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

"Where's the chopper?" Nick DiVecchio shouted.

"He's gone," Phil replied as he set down between two apartment buildings. "But I've got no idea when he's coming back. We gotta get to my car, now."

"Wait!" the would-be mobster called as Phil started to run off, still carrying Latisha Piper.

"What is it?" Phil asked, turning.

"I gotta know!" Nick called. "Who are you?"

"Why do you care?" Phil asked.

"You just slipped past about fifty cops and wasted four of my guys!" DiVecchio snapped. "I gotta know who the hell you are!"

Phil scowled at him. "Watch your mouth," he said coldly, indicating the child in his arms.

DiVecchio jogged up to him. "Look," he began, "I think you owe it to me to-"

Still holding Latisha with one arm, Phil whirled around faster than DiVecchio could blink and slammed the kid against the brick wall of one of the buildings. "Look," he growled, "I just got done saving your sorry butt from 'your guys' and those fifty cops. I'm doing my job here. My girlfriend's dead, the FBI and at least two police departments are after me, I was just forced to kill people for the first time in almost three months, and I think I dropped my car keys back there. Don't piss me off!" His face reddened. "Sorry," he apologized to Latisha, who by this time was nearly catatonic and well past caring.

<Sandcrawler here.>

Phil had completely forgotten about his secure line to Grissom. "What's the situation?" he asked.

<Job's done>, the merc replied, <but I've run into a... complication. Or two.>

Phil's eyes widened. "Where are you?"

<Coming by your 10-20 in about five minutes.>

"Wait!" Phil warned. "There's cops all over the place. Are you going to the exit point?"

<That's a negative, mate. Denyce 'ere's not looking too good. I'm heading off to get 'er some medical attention.>

"Hospitals ask questions!" Phil argued.

<You have a better idea?> Grissom replied impatiently. <I'm not telling you how to run your operations, am I?>

Phil sighed. "All right. Chances are you won't have an APB on your head within the next few minutes, at least."

<What's that, mate?>

Phil rolled his eyes. "I'll tell you in a moment. Look, I'm gonna head for the hospital and look after Denyce. You'll probably want to get back to the island; I got a call that the team just returned. I'll take the girls to the exit point once Denyce gets out of the ER."

<You sure you got it handled, mate?> Grissom asked uneasily.

"You forget with whom you're dealing," Phil said with a smile. "Get to the hospital; I'll be joining you shortly."

[ 04-19-2003, 07:29 PM: Message edited by: Captain Sammitch ]

Midway Airport - Chicago

"Ms. Kline, I presume?"

Leslie slid her sunglasses down on her nose and eyed the man who stood before her. He was dressed in a deep crimson colored crushed velvet suit and wore a fedora on his head. His black goatee offset well his dark eyes. He was a large man, about six-two, six-three, with a large scar down his cheek. He offered his hand to the woman, who accepted it warily.

"Mr. Turner, I presume?" Kline said, looking at her contact.

"Agent Turner, actually," the large man said, motioning for the woman to lead the way to her luggage.

"Agent?" Leslie asked, taking the hint and leading the way. "What exactly are you an agent of?"

"The organization I represent does not refer to its operatives as 'agents'. I, however, choose to keep the title I once held as a member of the MCCA. I believe you've heard of it?"

"Oh, my God," Leslie said monotonously and looking up at Turner. "You're the Agent Turner?"

"The same," he answered, nodding. As the two walked, Turner pulled a pair of sunglasses from his pocket and put them on.

"I thought the MCCA went belly-up," Leslie asked, reaching down and picking up her luggage. She held it out for Turner to take, but the man made no motion to do so. As much as she figured she probably could get him to carry them for her, Leslie decided not to press her luck with this one. "I'm not being hired on to an underground elitist, survivalist group from the MCCA to help slaughter metas, am I?" she asked, chuckling at how ludicrous it all sounded to her.

Turner merely raised an eyebrow. "No," he said solemnly, killing her laughter. "Not... quite."

It was at this moment that Leslie knew she wasn't going to get anymore information out of Turner than she already had. The pair continued in silence until they reached a darkened, uninhabited area of the airport. Leslie looked up at Turner as he tapped his earpiece.

"I.G.O.R., initiate portal," he said.

Just as Leslie was about to ask what he was talking about, a circular mass of swirling blue energy opened up before them. Turner looked down at Leslie imposingly.

"Ladies first," he said, gesturing for Leslie to enter.

And Leslie Kline, anxious to get started on her new job, closed her eyes, held her breath, and walked through...

Ameristar and Crasher walked outside the keep, enjoying the highland mountain view.

"So...what exactly happend?" asked Crasher to the now enigmatic Ameristar.

She replied; "I was born again...this time...I will do things different."

"Different? This time?...What do you mean?"

"I am now...mobile again...it´s...wonderfull..." her voice trailed of..., her eyes still emerald in hue...just a slight glow...that told Crasher that things were not as they should.

Ameristar looked at her and laid a hand on her shoulder.
"Don´t worry sister, love...but we must return to La Perdita...I/we are needed there...I will see you soon again...your time for rest is now..."

"But I thought we..."

Ameristar was gone.
Leaving a disturbed Crasher on the mountainside...looking up at the towering keep, wondering why she felt such an ominous feeling inside her.
*******************************

Marc and the old neanderthal stood and watched the whole scene from a window.

"What´s wrong?" asked the ancient man, who sat down on a creacing chair with a sigh.

Marc looked at him worriedly.
"It´s...something..." Marc sat down with him.
"She seems to be the same Ameristar, but something else is inside her as well...something old...something powerfull...and angry...I don´t like it."

They sat there for a few moments...and then the old man said;
"She is still on her path towards her destiny....she will find the other knights, trust me Marc. The order of The White Raven will live again. And this time you will be more formidable than ever. She is part of gaia now...and god help those who come in her way."
*******************************

Ameristar appeared just outside the new HC, startling a few workers who were sitting having a coffe break.

"Hello boys...have you seen my friends?"

the hospital

"'Bout time you got here," Grissom said as Phil strolled through the door with Latisha Piper in tow.

"Sorry I'm late," Phil said. "Got tied up downtown." He let Latisha wander around the waiting area but kept an eye on her.

The mercenary shrugged. "What can you do?" He checked his watch. "I'm heading back. Denyce should be released within the hour."

"So it wasn't as bad as you initially thought?"

"A good deal of emotional trauma," Grissom explained, "but only slight physical trauma to match." He noticed that Diana was missing and raised an eyebrow. "Tied up downtown?"

Phil gestured to Latisha, who was sitting alone by a window. "Shootout. Couldn't save her mother. The little girl saw it. Better not bring it up without a good pshrink available."

Grissom looked down. "Damn."

Phil nodded. "Yeah." He looked outside to where Nick DiVecchio was keeping a lookout for the police.

"You okay?" the merc asked.

Phil chuckled. "In a manner of speaking. The last few days haven't quite caught up with me yet. I've been ignoring everything except this mission, and I'm sure that once it's over, everything will catch up to me." He frowned. "Not sure how I'm gonna break this to Kit."

Grissom put a hand on Phil's shoulder. "You did what you could, mate. No sense floggin' yourself over what you couldn't 'ave done." He looked around. "I'm heading for my jet. Get the girls to the charter plane at the airport, and we can all go home."

"Sounds like a plan," Phil replied. He saw a doctor emerge from the ER with a stack of charts. "Looks like Denyce might be ready to go."

"Take care of yourself," Grissom advised him. "And keep your 'ead up. There's bound to be more of Gambini's stooges running around out there."

Phil nodded. "I'll keep my eyes peeled."

Grissom walked off as Phil turned to meet the doctor. "Are those charts for Denyce Piper?"

"That's correct," the doctor replied. "She's doing much better. Mild hypothermia from being immersed in cold water for an extended period of time, but we managed to stabilize her blood temps. Some bruising and swelling where she was bound with duct tape and electrical cables, but that should go away in a few days."

"Is she cleared to leave, then?" Phil asked.

"She can be released, yes, but not to you. Unless you're her legal guardian or an appointed representative."

"Actually," Phil replied, "I'm with the State Department."

The doctor raised an eyebrow. "Really? Then what brings you here?"

"The girl's father lives on La Perdita," Phil explained, "and there was an international criminal organization involved in the girl's kidnapping. I've been appointed to return both girls to their father." He looked around. "This area isn't secure, by the way, so if you'll permit me, I can have both girls out of here and under the protection of a police escort very shortly."

The doctor shrugged and pointed to a receptionist's desk. "All right. Paperwork's over there."

Phil nodded. "Thank you, sir." He walked over and began filling out forms.

