RKMBs Forums .::Important::. Writer's Block Vanguard-The Siege

*This story takes place between issues 12 and 13*
*Fallen pic by LoserInc.*

Prologue

A time before.

The onyx pyramid hovered silently above the obsidian waters. The granite skinned humanoid male slowly descended the stair case leading away from the structure. He gingerly cradled a similar looking female form in his arms.

When he reached the end of the staircase, he bent down and set her adrift. As her body slowly sank beneath the waves, he said something that in human tongues might translate
into “goodbye.”

He turned and ascended the stair case and went inside the pyramid, the staircase retracting behind him. A loud, hum began to emanate from the pyramid as it began to move slightly.

It starting rotating counter clockwise. Slowly, at first, then building in speed faster and faster until it vanished completely. As if it never were.

End prologue

A waterfall overlooking the lush green fields of Haven. A being resembling an aged man in a brown suit, with an ornately detailed walking stick stands on the cliffside looking out over the fields in the distance. He seems not to see what is directly in front of him.

“Where one was destroyed, another must be saved. There must be a balance. . .” The being mused as he began to turn his cane in his hands.

“Thus is ever the paradigm. . .” a voice from behind him spoke.

The man turned, seemingly unsurprised at the break in his reverie and placed his walking stick in front of him. “Scion.” he said more as an acknowlegement of the man’s presence than as a greeting.

“Paradigm. I’ve been expecting you.” he replied, his robes fluttering in the wind.

“You’ve called a meeting, then.” Paradigm stated.

“Not yet. There is one other we must speak with beforehand. The three of us must present a united front to the council if we wish them to act. It will be easier that way.”

“I fail to see why we should need another when the two of us. . .” Paradigm began.

“Where there is Order, there must also be Chaos, to truly have Balance.” Scion answered with a smile. As he did so, another man appeared on the hillside. He had long white hair and wore black robes. His face was pale and slightly gaunt. He had black markings above and beneath his eyes. His overall appearance was one of judgement.

“Well, met, Mortis.” began the Scion, extending a hand in friendship.

“Well, met, Scion.” Mortis returned stoicly.

“How are things at the Asylum? Your new position goes well, I take it?” Scion asked as the three men began to walk towards the temple.

“As well as can be expected. With our guards depleted first by the battles here, and then with the breakout, it is not easy. The droids, I am finding, do not perform as well in the task of hunting as they do in guarding cells.” Mortis replied never once changing his dour expression. “Perhaps due to the nature of dealing with the insane. They lack. . . adaptability.”

“Perhaps you should consider using living beings to hunt the escapees? I could loan you an agent or two. . .” Scion offered as they walked.

“I shall take that into consideration.”

The three men entered the temple and began to formulate their plans.

They never noticed a small speck appear in the sky behind them.

Los Angeles, CA, USA
Two years ago.
The shimmering bluish-white portal opened with a slight hum and the muscular man in the tattered remnants of what was once a tailored white suit stepped through the portal. His
white hair was mussed, and he held a small gadget the size of a cell phone in his right hand. A look of relief crossed his face as he looked around and recognized downtown
Los Angeles. He had made it, after all this time. He had escaped into the past to warn himself of the impending danger. This time, they would succeed. This time it would
work. His offices should be located right around this corner. . .He stopped dead in his tracks as he rounded the corner and saw a building similar to his own, but not. Where, in his home universe, Paragon Industries stood, in this universe he was now directly in front of something called Lupin Technologies. The immediate realization dawning on his mind that he hadn’t made it home after all, but was now temporarily trapped in a parallel universe until he could recharge and make another jump.

Vanguard International Headquarters
Puerta Mibela, La Perdita

Sweat dripped down Grissom Montag’s face as he looked directly into the eyes of the younger man who stood before him, smiling.

“Come on, old man, let’s see what you’ve got.” Phil Smith challenged him, dribbling a basketball between his two hands.

“Let’s ‘ave it, then, youngster. Show this “old man” something.” Montag answered back. Phil faked left and then doubled back to the right, slipping past Montag and going for a slam dunk, only to have the ball disappear from his hands as he jumped towards the basket.

“Hey, what the--?!” he said in mid jump. Looking behind him at the merc known as the Sandcrawler, he saw Montag’s three-fingered hands moving downcourt with the ball.
“This “old man’s” still got a few tricks, eh, Philsy?” He said, with a slight smirk.

Montag went to dunk the ball in the basket, only to have it seemingly change it’s mind in mid-air and began moving towards the opposite direction. “Come to papa.” Phil said,
motioning with his fingers.

“I believe that’s called “traveling,” mate. . .” Montag said as Phil went for another basket. “Yeah, yeah. . .” Phil responded, using his telekinesis to levitate himself across the court in imitation of a Michael Jordan jump. As Phil moved towards the basket, however, it vanished from directly in front of him.

“Grisssss. . .” Phil said, hitting the baseboard. “Whoops. Uh, sorry, chum.” Montag said as the metal basket appeared in his hands. “You all right, then, Philsy?”

“Yeah, just my pride.” Phil called back, lowering himself to the ground.

“What you need, son, is to learn to play football. Now there’s a man’s game.” Montag said, drying himself off with a towel.

“You mean soccer?” Phil answered dryly.

“I mean football. Real football, not that nancy crap with all the pads and helmets you yanks are so fond of. . .” Montag responded as the two walked out of the basketball
court.

“You know, building this thing was a pretty good idea. . .” Phil mused as they headed towards the living quarters to clean up.

Dirk Bell brushed past the two men as they were heading out of the basketball court.

“Hey,” Phil said with astonishment. “I thought you left.”

“I did.” Dirk replied, taking a cigar out of his jacket pocket and beginning to light it.

“. . .and. . .?” Phil continued.

“I’m back.” Dirk replied, still walking.

“Prick.” Phil muttered, turning back to catch up with Grissom.

Nuriko stood in one of the many gymnasiums in Vanguard headquarters. Her position as assistant to Miss X left her little down time, but what little she had, she made use of. She held her katana out before her and began to run through battle stances she had learned thousands of years ago in her homeland. The samurai laughed when first she came to them, asking to learn their ways. When she had risen to the top of their ranks, the laughter stopped.

Swiftly, she turned and leveled her blade at the throat of the man standing behind her.

Dirk Bell just grinned slightly. “Let’s go,” he said, pulling his own katana from seemingly nowhere within his trenchcoat. Dirk shrugged off his coat and the battle began.

The two engaged in a furious dance of steel and sparks that lasted what seemed like hours. They blocked, parried, thrusted, and continued on, neither giving an inch. Dirk cornered. Nuriko near a side wall, only to have her flip over his head to safety. She cornered him, then, and disarmed him with a flick of the wrist. He surprised her, however, moving in and causing her to drop her blade with a nerve pinch. He pinned her free arm behind her back. She reversed out and and tossed him to the floor with a judo throw. Straddling him, she looked him in the eyes. “Mmmm, give up yet?”

“Not a chance in hell.” he said, still smirking.

"Wanna go again?" she continued, a devilish grin crossing her face.

Later. . .

Nuriko lit a cigarette. She noticed Dirk glance at the kanji tattooed on her arm, just below the shoulder. “My characters mean patience,” she began, “it’s something I’ve had a lot of time to learn. So tell me about. . .”

“I just have one question,” Dirk interrupted, lighting a cigar, “Why are you still here?”

“Bastard!” she screamed, slamming the door to his room before walking down the hallway, his bedsheet wrapped around her. .

The recreation room.

Mick Harrison and his fiancee, Shirley, sat on the couch eating popcorn and watching television. Specifically, Shirley’s new favorite show, “Spike, the Human Lawndart.”

“Okay, so what’s gonna happen is, I’m gonna get in the cannon, and they’re gonna shoot me through this brick wall. . .” Spike explained from the tv as he lit a cigarette.

“We interrupt this show for an important MetaTV news announcement.”

“Aww, man, just when it was getting to the good part. . .” Mick started in before being elbowed in the gut by Shirley.

“We are live on the scene in Coconut Creek, Florida, where a metahuman holding facility has just been attacked by a rogue metahuman. We are unsure of the exact nature of this
assault, but there have been earthquakes, fires, gunshots. . .”

“Oh my god,” Shirley exclaimed.

“Hey, isn’t that where they sent that shark guy that Grimm fought during the hurricane?” Mick asked, digging in the popcorn bowl for the last few kernels.

Coconut Creek, FL, USA.
The Faciltity for Metahuman Incarceration and Rehabilitation.

Two armed guards escorted a pale, muscular, bald, and tattooed man wearing an orange prison uniform, manacles, and a muzzle.

“I don’t know what those freaks want, but they’re not gettin’ their hands on you, bright boy.” one of the guards offered, pushing the prisoner with the butt of his rifle.

Gnaw just glared at the man from dark eye sockets.

“That’s enough, Tony. Let’s just get him back to his cell.” the other guard responded very flatly and evenly.

The walls of the building began to tremble and shake, as a violent quake struck the facility. The guards moved their guns into position as a section of the floor began to well up in front of them and then exploded outward in a shower of debris. From a large hole in the ground popped up a well dressed man in a dark silk button up shirt and dark grey trousers. He wore a matching grey tie and a black leather overcoat. He was in his mid twenties with premature white hair. He was smiling and had a toothpick poised at the edge of his mouth. “Ahhh, fresh as a daisy,” the metahuman criminal known as Cascade said,
looking over his immaculate clothing.

“Shoot him!” the guards began only to be pounded into unconsciousness by a fresh assault of rocks and earth. “I don’t think so. I just bought this suit, after all.”

“Who the fuck are you?” Gnaw asked, through his muzzle.

“I’m your new teammate, hoss. Name’s Cascade. No detergent jokes if you wanna get out of here.” The white haired meta criminal rifled through the keys of the fallen guards, searching for the ones that would free Gnaw from his restraints.

“And how are we getting out?” Gnaw asked as Cascade unlocked his muzzle and manacles.

“Just like Alice, my friend. Down the rabbit hole.” Cascade stepped into the large hole in the floor with a flourish and vanished.

Gnaw peered down into the hole, still a little unsure of exactly what was happening. “Aw, fuck it,” he said finally and dove into the hole after his rescuer.

Haven.

A monk stood under a large oak tree at the edge of the woods, his robes flapping in the mild breeze that flew across his face. He was fairly nervous. An apple sat on top of his head as he attempted not to move around and cause it to fall. Sweat poured down the side of his face as he waited.

Suddenly, a number of thin, silver tendrils apeared on either side of the tree, near the monk’s head. The tendrils curved in air and joined themselves together, taking the form of an arrow shaft, neatly embedded in the apple. The monk sighed with relief.

“Grimm, you now owe Cross one thousand dollars.” Turkish Stringfellow said, balancing himself on the branch of another tree with his toes.

“Oh, come on, Turk. . .” Grimm began turning his head to where the prophet stood, while Cross beamed silently in the background. Grimm stopped abruptly as a figure moved into
his line of sight. A red haired woman who sat on the edge of the field, enjoying the varieties of flowers growing there.

“Why do you not go to her? It is only natural for the avatars to interact.” Stringfellow said, alighting next to the undead biker.

“It’s just. . .it’s strange, you know? It’s like moving in on your dead brother’s wife or something. It’s complicated.” Grimm replied.

“Ahh, things that are truly worth the effort are never easy.” The Prophet answered as his thoughts turned towards his own object of desire.

“Yeah, look, I need to get back to La Perdita. The others are expecting me.” Grimm began to head back towards the temple where Z stood waiting.

“Give them our well wishes.” Turkish said, warmly.

“So long and thanks for the wishes!” Cross yelled, now rolling around on the ground and giggling madly.

Turkish sighed and rolled his eyes skyward with a look that said “Why me, lord?”

As night began to fall on the town of Puerta Mibela, an eerie stillness fell over the Vanguard complex. A light mist settled over the surrounding area, making it nearly
impossible to see. A pale hand coalesced out of the mist and punched in a number on the keypad on the front door.

<Please stand by for optic scan.> The metallic voice sounded out of the speaker. <Begin optic scan.> A dark haired female form stepped out of the mist and up to the doorway as the tiny lasers scanned her eyes. <Welcome, Mrs. Lupin.> the doors opened as the female motioned for someone to enter. The mist began to shift and flow inwards as if pushed along by a breeze. Several dark forms passed the woman as they went inside.

Grissom Montag was hard at work putting the finishing touches on rewiring one of the computer consoles when he came across a small device that shouldn’t have been there.
“Ello, wot’s this?” He removed the small item and turned it over in his hands. “I don’t remember installing that. . .”

“That’s because you didn’t, asshole.” A low, gutteral voice snarled from behind the Sandcrawler as a large wrench impacted on the back of his skull. The metahuman fell to the floor, unconscious. The room was filled with mist which began to swirl together and coalesce into a singular form. A short, pale man with long black hair pulled back into a ponytail wearing a black leather trenchcoat. Two white fangs gleamed as they protruded from the man’s mouth. The vampire member of the mercenary faction known as the Bruttes, Rant. So named for his habit of ranting and raving at his targets before killing them. “You know
what your problem is? You guys are so conceited and self absorbed that you can’t imagine that somebody else. . .” The vampire’s mile a minute mouth giving credence to
his name.

“Rant. This is not the time. We have a job to do.” Justine Lupin stepped out of the shadows. “Find the Genestealer. That is why I hired you and your associates.”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m goin’. . .” The vampire retorted, mumbling under his breath as his body again assumed the form of mist.

***********************
Shirley Francis climbed out of the bed that she shared with Mick Harrison and began walking down the hallway towards the bathroom. Why couldn’t they have designed this place with convenient bathrooms? No one ever thinks about important stuff. . . She thought to herself drowsily as she felt along the side of the wall for a light switch. Suddenly she felt a chill along her back and she wished
that she had worn a bathrobe over her neglige.

“Why couldn’t you understand, Shirley? I only did it for you.” The voice came from behind her. She froze in shock. Slowly she turned around, but she already knew who she would see. “Clifford.” she whispered, putting a hand to her mouth.

“You do remember. And now, I’ll have what’s mine!” he said, as his form began to distend and change shape. White hairs sprouted up all along his body and his nose and jaws elongated into a wolfen snout.

Clifford sprang towards the frozen Shirley and let out a loud primal roar. The wolf-thing stopped short, however, as if hitting a brick wall. It looked up at the strange being in front of it. It pulled something from beneath it’s long coat and began to advance towards Clifford.

Clifford roared in defiance at the intruder.

“Oh my god! Thank you, Michael!” Shirley said, relieved at the timeliness of the being known as the Spirit of Vengeance.

“I am not Michael! I am Vengeance! And this being will know pain for the murder of innocents! We are under attack! Get to safety, Shirley Francis!” Vengeance’s sepulchral voice sounded through his demonic red helmet as his flaming sword flashed to life and he advanced on Clifford.

