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

As Danny, Phil, Banshee, and the B Teamers headed towards the prison areas, Phil felt a familiar tugging at his mind again. “You.” He stood straight, his hairs tingling all the
way down his back and spine. “Come on out and face me. Stop hiding!”

Eveyone stopped and looked at the telepath, confused. His mental commands had unwittingly struck them all, and were causing them pain. “Sorry, guys, but he’s here, I can
feel him.”

“Very perceptive, Mr. Smith.” A very old, yet smooth, voice sounded from the far end of the hallway. A small hum filled the Vanguardians ears. Danny growled, his animal
instincts, sensing danger. While the Luchadore and Bates attempted to hide behind Banshee. Dr. Huerta merely looked quizzically in the direction of the sound while
thinking, “You know, I’m a doctor, not a. . .a. . .whatever the hell we’re supposed to be
here.”

A light flicked on the hallway and a mechanically advanced wheelchair pulled itself into the room. The man that sat inside of if was very, very old. He moved not a bit, but his clear, blue eyes were very strong, and they were focused entirely upon Phil. “We meet again.” He said with his mind.

“It seems we do.” Phil answered telepathically. The Vanguardians looked on at the silent exchange between the telepaths. “This does not concern your friends. Send them away.” Psi commanded.

Phil turned to look at his friends. “Go ahead, guys. I can handle this.”

“Are you sure?” Danny asked, sniffing the air with the nose of a bloodhound.

“Yes, I’m sure.” The Vanguardians continued on, as Phil and Psi stared each other down. “I never thought I would get another telepath named Smith to play with. . .” Psi began again, taunting Phil.

“So you keep saying. But are you gonna talk, or are you gonna do something?” Phil shot back.

“Oh, I’ll do something all right.” Psi’s eyes gleamed, and the world around Phil shifted and changed, swirling together like a psychedelic cocktail. Phil screamed as he struggled to hold himself together.

“Are you ready to do this, boy?” The voice was the same, but stronger, harsher. Phil looked up and Psi stood above him. Only he was much, much younger. “What the. . .”
Phil began, dizzily trying to reach his feet.

“Astral combat. This is how our kind settle things. . .”

Tora, Paragon, and Chance had returned to the labs to finish repairing Paragon’s device. “Dammit!” Tora cried out, leaning back in her chair and holding her forehead. “I can’t keep the chronal reflux in check long enough to replace these capacitors!” She screamed.

“I can.” A voice behind her stated. The three turned and looked as one as Graham Wells and the Time Trust stood before them. “Finally. . .” Wells said, taking a seat. “Time IS on our side.”

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

“Baxter, take the LLance twins, Bates, and the Luchadore. See what’s happening in the UK.” Hearn said into one commlink. “Axel will arrive shortly to back you up.”

“Dammit, why do I always have to babysit the B Teamers?!” Ozzy Baxter’s voice screamed out of one link, while “We’re going to Mardi Gras! We’re going to MardiGras!” could be heard from another.

“Because you’re the best, Ozzy. Now shut up and do your job. Hearn out.” Dan started to relax before leaning forward again, and adding, “Oh, and Phil, deploy the 21st
Man’s team to Brazil.”

“Done and done.” the telepath’s voice sounded within and without Hearn’s head. “Bloody hell, I wish he wouldn’t do that.” Hearn thought to himself. “’Ey, where’s he
going?” Hearn thought as Priest got up from the table and walked away.

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

"With these modifications you've made, we can be ready to go within the hour." Paragon marveled as the Time Trusts worked on the device with ease. "I'll go and round up the others," Chance said. Stopping for a moment, he looked at Wells. "Are you sure you're okay?" The man seemed to have a slight fever. "I'll be-I'll be fine." He said.

"Okay, but when we get home, you're seeing a doctor." Chance responded, before walking off to find his teammates.

As the future Vanguardians mobilized into squads to combat the menace that surrounded them, Priest’s thoughts continually returned to the glass case he had seen earlier. He couldn’t shake the thought that there was something wrong about it. Slowly, he excused himself from the meeting table and walked back along the hallway he’d been in earlier.

He walked to the end of hall, and looked at the case. Inside was a still figure, humanoid, yet obviously not from Earth. Priest’s first thought was that he was dressed like an alien tourist.

Priest studied the alien form that lay inside the glass case. It appeared to be dead. It’s long blue-black hairs and orange eyes, along with it’s tall, thin body would have set the being apart from any earth born life forms, even metahumans.

“I know what you’re thinking. But you’re wrong, mate. He died shortly after he arrived here. Just appeared right in the middle of our meeting table. We thought it was an attack, at first. Or some weird message from one of our enemies. Nope, just a fluke. Cosmic accident.” Dan’s voice came from over Priest’s shoulder. “Something in the atmosphere, I believe. Some sort of chemical that we make with our bodies proved toxic. Who’d a thought it?”

Priest turned to look at the man standing behind him. “You know, something’s been bothering me the whole time we’ve been here. Something’s been just a little off. I
couldn’t put my finger on it, though. But now, I know what it is. It’s you.”

“Me? What about me?” Hearn laughed. “I’m right as rain, mate. Danny Hearn, Vanguard’s “Animal Man,” longtime leader. . .” Hearn fished a cigarette out of his pocket
and lit it.

“You’re not Daniel Hearn.” Priest answered coldly.

“What?” Hearn’s laughter stopped. “Ridiculous.”

“I know Daniel Hearn. I’ve studied him inside and out. I know how he moves, how he thinks, how he acts. I know the inflections he makes in his voice when he speaks.” Priest
said, stoically eyeing the man in front of him. “You’re not Daniel Hearn.”

“Really? And who am I then?” Hearn asked, taking his cigarette out of his mouth and tossing it in the floor.

“You’re. . .Hal.” Priest’s eyes widened as the revelation struck him full force.

“Very perceptive, my friend. Too bad you won’t live long enough to share this little tidbit with anyone. . .” As Danny/Hal drew and aimed a tranquilizer gun towards Priest, the Vanguard complex was struck by a massive quake knocking both men to the ground.

“Dammit! Phil, Jym, what the hell just happened here?!” Hearn screamed into his link.

<“Something’s attacking us!”> Jym’s voice sounded over the loudspeakers throughout the complex.

“This is the moment, Daniel! Summon the rest of the Vanguards! We have to stop them!” Paradigm’s voice shouted at the man he’d been secretly training for this moment. “You have to lead them! All of them!”

Small hatchways appeared from nowhere as multiple Clockmen ships began to deploy their supplies of retcon bombs. . .

“Phil! Axel! Jym! Call them, all of them!” Danny/Hal screamed over his mental link.

“All of them?” the telepath asked.

“ALL OF THEM!” Danny/Hal screamed back.
Within moments, a legion of metahumans was surging towards the Clockships, Paradigm’s plan reaching it’s apparent fruition at long last.

And then, the retcon bombs began to explode.

The Skinwalker slowly pried Nadia’s legs apart and hurled her from it’s body. “Weak little humanssss. . .I am ssso much ssstronger than you now. . .”

Nadia hit the wall as Raptor rushed to her side, cradling her form. “Am not being so good at dealing with metahumans, Ed.” Nadia smiled, about to pass out. “Ehy, I don’t believe that thing is human anymore.” Ladnikia called out to him for blood, and the Raptor answered, charging through the saliva-controlled technicians, wielding his blade like a talon. “Vengeance!” He screamed.

“That is my providence, Ciccioto.” Vengeance answered, his flaming blade aiming for the Skinwalker’s throat. The weapons clashed in mid-arc, bringing forth an explosive clash of energies which threatened to engulf and destroy the labs. Both beings were flung backwards, crashing through several thousand dollars worth of equipment. The mystic energies ignited and sparked through the machinery as it began to explode.

The Spirit of Vengeance disappeared, as Michael Ringo took his place, still unconscious from the mystic blast. Dirk scooped him up and carried him over to where Drax lay waiting, Blackwulf strapped to his back. Dirk tied Ringo to the dragon’s hide as Ed did the same for Nadia.

“Get the fuck out, go! GO!” Grimm screamed as Dirk and Ed climbed upon Drax’s back. The dragon blasted a hole in the wall and flew through it, leaving Grimm in the fiery labs.

Another explosion went off to his side, and the way out was covered in fire and smoke. Grimm hoisted his axe and turned, slowly, cautiously. He almost seemed to be muttering to himself.

