RKMBs Forums .::Important::. Writer's Block Elseworlds: A Message Board League Tale.

Buildings tall, traveling as far back as the eye could see. A silver city existing high above the soil. All was good, all was peaceful... All was a lie.

Companies and Industry ran everything, building bigger and better technology. Bigger and better weapons. Until one day when it all blew up in their face. No one knows why it happened, but it did. The computers gained intelligence; making superhuman men and woman, a new breed of humans. These superhumans hunt down and kill normal people, attempting to clense the world of the human filth.

Now, there are no big buildings, no more silver city. Now, as people begin to pick up the pieces, it is a fight just to survive.

Thunder City Ruins

A man, mid to late twenties, is on his knees at the wreckage of an apartment complex. Tears flow from his eyes as he begins to comprend what has happened.

Dead. His wife, dead. Son, dead. Friends, dead. All dead.

The city, in ruins. He undoes his tie, throwing it on to the ground. After opening the top button on his dress shrit, he begins walking down the street. Looking for any other survivers.

Royal City Ruins

In one of the last remaning buildings, since the accident. Three figures talk to a computer screen, also known as the Administrator. All three men are in black suits with black glasses on, their names; Rob Kamphausen, DCWEBMASTR, and dcwebmastr2.

My Moderaters. It is time to finish the jobs you have been made for. Delete any remaining posters.

DCWEBMASTR: Sir, the cities and forums have been lay to waste. It will be a short time before the remaining posters die out.

dcwebmastr2: That could take months! For the next part of the plan, all must be eliminated! Now do what you have been programed to!

DCWEBMASTR: Yes, sir! All three Moderaters look at each other and then disappear.

Bibbo

Thunder City

The man, now sans tie, continues his search. Suddenly, he hears a bustle a few blocks east and hurries over. He finds a bar. The building is damaged, but it remains structurally fit. A few men and women pull injured citizens into the building where a makeshift hospital has been set up.

"You there!" a voice calls from the bar, "are you alright?"

A stocky man in a long peacoat steps over a pile of ruin and approaches the stranger.

"If you don't need medical attention, we'd appreciate the help with the survivors," the man continued, "the name's Bibbo, and this used to be my bar. Who are you?"

Tobias Christopher

Thunder City, not too far away from the bar

"I'm going to get you some help." The young man said as helped a woman and her young child out of some rubble.

"Thank you." The woman said. "Who are you?"

"The name's Tobias."

Eurostar

Elsewhere.

A ghostly figure pass across the rubble, looking for buried persons.

"Look a ghost, a GHOST!

"Have not fear people, for I am... the Ghost of Eurostar"

Chewy Walrus

Southside of Chicago

The smell of sulfur hit the young man's nostrils. He winced as he pulled himself from a pile of rubble, looking around him.

He saw bodies laying strewn about the area, most of them were dead. He saw his boss, the Shark, with a boulder crushing his head. He saw his little friend, Igor, impaled by a sliver of freakishly sharp rock.

He stood for a while and then realized the horrible truth.

He was all alone.

But, he didn't have time for tears. He was smart. Too smart for standing around to do nothing. He had a duty to figure out what had happened to all these people.

Walking along the street, he spied a cracked television that still ran footage from all over the world.

Royal City.

Thunder City.

Mandelovia.

Athanon County.

All of them lay in fire, ash, and rubble.

He then made up his mind.

He would go to the one place where people were likely to take a stand. He would do it for mankind. He would do it for his friends.

A bum on the street covered himself with a newspaper as the man walked by. Looking at his trenchcoat and fedora, the bum was a bit nervous.

"Wh-who are you?" he asked nervously. "How did you survive?"

The man looked down, cocked his hat and answered. "The name's Chewy... and I survived to avenge..."

Gooz

Chicago

A Police Station. Fallen ontop of itself. Just about everyone crushed. Four officers were just returning with known murder Jeff Viper, when the attack hit. They watched as their friends burned alive, not able to lift a hand to help them.

Detective Patrick Walker stood by his partner, Jessica Daniels. The two other offiers were rookies, Peter Jacobs and Ryan Hope, they called it in after seeing Viper flee. Walker had finally made the arrest after a three year killing spree which took 24 lives, all young females.

Now, the arrest seemed pointless.

Walker grabbed the still cuffed Viper and slammed his body against the police car. He drew his gun and pressed it on the murders face.

Patrick Walker: You did this! You!

Jessica Daniels: No, something else is happening. You can't do this. You can't go down to his level.

Patrick held the gun tightly, a shake to his hand.

Patrick Walker: No, he did this, he did it!

Before another word could be said, a dark figure landed behind them. His hands glowed a red/orange hue. Peter turned and drew his gun.

Peter: Hold it right there!

A blast of fire shot out of a hole on the figure's wrist and shot Peter. In the blind of an eye he was only ash.

Ryan: What the fuc-

Patrick turned and without saying a word, shot the figure directly in the heart, flooring it.

Jessica: What is that?

Patrick: I have no idea.

Patrick turns back towards Viper.

Jeff Viper: Don't look at me mate. Maybe that thing took out your station, no?

The three remaining officers looked at Viper and didn't notice as the figure got back to it's feet. A short scream could be heard before Ryan Hope was shot with a second blast. Killed on impact, only ash remained.

Patrick: NO! You pick of shit!

Patrick unloaded a full round of bullets on the figures chest, but to no effect. It moved closer towards the three remaining people. It looked towards Jessica, as it's hand lit up once again. It shot a blast directly towards her. Patrick jumed in the blast's way, taking a big blunt of it. He hit the ground hard, his body brused and bloody. Jeff was now nowhere to be seen, as the figure made it's way towards Jessica. It's hands lit up again.

BANG

A shot echoed over the block. A single bullet ripped through the figure's head. It's dropped to the ground motion less. Behind it stood Viper, Ryan's gun held tightly in his still cuffed hands.

Jessica made her way towards Patrick.

Jessica: Are you ok?

Patrick slowly opened his eyes, the pain unbearable.

Patrick: I, Jess, you are my best friend, my partner... I... It's just that...

Jessica: No, don't say goodbye, your going to be fine!

Half of Patrick's body was burnt beyond compare.

Patrick: You have always had a piece of my heart.

Jessica's eyes were filled with tears at his words.

Patrick: I love...

Before even getting to finish, he was dead. Now, Jessica was alone with Jeff Viper, the city in ruins. The cause still unknown.

Jessica pointed her gun towards Jeff, "put that down, put it down!"

Jeff slowly placed the gun on the street, a smile on his face, wit to his voice.

Jeff: I do believe I have just saved your life, no?

Jessica: All that I know, you could still be responsible for this. How did you know how to kill it?

Jeff kicked his gun passed Jessica, who bent over to pick it up. Jeff enjoyed the view.

Jeff: Don'tca ever watch the old horror movies? Dawn of the dead? Night of the living dead? You always go for the brain, it's the control center.

Jeff pointed his finger towards his head while talking, a smile still on his face.

Jeff: You know, others could still be out there, alive. Maybe you should just leave me alone and go help 'em.

Jessica: I don't think so. Start walking. If there are survivors, well find them, but I'm not letting you out of my sight.

DRAX

Milwaukee, Wisconsin

My city is in ruins. Its people have been slaughtered. My family is... is dead. There is nothing left here for me so I will go out, to seek my revenge. Though I have nothing left to protect, I am the Green Guardian. I will avenge Drake Marshall's city, its people and his family, no matter where I must go to do it.

Chewy Walrus

Chicago

The city around him lay in ruins. People all over were screaming for his help. And he felt he had no power to offer it.

In the years he had worked with the Elitum Protection Squad, the man known only as the Chewy Walrus had been smart. He prided himself on his intelligence, and made sure that everyone around him did as well. He was cocky, arrogant, and incredibly self-assured. He always had been.

But he wasn't any more.

He had just seen the great Windy City ripped to its knees and seen every person that he had ever known or loved had just been killed in what seemed to have been an earthquake.

But Chewy was smart.

He knew better.

Chicago wasn't close enough to a fault line to experience an earthquake of THIS magnitude. There had to be another explanation, but the Chewy Walrus, smart as he was, just couldn't think of one.

As Chewy walked along, he saw a small boy crawling out from under a pile of rubble that had once been an orphanage. The boy coughed once or twice, trying to rub the soot and dust from his face. However, he only succeeded in smearing it further.

The man in a trenchcoat and fedora walked up to the boy, stooping to help him. Producing a handkerchief from his pocket, he wiped the smudges and dirt from the small child's face. As he did so, Chewy realized that the boy was starting to cry.

"What's wrong, son?" Chewy asked, handing the boy his white hanky.

"I... I was sitting in the orphanage, talking with a couple of my friends, when... when..." the boy began to hiccup uncontrollably as he tried to get the words out of his mouth.

"Shh... shh..." Chewy said, giving the boy a slight hug, rubbing his back. "Take it easy. It's gonna be okay, son. It'll be okay."

The boy sniffed, rubbing his arm across his face, a string of snot coming off onto his wrist. "Wha... what happened here, mister?"

That's what I'm trying to figure out, kid," Chewy said, pushing his fedora up a bit on his head, looking around. "Did you see anything weird before the building collapsed?"

Chewy noticed as the little boy's lip began to quiver, but stopped suddenly as the boy choked out a "no."

"What's your name?" Chewy asked the little boy before him.

"Gordon," the boy answered, tugging nervously at his shirt. "But, all my friends call me the Worm, 'cuz I'm always playin' in the sand and 'cuz I'm so skinny and 'cuz I like gummy worms."

"Well, Gordon," Chewy said, a slight smile creeping across his face. "My name is Chewy, but some people call me the Walrus. I guess it was because I liked the Beatles so much as a kid or something."

"The what?" Gordon asked, scratching his head.

"Never mind, Gordon," Chewy said, rubbing his hand through the boy's hair, mussing it a bit. "You wanna go see if we can find anybody that might be able to help us figure this thing out?"

"Yeah!" Gordon said, his eyes lighting up. "But..." the boy paused momentarily, looking to the ground and making small patterns with his foot.

"Yes, Gordon?" Chewy asked, standing and looking down at the boy.

"Could you call me Gummy Worm, like everyone else?" he asked. "'Cuz that way, we can both be animals!"

Chewy smiled, chuckling under his breath. "That sounds alright to me, Gummy. That sounds alright to me..."

Chewy then bent down, picked up the child, hoisting onto his shoulders, and walked on, deeper into the city. However, neither could shake the feeling that they were being watched.

One block away, a mysterious dark figure watched from behind a dark alley. He smiled to himself and, slowly, began to tail the two people, who, in another world, at another time, could have been heroes...

Tobias Christopher

Tobias was making his way down the street, trying to find more people in trouble. He was limping, due to the fact that his leg was hurt when the destruction happened.

As Tobias walked along, he heard something behind him. He turned around, but saw nothing. He heard something again, and turned around. This time he saw someone duck into an alley. Tobias slowly got to the alley and saw a twelve year old boy hiding
by some trash cans.

"I know you." Tobias said. "You're the first person I pulled out of the rubble. Why are you following me?"

"I don't have anyone." The boy said. "I don't remember anything before you found me. I though that you-"

"You thought wrong." Tobias said as he started walking away. Then he heard the boy start crying as he turned around.

"I'll take you as far as the city limits." Tobias said. "Come on."

The boy smiled and followed Tobias. "So, what's your name, kid?"

"I don't know." The boy said. "I can't remember."

"Alright, I'll just call you Orphan for now." Tobias said. "Let's go."

"What's your name?" Orphan asked.

"Tobias." Tobias said as they walked out of the alley.

Gooz

Thunder City

Bibbo extended his hand to the man, who did the same.

"My name's Richard, Richard Stevens. My friends just call me Ritchie though."

Bibbo: It's nice to meet you. Too bad it couldn't be under better circumstances.

Ritchie: Tell me about it.

With Bibbo, Ritchie entered the bar, to help the hurt and almost dead.

In a little distance; a dark figure dropped to the ground, much like not to long ago in Chicago. The figure was a little smaller, not really in shape. His eyes glowed bright red as he made his way towards the bar.

Through the hug broken glass window of the bar, Bibbo noticed the strang visitor.

Bibbo: What the hell is that?

Ritchie: My God!?!

Bibbo turned to another man, bald with red eyebrows, a little over 6'1.

Bibbo: Devin, watch over the others. I don't trust this new stranger!

Bibbo stepped over to the bar and pulled out a shotgun. Ritchie's eyes widdened.

Ritchie: What's going on?

Bibbo: Not sure buddy, but better to be safe than sorry.

Ritchie ripped a metal rod off of the bar, and followed the stocky man. They got out side, the strange figure just stood there.

Bibbo: Who are you?