"I'm sure you're anxious to be on your way," the receptionist commented with a smile.

Phil smiled back. "You have no idea."

the municipal airport

"I don't like this," Nick complained as Phil walked through the gate and onto the tarmac.

"Why not?" Phil asked. "Much less hassle than an international airport."

"Much less security, too," Nick replied.

"Do you know something I don't know?" Phil asked as he walked toward Hangar 11, leading the Piper girls by the hands.

Nick shook his head. "They didn't tell me much. But I dunno if they've got more guys running around here or not."

"It'd be really nice to know," Phil said sarcastically.

"I know," Nick said. "I just don't know if-"

"What?" Phil noticed DiVecchio's face drain of color and turned around.

A black Cadillac was speeding toward them on the tarmac. Phil looked and saw that the hangar was only about fifty yards away. He turned to Nick. "Run," he said quietly.

DiVecchio scooped up the Piper girls. "But what about you?" he asked.

"Go!" Phil ordered.

Nick obeyed and took off running for the hangar. The Cadillac turned to follow him, but Phil drew his .44 and shot out both tires on the right-hand side. The Cadillac skidded to a stop a few yards away, and four men with guns climbed out. They didn't look too happy.

"Evening, gentlemen," Phil said with a smile. "Care for a little fun?"

"Puedo grabar tu buttuckos? Can I touch your ass?" Mike spoke loud and clear to his class. "Repeat."

"Puedo grabar tu buttockos?" the class repeated in unison.

"Yo no es un faggoto. I am not gay."

"I've lived on this island for quite a number of years," Uncle Otto said while scratching his head with one of his claws, "and I've never heard either of those phrases used."

"This just doesn't sound right," Huerta said from his seat.

Blackwulf, between the painful breaths caused by a second grader's desk embedded into a giant's stomach, said, "Is no way for me to be telling, comrade. Is all Greek to me."

"GREEK!" the Luchador screamed out. "I thought we were learning Spanish!" John's hand quickly crossed the masked man's face.

"John," Huerta exclaimed in a very authoritative voice, "what have I told you about hitting Mike in retaliation for something stupid?"

"Retaliation?" the hairy man replied. "I just did it because it's fun." He smacked the Luchador again. "See?"

"He is having point, Monkey Boy." A giant, purpleish arm swung out and connected with Mike's face. The masked man flew across the room and into the wall. Students, surprised and frieghtened by the spectecal, dropped to the ground for cover. "It is having very much fun."

Mike walked over to the group. "No es un bueno idealala a puncharlo tus amigos."

"What was that?" Otto asked.

"If you'd done your homework, you'd know" Mike responded, feeling very superior to his pupils.

"That just didn't sound right," Huerta repeated.

"Qual es tu numero del telphono?"

"What?! Did you just ask me my telephone number?"

"No.....um..... If you'd read your textbook, you'd know that I was asking if you.... um.... were read for a ....um.... pop quiz."

"No you didn't. Face it. You can't speak Spanish, can you?"

"Um.... yes.... um.... I can."

"No you can't. You're just making up words by putting 'o' sounds on the end."

"Um.... I can.... um... I'm fluent in..... um...... I'm not gay."

Nick DiVecchio had seen Phil Smith pull off some amazing feats in the past half hour, but he knew there was no way he'd get past a carload of Gambini's best gunslingers. He tried to grab Latisha's hand, but the girl dodged him. "You hurt me," she whimpered.

"Look, kid," Nick said impatiently, "I'm real sorry, okay? But Mr. Smith said to get you to the plane, and that's what I'm gonna do. There are very bad men with guns coming, and they won't hesitate to hurt you way worse than anyone back at the apartment. Now, you can grab my hand and come along on your own, or I can pick you up and carry you. Either way, we're going."

Latisha grabbed his hand as Denyce grabbed his other hand and they sprinted toward the hangar as the Cadillac disgorged its load of five very angry and armed to the teeth mafiosi.

"You better figure out some way to pay for those tires, Mr. Smith," one of them said slyly.

Phil just looked at him and smiled. "I've slipped away from an NYPD dragnet. I've busted up a Colombian drug ring. I just took out five of your buddies less than an hour ago. If you little-leaguers think you've got something for me, I would usually be more than happy to accommodate your pathetic attempts at retribution. But since I'm on a schedule, I'm afraid I can't help you there."

"Too bad," another one said as he raised his gun. "It's much more fun when they put up a fight."

Phil looked over his shoulder and saw the private jet taxiing out of the hangar and come to a stop. Nick DiVecchio leaned out of the door and motioned to him.

"I bet I could hit it from here," a third gunman said with a smile as he aimed a high-caliber automatic in that direction. "Take 'em all out while you watch, and then figure out some way to stop you."

Phil smiled.

"I bet you could."

The Cadillac's gas tank spontaneously ignited, setting off ammunition and explosives hidden in the car. The resulting explosion launched the car twenty feet in the air and incinerated everything within a fifty-foot radius.

Except for Phil Smith. He simply took in the scene with grim satisfaction, then turned and walked toward the plane.

It was time to go home.

[ 04-26-2003, 11:14 PM: Message edited by: Captain Sammitch ]

New Orleans:

Vincenzo Gambini sat nervously in the fancy business office he kept downtown. The fact that he had 15 armed guards surrounding the office on all sides, as well as two in his office itself, did little to comfort him.

Someone was gunning for him.

Or at least that's how it seemed.

His nephew Carlo, who had been on the job only a couple of weeks now, had just been found dead in his garage, a package containing his... ah... "Man-Thing"... was mailed to his wife.

Across town three of his best guys had lost their heads... literally... while attempting to "hit" a local judge who had been giving his family a hard time. The judge escaped and somehow gained ahold of some damning evidence that had the potential to bring him down.

And, to top it off, a total of seven of his guys were killed at random all over town, each of whom were with friends who "saw nothing", and each of whom had pieces of paper stuffed down their throat, which said:

GAMBINI IS DEAD
GAMBINI IS DEAD
GAMBINI IS DEAD

Ever since then, understandably enough, Gambini had been keeping himself out of the public eye.

His nightclubs and gambling joints could handle themselves, he supposed, though attendance had dropped suddenly for some inexplicable reason. His dealers kept on disappearing, a few of them explaining they were "Moving away... far, far away". And the heads of the other families wouldn't return any of his calls. It was strange. Business wasn't doing so good these days.

And then there was this business with that deadbeat Piper. Seems his kids had been rescued right out from under his guys' noses -- at great loss of life, it must be noted -- although the mother seemed to have been killed. Who was this mofo Kit Piper, anyway? He seemed to be better connected than Gambini ever suspected. He knew something about the "MBL Consulting" gig Piper was involved with, but it seemed to be a real small-time operation. Strictly amateur. So who was knocking off all'a his guys?

"Hello, Mr. Gambini."

Vincenzo Gambini jerked as he heard the voice in the room, and he jumped up and looked around. There was no one to be seen, and there didn't seem to be any place to hide. No closets to hide in or couches to hide behind, at all.

"Wh-who's there?"

"I think you know, Gambini..."

All of the hairs on the back of Gambini's neck seemed to stick straight up just then. "Y-you're the guy who's been whacking all my guys, aren't ya?" he said nervously, at the same time reaching into his coat pocket and producing two guns. "Well, wherever you are, you're gonna DIE, YOU SONUVA--"

BLAM BLAM BLAM BLAM BLAM BLAM BLAM BLAM BLAM BLAM BLAM BLAM BLAM BLAM BLAM BLAM BLAM BLAM BLAM BLAM BLAM BLAM BLAM BLAM BLAM BLAM BLAM BLAM BLAM BLAM BLAM BLAM BLAM BLAM

Gambini shot his guns in virtually every direction of the room, but as the echoes of the gunshots began to dim down (and why hadn't any of his bodyguards come rushing in at the sound?), the only sound in the room that could be heard was laughter:

"HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA"

"Who the fuck ARE you?" he screeched.

"I am your worst nightmare. A-heh. No, no... scratch that. It doesn't quite sound like me. It suffices to say that I was hired by a Mr. Kit Piper of Puerta Mibela, La Perdita, in the Lesser Antilles chain in the Caribbean islands. You've been a very naughty boy, haven't you, Gambini?"

Sweat began to pour off the mob boss' face. It seemed to be getting hotter in here. "Whatever the guy paid you, I'll double it -- no, TRIPLE it! Whatever you want, man, I can give you!!!"

A pause.

"Hmm... No. No, Mr. Gambini, I'm afraid I can't accept your offer. I have a reputation to uphold, after all. Who would trust to hire old Griffin again once word got out that he had failed to complete an operation merely because his victim was willing to pay a better price? I do have principles, sir."

