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

“It’s too early” I said, when we exited the cafe. And, in fact, just like I remembered from the time I studied in this city, even if the museum was closed and empty, the place in front of the main gate was crowded with tourists.

“Fuck” is what come from the mouth of Dirk. Chance asks: “What about the back of the buiding?”

“It’s on one of the busiest street of the town. There is only a safe way to enter. The roof”.

“How can we get there? With my broken ribs, I can’t turn any part of my body into bird’s part. I can’t fly over there” says Danny.

“Not to mention that nor Dirk or me can do that” whispers Chance. “Only you can fly there”.

“Actually, it would be nearly impossible even for me. Without an ascending current of hot air, I can’t take flight along a steep wall. But have no fear, there is an easy way. The only thing we need, is to go to a restaurant. A real restaurant.”

The faces of my friend were amusing. But quickly they understood my plan, when I showed them the aerial passage, built in part over buildings, in part over columns, that unites the Uffizi Museum with the Palazzo Pitti, on the other side of the River Arno. “You see, the Uffizi were the palace of the state administration, while Pitti was the residence of the great-duke. He didn’t want to cross the streets, so he had this peculiar corridor, one mile long, built for him. And we’ll use it to reach the Uffizi roof.”

Along the way, Danny bought his disposable camera. I had some of my personal money with me, the souvenir of my trip across America, so I bought a digital 5 megapixel. The meal was exceptionally good. I hoped it would have cured the strange sensation of “outplaceness” I am feeling, and that it’s starting to make me feel dizzy. I enjoyed the culatello, the ribollita, the bistecca, and so did my colleagues (Dirk especially the bistecca, enough similar to a texan T bone to suit his all American taste).

All went like a normal dinner of a small group of friends. Just, in the end, after we paid the bill, we didn’t get to the exit. We went for the bathroom. And there, we opened a small window facing the aerial passage, and after a small jump, we get safely over its roof.

Under the full moon, thirty metres above the street level, we walked fast toward the Uffizi, crossing the paths of only some stray cats.

Nad now, finally, we are on the museum roof.

Danny takes his pocket radio and signals to Grimm to come to open the roof window.

[ 01-24-2003, 06:05 PM: Message edited by: The Eurostar ]

Uh... a few minutes ago...

Danny stared for a moment at a mirror mounted on the wall of a bathroom, noticing the reflection staring back at him. The image showed one man. One mind. One soul.

But that was misleading.

<Quit looking at yourself.>

“I was just… you know… thinking.”

<Yeah, well, next time… do it in a less narcissistic way.>

Danny quickly diverted his gaze downward, and went about the business of washing his hands. He turned on the cold water tap, scrubbed his hands with some soap, then turned the tap off again.

Something had always struck him as strange about this whole process, ever since he came to this time. If you pissed on your hands, turned on the tap, washed your hands… but then touched the damn tap again… doesn’t that kind of defeat the purpose?

But he was finding that he thought about this stuff less and less as the months passed.

He turned, and dried his hands under the electric hand dryer. He always found himself impatient with these things. He remembered a time when the entire process would be over in a second. But now, he just knew that he would have to wait for a few moments for it to kick in.

Again… he found that this was bothering him less lately.

Looking at his outstretched hand, he contemplated it once more. Danny knew the back of his hand like… well, he knew it fairly well. And he knew what he would find in it’s centre. A small lump, almost imperceptible to the naked eye. And a slight discolouration for a few millimetres around the lump.

<I can’t believe you still have that.>

“What?”

<Your ID chip. It’s useless now.>

Danny thought about how convenient the ID chip was. With it, he had no need for any identification cards or papers. Or bankcards. Or holo-disc rental cards. Or cash. Any scanner around the world could read it and know anything it needed to know.

He ripped his wallet out of his pants. He found loose change and crumpled bank notes. An ID card (fake, but it did it’s job well enough). An MBL business card. A video rental card.

The whole thing was bulky. He could feel the weight of the wallet in his hand. He could feel it in his pocket when he walked. In his other pocket, he could feel the pressure of his passport sticking against his leg.

<Irritating, huh? Having so much crap to carry around…>

“You know, Hal… I’ve barely noticed lately. I only noticed it then because you mentioned the ID chip.”

Danny’s chip was the last piece of technology he had left from his time. Sure, it was useless. The scanners necessary to read it had yet to be invented. The information it contained had yet to be created. It was a pointless little thing whose sole reason for existing was to be mildly itchy every now and again.

But still… it was the last thing he had.

<They’re easy to carve out. It’ll only bleed for a second.>

“…it’s not doing any harm,” Danny said, and left the bathroom. It struck him that the most infuriating thing about having a conversation with Hal was that you couldn’t storm away from it dramatically.

Dirk, Chance and Ed sat around a table in the midst of a busy Italian restaurant, waiting for their food to arrive.

“Y’know, this better be good. If the Italian food in Italy is on the same level as the Italian food I can get in Cleveland, I’d be sorely disappointed,” Dirk said.

“I’m sure it will be fantastic!” Ed said, grinning. He seemed to be enjoying himself. Only fifteen minutes earlier, the others had watched with mild amusement while he ordered for them all in his native tongue.

“What’d you order again, Ed?” Chance asked.

“Half the damn menu, it sounded like,” Dirk said, with a smile. Chance laughed.

Before Ed could open his mouth to reply, a waiter appeared beside the table brandishing four large dinner plates laden with food. Chance reflected on the fact that even he would have trouble balancing four plates this size, but the waiter was doing it seemingly without thinking. The waiter laid down the plates around the table, and the three companions nodded their thanks. Then he disappeared as quickly as he had appeared.

“Now where’s Danny?” Ed asked as he looked across the table at the empty seat with the large serving of ribollita in front of it. Looking up, he noticed Danny exiting the bathroom.

“Ah. Here he comes,” Chance said.

“Less talk. More eat,” Dirk added.

“Drinks!”

Dirk dropped his fork in surprise and turned around. The waiter had reappeared behind him, the drinks they’d ordered on his little silver tray.

“He’s like Batman,” Dirk said. The waiter looked slightly confused at this remark, then placed the drinks down and disappeared once more.

Danny sat down. “Okay, the plan is this- after we finish eating, we can be at the museum in a few minutes,” He began,

“Right.”

“Once there, we give Grimm the signal,” Danny continued.

“How do we…“

“He’s got his mobile phone on him.”

“Right.”

“We navigate our way through the museum, to where the painting is being held. Avoiding security, of course,” Danny explained.

“How do we…”

“We have the information on the museum security system that Dirk got earlier today on his reconnaissance trip. Dirk?”

Dirk pulled a sheet of paper out of his coat pocket and slapped it down on the table in front of Danny.

“Thanks. Once we find the painting, we photograph it.”

“How do we…? Oh, right, with a camera. Never mind.”

“Got a question…” Dirk began. “Near as I can see it, this is a sneak in, take a couple of snapshots, sneak out, kind of mission. Did we really need five guys?”

“The Liber Vitae, near as I can see it, is one of the most sought after artifacts in the world. I’m betting that our client isn’t the only one after it. And some of the other parties who want it may not necessarily be the right hands for it to be in. This painting is the first clue as to it’s whereabouts in centuries. This city has now become a prime target for anyone interested. I’d say we keep our guard up,” Danny explained.

“What makes us think that we’re the ‘right hands’?” Chance asked.

Danny shrugged. “We’re not the wrong ones… and what our client does with it is none of our business. But as long as he’s paying our rent, we do what we can to find that book. It’s just book. I can’t imagine it would cause that much trouble, even in the hands of someone less than altruistic…”

Dirk laughed. “Famous last words…”

Edulcore................Edulcore

Ladnikia glowed in its scabbard........ it called out to The Raptor over an ocean..........

Euro heard, dispite the distance...........his brow bagan to sweat as his eyes rolled back into his head.

Edulcore...............Educlore..................

Euro's hands shook and he could almost feel the blade.......his blood started to boil........his heartrate went into the triple digits...."Ladnikia"....he ached for its touch..........he didn't just want it........he needed it.......and damn anyone who came between them!

Danny grabbed Euro's arm, "Hey man, are you ok?........are you ready to do this or what?"

Euro opened his eyes and his mind returned to the moment, "Of course. Of Course I am...........lets go."

Euro's gaze went to Dirk. Dirk's stare was stern and he said with his eyes 'I'm watching you'.

Dirk knew an addict when he saw one.

[ 01-24-2003, 09:56 PM: Message edited by: Sonhaven ]

We join our heroes in progress on the rooftops of Italy where a strange conversation is taking place.

Dirk Bell:". .isn't that the old broad who married ernest borgnine?"

Chance: "Someone married Ernest Borgnine?!?"

Danny: "Guh?

Dirk: "Someone had to. Would you have rather done it?"

Chance: "Now there's a picture I didn't need in my head."

Dirk: "I'm going to let you guys in on a horrible secret. Dick Clark is actually a line of clones that keep getting replaced every few years."

Everyone stops to look at Dirk.

Dirk continues walking and talking, unfazed. "That's why he hasn't aged. Do you hear what i'm telling you? Dick Clark is a clone! A CLONE!!!! I'm done."

Danny: "Maybe we should call Grimm now?"

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

After getting the call, Grimm followed the map he was given (he had stashed it in the breast plate of the costume.) to the top floor where he pressed a switch that opened up the skylight on the roof.

I dunno how they're gonna get down here, he thought to himself, but I hope they brought my clothes with them.

Drake and Ameristar step out of the alley. Drake is wearing his body armor. He looks something like a cross between a motocross racer and Boba Fett. The armor is a uniform shade of green so dark that most first glances would mistake it for black. He has a crutch of the same color in his right hand and has a second one strapped to his back. "So, do you speak Portuguese or should we just speak slowly and loudly?"
"Speaking slowly and loudly is the American way. Don't worry though. I think we'll get by. I like the outfit by the way."
"You'd better not be making fun. This uniform used to strike fear into the hearts of Wisconsin's criminal underworld."
"You mean the cow tippers?"
"On slow nights, maybe." They don't get their chance to speak slowly and loudly, as the locals seem suspicious of the armored strangers. "They don't seem to take kindly to armored types 'round these here parts, ma'am."
"You're right. We should just concentrate on finding a guide instead of questioning the locals."
"We should try in there." Drake gestures toward a seedy looking bar.
"Why in there?"
"Guides are always in seedy looking bars. Haven't you watched enough bad adventure movies? And even if I'm wrong, it'll give us a chance to enjoy the native atmosphere."
"Sounds like a plan to me, let's go."

"I don't much like the looks of this, chief..." the gymnast known as X-Acute said, standing on the Italian rooftop, looking through a pair of night vision binoculars.

"What's going, X?" Johnny Omicron asked, stepping up alongside his teammate and tapping the side of his visor-helmet. Instantly, his view was amplified fifty times as he got a good look at the rooftop of the Uffizi Museum. Four figures. Descending into the open skylight.

"This doesn't look good," Omicron said, lowering his transmitting mike to his lips and addressing the other scattered members of Project Omicron. "This is Johnny O. to all members of Project Omicron. You've got some company coming in, Sheik. X-Acute and I are on our way in for back-up. Repeat. X and I are coming in."

Johnny's body shook momentarily as his boot thrusters kicked in, lifting him into a hovering position. He looked down at his teammate. "You need a lift, X?"

"No thanks, Johnny," X-Acute said, holding up a gloved hand. "I think I can handle this one on my own. I'll even use their entrance and follow 'em through, while you meet up with Sheik and the others."

"Your call, soldier," Omicron said as he rocketed into the air. The small controller joysticks slid easily into his palms as he steered himself downward toward the Uffizi Museum.

Below, he saw X-Acute leap from the building he was perched upon and freefall 'til he came across a flagpole. Using his downward momentum, the gymnast took off into a spiral motion, spinning around the pole before dismounting and landing on the back of a moving semi. Hopping, then, from moving car roof to moving car roof, X-Acute hurtled himself into the air once again, making his way onto the gates surrounding the museum and propelling himself onto the surface of the building, where he began to climb the heavy stone building.

"Well, he's as good as in," Omicron breathed, setting himself down within the museum yard. Looking around, he clicked a button on his wrist, which activated a built-in camoflauge of his own design, which caused him to blend in like a chameleon to his surroundings. He then tore off toward Sheik's entrance...

Inside...

"We have company," Sheik said, lowering his hand from his earpiece and looking toward Arges and Rose, who busied themselves looking for any files associated with Joaquim de Cuccubao, Tanfo de Perugia, or the Liber Vitae.

"We heard," Arges bellowed softly, trying his best to keep his booming voice down. "What do we do?"

"We take care of it," Sheik said, pulling his schimitar from his its scabbard.

"Now?" Arges whispered. "We don't even have the files out! This was supposed to be an in-and-out mission to see if we even have any leads as to whether or not this book is here!"

"This just got more complicated, Arges," Sheik hissed. "Omicron and X-Acute are on their way. Until they show up, we will have to do this ourselves."

"Do you think it's about the book?" Arges asked, pulling his hammer and axe from their places at his sides. Beside him, Rose pulled out two guns and began to inch her way toward the door.

"There is a distinct possibility that Project Omicron was not the only group brought in on this case," Sheik said, moving closer to where Rose was now standing by the door. "In which case, we must do everything within our power to see that we are the ones who finalize this contract..."

"Yeah..." Arges nodded, walking up behind his teammates. "Let's do this thing..." Rose nodded her assent.

And, with that, the three members of Project Omicron made their way into the halls of the Uffizi Museum...

Dirk had anchored the rope on the roof and dropped it down into the musuem. The team made their way to the floor where Grimm was waiting on them. "You brought my clothes, right?"

"I knew we forgot something," Danny said in a joking fashion.

"For the love of God, give him his clothes," Dirk said. "The last thing I want to see is Grimm's meat 'n' potatoes."

Chance handed Grimm the bag with his clothes. "Well," the avatar of Death said after a few moments of silence. Danny shrugged his shoulders in confusion. "Turn around! .......... I can't help it if I'm shy."

Dirk walked over to one of the security terminals that he had noticed earlier. He pried the cover off of it and was about to try and shut it off. After a quick examination, the gunslinger pulled out his two .45's.

"What's the matter?" Raptor asked.

"We're not alone."

"How do you know that?" Danny's interest was peaked.

"The security system is already off. Someone else is in this museum."