The figure was silent, his eyes glowed a brighter red and a beam shot out, Bibbo was able to swifty move away in time. The beam took out a whole wall of an opposing building.

Bibbo: Shit! What the hell are you?

Bibbo aimed the gun at the figure who was now closing in. Before a shot could be fired, another shot was sent from the figures eyes. Destroying the gun. Bibbo looked across the street, noticing the 'gun' shop which has been across the street for as long as he could remember. One of the only shops to last for as long as Bibbo's bar on good old Fahrenheit Street. The gun shot, located on 451 Fahrenheit Street. Bibbo began to slowly walk towards the shop and away from the man who was now walking towards him with glowing red eyes.

Right as a shot seemed to be shot, Ritchie stamed the man in the head with the metal rod from behind. The figure turned and punched Ritchie across the face. Ritchie hit the ground hard, pausing in fear after seeing the man's eyes light up. His business was advertising, a safe occupation which helped him to support his family. Now, nothing was making sense; the city in ruins, a man with "fire" beams from his eyes.

A beam began to shoot from the stranger's eyes as a bullet ripped through it's skull. The beam disengrated just before Ritchie's face, the strangers body dropped to the ground. Bibbo was holding a new shotgun in his hand. He poked the unmoving body with the tip of the gun, and then shot it two moore times, just incase. At each fire, Ritchie jumped a little bit. Bibbo extended his hand, helping Ritchie to his feet.

Bibbo: Come across with me. We better stock up on weapons, just incase there are more of these things! Bett-

Ritchie: Better to be safe then sorry, I know... I know...

Chewy Walrus

Chicago

The Chewy Walrus walked along the streets of the city that had formerly been Chicago. However, now, he wasn't alone. The young boy perched on his shoulders - the "Gummy Worm" - had crawled out of an orphanage and had been rescued by Chewy.
Chewy originally thought that he was helping the kid. But, he soon realized the truth.

The boy was helping him.

Helping him overcome his guilt.

And his loneliness.

And, so, as the two lone figures walked along the street, hand in hand, they felt unstoppable, because they were not alone.

They had each other.

A light breeze blew by, sending a newspaper and some stray litter blowing across their path. Chewy kicked the trash a bit as the two walked by, turning a corner and walking down another deserted street.

"Chewy..." Gummy said quietly, tugging on the man's sleeve.

"Yeah?" Chewy said, still looking straight ahead.

"I'm thirsty," the boy said, the dryness of his mouth becoming now incredibly evident as he kept walking.

"Alright, kid, I'm working on it," Chewy said, his eyes darting wildly across the street.

Out of the corner of his eye, Chewy spotted a building that was, miraculously, still standing. In a manner of speaking. The building was leaning ever so slightly, with all the glass laying shattered in the front of the store. The fallen, broken, and flickering neon sign at the store's entrance read WALT'S QWIK-E-MART!

"Stay here, Gummy," Chewy said as he started walking toward the store across the street. Gummy nodded and sat on the sidewalk ledge, playing around with some of the fallen gravel. Chewy stuck his head through the open window of the store, turning his head to the left and right, looking for anything suspicious.

Jumping through the window, Chewy walked over to the back of the store, where bottles of various liquids sat in a broken refrigerator section. Opening the door of the fridge, Chewy grabbed two six packs of water, a 21-oz bottle of Coca-Cola, and, on his way to the register, a box of Twinkies and a bag of potato chips.

Upon reaching the register, Chewy peeked behind the counter. He didn't see a soul. Shrugging his shoulders, Chewy took the foodstuffs and headed for the window. As the Walrus lifted his leg to exit the store, he heard the click of a shotgun and a stern voice from behind.

"Hold it right there, scumbag! Put down the stuff and hold your hands in the air!"

Chewy slowly placed the bags on the glass-covered ground outside the building. He raised his hands above his head and, very slowly, put them behind his head. The voice behind the man in the fedora barked out harshly.

Now, SLOWLY turn around!" it called. The Walrus began turning, but obviously, his tempo was a bit faster than was wanted, because the voice called out again. "SLOWLY!"

"Okay!" Chewy said, trying to get the man to calm down . "I'm turning."

Shortly, Chewy was facing the man whose voice had made him drop the supplies he'd needed. He was a short man, balding, with jet black hair around the sides and back of his head. He had a long face, with a thin pointed nose and a small goatee, which was also thin and pointed. He wore a pair of black jeans and a black button-up shirt. In his hands (on which were a pair of black
leather gloves) was a sawed-off shotgun.

"Listen, man, I..." Chewy began. He was cut short by the man's cocking his shotgun.

"Quiet!" the thin man said. "As long as I'm holding the gun, I make the rules!"

"Guess that's fair..."

"Of course it's fair! I..." the man's eyes suddenly widened as he looked past the Walrus. He quickly dropped to the floor and, confused, Chewy turned, looking out the window.

He saw nothing but a large stream of fire headed right for his head. Ducking fast, Chewy hit the ground, his fedora falling off his head as little shards of glass digging into his hands and knees. The pillar of flame narrowly missed him as the coffee machine on the opposing wall combusted.

"Holy...!" Chewy's head shot up. Looking out the window, he saw a tall dark man, aiming a hand at the building, his other hand holding up the now crying Gummy Worm. "He's got Gummy!"

Wha...?" the man said, rubbing his temples, the shotgun laying on the floor.

"I'll give this back!" Chewy said, grabbing the shotgun.

"Hey, wait!" the man said, holding out a gloved hand to the man in the trenchcoat.

Chewy crouched by the window, leveling the shotgun at the dark figure across the street.

"DROP THE KID!" Chewy yelled as the man re-aimed his hand at the building. His other hand hoisted Gummy higher into the air.

The child squirmed and shrieked as he was being manhandled.

"That does it, punk!" A quick cock of the shotgun and a squeeze of the trigger rocked the Walrus as the bullet hit a man across the street squarely between the eyes. His head exploded as he fell backwards, his grip on Gummy loosened, sending the boy onto the pavement.

"Are you alright?!" Chewy shouted to Gummy, who was getting up, rubbing his skinned knees and wiping the splatters of blood and gray matter from his face.

"I think so," Gummy said, as he slowly got to his feet.

"Now," Chewy said, whirling around, looking at the man who had held a gun on him just moments before. "I'm holding the gun. I guess that means I make the rules, eh?"

Ye... yes," he stammered, backing into the wall where the still flaming coffeepot sat.

"Good," Chewy said. "Now, who are you?"

"My name's Professor Walter Curie," the man started, and this is my store."

"Curie?" Chewy raised an eyebrow. "As in...?"

"Pierre and Marie Curie? Yes," Walter nodded. "Pierre was my great-great uncle. He and Aunt Marie were credited with the discovery of radium - a study which I was content to continue at Ikeda University."

"So, what happened?" Chewy asked, aiming the gun at the man. "How did you end up in a run down dive in Chicago selling Twinkies?"

"The University let me go after I demanded more grant money to fund my research," Curie explained. "I was booted out and forced to start up this Qwik-E-Mart. However, I live downstairs, where I still run test on radium."

"Good thing I've never been here before," Chewy said, looking around. "Probably get radiation poisoning..."

"No, no!" Curie said, holding out a gloved hand. "I keep the radium in isolation! I never expose it to the outside world! I also keep it enclosed in a special container I made out of a lead, steel, and titanium alloy! The radiation never escapes!"

"Sure," Chewy said, lowering the gun. "Listen, man, me and the kid, we're trying to figure out what was behind this whole cataclysmic thing. We could use a scientific mind. We could use your help. You in?"

Chewy held out his hand to the man, who lay sprawled on the floor. A gloved leather hand met Chewy's as the Walrus pulled the scientist from the floor. The skinny goateed man smiled slowly.

"Sure!" Curie said, nodding. "Let me run down to my lab and get some more weapons and whatever I can of my radium experimentation. You never know when that stuff could come in handy."

"Sure, whatever," Chewy said, tucking the shotgun into his belt. "Listen, get me a pack and some ammunition. If another guy like that comes after us again, I want to be prepared."

"You got it!" Curie smiled, kicking open a broken door that led down to the basement.

Stepping over the window and out onto the sidewalk, Chewy picked up the comestibles he had placed there earlier (which, remarkably, hadn't been incinerated) and headed out towards where Gummy sat sniffling.

"Are you alright?" Chewy asked again, handing Gummy a bottle of water.

"Yeah," Gummy replied hesitantly, opening the water and taking a sip. "I guess I'm just a little shaken up from being attacked..."

"Understandable," Chewy said, wetting another handkerchief with his bottle of water and wiping the blood off of the boy's face.

"Chewy? Could you get me a comic book?" the boy asked. "I'm kinda bored and could use something to do..."

"Sure, kid," Chewy said, jumping up. "Hey, listen. I've got a guy coming along. His name is Walter Curie, and I just met him. He's a scientist and he may be able to help us out, alright? I want you to treat him with the same respect you would treat me with. Got it?"

"Yeah," Gummy nodded. Chewy smiled and ran back into Qwik-E-Mart. He pulled a few superhero comics off the rack as he looked over to see Curie emerging from the basement. The man in black carried a pack in his hand, and wore another on his back. He tossed the bag at the Walrus, who caught it with his free hand, putting the comics inside.

"You may as well load up as much food as you can," Curie said. "I don't plan on coming back here any time soon."

"You got it," Chewy said, unloading beef jerky and sardine cans into the large hiking pack Walt had given him. After he had filled the bag, he noticed the side pocket, which held an Uzi, shotgun shells, and clips. Chewy cocked his eyebrow, looking back at the man.

"You said you wanted to be prepared," Curie shrugged, pulling out his own rifle from it's place on his back. "You might need this too." Curie tossed a switchblade at the floor between Chewy's feet, causing it to stick into the floor. Chewy smiled, pulled the knife out of the floor, and slipped it into his left boot.

"Well, Curie, let's hit the road," Chewy said, jerking his head outside. Gummy sat there waiting for them, taking sips of his water and big bites of a Twinkie he had opened.

"Didja get me a comic?" he asked, smiling widely, crumbs of golden sponge cake stuck to his lips.

"Got a few of 'em, kid!" Chewy smiled, gesturing to the bald man at his side. "This is Professor Walter Curie. He's gonna be coming along with us."

"Nice to meet you, Mister Curie," Gummy said, shoving the rest of his Twinkie into his mouth and offering the man his hand, covered in Twinkie frosting.

Walter smiled and shook the boy's hand, wiping the cream off of his hand with the handkerchief in his pocket. "And you are...?" Curie asked the boy.

Gummy mumbled something unintelligible, as his mouth was full of Twinkie. Walt looked over at Chewy.

"His name's Gordon," Chewy explained, "but he likes to be called Gummy Worm."

"Well, Gummy," Prof. Curie smiled, "it's very nice to meet you."

"Alright, guys, let's cut the chatter and hit the road," Chewy said, putting Gummy up on his shoulders. "We've got a ways to go..."

And so, the three of them started down the street, towards the setting sun...

[ 01-02-2002: Message edited by: Chewy Walrus ]

"What is this place?" Orphan asked.

"It looks like a bar." Tobias replied. "Or, what's left of a bar. Maybe we find some supplies here."

As the two made their way into the bar, Tobias heard a shotgun click. He grabbed Orphan and pushed him to the ground as a shot rang out.

"What the hell was that?" Tobias asked. He looked up and saw the barrell of a shotgun facing him.

"They're just a couple of kids." Bibbo said. "Get up."

Tobias and Orphan stood up as Bibbo led them into the bar.

Bibbo

"Welcome to the Ace," Bibbo said as he opened the door for the two, "sorry for my rude greeting there, but we were attacked just a couple of minutes ago."

"Do you know what happened?" Tobias asked.

"Hell if I know, but my priority now is making sure that anyone trapped by this destruction is safe," Bibbo replied, "I'm Bibbo, by the way. What are your names?"

"I'm Tobias Christopher, but this fella doesn't know his name," Tobias answered, "I pulled him out of the orphanage, so I just call him Orphan."

"The orphanage? I heard reports that place was totalled. I wouldn't have expected any of the kids to survive," Bibbo said with genuine surprise, "if I had found the kid, I would have called him Lucky."

"My name's Ritchie Stevens," Ritchie said as he stepped forward, "I just got here too."

"If you guys are all in one piece, I'd appreciate it if you could give Devin a hand," Bibbo asked as he closed the door and peeked through the closed shutters to watch for attackers.

"Who's Devin?" Tobias asked.

"The bald guy in the back who's smoking his lungs out," Bibbo replied, "he's a hell of a bartender, the guy gives advice like he's been alive since the dawn of time, but he makes for a shitty field surgeon."

