RKMBs Forums .::Important::. Writer's Block HR#14 Obsidian Illumination 2: Smith's revenge

The wall dissipate into a cloud of dust and fell in among itself. The paint smoked as it was burned black.

"A violent species," Adem Different said as he observed the chaos. Armed men poured in through the hole. Guns spit fire and lead as the din of battle grew louder still. "And noisy."

A Strikeforce soldier leveled his gun at the alien visitor. Adem instinctively leapt into the air to avoid the hail of bullets. His head knocked against the chandelier and threw him off balance. His body landed with a thud onto the marble floor.

{Important notice. Earth gravity is one third lighter than what you are used to. Please compensate accordingly.}

"Could you at least try and tell me things before hand?" He struggled to his feet. More armed men were coming towards him. "I guess now would be a good time for some riot gear." The light flowed down his body again. The business suit was now replaced with a light but durable armor. A helmet covered his head and a small shield sat on his left wrist.

Bullets ricocheted off of him as he ran past the soldiers. His shield would occasionally reach out to knock someone out of his way. Adem carefully jumped over the debris that laid across the floor in front of him as he made his escape.

His legs pumped furiously as he headed towards the open double doors that led out of the room. The speed at which he traveled was great. The reduced gravity allowed him better mobility. Adem’s body gave it his all as...... his head struck the top of the doorway. Though his head stopped its forward movement, the rest of his body didn’t. The alien’s legs kept moving and caused a great imbalance that led to another collision with the floor.

“A very violent and short species,” he mumbled before pulling himself back up to his feet.

Adem began to run again. He made a note to keep his head down as he came to doors. The soldiers chased him unrelentingly. Before long, he found himself in a garage type area. Different threw himself into the first thing that he could see to hide himself.

{What is this?} Jym asked as he attempted an uplink.

“Some kind of vehicle, I suppose,” Adem answered without really knowing. “Hold on. I’ll find out.” He placed his hands on the console in front of him. The nanites probed the electronic and mechanical systems. “Yes, it’s a vehicle. A combat vehicle of some sort.” The engine roared to life. “Now let’s see just what it can do.”

The broad groan of warning sirens blanketed the capitol of Mandelovia, moaning with an eeiry rhythym to the glow of entire city blocks ablaze. The skies...that dark dusk-blue made famous by movies...held streaming columns of thick, black smoke, even as a dozen spotlights arched back and forth along the clouds.

Hundreds of the Nibru's attack fighters flooded overhead, swarming in a perimeter of the Mandelovian Palace; their silver, disc-shaped forms glinting against the strobe of war.

The population had already begun to take cover in the reinforced, underground bunkers lining the entire city. Still, a few stragglers ran for their lives, as concrete and fire sprayed the air around them.

"Take cover! What the hell are you doing out here?!" Baxter yelled, two Mandelovian teenagers running past him, headed for the bunkers.

The M4 shook violently in his steely grip, ninety percent of his fire missing its' mark. Twin beams of a hazy blue nature sizzled past his left ear...

"What the hell am I doing out here....jaysis criste'!!" he remarked, immediately diving for cover.

He planted his back firmly against an upturned chunk of asphalt, panting from the adrenaline.

"...fuck....fuck....fuck..." he intoned to himself, another explosion erupting just on the other side of the makeshift barrier.

A drizzle of debris rained down on him, his face straining from the ringing in his ears. He struggled with the rifle, scrambling to to get a new clip loaded. More shots burned overhead, the firefight between the Vanguard members and the attacking militia, growing by the moment.

"Oh GOBDAMMIT!!" Ozzy yelled, slamming the useless rifle into the ground with fit of frustration.

"VELO...FALL BACK WITH ME!!" Chance yelled above the firefight, strafing past a burning chunk of one of the attacking disc-ships. "PRIEST...MOVE INTO A FORWARD POSITION! I WANT THE EASTERN ESTATE FORTIFIED!!"

He leapt back behind a still standing portion of the outer Palace wall. He paused, reloading his guns. Then, with one single motion, glanced around the wall and back again.

"...forty-two on the left..." he mumbled, recalibrating his left gun, "...seventy-six on the right..."

He tweaked his right gun in a similiar fashion. He glanced back up, peering out over the interior of the estate, just in time to see the blur of a man tackle Brianna from the air.

"PHIL...GET THAT BASTARD OFF BANSHEE!! he yelled over the comm.

Then, with dual clicks from his guns, jerked around the wall, opening a line of precision fire.

Jerking back, he began re-modifying his guns.

"...thirty-five on the left..." he began again. "...sixty-nine on the right..."

He shook his head, as a strange smile came over his face.

"...dammit..." he mumbled. "...who would have ever thought that I would actually miss Bell..."

Across the carnage of the area, Ozzy was knelt, bowed over, fists bracing him against the cold, rough concrete. The din of chaos increased around him...

He was exhausted. He hadn't slept in almost two days.

He could hear Schanz...barking orders...

He was hungry. He hadn't eaten in almost three months.

His fists began tapping the ground. Slowly, at first...

"...okay...okay...ninth round..." he murmed to himself, his fists increasing their rhythym against the concrete. "...no sweat..."

His fists beat harder and harder, as he began taking deep pants...

"...you can do this..." he continued, psyching himself up. "...you can do this..."

...the pavement began to lightly crack under his pounding knuckles...

"...you held the belt..." he said. "...you're the three-time champion..."

He leapt to his feet, eyes fiery with an adrenaline-pumped flare.

"...and you're gobdamn indestructible..."

Leaping into a sprint, Ozzy headed straight for the nearest Strikeforce perimeter.

Hails of bullets began to shred his silk shirt, another annoyance to fuel his anger. More fire began to focus on him, as he ran closer and closer to the barricaded perimeter. Coherent beams of fusion-blue energy crackled against his impervious body. His clothes burst into flames, the fiery licks trailing his speeding form.

And, as he closed in on them, Ozzy let loose a yell of pure defiance....

...or was it fear?

With the equivalent impact pressure of a titanium bat moving at twenty-miles-an-hour, human flesh was little resistance to his deadly fists.

The soldier's neck snapped clean, as Baxter landed a smooth right-cross. He ducked and swerved, with an inherent smooth grace, avoiding another soldier's tackle. Planting an iron-hard elbow into the man's spinal cord, Baxter side-stepped, and rammed another soldier's nasal cavity straight into his brain.

Ozzy turned, taking down another with a bone-crushing blow, just in time to come face-to-face with the business-end of a shoulder-launcher.

The explosion roared, killing the gunman, even as a half-naked Ozzy flew close to fifteen feet from the impact. His body slammed into one of the Royal transports, embedding him in the side of the crumpling steel.

Even as Baxter struggled to free himself from the metallic embrace, another dozen soldiers entered the fray.

They had barely made it near Oz's position, when gunfire erupted, cutting them down from both sides.

The metal covering one-half of his face, Baxter's free eye could make out Priest and Shanz, securing the position.

A contigent of the soldiers began withdrawing, as a Mastiff entered the area...

Chance leaned down, peering at Baxter's lodged form.

"...'A' for effort, newbie..." he half smiled, as Priest began cutting Ozzy out of the metal.

Jack Merlin gave on swift kick in Brianna's gut, making her cough. It knocked her wind out too. This meant she couldn't scream until she got control of her lungs again.

"Dinna worry lass, this will be short."

It had been a while since Brianna had heard a voice like that. Instantly she was talking like she was back home. Her lungs were back. "Aye, won't take me long to kick your arse."

Banshee let out a scream, but Jack Merlin had activcated his anti-gravity powers and was shooting upwards. Brianna followed.

Banshee's limitations were quite apparent. She had to power her own flight while Merlin was using artifical means. It was a sparrow against a Tomahawk. He managed to dodge her attacks and hit her in the back, right between the blades of her wings. "Ow!"

BANG! BANG!

Phil was shooting at Merlin. Brianna cleared out of the way, and prepared to attack again with her scream. This was too much for the Strikeforce member. He telaported out of there. "Another time lassie!"

Brianna flew down near Phil. "Fuck!"

Phil was surprised. "What did you just say."

"I dunno. Priest says it all the time."

Phil and Brianna hurried over to meet Priest, Velo, Chance, and Ozzy. "This is going down the shitter, fast," Banshee lamented.

"Watch your mouth, young lady," Chance snapped. "We're on an op here."

Velo smirked. "Did you ever listen to anything Bell said when he was on an op?"

"That's not relevant," Chance replied. "We have to conduct ourselves professionally, and that means..."

"HOLY SHIT!!!" Ozzy shouted.

Chance glared at him. "Baxter, that's not approp-"

Ozzy pointed, and Chance turned just in time to see the flaming hulk of a destroyed battle mastiff tumbling end-over-end directly toward them.

"Fuck!" Chance shouted as Ozzy dove for cover.

The giant pile of burning metal sailed right toward them - and stopped dead less than ten yards away, suspended in midair.

Ozzy whirled around to see Phil Smith facing the object with his eyes closed, holding out one hand toward it, like the gesture of a faith-healer. Baxter did a double-take, then turned to Priest, amazed. "He can do that?!?"

The big man just smiled faintly. "You have no idea."

"Damn," Ozzy muttered.

Phil tossed the destroyed mastiff aside using his telekinesis. "This isn't working!" he exclaimed. "They're diverting maybe ten percent of their resources toward stopping us, and that ten percent is more than enough to keep us pinned!"

Velo nodded as the group ducked behind the wreck for cover. "We need some heavier firepower."

Phil spotted a damaged munitions trolley, lying abandoned on its side less than twenty yards away. "There."

"The crossfire's intensifying," Priest warned.

"I know," Phil replied nonchalantly.

Baxter's eyes widened. "You're letting him go back out into that?"

"We've got no other choice," Chance replied. "We need some heavier guns, and from the look of it, that ammo cart might have what we're looking for." He turned to Phil. "Make it happen."

Phil nodded briefly, then stood up and dashed across the open space. Ozzy's jaw dropped as he saw several brilliant tracers head straight for Phil, only to deflect off some unseen wall.

"Hope he brings back enough to make that worth it," Priest murmured.

Phil righted the munitions trolley using his mind, then shoved it back to where the others were. He dove down beside the Velo. "Take your pick."

Velo examined the contents of the cart. "Fifty-cal. Heavy machine guns. Barely portable by any standards."

Chance frowned. "We can't play hit-and-run with guns this clumsy. Brianna couldn't even lift one of these."

"Full frontal assault," Priest concluded. "We'd have to walk right into their line of fire to use these effectively."

"Sounds like a plan," Phil replied.

Five heads instantly whirled in his direction.

"You're kidding, right?" Ozzy asked as Phil stood up and loaded a .50-caliber ammunition belt into the machine gun he carried.

Phil shook his head. "You're indestructible. Priest can absorb the kinetic energy from enemy gunfire. And I've got my psionic shield." He turned to the others. "We can do this. But one of you needs to open up a gap in their line for us."

Velo set his jaw. "I'm on it."

"How do you plan on doing that?" Chance asked. "These M4s are good against regular foot soldiers, but we're looking at mechanized, heavily armored opponents."

"Who said anything about my M4?" Kristogar answered. "Besides, I don't particularly like guns anyway. Haven't shot this thing yet."

"Then what do you plan on using?" the Swede asked incredulously.

Velo rummaged around in a compartment of the ammo cart. "I... spy... with my little eye... something that'll make for a veritable shitload of fireworks!"

Brianna's eyebrows went up. "Ooooh. Nice!"

Kristogar pulled a grenade-like object from the compartment. "Mandelovian anti-armor grenade. Solid-rocket-booster fuel and a fast-acting oxidant in a fragmenting depleted uranium shell. Sort of like God's M-80."

"That'll do," Priest confirmed.

"But..." Ozzy began to protest. "I don't even know how to aim one of these things!"

Phil scowled. "Hold still."

Ozzy looked puzzled. "Wha? What for?" He suddenly clutched at his temples. "Owwwww! What the hell?"

"Try it now," Phil suggested.

Ozzy still looked puzzled. "What... what the hell did you..."

Phil shrugged. "I dunno." He turned to Velo. "Ready with that thing?"

"Do you even need to ask?" Kristogar replied.

"Good point."

"Okay," Velo said as he primed the device. "One... two... five!"

Ozzy's jaw dropped. "Three!!!" he shouted.

Kristogar grinned as he lobbed the grenade toward a cluster of armored Strikeforce vehicles. "Gotcha."

"I like that movie," Chance mused.

His ruminations were cut short by the ground-shaking roar of the exploding grenade. Phil and Priest grabbed Ozzy and his gun and yanked him behind them as they stepped into Strikeforce's line of fire and opened up with the trio of machine guns.

Velo smiled. "I think we just managed to create a diversion."

INTERLUDE

The unusual boy found himself walking down a street brightly-lit by the afternoon sun with little fear at all, surprisingly enough to him. Contrary to what he believed he would feel before he came back, he was actually beginning to find himself feel safe here... well, safer, anyway. This was his home, and it felt really good to him to be able to feel that once again. Maybe... maybe someday he could feel the same way about it after nightfall, when the shadows envelop all, and when evil traveled shadow by shadow everywhere. They'd taken his bravery, they'd taken his soul, and they'd taken his friends. Still, he had to believe that life could get better. It just had to. Nobody could have as much bad luck as he had without getting some good paid back to him. It was a law of the universe.

Absalom made his way to the playground of a public school he recognized. Looking out at the kids playing during recess, it was like looking at a cross-section of the population of La Perdita in miniature. There were a lot of black kids playing games, almost as many Spanish-Indian mixed kids, and a smaller number of white and Oriental kids here and there.

One boy about his own age called out to him to come over and join their game, but by the time he'd finished speaking, Absalom was nowhere to be found.

***

It had been enough for him to see life continuing on as it always had on La Perdita. Maybe he'd come back someday and take that kid up on his offer, but for now he just wanted to wander. Things had changed so much so quickly in just a year-and-a-half, a span of time which was the equivalent of about five years from an adult's perspective. Part of it was the fact that he'd gotten a bit taller, but mostly it was because he'd never really seen the island before like he was seeing it now -- like an ordinary kid. Well, almost ordinary.

The most striking differences he noticed, beyond the simple rebuilding of several buildings damaged in Hurricane Jason in the summer of 2002, were the addition of a brand-new hospital (which seemed to have sustained some damage as it was being worked on by construction crews) and the transformation of the old Dawson apartment building. Whereas it had been a simple 14-story brownstone the last time he'd been there, it was now streamlined and much larger in size, additions to it filling up the formerly abandoned lot next to it. It looked very impressive to Absalom, but it also made him sad for a strange reason. These "Vanguardians" were the present, while he and his friends were the long forgotten past. He wondered if anyone would even recognize him any more, even if he hadn't grown and changed as he had.

Suddenly, a volleyball struck Absalom in the head, knocking him down towards the hard pavement. He heard a young voice shout, "Oops -- sorry!" Absalom rose swiftly, having avoided actually hitting the pavement, and turned to look at a small park close-by where the voice had come from.

A little girl ran up to him and stopped suddenly as she got within six feet of him. Saying nothing but wearing an emotionless expression on her face, she held out her hands as Absalom smiled and tossed the volleyball gently into her palms. The unsmiling little girl turned and ran back onto the field, glancing back once. A slightly older girl who looked like her came running up to Absalom with an apologetic expression on her face.

"I'm sorry! I'm so sorry!" the older girl said to him as she ran up to him from a greater distance away. "Are you okay? Did you hit your head?" She was a very pretty girl about an inch or two taller than him with curly dark hair pulled back with braids and light brown skin the colour of caramel.

"It's okay, really," Absalom said, more amused than hurt. Faced with such a pretty girl before him, he suddenly found himself to be kind of shy. He couldn't think of anything else to say, so he said, "Uh, I'm A-Absalom."

"Pleased to meet you, Absalom," the girl replied with a smile. "My name's Denyce. Denyce Piper."

END INTERLUDE

Spaceship Nibiru, Orbital Headquarters of the Strikeforce 1

Jack Merlin leaned back in the Command Seat, smiling. His right hand went to the head of Predro Delgado, Albino, who was standing next to him, and began to ruffle his hairs. “Things are going pretty well, my dear, young Pedro” said the Strikeforce true leader.

“In Mandelovia the plan is going on smoothly. The Vanguardians had split up, and are directing the game as it’s a ordinary military operation. The military background of many of them makes them blind… they are metahumans, yet they are unable to operate according to their powers… and that will be their demise…” said Merlin, the words nearly tasting like a good wine in his mouth.

Delgado began to laugh uncontrollably.

“And then, let’s see how the other operation is going on…” continued Jack Merlin, pressing a few buttons in the console on the right arm of the chair. Five monitors began to feed images of deep space, with two discs slowly departing from two enormous chunk of rock.

On a sixth, the face of Doctor June Ho, Tenant Inventor, appeared. “We have set the charges, Jack. Just… the position on the charges on meteor two will deviate it, according to my computer, of just a few degree…”

“Exactly, my dear. Now, stop to burden your precious, pretty brain with things related to military tactic and political opportunities, and come back, darling.” Pressing another button, the monitor became blank. The revolving chair turned to face the kid. Merlin winked.

“What city did you choose?” asked the Caribbean boy.

“Athanon, California” smiled Jack.

Mandelovia

Agent The Rose was looking on the palmtop of Digigirl at feeds from the satellite network of the Strikeforce. The battle was going on nicely, as half of the Vanguardians had left D’Goon, to fight the Strikeforce troop sent as a diversion to attack the Palace, while the small team of ACK heads toward the capture of D’Goon.

She gave the palmtop to her Indian teammate, and then began to methodically built his long laser sniper rifle, taking position over the roof, hiding between two statues, until the winged female Vanguardinas appeared in her aiming scope. Then, she pressed a button on her communicator.

“Agents Fire, Shock and Fangs ready for the attack on subjects Smith, Priest and Baxter.”


Spaceship Nibiru, Orbital Headquarters of the Strikeforce 1

Jack Merlin set the monitors over multiple news channel from Europe and America. Turned off the volume of the monitors, and then pressed another button on the armchair. Suddenly the notes of Vivaldi’s Four seasons began to play.

He leaned back, Albino still at his side.

On many screens there is the Paris tower, illuminated by hundreds of spotbeams. Helicopters were flying everywhere, like mad birds. Across the streets, cars are blocked into a traffic jam of incredible proportion. People scream, mute for the turned off volume. The cameras converged over one star, a little brighter than the other. The star seemed to grow in dimension and luminosity second by second, as the night sky conversely became brighter, and the other stars disappears.

As the minutes passed, the star became big and bigger, turning glowing red. The city was illuminated by that blood-red light. People, unable to run away from the city, blocked by the biggest traffic jam the whole planet had ever experienced, had started to pray, in small or big groups, religions keeping them separated even in proximity of the moment of their death.

Then, on one monitor the camera zoomed over a kid pointing his index finger at the sky. Then, on all the monitors all the camera zoomed over the same kid, and then turned up, to the spot he was pointing at.

It’s one of the Strikeforce disc. Standing over, waving at the crowd, is a big, tall and muscular man, square jawed and with black curly hairs. The disc stopped right over Place de la Concorde, where many thousands of people are praying, crying, swearing waiting their demise.