Ironically, Chance said, "What a stroke of bad luck!"

My body shakes like I’ve got a bad fever.

I grin my teeth, and press my belly. I feel I am going to vomit.

“Ed, don’t shit in your pant” comments, gently as usual, Dirk Bell, while looking in the darkness to see who has preceded us.

Chance comes toward me, but I stop him with my hand. “I am fine” I say.

But he clearly sees it’s a lie. I can’t stand upright, sweating madly and beating my teeth.

Everything becomes fuzzy. Changing. Mutating.

I see the bottom of the sea and an art nuveau submergible.

I see flocks of penguins killing coldly bug-eyed monsters.

I see the wind taking human form and tearing me away from the Earth.

I see a red desert populated by millions of dead.

I see the microcosm invading our cities.

I see the dark dwarf, standing on the stage, a sad expression on his face.

I see myself from outside, reversed on the floor while my comrades are about to confront some mysterious opponent.

I hear a voice, saying “He’s not breathing!”, and everything turns black. There is only Ladnikia, laughing.

"Vox recog calibrate for new user," Phil instructed the computer.

"Security access heuristics must be designated prior to addition of new users," the computer replied. Phil figured the others might get a laugh out of him configuring the computer to speak using the voice of Majel Barrett Roddenberry, who supplied the famous computer voice from Star Trek. He was a bit upset that he couldn't designate more than one administrator at the same time, but after consulting the documentation for the computer core, he decided the long way was the only way.

Not wanting to start a fight, he reluctantly entered Grissom into the user database as an administrator on the same access level as Phil. The two of them would share unrestricted access to the entire MBL computer network. He hoped that might win at least some of Montag's trust. "Griss," he called.

The mercenary walked into the steel-and-concrete "panic room" that housed the new computer core, which would serve as the brain behind a complex security and information network reaching throughout the building. "What is it?" he asked.

"I'm configuring the voice-command system for the core," Phil replied. "You're an administrator, so we need to teach the computer your voiceprint and access codes."

Grissom cast a curious eye on the core, which resembled nothing so much as the monolith from 2001, a tall, thin rectangular prism made of some unidentifiable solid black composite material. It was about four and a half feet high, two feet wide, and no more than six inches in thickness. "This little box is going to run the whole show?" the merc asked. "What kind of power can we squeeze out of that little thing?"

Phil smiled. "Five terabytes of physical memory. A processor with an operating rate of nearly eight gigahertz. Enough bandwidth to keep Yahoo! and MSN running worldwide. And some of the most advanced voice recognition and security encryption algorithms ever devised." He looked at Grissom. "Is that enough power to scrape by for now?"

Grissom's eyes widened. "Where could you have possibly gotten something like this? Who could have manufactured it?"

"It wasn't manufactured," Phil said. "It was designed by collaborating groups from Cal Tech and MIT. This is a prototype for an unimaginably powerful supercomputer. Only five computers with this much power are known to exist in the entire world. One is at MIT, one is somewhere in Washington, and two are unaccounted for. And one is here."

"You said an IT contractor owed you a favor," Grissom muttered.

Phil nodded. "And I wasn't lying. I just didn't want to spill everything out in the open."

"In front of other team members."

"Do you tell the others everything?"

Grissom thumped his fist on the wall next to him. "Phil, if you want to be part of this team, you're gonna have to start trusting everyone."

Phil looked at him blankly. "Griss, I don't know if you've noticed or not yet, but things are changing. Old members of the MBL are returning, and new ones-" he caught himself "-newer ones than us, at least, are strolling through the door faster than we can keep up with them. Now, I'm not paranoid, and I have no problems with anyone on this team. They've all been pretty cool, and I have no reason to be angry with any of them. But in all honesty, only a handful have managed to earn my trust thus far.

"Chance is a nice guy, but he's a pacifist and a scientist, and as an intelligence gatherer of a completely different kind, I can't trust him to understand - and therefore to cooperate - with any work of mine to make this team a viable fighting force. Euro totes around a mystical sword which has clearly gone to his head, convincing him that this whole hero thing is all about him. Tayden? He claims to be an angel, which I believe, but I would never expect him to understand that he ultimately has to take sides when we mortals face off against each other.

"Ameristar - Jackie - is a great person, but she's completely caught up in being the stereotypical superhero - a tactical nightmare for anyone who thinks practically. Blackwulf sees everything so flippantly. For me it's just an affectation, but I doubt he really can see the seriousness of anything - at least enough to be trusted to uphold our operational infrastructure. Mxy is about as different as it gets. Drax, the new guy - I've never even spoken to him. And I could go on and on."

"In that case," Grissom asked, "who do you trust?"

Phil thought a moment. "Danny stuck his neck out for me when I first arrived here. We're both misfits after a fashion, and he's never given me a reason to question his leadership. Grimm is pretty damn strange, but his loyalties are consistent and he's a good fighter. I don't butt heads - pardon the pun - with him very often. Dirk - pretty much the same story. I'm pretty sure we see eye-to-eye on a lot of things. Priest is definitely not someone you take lightly, but he's had the opportunity to hurt us for a wihle now and has only helped at every turn. And I'm pretty sure I can trust you, Griss. We are, after all, on the same side here."

Griss looked away. "How do you know I wouldn't turn on you if I got the chance?"

"I don't," Phil replied. "But you've got resources and skills that I need. Sooner or later you have to trust someone like that. I'm sure you agree." He walked over to the console. "This computer's not getting calibrated any quicker, you know."

Grissom sighed. "What do I do?"

Phil handed him a white card with printed instructions. "It's all right here."

"Understood." Grissom looked over the card. "And Phil?"

Phil turned.

"Thanks for trusting me," the mercenary said. "You'll be glad you did."

[ 01-27-2003, 04:22 PM: Message edited by: Chewy Walrus ]

Meanwhile, back at the fish factory...

"Hello, Kit," floated a sullen voice. Kit Piper bucked his chair and grabbed the edges of his desk, as if preventing himself from falling downward. He looked up at the voice's source standing in front of him and started panting a few breaths of relief.

"Jesus, Velo, why don't you ever knock? Just once?" Kristogar looked bemused, but the moment passed. "Velo! Man! I was worried about you. I told the team you were probably going to be back in a couple of days, that was a while ago! You're probably wondering what happened to the team you left, eh?"

"You could say that," Kristogar said as he glanced about the makeshift office. "I'm sure we've gotten healthily bigger without my presence."

Kit didn't get what Kristogar's tone implied, but he was used to that. "Yeah, we've got a lot of new guys now, but none that I'd think you'd disapprove of. It might take some time for them to grow on ya, but y'know..." Kit sat back in his chair and beamed. "Man, Velo! Things are certainly looking up with you around! I have a feeling business is picking up, and there's nothing we can't handle!" Kit got up to shake Velo's hand and perhaps squeeze his shoulder to properly re-introduce him into the team.

"Who do I have to let grow on me?"

Kit stopped. "Well, that was just a figure of speech, I didn't mean anyone in particular--"

"Kit..."

"His name's Dirk Bell." Kit almost cringed, expecting some sort of reaction or revelation, as was the norm when any name was dropped in front of Velo. But to his surprise, Kristogar just casually nodded and continued surveying the room about him.

"Alright. I'll try to reserve judgment. Now perhaps you can tell me what the hell we're doing in a fish factory?"

Kit smiled and gave a throaty chuckle. Squeezing Velo's shoulder, he led him out of the room. "C'mon, I'll show you around."

[ 01-28-2003, 04:38 AM: Message edited by: Kristogar Velo ]

Phil was carrying crates in from the truck in the motor pool when Leslie strolled in. She slipped up behind him and gently ran her nails down the back of his neck.

A light bulb behind the telekinetic exploded as Phil whirled around. "You." He frowned. "I didn't even sense you coming."

"Is that any way to say hello?" Leslie asked.

Phil sighed. "What do you need?"

"I wanted to talk to you," Leslie said.

"That's fine," Phil said, "but right now I'm in the middle of-"

"I know about Gabriela," Leslie told him.

Phil froze. "What about her?"

"I know that she didn't die in New York any more than you did."

"I don't know what you're talking about," Phil said as he went back to moving the crate.

"For a good spy, you make a bad liar," Leslie said.

Phil looked at her inquisitively. "What do you know about New York?"

"I don't know if we should discuss that here," Leslie said.

Phil set down the crate, walked over, and pulled the tarp off the Viper. "Get in," he ordered. "We're going for a drive."

The bars in Antonio Filinto, wre not to be recomended, that conclusion hit both Ameristar and Drake like a sledgehammer.
The smells and the people reminded her of the Mahawatora indians further south with which she had once had a few arguments with. They didn´t have any manners or hygien. And certainly no respect for tourists.

As neither of them were linguisticically interested, they had to struggle with men who actually dared to wolf whistle and harass them as soon as they showed their faces.
But as they were about to give up, they found a small store where a fat little texas girl was munching away on Oreos.

"Excuse me. Can we talk to your parents? Are they in?"
"Yep. Jey arr beschind sche back." Crumbs and spittle flew into Ameristars face, who tried her best not to cringe.
Wiping her face, she motioned Drake to follow her. He looked at the filthy kid and shuddered...what had they gotten into?

The apartment in the back was a enviromental catastrophe, with a stink that could chase away even Grimm.
Drake made a face. "Ookayyy, let´s stop to reevaluate this plan of yours, could a place like this actually have anyone with a self aware brain?"
"Oh...don´t be so fussy. This won´t take long. Look at it as training."
"Training? For what?"
"Haven´t you ever been in the deep amazon before? It stinks to high heaven."
"Why?"
"All those fallen trees, undervegetation and dead leafs or animals create a smell that can only be compared to a pig farm...in summertime."
"Oh jeeezzz!!! Now you tell me. You couln´t have considered to share this info with me before we started?"
"Are you kidding? You would have said no."
"Ofcourse i would...I would have..."
"Hello? Can I help you with something?" A older man with a long grey- bordering on yellow- beard and what appeared to once upon a time to have been blue jeans, appeared in a small doorway.

Ameristar made sure her glove was on, and shook his hand.
"Are you american bikers?" he asked with a grin that didn´t contain many teeth. "Hell´s Angels maybe?"
Drake coughed and his sarcastic smile.
"Oh, no." Ameristar reassured him with a smile of her own. "We are just...errrr...explorers. And we are looking for the best place to get a map of the region and some information."

The old man regarded them with suspicion. But decided they were most probably nuts coming here, so they would probably be harmless.
"I do have a few maps actually. What are you looking for? Ofcourse any information will cost ya."
Ameristar sighed and handed him a twenty.
His eager eyes never left it while drake asked him where the location of the Tower Of Cuccubao was.

The old man opened a box and began to ruffle through a pile of mixed maps that had seen better days.
"Ah. I knew we something like that here. And for you...let´s just say...ehmmmm...another ten bucks." He gave them his brown-yellow grin again.
Drake was miffed. "That´s outr..."
Ameristar interupted. "Ofcourse. I will give you the money you ask, but there is one thing additional I would require. A answer to a question."
"Okey."
"Is their anyone living there now?
"Well, rumours tells me that there are some pretty weird goings on over there. I wouldn´t go near it if you ask me. And neither should a perty little girl like yourself either. Hear my advice."
"You are most probably right. Thanks for the map and the information. Drake say good bye to the man." She gave him a discreet nudge.
Carefully and with hesitation he shook the filthy hand and quickly said; "Thanks, and good bye.", before he hurried out into the store where the girl was still eating.
Outside the frsh air seemed like heaven.

Amerstar laughed.
"Okay handsome. Let´s go where nobody in their right mind has ever gone before..."

Chance was making a pumping motion on Raptor's chest with his hands and trying to induce breathing via mouth-to-mouth as he was once trained to do during his brief stint in the Swedish military back in the early '90s. Raptor's problems couldn't have happened at a worse time for the team.

"Dan -- we need to find a better position to defend ourselves," Chance whispered. "We're completely exposed here in the middle of the room."

"Right," Dan nodded. "Grimm, help Chance with Raptor into the corridor. Dirk, you..." He looked around. "Dirk?"

"Don't. You. Move," said a harshly-whispered female voice in the darkness. A tightly-focused beam of light shone on the three men and the unconscious Raptor.

"I'm guessing you're not the night watchmen," remarked Danny.

The room went silent as the Sheik gripped his scimitar and shone the flashlight over the faces of the four men. Rose stood there with her rifle pointed directly at Danny, while Chance listened for signs of breathing from Raptor. The seven-foot-tall cyclops straight out of Greek mythology moved away from the two, closer to Grimm.

"Who are you people?" Rose finally asked.

Sheik's beam hovered on Grimm's skull-face. An Arabian expletive left his lips as he realized that this was no mask. "Cyclops - looks like we've found someone to match your ugliness, eh, effendi?" he laughed. Rose shot him a look, but neither of them noticed another figure moving quickly up behind them at that moment.

"You fucking move and I'll blow both your heads off," the whispered voice of Dirk Bell said as Rose and Sheik felt the barrels of two .45's digging into the back of their skulls.

Arges began to growl and gripped his axe. "Don't move, cyclops," Rose ordered. Arges stopped moving forward and stood guard on Grimm, a low growl still in his mouth. The situation was very tense at this moment.

"Watch it," growled Grimm, who watched the one-eyed Arges with sockets that held no eyes.

"Lower your gun, sweet cheeks," demanded Dirk calmly.

"I'm not lowering anything, wise guy," Rose replied immediately, keeping her gun trained on Danny. "I'm betting I can knock off at least one shot to your partner there while you're still pulling the trigger."

"You'll still be dead," Dirk said. "Both you and 'Abdul the Arab' here."

Chance nodded to Danny and stood up over Raptor's prostrate body. "Let her shoot me."

"What--?" gasped Sheik, while Rose and Dirk remained silent.

"Go ahead. Try and shoot me, if you wish," said Chance. "You won't be able to kill me, no matter how many bullets you try to shoot my way. And before you'll be able to realize that or move into another position, our cowboy here will have already killed the both of you. And I'm guessing that your 'cyclops' here is an even match for our own strongman." He nodded towards Grimm. "And even if you manage by some miracle to avoid getting your brains shot out, you'll still have to worry about the police parked across the street. There are no silencers on those .45's, and they'll be here faster than any of you can escape. All-in-all, we've got the advantage."

