RKMBs Forums .::Important::. Writer's Block HR #11 [The Lost City of the Dragons]

An old mansion, somewhere in France, base of the Capes

The garden is all white and the branches of the trees lower in arches to the ground, under the weight of the newly fallen snow. Auguste Bull, aka Aurochs, wanders lonely in the middle of the blizzard, lost in his toughs.

Cicciotto has to be stopped. Ladnikia had not to appear in this time. Her… presence… makes unpredictable any time-path. What I saw in the Castle of Crossed Destinies… it could become reality. I need to be invincible… I need to be immortal… I need to kill the Eurostar.

Aurochs continues to step in the snow. There is only one thing that he lacks, one only mean to increase his knowledge of the magic arts. A book that contain the recipe for eternal life. The Liber vitae, the long lost book of human soul.
Retrieving it will cost him a fortune, but, who cares about money when unlimited power will be at your disposal?

[ 04-07-2003, 07:57 AM: Message edited by: The Eurostar ]

"So... you're a dragon?"

"...sort of..."

Danny and Drake were in the building's kitchen, Danny leaning against a countertop and Drake sitting in a kitchen chair a few feet away. Danny looked up Drake up and down, contemplating the man.

"That entrance you pulled outside was... extravagant. You could watch that. You don't want to scare people," Danny said.

"Sorry about that. Hard to avoid when he's... you know... that big."

"And you say his name is Drax?"

"Yeah. He kinda... shares my body. It's weird, I have his voice in my head all the time... guess that must be hard to imagine, huh?"

Danny grinned. "You'd be surprised," He said. "But hell, there''' be time for this sort of talk tomorrow. It's just gone midnight, and you know what that means," Danny said, smiling.

Drake raised an eyebrow. "Uh... you don't want to kiss me, do you?"

"I just meant it was time to party..." Danny replied.

"Oh."

They paused. Then got up and left the room.

Danny and Drake were geting up to rejoin the party when Tayden walked in the kitchen with a very persistant young lady in tow.

"Come on! One more time!.......At least take my number" The green skinned girl was jumping up and down like a kid.

Tayden look annoyed and was about to speak when he saw Danny.....He then smiled and said, "Ya know......if you want to talk about true heroic ability...true meta skill....true undaunted courage...... you need to talk to Danny....he's our leader and well, to be honest...." Tayden walked over to Dannyand put his arm around him and said ".....the man has taught everything I know."

Danny looked a bewildered and suspisious "You alright Tayden"

"He taught you EVERYTHING" The beautiful girl said as she raised an eyebrow.

"everything" Tayden spoke back with a simular devilish expression.

The green skinned girl grabbed Danny's hand, flashed him her best bedroom eyes and said "You wanna take a walk on the beech"

Danny, being the fearless, respectible hero he is smiled and said "Gentlemen....I'll leave you to your own..activities, while I tend to mine."

They strolled out the door.

Tayden fell onto a chair "Finnally!" looking at Drake and said "let me give you some advice......don't ever make anyone too happy..................so, your a "meta" like everyone else"

Drake looked at Tayden "Yeah.....I got a interdeminsional dragon living in my body......what about you"

Tayden casually responded "no.....I'm an angel.....got turned into a human."

"Cool.....cool" Drake said with no surprise in his voice.

After a short thick moment of silence Tayden stood up.

"Well, how about a drink"

The evening sky erupted with flames. "Javier, it is so beautiful," said one man witnessing the display.

"Tonto, keep quiet," the other responded.

"How can you ignore such beauty, Javier? It is beyond beauty. It is symbolic. Here we are in a new year. We have a chance like no other. Disaster may have struck, but we have a chance to rebuild in this new year. A chance to build Puerta Mibela and all of La Perdita from the ground up. Not just the buildings, but the people as well. The old caste system can be eliminated. Our own people can take back the rights in government that have long been denied us." Tears began to well in his eyes. "And in that moment, Javier, when our people are put once again in power and take charge of our own destiny again, the American and European men who have historically seized control away from our people will know what it feels like.

"Then, we shall hold their fates in our hands. Shall we crush them with our newfound power, Javier. No. No, we shall show them the compassion that they have long denied us. We shall reach out our hands and help pull them out of the mud that they have held us in for lifetimes. And then, Javier,.... then, La Perdita shall be a shining beacon for peace throughout the world. Yes, my friend, it is truly a new year."

"I told you to shut up," Javier broke in. "Do you want everyone to know we're out here?"

The two men walked across the ruins of the once popular town of La Perdita carrying a trunk. The multicolored flames of the fireworks occasionally illuminating their path.

"I was just contemplating the meaning of this year we have just started. It's so filled with promise."

"You're a man who is carrying a trunk load of stolen weapons in the middle of the night with plans to sell them on the black market, and you're talking about peace." He chuckled. "Who do you thing you are? Napolean?"

The two continued off into the rubble of a once busy town.

"Why you ask if I was Napolean?"

"You know, that French political dude. Napolean."

"I know who Napolean is. But that guy did a buncha wars and stuff."

"So you sayin' cuz we got guns that you ARE Napolean."

"No, no! That's not what I'm............"

Tayden and Drax head back to the party. "Is he saying anything?"

"You mean Drax? No, he's resting. He had a long flight."

"Makes sense. Why do you need the cane, if you don't mind me asking."

"It's no big deal. I act as sort of a living gateway between the dimension Drax was trapped in and our own, so I constantly have that interdimensional energy flowing through me. This is hard on my nervous system. I actually do have a meta power, accelerated healing. But, it can't keep up with all the damage the radiation does. It slows it down a lot though. All it's done is make it a little hard to walk so far. Kinda tough to get used to, I was always pretty athletic before."

"You said 'so far', will it..."

"We all have to go some time, angel boy. You should know that better than anyone."

"Yeah, I guess I should."

"At least What's killing me is making a difference for the better. I haven't regretted it for a moment. I guess I'm going to miss out on a few tomorrows, so I'll make the best I can of today." Just then, they reach the party goers. "There is one other good reason for the cane."

"What's that?"

Drake grins roguishly. "Chicks dig it." Tayden laughs a little as they join the others.

[ 01-15-2003, 09:33 PM: Message edited by: DRAX ]

Grimm's room (Again)

"I heard fireworks," she said softly.

"That good, huh?" he replied, only to hit in the face with a pillow.

"No, dorkass, I mean real fireworks. Outside. It's midnight or later. Aren't we gonna go to the party? I want to meet the rest of your friends."

"I wasn't really planning on it. . .but I wasn't planning on this either." He said with a sheepish grin. "That "Wulf sent me" line. . ."

"He did. Saw him at the meta bar and he practically carried me over here. Why haven't you been coming out? I've been there all week, wondering if I'd see you. . .I like the face, by the way."

"Thanks. I've just been busy helping with the rebuilding. Plus, with Priest around. . ."

"You still don't trust him? I think I've seen him around town some, helping rebuild people's houses. He seems nice."

"He didn't try to kill one of your friends the first time you met him."

"OK, that's a given, but he's been around for months now from what you've told me. . .ugh, that fish smell again. We could go somewhere else you know. My place is almost finished. I've been staying there."

"Can't. Got a job in the morning. I still haven't figured out how 2 dead men, a fugitive, and a boy who doesn't exist yet are going to get inside another country."

"Are you gonna be gone long?"

"I hope not. We have to find some old book. Not sure how long it'll take us."

"I have to tell you something."

"What?"

"I got a job. With a theater company in Europe. I'll be leaving in a few weeks. I'll be living in Europe, moving around with the company."

"Oh."

"We'll be doing Faust. You'd like it. The lead actor is really good. You could visit. . .or maybe. . ."

"Alie, there's a problem."

"What is it, sweetie?"

"I. . .I can't share my life with anyone right now. There's something. . .someone out there who intends me harm. Until that person is dealt with and out of the way, anyone around me could be in danger. Even you."