He raises his open hands, signalling to stay calm. Then, he turns his face, theatrically, toward the approaching meteor, now the size of a penny, right at the zenith.

He raises his fist, and the disc began to fly upward, first slowly, then faster and faster, until it disappeared from sight.

On the main Command deck screen, Merlin and his crew, alone in the world, saw what really happened. Frank Mullarney, Hero, disappearing inside the disc, and it flying fast away from the meteor impact. The finger of Merlin going at another button, pressing it. The charges placed over the meteor exploding, sending the rock to dust, easily burned and dissolved by the friction with the atmosphere.

On the many monitors set over world news channels, it was like a big fireworks burned up in the sky.

The people stopped praying and swearing, and began to cry of joy, to dance, to kiss all over the big city.

“Frank, move your ass, you clown. I have gathered all the television of the world down there, now go there and make them LOVE you!” shouted Merlin in the microphone. “You have one hour for them. Then take that damn UFO and go to Mandelovia, there is a real job for you there.”

Then, he turned all the monitor to different channels. Local stations in the USA. He never revealed in advance that there was another meteor to strike Earth, heading for California. Worldwide, all the big networks were expecting something in Paris. Nobody was ready to witness what would happen over Athanon. Now the images are of total destruction. City and villages vanished. Because the meteor strike set in motion the S. Andrea’s fault… causing the biggest earthquake to
hit California since the coming of Columbus. Death and destruction. Everywhere.

Merlin smiled, while Delgado was laughing even louder than before.

Turning toward a technician, Merlin ordered: “Call the White House. I guess now George will be ready to join our club, finally!” He leaned back again, a triumphant smile on his face.

"This doesn't make any sense..." Velo said, looking at the dozens of soldiers around him and the others.

"What do you mean?" Phil asked.

"This Strikeforce is suppoused to count with several powerful members..." Kristogar explained, "but all I see here is normal soldiers. Lots of them, but normal nonetheless."

"You're right..." Chance added, "It would make more sense for them to send at least a couple of higher ranking members. Are they trying to make us waste our energy, or...?"

THE WAR ROOM

The air was tense inside the war room. D'Goon was surrounded by his bodyguards, a large group of mandelovian soldiers, and Grimm and Nadia. Mr. Smith stood near them, and Tayden near him. Nobody spoke.

"What are you looking at, american?" D'Goon said in a calm yet firm tone when he realized Smith was staring at him. Smith just smiled in reply.
"WHAT?!" D'Goon exclaimed, suddenly changing his tone to anger. His bodyguards looked at Smith, preparing to tear him to pieces if D'Goon gave the order.

"Mmmm..." was Mr. Smith's only reply, as if he had just tasted the finest of wines. "Could you yell one more time... please?"

D'Goon was angry and confused. "What is this? What are you?!"

Smith took his hand to his temple and nodded soflty. "Oooh..."

"SMITH!" Tayden yelled. "Stop it."

Smith turned his black pupils to Tayden. "Oh, it's just a little snack..."

D'Goon pushed bodyguards and soldiers aside and stretched his arm to grab Smith by the shirt, pulling the dark man to him.

"Do that again, little man, and I'll have your guts fed to you," D'Goon said, back to his calm tone. He let Smith go.

"Fine," Smith said, adjusting his suit. "I was done, anyway."

Suddenly, a loud continuous rumble could be heard. It started getting louder. Something was approaching, though the radars in some of the various screens around the room showed nothing.

"What...?" Nadia asked.

"Get ready," Grimm said, looking at the reinforced steel wall in front of him.

Seconds later, that same wall collapsed. As the pieces of steel fell, a silhouette formed through the dust and the debris. The silhouette of an armor.

"Impressive," ACK's robotic voice said as he stood where the wall was. "The walls in this room are really strong. I had to take some impulse to tear it down."

All the soldiers started emptying their guns on the Strikeforce member. The bullets just bounced on his metal chest.

"And that radar," ACK continued, "impressive as well. It took me two seconds to nullify it. Two whole seconds. Now, which one of you is D'Goon?" He was joking, of course. He had a picture of D'Goon in his visor.

"Stay near D'Goon," Grimm said to Nadia as he grabbed his axe. Moving incredibly fast for such a big guy, Grimm threw himself at ACK, aiming the axe at his chest. ACK didn't move.

Before the axe could reach ACK, it was intercepted by a sword. A strong sword. Grimm looked at the holder of the sword: a young man, no more than 25 years old, with messy light brown hair and tanned skin. In contrast with ACK, this young man had no protection at all: all he wore was the grey Strikeforce-1 suit, white shoulder pads, and white bandages that covered his arms from the elbow down. He wasn't invulnerable, just very skilled. Inhumanly so.

"I'm Had," the young man said, sword and axe still pressing against each other. "'Sup?"

When Grimm was about to swing his sword, he noticed a black substance had covered most of his body and was about to reach his hands and head. "What the...?"

While this happened, ACK walked past Grimm and towards D'Goon...

...but Nadia put herself between ACK and the Mandelovian dictator.

From the "robot" came a metallic voice: "Ah. A girl, a crippled man, an hippie... this is the powerful Vanguard? All that cocaine has burned Merlin's brain, I guess."

O'ken stepped away from Grimm, now totally engulfed in the shadow matter, and went near his Tenant. At the same time, the twelve Strikeforce soldier were keeping the various guards and technician under aim.

Nadia smiled: "You have problems with girls, thin-head? The rust has taken your cock?" and saying that she threw herself at the armored man, jumping high and pointing her steel heeled boot toward ACK visor.

Instantly, O'ken raised his sword, to stop or even cut the woman approaching leg, when something unexpected happened. Something invisible blocked the sword run at mid way. The impact made O'ken loose his stability, and he fell to the ground.

At the same time, Drake exchanged place with Drax, and the furry dragon apparition scarred the soldiers, that began to shot like mad in every direction.

The heel of Nadia crashed the visor of ACK, as he fell to the ground.

Smith was standing in the middle of the chaos, yelling "More... more.... more!"

As the dragon began whip tailing the soldiers, Tayden took D'Goon for an hand and headed the fallen section of the wall.

ACK was again on his feet, and so was Nadia. The armored man, whose face was now visible behind the broken visor raised his laser cannons toward the Russian woman, and fired. The beams were deflected again by an invisible force, but now O'ken was free from the unbreakable force that took him before.

From behind, he kicked Nadia in the head; as the girl, senseless, fell to the ground, the invisible force that kept helping her dissipated.

"Shadow!" O'ken yelled, putting on a strange pair of goggles. "No, my visor is broken!" yelled back ACK, but the answer from the master warrior was just a "Fuck you!"

Instantly, the dark matter tying Grimm dissolved into a black mist that engulfed all the War Room.

Only O'ken was now able to see. And his carnage began.

Outside the Palace, Phil, Priest and Ozzie were charging at the soldiers with a veritable wall of fire from their Mandelovian weapons, when something big as a Sumo fighter, stepped in from behind a ruined wall. it was a man, dressed in the grey suit of the Strikeforce, with legs similar to trunks, wearing steel boots. At the sight, the soldiers still on their legs retreated behind some rubbles.

The Sumo guy, or Agent Shock, as the Strikeforcers called him, raised one legs, and then pushed it back to the ground.

It caused a wave of vibrations, like a localized earthquake, that reverberated trough the courtyard, sending the three Vanguardians on the ground.

Immediately, another Agent appeared, over a nearby roof. His eyes were glowing red, and suddenly the weapons in the hand of the three Vanguardians became too hot to be held, and they had to let them fall on ground, where they melted up.

It was then, that a striped saber-tooth tiger jumped in.

"It's time you use your mind, man" whispered Priest to Phil. The unidentified put his hands to the temple, and then said "The fire guy can set the molecules of metallic things into motion until they melt; the tiger is a werewolf sort of thing, it has a human mind inside... the big one can send many form of shock wave, with legs, hands and mouth..."

Priest nodded, and so did Baxter... when a red, glowing beam cut across his head. Ozzie fell to the ground, as the two teammates turned toward his lying form.

Velo, Banshee and Chance, a hundred meters away, turned to see the point from which the laser ray came, a roof where evidently a sniper was firing over them.

"Brianna, go" ordered Chance, and the girl took flight. "We have been ambushed! Shit!" shouted Chance.

"They have a big advantage over us" said Velo. "They know perfectly the place, while aside you, me and Nadia nobody of us has ever been here... uhm..."

"What?"

"They had done their homework about the city, that's sure... but when we were trying to run away from here, two years ago, we did find something even the Mandelovian force were too happy to run into..."

"?"

"There is a big network of dungeons, cave and caverns in the city underground. Me and Nadia know them. It could be our best chance to hide D'Goon and put the Strikeforce at disadvantage."

Chance was thinking fast: "Where's the entrance?"

"In the sub-basement of the Palace... but you will not come, Kristopher"

"Eh?"

"You have a mission for Quantos... and it's the best time to start it. I will lead the guys in the dungeons..."

"No, I can't leave you right now... that would be... you know, Velo, shameful ..."

"Chance, you see the world in black and white... tell me, who are the good guys here, we or them?"

"Well..."

"So, then do something for which Vanguard could be proud, Schanz!"

The Swedish look around, shaking his head... "Ok, you take the lead. I will regret this, I am sure..." he said, while running away toward the Palace.

Velo turned toward the three friends (Baxter was back on his feet, according to his own amazing power) , wondering what he could have done to help them, when a Mastiff of War jumped in the middle of the Courtyard, between them and Agent Fangs. In the cockpit the tall figure of Adem Different was easy to spot.

"Now that's what I call a diversion" smiled Velo. "Time for me to get back at the War Room" though Kristogar, looking in the sky trying to spot Banshee.

The Irish girl fled at full speed toward the roof from which the laser beam that hit Baxter came, and found himself facing The Rose, still shocked by having seen baxter coming back on his feet after she had hit him right in the head.

The Strikeforcer rose her head from the aiming scope, to find the flying girl staring at her, smiling. She saw the mouth of Bashee opening and taking a particular shape, and than a powerful sound wave it her, and all went black.

Happy, Brianna turned back, to look at her companions, when a short yell made her turning back again.

There was a woman with Indian features standing on the roof, and she had just thrown a knife to her. Like in slow motion, the knife was heading toward her chest, but before she could do anything, it was deflected from his deadly path by a big, spiked mace.

Standing next to Brianna a winged man was smiling.

The Raptor has returned!

Digigirl let out a curse. "Next time you won't be shielded, Birdy."

***

"Thanks for the save," said Brianna, grinning. "Now you are going to get an earfull -- and I mean, an earful -- if you don't tell me where you've been."

Raptor didn't smile, but he didn't frown either. "How about later, alright? I have something for you." He handed Brianna a new weapon. It was a small crossbow that attached to her wrist. "Something light enough for you?"

Brianna began loading the weapon. The quick rate surprised Euro. Brianna heard Velo's voice buzzing in her headset. "Brianna we're taking D'Goon to the underground caves."

"I don't 'do' underground caves," said Brianna. Caves were, by nature, dark, cool, damp, and small -- four things that made it almost impossible for her to fight in.

"Oh...yeah..." said Velo. Well, be a dear and help Chance then. You should be able to provide cover for him from any attacks. Is that Raptor I see up there with you? He can go with you and Chance. Now, clear the field!"

Brianna looked up at Raptor. "Well, do we join up with the boys or not?"

Raptor took a small bow. "Ladies first."

Velo, Priest, Phil, and Ozzy were making a mad dash towards the War Room. Banshee and Raptor flew over them. Adem Different was providing their cover, and so the two winged metas were not needed. Chance was being attacked from all angles. Brianna sent a nausiating wave of sound towards her foes. Soliders threw up in their helmets. Machinery was depowered as circuits snapped. Raptor took care of the remaining opponents with his mace. They made it to the palace.

"This is not good," Shock said to himself as the nose of the Mastiff of War dug into the concrete in front of him. He attempted to jump out of the way, but was caught by a flying piece of debris that sent his body plummeting to the ground.

{I do not believe that this is the proper usage of this vehicle.}

"Oh, shut up," Adem said through gritted teeth. "This gravity is just too weak. I need a planet with some mass to it." The Mastiff wobbled up on its legs.

{May I suggest that I assume control over this machine? I am, after all, a highly advanced Artificial Life form when compared to this primitive technology. All I have to do is uplink to the main system....}

Self destruct sequence activated.

"You didn't."

{Unfortunately, I believe I did. If I may be allowed to make another suggestion..}

"What?"

{Run.}

Adem Different did just that. His body sprang from the Mastiff of War and his feet hit the ground in a sprint. "Some vacation this is," he mumbled under his controlled breath as the distance between him and the soon to be exploding machine increased.

Without warning, his body jerked and tumbled to the ground. Fang stood a few feet away, standing on all fours, poised for an attack. The leap was quick and fluid. Different barely had time to defend himself. His hands grasped firmly above the front paws as Fang stood over him. A claw hung in place directly in front of the alien's face. The slight gash on his cheeks slowly began to seal up as the nanites repaired the damage. Fang's teeth dripped with saliva.

It was down to a test of strength, and Adem was slowly beginning to lose. He could feel the massive legs and paws move closer towards him by inches even though they, in reality, barely moved. He gave all he could to fight back but knew he wouldn't hold out much longer. Fang's weight shifted suddenly. Adem looked away from the creature's face to see it raising its back paw with claws as sharp as knives protruding from it. Sparks flew as the claws scraped across the light armor. The leg continued to kick, getting faster and faster. The nanites would attempt to repair the damage, but it would take much longer to reinforce armor that it does to speed up the regeneratation of living tissues. Adem realized that he was trapped and possible dead since the Mastiff was still somewhat close.

Fang was lifted into the air with a painful howl. Raptor reached down and pulled Adem to his feet. Before Different could speak, Banshee had snagged him under his arms and soared up into the sky with him. Raptor also took flight, but he went in another direction.

An explosion was followed by a ring of fire that flowed like a violent ocean wave. Everything was set ablaze or incinerate on contact. Even in the air, Adem could feel the heat.

Nibiru, orbital headquarter of the Strikeforce 1

The Brain's voice came alive in Jack Melin's ear.

"WARNING. UNKNOWN VARIABLES PRESENT IN MANDELOVIA." Images from the battlefield of Ozzy Baxter and Adem Different appeared on a small screen in front of Merlin. "PREVIOUS DATA IS NOW OFFSET BY AT LEAST 32.973%. INSUFFICENT DATA TO PROPERLY RECALCULATE ODDS."

"Who are these two?" Merlin asked no one as he stared at their images. "If necessary, double the foot soldiers." He returned his mind to the US and, specifically, the west coast and Washington.

The roar of the exploding Mastiff, almost a block away, rattled the tattered web of iron sticking precariously from the fragmented Palace wall. The firefight between the Mandelovian military, and the Strikeforce ground forces had begun to shift further away from the devastated perimeter of the estate.

"...they've cut their lines..." Velo breathed, looking back over the horizon of the visible sky.

The ominious discs now hovered still, and quiet; their numbers blanketing the skies of Mandelovia.

"...this is not good....something heavy is coming..."

Velo reloaded his gun, glancing down at the almost-naked body of a dead Strikeforce grunt.

"Want to hurry that up?" he remarked, his voice lined with its usual calmness.

Ozzy lurched up from his bent position, trying to buckle the slightly smaller fatigues.

"Hey! Cut me some slack, okay?" he retorted, grimacing as he strained to get the pants buckled. "You insane bastards may do this kind of shit every day, but I DON'T! So, you'll excuse me if I don't want to continue this 'save-the-world' bullshit in my FUCKING BOXERS!"

His face strained harder, broad-veined muscles rippling to the surface of his already broad, bare chest. And, try as he might, the belt would not meet the buckle.

"Aggghh!" he yelled in irritation, pulling on the belt with all of his strength.

Velo finally huffed with impatience. With one quick motion, he whipped his boot-knife out, slashing the exposed belt in half. Baxter immediately lost his balance, tumbling over backwards.

"Insertion path open..." Priest's cool growl of a voice came over Velo's comm link, even as he holstered the knife.

"...copy that..." Velo mumbled into the mini-mic, lodged in his back, left molar. "Smith?"

"...all main halls are secure..." Phil replied over the link.

"What the hell's the matter with you?!" Baxter barked, jumping back to his feet.

Velo glanced at him with a professional calmness.

"If the pants are that tight already, then you don't actually need the belt, right?"

His voice, smooth as silk, seemed almost pleasant in its' ability to state the obvious.

Baxter opened his mouth to respond, wagging a finger at Velo. But, after a moment, he simply dropped the finger, looking away with a sullen look.

"Get a shirt...and let's go. Now." Velo ordered.

Ozzy grabbed the flack jacket from the ground, slipping it over his bare shoulders, as he and Velo headed towards the Palace entrance.

Ruffling his white hair, Ozzy could hear the massive fighting in the distance. He glanced skywards, just in time to see movement.

"Holy sh--INCOMING!" Ozzy yelled, diving to the ground.

Velo turned with one motion, his rifle locked and loaded...

He stared skywards, then, with an almost annoyed sigh, lowered his gun.

"...Ozzy....that's Banshee..." he remarked.

Oz looked up from the ground, to see the Vanguardian circle overhead.

"Well...what's THAT, then?" Ozzy remarked, pointing straight up.

Velo cocked an eyebrow, looking up with a small smile.

"An old friend, come home when we need him..." he replied. "His name is Edulcore....we call him Raptor."

Ozzy frowned, staring up at the two figures running aerial defense in the skies.

"Come on..." Velo remarked.

Ozzy sighed, standing up. He dusted himself off a bit, more than slightly embarrassed. He and Velo had taken three steps towards the Palace...

...when the ground to their far right exploded in a hail of dirt and debris.

Both men hit the ground, soil showering their form. But, something was wrong. Velo was the first to notice it, even as they peered simultaneously through the thick cloud.

Something had impacted the ground. But, it wasn't a bomb, or missle. There was no fire. No heat from the explosion that rocked the courtyard.

It was a moment before either could make out a humanoid form standing in the knee-deep crater.

The form of a man.

"...oh boy..." Baxter mumbled, the man dressed in the Strikeforce-1 jumpsuit starting towards them with a defiant stride.

Velo had his gun up, finger pulling the trigger before Oz could even blink.

The hail of bullets sparked off the man, as he reached their position instantly.

Velo released a yelp of pain, as hands of steel jerked the weapon from his grasp, crumbling it under impossibly mighty hands.

"I am Agent Frank Mullarney, callsign 'Hero', of the Strikeforce-1 Elite Militia...." the stranger began, tossing the wad of compact metal. "....as a represenative of the United Nations, I order you to stand down and surrender..."

Oz and Velo looked at each other, and then, back again. Velo opened his mouth to speak...

"I believe I speak for my team when I say--"

"Piss off!" Baxter interjected, eyeing the man with an increasing anxiety.

Velo shrugged.

"...well, okay, that works..."

Hero nodded.

"I understand..."

He immediately grabbed Velo by the front of his shirt, about to jerk him aloft, when Ozzy's skilled reflexes kicked in, snagging the man's wrist in a vise-like grip.

"Drop him." Baxter stated with a low, even tone.