"I wouldn't count on it, Jack," came another voice from the other end of the room. X-Acute had his own guns trained on both Dirk Bell and Danny to be sure, guessing that a bullet probably wouldn't stop Grimm. "You shoot ours, we shoot yours. Looks like we've got ourselves a regular Mexican stand-off..."

"Who the fuck are you guys?" Dirk Bell finally said. The situation was ridiculous. The room was filled with an assortment of odd-looking characters who all seemed to have broken into the museum at the same time for what might very well be the same reason.

Danny had been trying to revive Raptor during this time, and the Italian finally began to breathe again, though he was still unconscious. He mumbled to a voice only he could hear, "I know, I know," and stood up as well, his free hand raised. "Uh, people, I'd prefer it if we could settle this without any guns being shot off. We're not exactly in the best place to begin a gunfight."

"I completely agree," said a new voice, that of Johnny Omicron, who lowered the visor on his face and stepped into view next to X-Acute. "Lower your guns," he said to him and Rose.

X-Acute frowned. "No fucking way."

"Chief -- you sure you know what you're doing?" Rose said tersely.

"Just, please, everyone -- lower your weapons," said Omicron.

"You too, cowboy," Danny said to Dirk. "This is a no-win situation."

Dirk snorted derisively. "You gotta be kiddin' me."

"I'm lowering my gun," said Rose finally, bending down to put her piece on the floor.

"Easy, sister."

"The Swede's right about the sound of those guns, cowboy," said Danny. "They go off, and we'll be lucky if we can get out of this museum, let alone Italy, alive." Well, most of us, he added mentally, thinking of Chance, whose luck was only guaranteed to protect himself -- not the others, though occasionally it was a help to those around him. "Especially in the condition we're in right now." He looked down at the unconscious Raptor and his own damaged arm.

"Are we agreed, then?" asked Johnny Omicron. "Can you two lower your guns at the count of three?" Silence. He began, "One... two... three..." Neither of them moved.

"Aw, fuck," Dirk and X-Acute said at the same time.

"I think we have a trust problem here," said Chance. "But we really don't have any other viable option. I mean, I'll get out of here unharmed and free from capture, but I can't guarantee that for the rest of you..."

"Fucking pussy," Dirk mumbled, his eyes trained on X-Acute, who also glared back at him. The two seemed to stare each other down for several long moments, until finally they both lowered their guns slowly at the same time.

"Well," said Johnny Omicron, more than a little bit of sweat dripping down his forehead, "that's better."

[ 01-30-2003, 05:23 AM: Message edited by: TheTimeTrust ]

Del Mar, La Perdita. A former fish factory, now the temporary base of MBL Consulting.

“…and then there is Ameristar, that joined us during the Hurricane, and is a very sweet girl. She teleports, and has an armour very impressive… Ah, there is Tayden. Hi Tayden, come here, you have to meet Krstogar Velo, another one of our returning founders…” says Kit Piper, waving his hand toward the humanised angel.

Velo raises his hand to meet the one he expects coming from the young looking man, but instead Tayden ignores him and, very worried, begins to talks to Kit.

“Have you allowed Euro going away without his sword?”

“Well, why not? It would have been impractical to send it… and everyone is responsible for his outfit, you know, is in the policy rules…” responds Kit, not fully understanding why the angel is so worried. Velo observes, imperturbable.

“No, no, you don’t understand! The sword is a demonic artefact. More than an artefact. Is a demon itself. Cicciotto can’t stay separated from it! It’s like a parasite… without the presence of the sword, he will die!”

A tense moment passed, with neither side willing to budge.

“I wouldn’t have expected you to pack night vision goggles…” Johnny Omicron finally said, breaking the silence.

“…what?” Danny said in reply.

“Oh, nothing. Just that the power goes off in…,” Omicron looked at his watch. “Three… two…” He pressed a button on his helmet and a visor slid down.

All the lights in the room suddenly turned off, thrusting all of the people there into complete darkness.

“Shit,” Danny heard Dirk yell. Danny spun around and tried to peer through the darkness to where he had left Ed, trying desperately to make sure that his comrade was okay but seeing nothing but blackness.

Dirk fumbled in his coat, reaching into his pocket and grabbing what he really hoped was a torch. He yanked it out and flicked the switch, shining the beam across the room at his teammates. He saw Chance, Danny and Grimm crouched over the limp body of The Raptor. He swung the beam across the room in a wide semicircle, trying to pinpoint the location of their newly met adversaries.

The room was empty.

“Damn it!” Dirk yelled. He resisted the urge to hurl the torch against a wall, and held his grip on it.

“Dirk! We need light over here! Have to check on Ed!” Danny yelled. He squinted for a moment as Dirk brought the beam of light back over to his direction, then they all looked down at The Raptor.

“…Ed? Can you hear me?” Chance asked. Ed coughed in reply.

“We have to abort this mission now, we have no idea what happened to him…” Danny began. He stopped as he felt Ed’s hand dart up and grab his wrist.

“…no… Danny. The mission…” Ed said, his voice weak and strained. Danny paused for a moment, then looked up. He noticed the faces of his teammates looking at him, expectantly. He wondered briefly why the hell they’d leave an important decision to him.

“Okay. Chance. Get him to safety, however you can. Grimm and Dirk, head to the basement, try and get some photos of this painting. Take the torch,” Danny said.

“And you?” Grimm asked.

“I’m going to try and find the safest exit. And see if I can find out what happened to our new bastards. Rendezvous at the roof,” Danny said. “Everyone fine with that?” He finished. They all nodded their agreement.

“Right. Go,” Danny said.

Shining his beam of light back towards the door, Dirk rushed off with Grimm at his side. Chance stood, picking up Ed and draping him over his shoulders.

“I have a small flashlight in my pocket. But Dirk has the only other one, and you…” Chance began.

“I can have excellent night vision when I want to,” Danny replied, cutting him off. Chance grinned, and nodded.

“Now just get him out of here,” Danny said, pointing at Ed.

“Safest bet is probably the roof.”

“I agree. Go. Now.”

In the hallway, Dirk and Grimm quickly made their way down to the service elevator. Staring intently at the door, Dirk stood for a moment.

“This elevator gets us there,” He said.

“But the power’s out,” Grimm replied.

“Right,” Dirk added.

Shifting his gaze slightly, Dirk noticed the door to the stairwell. He took a few steps back, then raised his foot to kick the door open and hopefully shatter the lock.

Grimm held out his arm and gently pushed the door open. Dirk lowered his leg.

“I was just testing the wind,” Dirk said.

“Sure. Just get down there,” Grimm replied.

In the building’s ventilation system, Johnny Omicron quickly propelled himself forward towards the junction. He soon found it, coming across a place that had four different ventilation ducts meet. One larger one extended downwards, presumably towards the basement.

“Rose. X-Acute. Headed into the basement now. Meet me there. Arges, Sheik, clear the path for our exit. We’ll be there in under two minutes,” Omicron said into his helmet radio. He shuffled forwards on his elbows, pushing himself into the downwards facing duct. He slid down, surrounded by darkness but knowing exactly where he was.

“And… now,” He said. He burst into the air vent’s cover, pushing it out from the wall. He tucked his head into his chest and his knees up, flying out of the vent and rolling across the floor. He came to a controlled stop, and stood up. Looking up, he noticed the air vent in the ceiling busted open. He found X-Acute and Rose already in the room, standing watch at either side of the wide doorway that was the room’s only entrance and exit.

Except, of course, for the air vents. One in the ceiling, one in the wall behind Johnny. He knew all this weeks ago.

“The lights are on in here,” X-Acute said.

“Yes. The basement is on a separate power supply,” Johnny said in the tone of voice that implied he should know that already and he was wasting his time explaining it.

“Of course,” X-Acute said.

Johnny scanned the room, and soon found what he was looking for. The painting they were after sat carefully placed on a table before him, various implements for cleaning and preparation scattered around it. A brand new looking golden frame was next to it. It seemed as if the museum was soon planning to put this piece on display.

He reached into his pocket and pulled out a tiny digital camera. He took a dozen photos of the painting, each from a different angle and at different magnifications. As he did so, Rose silently replaced the cover on the air vent he had emerged from.

All three of them suddenly turned as they heard a noise from the stairwell outside the door. Omicron pocketed his camera, jumped up with one leg on the table, then hurled himself towards the open vent in the ceiling.

In the stairwell between the second and third floors, Chance jogged determinedly upwards with the barely conscious Edulcore draped over him. He reached the top of the stairs and found himself on the landing. He paused for a moment to catch his breath.

…and found himself looking at the body of a guard, slumped against the wall in the corner.

“Oh, God…” Chance said, and placed Ed down carefully on the stairs.

“Just sit right here for a second… I have to see if he’s alive…” Chance said softly. Ed nodded, then leaned sideways against the wall and tried his hardest to keep his eyes open. Chance ran across to the guard, kneeling at his side. He places two fingers softly against the guard’s neck, looking for a pulse. He found one. It was faint, but it was there.

“Come on, we have to go…” Chance said, helping Ed up once more and heading up the next flight of stairs.

“But… that guy…”

“He’s alive. Just. I’ll call an ambulance as soon as we get to the roof. But it’s not safe here… they’re still inside.”

Already on the third floor, Danny crept silently up the darkened hallway. To other people, the darkness would be an impediment, but to someone who could call upon the sense of any animal at whim, it was nothing more than two words away from being unnoticable.

“Hal. I don’t like this.”

<You’re right. It’s damn spooky…>

“Wait. You hear that…?”

<What?>

“Sssh. Wolf ears,” Danny said. As his head contorted, he suddenly heard voices coming from the hallway adjacent to this one.

“…Good thing you took out that guard,” Arges said.

“He is not dead. He will wake,” Sheik replied.

“Sure, whatever. Long as he aint calling the cops and I still get paid,” Came the reply.

Danny ducked into a nearby broom cupboard as the two rounded the corner.

“Damn, these goggles are starting to hurt my head. Who do you think those other guys were?”

“I do not know.”

“Me either… no fuckin’ idea. Still, pretty damn strange them turning up at the same time as us, huh?”

Sheik said nothing in reply.

“Yup. Fuckin’ strange,” Arges said, agreeing with himself.

“The exit. This next room,” Sheik said. Arges broke down the door with his mace, and strode on in.

“Do not attract undue attention.”

Danny opened the door of the cupboard a few millimetres, and risked a quick peek out into the hallway. It was empty, Sheik and Arges having disappeared into the room next door. Quickly and quietly, Danny ran out of the cupboard and headed for the stairway. He wished he had time to marvel at the works of art that adorned the walls around him, but he just couldn’t risk it…

Back in the basement, Dirk and Grimm swung open the door and walked on into the storage room.

“Light’s on. I can kill the flashlight now…” Dirk said, and switched it off.

“You think they’ve been here before us?” Grimm asked.

“I’d say so,” Dirk said, pointing at the cover from the ceiling’s air vent that lay broken on the floor beneath it. He walked forward quickly, and noticed the painting on the table.

“Think this is what we’re after?”

“Nothing else here fits the description. Take the photos,” Grimm answered.

“If we ever see them again, we should thank them for leaving it,” Dirk said, pulling the camera out of his coat.

“The painting disappearing arouses suspicion…”

“…and leaving it here means the authorities are none the wiser. Right,” Dirk said, and went about the business of taking the photos. Grimm stood watch at the door, also keeping one eye on the air vent.

In the stairway between the third and topmost floor, Danny caught up to Chance and Ed.

“Kris!” Danny said, in a whispered voice but still loud. Chance turned as much as he could while still giving Ed some support.

“Danny! What did you find?”

“They’re gathered at the third floor. I don’t want to confront them without a better idea of what we’re up against. As long as Dirk and Grimm get the photos, our best bit is still to steer clear for now and head for the roof.”

“Right.”

“Here, let me give you a hand,” Danny said, gripping Ed’s shoulder.

“…never mind… I… fine, I can…” Ed muttered. He stepped forward, away from the grip of his friends… and fell to the floor.

“No time for pride. You need a hand here. And a doctor ASAP…” Danny said, as he and Chance helped Ed up.

They soon found themselves at the top of the stairwell. They stood facing a door that led out onto the roof, and waited a moment.

“We’ll just wait here a second for Grimm and Dirk. They shouldn’t be long.”

In the third floor, Arges and Sheik stood in the centre of a giant room. The room was filled with various sculptures, and Sheik wandered the room looking at each of them. Occasionally he nodded his approval.

Arges stood anxiously by the window, awaiting his teammates. He didn’t have to wait long, as X-Acute burst through the doorway and ran into the room. Johnny Omicron and Rose walked in after him.

“Okay. We’ve done what we came here for. Let’s go,” Johnny said. He walked to the window, lifted a small latch, and pushed it open. They all climbed out onto the fire escape, then quickly began to make their way down. Before following his team down, however, Omicron had one last thing to do.

He raised his wrist gauntlet and flipped up a panel, revealing a small keyboard with some numbered buttons.

“And… one,” He said, pushing one of the buttons.

In the basement, Dirk and Grimm had finished their photography session and agreed to leave the room. Suddenly, in the stairway outside, the light came on. They heard the faint buzz of the elevators coming back to life.

“The power’s on. Why would the power be on…?” Dirk said. “Unless… oh, shit…”

“And… two,” Omicron said, pushing another button before hurling himself over the railing of the fire escape.

Dirk looked across the room, at the motionless security camera. He saw a small red light blink into life on top of it.

“Fuck,” He said under his breath.

“What?” Grimm asked.

“They turned the fucking security system back on…”

“Roof! Now!” Grimm yelled, and they headed for the stairs. They ran as fast their legs could take them. Which, for these two guys, was pretty fast. Dirk muttered the occasional swear word under his breath.

At the top of the stairs, next to the door leading to the roof, there waited Danny, Chance and Ed.

“I’m sure they’ll be here any…” Danny began, and was cut off by the wailing of a siren.

“…the hell?” Danny said.

“The security system! How is it back on?!” Exclaimed Chance.

They had no time to think about this as Grimm and Dirk came bounding up the stairs towards them.

“GO Nownownownownownow!” Dirk yelled, pushing past them and hurling himself at the door. It swung open, leading out onto the roof. The team spilled out onto the concrete surface…

…and found themselves in the glare of a spotlight.

A helicopter hovered just above the roof, a huge floodlight mounted to it’s bottom. The beam shone down onto the roof, directly into the faces of the five teammates. A second helicopter passed by behind it, circling the roof of the museum.