"Ok, well, this person wouldn't necessarily have to know where you're at, would they? I mean, you could just leave, right? It's not like they can just magically find you."

"Actually, it is like that. The only reason I've stayed here so long is that I'm pretty sure I'm safe here. "

"So it's hopless, then? You're just gonna spend the rest of your life however long that may be, hiding here on this island?"

"No, not at all. Soon, very soon, I'm going to eliminate this threat to me, to us, and then. . .if you want to stay in Europe, we'll do that. We'll go there, you and me."

"You mean it?"

"Yeah, I mean it."

"Oh, baby. . .je'taime."

"Je'taime."

[ 01-15-2003, 09:53 PM: Message edited by: Grimm ]

January 1st, 9 AM:

The building unofficially nicknamed "Hero Headquarters v3.0" (since it was their third headquarters so far, albeit temporary) as well as "Fish Factory" by the less tactful members of the group was also "Hangover City" this morning. Last night had been New Year's Eve, and excess -- whether it be alcoholic or sexual, or whatever -- was allowed. Too many people partook in whatever they'd wished last night and were paying for it with hangovers and headaches today. Unfortunately for them, it was a work-day. MBL Consulting had a mission to do, and there was no putting it off. It had to be done now. And, after such a lengthy period since the last real mission he'd been on several months ago now, Chance couldn't be happier about it.

Chance allowed himself to sleep in a bit late this day, though truthfully he always finds it hard to sleep in this building. It wasn't just the constant smell of fish that seemed to permeate everything through and through -- that was something you almost but not quite got used to -- it was just that it didn't feel like "home". As it was merely temporary lodgings, it couldn't ever really feel like home. Just like staying in a hotel room for weeks and months on end, it was difficult to get to sleep in these surroundings, away from the comforts of home, and he always slept lightly here.

Another thing: Though Blackwulf had done his best at retrieving a lot of the equipment from the old building, it was still very second-rate stuff. Virtually all the funds coming out of the Hero Revolution Foundation (which had been Pete "the Chimp" Glover's personal fortune and was now collectively owned by the members of MBL Consulting -- in a non-Communist way, y'understand -- and provided whatever fundage the group or individuals needed) were going into the bare necessities -- food, rent, etc -- and into the building repair work. There wasn't much left over for the luxuries, like security systems (though Grissom had managed to make do with what meager equipment was available) or exercise equipment which -- let's face it -- wasn't really being used by anyone except Chance anyway.

Ah well. It gave Chance an opportunity to get out of that dank, smelly building and get his exercise out in the fresh air.

La Perdita, this jewel in the Lesser Antilles Islands of the Caribbean, really held beauty like none other Chance had ever seen before. The lush, tropical climate which never got too clammy due to the proximity of the ocean was simply perfect. The long, quiet beaches of white sand which stretched around the island, broken only in places by beach-houses, the city, and a few small villages, not to mention the odd cove here and there, could be explored for hours. Chance tried to get as much swimming in as he could while the group was so close to the beach. At one point he found what appeared to have been a pirate's cove a couple of hundred years ago, back when La Perdita was a lawless pirate dwelling. He kept on meaning to get back there and explore it further, but he never quite made the time for it.

And then there was the volcano itself. It was an active volcano which slowly spewed lava, like that of other tropical islands, but did not have the danger of exploding as land-based volcanoes did -- they were just made of different materials and didn't operate the same way. The volcano was utterly fascinating. A tribe of Carib natives lived in a small village at the foot of the volcano and closely guarded its secrets. It was said that at one time they had worshipped the volcano god and even sacrificed virgins to it... (and according to some rumors this practice continued to this day)...

Chance made his way through the lush jungle this morning rather than head down to the beach, passing by several children playing on the road who waved at him as he ran by.

"Hi Chance!" they shouted, calling his name and hoping he had brought something for them.

"Hey kids!" Chance said, running on. The kids stopped shouting as he passed them and seemed a bit disappointed. Then, Chance put his hand in his pocket and flicked out a handful of chocolate bars back at the kids. Though he'd thrown them all at once randomly, they each went to one kid as if by luck.

Chance loved the kids here. Unlike the kids in the wealthier countries of Western Europe or North America, or even in urban Puerta Mibela, these kids were very generous. They shared everything they were given with their friends and asked nothing in return -- they didn't need to, as sharing came naturally to everyone here. It was an interdepency upon everyone else in the community that kept these people together. Even the community as a whole was as responsible as the parents to raise the kids -- everyone just helped out their neighbors in whatever they needed, without any sense of shame over receiving "charity" as everyone knew that their society couldn't exist without everyone being able to rely on each other. Somehow, as people became wealthier, they lost that sense of generosity and community in the name of "fierce independence"; everyday helpfulness had been replaced in many places by "services rendered, now pay up or I'll sue!" These young kids -- and this town itself -- have a lot to teach the rest of us, he thought to himself as he continued jogging.

[ 01-16-2003, 03:21 AM: Message edited by: TheTimeTrust ]

The island, below me, is tiny and very beautiful, a jade gem in the blue sea.

I am soaring high in the sky, dancing on the gently breeze, while flocks of gulls divert from their path to come to mob me, like I am a true raptor, now.

When I fly, these days, I am happy.

They are the only moments when I am. My “bird brain”, like Dirk would call it, takes on, and all the crap that usually make my mind fades away.

.

.

.

All the moral questions now seems stupid. I need to kill to live. I have to be faster. I have to be stronger. I have to be smarter.

Or I will be dead.

Just like the eagle.

.

.

.

In a few hours I will be back in Italy. For the first time since one year and three months ago.

I came here to find a son I didn’t know I had.

And, still, I haven’t found him.

The secret headquarters of the Hoods, planet Earth

“The Liber Vitae. Stupid magical thing. But Aurochs want it, and I am sure in his hands it could prove to be a powerful weapon. We must find it soon. Before he does."

”Should I send a Georgio? More than one?”

“No, this time not. I have just taken care of the problem by other means.

[ 04-07-2003, 08:00 AM: Message edited by: The Eurostar ]

The Fish Factory - 10 AM

Rays of light peeked through the draped window of Grissom Montag's room - an abandoned office in the Fish Factory - and fell across his eyes, causing him to stir slightly. His mouth opened wide and a large yawn erupted as he stretched his arms out above his head.

Opening his eyes slowly, he turned to his right only to be met by the sleeping face of Kat, one of the girls from last night. Glancing behind him, he noticed Maria, Sarah, and another girl named Melanie all resting nude and comfortably. Grissom smiled, remembering his sexual escapades from the night before and slowly wormed his way out of bed.

Much as he would love to stay and see how much more these women would be interested in doing, he had a lot of work to get to. Luckily, Grissom hadn't had enough ales to give him a hangover or a headache last night or else he'd assuredly be in trouble. Throwing a blanket around his waist, Grissom made his way to the bathroom down the hall. After pissing for a good minute straight and jumping in the shower quickly, Grissom dried himself off and rubbed some styling gel through his hair.

Making his way back to his room with his towel around his waist, Grissom quietly pulled a pair of khaki shorts and a white T-shirt from his duffel bag and put them on in the silence of his room. Kat moaned slightly and rolled over in bed, rubbing the spot where Griss had been lying. Luckily, she didn't seem to notice he was gone, so the man continued to ready himself. He pulled on his tan vest and hoisted his backpack onto his shoulders.

Grissom then pulled a pencil and a memo pad out of the old desk that sat in the corner of his room and scribbled a quick note:

quote:

---

Ladies,
Thanks for the great time last night. Hope you enjoyed yourselves. If you want some breakfast, ask the bird guy, Ed or the skull guy, Grimm. I hear they make some mean eggs. Got some work to do, so we'll talk later, I'm sure...
- Griss

---

Griss set the note on his pillow and quietly walked out of his room. Phil was probably already en route to Puerta Mibela to work on the headquarters and Grissom had to go find Charley and get over there to work.

It was gonna be an eventful day... that he knew for certain...

