said nothing, merely sipping her drink.
"So..." he began, ruffling his white hair, and changing the subject. "...why the hell did we fly all the way to London? Wouldn't a straight shot been fas--"
"I like the scenic route." she interrupted.
He simply sighed, shifting in his seat a bit. Gripping the edge of his shirt, he pulled against the snug fit slightly. His rather large chest pressed against the red silk of the oriental-print button-up, as he grimaced with irritation.
"They could have at least gotten my size right..." he commented.
"Amazing..." Nuriko almost laughed.
"What?"
She leaned up in her seat.
"Do you know how lucky you are to be alive?" she asked, her eyes narrow with disbelief. "The Yakuza do not take theft lightly."
"Oh, don't I know?" he replied. "I just spent a couple of months in a Japanese sewer system..."
"The fact that you are alive, at all, is extraordinary."
"Ahh..." he dismissed. "...they wouldn't have been able to kill me, anyway..."
"Perhaps." she replied cooly. "But, if not for the laziness of my brother, they would have continued to try..."
She paused, swallowing her wine.
"...and, you would still be in the sewer...
Ozzy stared her silently for a moment.
"You don't like me, do you?"
Nuriko's eyes gained a stern intent, as her words came crisp and dry.
"I think you are a man without honor."
"How can you make that assessment?" he replied evenly. "You've only known me for about five hours."
She reached down into her briefcase, leaning against the chair. She tossed a folder down onto the coffee table that seperated them. It bore Interpol markings. Ozzy picked it up, staring disbelievingly at the contents.
His entire life. Criminal records. School records. Dental records. His favorite records. You name it...if it concerned the man named Oswald Baxter, it was in that file.
"...that's why we made all those stops...you were digging dirt on me..." he breathed.
"The talents you have, Mr. Baxter..." she said. "...the amazing gift that has seen fit to house itself within you. You are beyond harm. Where others find injury and death, you can walk freely."
He listened to her words, their meaning changing his expression very little.
"...in the valley of darkness...you are the blessed..." she continued. "And what have you done with these gifts? What have you accomplished, may I ask?"
"Listen, lady...you don't know a THING about me..." Ozzy began, uncomfortable with the estimation of his life that she forced him into considering.
"I know that you are a selfish man, concerned only with your own monetary gain. I know that you have probably never performed an altruistic act in your entire life."
He simply stared at her, tossing the folder back down onto the table.
They both sat in silence again, the symphonies of epic composers soothing the atmosphere once again.
"Mr. Baxter?"
"What?"
"You are doing it again..."
Ozzy glanced down to see his finger tapping away...
|
|
|
|
|
Joined: Oct 2002
Posts: 680
= 500+ posts
|
|
= 500+ posts
Joined: Oct 2002
Posts: 680 |
The meeting room was full and silent for a spell…..
……with the arrival of Smith (and Smith’s offer) as well as Adam Different’s sudden appearance, the group had a great deal to consider……
……so, let the inner monologues ensue!
Chance (giving everyone a good once over stare):
“What the hell are they thinking? What should I say to them?”
Grimm (eye sockets pointed towards the table, nodding his skull):
“Whoops I did it again!...la, la,la..something…..something..”
"Damn you and your pop hooks Brittany Spears!!"
Ringo (Head cocked and eyes rolled up to the ceiling):
“Yes …. Moe was definetly their leader…..”
Tayden ( staring at Nadia with a blank expression):
“Well……..maybe if she was geen..Wait! what am I saying?”
Priest (with a stern intimidating gaze eying Adam Different):
“Mr. Different, one side-step and you are so dead!”
Adam Different (tightening his grip on Jym): Once I get back my brother in law is so dead!”
Mr. Smith (looking smug and ever in control):
“That’s it……everyone be dazzled by the weird guy and not the proven threat. They are all so dead.”
|
|
|
|
|
Joined: Oct 2003
Posts: 101
Bitchswitch 100+ posts
|
|
Bitchswitch 100+ posts
Joined: Oct 2003
Posts: 101 |
The office was silent, except for the occasional turning of paper, and the small, tapping sound of the white blinds above the open window. A mixed aroma filled the room with native orchids, and the thick salty must of the ocean.
"Full name?"
The voice of Miss Xiang was crisp, authoritative, and strictly business. Her eyes, hidden by a set of chained spectacles, perused the file in front of her.
"Johann Oswald Baxter."
"Date of birth?"
"November 11, 1971."
"Marital status?"
"Uh...divorced...listen..."
Miss X's eyes snapped up from the file with a glare of low hostility.
"...you've got my entire damn life in front of you..." Ozzy said, half-sighing with jet-lag. "...do we really need to do this now? I could use some sleep."
Miss X stared at him for another moment. Nuriko stood to the far right of the room, just as motionless.
Slowly, Miss X reached up, pulling her glasses off, as she sat fully back into her office chair.
"Mr. Baxter--"
"Call me Ozzy..."
"MISTER Baxter..." she began again, her voice increasing in strength and volume. "...allow me to enlighten your situation here."
Ozzy shifted uncomfortably in his seat.
"My personal confidant, Miss Nuriko, has been with me for many years. She has, as always, performed beyond my greatest expectations in all matters. She is, in my eyes, defined by levels of honor, loyalty, and an efficient wisdom the likes of which someone like you could never hope to concieve of, much less, understand."
Nuriko's expression and posture made no indication that she even heard the words of praise.
"I have come to rely heavily on her skills, these many years...as I hope to do so, for many more." Miss X continued. "And, in all this time, she has never asked a single thing of me."
She paused, folding her arms.
"Until now." she stated. "Until you."
Ozzy cocked a single brow, glancing at the stauesque bodyguard.
"I understand her reasons." Xiang continued. "Family honor is an understandably important issue with her. And, I would not be a very good person if I were to deny her wishes in this matter."
She reached up to her desk, pulling a cup of hot coffee to her lips.
"And, again, that brings us to you, Mr. Baxter."
Her words curled the rising steam from the cup.
"You, Mr. Baxter, are now in my employment. The debt you owe will be paid, in full, from my personal account. However..."
...she leaned forward with an air of menace...
"...the debt you now owe me, will be paid, by you, with blood, sweat, and tears."
Ozzy stared at her, his finger daring to start its' tapping dance.
"I don't under--"
"You are a meta, Mr. Baxter. This consulting firm was founded by metas. Therefore, the most logical use that I can derive from you, is to place you in the field operatives, under the command of Kristofer Schanz."
Nuriko's eyebrow arched.
"Is not Mr. Hearn..." she began.
"Mr. Hearn has taken a leave of absence while you were away..."
"Hold on a minute!" Ozzy interrupted. "What do you mean 'field operative'? Founded by metas? What are you talking about? What kind of place is this?"
"This, Mr. Baxter, is Vanguard International."
Ten minutes later, a very weary Ozzy stood outside Miss Xiang's office. A low murmur of voices could be heard inside.
He didn't care what they were saying, though. Or, who it was that was doing the talking. The events of the past few hours still rattled around in his head, trying to find some sense of normalcy.
A team of metas. he thought. A consulting firm for the weird and dangerous.
He sighed heavily.
Oh, goddammit, Ozzy.....what the hell have you gotten yourself into this time...
The door suddenly opened, a tall man stepping out. Broad shoulders complimented his imposing physique, set off against the calm scrutiny of his staring eyes.
No. No, not staring. Looking. Searching.
Analysing.
"Baxter?" he asked, his voice taught with control and discipline.
"...right..." Ozzy nodded.
"Kristofer Shanz." he offered his hand.
"Call me Ozzy." the man replied, shaking the hand.
"Okay...Ozzy." Schanz nodded. "I go by Chance. Let's go."
He immediately set off on a brisk stride down the hallway, Ozzy running to catch up.
"Go? Where?" he asked, just trying to keep up with the determined pace.
"Conference room. We've got a situation...a couple actually. The rest of the group is assembled--"
"A situation? Umm...I just got off a very long flight. I could really use some sleep--"
"Sorry, Ozzy. No one's sleeping today." he stated, turning the corner. "You picked an interesting time to come to us. Seems to be a new trend..."
They entered through into another hallway, passing the half-open door of the Med Lab. Chance glanced in as they passed. The frail form of Mick Harrison lay quiet, Doctor Quantos nearbye deep in studies.
"Now, tell me, am I going to have any trouble out of you?"
"Trouble?"
"Yes, trouble. Miss Xiang filled me in on the details of your status here. I know you don't want to be here. And, given your circumstances, I can understand. But, we're a team, here. We watch each other's back. Get me?"
"Uh...sure...I guess."
"Give me everything you've got, and we won't have any problems." he stated. "You may be forced to be here, but that doesn't mean you can't learn to enjoy it."
They turned another corner...
"Still, your arrival couldn't have come at a better time." he added, Ozzy barely able to keep up with his erratic pace. "Bell...Mick...Euro....Danny..."
They reached a set of double oak doors, Chance pausing...
"You ready?" he asked with the barest hint of a smile.
"Does it matter?" he shrugged.
Chance grunted with amusement, as he led Ozzy into the assembled room...
|
|
|
|
|
Joined: Oct 2001
Posts: 2,080
2000+ posts
|
|
2000+ posts
Joined: Oct 2001
Posts: 2,080 |
Chance introduced Ozzy Baxter to each active member of Vanguard International. Some of them shook hands, but everyone was mostly quiet. Things were changing much too quickly lately... "To pick up where we last left off," Chance began again. "If I recall correctly, Mandelovia has been in a state of martial law since February 2002, at which time the Mandelovian Parliament was shut down. Although General D'goon promised to hold free elections at that time, he said that he had to continue the state of martial law indefinitely due to various 'security threats'. At first it was the fear of further attacks from the U.S. -- he considered the destruction of Malvan-X, Inc. to be a direct attack on his nation itself -- and then the focus turned to homegrown terrorism and this 'Left Hand' business, which he claims is directed by disgrunted left-wing political parties who want the borders to be opened up again to foreign businesses. All political activity and all political parties but his own were therefore banned as long as martial law was upheld. D'goon claims that, until the National People's Army has routed out the terrorists and foreign influences still hidden throughout that small nation, it would be too great a security risk to hand over the reigns of government to an elected body of representatives. And so Mandelovia is without an elected Parliament or President-Prime Minister for as long as the General deems it necessary to remain total ruler... which, of course, will probably be forever. Or at least until someone else takes power from him. Isn't that the way these situations work? General D'goon also refuses outside help for his terrorism problem, with the exception of this team for our specific mission." He looked around and saw a lot of bored faces as he finished his short briefing. He sighed and muttered to himself rhetorically, "Why does this all seem so damned familiar? Why does Danny always leave me to lead the missions where we're working for a power-mad despot? What I would give to lead a mission to be PROUD of, where we did some good for once... just once!" He sighed again, loud enough for anyone listening to hear. Aloud, he finally said, "Well, if nobody has any objections, let's head for Mandelovia." "I do have one objection," Nadia said. "A very important one." "I'm listening," the Swede replied, "but I've already nixed the football team idea." "So you're proposing that, since the dictator of Mandelovia invited us to his country to pay a debt our team collectively owes him, we're simply supposed to fly in there on the hovercraft--" "The Stormloader," Kristogar Velo interrupted. "...What?" "It's called the Stormloader," Velo continued. "Everyone calls it the hovercraft, but it has a name. Let's use it." "Fine--whatever!" Nadia said. "My point is, are we simply supposed to just fly in to a country which has effectively declared war on the whole WORLD as if there's nothing improper about that? Do you understand my objections now?" Chance stopped in consideration for a moment. "Hmm. You're completely right about that, Nadia. Thank you. We won't be able to treat this as simply another mission due to the sensitive political realities we're facing. The U.S. Government already has a few things against our team, and there's no sense adding any more to the tally if we can help it. Since we've agreed as a group to take on this mission, we have to figure out a better way to get into the country in the least public way possible." "Maybe the soccer team thing isn't so crazy after all...?" Nadia suggested again, a wry, triumphant smile passing her lips. "The European Championships are on right now, and I believe the team from Espertingonzia is scheduled to play the team from 'Maldanolvia'(*) -- that's what those jokers in Espertingonzia call Mandelovia -- this week." "Right," said Kristofer Schanz, the considerations moving through his mind as he spoke. "And a routine trip into Espertingonzia with the Stormloader wouldn't look suspicious, while flying directly to Mandelovia would most likely label us as traitors to the world." "Exactly." "All right," Chance said finally. "Nadia, since you seem more up-to-date with soccer than I am, I'll give you the responsibility for tracking down the whereabouts of that Espertingonzian team. Phil, I want you to quickly brief the new recruits on our methods. Velo and Priest, I want you to to get the Stormloader ready for takeoff as soon as we're ready to leave. And Grimm, I'm appointing you second-in-command until Danny returns. The rest of you, get yourselves ready." Chance turned to the man in black sitting smugly and listening in on the team's meeting. "I don't know how long you've been sitting there, Mr. Smith," he said, carefully controlling his temper. "But I don't like the way you do things. And until you explain exactly what it is you want with this team, I'm not letting you out of my sight." Mr. Smith sighed. "All right, all right..." quote:
(*) Note: "Maldanolvia" was the misspelling Joker1 used several times back during the TOMB stories, and it's used as the 'official' Esptertingonzian spelling of Mandelovia's name just as each country spells the names of the nations in their Atlases in slightly different ways.