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

Tobias Christopher sped around the island, finishing his evening workout. As he turned towards Vanguard HQ, he felt something brush past him. “Whatthehell. . .” he felt it
brush past him again, this time going the opposite direction. “Aaahhhh!” TC felt the stinging sensation on the left side of his face and touched his fingers to his cheek. “Blood. . .” As he slowed to a halt, something jerked him off of his feet. “HwstginnmsAmk!” TC was being pulled along behind another, very manic, speedster. He wore a dark reddish brown light armor suit made of leather. It was covered with spikes at every joint, and
covered the speedster’s body entirely. He wore protective eyelenses that were green, and had knives extended from his forearms. A few of those knives were trailing blood.
“Wllgttgocyultr!” the speedster said as he spun around and released TC, flinging him into a side wall of the Vanguard complex at several hundred mph, breaking a few ribs and
causing him to pass out in the process.

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

Phil Smith sat at his computer console, typing out an encrypted email message to Leslie Klein. He was still attempting to deal with the events of the last few months, especially the case that the Vanguardians had dubbed “Heroes and Legends,” when he felt a sharp pain in his temples. “Aaaarrghhh!” Phil screamed inarticulately as he dropped down to the floor. “Hmm. How very unremarkable. I had heard you were possessed of considerable talents, Mr. Smith. It seems I heard wrong.” A very old voice sounded in Phil’s head. “Get. . .out. . .of my. . .head!” Phil said through gritted teeth, struggling to get back to his feet. With a final burst of energy, Phil managed to push the intruder out of his mind. He fell back into his chair, gasping for breath. When he had recovered, he pressed a small button which sounded an alarm in the complex. Pressing the send switch on the intercom he shouted, “Vanguard, we’ve got a situation! Intruders in the complex!” He slapped some fresh ammunition into his guns and cautiously moved out into the hallway.

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

Over the years, Rant had learned that he was able to manipulate his mist to hypnotic effect. The easiest byproduct of this was putting people to sleep. He’d already made one round throughout the complex, putting most of the Vanguardians present to sleep. Finally, he came across the room he was searching for. The living quarters of Blackwulf the Everchanging, Vanguard’s physical trainer and backup field team (or B Team) member. Blackwulf and the other B team members lay slumped together on the floor,
having fallen victim to Rant’s mist in the middle of a marathon video game session. Rant removed a communicator from his jacket pocket and turned it on. “Rant to Bruttes. I’ve found our target. Somebody get down here and give me a hand with Captain Caveman.”

“Holocaust here. We’re on our way.” came the staticy response.

************************
Phil stepped out into the corridor, having stopped only to don a gas mask upon noticing the traces of the powerfully narcotic mist trailing through the hallways. As he approached the recreation room, he noticed a shadow fall across the doorway. Leaning back against the wall, he quietly approached the doorway. “Ok, here goes nothing. . .” he thought to himself, placing his tk shield up and jumping out to surprise his quarry.

“Gahhh!!” The two men screamed in unison as Phil and Chance nearly collided with each other. “What are you doing here?” Phil said through his mask.

“I caught the alarm. I’m searching for the intruders, same as you.” the Swede replied. “I figure if we can round up a few of the others, we can capture one of them, find out what’s going on. I-Phil?” Chance stopped in mid sentence as Phil’s eyes grew wide behind his mask. Chance turned to see a man strolling casually through the mist with no mask on. He seemed unaffected.

The man was wearing a black cowboy hat and black duster coat, his bootspurs jangling slightly as he approached. His face seemed stoic. As he approached the men, he raised his arms up, fingers outstretched towards them. His fingertips popped up as mini gun barrels extruded from them and he opened fire on the rec room. This was the member of the Bruttes known, for obvious reasons, as Gunslinger. Phil and Chance leapt behind a sofa for safety, as Phil attempted to fire back on the man.

“What are you doing back here? I thought you could shield yourself from bullets.” Chance asked, while attempting to work out a plan to defeat their foe.

“I can. But at the rate he’s firing, it’s too dangerous. The ricochets could go everywhere. No way to stop them in time.” Phil fired another quick burst at their foe as items
shattered and exploded from the gunfire around them.

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

Rant waited impatiently for his teammates to arrive. He lit a cigarette and took a drag, when he heard someone approaching. “About damn time. . .” His jaw dropped as Drake Marshall rounded the corner, swinging a crutch directly for his head. “Shit!” he screamed, misting as the crutch passed harmlessly through him and impacted with the wall.

“Dammit! Drax, when can we power up again? I don’t know if I can hold this guy.” Marshall asked, watching to see where his nemesis would reform.

Not for a while, Drake, you’ll have to do something and hope someone else arrives, I’m afraid. Sorry.

“Not your fault, big guy.” Drake aimed and fired a dart gun, as Rant misted again, mocking his foe.

“You’ll have to be better than that, gimpy!” The vampire laughed, his fangs flashing.

“Don’t worry, I can!” Marshall responded, readying another swing of his crutch, when the building began to shake. “What the. . .”

Drake, doesn’t this remind you of someone?”

“Cascade. . .dammit.” Marshall attempted to steady himself as the outside wall, began to crumple and exploded inward. “Well, well, well, if it ain’t my old pal, Drake Marshall.”
Cascade said, riding inward on a mound of earth, and followed by Gnaw and another man. “Or do you still go by Nightwatch?”

“Shit, he brought friends, Drax.” Marshall noted as the third man, Holocaust, created a fireball in his left hand and hurled it towards him.

I had noticed that. the dragon answered while Drake ducked the projectile. Holocaust, Cascade, Gnaw, and Rant each attempted to attack the outnumbered
Vanguardian, Drake barely managing to hold them off, until struck by one of Cascade’s rock streams.

The four Bruttes advanced on the prone Marshall as one. “This might be it, Drax.” he said to himself. Nice knowing you, too, Drake. the dragon responded from his
interdimensional link.

A howling sounded from down the hall and the men paused. Clifford’s form came flying into the room, slamming into the Bruttes, knocking them off their feet. Vengeance burst
into the room on his bike, his flaming sword outstretched, ready to continue the battle.

“Oh, good, just. . .in time. . .” Marshall said, before finally succumbing to the effects of Rant’s mist and passing out.

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

Gunslinger’s lips seemed to pull upward slightly into a tight emotionless smile as he continued to unleash a barrage of gunfire upon the room where his opponents where
pinned down behind a piece of furniture. “Sloppy with your aim, amigos. Maybe you need your mommas to load and fire for you.”

“Maybe you should worry about the cavalry, “amigo.” Gunslinger turned, to see Dirk Bell, wearing a gasmask over his face to counter the effects of the mist still seeping
throught the complex. “High noon, pardner.” Gunslinger assumed a stance reminiscent of a gunfighter duel as Dirk did the same. The two approached each other, the only sound
the footsteps of the two men quickly followed by the jangling spurs of the Brutte.

As fast as Dirk Bell was, he was no match for the reflexes of the cyborg. Dirk’s guns found themselves falling to the floor, shot out of his hands by the rapid fire of his
opponent. The Gunslinger advanced on his opponent, ready to resume fire. Dirk pulled his katana from under his coat and assumed a battle stance. “I’m ready for you, you ugly,
Yul Brynner wannabe.”

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

Columns of flame and earth erupted through the living quarters as Vengeance fought off the assemblage of Bruttes. Smoke and mist intermingled as Rant and Vengeance both attempted to avoid hits from the multiple bursts flashing through the room.

Gnaw spied Vengeance’s bike propped against a wall and ran for it. Jumping onto the bike, he attempted to kickstart it to no avail. He tried, two, three, four more times, each
time unsuccessful. “Bastard!” he screamed, pounding his fists onto the gas tank area. Suddenly, the bike screamed into life, as if noticing it had a passenger for the first time.

Taking off, it drove around the room as Gnaw tried helplessly to steer it towards it’s master. The bike refused. Vengeance took note of this and laughed to himself as Clifford launched into another attack, attempting to take the Spirit’s head off.

“This is no good, we need teamwork here. This guy’s too much.” Rant said, attempting to coordinate the attack. Motioning to Holocaust and Cascade, he positioned the two
men on either side of the Spirit. “Box him in!” They did as they were told by the field commander of the Bruttes, each meta creating a wall of either flame or earth on one side of the Spirit. “Gnaw, quit fucking around and get that damn bike over here!”

“I’m trying!” the seaborn member of the Bruttes replied, pounding on the vehicle as it bucked wildly, attempting to throw him off. “Dammit. . .” Rant activated his
communicator and said one word. “Amuck. . .” before he could finish, the speedster arrived, the unconscious body of TC in tow. “Clear out!” Rant said, as Cascade,
Holocaust, and Gnaw complied. Clifford’s beastial nature didn’t allow him to understand the command as he clawed, bit, and scratched at the Spirit’s head.

“Well, he’ll either learn or get killed.” Rant commented as Amuck prepared to snap his fingers. . .

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

Dirk tensed as the Gunslinger took aim at him. “What’s going on?” Phil and Chance looked up from behind the upturned sofa as one of Gunslinger’s limbs swiveled back and
fired on them. Quickly, they ducked back down behind the couch. “This is getting rather monotonous. . .” Chance mused.

“You ready to make peace, pardner?” Gunslinger’s voice sounded down the hallway. Dirk merely smirked at him. As the Gunslinger advanced forward again, he was rocked
by a powerful impact to back of the head. The cyborg staggered forward as Grimm readied his axe for another blow.

“What kept you, jerking off to monster porn again?” Dirk causticly yelled as he charged Gunslinger with his katana, burying the blade up to the hilt in the machine’s chest. “I was checking to see if everyone else was all right.” Grimm answered, as he ripped off one of Gunslinger’s arms.

Phil and Chance joined their partners. “We’re going to check for more intruders.” The Swede called out before running down the hallway. “We’ve got this.” Dirk answered,
pulling a grenade launcher out of his coat and aiming for Gunslinger. “Never fuck with Bell.”

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

Amuck’s fingers snapped and the sonic boom struck Vengeance and Clifford, sending them through the wall into the next room.

“Damn, that was loud!” Rant commented as the Bruttes regrouped and began to carry off their target. “You. . .will. . .not. . .leave. . .until. . .you know. . .Vengeance!” The Spirit of Vengeance arose and began to walk after the mercenaries. “Amuck. . .” Rant started
again, but the speedster was ahead of him. Holding TC’s unconscious form, Amuck held his armor’s blades to his neck. One blade lightly pierced the skin drawing a trickle of blood. “Stand down.” Rant commanded the Spirit.

Vengeance hesitated. He began to step forward again, brandishing his sword. “Do it, and the kid dies. I don’t think you want that, do ya?” Rant continued. Vengeance paused. “Kill him and you will feel my wrath.” the Spirit continued.

“I’m warning you, stand down. If you don’t, his death is on your head.” Rant continued as Amuck pressed the blades to TC’s throat. Vengeance seemed to consider this for a
moment. Then he put his blade away. A mist rose up around him and soon, the red helm and white coat of the Spirit of Vengeance were gone and Michael Ringo stood face to face with the Bruttes. “Uh, hey, what’s going on? Is there a party?”

“Yeah, you could say that.” Rant backhanded Michael, his superior strength knocking him out. “C’mon, let’s go.” he said.

“Not without Shirley.” A voice sounded from behind him. “Oh, finally back huh?” He looked behind him at the shaken but firm Clifford. “Shirley. She’s mine. That’s the deal. I help you, I get Shirley.” Clifford continued.

Rant sighed. “Fine, go, but if you’re gone longer than ten minutes, we’re leaving without you.”

*********************
The rec room was a flaming, smoking, charred mess. Dirk Bell held up the metallic skull of the cyborg Gunslinger and struck a match across it. Lifting the match up to his mouth he lit his cigar and began to puff on it.

“Don’t you ever get tired of destroying shit?” Grimm, asked, looking around the remains of the room.

“Nope.” Dirk responded.

“Me either.” Grimm finally added.

Pain gripped the minds of the two Vanguardians suddenly as the held the sides of their heads while dropping to their knees. Phil and Chance, racing down the corridors of the
complex, were affected in a similar manner.

“We meet again, Mr. Smith. This time, I expect you’ll have a little more respect for your elders.” a voice sounded in the Vanguardians’ heads before they blacked out from pain.

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

Justine Lupin and the Bruttes regrouped outside the Vanguard complex where two black helicopters sat waiting for takeoff. As the Bruttes loaded Blackwulf onto one of the helicopters, Justine’s cold, reptilian eyes gazed hungrily at the genestealer’s prone form. “Soon. . .” the Skinwalker thought to itself. “A body strong enough to contain my primal essence. . .” The helicopters lifted off as the Skinwalker looked out over the night sky and salivated over it’s future plans.

The next morning in the meeting room of Vanguard headquarters, Drake Marshall, Chance, Phil Smith, Michael Ringo, Grimm, and Dirk Bell sat around the table as they
waited for the rest of their teammates to revive to plan their response to this attack.

“Grissom was knocked out from behind. Someone bypassed our security measures.” Phil said flatly.

"Tobias was also attacked. He suffered minor cuts and some fractured ribs, among other smaller injuries. Nothing his superfast metabolism won't heal, though." Chance said. "He should be fine in a few hours."

“I held them off as long as I could,” Drake started. “Cascade’s working with them. They wanted Blackwulf, but why?”

“Don’t let his comical antics fool you,” Grimm leaned in, speaking up. “In the right situations, Blackwulf is a dangerous being.” Some of the Vanguardians’ thoughts turned back to the hurricane, when Blackwulf underwent his bizarre transformation into Fenris, and they shuddered.

Right at that moment, Mick Harrison burst into the room and shouted, “Shirley’s been kidnapped!”

Elsewhen
1942, A world at war. . .a war turning against the Allied forces. The appearance of an Italian superman known as the Eurostar, has drastically shifted the course of the war. A
german scientist known only as the Doktor, has created an army of genetic freaks in an attempt to duplicate the Eurostar’s abilities.

British RAF pilot Graham Montag has been shot down behind enemy lines. He is cut off from his squad mates, Daniel and Phil, and on the run. Ducking down an unfamiliar street, desperately trying to find a marker to calculate an escape path, he stops short. Two Gestapo agents stand in front of him, guns drawn. He is short of breath, exhausted, confused, and may have a concussion. He smiles and starts to roll up his sleeves with his three fingered hands. . .

Suddenly, the larger Gestapo agent elbows, the shorter one in the face, breaking his nose. He swings his other arm around, cocking him on the head with his gun and knocking him cold. Turning back, in almost perfect English, he asks, “Graham Montag, I presume?”

“How. . .how do you know me?” The exhausted Montag rasps.

“I was to meet you. I’m your contact. My name is Kristofer Schanz. I am a Swede, working for the resistance. But we have no time for this. There are troops on your tail and you have just caused me to blow my cover. We have to get out of here.”

As Montag and Schanz moved to escape, they ran face to face into two beings in blue suits with masks resembling clocks. Clockman 7 and Clockman 8 took no notice of the
intruders.