A fire drenched form launched itself out at him from the chaos, screaming. “YYYYEEEAAARRRRGHHHH!!!!!” A steel covered fist impacted with a flaming, reptilian jaw, sending the creature back into the conflagration. “You’re mine.” Grimm dove into the flames after his prey.

Tobias gathered up Nuriko and Tayden and desposited them next to Chance and Mick, before speeding off again to find Grissom.

“Is it ready, yet?” Priest asked, running towards his teammates.

“Yes, we’re good to go.” Paragon answered, standing up and wiping his hands with a cloth.

"I didn't get to see anything." Mick pouted.

“Mick, do it.” Chance ordered.

“But, I-” Harrison started to protest.

“We don’t have time! Say it!” The Swede ordered again.

Tobias returned, dragging Grissom who fought to be released the whole time. “My son! Ye wankers, that’s my son dying out there!” Grissom screamed as he fought to be released.

“MXY!” Reality warped and shifted around the Vanguardians as energy flared from Mick Harrison’s eyes. The Time Trust and Graham Wells held the device steady as it aborbed
energy from the arrival of Mick’s alter ego. “Fifty percent. . .seventy five. . .eighty. . .”
The Time Trust sounded as retcon bombs continued to explode, unleashing their destructive wave of white energy towards the moonbase.

“You don’t know what’s it like, dammit. . .leaving my boy with so much unresolved. . .” Grissom began, still fighting, now with Priest and Nuriko attempting to help hold him down. “Yes, Grissom, I do.” T.C. said, looking him in the eyes. Grissom began to grow calm again. “Yeh, I guess you do. Let’s get the fuck out of here, already. . .”

“Full power, let’s go!” Doc Paragon pressed the button at the top of the device.

“It was nice meeting you.” The Time Trust said emotionlessly to Tora Trystan as the Vanguardians blinked out of the timeline in a flash of blueish white light.

“Nice meeting you, too.” She responded with a wave as the retroconnective tachyon particles washed her away along with everything she’d ever known.

The landscape shifted and twisted beneath his feet as Phil struggled to maintain his balance amidst the psychic turbulence. “What’s the matter, boy?” Psi taunted him. “Don’t tell me you’ve never been here before. Our kind have determined the future of humanity here for
years with these duels. This is the playground of the GODS!” On the last word, Psi lifted his arms, and a thunderous wave of power shook through the field, knocking Phil into the air.

Psi laughed maniacally as Phil struggled to halt his flight. Slowly, he turned his body and began to skid to a halt in the air. “Gottathinkcan’tusephysicalreflexeshavetousemymind.”
Phil dove towards his opponent, who melted into the ground, and arose from it on the other side of the field. “Still thinking two dimensionally, Smith.” He taunted him.

Two pistols appeared in Phil’s hands as he began firing upon Psi’s form with mental energy. Psi bobbed and weaved, ducking past the projectiles and smirking at Phil. “Ah,
you’re getting better, but still too limited. Here, try this.” Psi reached out with his hand and pulled as the ground around Phil raised up, forming solid tentacles and wrapping them around Phil’s limbs. They pried Phil’s guns from his hands and tossed them into the distant psychic plains.

"What a shame. I had hoped you would offer me more sport before you died.” Psi walked over to where Phil stood, struggling against the tentacles. “Now I’m going to peel away your mind, piece by piece.” Psi placed his hands along Phil’s temples and began to focus. A concentrated beam of pure, psychic force traveled forth into Phil’s head. “NNNGGHHAAAAHHHH!!!!!” Phil screamed as Psi invaded his mental space.

The Vanguardians shot through the time stream, encased in a temporal bubble created by the Time Trust. One of the pyramid ships of the Clockmen had followed them and was
closing in on the heroes. Mxy turned back to look at the ship. “I dont’ like you.” He said, light flowing from his eyes. A massively large cow head appeared in front of the pyramid and unleashed a large “MOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!” upon the temporal marauders, disabling them.

Not before they unleashed a brief burst of firepower, however, which struck the bubble, and sent it careening out of the time stream.

Further into the future. . .

The time bubble exited the time stream. hitting the ground of a barren desert and bouncing back into the air. The Vanguardians hit the insides of the bubble with a jolt as they were flung around the interior of their makeshift vehicle. The bubble bounced a few more times before dissolving, sending the passengers sprawling out onto the hard ground.

As they began picking themselves up and dusting themselves off, Paragon, Chance and the Time Trust prepared to reset the spatial inducer and return to the time stream. “This place look familiar, mate? Like home, maybe?” Grissom Montag asked Priest, as the heavily scarred man scanned the horizons. “No.” Was his only response.

“Great.” Montag answered.

“Look!” Tayden cried, pointing upwards, as the dark ship of the Clockmen appeared, tilted at an angle, thick, black smoke pouring from it’s sides. The ship crashed loudly,
impacting into the side of a large dune. Several Clocksoldiers began dropping forth from it’s interior, their garb similar to the original Clockmen, only more militaristic. And they carried chronal cannons connected to powerpacks strapped to their backs. “So, they
aren’t the ones I encountered.” Paragon commented.

“Maybe not. But if they aren’t, then where-?” Chance didn’t need to finish his sentence. They both knew they implications of what that meant. “Let’s finish this and get out of here.” They said at the same time.

“Between a rock and a hard place.” Priest said, handing a small pair binoculars to the Sandcrawler. Grissom looked out over the horizon and what he saw boggled him. It was
an army. A futuristic army based on various members of Vanguard.

The Sandcrawlers burrowed into the ground and began forming tunnels headed straight for them. The Raptorian Guard took flight, their talons outstretched, ready for battle.
Danimorphs, crawled, slithered, ran, and flew in waves. While the black armored Axecutioners trod steadily, their footbeats thunderous, their Ion powered axes glowing
with a brilliant blue light. As the Vanguard Legions approached them, one man in a dark overcoat stood out from the group and called out to them. “Attention, temporal intruders! This is Daniel Ignatuis Robert K. Bell78. 12th level WeaponsMaster and ground commander of the Vanguard Legion forces, ordering you to stand down or be molecularly
disassembled.”

“Holy fucking shit.” Grissom exclaimed. “For once, I agree with that statement.” Tayden responded, too stunned to do anything else.

Surrounded on both sides, by Clocksoldiers of an alternate timeline, and the Vanguard Legions of yet another, there seemed to be little the group could do.

“Chance, are you thinking what I’m thinking?” Paragon asked, looking up from the box.

“Let’s you and him fight?” The Swede answered, motioning for Mxy and the Trust to gather the group up in another bubble.

“Precisely.” Paragon answered, activating the inducer for another time jump as the heroes were carried back into the time stream right as the two opposing factions began to fire on one another.

Darkness surrounds me. Warm, comforting. I feel as if I'm in the womb again. Being fed nutrients and life by a mother I can't remember. I cannot see myself, but I know instinctively that my body has pulled itself into a fetal position.

My name is Phil Smith, and I. . .I don't know who I am.

It is at that this point that my monologue is interrupted as two
hands rip into the darkness, separating it, as though it were a
theater curtain, and he were the star, coming onstage again for his final bow. And he just might be. Psi's astral form is much younger, and bulkier than his physical one. As though an image of himself when he were younger.

"There you are, Philsy. I thought I'd lost you within your own
mind." Psi mock pouted. "Aren't I being good enough company for you?"

"Actually, I'd rather be with my friends. . ." Phil's eyes began to
crackle as his thoughts took form and projects of the other
Vanguardians rose up from the ground, surrounding his foe. "Well played, Smith. And here I was beginning to grow bored with you."

Psi began to fight against the Vanguard constructs, his mental
abilities seeming to grow stronger. Phil watched, anxiously, his
doubts growing.

"Hey, hon, this way!" Phil's head turned, surprised. "Whaa--?!"
The form that greeted him was both welcome and a surprise. "Leslie?! What are you doing here? How can you be here?"

"I'm not." She said, grabbing him by the wrist and pulling him into a dark alleyway, that resembled the slums of New York. "I'm a mental construct created by your subconscious mind."

"Unconscious mind." Phil began to remind her.

"Whatever, dammit, we don't have time for this! He's following us!"

"C'mon, Philsie, let's play!" Psi screamed, as he cut down a
projection of Grissom Montag, followed by one of Priest.