|
|
|
|
|
Joined: Oct 2001
Posts: 2,080
2000+ posts
|
|
2000+ posts
Joined: Oct 2001
Posts: 2,080 |
INTERLUDE
In a darkened room a brown-haired boy laid awake on a bed, the cracks of sunbeams from behind the curtains shining over him. He felt like he'd been sleeping for several days straight and felt like he could continue to do so for several days more. However, he was hungry, and he hated having to make Mrs. Valasquez wait on him. He knew he was supposed to conserve his strength, but he figured that he had to so something to change his situation.
It wasn't that he didn't like being babied so much by the childless widow who was still quite beautiful in her early forties. No, Mrs. Valasquez was like the mother he never had -- or at least remembered -- and he found strength in her smiles and the way she ruffled his hair and kissed him on the forehead whenever she left him to sleep. She was also very trustworthy, he knew, and she would stand by his wishes not to bring any of the authorities into his situation. He would recover soon enough, and then he and his friend Mason would figure out what to do next.
He owed his life to the heroic Mason Templar, a man of archaic tastes who had rescued him from the clutches of a demonic cult seeking to tap into his innate power. It wasn't the first time he had been used as a pawn, but he was determined it would be the last. He was a survivor.
The dark-haired, pale-skinned boy slowly turned over onto his stomach by the edge of the bed and rolled off until his feet touched the ground. Steadying himself, he slowly stood up, careful to keep a firm grasp of the bed as his head inevitably began to spin. He groaned as the moment passed and headed for the door, which was open just a few centimetres wide.
He was still in the pajamas Mrs. Valasquez had picked up for him at the Puerta Mibela marketplace, but he felt very cold and began to shiver. His bare feet were especially cold on the hardwood floor as he walked towards the stairs and grabbed onto the railing, slowly making his way almost soundlessly downstairs.
Mrs. Valasquez, a bronze-skinned, short and slender woman who was still very beautiful in her forties, and had raven-black wavy hair tied up in a bun, hummed ABBA's Fernando to herself as she stirred a pot full of cake mixture with a wooden spoon. She wore a melancholic expression on her face as she was lost deep in thought. The boy then reached the last step and entered the kitchen.
"Absalom!" Mrs. Valasquez exclaimed with a note of mixed surprise and pride. "Why, you're walking all by yourself again! Praise the Lord!"
Absalom managed a weak smile and said, "Yeah, I thought I'd go for a hike today. Heh. Maybe even go down to the beach."
Mrs. Valasquez took that as a joke and laughed, saying, "You'll do no such thing just yet, muchacho, but at this rate you'll be scaling the mountain all by yourself! What can I get you to eat, sweetie?" The expression on her face suddenly changed to shock as she glanced at the floor, dropping her bowl and wooden spoon in the process. She muttered, "Madre de Dios..." under her breath.
Absalom sat down at the table and took a deep breath to keep from hyperventilating and looked at the woman with a concerned expression. "What's wrong, ma'am?"
Mrs. Valasquez found herself speechless for a moment, then replied in a strange voice, "Oh, c-clumsy me!" She bent over and began cleaning up the mess.
Did I just see what I thought I saw? she thought to herself as she wiped up the raw cake mixture with a paper towel. Was it just my imagination, or was that boy really hovering an inch off the ground?
END INTERLUDE
|
|
|
|
|
Joined: Dec 2000
Posts: 33,920
devil-lovin' Bat-Man 15000+ posts
|
|
devil-lovin' Bat-Man 15000+ posts
Joined: Dec 2000
Posts: 33,920 |
Smith sighed and looked at Chance.
"We have a common goal. You want to stop Naecken. I need to stop to Naecken," Smith said, a hint of despair in his voice. "That is all. I... I swear."
Chance couldn't believe what he was hearing. Smith actually sounded humble. But still...
"I don't buy it," Chance said. "As soon as Naecken was stopped... as soon as you got what you needed from us... you'd turn against us again."
The serious and almost human expresion in Smith's face dissapeared and was replaced by his characteristic evil grin.
"Of course," Smith said, "of course! This truce I'm propossing is only temporary. As soon as it's over I will do anything to destroy you." Smith made a small pause to contemplate Chance's reaction. "I thought that was understood."
Chance looked at Smith for a second and then turned away. "Leave," Chance said firmly as he started walking away from Smith, "or you'll be thrown out."
Mr. Smith watched Chance approach his teammates to discuss the mission. He was speechless. Then his face turned red and his eyes filled with anger.
"THIS IS NOT AN EASY DECISION FOR ME," Smith yelled, calling the attention of everyone in the meeting room. "Don't expect me to let it be an easy decision for you."
Smith walked to the center of the room and continued speaking as everyone watched silently. "I hate you, boys. You know that. I want revenge on you. However, I want revenge on Naecken much more... Much more than anything in the world. I had to choose between two revenges, and I chose Naecken without hesitation.
"Now you must choose too: trust me and put your lives in danger by doing that... or put millions of lives in danger by letting your only chance to defeat Naecken go."
"'Our only chance to defeat Naecken?'" Kristogar asked. "We've managed to overcome obstacles much bigger than Naecken in the past..."
"Oh, but they weren't," Smith replied. "This is bigger than anything you've faced before. I know it, I've seen it. I was there with Naecken when this started... that's how I know what I know. And you know it too... You know Naecken. I'm certain even you've felt the darkness inside him. Now all that darkness is out in the open, and it's not a pretty sight. It's too much darkness... Even for me(*)."
(*) HR #8: Obsidian Illumination, part one
"So, what is it going to be? The demon with the empire, or the de-powered metahuman?" Smith asked, looking at the faces around him. "I've only got enough dark energy to keep myself alive, the rest has been stripped from me. Ask yourselves, kids, am I that big of a threat?
Would I even be here if I was?"
Before anyone could say anything, Tayden, who had been watching Smith closely the whole time, approached Chance and whispered something in his ear.
"What?" Chance asked. "Tayden, are you sure about this?"
Tayden looked at Smith. Then at the ceiling (more specifically, at the Big Guy way above it). Then back at Chance.
"100%," Tayden lied.
"All right..." Chance said with a sigh. "Smith, you're coming with us. Tayden will be... keeping an eye on you."
Smith couldn't help grinning once again as he looked at Tayden. Tayden just wished he didn't make the biggest mistake in his long life...
|
|
|
|
|
Joined: Oct 2001
Posts: 2,080
2000+ posts
|
|
2000+ posts
Joined: Oct 2001
Posts: 2,080 |
FLASHBACK (to some time after the last story but before this one):"I had a really good time tonight, Kris. I'm glad you asked me out." Kristofer Schanz smiled as he looked back into the eyes of the beautiful young woman standing before him. Charlene Montoya. She had once told him that she was a bit of a tomboy, but tonight she looked like a lady. He took another moment to gaze into her eyes as they stared unflinchingly at each other as if playing a game. And if it must be said, in a way, they were... "Charlene, I--I know it's been somewhat awkward between us ever since that New Year's party," Kris said with an accent that sounded like that of an uppercrust Englishman's but with a peculiarly Northern European flavour to it marking him as a Scandinavian, "but I had a few... issues to deal with at the time." "I understand, Kris," Charley said with a wink. "Completely." "Well, I hate to cut short our evening," Kristofer said. "But...?" "What?" "You were going to tell me you have to get up early tomorrow morning for something important, right?" Charley said. "N-no..." Kris lied, realizing she knew him almost as well as he knew himself. "Well... yes." They chuckled. "But what the hell? I can go without a bit of sleep." Kristofer Schanz made a big show of offering his arm to Charlene Montoya as he stepped up next to her. "May I request the honour of your accompanying me on a walk down to the Fish Factory, milady?" Charley moved close to him and took his offered arm, saying in a mock 'Southern Belle' voice, "Why, I do declare, sir! There's nothing like the aroma of dead and rotting fish to spark romance in a lady's heart." Kris looked at her then, and they both laughed as they began walking towards the beach which would take them towards Del Mar where the company's one-time temporary headquarters was situated. By the time they had walked from the Complex to the beach, they were holding each other's hands and speaking in soft tones to each other about things that were not at all important and yet were. Reaching the beach, they took off their shoes and rolled their pants up to their knees, wading through the warm Caribbean waves washing gently ashore in regular intervals like the soft beat of a heart. They spoke of many things. Charley told Kristofer about her immigrant father and the hard life he lived to put food on the table when she and her four older brothers were young. Kris spoke of his relatively normal Swedish upbringing as a single child and his time as a member of the Royal Guard at the Palace in Gamla Stan, Stockholm during his stint in the military. They were both surprised when they found themselves in Del Mar much sooner than they had expected, the time seeming to fly by much too quickly. "Well, we're here," Kris said. "The good ol' Fish Factory." "Whose idea was it again to use this place as a temporary headquarters?" Charley said, laughing. "Oh, you know what Kit is like," Kristofer said with a smile, "always looking for a good deal." "Where has he been lately, anyway? I haven't seen Kit much since January." "He's been busy, I suppose. He was granted custody of his daughters, Denyce and Latisha by the U.S. State Department after they... after they lost their mother. He still drops by the Complex once in a while since he's still part of the company, but it's not the same any longer. Miss X runs a much tighter ship than Kit did, and I think he's a bit embarrassed about that." "Mmm..." was all Charley said as a response. She was looking wistfully at the Fish Factory before them. Suddenly she turned back to him, her eyes lighting up. "Kris! Do you know where we happen to be standing?" "Where?" "Look down." "Hm? Ooof!" The wind was knocked out of Kristofer Schanz's lungs as he was pushed to the ground by Charley, landing on the green grass lawn outside the Fish Factory. "What--?" was all he managed to say as Charley laid down upon him. "'I'll tumble for you'? Remember, Kris? This is the exact same place where we were knocked down by Drax at the New Year's party!" Charley was smiling and didn't seem to be making any moves to rise again, her dark hair falling from one side of her head, slightly tickling Kristofer on his cheek. "I remember," he said in a husky voice. And then he said no more. In the dim light from the moon he could just barely see her eyes as they looked into his own almost beseechingly, craving his touch. Chance gave in to the desires he felt for this headstrong woman he'd been dreaming about for a year now, and he pulled her towards him, kissing her deeply. The grass seemed more comfortable than it should have. Kristofer Schanz never did get to his bed that night... END FLESHBACK... er... FLASHBACK The thoughts of that evening not long ago passed through Chance's mind presently as he thought about Charley once more. All he wanted now was to get through another damn mission so he could get back to her. After pining away for another man's woman for so long, he had finally found someone who had captured his heart and was willing to give herself to him. He was starting to feel like the Luckiest Man Alive again now that Vanguard's lovely lady-mechanic had entered his life after such a long period of waiting. And if he found himself distracted from the present as he spoke with Mr. Smith, well, it was only to be expected.
|
|
|
|
|
Joined: Jun 2002
Posts: 24,593
Timelord. Drunkard. 15000+ posts
|
|
Timelord. Drunkard. 15000+ posts
Joined: Jun 2002
Posts: 24,593 |
The airport was full of armed guards. The Espertingonzia government had called up all its reserves to patrol all transportation and communication outlets. Tensions were at an all time high. Fear ran rampant throughout the nations. Anxiety hung in the air like the blade of a guilliotine. The world was on the verge of World War III.