7: “Subject designate Paragon was here, but no longer.”

8: “Initiating timeline wipe to prevent further contamination.”

The beings vanished from site and were replaced by two metallic spheres. The spheres replicated themselves instantly, multiplying hundreds of times in moments. As they did so, something inside them clicked and they began to burst apart, causing a chain reaction.

Montag and Schanz’s screams were lost in a white void as a timeline died.

Vanguard HQ
The War Room

The members of the field team of Vanguard International sat gathered around the meeting table. This was an unusual meeting in that they were now joined by the support staff and the officers of the company, including Victoria Xiang. Dr. Henry Quantos presided over the meeting at this time, speaking as he stood in front of a projector of the type used in university lectures. He placed a photograph of a small device on top of the projector and turned it on. The photo was summarily projected onto the white screen behind Quantos.

Dr. Quantos pointed towards the projection of the device with his laser pointer. “This little device, as well as several others that Mr. Smith and I found while sweeping the
systems after the attack, is of a design that is used by only one company that I’m aware of. The California based software company Lupin Technologies.” The scene of the
projection screen switched from the small device to the front of the building that housed Lupin Tech.

“Lupin Tech? I’ve had dealings with them before. Even used some of their crew on the rebuilding of our hq here. That Justine Lupin is quite a. . .” Grissom Montag fell silent in mid sentence. His eyes grew wide as the realization occurred to him. “They did it. Someone on their staff got in while we were rebuilding the complex and screwed with my security setup. But how?” Montag gently touched the bump on the back of his head.

“We’ll have to figure that out later.” Danny said, “Right now, our first priority is heading there and freeing Blackwulf and Shirley. Chance, contact Agent Koning. . .and get whatever clearance we need to operate in the US. I don’t want any surprises while we’re enroute. Phil, Griss, help Charley and Dr. Quantos prep the Stormloader for takeoff. The rest of you, get ready, we move in an hour.”

“Take Nuriko with you.” Victoria Xiang stated flatly as she stood. “Why?” Danny asked, walking up to the woman. “This doesn’t concern you or her.” Hearn said,
pointing his thumb at Nuriko over his shoulder.

“Mister Hearn,” Xiang began. “I understand you do not care for me. You view me and mine as outsiders. But, I look upon this attack as an attack upon myself. These people have assaulted and kidnapped my employees. I will not tolerate this. Nuriko will go with you to deliver my message to these people personally.”

“We’re not “your employees.” But, fine. She can go. This time.” Hearn relented, just a bit.

“We’re going too.” A voice sounded from the other end of the table. Dr. Jody Huerta, Johnny Bates, and The Luchadore stood as one. “Blackwulf’s one of us. We have a right to help out.” Huerta spoke.

“Fine, you can go. Just keep those two under control. Let’s move, Vanguard!” Hearn said, walking out of the room. Bates and the Luchadore jumped up in the air and high
fived each other. “YAY!!!”

As the Vanguardians mobilized, Grissom Montag attempted to surpress a smile. “What’s up, pal?” Phil Smith asked, walking next to him as they headed towards the
docking bay where the Stormloader awaited their arrival. “What’s so funny?”

“Well, it’s Danny, you know? I mean, it’s all a bit King Arthur, isn’t it?” The three fingered merc known as the Sandcrawler mused.

“How do you mean?” Phil asked, a little confused.

“Well, you know, the boy who would be king. And all the greatest warriors in the land gathered around under his leadership. All we need is a mysterious Merlin type.” Montag chuckled.

“Yeah, I guess you’re right.” Phil, for the life of him, couldn’t remember if he knew anything about King Arthur or not.

“What about me? I could easily get in touch with my contacts in US intel and smooth the way for us a bit.” Velo asked Danny as the team prepared for the rescue mission. “Us?” the Australian asked his friend. “Kristogar, you should really be in a hospital right now,
you know that? You had a stroke in the middle of a field mission, you could have died!”

“I feel fine.” Velo said, fiddling with a gadget in his belt.

“That’s besides the point. You felt fine before we left on that mission as well. No, I’m ordering you to stay put under Dr. Quantos’ supervision until we know more about what’s wrong with you. That’s final.” Hearn went to his room to prepare for the mission, while Velo muttered to himself. “I’ll stay, this time. But I won’t like it.”

“So let me get this straight. You want me to sanction an assault by a squadron of metahumans on a private business???” Koning’s voice sounded over Vanguard’s
communications line. The incredulous tone would have been apparent to Chance even if he weren’t able to see the man’s face on his viewscreen. “What happened, Mr. Schanz,
did they sell you a faulty alarm clock?” Koning chuckled to himself.

Kristofer Schanz did not find the humor in that joke. “No, sir. They infiltrated our security systems, raided our headquarters, assaulted several members of our team, and
kidnapped two of our support staff personnel.”

“And it’s Doctor Schanz.”

“I. . .see.” Koning responded after a few moments. “And what did you say the name of this company was?”

“Lupin Technologies.” Chance’s face did not change expression even as Koning nearly swallowed his cigar.

“Lupin Tech?! Good god, man, we’ve been trying to get an inside man in there for years! Do you realize what this means?”

“No, sir, I’m afraid I don’t.” Chance replied evenhandedly.

“I’ve lost at least three good men trying to infiltrate them. There are rumors about all sorts of illegal testing going on there. Cloning, gene research. METAgene research,
Doctor Schanz. . .I trust I don’t need to explain that any further. Why, they make the MCCA look like kids playing with their first chemistry sets. . .”

Chance didn’t like what he was hearing. “Do we have your permission or not, sir?”

“Yes, you have it. We’ll give you total freedom. I’ll give you anything you need from me to get the job done. Total plausible deniability. But I don’t want any of their equipment touched. You hear me? My men will be confiscating everything in the place once you’re
done there. Understood?”

“Totally. Chance out.” Kristofer Schanz turned off the screen and went to join his teammates.

“Beautiful Shirley is waking up, I see.” Shirley groggily looked up and around as her eyes adjusted to the dim light. She could not move her arms or legs and was very cold. She glanced upwards and saw that she was chained to the ceiling by her arms. She looked down and saw she was still dressed only in her negligee from the night before. “Oh, gob. . .” she said, remembering who and what she’d seen last.

“Is being okay, Shirley, no one is being harming you that I am seeing.” As her eyes teared up, she looked over to her left and saw Blackwulf hanging chained next to her. Just
beyond him was a muscular man with long, white hair wearing the tattered remains of a white suit. “Where are we? And who is that? Where’s everybody else?” She asked.

“Am not knowing. Am playing video game with Lucha and Johnny one moment. Next moment, am waking up here next to you.” Blackwulf said with an uncharacteristic
sadness. “You know, usually am having to pay for this kind of thing. . .” Blackwulf attempted a joke. Shirley laughed a bit in spite of herself, as her tears strolled down her cheek.

Elsewhen

The Imperial Mandelovian Palace.

The vampiric forces of Vlad Dracul, once known as the Impaler, surround the palace, tearing at the walls and doors. A spell of enchantment the only thing preventing them from entering.

The Indestructible Man charges the door, aiming his blade, Caledfwelch, and strikes against the barrier. Returning to his feet, he attacks again and again. “That’s it, tear down the barrier, my thralls, so that we may enter the palace. It is a home fit for a king and his army.” Dracul commands.

Inside the palace, the last remaining non-vampiric members of Tomb, plan their strategy. The primarch of the Illuminati, Kreegan, also known as the Avatar. His friend, the vampire Mordecai, the immortal sharpshooter, Midnight, and finally. . .the undead biker Grimm.

“The battle has gone badly, thus far, my friends.” Avatar began. “The rest of Tomb has fallen prey to Dracul, yet if we can destroy him, Tomb, and the world, may yet be saved.
Grimm, your job is to handle I-Man. Stop him before he smashes through the barrier and hold him off. Midnight, take a position on the roof and give us cover fire. Hold them back. Mordecai. ..”

“Don’t say anything else. Dracula is mine.” Mordecai interrupted.

“Yes. Very well then. I shall coordinate our attack mentally and hold back the remaining forces. Tomb. . .for what may be the last time. . .get funky!”

The last members of Tomb sprang into action as one, fighting back against their former allies, now under the control of Dracul. “How does an indestructible person get turned into a vampire anyway?” Grimm asked, as I-Man charged at him.

“Does it really matter? Just hold him back!” Mordecai answered, jumping past the outstretched arms of Chewy Walrus as Midnight picked off vamps from the rooftop.

The titanic struggle continued as Avatar’s sorcerous skills were pressed to their limits, attempting to hold back his once friends without slaying them. His eyes passed over a
familiar form and he paused for an instant, his eyes growing soft. “Chewy. Old friend.”

In that instant, Grimm was overwhelmed as Bibbo, Foremann, Joker1, and LLance joined I-Man in a huge “dogpile” on top of the rookie Tomber. “Crap!” He yelled from beneath the pile of meta-vampires.

“Blast it, Kreegan, this isn’t the time.” Avatar’s eyes sizzled as beams of light shot forth from the primarch’s eyes, flashing over the forms of the nightwalkers and giving Grimm a brief respite.

Mordecai’s hands reached around the once-Impaler’s throat and began to squeeze his old foe. “You are a mockery of our great and ancient gift. A perversion!” The normally calm Mordecai screamed. “You squander your gifts on weaklings!” Dracul rasped, his fingers clawing at Mordecai’s arms.

Within the midst of this chaos, Midnight looked up from where he sat, reloading his shotgun and swallowed. There are few things in his long life that have given the immortal
being known as Frederick Marson pause. The large, onyx pyramid now hovering above the Mandelovian Palace would certainly qualify as one of them.

The blue suited men in bizarre clock-like masks would definitely be another of them. Quickly snapping out of his trance, Midnight slapped his shotgun back together and took
aim at the men. “I don’t know what you’re doing here, but you’d better scat, now!” he drawled.

Clockmen 4 and 5 merely ignored him, busying themselves with scanning for a certain energy signature. Clockman 3, on the other hand, could not resist. “I think it’s high timewe introduced ourselves.” The man’s humor at his own joke readily apparent.

Midnight’s shotgun blast ripped through the night air, grazing 3’s side and ripping off a part of his suit jacket. “Owww, damn it!” He clutched his side in pain.

“This little doggie bites.” Clockman 5 stated calmly. He aimed a small cubelike device at the immortal and pressed a switch on the top. A beam of pure, white chronal energy
struck Midnight, ageing him into dust almost instantly.

“Agghhh. . .” 3 rolled around on the roof of the palace, gripping his side in agony. “How many times do we have to tell you? No stupid jokes when we’re supposed to be
working!” 5 slapped the top of 3’s head as if admonishing a child.

“If you two are about finished, I think we’re done here. Our quarry has fled this timeline. Again.” The weariness of the hunt began to show through in 4’s voice. “Let’s get back on the ship and wipe this one.” The three vanished, replaced with familiar metallic
spheres.

As Mordecai prepared to sink his teeth into Dracul’s neck, ending his life, he was blinded by a burst of white light, and another timeline ended.

Quote:

---

Within the meeting room of Haven sat the assemblage of the Council. The room itself was impressive, octagonal in shape, rimming with enormous support columns stretching a half-mile into the distance above. In the dead center, a raised pavilion bore a large, round table made of raw amethyst. In front of that, a mirror covered the main wall almost fifty-feet up. And between the table and mirror, a platform of ceremonial circumstances.

---

Impressive, yet more impressive still were those gathered within it. The twenty-one members of the Council of Haven. The Scion sat at the head of the table, presiding over the meeting as always. Directly across from him sat Mortis, newly appointed director of the Asylum. At other points around the table were seated: The Time Trust, Amelie
Pendragon of Camelot, Aelous of the Pantheon, and the neanderthal Myrddin. These are not the entire assemblage, nor the only ones present, but they are the most vocal, and it is with them that our story is concerned now.

Walking around the massive table, stepping in and out of the natural shadows and light created by the room’s lighting, was Paradigm. Paradigm was not a member of the council, but here to state his case, backed by the Scion and Mortis.

“I am glad to see you all answer my summons. I have called you all here to inform you of a danger that threatens not only our reality, but quite possibly all realities.” The Scion stood up from where he sat and walked towards the large mirror of the main wall. “Alice, if you would?”

Without her customary answers, Alice went to work, as the reflection of the Scion in the mirror vanished and was replaced by a vision of deep space. Stars hung soundlessly as planets orbited them while in the distance, something flared.

The council watched in silence as a large pyramid shaped object rotated into view counterclockwise. The object stopped and hung in the void for several moments. Upon seeming to decide that this was indeed the place it was meant to be, the pyramid disgorged several million circular objects and left the way it came, vanishing again. Upon it’s disappearance the spheres exploded as one, unleashing a burst of pure, white energy, so brilliant that those watching had to shield their eyes from the light. As the light died down, they took a moment for their vision to adjust before returning to their line of sight to the mirror. Where once sat a universe full of potential, now was nothing. A white void.

“What you have just witnessed was the death of a timeline. A timeline from which our guest here,” Scion gestured towards Paradigm, “has escaped the destruction of to warn us
of this danger.”

“Retroconnective tachyon particles. Fascinating. How is it that these beings come to possess the ability to do this?” The Time Trust asked from his seat.

“It is rumored that these beings are using Temporal Trust Technology.” Paradigm said, finally, stepping out of the shadows directly behind the Time Trust.

“Impossible.” the droid responded without emotion.

“Is it?” Paradigm asked, cocking an eyebrow.

“I would know if they were.” the droid answered, looking at him.

“Would you?” Paradigm asked.

“I am certain of it.”

“Hmmph.” Paradigm stepped back into the shadows, resuming his walk. “The Clockmen, as they refer to themselves, are mostly human criminals, recruited from the Earth of the timeline I have come here from, by the being who is known only as 12. Of him, I know nothing, save that his goal seems nothing more than complete destruction of all timelines.” Paradigm’s words were accentuated by his continued walk around the table, as he stepped in and out
of the shadows at key points.

“A seemingly humorous name hiding the capacity for destruction on a scale unknown.” Mortis observed, his hands held together in front of his face. “Not a concept I am
unfamiliar with.”

The council murmured amongst themselves, discussing what they had witnessed. “We will reconvene in one hour after which, we will expect your decision.” The Scion turned
and walked from the room, as the council members filed outside of the chamber.

Nida Zbinden jumped up from her position crouched in front of the closed doorway just as the Scion, Mortis, and Paradigm exited the room. The three were so concerned with their own thoughts, they did notice the young woman. Or if they did, they gave no sign.

“They will not aid us.” Paradigm stated evenly, rolling his cane in his hands.

“How are you so sure?” Mortis cast a suspect glance towards the being. “Are you a reader of minds?”

“No,” Paradigm replied, “Of faces. They have their own concerns, their own problems to contend with. How can we expect them to bother with those of an outsider? Perhaps it
was a mistake to come here. . .”