"...or?" Hero stared at the man.

A small wicked grin curved Ozzy's face.

"Or, I drop you."

He and Hero stared at each other for a couple of seconds, the Strikeforce-1 agent bemused with the intensity of the grip he felt.

Velo, half-aloft on his tip-toes, looked over at Ozzy...

"Think you can you handle him?" he asked.

"Damn well going to try..." Baxter replied.

"...good...now close your eyes..." Velo nodded.

A blinding flash of strobe-white light flared as a flash-grenade dropped from Kristogar's fingertips.

With the momentary distraction, Velo immediately ripped back out of his flack-jacket vest, leaving the briefly disoriented Hero holding the useless garment. With a quick bolt, Velo ran for the Palace.

Ozzy grabbed Hero's other wrist with the same intense grip, attempting to physically struggle with the man.

But, only briefly.

With a single motion, Hero threw his arms wide, breaking Ozzy's grip. Slamming a hand over Baxter's throat, Hero instantly vaulted his massively powerful legs with a quick flex, leaping straight up with Ozzy's in tow.

The sudden lurch straight up threw Oz's equilibrium completely off, as the world around him blurred with speed.

At the apex of his mighty leap, Hero turned, slinging Ozzy with a fluid motion, straight into the rupturing pavement thirty stories below.

The shockwave blew the wreckage of two Mastiff's into shattered scraps of metal, Ozzy's body completely embrace by the fractured concrete.

A pair of powerful feet landed with a single cracking 'thud', straight into the back of Ozzy's head. The momentum of impact drove his form an inch deeper into the ground.

Hero stood on Ozzy's back for a moment, staring down at the back of his head.

"...'handle me'? ....please..." the agent smirked, turning for the Palace.

He had taken a single step, when a hand suddenly lurched from it's placement in the concrete, grasping the man's ankle.

Hero glanced down with a cocked eyebrow.

"Oh, come on..." he said, stepping back to ram the back of Oz's head a few times. After a third meta-enhanced stomp on his cranium, his hand fell away from the ankle.

"...now, just die, would you?" the agent remarked, turning towards the Palace again.

He had taken a few steps, when, he could swore he heard movement behind him. He stopped, turning around with an almost bewildered stare.

Ozzy's panting grunts suddenly came through clear, as he struggled with a red-faced strain to free himself from the crater's embrace on his impervious body.

"Unbelievable, man..." Hero stated, shaking his head. "...you just don't know when to stop, do you?"

He threw a single kick, straight into the rising man's chest, vaulting him completely out of the crater, straight across the street. Ozzy sailed straight through the wall of an abandoned cafe', plaster and stone crumbling all around him.

Hero studied the dark, gaping hole in the side of the building for a moment, listening for signs of movement. Satisfied with the silence, he turned again.

"...wait..."

Hero stopped, jerking a now completely annoyed snarl around.

A tattered, dirt-encrusted Baxter stepped out of the wall, walking towards the man with a disturbing grin...

"...that was only the first round..." his hoarse voice stated with a breathless determination.

Hero's eyes narrowed.

"...round two..." Ozzy nodded.

And with that, the man launched himself at the agent, fists clenched tight...

Velo ran toward the main entrance of the Palace, when the big saber-tooth, Agent Fangs, jumped in front of him, closing the way to the gate.

If it was possible, the big tiger was smiling. Velo threw away his gun, now empty of bullets, and stood still in front of the feline. Whispering in the mini-mic, he ordered: “Brianna, get rid of this cat.”

There was a moment of delay, as undoubtedly the girl was repeating the order to the Raptor, and then a few darts rained from the sky, one breaking over some sort of metallic gear covering the shoulder of the tiger, the other sticking into the soil. Agent Fangs raised his head, to look at the menace, and then jumped away, as another row of darts and a big, spiked mace were missing it by inches.

Velo jet boots roared, and he fled fast inside the Palace. Looking outside, at the many fights, taking place in the courtyard, he began is survey.

“Chance, your position!”

“I am in the Palace, no guards in sight, Velo!”

“Chance, you are on your own from now on. You know what you have to do. Brianna, tell Raptor to come here, I need him. Brianna, Different, Baxter, Priest, Phil Smith, stop any further incursion of Strikeforce toward the palace. Repeat, you are assigned to secure the Palace from any more incursion of Strikeforcers, metas or soldiers. I will send Grimm as soon as I found him, he will lead!”

As he was shouting orders in the mic, the Raptor landed just in front of the entrance and got in, his mace back in the hand.

“Ed, glad you are here!” smiled Velo.

“Kristogar! Quantos told me you were here, and it was a short flight for me!”

“Are you scared of darkness like the birdie up there, or think you can come in the dungeons?”

“After you, Velo!”

The two ex-Revolutionaries ran upstairs toward the War room, when suddenly the wall on the side of one landing de-materialized, and a man in a complex armor stood out. “I am Agent Z, the last of the Elite guards of Mandelovia. Follow me!”

Velo nodded at Euro, and went behind the Agent. The features of the man hidden under the helmet, Velo was well aware that could have been a trap, but his sixth sense, the natural instinct that saved him so many time, told him to trust the man, whose heavy Mandelovian accent was also unmistakable.

After a few turns on a spiral staircase, in the light-beam from the helmet of Z appeared Tayden, and behind him Generla D’Goon.

“We have a situation up there, Velo!” shouted Tayden. And then. “Euro! God bless you, what are you doing here?”

“Hope to help” said the Italian. Velo approached the General. “We’ll take you to the dungeons. I know them much better than the surface”.

The tyrant’s face was very tense: “It better be. I wouldn’t have expected such poor preparation from you!”

“Nobody knew the Strikeforce was a whole Army, General. Now me and Ed will go up to clear the mess, rendez vous with you three in the dungeons, at the railroad stop under the Palace.”

Tayden said, amazed: “Railroad… under the Palace?”, but Z nodded in agreement. And as him, with D’Goon and Tayden, ran downstairs, Velo and Raptor headed toward the battle in the War Room.

Spaceship Nibiru, orbital headquarter of the Strikeforce 1

“I don’t like this” said Ekorre, the tall, blonde alien in charge of the spaceship. “Your freaks play superheroes in Mandelovia, while my men do the dirty work in space”. On the multiple screen in the Command deck, images of many discs bombing the source of the asteroids behind the hidden face of the moon are seen.

“What do you fear, alien?” respond Merlin. “There is no harm. It’s an unmanned station. A relic of the grandeur of the Hoods, when your Annunaki were keeping the strings of the western world. Now Saros, or EN.LIL, like you call him, has just the key to make it function from down there, from his seat at the foot of the throne of Naecken.”

The enormous base is destroyed piece after piece by the laser bolts of the disk fighters.

“I don’t know. It seems so easy.”

“It’s easy, Ekorre. They never though that they would have faced a spaceship. All the plans of Naecken and Saros are falling one after the other. First they tried to blackmail as many nations of Earth as possible into allying with him, but with the menace of spreading the Virus, we have kept them under tight rope. Then, we intercepted the gathering of metahuman criminals, killing many and recruiting some. Now we are destroying the meteor catapult. In a few minutes, Naecken and his allies, the twelve renegade aliens of your race, will be alone down there, in the middle of an iced nothingness… with no means of attacking the planet” explains Jack Merlin.

“So, why not just bombing the damned continent? We’ll wipe the demon out, and those bastards too”.

“You are mad, Ekorre. Bombing Antarctica will make the Ocean level rise about 135 meters. Most of the biggest cities of the world will be destroyed. It’s also your planet, now.”

“My planet this ball of mud? YOU are the mad one, Merlin. When the last of the Annunaki will be executed, I will leave for Nibiru, my homeplanet, with Adalia, my daughter.”

“Your planet was the Nibiru of 40,000 years ago, Ekorre. What will you find there, now? Probably your race is extinct, by now.”

“Well, then me and my daughter will be like… what are the names… your Adam and Eve” said Ekorre, an evil grin spreading on his lips.

Pedro Delgado, the fat kid, began to laugh uncontrollably.

Merlin just shook his head. “We need to know what other things has Naecken at his disposal. We need that D’Goon reveals the coordinates of the fortress. Then I will go there, to negotiate with Saros: if what I find is a would be tyrant without any ace up his sleeve, I will be back and we’ll destroy the place. If I find an army, and power, I’ll value if to make allegiance with Naecken… but Saros and his men will be yours in any case.”

Ekorre smiled, and went to the main window, looking at the stars and searching for the small bright point that was the Nibiru star-system.

A group of Mandelovian soldiers had secured the north entrance of the palace from a Strikeforce militia. The Elite Mandelovian infantry had stocked up on the advanced weaponry that was the pride of their military. Canister of a black gas were shot into the UN ranks, blinding them. Perched on each Elite's head were special goggles that allowed them to detect and target the opposing force inside the black cloud. UN soldiers fell left and right. Many began to surrender when they noticed that they had been boxed in and were outnumbered.

Many of the Mandelovian citizenry had gotten involved too. While the mothers, children, and the elderly were led away from the conflict, many healthy young men and women accepted what they thought their responsibilities were. Seeing the Strikeforce as an invading army despite its UN ties, the men and women of Mandelovia gathered to fight back the incursion in their land and headed to the steps of the palace.

The Strikeforce soldiers knew that firing upon unarmed civilians would only make the situation worse. Both tactically here and politically world wide. They found themselves trapped between a wall of humanity and barrier of fire.

"Here! Take this!" Phil yelled above the deafening music of war as he handed Adem Different a machine gun. The telepath shot forth a wave of information on the weapon directly into the alien's mind. Unfortunately, the information was detoured, put on a back road, given directions that were incomprehensible, got lost, ran out of gas, and left, abandoned on the side of the road with only a moldy bologna sandwich, a crossword book with all the crosswords completed, and an Andy Gibb cassette stuck in the tape deck. Adem looked confused at the item that now rested in his hands.

In the distance, the silhouettes of Ozzy and Hero criss-crossed, merged, and separate like an insane shadow puppet. Both sides of the conflict ignored the two men because each had more important things to accomplish than to watch an insane shadow puppet.

From the massive hands of Priest flew an oval object. It landed on the ground in front of Shock. A heavy, white foam shot out and encompassed the bulky form of Shock. With much difficulty the Strikeforcer continued to push his body forward. "Why don't you have a bit of this?!" he yelled as his foot slammed to the ground. The quake was weak but still damaging.

"Don't mind if I do!" Priest yelled back as he jumped the barrier and ran towards Shock. "Give me all you've got!"

Phil Smith let loose a barrage of bullets that sent the oncoming force for cover. "Say hello to my little friend!" he yelled as flames licked the end of the barrel. "Adem, fire off to the left so...... What the hell have you done?!"

Adem Different sat cross legged on the stone. Before him sat the machine gun...... broken down to all its separate parts. "Now I understand," the alien said to himself. "A simple machine with many moving parts. It's a projectile weapon that uses mechanical and chemical components instead of energy."

A red dot crossed Different's face. It returned and sat directly in the center of his forehead. "Look out!" Phil yelled as he dropped his gun and threw his entire body at the alien, sending them both back several feet. The stone cracked with and a powder rose a few inches behind where Adem once sat. Black scorch marks identified the "We've got a sniper on the east tower," Phil yelled into his headset as his eyes relentlessly searched the area from where the shot came.

"I've got you now, my pretty," Rose playfully said as she moved Phil into her cross hairs. A tiny crossbow bolt ripped through her right hand a split second before the assassin could pull the trigger.

Banshee was in a full dive at Rose. Her throat was too sore from her recent constant use of it to let loose another sonic cry. She was simply going to knock this woman off the roof. Rose had another plan as she rolled out of the way and grabbed the passing Vanguardian's ankle. With all of her strength and momentum, she pulled the avian woman out of the sky and hard onto the roof.

"We've got to get back to holding off the offensive attack," Phil said as he turned to retrieve his gun. In its place sat a pile of molten metal.

"Not what you were expecting?" Fire mockingly laughed.

Brianna found herself face down with dust in her mouth. She tried talking, but she could only breath with a nasty rasp in her voice. Rose grinned. "Get up." Brianna did so on instinct. Rose kicked her in the gut, and the Vanguardette was down. "Get up again."

Lady, if my throat was working, you'd be so dead right now. Brianna managed to roll (which is very hard with such a massive wingspan) and fired the last two arrows of her crossbow. Rose dodged the first arrow but the second one nicked her at the shoulder. "Bitch!" she shouted.

Rose was trained in hand-to-hand combat, and Brianna quickly learned that the few punches she learned from the Vanguardians did little to stop the unleashing of hands and feet trying to crack bone. What's more, Brianna was a lightweight and her wings were slowing her down. Rose knew this and took advantage, forcing the Banshee into a corner where her wings would be useless. Rose lifted her snipper rifle and aimed it at the girl's forehead...

...when a massive axe knocked the gun right out of her hand. Rose turned and saw Grimm heading their way. Instantly she used her pheromones to get Grimm closer. To her surprise, he calmly walked past her to get Brianna. "Hey Banshee, look alive."

Why isn't he coming to me? thought Rose. But then she realized -- Grimm had no nose. She realized she was out of her league and retreated. Rose stopped when she felt her own gun's muzzle aimed at her. Phil, grinning, was holding it. "Call your friend Fire off or you are going to have a hole in your abs. I can shoot quicker than he can melt this thing."

Phil looked up and saw Grimm giving his orders to Banshee. "What do you mean your voice is gone? You might be the only on tht can tackle Shock."

"Ah-ahhhhhh!" was all Brianna could say.

[ 11-22-2003, 08:22 PM: Message edited by: Grimm ]

A few minutes before…

The War Room was filled by a dense back mist dense as molasses, from which no light seemed to escape from. Velo and Raptor stopped over the threshold, trying to figure what was happening.

Velo took from his utility belt the sonic torch and the relative goggles, a couple of devices part of the standard equipment of Vanguard from many months* , acting like an x-ray beam.

What Kristogar saw was a massacre: a Strikeforce agent, armed with an ancient sword, was killing one by one the Mandelovian soldiers and technicians, while Drax, Grimm, and Mr. Smith were engulfed and blocked in the darkness matter. Another Strikeforcer, armoured with what seemed a robot shell, was standing not far them, unable to see in the darkess like them.

And to Velo dismay, Nadia was lying reverse over the ground.

“I don’t know what this shadow his, but I have yet to seen a shadow that resist the rays of the sun!” yelled Velo to the Raptor, pointing at a sector of the outer wall. Raptor looked at it, shaking his head: “It’s a reinforced steel wall, I can’t even think of taking it down, Kris!”

“I know. But I know what can tear it down…” responded Velo, jumping inside the room. He began crawling toward Nadia, opposing his will force to the extreme resistance of the black matter. Inch after inch, he was pushing himself hard toward the Russian woman, as the darkness’ embrace was tighter, closing like a slipknot around his neck.

Finally, he was near Nadia, he touched her. She was alive. He had just the strength to yell her name, before the lack of oxygen make him passing out. Nadia opened her eyes for a moment... but that was enough for an invisible force, emanating from her body, took shape in the War Room. The giant form of a demon, invisible to everyone, stood on the battle ground, roaring in rage. Suddenly, heavy blows began to shake the outer wall, like a gigantic hammer.

The noise alarmed ACK, which, blind by the darkness, began to move toward the source of the sound… when he felt being swept away by the fall of stones, concrete and reinforced steel.

Trapped under the big pile of debris, he didn’t see the sun rays entering from the huge break in the wall.

He didn’t see the shadow mist dissipating and taking refuge in a dark corner of the room.

He didn’t see the huge form of Nadia’s demon returning to her again senseless body, in the shape of her tattoo.

He didn’t see the scared stupor on the face of Agent O’ken, when he find himself facing the axe of Grimm, the mace of Raptor and the fangs of Drax.

Velo, stood up, massaging his throat. “Drax, bring Nadia out of Mandelovia, to the nearest hospital!” ordered with a feeble voice. The dragon left, but a whip of tail send the swordmaster on the ground. Raptor quickly kicked the sword, making it flying a few meters away.

“Grimm, to the courtyard, those hotheads need some directions. Keep the palace clear of Strikeforcers!” The death Avatar ran to the hole in the wall, and jumped outside, while Velo was putting handcuffs at Agent O’ken, tying him to a metallic shaft sprouting out of the floor.

“Mr. Smith, Raptor, you follow me!” said Velo, taking the spiral staircase down, toward the dungeons. A few story below, the three men entered a long, dark tunnel, lit by torches that were sending long, trembling shadows over the walls.

What they didn’t notice was that their shadows were four.

....

*see issue 12

The Mandelovian troops fought bravely to defend their homeland against the Strikeforce soldiers. Ablebodied Mandelovian citizens rose to aid them in their defense, pummeling their foes with whatever they could find, boards, rocks, debris.

A large War Mastiff rode up to the scene of the battle. "Fight on! For Honor! For Mandelovia! For D'Goon!" The voice of Lt. Col. Barada rang out over the courtyard as he brandished his cutlass, waving it in the air. Cheers of the Mandelovian citizenry rising up all around him.

"You know, he almost had me, up until that last bit." Phil Smith smirked, looking at his teammates. Priest continued loading the captured Strikeforce agents, Fire, Fang, and Rose, into the Stormloader, which he had summoned by remote from it's resting place in Espertingonzia. "These neural inhibitors will keep you three out of trouble."

"Banshee, rest for a bit. Stay here with the Stormloader and watch these guys." Banshee nodded, reloading her crossbow. "Phil, Priest, you're on Shock. Take him down." The two Vanguard agents headed down the street to confront the Strikeforce member. "Where's Baxter?" Grimm looked around for the newcomer. "This isn't good."

************************

Raptor, Velo, Tayden, Smith, and D'Goon walked down the passageway into the tunnels. Agent Z lurked behind the group, in the shadows.

"You really weren't needed down here, you know." Smith smirked at the angel.

"How can you be so sure?" the angel replied nonchalantly, refusing to take Smith's bait.

Chance found himself running again. Not out of fear, a quality foreign to his nature. Nor out of confusion. He knew exactly where he was going. After all, he had been here once before.

The Swede was actually an alternate timeline's counterpart of the deceased Kristofer Schanz of this timeline. And in the timeline Chance once called "home," he had done a great deal of good in only a few short months as leader of the team which called themselves the MBL. In his first case with the team -- then under the nickname of the "Revolutionaries" -- Kristofer "Chance" Schanz had helped to bring about the end of a short-lived military coup by one General Colton D'goon. In the course of that case the MBL had the run of the Palace and discovered many secrets, some secrets of which later came out during the trial that had barely begun when he was thrust into the timeline he now lived in. Most of the secrets had to do with D'goon and his concrete ties with so-called "terrorist" groups he used to gain power for himself, but some had to do with somewhat trivial things, such as the security codes for the Palace's computer system.

It was why he was running now. He knew exactly where he was going.

The battle which was raging all around the Palace and even inside it in places echoed loudly in the high walls. Luckily for the man still known as the Luckiest Man Alive (for want of a better candidate for that claim), the room he was seeking was a first-floor study on the opposite side of the Palace from the War Room.