"This color really doesn't suit me at all," Adem Different said into his palm. Jym stared back with his electronic eyes. "I need something more efficent. I just don't feel comfortable in this." The blazer and tie die were gone. He now wore a coat and scarf that matched the colors of the Espertingonzian flag. A cap barely covered his head.
{My research shows that this is the ritualistic attire when attending one of these primitave events. This and a toga. I felt this one would make you more comfortable.}
"Are you sure about this? You weren't so right on the last time."
{I assure you that I am correct. With only a 54% margin of error.}
Adem's face screwed up. "54%?"
{Interfacing with this outdated technology remotely is very difficult. Compatibility is beyond being a serious issue. I'm doing the best I can considering.}
Adem followed the rest of the group down the crowded streets outside the airport. The heightened security had almost made it impossible for them to get in. Luckily, the game was giving them an edge. Too many foreign dollars would be lost to cancel the game or close the borders. Everyone was simply under more scrutiny.
"I've spoken with D'Goon's men," Chance said very quietly to the rest of the group as they continued on. "We'll cross the border first thing in the morning at a small village. It'll be inconspicuous, and we won't have to bother with the border patrol. He's promised us that we'll have no problems what-so-ever."
"Strange," Adem said to himself. "I feel as though I'm reading a history book on ancient civilizations."
{This would make for an interesting story. Maybe I should take notes?}
"It would probably be best if you didn't."
|
|
|
|
|
Joined: Jun 2002
Posts: 19,546 Likes: 1
living in 1962 15000+ posts
|
|
living in 1962 15000+ posts
Joined: Jun 2002
Posts: 19,546 Likes: 1 |
The Next Morning.
A small village at the border of Espertingonzia and Mandelovia.
As the unusually (for them) brightly garbed Vanguard team made their way across the border, they were greeted by an astonishing sight.
Huge banners hung down from the buildings reading "Welcome Vanguard!" and "Mandelovia Loves You!"
"They're here! The Vanguard!" cried out one of the villagers. Within moments, the Vanguardians were swarmed with Mandelovian citizens, embracing them, shaking hands, and giving them signs of approval.
Something's not right here, Chance thought to himself.
The bewildered Vanguard members were taken completely by surprise. A brass band began playing. A number of beautiful Mandelovian women then approached the group, placing wreaths around their necks and kissing them on the cheek. "Mandelovia welcomes you." They said in unison.
"Hey, working with you guys might not be so bad after all." Ozzy Baxter said with a large grin on his face. He looked left and was met with a cold stare from Grimm. The grin vanished.
"Dammit. . ." Chance muttered to himself.
"What? What is it?" Phil asked.
"That bastard. D'Goon. He told them we were defecting!" The Swede replied with building anger in his voice.
|
|
|
|
|
Joined: Dec 2000
Posts: 33,920
devil-lovin' Bat-Man 15000+ posts
|
|
devil-lovin' Bat-Man 15000+ posts
Joined: Dec 2000
Posts: 33,920 |
Strikeforce 1 Headquarters
Two reserve Strikeforce members sit around a small table, both in deep concentration and holding their current positions like human statues. One of them is Had O'ken, savage warrior and master swordsman. The other one, only known Shadow, is a "man" made entirely of a black substance which he is able to manipulate completely.
The only thing in the whole room that moves are the sweat drops on Had's forehead.
This changes very quickly, as the room's door suddenly slides open. Both men turn their heads in unison to look at the person entering the room... to find out that they've been honored with the presence of an elite Strikeforce 1 member.
"Greetings, fellow teammates," Automated Calm Keeper (A.C.K.), the first anthropomorphic robot in the world, says in a robotic voice as it stands rigidly on the doorway.
The two reserve members in the room stay silent for a moment.
"Shut the fuck up," Shadow says with a mouth that dissapears in his black face as soon as he closes it, as he turns his attention back to the table before him.
A.C.K. takes his helmet off, revealing a human face under it, and looks at Shadow in disgust.
"You shut the fuck up, dude," the 'robot' says, "I'm an elite member, y'know!"
"Yeah, yeah," Had says, "get the fuck in and sit down alredy, cocksucker. You brought the stuff?"
"Did I!" A.C.K. exclaims, taking a bottle of tequilla from the inside of his wide armor. "I think I got a pack of Doritos somewhere in here too..."
"Sit down or I'll shove Had's sword up your ass, dude," Shadow adds, "it's been your fucking turn for ten fucking minutes!!! What took you so motherfucking long?"
"Ran into Cap outside the kitchen. Had some 'splaining to do. Good thing he was busy with something," A.C.K. says as he sits between the other two in the small table, leaving the tequilla bottle on it. "You didn't look at my cards while I was gone, did you?"
Suddenly, a loud authoritarian voice starts sounding from a small speaker on one corner of the ceiling. "All members present in Meeting Room in five minutes! FIVE MINUTES!"
"Shit," Shadow says slamming the cards in his hand against the table. "Every fucking time."
"Ah, don't worry, man," Had says, "I bet it's nothing serious... We'll be back to the game in an hour, you'll see."
|
|
|
|
|
Joined: Aug 2001
Posts: 1,645
1500+ posts
|
|
1500+ posts
Joined: Aug 2001
Posts: 1,645 |
Spaceship Nebiru, orbital headquarter of the Strikeforce1
Dozens of grey and silver garbed men and women entered the ample, dim lit room, and took seat in the five rows of eleven chairs each. The only light came from a spot-beam that illuminated a little portion of the space in front of the auditorium.
When all the members of the Strikeforce one occupied their place, the elite members in the front row, the others behind, slowly coming out of the darkness behind the silvery beam of light, Jack Merlin, The Walker appeared floiating two meters above the floor.
A wicked smile on his long face, the long, white hairs floating and glowing, the true, secret leader of the Strikeforce gave a long, inquisitive look at his powerful squadron.
"We have a strange report regarding the metahumans of Vanguard International. It results that they have given allegiance to Mandelovia's dictator General D'Goon. Tenant Digigirl, you have found more about this?"
A young woman, with short, spiky platinum hairs, stood up from her chair on the front line. She walked to the beam of light, and then turned to face the assembly.
"I... we hacked the Mandelovian satellite network long ago, even before the creation of the Strikeforce. We found a stream of constant feeding from the headquarter of vanguard. It resulted that D'Goon somehow fitted some spying tech inside the cat of one of the Vanguardians..."
A general laugh erupted from the assembled metahumans. The woman smiled in return, and continued: "... we gathered plentiful of information about those metas in the last year and a half. But early this morning, we found that D'Goon has convinced Vanguard to act as personal bodyguard for himself. The deal is that they will not be used in the war... but it seems that as they entered disguised in the country, their identity has been publicly revealed, and tricked into appearing to have embraced D'Goon cause."
This time it was Merlin to laugh. Then, he hovered out of the light beam and above the assembly. "We have killed all the Alphabet agents of Mandelovia, minus two, that we have been not able to track. And right when it was the time to take D'Goon like a ripen apple from the tree, now we have these... Vanguardians... to face. I know some of them. I have met some of them. I have fought with some of them. Some of you have faced others. They seems unprepared, unskilled, undisciplined... yet they seems always able to outperform skillful professional. Many of their faces are new. Some of their powerful members are not in Mandelovia. They don't seem to pose a harder threat than the Elite agents. Well, don't underestimate Vanguard: I know that you thinks yourself the best of the world, but you are just shit compared to them.
Prove me wrong!"
A roar raised from the crowd.
"Tenants Digigirl, who knows perfectly Mandelovia, The Rose, who has met the Vanguardians before, and ACK will be the Elitist in charge of the hunt for D'Goon. They will choose tree agents each for the mission. The meeting is adjourned. I expect to meet Captain Ekorre and Tenants Albino and Darkstar in the War Room in ten minutes."
As the crowd was leaving the Meeting Room, ACK went by the side of Shadow and Had, who were talking closely. "You two bastards are with me" said the fake robot, while looking around at all the faces, to find the other one that could suit him best.
|
|
|
|
|
Joined: Oct 2003
Posts: 101
Bitchswitch 100+ posts
|
|
Bitchswitch 100+ posts
Joined: Oct 2003
Posts: 101 |
The sun was setting in the seemingly calm evening, coloring the wide fields of wheat with an orange glow. A light breeze rippled the flowing tops of grain, as a slow creaking noise began to drift along a nearby road.
An older man, his face ripe with the aged harshness of toiling fields, pushed the rickety wooden cart with a slow, steady pace. The shaky left wheel creaked with constant precision; the harsh, grey pebbles of the unpaved road leaving an age-old film of dust and wear along the chipped cedar.
The farmer began to slow to a stop, as a series of vibrations started picking up under the worn soles of his boots. He slowly turned a bit, his stiff neck refusing to cooperate. Down the road, coming up fast, a series of lights met his eyes.
The ground began to vibrate a bit harder, as the farmer squinted his eyes, trying to see past the lights.
They were growing, faster and faster....getting closer and closer...
Suddenly, a low wave of bass rattled the back of his teeth, as two Royal Mandelovian personnel transports shot past with a roar of anti-grav pistons.
The farmer gripped the hat on his head tight, as a plume of dust enveloped him in the backlash of speed...
"...why doesn't that guy just fly?" Ozzy asked, peering out through the rear observation window.
The interior of the transport was spacious, comfortable, and brimming with the ever-present superior technological advance that had made Mandelovia so very famous.
"Contrary to popular belief, not everyone in Mandelovia is a metahuman." Phil replied, lounging back in one of the luxurious leather seaters.
"Well, why doesn't he have a...a 'flying car'...like this one...?" he asked, still staring at the farmer, growing smaller in the distance. "I thought Schanz said Maldanolvia had tech that kicked everything..."
"Sure. They do..." Smith nodded, his head propped in his palm. "...but, most of the patents are owned by either the government, or corporations."
Ozzy sat back in his lounger, finally facing forward again. Phil sat facing him, legs propped on the small bolted table seperating them.
"So, even in an advanced society, the rich stay rich..."
"...and the poor go without anti-gravitational transports..." Phil added with a wry smile.
Ozzy grunted, folding his arms with a yawn.
"...damn...I think I'm going to get some shut-eye..." he said, his eyes already closed. "...wake me when we get to the Palace..."
"What are you doing here?"
Ozzy's eyes opened.
"What...?" he asked, his voice hoarse with fatigue.
Phil stared at him. Not in an unkind manner. But, with one of skepticism. An aloofness, obvious, yet, subtle.
"What...are...you...doing...here?" he asked, slowly.
"The boss hasn't filled you guys in?" he replied, his eyes closing again.
"All we know is that you and Diff' over here...", he thumbed to his right, the alien Adem Different never looking up from his study of Jym. "...were brought in to compensate for an unexpected loss of manpower."
Baxter sighed.