"We're on it," Ritchie said as he took off his coat and laid it on a chair back, "come on Tobias, let's see what we can do."

Gooz

Chicago

A man is walking down the empty streets, screams can still be heard in a distance. His clothes are ripped up showing off his huge muscles, and cuts lining his bald head. He wipes blood from his face and notices a figure in the short distance.

"Hey Buddy!?! You ok?"

But there is no answer. He moves closer toward the man and yells, but still, nothing.

Strange... What the-?

The man's hands are now light up.

Shit.

The bald man runs and jumps behind a corner as a shot hits the ground where he used to stand. While in the alley way, he searchs for anything that might help him to fight back what ever that thing was. Out of the corner of his eye he sees it...

The mysterious figure reaches the alley and enters. Looking left than right it sees nothing. Finally it notices a figure in the darkness, just as a sledge hammer slams into it's head, busting it apart.

The bald man stood over it's remains.

I'm taking back my city.

He exited the Alley and began once again down the darkened street. That is when he noticed three more figures, two tall while one really short. He held the sledge hammer tight, just incase of trouble.

Mordecai

5 Miles off the Coast of Mississippi

The small boat bobbed up and down from the now settling waves. Earlier that morning the Gulf saw hurricane-style waves and storms.

It was almost unbelievable that this 14 footer survived..almost, but if you asked Franklin D. McKnight, it was a miracle.

Frank had been a ordained priest for exactly 72 hours now and since he was ordained he survived a unexpected and unmeasurable hurricane, crazed rioters, a ex-wife who wasn't happy that he had decided to become a priest and not to mention his boss at We find 'em Bountyhunters wanting to make Frank a part of the opposite sex the hard way after finding out Frank had slept with his wife.

Why had he decided? He didn't even believe in God but what he did believe in was tax evasion and the church was going to send him to a missionary for almost 10 years. He could escape from the IRS legally and that is all Frank cared about until now. After the night and morning he had, he knew without a shadow of a doubt that there was a God...or at least something looking out for him.

That is what he believed all the way back to shore and right up until he saw the damage. He landed in Biloxi or, for lack of better words, what was left of Biloxi. For that matter, what was left of the entire southern coast line!

Total destruction as far as the eye could see and not only destruction but entire buildings and roads gone...

"What the hell?!"

Those were the only words Frank could muster as he stared at the scene in front of him.

Frank was to occupied with the site in front of him to notice the small unmanned plane dipping down and unloading it's cargo into the gulf 300 yards out. He was also to occupied to notice that what it dropped was a seven foot tall cylinder marked with a single letter: 'E'.

He also missed what one could see in the single 6 inch porthole of the cylinder...

Eyes...closed at first then wide open staring out across the Gulf towards the coast line.

Static could be heard from the inside of the cylinder as a voice spoke, "Eliminate all inferior humans...repeat...eliminate all inferior beings! Do you copy, Enforcer?"

A low growl of acknowledgement could be heard as the cylinder sank below the surface of the water...

Chewy Walrus

Chicago

The Chewy Walrus was amazed at how much he actually had in common with Professor Walter Curie. Both were incredibly interested in sciences of a different sort - Chewy in biology, Curie in chemistry. Curie even had a booth at the 1997 World Science Gathering in Chicago, where Chewy had been serving as security. The amazing thing was that the two had never met.

Gummy had remained fairly silent through the trip, resting on his perch on Chewy's shoulders, quietly reading his comic books. He would periodically ask for a definition of a word, which either Chewy or Curie would fill in. The three walked in relative silence most of the way through the city, looking for any signs of life - movement, sound, anything.

Walking past an alley, Chewy stopped suddenly, holding up his hand for Curie to do the same. The chemist halted in his tracks, raising an eyebrow and looking curiously at the Walrus.

"What?" Curie whispered harshly, as Chewy fanned his hand back and forth to silence him. He made a pantomime toward his ear and then pointed toward the next alley over, as though he had heard something.

"One of the superhumans?" Curie whispered again, more silently than before.

"Maybe..." Chewy whispered back, walking cautiously toward the next alley. He picked the small boy off of his shoulders and placed him on the ground, which he didn't seem to mind too much. Gummy continued to match Chewy's stride, his nose still stuck in his comic book.

"Put a hand on your gun," Chewy whispered to Curie as the duo neared the alley. "Just in case."

Curie smiled, nodded, and fingered the trigger of the Smith and Wesson he had tucked away in his pocket. The trio turned into the alley, walking cautiously down. The two men eyed their surroundings as Gummy rolled up his comic and shoved it into his small pocket.

A sound caused the three to stop suddenly. Chewy looked ahead and saw a trash can rolling into view. As it rolled out of the way, Chewy could see very vividly what lay behind it: a man, laying dead, a pool of blood forming from his massive head wound. Chewy and Curie both recognized him as being one of the superhumans.

"Who could've killed him?" Curie asked quietly.

"Must've been recent," Chewy answered, inching closer to the body. As he peered down at it, all doubt was erased from his mind. "This was one of those guys that attacked us outside of your store, Walt. And the killer can't be far..."

Right then, as if on cue, a loud shout sounded from right in front of Chewy. Looking up, Chewy saw an incredibly muscular man, battered and bruised, coming down at him, a huge sledgehammer held above his head. As the man brought the hammer down, Chewy rolled out of the way, narrowly missing the blow that chucked up large amounts of concrete.

"Holy crap!" Chewy yelled, fumbling for the Uzi in his pack. "Curie! Do something!"

The big man grunted, swinging his hammer back up into the air, grinning like a maniac.

"Teach you to take my city!" he mumbled, bringing the sledge down.

A shot rang through the air as Curie's bullet tore into the side of the hammer, knocking it out of the man's hands. The bald man turned wildly toward the direction of the bullet to see Professor Walter Curie holding a smoking revolver at his head. Gummy Worm hid behind his leg, watching the whole thing.

"Don't make a move," Curie said, trying his best to sound intimidating. A sneer appeared on the larger man's lips as he began to make a move toward the hammer. The cold steel feel of an Uzi to his temple stopped him cold.

"I believe the man gave you an order," Chewy said matter-of-factly. "And I suggest you follow it. Now, up against the wall."

The man lumbered up to the wall, placing his hands on it's surface and straddling his feet. Sweat dropped from his forehead onto the ground, making small splatters on the concrete.

"Now, gimme your name, steel-drivin' man," Chewy said, still pressing his gun to the man's head.

"Name's Jonathan Hanks," he said, no trace of fear in his voice.

"Well, Jon, why'd you find it necessary to attack us?" Chewy asked, attempting to remain casual.

"Thought you were with him," Hanks said, giving a sidelong glance to the dead superhuman. "But I guess you aren't."

"No, we're not," Curie spoke up. "We're trying to figure out what it is that caused this whole disaster."

"Listen, man, I didn't wanna hurt nobody!" Hanks said, peeking over at Curie. "I just wanted to protect my city from those guys! I love Chicago, man! Like Frankie said, 'it's my kinda town.' I wanna bring down the fools that did this."

Chewy pulled the gun away from the man's head, shoving it back in his pack. "Well, then, Jon, it looks like we're on the same team. Name's Chewy Walrus. The balding guy over there is Professor Walt Curie and the kid is Gordon, but he likes to be called Gummy Worm."

"Chewy, huh?" Jon said, offering his hand. "Not exactly your run of the mill name, eh?

"Well, I used to be a secret agent, of sorts," Chewy replied, shrugging his shoulders and shaking the man's hand. "We had to get rid of our real names and we were all given code names. 'Chewy Walrus' was mine."

"Secret agent, huh?" Jon said, picking up his hammer and swinging it over his shoulder. "What a coincidence! I used to be a criminal."

"I could tell by the way you stood against the wall," Chewy replied. "It's amazing how during times like these, the most unlikely alliances can be formed, isn't it?"

"That mean I can come with you, then?" Jon asked, smiling a bit.

"I don't see a problem," Chewy said, as Jon began to smile widely.

"Great! Hey, man, thanks! Thanks a lot!" Jon began whistling as he followed Chewy out from the alley and back onto the deserted street. As they walked on, Curie whispered in Chewy's ear.

"I don't trust him, Walrus," Curie said, eyeing the big man nervously. "He admitted to being a criminal."

"He said he used to be," Chewy whispered back. "And, besides, in times like these, we need to trust anybody we can. Who knows what sort of skills they might have that can benefit us?"

Curie shrugged his reluctant agreement as Chewy smiled, looking at Jon, Gummy sitting on his broad shoulders. Jon would fit right into this little group. Chewy knew that he just had to be given time and a second chance...

Dr. Quantum

Dr. Henry Quantos, a medical doctor in his late '40s, fitted another makeshift splint on a young boy who hopped out of the room with the help of his big brother.

"Make sure to stay off that leg, Danny," he said.

"T'anks, Doc, I will," the boy smiled.

"Nurse, how many more do we have?"

"I've been having to turn them away at the doors, Doctor," said Nurse Nuriko. "There are just too many injured people out there to handle. And the ones who need the most critical care are the least vocal!"

Quantos sighed heavily. He hated to make decisions like this.

"All right, Nurse, I want you to put all the salvageable patients in one room and the beyond critical patients in another. And find someone to help you out; I don't want them to suffer any more than they have to."

Nuriko nodded and left the room.

Doc Quantos mopped his brow and did his best to forget about Beverly, his wife of 20 years who had died just days earlier.

"Next!" he called out to the hallway filled with people moaning in pain...

Tobias Christopher

"So, what did you do before all of this? Family, school?" Bibbo asked.

"The same thing as now." Tobias said. "Homeless, nowhere to go, no hope for the future. Got kicked out of my house when I was twelve. Spent the last three years just wandering across the country, doing what I could to survive."

"What about the kid?" Bibbo asked.

"I want to find him a home. The last thing I want is for him to wind up like me." Tobias said as he grabbed a beer.

"You're a bit young for drinkin', ain't ya?" Bibbo asked.

"I've been drinking since I was eight." Tobias said. "It's the only thing I could think of that could my mind off the nightly beatings my pa handed out to me and my brothers."

"Well, appocalypse or not, you're not drinkin' in my bar." Bibbo said as he took the beer. "Not until you're of age."

"Guys, come quick!" Ritchie said. "There are some guys headed this way. Can't make them out from here, but it looks like one of them is carrying a hammer..."

Gooz

"A hammer, eh?" Bibbo said as he slowly opened the front door, gun in hand.

Ritchie went in front of the children "Tobias, Orphan... You guys back up, just incase of trouble."

"Yes sir."

"Friends? Humans?" Bibbo called out, not wanting to cause an accidential fight to break out.

"Yeah... We need help!" A male's voice could be heard.

Bibbo, followed by Ritchie, headed outside. There were two guys and two girls, all in pretty bad shape. One of the guys was holding a hammer, while another had a metal rod held tight in his hand.

"We need some help" One of the strangers said as they reached the doors.

"Come on in, that's what we're here for."

They all entered the bar, closing the door behind them. Ritchie stayed on lookout, so Bibbo could help Devin and the others attend to the new visitors.

Mordecai

Frank started walking down what was left of Hwy 90 looking at the damage and still wondering what had happened. He knew that without transportation he would be stuck on the beach which in different circumstances wouldn't have been entirely disagreeable.

As he entered what was left of a souvenir shop, Frank heard a scream followed by the sound of bricks being smashed together.

"What the fu..." Frank stood in shock as he rounded the corner. He watched as the body of what probably was a beautiful woman fell lifeless to the ground, her head all but ripped off.

In front of him stood a man... or something... towering over seven feet tall. His broad shoulders knotted like spikes. His hands were the size of any normal humans head. His skin was reddish-brown and hard, cracks could bee seen running down his face and exposed chest as if he was made of stone.

Strapped to both of his hips were two fully automatic M-16 who's stock had been removed. Compared to him, they looked like pistols. Strapped on his back was a 50 Caliber mini-gun.

The 'man just stared at Frank as if he was studying him before he responded with a raspy, low murmur, "...inferior..."

Even before the giant reached for it's guns, Frank knew to run. Five years in the Navy Seals had taught him to know when he is out gunned.

Ducking and rolling, Frank took off through the front door as the 'man' pulled out the two M-16s with laser sights and opened fire. Frank had been right...the thing DID use them as pistols.

Rolling into the street, Frank leapt up and started running down the Highway. His lungs burned as he cussed himself for not staying in shape and picking up smoking. His legs ached as he pumped them faster and faster. He could feel is hamstring burn and knew that he had pulled it but he kept running. His destination: The Air Force base in Biloxi and away from whatever the hell that was back there.

Tobias Christopher

"What do you plan on doing once this is all over?" Bibbo asked.