Gambini sunk to his knees as he heard the name "Griffin" -- was there anyone in the Underworld who hadn't heard that name and trembled? Legend was he was unstoppable. Legend was that no one had ever seen his face, but that he had always left his calling card. "Please don't kill me... I'll stay away from Piper from now on. I'll consider the guy 'untouchable' from here on out. An'... an' I'll spread the word to all the other families. Nobody touches Kit Piper or his family. Just don't kill me. Don't kill me." His words trailed off and turned into loud sobbing.

"Pathetic."

The crime boss didn't respond, but continued to shake in fear and terror. Here was a man he couldn't bribe or control, who held Gambini's life in his hands. Griffin sighed loudly.

"Very well."

Gambini perked up.

"I am not without sympathy. I was so looking forward to killing you, but I there is little honour in putting to death a quivering worm like yourself. Luckily for you, my contract allows me to negotiate the terms and conditions, which, of course, for you are non-negotiable. I will, of course, require the entire sum of money you extorted from Mr. Piper..."

"Yes, of course! Anything! I'll double that amount just to get him off my back!"

"...as well as a further sum for the loss of Diana Piper and for the trauma that the children have been put through. On top of that, there is my own fee, which need not come directly out of Mr. Piper's pocketbook. The condition for all this would be your oath never to put in harm's way Piper or any of his family or friends. Consider them all untouchable."

"Done..." Gambini said. "I'll have the money brought in right away, wherever you want it."

"Right. Right. Well, then. It's been a pleasure. I trust you won't give us any further problems, then? After all, I happen to know that you have three sons currently studying in a boarding school in Switzerland. It would be regrettable if something should happen to them."

"No..." Gambini croaked weakly. "No, don't harm them."

"What do you take me for, Mr. Gambini? I am hardly a child-killer. Unless, of course, circumstances require me to do so. The final stipulation of my contract with Mr. Piper is that, should he or his children be harmed by anyone in your organization in any way, your family will be the first to feel my wrath. Have I made myself clear?"

"Yes... yes, you have."

"Very well, then. Now that we've gotten the 'messy' parts over with, let's complete our transaction..."

The sun hides behind the volcano, and the sky instantly takes fire, in a symphony of reds and oranges and violets. I will never get accustomed to the tropical sunsets.

I am on the roof of the complex, the part, at last, that didn’t get destroyed in the hurricane. There is a small greenhouse, all of his glasses shattered, but inside it some plants still survive. One in particular fascinates me. A flower. Crimson red.

Danny told me that here lived a Turkish guy that stayed with the MBL for a short time. I like this place. I think I will come to live here, when the building will be rebuild. If it will ever be rebuillt.

We are broken. Totally broken. The one called Pete, which was the one to found this place since the beginning, has died, or disappeared in some strange place, as Chance confusingly explained to me, but in any case legally has not been possible to declare him dead, and his fortune will go back to some sort of foundation… not that I clearly understood the thing. But in short… the MBL is broke.

Yes, Grissom has said that he will found for sometime the company… but surely all the works on the building will have to be suspended. Indefinitely.

The lucky part is that my fortune is still intact. Minus the part that I had to spend for the advance. I must say that I though that the part for the MBL was a complete loss, and the fact that a fraction of it would have returned to me was the only good in it.

I was wrong. In the end, it was the MBL to get the book.

Frankly, I had hope only on the Omicron Project. What the Hoods told me about them, was unbelievable. Complete success in all the missions accomplished. Exceptional skill in combat AND in archeological investigations. In fact, at first I wanted to employ just them. Then, this fun loyalty I feel for the MBL made me do a double call… and to give the mission also to the MBL.

I would never though that the Omicron would have returned from the Lost City aboard our hovercraft, beaten and mocked. And I heard their talks on the flight. Whispers, but easy to follow for my eagle hearing. They were talking of breaking up. With the death of their leader, there were no reason to stay together. That, in the MBL, would never happen. At last, in MY team. In this MBL, still I don’t know. But surely it’s better trained, better equipped than my Revolutionaries. Good soldiers, if only if they would be better directed. Although Danny is a revelation. The leader role is tailored on himself.

We let the Omicron guys to take their ways at the airport of Mandelovia. They where surprised that we left them to go freely, after they tried to kill us. But, what could have we done? Spoil us in the process? But they are not really disappearing. Unknown to them, I gave them a little gift, courtesy of Hoods technology. I feel in the future I will need them.

I take out of my backpack my digital camera, the one I bought in Florence. Safely stored in it, there are the pictures of each page of the Book of life, that I shoot when I was hiding at the top of the spring of eternal youth. I never dreamed that the chance would have given my such an occasion.

Now, from both the Omicrons and my comrades, words will spread in the underworld, that the Book has not been rescued, and that it is lost forever, without any way to recuperate it. Whoever wanted the book… Futurists, Collins, the Mafia, Crasher’s father… they now know that the book is lost forever.

And that it’s true. Just, a duplicate of it now exist. And it’s in my hand.

I did it. My mission is accomplished.

Now it’s time for me, Edulcore Cicciotto, to be elected leader.

Leader of the Hoods.

The End

Epilogue: Kristogar's dead time

Kristogar Velo would find some way to show his respects for the fallen Johnny Omicron. It was doubtful that there'd be any sort of formal gathering, given the life that the deceased led. Although Kristogar noticed his passing, he wasn't particularly saddened by Omicron's death, outside of the fashion it came in. Johnny knew what he was risking every day he chose to live the life he did(he was damn good at it, too, it should be noted). Velo felt that his current team could be a little better at what they did if they held the same resolution.

Speaking of the team, they didn't ask Velo where he was going as he walked out the door. They'd learned he wouldn't tell them anyways. The truth, known only to Velo, was that there really wasn't a destination.

Even so, everyone on the team had better things to think about than what Velo was doing, and the veteran knew that. Danny had just led the way against a fifth dimensional being and another team of more savvy and just as powerful rivals. Who knows what any of the newbies--the new "Eurostar" included--thought. There was also a rush that came after being hired for and completing a mission.

Kristogar was used to the feeling, that tingling one gets when they’ve just finished a good day of fighting. He was almost buzzed by it, by being tired and energetic at the same time. Although he probably needed rest, Velo ignored his body’s suggestion. He needed to keep moving. He needed to think as well, and his new room in the fish factory didn't exactly lend itself kindly to either of these notions.

Kristogar fiddled a little with his thin armor, and began to fly. He started testing out his maneuverability in the moonlight for no reason other than he could. Velo called this "dead time" and he couldn't stand it. He always needed to be doing something. Some nights he'd fly halfway across the world to find something useful to accomplish. There was no desire for that here, Kristogar's body just couldn't take it.

Then, without explanation, a random memory surfaced in Velo's mind. A boy with a well-aimed toss of a pie right into his face. Velo chuckled, then outright laughed at the memory despite himself. The boy was the first neighbor to greet the weary traveling circus, and his family was as affected by the recent disaster as anyone. So Velo decided that he would find out what the family needed--food, clothing, new home, whatever--and supply it, as a thank you for the warm welcome. The night would not be so void of life after all.

A warm breeze swept in from the Caribbean, rustling the palm trees and rippling the grass atop the little hill. Petals of tree blossoms floated on the wind and swirled around Phil Smith as he smoothed over the soil covering the grave overlooking the sea. A small, dark grey marble marker had been placed atop the grave, bearing only the name Gabriela.

The telepath knelt down to scatter some grass seed and place a bouquet of lilies by the marker. Phil sighed. “I wish it hadn’t come to this.” He brushed a hand over the engraved letters. “I thought I’d lost you back there in New York. But you managed to surprise me again. Now-“ Phil paused “-now look what’s happened.”

Phil looked out over the harbor, where freighters slipped in and out, ferrying their cargo out onto the Atlantic. “I can’t do anything right,” he lamented. “I start out trying to do the right thing, and somewhere along the line I screw it up. I started out rescuing that one kidnapped girl in New York, and somehow got around to killing fifteen gangsters and even those MAW agents. I ran from the cops and almost lost you. But I was given a second chance. I came here and felt like I really had a purpose. Sure, I helped some people. But then you came along, and when it really counted I couldn’t save you.

“And I’m sure you saw what happened in New Orleans from up there. Yeah, Griss and I saved those two little girls. But I couldn’t save their mother. And sure, we brought ‘em back to Kit, but I have no idea what’ll happen to him once everyone else finds out what he’s been up to.” Phil sighed. “I’ll never get it right. Leslie? No chance of fixing things there. She ran off to find that Turner character, and I seriously doubt she’s really interested in keeping in touch. So once again, I tried to get it right, and I blew it.” Phil shook his head. “Maybe I just shouldn’t try.”