1100 hours
MBL Headquarters, Puerta Mibela

It's a bloody shambles, Grissom Montag lamented silently as he surveyed the damage to the northward face of the apartment building.

"Got that right," Phil said as he walked up behind him.

Grissom whirled around. "Dammit, Smith, stop trying to read my thoughts or all the telekinesis in the bloody world won't save your ass!"

Phil stepped back and held up a hand. "Easy there, Griss. Couldn't help it. That was a loud thought."

"Can't you put your fingers in your ears or something?" the mercenary asked.

Phil smiled. "Wouldn't help. But I'll try harder not to overhear you if it upsets you. How's that?"

Grissom relaxed. "You're lucky I got some last night." He looked back at the Hummer Phil had found deep in the caverns beneath La Perdita. "Got anything good in there?"

Phil thought a moment. "Just the new computer."

"Computer?" Grissom raised an eyebrow.

Phil nodded. "An IT contractor owed me a favor, so I collected on it and had them build us a computer core to run the new security systems."

Montag looked at him curiously. "Owed you a favor?"

"Before I came here," Phil confessed, "I was hiring myself out as a... security contractor, you might say."

"Is that so?"

Phil nodded. "I did a handful of jobs aimed at guarding against industrial espionage and sabotage. These were for Fortune 500 corporations, some of them. Not only did I manage to make a fair amount of pocket change, but... well, let's just say that some of those corporate bigwigs are greatly indebted to me."

"Anyone I know?" Grissom asked.

"I'd love to tell you," Phil said, "but I never discuss any of my work in detail."

"Not a good idea," Grissom said. "If we're going to buy into this MBL business, we're going to have to share at least some information."

Phil shrugged. "Fair enough. I've got a shipment coming in at noon, and I may need a hand getting things transported here."

"A shipment?" Now that got Montag's attention. "Shipment of what, exactly?"

Phil smiled. "You'll find out at noon. For now, I'll just tell you that we need to get the motor pool ready for new arrivals."

Grissom nodded. "We're going to have to start working in the basement levels anyway." He motioned to the Hummer. "Bring that computer in here, and I'll put it and all the valuable stuff somewhere safe. We'll clear out the motor pool sublevel, and then we can head to the dockyards and pick up your shipment, whatever it is."

"Sounds like a plan," Phil said. "Want me to move your tools in there too?"

"They're in my truck," Grissom said. "Let me get you my keys."

"Thanks, but I don't really need keys," Phil said with a mischievous grin as he headed for the Hummer.

Grissom shook his head as he watched the telepath go. He doubted that anyone would be able to figure him out in the near future.

[ 01-16-2003, 02:33 PM: Message edited by: Captain Sammitch ]

Boots slid across the sandy pavement sending a cloud of smoke into the air. Grissom turned and noticed Priest. The large man wore army pants with a tank top thrown over his shoulder.

“About time you got here,” Priest joked around in a mock serious tone.

“Yeah? You look like shit, long night?”

“You could say that. I had some work to finish up.”

The two men began walking toward the entrance to the subbasement.

“Everything go well I assume?”

Priest crcked a half smile, “As good as it could.”

“Good to hear. I hope you have enough energy left, its gonna be a long day.”

Priest tightened his fist, “I think I’ll manage.”

"Someone's knocking at the door."

"Hmmhh?"

"Someone's at the. . .nevermind." She got up, throwing on one of his old shirts and went over to get the door. She opened it, slowly. "Yes?"

Danny Hearn's eyes went wide. "Uh, I'm sorry, I thought this was Grimm's-"

"Danny! Hang on a sec!" Danny was relieved, though still confused to hear Grimm's voice from inside. The door shut briefly and Grimm soon exited wearing his jacket and usual clothing. The girl followed soon after, kissing Grimm on the cheek before leaving. Danny stared at Grimm's face.

"You, uh, you, your face. . .that girl, Grimm. . ."

"Long story, Daniel. Maybe I'll tell you on the way to Italy. Now, how are we gonna get there?"

Philippines. Days ago.

Inside the kitchen of a beach house, a dark haired woman hears the door opening, as she cooks breakfast.

"How was the beach, honey?" she asks as she hears steps coming going throught the living room.

She gets no answer. Immediatly she realizes that she did not hear the door close. That was odd. Tom was always concerned about safety.

"Tom? Is that you...?" she said, turning to look whoever was approaching the kitchen. She saw...

...her husband Tom. She was relieved to see that it was him, until she noticed his eyes were covered with light.

"I have to go to Italy," he said suddenly, before she could ask what was the deal with the light.

"W-Why...?" she asked, as he passed by her side.

"I don't know," he replied without turning to look at her. He then opened the kitchen door and stepped out of the house. Without closing the door on his way out.

She watched as he walked away, heading for Italy.

"Um..." she said, confused, "take care..."

Drake is walking down down a street, whistling happily to himself. "Oh yeah, chicks definately dig the cane."

It was nice of them to make you breakfast.

"Sure was, but not as nice as when they...well, you know."

I'm not sure if I do, Drake.

"Right, right. It's probably a human thing that dragons just wouldn't uderstand."

Is this the way back?

"Y'know what? I have no idea. I was a little drunk last night and it's still less than a day since we got here. You wanna fly us back?"

Well, yeah.

"Good, I'd probably just get us lost."

Drake changes places with Drax. "Ahhh, that's better." Drax takes off ino the air. " There's one thing I still don't get. "

Whst's that?

"Why would you choose two women who look exactly the same?"

Trust me. it's another human thing.

"Humans are very strange. There it is." Drax lands gently at the temporary headquarters. " I think I'm really going to like it here. "

Why's that?

Drax smiles " It smells like fish. "

Right, it's the humans who are strange.

Danny lightly rapped on Kit's office door. "Danny," Kit said when he looked up from the mounds of paperwork covering his desk, "should you guys be getting ready for you trip. You plane leaves in a few hours."

"Well," the man from the future began, "you see, Kit, there's a few..... little problems that I don't think we took into account that Grimm just pointed out to me."

"Really? What's that?"

"How are we going to get into Italy?"

"Well, by plane, of course. That's why I bought the tickets."

"No. That's not what I meant. I know how we're going to GET there, but how are we going to get INTO the country. Chance is legally dead in this dimension. Grimm claims to be also. I haven't even been born yet. And God only knows who's looking for the Eurostar, which makes getting Ed in, Raptor or not, hard as hell."

"Oh," Kit sank into his seat. "I see your point." He began to nervously bite his nails.

The window of Kit’s office is open, so I fly rightly in.

There is Danny inside.

I take the cards from my pocket. “Here’s are the passports, Kit. My friend at the dock has done a good job, I believe.

Kit stops to bite his nails. “Good. I was thinking you wouldn’t be in time”.

“False passports?” wonders Danny. “But that’s it’s illegal!”

“Just like sneaking inside a protected part of a museum” I say.

“Uhm… right” replies Danny.

Kit raises his eyes from the passports. “We have to put the photos and they will be perfect. Your plane is a tourist charter, you will meddle with European tourists returning from their vacations on the island. There is high chance that nobody will check you at the Galileo Galilei Airport in Pisa. And with Chance among you, that probability is a certainty…”

“Ok, I go to put my civvies on” I say. Is civvies a true word? Who knows? Who cares? In a few hours I will finally spoke Italian after more than a year.

the docks

"Here we are," Phil announced as he piloted the Hummer down the pier to the waiting freighter. Grissom was riding shotgun, with Charlene in the back seat and Priest occupying a sizable portion of the cargo area.

"I still want to know what it is that we're picking up," Grissom said.

"You'll find out," Phil said, grinning.

Grissom looked out the window. "I don't like surprises."

Phil stopped the Hummer and jumped out, the others close behind. He approached the harbormaster and presented his ID. Grissom, Charlene, and Priest followed at a distance as the harbormaster led Phil to a loading zone, where a crane was lowering one of several identical shipping containers to the ground.

Phil walked up to the container as it touched down on the pier. He picked up a crowbar and began working on the door of the heavy steel containers.