The halls were emptied of all able-bodied men and women. It was to be expected that all military personnel, whether they be of the Honor Guard, the National People's Army, or the Mandelovian Security Agency, were at the scene of the battle as they strove to protect the property and the General himself in the other side of the Palace. However, even the many servants in the Palace were gone as well. Chance knew that they, too, were assisting the Army. After all, every able-bodied man in Mandelovia had Army training and was considered to be in the Reserves until the age of 50. For women it was optional, but most Mandelovian women, he knew, had also undergone the necessary Army training, though those with children were automatically exempt from service. These Mandelovians were a hardy people, a people who after centuries of relative isolation from the world had grown to think of themselves as the best and the brightest the world had to offer. And they were not far off from that claim.

Chance knew that the Strikeforce's troops could only succeed in a quick attack such as they were undergoing now. Already the Mandelovian Army Reserves were mobilizing in record numbers around the country ready to defend their nation and their leader to the death. It wasn't that they had no problems with D'goon or the dictatorship he had erected; it was out of a sense of pride that they fought. If anyone was going to decide the future of their nation, it would be themselves, NOT foreigners, and especially NOT foreign troops.

The small study Chance was looking for was one of several in the Palace, but he was sure this one had what he was looking for. To all appearances it was just a relatively small room (compared to the rest in the Palace) with two walls lined with books and an alcove with three small windows and two large chairs.

Racking his mind and memory for something from almost two years ago, Chance looked over the rack of books in search of the correct title. Finally he succeeded in finding it. It was an original edition of George Barr McCutcheon's 1904 novel, Graustark.

As Chance pulled the book back, the entire book-shelf began to rotate on its axis. It was a cliche straight out of a movie, but like the candlestick which opened up the living metal "iris" into the famed War Room, it was a little-known feature of the Palace nevertheless. Whoever built and/or refurbished this 15th century structure loved puzzles.

A motion-detector switch turned a cold light on from the ceiling. This was a light created by chemical processes rather than electricity and thus was not prone to blacking out. A large computer console hummed to life as well as the muffled sounds of a generator could be barely heard behind another wall. The generator had been activated by pulling mechanisms of the kind which opened this hidden compartment and was likewise an independent source of power not prone to blackouts.

In moments, the large computer screen flashed the seal of the President-Prime Minister upon it. A feminine voice spoke in Mandelovian:

"{{What is the pass phrase?}}"

Chance replied with a phrase in the same language, "{{Like a viper eating its own tail.}}"

"{{Welcome to the mainframe, Mr. President-Prime Minister. How are you today?}}"

A sigh of relief issued from Chance's chest as he exhaled. Luckily for him the code had not been changed and probably had no reason to be. In the off chance that it had been changed and he had given the incorrect pass phrase, however, the doors would have locked behind him and he would have been given two more chances to produce the correct phrase before anesthetizing gas would subdue him even as the security was alerted. He wouldn't have to worry about any of that now.

"{{I am fine, computer,}}" Chance replied as he took a seat at the console. He continued in voice-command mode for the time being. "{{I wish to do a name-search for 'McKenzie, Helen.'}}"

The screen blinked for a moment, and then the photograph of an attractive woman in her twenties with beautiful red hair and eyes exactly like her father's appeared on the screen. "Wow," he muttered under his breath, "I had no idea your daughter was such a knockout, Doc."

The computer voice spoke, "{{Project Kronos files require a Level 12 Security Clearance.}}"

"Level Twelve?!?" Chance repeated incredulously. He had thought there were only nine security levels.

The screen went blank. "{{Unauthorized access. Level 12 Security Clearance pass phrase is required immediately.}}"

The revolving bookshelf behind him swung shut with a *click* even as jets of gas shot down toward him.

"Dammit!" he muttered just as he grabbed his Vanguard jacket and covered the lower half of his face.

"Not so feckin' high-an'-mighty now, are ye, me old son?"

It was the voice of Pete "the Chimp" Glover, the short and homely Newfoundlander hobo who had a face and body not unlike that of a chimpanzee's, hence the nickname. He was also very, very dead.

Chance glared at the hovering spectre before him who had made his return at a most inopportune time. He knew that Pete was trying to goad him into yelling at him and thus lose his last remaining gasps of air. For a ghost, Pete wasn't exactly the easiest guy to get along with.

The Vanguardian tore a strip from his jacket and wrapped it around his face like a mask, then tore the rest of the jacket into strips and bundled them up, then stuffed the strips into the gas-jets. It wasn't exactly much of a solution, as the gas was still filling up the room, and he could only hold his breath so long.

"Oooh, look at me, I'm mister-blonde-and-beautiful! I's a credit te seciety, I's am! Not like poor ol' Pete, that no-good bum! Well, at least I's smart enough when I was alive not te get meself trapped in a room like this'un, ya fairy bastard!"

Chance looked around, his eyes welling up with tears as he tried to find a solution despite the effect of the gas.

"What, is the poor baby lookin' around for 'is milk? Can't find a couple of 32B titties to suckle on?" Pete was doubled over in laughter as he continued to taunt the man inadvertently responsible for his own ghostly condition. "Well, ye'd best prepare yereself, me old son -- ye're about to join me now..."

It was true. Chance couldn't hold his breath any longer, and though he was merely being knocked out by the gas, he would die if he didn't get fresh oxygen, and if he survived he would probably be executed as a spy. He still didn't know if his healing ability could make death elude him.

Chance slumped to the floor, trying to keep his eyes open and trying to keep from blacking out. Pete was cackling before him and dancing a merry jig at his disposition. "Aye, you an' me, we're gonna have ourselves a merry old time! We're..." Pete was suddenly distracted and a disappointed look came over his face. "Shite! Feckin' cavalry to the rescue again. Well, ol' Pete will be back..." The ghost faded away.

A muffled voice could barely be heard from the other side of the bookshelf. Chance couldn't understand the words being spoken, but he heard and saw an explosion which blew the bookshelf/sliding door inwards into the room. Most of the mass smashed against the computer, destroying much of it, though Chance himself was almost untouched as he was huddled in the far corner. It was then that he passed out.

"^...you're insane!^"

The Mandelovian dialect rang hollow throughout the cloistered entrance to the southern civilian bunker. The back-up fusion generators blinked brielfy. The off-flourescent lights strobing almost in unison to the voice, as the room shook ominously.

Large explosions still rocked parts of the dimly-lit city above, as the young female gripped the railing of the stone staircase.

"^No one's forcing you to come, Marcos...^" she responded, beginning her ascent once again.

The teen following her grimaced, staring at the voluptuous rear striding eye-level before him.

"^Yeah...like you'll still let me hit 'dat if I don't...^" he replied.

"^...smart boy...^" she said, steadily climbing the stairs towards the surface.

"^Come on, Jana!^" he whined, gripping the railing as a lighter tremor rocked the place. "^We're going to get killed out there!^"

"^I don't care...^" she insisted. "^...I can't sit down there like all the old women, and hope somebody drives these demons out of our city!^"

"^That's what the Van-Halen-guys are here to do! We have no business interfering in this!^"

"^Criste'...it's 'Vanguardians', numbnuts!^" she stated. "^And, we have as much business out there as they do....hell, more! It's our country!^"

"^There are Mandelovians out there, already!^" he sighed. "^Metahuman ones, too!^"

"^So two more can't hurt, right?^"

"^Jana, I know you can shift the mineral balance of matter with a touch....but all I can do is fly!^" he pleaded. "^How the hell do you propose we stop trained military--with GUNS--and defend ourselves against this American Strike-First group?!^"

"^Strikeforce...^" she sighed, rolling her eyes. "^...and they're U.N. soldiers...not American...^"

"^...feels American to me...^" Marcos shrugged with a disgusted sneer on his lips. "^Besides, you still haven't answered my question!^"

"^You distract them, and I'll take them out...^" she replied, gripping the rail as another tremor shook the stairwell. "^...simple as that.^"

"^As I said, you're insane!^" he stated forcefully.

"^Marcos, have you always been this much of a coward?^"

"^Sure...it serves me well...^" he shrugged.

"^Then, why are you still following me?^"

He stared at her ass again.

"^Cause, I'm a horny coward?^"

She smiled.

"^...good enough...^"

They reached the surface entrance, the tritanium, vault-like doors sealed tight. Jana began punching in the access code on the keypad panel. A series of disturbing beeps told her that the bunker had been sealed and locked.

"^Oh well...^" Marcos threw his hands up, turning to go back down the stairs. "^...can't say we didn't try...^"

"^Marcos...^" she rolled her eyes with a sigh. Reaching out, she placed her palm against the massive door.

Closing her eyes, the young Mandelovian woman began to concentrate, as the surface metal around her hand began to transmutate into rust.

The rust spread forth, along the entire surface of the door. Parts of the large frame began to chip and flake, falling away.

Then, with a swift kick, the once-impenetrable door crumbled with a heave of metallic dust.

Marcos began coughing from the plume, as both stared out into the slowly visible street.

It was dark, save the occassional flickering fire, decorating the entire avenue. The street was littered with bodies from both sides of the fight. Massive metallic frames, still smoldering with black smoke, stood ominous and silent. Like foreboding statues, their dark carcasses held the attention of the two teenagers, peeking into the street.

Jana was full of bravery and honest courage, having decided to give her life for her homeland. But, even still, the true reality of war that spread before her wide eyes was enough to give her pause.

After a moment, she took a tender step out onto the pavement; fragments of stone and ash crunching under her booted heel.

"^My god...^" Marcos whispered, staring out over the devastation.

There was another tremor, and, without warning, the building across the street exploded in a hail of mortar.

The two teens collided with each other, as they dove back into the bunker. They never saw the two wrestling men, flying straight through the cloud of debris, colliding with another half-standing structure.

The few remaining walls of the old Postal Office collapsed from their titanic struggle, as the one in the U.N. uniform whipped the other one by his ankles, slamming him face-first into the crumbling mortar.

"WHY!" Hero yelled, gripping Baxter's ankles with both hands.

He turned, slamming him back-first into the rupturing ground...

"WON'T!"

He swung him through a massive stone support column...

"YOU!"

Hero flung Oz over his head, still holding his ankles, and tossed him into the a shattering granite fountain...

"DIE?!"

The words howled from the inscensed agent. Ozzy had barely started to rise from the quickly draining pool of water, when Hero leapt a good twenty-seven feet into the air, coming straight down into his chest with a thunderous fist.

The impact rippled a shockwave around them with the force of a sonic boom. The walls of the abandoned Parliment building shattered, as anything not attached flew in a bursting wave of thunder.

An unbowed fist burst straight up into Hero's face, stumbling the man back a few steps. The rookie Vanguardian lurched up onto his feet, springing like a cat. Harsh grunts flew as fast as his lightning fists, bareknuckle skills driving the ex-boxer's ferocity home.

Slamming impervious fists into precision points on the agents body, Ozzy began working him over harder, and harder. The flurry of fists, seen only in the sweat spraying from Hero's face, pounded the man without mercy, or pause. The sheer, brutal hammering staggered the powerful agent back further, as Oz took advantage of the momentum.

A sharp uppercut clipped Mularney's jaw, as a jab impacted his ribs. Two more shot to the head, and a third in his solar plexus. A knee to the face. An elbow in the spine. A rightcross to the head again. An uppercut to the groin.

The skill began to blend. Baxter's boxing finesse' began to fade into a raw, innate bareknuckle prowess. Working Hero over and over....faster and faster.

And, suddenly....Hero reached a firm hand out, catching the man's wrist to a dead halt.

There was a pause, as he and Ozzy stared at each other with a panting fury.

And, with that, Hero slammed his hand around the man's neck. Jerking him aloft, Oz's hands scrambled against the impossible grip on his esophagus...

...to no avail.

Hero's free fist began pummeling Baxter in the face...

"KILL YOU!" was all the agent could growl forth, as any discipline fell away to unbridled anger and emotion.

Oz's feet jerked to and fro in the air, as Hero held him firmly aloft, beating him in the face over and over, and over. The ultra-powerful blows rattled their surroundings with a chaotic rhythym, as more damage structure began to collapse.

He punched him, over and over, a seething foam actually beginning to seep from the agent's gritted teeth. His face an almost crimson-red, Hero's fury was unchecked, now. It was no longer an issue of pride. Or ability. Or greed, or even, responsibility.

It was primal, now.

It was kill, or, be killed.

The blows had begun to come faster, now; the punishment intensifying. Deafening shockwaves could be felt for a half-mile around.

Baxter no longer struggled. His hands, gripping Hero's mighty wrists, released their hold. His body shook violently with each impact.

And Hero did not stop. He did not pause. He hit the man continuously, his breath becoming a panting race of grunt and spit.

He hit Baxter with all of his strength. He pummeled him with every ounce of power he could muster. Fists that could shatter fault lines rammed into Ozzy's face at over one-hundred-fifty-miles-an-hour.

He hit him, over and over. His breath coming raspier, now. His pants, quicker.

And, after about six minutes of the thunderous pounding, his fists began to come....slower...

...softer...

Hero's face was etched with a red-faced strain, as he continually swung his fist into the man. But, now, he was panting harder. And his hits, weren't quite as powerful. Nor, was the speed and ferocity in which they came.

After another two minutes of the beating, Hero's fists began to falter....and finally...

...drop.

Hero stood there, covered in sweat. His face a ripe pink from the strain. His knuckles crackled with a light sizzle. He heaved with a breathless exhaustion, now, slumping a bit, as Ozzy's feet began to touch the ground once again.

Hero's haggard eyes stared up at what he expected to be pulverized meat. And, instead, found a perfectly fine Baxter staring back at him.

"...wh....wha....what...." Hero panted, staring at him. ".....are.......ya...you..."

Oz knocked Hero's now-feeble grip from his neck...

"...I'm a boxer..." he stated in a hoarse voice. "...and that's what we call...the 'Rope-a-Dope'..."

And, with a single, bone-crunching shot, Ozzy's fist dropped Hero to the pavement. The agent lay there, dazed, too exhausted to move.

Ozzy stood there staring at him for a moment, trying to regain his strength again.

"...godbless...Ali..." he mumbled to himself.

"Nice."

Baxter snarled, swinging a punch directly around behind him, aiming for the source of the unexpected voice.

An enormous, flat palm caught his, stopping it cold.

"...easy...fight's over..." Grimm said, holding Baxter's fist with a casual ease.

Baxter, still panting a bit, jerked his fist back. Bracing himself agaist his legs, he stood there trying to regain his breath, staring up at the foreboding figure.

"...where...." he breathed, wiping sweat from his forhead. "...where were you....when I needed you..."

Grimm turned, pointing off behind them.

"Right over there."

Ozzy looked over, and back again at the man with an incredulous look.

"...well...thanks for the assist....you ass..."

Grimm stared down at the slowly moving Hero.

"I wanted to see how you handle yourself." Grimm stated, unholstering his axe.

And, with a single down-swing, Grimm's sharp blade impacted the pavement....

....on it's path straight through Hero's sternum...

The agent gurgled briefly, and, without another sound, slumped still.

Grimm yanked the blade from the pavement, holstering it back immediately. Oz just stared on, a bit uncomfortable with what he had just witnessed.

The Vanguardian noticed Baxter's expression...

"He was still moving." Grimm said.

"...well...he damn well won't...anymore..."

"He was too powerful to contain....Baxter, isn't it?" Grimm added.

"...and that's your decision to make...?"

Grimm stared ominously at him.

"Yes."

The statement was more fact, than ego...and Baxter knew how to tell the difference.

Grimm turned to leave...

"Hey..." Ozzy rasped out.

Grimm paused, looking back...

"You..." Baxter began, clearing his throat. "...you realize that you don't have a face...right?"

Grimm grunted with amusement.

"...at least I'm not naked..." he replied, turning back to his stride.

Baxter looked briefly perplexed.

Dropping his eyes down, he realized only the ribboned remains of his boxers clung miraculously to his hips...

"Dammit!" he sighed.

Brianna was watching the disabled Strikeforce members. They were all still unconcious thanks to the neural inhibitors Priest put on them. Although Fang's head made for an odd placement of the inhibitor. It barely fit on his head. The Stormloader was hovering over the battlefield. She peered down, using her sharp eyes to check the battle.

Dear Lord. Ozzy is naked. Well, almost naked. Brianna's scream was still not working. She could barely speak. Having nothing else to do, Brianna grabbed some crackers. Her heavy flight had drained her of a lot of energy.

"Banshee, can you hear me?" buzzed Grimm in her headset.

"Ahhaaaaaaaaaaaaa," was all she could say.

"Look, the Stormloader has one gun that's easy enough to operate." Brianna couldn't believe it. Grissom wouldn't even let her play Starshooter. Apparently, she wasn't suppose to hit the screen when the targets appeared. And now Grimm wanted her to use a giant machine gun for the first time. Brianna, still mute, hissed into the microphone. "Okay...I'll take that as a 'no'."

Darn right. Suddenly, Brianna was knocked down to the floor. Fang's inhibitor had finally slipped off. He had one paw pinning Brianna's left wing. Some drool dripped on her shoulder, and his face was so close she could count his teeth. Great. And me without my scream. What's the word Priest told me? Shit? Yeah, that sounds good. Shit.

Brianna managed to shoot once. It completly missed Fang and hit some rubber on the ceiling. There was a hissing sound, and the Stormloader shook. Brianna felt a sinking feeling in her head -- the ship was descending.

Fang realized the same thing. He swiped Banshee with his massive paw. She skidded under the control panel. "Foolish girl!" he growled. "We're going to crash now!"

[ 11-22-2003, 08:21 PM: Message edited by: Grimm ]

"The battle is not going well, Pedrito." Jack Merlin's face quickly went from a triumphant smile to a frown as he watched a light blink out on one of his computer screens.

"Hmm?" The Albino mused as he looked up at his leader.

"Hero," he said, half turned to the boy. "is dead. Several other agents have been captured. It is only a matter of time before the remaining soldiers are defeated or surrender."

Merlin pressed a button on the side of his chair. "Prepare a disk. Release Amuck. Tell him the Vanguards await him."

Merlin leaned back in his chair and smiled again.

*********************

Shock continued sending wave after wave of force at Priest and Smith. Priest absorbed as much as he could with a grimace.

"You ok?" Phil asked, genuinely concerned for the man.

"No. . .but I will be when we finish this guy." Priest lied.

"Yeah, sure." Phil could sense his teammate was holding something back from him, but decided not to press the issue. They had more immediate concerns. Phil rummaged around in his bag, filled with items he'd scavenged on the battlefield. He found what he was looking for. A flash grenade. "Sweet. Shield your eyes." He pulled the pin and tossed it towards the massive Strikeforce member.

The grenade seemed to float weightlessly, effortlessly, stopping in mid air inches from Shock's face. "Whu-?" he said, more than a little surprised. "Bang." Phil said as the grenade burst in a flash, blinding Shock.

Shock roared in pain and anger, unleashing more waves of force. "Not quite the reaction I was expecting!" Phil said, as he used his telekinesis to attempt to hold Priest and himself steady.

"Releasing. . .now!" Priest fired back all of the stored energy he'd absorbed from Shock in one massive burst. Priest dropped to one knee, panting. His hands shook, uncontrollably.

"Hey, are you sure you're ok?" Phil said, placing a hand on the man's shoulder.

"I'll. . .I'm fine." Priest replied, tight-lipped. "Did we get 'im?"