Around them, the circumference of the museum’s roof was littered with men in black uniforms with guns raised to their shoulders. If they could see past the glare of the helicopter’s spotlight, the trapped men may have been able to look further and see men with sniper rifles located on the roofs of buildings surrounding the museum.

“Well… crap,” Danny said.

“…crap”.

I raise my head, it seems it weights a ton. Danny is worried.

Chance is worried. Dirk chews his cigar hastily, I bet he is worried too.

Noise. Big noise. And light.

There are helicopters. And men. How many? Dozens? Hundreds? I hear many voices, Italian, screaming orders and istructions.

I can barely keep my eyes open. I can’t stay upright. I feel myself cut in half. I suffered so much only back in the desert, in Mandelovia, when my metagene manifested.

I am useless. We are trapped, and I can’t even walk. Oh God, what’s happening me?

I hear fragments of the talk that intercourse between my friends.

“…they set up this long before. They had a plan if they were to find others in the museum…”

“…professionals in our same field. And better prepared than us…”

“Fuck them. We have to find a way out, NOW”

“…there are snipers on the roofs. Special forces coming out from everywhere… Do you think your axe can take care of a hundred of armed men?”

“Maybe we should just surrender. Ed is dying, guys, he needs medical care right now…”

I am dying. A second time. Then I was stopping a meteor. Now I am vomiting on a roof. This new life stinks.

“…Ed is smiling. I think we are loosing him…”

What’s killing me? Could it really be Ladnikia? The sword… I can’t stay separated from her?

I am a damned junkie again. I will never be free.

I close my eyes. The truth is too horrible to see.

“…Ed, Ed. Open your eyes, don’t give up right now!”

“Shit, shit. They are coming. On the right. Do you really want to surrender?”

The noise of the ‘copters is deafening. The lights blinding. This really is the end.

“…is there any other way?”

“…what I fear is the Italian policy about metahumans. It’s one of the place where discrimination is higher… if they capture us…”

“I told ya. We have to escape…”

“How? How? There is no way out. They are above, under and around us…”

Among the incredible, unsustainable noise, the lights, the wind from the ‘copters, something familiar hit my nose. A smell, forgotten since long time, that brings hope.

Ozone. Molecules of oxygen burned by a magnetic force field.

The screams, the voices from the policemen have suddenly stopped. The helicopters seems to have gone at large. Even my friends are silent.

And then they erupts into laughs. Big, releasing laughs.

I force my eyes to open… and right above something big is obscuring the star filled night sky.

And then I see the form… I recognize it… the MBL Hovercraft!

Big as a whale, it manoeuvre gently, even if not perfectly, in the narrow space around the museum.

I see it lowering, meter after meter, until the deck is at the same level of the roof. Around us, the policemen are frozen in fear, unable to understand what’s happening.

I feel myself lifted up, on the shoulder of Grimm, and then I see him jumping, just like the other three friends.

The hatch is closed behind us.

The voices… I can’t understand anything… and I can’t see anymore… just when we are near freedom… my liberty… my life…

.

.

.

A soft warm.

In my hand.

Heat.

Nurturing me.

Warming my soul.

Feeding my bloodstream.

I open my eyes.

It’s Tayden who is looking at me. Smiling gently, but with a worried look.

Then I look at my hand. There is Ladnikia, firm in my hand.

“I… she… the sword… I can’t…” I whisper. The words simply don’t come at my tongue. But Tayden seems to understand my gripe.

“You can’t leave the sword. No one of his bearers have ever been able to get away from her. It is a wonder, that blade… but her curse is inescapable”.

I look toward the pilot seats. The guys are chatting. Chance seems worried.

“I tell you that this thing is not secure, yet. We have to make many test, we don’t know for sure how the craft can keep up with the engine magnetic field...”

“Shut up, Chance! With you on, there will not be any problem!” says Grimm, and although that’s technically impossible, I am sure his skull smiles.

Chance. Dirk. Danny. Grimm. Tayden is behind me.

Who is piloting the ship? Who has come to our rescue?

And, as to answer my inner question, a face appears behind the pilot seat. A face I didn’t see from what it’s like an age.

He looks at me. And for less than a moment, he smiles and winks, and suddenly returns to his piloting duty.

Kristogar Velo has returned.

[ 01-31-2003, 01:24 AM: Message edited by: The Eurostar ]

56 Oakwood Avenue, Puerta Mibela, La Perdita:

James A. Vandemar walked confidently towards the apartment building. It wasn't quite what he was expecting. Not at all.

"Excuse me, good sir," Vandemar said to a big construction worker wearing a hard-hat and sitting on the short garden-wall next to a metal lunch-bucket. He was eating a sandwich. "Where can I find... er," he frowned at a piece of paper in his hand, looking at it through round spectacles, "the offices of MBL Consulting, Incorporated?"

The construction worker snorted and spat out a piece of pickel onto one of Vandemar's $300-dollar shoes. "Sorry 'bout that," he said, grinning. "They ain't here right now."

Vandemar bent down and wiped off his shoe with a handkerchief. "Any idea where I can find their current whereabouts?"

"Nah. Gotta talk t'my supervisor 'bout that," the man said, taking another bite out of his BLT.

"Thank you," Vandemar replied in a droll voice as he walked towards the remains of the building. It appeared to have sustained more damage than most of the buildings in Puerta Mibela. However, they seemed to be rebuilding at a moderate pace. And from the looks of things, they were expanding. Business must be going very well for them, he thought briefly before making his way to the temporary shack that had been brought in by the construction company. He stepped inside.

Two big, beefy men with dark complexions turned and stared at the well-dressed stranger, while a thinner man with a moustache who appeared to be the site foreman looked up at Vandemar with questioning eyes. "Er... can I help you, sir?"

"My name is James Vandemar," he said, handing the man his card with delicately gloved hands. "I'm looking for the current offices of MBL Consulting, Incorporated."

"Oh... uh, sure..." the foreman said, "I think I got it somewhere around here." He fidgeted around various pockets on his person, not having any luck. Finally, he grinned and held up his forefinger. "One moment. Let me check with Justine..." He stood up and left the shack.

Vandemar shifted uncomfortably there as the two remaining construction workers looked him over. The afternoon heat wasn't helping much, nor was his expensive two-piece suit or bowler hat. But the way those two labourers looked at him -- it was as if they'd never seen a gentleman before! The sooner he was off this godforesaken Caribbean island, the better.

A few moments of complete and uncomfortable silence later, a beautiful woman with dark hair and big eyelashes stepped into the shack, followed by the foreman.

"You are Monsieur Vandemar, I take eet?" Justine said in a French accent.

"Er, yes, quite."

"You are looking for ze current address of the MBL Consulting, oui?" she said, handing him an MBL Consulting, Inc. business card with the address of "56 Oakwood Avenue, Puerta Mibela, La Perdita" crossed out hastily with a ball-point pen and replaced by "23 Pescados Drive, Del Mar, La Perdita".

"Ah, thank you very much," Vandemar said to the woman. "I'll be on my way, then." He walked out of the shack and headed towards the taxicab he left waiting for him on the curb. He could've sworn that he'd heard the sound of laughter coming from the shack as he'd left.

***

Kit Piper was all smiles and jokes while he had been showing Kristogar Velo around the place. The ol' used car salesman bit always worked for him in the business world.

Never let 'em see you sweat, he reminded himself and hoped nobody noticed any kind of change in his personality. Good old Kit Piper. He never has any troubles. Walks on air, that one does.

Bullshit.

Complete and utter bullshit.

Bullshit. Bullshit. Bullshit.

Kit Piper's daughters and ex-wife had been kidnapped by the Mafia, and the only way he could possibly save them was to keep his mouth shut, keep his appearances up with the team, and steal as much money from the company funds as possible before tomorrow noon arrived.

Still, he was a born con man. A con man who had supposedly reformed, it was true, but he was a con man nonetheless. And if there was one thing he had learned to do, it was the delicate art of bullshitting people. He wished to God he could tell his team about the kidnapping -- with all their power they'd be able to save his daughters, and maybe even his ex-wife (though those alimony payments had been getting rather high of late). Well... what if he did tell the team? What if Tobias Christopher just ran in there and scooped them out before anyone could do any harm to them? Only problem is... they were in two separate locations, and he had no idea where either of them were. Even if Tobias with his super-speed could save one of them, the other one would be dead. Just like the man on the telephone said.

No. He might as well not have a team on call any longer. He was technically on his own again. And even if by some miracle he managed to get the money paid to Mr. Gambini and get his daughters back (they could keep the ex-wife), his reputation with the team would be utterly ruined. They'd have every reason to press charges against him. He'd have to go to jail... again. And this time he couldn't use his youth as an excuse for his behavior.

Fuck.

Fuckety-fuck-fuck.

He didn't have a choice. Gambini hadn't given him one. He just needed to get the money -- no matter if he had to lie, steal, and cheat to get it -- to save his daughters' lives.

***

23 Pescados Drive, Del Mar, La Perdita -- "The Fish Factory":

James A. Vandemar stepped out of the taxicab after tipping the driver a modest fee and found his expensive right shoe stuck in something extremely sticky. The taxicab drove off as he shut the door behind him, but a strong, rancid smell alerted him to the fact that he had inadvertently stepped on a large pile of dog shit. "Oh, bother," he mumbled to himself in disgust. "I hate this island. I really hate it."

A group of smiling children suddenly surrounded him, their hands out, and several of them touching him. "Get away from me, you smelly rascals!" he shouted, raising his briefcase to keep their hands off of it. They ran off laughing.

"You're the smelly one, gringo!" one of them shouted as they ran off and went to play in the road.

Vandemar crinkled his nose at the persistent smell coming from his shoe and stepped onto the freshly-mowed lawn, attempting to rub away as much as possible. Unfortunately for him, he slipped and fell in the slick grass, landing flat on his back. "Oof," he said, and turned around, pushing himself up. This was not a good day. Finally, he stood up, adjusted his bowler hat and glasses, and walked towards the temporary offices of MBL Consulting, Incorporated.

As he did so, he couldn't help but notice that the persistent smell of fish permeated this place...

***

Kit Piper found himself in a small supply room where he was desperately rummaging through the papers in search of cash. Any cash, whether it was paper or electronic. He was interrupted by the nasally voice of Shirley through the intercom once more:

"Kit, there's someone here to see you in the office."

He sat there in the mess of papers and looked up at the door. "Be right there!" he shouted before he realized that nobody would be able to hear him. He pulled his large girth up and opened the door, walking hurriedly towards the office. What the hell was up with all these interruptions? It wasn't another call from one of Gambini's men, was it? He quickened his pace, not knowing what to think.

"Hey, Kit, I was wondering--" Tobias Christopher said as Kit rushed past him.

"Goodtoseeyou,man,sorry,can'ttalknow," Kit spewed out as he kept going.

"Huh. The man's starting to sound like me," TC muttered to himself.

Kit found himself at the office. "Hey, Shirl-girl, any calls for me?"

"No, Kit, there's someone to see you," she replied, pointing at the gentleman in the expensive suit, bowler hat, glasses, and carrying a briefcase.

"Oh, right, right," Kit said, flashing his pearly whites and extending a hand to the man. "Hey, killer gloves, man! My name's Kit Piper. How can I help you, my good man?"

"Mr. Piper," said the man, smiling a polite, if somewhat effeminate, smile. He spoke in a reserved English accent. "My name is James Vandemar, and I am a solicitor of the firm of Croup, Vandemar and Mayhew. My card." He handed Kit his card and continued. "I represent BountyLand Foods, Inc."

"Oh yeah?" said Kit, looking at the card. "A lawyer, huh? Say, how is ol' BountyLand doing, anyways? I've never actually met anyone from the company yet, though I've spoken with their accounts manager a few times. Rae's a hoot."

"Hm. Yes. Quite," Vandemar said. "Well, Mr. Piper, my employers hired me to investigate the matter of the supposed death of the owner of BountyLand Foods, Inc. As you may know, the ownership of the company reverts to the original owners, the Carmichael family of Yorkshire, without the continuance of this contract." He held up a piece of paper.

"Well, Pete Glover was a kind soul," Kit said, wearing his sad face for effect. "Left everything to the company. Such a trooper."

"That may very well be, Mr. Piper, but unless you can provide some proof of his death, I am forced to repossess ownership of the company from this day forth."

Kit laughed. "You're kidding me, right? You're pulling my leg? Pete's funeral was last year. He died while on a mission."

"I am not aware that any death certificate was ever issued, Mr. Piper."

"Of course not! There wasn't any body to examine," he said before he caught himself.

"Then what proof do you have that he died at all?" Vandemar said without waiting for a beat. "Mr. Piper, I can assure you that I have fully investigated the matter before my arrival upon this island. My employers, the Carmichael family, are very eager to regain ownership of the company, the deed of which the late Martin Carmichael lost in a card game your Mr. Glover won exactly one year ago today. Deirdre Carmichael, his daughter and sole heir, is especially eager over the matter, as her father was driven to suicide after losing the company to your Mr. Glover. To that end, my firm hired a specialist to conduct surveillance on your Mr. Glover and your MBL Consulting."

"Uh... who?"

"One Mr. Griffin. I can provide you with contact details if you wish. Anyways, over several weeks of surveillance it was discovered that Mr. Glover had gone missing without a trace. The life of a transient, I suppose? In any event, although your company held a small memorial service for Mr. Glover and purchased a headstone for him scarcely a day after his disappearance, no actual proof of his death has ever been registered with the La Perditian government. I'm sure you can confirm this?"

"I-I'm sorry, but--"

"I am sorry as well, Mr. Piper, but unless you can produce the person or corpse of Pete Glover, originally of Come by Chance, Newfoundland, Canada, by midnight tonight, the ownership of BountyLand Foods, Incorporated will revert to the Carmichael estate."

Kit found himself speechless -- not a common condition for him -- as he realized what he was hearing. The cash-flow. The cash-flow was coming to an end. Add that to the fact that they were up to their necks with bills, and it seemed to Kit Piper that MBL Consulting could very well be broke... and his daughters might be dead...

[ 01-31-2003, 09:08 AM: Message edited by: TheTimeTrust ]

Phil parked the Viper on a hilltop overlooking the beach. He and Leslie were at least a mile from any known habitation. "All right," he said, turning to Leslie. "You've got quite a bit of explaining to do."