“Wait. Wait, at least give them a moment to decide. Perhaps they will surprise you.” Scion offered.

“And perhaps not.”

“Scion, a moment, if you will.” Scion turned as the neanderthal Myrddin placed an arm around him and led him away from the others.

“I must once again ask you, with all the terrible powers loose in the world of man, why must you keep the avatars of creation hidden away here in this paradise?” Myrrdin’s voice had an unusual, almost pleading quality to it.

“My friend, I have explained before, I keep no one here. The avatars are free to come and go as they please. If they choose to stay, it is not my will that keeps them here.”

“But there is much evil loose that they could do a great deal about.”

“You refer to your own personal battles. Such as the Hoods and Capes.”

“I do. In the past, I have petitioned the council many times for aid in preventing them from growing too powerful, before they ended humanity as we know it.”

“You know it is not our place. . .”

“Not our place to interfere in the natural order of things, yes, but do you not consider a potential global conflict and the subjugation of mankind a violation of the natural order? My friend, how is this truly different than what you ask of us today?”

The Stormloader shot forth over the Carribean island, heading on a course for Los Angeles, California, USA. Chance and Priest piloted the vehicle while the remaining team members huddled in the back.

“Meanwhile. . .in the Stormloader. . .of justice!” Johnny Bates said out loud as the Luchadore snickered next to him. Adjusting his gold wrestling mask, the Luchadore
asked his teammate a question, “Hey, do you think Banshee would go out with me?”

“What? Her? Go out with you? Be serious, man. I’m much better looking than you are. Besides, Banshee doesn’t date, she’s a christian.” Bates responded while fiddling with his
backpack.

“Christian?! I didn’t know she was a Christian! I thought she was Catholic!” The Luchadore screamed in abject horror.

“Would you two shut the hell up! This is a serious mission here! Huerta, go deal with them.” Danny’s voice sounded from further up in the Stormloader.

“Okay, guys, I warned you. Now it’s time for babies to go to sleep.” Huerta’s large hands began glowing red as he approached his “teammates.”

“No! No! We’ll behave! We promise!” The B Teamers cried as “Monkey Boy” approached them.

Nuriko had been sitting next to Grimm, casually eyeing him.

“What?” he finally asked, a little annoyed with the unwanted attention.

“I am sorry if I have offended you, it is just that. . .you do not look like him.” Miss X’s assistant/bodyguard replied.

“Who?” Grimm asked, his curiousity piqued.

“Death. You see, I saw him once, as a young girl in Japan. It was in the last days of the Samurai. . .he was magnificent.” Nuriko’s voice swelled a little. “I was wandering in those days. The elders did not want to teach females the ways of war. Even so, I convinced some through my own natural skill. I was approaching a village, seeking to continue my learning, when I came across him in battle. I saw him slay an entire clan of warriors. I watched him from afar, peeking from behind a cluster of trees.”

“Somehow, he knew I was there. When he had killed them all, he turned at looked directly at me. He had no eyes, but I knew he saw me. I admired him. He was asian,
with white robes and dark hair. Two beautiful butterfly swords. Then, he was gone in a burst of light. As I said, you do not look like him.” Nuriko finished her tale, then grew silent again.

“Wun. . .” was all a dumbstruck Grimm could mutter.

“It is decided by vote, that the council shall not act at this time against the beings dubbed “the Clockmen.” With our resources depleted after the battle against the renegade Continuity, we simply do not have the forces necessary. Also, it is determined that there are more pressing needs on Earth. The demon form of Naecken, still plots against humanity in the Antarctic, as well as the threat of Praxis, in a neighboring dimension. There are also rumblings of invasions from Ideaspace. My own kingdom of Camelot is not currently immune to threat either. There is simply too much at the moment, and we are spread too thin.” Amelie Pendragon, the chosen bearer of the council’s decision returned to her seat, a weary look on her face. “I am sorry, Scion.” Her head hung low, she looked only at the table in front of her. Turkish Stringfellow watched her from his seated position atop the cermonial platform, his face revealing nothing.

The council’s attention turned the outside as several monk’s voices sounded, calling for the Scion. The council stood from their chairs and ran the outside of the temple, Scion at the head of the group. The monks stood and pointed skyward.

“What? What is it?” Pendragon asked, her weariness causing her patience to grow thin.

“There, do you see him?” The Scion pointed to a small, round form in the sky, rotating counter clockwise.

“The Wheel of Ixiom. . .” Mortis said breathlessly.

“It can only be the one they call the mad prophet.” Aelous said.

“How do we know it is really him? And why would he appear now and not during the Continuity conflict?” Myrddin asked.

“Perhaps he did. Perhaps we were merely too busy to see him.” Scion answered.

The mad prophet Dave rotated in the sky, screaming his words for the ears of anyone who would listen. “. . .geared towards obscurists. . .badly written. . .no literary value or commercial viability. . .”

“What is he saying?” Pendragon asked Scion.

“Pay him no mind. The obvious ravings of a madman.” Mortis said before turning and walking back inside the temple.

Clifford stared at Shirley’s form through the one way mirror as several workmen sedated Blackwulf and prepared to move him to another room.

“When will she be mine? You promised me-”

“And I will keep my promisse. After the form of the genesstealer iss mine. Thisss weak form will not lasst me much longer.” The Skinwalker looked down at the arm of the
body that once belonged to Justine Lupin. Scales were beginning to form there, as well as on other areas. “Curiouss. And. . .pleassing.” A slightly forked tongue began to flicker from between it's lips.

“What. . . are you?” Clifford asked, his voice tinged with a mild disgust.

“In the primordial dayss of thiss world, before the sseparation of the continentss, I wass. Hunting for food alongsside my broodmatess. . .” She looked over at
Clifford, a semblance of wistfulness on her face at the remembrance. “We hunted alongsside the dinossaurs, and in ssome insstancceess, we hunted them. Yess. ..we were not alwayss sso ssmall as you mammalss.”

“We hunted, and over time we learned how to take the formss of our prey, to eassier hunt them. We have known many namess, many formsss. Sskinwalkerss, they called uss. They were close. After many millennia, we losst our own, formss, and became beingss of no physsical ssubsstance. Sstill our hunger conssumed our hosstss.”

Clifford looked as if he wanted to vomit, listening to this tale, his stomach churning the entire time. The Skinwalker continued on with it’s story, almost gleefully. “Our greatesst rivalss for food were called the genesstealerss. Their hunger rivaled and even ssurpassed our own. They devoured their food whole, leaving nothing, not even the hussksss. We have feuded for millenia before humanity wass born. And on through the agess of man. I am the last of the sskinwalkerss. And that. . .” it pointed at Blackwulf’s form. “That large, purple sskinned buffoon, iss the lasst of the genesstealerss.”

“But you still haven’t explained why you wanted him.” Clifford’s stomach rumbled and pounded as he held against it.

“Haven’t you guessed? Human sshhellss are too weak to ssussstain me. Only a genesstealer’ss body has the physsical durability to hold up. I’m going to take hiss sskin. . .” The Skinwalker licked it’s lips in anticipation as Clifford finally retched on the floor.

“My name is William, but my friends call me Doc.” The white haired man said, having finally awoken, after Blackwulf was removed from the cell. Shirley listened as the man told his story, obviously grateful for company of any sort after so long.

“That is, when I had friends. Eddie, Jacob, Crispin, gone, all of them gone. . .” His voice began to trail off. “You see, I come from a parallel universe. That probably sounds strange or crazy to you.”

“Not as much as you’d think.” Shirley replied, thinking of Chance. This man reminded her of him a great deal, only he seemed less reserved.

“In my world, I had gathered together a group of people with unusual abilities to combat unknown menaces. A naive idea, perhaps. . .”

Shirley smiled, noticing the resemblance to the group now called Vanguard International. “Not at all, in fact, my fiancee is part of a similar group. They’ll get us out of this, William.”

The man smiled at this for the first time. “I hope you’re right, Shirley. My own group, we weren’t as lucky as your fiancee and his friends must be. In fact, on our very first mission as a team, we were wiped out, our universe destroyed. I was captured by the beings responsible and tortured. Finally, I escaped. That device,” Paragon pointed a finger at the small metal box sitting across from them. “. . .allows for temporal travel. I jumped
across time and space looking for a way to get home and prevent the destruction of my world. Finally, I thought I had the right coordinates. But I ended up here, in front of this building, two years ago. And I’ve been here ever since.” Paragon’s head slumped back down, as he passed out again.

“Oh, Mick, hurry, please. . .” Shirley whispered to herself.

Mick Harrison wasn't the type of man who normally got angry. Today, however, was not a normal day in any sense of the word. His fiance kidnapped by a man who had stalked her before, his friends assaulted, a co-worker kidnapped as well. Today, Mick Harrison was angry.

Mick wished he had some sort of talent of his own, rather than having to call upon Mxy. He wished he could be smart like Chance, or strong like Grimm, or clever like Montag, or supercool like Phil, or badass like Dirk. . .

No, Mick didn't know what circumstances it took to create someone like Dirk Bell. He only knew that he never, ever, wanted to be like him.

"Are you listening to me?" It was Danny. "Did you hear what I said, Mick?"

"Huh? Oh, oh yeah. . .I'm with you." Mick answered finally.


Shirley 'Francis was the kind of girl you fell in love with easily. Too easily, Chance thought as he piloted the Stormloader on it's course towards Los Angeles. Chance's thoughts flashed briefly back towards his own world, where he lead a team closely resembling Vanguard, and where Shirley was to be his bride.

Although he had moved on with his life in this new world and seemed to be finding happiness with Charlene Montoya, he still couldn't escape the occasional thoughts of what might have been.

Clifford stared at Shirley through the one way glass. He lightly traced an outline of her chestnut colored hair on the glass with his finger. He stared longingly into her deep, dark eyes. It would all be over soon, and they could go off together happily, just as it should be. Like in a fairy tale.

One thought kept repeating through Shirley's mind. When I get out of here, someone's getting their ass kicked.

“The Council’s decision is final and must be respected. It is not, however, agreed with. My friends, today I hope we have not doomed more innocents. This meeting is adjourned. Please, stay or go as you wish.” The Scion stood and exited as the 21 member council, plus Paradigm, filed out of the rooms.

“My friends, I regret this. It seems that no matter how much we wish it otherwise, some battles must be our own to fight.” Myrrdin shook the hands Scion, Mortis, and Paradigm
in turn and departed for his home.

As the Time Trust exited the chamber and prepared to return home, Graham Wells stopped him. “Pardon me, but, are you about to return to Time City?”

“Yes, I am.” the droid replied.

“Might I go with you?”

“Of course. However you must be careful. The time stream is a dangerous place.”

“With time, I have no worries.” Graham Wells smiled as they departed for the place he had wished to see his entire life.

Traveling along the timestream, Wells watched with glee as the colors swirled and sped past them as they flung towards Entropy Point. “It’s beautiful.” he remarked.

“I suppose it is.” The Time Trust commented.

Within what seemed moments they arrived at Entropy Point, home of Time City, the base of the Time Trust Corps. Squadrons of Trust droids flew in and out of time portals on
their way to various times and places. Just outside of the city, sat a large area that seemed out of place next to the coldly mechanical city the androids inhabited. It was a massive garden, populated with all manner of plants and animals, that appeared to live harmoniously with one another.

“What is that?” Wells asked, fascinated.

“Would you like to tour the garden?” The Trust asked. “It is quite a marvelous achievement.”

The two landed next to it, and walked inside. “How did this place come to be here?” Wells was astounded. He had no idea of the level of depth and complexity these beings
seemed to possess, that they wouuld create something like this.

Birds chirped in trees around them, as bees pollinated flowers in what seemed an eternal springtime. How marvelous, Wells thought, that these beings would have such a deep rooted respect for life that they choose to keep it near them. Greystoke would enjoy this, I wager. . .

As Wells was marvelling at the seemingly out of place environment, one of the chirping birds, a small robin, stopped and fell off of the tree limb it was perched on. Even here, Wells thought rushing over to the bird’s form, even here.

He picked up the bird in his hands and gazed down upon it’s small body. It was cold, hard. He touched it lightly with his fingers, and a small area on the birds chest popped
open, springs bursting forth. “Mechanical. . .” With a hint of disappointment, Wells looked up at the trees and animals all around him as the realization dawned. “It’s all
mechanical.”

“Yes.” The Trust stated. “Stay here, if you wish. I must report in.” The Time Trust walked towards the building that housed the meeting place of a council different than the one we last saw. The Council of Seven, builders of the Trust Corp. and Time City. Graham Wells hurried along behind him, anxious to see what other wonders awaited him.

Lupin Technologies offices
Los Angeles, California

The Stormloader touched down on what was normally a busy LA intersection. The area surrounding the offices of Lupin Technologies had been cordoned off by the US military.
Other than military personnel this entire section of the city appeared abandoned. It appeared to Chance that Agent Koning had lived up to his end of the deal. So far.

As the Vanguardians exited their vehicle, they were met by Koning. “We evacuated this area of the city. There’s no one around for miles. Told them that we were searching for
meta terrorists. It’s close enough to the truth that any bizarre activity caused will be easily explainable.”

“And the Lupin workers? They suspect nothing?” Chance asked.

“It’s the damnedest thing. As we were evacuating the office buildings, we weren’t able to reach anyone at Lupin. No one answered our calls. No one came to the front door. Thermal imaging scans show the building as completely empty. At least, from the ground up.”

“So they know we’re here.” Danny observed.

“It’s very possible.” Koning answered.

“They knew we’d come after them.” Danny pondered, rubbing his chin.

“And they felt so confident, that it didn’t bother them. Obviously, whatever they’re up to, they didn’t expect us to be able to prevent it.” Chance continued.

“So, how are we going to get inside?”

A thunderous explosion rocked the air as the Vanguardians and military personnel turned as one towards the Lupin office building. The front doors crashed inwards in an explosion of fire and glass. Dirk Bell sat in front of the building, still holding his smoking rocket launcher. “You pansies coming or you gonna stay out here and run yer mouths all damn day?”

“Why did we let him join again?” Chance looked over at Danny.

“Because he gets the job done?” Danny asked.

“We need to have a serious talk about him when we get back to headquarters.”

“Where do you think he got that thing from?”

“It’s Dirk. Who knows?”

Dirk tossed the rocket launcher into the arms of a very surprised soldier, and pulled his .45’s from their holsters. He took off running into the conflagration guns blazing without a second look as the soldier struggled to keep from falling over and dropped the smoking launcher.

“Dammit. . .” Danny said, “not again.”

“Okay, Raptor, Grimm, Bates, Huerta, Luchadore, get in there after him! If there’s a welcoming party, I want them neutralized! Chance, Griss, Nuriko, Priest, Mick, Tayden,
TC. Take the underground route we discussed on the way here, go! Drake, Phil, Banshee, Ringo, you’re with me. Let’s move, Vanguard!” And as one, the Vanguards
mobilized into their teams and moved into action. "Phil, keep me linked to Chance and Grimm."