"This might take a while," Charlene muttered to Grissom as Phil struggled with the heavy door. Grissom nodded but didn't say anything. He was sure Phil had heard what Charley had said, one way or another.

Finally, Priest stepped forward without a word. He held out his massive hand and accepted the crowbar from Phil. Priest wedged the crowbar behind the metal hinge of the door. With one tug on the crowbar, the huge man wrenched the door from the container, letting it clatter to the ground noisily, stirring up a cloud of dust.

Phil stepped into the container, his eyes fixed on something the others couldn't see.

"What is it?" Charley asked.

"Damned if I know," Grissom replied.

The dust finally cleared, and the mercenary peered into the shipping container. His eyes widened.

"It's a... it's a bloody auto." He turned to Charlene. "This man had an auto sent all the way out here!"

"Not just one," Phil said as he emerged from the container.

"What's all this?" Grissom demanded.

"I thought you'd never ask," Phil said with a smile.

Priest shrugged his shoulders and turned toward Charlene, "So, is he gonna tell us or not?"

Charlene half smiled and shrugged her shoulders in return.

"It's like this," Phil explained. "Before I came here, I used to hire myself out as a... security contractor, you might say. A few months back, I was hired by a Chrysler executive who was suspicious of one of his employees. He had me track the guy's every move and see exactly what he was up to. Turns out that the guy was intentionally sulfur-contaminating his batches."

"Excuse me?" Grissom raised an eyebrow.

"The alloys that go into cars' engine blocks and frames and such," Phil explained, "are very complex combinations of metals and non-metallic composites that result from years of metallurgical research and require careful composition and frequent testing in metallurgical labs. This particular employee was being paid by Toyota to contaminate the batches of alloys that were made in his plant with sulfur dioxide, making the metals brittle under temperature changes and less resistant to corrosion. Then the guy tampered with the test samples so the contamination wouldn't show up."

"Why would he do a thing like that?" Charlene asked.

"It's simple," Phil said. "Weaknesses and corrosion in the metal would take a while to show up - after a lot of cars had come off the line and been sold. Somewhere along the line, a customer would notice the problem and complain to their dealer, who would take it up with their distributor, and the problem would go up the line all the way to the top. Chrysler would trace the source of the problem to the plant where the sulfur contamination had taken place, and then they would have to issue a recall of all vehicles made here, shut down the plant, and examine all the tooling for defects. It would cripple that particular plant and cause a lag in production for Chrysler, giving the competition a chance to undercut their prices."

"Chrysler would take a hit," Priest said.

Phil nodded. "Fortunately, I caught the guy and managed to stop the sulfur contamination from spreading throughout the plant. I saved Chrysler a lot of money and caught a saboteur that had been doing damage undercover for quite a while. There was only one catch."

"The executive had hired you secretly," Grissom said.

Phil smiled. "How'd you guess that?"

"Call it intuition," the mercenary said.

Phil shrugged. "Anyway, the guy knew I was expecting some serious kickback, so he told me about his pet project and how I might be able to benefit from it."

The crane finished lowering the last of eight shipping containers to the pier behind the four of them.

"For the last few years," Phil explained, "Chrysler had been trying to break into the market for law-enforcement vehicles. The problem was that all the major police departments in the US and Canada had standing contracts with either Ford or GM, who have historically dominated that segment of the market. So this executive's idea was to develop vehicles for the higher echelons of law-enforcement and the intelligence community."

Charlene's eyes widened. "FBI? CIA?"

Phil nodded. "He took off-the-shelf parts and existing vehicles and heavily customized them, adding quite a bit to them. But once that was done, he still couldn't find any buyers. So now he had these expensive, super-specialized, and completely unsellable vehicles taking up space on the factory floor. And when most of our infrastructure went down the tubes in the hurricane, I called the guy up and offered to take some of them off his hands. He didn't even hesitate to fax me the necessary documents." Phil grinned. "So now we have some more stylish transportation around the island."

Grissom looked at the eight containers. "Eight cars?"

"Four cars," Phil corrected. "Four Dodge Intrepid Interceptor models. And two Durango Special Purpose models. And my car."

"Your car?" Grissom asked curiously.

"You'll see it," Phil said.

"And what's in the eighth container?" Charlene asked.

"I'll show you," Phil said quietly, "when we're all away from prying eyes." He handed Charlene and Grissom crowbars. "Let's get these cars to the motor pool and get them secured. Seven cars. First trip we take the Intrepids. Second trip Griss and Charley get the Durangos, I get my car, Priest gets the last container in on a truck, and we can unload it when he gets to the building." He started tossing them sets of keys.

"Let's go to work."

Grissom slipped his cell phone into the hands-free dock on the Intrepid's dashboard. "Dial," he said, then said Charlene's number aloud, as per the instructions printed on the plastic sticker placed on the dash. The car dialed Charley's number, and after three rings she picked up.

"Yeah?"

"Griss here," the mercenary said. "Obviously your phone works."

"These things are fantastic!" Charley exclaimed. "I don't think I want to know how much these cars would have cost if it weren't for whatever deal Phil cut with that Chrysler guy."

"If that's the real story," Grissom said.

"What do you mean?" Charlene asked curiously.

"Phil has been quite reluctant to tell us much of anything in detail," Grissom explained. "But for an amnesiac he's got quite a few talents - and connections - that even surprise me."

"You don't think he is who he says he is?" Charlene asked. "You've been around him longer than I have."

"I don't know what to think," Grissom replied. "But for now at least, I think we can trust him. He helped out quite a bit when the hurricane came, and he's been helping me rebuild pretty consistently, so I think he's earned my trust. For now. I just don't always take everything he says at face value, that's all."

"I understand." Charlene paused. "So what all did they do to these cars?"

"This is obviously not the stock V-6 Intrepid powerplant," Grissom said. "I'm guessing it's a V-8 based on the Dodge Ram stock engine. There are quite a few electronic gadgets in here, most obviously this hands-free phone link, and I also see a GPS, some other navigational aids, and a multi-band scanner. I looked at the bodywork when I got it - particularly the edge of the open door - and the material is quite a bit thicker than standard aluminum or fiberglass panels. My guess is that there's Kevlar and possibly other synthetic-material armor incorporated into the body panels of these vehicles. There might be other modifications, but only Phil knows about those."

"Still beats walking," Charlene replied.

"Indeed." Grissom pushed a button on his steering wheel and ended the call. He turned left and followed Phil down the tunnel into the motor pool.

Maybe these cars weren't such a bad idea.

". . .as several European countries continue to have problems with the terrorist organization called the Left Hand. . ."

"Hey, Shirl, whatcha doin'?" Mick said, walking into Shirley's temporary office.

"Oh, just watching a little tv. Not much to do with business like it's been lately."

"Back to you, Bill."

"Thanks, Chuck, and may I say that's a nice tie you're wearing."

"Did he just compliment that guy's tie?" Mick asked. "Why are they looking at each other like that?"

Click!

". . .four women. One man. With four arms. It's the hottest new reality show this year! It's Metadate! Only on Meta TeleVision. . ."

Mick tried to suppress a snicker. "Hey, maybe we should get Danny on there. . ."

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

Grimm walked into the temporary meeting room only to be greeted by gasps from Kit, Chance, and Ed. "So, is it an improvement?" He asked.

"Bout time you took that damn mask off!" Dirk Bell said strolling into the room. "Now put it back on, you ugly bastich." He continued walking straight past the other team members. "So, we leavin' or what?"

[ 01-20-2003, 07:38 PM: Message edited by: Grimm ]

Bangkok. A few days ago.

Tom walks the streets on Bangkok with one thing in his mind: He has to go to Italy.
He's wearing nothing but a bathing suit, slippers and sun glasses.
(He decided to put sun glasses on when he noticed that everyone on the street stared at him, because light was coming from his eyes, and that made him uncomfortable. Now they still stare at him sometimes, mainly at night or when it's raining or snowing, because he's on a bathing suit, but it doesn't happen as much as it did before he started using the sun glasses.)