Leslie looked away. "You won't like it."

"What I don't like," Phil replied, "is being kept in the dark."

"Now you know how I feel," Leslie said quietly.

Phil pounded the steering wheel. "Is that what this is about?" He glared at Leslie. "You think I'm keeping something from you, so you're gonna keep playing this game until you get what you want out of me?" Leslie didn't answer. "Information? Is that all you need me for?" He sighed. "Fine. I'm Phil Smith. I'm the same Phil Smith that was in New York. I killed a bunch of guys, and the FBI is after me." He leaned back in his seat. "Is that good enough for you?"

"I already knew that," Leslie said.

"And that's all there is to know," Phil said. "So what's keeping you from talking?"

Leslie held up her hands. "You're not going to like it at all."

"I think I can handle whatever it is that you have to tell me," Phil insisted.

"Fine." Leslie tried to gather her thoughts. "I'm a bounty hunter, Phil. I hire myself out to people who are looking for people. And when everything was going on in New York, I was hired to go and find you."

Phil looked at her. "So who hired you?"

Leslie looked down. "Russian military intelligence."

Phil's eyebrows went up. "The GRU? What would they want with me?"

Leslie shook her head. "They didn't say. And that's the honest truth. All they said was to find you and bring you to them."

"So that's what you've been doing since you got here?" Phil asked. "Trying to figure out how to take me to the Russians?"

Leslie rolled her eyes. "How can you know so much and be so damn dense sometimes?" She looked out the window. "If that were all I was up to, then I could have taken you to the Russians a long time ago. I've got resources, Phil. You might be a bit tougher to handle than other cases, but if all I were interested in was taking you to the GRU, then you would already be there."

"And obviously I'm still here," Phil replied. "Which tells me that there's something else going on here. I hope you don't mind telling me what it is."

Leslie growled her frustration. "Dammit, Phil! Are you blind? Has it even once entered into your imagination that I might actually have feelings for you?"

Phil looked at her skeptically. "It's a bit difficult to buy that considering what you've told me." He looked out the window. "How do I know that you're not just trying to manipulate me into giving you what you want?"

"You don't," Leslie answered. "But I do." She sighed. "Take me back to the fish factory. I'm not accomplishing anything here."

Phil shrugged. "Sure. I've got nothing more to say anyway."

Italy

In the penthouse suite of Pienezza, an Italian five-star hotel, the five members of Project Omicron sat around a table, munching on their room service meals and looking over the notes they gathered from the Uffizi.

"I still wanna know who those other guys were," Arges said, furrowing his brow as he stared at the paper in front of him. "I think the passed-out one looked kinda familiar..."

"Actually, you have a point there, Arges," Omicron said, taking a sip of his coffee and took a bite of his pie. "I know I've seen him before..."

"Who cares who they were?" X-Acute said, shrugging his shoulders and chewing a bite of his pasta primavera. "The point is, we got oout and they didn't! For all we know, they're locked up in an Italian prison somewhere getting sodomized by some guy named Guido..."

"I do not think that is likely," Sheik said, steepling his fingers in front of his face. "They seemed under prepared, yes, but resourceful. I would not think they would be so easily apprehended..."

"One way to find out," Johnny Omicron said, flipping the remote control into his hand and turning on the bigscreen TV across the room. The sounds of a news broadcast filled the room.

"...back at the Uffizi Museum where five mysterious men have just been whisked away by a US military hovercraft. The United States is currently denying any involvement in what is currently believed to be a robbery. While police have not yet found any stolen goods, the building is being searched to ensure that all the priceless works of art and history are intact."

"So, what's the deal?" X-Acute said, his mouth full once again. "So, they got away... big deal!"

"Shh!" Omicron hissed as Rose turned and gave X-Acute a hard look. The gymnast shrugged and took a sip of his beer as the beautiful woman pointed at the television. There, on the screen, were the five men whom they had met at the museum, frozen in the lights of the police and press 'copters.

"Are we taping this?" Arges whispered. Omicron pressed a button on the remote control as the television began to download the feed directly into a nodule on his armor.

"We are now," Omicron whispered. As he did, footage of a large hovercraft roared upward and an unseen man popped out of the top and helped the group into its belly and continued to ascend.

"What the...?" Omicron said, cocking his head to the side. "That can't happen!"

"What?" X-Acute said, sulking.

"It just kept going up..." Omicron said, pointing at the screen. "I know a few things about these military hovercrafts... and they're just that - hovercrafts. They shouldn't ascend that far up at all."

"Look also at the markings," Sheik motioned as they replayed the footage. "All evidence of one-time United States ownership has been removed. This is a privatized hovercraft... though possibly not demilitarized."

"So, what options?" Omicron asked, finishing of the last dregs of his coffee.

"Mercenaries?" Arges optioned, swigging down an ale with a look of disgust on his face. He hated normal lager, preferring mead and ambrosia to 'human' brews.

"Could be a group very much like us," Omicron said pensively. "In which case, we could very well have some competition for this case... and I wanna find out who."

"How do you propose we do that?" X-Acute asked, leaning forward on his elbows, while beside him, Rose fished out a cloth from her pack and began polishing her gun.

"We get a background check on the pale one with the ponytail," Omicron said, indicating the man on the screen who the group had seen passed out earlier. "Also, trace US militarization sales preceding and immediately following the Clinton administration. Specifically that make and model of hovercraft. That should give us some bead on who or what we're dealing with."

Omicron rose from the table and walked over to where his armor lay in a pile by the TV. "I'm gonna e-mail this footage to Xyber and have her give us the results when we return to Switzerland tomorrow."

"Tomorrow?!" X-Acute asked. "Why are we going? We have to see if that book is here or not!"

"Chances are very unlikely that the book is here at all," Omicron said, moving toward X-Acute. "All evidence we found in that museum points to the contrary. Now, we head out and check our other options. See what Mimic, Pneuma, and Xyber have found. Maybe with their combined input we can come across something. We stop by Switzerland, then fly out to Washington D.C. to rendezvous with Mimic. That's the plan. Any questions?"

There was no reply from the others, who merely looked at Omicron with a look that combined curiousity with understanding.

"Alright, then," Johnny said, nodding. "Everyone best get some shut-eye. We'll need it. We head out tomorrow morning. Xyber's already got the tickets on reserve. See you all tomorrow..."

Drake and Ameristar are struggling their way through a swamp.

"Man, I'm never gonna get the stunk out of this suit now. I don't know how I'm gonna talk Blackburn into giving me a new one either."

"Blackburn? Who's that?"

"Oh, uh, Blackburn was my partner back in Milwaukee. The person I got all my tech, funding, and research from for my crimefighting activities. I was just the dumb muscle."

"Just as I expected."

"Ha, ha, ha. Seriously though, Blackburn was the heart of the operation but I got all the glory because I was the guy in the fancy suit. I'll deny it if you ever tell anyone I said that though. We didn't really part on good terms though, so I'm pretty sure I'm gonna be stuck with a suit that smells worse than our headquarters. Why can't I just let the dragon out and have him fly us there."

"The tower is overgrown, we wouldn't be able to spot it from the air. We'll have to see it up close or we won't recognize it."

"Fine, but you're getting my cleaning bill. The glove was probably already a complete loss anywa.."

With a loud splash, brake is pulled under the brackish water. "Drake! Drake!" Ameristar searches for him frantically when she is sent flying by a large wave. When her vision clears, she sees Drax biting at a huge snake that's wrapped around him. He pulls is off with a muscular yank and sends it flying.

"I doubt he was expecting that!"

"Er, yeah. Me too," Ameristar mutters as she struggles to her feet.

"Drake wants to take over again so I can concerve my energy. At least that's what he says." Drax winks at Ameristar as Drake takes over again.

"Just what I need, a dragon with a bad sense of humor. As much as I'm enjoying our little stroll, I'd kinda like to get to this tower we're hunting for."

"I think we're almost there just a little further... "Ameristar consults her map and points vaguely "...that way."

"Sure, that's what you keep saying..."

[ 01-30-2003, 06:03 PM: Message edited by: NotWedge ]

"You pilot this vessel very well, Kris," Chance said as he moved forward. "I had no idea you knew how to pilot a military hovercraft, let alone a modified one." He was still concerned about the unpredictability of the UFO's probability engine working in concert with this multi-billion-dollar military-grade hovercraft, but things had managed to hold together so far. He wasn't worried about himself, for he'd fallen from a greater height than this and survived due to his miraculous luck finding a way to save him, but even his tremendous luck couldn't protect several falling bodies at once. The hovercraft still required much testing before they could be sure the transfer was successful, but for now it seemed to work.

Kristogar Velo looked at the Swede with one eyebrow raised. "You must be Kristofer Schanz, also known as 'Chance'. Correct?"

"Right," said Chance, smiling and frowning as he began thinking about the familiar tone he'd used with Velo. "Of course, of course. You haven't met me yet."

Kristogar shot him another puzzled look.

"I'm sure Kit or Doc can fill you in more fully, but I originate from another timeline similar yet very different in many ways to this one. In my timeline, you and are are respected allies, if not exactly close friends. Sometimes I find it hard to separate my past reality from my present." Chance continued to explain the detailed circumstances of his coming to this timeline and became quiet as he finished.

Kristogar Velo was silent as he listened, but after a few moments he replied, "You really believe that, don't you? That part about being from another reality?"

"Hm?" Chance asked, now as puzzled as Velo seemed to have been.

"Well, I'm sure that story makes a lot of sense to you, which is why you so readily believe it. But it's completely implausible, all that bit about the Castle of Crossed Destinies and other dimensions crossing into and out of our own at random."

"I... I don't understand what you mean."

"Well, haven't you considered -- isn't it more likely that you're some kind of clone of the original Kristofer Schanz, 'of this timeline,' if you will? Programmed with as many memories of Schanz as could be programmed without the benefit having the real Schanz to verify each of them, though altered with a few slight but obvious differences in order to seemingly 'confirm' the theory that you're from a timeline which is slightly different than this one. And with a set of slightly different memories it's easy to believe that this shows that you're a 'parallel version' of Schanz rather than a clone with imperfect memories as you may actually be. Hasn't that possibility ever been considered by yourself or anyone yet? I mean, the part about your timeline somehow being 'less dark' than this one? And 'your' team being more heroic and working better together under your leadership than they've managed in this timeline? All sounds a bit fishy, doesn't it? It must make even you wonder."

Chance stared, his mouth agape at Kristogar as he explained his theory. Finally he sighed and said, "Well, I'm not really surprised at your reaction, Kris, but I hope you'll be able to trust me in time as I trust you."

"We'll see," Kristogar said as he pulled the hovercraft towards a landing at the rented hangar at La Perdita, "we'll see..."

Once upon a time in the tower that Cuccubao built
There was a old man who swore without guilt
His language was so foul that milk soured
And his manners left a lot to ask when food was devoured.

His one and only eye was blue like heaven
And out of his family he cared only for seven
Alas two of his grandchildren were so deformed
That as they entered a room his temper stormed.

"Get out! Get out! Out of my way"
And so they did with faces gray
"He hates us." The twins wailed loud
"While our brother Stroke makes him proud"

They were called Unit and they were strong
To prove they had done nothing wrong
They tried to make their grandad smile
So out in the swamp they killed a crocodile

They left it for show under the family tree
But of grandad they did not see
It´s a hard thing being ignored
So they killed him one night while he snored

They then ran far away into the night
With a only a flashlight burning bright
It was there that they would find
A man and woman to bind

If only they had guile and wit
They could prove they had the grit
To take on a knight and her dragon
And later load them on a wagon

It’s dark outside the windows.

On the beach, the locals have set the usual fires, and dances under the stars. They seems to put a lot of careful attention on preserving… and renovating… their traditions.

This side of the glass, the room is scarcely lit. There is not enough electrical power to feed the new computers AND the other needs, so we had to choose. But I must say that the old walls of the fish factory render a lot better with the scarce illumination.

And, we need the computers, right now. The pictures of the Painting have been scanned, and now are under analysis.

Chance and Grissom are at work, and so do Henry Quantos, from his remote base (read apartment) in Vancouver.

“Have you found anything, yet?” I ask, breaking the deep silence.

Grissom raise his head from the computer screen. “Anything? Too much, I fear”.

“You mean..?”

“What do you know of history and art, Edulcore?”

“Not much, I fear”. School, for me, was just wasted time between training session on the tracks.

“Well, you see, paintings in the sixteen century were like photos. They showed what the painters actually saw, not creations of his mind. In this case, what’s depicted on the painting would be really amazing. You see? There is a dragon flying in the sky, a city carved into a mountain, a very strangely shaped fountain in the middle of a lake. Too strange to be possible… yet I had… and you with the MBL, too… met things even more wondrous in my life. So I can’t dismiss them to be creations of Tanfo’s fantasy.
On the other hand, the rest of the painting… the landscape, I mean… seems rather representative of South America. The little animal in black and white seems a tapir, and the other a llama. The ducks in the lake are to be found in Brazil and Chile, too.
So, what we are doing right now is to have the computer making comparison between the mountains in background with actual profiles of the Andes. It will take time. We have to reconstruct the profile from the aerial pictures…”

“Why you said too much? It seems to me that you have made bingo”.

“Eh, it’s not so easy. This is only one of the possible interpretations.”

“…”

“The fact that Cuccubao was interested in the Liber Vitae means that he was looking for ultimate knowledge. He was, or would have been, an alchimist. The Liber Vitae has been mentioned in the works of many alchimists… Fulcanelli, Paracelsus, Flamel… they reported that what they were seeking… the Philosopher Stone… the key to immortality… the way to create it was clearly explained in the book. So, what is depicted behind the portrait of Cuccubao, could be just simbolic… each things representing things that only an initiated could understand.
And that’s not all: it could also be that some elements are simbolic, and other natural… or that the animals, which we know are from South America, were kept captives in the gardens of some aristocratic man in Europe.
The possibilities are nearly infinite.”

The words of Grissom are depressing. But seeing Chance at the computer, makes me better. Whatever options the computer will presents, he will choose the right one.