"To be honest, I have no idea." Tobias said. "No family, no friends, no home. What would there be to go on to?"

Bibbo looked over at Orphan lying on a pool table, sleeping peacefully.

"Don't know nothin' about a home, but I think ol' lady luck has dealt you a hand on the first two." Bibbo said.

"No." Tobias said. "I'm not taking him with me."

"Heh." Bibbo replied. "In the end, I don't think you'll be able to live without him."

Chewy Walrus

The Chicago subways lay in complete desolation. The overhead lights blinked eerily as the quartet of local adventurers slowly descended the stairs into the humid concrete cage that lay beneath the city. The eyes of the small child on the shoulders of the large man who held a sledgehammer grew large as he peered around the room.

"Chewy..." he whispered, leaning in closer to the large man's bald head.

"Yeah, Gummy?" the Chewy Walrus muttered, the Uzi he'd been given drawn in his hand.

"I'm scared..." the boy whispered.

"Don't worry, kid," Jon Hanks said quietly, holding his hammer tightly in both hands. "If any of those guys show up, I'll protect you."

Chewy tipped his fedora up with his gun, and looked around warily. "We all will, Gummy," the Walrus assured. "We all will."

"I just hope that at least one of the trains is working," Walt Cure spoke up from beside Chewy. His naturally bald head gleamed in the dim light above. The sawed off shotgun he carried shook ever so slightly in his less than steady hands. "I just wanna get out of here..."

"Don't worry," Chewy said as he walked along. "If none are working, I've always got a back-up plan. First, let's look for any survivors. No point in going anywhere if we can't take at least someone with us."

The men split into three groups. Gummy leaping off of Jon's back and taking Chewy's hand. As Chewy took the boy's hand, he noticed that it was shaking wildly. Chewy smiled and hoisted the boy onto his shoulders.

The Walrus walked along, looking all around him for any signs of movement. Passing many dead bodies, he encouraged the boy on his shoulders to close his eyes and not look around. He felt Gummy take off his hat and jam it over his tiny head to hide his eyes.

Chewy stopped suddenly, holding up his hand to signal the boy to stop squirming. Gummy obeyed and the two stood silently still, watching, waiting, listening.

"Chewy..." the boy whispered quietly.

"Shh!" Chewy hissed, waving his finger at the boy. He was sure that he had heard something, but he wasn't sure what or from where.

There it was again! Chewy readied his gun and took two steps up a fallen subway car. Below, he saw the source of the noise.

A woman, dressed in a tattered dress typical of a woman of the night, sat sobbing beside a fallen rock, holding something in her hands. Chewy raised an eyebrow and turned back towards where his comrades had run off to.

"Walt! Jon!" he called, cupping his hand over his mouth. "I've found a survivor!"

With that, the Walrus slid down the side of the wrecked subway car and landed a few feet from the crying woman. She seemed alarmed at seeing him, for she had been to busy sobbing to hear him call out. Raising the rod she held in her hands, she held another hand out to him, as if she could stop his advancement.

"Don't... don't come another step..." she stammered, obviously terrified and much to saddened to carry out any sort of threat. "I... I don't want to hurt you!"

Chewy held up his hands in surrender and cautiously took another step. "I don't want to hurt you," he said calmly, slowly taking in her features. She was an astonishingly beautiful redhead, with a quality that made her look, not only alluring, but deadly as well. As he ran his eyes over her form, he noticed her leg stuck under the large piece of rubble she sat next to.

"Listen," he said quietly. "You're hurt. Please, let me help you. My... my name is Chewy. Chewy Walrus. I was a secret agent, and I wanna help you."

"I'm Tora," the woman said, dropping the rod from her hands. "Tora Tyler. I was down here trying to find work when it happened. Jonah... he..."

"Who's Jonah?" Chewy said, taking another slow step.

"My pimp," she said, bashfully, looking down to the side of her. A shriveled hand protruded from the rock under which her leg was pinned. Many rings adorned its fingers and the piece of clothing on his arm reminded Chewy of a Zoot Suit cuff. "He pushed me out of the way as it happened. He...he loved me. I'm sure. And now he's gone."

She began crying again, burying her face in her hands.

"You're a hooker?" Chewy asked, now right next to her.

She looked up at him, through tear-filled eyes covered in runny mascara and blurred eye shadow. "Please don't think badly about me. Really. It was a living. A fairly good one, too. Look, that's all over now. I don't have anywhere else to go now..."

"Then you'll come with us," Chewy said, as Jon and Walt joined him. "Allow me to introduce my friends here. These are Jon Hanks and Professor Walter Curie. This little boy on my shoulders is Gordon, but you can call him Gummy Worm."

"Cute," the redhead giggled, wiping the tears from her cheeks. "Listen, I'm beginning to lose feeling in this foot, and..."

"Allow me, miss," Jon stepped forward, and began lifting the rock from her leg. Tora quickly pulled the obviously broken leg from under the spot as Jon grunted, lowering the concrete boulder back into place. She smiled and giggled as Jon hefted her form into his arms. She attempted to cover up as her tattered dress started exposing her to the innocent Gummy.

"Dont worry, Tora," Chewy said, removing his trenchcoat and tossing it to the woman.

"Thank you, Chewy," she said, with a heartfelt smile. That smile changed to a flirtatious one when she turned her attention from Chewy to Jon. "Where to next, big fella?"

"Well," Chewy interrupted, "the wreckage down here assures me of the fact that there's no way we'll be able to take a subway out of Chicago. We'll have to head to the bus station. But, first, we've got to get you some medical attention. I know a guy in Thunder City that can help, but we'll have to hurry to the bus station. Jon, would you mind carrying Tora?"

"Not at all, Chewy," the big man said, winking at the woman in his arms. She winked back, giggling. Chewy rolled his eyes and tucked his gun into his belt. Taking Gummy by the hand, the Walrus looked back toward the stairs that they had descended earlier.

"Let's go, guys," he said. "We're losing daylight."

[ 01-03-2002: Message edited by: Chewy Walrus ]

Jessica Daniels was sitting on the corner of a local bus station. Her gun still drawn, sitting across from her, Jeff Viper.

Jessica: Out of all the people in the world, I get stuck alive with you?

Jeff: It was fate baby, fate.

Jessica: Just shut the hell up, ok? Just shut up!

Jeff: Sure thing, but if I were the last man on the planet, would ya...

Jessica: Don't even contine that sentence or I'll blow your head off.

Jeff smirked and nodded his head.

Jessica: I can't believe this, I can't believe this.

Jeff: Um, babe.

Jessica: Oh Gob, what now?

Jeff: Would you mind if I were to go shoping for snacks in that food mart over there? I mean, I doubt it would be called stealing if the owner is dead.

Jessica: Whatever, I really don't care any more.

Jeff got up and walked to the food mart, entering through the broken glass window. A few minutes later, he exited and sat back down. In his hands, a box of Teddy Grams. Jessica just signed, hoping that she would find more survivors, anyone... anyone.

Mordecai

Father Frank...

The thought ran through Frank's mind with a kind of humourous tone and for a split second Frank had to catch himself from laughing.

He had been walking for about an hour after seeing it. His leg ached from his pulled hamstring and to top it all off, not one damn car would start!

Whatever it was that he had ran upon at the store, it didn't seem to be following him right now, at least not to closely anyway.

He reached the airforce base at dusk and slowly made his way towards the hangars, hoping that the planes or helicopters would still start.

Frank couldn't help not to think about that woman's head and how easily it had crushed it...like a drunken Mississippian shitkicker on a Saturday night smashing a beer can before hunching down over Mary I'm a goddamned beauty queen with bleached out hair Rottencrotch for one of those famous Mississippi Bible Belt fuckings.

Another smile stretched across Franks face as he pictured a kid of 17 that, if in the right lighting like a well-lit room, could pass as a inbred bafoon reached down and tugged at some bleached-out whore's bra as she tried to take off the wranglers that were painted across her wide ass.

"Ahhhh... Mississippi..." Frank whispered with a low chuckle.

-----------

Frank had been right about one thing...it wasn''t following him...closely anyway. It didn't need too, it had his scent and with that, it could track him across oceans. Besides, it smelt other inferiors in the area that it needed to take care of first

Chewy Walrus

Chicago

The sun slowly set on the horizon as Chewy walked slowly toward the bus station. He wiped his brow as the humid weather had caused him to sweat profusely. He pitied Prof. Curie, who was decked out in all black. Jon had wrapped Tora in the trenchcoat Chewy had given up, and now carried her in his strong arms. Gummy walked along side the large man, leafing trough one of the comics that Chewy had retrieved him from Walt's store. Curie mopped his brow with his black leather gloves, pushed his glasses up on his nose, and regripped his sawed-off. Rolling up the sleeves of his white button-up shirt, Chewy pressed on, leading the pack toward the bus station.

"Hey, Walt," Chewy said casually, as the group continued their trek.

"Yeah?" Curie asked, not letting his watchful gaze slip from the road ahead.

"You never told me why you wear those gloves, dude," Chewy quipped, shoving his hands in his pockets. "I mean, it's the middle of summer and you're wearing leather gloves. Why?"

"It's a touchy subject, Chewy," Walt almost snapped, quickly looking at the Walrus. His eyes were on fire and his jaw was clenched. He glared hard into Chewy, then snapped his head back to his vigilant lookout. "I'll tell you later, alright," Walt mumbled, barely audible above the fierce winds that had just picked up. "Some time when we have a chance to talk in private."

"Alright," Chewy said, scratching his sandy brown hair. He was confused. He knew that Walt's reasoning had to be good, but didn't know why a man like that would get so touchy about wearing gloves. Chewy shrugged, walking on.

He breathed a deep sigh of relief as he saw it up ahead. The bus station. He was almost elated and broke his gait for a faster pace. Curie followed close behind, picking up the walking Gummy and slinging the boy over his shoulder. Jon, too, picked up the pace, trying to shield Tora from any discomfort that she might be caused. The former hooker held tightly to Jon's massive hammer as he began to run.

Suddenly, Chewy halted in his tracks, pulling his gun from his pocket and rolling into a nearby alley. Curie and Jon followed suit, curious as to what had caused the sudden slow down.

"Chewy, what's wrong?" Gummy asked, dusting himself off and shoving his comic into Chewy's pack.

"See that?" Chewy whispered, pointing into the bus corral. "It's those guys that have been attacking us this entire time."

Sure enough, four dark men stood in the bus corral, none of them looking in any particular direction, but each seemingly communicating with each other.

Tora gasped. "I know them! They're the guys that caused the subway to collapse!"

"They must have some odd vendetta against the human race..." Curie pondered, stroking his chin with a black leather hand.

"Wonder why?" Chewy said, pulling his gun from his belt.

"To be honest," Jon spoke up, "I don't wanna stick around long enough to find out why. These guys are super powerful and are big league trouble. I say we shoot first, ask questions later."

"Actually, Jon," Chewy said, putting a fresh clip in his gun and tossing it to Tora, "I'm with you..."

"So, what's the plan?" Curie asked, hands itching at the trigger of his shotgun.

"What? You need a better one than that?" Chewy asked, nodding his head to Jon in indication of the big man's earlier comment.

"Guess not," Curie said as Chewy produced the shotgun from it's place in his pack. "Let's go, guys. Gummy, you stay here. I don't want you getting hurt." Chewy patted the boy on the head and took a comic and a Twinkie out of his pack. "We'll be right back, okay?"

"Alright, Chewy," Gummy said, sitting down and beginning to eat his Twinkie.

Jon and Tora climbed the fire escape, which was remarkably still standing, so that she could get a clear shot at the supermen below. Jon then climbed down, joining Walt and Chewy on the street.

"Alright, Jon, you'll have to get in pretty close to use that thing..." Chewy began, but he was soon cut off.

"I know, Chewy," he said, gripping his sledge even tighter. "But, I wanna take these suckers down. They rip my city apart and then, they hurt Tora. Those punks are gonna die."

"You like her, don'tcha, Jon?" Chewy asked, running a hand through his hair.

Jon looked up at where the prostitute sat, aiming her gun. "Just promise me you won't let anything happen to her, Chewy. Promise me, man."

"You have my word, Jon," Chewy said, a serious expression etched across his face as the two men clasped hands in a handshake. "Now, let's move."

Quietly, the three men snuck across the street, avoiding any and all notice from the four supermen. Chewy and Walt crept under a couple of buses, while Jon crouched behind a stack of tires. Chewy watched in total silence as the men in the circle looked outward toward the horizon.

Weird... Chewy thought, readying his gun. He looked over at Curie who was across the way from him. The thin bald man nodded, taking aim himself. Chewy's gaze shot over to Jon, who choked up on his hammer, gritted his teeth, and nodded solemnly. They' were ready.