"Link established." Phil said, pulling his own weapon out of it's holster.

"Why do you even need those with your abilities?" Danny asked him.

"Well, technically, I don't. They just make me feel more comfortable."

"Fair enough. . .let's do it!"

The Trust and Wells approached the dais of the Council of Seven, which loomed up massively before them. The members of the Council sat somewhat imposingly. Their hands were folded in front of them and concealed by the sleeves of their ornate, silken robes, alternating in color between green with white trim and white with green trim. Their faces were covered by the shadows of their hoods, and they made no sounds or movements at the approach. Wells gulped, awestruck by their presence.

What is your report? a booming voice that seemed to come forth from all sides of the room at once assaulted the two.

“The Council of Haven has decided not to move against the Clockmen at this time. The decision was arrived at by-”

“It matters not the reasoning, only the result.”

“Excuse me. . .” Graham asked, walking forward somewhat timidly.

“And who are you?” The Council of Seven leaned forward as one to get a closer look at the unexpected newcomer.

“My name is Graham Wells. I am of the Order of Haven. I am the Avatar of Time. I asked to come here. I’ve always
wanted to see this place.”

“What is your purpose here, Graham Wells?”

Graham was growing more nervous now, beads of sweat forming on his forehead. “Well, you see, I-I” he began to stammer.

“State your purpose, Avatar of Time!” The voice seemed to grow more agitated at Wells' hesitance.

“I wish to know what it is you know of the Clockmen!” Wells finally blurted out.

The Time Trust’s jaw dropped as the android looked at Wells in surprise. The Council members leaned back in their seats and glanced at one another, as if in contemplation.

After what seemed an eternity of silence, the voice sounded again. “Very well, Avatar of Time. You wish to know of the Clockmen?”

“I--I do.” he answered.

“The Clockmen were a mistake. Our mistake.”

“They have arrived, Justine.” Psi’s thoughts sounded in the head of the Skinwalker. “Deploy the Bruttes. They must not be allowed to interrupt the transferral.” she(?)
thought back. “It is done.” he responded.

Justine looked over at the man who sat plugged into a rather large and elaborate mechanical chair next to the wall. He was very, very old. As far as Justine knew, he was the oldest living metahuman in the world. Psi flipped a switch on his left armrest and a console at a nearby wall lit up. <<Gunslingers online. . .>> a mechanical voice sounded as several Gunslinger cyborgs rose up as one and loaded their hands with a ka-click!

“Zoe, Anaconda, Holocaust, go with the Gungslingers and greet our visitors in the foyer. .
.” Psi ordered mentally. A rather tall and muscular, blue haired woman dressed like a reject from a small budget barbarian film, and a man with a humanoid torso but with a snake like head and lower body joined ranks with Holocaust and the Gungslingers as they stepped into a freight elevator and began to rise up into the building.

“The rest of you Bruttes, fan out, and take care of the rest of these Vanguardians. . .” Psi flipped another switch, as several monitors came to life, revealing the whereabouts of not only the Vanguard members, but the Bruttes as well. “This will be fascinating.”

Justine Lupin took no notice of the goings on, as she stared with reptilian eyes at Blackwulf, now being attended by several technicians. Soon, her waiting would be over.
And the Skinwalker would feed again. . .and again. . .and again. . .

Graham Wells felt a spasm in his side, as he listened to the story unfolding before him. He placed a hand over the spot as he grimaced slightly.

“Are you well, avatar?”

“I’m--I’m fine. Please continue.”

“Very well. In the days before we created the Time Trust Corp., our first servants were living beings. These beings came to be dubbed “The Clockmen.” Outfitted with
ships capable of traveling through time, they operated in groupings of twelve. Their functions were simple: They were to observe and record the passage of events. Over time, some among them came to feel that they were not doing enough. That mere observation was beneath them.

They attempted to alter and change timelines to their whims. They altered things to fit their views. In some cases, they wiped out whole timelines they deemed unecessary.”

“My god. . .and you allowed this?!” Wells was indignant.

“You know well the nature of time. How certain things must be allowed to play out.”

“I suppose.” Wells mind reeled at the thought of the massive chronal genocide the Clockmen had carried on for so long. He thought he felt a bit feverish.

“Finally, the Clockmen did too much. We relieved them of their duties. However, by this time, they had learned how to cloak themselves from our sight. We lost track of them for some time. In that period, we created the Time Trust Corp. Exemplified by the being on your left.”

“Early on the careers of the Time Trust Corp., we came across the Clockmen again. They were now violently opposed to us. There was war. Chronal war on a cosmic scale. The
losses. . .were heavy on both sides. Timelines. . .Multiverses. . .were lost. . .”

Graham took out a handkerchief and dabbed his forehead with it. He felt woozy. “This is. . .this is horrible.”

“In the end, the Clockmen were destroyed. All save one. Now, he has returned. This is the tale of the Clockmen. Are you satisfied, avatar of time?”

“No.” Graham Wells face had grown pale. Another spasm struck him. “I think. . .I need to sit down.”

Artemis Cross stood atop the fabled table round, his silver bowstring pulled taut. His eyes squinted as he turned round, facing each of the assembled knights in turn. "I know it was one of you." He said. The knights stood back, their chairs knocked to the floor, their weapons half drawn. "And I'm not leaving until I get an answer."

"What. . .answer do you seek?" A particular knight asked, his hand grasped firmly around the hilt of his half drawn blade.

Cross pondered the question a moment, turning towards the knight, then back to one of his fellows, then again towards another pair, then back to the original. "Which one of you is the father of my child?"

It was at this particular moment that Amelie Pendragon and Turkish Stringfellow happened to enter the meeting hall of Camelot. "Stringfellow, I think it time you collected your pet." Pendragon muttered through gritted teeth as Turkish put a hand to his face. "Cross. . .come down from there."

Danny’s team moved around the back of the building, down the alleyway towards the fire exit. “This is where we’ll go in. Who wants to do the honors?” Danny looked around at
his teammates, Phil, Banshee, Drake, and Ringo. “I’ll-” Ringo started before the doors burst outward towards the Vanguardians.

Rant, Gnaw, Amuck, and Cascade stood facing them. “Well, Drake, decided to bring some friends to the party this time?” Cascade pulled his toothpick out of his mouth and
flicked it towards Marshall. “I only need one friend to handle you.” Drake’s arm inched towards his tattoo.

“Bruttes. . .”

“Vanguard. . .”

“Attack!” The orders sounded simultaneously from the captains of the team.

Amuck darted towards Phil only to bounce off of his tk shield. “Hah! Now if I can just grab hold of his mind. . .racing too fast. . .a jumble. . .”

Banshee took the air as Gnaw attempted to pounce on her. She swooped around and came in low, then veered off to the side as he slammed into a wall. “Not very gentlemanly
are ye, ye ugly wanker!”

Cascade hurled cement and bricks towards Drake who was instantly replaced by the white dragon, Drax. Drax’s form filled up much of the alley, causing the remaining combatants to spill back into the street. Drax struck out at Cascade with his tail, as the merc fled down the street, riding a seismic wave. The dragon gave chase, firing off blasts of pink lightning.

Amuck bounced off of Phil’s shield again and landed at the feet of . . .Vengeance. The Spirit sat atop his bike and revved the engine loudly. Amuck got to his feet. The race was on. Metagenetic speedster vs. supernatural agent of revenge. The raced past the buildings faster than the human eye could follow.

“This oughta be good.” Phil quipped before his mind was seized by a piercing mental assault. “Fate is too kind to me, to have brought me another telepath named Smith to play
with.” Psi’s now familiar thoughts mocked Phil.

Rant and Danny bobbed and weaved, dodged and striked, each shifting between various animal like states. Rant took the form of a greyish wolf. Danny called up his exoskeleton
from Hal’s archives. They collided in mid air. Danny summoned eagle wings from Hal. Rant followed with bat wings and ears. They flew into the sky, taking their battle to the rooftops.

Gnaw hurled garbage cans at Banshee as she flew past him in circles, making faces at him. Banshee circled in close and unleashed her sonic cry, dubbed “the Wail,” by her
teammates. Gnaw’s ears, highly sensitive from years of living under the water, began to bleed from the pain as he screamed. “Aaaahhhhhh!!” After a few moments, Gnaw passed
out from the pain. “Ye’re not so tough. Ye just got beaten by a girl!” Banshee kicked at him lightly with her foot.

Phil struggled with Psi’s devastating mental assault, as he attempted to get a lock on his foe. “You will never find me, Smith. I’m an old hand at this type of mental jousting.” Psi’s glee was apparant. Phil’s anger was too. “You. . .asshole. . .I told you before. . .to
get out. . .of. . .my. . .HEAD!” Phil unleashed an explosive tk wave that slammed through the immediate area and shifted the buildings slightly off to the side. They now had a slight lean to them. Phil dropped to his knee to catch his breath. It must’ve worked. He’s gone. But he’ll be back. I’ll be ready next time. Phil thought to himself.

Cascade and Drax hurled down the street past Koning’s men, who were collecting the unconscious Gnaw and placing a metagene inhibitor upon him. Cascade attempted to
dislodge a section of building upon them, but his shot was knocked off by a burst of Drax’s lightning. “Damn, that was too close.”

He turned to face the dragon, and uplifted a section of the road directly into the dragon’s sternum (or the nearest approximation). Drax was stunned long enough for Cascade to
double back towards the Lupin building. “They may be paying me, but I’m not stupid enough to fight that thing alone.” He thought to himself. “I want a raise.”

Cascade rode a seismic wave up the side of the building, all the way to the roof. He clambered over the side and ran towards the stair doorway. He shot past Danny and Rant,
continuing their fight and unleashed a brief shot at Danny, who was trying to slash Rant with eagle talons. Rant misted as Cascade’s shockwave threw Danny off his feet.

Amuck and Vengeance raced through the busy L.A. streets, Amuck slashing at whatever he could in attempt to block Vengeance’s path. The spirit biker drove across the tops of
cars, and along the side ramps of freeway interchanges, attempting to keept up with the crazed speedster. Occasionally steel blades would spark against holy flame as the two clashed in their race of destruction.

Banshee and Phil landed on the roof of Lupin Tech, as Danny and Rant continued battling. “Hold yer ears, Phil.” Banshee unleashed her sonic cry again, and Rant dropped to his knees in pain, having not changed his ears back from bat form. “Gahhh! You retards! This shit sucks big bloated dead green donkey dicks! FUCK!!!!”

“Well, I see how he got his name. . .” Phil and Banshee stopped short at the unexpected barrage of profanity spewing forth from the Bruttes’ field leader’s mouth.

“Okay, enough of the friendly banter, see you later!” Rant flipped the Vanguardians off as he switched to his mist form and flowed down the stair well door.

Phil and Banshee helped Danny to his feet, as he dusted himself off. “Are ye okay?”

“I’m fine. We gotta. . .” Danny paused to catch his breath. “We gotta get after him.”

Amuck sped past them and charged down the doorway, quickly followed by Vengeance. Drax’s form peered up over the side of the roof. “I’m a bit large to fit in there.”

“It’s okay, Drax. You wait out here in case they try to escape. Let’s go get ‘em, team.” And with that, the Vanguardians descended into the building.

Dirk Bell ran headlong and guns blazing into the smoking conflagration he’d created. This was his true element: Chaos, mayhem, violence. Grimm, the Raptor and the B Team
followed suit.

Charging forth, Dirk noticed several murky figures appearing on his right. Taking aim, he let loose a volley only to see it have no effect on his targets. “Oh, crap.” He said as they raised their hands and fired bullets from their fingertips. Dirk went into a duck and roll and took cover behind a desk.

The Gunslingers opened fire, unleashing a torrent of bullets all across the area where Dirk was holed up. He wasn’t worried, his kevlar would protect him. But he was stuck for the moment.

There was a loud klang as of metal striking metal as The Raptor swung Ladnikia and struck against one of the Gunslingers. Sparks flew off the blood crazed sword as the
Italian meta swooped past and knocked the robot off of it’s feet.

“EL LUCHA LIBRE. . .AWAYYYYY!!!!!!!” The Luchadore shot past Edulcore and tore into more of the robots with his fists. The B Teamer was not always the most dependable
person, but he was more than useful in battle.

Grimm waded into the fray, striking down Gunslingers with his axe as their bullets pierced his body with no effect. This was what the undead warrior had been waiting for. A chance to unleash himself with no worries about holding back. He struck down foes left and right.

Johnny Bates and Dr. Huerta walked cautiously through the lobby. They heard the sounds of battle on all sides of them. “I think Mikey went that way.” Johnny pointed over
towards a hallway containing several vending machines.

“Didn’t you eat before we left?” Huerta asked.

“Fighting bad guys makes me work up an appetite.”

“You haven’t even fought anybody yet. C’mon, we’re going this way. I saw Mikey fly over here.” As the B Teamers walked into the lobby, they were almost scorched as two
geysers of flame erupted past them. “GAAAHHHH!!!!!!!” They screamed in unison.

“Why did you do that?!” Huerta screamed at Johnny.

“It wasn’t me!” He replied.

“He’s right. It wasn’t him.” Holocaust stepped forward out of the smoke, his eyes gleaming in the light of a fiery hand. “It was me.”

As the Raptor soared through the remains of the buildings lobby, something grabbed him and wrapped around him with a hiss. Anaconda. He wrapped around Edulcore’s ribcage
and began to squeeze tightly. Ed dropped to the ground as Ladnikia hit the floor and slid away from his grasp. He reached for the blade. . .

Dirk Bell jumped up and around the overturned table, noticing the end to the gunfire. “They better have saved me some. . .” Running forward into the building, he stopped
short upon seeing a woman bigger than he was.

“The hell. . .” He said, noticing her barbarian attire and blue hair and pigtails. “Cute little man. Little man play with Zoe?” She asked, turning her large war hammer around in her hands. Dirk noticed the inscription on her hammer read: “Gonna Hurt.”

“Oh, christ. . .” He said.

“I wish he wouldn’t do that.” Tayden muttered to himself.

“Mick. . .” Nuriko started.

“I didn’t do anything!” Mick exclaimed.

“No, it’s not Mick. It’s Dirk. He just took his name in vain. Again.” The former angel sighed.

“Okay, back on the clock, team. We dont have time to worry about what the others are doing right now.” Chance commanded the group as their way through the underground
sewer system. “TC should be back any moment to report his-”

At that, the speedster stopped in front of Chance.
“Ifoundthewayintheresadoorwayaboutthirtyfeetffromhere!” He said, faster than his teammates could follow.

“Slow down, man.” Chance insisted. TC caught his breath. “There’s a doorway. . .about thirty. . .feet.”

“Are you ok?” Chance asked him.

“Ribs are still a little sore. Once I find that bastard that jumped me. . .”

“Okay, okay. Priest, go find this door and open it.” Chance said.