He hasn't actually walked all the way from Philipines to Bangkok... He's taken a few shortcuts here and there that make the trip shorter. You get into an alley in a country and suddenly you appear in a public bathroom in another country. He didn't know about this shortcuts before... Something just told him where they were. The same something that told him he has to go to Italy.

Shortcuts or no shortcuts, he's walked for entire days. Tom is very tired and very cold, but he doesn't know it. Something prevents him from knowing it. For now, the only thing in his mind, is that he has to go to Italy...

Grissom popped out the lighter on the Durango and pressed the end of his cigarette onto the heated coil. As the tip lit, the Brit raised the other end to his lips and took a drag, sighing contentedly. Placing the lighter back in the slot, he furrowed his brow as his PDA appeared in his hand, a result of his teleportation abilities.

Flipping open the top, he pulled out his stylus and pulled up a link to one of his hundreds of Internet information stockpiles that he's raided from different intelligence networks and anti-criminal organizations. FBI, CIA, GRU, MI6, KGB... Griss had access to files that some governments had been trying to access for years. He'd sell them to the highest bidder, naturally... but no one really knew that he had them. And that's the way he liked it.

Scribbling the name "Smith, Phil" in the information box, Griss waited a moment, looked around the parking garage nervously, and blew a bit of smoke out of his nose. Steadily drumming the fingers of his left hand on the Durango's steering wheel in a repeating pattern of three beats, Montag cocked an eyebrow as a list of files from the FBI, CIA, and MI6 appeared on his tiny screen.

"Cripes," Grissom moaned, blowing smoke up into his face. "This is gonna take next to forever! Why'd this bloke have to have such a common name?"

Then, an odd file caught his eye. A fairly recent entry compiled by what was once the KGB. "'ullo," Griss said, smiling mischeviously and tapping the file twice with his stylus.

The file that opened up was immediately translated from Russian to English and Grissom skimmed the contents. The title of the file was labelled "SIGMA" followed closely by "Mission #137".

"How many missions 'as this bloke done?" Grissom asked, running his hand over his five o'clock shadow, which made a bit of a grating sound. "He can't be twenty-one... that's fer sure..."

All of a sudden, a rap sounded at the passenger window of the Durango. As Grissom's PDA vanished from his hand, he looked up to see Phil standing at the window, waving for him to roll the window down.

"Whatcha doing, Griss?" Phil asked.

"Oh, nothing..." Griss replied, indicating the cigarette in his mouth. "Y'know... just making sure the lighters in these things work."

"What was with the PDA?" Phil asked.

"Just looking over some building schematics for the construction," Griss answered. "Speaking of which, we'd better get movin' on that, eh, mate?"

Phil smiled. "You're the boss, Griss!"

[ 01-21-2003, 01:26 AM: Message edited by: Chewy Walrus ]

Ameristar walked into the allready crowded office and said; "Hello, boys. I just wanted to give you my travel plans."
She showed them the book that Crasher had stolen, and then she unfolded a map.
"You see the Tower of Cuccubao is located in the deep amazonian jungles outside Manaus. The rivers are full of piranhas and the air is infested with strange insects. And let´s not get into the fact that there are word record breaking Boa constrictors there as well.
I figue this enviroment could be a hazard for anyone not wearing some protective armor or something similair, so I´m going there to see if the artifact can be found there. If anyone volunteers to join me I would be thankfull."
She gave them a charming smile.

[ 01-21-2003, 05:36 AM: Message edited by: T5 ]

Grissom stood outside the loading dock, helping Priest back up the truck. Charlene had just parked the other Durango, and she got out to help Grissom. Walking over to him, she looked around. "Phil still hasn't shown up?" she asked.

"He was opening the last container and told me to roll out," Priest called from the cab of the truck. "He said he'd be along soon."

"He was probably making sure his car was undamaged," Charley said, rolling her eyes.

"It'd be bloody helpful," Grissom said, "if we had some idea what he'd be driving."

All three heads turned at the whine of turbochargers and the throaty rumble of what had to be a very large engine. A black Viper ACR rounded the corner and sped into the motor pool with none other than Phil Smith at the wheel. He pulled into a parking space, killed the engine, and hopped out of the car wearing a huge grin on his face.

"I suppose that will help the team immeasurably," Grissom said sarcastically.

Phil shrugged. "These help the team," he said, motioning to the other vehicles they had brought. "This one's for me."

Grissom looked at Charlene, who wasn't sure what to say.

Priest broke the silence. "What's in this container, anyway?"

Phil looked around. "Pull that truck in here and close the door."

Priest obeyed. Grissom and Charley both had suspicious expressions on their faces as the truck slowly entered the motor pool. Priest shut off the engine and got out of the cab, circling around to where Phil and Grissom stood behind the container door. Charley pushed a button, and the heavy door slid shut across the entrance to the motor pool.

The dim light cast eerie shadows across Phil's face as he pried open the container door. Grissom took one look inside and stepped back. "You're joking."

Priest's eyebrows went up, but the huge man said nothing.

"What is it?" Charlene walked over and looked inside. Her eyes widened. "No way."

The container was filled with weapons and ammunition from floor to ceiling, ranging from sidearms to mounted machine guns to a surface-to-air missile launcher.

"Definitely not something Chance would like to see," Phil said softly.

"Where... where did you get all this?" Charlene's pretty face paled.

"I have connections," Phil said cryptically. "Where is not important."

Grissom let out a long, low whistle. "Lovely, mate. Lovely." He picked up an M4 rifle. "I'd sure love to know where you get the cash for all this."

Priest eyed the missile launcher. "Just a bonus piece, or do you think we'll actually need this thing?"

Phil shrugged. "Better to have something you don't need than to need something you don't have."

"What are we going to do with all this?" Charlene asked.

"What good is a solid security system," Phil said, "if you can't back it up with something?" He turned to Grissom. "You're the security man. I'm sure you can figure out where to put these." He looked at the others. "And we don't need to talk about this too much. We don't need to borrow trouble from either the pacifists or the loose cannons on this team, and there are a few of both."

Grissom eyed Phil curiously. "Not a very trusting person, are you?"

Phil smiled coldly. "In my experience, it can be dangerous to trust too many with too much." He turned and headed off. "I'm going to get a forklift. We can set up a security office and a motor pool office right down here."

Charlene and Priest looked at Grissom.

Grissom shrugged. "I don't really know what to think."

[ 01-21-2003, 01:50 PM: Message edited by: Captain Sammitch ]

"Ameristar," Kit began to speak, "If you knew where the book was this whole time, then why did we just send five people to Italy?!"

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

International Airport
Italy

The passengers begin disembarking from flight 435, including a man with a ponytail and beard, wearing a large hat and dark glasses. He is followed by a muscular man with blond hair, and a teenage boy. They begin to enter customs.

"Your name, sir?" The attendandt asks.

"I am Prof. Guido Sardella, I am on my way to the Museum of Antiquities with a unique find for their oddities wing."

"And your friends?"

"This is my associate and partner, Prof. Butterfield, and this," He reached an arm around Danny's neck. "is my adopted son, Marcus."

After making their way through customs, the three procured a rental truck and waited as a forklift loaded the large crate onto the back.

"I hope Grimm's ok in there." Danny said.

"Eh, I am sure he will be fine, Daniel. He seems at time to be unreal in what he does." "Prof. Sardella" responded.

"We should get to the museum and find the painting, guys." Kristofer Schanz said, sliding behind the wheel of the rental.

"You think Dirk's there yet?" Euro asked as he Danny closed the door of the truck and locked it.

"No telling with him." Danny said.

"Welcome back to Italy, Mr. Heinlein. It's been a long time since you last visited us." The stamp made it's mark on Dirk's passport.

"Haven't had much business here in quite some time," he responded. Ed, Danny, and Kris had to go through customs to get Grimm. Something about how he wouldn't be able to get through the gate or something. Dirk really wasn't paying attention. He did wonder, though, how Grimm was going to be able to breath in that box for that long of a flight. Oh well.