Chewy mouthed the words 'on-my-mark', raising his gun to a firing position. He took aim at the torso of one of the men, and fired. To the amazement and horror of the Chewy Walrus, the shot merely ricocheted off his chest and succeeded only in making him mad.

A force blast tore the bus that Chewy hid under out from above him, leaving him exposed. The Walrus rattled off another shot, this one, reverberating off his shoulder. Chewy was too busy to notice that Curie had already taken one man down and that Jon had entered the fray, pounding away at another.

But, Chewy had troubles of his own. He scooted back as the man, arm still smoking from the first force blast, closed in on him. Desperately, Chewy grasped for some of the shotgun shells that he kept in his pack. As he reached them, a force blast on the ground beside him sent the shells and clips cascading across the ground as he himself went careening out of control.

As he landed, he saw his entire life flash before his eyes. He saw his childhood. He saw his time spent growing up as a child prodigy, working his way through college at age twelve. He saw his work with the Elitum Protection Squad, and finally, saw the earthquake that ravaged Chicago.

Which led him here.

To the end of his life.

Nowhere to run. Nowhere to hide.

Suddenly, from nowhere, a loud bang. The superman's head tears open, blood and grey matter spilling across the side of a nearby bus. The dark man falls with a thud as Chewy looks up to survey his surroundings. Jon stood above a decapitated superman, his hammer covered in blood and nerve tissue. Curie began climbing out from underneath a bus, wiping off his dusty clothes, having killed one himself. Looking up to Tora, Chewy saw her clapping and pointing, having killed one on the other side of the corral.

Chewy looked around, curious as to who had taken the shot that had saved his life. Then, he saw her, and his breath was literally taken away.

A beautiful woman, blond, dressed in a dirty white shirt and khaki pants stood, a smoking gun held loosely at her side. She smiled tiredly at Chewy, who could only stare at someone that he was sure was his guardian angel.

"You need to hit their heads, pal," she said, sounding completely relieved. "They're vulnerable there, apparently." She sent a cold gaze toward the frighteningly thin man with wild eyes standing beside her.

"Y-you saved my life..." Chewy stammered, rising to his feet, brushing the dust from his person and wiping a bit of blood from his lip where a flying rock had hit him.

"Well, there are drastic times, Mister..."

"Walrus," Chewy said, holding out his hand. "Chewy Walrus."

"Chuy?" the woman said, cocking her head to the side. "You don't look Hispanic."

"I'm not," Chewy answered. "That's Chewy - C-H-E-W-Y. I was a secret agent with the Elitum Protection Squad, and that was my given code name."

"And you still use it?" she asked, beginning to get confused.

Dang it, Chewy! You're confusing her! She must think you're a total moron! Chewy thought, attempting to regain his composure.

"Well, all records of my life prior to joining the EPS were erased. And before you say so, I know you've never heard of the EPS. We've always operated in secret. But, that's enough about me. You are...?"

"Name's Detective Jessica Daniels, Chicago PD," the woman said, taking Chewy's hand. ";And before you say anything, I know you've heard of it. We don't have anything to hide."

Chewy arched his eyebrow as Jessica smiled, hung her head and held up the hand that she wasn't holding her gun in.

"I'm sorry," she apologized, looking Chewy back in the eye. "It's been hell the last couple of nights. I've been stuck out here with this guy," she waved her head at the gangly freak at her side, "and, quite frankly, I've been waiting for some normal human contact. Plus, with all that's happened before..."

Jessica's voice trailed off, as she teared up, lowering her head again. Chewy sympathized, putting an arm around her.

"Shh..." he whispered quietly, patting her shoulder. "It'll be okay. My friends and I are getting out of here. Care to come along?"

Jessica looked up, tears still in her eyes. "I'd love that," she whimpered. "This place just holds too many bad memories..."

"Alright," Chewy said, helping her toward where Walt stood, readying his gun by an open bus. "You stay with this man. His name is Professor Walter Curie, and he'll help you out while I get the rest of my friends together. By the way, who's your friend here?"

The gangly man smiled, never blinking his eyes.

"Friend?" Jessica almost laughed. "Friend?! He's no friend of mine! Guy's name's Jeff Viper. You may've heard of him..."

"The serial killer?" Chewy said, his eyes widening, never leaving the man next to her.

"Yeah," Jessica said again. "Now you can see why I was so relieved to see you."

"I can understand that..." Chewy said as the pair reached Walt's spot. Chewy quickly explained who the two were. Walt nodded his understanding, keeping a watchful eye on Viper.

Chewy quickly turned his back, running across the street to where Gummy sat, leafing through his comic book.

"Hey, pal, we're getting outta here," Chewy said, picking up the kid. "You wanna come along?"

"Do I!" Gummy said, stuffing his comic into Chewy's pack. "Let's go!"

Chewy and Gummy headed back for the bus station as Jon descended the fire escape, with Tora slung over his right shoulder. The big man was smiling and Ms. Tyler was giggling uncontrollably. Chewy and Gummy waited a bit for the two to join them before they started walking toward the Greyhound Curie was guarding.

"So, what's so funny, you two?" Chewy enquired as the two caught up with him.

"Well, man, we'd better not say, present company taken into consideration," Jon said, glancing at Gummy.

"Oh..." Chewy said, raising and eyebrow. "Then, I don't wanna know."

"If you say so," Tora giggled, flirtatiously elbowing Jon, who merely started to chuckle. Gummy merely scratched his head and gave Chewy a curious glance.

As the four reached the bus, Walt was already at the wheel, turning the key in the ignition, causing the engine to flare to life. Walt smiled, rubbing his hands together.

"Well, Chewy," he said triumphantly, "I've done it! It works now!"

"Good job, Walt!" Chewy said, mounting the steps. "Are we ready to go, yet?" As Chewy walked aboard, he saw Jessica, laying down on some of the front seats and Jeff Viper in the back, handcuffed to the hanging handholds.

"Not yet," Walt answered, tapping the wheel lightly. "We need to stock up on some gas. There"s got to be a huge tank here somewhere, where all the buses are filled up. Could you and Jon run out and fill up some gas cans? It's not likely that we'll be able to find an operational filling station on the way to Thunder City."

"You've gotta point," Chewy said, looking over to Jon, who was carefully setting Tora on a bus seat across from Jessica. "Hey, Jon! Wanna go get some gas cans?"

The big man looked up and smiled. "Sure thing, man."

The two walked out of the bus and over to a giant gas tank and began filling up smaller tanks that lay all around. As soon as the two had filled all they could carry, they lugged the cans back to the bus and loaded them into the cargo area underneath. When the two got aboard the bus again, both girls and Gummy were completely asleep. Walt looked a bit drowsy, so Chewy offered to take the wheel for the first leg of the journey while Walt got some sleep. Jon stayed up to keep an eye on Viper, whose blank facial expression was utterly chilling.

"Let's hope these roads are still roadworthy," Chewy muttered to himself as he pulled the bus out of the corral and onto the once busy streets of Chicago.

Glancing into the rearview window, Chewy saw the group that he had assembled. A small child known as Gummy Worm. Two convicts, one possibly reformed, the other, unknown. A former prostitute and a female cop. Chewy rolled his eyes into his head and shook his head.

How do you do it, Chewy? he asked himself silently. How do you do it?

Chewy Walrus

"Chewy?"

Darkness. The Walrus raised his arm up and tried to bat the noise away.

"C'mon, Chewy," the voice persisted. "It's time to get up."

As Chewy opened his eyes, little daggers of light stabbed him in the pupils, forcing his eyes to snap shut. He felt an arm on his shoulder, shaking him. The Walrus groaned, and waved his arm in front of him again, this time connecting with flesh.

"Ow!" the voice said, not actually hurt, but just surprised. "Let's go, Walrus-boy!"

The arm that was shaking his shoulder, grabbed it tightly and tugged. The Walrus opened his eyes to see the floor heading right at him... fast. Chewy hit the floor with a heavy thud, as the sound of giggling reached his ears. Rubbing his eyes, he rolled onto his back, looking up at Detective Jessica Daniels, who sat over him, laughing.

However, before he could get mad, Chewy realized who was sitting there. She was laughing, her teeth gleaming in the light of the rising sun. The way her blond hair hung across her face and the way her eyes sparkled as she giggled... it was enough to drive Chewy absolutely crazy. However, he was quickly pulled out of his trance as Gummy ran up to Jessica, throwing his arms around her neck.

"Didja get him up, Miss Jessica?" he asked, crawling onto her legs as she mussed his hair a bit.

"Sure did, Gummy," she said, standing up, the boy in her arms. "Now, if he can get his sorry rear off the floor and up to the front of the bus, we'll all be in good shape."

Chewy shook his head and raised himself up on his elbows and then to his knees. "Alright, alright, I get the point," the Walrus said, grunting as he stood up. "I'm up. I'm up. Now, what's for breakfast?"

Jessica smiled and tossed Chewy something. As he caught it, Chewy recognized it as one of the things that he had swiped from Walt's Qwik-E-Mart. Reading the label, he noticed that they were a can of sardines in olive oil. Chewy smiled, tapping the can against his palm.

"Lemme guess," he smirked. "Someone finished off the beef jerky?"

"You're lookin' at her, secret agent man," Jessica said, raising her hand. "Never been a big fish person, so I polished off the cow. Me and Gummy." The boy in her arms giggled, nodding his head.

"Alright," Chewy said, lifting the tab on the can. "More for me." Ripping open the tin, the distinct smell of fish in a can hit him in the face. Chewy wrinkled his nose and smiled. While he hated the smell, he loved the flavor.

Fishing one of the fish out with his fingers, he popped the sucker in his mouth, smiling as he devoured one of his favorite snacks. As he pulled out another one, he heard an eerie voice from the back of the bus call out to him.

"Hey, boss!" came the voice of Jeff Viper. "Mind if I have one?"

Chewy raised an eyebrow at the serial killer and slowly walked back to where Jeff sat, his hands cuffed to the handhold above his head. Jeff smiled a blank smile, which sent chills down the Walrus' spine. Chewy held up the sardine in his fingers and held it in Jeff's direction.

"You want this?" Chewy asked, shaking his hand a little, making the fish dance around.

"If I could," Jeff said, trying to reach his handcuffed hands forward to seize the oily creature of the sea.

"What the heck?" Chewy said, tossing the little fish into Viper"s bony hands. The killer grasped at the fish, but, as it was covered in oil, it easily slipped through his fingers and landed on his lap.

"Look what you did!" Jeff said, glaring up at Chewy with wild eyes.

"You're supposed to catch it," Chewy said, shrugging. "Pick it up..."

"I can't!" Viper said, tugging at his bonds.

"Not my problem," Chewy said, walking away. Viper began screaming after him, but Chewy was too busy munching the next sardine that he didn't even notice. Instead, the Walrus took a seat next to Tora, who had her crushed foot wrapped in a bag of ice.

"You sure got him mad, Chewy," Tora said, a grave look on her face. "They say he's a murderer. I wouldn't want to get him riled up."

"He may be a psychopath, but I sure as heck am not going to treat him any differently," Chewy said. "It may be my death, but I sincerely doubt it. I've faced off against men more crazy than Jeff Viper and lived to tell the tale." Chewy leaned back in the seat and looked again at Tora's propped up foot. "Where'd you get the ice?" he asked.

"Oh, we stopped last night when Jon took over for Walt at the wheel," Tora said, a sparkle in her eye. "Jon and Walt went and got me some ice to soak my foot in and managed to find some more foodstuffs, as we were starting to get low."

"Any survivors?" Chewy asked, a bit curious.

"No," Tora answered, hanging her head. "It was a bit disconcerting, too. Everywhere we go, all we see is carnage. There's so few of us left. I mean, how are we going to fight this thing?"

"I don't know," Chewy said, biting into another fish. "Hopefully, we'll find some survivors in Thunder City and be able to launch some kind of strike."

"Do you have any idea what this is about?" she asked innocently.

"No idea," Chewy said. "However, I think it may have something to do with those mysterious supermen crawling all over the place."

"It's a good bet," Ms. Tyler nodded, looking at Chewy with hopeful eyes. "Hey, who's this doctor you know in Thunder City?" she asked curiously.

"Good friend of mine," Chewy answered. "He was one of the few civilians I worked with while I was a member of the Elitum Protection Squad."

"The what?" the ex-prostitute asked, having never heard Chewy's origin before.

"I told you I was secret agent, right?" he asked. Tora nodded, so Chewy continued. "Well, the EPS was the organization I worked for."

"Ah!" Tora said, nodding her understanding. "And what was this doctor's name?"

"Dr. Henry Quantos," Chewy said, finishing off the last sardine. "Medical doctor. Real genius. He'll be able to help you out."

"Assuming he's still alive," Tora sighed, looking down at her now blackened foot.