"Take a look for yourself." Phil pointed at the large meta still raging in his blindness.

"How. . .?!" was Priest's astonished reply.

"I dunno. . .immune to his own abilities? I'm about out of explanations at this point, man."

A large shadow swooped overhead, briefly draping the two Vanguardians in darkness. A huge blast of pink lightning struck Shock with powerful force, finally knocking him to the ground.

"Drax!" the men replied simultaneously. The large, white dragon swooped around and turned, his eyes spotting something else.

"Where's he going?" Phil asked.

"Beats. . .me." Priest responded, still on one knee.

*****************

The Stormloader began descending to the ground as Brianna and Fang struggled inside.

"You'll kill us!" The large tiger screamed at the girl. Yeah, well, I could probably fix it if you weren't trying to smother me, you jerk. Brianna thought to herself.

Suddenly the craft stopped. Gently, it touched down on the ground. A large eye looked inside the cockpit window. Fang hissed loudly at the dragon.

***********************

"This is ridiculous," Ozzy murmured as he pulled a leather Strikeforce boot onto his leg. "Hey, you could wait up a bit you know!" He yelled at Grimm, walking ahead of him.

"We don't have time!" Grimm yelled back, still walking.

Ozzy started to run ahead when something sparked off his chest.

"Wha-?" Another spark. And another. Several now. Something shot past Ozzy and grabbed him by the arm, jerking him off his feet.

"Yaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!!!!!!!!!!!!!!" he screamed as he was pulled along by the crazed speedster called Amuck. "WhrzzTbisCrstfrrrr??" Amuck snarled at the hapless Vanguardian.

"What?!" Ozzy responded, having absolutely no idea what the man was talking about. Ozzy felt himself violently jerked to the right, slamming into a fallen War Mastiff.

"WhrzzTbisCrstfrrrr??!" the question came again, louder, angrier. "W-what are you. . .I don't-" Ozzy was jerked to the left, colliding with the corner of an old brick building. "Dammit! Stop that!" Ozzy yelled.

Amuck sped through the streets of Mandelovia, repeating his question, slamming Ozzy into various different hard objects.

"OnnnnneemorrreetimewhereezTobiasssChristoopheerrrrrr?????" the speedster asked, slightly slowing down his speech. "I don't know who the fuck you're talking about!" Ozzy screamed back at the man. Amuck threw the man directly into Grimm, knocking him off his feet and into the side of a building.

"What the hell. . ." Grimm started. "Beats me." Ozzy answered. The two men heard a loud SNAP! quickly followed by BOOM!!!!!!! as the building they were in front of us began to collapse on top of them. Oh, not again. Grimm thought to himself.

"We're trapped by enemy fire!! We need backup now!" There was only static. "Fucking cheap equipment..."

"Dammit, Kris! Those punks are all over us! There's no way we're gonna get out of this one alive."

"Don't give up, Jorgen -- never give up. OK, I want Per, Erik and Jan to flank left. Jorg, you and I will give them cover fire. Staffan, Olle, Kjell -- flank right on my mark."

"This isn't gnna work, Kris... I can already picture fucking Tryggvason laughing at us for our humiliating defeat back at base."

"Shut it, Jorgen. We can do this. And call me Kapten."

"Aye aye... 'Kapten'."

"All right, on my mark." He started counting down with his fingers. When his hand turned into a fist, they all turned and did their duty.

Shots were fired in an almost endless stream from both sides, the shots getting louder, and louder, and louder...

***

"Va--?!"

Kristofer Schanz's eyes shot open in a moment, the fog in his head from the gas cleared already from his body. His immune system was nothing if not efficient. And though the military games he'd undergone as a young man during his required stint in the Swedish Army were now a mere memory, a dream of days gone by, the sounds of shots being fired in the distance and growing closer could still be heard. He sat and looked up.

"Whoa, there, boy," a man said in English with a slight Mandelovian accent. Chance couldn't see his face due to the lack of much light and the fact that the man was silhouetted by what little light there was coming from behind him. "You don't want the blood to rush to your head too fast. Take it easy."

It all came back in a second. The pact of honour the team owed to D'goon and their vow to protect him from the Strikeforce... the quick flight to Espertingonzia... then the long wait as they drove south through the Swiss and Italian Alps... then across northern Italy towards the only highway entering Mandelovia... the day-long wait in that small northern Mandelovian farming village where they were held in order for the authorities to ensure safe passage through the country... the farcical impromptu soccer game they'd played with a few of the locals while they were still dressed the part... the trip into the Palace... meeting the General... the Strikeforce attacking the Palace... and finally his desperate and unsuccessful search for the fate of Dr. Henry Quantos' daughter, Helen McKenzie.

"W-who are you...?" Chance said, his voice much less commanding than he'd wanted it to be.

The man's face still could not be seen, though the cigar he smoked was distinctly Cuban, a relic of earlier years when foreign imports were allowed into Mandelovia. He was silent, as if contemplating this 29-year-old Swede who would soon be demanding answers if none were given.

"To tell you the truth, Schanz, names aren't all that important," he finally said in a voice which sounded tired and husky. "But if you really need to call me something, I'm Major Roman Marko, Elite Agency, retired..."

"I'm Chance."

"I know. I saved your life, remember?"

"Well, no, not really." Chance was still confused as to what this man was all about.

"Believe me, I'm just as surprised to find you here as you are to meet me, kid, though I guess I shouldn't be. The Old Man has never steered us wrong yet. So are you ready to go?" Marko asked, offering his hand to help the Vanguardian to his feet.

"As soon as you're ready to start explaining a few things to me," Chance replied, taking the hand warily and rose to his feet with a jerk.

"You people always want explanations, don't you?" Marko replied, shaking his head. "The Old Man said you might give me a headache."

Chance finally got a look at the man who'd freed him from the gas-trap in the secret computer room. He was a well-built, fit man appeared to be in his 40s with dark brown hair and white at the temples, a pencil-thin moustache, and he wore a black, leather-like form-fitting suit which looked like something out of a spy film. He had a strong, tanned, classically-Mandelovian face with a long scar running from two inches over his left eyebrow down over his eye and cheekbone to within an inch of his left earlobe. His left eye was unlike anything Chance had ever seen before. It was cybernetic.

"A little gift from my days as an Elite Agent," Marko said as he noticed Chance's interest in his eye. "Back in my younger days I was known only as 'Agent M' and was the head of the so-called 'Alphabet Agents'. I lost my eye in a fencing match with a rival of mine, but I ended up being the recipient of an advanced miniature computer and recording device. Comes in handy once in a while."

Chance scratched his head as he tried to sort all this out after having just woken up. He still didn't know what this man was all about.

As if reading his mind, Marko said to him, "Kid, do I have to spell out everything for you? You're looking for Helen McKenzie, right? Well, I'm the guy who can tell you -- no -- show you where she is."

"But who are you?"

"I'm the good guy, kid!" He held out his hand impatiently to shake Chance's and said in a loud voice as if he were talking to a nearly-deaf and slow child, "Roman Marko -- head of the Mandelovian Underground Resistance, dedicated to restoring democracy to Mandelovia. Pleased to meet you. Now let's get out of here before those moronic conscripted soldiers come back here to investigate the explosion. Okay?"

"All right," Chance said. His instincts told him to trust this man for some strange reason.

***

Roman Marko led Chance through the Palace hallways, most of which were darkened due to the power lines being cut during the fighting. There were few individuals left in most of the Palace, as they'd gone to join their individual Army Divisions or were simply fighting with whatever weapons they could get their hands on, but occasionally Marko would stop, indicating Chance to remain quiet and wait until someone had passed. Along the way Marko explained in whispers that he'd followed the instructions of the Old Man -- a living Neanderthal Chance had met only briefly once in Paris during a quick trip there with Edulcore, Dr. Quantos, Mick, and Shirley -- to break into the Palace at a certain room and a certain time where he would find a young man named Chance, and that he was to assist him in his search for the daughter of Henry Quantos. Finding the room specified and realizing that Chance was being gassed inside, he set charges on the revolving bookshelf door and blew it in to rescue him.

Beginning on the first floor, they made their way up to first the second floor and then the third floor, and then back down to the first floor again in the same wing as the PPM's office where most of the fighting was occurring. Moving swiftly down an empty hall, Marko suddenly stopped at a locked room. He produced a card, kissed it, and passed it through a scanner. "Yes!" he muttered under his breath as it worked and the doors slid open.

"What is this?" Chance asked as he saw several wide tubes standing in the middle of the room, control boards placed around it. "It almost looks like..."

"You're right," Marko interrupted. "I think the man who designed this transporter system was a huge fan of Star Trek. Well, go on -- step into the tube."

"I-I'm not so sure about that," Chance said, more interested in this new scientific discovery than in their current situation at the moment. "How does it work?"

"It would take at least five hours to explain the complicated mathematics behind this principle, kid," Marko said. "And even if I cared to remember all of it, I wouldn't want to bother with it just now. Let's just say that it's an matter-energy-converter controlled by a probability matrix which can transport us to any other transporter tube in the country. Now get in."

"A 'probability matrix,' huh?" Chance said, a smile playing across his face. "I happen to have some experience with probability..."

"I'm sure you have a wonderful mother, too. Now get in! I'm setting it to transport us in 15 seconds."

"Where are we going?" Chance said, still somewhat distracted as he was pulled into the tube by Roman Marko.

"Well, since this is only an experimental model..."

"Wha--?"

"...there's only one place it can transport us to. Let's just hope it hasn't been destroyed in the fighting..."

"WHAT--?!?"

Just then, the transporter tubes hummed to life, and the two men were gone...

"Euro! God bless you, you have returned!" exclaimed Tayden, seeing the Raptor, who simply smiled at the ex-angel.

"You have been fast!" observed D'Goon, referring to the fact they had not yet reached the railroad subterranean station, place for the appointed rendez vous, the remnant of ancient mining activities, that during World War 2 were connected to the dungeons of the palace to create an easy and secret way of escape in case of Nazi invasion.

"Thanks to the fact that time passes faster than it seems!" responded Velo, enigmatically.

Agent Z, the last elite guard remaining to protect D'Goon, was leading the small group toward the station. A rusty old train, with freight cars covered with dust, was waiting for them.

"I can't believe it!" said Velo. "It's the same train..."

"Of your escape" ended the sentence Z. "It has never moved from here, these caves are really abandoned."

"Hope it works like two years ago" said Velo, jumping on the front car.

The train engine roared, propelled by some old but still uncanny Mandelovian kind of tech. D'Goon and the others jumped above the first freight, and the train began his run.

Just moments passed, when Mr. Smith said, looking outside the open door: "The darkness.... I sense it... it has followed us".

Tayden looked at Raptor, who shrugged, unable to think of a way to oppose the powerful meta, but Smith produced a wicked smile, and yelled "This time I am prepared" excited by the hate he felt and absorbed during the War Room battle. With an unexpected swivel catapulted out of the side door, to land over the roof of the car. "Come, little meta, come to feel what darkess really is".

At the same time, other Strikeforcers were able to jump above the train: Agent Noctule, flying over with his own bat-like wings, and agent Spider, attached to his web like rope.

"All four agents initialize attack!" shouted Tenant Digirl in his mouthpiece. Next to her, Morphina smiled.

Inside the pilot cabin of the train, a strange man suddenly jumped in, right at the side of Kristogar Velo. The former special agent turned, to see a man as tall as himself, garbed in the traditional silver and grey uniform of the Strikeforce. This one, however, had a particular belt, lined with many littler pockets of various shapes and dimensions. The jacket was tailored to allow the membrane joining the arms to the side of the torso, to spread like the wings of a bat.

"Surrender yourself on the basis of the UN mandate 345-76 bis" said the bat-man.

"And if I don't?" asked Velo, slightly amused, one hand still on the controls of the train.

"Be dead" replied the UN Agent, seriously.

"Heh!" smiled Velo, suddenly pushing hard over the train bracket. The convoy bracketed fiercely, as their occupants went all with their backs on the floor.

Agent Noctule crashed on the front window of the train, to be caught by Velo and pushed again and again on the glass, until it shattered it. Kristogar left the Agent hanging across the broken window, restarted the train, accelerated to a very fast pace, and then crawling on the side of the train and of the first freight, reached the side door, and jumped in.

Raptor, Z and D'Goon were facing another Strikeforce agent, seemingly able to sprout a web like substance from his mouth, as the General and his guard were tied up like salami. Just the Italian hero was still free, and facing the spider like creature, which was standing upside down from the ceiling, waving his mace.

"It's all OK?" asked Velo, without leaving his eyes from the Strikeforce Agent.

"I think you should take some driving lessons, Velo"" joked the former Eurostar, throwing his mace at the spider-man. The mouth of the meta opened, sprouting out a liquid that coming into contact with the air, consolidated into a sticky silk rope. The mace was totally engulfed into the strange substance, but before it could fall to the floor, a precise flying kick from Velo had put the Agent to sleep.

As Raptor turned at the two Mandelovians, to untie them, Velo looked around, and asked: "Where's Tayden?"

"He has followed Smith above, it seems there is that strange shadow man..."

"Uhm..." whispered Kristogar, placing one hand on the upper edge of the side door. Then, with a powerful swing, he jumped out, and above, landing on the roof.

Toward the middle freight, he saw Smith facing the shadow being, both standing over the roofs like the train was still. Tayden, on the opposite, was lying flat, grasped to a metal bar to not fly away.

Velo also turned toward the head of the train... and much to his dismay, he saw that they were riding faster toward a wall of rocks!

Kristogar Velo ran over the roof of the first freight, to reach the train controls to brake before collapsing over the rocks wall occluding the tunnel.

He swivel over the rim of the roof, jumping back inside the locomotive: and to his surprise there was a woman inside, her ands on the controls.

"Another one!" huffed Velo, kick jumping at the gun quickly produced by the woman, a Strikeforce Tenant with long, curly back hairs. The gun fled away, and the impact made the woman falling reverse over the ground. On her Strikeforce jacket there was the name Morphina.

The woman raised his head, turning to face Velo; her eyes hypnotic, she began whispering softly.

Kristogar Velo was feeling his will fading like snow to the sun… the woman was singing something ancient, unheard by human ears from centuries… the ex-special agent was fully aware that it was matter of seconds and he will be a slave for the woman…

…and it was then that many years of training came into works. Repeating an ancient mantra, thought him by a Shaolin monk of a lost Tibetan monastery, Velo shut every contact with the real world… a complete grey nothingness filling his mind, no images, no sound were arriving to his brain… just the smell of the woman, the mix of sweat, artisan-made perfume, adrenaline that build in Kristogar mind the exact position of the Strikeforce Tenant.

Velo raised his hand, and let a single slap, at full force, hit Morphina. The song stopped, Velo opened his eyes: the woman was lying on the floor.

It was at that point that he began hearing his name called from afar: "Kristogar… Kristogar…" Suddenly, he realized he had still his eyes closed: and opening it, he saw the worried face of Tayden, calling at him.

He found himself lying supine, so he get to stand. "Velo, do you know how to stop this thing?" was repeating the former angel.

"What happened?" asked Velo, his eyes going at the woman reversed on the floor.

"I followed you, and found yourself being nearly pushed out by that girl. So I took this…" said Tayden, showing a big wrench, "…and slammed it on her head. I never stand these so-called Gods, anyway…" And saying that, Tayden jumped out, swivelling again on the roof.

Velo turned, to push again, for the second time in a few minutes, on the brake: the train went to a complete stop just inches before hitting the rubbles.

Meanwhile, bove, the duel between Smith and Shadow was at a still, the master of evil facing a power just superficially similar to his own. And in the mind of the Strikeforce there was so few hate… being him doing that line of job just for the income, not for any sort of revenge or secret hidden motivation, that Smith was devoid of energy. When the sudden brake came, both the contenders lost their balance, falling out the roof… but luckily for Smith, and much to the disgust of Tayden, the just arrived former angel was able to keep the incarnation of Evil for one hand, saving him.

Velo touched the troath of Morphina, amazed at how the woman had easily tricked him, and assuring himself that she was still alive, ran out the locomotive, as Raptor, Z and D’Goon jumped down from the first freight, and Smith and Tayden down the roof.

"Are you all safe?" asked Kristogar, looking around. His companions nodded, and then turned toward the pile of debris blocking the tunnel. "Our run end here, I guess" observed D’goon.

"Acute observation!" said a woman voice from the top of the last freight.

It was Digigirl, standing on the roof of the last freight, pointing a big laser cannon at them. Behind her, Agent Bat and Agent Spider, bruised and battered, but still able to hold similar guns and pointing them at the heroes.

"Deja vue!" though Velo, smiling. And then order "Everybody take cover!"

He and his companions jumped behind the rocks closing the tunnel, while a veritable rain of fire surrounded them.

No one of the Vanguard group had any gun to answer the fire. Velo, Tayden, Raptor always disliked carrying one, while both Z and D’Goon, an elite agent and a former one, would never carry one as a point of honour. And Smith, well, Smith never had the need for one.

"We can’t resist here forever!" shouted Z. "Have no fear, it will end in no time" whispered Velo to the side of his helmet.

Raptor looked at D’Goon, and then, turning to Velo: "I can fly away with him. Cover me!"

Velo smiled, and nodded. "Be careful" said, and then, threw a flash grenade toward the assaulting Strikeforcers.

A big, bright flash blinded everyone, minus Raptor who, expecting it, had closed his sensitive eyes.

When the eyes of everyone adapted again at the darkness, the fire had ceased. The Strikeforcers agents had lowered their gun, and Digigirl was smiling. "No need to continue this fight, Velo. Let us retire, and we’ll not harm you!" she said.

Tayden look at Velo, and so did Z. Smith seemed ashamed the fight had ceased, and he had not more emotions to feed over.

Velo scratched his head, in a posturing manner. "You give up so easily?"

Digigirl smiled, triumphant. "I am not giving up, Velo. I won. Your Raptor is one of our agents, Mimic. I know you have met before, so I don’t need to explain what his power is. He is by now arrived at the surface, will have put D’Goon to sleep, get aboard the disc and left for the Nibiru spaceship."

But much to Digigirl surprise, a big smile appeared on the green dressed Vanguardian.

Tayden was looking at the smile with a puzzled expression. Smith, on the contrary, seemed pleased by the turn of events. The face of Z, behind the black visor of the helmet, was not seen. He was motionless, like petrified by the events.

"I remember Mimic, Digigilr. I met him in Berlin and then in Peru. I also remember Edulcore Cicciotto, the true one. Most think of him like the Hawkman of the comics. I don’t know if you read American comics, but Ed is like Arsenal… he has an infallible aim. And he missed a target as big as your sabertooth tiger a few hours ago.
But there is something YOU don’t know. When we met with D’Goon, I was surprised that he would let himself being in the presence of a mind reader like our Phil Smith. He would have easily discovered his own best kept secret. Clearly it had to be a double. A double brainwashed into believing he was the real D’Goon, else Phil would have known.
But where the real D’Goon would have hidden himself? Where else if not right here, with us… with the Vanguardians he has asked to protect himself? Right, General D’Goon?" asked Velo, pointing at the elite guard Z.