Not having to go through customs allowed Dirk the extra time he needed to pick up his supplies. A van sat in the parking garage next to the airport. It just so happened that Dirk had the key. Inside were all the little toys that he had hoped to see. The quickly began to don his weapons in the same fashion that he has hundreds of times before. He pulls his black trench coat out of his bag and pulls it over his shoulders. His fedora crowns his head as he gets behind the wheel of the van and drives off.

Since he was the first out, the others wanted him to go to the museum first. Whatever. A little time away from the group can't be a bad thing.

"Hmmm. Metal detectors," he mumbled underneath his breath as he entered the museum lobby. "Untrusting bastards, aren't they?" He quickened his pace to get up beside an elderly balding man. Unseen or noticed Dirk slipped a small pocket knife into the man's coat pocket and stopped.

As the unsuspecting stranger set off the alarm, guards quickly circled him. As they tried to deduce the situation, Dirk quietly stepped over the velvet rope and into the museum. He quickly took to the "Authorized Personelle Only" section. At least, that's what he guessed it was. He wasn't fluent in Italian. But areas where outsiders aren't welcomed were universal. And he was good at tracking them down.

No one tried to stop him either. It was odd. Dirk was so used to military installations where they put twenty bullets in you to keep you from crossing a white line. Most of the people here were young. Probably interns from the nearest university. The older people just seemed to concetrate on what they were doing rather than the world around them. He was just waltzing into whatever room he wanted without resistance. Dirk felt that he would feel more at ease having militia men taking pot-shots at him.

Drake peeks into the office. "Hey, if you're looking for volunteers for a mission, I've got one for you." Drake smirks as he continues "good luck fitting him into protective armor though." Drake listens to a voice no one else can hear. "No, Drax. I'm not calling you fat." Drake smiles at the assembled group again. "Of course, there is still the small matter of my partner not yet being an official member of your team..."

[ 01-22-2003, 12:06 AM: Message edited by: DRAX ]

Ameristar looks at Kit and says: "Why, they have just departed?"

Then she smiles. "Only joking, chief."

Then she sits down.

"The book has been hunted there before, without success. It's not there. But there, we could find other clues, different from the ones on the picture."

Kit raises a brow. "Make sense... if another ONE associate wants to come with you, permission accorded. But I can't give any provision for the trip, Jackie. How do you get there?"

Ameristar raises a backpack. "Crasher left a spare Gaia Unit, chief".

Ameristar handed Drake the Gaia Unit and helped him to make it fit.
"How does it work?" he looked at her with a boyish grin. "Or do we hold hands?"
"Hahaha. Not so fast you little rascal. I will operate it by remote control. But in case of an emergency, just press this black button on the side and say, Emergency home. It will then take you to safety."
"Oh? And where is that?"
"Later...now we will have to update ourselves on the terrain around the tower so we won´t get caught flatfooted."
"Hmmm...sure thing Mam, Sir!" he gave her a grin again.
And surprising herself she actually smiled back.
then they bent over the map of the amazon region where the tower was located and discussed the plan.

Uffizi Museum, Florence, Italy. 6 PM.

“Signore, dove va?”

Dirk Bell, hearing the foreigner language, has an hard time to not getting into shooting position. Instead, he turns quietly, and with the most innocent face says: “Do you speak English, sir?”

“Yes, I do. This part of the museum is not for visitors, I have to ask you to leave immediately, sir.”

“Oh, sorry. I think I lost myself trough all those corridors…”

“Yes, it happens all the time with foreigners. Guess we need better multilingual signs”.

Dirk Bell mumbles some unintelligible words, and heads for the exit. The place is not a military installation, sure, but still it holds many world-important treasures of arts, and it is well guarded.

But Bell’s intention were not to find the painting now, all by himself. He was checking for hidden security cameras, for purposefully entrance and exits, and, lastly, to hide here and there many “instruments” that would came useful later in the night, when the time for the mission will come.

Meanwhile, a few yards away form the museum, in the Piazza della Signoria…

… a rental truck parks in front of the Museum. There is a forklift ready to take in custody the large crate.

Inside, three man are talking.

“Can you explain me how Kit arranged to have this crate sent to the Museum?” asks Ed to the other two. “I still don’t understand how he did accomplish it”.

“Ah, it was easy. We bribed the La Perdita Minister of Culture. It even cost us not much money…”

Ed makes his best astonished expression: “But… but that’s illegal!”

The van explodes into a general laugh.

Danny’s point his index finger toward the main exit of the Museum. “Dirk’s arriving…”

Ed replies: “Ok, now we go to a good restaurant I know, and wait for the night. Then Grimm will open the door for us.”

“Hey, poor Grimm will not eat this evening”.

Ed strokes his head, a little perplexed. “Well… I don’t think he needs to eat. He’s dead.”

Kit had finished discussing the plans for the Amazon trip Ameristar and Drake were about to make with them, but the latter looked a bit confused.

"So do you always take strange people with stranger abilities off the street and immediately hire them?" Drake asked.

Kit laughed. "Well, it's a policy that seems to have worked okay so far..." he began before cracking up again and putting his hand on the young man's shoulder. "I think you'll do okay with us, kid, but I think the others would kill me if I didn't put you through a probation period first. God knows I really should've done so with all the newbies when they first came onboard, but they all proved themselves more than capable during Hurricane Jason. The guys'd had a lot of membership turnovers by then, but that storm was a sort of 'trial-by-fire' for the team. I really think it'll come together and work now, though." He looked as if he were lost in thought for a moment, then turned back to Drake and shook his head as he said, "Ahh, but don't sweat the probation. We'll be putting all new members through a probation period from now on."

"That seems reasonable enough," said Drake, shaking Kit's outstretched hand. "I'm just glad to be with a group of people who are just as strange as I am."

Kit grinned and gave Drake the old motivational spiel for the next 15 minutes -- a "pep-talk" he claimed was what an old mentor had once given him, but was really just something he'd picked up from a late-night TV info-mercial a couple of nights ago. He was a bullshitter, he knew, but at least he was an "honest bullshitter" -- which was more than he could say about most other salesmen.

Drake held an expression of relief on his face as Kit went back to his office and Ameristar impatiently checked her watch for the 30th time in 15 minutes.

Kit Piper sat back in his chair with his feet on his desk. Today was a great day. Today was a fantastic day. He'd gotten laid last night by an olive-skinned girl 20 years younger than him who spoke some kind of Asian language, all thanks to one of MBL Consulting's newest staff members, their personal trainer.

Speaking of which, Kit noticed as that oddly-shaped, purple-skinned, mohawked "man" walked into the make-shift office at the Fish Factory, and he got up from his seat with his arms outstretched in greeting at his 'new best friend.'

"Hey, hey, Blackwulf! Good buddy, good pal! You da maannn!"

Blackwulf grinned at Kit and mimicked the gesture, "Ha-ha-ha -- No, you are being the man."

"No, man, you da man!"

"No, comrade, it is you who are being the man."

"No, YOU da man."

"Nyet, nyet, you are the one who is being the m--"

"You're BOTH 'da man', okay?" Shirley finally shouted in exasperation as she stood up from her computer console. "Now, could you guys please keep the noise level down a bit? I have a pile of paperwork to do that YOU forgot to put on my desk, Kit."

Shirley gestured at all the slips of paper and unopened envelopes below them that scattered over her desk. "Where'd we get so many bills all of a sudden? And how are we supposed to pay for all of this, especially since we haven't had a case in months? I'm not willing to work for free for more than a few days, you know." She glared at him suspiciously. So much for the relaxing, carefree day she'd hoped to spend with her fiance.

"I wouldn't worry too much about that, Shirl, m'girl," Kit said, still grinning. "There's plenty o'cash to pay for all these bills and more, thanks to our little friend Pete... God rest his soul."