The Uffizi Museum
Italy

Tom walked around the museum, wearing his slippers, bathing suit, and sunglasses. He was drawing strange looks again, though he didn't seem to notice this time. He walked over to where a storage crate had been opened, and a sarcophagus lay inside. The area around the crate had been roped off the by the police. Tom stepped under the rope and looked inside the sarcophagus. He reached down inside and picked something up. It appeared to be a desiccated eyeball. Tom's concentration slipped for a moment. Something inside him seemed to be telling him something. He wasn't sure what though.

He began walking towards the rest room. A couple of security guards following him. He walked inside and the door closed behind him. The guards entered the rest room cautiously, only to find it was empty. . .

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

Del Mar, La Perdita
The Fish Factory

It was morning. Mick was quickly walking towards the cafeteria where Kit had called a meeting of the team. He briefly stopped as he heard Shirley's voice. . .

"Mick! Stop for a sec!"

"What is it, hon?"

"You won't believe this! Guess who I talked to earlier?"

"Who?"

"Larry!"

"No way! How is he? What did he say? Did you tell him about. . ."

"Hang on, no, all he said was "Chicago sucks!" and then I lost the connection."

"Oh. . ." Mick said slowly resuming his path to the cafeteria.

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

Kit Piper stood in the cafeteria with a slide projector set up close by one of the walls. Present at the meeting he had called were Danny, Euro, Chance, Velo, TC, Grimm, Dirk, Priest, Tayden, and the late arriving Mick. Dr. Quantos was there as well, thanks to a small satellite linkup cobbled together by Grissom Montag.

As Kit begins to call the meeting to order, he is interrupted by a loud munching. Dirk Bell is eating potato chips.

"As you all know-"

CRUNCH! MUNCH MUNCH MUNCH. . .

"As I started to say-"

CRUNCH! MUNCH MUNCH MUNCH. . .

Kit stops, putting his hands on his hips as everyone turns to look at Dirk, still munching away.

"Dirk, do you mind?"

"No, Kit, go right ahead."

Kit stared at Dirk for a moment.

"Right, now as I-"

CRUNCH! CRUNCH MUNCH MUNCH!

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

Kit spoke: "Guys, I really have to stress the importance of this mission. The former owners of Bounty Land Foods are attempting to get control of the company back, and if they do, our funding is as good as gone. We're still making back payments on bills from last year. If we don't get some money in soon, it's goodbye MBL Consulting. Now, let's hear what Dr. Quantos has to say."

Dr. Quantos began to speak over the satellite linkup. "We've narrowed down the locations Chance feed us into three primary possible locales for the Liber Vitae. "

"The first location is Monroeville, Pennsylvania, in the US. There is a small occult bookstore there, which has a woodcut design hanging above the front door with a strong resemblance to Cuccubao's portrait. This bookstore has long been rumored to have copies of several hard to find occult books, such as the Necronomicon, the King in Yellow, and quite possibly, the Liber Vitae.

"The Necronomicon, wait, that's just something out of a bad horror movie." TC said.

"No," Tayden responded, "It's real. . .and the things that brought about its' existence. . .are real." Tayden failed to suppress the shudder that involuntarily ran down his spine.

"The team that will be going to this location," Kit began glancing at Dirk for signs of potato chip activity, " is: Grimm. . ." who sat, staring at Kit with eyeless sockets (more than a little unnerving), "Dirk. . ." who waved his empty chip bag, "Tayden. . ." the angel smiled and gave Kit a thumbs up, "and finally, Priest." Kit looked up from his notes.

Grimm looked at Priest.

Priest looked at Grimm.

Grimm turned to Kit and spoke. "I'd rather take Blackwulf."

"Sorry, big guy, Wulf is busy today, helping Phil and Grissom work on the new training facility. Priest, it is."

"Kit, normally, I would list-"

"Listen! As the president of this company, I'm empowered to make these kinds of decisions and that's exactly what I've done. Now we need to do some work and get out of debt, and this job is precisely the kind of thing we need right now, whether you like the particulars or not! Now I would appreciate it very much if we could continue on to the next location." Kit looked up at the eyeless sockets of Grimm and swallowed. Much to his relief, he said nothing. The members of MBL Consulting looked at each other in stunned silence after the uncharacteristic outburst.

"Bout time you grew a pair." Dirk Bell muttered under his breath.

"Now, the next location is. . ." Dr. Quantos began again.

"...Berlin, Germany."

Kit nodded solemnly as he scrolled down his list.

"What's there?" Ed asked, leaning forward, stroking the scabbard of his sword as Tayden eyed him and arched his eyebrow.

This is going to end badly, the angel thought as he redirected his attention to the screen on which Dr. Quantos began to answer the Raptor's question.

"Berlin is said to be the resting place of Nazi general Rolf Netzel," Quantos began, looking down at a page of notes scribbled on a notepad. "It has been rumored that during World War Two Hitler had some of his most trusted military units on missions to recover occult artifacts in order to extend the power and reign of the Third Reich. He personally commissioned General Netzel to retrieve the Liber Vitae."

"I wouldn't have picked Hitler for one to place much stock in literature," Dirk remarked, crossing his arms across his chest. "What with all those book-burnings and all..."

"Ironically enough, Mr. Bell," Quantos answered from the screen, "that is precisely the problem that Netzel ran into. According to legend, the Fuhrer didn't place much stock in the Liber Vitae's ability to attain the Philosopher's Stone. As a result, the book was in line to be burned publicly in Berlin. However, Netzel deceived his leader and replaced the book with, of all things, a copy of Mein Kampf."

"So... he died soon after, I take it?" Velo asked, raising his hand slightly in the air.

"Actually, no," Quantos answered, with a slight note of surprise. "He served out the remainder of the War, finally dying of complications of the common cold in 1947. He was buried in an undisclosed location with many other Nazi leaders, who were said to be heads of Hitler's artifact teams."

"So, what does that have to do with the book?" Danny asked, leaning back in his chair.

"Netzel was said to have been buried with the Liber Vitae upon his death," Quantos answered. "He was also said to have been buried in a masoleum, crypt, or catacombs of some sort. The only problem is that this burial place is in an undisclosed location."

"Then how are we supposed to find it?" Tobias spoke up, swinging his feet from his seat impatiently.

"Grissom and I have a mutual friend at Berlin University named Dr. Jurgen Seltsamliebe," Quantos responded. "The team going on this mission will meet up with him at the University library. From there, he will supply you with information on how to track the location of Netzel's tomb and thus the location of the Liber Vitae."

"So who's going on this one?" Chance said, looking to Kit, who sternly ran his eyes over the next column of people.

"Well," the large man said, tapping his pencil on his notepad, "Danny, you'll be the mission leader on this one."

Danny nodded solemnly and ran his hand through his hair.

Man, they're letting you lead another mission? Hal responded inside Danny's head. They must think you have some sort of actual ability or something...

"Not now, Hal..." Danny whispered harshly through clenched teeth.

"Mick, you'll be acting as Danny's second," Kit said, looking over to where Harrison sat, holding Shirley's hand in his own.

"Understood," he smiled as he nodded his understanding.

"Kristogar, since you're back and all, I was wondering if you'd mind going on this one as a sort of mission specialist?" Kit asked, raising an inquisitive eyebrow.

"Not a problem," Velo said straight-faced, crossing his arms and nodding.

"And, finally, Tobias, I'd like for you to round out this group," Kit said. "I thought it best for you to get back in the groove of an actual mission as soon as possible, so as not to let you get too rusty."

"Great!" Tobias said, grinning from ear-to-ear.

"I take it that means that Chance and I have been given the final location?" Cicciotto piped up, his right hand never leaving Ladnikia's hilt.

"Exactly," Quantos answered. "The two of you will be going to..."

[ 02-02-2003, 02:27 AM: Message edited by: Chewy Walrus ]

“…Cordillera Azul, in the Perù’s Andes. That’s the location most likely depicted in the painting. It’s place of very high mountains, dense forests, pretty much unexplored. Satellite’s images are not helping much, because it’s a very humid location, always under clouds. And the infrared shots shows only trees.”

I stare at Kit. “You are saying that you are sending four manned teams in Pennsylvania and Germany, while in the asshole of the world we are going in just two?”

Everyone become silent. Nobody expected me to react this way.

“No, Ed, you will have Ameristar and Drax, with you. They seems the best suited for the mission…”

“And where are they, NOW?”

“In… another facts-gathering mission. She said to know a place where information about Cuccubao are kept. And it’s a place actually on the route that Cuccubao should have taken to go from the Atlantic coast to the Cordillera Azul.”

Chance looks at me, and then says: “We rendezvous with them, check anything Jackie could have discovered, and then we head for the mountains.”

I sit back, silently.

Kit sigh, and then he says: “Chance is field leader. Your team takes the Hovercraft, the rescue mission has been a good test for it, it performed flawlessly; the other teams will go by plane…”

Danny sat across the kitchen table from Tobias Christopher, as he watched the speedster quickly consume a family size pizza all on his own.

“…you eat a lot, don’t you?” Danny asked.

“I sort of have to,” TC replied. Danny shrugged, accepting this explanation.

“Listen, Tobias…”

“Yeah?”

“I have a fake ID set up after the last mission. Velo has never had problems with things like customs. Mick can still travel under his own name. But you…”

“You think I need a fake passport or something?”

“Not sure.”

“I don’t think I do.”

“No. You could probably run from here to Berlin. And not get noticed.”

Tobias grinned. “Probably,” He said.

“You know, not a whole lot of people have ever been able to walk on water. You’re in good company,” Danny said smiling. Tobias laughed.

“Okay, so you’re all set then? Don’t need us to arrange anything?”

“Nope. You want me to go now?”

“Not yet. I’ll let you know when we’re leaving.”

Danny got up and left the kitchen. He passed through a small hallway and found himself in the office. Shirley sat behind the desk, typing faster than he thought was possible for someone who wasn’t TC.

“Hey Shirl…”

“Hi Danny. How’re you?” She asked, her gaze shifting towards him but her fingers still going on the keyboard.

“All right. A bit…I don’t know, confused maybe…”

“Why?”

“I’m just wondering why Jackie and Drake went off on an important mission alone. Our newest member and a guy we’ve known for all of two days. Unsupervised.”

“You don’t trust them?”

“I trust Jackie well enough, I guess. I don’t know Drake at all. It’s just that it’s a risk. Isn’t someone supposed to be looking out for that sort of thing?”

“Kit thought it was fine…”

“Yeah, well, when having a big mouth and a Hawaiian shirt becomes a superpower, he can risk his lives with us and get to dictate team policy…” Danny said. Shirley raised an eyebrow at him.

“What? All I’m saying is, there’s only so many orders I’m going to take from a guy who’s basically our employee.”

Shirley smiled a little. “Fine…” She said, and turned back to the computer screen. Danny just shook his head and left the office, returning to the kitchen. He found Tobias gone, which didn’t come as a surprise at all. Danny went to the fridge and pulled out an apple. Turning around, he noticed Grimm enter.

“Grimm!”

“Danny.”

“You’re leading your team.”

“I am?”

“It was a statement, not a question.”

“Okay…”

“I need to ask a favour of you.”

“What?”

Danny stepped a little closer and his voice grew softer. “Keep an eye on Priest for me,” He said. Grimm just nodded.

"I see strangers, brother."

"Yes, I see them too. Strange for strangers to be here."

The conjoined twins who make up Unit peer at Drake and Ameristar from behind a gnarled tree, their own shape even more twisted than the tree is. They are connected down to the waist, the left twin's right arm extends awkwardly in front of his twin's chest, the right's arm is behind. Their faces would be monstrous even on a normal body, with lumps all over their faces and hairless heads. Their combined body is thickly muscled. The tops of their heads are more than eight feet above the ground.

"We could capture them brother."

"Yes, we could capture them an be heroes to all."

"We cold bring them home brother, and all will rejoice at our return."

"They will see. They will see that the Unit is strong. They will see that the Unit should be loved."

"Yes brother. We will make them see like we made our grandfather see."

Unit lurked toward the heroes, stalking awkwardly but slowly to their blind side.

"So what does it stand for anyway?" Drake asks Ameristar. "Muscle Bound Life-savers? Mega Butt-kicking Legion?"

"You mean they didn't tell you?"

"No, do you know?"

Just then, Unit swings a makeshift club at them, sending Drake sprawling and just missing Ameristar. Ameristar flies up and shoots at Unit, the bullets strike, but do only minor damage to Unit's thick skin.

"She stings us brother."

"Then we will swat her down."

Unit throws their club at Ameristar, striking her and knocking her out of control. As Unit moves in, they are startled by a loud roar. hey turn to see Drax charging toward them, They stand their ground and punch Drax in the side of the head as he reaches them. He bellows in pain and rage.

Drax, stay in control, getting mad will just cause you to make mistakes. Tail whip that ugly whatever-it-is!

Drax nods mostly to himself as he spins quickly and hammers Unit with his tail, sending the deformed twins flying. Unit lands on their faces and are given no time to recover as Ameristar lands on their backs. "Help me hold it down!"

"Right!" Drax places a massive paw on Unit as Ameristar restrains them, tying the hands of one twin in front of them and the other behind them. Once they're securely tied up, Ameristar questions them as Drax watches intently.

"Why did you attack us?"

"Secrets."

"Yes, we must keep our secrets."

"What secrets.'

"The tower..."

"Quiet brother!"

"What tower? Do you know about the Tower of Cuccubao?"

"We won't tell you about our home!"

"Brother! We must not tell!"

"Geez, some secret keeper these guys are. I just can't figure out who's the dumber one."

"So, you know where it is." Ameristar thinks for a moment "We'll let you go if you show us the way."

"We'll do it."

"No brother!"

"Yes. Let us show them the way. They'll not survive their visit."

"You're right, brother. They'll not like their welcome."

"You guys can't scare us!"

"Fine, you show us the way and we'll worry about the reception we get."

"Yes, we'll show you the way."

"Yes, the way to your deaths."

[ 02-03-2003, 01:40 AM: Message edited by: NotWedge ]

CNN Report

"This is a Breaking News report. And so it´s been confirmed. As of oh eight one hundred this morning all communications with any research station on the Antarctic has been lost. The cause to this has yet to be determined, and the UN is sending a team of invastigators to see for themselves. No weather anomalies has been reported. We´ll get back on this as soon as we have any additional information for you."

End Report

Phil's head rested on the main computer console as he slept. Sometime during the night, Gabi had crept in and draped a blanket over the sleeping telepath. She tiptoed back in carrying a mug of coffee, which she placed on a table next to the console.