"He's killing them!" Phil screamed as Leslie tried to move him to safety inside one of the empty apartments. "They're not real,
Phil!" Leslie screamed, locking and bolting the door.

"Maybe not, but it's hurting me just the same." Phil gripped his
stomach as a pool of blood began to appear on his designer shirt.

"Oh." Leslie put a hand to her face as she saw the blood.

Psi ripped through a projection of Grimm with a mental blast as he began to ascend through the floors of the apartment building, passing upwards through them like a ghost. "You can't hide from me, Philip! Haven't you realized that by now?"

"I hate it when people call me that!" Phil shouted, Leslie
frantically trying to get his attention. As she pulled him to her,
he stopped struggling. "What?"

"We don't have much time." She said, as her lips began to brush up against his. They embraced, and shared a long, passionate kiss. Pulling away from him, she began to fade into nothingness. "I have to go n-" She said, vanishing.

Phil's body began to tremble, he wanted to scream, to lash out
against something. Anything. Everything.

The door exploded inwards, slamming into Phil and knocking him backwards onto the floor. He skidded across the apartment, stopping only when colliding with a tacky, green couch. "I'll never complain about mismatched furniture again. . ." he thought to himself.

"Now, where were we?" Psi asked, as he strode into the room,
confidently, hands folded behind his back in an almost military style formation. "Oh, yes, I was going to devour your mind and kill you."

Psi stood above Phil's form. Looming above him, he began to smile menacingly. He raised his hands, as pure mental power began to radiate from them. As he moved in towards Phil, something else caught his attention. "Eh? What's this? Hiding something from me, are you?" In the far corner of the room appeared to be a massive steel door, heavily locked and bolted.

"What thoughts could you be keeping in there, eh? Your girlfriend, perhaps? Maybe I should desecrate her in front of you before I finish you off?" Psi began to walk over to the door.

"NO!" Phil screamed, still to weak to move. He tried to struggle, to move, but massive black chains now held him to the floor. "Stay. Good dog." Psi commanded. "Now let's see, what if I. . ." Psi put his hands within the lock and began moving them around inside of it.

"Oh, yes, and what if I. . .yes, that's it. . . a little more to the
right and. . .YES!" The door began to move open, it's weight causing it to squeak loudly on it's hinges. "Come on, come on, I want to be done with this!" Psi rubbed his hands impatiently, then grabbed the door and began pulling it open to see. . .

Phil Smith. Multiple Phil Smiths, to be exact. Various Phils of all shapes and sizes. Fat Phil. Skinny Phil. Tall Phil. Short Phil. Four armed Phil. Dead Phil. Winged Phil. Reptile Phil. Rocket Racer Phil. Super Phil. Robot Phil. Cowboy Phil. Military Phil. Even female, dog, and cat variations of Phil.

Psi looked upon the multitude of Phils and began to scream. The Phils surged outwards of the door, grabbing and clawing at Psi's shrieking astral body. The Phils dogpiled upon Psi's form, as the doorway began to fall over upon them all, before finally dropping upon them, the door slamming shut behind them.

As the door slammed shut, Phil blinked his eyes. Once, twice.
Several times. He was back in the real world. He began to fall
over, reaching a hand against the wall to steady himself. "Whoah. . .I don't even want to know what all that was
about. . ." Phil put his other hand up to his forehead. He had a
pounding headache.

He looked over and saw Psi's actual body. His head was now propped over to one side. Drool leaked out from one corner of his open mouth, forever frozen in the scream Phil saw in the astral world. Psi wasn't moving. "Braindead." Phil said to himself before slumping against the wall and sliding down to the floor.

"Just gonna rest here for a bit." He managed to say before passing out.

The Vanguardians hurled once again through the timestream, anxious to get back to their world. "Look!" Nuriko had spotted something in the distance. It looked familiar. "It would appear to be another time bubble." The Time Trust stated. The two bubbles slowed down as they approached one another. The occupants looked over and saw. . .

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

The Royal Society of Rogues hurled once again through the timestream, anxious to get back to their world. "Look!" The Native American shaman called Blackwulf, pointed at something in the distance. It looked very familiar. "It would appear to be another time bubble. Jolly good, wot?" The steam powered robot referred to as the Time Trust said, between clanking gears and puffs of steam. The two
bubbles slowed down as they approached one another. The Rogues looked over and saw. . .

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

The bubbles stopped in mid-place. The two groups of adventureres sizing each other up. They stepped forward, recognizing something of a kinship in each other. Chance and Jarvis Zigg instinctively held out their hands to one another, the bubbles briefly merging as one, as Vanguard International and the Royal Society of Rogues came face
to face for the first time.

Representing Vanguard International:

Kristofer "Chance" Schanz
Mxy/Mick Harrison
Grissom "Sandcrawler" Montag
Priest
Nuriko
Tayden
Tobias "T.C." Christopher
with
Doc Paragon
Graham Wells
The Time Trust

And representing the Royal Society of Rogues:
Jarvis Zigg
Mr. & Mrs. VonGrimm
The Time Trust
Blackwulf
John Chamberlain
Orville Stephenson
Elias Smith
Captain Gluxfall
Nigel Montag
Gerardo "The Worm" Gorm

"Nice to meet you. . ." Chance and Zigg managed to get out before the bubbles sped up again, splitting apart and were on their ways, sending the groups to their separate destinations.

"How odd." Graham Wells and Orville Stephenson said at the same moment.

Grimm walked through the conflagration after his prey. He seemed to pay no heed to the flames and explosions surrounding him. Calmly, he stepped through the fires, axe in hand, waves of blue energy radiationg from the weapon, as he walked. He didn’t speak.

The Skinwalker licked it’s lips as it hid from it’s much stronger foe. "Thingsss are not going asss I’d intended them too. . .All my work. . .centuries of waiting. . .of planning. . .wiped away. . .BY YOU!!!!!!!!!" The ancient creature screamed in pain and fury as it dove towards Grimm, attempting to wrap itself around his chest and neck.

Blocking the creature with his weapon, Grimm attempted to swat the reptilian beast away from his body. But the Skinwalker had locked onto him. The lab exploded again, as pink lightning hurled through the walls, Drax returning to the inferno.

"I told you to leave!" Grimm screamed at the white dragon, bits of his fur beginning to singe in the blaze. "I’m not leaving anyone behind! Including you!" Drax fired another burst of lightning at the Skinwalker, who somersaulted backwards out of the blast radius and kicked Grimm in the abdomen.

Quickly, she wrapped herself around him again, attempting to squeeze the breathe from him. She gripped his face and prepared to inject him with her saliva induced toxins.

"I can’t get a clear shot!" Drax screamed.

"Blast us both!" Grimm answered, struggling with the wiry, slippery beast.

"Drake, he’s crazy." Drax muttered.

"No, he’s not, Drax, do what he says." Marshall answered the dragon by their mental link.

"Okay, here goes. . ." Drax cut loose with the largest burst of lightning he’d attempted in some time. Waves of the pink electrical force cascaded over Grimm and the Skinwalker, still locked in battle.

The dragon fired for minutes upon end, until finally, his energy depleted, he stopped and looked up. A smoky, charred figure stood before the dragon. The Skinwalker, it’s body blackened and burnt by Drax’s bolts.

The Skinwalker’s body exploded in a burst of blue light as Grimm’s axe smashed through it in a wide arc, sending small chunks of the creature in all directions. Grimm walked through the flames towards his teammate, smoke rising off of his blackened body.

"Are you okay?" Drax asked.

"I’m fine. Let’s get the hell out of here and regroup." Grimm answered, climbing up on the beast’s back.

Clifford licked his lips and salivated, running a hand over Shirley's still unconscious form. "Finally, you're all mine. . ." The light from the Clockmen's temporal barrier cast an eerie
glow over his face. As his hand moved down towards Shirley's bust, he was stopped by a vaguely familiar voice.

"Get off of her, now, or I'll do you myself, mate." Danny Hearn
stood in the hallway, his features taking on a more animal like proportion. Clifford sneered at the young Aussie. "And what do you think you can do against me, alone?" The power from
the La Perditian talisman rising up within Clifford's body again, he began to growl.

"He's not alone, ye daft fool, ye." Banshee, the Luchadore, Bates, and Huerta entered the room, standing at the side with their leader. Danny looked at them, mildly relieved that he wasn't alone, even if it was the B Team working as part of
his backup.