“What are you talkin’ about, kid?”

Phil turned. “You again?”

The singer chuckled. “Yeah, nice to see you too. Now what’s this nonsense I keep hearing about giving up?”

Phil rolled his eyes. “You came all the way down here to talk me out of giving up? Don’t they have lounge gigs for you up there?”

Frank shook his head. “You’ve got a smartass reply for everything, don’t ya?” The sky darkened for an instant and there was a faint rumble of thunder. Frank looked up. “Pardon my French.”

“So I suppose you have a logical explanation as to why everything’s going wrong, and you’re about to tell me it’s all my fault.”

“Actually,” Sinatra replied, “it is your fault. You’ve got it all wrong. Don’t you think the Boss put you on this island for a reason?”

Phil shrugged. “I figured it was to help people and do the whole hero thing.”

Frank nodded. “Yeah… but not by yourself!”

Phil looked at him, puzzled.

“There’s a bunch of folks on this island that are here for the same reason you are. Oh, I’m sure many would say that they had no choice in comin’ here, and plenty would claim to be in it for the money. But deep down, they’re all here to help people. And they try to do it in a team. That’s where you went wrong, kid.”

Phil frowned. “You think my best shot is with the team.”

Frank looked around. “Last I checked, kid, you didn’t have very much in the way of a family. Those guys are the closest you’ll get to one until you figure out who you are. But that’s not the point. The reason I’m here is to keep you from throwin’ in the towel. You’ve got some amazing talents that even you don’t know about. You’re in a position to do a lot of good, and the Boss doesn’t want you to throw that away.”

“But no matter what I do,” Phil objected, “I always manage to hurt the people closest to me.”

Sinatra threw up his hands. “What kind of excuse is that? Don’t you think everyone in your position goes through the same thing? It’s the cost of being a hero, Phil. You do your best to help people, you take your chances. A lot of stuff happens that you can’t control, and a lot of it is bad. People close to you get hurt. But no matter how many times you swear you’re gonna quit, you can never bring yourself to it. Because there’s always that look of gratitude on the face of the person you’ve helped. There’s always the bystanders, cheering you on. And there’s always the fact that this is your life. You’re a hero simply because it’s all you know. And you can’t just walk around with all those abilities and not use them for something. The choice you have is whether you’re gonna use ‘em to do what’s right or to get what you can for yourself. And that second one pretty much always comes at the expense of somebody else.”

“Seems like everything I’ve done came at the expense of Gabi,” Phil said, indicating the grave overlooking the harbor.

Sinatra pulled something out of the pocket of his tuxedo jacket. It was the note Gabi had written Phil and left in her room. “Shut up and read this,” Frank said.

Phil unfolded the paper and read carefully…

Phil,
If you get this, it probably means that something's happened, and I'm no longer there with you. I’m sure that you will feel responsible in some way for whatever’s happened to me. It’s just the way you are. But let me remind you that you left me back in New York with no way of knowing I wasn’t dead. You didn’t make me come all the way here, and you didn’t make me reveal who I really am. I did it all because I love you. You are the greatest thing that’s ever happened to me, and no matter who I have to run from, what I have to fight, where I have to go, or even what it was that ultimately took my life, I have never regretted my choice for an instant, and I never will. So don’t blame yourself, no matter what’s happened. And don’t be afraid to move on without me. No matter where you go, I’ll still be with you, watching from wherever I am now. And I’ll be inside you, in your head and in your heart. I love you more than anything.
Love always,
Gabi

P.S.: You might want to give that Leslie girl another chance. Her ass is almost as great as mine!

Phil wiped his eyes absently, then remembered that Frank was still standing there.

“You think she had no choice in the whole thing?” Sinatra asked incredulously. “Now I know you knew her better than that, kid. That woman left everything behind to help you in New York. She could’ve just left you to die in that river, but she risked her life to save yours. Then she followed you all the way here, when you didn’t even know she was still alive! And she came to that building for one reason and one reason only – to save you. Now, I’ve run into a lot of great girls, but I can count on one hand the ones who were as incredible as your Gabi. She loved you more than anything, and to say that you dragged her into all this not only ignores that completely but makes you seem quite a bit more important than you are. I know neither of those are the real you.”

Phil nodded. “You’re right. But what do I do now?”

“Well,” the singer replied, “now you better figure out how to give this team of yours another try. I know for a fact that some pretty tough stuff is comin’ your way, and they could use somebody with your skills. And you could use a family. But don’t take it from me. Go see for yourself.”

Phil smiled. “I will. And Frank?”

“Yeah, kid?” Frank began to fade from existence.

“Thanks again.”

The singer grinned. “Anytime. I’ll be around if you need me.”

Phil turned and headed back down the hill to one of the MBL cars. He slowly drove away from Gabi’s final resting place and headed for the new HQ.

The team would probably be needing him pretty soon…

The matress squeaked under the weight on Dirk dropping down onto it. He hated traveling by any means not created or domesticated by man. Having a spell and a fifth dimensional imp carry you across the globe was not his idea of First Class. He gazed out the window of his room and saw the fish factory below. The ex-soldier wished that he had a better view. At least the wind was out of the east this time. Maybe he could get a little rest and put this whole Zombie/Amazon thing out of his mind.

"Can I speak to you for a minute," said the head the peaked in through his door. The body soon followed. Tayden pulled up a chair and sat at the foot of Dirk's bed.

"For fuck's sake! You'd think an angel would have better manners."

"Oh. Sorry. Buy about the book we found."

"You're talking about the book that you said was it? That He said was it?"

"Yeah. That one. I've been thinking about it. He told me that it was the book that we were meant to find. He never said that it was the book that we were hired to find. It's got to be for something else."

"Look," Dirk said as he stood up. "I don't give a damn if it sprouts wings and flies. It wasn't what we were after, and it wasn't what I was willing to fight a fucking zombie horde for."

"Sometimes, there are things that are more important than...."

"Yeah. Yeah. Yeah," the gunslinger said in a rythme of annoyance while pushing Tayden out of his door.

"I'm not leaving," the angel took his stand. "What I have to say is of the most importance, and I'm not leaving until I say it."

"Ok. You stay and deliver your sermon. I'm leaving." He walked out the door and slammed the door behind him.

"I need to start thinking these things through a little better," the ex-angel mused to himself.

"You look like you've been through Hell," a lovely Scottish accent filled Dirk's ears.

"Hell is not the word for it."

"What happened?" she sat in the chair across from him.

"Shit that you'd never believe."

Aine just smiled a wicked grin. "I see that it hasn't improved your attitude."

"Very little does," he returned the grin. "But, now it's over. I have nothing on the calendar coming up soon. How about you?"

"Oh, I've got to leave in the morning. Somewhere in Asia. Shouldn't be gone more than a few day. You can ring me up next week."

"There's the problem," he leaned back to allow his waiter to deliver the meals. "I'm not much of an extended planner. I pretty much just look at the day ahead of me."

"Well," she said while looking at her plate, "I see you planned far enough in advance to make this dinner as short as possible. I can guess what you have planned for later."

"One day at a time."

Mini Epilogue
The Fish Factory

Danny, Mick, Shirley, and Michael Ringo sat watching the television. Meta TeleVision, or Meta TV, a new pirate channel had recently sprung up and was making a stir. Due to the technological wizardry of Grissom Montag, the small tv set in the fish factory was able to pick up this channel, along with many others.


Grimm walked into the room and sat down not far from Michael. The steel folding chair groaned audibly under his weight. "Hey, man," Michael said. "Change back and grab a brew or something."

Grimm looked over at the man. "Change. . .back. . .!?" Danny could swear he saw a look of confusion pass over Grimm's skull face. "I'm seeing shite," he thought to himself.

"Yeah, you know," Michael continued, "I changed back from Vengeance, Mick changed back from Mxy, but you haven't changed and we've been back for hours."

Grimm let out a sound that from anyone else might be considered a sigh. He then got up and walked out of the room. "What'd I say?" Micheal asked his new friends.

"You wanna tell 'im?" Danny looked at Mick. "Tell 'im what?" Mick asked while munching on a fishstick. "I'll tell him." Shirley said, slightly exasperated.

"You see, Michael, Grimm doesn't, uhm, change back. He's like that all the time."

Michael's eyes went wide, "Ohhhhh. . .shit. Uh, you think I should apologize or something?"

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

Elsewhen. A place that may not truly even be a place.