The agent lifted his visor, to reveal the face of the dictator of Mandelovia, General D’Goon. "Good guess, Velo." Then, he did a simple gesture, and from the darkness of the opposite end of the tunnel three shot were heard. Digigirl, Bat and Spider fell to the ground, precisely hit across the heart.

"I can’t let them live to communicate the truth to the Nibiru" said D’Goon, as many Mandelovian soldiers came out of the darkness. Tayden was disgusted by the lack of pity.

"Your soldiers were following us all along. You sported a great shape for you age, General" said Velo, smirking at the dictator.

"You did well, Velo, to my expectations. If one day you will a place in my country, I have high rank to fill."

"Sadly, Mr. General, I work for democracy… that’s why I am on my own right now" winked the ex special agent.

"Well, your call. Take this disc, it contain the localisation of the cat’s… radioactive pellets. There is something else: the co-ordinate of Naecken fortress. I know he was a friend of you, and I know also that your Cicciotto should have a mean to neutralise him. I will leave you 24 hours, then I will end his menace MY way".

"Uh? You allied with him!"

"I hoped he could do some damage to the USA, without me having to dirt my hands. That happened, so now it’s time things will return to normality…"

Velo just shrugged, while the train, on which the soldiers took position, handcuffing the two surviving Strikeforcers, Shadow and Morphina, with neural-power-nullifying devices. The pain of those objects was still vivid in the mind of Velo, from two years before, in the same place of Mandelovia.

Above ground….

"Our job is done" said Kristogar, looking in the sky at the many disc leaving the Mandelovian aerial space. "We have three hours for leaving". The Mandelovian forces were taking prisoner all the Agents and soldiers of the Strikeforce left behind by the leaving discs.

And then, to Drax: "And Nadia? How she doing?"

Drax vanished, leaving place to Drake Marshall. "It’s fine. Badly beaten, but fine. I left her in Trieste, in a few days should be back on her feet."

"And Chance? where is him?" Without even waiting for an answer, Velo picked up his communicator, and called the Swedish. But no answer came.

"We'll wait" said laconically Velo. "Everybody else, let’s pack up, and got aboard the Stoermloader." And then, scratching his head: "But… didn’t we leave the hovercraft in Espertingonzia?"

Drake Marshall paused and looked high in the air.

“What do you mean the hovercraft is still in Espertingonzia?”

Drake poked his eyes with his finger then cleared them out, but that did not change his view.

“We need the…”

“Ahh, guys.” Drake broke into there muffled convo.

“What Marshell?”

He paused, keeping his view in the sky, then answered, “Anyone else notice that pirate ship in midair?”

Everyone’s head shot around, seeing what Drake saw, a huge Pirate ship with a black flag with a skull and bones and a stereotypical pirate with an eye patch and parrot on the ship’s bow.

“Interesting” No one in particular said.

Somewhere in Mandelovia:

There is a large warehouse which appears to be run-down from the outside, but which until recent days has been guarded by hidden sentries, disguised in civilian clothing. If one were to find a way into the warehouse -- something nigh-impossible without the proper clearance until the Strikeforce military attack of today -- one would merely find an old warehouse interior filled with dusty air and rusting metal beams. A broken-down battery-run forklift could be seen sitting in the corner in disrepair. Several odd pieces of left-over shelving could be seen piled against one wall, a few of them having slid and fallen to the concrete floor. A few metal rods and a box full of assorted nail, screws, and various electrical equipment -- all rusting due to a leak in the ceiling above it -- sit next to the battered old electric warehouse bay-doors, the outside entrance of which sits some four feet above the pavement and was once used for shipping and receiving via large trucks. The yard behind the warehouse is surrounded by a chain-link fence thrice padlocked despite it being virtually empty. The lawn in the empty lot next to the warehouse is overgrown and weedy. There is nothing -- absolutely nothing -- to all appearances special about this warehouse.

However...

Some 60 feet below the concrete floor of the empty warehouse is another building, one surrounded only by rock and limestone. This building is an advanced and post-modern laboratory facility which is as empty as the warehouse above it, though it was not always so. Until a few days ago this facility was the center of a very secret project, one which was abandoned for reasons as yet unknown. Much of the equipment which had been in this laboratory has been moved elsewhere, though a ring of differently-sized tubes could be seen in one cloistered room in this large facility. Like the warehouse above it, no guards are anywhere around. There is only one apparent way into this laboratory facility, and that is through the tubes which are currently humming to life as a generator kicks in and supplies power to them. Half a minute later, a shimmering light shines from them, and two silhouetted figures of men appear in one of the tubes.

"--ARE YOU CRAZY?!! You could kill both of us! You--" The voice of the younger man is cut off in mid-sentence as he realizes he is no longer where he was. "Well... that was simply... incredible."

"Isn't it, though?" the older man says, his voice sounding slightly amused.

"I didn't feel a thing -- was the transportation instantaneous?" the younger man asks, his keen eyes carefully studying the control panel as he steps out of the tube with eyes of wonder. His name, as of course you have already guessed, is Kristofer Schanz, the Vanguardian known by the nickname of Chance. "And you say this works on some kind of 'probability matrix'?"

"Keep your mind on the mission, kid," the older man says. His name, of course, is Roman Marko, the self-described retired Elite Agent who is middle-aged though still fit. "You wanted to learn what happened to Helen McKenzie, didn't you? Well, look around."

So Kristofer Schanz did.

*************

Outside of the smoking crater that was once Promethean City, the National Guard troops from several states around the eastern seaboard were having a hell of a time trying to keep people away from the ruins. The countless industrial wastes which had been exposed in the destruction of that city had polluted the air and were keeping the fires burning even now, several days after the death of so many people, including the President of the United States himself, Robert Brown.

The only thing people were thankful for at this point was that no nuclear power plants had been damaged, though nearby facilities were nearly critical at some points due to minor structural damage resulting in the unnatural earthquakes caused by the meteor strike.

In Washington, DC, the funeral procession for Robert Brown was held in honor of all those who had died in Promethean City. Record numbers of people turned out for the memorial services, most of whom showed up because of the Prometheans rather than President Brown, a fairly unpopular leader during his second term in office. However, few statesmen or dignitaries, either American or international, were present at the funeral due to security concerns. Considering the world situation with the so-called "Prince of Hell" declaring war on the entire Earth and showing his apparent power in such drastic ways, the U.S.A. was probably the last nation in the world anyone wanted to be right now. Even the Middle East felt safer at the moment.

The United States of America had been dealt not one, but two, heavy blows upon its most populated urban centers -- the east coast and the west coast. And while Promethean City was NOT New York City any more than Athanon was Los Angeles, the deathtoll was still in the multiple millions, something unheard of in America. It was estimated that more Americans had instantaneously died in the last few days due to the meteor attacks than had died in every war America had taken part in since the American Revolution.

Something had to be done. Something would be done.

*************

"All this is so... so incredible," Chance said for what seemed the thousandth time as Roman Marko lit up another cigar. "Despite most of the equipment having already been removed, it's still so..."

"'Incredible.' Yeah, I get it."

"But it doesn't answer my question about Helen McKenzie. What did General D'goon do with her?"

"I wish I knew, kid. I think you'll have to ask the General that yourself when you see him. Last I knew she was in charge of this project, though something obviously happened to it and her since then. All I know is that she's gone. She's just gone. Don't know where, don't know when..."

"When, indeed..." Chance remarked. He had spent the better of 20 minutes exploring the laboratory facility, yet there was little actual equipment left to study, except that which was built in as part of the actual structure. One room had once had a purpose he could only guess at. This kind of science was completely out of his field, as he was a mere chemist, but it instilled in him a desire to study the other sciences in more depth than he ever had before... someday.

At the moment, however, Chance found it difficult to keep from being distracted by the apparition of Pete Glover's ghost dancing and making faces in front of him in an attempt to break his concentration. Chance had seen Pete a lot more than he had ever let on during the regular missions, but he never spoke with Pete unless he was completely alone, a fact which annoyed Pete to no end.

"'Ey! Look'ee here, me old son!" Pete said after ducking out of his way a few seconds earlier. Chance resisted turning around for several moments, until finally, after Pete kept shouting at him in his mind to turn around, he did. And he couldn't help but laugh.

"What's so gobdamn funny?" Roman Marko said frowning as the invisible (to his eyes) ghost of Pete Glover stood with his pants down around his ankles and sticking his ghostly posterior in Marko's face just as the latter was kneeling down and inspecting an LED apparatus on the floor. Pete turned around and thrust his pelvis in the direction of Marko's face while putting his hands behind his head and pantomiming the signs of pleasure while screaming in a woman's voice.

Chance just shook his head and stifled his snickering. As his hands passed over a sensor, however, a blue light lit up the room.

"WHAT THE FUCK?"

The Vanguardian turned around, instantaneously alert, only to find a very shocked and angry Roman Marko flung back onto the ground, his cigar having fallen from his mouth. Chance couldn't understand why Marko wore that expression on his face. That is, until he realized he was looking at Pete. He was LOOKING at Pete!

"Y-you can see him?" Chance said, his eyes widening.

Pete was still swinging his hips like a hula-girl with his pants around his ankles. He suddenly stopped, however, as Chance's words kicked in. "He can see me?!?" Pete stumbled back and fell down on his bare buttocks with a slap! on the floor. "SHITE that hurt!" At that same moment, a recovered Roman Marko was almost upon Pete, and had attempted to thrust an incapacitating kick at Pete's head, only to miss due to Pete's own misstep and fall.

"This is incredible!" Chance exclaimed. "Somehow this device must have tapped into the temporal dimension which Pete must have apparently been trapped in all along." He went to Pete and offered his hand.

"Ow! That smarts!" Pete said as he grabbed Chance's hand with his left and pulled his pants up with his right.

The little monkey-faced man seemed to be at a loss for words just as Chance was. He stumbled around in a bit of a daze as he felt the walls, the tables, and support beams. Tears were freely flowing from his eyes. Pete tried to talk, but his voice was too choked.

Roman Marko sighed in frustration and glared at Chance. "I should've known something like this would happen," he growled. "Always something with you meta-freaks, isn't it? Well, I don't really give a shit one way or the other. I had a debt to repay to the Old Man, and I've paid it in full. Now, if you've seen enough of the so-called Kronos Project, I'll take you back... and maybe your little friend if he'll stop being such an asshole."

"HOLY MOTHER O' GARFUNKEL!" Pete finally exclaimed in a shrill brogue. "I'M ALIVE! HA-HA!"

"I've got to show this to Doc," Chance said. "This would completely blow his mind."

"No time for that, kid," said an impatient Marko. "Besides, I'm blowing this place as soon as we're gone."

"What? But you'd be destroying a great deal of scientific advancement along with it!"

"Look, kid -- do YOU want a dictator like D'goon in charge of something this powerful?"

"Ah, shut up your prate!" Pete shouted merrily. "Breath in the fresh musty air, me old sons! Looka' the bright fake light shinin's on us all! I've been a dead'un fer a year-and-a-bit an' I never felt so alive ever 'efore! Ha-hee!"

"Either you get him to shut the hell up or I'm going to tranq him, Schanz."

"I don't think that's possible, Marko," Chance laughed with obvious relief at this burden finally being lifted from him. "You'd probably end up tranquilizing yourself if you tried. Besides, as long as you're with us -- or at least with him -- you have nothing to worry about. They didn't call him 'That Lucky Bastard' for nothing."

"Fine. Whatever. Now let's go."

"Just wait a moment. Keep Pete entertained for a minute or two. I'm going to bring see if I can bring along a souvenir from our visit..."

*************

In California, a gaping pit which was once known as the city of Athanon was still burning. The city lay just a few miles north of San Franciso on the coast, directly above the San Andreas Fault which was currently undergoing a shifting process, causing widespread destruction up and down the North American west coast.

Besides Athanon itself, San Francisco was the next major city to see the most destruction resulting from the meteor strike on Athanon, though cities as far north as Vancouver, Canada and as far south as San Diego saw earthquakes much larger than usual.

Tsunamis caused by the California quakes as high as skyscrapers attacked Hawaii some short hours later, though large numbers of people had been evacuated onto ships which merely rode the waves made harmless over deep waters.

In an undisclosed area somewhere in central North America, the newly-sworn in President of the U.S.A., one George W. Bush, speaks on the telephone with a man who keeps many secrets: "I don't CARE what Robert Brown's policies on metahumans was! I'm rescinding the ban on metahuman genetic research as of today -- now get the job done!"

On the other end of the telephone, a man replied in the affirmative and smiled with relief as he hung up the receiver. He had been in charge of a "Metahuman Weapons Research Center" which was so top-secret that neither Robert Brown nor George W. Bush had known about it. Finally, though, reason had come into the White House -- metahumans were NOT going to go away, and the U.S.A. needed to regain the edge if they were to be able to prevent the disasters that had befallen both Promethean City and Athanon in recent days. President Bush had been forced to sign on to this Strikeforce group despite the natural American distrust of the United Nations, but he sure as hell wasn't about to sign over the sovereignty of the world's greatest superpower to anyone!

America had fallen behind in the only "Arms Race" that mattered anymore, and it would be a tough job catching up. Thanks to secret funding, however, a great deal of progress had already been done in a project known only to a small handful of individuals in Washington. It had been coyly named "Project: Indestructible Man". Maybe it was finally time for America to embrace the metahuman after all, though it would be on its own terms.

*************

In the Presidential Palace of Mandelovia, a special room came to life a few minutes before three individuals materialized in a large tube.

"--don't think you should have done that, Marko," Chance said. "The loss to scientific advancement alone is reason enough to preserve such a project despite its drawbacks."

"And you'd really rather leave it in the hands of the General, would you?" Marko replied, no longer really interested in the debate now that the point was moot.

"Of course not! But there must have been some way to salvage it for later study..."

"Not until Mandelovia has freedom restored to her," Marko said wistfully. "And maybe not even then." He held his hand out to the Swede. "This is as far as I go. I'll leave you two on your own from here on, okay?"

"Okay," Chance said, shaking his hand. "And thanks."

"Don't thank me. Thank the Neanderthal who sent me." And in a moment Marko was gone.

"If I 'ad a face da likes o yers, me son, I'd walk back'rds," Pete grumbled under his breath as the Mandelovian freedom fighter left. "Well, ya dumb Swede, where are we off to now, then? Time to beat the pat again, eh, b'y?"

"Just a moment." Kristofer Schanz carefully checked the heavy device he'd taken from the lab to ensure no apparent damage had been done during the transport. No damage was found. "Good, good."

"It be quiet now," said Pete. "All them fightin' gone home, y'think?"

"Maybe, just maybe," Chance replied warily as he looked around a corner. The Palace was strangely quiet and empty compared to when he had left it with Roman Marko. "I wonder if--"

BEEP-BEEP!

Chance picked up his communicator and noted the name on the display. "Kristogar! What's the situation?"

"Chance?! Where the hell have you been all this time? The Strikeforce is gone, and the General has given us a short amount of time to leave the country."

"Where are you now?"

"Outside, by the iron gate... or at least what's left of it. Someone brought the Stormloader in. Don't know who."

"That was me. I signaled it to follow us in after the Strikeforce attacks began. I thought we might need it eventually."

"Good call. Well, if you've found what you were looking for, I guess we should leave."

"Hmm... I didn't exactly find the answers I was seeking, but I did find something else along the way."

"And what would that be?"

"You'll see when I get there. Be there in a few minutes. Chance out."

"Okay, seeya."

"Fuckin' 'Kristie Garr' Velo, his panties in a wad again, I bet," Pete said with a wink. "Ah, it's not so bad bein' alive after all, izzit? An' the best part o' the whole deal is that I won't haveta rely on yerself for human interaction no longer, eider. You owe me a beer, 'Chancie.' You owe me a filthy pint o' Guinness, me old son."

The Swede was too busy looking out for anyone who might give them trouble, but luckily no one was around as he left the Palace from the front doors. Pete really was a lucky charm when he was alive, after all. Chance spotted the Stormloader and Velo standing in front of it by the Estate entrance, and he waved. Velo waved back, straining his eyes to see the small figure hobbling next to him, hesistant to believe his eyes. Chance and Pete took a few steps down the Palace steps, into the Honour Court and past the destroyed fountain in the middle of it, but stopped as a voice was heard behind them.

"Mr. Schanz," said the dangerously charming voice of General Colton D'goon, "you weren't thinking of leaving our fair country without saying your farewell, were you? And Mr. Glover, is it? How... interesting."

Chance turned around to face D'goon, who was next to one of his Honour Guardsmen and the unnamed new head of the Mandelovian Security Agency who'd addressed the Vanguardians when they arrived at the Palace.

"D'goon," Chance growled.

"I believe you have something of ours, Mr. Schanz," said the General. "I appreciate your salvaging it for the good of Mandelovia." The confident smile on his face made it obvious he would brook no dissent.

"Where. Is. Helen. McKenzie?" Chance said after a pause as he stared into D'goon's eyes fiercely.

The General was nonplussed, but merely smiled. "I wish I knew, son. I really wish I knew. Now, if you will hand that device to my guardsman, here."

"Fine," Chance said, returning the smile. "But there is something I must tell you. It's for your own ears alone."

The M.S.A. head put his hand on D'goon's shoulder. "It's not a good idea, General."

"Nonsense!" General D'goon replied. "Kristofer Schanz is a man cut from the same cloth as I am. He's a man of honour. I have nothing to fear from him while he is my guest in this country." He took a step forward and said, "I'm listening, Mr. Schanz."

Chance held one hand up to his mouth, cupping it behind D'goon's ear as he whispered something to the General. The barest flicker of a reaction registered across the otherwise cool facade of the Mandelovian leader as Chance spoke to him. Stepping back, Chance said out loud, "Now if you don't mind, General, I'll be taking this with me."

"Sir?" the M.S.A. head said, alarmed after D'goon nodded hesitantly at the Vanguardian. "You can't be serious!"

"Silence!" D'goon shouted at him. "You have my leave, Mr. Schanz. I would suggest you take it while I still have control of my patience."

Chance smiled and tipped an invisible hat to him, then walked towards the Stormloader, Pete by his side.

General D'goon's fists were balled up tightly as he watched them walk away with rage and fear in his heart. How did he know? HOW DID HE KNOW?!?

"General D'goon," the M.S.A. man said, "I really must protest."

"Get out of my sight."

"But sir, I--"

"GET OUT OF MY SIGHT!!!"

The M.S.A. man turned at that and walked quickly back up the steps and into the Palace.

Meanwhile, Kristofer Schanz and Pete Glover walked side-by-side towards the hovercraft and the team standing around it. The expression on Kristogar Velo's face was priceless.

"My gob..." Velo breathed, his usually cool demeanor now gone. "Well, Chance -- and Pete, if that's really you there and not another fucking shape-shifter -- I think you have a bit of explaining to do."

"Ye're still as dim as ever, ain'tcha, 'Kristie Garr'?" Pete 'the Chimp' Glover said with a toothy grin. "Never could see the forest fer the trees, could'ya?"

"Let's just get out of here," said Chance. "The stink of this place is getting to me. I'll explain everything on the way."

"I'm serious!" Drake Marshall was saying to no one in particular. "It was a pirate ship! A pirate ship right up there in the air! I saw it! It was real!!!"