Clifford's wolfen form sneered and howled. "Iiiiiii. . .can still
take you. . ." He managed to spit out as his body continued to twist and change.

"You must still face vengeance for your sins!" Vengeance, Raptor, Dirk, Drake, Blackwulf, Grimm, Nadia, and Phil now entered the room, backing up their teammates.

Clifford hissed and spit, scratching at the floor. Standing
defiantly in front of Shirley. If he was going to go out, he would go out in an epic struggle.

At this time, a temporal bubble materialized in the dungeon,
returning it's occupants to the exact same place they had vanished from previously: Chance, Nuriko, Tayden, Grissom
Montag, Tobias Christopher, Mxy, Priest, Graham Wells, Doc Paragon, and The Time Trust.

Clifford growled at the newcomers, he recognized a familiar
scent. "It's the bad dog!" Mxy exclaimed, pointing at Clifford. Clifford screamed and launched himself at Mxy.

"Bad dog!" Mxy snapped his fingers as a giant rolled up newspaper appeared and swatted Clifford down and back onto the ground. As he hit the ground, he reverted to his natural
state. Still defiant, he stood before the assembled
Vanguardians. "You'll never stop me! She's still mine! All I have to do is go through this-" As Clifford turned to escape, a well manicured, female hand struck him in the face, followed by another hand to his gut, and a knee to his genitals. Clifford doubled over in pain as another knee connected with his
chin, knocking him unconscious.

"Good thing I've been taking those martial arts lessons, huh?"
Shirley Francis stood in front of the group, smiling, having been revived by Mxy's power. "Uh, somebody wanna
loan me a coat or something?"

Reunited at last, the assembled membership of Vanguard International (plus some) stood before the Clockmen’s prismatic temporal barrier. “They’re in there.” Paragon pointed towards the barrier. “We’ll get them.” Chance laid a reassuring hand on the man’s shoulder. “Danny?” Chance looked at the young Australian who seemed at time to
posses wisdom beyond his years.

“Right,” Hearn responded, “Vanguard. . .you know what to do.” He gestured, and the team mobilized, moving forth as one, a wall of meta and posthuman soldiers, ready to
defend not just their friends, but their entire world and in this instance, their universe.

Ancient weaponry, metagenetic abilities, mystical lightning, undead muscles, all these and more were put to use against the Clockmen’s barrier. And still it wasn’t enough.

“They’re going to need more help.” Paragon watched, his time imprisoned had depleted his physical resources. He was a man of action, not used to standing around and
watching. “But where could we possibly get reinforcements from?” He asked, looking at his two allies, Wells and the Time Trust.

Graham Wells smiled, and held out his hands. “In time.”

Paragon’s physical expression was one of curious puzzzlement as the Trust droid immediately grasped Well’s meaning. “That one,” the droid pointed out the former
Eurostar, Edulcore Cicciotio. “His timeline will give us what we need.”

“Paragon, focus your device upon Raptor.” Wells said, placing his hands on the device as the Trustdroid did likewise. Paragon aimed at Raptor and fired.

Edulcore Ciccioto shifted in time, his Raptor persona, replaced by earlier versions of himself. As Nowhereman, Kristogar Velo, Larry Lance, and Sam "Shift" Dawson appeared and joined in on the attack against the Clockmen’s temporal barricade.

“What’s going on?” Kristofer Schanz asked as his physical form became intangible and Pete Glover appeared in his place.

The five Naeckens clasped hands and combined their energies in an effort to break through the barrier. Struggling, beads of sweat poured down their faces as Lord Kwaiziel, the red Naecken strained to combine his fiery power with the female green Naecken’s earthly energies. “We. . .cannot. . .do it!” Kwaiziel screamed.

“Do not despair, my friend. I am here with you.” Turkish Stringfellow, the prophet of One, clasped hands with the green Naecken, as all Naeckens turned their heads as one
towards him. “Friend Turkish!” They exclaimed with one (five) voice(s).

Ameristar swooped down from the skies and blasted the field, her armor in constant temporal flux.

Leslie Klein appeared next to Phil and took the mentalist’s hand. “What’s going on?” The bounty hunter asked, clinging to the Unidentified Man.

“Don’t worry about that right now. All you need to know is we have to get through this barrier!” Phil was more determined than ever now, to finish this and get back to discovering his true self.

Epicenter, Zarch the red archer, WereVamp Max, and Cal Hicks all locked eyes and smiled as they realized that Nobody was indeed, in control. . .They returned to the barrier with renewed vigor.

“It’s not enough! We need more!” Paragon yelled. Wells and the Time Trust increased their chronal scans as more Vanguardians joined the fray.

Ozzy Baxter.

Mason Templar and Erasmus.

Adem Different.

Phouka.

Brute Force.

Vanguardians continued to pour through the temporal fissure to strike down the barrier.

Edmund Gaunt.

Lady Lykopis.

Icarus Sidewinder.

Link Fox.

Rama Avatar.

The white dragon, Drax, looked aside momentarily to notice a familiar armored figure striking the barrier with a broadsword. “Drake?” The dragon asked, confused at the lack of mental response in his head. Drake Marshall continued striking away at the barrier.

Still more Vanguardians flowed out of the fissure.

Tim Ito.

Mr. Tripps.

Simon Rosetta.

Phillip Dreadmoore.

Void.

Agent Angelica.

Vigna and Lazar

Robo Squirrel.

Edulcore’s form phase shifted into that of the Thunderbird, and he raised his mace high into the air, screaming loudly in an amalgam of several languagues. Thunder rolled across
the dark, cloudy skyline as the military men took shelter from the rains in their vehicles. Lightning flashed repeatedly as Thunderbird raised his weapon again, multiple points of
electricity firing off of it and flaring up into the sky.

He hurled the mace at the chronal field and with a thunderous explosion that knocked all present off of their feet, the field collapsed and the Vanguardians celebrated with a loud roar.

Red warning lights flared as klaxons sounded within the craft of the Clockmen. Furiously they worked control systems, while others strapped on chronal weaponry to repel their
foes. “We’ve been breached!” 1 yelled, fastening a bizarre device to his wrist and locking it down.

“They’re more powerful and resourceful than we expected.” 2 answered him, shrugging a chronal cannonpack onto his shoulders and clicking shut the fastener.

“I guess our time as Tempus Fugitives has come to an end. . .” 3 joked, right before 5 backhanded him in the face. “What did I tell you about that shit? This is serious
business!” 4 and 5 finished strapping on their weaponry and stood alongside the others in formation as they prepared to exit the craft and meet their foes.

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

Deep within the holds of the Clockmen’s obsidian colored pyramid shaped craft sat the leader of the bizarrely garbed group. The mysterious being known only as 12. He leaned
back in his throne like chair, his clockmask covered head resting against one hand.

“Sir?” 11 paused, standing in the doorway of the room to 12’s private chambers. 12 did not acknowledge him. “I know you didn’t want to be disturbed, but. . .”

12 remained silent.

“The Vanguard have breached our temporal barrier. Sir, do you not hear the alarms?”

12 remained silent.

“None have ever done this before! The others have already gone out to face them!”

12 remained silent.

“If we’re discovered now, all of our plans are finished! Don’t you even care?”

12 remained silent.

Finally, 11 approached him, leaning in. “Our instrumentation shows that target: Paragon is with them. If you do no-urrkhh!”

11’s voice was abruptly cut off by one of 12’s powerful hands wrapping around his throat. 12 closed his fingers around his subordinate’s neck, choking him. Then, with a flick of his
wrist, he snapped 11’s neck, killing him instantly.

12 stood, his massive frame nearly blocking out the doorway, 11’s lifeless form still in his hand. A single word could be heard coming from him. “. . .Paragon. . .”

Clockmen 2 and 4 exited the rampway of the ship, firing off multiple bursts of chronal energy from their cannonpacks, as the first wave of Vanguardians descended upon them. Simon Rosetta, Frank Cavalli, Mr. Tripps, Tim Ito, Philip Dreadmoore, Void, Cal Hicks, and Agent Angelica were instantly reduced to ash. The Vanguards surged forward as
Lazar scooped up Clockman 4 in a powerful hand and hurled him against the obsidian craft. 4’s bones shattered upon impact and his limp body slid downwards as the battle
was joined.