“My pleasure.” Priest answered, slapping together a device that looked like a convuluted land mine device. That, or a futuristic cd player. As the team moved to follow him, Priest turned and motioned them back. “Stay here.”

He attached the device to the door, which was a very heavy and made of solid steel. Thinking for a moment, he calculated something in his head. Then, he attached the device to the door and set the timer. He then stood directly in front of it.

“What the hell is he doing?” Tobias asked, impatient, as always.

“Please don’t curse.” Tayden said, still smiling.

“Don’t worry, mates, he knows what he’s doing.” Grissom replied, one of the Vanguardians to be completely confident in Priest’s ability.

Directly following Montag’s comment, a large explosion sounded down the hall. The Vanguards took cover as they expected to be engulfed in smoke and flame.

There was no smoke, however. Nor was there any flame. The militaristic garbed metahuman had absorbed whatever was not directed towards the door. Using the energy he’d absorbed, he redirected it, blasting the remnants of the door off of it’s hinges in a fiery burst.

Stepping into the darkness, the Vanguardians walked into the dungeons of the Skinwalker. . .

The smoke and flame surrounded the three men. Holocaust took a deep breath and slowly exhaled, as if he was smoking a cigarette. “I love a good barbecue,” he turned towards
the B Teamers. “Don’t you?” With that he unleashed a burst of flame at the two.

Johnny Bates went intangible as Dr. Huerta leapt out of the way of the firestorm approaching them. “Mikey! Dammit! We need you over here!”

Anaconda choked the Raptor, as Ed’s body began to slump to the floor. He reached for Ladnikia, the sword calling to him, to break the snakelike meta’s embrace. . .

Zoe’s hammer slammed down onto the floor, cracking the tiles through. “Jeez! Dirk exclaimed rolling out of the way and reloading. The hammer slammed into Dirk’s hand,
breaking weapon and bone with a single blow. Bitch is strong, Dirk thought, while scrambling to recover. Dirk grabbed a letter opener off of a nearby desk and jabbed it into Zoe’s leg. The barbarian woman screamed and began to weep. “You don’t play fair! Zoe hurt you!”

“Oh, great. . .” Dirk thought, searching for something in his trenchcoat. He pulled out a rubber band and a paper clip from one pocket. “What the hell. . .” he thought shooting the paper clip at Zoe’s eye. “AAAHHHHH!!!!!!!!” Zoe’s hammer slammed into someone’s desk, shattering their pc and sending paperwork flying.

The Luchadore flew back and forth, slamming through Gunslinger bots like empty aluminum cans. “The Luchadore goes up to the top rope!” He cried. “The fans are on
their feet!” He pushed himself off of a wall for momentum. “The big elbow!” He crushed the head of the last droid with an elbow smash, and stood atop the pile of defeated robots with his hands on his hips.

“You’ll do.” Dirk said, grabbing the B Teamer and tossing him at Zoe. “What?!” The Luchadore said as Zoe’s hammer shattered on his skull. “You break Zoe’s hammer! Zoe tear you apart!” The large woman engulfed the two men in a massive bearhug, crushing them together and pushing the air out of their lungs. “Not. . .what I had in mind. . .” Dirk
gasped.

Ed reached for Ladnikia. . .So close. . .just a little more. . .reaching, he very nearly clasped the blade when a black boot stepped on the sword. A metal gauntleted hand reached down and picked it up. Grimm stood before Ed and Anaconda, holding Ladnikia in one hand, and his axe in the other.

Elsewhen. . .

The casket was not large, yet the importance it bore was. Uncle Otto was in the front, paralleled by Larry Lance. In the back, Grimm, paralleled by Blackwulf. They placed the
casket in it’s position and took their seats solemnly. Jon Michael Harrison sat in the front row of the chapel, a huge ball of grief, as Banshee and Leslie Klein attempted to comfort him. The La Perditian meta citizenry and the press were out in droves. The Vanguardians did not appreciate the publicity, but they made do, giving this occasion the respect it deserves.

As Mick walked up to the podium, he attempted to compose himself, but failed. “I. . .just. . .I. . .” He looked out over the sea of faces, familiar and not. His grief and sadness began to turn to anger as flashbulb after flashbulb popped. Why can’t they at least let us have this? Why? Mick’s face contorted as light began to emanate from his eyes. “We all know who did this. . .so why are we just sitting around?!” He screamed and his soundwaves
melted several bouquets in front of him. A small reality distortion field appeared around his body as he levitated off of the ground.

The crowd gasped collectively, as Mick Harrison, the metahuman sometimes referred to as Mxy, screamed out in anger and pain, “SMIIIIIITHHHH!!!!!!! I’M COMING FOR
YOU!!!!!!!!!!!!” He tore through the roof of the chapel, leaving a large hole and incinerating much of his clothing.

The Vanguardians mobilized, making their way to their transport and quickly following their errant teammate as he made his way towards Smith’s last known location. . . “Phil? Are you okay?” Grissom asked as they strapped themselves into the Stormloader. “Yeah,
it’s just. . .”

“What?”

“Well, for a second there, I thought he meant me. . .”

Grissom sighed and took the controls. “Same old Philsy. . .”

Smith’s lair. . .

Mick Harrison tore through the defenses that Smith had erected around his home, both technological and mystical. The reality warping meta knew few real limits in truth. The
army of metahuman criminals that Smith had pressed into service soon lay scattered on the floor around Mick’s brightly glowing form. The Scorpion Brothers, Knell, Aurochs, Amuck, Cascade, the list was massive.

Mick made his way into the center of Smith’s lair, for what would undoubtedly be their final confrontation. . .if Smith were not otherwise incapacitated.

This was the first thing that caught the griefstricken metas attention. Smith, his lifeless body held off of the floor by one hand, of a man in a blue suit with a clocklike mask. The second thing that caught Mick’s attention were the numerous similarly dressed men standing behind him, carrying several bizarre devices. After that would be the large, pyramid shaped. . .well, pyramid. . .that floated soundlessly behind them. Mick’s anger was replaced with confusion.

“You are not he.” Clockman 12 spoke, matter of factly.

“He?!” Mick’s power dampened down, as his mind raced with questions. The Vanguardians slowly made their way into the room behind him, their astonishment and confusion matching his.

“The Paragon. He has escaped us, yet again. It is no matter.” 12 released his hold on Smith’s neck, dropping him to the floor without a care. He turned, folding his arms behind his back, and walked towards the staircase upwards into the onyx pyramid. Reaching the top of the staircase, he turned back and uttered a single command. “Wipe it.”

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

Time City
Outside the chambers of the council of time.


“Aaahhhhh!!!!!” Graham Wells doubled over in pain again. His left arm was numb. He felt almost as if he was having a stroke.

“What is the matter, Wells?” The Time Trust asked, attempting to soothe his guest. “How can you not know?!” Wells almost screamed at the android in his pain. “Timelines are dying! I can feel it! How can you. . .how can they. . .” Wells pointed back at the
chambers. “not sense it?” He rolled on the ground, his suit becoming dirty and rumpled.

The Time Trust thought for a moment, rubbing his chin in imitation of humanity. “The Clockmen. . .” he said. “We must return to Haven.” The droid began to prepare for
temporal travel.

“NO!” Wells grabbed him by the shoulders. “Earth! We have to go to Earth!”

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

Within the underground chambers beneath Lupin Technologies, Mick Harrison felt a chill run down his spine and shuddered. “What is it?” Chance asked. “Uh, nothing. . .I’m fine.” Mick replied.

“You’d better be. We have no margin for error here.” Chance’s team continued on underground as Mick briefly turned and looked upwards. He paused for a moment, and
uttered something under his breath (a small prayer, perhaps) before turning and following the others.

Nuriko took the point, her hanzo blade drawn, stepping into the darkness. Something struck her forearms, just below the wrists, causing her to drop her hold on the blade she’d
possessed for centuries. Quickly recovering she struck out, engaging her unknown foe in silent battle within the darkness. Listening, she could barely hear the controlled breathing of her opponent. Whoever this was, they were good. Almost as good as her. They circled each other in the dark, striking, parrying, thrusting, coming close but not yet gaining an endblow.

The fight was over as soon as it began, Chance flipped on the light switch, his luck holding true, although officially it was no more. Nuriko and the Vanguardians looked at the apparition before them. An apparent office temp, her clothing slightly ripped from the battle, holding a fighting stance in front of them.

“A mere secretary?” Nuriko scoffed. She didn’t know what the bigger insult was. That’d she’d been attacked by a secretary, or that her opponent had been so good.

“Oh, she’s no mere secretary,” Chance said, pulling the brown wig off of the girls head, as her natural dark locks cascaded downward. “Isn’t that right, Sonja?”

“I wondered where you disappeared to so urgently after our last mission.” Prest folded his arms and smiled slightly.

“What are you doing here, Sonja?” Chance asked.

“Call me Nadia, tovarisch, I am working. . .” she purred, wrapping an arm around Kristofer Schanz’s torso.

“Working at what?” the Swede replied trying to take no notice and failing.

“Spying. Am not just being spy for Vanguard, no? Am having other obligations as well, da?” She reached upwards and brushed her lips against his as she spoke. Chance pushed her back off of him. “I have a girlfriend. Now, we’re on a rescue mission here, Nadia, what’s going on?”

"Such a shame." Seeing she was getting nowhere, Nadia leaned back against the wall and assumed a more
businesslike presentation.

"I'mavailableSonja!" TC rushed out, temporarily forgetting his pain.

"So cute, tovarisch," She smiled and rubbed his cheek, "But still a boy, sadly."

“Ever since I am going into intelligence work, I am hearing rumors of something called “The Fenris Trigger.” My superiors are long searching for this Fenris Trigger, in order to gain upper hand in political games. At time, I am noticing that
rumors of Fenris Trigger are sometimes echoing stories my grandmother used to tell me when I was little girl of monster called “The Harbringer.”

“Harbringer?” TC asked.

“Is short for horror bringer. At time, I am thinking nothing of these connections. Then, a couple of weeks ago, am hearing that this company, Lupin, have located something
matching both the Fenris Trigger and the legends of Harbringer. Stories are saying that they are to be using it on this date. I have been here a week in the company. Two days ago, they sent all employees home. I hid in the ventilation system and made my way here. Where I met you. Now, your side of story.” She finished.

“Last night, several metahuman mercenaries broke into the complex and kidnapped two of our support staff personnel. Our trainer, Vladislav Blackwulf, and our secretary, Shirley
Francis. We. . .” Kristofer Schanz halted, his near perfect memory reminding him of something. “Harbringer.” He said. “Does that sound familiar to anyone?”

“A little.” Priest answered.

“The hurricane.” Chance began to pace back and forth. “That’s what the vampires that attacked La Perdita during the hurricane called Blackwulf. The horror bringer.”

“That’srightIremembernow!” TC stated excitedly.

“What did Blackwulf turn into at the end of that adventure?” Chance asked, still pacing.

“Oh. . .my. . .god. . .” Priest’s jaw dropped as he made the realization.

“A large dog.” Mick said not getting it.

“A wolf, Mick. A large wolf. Called Fenris.” Priest corrected him.

“The Fenris Trigger.” Chance continued. “Which is what the EPS were searching for in New York when we encountered the alternate universe crisis.”

“Wait, so you are saying that Harbringer and Fenris Trigger, and your Blackwulf, are all being one and same?” Nadia asked.

“Exactly.” Chance stopped. “We have to find him and stop whatever’s happening here. Tonight.”

Nadia looked around. “Where is Edulcore?”

“Upstairs with the others. They’re providing a distraction for us.”

“I must get to him. Good luck, friends.”

“Good luck, Sonja.” And with that, she disappeared again into the darkness.

Hurtling through time and space, Graham Wells and The Time Trust speed towards Earth.
. .

“How can you know where they are headed?” the android asked. “You travel through time. I am fundamentally connected to it. Here, in this place, I am time. Listen to me. . .”

Wells gripped the androids’ forehead with his hands and concentrated. A burst of light exploded forth into the droid’s receptors. Wells spoke, and yet it was not his voice.

There came a time when the old gods died. . .

The Godworld that they lived upon was rent asunder by the massive cataclysmic energies unleashed from their conflict. Split in two, the fragments spun for millenia before cooling and taking shape.

Promethion. It’s gleaming, golden spires reach upwards in reflection of the sun. An eternal spring where beauty forever dwells. Ruled by wise, blond haired, warrior king
Innuman, also called The Ankh.

Krypt. Covered in mist and rains, the dark world ruled with an iron hand by Brother Grimm.

For centuries these worlds warred, neither gaining an advatange. After a time, they made a pact for peace. The pact has been broken, however, by Grimm’s discovery of his wife Malevola’s infidelity with Innuman. Standing before his necroguardsmen in full armor, he holds his skull helm in hand as he addresses them: “The Pact with Promethion has been broken! Now let there be total, ultimate war!”

They raise their weapons and shout triumphantly as they prepare for war.

The armies of the two worlds halt in mid-space, discovering the large, onyx pyramid, the ship of the Clockmen, floating directly in between them. 12 sits in the command chair on the deck of the ship. “Keep moving.”

10: “But, do you not even want to check?”

12: “No, he is not here. We must continue on. We have been steps behind the Paragon all this way. No one makes fools of the Clockmen. Wipe this timeline and be done with
it!”

The Time Trust snaps back to his senses as Wells releases his hands. “We-we have to stop them. . .”

“We will. I know where they’re headed.” Wells smiled in spite of the omnipresent danger.

Technicians worked feverishly attempting to connect Blackwulf to the machines which the Skinwalker had devised to facilitate the transferral process. “These devices will allow me to assume control of the genestealer’s form, preventing it from consuming my being from within. . .” The Skinwalker thought to itself, it’s lips moving slightly. The skin discoloration of the body of Justine Lupin was now even greater, combined with the scales
and the slitted eyes, giving “her” a truly reptilian appearance.

Blackwulf slept, rendered unconscious by massive dosages of tranquilizers, as the technicians worked soundlessly, mindless slaves of the of the creature.

“So if I’m Arthur, and Chance is Lancelot, then who does that make the rest?” Danny thought.

“I don’t know. Griss didn’t go any further with it.” Phil answered mentally.

“Huh. Weird. Okay, get back on the clock, let’s find these guys and finish them off.”

Amuck and Vengeance raced through the stairwells down towards a particular floor. The Spirit, frustrated by several events happening that he was powerless to avenge, chased the meta speedster with a furious zeal.

Amuck burst through a doorway and led Vengeance into one of the office rooms. He raced around desks and cubicles slashing things merely for the sake of it.

Rant and Cascade followed behind the two. “Are they behind us?” Rant asked. “All but Marshall.” Cascade answered, seemingly relieved.

Danny, Phil, and Banshee entered the room cautiously. “Does this remind you of one of
those old movies where all those people end up in a big, drawn out, chase scene?” Phil thought.

“Shhh. . .Hal, dog nose. . .” Danny whispered as his nose changed shape. He sniffed the air, following the Bruttes as Phil scanned mentally. Banshee followed close behind,
readying her wail. “The other telepath must be blocking my mental probes. . .” Phil thought.