"There, there," Tayden said as he patted the young man's back. "I think I saw it too..."

************

In a suburb somewhere in Vancouver, BC (God's country), a self-styled "writer" (hack writer, that is) who suffers from insomniac, shouts at his computer, "This is CRAP! Man, I can't fucking write any more! I can't believe how crappy and horrible this post is!" He looks at the time on the computer. "Oh, bloody hell! I'm supposed to be registering for the winter semester right now! CRAP!"

************

The Stormloader, an Army-made vehicle adapted with an engine from an extraterrestrial spacecraft, again held 12 individuals in all. Besides Chance and Velo, only Grimm recognized Pete Glover from the brief time he met him.

Chance had been elated at the things he had seen and the return of Pete to a mortal body once again, but he now had some bad news to bring back to Dr. Henry Quantos about his daughter. She was gone. Just gone. Maybe she had traveled in time somehow, he didn't really know, but the answers he sought were incomplete and full of holes. He wondered if he would ever truly know what happened to her. In any event, he was much too tired to talk about it for now.

The piece of chronal equipment he had salvaged from the laboratory facility now sat snug on his lap in a large towel. It had been completely dormant ever since he removed it carefully from the casing it had been in.

"Man, that was crazy," Ozzy Baxter said to break the silence as the hovercraft began to slowly rise into the air, Kristogar Velo at the driver's seat. "So was this typical of a Vanguard case? Do you fellows do this kind of thing often?"

"Pretty much," Grimm replied after nobody else spoke.

"I'm still not exactly sure why I'm here at all," Adem Different said after a moment.

"That makes all of us," Drake said with a sigh.

"I'm only in it for the dental plan," Phil Smith said with a smug grin on his face.

"I'm only in it for the sex," said Banshee.

Everyone looked at her, as Banshee's face turned red.

"Cheques! I meant cheques! Money, you know?"

The hovercraft was silent for a moment, the only thing being said for a while being "heh."

"This group's gotten feckin' WEIRD since I's a member," said Pete after a few moments.

Chance wasn't listening to any of this. Something was bothering him. Something about Mandelovian technology that he couldn't recall at the moment. Something about the alloy used in some Mandelovian-made scientific equipmnent having special properties. It really bugged him that he couldn't remember what that was. Oh well, it would come to him eventually.

Back at the Palace, the M.S.A. chief stormed back out of the Palace onto the Honour Court and aimed a shoulder-held cannon-like device at the Stormloader as it continued to rise into the air and slowly move south toward the Adriatic Sea. He pressed a button on the device, and invisible rays shot out towards the hovercraft.

The Stormloader shook suddenly and was jerked off-course. The chronal device in Chance's lap was thrust into his stomach and all the air blew out of his lungs. He couldn't breathe, and he felt like the device was going to cut him half.

"My GOD!" someone shouted as the hovercraft shook all the Vanguardians out of their seats except for Chance. Everyone was trying to get themselves up again.

Finally someone noticed Chance pinned against the wall. "Holy fuck!" Phil shouted. "Chance, what the hell is--?"

"Get it off of him!" Grimm commanded, trying to pull the device away from Chance himself.

Chance's face was turning red, and his eyes were watering. He had remembered what he couldn't think of earlier. A lot of Mandelovian tech was made with a special alloy which was highly magnetic under the influence of certain rays. He tried to push it off of him, and even with Grimm's physical strength and Phil's telekinesis, it wasn't budging. There was only one thing to do.

The Vanguardian leader tried to say something but no words could come. Kristogar Velo finally realized what was going on and stopped trying to fight the magnetic pull's influence on the hovercraft, though it still wasn't enough.

Chance's eyes were bulging as his lower ribs cracked. His spine would be next. He looked at Pete, trying to make himself understood. Pete just stared back at him, a scared look on his face. This was real. Chance was going to die for real. It was one thing to be transferred immediately from a physical to a spiritual state, but it was quite another to die a horrible death by being cut in half by something. Even Chance's remarkable healing ability couldn't cure an injury that bad.

Pete's mind just swirled. He couldn't think straight. Why wasn't Phil reading his mind? And then it hit him.

"D-door?" Pete muttered. "H-hey, someone get the door... open the door! Let him get outta the door!"

Chance was pinned next to the door. After a few more moments, someone finally got the door to slide open.

"Let him get outta the door!" Pete was shouting again, and Grimm and the others began pushing and pulling Chance by the door. A whining sound could just barely be heard beyond the din of shouts and the air rushing past the now-open door.

It all happened in a few seconds.

Chance slipped out the door, pushed by the device virtually embedded in his stomach now and halfway through his spine. His body rocketed towards the Palace suddenly.

"CHANCE!" Grimm shouted, leaping out of the hovercraft still 50 or 60 feet above ground.

And then the explosion.

A blue wave of electromagnetic energy flashed as the device exploded, sending shrapnel and skin and bone matter in all directions.

"CHANCE!!!" the other Vanguardians cried from the hovercraft, which was pushed back by the blue energy wave.

At the Palace, General D'goon looked on in horror as he saw the explosion in mid-air between the hovercraft and the ground. He spotted the chief of the M.S.A.

"You fool!" D'goon screamed at him. "You damned fool! What have you done?!?"

"I did what must be done," the man replied calmly. "For Mandelovia."

General D'goon was fuming. He grabbed the pistol from his Honor Guard's holster and thrust it into the M.S.A. chief's temple. Then he pulled the trigger. He didn't even try to clean up the bits of blood and brain-matter from his uniform when he met the Vanguardians when they landed the Stormloader shortly thereafter.

Kristogar Velo quickly jumped out of the hovercraft after a hasty and bumpy landing and stalked up to General D'goon. With a non-typical display of emotion, Velo swung at the General, knocking him to the ground. "YOU BETRAYED US!"

The Honor Guards were immediately on Velo, their guns ready to shoot at D'goon's word. The General waved them away, taking a handkerchief to his nose, which was bleeding profusely. He said in a humbled voice, "I'll grant you that one for free, Velo." General D'goon rose slowly to his feet, suddenly feeling his age despite his exceptional good health. "I wouldn't try that again, though -- my men are very protective of me."

"If you've killed Kristofer Schanz, General -- believe me, you WILL pay for your actions!"

"And I deeply regret what has happened, Velo," D'goon said. "You must believe me when I say that I was not responsible for this unfortunate occurrence. And I am deeply sorry to say that I was not able to stop the man who was in time to save your friend. He will harm no one any longer, however. I have seen to that."

Kristogar Velo looked disgusted as he noted the bits of brain-matter and blood on the General's hands and uniform. "How very convenient for you, isn't it? No suspect, no trial."

"It is... the Mandelovian way."

"No," Velo said. "It's your way, D'goon."

"These days, my young friend, they are one and the same," D'goon said with certainty.

Kristogar Velo just turned and walked away.

Several feet away, in Mandelov Square, the Vanguardians were looking around for some remains of the explosion... some remains of their current leader.

"Begorra!" Banshee cried as she stumbled upon something.

"What is it, Bree?" Phil shouted.

"It's--it's... Chance..." she said as she pointed at the thing on the ground. "...or at least what's left of him."

It was Kristofer Schanz's arm, obviously blown out of the shoulder socket, the flesh ripped jaggedly from the rest of the body.

There was nothing left to say. If the situation with their former teammate Naecken threatening the world was not such a paramount danger at the moment, perhaps they would stay and properly investigate the crime. Perhaps they would even get rid of General D'goon themselves and give democracy back to the Mandelovian people. But the world would not allow them such luxuries. All they could do was take what was left of their teammate... their friend... and bury his remains when all this craziness was over with.

The Vanguardians returned to the Stormloader in silence. It was then that Phil Smith noticed, "Hey, what happened to the little homeless guy...?" Just as suddenly as he had reappeared, Pete Glover was gone. And nobody knew the reasons for either occurrence...

Ironically enough, as Dr. Henry Quantos noted much, much later, the Kristofer Schanz of this timeline had died almost two years earlier in Mandelovia from a freak car accident just two blocks away...

"So that's the definite date for the wedding?" Shirley asked.

"That's the definite date for the wedding," Mick repeated. Mick was sitting in his bed and Shirley did so on a chair next to it. Even though she had been nurse in the past, and even though this wasn't a real hospital, Shirley felt uncomfortable by the 'Hospital atmosphere'. And even though he was tired all day, fed with poor excuses for food and examined by doctors every day, Mick felt comfortable for one reason: he gets to be in bed all day.

"And Doc Quantos says you're gonna be OK by then?" Shirley asked, still unable to believe the news Mick gave him just a minute ago.

"Well, Doc isn't treating me right now... He's distracted with something else, or something... But, yeah, they say they're surprised by the way I've improved and say I'm gonna be top notch by then."

Shirley smiled. "It's so soon! For a while I thought we'd have to wait a whole month to get married... or more."

Mick contemplated her and smiled too. He took his hand to her hair. "Babe, I swear the only way someone could keep me from marrying you would be by blowing up this wall and taking me away."

Shirley put her head on Mick's shoulder. "Don't call me ba--" Then, predictably enough, the wall blew up.

"Huh..." Mick said, "...deja vú..."

Nibiru, orbital headquarter of the Strikeforce

Agent Z, the double of the real dictator of Mandelovia, hangs naked from the ceiling of a cell. His body sports the marks of torture, but he has not revealed any of his secrets. Because he believes to be the real D'Goon.

A man, dressed with the uniform of the Strikeforce soldiers, enter in the cell, to bring water for the man.

Z is still, seemingly dead. The soldier come closer, and a precise kick on the throat kill instantly the soldier. Before the man falls to the ground, the false D'Goon is able to stop his fall with his legs. Then, with the most terrible of the strains, he raises the man toward his tied up hand with just the strength of his bare legs. Then, keeping the dead soldier just by the fingers, he search the man's belt with mouth and tongue, until he finds what he's looking for: the remote control of his magnetic handcuffs.

He let the man fall. Then, with the tongue, he presses each buttons of the remote, until, with a click, the handcuffs open and he falls to the ground too, landing perfectly on his legs.

Armed with just the remote, Z runs away from the cell, trough a corridor with an endless row of similar cells on the two sides. Suddenly an alarm noise began to buzz, and from the far ending of the corridor a group of armored soldiers appeared, flashing laser beam at him.

Z opens a lateral door, and finds himself inside a huge chamber, with a domed glassed roof. Behind, the star filled darkness of space. The enormous vault was filled by any kind of plants, growing on hydroponic pools.

"This is how the ship refurbish itself of oxygen" thinks the false D'Goon, running in the dense plantation, to hide from the arriving soldiers.

But through the foliage he sees not just soldiers, but also one of the agents, the woman code-named Eden.

"Don't fire here!" she orders to the men, and begins to bath the plants with a green ray emanating for her open hands. Instantly, the plants begin to bend, to twist, to shake, like they are alive.

Wines surround Z, tying him, immobilizing his body.

But Z begins to gnaw at the smaller branches wrapping his arms, and then, finally free, began to swing from a plant to another, dancing on the green like a gibbon.

The soldiers begin to fire, without listening to Tenant Eden, themselves scared to death by the green nightmare they gotten into. The laser beams at first just deflects over the glass dome, but then it begins to cracks, and finally breaks with a boom, that suddenly stops, like someone switched the audio off. The air is sucked outside, in the void of space, and with the air gone are the soldiers and Eden, their screaming faces mute in the soundless of space.

Meanwhile, Z has crawled quick as a geek down trembling lianes toward the still open door, managing to roll outside, back in the corridor, before the door lock automatically behind himself.

As he is back on his feet, another swarm of soldiers come in, and he jumps in air and lands over their heads, swinging across the laser beams and kicking the soldiers in the faces, easily taking them down, like a wire-works performers in an action movie.

The remote control still in his hands, he opened the door closing the end of the corridor, to find himself in a big room, with many maps floating freely standing up-right.

"I was expecting you, D'Goon!" says a voice. From behind a map appears a tall, black skinned man, a long staff in one hand.

"The one called Darkstar, I guess" says Z.

With a wave of the staff, Darkstar send Z flying backward, but before crashing over the metallic wall, he roll back, makes a somersault and touch the vertical wall with his feet, and suddenly pushes himself back toward the man.

They both fall to the ground, and instantly are standing up, fighting.

"Your power are useless outside the atmosphere!" says Z, coldly.

"Maybe, but I don't need them to take you down" replies Darkstar.

hit after hit, blow after blow, the fight is at an even, when other armed soldiers arrive.

"Surrender" one of them says, raising his raygun.

"Never!" responds the false D'Goon.

As the soldiers fires, D'Goon jumps, rotates, his feet touch the ceiling, do a few step before falling over the head of the soldier. Meanwhile, the ray cuts across Darkstar head, killing him instantly.

Whit a pressure of his feet, D'Goon crushes the skull of the soldier, and began kicking and punching again the rest of the soldiers, all of them untrained enough to be able to confront an Elite Guard of Mandelovia, possible the last of the Alphabet Agents.

As the last of the soldiers falls, Z comes back in the corridor. There is a last door, surely the control room of the ship.

The door open and a short, fat kid comes out.

Z looks at him puzzled. "And you are the last line of defense? A child?"

From the kid, better known as Tenant Albino, comes just an uncontrollable laugh.

A few minutes later, Jack Merlin opens the door of the pilot room, and enter the corridor.

There is just Albino, his Strikeforce jacket soaked in blood, standing over a few bones and a broken remote control.

Merlin smiles. "Good work Pedrito!"

From the kids comes just a smile, and a loud "BURP!"

::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

Inside the pilot room, a minute later.

"So, D'Goon didn't reveal the coordinate of the fortress. Are we going with the emergency plan?" asks Ekorre.

Merlin is answering to information feed directly to him by The Brain. "No, Ekorre, not yet. The Vanguardian hovercraft is leaving mandelovia, as they have failed their mission. But we don't know if they have discovered the coordinates, they have been with D'Goon for a lot of time, and they have a telepat, something we are sorely missing. So, let's see what route will take the Stormloader, it could be a pleasing surprise."

"Just fly us home, Velo." Grimm said with an exasperated sigh.

"But. . .but. . .they killed Chance!" Velo began to argue.

"There's not a lot we can do right now. Chance is dead, Nadia's in the hospital, and we still have to figure out how to deal with Naecken. Fly us home. I'm sick of Mandelovia. I'm sick of D'Goons lies and backstabbing." the de facto leader stalked into the ship to rejoin his teammates.

As the Stormloader began to take flight, a communications signal began to light up.

"It's from TC." observed Priest from the co-pilot position. "He wants us to pick him up?!"

"Where is he?" Velo asked.

"Mandelovia?!" came Priest's confused response.

"Heyguysgoodtoseeya!" TC said as he climbed into the ship, the unconscious body of Amuck in tow.

"TC, what happened to you?"

"Wellyouseeit'slikethis. . ."

quote:

---

“It looks like it’s almost over,” Priest said to Phil. His breath came in short pants. The man could barely stand on his own. “I say we grab everybody and get.....” Before the futuristic soldier could finish his sentence, he found himself laying at the foot of a statue. The marble base was cracked where is body had impacted.

“Oh, boy,” Phil said as he instinctively threw up his TK field. Sparks lit up the air just outside his bubble like a miniature fireworks display. Everything seemed to fall silent for a moment. “He must have given up,” the telepath said just an instant before a water spout came whirling in from the sea at him. The saltwater fell free and flooded the courtyard where Phil Smith stood.

“Odd weather pattern,” Adem Different mused to himself an instant before finding himself flying through the air with a terrible gash across his chest. His body crashed through a window and into the palace.

Drax’s body continued to open up with gashes across his gigantic body. No retaliation could stop Amuck. The Strikeforce member would simply dodge and jump between the mystical lightning bolts that issued forth from the dragon’s mouth. As Drax attempted to take flight, he realized that one of his feet was now encased in rubble from around that palace. Amuck had placed it there bit by bit without his knowledge.

Banshee shut and locked the door on the Stormloader. Through the window she witnessed the carnage that was happening in the courtyards below. “Come in, anybody!” she wanted to yell into the ship’s radio; but her voice would not let a sound go. Frantically, she began to push buttons on the hovercraft hoping for something to happen. Lights flickered. Speakers beeped, booped, and whooped. Still, nothing happened. The body of the Stormloader began to shake violently. Amuck had turned his attention towards Banshee and the ship.

“WhrzzTbisCrstfrrrr??!" he repeatedly demanded to know. “WhrzzTbisCrstfrrrr??!" Stones and concrete began to impact the side of the ship and tremendously high speeds. “WhrzzTbisCrstfrrrr??!" The impact resistant glass windows began to crack and cobweb. “WhrzzTbisCrstfrrrr??!" Metal shrieked as it began to dent and buckle. “WhrzzTbisCrstfrrrr??!"

“Righthere!” came an answer with a fist across Amuck as he was speeding up for another run against the hovercraft. Knocked off balance, he tumbled across the stone as it became concrete and then dirt and grass. With a move that had obviously been practiced many, many, many times, Amuck was able to get his running feet back underneath him.

Coming towards him at a speed beyond anything any other human could stand, Tobias Christopher readied for another punch. Blue spilt off his uniform like wet paint running down a wall. His fist landed across Amuck’s jaw. Yet, he could also feel his skin tear under his shoulder. Tobias knew that stopping to check his injury would only give his opponent the advantage. His legs kept pumping.

The punch had spun Amuck around. The Strikeforcer was now chasing the Vanguardian. “Waitfrmeeeeeeee!” he commanded as he caught up to TC. As he came up beside the blue suited speedster, his arm flailed out, attempting to strike. TC parried with his own arm while trying to find an opening to strike himself.

Amuck finally forced his entire body against the Vanguardian. Tobias’s right side met against the Great Wall of China. Yet, he wouldn’t stop. The centuries old brick and mortar tore against his suit and flesh as TC ran the length of the edifice. In a few moment (relative) dust would explode and bellow forth from the wall behind them. It simply had not yet had time to do so.

Tobias’s fist flew up and punched Amuck in the stomach. As the bladed speedster gasped for air, Tobias pushed back against him and off the wall. Several more punches flew across Amuck’s face, shredding his leather mask and shattering his protective eyegear. The heightened metabolism almost made his eyes swell up immediately.

The friction burned the right side of Tobias’s exposed body. His skin began to turn red. “YouwantedTobiasChristopher!” the Vanguardian shouted at a speed beyond which the sound of his voice could actually travel. “YougotTobiasChristopher!” His foot moved over and in front of Amuck’s. The Strikeforcer tripped and fell. His body skipped across the Pacific ocean like a stone across a pond.

“I don’t know what happened Adem said as he pulled himself from the bushes. The gash across his chest had stopped bleeding and was beginning to mend.

“It stopped,” Brianna said to herself a few short seconds after the last stone had hit the hovercraft. Phil came swimming forth with Priest in tow. As he pulled the soldier to dry land.

---

"I wondered what all that was." Brianna answered, TC having slowed down enought to where the assembled team could understand him.

"That's him. Fucker buried us under a building." Ozzy said, kicking at Amuck's body while Phil placed a neural inhibitor on the speedster's head. "How did you guys get out of there anyway?" the telepath asked.

"Drax dug them out." Drake answered smiling.

Interlude, New Orleans, LA.