Drake Marshall attempted to block chronal fire from Clockman 5 with his broadsword, and watched as pieces of the sword rotted away in front of his eyes. Undaunted, he
charged forward, followed by Epicenter, Robo Squirrel, Brute Force, Blue Naecken, and Icarus Sidewinder. As Marshall launched a roundhouse kick to the abdomen of Clockman 3, Brute Force and Blue Naecken seized upon 5, ripping his weapons from his body. Robo Squirrel fired of metal acorns at the Clockmen, pelting their forms from above, as Icarus dodged temporal bursts from Clockmen 9 and 7. Epicenter motioned towards the Clockmen and waves of geothermal force struck the ground beneath them, causing it to erupt beneath their feet, and flinging them backwards.

Clockman 5 escaped the grasp of his foes long enough to press a small button located on the top of his mask. Before the Vanguards could react, 5 self destructed in a small burst
of retcon energy, wiping away not only himself, but Clockmen 3 and 7, as well as BF, Blue Naecken, Epicenter, and Drake.

“Drake!!!!!! Noooooo!!!!!!!!!” Drax screamed loudly, the white dragon, unleashing a torrent of lightning upon the Clockmen, frying Clockman 9 alive, while Robo Squirrel, Icarus, Banshee, Luchadore, and Thunderbird continued their aerial assaults. Mason Templar and Rama Avatar flew past, each with their own Erasmus, their own Caliburn, they charged the Clockmen’s craft, and were repelled by the force field of 12, who watched the battle in silence. His arms folded behind his back.

“Hey, what’s wrong, buddy?” Drax heard the familiar voice in his head again. “Drake! Thank Gob you’re. . .” As the white dragon was distracted, Clockman 10’s weapon found it’s mark, a steel lance, armed with a tiny retcon bomb. The lance struck Drax in the abdomen and the dragon screamed in pain, temporarily deafening the combatants. The bomb exploded, dissolving Drax’s underbelly, and the great beast fell. The floor shook with thunderous impact as his limp body struck against it.

And the battle raged on. Clockman2 unleashed another burst of fire from his chronal cannon, wiping out Nowhereman, Kristogar Velo, Larry Lance, Pete Glover, and Priest.

The motorcycle of Vengeance roared to life, as he ramped up and over, flaming blade at the ready, he sliced off 10’s arm without a word, as the Clockman screamed in pain. 10
leaned back against a wall, as 8 stepped in front of him, and fired his temporal pulse ray at the Spirit. Vengeance paused, as if frozen, and his form began to shimmer and shake, becoming hazy and indistinct. Finally, he burst apart, revealing Michael Ringo and the angel Leshi Un. “Uhhh, this is bad. . .” Ringo managed to say, before Clockman 2 wiped them both out with a burst from his chronal cannon.

Tayden caressed the head of Drax, as he looked into the large eyes of the beast. As his teammate died in his arms, tears rolled down the former angel’s face, and he began to
speak softly, while the battle rolled on around him.

Nadia, Nuriko, and Lykopis fought back to back to back, as Clockman 8 summoned temporal variants of himself and assaulted various Vanguardians with unrepetant glee. The warrior women stood atop a pile of bodies Clockvariants. For every one they killed, two, three, more took their place. Until finally, the female Vanguards vanished beneath the wave of foes.

Dr. Jody Huerta leapt and skidded around the floor as his frictionless force field barely managed to absorb stray bursts of temporal fire. He wiped beads of sweat from his forehead and began to wonder how he’d ended up here, when something heavy slammed into his abdomen. “I gotcha!” Ozzy Baxter stood over the B Teamer, with a slight smirk.
Huerta looked up in confusion and as Baxter began to speak, he was struck down by Clockman 1, wiping him away. “Ozzy?” Adem Different looked up from where he’d
been observing the battle, looking for a weak point to exploit. “Ozzy!” Adem ran carelessly onto the battle field, looking for his friend.

“You. . .ASSHOLES!!!!!!!!” Adem stood over the point where Ozzy had been, shaking his head and nodding violently, never noticing as Clockmen descended upon him, pulling him to the ground. He lashed out at his foes, too angry to care any longer. 6 stabbed Adem in the chest with a small silver object and the Clockmen fled. Adem looked down,
the object firmly lodged within him, began beeping and flashing. “How. . .” He never finished the thought. As Gaunt, Zarch, Rama Avatar, Green Naecken, Link Fox, and
Robo Squirrel gathered around him, Adem exploded in a burst of retroconnective energy that wiped away the small circle of heroes.

“I would speak with you. . .” Lord Kwaiziel, the Red Naecken silently approached the leader of the Clockmen. “Speak, then.” 12 dismissively, still observing the battle. “You
are obviously a being of great power, as am I, were we to align our forces, you and I, we could destroy these foolish Vanguardians and any who would stand with them. Kwaiziel
has legions that but await his command to strike! Why, we. . .”

12’s head turned to face his would be ally. “I work with no one.” Pure energy surrounded 12’s hands as he motioned towards Kwaiziel’s demonic form. “I am 12, highest ranking of the Clockmen! Last of those appointed with the power of time itself! I. . .am. . .the first. . .and. . .best!” Chronal beams of pure, primal power shot forth and engulfed Naecken within their fury. All Naeckens. Everywhere. Living and dead. As 12 wiped the composite being from complete existence. His memory fading from those around him.

Graham Wells was bleeding from his nose, mouth, and ears. He doubled over in pain, violently spasming. Time itself was being assaulted by this conflict, and there seemed nothing he
could do about it. The Time Trust held fast his chronal barrier, watching over Wells, as a worried Paragon monitored the conflict. “Something just happened. Some. . .one
approached the leader of the Clockmen. Now he’s gone. . .”

Clockman 10 had gone into shock. He lay slumped against a wall, dying. Until his master approached him. “You have always served me well. And you will continue to do
so.” 12 gestured and in one spot, time regressed, as 10’s arm regenerated itself. He stood, briefly saluting his commander and returned to the fight. 12 returned to his former position awaiting the outcome.

Grimm, Blackwulf, and the Luchadore slammed into temporal variants of Clockmen 1 and 2, fighting with furious abandon. Grimm decapitated a variant with a powerful swing of his axe, while Blackwulf used only his mighty fists. The Everchanging gene stealer’s arms elongated as his punches found their targets from several feet away. “How the hell do you do that?” Grimm asked, bewildered. “Clean living, comrade.” was the Wulf’s answer. “EL LUCHA LIBRE, AWAYYYYYY!!!!!!!!!” was the battle cry from over head, as the
masked Luchadore flew past headed for 12’s position.

“Comrade, Luchie, don’t!” Blackwulf cried out, as Bates and Huerta looked in the direction of the cry. 12 incinerated the B Teamer with a brief burst of power from his eyes. “N-n-n-nnooooo. . .” Johnny Bates moaned in disbelief. Huerta stared absentmindedly. “Why is this happening?” he asked no one in particular.

“Because we wish it so!” Clockman 6 hurled mini spheres at Huerta and Bates who were consumed by them, moments before they began a chain reaction of explosions, eliminating
the rest of the B Team.

Leslie Klein stood behind Phil, Grissom, and Ameristar as they fired back at the remaining Clockmen and their variants. The bounty hunter realized her considerable physical assets
were next to useless in a battle like this. But perhaps she help coordinate. Observe a weakness of some sort. . .perhaps. . .They’d best not lay a hand on Phil either way.

Icarus Sidewinder and Mason Templar soared through the air, jet powered clockmen variants battling them in the night skies over L.A. as they traded barbs. “Ho! Caliburn, fly through the night skies and take down our foes! AHAHAHAHAH!!!!!!” As Templar hurled his blade, it glowed a bright emerald green, the Clockmen’s onboard systems failing as it passed through several of them in one shot before returning to it’s master’s hand.

“What do you think of that, eh, boy? How can your modern toys match Caliburn’s glory?” Templar pulled tight on Erasmus’ reins as the giant hawk passed Sidewinder.
“Pffft! I’ve seen better in my. . .shit. . .” Sidewinder’s onboard systems went dead as Caliburn’s mystical energy passed, leaving it’s mark. “Better in your shit? What?!”
Templar paused in passing, long enough to see Sidewinder begin to plummet.

Before he could turn Erasmus on a new course, a silver streak blurred past them, as Ameristar homed in on Icarus. Matching his speed, she caught up to him, and gently
began braking to slow his descent.