Shirley shook her head and muttered as she sat back down in resignation, "You should never take something like that for granted, Kit. Murphy's Law and such, you know?"

"'Murphy's Law'?" Kit laughed and prepared himself for another speech. "Law-shmaw. Why, my business experience alone is enough to keep this firm afloat no matter how deep in the red we go because of this storm. Besides, that weekly check from BountyLand Foods is guaranteed to cover our business expenses whenever we're overdrawn, thanks to Pete's last will and testament which left ownership of it to the company."

"Kit! Don't tempt fate by talking like that!" Shirley scolded. "We've got to keep the books balanced on MBL Consulting's profits, especially since we still haven't paid for that damned hovercraft you had Henry order last year. That thing cost more than the Gross National Product some small countries make in a year! Not to mention the apartment building repairs and utility charges, your salary and mine, the operating expenses for the cases, and all the little expenses that add up, like all those business trips you've made over the past year to see potential clients, all the luncheons and fringe benefits you held for them that went for nothing but 'goodwill in the business world' as you called it. And all these new employees you keep hiring right off the street! I mean, I love the guys, don't get me wrong, but ever since the storm ended the bulk of them have had little to do but twiddle their thumbs and get paid for it! We can't afford to keep it up like that. No one could."

"Don't worry about it," Kit said, waving it away while still fantasizing about the 20-something, olive-skinned girl who shared his bed last night and didn't speak much English. "It'll all work out in the end. I mean, we've got Chance on our side, don't we?" He winked.

"I'm serious, Kit!" Shirley continued. "And besides, Chance isn't here right now. Who knows how his luck works? Maybe his luck was the only thing that'd been preventing our company from going bankrupt like so many other Perditian businesses have ever since the storm! Only thing is, unlike all those other businesses, we're not eligible for disaster relief!"

"The girl -- she likes to talk, da?" said Blackwulf, laughing heartily at the situation.

"Don't mind our little Shirl-girl, here, Wulfie!" Kit said, putting an arm around Blackwulf's shoulder and leading him out of the office. "I hired her for her feistiness -- keeps me in check." He winked again at Shirley just as he stepped out of view.

"Hmmph," Shirley muttered, and went back to the business of paying bills.

[ 01-23-2003, 12:07 PM: Message edited by: TheTimeTrust ]

Kit Piper and Blackwulf the Everchanging were supposedly "talking business" over lunch in the old Cafeteria in the Fish Factory and enjoying a meal of steaming-hot Caribbean Fish Chowder as prepared by Carmelita Luis, a middle-aged local Del Mar resident hired as a cook. They were supposed to have been discussing the revised training program Blackwulf had come up with over the last few months which awaited final approval. In reality, they skimmed over it rather quickly and got to talking about other things... like their ex-wives and the joys of the opposite sex.

The intercom rudely interrupted their hearty conversation when a nasally-sounding, amplified version of Shirley's voice broke out and filled the 1950s-era cafeteria dining room: "Kit, there's a call for you on line 2."

"Maybe eet is your ex-wife, eh, comrade?" Blackwulf began, still laughing in his way.

"Maybe, maybe," said Kit as he pushed away from the table and walked, almost dancing as he hummed a James Brown tune ("I Feel Good"), to the phone. It was still a happy day. The sun was shining, the salty smell of sea air wafting in from the beach filled the cafeteria, as every window and door was open. Caribbean Januarys weren't bad. "Hel-lo!" he said cheerily. "Kit here. What can I do ya for?"

There was silence at the other end of the line for a moment. Finally, a voice spoke, "Mr. Piper..."

"That's my name."

"Mr. Piper, I want you should listen, and listen carefully," the voice said seriously, betraying a slight Sicilian-American accent. "Mr. Gambini don't like the reticincy with which ya pay the debts you rightfully owe 'im. Especially considerin' what Mr. Gambini's learned about your little... operation there on that beautiful Caribbean isle o' yours. What'd they call it? 'La Prita' or somethin'? Don't matter. Mr. Gambini knows what kinda expenses you been pullin' down lately. Seems he's a bit ticked off that you've got so much cash-flow goin' on, and you still can't pay yer bills."

Kit's cheerful expression quickly turned to one of dismay as the familiar voice spoke. He picked up the telephone and went around the corner out of anyone's earshot. "I-I've got your money ready," Kit stammered, "it just took some preparing, some saving up, to get it all together. They really don't pay me all that much here, I--"

"Mr. Gambini's not satisfied with da tardiness of yer payments, especially considerin' yer operation. M-b-l? ... 'Mabel Consulting' or somethin' like that? Mr. Gambini says you owe him interest for the past year-and-a-half. Mr. Gambini wants a 30% cut of this consulting biz ya got there."

"Th-thirty percent?!?" Kit exclaimed, running his hand over his bald head. "B-but that's impossible, I don't--"

"'You don't'? You don't what? Don't understand? What Mr. Gambini wants, Mr. Gambini is gonna get. An' we got some insurance ta make sure ya keep yer word." Kit could hear the telephone on the other end sounding somewhat muffled as it was transferred to someone else.

Finally, a voice came over the telephone: "Daddy?"

Kit's heart sank, and blood drained from his face. "Denyce?!!" His daughters had spent the Holidays at home with their mother, his ex-wife, in New Orleans. Their next scheduled visit was just a couple of weeks from now.

"Daddy, I don't like it here," the young girl cried. "I wanna go home!"

"Ohh, baby, I'm gonna come get you... as soon as I can," Kit said, tears beginning to run down his face as he tried to control himself, but slid down the wall to the floor. "I-is Latisha with you?"

The harsh voice was back: "Yer other girl's kept elsewhere, along with 'er ma. If Mr. Gambini finds out you speak ta anyone, especially these Mabel Consulting guys, you hint at it even a whiff... BANG! They're both dead. You try a rescue, or mount some kinda assault on Mr. Gambini or any o' his associates... BANG! They're dead. You succeed in rescuin' one o' yer daughters... BANG! The other one's dead. You try anything to make Mr. Gambini the slightest bit nervous... BANG! They're both dead." He paused to let it fully sink in. "Get the money. One of Mr. Gambini's associates will be expectin' you at the airport in 24 hours."

"Tw-twenty four hours?!! But I can't--"

"Then they're dead. It's your choice. Time ta pay the piper, Mr. Piper. You got 24 hours."

*CLICK*

Kit Piper dropped the receiver and slid down to the floor, sobbing like a little child.

[ 01-23-2003, 10:04 AM: Message edited by: TheTimeTrust ]

Dake smiles at Ameristar. "So where were we?"
"We were talking about the plans for the mission. What are you planning on doing if we end up somewhere Drax won't fit?"
"I've got that covered. I still have the equipment I used as a crimefighter. It's really ment for an urban environment, but it'll get the job done. I've got night vision goggles and some light body armor."
Ameristar raises an eybrow. "Wisconsin must be more dangerous than I thought."
Drake laughs. "Yeah, it had its moments. I planned for this sort of thing, so I've adapted it a little. I've got a pair a crutches, I only need one if we're just walking but I'll keep the second one handy in case we really need to move. Strangely, the second crutch fits perfectly in the clip I used to keep my quarterstaff in."
"Sounds like your equipment is ready, now let's make sure you know what we're doing on the mission."
"You're the boss."
Ameristar smiles "Yeah, and don't you forget it."

Phil was rummaging through his room on the seventh floor when he heard something hit the floor behind him. He turned.

A newspaper had appeared out of nowhere and fallen to the floor. Phil bent down and picked it up.

It was the New York Times. It was one of the pages near the back of the local news section, and a small story had been circled with a yellow highlighter.

Forensic detective says "Unidentified" killer's death staged

Phil's eyes widened. He read on, not liking any of what he read.

"Not a good time to be in the hero business."

Phil turned. Gabi stood in his doorway.

"What are you doing here?" Phil asked.

"I just thought I'd give you a little warning," Gabriela said. "The cops let us slip past them back in New York, but I don't know if your luck is going to hold out much longer."