The Collins Estate.

Clive Collins sat in his private library of the arcane, surrounded by musty tomes, bizarre
inhumanly shaped skulls, and various occult paraphernalia. He was staring into a glowing
orb on a pedestal in front of him. His wife sat on the floor in front of him, her head resting
on his lap as his hand stroked her brilliant red hair. The image within the orb showed the
Stormloader on its course to La Perdita.

“My plan was simple enough,” Collins mused to himself. “To take control of the avatars
of creation in order to remake the world as I wish it to be. Simple. . .”

“. . .simple enough to find the man who would become the next death avatar, Jeff Grimm,
a lowly killer, located right here in New Orleans. . .” (Grimm Tales #1) The image within
the orb shifted to one of Grimm’s head. His skull face clearly visible.

“. . .simple enough to take advantage of his confusion upon coming into the role and
capture him, depositing him in South America where those foolish former Revolutionaries
were investigating the creatures Aurochs was creating for me. . .” (HR#7) The image
shifted again, this time to a room where members of the then MBL Consulting battled a
large tentacled creature.

“. . .simple enough to teach those foolish vampires how to unleash the Beast entombed
under La Perdita. . .” (HR #10) Once more, the image shifted, to the caves underneath
La Perdita, where a massive demonic creature strode forth from it’s former prison.

“. . .simple enough to infect the one called Priest with a soul parasite. . .” (HR #11) And
again, the image shifted to reveal Collins, as he placed something small and dark red upon
Priest’s unconscious form in a cellar in Pennsylvania.

“. . .simple enough to catch up with Stephen Magnus and distract him from his Brazilian
ladyboy escorts long enough to attempt to steal his cauldron. . .” (HR # 13) And once
again, to Montecarlo, where the now Vanguardians stole Magnus’ cauldron from beneath
his nose.

“. . .and yet, I am foiled again and again. Grimm. He tasks me, my dear. He tasks me
and he doesn’t even know it.” As the image shifted a final time, to again show the
Stormloader, now arriving in La Perdita.

“Then perhaps, now is the time to do something about it. Why do you not contact this
Naecken being in Antarctica?” his wife purred, stroking his leg.

“Perhaps, I shall. . .my dear. Perhaps I shall.”

End Interlude.

The complex was extraodinarily quiet. Adem deduced rather quickly that death was an important issue on this planet. He decided that it would be best for him to slip away and allow them their rituals concerning this situation. The alien ducked out of the door and wandered the halls.

{What do we do now?} Jym asked.

Adem lifted the screen in his palm to his face and answered, "We find out how to get back home. That's what."

The alien and his AI companion finally found themselves in the main computer room. The translation computer had yet to break down the alphabet used on this planet, making a manual interaction with the computer impossible. Adem was about to mentally comand his nanites to tap into the system when Jym spoke, {Please. Allow me.}

"Are you sure you can do this," Adem asked hesitantly. "You didn't do so well last time, remember?"

{That was before I had a chance to monitor and analyze the technology on this planet. Also, a physical connection with the use of your nanites would allow me better interfacing than my previous attempt at remote networking.}

The quiver of reluctance rang in Adem's voice as he responded, "Alright. Just be careful this time." The nanites traveled forth and connected Jym directly into the Vanguard mainframe. Jym's face flickered off the screen as two terribly seperate and incompatible technologies met, head to head, for the first time.

{Here I am, available for the first time in stereo!} Jym's face proudly proclaimed from every computer screen in the room. {It is a pretty tight fit in here. It looks big on the outside but inside is rather uncomfortable. I am still having to use the portable to store most of my data.}

"Any problems with the security software?"

{Pfffftttt!} the AI responded as a tongue appeared on half the screens with the other half displayed a game of pong. {They are still using a binary system. How in Bateks's name do they ever plan to leave their solar system with this, I don't know. Hold on a second...... I think..... I might have.... Yes! Though this system is extremly limited, I have found connections to outside systems. I should be able to open them and access terminals on a global scale.}

"Can you access star charts or anything else that can help us get back home?"

Several hours passed as Jym instantly became an expert in searching out and accessing other systems. His advanced speed and capability only helped to fuel his impaitence with the slower machines. The alien AI easily swept into systems and out again without a trace, taking only the information it sought. As he compiled data from observitories, libraries, and archieves on the location of this Earth planet in relation to the rest of the cosmos, Jym also fed Adem with information on languages and their alphabets.

"Well?" Adem asked after many hours of learning and waiting.

{I only ask that you remember that none of this is my fault.} the AI asked as a frightened child who just broke a window might. Different nodded slowly as his head hung heavier now knowing that the news would not be at all to his liking. All the monitors but one changed from Jym's face to representations of the solar system and the galaxy. {None of the surrounding star clusters, nebuli, or galaxies represented in the wholeness of Earth knowledge appear in any of our own literature. It would seem that we have been catapulted to an entirely unknown section of space. At best we are no less than 200,000 light years from the home world.}

Different's face was solid as stone and unwaivering. His voice, however, gave his true emotion away. Adem Different, visitor from another world, one of the foremost Cleaners in his cluster, was depressed. "So, we rode on a beam of light for over 200,000 years? Even if we could find a way back, it would take another 200,000 years to get there. There'd be nothing. Nothing for me, anyway. Everything I know is long gone. Everyone I know is long gone." His speech trialed off as he sat, pondering.

{The transporters must have malfunctioned.} Jym could tell that Adem was not in the mood to hear theories on what went awry. {Well, what should we do now?}

Different stood. "Might as well make the best of it. There's nothing we can do." His voice had now changed. It was more definite and forceful. "The language research was a good start. Give me everything you can find on culture, geography, history, whatever. If I'm going to be stuck here, I'm not going to be unprepared."

INTERLUDE

"I won't be treated like this!" the large man with the ram horns and facial features roared. His arm threw about large tables and ripped shelves off the wall. "I'm supposed to be one of the Big 8!* I won't be tossed aside!"

A man in a fairly common suit strolled up to the commotion. Everyone else was making sure to stay clear of the violent tantrum that the oversized meta was throwing. "That's quite enough, Brody," the man said in a straight forward and calm tone. The behemoth stopped immediately. His breath was in quick pants that snorted through his nose as his face grew calm. "There's no need for all of this."

Brody caught his breath and spoke in a more civil tone, "I've done too much to be put out right now, Ludlow. I was one of the first. I should still be in the spotlight no matter what's going on in Antarctica."

"I understand your concern," Ludlow said as he motioned towards an over turned table. Brody straightened it, and they both sat on opposite edges. "But you need to see our point of view. It no longer does us any good to paint you blue and call you Naecken if he's appeared on every television in the world as red and being in Antarctica, does it?"

Brody sat still. His face showed that he did not like what he was being told. Ludlow continued.

"We can't have a blue Naecken here while a red one is at the South Pole. His attacks on the US and call for a meta army may have overshadowed us for now; but, soon, the public will never know that it was not us who caused the devastation. He's actually given us the edge we need to initiate our latest plan. While the world looks south, we shall strike in the heart of Western Civilization. Our cause shall soldier on, and you are still to be a large part of that."

Brody raised his brow. The sheep like face made the act a bit comical, but Ludlow was able to contain any laughter if he ever felt the urge. The large man's curiosity had been aroused by the former CIA agent's last statement.

"That's right. I've been talking to him about the recent developments. He assures me that Naecken will not be a problem much longer. He also assures me that you will have a very large part to play in the next evolutionary step of our Brotherhood. We, of course, have to throw out all the old Naecken gimmicks. You'll no longer have to worry about being painted from head to toe in that aweful blue paint. You'll never have to hide behind someone else's name ever again. It's time for Naecken to be washed away, and for Brody to step into the spotlight."

Brody smiled wryly. The edges of his lips quivered on the brink of laughter at the thought. "I always hated that shade of blue," he finally let out before falling into uncontrollable laughter.

"Get ready," Ludlow order with a smile on his face. "Antartica has bought us some time, but it won't last forever. We've stepped up our time table. The MBL takes it's largest leap into history in just a couple of days."

End Interlude


* Metahuman Brotherhood of Liberations Roster Reminder (second post, mid-way)

Vanguard HQ

Doctor Quantos walked at a slow pace through a long hall, headed for the "mini-Hospital" within the HQ. The "mini-Hospital" is a basic infirmary built as part of his large laboratory, useful for quick emergency care.
Quantos walked past the door that led to the infirmary. The infirmary is used for examinations, while the isolated rooms nearby, which are soundproof, are abilitated for patients to sleep and such. Quantos stopped in front of a door that led to one of these rooms. This was the room Mick was staying in.
Quantos had told Mick that because of all the things he had in his mind right now he wouldn't be treating him for the moment (for that a local doctor who Quantos knew was hired, Doctor Perez). However, he thought it wouldn't hurt checking in on Mick to see how he was doing. After all, though they were certanly not close, the Doctor and the young man had a good relationship.
The Doctor opened the door and felt a draft hit his face. Before he could say anything about Mick having to "close that window, for God's sake," he noticed the debris in the floor, the big hole in the wall, and the abscence of Mick, in that order.
Shirley was kneeling on the debris facing the hole in the wall, the draft coming from the outside making her long brown hair move.

"Shirley!" a shocked Quantos exclaimed, walking into the room, "What...? What...?"

Shirley turned and looked at him. Her eyes were wet.
"He took him away," Shirley said, "He took Mick away."

"Who?!" Quantos asked.

"Naecken."

Charlene Montoya put the finishing touches on her makeup, and brushed the last few strands of hair into place. She had seen the Stormloader docking and ran to her room to get ready for Kristofer. The team must have finished their job early in Mandelovia, but that didn't matter to her. All that mattered was that she would be seeing Kris again. What was taking him so long to get to her room? She heard a knock on her door.

She ran to answer the door, pulling it open only to find a surprise. "Kris, what-" Grimm and Tayden stood in the doorway, faces down. Grimm held something in his arms. His jacket, it seemed, wrapped in a bundle.

"Charlie. . ." he said.

"What's wrong? Where's Kris?" she was beginning to get worried.

"Charlie, as acting Chairman of Vanguard, it is my solemn duty to inform you that Kristofer Schanz died in Mandelovia. He gave his life to save his teammates."

"Oh, god." she covered her face with her hands and slowly sinked down the floor, sobbing.

"Let it out, Charlie." Tayden sat down next to her and cradled her in his arms as she cried into his shoulder.

"Be here for her, Tayden. I still have to tell Dr. Quantos." The angel motioned for him to go with his hands as he did his best to comfort Chance's former love interest.

Leslie looked down. “So you’ve got no choice.”

“I’m afraid not,” Grimm confirmed. “It appears that we’re going to have to take on Naecken ourselves.”

“So all of you just up and run out again?”

The biker shrugged. “There’s always the ‘sit around and let the known world go down the shitter’ option. Doesn’t really do it for me.”

Kline shook her head. “I don’t have nearly as much information on this Naecken as you do, but I know enough to know that it’s pretty damned near suicidal to try and take him on when he’s this powerful.”

The undead man looked at her with what would probably have been a smirk. “Bigger they are, harder they fall. ‘Sides, I like a good challenge, and so do the others.” He paused. “I’m the fuckin’ Avatar of Death. I’m damn near indestructible. Taking on supernatural badasses like Naecken is the closest I get to an adrenaline rush these days.”

Leslie rolled her eyes. “So taking impossible missions is to you what skydiving is to any other adrenaline junkie?”

“Look, lady,” Grimm said impatiently, “I didn’t volunteer us for this mission. The deal was made with Cha-“

He paused and looked down. Leslie’s face fell and she turned away. There was an awkward pause.

“Shit,” Grimm muttered. “He’s really not coming back.”

Miss Kline nodded.

“Damn.” Grimm thought a moment. “My point is,” he said more quietly, “I didn’t get us into this. But given our circumstances, for the time being I’ve gotta run this show, whether I like it or not. And that means I gotta figure out how to finish what was started. All I was trying to say was that the thrill of the chase is the only real reward I get out of all this.”

Leslie started pacing the room. “I didn’t leave the EPS with you guys because I missed the thrill of the chase. Someone very close to me goes with you on all your missions, and somehow he always winds up in harm’s way.”

“That’s his decision,” the skull-faced biker countered, “not yours.” He turned to her. “Look, I used to know everything it took to get laid, but I’ve never known anything about relationships and all that shit. But I do know that if you really care about Phil that much, you’ve got to let him make his own choices. He chooses to help us because he feels he belongs here, and he thinks this is how he can give something to people.” He shook his head. “I think we’re all like that here. We belong here because we don’t belong anywhere else. And we figure doing things to help the world and shit is the best way to pass the time.”

“How heroic,” Leslie sneered. “Well, as much as I’d enjoy living by a rosy ideal like that, I don’t particularly like the fact that you let Phil charge headlong into suicide missions like this without being able to come up with a better reason than that for doing all this.”

“It’s like this,” Grimm replied. “Right now, Naecken’s just a breath away from fucking the whole planet up beyond repair. We’ve got to do something, even if it is suicidal. Even if all they can do is run interference, we need as many bodies as we can get for this. Someone has to stop this before it spins out of control.”

Leslie stopped pacing. She thought a moment. “Interference?”

Grimm nodded.

“Then take me too.”

It was for moments like this that Grimm really should have had facial expressions. “Excuse me?” the biker stammered.

Leslie stepped forward. “I’ve dealt with crazies of all kinds. This can’t be too much different. Like you said, you need all the bodies you can get.”

“You’ve never been on a mission with this team before,” Grimm protested. “Hell, less than a month ago you were doing dirty work for the E-P-fuckin’-S!”

“That’s not fair,” Leslie argued. “I spent two months with all of you before I left for the EPS.”

“After being sent by Rob-knows-who to bag the guy you’re so worried about now,” Grimm retorted.

“That was business,” Leslie argued. “This is personal. If Phil insists on going on this mission, I’m gonna do whatever I can to keep him from getting himself killed.”

Grimm snorted.

Leslie’s eyes widened. “How did you-“

“I don’t wanna talk about it.”

“Okay.”

“If you really wanna do this,” Grimm said, “then you’re doing it at your own risk. You’re not on the roster of active employees, so you’ll be going on this mission without pay or benefits. You’ll be pulling your own weight here.”

The former bounty hunter shrugged. “Nothing I haven’t been through before.”

“In that case,” Grimm said, “you had better notify the others that you’ll be coming with us.”

Leslie smiled. “Thank you.”

The biker nodded. “Think nothing of it.”

“And sorry if I was being a bitch.”

Grimm shrugged. “Nothing I haven’t been through before.”

Spaceship Nibiru, orbital headquarter of Strikeforce 1

Jack Merlin's eyes are glued to a monitor screen. On it, the image of the death of Hero at the hand of a skull faced man, one of the Vanguardians, runs incessantly. The image is not clear, being filmed trough a night visor, from a distance, yet it leaves no doubts. The mouth of the Strikeforce secret leader is distorted in a grimace, his temples pulsating.

"June, send the footage to the public relations office. I want a press release as soon as possible: "Strikeforce 1 Hero died valiantly to save the world at the hand of renegade metahumans" hisses Merlin. Then he sighs heavily, and then stands up from the armchair.

"How's the count?"

"Hero, Digigirl, Bat, Spider, Darkstar, Eden dead for certain. Rose, Morphina, Fangs, ACK, O'ken, Shadow, Fire and Shock probably captured and held in Mandelovia, while Amock tracker signaled all the way to La Perdita" says a soldier sitting in front of a complex apparatus of monitors.

"La Perdita... where the Vanguard ship has returned...." Merlin looks pensive.

Ekorre walks in. "We are going with the reserve plan? The bombing of the continent?"

Merlin raises his head. "No, not yet. I am sure they will find Naecken..."

"How can be so sure, Merlin?"

"I am not. But this is my planet... I must hope."

A thick cloud of steam sealed his eyes forward, in a lazy haze of white. Two rugged hands firmly planted against the white tile, Ozzy Baxter slumped forward under the hot spray of the shower. Standing there, the soothing streams of hot water spraying off the tip of his nose with random breaths, he continued his inert stance, staring into the nothingness.

"...THE DOORS! OPEN THE DOORS!"...

Baxter sighed heavily, the water continuously matting his white crop. He let his head drop down, the water coursing over a framed back. Streams of heat ran down his musclature, follwing the outline of sinew like tiny rivers.

..."Now, tell me, am I going to have any trouble out of you?"...

"...trouble..." Baxter voice whispered quietly, the shower catching every exhausted sound in a pristine accoustic nuance.

..."Yes, trouble. Miss Xiang filled me in on the details of your status here. I know you don't want to be here."...

Ozzy's closed eyes squinted against the memory, his sigh coming a bit deeper.

..."'A' for effort, newbie"...

"...effort..." his voice trailed off again, the steaming luxary of the calm heat doing little to settle his rattled state.

..."Sorry, Ozzy. No one's sleeping today."...

Ozzy snorted with an odd depressive shock, leaning his forehead softly against the wet tile, clamping both his hands against the back of his neck.

..."We've got a situation"...

"...god..." he breathed.

He had only known the man for a day or so. Brushed in and out of his life so fast. Like they all had.

His family. His friends.

Come and gone.

..."Kristofer Shanz"..."I go by Chance."...

Come...

..."But. . .but. . .they killed Chance!"...

...and gone.

..."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."...

Baxter slowly turned, flattening his back against the wall, allowing his exhausted form to sink onto the watery tile floor.

..."We're a team, here. We watch each other's back."...

Ozzy cupped his face with both palms.

..."Get me?"...

"...I get you..." he said, his hoarse voice echoing through the steam with a whisper.

..."You ready?"...

Ozzy held his face, the water coursing over his crumpled form...

"....no...."

Jake's Place

The usual crowd is doing their usual thing with a few newbies and the occasional tourist thrown into the mix. The lovelyOctavia, a regular, pulls an unsuspecting smaller meta onto the dance floor and shakes her groove thing. The little half-man half-dog creature tries to get away but as anyone knows with Octavia, it’s unless to fight it.

Near-by, Priest sits at the bar and takes in the atmosphere. Ordering a shot he quickly throws it back and slams the glass on the counter. He follows it with two more.

What a day… What a year.

Could things be any worse? Could HE be any worse?

He knew that two of the most horrific events of the century would take place and he simply let them happen. To save his own ass, to save his future… His world. Priest threw back another shot.

Because of his selfishness, he would not be joining the team on their mission to stop Naecken. Things have to happen as they happened in his timeline. Even if his memories are slowly decaying into nothing. As if a fog covers his mind at a rapid rate, blocking him from the truth.

Grabbing another shot glass, Priest’s hand began shaking. His hand’s shake got so violent that the glass shattered over the bar top.

Then there was his illness. By going back in time without the proper equipment or medication he knew that he would have a very limited time period before his very metagene would cause complete heart and brain failure. With everything that his hands could create, a tool to save his own life wasn’t on the list.

Life is weird like that sometimes.

The lights dim and a voice comes over the loud speaker, “Get ready for the one and only…”

Turning, Priest’s eyes widen as a huge turtle-like creature slides onto the mini stage area in full disco-style clothing with his hands at his hips.

“...SATURDAY NIGHT BHAGHHH-RUPTH!”