Jackie Munroe breathed a sigh of relief as she touched down on the ground. “I did it.” She smiled at Icarus. “I would’ve saved myself, you know. Cute little armor you’ve got
there, though.” Sidewinder got to his feet and began looking for a new target immediately. “What a prick.” She said under her breath.

She rejoined the battle, charging in directly behind Icarus’ as he fired his guns at the Clockmen. Phouka, Vigna, and Lazar surrounded them. As Clockmen variants fired upon them, Ameristar attempted to shield the group with her armor's force fields. Their chronal bursts ate away at her shields, as she tried to hold steady under the deliberate, rhythmic pounding. Phouka hurled chaos bombs at their foes from safety. Vigna used the science of ancient Atlantis to attempt to match the Clockmen’s weapons. Lazar merely
hammered his foes with his mighty fists.

As they attempted to hold their own, Clockman 2 aimed his chronal cannons and fired off another burst, wiping out the small group in one fell swoop. Cackling with glee, he recocked
his weapon and looked for another target. He thought he’d found one in Kristofer Schanz’ darting form. As the Swede battled several of the Clockvariants, 2 took aim at
the Vanguard second in command.

Tobias Christopher raced past at that moment, WereVamp Max jumping from his back and landing upon 2’s chest. Slicing and biting at the Clockman, Max savagely tore into
his foe, as TC kept other Clockmen at bay.

Danny Hearn and Sam Dawson fought back to back, the former friends using their morphing powers to avoid the chronal energy bursts that surrounded. “Sam. . .I. . .”
Danny ducked to avoid a burst. . . “What?” Sam stretched around a burst as his hands became slivers of metal and sliced into a foe. “It’s good to see you.” Danny finally
stammered out as his tiger claws sunk deep into Clockman 10’s freshly regenerated arm.

Clockman 10 screamed and struck Danny across the face with the barrel of his weapon, knocking the Vanguard leader to the floor. As he aimed and prepared to fire, two massive
fists slammed into his head from behind. As 10 dropped to the floor unconscious, Blackwulf smiled to himself. “Comrade is not being playing fair, Daniel.” Danny smiled as Wulf helped him to his feet.

Turkish Stringfellow concentrated as he held his hands out before him, striding across air molecules, robes flapping, as bursts of chronal energy suddenly redirected themselves
towards the Clockmen. Many scattered, although several were taken out by the redirected explosive bursts of pure, retroconnective energy.

Turkish spotted a familiar figure and alighted next to him, pushing back several Clockmen by requesting the winds to force them away. “Grimm.” The Prophet said quietly. “Nice
of you to join the party, Turk.” Grimm answered, burying his axe deep within one of the Clockmen’s chest.

Gunfire sounded to their immediate right as another form joined the two, bullets and grenades flying from his trenchcoated form. Dirk Bell was in the fray. “Just like old
times.” Grimm said, slicing another Clockman in half.

Clockman 2 turned his cannons upward and literally blew WereVamp Max off of him, firing bursts into and through his guts. As Max stammered backward, cursing 2, he flipped him off before hitting the ground as his body dissolved.

TC attempted to reach 2, but was slowed down by an army of variants. As Clockman 8 tossed a freezeflash grenade directly in front of the speedster. 8 merely stepped forward
and fired a chronal blast directly into TC’s frozen body.

“Varlet! You have no honor!” Mason Templar screamed as he and Erasmus swooped in from behind, burying Caliburn deep into 8’s chest. Templar wept as he wiped blood from
his blade. As 2 prepared to fire upon him, Leslie Klein burst forth from safety, darting in front of the weapon. 2 fired again, wiping Leslie, Mason, and Erasmus from the battle.

As Leslie’s mind winked out of existence, Phil screamed in anger. Realizing his conventional weaponry was useless against these foes, Phil had concentrated on using his physical skills and his mental abilities. Phil unleashed a wall of pure psionic energy towards Clockman 2, pressing him up against the side of the pyramid shaped craft. Phil had gone through a lot in the last couple of days, and he could take no more. With all the force he could muster, he literally crushed Clockman 2 to death against the side of the craft. Redfaced, tired, and angry, Phil dropped to his knees, his mind automatically creating a force shield around him.

Tayden continued sitting in the midst of battle, holding Drax’s head and speaking softly to himself. Clockman 1 fired a temporal pulse beam directly through the former angel’s
heart, stopping it instantly. As Tayden fell forward, Banshee paused in mid-flight and screamed. “Tayden!” The young meta flew towards her first real friend in the group with
all the speed she could manage. She cradled him in her arms. “Nononononono. . .”

Clockman 1 took aim again. As he prepared to fire upon Banshee, Grissom Montag teleported several small nails he’d pulled out of his tool belt directly into the man’s brain.
Clockman 1 staggered around a bit, before finally falling over dead.

Clockman 10 had recovered from Blackwulf’s beating and sought to escape to the safety of the ship. He found his way blocked by a man in a jumpsuit with the letters EPS on the
chest. “My name is Edulcore Ciccittio. You have been attempting to hurt my friends. I cannot allow that." The man called Eurostar unleashed the full elemental fury of his once
abilities upon 10, destroying him completely.

Grimm’s axe glowed a bright, incandescent blue as it bite into the body of Clockman 6, killing him instantly. Grimm put his large motorcycle boot against the man’s body and
pushed it off of his weapon. As he did so, the last of the Clockmen temporal variants disapppeared. They had done it. The Clockmen were defeated. But at a heavy cost.

The Vanguards pulled themselves together. Danny, Sam, Euro, Chance, Turkish, Grimm, Blackwulf, Grissom, Phil, Banshee, and Dirk. They congratulated themselves and each
other for surviving the battle. “Hey, wasn’t there being someone else here, comrades?” Blackwulf pondered.

“Over here!” Mick Harrison and Shirley Francis stood from behind a burned out piece of building. “At least they’re safe. Maybe Mxy can undo some of this. . .” Danny began, looking around at the carnage before them.

Chance held out a hand. “It. . .it was nice working with you, Bell.”

Dirk looked at the man for a moment. He looked down at Chance’s freely offered hand. Silently, he grasped it and shook. “This doesn’t make us pals, or anything.”

“Fair enough.” The Swede replied.

The Vanguardians stood collecting themselves after the fight. Silence hung over them like a dark curtain, some commisserated themselves, or those closest to them.

Grissom Montag held the weeping Banshee in his arms while Phil Smith stood at a distance, still at a loss as to what was happening. Vainly, he searched for Leslie’s mental signature.

Mick and Shirley simply held each other.

Danny Hearn stood in a semi-circle with Sam, Chance, Raptor, Grimm, Turkish and Blackwulf. None of them spoke. Even the normally jovial Blackwulf was silent.

Dirk Bell leaned against a wall and lit one of his trademark cubans. He took deep drags from it, inhaling and exhaling, his mind drifted, his thoughts known only to him. It seemed
to him that the team stood in the eye of the hurricane. How true it was.

“Congratulations. You have succeeded where no other mortals before you have. You have defeated and killed Clockmen. My entire crew.” The deep, rumbling bass voice of 12 sounded from the far end of the room. He stood, in the same position he’d maintained for most of the battle. Now he approached the Vanguards, floating silently across the room on a large, thin disc. “I salute you as worthy foes in this instant before I. . .I . . .” 12’s gaze left the Vanguards, his head cocked as though seeing something for the first time. “I. . .see you.” He reached upwards with his left hand and ripped the cloth mask from his head, revealing his
dark violet granite features for the first time. “. . .Paragon.”

“This is not good.” Paragon gulped as the Time Trust realized that 12 saw them in his temporal bubble. Graham Wells sat hunched over in pain. He thought he might be bleeding internally from the damage done to the timestream. He was right.

At the site of 12’s approach, Vanguard snapped to attention as one. Danny spoke commands to Hal, as his body shifted and changed. Sam formed his extremeties into living weapons. Blackwulf’s fists took on immense size. Raptor unsheathed Ladnikia, the blade singing for more blood. Chance, and Grissom circled, loading weaponry they’d
taken from fallen Clockmen in the hopes it would prove useful. Banshee took flight, readying her Wail and her crossbow bolts. Phil psyched his mind up, preparing for to attempt a mental assault. Turkish took a defensive stance and requested assistance from the elements. Mick gulped and looked at Shirley with a pleading in his eyes. She looked
back and nodded, understanding. Grimm hoisted his axe and turned it in his massive, steel gauntleted hands, it’s blue energies radiating out from it’s blades. Dirk took another drag
from his cigar. . .and flung it directly into 12’s face.