"Don't worry," Chewy said, putting a reassuring hand on her shoulder. "If I know Henry, he's helping out any survivors he can find..."

"Thanks, Chewy," Tora said, smiling. "I'm gonna get some rest now, okay?"

"I'll leave you alone then," Chewy said, rising to his feet and walking to the front of the bus. He saw Walt asleep on the second row and Jon at the wheel.

"How're we doing, Big Jon?" the Walrus asked.

"We're alright, Chewy," Jon answered, looking at the Walrus in the rear view mirror. "The roads're pretty much deserted, which makes for good time for us. We oughtta be in Thunder City by nightfall."

"Good to know," Chewy said, squatting by the driver's seat, in order to keep an eye on the roads. Something small and white on the horizon caught his attention. "What's that?" he asked, pointing to the speck in the distance.

Jon leaned forward, squinting his eyes. "Y'know, I have no idea..."

"Pick it up a little bit," Chewy said, anxious to see what was out there. "It could be a survivor, and if that's the case, I wanna be able to help him out..."

"You got it," Jon said, pressing his foot even more firmly on the gas pedal.

Within the minute, the Greyhound's air brakes kicked in, stopping next to a man dressed in a white suit standing next to his smoking orange Dodge Charger. His chubby thumb was stuck out towards the road. The man breathed a sigh of relief as the bus door opened, and a man in his mid-thirties with brown hair stepped out.

"Can we help you?" the brown-haired man asked, running his hands through his sandy brown hair.

"You sure as shootin' can!" the man in the white suit said, reaching into his car, pulling out a leather briefcase. "Name's Tweed, son. William Marcy Tweed. You are?"

"Name's Walrus," the brown-haired man said. "Chewy Walrus. My friends and I are headed to Thunder City. You?"

"The same, son!" Tweed said, happily clapping his hands. "The same! Well, ain't this just a happy coincidence?"

Chewy raised a hesitant eyebrow. "Sure is," he said warily. "What is it you do, Mister Tweed?"

"Well, not much o' anything anymore," Tweed said, holding out his arms and looking around. "But, formerly, if that's what you meant, I was in the... import/export business."

"Smuggling?" Chewy asked, reaching his hands into his pants pockets.

Tweed laughed a bit. "Well, I find 'smugglin'' to be a bit too harsh a word, but I guess you could call it that, yeah." Tweed set down his briefcase and put his hands in his jacket pockets.

"Well good. What's in the briefcase?" Chewy asked, nodding toward the leather case on the ground.

"Just some things I had lyin' around the office," Tweed said, grinning.

"Mind if I take a look?" Chewy asked.

"Why, not at all!" Tweed said, bending down and opening the case. As Chewy peered inside, he found a plethora of different office supplies. A Parker pen and pencil set. A stapler filled with solid gold staples. A diamond paperweight. Chewy lifted his eyebrow and pulled a woman's brassier out of the bottom of the case. The man in white giggled.

"My secretary gave me that," Tweed giggled. "Y'know, to remember her by..."

"Willy, you'd better have some more useful stuff in here besides this..." Chewy said, closing the case. "What's in the trunk?"

"Oh, I almost forgot!" Tweed said, popping open the trunk with a wink. "These are some of my goods..."

Out of the trunk came the most elaborate, sophisticated guns that Chewy had ever seen. A bazooka. An AK-47. Guns that Chewy had never even seen before. Guns that had 'illegal' written all over them.

"And, why were you trying to get these to Thunder City?" Chewy asked. "A buyer?"

"Well..." Tweed said, looking sheepishly at the ground.

"Tell you what," Chewy said, beginning to pick up one of the guns in the trunk. "You give me and my friends exclusive use of your firearms here, and we'll transport you to Thunder City, free of charge."

"And if I refuse?" Tweed asked, not wanting to lose his merchandise.

"Then, we leave you stranded here and you wait for the next person to come by," Chewy answered with a shrug. "Oh, and, by the way, we just came out of Chicago. There's no one else there that we could find. You may wanna take this opportunity..."

Tweed looked from Chewy to the contents of his trunk and back again. "Deal," the man said quietly, holding out his hand.

"Good," Chewy said with a smile. "Hey, Jon!" he yelled into the bus. "C'mon out here and gimme a hand with our new cargo!"

Tobias Christopher

Thunder City

After having set up a shelter for the survivors, Tobias and Bibbo went out to search for supplies.

"Hey, look in here." Tobias said as he found the remains of what was a convenience store. Bodies of people caught in the debris were lying all around the place.

"Let's carry as much as we can." Bibbo said. "We can always come back if the place doesn't collapse."

Tobias grabbed an armful of chips and candy bars, but stopped when he heard a noise from behind the shelf. He looked behind and saw a cat, trapped by a piece of debris.

"Poor little guy." Tobias said as dug the cat out. "You must be hungry."

Tobias grabbed a bottle of milk from the cooler and poured it a plastic bowl as the cat drank it up.

"You're probably all alone." Tobias said. "I'll take you back with me. I think I'll call you... L'il Jo."

Bibbo

"How's he doing?" Bibbo asked Tobias as the two of them made their way back from the convenience store to the bar.

Fortunately, there was an abandoned hardware store in the same shopping center that the convenience store had once stood, so Bibbo had procured a pair of wheelbarrows that he and Tobias had filled with foodstuffs. The bar had a refrigerator, but they took mostly canned goods and nonperishables. Bibbo wasn't sure just how long the generator he had taken from a dead neighbor would last.

"The little guy's fine," Tobias said as he paused to scratch the head of the cat that he had nestled in his coat pocket.

The two returned to the bar and Bibbo sent Tobias to help Devin put the supplies away while he went to speak to Ritchie.

"Any luck finding other survivors?" Bibbo asked.

"Yeah, I found a couple of more folks, including one that I'm sure you'll want to meet."

Ritchie stepped aside and called a grey haired man over.

"Welcome to the Ace, I'm Bibbo," the barkeep said, putting his hand out.

"Henry Quantos," the man replied. His handshake was firm and his eyes were warm.

"He's a doctor," Ritchie said with a smile.

"My momma always wanted me to end up with a doctor," Bibbo said with a laugh, "you're just what we needed then. Let me know if you need any supplies."

"Can I hit your bar for antiseptic?" Dr. Quantos asked.

"Sure man, just leave the scotch," Bibbo replied, "if we get out of this alive, I'm gonna celebrate."

[ 01-03-2002: Message edited by: Chewy Walrus ]

Ritchie armed himself up again, taking a few extra rounds just incase. Along with one of the other survivors, he hit the streets hoping to find more people that might have been spared.

Ritchie: Tobias, don't forget to lock up behind us, we don't want any unwanted visitors!

Tobis: Right, sir.

Ritchie turned toward the beautiful female next to him, her long flowing black hair and purple tinted eyes were a sight. She seemed ok, aside for a few bruses and cuts she receieved when the world went to "hell". Her three friends were in much worse condition, lucky to even be able to walk.

Ritchie: Are you sure that your up for this?

She nodded her head.

They stayed close to the walls while walking down the street, the shadows doing a good job of covering them.

Ritchie: So, what was your name again?

The Woman: My name is Melanie, but my friends call me Mala.

They reached a building that was still standing.

Ritchie: Here, wait here a moment and I'll check if it's clear.

She nodded her head and Ritchie slowly opened the front door. It was an old hotel. From the outside, it appeared as though it was fine, but on it's inside, each floor had collapsed on one another.

Ritchie: Ok, it seems clear.

Melanie entered, her gun drawn just incase. They began to make there way around the first floor, being careful not to accidently cause any more structure damage.

Ritchie: So, what did you do before... before... well, you know...

Melanie: I was the CEO of a company.

Ritchie: Really? What company?

Melanie(in an almost whisper): MalvanaX Inc.

Ritchie(shocked): MX Inc? Wow. Talk about power. You guys practically ran the country, ya even owned the company I worked for.

Melanie: Yeah, but in the end, it's not much to show for. I have no family. I have never been married. I don't even have any "real" friends, just people who want my help to advance their career.

Ritchie: What happened to your family?

Melanie: I was an only child. My parents died in a hold up while I was about 8. I watched them die. When the murder turned to me and attempted to fire, all I heard was "click".

Ritchie: I'm sorry, my parents also died while I was young. A drunk driver plowed into our car. I was the only survivor, and I got a nice scar to remind me daily of what happened.

Ritchie pulled up his right sleave, from his shoulder to the inside of his wrist was a long scar.

Ritchie: They said I should have been dead, and for a while I wished I was. But after time I relized that I survived for a reason, a purpose. Just like all of us left now, we are here for a reason.

Melanie: Did you have a wife before the...

Ritchie(holding back his true emotion): A wife and son, yeah. They were both crushed to death. I heard their cries but I couldn't do anything about it. I still hear their cries for help. I...

Before Ritchie could even finish, tears had filled Melanie's eyes. She dropped to her knees. Ritchie bent down next to her.

Ritchie: I'm sorry, I shouldn't have...

Melanie(holding back tears): No, it's not you. I am sorry. I killed them. I killed your family.

Ritchie: What? You didn't do a thing...

Melanie: No. No, I did. Months ago (still holding back) I reached an agreement with the government... they... they wanted a smart computer... they wanted AI... We developed it for them, but no one could have guessed how it would back fired. Than it was too late, we couldn't stop it. (the tears busting through) We couldn't... We couldn't stop...

Ritchie didn't know how to react. The person responsible for his families death, for all the pain his wife and son recieved... The person responsible for millions upon millions of people killed, was breaking down next to him, crying her eyes out. He paused for a moment, holding back his own tears. He wrapped his arms around her body, holding her close, comforting her.

Ritchie: It's not your fault Mala, it's not your fault.

For an instant, Melanie felt better; she would never be able to explain to Ritchie just how much his words in those few seconds meant to her. That short moment ended as a ball of fire riped into Ritchie's right shoulder, sending him flying onto a pile of rubble.

Melanie: NO!!!!!!!!!

Behind them stood one of the monsters, his hand smoking. The creature turned to Melanie and attempted to fire again. A confused look formed on his face as he looked at his hand. Ritchie's gun had been fried by the blast, he picked a metal rod off of the rubble and got to his feet.

Ritchie: Mala, on three run back to the bar! Don't wait up for me! One...

Ritchie moved behind the confused creature.

Ritchie: Two...

Ritchie ignored the pain from his smoking back and gripped the rod tightly. He was ready.

Ritchie: Three!

Ritchie slammed the metal rod into the back of the head of the creature who stumbled foward a bit. Melanie didn't want to leave him.

Ritchie: GO! Tell the others what you told me, you might be the key to defeating these things!

Melanie: I'm sorry...

Ritchie: Please, just go...

Ritchie hit the creature a few more times as Melanie finaly ran out of the hotel. With all of her energy she ran towards the bar, never looking back. The only thought running through her mind, strangely enough; was how she reiceved her nick name Mala. It means to be in bad faith, which more or less sums up her life. But now, a stranger, a Pala as you could call it, has given her something else... Hope.

Chewy Walrus

Thunder City

Dr. Henry Quantos wiped the beads of sweat falling down his forehead. He finished wrapping up the leg of an injured cat that Tobias had recovered from his excursion with Bibbo. After a dose of alcohol and a wrapping of fresh gauze, the fortyish doctor handed the young man the cat.

"I'm not a veterinarian, so I don't know much else to do," Quantos said apologetically. "But, I'm pretty sure that Lil' Jo will be fine."

"I hope so," Tobias said, putting the feline on the floor next to Orphan, who smiled widely and began stroking the cat lightly. Lil' Jo just purred, rubbing itself against Orphan's leg. The little boy was absolutely elated as he slowly scratched the kitten's head.

"So, Doc," Bibbo asked, popping out from behind the bar with another bottle that could double for rubbing alcohol, "you never did tell us how you managed to get here."

"Yeah, Doc," Devin said, leaning against the bar. "Don't you wanna tell us what happened?"

"Not really..." Quantos said, kneeling on the floor next to Orphan and Lil' Jo. Quantos ran his hand through his prematurely gray hair and thought back on all that had gone wrong. First, the death of his wife a little more than a week before and now... well, he wasn't too happy about what had just happened...

Previously, Elsewhere in Thunder City...

Henry Quantos sat before his newest patient, absolutely positive that there was no way that he could save this one's life. The good doctor merely applied pressure on the man's neck wound, but the blood continued to spray across the room. Quantos was soaked with blood, not able to think of anything else but the carnage and desolation that had been caused by these creatures.

The eyes of one Larry Lance glared back at Quantos. "Doc... am I... gonna be alright?"