Five robed men stand around a pool of water, gazing into the rippling water. "So, he is successfully among them, then?" the first questioned his brethren. "Yes, and the true purpose of our "Sword of Vengeance" is now begun. To watch over those manifesting beings that are but pawns of aeons old supernatural forces. The Devourer among them. . ."

"But what of the dragon? Or the angel? And the ancient blood sword of the champion? We did not take into account any of this! Surely this complicates matters!" Another said.

"This complicates nothing. Our "watchdog" will continue his job. The appearance of so many preternatural beings only underscores the need for his mission."

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

Mini Epilogue cont.

The Fish Factory

". . .so all of that happened because of you? The zombies, Vengeance, all because of what you are?" Tayden and Grimm sat out side the factory on a makeshift patio (every convenience was makeshift here.) Tayden asking the question though he already knew the answer. Sensing Grimm's need to talk, the angel didn't let on.

"Yeah, inadvertently. When I killed the being who became Vengeance, I was trying to defend a friend, granted I didn't get to know Naecken very well, but Sam was a different story. When I thought Knell had disfigured Sam in the Castle of Crossed Destinies, my rage, my power interacted with the Castle's energies somehow, and I unleashed those things that killed that town. I was accusing Priest of just being a murderer earlier, and I'm no damn better."

"We all make mistakes, Grimm. Your actions, you did what you thought was right at the time. You were acting out of concern for your friends. I've seen much worse things done for much worse motives." Tayden's eyes began to peer off into the distance briefly. He shook himself out of his reverie. "Besides, Vengeance is gonna be one of us now. You've had a hand in creating a new hero. That's a good thing, right?"

"Yeah, maybe you're right, Tayden. Hey, there goes Phil. Is he talking to himself?"

"Who can say, Grimm?" Tayden smiled.
**********************

Meanwhile. . .in the kitchen. . .of justice. . .

"Maybe you could be "Major Distaster?" The Luchadore asked.

"Taken." Johnny Bates replied.

"How about "Captain Dingleberry?"

"Too much dignity."

"What about "The Flaming Hairball?"

"It has "flaming" in it."

"What in the world are you two doing?" Dr. Huerta said, walking into the kitchen, his over large feet slapping the floor.

"Well," Johnny replied, "You know how everyone on the team has codenames? Like you're "Monkey Boy," Blackwulf is "Lassie," Mikey is "The Luchadore,". . .

"Dirk is "The Bastard." Luchadore continued.

"Yeah, and Phil is "The Dumbass." Johnny continued.

"Wait, wait, wait," Dr. Huerta interrupted. Who told you that Dirk is "The Bastard," and that Phil is "The Dumbass?"

"Well, that's what they're always calling each other in the hallways." Johnny offered.

Right at that moment, Phil Smith walked into the kitchen. "Man, I'm starving. How are you guys liking the place?" He said.

The Luchadore looked up, smiled genuinely and waved, saying, "Hi, Dumbass!"

Phil Smith stopped in his tracks. He set his lower jaw firmly and looked over at the masked man. The Luchadore's mask suddenly shifted around completely backwards. "Hey, turn the lights back on!" The Luchadore himself then shot up out of his chair and crashed into the ceiling. He hung there, suspended by his neck.

"This really is not the time for that." Phil muttered, walking out of the room.

"Guys? Guys??" The Luchadore asked, still hanging from the ceiling. "Was there an earthquake?"

Juanito, Pedro and Manito, the three brothers that once were the neighbohood rascals, got the surprise of their life when the flying stranger came to their house loaded with parcels and bags.

Little Pedro ran inside the house to call his mom as the other two brothers just stood there with their mouths open.

The flying man told them not to worry and that he came with gifts to the ones that had been so kind to him awhile ago.

It took Juanito a few moments to realise who this "flying stranger" was...
A memory of throwing a pie on a newcomer´s face surfaced...and he swallowed hard.
Had this man come to repay the practical joke?
Or was he sincere in his statement, that he was here giving thanks?

Their mother came out and saw the wonderfull bags which the flying stranger was currently opening to show the suspicious kids that he was here in friendship.

The mother saw the food, fruits, medical aids, blankets and some extra clothing, and wept and smiled at the same time.
She gave him a bearhug and told him that these supplies came right in time...their things had been blown away in the storm, and their current money was just enough to cover the rent for the new flat they had managed to find.
He would allways be considered a friend of the family.

The flying stranger smiled back, promised to visit again, and told the boys to behave and obey their mother at all times.

They humbly promised or hoped to die, and saw the flying stranger take off in the clear sky.
Juanito would remember this day forever...even the day in the future, a few years from now, when he stood and spoke the loyalty oath for membership in the Taskforce.

"Anything intersting on?" Tayden asked as he walked into the room with the small TV.

"Nothing much." Drake repiled. "Just the worst scum I ever took off of the street getting released on a technicality."

"Oh. I'm sorry." Tayden said as he watched the smirking, platinum blonde man on the TV screen climb into a black limo with his team of lawyers.

"That's Jonas Cascade. Seriously bad news. He's rich and powerful in more ways than one. I thought I'd finally taken him off the streets for good on my last mission as Nightwatch. Guess that shows me for being too noble to kill the bad guys."

"There's nothing wrong with not wating to kill."

"Yeah, I'm gonna keep telling myself that when his body count starts going up again. See ya around. I'm afraid I'm going to be sick if I keep watching this."

Tayden noticed that Drake was leaning on his cane more than usual as he limped out of the room.

It’s been a year since this was a fish factory but the sea gulls still swarm it. Old habits die hard I suppose…but then again so does the smell of dead fish. Tayden sat at the end of a pier, formerly used for fishing boats that docked onto the plant. Staring at the setting sun, with his feet dangling over the water….he thought to himself.

(Thought Bubble begins)
Books of power, zombies, sweltering jungles, killers set free, and the anti-MBL…chaos and death averted for another day…all the kids get to wake up and go to school tomorrow and mom and dad get to go out and bring home some bacon.

Meanwhile Drake gets weaker; Dirk grows even bitterer; Euro sinks deeper into insanity…and the distance between who I was and who I am rapidly becomes a gulf.

It’s so easy to drown in sorrow here. So easy to lose heart. So easy to get lost in the moments and lose sight of the bigger picture….(If this was a cartoon this is the point where you’d see a light bulb over Tayden’s head) …...wait a minute…….. That’s why I’m here isn’t it…..to get lost in those moments…..to get to experience what I couldn’t from observation alone…..It’s one thing to watch these people go through “life” and its another to put on their shoes and start walking.

Ha! That’s why we’re all here isn’t it….. to feel the pain and love. It’s not the destination…..it’s the journey. You didn’t send me here to do something. Oh Father, I’ve been so vain! You don’t need me to accomplish you’re goals. You’re GOD. You sent me here to….live!
(Thought Bubble ends)


Tayden stood up, looked up, and shouted toward the sky. “That’s it isn’t it!!” he yelled.
As if on cue, Tayden saw a gull leave the flock and glide right over him. In what seemed like slow motion the bird dropped an enormous bomb of excrement directly into the right eye of the angel.

Tayden wiped his face, smiled, and muttered almost inaudibly, “Yep.”

The (almost finished) MBL Consulting Complex

Three figures suddenly appear in the middle of the part of the complex still in construction. They are Grissom Montag, Phil Smith, and Mister Mxy.

"Thank you, Mxy, now please take us to the Tower!" Grissom says.

"Ummm, guys...?" Phil says, looking around and noticing something that doesn't fit.

"What is it, mate? We don't have much time, Grimm is waiting for us at the basement of the Tower!" Grissom replies.

"Where did the Hurricane go?" Phil says.

Grissom looks around and notices what Phil noticed moments earlier. The Hurricane is gone.

"Where are we, Mxy?!" Grissom asks.

"The Island of La Perdita!" Mxy answers.

"...when are we?"

"January, 2003."

"You took us to the bloody future, Mxy!" Grissom exclaims. "Take us back to the present NOW! We have to help against the Hurricane!"

"All righty doody poo..." Mxy says, opening a portal in front of the three men.

"Quickly, mate, get inside!" Grissom says to Phil.

"I don't think I can stomach another one of those trips, Mr Montag..." Phil says.

"Ah, you sure can. I bet you're tougher than you think. As soon as you get your memory back you'll see I'm right. Get in," Grissom replies. As Phil starts getting into the portal, Grissom adds, "And, mate?"

"Yes?" Phil says with half of his body in 2003 and the other half in 2002.

"Call me Griss."

Pneuma walked silently up the aisle of the departing airplace, unnoticed by both the staff and the passengers.

He'd made his way through customs without once seeing a security guard or walking through a metal detector. And he'd simply strolled through the gate towards the plane without having to present a boarding pass to anyone.