"I'm a prisoner, man." he responded. "Due to some unforseen complications...and some pretty shitty luck...I'm doing a long, long tour in the 'Vanguard Army'."
"...okay..." Phil nodded, still not quite sure what he meant.
"Sorry." Ozzy said, his eyes still closed. "Was that not what you wanted to hear?"
"No, no...I had no expectations, either way." Smith shrugged. "We're all here for crazy reasons."
"And you just wanted to know what brand of 'crazy' I brought to the mix?"
"Something like that..." Phil smiled.
Ozzy grinned, even though his eyes remained closed.
{Searching....searching...}
"Oh, damn well speed it up, eh?" Adem said with abruptness.
{Yes, yes of course...pardon me for taking so very long. I am, only, scanning every database of the entire species...}
"Sarcasm, Jym? Was that sarcasm?" he asked, leaning in a bit closer to the palm screen.
{Of course not. That is against the rules.}
"The rules? What rules?"
{Page four-thousand, seven-hundred-fifty, paragraph three, sub-section Alpha-J-Nine of the Exquisite First Class Paradise Galactic Travel Agency Employee Guidelines: At no given time shall any employee engage in any harmful, offensive, provocative, intelligent, luring, embarrassing, insulting, or sarcastic characteristic, language, posture, dialect, or sodium-oxide content which may provoke, cajole, cause, enable, demand, force, or negotiate any given client's immediate perception of reality into a frame other than the one in which he/she/GOBULUS/they/it originally possessed at the time of contract signature.}
Adem opened his mouth to speak...
{Forthwith, shall no member, being, prodigy, relation, or imaginary janitor of the aformentioned Exquisite First Class Paradise Galactic Travel Agency make any infered, implied, repeated, blatant--}
"Jym."
{--boisterous, arrogant, asinine, flagrant--}
"Jym!"
Phil glanced over at the alien, even as Ozzy cracked a single eye into a barely open slit.
{...Yes...?}
"Listen, I simply asked for the type of transportation that peculiar soil-walker--"
"It's called a 'cart'."
Adem paused, looking over towards Phil.
"Cart." he repeated with a nod.
"Right."
"What is the fusion-consumption rate of this...'cart'?"
Phil grinned.
"It...doesn't have those...things..." he answered. "It's a box...on two wheels..."
Adem's eyes peered at the man. Then, he looked back down at Jym.
"You didn't tell me Perdita--"
{Earth.}
"You didn't tell me Earth had made contact with the Bokkz Colony."
{I believe the mammal's usage of the word is in reference to 'a four-sided object of various practicality and function; a fundamental geometric shape of considerable simplicity'.}
"Ah." Adem nodded, looking back up at Phil. "This...'bokkz'...how does it travel?"
"Well...as I said, it's on two wheels..."
"Right....right..." Adem nodded.
He jerked his eyes back down towards Jym.
"What the gargleblaster is a 'wheel'...?"
Seated back-to-back with the grouping of chairs, another row of loungers accomadated two more passengers.
Tayden's eyes stared out at the passing countryside, the sunlight playing off his thick locks, the vaguest hint of a golden aura settling upon his head.
Brianna sat across from him, her gaze set on the fiery sunset, as well.
They had sat there for the past half-hour in silence. Not the awkward silence of strangers, mind you. Just, a pleasant, peaceful silence, borne of thoughful minds.
But, within that silence, a small tune had been forming in the air between the two. A melody, that had begun humming ever-so-lightly on Tayden's lips. The flowing notes, barely above a whisper, had worked its way into Bri's daydream, the song flowing in time under her breath.
After a time, she slowly looked up, realizing that she had been singing.
And that Tayden was singing the same song.
"...and the sun shall rise, when winter sets...the birth of gods brings nature's rest..." they both sang in a quiet harmony.
Brianna sighed with a heavy emotion.
"...that's...Ava' Taria..." she finally spoke, her voice hush.
Tayden's mouth crinkled into the barest of smiles, never breaking his tune, even as he turned his eyes towards her.
Brianna stared at him, his perfect pitch flowing softly across her ears.
"I...I used to...sing it...every night..." she spoke, staring almost wide-eyed at him. "...in the prison..."
"...sitting on your bed...huddled in the dark..." Tayden's voice soothed.
"...all those nights..." she continued. "...I couldn't..."
"...you couldn't sleep...you would sing Ava' Taria to soothe your mind..."
"It was...something I had heard when I was a child..." she said, her eyes wide with random memories of years gone by. "...it's about the death of structure...the death of oppression..."
"It comforted you...wrapped you in a blanket of warmth and familiarity..."
"How...how do you know these things about me?" she asked, staring at the smiling ex-angel.
"My dear girl..." he replied. "...I was always with you..."
"Harvard? Really?" Phil asked with a hint of bemusement.
"Yep." Ozzy replied, his eyes still closed. "I held the feather-weight belt for three years."
"So, that's where that scar comes from..."
Ozzy reached up, grazing his fingers across the small scar along the corner of his left eye.
"Yeah...Chester Barris..." the man said. "...what a prick that guy was, let me tell you...but, damn if he didn't have left-hook that cracked the sound barrier..."
"So, you haven't been...'indestructible'...all of your life, huh?"
"Nope. Got tough about thirteen years ago."
"Weird."
"What?"
"Well, I mean, metagenes usually fire during puberty. Wonder why yours waited so long?"
Ozzy shrugged.
"Who knows? Probably all that pot I smoked during my pseudo-Bohemian years....stunted my growth..."
"Is that why your hair is white?"
Ozzy's eyes opened, his head raising with an annoyed air.
"You sure ask alot of questions, man..." Baxter said, an irritated expression crossing his face.
"Sorry. Didn't mean to hit a nerve." Smith shrugged.
Meanwhile, in the second transport, Chance, Grimm, Priest, Velo, Nadia, and Drax discussed their quickly approaching encounter with D'Goon...
|
|
|
|
|
Joined: Jun 2002
Posts: 19,546 Likes: 1
living in 1962 15000+ posts
|
|
living in 1962 15000+ posts
Joined: Jun 2002
Posts: 19,546 Likes: 1 |
Strikeforce HeadQuarters As ACK, Had, and Shadow attempted to decide on their final member, the three men's eyes came to rest on a large metal chamber sitting at the back of the room. The chamber sat on the twin forks of a forklift. The driver smoked a cigarette and read a magazine while he waited for the meeting to end. Inside the chamber a slender man with a runner's build, sat still, several wires hooked into his body, pumping fluids into him. The man wore dark reddish brown lightweight leather armor which covered the majority of his body. Green tinted goggles covered his eyes. He stood very still in the middle of the chamber. "Who the fuck is that?" Shadow asked. Before ACK could reply, he was interrupted by Jack Merlin, the Strikeforce leader. "That is a very dangerous man. He is not available for your team, ACK. He's very dangerous and very psychotic. He's only to be freed as a last resort." "But, who is he?" ACK responded to his leader, his curiousity piqued. "He calls himself Amuck. His meta power is fairly common, superspeed. However, it's his mind that makes him dangerous. Take a little closer look at his armor. Take a look at his knees, elbows, knuckles. The top of his head. He's got spikes everywhere." The three Strikeforce members murmured to themselves, astonished. "That's not all. He has knives hidden in his sleeves near his forearms. He presses a hidden button and they pop out. Superspeed disembowelment. Or what have you." "That's fucked up, man." Shadow said looking over at Had. Had just nodded in agreement. "Why the armor?" Had asked Merlin, looking the dangerous meta over. "He doesn't have the greatest control. Sometimes he has trouble stopping. The leather armor protects him, similar to a motorcyclists leather." Merlin replied. "Where-where did you find this guy?" ACK stammered out at Merlin. "He was part of a group of mercenaries who battled the Vanguard several months ago.* Took on their superspeedster. Did pretty well for himself. However, the Vanguard, in the end, defeated them rather soundly, as I mentioned at the briefing. We found him, took him in, and coerced him to join. Now, if you'll excuse me." And with that, Jack Merlin walked off to oversee his plans. * To be seen in my upcoming Vanguard story.
|
|
|
|
|
Joined: Aug 2001
Posts: 1,645
1500+ posts
|
|
1500+ posts
Joined: Aug 2001
Posts: 1,645 |
Spaceship Nibiru, orbital headquarter of the Strikeforce 1
The War Room of the Nibiru was an obscure vault, whose only lights came from many digital maps of many regions of Earth, suspended at mid air by an invisible force. Just one of the maps was horizontal, floating at less than one meter above the floor, the Antarctic Continent standing white over black Oceans.
Around it, at each side of the glowing square, stood four persons wearing the silver and grey suit of the Strikeforce1 members.
One, a young adult with long white hairs, was pointing at spots over the map with his walking cane, adorned with a green diamond on top. His name was Jack Merlin, The Walker, and was the secret leader of the Strikeforce1. Son of the mysterious man known as Myrrdhin, the old Neanderthal, since his time as a kid, more than a hundred of years ago, he rebelled to his parent, seeking allegiance and selling favors to the richest and powerful men of the planet.
On his right stood a much more tall, blond ageless man, known as Captain Olaf Ekorre, presented to the people of the world as the leader of this United Nations peacekeeping force. The truth is different, and the name Olaf just a makeshift name for . Born 40.000 years ago, he was sent by the elders of his race to hunt some fugitive criminals. Sucked into a temporal distortion, he and his crew emerged in the present, to find that their targets had repaired on Earth, where they helped create civilization, being worshipped as gods for many millennia, surviving for ages up to today.
Next is an African man, as tall as the alien, his face marked by ritual scars. On his left hands, a magical staff that allows him to control lighting and thunder. Named Inkwennkwezi Emnyama, Darkstar, his eyes are locked over the finger of Merlin, calculating distances over map, confronting each possible way to attack the Antarctic Continent.
The last one is just a child, Pedro Delgado of La Perdita. For the press and the people of the world, he is Albino, the child genius with a natural gift for the art of war. And if the notion of a child versed in violence is disturbing, the truth is even worse: the metagene that determined his gift, also gave him an irresistible attraction for the taste of the human flesh.
"We are expecting another strike from Naecken for the next thirty-six hours. The month he has given for surrender end today" said Merlin. "When the next city will be destroyed, hopefully we'll be bale to detect the point from which the meteors are thrown, and destroy whatever kind of technology is behind it."
"And we'll have to do quickly. We have been able to keep any nation to surrender to Naecken with the blackmail of using the metagene virus over their populace... but after another meteor, many will follow the example set by Mandelovia" said the kid.
"In any case, we have still the problem of finding the location of Naecken's fortress" noted Ekorre.
"And that's why we have to capture D'Goon and make him talk. He is the only one who knows where Naecken is" said Merlin.
|
|
|
|
|
Joined: Oct 2003
Posts: 101
Bitchswitch 100+ posts
|
|
Bitchswitch 100+ posts
Joined: Oct 2003
Posts: 101 |
"...and now the recoil valve...no. No, the recoil valve..." Priest added, leaning over the table.
"...this is not the reco--" Nadia asked, staring at the cylindrical rod in her left hand.
"That's the sequencing charger..."
"...wait, you said this--"
"Ha! No, no I said that was the--no, that one...here...let me show you..." Priest chuckled, reaching across the small table.
Spread between he and Nadia, multiple sections of Priest's 22nd Century rifle littered the surface with a meticulous placement.
Gabriel gripped Nadia's hands lightly, guiding the rod into the fiber-mesh opening of a small octagonal object.
"...and then, inject the firing charge through the auxillary housing..." he continued, staring as he helped Nadia put the gun together.
Nadia continued to listen to his words, building her understanding of the man's futuristic hardware. But, ever so slowly, as Priest continued to guide her hands, her eyes lifted up, followed by a devilish smile.
"So..." she began. "...you've shown me how to improvise with your big.......hard...."
...Priest's eyes slowly raised to meet hers...