Quantos just couldn't lie to this man, but found himself completely unable to tell him the truth. Instead, Quantos merely hung his head, looking away from the man's eyes. Lance began to tear up, as short sobs began to occupy his breathing. Within moments, the watery eyes of Larry Lance grew still as the blood stopped flowing from his wound. Quantos slammed his fist on the operating table as Nurse Nuriko covered the still-warm cadaver with a white sheet.

"Nuriko, this is a disaster!" he cried, dipping his hands in a bowl of water, only a bit of the blood coming off. "I've never felt more helpless in all my life!"

Nuriko said nothing, walking out of the room. Quantos knew that she was only going to bring in another hopeless case that he couldn't possibly save. He hated not being able to do anything. He sat back in a chair, placing his hand over his face. Tears began streaming down his cheeks as he recalled his wife's death.

Death.

For the past week or so, it had been all he'd seen. And he hated it.

He was a giver and saver of life. But, he had been unable to save his wife. He had been unable to save Larry Lance. And Daniel Davis. And dozens of other patients, coming to him without being able to receive his help.

No. Not that.

It was he who was unable to give his help.

Hearing a noise outside, Quantos quickly dried his eyes with his blood-speckled coat sleeve. Nuriko was undoubtedly right outside the door with the next patient. With a breath, Henry Quantos expelled from his mind all thoughts of doubt and uncertainty. He straightened up, beginning to sterilize his sutures and scalpel. In a commanding voice, he beckoned: "Come in."

To his surprise, the door did not open. Nuriko was not behind it with another bleeding heart, bleeding extremity patient. Instead, another noise wafted in from outside. This one was easily recognizable as a woman's scream.

Eyes widening, Quantum grabbed a hypodermic needle and shoved it in his pocket with his scalpel and sutures. Opening the door, he saw the all-too-familiar sight that he dreaded.

Death.

Two men, almost like shadows in their mannerisms, stood before a dead Nurse Nuriko. A large hole had been blasted through the woman's chest, leaving her a smoking corpse on the ground. Tears began to slither down Quantos' face again as the man reached into his pocket. Pulling out the scalpel, the doctor hurled the small knife at Nuriko's assailant. Moments later, in a flash of metal and blood, the scalpel landed... right between the dark man's eyes.

Quantos threw himself to the ground, rolling behind a desk. He knew that he had been spotted by the other man, who was rapidly making his way towards him. Quantos fumbled in his pockets, pulling out his hypodermic needle. Pulling on the end, Quantos made sure that the tube was filled with as much air as possible.

Before the man could act, however, his hiding spot erupted in flame. Kicking out at the flaming wood, Henry broke the desk into flaming slivers, revealing the dark man beyond it, a tongue of flame coming up from his fingertips. The man didn't speak, but continued to walk closer, the fire on his hand growing into a fireball with each step.

Quantos breathed heavily, the sweat pouring down his face. Before he even had time to think, Quantos lunged for the large man, jumping into the air and onto the man's face. In the struggle, Quantos managed to jab the needle into the man's back, pushing in the end, injecting the air into the man's veins.

Within seconds, the man was dead on the floor, the fireball in his hand was extinguished. Jumping up quickly, Henry ran into the patient ward, desperately wanting to find any survivors. However, when he reached the doorway, he saw the real truth.

More death.

The burned bodies of people with major and minor injuries lay strewn about room. Quantos gritted his teeth and slammed his fist into a wall. Tears once again rolled down his face as he stumbled aimlessly into his examining/operating room. Picking up his medical bag, Quantos filled it with anything he could find. Gauze, scalpels, anathesias, needles, sutures, more gauze. Only laterwould Henry realize that he'd forgotten to bring any anaseptic of any kind.

Opening the door and walking out into the street, Henry Quantos wandered about aimlessly down the streets of Thunder City. He was heading nowhere in particular, but knew that he had to get out of that place. Having seen lives taken, and taken two of his own, he wanted to get out. Get way from things and find somewhere where people were still alive.

Fighting the carnage.

Beating the death.

And, so, Henry Quantos ambled around until he eventually stumbled on a worn down bar. The door read The Ace of Yahoos Bar. The door swung open as Quantos walked by, revealing two men. One was bald with thin red eyebrows and the other had a thick head of black hair, which could've been neat had it not been so disheveled.

"Hey!" hollered the bald man called out. "Why don't you come on in?"

Quantos walked in slowly, crashing in a barstool as the bald man poured him a beer. The man with the black hair sat to his left and another man, this one in a pair of khakis, a wrinkled dress shirt, and suspenders with sandy blond hair.

"So," the black-haired man asked in a British accent, "what's your story?"

Quantos ignored the important part of the question and merely offered his name. "Name's Henry Quantos. I'm a doctor."

"S'about time!" the bald man behind the counter said smiling. "We've been doing our best with what we have. I was a first year med student before all this, so I've been making due, but now that you're here..." His voice trailed off when he noticed that the expression on Quantos' face hadn't changed. "Name's Devin," he said, offering his hand.

"A pleasure," Henry said, trying his best to feign a smile. The man with the black hair introduced himself as Alexander Steele, a former British police officer and the other man introduced himself as Richard Stevens, not offering an occupation.

Quantos nursed his beer for a while, slowly contemplating the events of the past half hour...

Now...

Quantos stood, bringing himself back to reality. He pulled another beer from behind the counter, taking a swig and leaning against the counter.

"Y'know, Doc," Bibbo chimed in, "I don't think drinking is best for a man of your occupation."

"Is that your medical opinion?" Quantos asked, a bit of bitter sentiment in his voice. Bibbo sheepishly turned his head as the door slammed.

Devin's shotgun immediately became unholstered as Melanie appeared inside the bar. She fell to the ground, crying and gasping for breath. She was barely able to breathe, as Steele, one of the men who had arrived with her, bent down beside her.

"Mala... what's up?" he asked quietly, rubbing her back softly.

"It's... Ritchie..." she managed between sobs. "He's... he's..."

"I'm going out," Bibbo said, pulling a revolver from a drawer behind the bar. "I'm gonna find him. Where was he last, Melanie?"

"The... hotel... a few blocks away..." she gasped, returning to tears.

"Doc, you hold down the fort," Bibbo said, pocketing his gun. "Devin, Steele, you guys come with me."

"Me too!" Tobias said, standing from his place beside Orphan.

"No," Bibbo said, shaking his head. "I want you to stay here. We don't need any more people possibly dying. Now, c'mon, guys. Let's go..."

Mister Mxypltk

What's left of Mississippi

They called him 'prototype'. That's his first memory. But he can't remember it. They said he wasn't good enough, so they had to get rid of him.

But then she, the head of the project, look at his artificial brown eyes and said 'no'. As he (or it) scanned her mind, for pure curiosity (something he wasn't suppoused to have, that made him 'not good enough') he found out her name was Melanie.

"Lets drop him in the street" she said "We delete all the current memory and replace it with some random memory base".

"That's a great idea!" some excited professor replied "we can replace his memory with one of the 'brain data bases' we recopilated in our previous project! It will be a great experiment, certanly more comfortable than what this little asignment the goverment gave us"

Melaine agreed to with the professor, then she said something to him about the current project's "comfortability", and then...

He found himself walking on the streets of Thunder City, with a brand new set of memories. Eventually, he would find 'glitches' in his life that would make him doubt (the main one would be a man living two cities away that shared with him his name, date of birth, and 25 years of memories). They wanted him to. That was part of the experiment.

But the project he was once a part of reached its conclusion, with devastating consecuences to the world.

Now he tries to help the survivors of the devastation in Mississippi as every other human does, not knowing how much he's capable of doing much more.

The name they gave him is Marc Campbell, and he may be the last hope humanity has.

He just doesn't know it.

Gooz

Somewhere

A man is brused and bloody, laying on a hard stone floor. Bars all around him, a cage.

Pain. What happened? Am I dead? Or worse? Where am I? Pain.

He attempts to get to his feet but falls back down, hitting the ground hard, spiting up another mouthful of blood.

I am Richard Stevens. My friends call me Ritchie. I had a succesful job in advertising. I had a wife. I had a son.

Using all of his strength, Ritchie is finally able to pull his body to his knees. As painful as it is, he opens his eyes. He sees a smaller figure in front of him, a young man, no older than 19.

The Man: Hello, sir? My name's Jason, Jason Walker.

Ritchie is still silent, trying to get his head straight.

Jason: Are you ok?

Ritchie: I... I'm not sure. Do you know where we are?

Jason: No, I don't... Last I knew, I was in Chicago. But I have a feeling that we are very far from there. Where, where were you from?

Ritchie: I'm from Thunder City. How long have you been here?

Jason: I have no clue; no windows, no clocks, time passes and passes, there is just no way to keep track of it. I just know that what seems like every few hours, they take another one of us.

Ritchie looked around, hundreds of people, much like himself were crowded in cages. Screams could be heard in the near distance.

Ritchie: Oh my gob. Normal people, they make normal people into those monsters.

Jason: What? What do you mean?

Ritchie: We have to get out of here, somehow, we have to help free everyone else too.

Ritchie attempted to get to his feet once again, only to fall back onto his knees. The pain from the deep burns on his back unbareable.

Ritchie: We have to get out of here

Tobias Christopher

"Tobias, will I ever remember anything?" Orphan asked.

"Someday." Tobias replied. "Go play with L'il Jo. I'll be back in a few minutes."

Tobias ran outside and looked around. All around, he saw nothing but destruction. Evil forces had done this.

"Who caused this?" Tobias yelled. "Who's responsible!"

Meanwhile, something was approaching the bar. Something evil...

Mister Mxypltk

The ruins of Royal City

In one of the last buildings standing, a computer, The Administrator, processes information from different sources. Finally, it comes to a decition.

A man teleports next to it.

Rob Kamphausen: You called, sir?

The computer makes several noises.

Rob Kamphausen is a brave "man". No mortal being can make him hesitate. Even DCWEBMASTR and dcwebmastr2, that share his same power, fear him. But, when this computer "talks" to him, he's a little kitten.

Rob Kamphausen: Yes, sir. N-No... not yet sir. Yes, I asked them, sir. I understand. Of course, of course... What? But, how, sir, if we don't know where...? Oh...

Both stay silent for a moment.

Rob Kamphausen: I understand... But... Yes, I'm willing to... But, eh, instead of being so.. drastic... why don't we scan the area to find him...? Yes, it will take much longer, but...

Rob Kamphausen is scared. If he was able to sweat, his forehead would now be full of drops. He waits for his master's decition almost terrified.

The computer makes a noise.

Rob Kamphausen: You agree?? Thank you, thank you, sir! Of course I will, sir! Tha-Thank you, sir!

Before teleporting, Rob Kamphausen makes sure every sign of excitment or relief is gone from his face.

Somewhere in Thunder City...

Rob Kamphausen teleports next to two men.

They are afraid to ask him how did it go. They look at his emotionless face, hopelessly trying to figure out what happened.

DCWEBMASTR: Well...?

Rob Kamphausen: Well what?

DCWEBMASTR: What happened?

Rob Kamphausen: I just saved your sorry asses, that's what happened! Now MOVE! We have a lot to do!

[ 01-03-2002: Message edited by: Chewy Walrus ]

Bibbo: I don't see anybody here... do ya?
Bibbo, Devin and Steele look around them. All they see is ruins.
Steele: No... I'm afraid I don't see anything either, Bibbo. Maybe Melanie got confused.
Bibbo: Then what got Ritchie, eh?
Steele: Mmmm, you are right... But it's clear that whatever attacked them isn't here anymore...
Devin (on his knees, looking at some ruins): Hey, over here!
Bibbo and Steele walk to Devin.
Steele: What is it, De...? Oh, my!
Bibbo and Devin notice the blood spilled on a rock next to Devin. They feel a shiver down their spine.
For a second, they don't talk. Bibbo thinks about saying "Maybe it's someone else's blood...", but he doesn't. He hopes someone else would say it...
"Look..." Steele says "Why don't we go back to the bar? In case that thing strikes over there..."
Devin: Yeah... lets go over there...
Bibbo and Steele start walking. Devin stands up, and runs to join them. On their way to the bar, nobody says a word.

...for anyone interested...

The airbrakes of the Greyhound bus screeched as the bus came to a jerky halt. Chewy about fell out of his seat as he grabbed a nearby pole to steady himself.

"What the...?" he began.

"HEY! WATCH WHERE YOU'RE GOING, YOU IDIOT!!" Jon yelled from the driver's seat.

"What's going on, Jon?" Chewy asked, running to the front of the bus from his place in the center, reviewing Tweed's ammunition stock.

"There's a moron here just standing out in the middle of the road!" Jo said, motioning to a man staring blankly at the front of the bus just inches in front of his face.