And here he was, on the plane, and he'd found what he was after. A row of empty seats, near the back of the plane. He wouldn't have to stand, or sit in the aisle, after all.

While he wouldn't have had any real problem with ejecting someone from their seat, it would draw unnecessary attention.

He sat down in one of the empty seats and relaxed. He raised one hand and ran it over the opposite wrist, checking things. The guantlets remained in perfect working order, so he could still appear completely invisible to the naked eye for as long as he wished. He smiled.

Project Omicron was over. That much he was sure of. Johnny was dead, and the others had been apprehended by that other team of mercenaries. Even if they managed to reorganise themselves, their reputation was shot.

No, Pneuma would have to forget any possible future employment by Project Omicron.

But that didn't really matter. After all, he knew where they kept all their money. The quite impressive profits from their various missions. He knew the bank account numbers and locations of safe deposit boxes.

He knew secrets that even Johnny Omicron had thought private.

Yes, Pneuma could set himself up rather nicely.

Of course, the other team members wouldn't like it when they came for their share of the profit and found it gone. They'd be rather pissed off. But he doubted they'd come after him.

And if they did... well, he knew their secrets, too.

As a stewardess walked past, Pneuma grabbed a beer from the back of the cart, and knocked a packet of peanuts onto the floor. He picked up the peanuts, then unscrewed the top of the beer.

Yes, Pneuma was going to be just fine...

Walt Disney World

Orlando, FL, USA

9:36 AM


The men casually strolled through the open gates with the rest of the crowd. When they approached the ticket booth, the man in the tuxedo simply said something to the booth worker and smiled. The men entered the park without paying.

"Ok, remember the plan, spread out through the park, act casual. When I give the signal, go." The man in the tux, gave the orders to the rest of his crew who followed them implicitly.

The large, muscular man with the ram face and horns, scratched absently at the blue paint that he had to wear for the sake of this job. "Stuff itches; I hate it." He mumbled. His partner in the red spandex outfit and mask seemed to preoccupied to notice.


At precisely 12:00 PM, "Nowhereman" gave the order. The Metahuman Brotherhood of Liberation struck.

"TC" used his abilities to slow down a crowd of people in front of a roller coaster, while making the ride go ever faster and faster. Finally, it skipped the tracks and jumped the side of the railing.


"Naecken" used his brute strength and horns to bring down as many buildings as he could, while "Eurostar" used his metagene to mimic the abilities of his many of his partners as possible.

"LLance" stood and shrugged off a blow from a security guard. The guard's hand felt like he'd broken it. If he had been able to look, he might have seen what would appear to be a metallic sheen where his hand had struck the man's face. "LLance" proceeded to pummel the guard mercilessly.

"Danny" began summoning as many temporal duplicates of himself as he could to maximize his destructive capability.


"Velo" unleashed massive amounts of concussive force beams from his hands, lashing out at anyone or anything in his sight. At one point, he carved the initials "MBL" on the side of a half-standing building.

"Mxy" used his hallucinogenic abilities to cause entire crowds to voluntarily commit suicide, some gouged out their own eyeballs, while others walked directly into "Velo's" force blasts or "Naecken's" Charging body.

By 3:37 PM, the entire park was a ruin. The meta human terrorists had allowed a local news crew to film the carnage, broadcasting live, then did away with them as well. As "Eurostar" ran the camera, "Nowhereman" addressed the viewing audience.

"This is a warning to the norms. The day of the metas is coming. We have been gathering power for months. We have done small acts, here and there, but no more. Now we shall strike, and strike hard. The government has had their chance, and failed. The day of the Metahuman Brotherhood of Liberation is at hand. Be ready, for the MBL is here!"

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

On La Perdita, those members of MBL Consulting who had been in front of the small television set, could only watch in horror at the atrocities committed in their name.

...and half a world away, in the deep snowy glaciers of the Antarctic, the now red feiry Naecken laughed at the transmission showing his old self and his "friends" making havok on the theme park.

"What fools are not these mortals. But it will serve my purposes just fine. It will keep my past associates busy enough so they won´t interfere with my plans."

Zveidi smiled at him.
"Should I send some troops their way?"

"No. Best to leave things as they are. My recruit tour will begin soon, and maybe that little team will be persuaded to join us." he grinned.
The Antarctic was his, and soon the world would bow to him as well.

Epilogue: The Final Frontier, Mark I

"So what do we do about Kit?"

The question -- asked by Phil -- hung in the air in the small meeting Dr. Henry Quantos had requested with himself, Phil, and Grissom over Kit's fate.

"Well, it's obvious that Kit's mismanaged the company," began Dr. Quantos after a long pause -- nobody really wanted to say anything bad about the man, who had otherwise treated each of them and everyone in the team and company fairly. "I had my doubts at the beginning, back when MBL Consulting was first formed here on the island, but Kit... well, he's very persuasive. After talking with him directly I honestly believed he would be able to manage this enterprise despite it being beyond his past business experience."

"Strange..." Grissom said, "...I've also found Kit to have a power of persuasion rare even in the most successful salesmen or con artists. I wonder if it's possible that--"

"Yes," Phil said.

"Eh? What's that, Phil?" Quantos asked.

"Yes. Yes, he is."

"Yes, he is what?" asked Grissom.

"You were about to ask whether he might be a metahuman -- one with powers of suggestion, a sort of low-grade telepath," said Phil. "I was merely stating that he was. But I don't think he even knows it. It's what makes him such a great salesman, and such a great con artist."

Grissom scowled at Phil, realizing he'd picked up his thoughts, though he also quickly realized that Phil's empathy allowed him to read people much better than an ordinary person could without having to actually scan one's mind. "Hm. Well, yes, anyways -- what are we going to do about Kit?"

"I should mention that I've spoken with him at length already," said Dr. Quantos. "He's agreed that he should step down as the acting President of the company. He really doesn't want the rest of the team to know that he had embezzled the team's funds, but he's willing to abide by whatever we decide for him."

"Well, considering the circumstances, mates, I would find it extremely uncomfortable to 'tattle' on Kit to the rest of the team over that matter, especially now that the funds he had embezzled have been completely returned," Grissom said after another pause. "His daughters were kidnapped and had guns basically pointed to their temples if he did anything he wasn't told to do. Kit's not a hero -- he's not one of us, just a normal guy, the powers of suggestion thing notwithstanding -- can we really say that, if we were in his position, we would have done anything different?"

"I can't imagine," Dr. Quantos said. "I just can't imagine what Kit was going through. If anyone had tried such a thing with my daughter Helen when she was a child, I simply don't know what I'd have done."

"Whatever you guys decide is fine by me," Phil finally said as he realized the other two were waiting for him to weigh in. He really didn't have his mind too much on this issue right now. He'd had his own share of tragedy in the past few days. "But what do we tell the team when they ask why Kit's being let go?"

Dr. Quantos frowned in thought for a moment, then spoke. "It's simple, really -- Kit wasn't a very good President in the first place, as I've realized after looking over the company records and having some very frank discussions with various team members over the last year. He hired people with guns who came in from literally nowhere with no explanation and topped that by hiring a guy who had actually attempted to kill another teammate! Not to mention that he overstepped his bounds by doing that and by bossing the team around even though he was essentially an employee. To top it off, he began an expensive and terribly ambitious building project, not to mention having me purchase a U.S. Army-grade hovercraft for a smooth billion dollars or so, even though the team hadn't even had a job for literally MONTHS, all because he was relying on the money pouring in from a completely difference source -- BountyLand Foods -- meaning that he hadn't even managed to make the company self-sustaining before putting all the capital into a building project which was essentially completely superfluous and unnecessary -- that's definitely not a good sign of company management. That and the strain of his kids getting kidnapped adding stress into the mix is understandably called 'mismanagement' even WITHOUT adding the embezzlement into the mix."

Quantos grinned sheepishly and said, "No, I think everyone will see why Kit had to go."

"Fine by me," Grissom said. "Phil?"

"Sure. Whatever."

"That's that, then. But it leads us to another problem," said Grissom. "Who's going to run the company? Could you do it, Doc?"

Dr. Quantos smiled and said, "Thanks for your confidence in my abilities, Griss, but I've never been a businessman, just a scientist and a doctor. If need be, I'd be willing to step into the role just long enough until we hired someone who's qualified and professional enough to turn around the company's and team's financial troubles. Luckily, though, if all goes well, it looks like I won't have to."

"What do you mean, Doc?" asked Grissom.

"It's the reason I've called the team meeting today," said Dr. Quantos. "I'll be introducing the team to an individual who has a great deal of business experience and who also has enough capital to fully invest in the company enough to keep it out of bankruptcy. After all, even with the money that Kit took returned to us by Griffin, the team is still in the red due to all the bills we've incurred in recent months."