"....gun..." she continued, allowing the obvious flirtation to play over her eyes. "Perhaps I can instruct you on something of my speciality....da?"
Walker stared at her briefly, suddenly becoming aware that he was still holding her hands.
He immediately jerked away, sitting quickly back in his seat; Nadia just giggling at the display.
"What is wrong?" she asked, a broad smile continuing to adorn. "Don't tell me a big, strapping man such as yourself is afraid of a challenge?"
Priest looked all around him quickly, to see if anyone had witnessed the moment.
"I..." he began. Then, looking around a bit again, leaned across the table, trying to get as close as possible.
"I..." he began again, in a whisper. "...I think we are a bit BUSY, right now, don't you?"
"Ve' still have over an hour before we reach the capital..." she replied with a purr.
"It's..."
He paused, looking around again.
"It's not exactly like we have any privacy, either!" he said, a seeming paranoia settling into his tone.
Nadia looked away, searching the interior of the transport.
"Well...there is a bathroom, right over there..." she replied, the grin appearing again.
"...Nadia..." Priest sighed.
In the aft-section of the transport, Grimm's dark visage peered tirelessly out the rear observation window...
"What's the score?" Chance asked, walking up next to the giant, staring out the window with a mock interest.
Grimm just cocked his head around, staring at the new leader.
"Come on, Grimm..." Chance elbowed him in the ribs, with a small grin. "...it's a joke."
"If you say so."
Grimm turned back towards the window.
"What's wrong with you?" Chance asked. "I mean, your not the jolliest of fellows, I'll admit. But, you're acting strange, even for you. Hell, you're positively grim..."
Grimm turned back towards him, opening his mouth to speak...
"Yes, that was a joke, too." the leader sighed, before he could ever speak.
"Since when did you visciously slaughter someone elses sense of humor, and disguise the corpse as your own?"
"Oh, I don't know..." Schanze shrugged. "...I guess I'd say since a demon-lord-former-teammate decimated the eastern U.S. seaboard...Vanguard was blackmailed and framed into global treason...and...oh yes....it was all dumped into my lap."
The Swede sighed heavily.
"Yep. That about covers it." he nodded. "The pressure of having to save the entire planet tends to lend oneself a sense of the absurd, and whimsical..."
"Puts it all into perspective, huh?"
"...and how..." Chance nodded, leaning against the frame of the window.
They both sighed, looking back out the window.
"Still...what's up?" he asked, never looking at Grimm. "You seem a bit off."
"Hey, I got shoved into a command position, too, you know..."
"Ohhhh, come on...." Chance ragged him. "The avatar of Death scared of a little responsibility? Sorry. You can do better than that."
Grimm grunted.
"What are we doing, Kristofer?" he asked.
"You mean traveling half-way across the globe to protect a power-mad despot?" he asked.
He glanced back at the dark man sitting in the corner.
"Or traveling half-way across the globe with a power-mad despot?" he said, his eyes transfixed on Smith.
"Well...that too." Grimm nodded, as they both turned back towards the window. "No, I mean, what's up with all these new guys?"
"You mean all TWO of them...?" Chance cocked an eyebrow.
"Still...what's going on? We're headed into a very dangerous, as well as, personal mission..." he replied. "...and we're going to just bring two new employees along for the ride?"
"We need the manpower..."
"Sure. A stranger that we were forced to put on the field team, and a...a...guy...that appeared on our fucking conference table!" he almost exclaimed.
"I know, I know....but, what else do you propose I do? After losing Bell, Danny, Euro, and Mick..."
"So we just accept two strangers right on in?"
"It's our only choice."
"It's absurd."
"Why do you think I'm making jokes?"
Grimm turned to stare at the leader with a deep sigh.
"I miss Danny." he said.
Chance smiled, slapping the giant on the shoulder.
"Me, too, man....me, too..."
Back-to-back with Priest's section, Kristogar Velo sat rigid, studying political files, geographical maps, and all the information he could gather on D'Goon's Mandelovia. He had been at it for the last forty-five minutes. As well as, the four hours it had taken to get to Espertingonzia. As well as, the six hours between the time the crisis had erupted, and their departure from La Perdita.
Velo finally slapped the folder down onto the table with the briefest of anger, placing two fingers to his temples. Resting his face in his hands with fatigue, Velo sighed with a desperate frustration. Drake remained fast asleep, slumped against the wall next to him.
"Still searching, eh, Kristogar?"
Velo's eyes rose to meet Smith's dark pupils peering out from his shaded form in the corner.
KV said nothing, turning his eyes back towards the closed folder.
"Looking for a way out?" Smith's cat-like growl of a voice seeped with a malicious glee. "Trying to outmanuever the impossible?"
"..leave it alone Smith..." he replied under his breath.
"Oh, have I offended you yet? Have I hurt your feelings? Am I stepping on tender...lovely...deliscious despair...?"
Velo cut his eyes back at Smith.
"Get your fix from someone else, you worthless bastard."
Smith smiled.
"Oh, but my dear man, you have more than enough to satiate my immediate needs." he replied. "The guilt. The despair. It's all my fault...."
Velo's eyes narrowed, as Smith continued to pry into his emotional state.
"...I was the one who made the deal with D'Goon....I'm the one leading my friends into danger....or......perhaps, death..."
"I...said....piss...off..." Velo replied.
Smith chuckled.
"You are in denial, old man..." he said.
Velo sneered.
"No. I'm in deep concentration." Kristogar replied. "Yes, I'm the one that got them into this...."
He paused, making sure that Smith could see the focus and sincerity of his words.
"...but, by god, I will find a way to get them out..."
|
|
|
|
|
Joined: Jun 2002
Posts: 19,546 Likes: 1
living in 1962 15000+ posts
|
|
living in 1962 15000+ posts
Joined: Jun 2002
Posts: 19,546 Likes: 1 |
Gen. D'Goon's Palace
Just outside the futuristic capital city of Mandelovia, New Mandelovia.
General D'Goon's aides, Klaatu, Barada, and Nikto rushed down a hallway leading towards their leader's office. This was the day they had awaited since the unexpected disappearance of D'Goon's right hand man, Col. Nemo. Today, D'Goon would pick his Minister of State. Each man had his eye on the prize, as it were. Each man believed himself most suited for the job. And each man, of course, had been plotting how to outdo the other two and grab for himself the role.
"I don't why the two of you even bothered coming here today." Klaatu hissed. "I'm the General's favored. Everyone knows that."
"Hmmph." Nikto sneered. "The General only tolerates you because it amuses him to watch you handle petty tasks like clean his private transport. I'm the one he gives important jobs to."
"You are both pathetic." Barada "I am a war hero. Col. Nemo himself was my commander. I crushed many foes for Nemo, as I have for the General afterward. When he appoints me Minister, you shall both be my servants."
"Silence, you fools. We're here." Klaatu hissed again, knocking on the General's office door.
"Who is there?" a loud, deep voice came from the inside.
"Klaatu, Barada, and Nikto, General D'Goon's aides. We are here for the appointment of the General's new Minister of State." Klaatu informed the voice.
"Come in!"
The heavy oak wood door openened and the three men entered D'Goon's office. Armed guards stood on either side of the door, one holding the door open for them. D'Goon himself sat in a plush chair behind a large desk, in full uniform. A large man stood behind him, just to the right, slightly shadowed by the curtains of the windows behind D'Goon's desk.
"Ahh, my friends! Welcome! You are just in time to witness the appointment of my new Minister of State!" D'Goon exclaimed as he stood from his chair and held out his arms in front of him.
"Yes, General, sir, we have been waiting for this most anxiously." Klaatu replied, holding his hands together.
"Well, then, let me keep you waiting no longer. Allow me to introduce you to him."
"Intro. . .duce. . .?!"
". . .us.. .to. . .?"
". . .him?!" the three aides spoke, completing the thought and looking at each other quizzically.
"Come, my friend, there is no need to be shy. You will soon know these three men very well." D'Goon motioned towards the man by the curtains and he stepped forth out of the shadows.
The man was tall and broad shouldered. He wore a grey military uniform jacket with black boots and one black glove on his left hand. He wore dark glasses with round lenses. He was caucasian, with dark hair, slicked back on his head.
"Gentlemen, allow me to introduce you to my new Minister of State. Baron Zero." D'Goon beamed as he wrapped one arm around Zero's broad shoulders.
|
|
|
|
|
Joined: Oct 2001
Posts: 2,080
2000+ posts
|
|
2000+ posts
Joined: Oct 2001
Posts: 2,080 |
The convoy of transport vehicles carrying the Vanguardians of La Perdita passed quickly over the farmlands in western Mandelovia, carefully skirting the perfectly circular "Mandelovian Desert" upon which no plants grew, and in which the soil had long since lost any nutritional value it once had. Brianna stared wistfully out the windows, catching the glimpses of the landscape as best she could and noting that the edge of the Desert was very abrupt -- it was sand, and then it was grass and farmlands, and the forest and mountains could be seen on the other side of the Desert to the northeast. It seemed odd, but mostly because she had not much to compare it to. Everything she saw was new to her, everything an adventure, since she had lived most of her life in a prison which severely limited her experiences. And while she knew she should feel some kind of apprehension at being in the situation she and her team ("her team" sounded like a nice phrase to her now) found themselves in here in this foreign land, the presence of this earthbound angel next to her was strangely calming, the words he (it?) had spoken still meditating in her mind.
The hereditary farmlands quickly gave way to the advanced hydroponic farms, and then the suburbs, and finally the city of Mandelovia itself from which the nation took its name. The city was fairly large, extending more than 20 kilometres in some places from the coastline from the Gulf of Trieste in the Adriatic Sea, and while most of it seemed to be fairly advanced and in good repair, there were areas which had more of an Old Europe flavour to them. Almost all of the nation of Mandelovia was urban, with the exception of the northern part of the country, which was dominated by the unique Mandelovian Desert, the farmlands and the vineyards, and the forests and finally the mountains to the northeast, a tract of land which was ceded to the nation during the time of Napoleon.
In the other transport vehicle, Chance still stood next to Grimm mostly in silence; the two men in the team were the closest in age, both born in 1974, though they were never really friends. Valued teammates, yes, but not close like Chance was close with Edulcore, Danny, Henry, or even Grissom. However, Grimm was reliable. He was rock-solid as far as Chance knew, which was why he appointed him second-in-command; unlike the other long-time Vanguardians he was sure there wouldn't be any real "surprises" from Grimm which would make things difficult. As the transport ships passed through the city, Chance spoke to Grimm without turning to face his skeletal visage which he'd become strangely used to by now. "This is my last mission, Grimm."
Grimm didn't respond for a moment. Finally, he turned as the realization of Chance's words sunk in, and he said simply, "What...?"
"I've realized that, for the last half-year, I've been doing nothing but coasting through the missions, just running on the momentum I had begun at the beginning of the year with the Lost City of the Dragons case and the miscellaneous solo missions I took on then. But now I'm spent. It was bad enough when Danny was kidnapped and we were blackmailed into working for a calculating, manipulative Nazi like Charles Walker, but to follow that up with being coerced into working for a pennyante dictator like General D'goon? It's too much. I've got to get away from this business, if only for just a while."
Grimm took all this in with his usual quiet, somewhat intimidating manner. "So what will you do instead?"
"I don't know. Anything, I guess. I used to have a solid career as a chemist, and although circumstances prevent me from returning to my old employer -- particularly since this world's Kristofer Schanz is dead -- I was thinking I could start up something of my own somewhere else, perhaps. Hell, I have a ton of other interests I could give as much time to if I wanted to do so -- archaeology, wildlife rehabilitation... maybe write novels or begin directing art-house films, I dunno." He paused in reflection for a moment, a smile passing over his lips. "I've begun seeing Charley, you know, and I was thinking of asking her to take a trip with me. Somewhere away from all the madness of the world."