They continued on. . .

Cliffored leaned in close to Shirley’s face, his nostrils quivering as he sniffed along her flesh. Goose pimples rose up along her body. She shivered involuntarily at his unwanted touch.

“GYYYUUUUAAAAUUUUGHHHHHH!!!!!!!!” Paragon screamed from down the cell as he pulled with the last reserves of his might and broke the chains that had bound him for over a year. Pulling himself to his feet, defiantly, he pointed towards Clifford’s ever changing form. “Let her go.”

Clifford howled and hurled himself at Paragon with a mighty leap. Paragon pulled his arms up and flicked his wrists, sending the lengths of chain to wrap around Clifford’s
neck. Screaming and howling, Clifford pulled at the chains as Paragon began to spin around, taking Clifford with him.

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

Danny, Phil, and Banshee rounded a corner in the office. They were now standing near the windows by one of the side walls. They must’ve come this way, Danny thought, motioning towards office debris obviously left in the wake of Amuck and Vengeance.

Danny stopped suddenly, holding up his hand in a motion for the others to do the same. He sniffed the air, his nose still in the shape of a dog’s. He turned his head and began to speak as Rant popped up from behind a cubicle and slammed into him, full force. “Surprise, suckers!” He yelled, pounding down at Danny, as Cascade unleashed seismic
waves at Phil and Banshee, keeping the Vanguardians off balance enough to prevent them using their abilities.

Phil tried to get at a weapon of some kind, but Cascade’s waves were shaking everything loose. He couldn’t concentrate. Cascade used the waves to pin them against a wall as Rant tossed Danny’s battered form up next to them.

Suddenly Banshee screamed. Rant covered his ears but Cascade continued. With one arm, he held the Vanguard members pinned to the wall, while with the other, he shook the frame work of the wall loose from each side. An entire fifteen foot segment of the wall began to collapse and fall outward with the Vanguardians still pinned against it. Windows shattered as Cascade’s energy warped metal and concrete, as the segment of wall fell outward towards the street below, taking Danny, Phil, and Banshee with it.

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

Paragon swung Clifford’s body around and around, his chains holding him by the neck. Clifford screamed as Paragon released the chains, sending him flying across the dungeons. As Clifford’s body flew across the way, Paragon realized where he had sent him. His eyes widened in fright. “Oh, no. . .”

Clifford landed squarely upon the temporal device that Paragon had used to travel to this timeline and shattered it into several pieces. “NOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!” Paragon dropped to his knees and screamed in frustration as Priest battered open the door to the dungeons. Chance, Mick, Nuriko, Grissom, Tayden, and Tobias poured into the room behind the
large Vanguardian to witness the site before them: Paragon frantically attempting to reassemble the temporal device while Shirley was held captive in front of them. Clifford sprawled out in front of them.

***************************
The Timestream, aboard the Clockmen’s ship.

Clockman 7 looked up from his scanners and spoke. “We have him.”

12: “Are you sure?”

7: “Oh yes, it’s him. No mistake. We’re locked on.”

12 sat down in the captain’s chair and folded his hands together in front of his face.
“Paragon. . .” He smiled beneath his mask.

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

Temporal energy warped and fluctuated as a wormhole began to open in the far end of the Skinwalker’s dungeons. As Paragon and the Vanguardians stood transfixed, at the sight
of the Clockmen’s onyx pyramid shaped craft appearing before them, Clifford disappeared into the darkness.

As the Clockmen descended from their vehicle into the underground labs of the Skinwalker, Chance looked over at Mick Harrison. “Mick, do it.”

“What. . .now?!”

“Yes, now!”

Mick Harrison took a deep breath and and said single word: “Mxy!”

“Leeettt’ssss doooo the time waaaarrp agaaaaaaiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiinnnnnnnnnn. . .” Mxy sang as
he took control of Mick’s form, while reality warped around him.

Clockman Five, remaining calm in the face of fifth dimensional chaos, leveled an odd looking weapon at Mxy and fired. The energy from the beam struck Mxy and reacted
wildly with his fifth dimensional energies. In a burst of white light, Mxy, Chance, Nuriko, Priest, Montag, Tayden, TC, and Paragon vanished. Shirley Francis, still chained, passed out, her mind unable to take the strain.

25 years later. . .

From their base on the moon, Vanguard sits watch over the Earth, protecting it from threats both metahuman and otherwise.

The forty-five year old man sits in his chair with a world weary expression. The brown hair on his head is beginning to grey at the temples. He has long since given up hope of
ever finding his way home. He has made a new life here. Friends, a wife, children. . .

“Do you regret your decisions, Daniel Hearn?” The aged looking man in the brown suit asked, stepping out of the shadows behind him.

“No, Paradigm, I don’t. It’s just. . .I never expected all. . .this,” he motioned to the area
around him with his arms. “this life, sometimes the bizarreness and strangeness of it all overwhelms me.”

“You’ve been there all along, haven’t you? Guiding me, influencing me, putting me on the path. . .” Dan looked at the man, stating as much as asking.

“The path was there for you, Daniel. I merely. . .helped you find the way.”

Suddenly a mechanical voice caught Dan’s ear as a white burst of light appeared on one of Dan’s monitor screens. “Attention, Vanguardians, we have intruders on level twelve!” Jym’s voice sounded through the loudspeakers.

He turned to say something else but Paradigm was gone.

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

“. . .nnnnnn. . .waaaooowwww. . .” Mxy stumbled out of the temporal portal, more dazed than usual, followed by Grissom, Tobias, Nuriko, Chance, Tayden, Priest, and Paragon.

“I go sleepy now. Mick. . .” the impish being said, as his top hat vanished and the light fell out of his eyes. “Oooohhh, I need to lay down. . .” Mick Harrison fell backwards into Chance and Montag’s arms as alarms began to sound all around them. “Business as usual
for us, it seems.” Priest said in response to alarms as he prepared a weapon for battle against whatever lay in wait for the group.

The Confessor

“I’ll take that, if you don’t mind.” A mysterious cloaked figure in black darted from the shadows, grabbing Priest’s weapon before the Vanguardian could react. “We really
dislike intruders bringing things like this into our headquarters.”

“And I dislike people taking things that are mine.” Priest swung at the man who ducked, grabbing Priest’s arm and turning him into a judo flip that sent him into the wall. Priest’s weapon vanished from the man’s grasp as he looked down in surprise. “Hurm.”

“Bit of a little more than you can chew, eh, mate?” Grissom Montag asked, leveling the weapon at the man.

Brian Montag, the Airwalker

“Not at all, “mate.” A voice sounded from above Grissom as a red haired, three fingered youth grabbed the weapon from his grasp and walked into the air above his head.

“Bloody hell. . .” Montag uttered.

“I’llfinishthis!” Tobias Christopher began to move towards the attacking figures, runing up the wall towards the youth.

Tora Trystan, the Time Trust

“Oh, no you won’t” A young woman with a shapely figure pointed at the speedster as chronal energies surrounded him, freezing him in midstride. Nanobots instantly
surrounded the woman with a familiar grey armor of the Time Trust Corps.

Eddie Cicciotto, the Gorgon

Chance fired off a tranquilizer dart at the black cloaked man, unable to tell if he was hitting his target or not. As he reloaded his weapon, another attacker jumped towards him from behind. His reflexes took charge as he flipped his attacker forward and in front of him. The man turned and Chance saw his face closely. Several snakes lay atop the man’s head as hair. The man and the snakes hissed at Kristofer Schanz as one. “Oh my gob, Eddie?” he asked, recognizing the familiar features.

Persephone and Harlequinn

“My, you’re a cute one, aren’t you?” the pale young woman with the flowing black hair (set off by a white streak in the front) asked Tayden. “That’s what they say.” The angel replied nonchalantly. Tayden couldn't help but notice her purple and black gown, large and elaborate with multiple rows of incomprehensible motifs sewn into it, and he felt it proof more of obsession than beauty.

“I’ll kill you!” Nuriko slashed repeatedly at the young man in the harlequin costume and greasepaint and he dodged and leapt around her, tickling her and pinching her backside
again. “Have to catch me, first!” He shouted in glee, his daredevil acrobatics dizzying the martial artist.

Axel Magus

Red bands of mystic energy surrounded Doc Paragon as his superhuman strength struggled in vain to break their hold. “I’ve never seen anyone resist the crimson bands
that much.” The young mage scratched his chin in wonder at the display of superhuman effort in front of him.

As the Vanguardians were surrounded by the strange yet oddly familiar figures, a singular voice with an Australian accent called them off. “Vanguard, stand down. This is no way to treat old friends. Especially some we haven't seen in years.”

“Welcome to the moon. This is the headquarters of Vanguard Prime. The home office, as it were. Vanguard is now a global protectorate with offices in every major city in
countries around the world. Not bad for a little group that started out as a bunch of refugees hiding in a circus, eh?” The middle aged man walked into the room, the
metahumans gathering around him. “Oh, I should introduce myself. Name’s Hearn. Daniel Hearn. But you guys can call me Danny.” The Australian smiled as he layed eyes
on his old friends.

Tensions began to drop as Vanguardians present and future greeted each other properly. Danny and Priest even shook hands. <Excuse me, I hate to interrupt. . .> a mechanical voice sounded.

“Like hell you do. What is it, Jym?” Hearn asked.

<Well, you see, it’s uh, it’s. . .>

“Spit it out, already!”

<It’s Dirk. He’s loose again.>

Grimm stood over Ed as Anaconda squeezed the ribcage and throat of the man called The Raptor. The death avatar held his axe in his right hand, and Ladnikia, ancient blood
cursed sword, lately wielded by the Italian meta, in his left. He glanced at Ed’s form struggling for breath, hand outstretched for his weapon. He looked at the serpentine meta mercenary, it’s cold eyes reflecting Grimm’s own empty sockets. And Ladnikia whispered it’s blood song to him. Kill him. . .kill them both. . .I am yours. . .long have I waited for one such as you. . .kill them. . .kill them. . .KILL THEM!

With a primal scream of rage and anger, Grimm hurled the cursed blade towards the combatants. Traveling through the air, end over end, the sword alighted in the
outstretched arm of Edulcore Ciccioto, who immediately stabbed at the underbelly of Anaconda.

The reptilian meta hissed and began to pull away from the Raptor, as it was grasped from behind by the neck. Blue light flared as Grimm’s axe severed Anaconda’s head from it’s body, while the Raptor sliced off it’s limbs with Ladnikia.

As the Vanguardians looked around at the remains of their foe, Grimm spoke. “Wicked sword you have there, Ed.”

The former Eurostar looked down at the blood soaked weapon in his hand. The blood seemed to recede into the blade itself, as if it was drinking it. Ed’s eyes cut towards his
teammate. He began to speak when explosions from further down the hall caught both of their attention.

“There is more trouble!” The Raptor took a running start and alighted, flying down the hallway as Grimm ran after him. From the shadows, Nadia looked upon the scene, her
thoughts known only to herself.

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

Disoriented, nauseated, and unable to use their abilities, Danny, Phil, and Banshee were in free fall several thousand feet up in the air and surrounded by shards of glass, as well as pieces of concrete and steel.

“Look!” One of Konig’s military men pointed towards the falling Vanguardians. Drake Marshall looked up from his resting place in horror as his teammates plummeted
downwards.

We’re needed again, Drax. he thought, touching the tattoo just above his forearm, and summoning the mighty dragon. Spreading his wings, the otherdimensional beast took to the air as the military forces prepared to shield themselves from the falling debris.

“Grab hold of me!” The dragon screamed as he rose up to meet his teammates. They pulled themselves up by his fur, and once they were save, he blasted what he could of the
larger chunks of debris, his mystical lightning incinerating much of it.

Drax landed in the section of the building knocked away by Cascade, and turned back to Drake. “Glad to know we could be of some use.” He joked, as Danny’s communicator
went off.

“Hearn.” He answered. “Danny, what happened to Chance’s team?” Kristogar Velo’s voice sounded from the other end. “I thought I told you stay at headquarters.” Danny
began.

“I am at headquarters.” Velo answered. “I’ve been monitoring you guys in case something went wrong and well. . .”

“Well what?”

“Chance’s team has vanished from our scanners.”

“. . .” Hearn was silent, stunned.

“By the way, has Nadia contacted you guys yet?”

“She’s here, too?!”

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

Dirk unleashed headbutt after headbutt in an attempt to break the bearhug of Zoe. The blue haired barbarian woman merely smiled at him. “Zoe like you.”

Dirk’s face was a bloody mess, he was getting a splitting headache, and he thought his nose might be broken. But enough good news. The Luchadore’s elbow was also pushing
into his ribs. If he moved even slightly, he might inadvertently remove a pin from Dirk’s grenade belt. That would not be good.

Holocaust had surrounded Bates and Huerta with a wall of flame and was sending tendrils of it after them, amusing himself. A fire exit door burst open and Rant and Cascade ran into the room. “Finally, things are going right!” The Bruttes’ field commander yelled out.

“Have we heard from Amuck?” He asked. Cascade pointed to a hallway as the speedster slowly staggered out and fell forward onto the ground.

“Oh, shit, not him again. . .” Rant started as Vengeance stepped out of the shadows, the victor of the race between meta and spirit revealed.

Grimm and the Raptor exited the hallway, joining the scene as well. Ladnikia’s blade finding another mark as it was embedded in the back of Zoe’s head. The female
barbarian’s hold on Dirk and the Luchadore released as she dropped backwards, lifeless.

“What was that you said about things going right, hoss?” Cascade asked as he began to back towards the fire exit.

The same fire exit that Danny, Phil, Banshee, and Drake now emerged from.

“Screw this, I’m not being paid to fight these guys all night long. I’m out of here!” Cascade unleashed seismic waves in circles towards the Vanguardians and the remaining
Bruttes, knocking them all off balance as he bolted out the door, taking a shot at Drake and knocking him out of his chair for good measure.

“So long, Marshall!” he cackled, riding a piece of pavement off into the night, past the military blockades.

“What a rude arse.” Banshee commented, as she Danny righted Drake’s chair. “Forget him. We’ll have another day. Besides, we have bigger worries at the moment.”

“Right. We still have to find Shirley and Blackwulf.” Grimm said.

“And now, the rest of our teammates as well.” Danny announced.

Dirk Bell leaned his head to the side until his neck popped. He was well into his mid-fifties now and had taken 15 seconds to to disable his much younger guards. Five
seconds longer than it would’ve taken him a decade ago. An untamed living weapon, Dirk Bell was the definition of the term “maverick.” Pansies. . .he thought, stepping over the unconscious forms of Blackwulf Jr. and Punchline.

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

“Who are you and where did you come from?” Kristofer Schanz asked Doc Paragon, as he watched him attempt to repair the small device he seemed to hold close to him at all times. “You must be one of Shirley’s friends. . .” Paragon began, looking him over and offering a hand.