Phil stirred slightly. His eyes opened slowly. "Man... I was down here a lot later than I thought." He turned and noticed the coffee, then the blanket, then Gabi. "I don't know how I got along without you," he told her.

Gabi smiled. "Good morning, sunshine. You were down here all night."

Phil nodded. "I wanted to get everything just right."

"Which explains why you hacked into the FBI mail servers," Gabi said, motioning to the screen.

Phil sighed. "Sorry. Just wanted to stay a step ahead of things."

"You're really worried, aren't you?" Gabi asked.

"A little," Phil admitted. "But I'm more concerned about what would happen to the team if things went south while they were out in the field." He looked around. "Are you familiar with the concept of a panic room?"

"Didn't like the movie," Gabi answered.

Phil chuckled. "It's like this. In an emergency, when you know security has been compromised or something very bad is about to happen to the area where you're located, you need to have one place you can go where you can be sure nothing will get to you. So you create a chamber that's about as close to invincible as architecture and materials will allow.

"This room," Phil said as he gestured around him, "is my definitive idea of that concept. The walls are made of steel-reinforced concrete two feet thick, with a thin layer of lead to dissipate radiation. The room is airtight, watertight, and impervious to pretty much anything short of a "bunker-buster" bomb specially designed to destroy hardened military command centers - but even that would have to come through the rest of the building. Basically, the whole building could come down around us, and this room would go untouched."

"But what about the people inside?" Gabi asked.

"There's a vast amount of supporting infrastructure connected to this room," Phil explained. "Once the outside of the building is completed, we'll be mounting solar panels to collect energy to run the systems here, and also to supply banks of solar batteries down here in case the power fails. There are filters that purify air and water taken in from the outside and store it in tanks. Those air and water supplies can last almost a week, and in the event that they run out, the filtration systems can remove almost all known pollutants and poisons from the outside air and water. There will be stockpiles of food, medical supplies, and weapons. And the list goes on."

"Sounds great," Gabi said, "but how do you plan on protecting all those things?"

"Comprehensive access control," Phil replied. "I'm finishing up installing the hardware for fingerprint, voiceprint, and retinal scanners now. But the most important element of security is that the door opens from the outside only once, to let one person in. After that, that person is responsible for letting others in - or keeping them out."

"Sounds like you've been working on this for a while," Gabi said.

"Me and Grissom put the system together, and Charley and Priest added a few ideas of their own." Phil sipped his coffee. "We've got all sorts of plans put together."

"And you didn't consult with Leslie?" Gabi asked.

Phil looked at her. "No. Does that surprise you?"

"I figured you would have found a way to include her," Gabi said.

Phil frowned. "No. We're currently not speaking to each other."

Gabi laughed. "Is this high school again?"

"She told me she likes me," Phil said.

Gabi couldn't contain another laugh. "So?"

"So, I'm not interested."

"Not at all?" Gabi smiled at him.

"Gabi! I'm with you!" Phil was beside himself. "What does it matter whether or not anyone else interests me?"

"That's not what I asked," Gabi said.

Phil sighed. "Okay While you were gone, a lot of stuff happened. Leslie and I were kind of... close. But that doesn't matter now, does it?"

"Phil," Gabi replied, "you don't have to hide how you feel about another woman to avoid offending me. I'm a big girl, and I can handle knowing that I'm not the only one in your life. You're your own person, and you've got to make your own choices."

"Gabi," Phil insisted, "I love you. You know that."

Gabi looked at him. "I know. But I'm not going to be around forever."

"What do you mean?" Phil asked.

"Don't worry about it right now," Gabi instructed him. "You've got a lot of work to do." She crossed the room and looked at the heavy steel door. "So tell me how this retinal scanner works."

"I like the office you gave me," Dr. Huerta said to Kit.

Kit had been walking in a daze since the meeting. His mind was racing with his problem. Now another one was staring him in the face. With all the excitement he'd forgotten about the new members he had just scooped up.

THE MORNING AFTER THE PARTY:

Kit had woken up to find some stragglers from the festivities the night before. When he asked Danny who they were, "Some of Blackwulf's old teammates," was the response he got. Kit then remembered overhears the Giant Russian the night before:

quote:

---

"Yes, was very interesting time. Team knew how to handle a problem. We took down many big enemies. Team was, how you say, unstopable."

---

He had always toyed with the idea of haveing two groups that he could send on two opposite missions at the same time. That way, they wouldn't have to worry about turning jobs down.

Within minutes, he had convinced the three men to join the team. The guy in the wrestling mask kind of weirded him out. But the guy with the beard and the backpack made him nervous. All that was washed away by Wulf's words of the "Unstoppable" Team. (Maybe that's what he'll nickname them.) Besides, Jody, the one Wulf referred to, most likely lovingly, as Monkey Boy, would make a great assest to the company with his Ph.D. in Psychology.(And with all the members who listened to voices in their heads, he wouldn't be short on work). He'd even given them a sizable cash retainer.

FLASHBACK'S OVER. BACK TO THE STORY AT HAND
Kit had forgotten all about hiring this new crew. Now his problems were multiplied. He had handed away money that could have gone to save his daughters.

"I was looking at some furniture to put in it. Well, the one I'll have when we move into the reconstructed HQ, that is. I've marked a few right here for you to look at." He handed Kit a catalog.

"Um... Yeah, I'll look into it. Hey! You wouldn't happen to have any of that retainer I gave you left?"

"Don't be ridiculous! We just got it a day ago. Aside from the couple of hundred Luchadore used to by Fago's and John some Nair, we've still got it all."

"Would it be too much to ask if I could have some of it.... back?"

"What?...... Oh, I see what's going on here. Thought you could put one over on me, eh?" Kit began to sweat a bit. "Things aren't all as they seem are they? I see your game."

"No... really.... I just...."

"Relax. I know things are going to be tight with the rebuilding and all. Don't worry about it. I'll get what's left back to you before supper. Ok?" Dr. Jody Huerta smiled and walked off down the hallway with his flip-flops smacking against the soles of his two huge feet.

Phil sat on the couch, taking a short break from the security upgrades he’d been working on. He looked at the TV, and a report about something strange happening in Antarctica caught his attention. He sat forward.

“Hmm. Strange,” He said. Danny entered the lounge room, and stood leaning against the doorway.

“Hey Danny,” Phil said.

“Phil,” Danny replied.

“What’s up?”

“What have you been up to, Phil?” Danny asked.

“What do you mean?”

“Weird deliveries at all hours for the past few days. You and Grissom hard at work on… something. You going to fill the rest of us in?”

“Just… you know, fixing up the old place. Some security upgrades. You know… stuff.”

“Right. Stuff.” Danny said. He walked in and sat in an armchair diagonally across from Phil, and leaned foward.

“You’ve been working pretty closely with Priest, haven’t you?” Danny asked.

A knowing look came over Phil’s face. “Ah. So that’s what this is about.”

“…partly.”

“He helps out some. Why? Is that a problem?”

“I like you, Phil. I trust you. The same can’t be said of him. Just… watch your back.”

“Noted,” Phil answered.

“I have to go get ready. I’ll see you later.”

A few minutes later, Danny was standing in the meeting room. He’d gathered together Mick, Kristogar Velo, and Tobias Christopher, and they sat around the table.

“Okay, Mick and Kris… We’ll be catching the six o’clock flight from the La Perdita airstrip to the mainland this evening. There we’ll catch a connecting flight to Berlin. Have your bags packed and be ready at five. It’s now…” Danny looked up at the clock on the wall. “One fifteen. Be ready in three hours and forty five minutes. Tobias, I want you to leave for Berlin a half hour after our plane leaves the runway. Take a mobile phone. We’ll call you when we arrive, and meet at the hotel Kit’s organised.”

Danny handed out hotel flyers to each man at the table.

“That’s where we’re staying. Memorise the address. It’s our rendezvous point in case of emergency. We all clear?”

The three men all nodded.

“Good. Go pack.”

As they got up to leave, Danny tapped Mick on the shoulder.

"Mick... I'd like a word with Mxy at some point."

"Sure. Not a problem."

One of the engines sputters as the old plane crossed the vast, blue sea. The occupants, Grimm, Dirk, Tayden, and Priest, sat in the relic aircraft. The occasional jolt shook them. "This just doesn't make any sense," Grimm muttered out loud. "Just two days ago, we were flying on commercial flights. Today, we're in a box with wings."

"What's the matter? You scared?" Priest grinned. Grimm really wished that he could scowl.

"Kit said that he was having to cut corners to save money," Tayden chimed in, trying to get the conversation back on track.
"Apparently, the rebuilding is costing more than we originally thought. Isn't that right, Dirk."

The group look over to where Dirk had sat. He was laying down on the bench seat with his hat covering his face. "Is he asleep?" Tayden asked.

The plane jolted again. "How can he sleep through this?"

"Because you're a bunch of boring fuckers," Dirk's muffled voice responded.

"We're almost there!" the pilot said while sticking his head through the curtain from the cockpit. He was an old man with a bald head and a cigarrette hanging from his lips.

"What!?" Grimm exclaimed. "We haven't had time to get to Pennsylvania yet. We're still over the ocean."

"Pennsylvania!" the pilot yelled back. "Nobody said nothin' about Pennsylvania. Ain't no way Bertha here can git ya to Pennsylvania. We'll be lucky to make it to the mainland."

"Then why did you take off in the first place if you knew we wouldn't make it to land?"

"Gotta give Bertha here a proper send off. It don't seem right to let her rot in some plane graveyard after serving her country like she did. Besides, even if we got to the coast, we couldn't land. Her landing gear ain't acted right since that run in with those Nazi bastards back in Dubbya-Dubbya Two."

"Real Grade-A outfit we've got here," Dirk's muffled voice said.

[ 02-05-2003, 04:34 PM: Message edited by: thedoctor ]

Priest began to pull some items out of his backpack and fiddle with them with a small device that resembled a wrench, but wasn't.

Grimm watched the man and remembered back to earlier this morning. He had been going over the mission with Kit, Danny, and Chance.

"I figured you could handle being around Bell better than the others," Kit began, "plus, his military experience will be helpful to you team."

"True," Grimm replied, "and Tayden's knowledge of the arcane will be a big help when we search for the book, but, Priest. . ." he said as a large shadow covered him from behind.

"What about Priest?"

Danny stepped behind Chance, as Grimm turned to look the newcomer right in the face.

"I'm more qualified than most to be here, but I don't see you objecting to anyone else. . .so what's your problem, big man?"

"You're the only person here who tried to kill a member of the team the first time we saw you. That's reason enough for you NOT to be here." The undead biker answered.

"You keep on and on about that," Priest answered, "but I've been here for months now, and have had plenty of opportunities to finish the job if I wanted to. Montag trusts me, as does Phil, and Kit here."

"But I don't."

"I think I know what your problem is. It's not me. It's not about Danny. It's because I kicked your ass the first time I showed up. You've got all those muscles and that unnatural strength, you're supposed to be the strong man, but you finally ran into something you couldn't punch your way out of, and it pisses you off."

[ 02-05-2003, 07:31 PM: Message edited by: Grimm ]

"I can't believe it," the Luchadore said with his smile beaming from under his mask. "We're on our first mission for the team."

John replied as he picked up an armful of boxes of macaroni and cheese, "We're just grocery shopping." He dropped the boxes into the cart that Dr. Huerta was steadily having to pull to the left to keep it from crashing into the shelves on his right. "And stop lifting up your mask like that when you talk. Jay-sis, you've got an opening for your mouth right there."

"No," the Luchadore replied before pulling his mask back down over his face.

"And why are you wearing that mask to the supermarket? It makes you look retarded."

"Does not."

"Does."

"Does not."

"Does."

"DOES NOT."

"DOES."

"DOES ....."

"Are you two going to be quiet, or do I have to make you be quiet?" Dr. Huerta said in a very authoritative voice.

The Luchadore and John both hung their heads in shame as they said, "Sorry," in unison.

"That's better," he said as he turned around to grab a few more items from Shirley's list. John quickly slapped Luchadore's arm. Lucha returned the slape, except a little harder. Then John slapped Lucha a little harder too. Again and again until both men were wrestling on the floor.

A FEW MINUTES LATER

John is limping beside the shopping cart while the Luchadore holds onto the opposite side of the basket. Dr. Huerta is still fighting the pull to the right. "I can't believe you did that to us again," John said.

"Yeah," Luchadore chimed in. "Do you know how big of a pain in the butt it is not to be able to see?"

"I warned you," the doctor replied. "Besides, you'll both be back to normal in a few minutes. I swear, lab rats learn faster than you two."

"Can I...," Lucha began to say before Dr. Huerta cut him off.

"No, you can't ride in the shopping cart. We've got to put groceries in there."

"But I'm blind!"

"If he gets to ride in the shopping cart, I get to play the crane game up front."

"Why did I ever decide to take you two on?" Huerta mumbled to himself.

The trip through the swamp was hot and hazardous. Lots of times the demented twins called Unit, mislead them into quicksand areas and other nasty holes deep enough to swallow them.
Both their armors were filthy and they had started to squeek when they moved their joints.
Apparently they were great for fighting but not made for swamp treks.

it was when Drake had just been lent a hand by Ameristar to get out of one of these holes with the conjoined twins laughing hysterically at their predicament, that a weird clapping sound was heard in the murky, mist air in front of them.

"I sought i recognised your lausss Unit." A lisping, smacking mouth said in the mist.
Out of the mist, a creature with claws and a weird growth on his back that almost looked like a turtle shell, steeped out in front of them. "Whats sat you goth sere Unit? friend os yourss?" the more or less human creature apparently reshaped it´s mouth into what it beleived was a smile.
Ameristar was sickened. These mutants or what ever they were must never have been washed in their lives. The stink hit them both like a wall.

"Look here Turtle Man. You get out of our way and we wont hurt you. And that´s a promise." Drake did his best to look brave.
Unit looked at him with his yellow eyes.
"OX here means no harm, do you brosser?"
"I´m hungry." was the only reply.
Unit walked up to him. "I am a...a guide...to sees two fine people. Sey will make me popular again, you see."

Drake looked Ameristar. "I don´t like the sound of that. We should reconsider..."
"No!!! No reconsiderations!!!" A loud voice behind them yelled.
A huge man that must have weighed at least 529 pounds and most of it in muscle and bone appeared with thundering steps and wearing next to nothing except for a Southern Cavalry cap.
"You do not belong here!! you must leave...or you will die!!!
Behind him the tower seemed to hover in the misty clouds of the swamp...but it was still a kilometer away, and these...these creatues would probably not invite them for dinner.
"Leave now!" the huge man walked up to Drake and raised his fist.....