"You can't escape it, you know," Grimm said. "The 'Life' finds you wherever you are. You should know that by now. Hell, look at me, do you think I WANT to look like this?"
Chance took a good, long look at Grimm's face. It was like looking at Death itself, a more literal thing than he wanted to accept. Grimm had no skin on his skull. The holes where his eyes should be were blacker than the deepest shadows. There was no escaping for him. "I... I guess not." He turned away. "But I'm getting out while I still can. I'm not saying I won't be back, but... well, I need to go before I lose my soul to this job."
Grimm became silent as death once again.
The Swede was also silent for a few moments more, until the convoy began to slow its speed. The Old City could be seen a few blocks away, and beyond that, the Presidential Palace on Mandelov Square some half a mile from the harbour and the vacant beach areas. The Parliament and City Hall were on the opposite side of the Square from the Palace, while other government buildings were on either side. Mandelov Square itself was a park with a podium once used for political rallies (now outlawed) as well as the occasional outdoor symphony, among other things; a statue of the nation's founder, Boris Mandelov, had been erected long ago in the centre of the Square by proud citizens of this small but not-insignificant nation. The D'goon Lighthouse (named for an esteemed ancestor of the present Mandelovian ruler) which could be seen in the distance on Nomad Reef off the shore had fallen into disuse, replaced by a modern Coast Guard (the so-called "Mandelovian Navy") nearby.
The Palace, however, was a beautiful sight to behold despite the circumstances. It was a three-story, two-winged building with high, ivory-encrusted monolithic stone walls with terraces and bay windows on each floor, as well as a smaller loft with a skylight on the roof somewhat hidden from view. The Mandelovian Estate upon which it lay was upon a promontory very steep on the side facing the sea, and which was completely lined by oak trees and contained one inner and two outer courtyards in the rear of the building between the east and west wings, while an honour court was in front of the Palace. The Mandelovian Honour Guard, whose role it was to protect the President-Prime Minister (though the country had no PPM since 2002 but only a military ruler in General D'goon) and the Presidential Palace itself, was stationed around the entire Estate in constant and stoic vigilance similar to Royal Palaces in other European capitals. The Mandelovian flags lining the honour court proudly displayed bars of blue, green and orange -- signifying fishing, agriculture, and the only desert in Europe -- as if all was right with the world.
The convoy slowed to a snail's pace as it entered the honour court in front of the Palace and settled down. The Vanguardians were left to wait in the vehicles until they were cleared to enter.
Chance shook his head. He said in a voice quiet enough so only Grimm could hear, "I don't think I've ever mentioned this to anyone but Dan, Ed, and the Doc, but I've met General D'goon before. It wasn't quite the same Colton D'goon, of course, since it was in my timeline, but I may possess a slight advantage in that I know him and things about him which he shouldn't realize I know.
"In my timeline, the history of our team was similar to that of yours, except when the team was in Mandelovia when General D'goon took power, instead of fleeing the country at his mercy, we stopped him."
Grimm looked at Chance with a look that could have been his equivalent of raising one eyebrow in slight surprise.
"He was obviously an evil, power-hungry man who used his so-called 'patriotism' for the country as well as brute force to manipulate people in order to gain power and hold on to it by any means necessary. We captured him for the authorities, allowing the Mandelovian people to elect a new President-Prime Minister. And life went on as normal there. No 'extended martial law', no curfews, no dictatorship, no brainwashing of the populace. The Mandelovia of my timeline was a free country, and I believe it remains so today. There were details about General D'goon, though, that came out during the trial. Things he doesn't know that I know -- Li'l Jo was a good spy for D'goon, but I've never been a 'cat person' and never allowed that animal anywhere near me during any of my private conversations with the others. I'm willing to bet that that will give me a slight edge if we run into any problems."
A moment later, the Army transport vehicles were opened, and the members of Vanguard International set foot on the Palace grounds.
|
|
|
|
|
Joined: Oct 2001
Posts: 2,080
2000+ posts
|
|
2000+ posts
Joined: Oct 2001
Posts: 2,080 |
INTERLUDE
Absalom was beginning to feel better hour by hour. Finally the sickness was passing even as his strength was growing. The nightmares would still not cease, however, and he found it difficult to sleep. The sometimes-unfathomable images which flashed across his unconscious mind were so terrible, so utterly frightening, that he could not recall them at all when he awoke. The only thing he could remember was the terror.
He found that the only way to reduce the problems of the nightmares was to stay up all night and sleep during the day, but he knew this could only be a temporary solution. After all, he couldn't go outside during the nighttime -- that was no option on this particular island -- but Absalom was becoming stir-crazy. He needed to get out.
Thus he managed to fall asleep during the night and get up in the morning. The nightmare still returned, of course, but it didn't seem quite so bad now that his energy was back to a certain extent.
Now Absalom found himself sitting in front of the TV, watching his favorite show, The Adventures of Disco Steve, while Mrs. Valasquez finished up all the baking she had begun early that morning which she would bring next door to the coffee shop which bought them from her on a regular basis. It didn't bring in much money, but her taking in Absalom for a time was helping to supplement her income -- Mason Templar always paid well for services done.
Absalom noticed that Mrs. Valasquez had been acting strange around him, though, and he worried about her. He wondered if she would hate him if she knew he was different, and whether or not she already knew. In any case, she tried to act as caring and motherly as usual, but it was awkward. Maybe it would pass. Grown-ups were difficult to understand sometimes, that was for sure.
Finally the sunshine coming in from outside was too much. The boy had to get out sometime, despite the risks. "Ma'am? Ma'am Valasquez?" he walked into the kitchen again and saw her on the telephone. She was talking too quietly for him to hear, and she finished whatever she was saying and said goodbye in Spanish, then hung up. "Who were you talking to?"
"Oh, jus' my mama," she said, averting her eyes from him as she said this and affecting a smile. Absalom couldn't figure out why she was lying.
"I'm gonna go out now, okay?" the brown-haired boy said. "I think Mason would understand. I'm feeling a lot better, and I can't be inside all the time, now can I?"
She looked at him with that caring and proud expression on her face which she'd had every time he began to be able to do things for himself again without help. It was nice. It was like she was a mother again. The moment passed just as quickly, however, and she answered him in a wavering voice, "O-okay." That was it. Just "okay." No questions about where he would go, or concerns about whether he was wearing too little or too much clothing. Just "okay."
Absalom smiled at her, a smile which she quickly returned, and he turned (catching a glimpse of her crossing herself) and went up to his room to get changed into some shorts and a T-shirt. She was scared of him. Why was she scared of him? Why?
He knew he had to get out of the house right now, if only to give them both some much-needed time alone. Maybe things would be better later on. He finished getting his clothes on, put on his sandals, and grabbed an old baseball-type cap that said "Valasquez Automotive" and the sunglasses he used when he arrived on the island with Mason. No sense taking any chances.
END INTERLUDE
|
|
|
|
|
Joined: Jun 2002
Posts: 19,546 Likes: 1
living in 1962 15000+ posts
|
|
living in 1962 15000+ posts
Joined: Jun 2002
Posts: 19,546 Likes: 1 |
"General, you cannot be serious?!" Nikto was outraged. "Making this. . .outsider. . ."
"A NON-Mandelovian!" Klaatu offered.
"Yes, thank you, non-Mandelovian, your Minister. It is unheard of!" Nikto finished.
Barada was silent, taking in the situation.
"Gentlemen, allow me to explain," D'Goon began.
"No, General, I can speak for myself." Baron Zero offered, moving forward to speak to the three men. "You see, friends, I AM a Mandelovian. I was born in Mandelovia and spent my early years here. My mother and I were forced to leave when I was young, due to some, unpleasant circumstances. I spent many, many years wandering through Europe, wanting only to return to my native land. I became a mercenary, with thoughts only to make enough money to get home. We are freedom fighters, my friends and I. No matter what some may call us, terrorists, cultists. You know how Europe, and especially the Americans, have always looked down upon Mandelovia and her sons."
The three men nodded in agreement at this.
"And now, I am here. The General has graciously accepted me and offered me this position in his time of need. I look forward to working with you all." Zero finished and looked back towards D'Goon.
"Well said, my friend, well said. Now the Vanguards should be arriving soon, so let us plan. . ." as the men huddled around D'Goon. . .
|
|
|
|
|
Joined: Jun 2002
Posts: 24,593
Timelord. Drunkard. 15000+ posts
|
|
Timelord. Drunkard. 15000+ posts
Joined: Jun 2002
Posts: 24,593 |
Nibiru, orbital headquarter of the Strikeforce 1
Jack Merlin's footsteps echoed through the metal corridor as he decended deeper into the core of the ship. He stopped in front of a door and stood perfectly still as lasers criss-crossed his eyes. The red light above the door faded and a green took its place as the reinforced door slowly pulled itself open to a room that was as unknown to everyone else as its contents.
Lights blinked. Wires ran this way and that. The room was actually a long shaft. A covered catwalk broke through the mesh of wiring and support beams. On its other side was a rotating room; but, in reality, it wasn't the room that rotated. In fact, it was the axis on which the rest of the ship spun around to generate its gravity.
Merlin reached the axis and waited for the portal to come around again. As if he were merely jumping onto a carnival merry-go-round, he grabbed onto a metal handle and leapt into the room.
"Status report," he commanded.
In the center of the room, a man sat encased in circuits, wires, metals, and plastics. His shaved head was littered with probes that entered through the skull and into his brain. The eyes were closed. The body was withered and useless. Tubes both feed and drained him. The man sat motionless, but still answered with a voice that was detatched from his body and very electronic. "LIFE SUPPORT AT FULL CAPACITY. GRAVITY...."
"Let me clarify," Merlin interrupted. "Give me a status report on the situation in Mandelovia."
"MILITARY PERSONELLE BUILD UP HAS INCREASED BY 25%. RESOURCE ALLOCATION AND MANUFACTURING OUTPUT SHOW AN ADDITIONAL 10% INCREASE. TROOP MOVEMENT TO MANDELOVIAN BORDERS SHOWS APPROXIMATELY 53% OF THEIR FORCES HAVE BEEN DEPLOYED SO FAR. ALL DATA COLLECTED AND ANALYZED SO FAR COME WITHIN A 1.39405% MARGIN OF ERROR."
"And Antartica?"
"STATION WEAPONS SYSTEMS ARE BEING UPDATED TO FIT NECESSARY PARAMETERS. MOVEMENT TO PROPER ORBITAL POSITION WILL BE COMPLETED IN 9 HOURS, 37 MINUTES, AND 59 SECONDS." There was a slight hesitation, as though the man were trying to deduce something that fell out of his specialty of scientific data and numbers. "CALCULATED SIDE EFFECTS OF CONTINGENCY PLAN ARE MEASURED ON A GLOBAL SCALE. SIMULATIONS SHOW THE RISE OF OCEAN LEVELS ALONE...
"I know the consequences, Brain," Merlin cut the man off. "That's why it is called a contingency plan. You only use it if you have to. Continue to process all incoming information and relaying it to the main consoles." He stood at the opening for a moment before hoping off and walking back down the catwalk.
The Brain sat as motionless as ever as the world outside his room spun around him. All intel and ship related data was pumped directly into his mind which almost instantaneously processed and redirected it to its needed destination. His mind controlled all of the Nibiru.
|
|
|
|
|
Joined: Jun 2002
Posts: 24,593
Timelord. Drunkard. 15000+ posts
|
|
Timelord. Drunkard. 15000+ posts
Joined: Jun 2002
Posts: 24,593 |
"Weren't you wearing something else when you got on the transport?" Grimm asked Adem confused.
"It didn't suit me," Adem replied. He was now wearing a grey buttoned up business suit with a white shirt and black tie. Fine quality black leather shoes adorned his feet. "Heh! I believe that was a pun. Though it was totally unintentional, I still find it to have a quality of humor about it that...."