"That sounds all right, Doc, though I did mention I could help out the company myself with my own funds," Grissom said.

"I'm sure they will come in handy anyways, Griss," Quantos said. "We'll be needing other investors as well. Anyways, the meeting is supposed to start in about five minutes, so I should attend to our guest before it begins. But there was another minor thing concerning Kit that I wanted to consult you two about..."

Epilogue: The Final Frontier, Mark II

If there was one fault the team that went under the aegis of "MBL Consulting" (or "The MBL" for short) most struggled with (other than charges of "unprofessionalism"), it was tardiness. Especially where meetings were concerned.

Part of the reason for that was that every one of them was very much an individualist (which was also why "teamwork" was another element often missing from the team) with his or her own personality quirks and personal differences between each other. And nobody wanted to be the first one to get to the meeting, the one who had to wait for everyone else. Likewise, few wanted to be the very last one to show up and keep everyone else waiting. And then there was one or two who simply didn't give a shit one way or the other. See what I mean? It was a team of individualists. And for some strange reason a team of these independent-minded individuals seemed to make it work for some reason... at least so far. The big blow-ups between the team members who were considered "rivals" for one reason or another (Danny & Priest, Dirk & Chance, and others) hadn't really happened... yet. But it was more like the situation was in a holding pattern. There was still the possibility that things could get ugly very quickly if the situation changed. For one thing, the "rivals" on the team hadn't really worked together directly much yet. And nobody really knew whether each could count on his or her "rival" for support if the team found themselves in dire danger and needed to work together in order to simply survive. That test hadn't really been put to them yet.

Now, as the team members slowly began to trickle in and finally fill the seats in the Fish Factory's Cafeteria, the sound of chatter between the "friends" in the group began happening, growing more loud as more people began talking. Everyone was wondering what the meeting was for. Almost everyone was wondering what the financial state of MBL Consulting was in. After all, it had only been two days or so since Kit told them how bad the situation was with the company. And while "the company" did not equal "the team," it was the source of the team's regular paychecks.

"Doc will be here in just a moment," Grissom said in front of everyone loud enough that everyone could hear over the din, which quieted down as most heard him.

"Dr. Quantos?" Chance asked. "Is he here?"

"Yeah," Grissom said. "He'll be chairing the meeting tonight."

"Where's Kit?" Danny asked.

"Any and all questions will be answered at the meeting," Grissom said. "Even I don't know completely what it's about. But I think the company's financial problems will be able to be worked out."

More murmuring. It was a few more moments before Dr. Quantos walked in and leaned against the dessert counter at the front of the cafeteria. A contrite-looking Kit Piper walked in behind him and took a chair in the corner away from the team. Another few moments before the chattering ceased altogether.

Dr. Quantos smiled as he cleared his throat. It had been awhile before he'd had to address an audience, even one as small as this one. "Hello, folks. And welcome back! I suppose you're wondering why I called this meeting today. Well, it shouldn't come as a surprise to any of you that the company's in some very deep financial straits right now. I believe Kit mentioned that the company was in danger of losing its outside funding from BountyLand Foods. Well, I'm sorry to say that this has been confirmed. Our company's lawyer has informed me that the deed our own Pete Glover attained for BountyLand Foods was only good as long as he was alive, and that, should he go missing without any proof of his death in the form of a death certificate, the ownership would revert to its previous owners as of January 1st. Most of you know that Pete was taken from us under strange circumstances which can't be legally proven, and so we've lost control of that company permanently.

"As well, the rebuilding project of our apartment complex in Puerta Mibela, although officially owned by Sam Dawson, has been paid for by MBL Consulting funds. The, uh, rather ambitious plans for its rebuilding which Kit green-lighted were reasonable so long as the funds from BountyLand were coming in, but now that MBL Consulting is reliant only upon its own income, the bills we've already incurred for the rebuilding project and have yet to incur are beyond our current ability to pay. It should also be mentioned that the Stormloader, our army-grade hovercraft, had already used up almost all of the millions that Pete had donated to the team when he was still with us.

"Gentlemen, we're broke."

This caused a flurry of more chatter, and a few hands went up, while others simply shouted questions at Dr. Quantos.

"Hold on, now, hold on," Dr. Quantos said, holding his hands up as the collective volume of the room rose suddenly. "I'm not finished. I'd like to ask everyone to please hold their questions until after I've finished speaking. I believe I will have just about all the answers to your questions.

"As I was saying, the company is broke. And unfortunately, the hovercraft cannot be returned due to its having been almost destroyed and now rebuilt, so we can't do much about that. As well, the company is under a binding contract with the construction company to complete the rebuilding project of the apartment, as ambitious as it is. We can't do anything about that at this point, either. It is imperative that the company begins earning an income for various missions at this time, as we desperately need the funds, but even that will not pay all the bills. We're going to need outside investors. Now, Grissom has volunteered to invest some of his own company's funds, and we have some other investors interested, but before I get to this next point, I have something else to say.

"I regret to inform all of you that Kit will be stepping down as President of MBL Consulting," said Dr. Quantos. Kit nodded as everyone looked in his direction but remained silent. "He's discussed his decision to step down with me earlier, and it comes from a number of reasons. Simply put, Kit feels that he has bitten off more than he can chew in the position he put himself in when co-founding the company almost a year ago. While he had grand plans and dreams of making MBL Consulting into a world-class, professional firm of troubleshooters, he simply was not prepared when our funding was pulled out from under us.

"As well, as some of you may have heard by now, Kit's daughters were kidnapped recently." The chattering began again, but Dr. Quantos continued quickly before the noise level grew too much, "Don't worry, don't worry... they're safe now, thanks to the efforts of our own Grissom Montag and Phil Smith, but unfortunately the girls' mother, Diana Piper, was killed during the rescue. Kit and Diana had been divorced for a number of years now, but he is quite distraught over it. Currently he is trying to attain legal custody of his daughters, now that their mother is gone. When she was alive he had joint custody. Understandably enough, Kit will be quite busy with his own family matters for some time to come.

"However, and this is something even Kit hasn't heard about yet--" Dr. Quantos grinned as he looked up at a downcast Kit. "--I think there is yet a place for Kit in this company. Not as president, but as our Chief of Sales and Public Relations. After all, sales are what Kit seems to excel at best." A slight smile and a look of deep gratitude splayed over Kit's face then, and he seemed to look a little less downtrodden at once.

"Now to come to our next order of business: Investment. As I mentioned, the only way this company is going to survive, assuming we want it to survive -- and I really think it could be a great vehicle for good in this world -- we are going to need some outside investment. As well, we are going to need to employ someone to actually run the company and get it back on its feet. None of us in this room have the right kind of experience in those matters, but I am privileged enough to know someone who does."

At that, Dr. Henry Quantos walked over to the cafeteria's kitchen door and knocked once. "We're ready for you now," he said.

A few moments passed as the entire team sat in anticipation and curiosity. Puzzled looks passed over the faces of each of them as they were kept waiting for that time. Then, finally, the door opened.

Out of the kitchen stepped a tall, dark-haired woman in a jade-green komono dress which had a dragon motif running from bottom to top. The woman, who had oriental features, was utterly beautiful and also somewhat ageless. She could have passed for a 20-year-old or a 40-year-old, though she simply held a knowing maturity in her eyes which belied her true age. She was statuesque and perfectly proportioned, and her long, raven-black hair was drawn up in a bun for this business meeting. She smiled softly and briefly as she stepped into the cafeteria and nodded at Dr. Quantos, who smiled back at her and gave her the floor.

"Hello," the woman said in a sultry voice in a perfect "Royal" English accent. "My name is Victoria Xiang, and I am the former CEO of the Mandelovia-based Malvan-X Incorporated. Some of you may know me under the informal title of 'Miss X'..." And she seemed to grin slightly as she paused to let this sink in.

Most of the members of the team had no idea who this woman was, but a few of the founders, such as Danny, Edulcore, Tobias, and Mick, as well as Kristogar, passed a glance amongst themselves as they recognized the name. They'd had their own run-ins with Malvan-X Incorporated, as had Chance in his own timeline, and they remembered all too well the fantastic destruction of that company which led to General D'goon's overthrow of the Mandelovian government and which caused the team to flee that country and settle in La Perdita.