The old plane.

Grimm stayed focused on Priest as he reflected on what had happened earlier that day. Finally, words that were a long time coming were spoken.

“…but you finally ran into something you couldn't punch your way out of, and it pisses you off.”

Priest’s expression stayed static, his eyes stern, cold and sure. Grimm stepped towards Priest, his equal in height, his build slightly lesser than the African American man that stood only an arm reach away.

“You would think that. Everyone has their weaknesses, and don’t think for a second that I haven’ found yours.”

“Big words for a dead man.”

“Guys, enough.” Kit interrupted, a little on edge, “The teams have been assigned, this might give you two a little chance to bond.”

“Kit,”

“You are both a part of this team, now act like it.”

Grimm moved his line of vision from Priest and towards the window. He wouldn’t soon forget Kit’s words. The little weasel is going on a power trip.

“Grimm.”

The words were coming from Priest. Tayden turned. Dirk tilted his hat up a bit.

“What?”

“If you could go back in time and kill Hitler, would you?”

Phil had returned to his work at the computer core. Now that Priest had left, the work on the main building would be going a bit more slowly, but Grissom seemed to have the situation well in hand. Still, the telepath had almost finished his work on the core and after that had been done, he'd be able to give Grissom a hand overseeing the real construction. All day, he'd only talked to Gabi and Danny and he was looking forward to some more contact with someone who didn't speak binary as their primary language.

A knock sounded on the door of the panic room Phil was working in. He turned to see the small but muscular frame of Grissom Montag leaning in the doorframe. Phil smiled and nodded for his friend to come into the room.

"What say, Griss?" Phil said, gesturing to a chair sitting at the corner of the workstation. "Take a seat."

"Thanks," Griss said, sinking into the chair and propping his feet up on the work area that Phil was occupying. "What you been up to today?"

"Not to much," Phil said. "Just putting the final touches on this computer core. How's the construction going?"

"Not bad," Griss answered, propping his hands back behind his head. "Charley's up there playing like a lesbian in order to try to keep the construction workers off of 'er. Seems to be working so far..." Grissom shot Phil a wink and chuckled a bit. "She's a good worker, that one..."

"I'd noticed," Phil said. "She seems very capable for this new maintenance position you've put her in."

"Oh, yeah," Griss nodded, causing a cigarette to materialize in his mouth and a lighter to appear in his right hand. "She's been into cars and fixing things since she was a kid. One of the best in California, if they 'ad contests fer such things. Still, she's one o' the brightest girls I ever 'ad the courtesy to employ..."

"So," Phil said, leaning forward on his elbows, "what's the story between you and her? You guys used to be an item? Had a fling in Vegas? Pick her up at a singles' bar?"

"Please, Phillip," Grissom said, rolling his eyes as he leaned forward slighty to light his cigarette then leaning back as his lighter vanished from sight. "You 'ave too active of an imagination, mate."

"C'mon, Griss..." Phil continued, a large smile spreading across his face. "Gimme the scoop..."

"Ain't no scoop, son," Grissom said, taking a drag from his Marlboro. "She's an employee. And that's about the long and short of it. I keep my business relationships strictly business. I've made it my own personal policy not to dip my pen in the company ink..."

Phil chuckled a bit, leaning back in his chair. "That's kinda surprising, really," he said. "I wouldn't have pictured you as the kinda guy to turn down a little hay-rolling with a beautiful woman just because she worked with you."

"Well, Charley - and all the other women that work for me - need to have an employer that respects 'em," Grissom said, taking his cigarette out of his mouth and pointing it in Phil's direction. "That's the key to a respectable business venture, kid. Respect. 'Member that."

Phil nodded, turning back to his workstation. "I will, Griss," he answered, smiling as he returned to his work.

The two sat in silence for a moment, while Grissom regarded Phil curiously, blowing wisps of smoke into the air and rolling his cigarette around in his three fingers.

"What about yourself, Philsy?" Grissom asked, placing his cigarette between his lips. "You and Leslie been knocking boots yet or what?"

Phil looked over at Grissom, his smile having faded at the mention of Leslie's name. "She and I aren't necessarily on speaking terms right now..."

"Really?" Griss asked, arching an eyebrow. "'Ow's that work? You guys seemed to be getting along alright at the party last night..."

"I'd rather not talk about it," Phil said, going back to his work.

"Alright, man," Griss said, leaning back in his chair. "Your call."

Another minute of silence followed as Grissom continued to watch Phil with cautious eyes.

"Any other girlfriends?" Grissom asked. Phil shot him another glance as Grissom smiled and shrugged his shoulders. "Just wondering," he said with a smile.

"Well," Phil said, leaning his right arm on the work station to face Grissom, "being an amnesiac, I really have no idea abobut too many of the girls I've met, but I do remember one that I've met within the last few months."

"Well?" Grissom said, a smirk on his face. "What was 'er name, Cassanova?"

"Gabi," Phil said, his smile broadening.

"Short for something?" Griss asked.

"Gabriela," Phil said, looking at Grissom like he was an idiot.

"Where'd you all guys meet?" Grissom kept questioning.

"A dance club up in New York," Phil answered. "Called The Barrage."

"Never 'eard of it, myself," Grissom said, "but it sounds like a 'appenin' place..."

"Yeah, pretty much," Phil said, still smiling. "We had a great time together..."

"So, what 'appened to 'er?" Grissom queried. "She leave you fer a guy with a cleft chin and a baseball bat shoved down 'is trousers?"

"No," Phil sighed, rolling his eyes and look incredulously at Grissom, who just smiled and winked. "No, she... uh... she died."

"Really?" Griss said, sitting up straight in his seat. "Man... I'm really sorry to 'ear that, mate."

Silence.

"You think that's why things aren't workin' out too well with Leslie?" Grissom continued after a pause. "'Cuz you're not quite over Gabi?"

Phil shrugged. Grissom knew then that Phil wasn't in any mood to talk at this point. Resting his hand on his friend's shoulder, Montag muttered a few parting words and made his way to the doorway.

"Wait a minute..." Grissom said, pausing in the doorway, turning slightly. "You say you guys met in New York? Y'know, I just got done reading this article in the New York Times a few months back... said this girl died with this 'Unidentified Man'. 'Er name was Gabriela Riviera..." Grissom chuckled as he turned to exit. "Ain't that ironic?"

Grissom stopped suddenly as he heard the tell-tale click of an H&K .44 custom as he felt the barrel pressed into the back of his head. Slowly, his hands raised up in the air.

"Struck a nerve there, did I, Philsy?" he asked.

"Who. Told. You," Phil asked through gritted teeth.

"You wanna let me turn around and tell you or would you rather stand there with a gun to my 'ead fer the rest of the day?"

A pause.

"Alright," Phil said, slowly. "If I see any guns materialize in your hands, I'm gonna blow your friggin' head off..."

"Fair enough," Grissom said a bit too lightly as he slowly turned and faced Phil. His friend now stood before him, his usually pleasant face contorted in frustration, rage, and disbelief. His personal sidearm was aimed directly at Grissom's right eye. However, it was not the first gun barrel Montag had stared down and he was determined that it wouldn't be his last.

"Who told you?" Phil asked again, a bit less forcefully this time, but just as serious.

"No one, mate," Griss said. "What? You think you're the only one with connections? You think you're the only one with mercenary background and training? If you thought that, then you thought wrong, son!"

"You mean...?" Phil cocked his head to the side. "You're a merc?"

"A former merc," Griss stressed. "Name's Grissom Montag, alias the Sandcrawler. Doubt you'd have heard of me, though. I got outta the business before your memory picks up."

"So..." Phil said, pondering. "Who are you working for?"

"You don't listen to well, Philsy," Grissom said, shaking his head. "I'm not working for anyone anymore!"

Grissom eyed Phil's gun and then turned his attention back to his friend.

"Look, Phil," Grissom said, looking Phil dead in the eye. "You can put the gun down, mate. If I was gonna turn you in, I would've done so long before now..."

"How can I trust you?" Phil said.

"I figured out who you were at about noon yesterday," Grissom said, shrugging. "Believe me, if I were gonna capitalize on a deal like this, I'd have done it by now..."

Phil looked at Grissom, small beads of sweat forming on his forehead. Slowly, very slowly, he lowered his firearm to his side and dropped it, so it clattered to the floor.

"Grissom," Phil said slowly, "you've proven to be nothing but a friend to me. It's hard to find people to trust in our line of work. I think - I hope - that I can trust you."

"You can trust me, Phil," Grissom said, smiling. "Just so long as I can be able to trust you."

"You can count on me..." Phil said, smirking. He shook his head and slumped into his seat. "It's... it's been hard, Griss. Walking around not even knowing who you are. Where you came from."

"Look," Griss said, moving over to his chair. "When I was doing my initial research on you on my usual intelligence checkpoints, I ran across a file that might answer a question or two. Does the word SIGMA mean anything to you?"

"No," Phil shook his head. "I know it should. Heck, I know it has something to do with where I came from. But... I don't know much else."

"I'll 'elp you, Philsy," Grissom said, offering his hand to Phil. "Anything I can find that'll 'elp you in your search - any resource in my disposal - if it'll 'elp... it's yours."

Phil smiled. "Thanks," he said softly, bending down to pick his gun off the ground. "I'd better get back to this core. I'll join you up at the construction site as soon as I finish up..."

"You might need these... y'know, for later..." Grissom said, holding his hand a few inches above the table as a small pile of bullets appeared in a heap. They were bullets to an H&K .44 custom. Phil looked up at Grissom with a smirk and a raised eyebrow.

Grissom smiled a toothy grin, shrugged his shoulders, and said simply, "Hey, man... self-preservation's a bitch..."

Italy

Tom is standing outside the Uffizi museum. He has been standing there for quite some time, actually. At this points the weird looks people give him for his clothing don't bother him at all. He's still keeping the sun glasses, though. Not only do they hide the weird light that comes from his eyes, they also make him look cool.

It's starting to rain when he decides doesn't want to stay standing in front of that museum for the rest of his life. He must do something, he thinks.

"So..." he says, to no-one in particular, "what now?"

His question is answered with a word that pops into his mind: Berlin.

"Berlin, huh?" he says. He starts calculating the distance from Italy to Berlin. "All right, what the hell. Lets go..."

And with that, Tom starts walking, heading for Berlin...


Meanwhile, back in the Hall of Justice... er, I mean... the Fishhouse of... Revolution...


Danny is in his room, finishing packing his things, when Mick walks inside.

"Hey there," Mick says.

"Hey," Danny replies. "Did you finish packing?"

"Uh... I think..."

"Shirley doing the packing for you, eh?"

"Yup..."

"How does she find the time to do all the work she does AND babysit you?"

"She makes it! Anyway... You wanted to talk to M-X-Y?"

"Yes. Can you call him now?"

"Sure. I gotta warn you, he's been kinda weird lately..."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, Mxy's--"

When Mick says those words, Ktl takes possesion of his body. When he traded places with Mxy, he decided to keep the whole "name" mecanism Mxy set untouched, to avoid any suspicions. He also made sure to disguise the black shadow that comes out of the eyes of the person he posseses and make it look like the light Mxy uses.

In the moment he "wakes up," Ktl realises Danny is standing in front of him. Immediatly, he connects with Mxy's mind, to find out exactly what his reaction would be to this situation. Another thing Ktl did when he traded places with Mxy was leave him imprisoned in a higher dimension (with the help of some "friends" he had made there...).

Ktl then found that acting like Mxy was impossible for him, and that if he tried doing that, Mxy's friends would realize he wasn't Mxy in no time. So, he decided to make a direct connection with Mxy's mind, to find out exactly how he would react to each situation. This, of course, would drain Mxy's mental energy and leave him weak, and that served the purpose of preventing he escaped.

The last couple of times Ktl connected with Mxy's mind to "steal" his reactions, he was surprised to see that he wasn't where he had left him, but in Hell. This made little difference. In fact, Hell was a more fitting prision for his adversary. And, as long as he remained weak, he wouldn't be able to go back to the third dimension.

Now Ktl tries to connect with Mxy's mind again, to face Danny, and, for the first time... he fails. This can only mean one thing, Ktl thinks. He's on the third dimension. Mxy's back.

All this passes through Ktl's mind on the moment Mick says the magic word.

Now Danny is looking at him. And he doesn't have Mxy to tell him how to react.

"Mxy, I made Mick call you to talk to you for a second..."

“Piloting the UFO was smoother and easier, Chance” I say. Go go go go go go; straight to south.

“The Probability engine we salvaged works the same, Ed, but the structure of the Hovercraft is way less advanced. It can’t reach light speed, it can’t turn at right angle, it can’t do any of the marvels the UFO did. But at last it works out of the Earth magnetic field, and that means it doesn’t need any fuel. That’s good for the kind of missions like this one.”

Go go go go go. “And also means that everybody can pilot it without any special preparation”. Go go go go go.

“Well, everybody with enough self control to concentrate exclusively on the mental commands. I wouldn’t let Mick piloting this ship, I think…”

Go go go go go go. “Or Daniela. She seems to look miles away… hundreds of miles away each day that passes”. Go go go go go go.

“Right. I nearly forget about her. No, to say the truth, I totally forgot her until you mentioned her. She wasn’t around lately, do you know where she was?”

Go go go go go. Turn three degree west. “She was right in the factory all the time. Funny you didn’t see her”.

“Yes. Funny. And strange.”

Go upward. Ten thousands meters. Radar shield on. “Tell me about your MBL.” Now go go go go go.

“Why?”

Go go go go go go go. “Because from the little you said before, it resemble my Revolutionaries much more than this MBL.” Go go go go go go.

“I… at the moment I wouldn’t like to talk about that…”

Go go go go go. Go downward, in the clouds bank. “You seemed always happy to talk about your Universe.” Slow down. Go go go go go go.

“I know… but Velo said something… that made me wonder… if I really came form another Universe… or instead I am from this Universe, a clone of this Schanz, with false memories…”

Go go go go go go. “Don’t doubt about your memories. I remember perfectly my life in your Universe”. Go go go go go.

Chance is staring at me. Oh God. What I have just said?