At that, Danny’s lips parted and a single word escaped them. “Vanguard. . .” The battle was on. Danny took to the skies, coordinating the attack from above.

The First Wave.
Banshee and Raptor circled overhead. Banshee fired crossbow bolts from afar, as Raptor dove inwards, readying Ladnikia in one hand, and a large, flanged mace in another.
Grissom and Chance fired chronal bursts from the weaponry they’d picked up.

Bolts bounced off harmlessly. Chronal blasts took no effect. Chance stopped firing in an attempt to alter his weapon’s frequency, hoping to throw his foe off. Raptor swooped in,
and struck 12 across the face with his mace, breaking the weapon loose from it’s handle. 12 actually seemed a bit bothered by this, yellowish blood trailing out from his nose and
lip. He wiped away the blood with a sleeve as Raptor tossed away the broken weapon and dived in for another attack. Ladnikia’s blade attempted to slice into 12’s skin, but
halted inches away as 12 stood firm.

The Raptor hung in mid-air, motionless. “So many incarnations, which is the true form?” 12 gestured with a hand as Edulcore Cicciottio split into multiple incarnations of himself. Eurostar, the champion athlete. Ed, the heroin junkie, Red Ghost, the leader of the Revolutionaries, the reluctant EPS agent, the all powerful elemental, the lust driven Raptor, the redemption seeking Thunderbird. All these Edulcores and more stood laid out before 12. “Do you even know who you are anymore?”

Chance fired again, hoping the crosswired weaponry would do the trick. 12 shrugged off the bursts without flinching. “And you, how many times have you lived. . .and died. . .” As 12 spoke, Chance again became a ghostly apparition, flickering between flesh and shade, caught between the worlds of the living and the dead.

Banshee circled in, screaming at 12, straining her voice to it’s utmost. 12 held his hands upwards, and snatched Brianna from the very air itself. “Youth, beauty, naivete. . .all
these gifts do I take away. . .” Brianna aged decades in moments, becoming a withered crone, more closely resembling the Banshee of legend.

“BRIIIII!!!!!!” Montag ran towards her, heedless of all else. “You wish to be with her. . .then perish with her. . .” 12 emitted a burst of pure power from his hands, incinerating
the would be lovers in front of him.

The Second Wave.
Phil Smith attempted to seize 12’s mind, and found himself assaulted by the myriad alien thoughts, memories, and experiences. The psychic feedback created a mental loop within the telepaths mind. 12 smiled as Phil entered a catatonic state and dropped to the ground, trapped within himself.

A grenade belt flew into the air and wrapped itself around 12’s head. “You know what this fight needs?” Dirk Bell asked, tossing several grenade pins to the ground casually. “More shit blowing up.” The grenades went off in unison, beginning to explode outward. . .before the explosions reversed themselves, the belt unwrapping and flying back into
Dirk’s hands. 12 looked into the gunslinger’s eyes, and discerned his past. A childhood lost, a lifetime spent in training. No holidays. No time off. No games or art or culture.
Or love. The harsh world that Bell inhabited as the first born son of this generation of his family. The one whose role was to go out into the world as the warrior. Generations
passed as Dirk was replaced by his ancestors going all the way back to the dawn of time, to the first warrior hero of the world. An unrecorded name, forgotten by history. He
continued devolving straight into a blob of protoplasm upon the ground.

Sam Dawson’s arms attempted to slice into 12’s body, but 12 merely floated out of range of the young meta. Danny flew up from behind, using Sam as a distraction, and his wings
melted away, his soft human skin replaced by a hard exoskeleton exterior. Danny drew himself up into a ball, and aimed towards the back of 12’s body, hoping to knock him off
balance.

“Children. Pathetic.” 12’s eyes glowed and shifted, Sam and Danny froze from their attack positions. Reappearing in front of the primal Clockman, they were turned into toddlers. Sam and Danny now crawled along the floor, oblivious to all danger.

“I have you, young comrades!” Blackwulf’s arms extended, scooping up the young morphs, as he sneered at 12. 12 glowered over the “Wulf of the North” as Vladislav found himself mutating again. “Oh, this is not being good time for this. . .” Blackwulf was now a large, black wolf, carrying two cubs in it’s mouth. The wolf growled at 12, it’s cubs crying out. Another flash and they were gone.

The Last Wave.
Grimm’s axe struck a direct blow, cleaving into 12’s shoulder blades. 12’s body erupted with power, exploding outwards and sending them both flying. Turkish Stringfellow motioned with his hands, as Grimm’s kinetic energy halted and reversed itself, sending the avatar flying back into battle. Grimm prepared another swipe of his axe blade. Before
he could arrive however, the axe was gone. And Grimm flew through the air, reverted to merely a mortal man. A black clad gunman for hire. 12 caught him and held him up in the
air by the throat.

Turkish danced nimbly across the way attempting to reach the elements, but received no response. He found himself again, a young monk attempting to understand the teachings
of the Scion. 12 grasped him in his other hand and lifted him as well. “Nice knowing you, Turk. ..” Grimm managed to choke out. “And. . .you. . .” Turkish rasped.

12 forced pure, chronal power into and through the bodies of the two Vanguards, incinerating them alive. Now, Mick Harrison stood alone. With one last look into the eyes of his lover, he softly spoke a single word. . . “. . .mxy. . .” And reality warped and changed as Mick’s body floated into the air, light surrounding him, pouring out of his eyes. A top hat and tails appeared over his clothing as Mxy took over.

“The god in the man. . .” 12 stated. “Do you even grasp the true meaning of godhood? Do you?” 12 asked the uncomprehending being before him. “Cows.” Was Mxy’s answer as a Vanguard made up of cows appeared and attacked 12 with all the power at their disposal.

12 simply rewound the last fifteen seconds of time, eliminating the Vanguard cows and reverting Mxy to Mick (inside the temporal bubble, Graham Well’s stomach was doing flip flops. The Time Trust attempted to alleviate his suffering with his abilities, but was not able to do much. Paragon watched the battle in silence.) .

Mick Harrison sat on the ground, in a daze, looking upwards at 12. 12 lifted him by his shirt collar. “Know the true meaning of godhood, and comprehend.” Mick/Mxy dropped
backwards, his eyes wide, his mind expanded to the fill the universe, the whole, the everything. Mick gaped, down on his knees, as ultimate total knowledge flooded his mind. Shirley darted out from hiding and wrapped her arms around his shoulders holding him tightly. “Mick! Oh, gob, Mick, no. . .” Weeping, she looked up at 12. “You shall greet oblivion together, then.” And with those words, he reduced them to ash.

Paragon watched in silence as Vanguard fell one by one before 12’s onslaught. There was no one left. No one left to hide behind. Nowhere left to run. It had all come down to
this. Nothing more he could do. Nothing else to try.

“Drop the field.” He said to The Time Trust.

“What?” The droid asked, it’s programming confused.

Paragon looked at him, his eyes narrowing. “This is my fight. It always has been. I have to do this.”

“In your physical condition, it is not advisable to. . .”

“My physical condition. . .” Paragon looked down at his emaciated form, his long hair and beard. “I’ve spent the last two years being held prisoner and tortured. First by these. . .murderers. . .” He pointed to the approaching 12, “and then by whatever it was that was
running this place. . .”

“So no, I’m not in my best physical shape, but I have to do this.”

The Time Trust seemed to consider this for a moment. Paragon stopped and looked at the robot. “You. . .You can help me.”

The droid lifted it’s head. “I can?”

“You can heal me. . .” Paragon’s face lit up. “Speed up time around me, that I can heal.” Paragon began pacing back and forth within the bubble as continued approaching. “Cover
me in a temporal shield to deflect his chronal bursts. . .” Paragon walked back and forth, quicker and quicker, his mind racing as the droid followed his instructions.

Paragon’s skin stretched, and popped, healing over as his muscles returned to their normal size. He smiled, flexing a bit. Before turning to face 12’s looming form. “Time to go
save the world.” With these words, the bubble dropped as Paragon launched himself at 12 and connected with a thunderous blow that sent the leader of the Clockmen sprawling on the ground.