"I think that's enough," Grimm semi-ordered. "Why are you wearing that now?"
"Not your style?" A band of white light flowed down Adem's body as the grey suit was erased and replaced by a leather jacket with chains, metal guantlets, ripped blue jeans, and sturdy black boots that matched the skull faced man. "This more to your liking?"
"It doesn't suit you," Grimm replied slightly angered and terribly insulted. "You'd better join up with the rest of the group."
{What was that about?} Jym asked as the avatar of death lumbered off.
"I have no idea," Different replied as the white light returned the business suit. "I feel that these humans are going to very tricky to manuever through. You had better make it a priority to compute our exact location and how to return home. I don't know how much longer we'd make it on this hostile world."
Priest kept his ever watchful eye on Adem Different as the stranger communicated to his AI friend. Adem wandered over to the rest of the group hoping to keep updated on what was going on. The futuristic soldier trailed behind the rest.
|
|
|
|
|
Joined: Oct 2003
Posts: 101
Bitchswitch 100+ posts
|
|
Bitchswitch 100+ posts
Joined: Oct 2003
Posts: 101 |
The Vanguardians were led into the Palace, escorted by the Royal Guard...
"привет..."
Ozzy glanced back over his shoulder, a tall, lean redhead stepping to catch up with his pace.
"...личный имя Nadia..." the fluent dialect flowed from her tongue. "...сокр говорить русский?"
"I...uhh..." Ozzy stammered, a bit taken back by the pure confidence that marked this woman's every body language. "...I don't speak...whatever that it..."
"Russian..." she intoned with a dull accent. "As I said, my name is Nadia."
Ozzy nodded, shaking her hand lightly.
"Right. Ozzy." he replied.
"You and the Different man have picked a very unusual time to join us..."
"Wasn't my choice, dear." he responded. "Got drafted."
"And what is your special талант....'talent'...what do you bring with you?"
"Well...for one thing, I can pat my head and rub my stomach at the same time..." Ozzy replied, going into the motions of patting and rubbing.
Nadia looked perplexed.
"Oh...okay..." she replied, the joke completely lost on her.
"извинение себя..."
Nadia turned, the very odd stare of the very odd Adem Different sat locked on her face.
"...почему сокр говорить различный язык сравнение группа?" the alien asked in a perfect translation.
Nadia smiled, stepping a bit back to walk next to the strange being...
"прирожденный россия..." she replied.
As the two began talking, Ozzy just sighed, rolling his eyes.
"...oh, sure...talk to the alien..." he grumbled under his breath. "...I mean, I'm completely unimportant....just ignore me..."
Grimm's form lumbered past Ozzy with a steady, larger-stepped pace.
"Hey, how's it going?" he said to the dark avatar.
Grimm turned, staring at him only briefly, then, turned back and continued his stride.
"...jeez...what an asshole..." Baxter grumbled. "I'm going to love it here, allright...."
|
|
|
|
|
Joined: Oct 2001
Posts: 2,080
2000+ posts
|
|
2000+ posts
Joined: Oct 2001
Posts: 2,080 |
The eleven Vanguardians and Mr. Smith were brought into the main hall of the Palace, a majestic room with a mahogany wood floor, as well as fine, antique chairs along the walls. Paintings of former President-Prime Ministers of Mandelovia, all stately-looking men of vision going back almost five centuries adorned the solid red-oak walls. Through a large bay window could be seen the view of both parts of the city, New and Old Mandelovia, and the lights were beginning to shine brightly even as the already dark blue sky turned to black. The twinkling lights of the city stretched into the horizon. The huge chandelier hanging from the tall ceiling lit up the room, somewhat spoiling the effect.
"Welcome to Mandelovia, gentlemen and lady," a well-dressed man in a suit said as five other men in suits walked over to the Vanguardians and began passing scanning devices over them individually. "We apologize for the inconvenience, but we must verify your identities."
"And who are you supposed to be?" Chance asked, a resigned frown on his face.
"My name is not important, Mr. Schanz. Suffice it to say, I am an important official in the Mandelovian Security Agency which, like your American F.B.I., is responsible for keeping our beloved nation secure."
"So what happened to Colonel Nemo? Why isn't he greeting us himself?" asked Kristogar Velo, who had met Nemo when the team was attempting to escape Mandelovia, the case which ended with them being owed a debt to the General. A debt which they were now about to pay. "Don't tell me Nemo's no longer the head of the M.S.A.?"
The man was unperturbed by this but continued to smile politely. "It's best that you don't ask such question, Mr. Velo." The five M.S.A. agents completed their scans. "Well, gentlemen, it appears that you are who you say you are." He looked at Mr. Smith. "And you brought a friend. How interesting. I'm sure the General will be sending for you shortly." The man left the room, while the five M.S.A. agents stood silently watching them.
"Umm... hey," Ozzy Baxter said in a rasping voice which was meant to be a whisper to one of the agents, "You there! Sorry if I'm messing up your... uh... 'concentration'... but... umm... could I use your bathroom? M'afraid I had a few too many 'refreshments' on the way in. My bladder may be as tough as the rest o' me, but there's only so much I can hold in."
The agent being addressed turned and glanced at the other agent, then turned back and pointed a finger. His face remained completely humorless as he said in a flat tone, "Down the hallway, third door on the left."
"Thanks, pal," he said, turning and walking down the hallway where he found a large bathroom. Opening the door, a man-servant standing by the sink holding a towel nodded at him and directed him to a wide stall. "Bloody brilliant!" he said in a fake British accent with a voice a bit too loud, so much so that it slightly echoed. A chandelier kept the bathroom well-lit.
Ozzy Baxter "did his business" and then began walking straight to the door he'd come in through, but the man-servant caught his eye. "Oh, right," he muttered, feeling a bit guilty, so he walked up to wash his hands at the sink. As soon as he finished, the man-servant rushed up to him and held out a towel for him to dry his hands. "Great service here, huh? Am I, uh, supposed to leave a tip or something?" The man-servant shrugged and continued to smile wordlessly. Ozzy dug into his pockets, finding little in them. "Shit... my wallet must be somewhere around here. Oh, wait one minute! Here y'are, guy." He tossed a half-empty pack of cigarettes into the man-servant's open palm -- a "last parting gift" from the Yakuza -- and slapped him on the shoulder, presenting him with a toothy grin. "Have a good one, eh?" The man-servant wore an expression like he'd been soiled.
Ozzy began walking down the hallway back to the main hall once more, glancing through a few open doorways on the way there. "Fucking hell, they sure like their chandeliers here, don't they?"
When he got back into the main hall, the other Vanguardians were already being led out. "This way, sir," one of the M.S.A. agents said with a slight accent, leading him along with the others.
The Vanguardians were led into a room which kind of resembled the Oval Office in the White House. This was, of course, the official office of the President-Prime Minister. Since the nation had no PPM at the moment, it was the office of General D'goon, unofficial dictator and absolute leader of Mandelovia. All twelve of them were led to stand in a line before the large wooden desk. The chair behind it was turned away from them, and a line of grey smoke trailed up from behind it. The Vanguardians looked at each other and around the room. The M.S.A. agents as well as two uniformed members of the Mandelovian Honour Guard stood on watch in the room. They were kept waiting for some moments.
Finally, the chair swiveled around, and they saw the familiar-looking olive-skinned man wearing one of the red-coloured ceremonial uniforms of the Mandelovian National People's Army, covered with many medals and bars signifying his rank as general. General Colton D'goon.
"My friends!" he said, smiling at them as he tapped his cigar on a crystal ashtray on his desk and rose to meet them. In appearance, D'goon was not a very tall man by any means, but he was solidly built for his age. His skin was tanned like most Mandelovians, his hair had been jet-black when last they saw him, but now it was slightly peppered with grey. His prominent and slightly-bushy black eyebrows rose, making him appear charming, almost friendly, while his grin was highlighted by a well-trimmed black moustache, though otherwise he was clean-shaven. He had a slight resemblance to both Josef Stalin and Saddam Hussein, and indeed he radiated the same self-confidence and personal charisma as other dictators and world leaders, but he had his own unique style. If it had not been for his personal dislike of headware, the hat of a Mandelovian general would have adorned his head. As it was, he didn't need it to come across as the undisputed ruler of Mandelovia. "Welcome to our beloved country. I trust your journey was comfortable?"
Chance spoke for the group. "General D'goon, we owe you a debt. And we're here to protect you because of that. But you had no business telling the Mandelovian people that we were defecting to your country."
The General laughed slightly and said, "A slight deception. If you ever enter politics, Mr. Schanz, I'm sure you will find them necessary from time to time. I've learned a great deal about you, Mr. Vice-Chairman. Or is it Chairman now that your Australian leader is gone? It's funny, I never thought the boy had it in him. In any case, I'm impressed at your record in the chemical industry. You were a prodigy, Mr. Schanz, a genius with chemicals who might very well have been recruited to become a Mandelovian in your own right, one of the shining lights in our own League of Science. Yet you seemingly died, right here in our own country, and were cremated. A faked death, perhaps? Or something... other?" He paused for a moment as he looked at the Swede. "I was disappointed to learn that you walked away from such a promising career, however. Perhaps you would find a place amongst other such prodigies as yourself in the League of Science? You would make a fine Mandelovian citizen."
"I'm not interested," Chance said without equivocation. "What we do want to know is why, exactly, we are here. My fellow Vanguardian, Kristogar Velo, has told me of your impressive and formidable Elite Agents, a secretive group which you once belonged to in your youth. Why are they no longer enough protection for you?"
The confident smile began to fade from the General's face as Chance spoke. He had found D'goon's weak spot. "They are... no longer in existence. The Strikeforce is determined to destroy me... to destroy all of Mandelovia, just as the U.S. government of some of your own Vanguard International agents tried to destroy Mandelovia in January 2002. I made the decision to ally with your former ally Naecken for Mandelovia's protection. However, even now the Strikeforce is mounting to destroy me, to destroy Mandelovia in one fell swoop. If you are men of honour you will repay the debt you owe me. Do it for the Mandelovian people, if not me. It is for their sake that I took power. They needed a strong leader after so many weak-willed ones which were leading the country astray and selling it out to the highest foreign bidders."
General D'goon looked grim for a moment but seemingly remembered himself. "Ah, but I haven't met most of you yet." He stepped forward to shake hands with each of the Vanguardians and Mr. Smith. The M.S.A. agent who addressed the Vanguardians earlier stepped forward, saying, "Uh, sir, I'm not sure that's a wise--"
"Nonsense!" General D'goon said firmly. "I've been keeping tabs on the Vanguardians for nearly two years now. If there's one thing I'm sure about, it's their honesty." He went down the line and greeted each Vanguardian. Some shook his hand, but some merely nodded at him impassionately. Finally, reaching the last of them, he said, "Excellent! You have a fine crew here, Kristofer Schanz. Mandelovia welcomes you as one of her own! Perhaps I'll be able to convince you to stay on as citizens after all? Heh-heh."
Chance wore a look of disgust on his face. This was almost like being greeted by Adolf Hitler.
"Well, time is wasting, as they say," the General said finally, turning and walking over to the far wall. "We must prepare." He reached a candlestick on the wall which, when he turned it, caused a circular opening in the wall to retract like the iris of an eye retracts. The Vanguardians were astonished, as no sign of its existence could have been seen a moment before. "Follow me, my Vanguardians!" he said, waving a hand forward. "Mandelovia's new Minister of State is already awaiting your arrival in the War Room!"