Phil scanned the article. "It says here that the NYPD officers who witnessed the crash made no attempt to verify that we were actually in the Explorer when it sank. No bodies were recovered, obviously, but the author says that the officer with jurisdiction over the case closed the case before anything conclusive was known."

"He's saying there was a cover-up," Gabi said, "and that the officer with jurisdiction just let us go."

"And if a Times hack knows this," Phil said, "then I'm sure the FBI is well aware of it." He frowned. "And I'm sure Fisher is pretty eager to track me down too."

"Now might not be the best time to stay in one place," Gabi advised him.

"I'm out of the country," Phil said. "And La Perdita has no extradition agreements with the US government."

"Do you think any of that matters to Agent Fisher?" Gabi asked.

"Fisher will do whatever it takes to get me," Phil said. "Once he finds out where I am, anyway."

"If I found out where you are," Gabi told him, "then there's no doubt in my mind that Fisher knows you're here." She looked out the window. "We have to leave."

Phil held up his hands. "Hold on, Gabi. I live here. I have a responsibility to these people."

"Do you?"

"Yes, I do," Phil insisted. "They've given me a place to stay, and I belong here. And so at least for the time being, I'm staying here. I can't just up and leave them."

"What are you going to do about Fisher, then?" Gabi asked.

Phil shrugged. "Whatever it takes to get him off my back." He thought a moment. "He'll never stop chasing me as long as we're both still alive. So there's only one way to solve that."

Gabi paled. "I thought you were through with killing people."

"I won't let him find out about the MBL," Phil said. "He's trying to locate any metahumans that interest him and make a record of who they are and where they live. Their strengths, their weaknesses, everything. I'll die - and I'll kill - before I let him do that."

"It wouldn't be necessary," Gabi insisted, "if you'd just leave with me."

Phil sighed. "I... I can't think about that right now." He paused. "Nobody here knows who I am, and nobody here has managed to connect me to what happened in New York. They should be in the clear on the off chance the law tries to come here. If Fisher wants to push the issue, I've got a room full of ammo downstairs that has his name on it." Phil looked at Gabi. "But I can't risk him getting ahold of you. He'd run tests on you and stare at you through a microscope for the rest of your natural life."

"Then what are you going to do?" Gabriela asked.

"I'm going to keep doing what I've been doing," Phil said. "And you're going to stay right here with me."

"What about Leslie?"

Phil smiled at her. "What about her?"

Gabi grinned. "You wanna see if you can give me any other super-powers?"

"You know it," Phil said.

His phone beeped.

Gabi rolled her eyes and threw up her hands, and Phil gritted his teeth and yanked the phone from his pocket. "Yeah?"

"Hope I'm not interrupting anything," Grissom said.

"Not at all," Phil replied flatly.

"This computer core is calling your name," Grissom told him. "I would appreciate if you'd come down here and help me out with it."

Phil sighed. "On my way." He hung up and looked at Gabi. "We will definitely have to continue this conversation later."

The forklift took the crate into the museum and set it down inside the storage room.

<Hey, where are we supposed to put this?>

<What is it?>

<Some new exhibit we just got in. Supposed to be some old legendary warrior from an island in the Atlantic. A Prof. Sardella discovered his body and had it flown back here. He's supposed to be here in the morning to set it up, I think.>

<Hmm. Let's take a look.>

The two men pried open the crate with a crowbar and pulled out the sarcophagus inside.

<Do you think there's really someone in there?>

<Let's have a look. . .>

They lifted the lid off of the sarcophagus and saw the body lying in it. It was large, muscular, and pale skin with a slight greyish tinge to it. It was wearing a traditional La Perditan ceremonial outfit and headdress.

<Pale guy for an islander.>

<Eh, maybe he was an immigrant. A European who went to the island and passed himself off as a god or something.>

<One way to find out.>

The first man reached down and lifted off the headdress.

<EEuughh.>

<What is it?>

<Whatever they used to preserve this guy, apparently didn't work on his face. What little skin there was came off with this mask, and there are no eyes. He is just a skull.>

<Eh! Put the mask back! We don't want them to think we have damaged this new exhibit!>

<You are right. It's almost time for our break, anyway.>

The men walked off, leaving the sarcophagus behind.

. . .Damn. Sounds like my face decayed again. Oh, well. . .nothing to do now but wait for the signal, then open the doors for the others. Grimm thought to himself in the darkness.

Priest and Grissom looked over blue prints for the new design of the apartment complex, which would now truly fit the word complex.

“What I did was work the new building in a radius around the remaining section of the old complex. Pushing it back a little gives us more room to properly secure the area. We bought out the two warehouses on the east-end, so we have more movement around the complex and space to work out in the sun.”

“Why didn’t we just knock down the small remaining area, build up from nothing.” Priest asked curious to why the team was keeping a weakspot directly in the center of the building.

“Danny asked me if there was anyway to preserve part of the original building. Out of respect for a friend. Don’ worry though, it’s all going to be reinforced and just as strong as the rest of the building.”

Priest nodded and looked at the complex, the outline was up and they had gotten a good portion finished over the last few weeks since the storm but so much work was needed.

Charlene approached, “Phil’s back, already down in the core and working on it.”

Grissom shook his head, “That guy’s gonna make me go gray early,” He began walking and turned back toward Priest and Charlene, “Priest, follow Charley and give her a hand. She knows exactly what to do.”

[ 01-24-2003, 10:48 AM: Message edited by: GoozX ]

"Hey!" Danny calls out to the group as they sit in a cafe. "How far is the Leaning Tower of Pisa from here? I never got to see it before it fell over." He kept searching on the map that he bought at the souvenier shop.

Dirk flipped open his Zippo and lit his cigar. Thanks to the time change from flying across the Atlantic, they didn't have to wait long for nightfall. In a couple of more hours the museum will be empty. Except for the security guards. Dirk had already thought of a way around that.

Ed was happy to be back in his native land again. Just hearing the language spoken in the way that only a natural born Italian can made him feel at ease. Yet, he still felt a little withdrawn. It was almost like the homesickness that he felt for his native country, but different.

"The museum should be emptying right about now," Chance said as he checked his watch. "We should be able to send Grimm the signal pretty soon."

"Wha...?" Danny looked up from his map. A small look of disapointment crossed his face. "No tower then, huh? Well, there's always next time." He folded the map and puts it in his coat pocket. "I guess we can go ahead and drive over to the museum. But first, I want to get one of those disposable camera things."

"What happened to the camera that Kit provided you?" Ed asks, slipping away from his own curious thoughts.

"Um...," Danny began to blush. "I kind of forgot to pack it. I got distracted with the whole passport thing. Time to go!" He got up and made his way towards the van outside.

"Okay, Drake. here is a map of the region." She unfolded a map and pointed to a spot on it. "Here is a small village called Antonio Filinto. There we will gather information about the exact location of the tower."
"Hold it a second. You don´t know where it is?"
"Well I do...almost. It´s supposed to be close to this village in some swampy region." She shrugged.

Drake rolled his eyes. "Are you telling me that we are going to god knows where to trample around in a swamp? Plus not really know where we are supposed to look? Oh, great."

"Relax man. The trip to Antonio Filinto will take about, oh, two seconds. So we only have to find the right guide and all will be well." She gave him a big smile. And patted him on the shoulder.
"What we need to think of though is this, the tower may be inhabited, we haven´t gotten any confirmation about that yet."
"Who´s we?"
"Ummm...my friend, Crasher. She usually helps me on errands like this."
"Aha, so why isn´t she along for the ride on this one?"
Ameristar grabbed Drake´s hand. "And miss this date? Not a chance." She winked an eye and said to her armor; "Gaia, please give me a visual on location Antonio Filinto."
Inside her helmet a satelite photo showed on her display.
"Okay, Drake. Here goes."

Drake was just about to ask how the teleport would feel like when they appeared in a small alley close to the village center.
The air was thick and warm.
He knew this was one mission that would probably test his abilities to their limits.