"Allow me to tell you something of my own history," Miss X continued. "I was born in Hong Kong. Don't ask me which year that was, as I'm not obliged to tell you. After all, it's not polite to ask a woman's age." She smiled. "At an early age I found that I excelled in my studies, whether they were science, literature, or business, and by the time I finished grade school there were several universities interested in enrolling a person of my aptitude. I chose Oxford, and I spent four years at that fine institution in England, even though it meant leaving my home in Hong Kong. Upon graduation I was approached by a representative of the Mandelovian government. I had heard rumours of such happenings in the past, but these were only rumours, and none of my friends or acquaintances had actually known anyone who had come to the attention of the Mandelovians. Thus, I listened intently as he made me an offer.

"He told me that Mandelovia's immigration policies were among the strictest in the world, allowing only the most intelligent and brilliant individuals to actually become citizens. Since the 1970s, non-citizens -- such as your own Dr. Quantos -- had been allowed to have work-Visas and stay there for a limited period of time, but only citizens were fully embraced into Mandelovian society. As well, it wasn't until the 1970s that immigrants from non-European countries had even been allowed entrance into this rather xenophobic country. After visiting Mandelovia and being given a mere glimpse into the advanced science of Mandelovia -- which is far in advance of consumer technology anywhere else in the world -- I made the decision to become a Mandelovian citizen and join that nation's elite League of Science.

"The next few years were a joy for me. Using my business sense and my scientific aptitude, I bought a small Mandelovian company called Malvan-X and transformed it into the multinational conglomerate that it became. As I mentioned, Mandelovia had always been very xenophobic, but since more liberal governments had come into power since the 1970s, Mandelovia was beginning to open its door slightly more to the world, even going so far as to allow foreign companies to establish factories on Mandelovian soil and sell their products there. Likewise, before I took ownership of Malvan-X that small company was based solely in Mandelovia and had no business interests elsewhere, and I changed all that. Under my helm Malvan-X became a leader worldwide in several consumer technologies. In fact, it was beyond the cutting edge due to its possessing technologies unknown to the rest of the world.

"This all ended in 2002, almost one year ago. It was then that something -- or someone -- caused the destruction of every single Malvan-X building across the globe. Some have told me that my company's destruction was due to a rogue American agency, while others have inferred that it was caused by the 'bad luck' of one of your own former teammates, or a combination of both. Whatever it was, it ended my dreams for that company. With Malvan-X's destruction, I no longer had a home in Mandelovia.

"As well, the former liberal government of Mandelovia was overthrown by the right-wing head of the Mandelovian army, General Colton D'goon. All agreed that the liberal Mandelovian government up until that time had begun making changes to the traditional Mandelovian way of life too fast and too soon. Many Mandelovians resented the influx of outsiders to their country, and many more resented the outside influences of European and particularly American companies, such as McDonald's and Coca-Cola, which many saw as a corrupting influence on society as a whole. Mandelovia was losing its uniqueness. Therefore, it was not a surprise to me that General D'goon found a great deal of popular support behind his conservative movement. He promised to return Mandelovia to its rightful heritage, to the way of life it had lived for the past 500 years. And to some extent he did.

"But it meant that the Mandelovia which I had grown to love was no more. Moreoever, there was no one with enough influence to counterbalance D'goon's power, and in the interests of national security and the traditional ways of Mandelovia, he has turned my beloved country into a dictator state. Moreover, I fear that he may have ambitions of using Mandelovian technology and state secrets to gain power over other countries -- not by a coarse and foolhardy invasion, no, but through dominating the economy and politics of other countries. I have also heard rumours that he has gone on the one hand so far as to secretly employ a terrorist group called the Left Hand to keep the populace of Mandelovia in fear while on the other hand denouncing terrorism and putting into motion so-called 'Patriot Acts' which effectively limit the Mandelovian citizens' freedoms and rights even moreso, all in the name of national security. I'm sure you've all heard the saying, 'Never let your right hand know what your left hand is doing'? Well, D'goon has completely twisted the meaning of that phrase for his own purposes.

"Unfortunately, it looks like there are few at this time who have any chance of stopping him. I have heard rumours of a 'Heritage Movement', though, which seems to be a coalition of liberal and conservative Mandelovians who want to depose D'goon and actually return Mandelovia back to its traditional ways as D'goon had falsely promised. They do not wish to live in a police state any longer. Ah, but I do go on...

"After I left Mandelovia, I began traveling, using my vast fortune. I have spent the past year traveling all over the world investigating various incidents involving metahumans. Ever since my days at Malvan-X it has been an interest of mine. And it was just as I had begun to grow tired of wandering that I paid a visit to my former employee, Dr. Quantos, once the head of Research at Malvan-X. It was he who brought up the financial matters of your own 'MBL Consulting' and made a suggestion that I should invest.

"However, ever since arriving here at the island several hours ago by plane, I've been immersing myself in your missions and case files, and it has all been quite fascinating to me. As a team, you have a great deal of collective potential. However, it is untapped potential. Under the aegis of MBL Consulting some of that potential has been seen, but it has yet to truly flower. I believe that, if you hire me on as President of your company, I can create the most ideal conditions for your team to work, to be more effective in the world than you ever had before. From what Henry has told me about each of you, it seems that all of you have a noble spirit in one way or another -- you're not 'in this for the money' as such, but truly believe you can make a difference. Well, I believe in that goal. While the company is partly motivated by profit, the team is not.

"I can envisage a time when your team will be a shining example to the rest of the world of the good that metahumans can do. And I believe it is necessary now, more than ever, to construct a plan in which to enable that dream to come true. Your world needs you, gentlemen and ladies, and there is no more time to waste. I have many sources, some of which would be too difficult to explain, and I have heard of a great threat which will soon reach our world. It may be as soon as next month, it may be as late as next year, but it is coming soon. And you must be ready. We must all be ready. Thank you."

Dr. Quantos smiled and shook Miss X's hand, then addressed the team once again. "Folks, I would like to employ Miss X as our acting president, as she is really our best option, not only for rebuilding the company, but for making this team into a world-class one which will also help to gain freedoms for metahumans and humans worldwide while protecting the world from threats whether we're 'paid' to do so or not. I've been talking with Miss X over quite a few of her ideas for the company, and I've got to tell you that what she's said is only the tip of the iceberg. It's some really incredible stuff here, some of which might blow your collective minds.

"Anyways... she's agreed be hired on as President of the company on two conditions -- first, that 'MBL Consulting' as it is will be dissolved and reformed under a new name, which we'll have to come up with ourselves, and that she will retain the rights for the initials 'MBL' for her own purposes. I'm sure she can explain it much better than I can, but she would like to begin a project of her own she calls the 'Metahuman Board of Legitimation', a non-profit organization which will lobby for the civil rights of metahumans worldwide. She believes that, in time, this team will become the example of the good that metahumans can do in the world, as the world has already seen too much of the bad.

"The second condition is that I stay here on the island as well, to become the company's offical doctor. To this, I have agreed. All that remains is your approval. My own proposal in this matter is this -- that we give Miss X a 'probation period' of, say, four months, which will take us into May or so, in which she can begin rebuilding our newly renamed company. At that time, if we're satisfied with her efforts, we can keep her on, and if we're not, we can look for someone else. After all, you guys own the company, so it's all up to you. And, as a side matter, Miss X has also suggested that you guys elect an official chairman, vice-chairman, and treasurer in order to give leadership to the team as well as handle the team's own funds."

**********

Half an hour later, the individual members of the team formerly known as the "Revolutionaries" and the "MBL" left the cafeteria. So much had happened in such a short period of time, but it looked like things were beginning to turn out for the best. They were all-too-aware that they had enemies in the world who were looking for a chance to come gunning for them, so the fact that Miss X was able to salvage the rebuilding of their now-superscientific "Complex" was good news, indeed. The new Complex would actually be defensible like the old, ordinary apartment building couldn't be.

It wasn't as if none of them had their misgivings about Miss X, though. Danny, for one, didn't trust Malvan-X after they kidnapped him and did experiments on him back in Mandelovia, but on the other hand he trusted Doc Quantos, and he was willing to give Miss X the benefit of the doubt... at least for now. The majority of the others also voted in favor of giving Miss X a chance. After all, she was their employee and could be replaced if need be. And Kit just didn't seem to be able to do the job very well.

Mostly, though, it was a relief not to have to worry so much about where their next paychecks would come from. While under Kit they'd had very little to do for the past few months except rebuild since the hurricane struck, Miss X vowed to make sure the team members would be given a choice of as many or as few missions as they would like to take. Most of them, of course, would only require one or two of the guys to accomplish successfully, so it would probably be a while before the team got another big "group" mission as they'd just had. But the smaller missions would definitely help out in keeping them busy. Morale, which had been so low around the time of the Hurricane, was just beginning to pick up. And it would be necessary if they could only see what would be in store for them in the coming months and years...