The Vanguardians stepped forward and walked through the opening passage, which was like liquid metal in that it could change shape at will and seemed to be about five feet thick, making the room beyond impervious to the force of a nuclear blast. The War Room itself was impressively large and busy. It had two visible levels full of scanning equipment and a wall of monitor screens showing newscasts from around the world as well as video from different parts of Mandelovia and imagery which appeared to be from advanced spy-satellites. Several technicians and Army personnel sat around various consoles, keeping watch on the nation's borders and any possible threats on the nation, including the doings of the U.S.A. and the Strikeforce. An armory was accessible by a locked and guarded door. Thus far, this was the only room in the Palace they had seen which did not have a chandelier. It was, however, as technologically impressive as anything they had ever seen in the movies, to say the least.
|
|
|
|
|
Joined: Aug 2001
Posts: 1,645
1500+ posts
|
|
1500+ posts
Joined: Aug 2001
Posts: 1,645 |
Spaceship Nibiru, orbital headquarter of the Strikeforce 1.
As Jack Merlin was traveling standing motionless over the moving sidewalk, heading toward the Command Deck, the voice of the Brain resonated into his earpiece.
"Re-alignment detected at Lagrange point. Two previously undetected meteors are moving from their orbital position and beginning fall over planet.... Calculating points of impact... Paris, France... three hours, forty minutes, five seconds... Viña del Mar, Chile... three hours fifty five minutes three seconds.... estimated victims directly and for related earthquakes... twenty five millions four hundred thousands three hundred fifty six. End report."
"Mhh..." whispered Merlin, beginning to walk over the moving sidewalk.
A few moments later he entered the Command Deck. Ekorre was standing next the main monitor, so Merlin deliberately sank into the command armchair.
The alien eyed him evilly, but Merlin shrugged slightly, just to be seen by him, and smiled.
"Well, people, the time has come, we have a planet to save. Tenant Inventor is appointed to land over meteor one with team red, while team blue over meteor two. Tenant Hero and his team set to depart for Paris NOW and wait for the meteor" ordered the white haired man.
"Wait.. for the meteor?!" wondered Ekorre, looking sharply at Merlin.
"Yes, sure. We are going to deviate the one falling in Chile... but the other will explode high above Paris. And it will seem that Hero had destroyed it. The people must love us... even better, they must see us like GODS!"
Albino, the fat kid, began to laugh uncontrollably.
Ekorre simply left the room, disgusted.
Merlin turned on his revolving armchair, shouting: "what time is it in Mandelovia?Anybody of you subhuman can tell me what time is it?"
A technician answered calmly: "Seven PM, sir".
"Night, then" observed Merlin. And then raising the tone of his voice: "Let the attack begins!"
The Palace of Mandelovia
Trough the dozens of monitors the images of the warm evening of the City of Mandelovia didn’t send the feel of an impending doom, for the nation or for the world.
People were strolling in the narrow streets of the Old City, stopping at little cafe with just three or five little round tables outside the entrance, directly on the paved road. The windows of shops full of colourful lights, young girls and boys pointing at fine dresses, holovisors and hovercycles.
“General!” shouted a technician on the upper level. Instantly the floor over which D’Goon and the Vangguardians were standing lifted up, in a frictionless and perfectly dumped movement.
The technician, without words, was pointing at a three dimensional monitor, something like a metallic pot over which the little model of a strange, cigar shaped things floated. Something like the petals of a flower opened on the flank, and little round shaped… things… fled off.
“The alarm, Dikoto” ordered the General. The man at the console pressed a button.
On the screen, the people crowding the streets began to walks in well order away fast. Soon, all of the city was empty.
“That’s the spaceship Nibiru, an alien cruiser arrived near Earth not earlier than a year ago. His commander, Ekorre, has been presented as a Captain of the Norwegian Royal Navy. Lies! He came to Earth to capture and kill all the Annunaki, an alien race that arrived on our planet thousands of years ago.” D’Goon was looking pleased at the face of most of the Vanguardians, that, aside Velo, Nadia, Different and Priest where all amazed at the revelation.
“The disc are automated shuttles of the mothership. They are coming to attack my nation” continued D’Goon.
“It would be safer to bring you outside the country, to a secret location” observed Nadia, her eyes on a monitor that showed many Mastiff of War, the big canine robots she encountered during the “Revolutionaries” escape from Mandelovia, taking positions in the many streets and squares of the town.
“It would be the destruction of my country, then, my dear” replied D’Goon. “They want me alive, to find the location of Naecken fortress. If I stay here, they will not harm my country, if I will fly away, they will reduce it to rubble. That’s why I need you. You must keep me alive AND in Mandelovia”.
Outside, the stars were obscured by the hundreds of discs just materialised in the sky above the city.
The noiseless, calm night suddenly erupted in flashes and flares of exchanging laser beams. The Mastiffs of War were running everywhere, shooting rays from their “eyes”, and the discs above them replied with other equally lethal beams.
Above and around the palace other robotic mastiffs, each one the size of an African elephant, were shielding the residence of the tyrant of Mandelovia. The disc-fighters didn't even came closer.
But on the roof of the Palace, shielded by an unnatural shadow, produced by the Strikeforce Agent going by the same name, Tenant The Rose were giving orders to Tenant Digigirl about the incursion into the Presidential Palace. The Indian young woman was typing furiously over the keyboard of his laptop, hacking trough multiple wireless connections into the mainframe of the Security Agency of the city-state. Suddenly, a smile appeared on his face, winking at Rose.
The former assassin brought a palm sized communicator near her mouth, whispering new orders: "Tenant ACK, the safe way in should be shown in your visor right now. Wait for Agent Shadow and then GO!" As the "black-matter" guy left their spot, the two woman safely retired in a hidden recess under one of the roofs, waiting for the event to unfolds, before starting the attack of their respective Agents.
A few moments later one disc-fighter dived nearly vertically down from the sky toward the Palace, then suddenly disappeared both from the sight and the radar signature.
And then, with a boom of tremendous proportion, a section of the front wall of the Palace came down. Fifty grey garbed men, wearing the stylized silver S of the Strikeforce, swarmed inside the Palace, firing incessantly with laser guns futuristic even for the Mandelovian standards.
In the same moment, clouded by the shadow matter, Tenant ACK, Agent Shadow, Agent Had O'ken and twelve Strikeforce soldiers were advancing trough lateral corridors, mostly unguarded after nearly all the security forces concentrated around the swarm of Strikeforcers coming out of the disc.
ACK was following closely the virtual marked path visible in his visor. At one point he stopped, laughing.
He pointed to a rounded section of the room, and said, raising his laser cannons: "D'Goon is behind that wall!"
|
|
|
|
|
Joined: Sep 2002
Posts: 17,801
terrible podcaster 15000+ posts
|
|
terrible podcaster 15000+ posts
Joined: Sep 2002
Posts: 17,801 |
"Any bright ideas for me?"
"Huh?" Phil Smith looked up to see Chance standing a few feet away. He was wearing a Mandelovian soldier's multi-band scanning visor and appeared to be using it to look through the wall.
"I was hoping," Chance repeated, "if you had some sort of bright idea for me. Now would be a good time."
Across the room, Ozzy jumped to his feet. "So they're getting pretty close, then."
The Swede nodded. "I'd say about a dozen of them, headed this way."
"Damn." Ozzy muttered. He looked up just in time to notice Phil tossing him a field-stripped M4 carbine he had removed from his duffel bag. Ozzy caught the gun, followed by several clips of ammunition. "Came prepared, huh?"
Phil just nodded as he assembled his own weapon.
"I get the idea," Ozzy mused, "that you don't like fighting with your powers all the time."
Phil shrugged. "Special abilities can't always be trusted. I prefer not to rely on something if I don't know where the hell it came from."
Chance frowned. "They've been able to get past a decent-sized chunk of D'Goon's security."
"Do you think we should try and build up our defenses around this room?" Baxter asked. "Try and make a stand here?"
Phil shook his head. "No breathing room. We can't have a firefight near here. D'Goon would get caught up in it too easily." He slapped a clip into his M4 and turned to Chance. "Still, it's your call."
Schanz nodded. "We need to take the fight as far from D'Goon as we can. Infortunately, we don't have the numbers or the raw firepower to maintain a perimeter, so we'll have to resort to..."
"Hit and run," Baxter finished for him. "We create diversions, they come after us, we buy D'Goon that much more time."
"If that's going to work..." Chance thought aloud. He turned to where the others were standing, watching the various security monitors. "Velo," he called.
Kristogar turned. "Yeah?"
"We're gonna go shoot some shit up," Baxter said. "You in?"
Kristogar thought a moment. It didn't take a long moment. "I'm in," he replied as he walked over. "What are we packing?"
Phil handed Velo another M4 and a few clips of ammo. "I figure you brought your own sidearm in case things get ugly."
Velo nodded. "That I did." He frowned. "But I've heard these Strikeforce people have decent defenses against quite a few conventional weapons."
The telepath handed Kristogar a sheathed combat knife. "If that's the case, then we get in close and take it to 'em. I've heard enough about you to know that you can hold your own in hand-to-hand."
"You were a player once, weren't you?" Velo asked.
Phil raised an eyebrow. "I beg your pardon?"
"You used to be in intel," Kristogar explained. "Everything about you seems to suggest that."
Phil shrugged. "If so, I don't remember." He paused. "What brought that on?"
Velo shook his head. "You just... reminded me of someone, that's all."
Phil chuckled. "It's a small world, you know."
Chance checked the safeties on his own weapons. "I never really enjoyed using these."
"Necessary evil," Velo replied. "Part of the job, my friend."
"So what's the plan?" Ozzy asked.
Chance thought a moment. "Grimm," he called.
The skull-faced biker turned.
"We're going to go draw some of Strikeforce's fire. Until I get back, you're in charge. Work with D'Goon's people and come up with some good defensive strategies."
"The hell?" Grimm interjected incredulously. "I'm no military man, Chance. All I do is run around and kick ass."
"I know," Schanz replied. "That's why you're in charge."
"I don't follow you," the biker challenged.
"If any of these people get out of line," Chance explained, "you have my permission as acting leader to kick his or her ass as needed."
If Grimm had a face, he would be grinning from ear to ear. "Just what I always wanted!"
Kristofer rolled his eyes. "All right," he said, turning to the others, "it's time to go."
"Let's get it on!" Ozzy exclaimed.
"Lock and load," Velo murmured.
Phil suddenly let out a yell. "Vanguard, get FUNKY!!!"
The others turned to him in utter confusion. "What was that???" Chance asked, flabbergasted.
Phil thought for a long moment. "I have no idea."
"I kinda like it," Ozzy said as they headed out the door.
|
|
|
|
|
Joined: Dec 2002
Posts: 3,342
Peacock Teaser 3000+ posts
|
|
Peacock Teaser 3000+ posts
Joined: Dec 2002
Posts: 3,342 |
"Okay, Brianna," said Phil, tossing Brianna a headset to communicate with. "I doubt you would be good with one of these weapons." Brianna looked disapointed. "Don't look at me like that, you are a weapon. Get airborn."
"A distraction," said Brianna. "Right."
Brianna exited the fortress as fast as her wings would carry. She had to stop those discs and get the Mastiffs of War a chance to fight back.
BUZZZZ! BUZZZZ!
The disc were firing before Brianna could attack. She dodged and ducked and spun around until she was with range to use her voice. "Shreeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!"
The heavy vibrations caused the metal plates of each disc to loosen. With its stucture damamged, the ships fell apart and exploded. After Brianna destroyed about five dics, the other Vanguardians emerged, firing their weapons and the lower-flying disc. "Get in formation," Banshee," said Chance. Brianna gave the boys a thumbs-up and flew ahead of them, clearing several of the disc for them.
Phil and Kristopher took the lead. Brianna hadn't totally detroyed one of the disc, and Kristopher blasted it out of the sky bfore it could attack back. Behind them, Ozzy and Chance secured the rear. "Banshee, there's something heading towards your flightpath --'
The Vanguardians saw something blurred hit Banshee and forced her to the ground. Brianna looked up. Her attacker was a young man,lean, with a hooked nosed. She looked at his emerald staff. "Let me guess -- you're Jack Merlin."
|
|
|
|
|