"Let me handle this, Jon," Chewy said, patting the big guy on the back. "Hey, Jess! Wanna gimme a hand with this?"

"Sure," the woman said, standing from her seat next to Tora and Gummy. "I could use any chance to stretch my legs a bit."

"Great," Chewy said, pulling his Uzi. "Bring your gun..."

Jessica smiled and flashed her weapon at the Walrus. "These days? 'Don't leave home without it...'"

Chewy smiled, stepping off the bus and onto the ground of Thunder City. Aiming his gun at the man in front of the bus, Chewy simply said, "Don't move."

The man stood there, blinking at him, not really knowing what was going on.

"Friend or foe?" came Jessica Daniels' alluring voice from behind Chewy's ear.

"Friend, I suppose," came the man's reply, but his tone indicated that he was just as confused as they were.

"What's your name, stranger?" Chewy said, arching his eyebrow in suspicion.

"Marc Campbell," the man began. "At least... I think it's Marc Campbell..."

"You don't remember?" Jessica asked, an air of incredulity adorning her words.

"It's not that I don't remember..." Campbell began. "It's... well... I have these memories, see? And whenever I think long and hard about 'em, the more I get to thinking that they never really happened, y'know?"

Chewy and Jessica exchanged a confused glance and turned back to the dazed man.

"...not really..." Jessica said, moving alongside Campbell.

"Listen, I've got an idea," Chey said, moving in closer to Campbell. "Why don'tyou come along with us? Tell us what of your story you remember actually happening and let us decide what to do with you from from there..."

"You won't kill me, will you?" Campbell asked, his tone soft and innocent-sounding.

"Chances are we won't..." Daniels answered, helping Campbell up the stairs. "We've got a serial killer in the back we've kept alive for some reason... Oh, and never mind the fishy smell he's got. He had abit of a problem with a sardine earlier..."

The bus doors closed behind them and the Greyhound drove on, no one on board quite sure what they were looking for...

“This building is old,” he turned to his cellmate, a young man who goes by the name Jason. “A lot of these older buildings have hollowed out walls and trick doors.”

“If- if we try to escape they will kill us...”

“If we don’t escape, we will be killing innocents.”

After finding nothing along the floor, Ritchie started to pull at the bars.

“Come on-“ he said to himself, struggling to free one. Finally, one moved, the bottom was loose. He shook it back and forth, rage in his eyes. Ritchie kept pushing himself, trying desperately to break the bar loose. His arms began to shake and if he could, he would have screamed from the pain before blacking out. The burns on most of his body were taking their toll.

Jason stepped back, he knew fear very well. And he knew all too well that neither of them would live past this night. He simply kneeled in the corner, resting against the cold bars, silent and waiting for death to take away the pain.

[ 02-27-2002: Message edited by: GoozX ]

"So, can I get you something to eat, Marc?" Chewy asked, slipping into his bus seat next to the newly picked up stranger.

"No, I'm okay," Marc said, holding up his hand. "I'm not hungry. Not really thirsty either."

"Your call," Chewy said, shrugging and handing Jessica a bottle of water. "So, where are you headed anyway?"

"Dunno," Campbell said, staring absently out the window.

Chewy rolled his eyes and stood, pulling Jessica to an uninhabited part of the bus. "Listen, I'm not too sure about this guy. Doesn't remember who he is. Doesn't know where he's going. Weirds me out a bit..."

"So, what do you wanna do?" Jessica said, a bit of sarcasm evident on her voice. "Shoot him? Leave him to die? Or better yet, why not feed him to Viper?"

"No," Chewy said, running his hands thorugh his sweaty hair. "It's just... what's he doing here? Hell, what are we doing here?! What made us naive enough to think that Thunder City, of all places, would be better than Chicago?!"

"I don't know, Chewy!" Jessica said, raising her voice just a bit over a whisper. "You've been giving the orders thus far! And I've been following like a good little cop! DOing my job! Serving and protecting! That's why I'm here, Mr. Walrus! And, if you can't take it, then I suggest we part company!"

The woman, tears in her eyes, got up, running toward the front of the bus. "Jon, stop the bus!"

With a hiss, the Greyhound bus lurched to a stop, causing Jessica to stumble into the dash a little. Jon reached up to help her, but the police officer shrugged him off and took off into the street.

"Jessica!" Chewy yelled, jumping to his feet and running after her.

"Chewy!" Jon called after him, jumping to his feet. Then, looking over his shoulder, he noticed how precious his cargo was. The boy, Gummy. His girl, Tora. The scientist, Walt Curie. Then, he noted the scum. Viper. Tweed. The human enigma that was Campbell.

"I'll stay here!" he called out after the running secret agent.

"Jessica, wait!" Chewy yelled, quickly catching up with a woman and pulling her into an alley three blocks down the road. "Jessica! What was that back there?"

The woman was in tears, sobbing almost uncontrollably. She looked up at Chewy, her eyes soaked with tears and her lips quivering with sadness.

"Jessica..." Chewy said again, softening his tone considerably. "C'mon, Jess... what's wrong?"

"It's... it's..." the woman began to tear up again, dropping her head on Chewy's shoulder.

"Shhh..." Chewy whispered reassuringly, rubbing her back. "Shh... it's gonna be okay..."

"No!" she cried aloud. "No, it won't! Pat's dead!"

"Who?" Chewy asked, pulling Jessica back so that he could see her face.

"Patrick Walker..." Jessica said, sniffling a bit. "He was my partner in Chicago. He... he died. Killed by those horrible things. I... I just..."

Chewy caught the woman in his arms as she fell towards him, sobbing again. "It's alright, Jess... you can tell me..."

"He... he..." Daniels began. "Before he died, he... he told me he loved me..."

"Oh, Jessica..." Chewy said, shock in his voice. "I... I'm sorry. Here, I never even stopped to think that you may have been involved in any..."

"Just shut up," the woman said, pulling Chewy's head in toward her own.

Within that instant, the two became locked in a passionate kiss. Chewy clasped his hands around Jessica's waist, savoring the moment. As the two released from their kiss, they each heard the cock of a shotgun behind them.

"Freeze," came the cold, confident male voice. "Take your hands off the girl, puit them in the air, and turn around... SLOWLY!"

Jessica didn't take her eyes from Chewy's. He felt her hands reaching into his pocket and fingering his Uzi. Chewy smiled at her.

"I love you," he mouthed.

"I know," she mouthed back.

Chewy pulled his hands over his head and as slowly as he could, turned away from Jess, who, as soon as he got out of the way, pulled her gun up into the face of the man with the shotgun.

The man before them both was portly, dressed in a peacoat and a fisherman's cap. His eyes widened when the gun came up and he immediately dropped his weapon, which clattered as it hit the ground.

"I... I'm sorry," the sailor answered, putting his hands over his head as Chewy lowered his, pulling Jessica's gun from her holster. "I thought you were one of those powered... things. You had on the trenchcoat... the fedora! I thought you was ravaging her! Sorry, mister! Real sorry!"

"No harm done," Chewy said, lowering the gun to his side, motioning for Jess to do the same. "What's your name, sailor?"

"Arnold Bibbowski," the man said, holding his position. "Friends call me 'Bibbo,' though..."

"What're you doing alone on the streets, Bibbo?" Chewy asked, nodding at the man to put his hands down.

"I own a place just up the street here," Bibbo said, motioning down the road a few blocks from where they were standing. "Heard the girl yell and thought there was trouble. See, we're housing survivors down in my place. The bar off of Farenheit. The two of you are welcome to join us, if you'd like. What'd you do anyway?"

"She was a cop and I was a secret agent," Chewy answered. "Back in our bus, we've got a kid, a prostitute, an ex-con, a scientist, a serial killer, a weapons smuggler, and an amnesiac."

Bibbo cocked his eyebrow incredulously. "You pulling my leg, mister?"

"You wanna meet them?" Chewy said with a wink.

"We can house you, sure," Bibbo said. "May have to have Devin restrain that killer of yours, but the others should be fine. Sorry, but I didn't catch your names...?"

"Oh, sorry..." Chewy offered his hand. "I'm Chewy Walrus and this..."

"I'm Jessica Daniels," Jess said, nodding to Bibbo.

"Nice to meet you!" Bibbo began walking in the direction of the bar. "C'mon in! Meet the family!"

"Everybody, down!" Chewy yells.

"What...? Where are we going?" Curie asks, getting up from his seat.

"We found a place..." Chewy answers, and then adds "Let's go, let's go!"

Marc Campbell just does as eveyone else and follows them outside the bus, and then to the streets. Marc follows them for a couple of blocks, without saying a word, when they reach the place Chewy found.

"Welcome to the Ace" Bibbo says to Chewy's group, and then he starts the introductions.

Marc is not paying attention. "This is... Over here is... And this is my pal..." is all he hears Bibbo says. Marc just looks at the people Bibbo points. There's a little one, like the one on the bus. Little ones freak him out. They just seem unnatural to him. Another proof that his memories are not real: he can't remember feeling this way about them in the past. Marc stares at the little one a little longer after Bibbo points another person. Then he quickly moves his sight to the next person, catching up with Bibbo.

"And this beauty's Mala" Bibbo says. She looks depressed. Her face is covered by her hair, but it's evident to everyone that the expression in it is not happy.

"Mala?" Viper asks, recognizing the spanish word "Maaaaala..."

"That's Melanie for you" she says, lifting her head and revealing her face.

Marc Campbell widens his eyes at the sight of her face.

"Well, and that's about everyone..." Bibbo says "Now what about you -- hey, buddy, what's wrong?" he says to Marc when he notices his expression.

"Marc?" Jessica asks "You look like you've just seen a ghost..."

Mala looks up to see what they're talking about. Her reaction is similar to Marc's.

"Oh my God..." she says "...the prototype..."

"I... I..." Melanie begins, obviously very flustered.

"What is it, Mala?" Steele asks, crouching down beside the woman he's been sworn to protect.

"I..." Melanie begins again. "I just can't take all of this! I need to be alone!"

With that, and before anyone can stop her, Melanie runs out of the room, slamming the door behind her. Every ear in the room hears the door's lock clicking into place. Bibbo turns to Chewy and shrugs.

"Must be girl troubles," he says with a wink. Chewy chuckles slightly until his ribs are met by Jessica's elbow.

"Sorry, hon," Chewy said, rolling his eyes. "So, I never got to meet this guy here..." the Walrus said, pointing to Steele, who was standing up from his spot where he was kneeling next to Melanie.

"Oh, sorry about that, lad," Steele said, taking the hand of the middle-aged trenchcoated man. "Name's Alexander Steele. Former police officer in Britain and, more recently, Miss Melanie's personal bodyguard."

"Police, eh?" Chewy said. "Well, what a coincidence! I'm a former secret agent and my lady friend here is formerly of Chicago PD."

"Well, blimey!" Steele said, grabbing the woman's hand and giving it a hardy shake. "Pleased to meet the both of you!"

"Perhaps you could also give us a hand with our little... problem..." Chewy said, pointing to the pale, skinny man that Jon Hanks held tightly in his large hands.

"What can I do you for?" Steele said, putting on a "cop face" and looking the sickly man over.

"Guy's name's Jeff Viper," Jessica Daniels piped up. "He's a serial killer. Killed dozens of women after he raped them. Scum of the earth, lemme tell you."

Steele turned his gaze from Viper to Bibbo and Devin, who were each standing behind the bar. "Got a place for him, gents?"

"Basements as good a place as any," Bibbo said with a shrug. "Still, if those things attack again, we'll need that space to hide. Not sure what we'll do with him then..."

"We'll cross that bridge when we come to it," Chewy said, turning to Hanks. "Jon, take Viper with these guys to the basement. Do whatever they tell you. And make sure you don't put Viper in any position he'll easily escape."

"Got it, boss," Hanks said, leaning in closer to Chewy's ear. "Hey, can we see if we can't find that doctor friend of yours? Tora says her leg's starting to hurt even worse now."

Chewy looked over at where the former prostitute sat, her broken leg, propped onto a barstool adjacent to the one she sat on. Chewy turned to a man, laying hunched over the bar, nursing a beer.

"Excuse me, sir, can you tell me where I might be able to find the practice of a one Dr. Henry Quantos?" the Walrus asked.

"Who wants me now?" the inebriated man shot his head up, revealing himself to be none other than Chewy's old friend - Dr. Quantos.

"Henry!" Chewy screamed as the man fell off his seat. "Good lord, what have you done to yourself! Walt, fix him some coffee, black. We need to get him sober enough to help Tora!"

"On it!" Walt said, jumping over the bar and clicking on the nearby coffee pot, which Bibbo had brought out after the "incident" in order to be able to stay alert for watch.

"C'mon, Henry," Chewy said, as the man passed out. "C'mon... don't fail me now!"