As Paragon related his tale of alternate worlds and the chronal genocide of the Clockmen, a chord was struck in Chance. How similar they seemed to be, he thought. How similar their stories, and yet, how different.

“Can I see this?” Tora Trystan, the Time Trust of Vanguard Prime, looked over the damaged box that Paragon had been unsuccessfully working on. “This resembles Time Trust Tech. . .” She noted.

“Do you think you could fix it?” Paragon asked.

“I think so. . .yes. Yes, I”m sure I could, but I’ll need some help.” She said, inwardly pleased to have someone else to talk about scientific matters with.

“My main field is chemistry, but Dr. Quantos has been helping me to learn about technological devices. I’ve done some work with Mandelovian tech as well.” Chance offered.

“Great, let’s get to it, then.” And with that, the three headed for Tora’s lab.

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

The fist flew through the air and impacted with the left side of his face, knocking loose teeth, and sending a small trail of blood into the air. “Bastard!”

The conversation was not going the way Grissom had hoped.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Twenty minutes ago, as Vanguard Prime scrambled to recapture their prisoner, Grissom and Tayden walked down a corridor of the complex moon headquarters of the team.
“Why don’t you talk to him?” Tayden offered, gazing out at the luminescent white landscape outside.

“I’m not sure if it’s such a good idea, me family’s got a history of not gettin’ on well. . .” Montag thought of his own father and their troubled relationship.

“Hello.” A tall, green skinned man with curly blond hair and a hooked nose offered as they passed. “Hello.” Tayden returned the greeting with a smile as they passed one
another.

Montag looked at the stranger, at Tayden, and back again, before shaking his head and returning to the subject. “Do you think. . .” He began.

“What could it hurt?” The angel offered.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Get up, ya drunken hooremonger! Get up, so I can knock you on your arse again!” Brian Montag’s three fingered fists shook in his rage.

“It’s not like that, Brian, I don’t know what happened to you. . .” Grissom offered, holding his jaw.

“BOLLOCKS! Ye know exactly what happened, don’t ye?!” Brian screamed at him. “The bloody Montag curse, aye?! Drinkin’ and boozin’ and livin’ it up wi’ yer hoores!
Aye, me mum met plenty of men with “the Montag curse” after ye had yer fun and went yer merry way, didn’t she?” Brian’s words dripped with venom and anger as they fell off
of his lips.

Grissom’s face went pale as he slumped against the wall. “I won’t let this happen, I won’t!” He angrily spat as blood trickled down his lip. "I promise you, Brian. . ."

“Ye already have.” Brian answered him, his eyes flashing as he walked off, leaving his father to ponder his future fate.

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

Dirk Bell avoided Priest’s charge as he ranted nonstop. “Don’t you get it! This isn’t how it’s supposed to be! These bastards have taken over the world! There's no place left for normal people!”

“He’s insane. Delusional. Dirk was never the most stable of people, but these days he’s a bloody loon.” Dan Hearn watched as Vanguardians past and present attempted to subdue
the former “lone gunman of the apocalypse.”

“Allow me.” Nuriko simply stated as she walked up to the carnage and delivered a spinkick to Bell’s jaw, dropping him into Priest’s waiting arms. She looked down at him
with a mixture of sadness and contempt. “Asshole.” she whispered under her breath.

“What was that?” Priest asked, lifting Bell over his shoulder.

“Nothing.” She stated, walking away from him.

“How did you?” Hearn asked as she passed by him.

“Forgot what I used to do for a living, eh?” She briefly ran a hand across his cheek. “You grew up to be very handsome, Danny. I don’t know what you had against me, but I hope we resolved it.”

Hearn smiled a bit as he watched her walk off.

“How bout a hand here if you’re done watching the show?” Priest asked, as they went to return Dirk to his cell.

Dan and Priest walked down the hallway, having secured Dirk in his cell. “So isn’t it dangerous for us to be here? Shouldn’t we worry about running into our future selves or
something?” The larger man asked.

“Nah, most of your group are retired or. . .” Hearn stopped, his eyes looking away from the man.

“Oh. I. . .see.” Priest’s eyes dropped as he touched a device on his shoulder that monitored his bodily functions. He noticed a large glass case at the end of the hall. “What’s that?” He asked.

“Eh?” Hearn responded.

<Dan? There’s a problem. . .>

“Grife, what is it now, Jym?”

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

Persephone was in her room, administering to her plants. The bizarre looking flora of violet-black blossoms with red needles and shoots, which gave off a pungent, almost spice
like aroma. As she tended to them, speaking and nuzzling them, at times it seemed almost as if her face became close in color and texture to the plants.

Carl Quinn, the Vanguardian known professionally as the Harlequinn, entered the room and softly walked up behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist and leaning in to her. His red, white, and black harlequin design outfit a bizarre juxtaposition against her elaborate violet-black gown. “I do love you, you know.” He said softly his greasepaint covered lips next to her ear.

“Of course you do. It is the nature of the harlequin to love death.” She said almost absentmindedly, tending to her plants, as if barely noticing him.

“Why do you do this?” He asked with a sigh.

“Do what?” She said, as she turned in his grip to face him.

“Pull away from me. Every time it seems we get closer, you retreat again. . .”

“Carl,” She said, silencing him by putting a hand to his cheek and wiping away a small bit of the greasepaint there. “You know what I am. You know who and what my parents were.”

“Yes.”

“We’ve been over this. You, although a meta, are still mortal. I am not. You will grow old. You’ll die. . .” She looked away from his gaze. “I can’t. . .”

Gripping her chin with his hand, he lifted her head back to face him. “I can.” He said.

“Apologies for interrupting, but Dan’s called an emergency meeting. You’re needed in conference room A now!” Phil Smith’s thoughts seared into the minds of the two, a side
effect of the pure power the mentalist possessed, rather than an attempt to invade their thoughts.

“I hate telepaths. . .” Quinn stated loudly as he opened the door way to the hall and Smith floated past, his white robes trailing behind him, his body ever in the lotus position. His head turned to face Quinn and he answered without speaking, “Nature of the job. You know this.” before floating on down the hallway.

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

Dirk Bell sat in his cell, the lights turned off. He didn’t move. “I know you?” He asked after a few moments.

“You did. Once.” Nuriko’s voice answered from the darkness.

“For most people, once is enough.” Dirk answered without looking up.

“What happened to you? What is it that made you this way?” She asked, kneeling down to get a closer look at his shadowed face. “Why do you do these things to yourself?”

“LISTEN!” He shouted, jerking his head upwards, his eyes flashing with anger and hate. “What and who I am is my business! Got it? I don’t need one of Huerta’s head shrink
mind games in here, trying to get into my skull, ok? They want my secrets? They can send Smith in here to pull ‘em from my head when I’m gone! Understood, sister?”

“I understand.” She said flatly, standing and walking away.

He jumped up and pounded on the plastiglass partition. “THEY’RE NOT DOING TO ME WHAT THEY DID TO THE REST OF THE WORLD!! I’LL FIGHT YOU TILL THE END! DIRK BELL IS A FREE MAN! YOU HEAR ME! A FREE MAN!!!!”

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

Nuriko, Persephone, Harlequinn, and Phil entered the meeting room and joined the other members of Vanguard Prime and the time lost Vanguardians. The two groups had mixed
freely in this time, save for Prime members Gorgon and Airwalker who stood off to the back, their arms folded and their eyes watching the new arrivals suspiciously.

“It is a trap. They are spies sent by Earthgov to infiltrate us.” Gorgon began, his heavy, Italian accent mimicing his “father’s.”

“Maybe.” Brian Montag answered. He was in no mood to talk. His eyes remained fixed upon Grissom, who sat at the table, his head down as Nuriko tended to his jaw.

Dan and Priest entered the room and Dan casually took a seat at the head of the table, propping his feet up on it. “Okay, Jym, what’ve you got?”

A holographic display of Earth flared to life above the table and began rotating as the AI pinpointed several areas around the world. <We have massive chronal refluxes flaring up in various areas. These refluxes are causing several temporal disturbances and creating
mass hysteria.>

“What kind of disturbances?”

<Dogs and cats living together, the dead rising, WWI biplanes in dogfights with flying
saucers. . .>

“Nothing good ever came from a saucer. . .” The Confessor offered enigmatically.


<Various people phasing in and out and being replaced with other versions of themselves,
barbarian hordes attempting to conquer skyscrapers, dinosaurs in bikinis. . .>

“What?”

<What what?>

“Did you just say. . .dinosaurs. . .”

<In bikinis.>

“Are you serious, Jym?”

<I’m not making this up, Dan.>

“Fine, fine. What’s causing all this?”

<Well, at the source of each chronal reflux there appear to be several large, black
pyramids.>

Paragon’s face went white. “They’ve found us.”

“This is not good.” Chance added as Tora placed an arm around Paragon.

“Okay, get the various embassies online and scramble the reserves. We’ve got work to do.” Dan Hearn’s eyes narrowed as he glanced at Paragon and the past Vanguardians.

Something was going on. And he didn’t like it much.

Rant, Holocaust, and Amuck joined Gnaw in military custody as the bodies of Zoe and Anaconda were loaded into ambulances. Koning’s men cleaned up the Gunslinger
androids as part of their agreement with Vanguard to take hold of any of Lupin’s illegal tech.

The Vanguardians stood in a huddle as they planned their next move. As they began to decide how to split the group, Nadia emerged from hiding. “I can help you, if you’ll let
me.” The Vanguardians regarded her with suspicion, even the Ladnikia influenced Raptor. “Pleaze. There is not being much time, and I know where they are holding your
friends. I can lead you to the one called Blackwulf.”

“Okay, Grimm, Dirk, Raptor, Vengeance, Drake. Go with her. When you find Blackwulf, tear this place down! Phil, Banshee, Huerta, Bates, Luchadore, you’re with me, we’re going to find Shirley and get the hell out of here! Let’s move, Vanguard!”

The group split in two, as Nadia lead the “power” team into the laboratories of Lupin Technologies. Danny lead his “finesse” group into down into the stairwells headed for the basement, the last known destination of Chance’s team. Guiding them from La Perdita, Kristogar Velo kept an eye on the blueprints of the building he had studied this morning on the computer. Bates and the Luchadore high fived each other and immediately began struggling to stand next to Banshee.

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

Down in the dungeons, several feet below ground, the Clockmen worked feverishly setting up equipment to track down once more their escaped quarry. Most of them, that is.

Clockman 3 studied intently Shirley Francis’ unconscious form. Standing up from his position assembling a chrono-tracker, he walked over to where Shirley still lay, chained
next to a wall.

“Hmmm. She could be very useful. . .in time.” 3 chuckled to himself at his bad joke.

“Three! What are you doing!” 4 and 5 were standing now, and looking over in his direction. “I just thought we could use a little company. It gets lonely in that damn ship from time to time.” 3 pulled off his mask as his curly blond hair pulled free and fell over his face. “I thought she could keep us company, you know?”

“You are not here to think. You are here to be part of a unit. And I will have no insubordination in my crew.” The massive form of 12, the mysterious leader of the
Clockmen appeared from nowhere as he backhanded 3 across the jaw, knocking him to the floor. The enigmatic 12 towered over his crew members. “Are there any others?”

The remaining Clockmen returned to their tasks, erecting a temporal barrier around themselves and their ship. 12 turned and looked in the direction of Shirley. He regarded
her still form as 3 returned to his task, pulling his mask back on. “Raise the barrier. With her outside of it.”

The Clockmen did as they told, a multi-colored temporal shell surrounding the ship and it’s immediate area. Outside the shell, Clifford licked his lips and shuffled over to Shirley’s body. “I won’t let them take you, my darling. . .”

He quickly retreated back into the shadows, however, as Graham Wells and the Time Trust appeared seemingly from nowhere, stepping out of the time stream and instantly
syncing with this time period.

“I think we’ve found them.” The android stated, running his hand over the Clockmen’s barrier. “Yes, and something more. What do you make of this?” Wells was crouched
down, studying a small fissure that hung in the air, white light pouring through it. “It appears to be a chronal fissure. We should seal it to prevent chronal leakage.”

“But why would it be here? What would they hope to accomplish by-” Wells staggered a bit as he stood. The Time Trust steadied him and examined the fissure. “I have scanned the area. There was a chronal disturbance here. Several residents from this time period have been tossed into a future timeline. We must return them.” The Time Trust sealed the fissure by chrono-welding it shut, then stepped back into the time stream along with Wells.

Clifford stared, uncomprehendingly at what had just happened then sat next to Shirley again, gently stroking her hair.

“Comrades, am needing food very badly.” Blackwulf calmly stated as technicians attempted to hook varying kinds of machinery to him. “Dammit, can’t you put him under
again?” One asked. “I’m trying, but the needles just keep getting absorbed into his skin.” The other replied, narrowly pulling his hand away as yet another needle vanished into Blackwulf’s arm. “Mmm. Is not being quite so tasty as I am having in mind, comrades. Something a little more spicy, I am thinking.”

“Can’t you idiotssssss do anything right?” The Skinwalker stormed into the room, the body once belonging to Justine Lupin, now completely hairless and much more reptilian in
appearance. “She” headed to a table and began to strap herself down next to Blackwulf.

“Please comrade snake woman, am barely knowing you. We be going out for drinks first before getting into kinky stuff, yes?”

“Ssssshut up, you moron!” The Skinwalker hissed, flicking her now forked tongue out at the genestealer. A small, sphere of saliva shot off her tongue and towards Blackwulf’s
direction. “I have it!” One of the technicians rushed forth, attempting to inject Blackwulf with some new variant and inadvertently took a face full of the saliva. “Arrgghh!” He screamed, reaching up to his face before becoming calm and still.

“What are you waiting for, inject him!” The Skinwalker screamed, as the hypnotized technician moved to his task. As the man moved towards his task slowly, Blackwulf’s
eyes grew large. “Would not be being wise move, comrade. Am still being very hungry. Blackwulf is needing food very badly at this time. . .”

The technician moved in, his mind, although hypnotized, still carried his last thought processes. As he moved the needle towards Blackwulf’s face. . .

The man’s shoulder exploded with pain. As blood dripped down his uniform, his hand lost his grip on the needle. “Get the hell away from him.” Dirk Bell charged through the doorway, gun still smoking. The Raptor, Grimm, Nadia, Vengeance, and Drake Marshall rushing in behind him.

“You will not stop me!” The Skinwalker screamed, ripping itself loose from the table and standing defiantly before the Vanguardians.

“I am handling her.” Nadia rushed forward and leapt up, grabbing the creature around the neck with her legs and attempting to choke her down. Grimm, Raptor, Dirk, and
Vengeance began systematically trashing the laboratory, while Drake freed Blackwulf from the table. “Comrade Marshall, is good to be seeing you again.” He groggily stated before passing out and falling over on Drake. “Oh, great,” he said. “Now he passes out. Drax, I think I’m gonna need your help on this one. . .”