Paragon looked at his fist, somewhat surprised. Temporal power crackled and flowed around his body. He turned back to look at the Trust and gave him a thumbs up. The
droid looked down at it’s hand and tentatively made an attempt at returning the gesture. “Good enoug-” Paragon began to respond before being cut short by 12 slamming into
him and backhanding him down with a fist. “YOU!! You have caused me much. . .personal aggravation!!” 12’s mighty granite skinned fists connected with Paragon’s body.

As powerful fists covered in temporal energy slammed into each other from both sides, Graham Wells moaned in agony, he felt as if his organs were attempting to crawl up his
insides and force themselves outside of his body. “BLEAARRRRGHHH!!!” The avatar
of Time vomited as the timestream itself began to rupture and tear.

Paragon and 12 tore into each other with furious abandon, as time itself collapsed and fall apart around them. . .

and everything went black.

The Time Trust looked up from his reverie and found himself standing next to Graham Wells in front of the council of The Time Trust. “Time City. . .but how. .” He had no time
to formulate a response.

“Bring forth the accused!” The booming voice(s) of the Council sounded throughout. 12 was lead into the chambers in chains, Trustdroids on both sides of him. TTT noticed Paragon now on the other side of Wells. He saw Vanguard positioned across the way on the other side.

“We have intervened and averted the destruction of another timeline at the hands of the accused. How do you plead, first and last of the Clockmen?”

“Arrogant pricks!” 12 spat towards the council, their shimmering, silken robes making no movement other than the inexplicable fluttering that constantly moved through them, as if a wind passed them by. The spit stopped, frozen, and hung in the air.

The central member of the council stood and pointed towards 12. “Let the story of 12 and your impious revolt be known to all!”

The minds of those present were flooded with images from the past. The Clockmen’s plot to alter the multiverse in their own image and seize power from the Council. 12's role as one it's leaders. His female lieutanant by his side. Chronal war
as Clockmen battled Trustdroids across multiple timelines and universes. The image of 12’s lieutenant and wife, being killed in battle. 12 consigning her body to the dark waters of a world still unborn.

“And what then, 12? How is it you came to hide from us for so long, before returning here? Now?”

“Oh, you don’t know? Imagine that! Something the all powerful omnipotent Time Trust Council doesn’t know something?! I’ll never tell you!” 12 struggled against his power
dampening chains as the attendant Trustdroids watched over him.

“I believe, perhaps, that I can be of some assistance here.” Paradigm strolled into the council chambers, his brown suit wrinkle free, his ornately detailed cane, slightly flashing.

"Who are you, and by what authority do you come here? " the voice(s) of the Council thundered at the intruder.

Phil Smith nudged Grissom Montag and whispered, “Griss, I think we just found your Merlin type.”

"Some know me as Paradigm. I am here of my own accord." Paradigm responded almost dismissively.

"BY WHAT AUTHORITY DO YOU COME HERE??!!"

"Hmph." Paradigm nonchalantly responded, brushing down his suit a bit, as if dusting it off.

"YOU WILL ANSWER!!!!" The Council of The Time Trust stood as one.

"He is here under the authority of Haven!" The Scion entered the room, followed by Mortis, Amelie Pendragon, Myrrdin, and the full membership of the council of Haven.

"If I may continue. . ." Paradigm looked annoyed, glancing at his fingertips.

" . . .continue. . ." The Council was seated.

“For one moment, the Clockmen gathered in their secret place and pooled their talents as one. They looked over a world. . .” Paradigm waved his arm as an image of 12
holding a miniature globe over his hands. “And carved out a sliver of time. . .”

12 now held two worlds in his hands and laughed. “A small pocket of time, a world like the one these heroes know. . .but different. Here, 12 thought he would find no resistance to his plans. He was wrong.” Images of Paragon and his agents rising up against the tyranny of the Clockmen, and falling. All but Paragon being killed. Paragon’s torture at
the hands of the thugs 12 recruited to replace his team.

“Where is this world now?”

“It exists, hidden away, by him.” Paradigm pointed to 12, as the Council forced temporal energy to wash over his body. 12’s body rose into the air, buffeted by the forces assailing
him. His body split and fractured, crumbling apart under the assault of the Council.

Two worlds came into view. Two Earths. The same, but different. Slowly, majestically, the worlds became one again. Briefly the Vanguards felt themselves being washed over as
the effects of the temporal transfer mildly altered them.

“So, that’s it? It’s done? Just like that?” Danny asked. “Yes, Daniel, it is done.” Paradigm responded, with a brief smile.

“Who the hell are you and how do you know my name?” Hearn asked the man standing before him. “That is not important. Things here have been settled and you all played your roles to perfection. That is all that matters.”

“Now just wait a sec-” Hearn began to protest and found himself and the rest of Vanguard back on the streets of Los Angeles, standing in front of Lupin Technologies, the military
forces of Agent Koening awaiting them. The Siege, it seemed, was over.

Epilogue: Doc Paragon.

Koenig’s men lived up to their promises. Lupin Tech’s hardware was confiscated by the US Government. The conflict on the streets was reported to news agencies across the
board as meta human terrorist activity, possibly a branch of the MBL. Some doubted sure, yet no seemed to able to produce hard evidence to the contrary.

As Vanguard loaded aboard the Stormloader, Chance turned back to look at Paragon. Paragon was standing in the street. Some clothing borrowed from the military. As the sun began to rise overhead, he was looking up at the skyline of the city.

“Is everything okay?” Schanz asked.

“Hmm? Oh, fine, fine.” Paragon responded.

“If you need someplace to stay. . .”The Swede began.

“Kristofer, do you see that building there, just on the other side of what’s left of Lupin?” Paragon pointed to a tall, modern art deco building, with a plaza in front. In the center of the plaza stood a metal statue of Atlas holding up the world on his back.

“Yes, is that. . .”

“That’s my building, Kris. I never thought I’d see it again. Now it’s here.” Paragon smiled, true warmth extending outwards. “It’s beautiful.” Chance commented.

“You know, I can always use a good scientist,” Paragon offered.

“And Vanguard could always use a good field agent.” Chance counteroffered.

The two shook hands and Chance boarded the Stormloader as it headed back to La Perdita. Paragon walked into his offices for the first time in two years, making his way up
the small apartment he kept in the top of the building.

He took a shower, changed his clothes and went down to check his office. Reaching his desk, he found a small note marked William. Opening the note, he saw it read: It’s good to have you back.

“It’s good to be back, Paradigm.” He said to no one in particular.

Epilogue: The Triumvirate.

A familiar waterfall overlooking the lush, green fields of Haven. A light wind blew past, grass swaying with the breeze. Paradigm looked out over the lands sprawling before him.
“The others have again returned to their lands.” Scion spoke as he joined Paradigm at the top of the hill. “And Wells?” Paradigm asked.

“Still a bit sick, but he’ll recover as time rights itself. That is the way of things.”

“We have succeeded.” Mortis joined the other two. “Yes, a glorious thing. Beyond our expectations.” Scion added.

“Beyond some, perhaps.” Paradigm offered.

“Paradigm, your knowledge and insight could be useful to the council. You can make a very persuasive argument when motivated. . .” Scion placed a hand on his shoulder.

“I cannot accept your offer, my friend. I am too set in my ways to bend to the will of others, no matter how well they mean.” Paradigm stepped back. “Still, should I truly be
needed, I shall be available to you. To both of you.” And with that, he was gone.

“Well, Mortis, have you given my other offer any thought?” Scion began as they walked down the hill towards the temple.

“I have, and I believe I know just where to start. . .”

******************
Epilogue: The Bruttes.

Coconut Creek, Florida
The USA.

The Facility for Metahuman Incarceration and Rehabilitation.
Also known as The Clamp.

Armed guards escorted Gnaw and Holocaust to their cell. Meta inhibitors prevented them from using their abilities. The two Bruttes dropped back onto their bunks and lamented
their fate. Rant had vanished in transit to the prison. Cascade had run away during the fight with Vanguard. The Gunslinger droids were confiscated by the government. Rumor was that the government had bought Amuck as well, to sell him off to some UN funded superteam. Clifford had been shipped back to the La Perditan asylum he’d escaped from. Psi, Anaconda, and Zoe were all dead.

“So, what now?” Holocaust wondered aloud.

“We wait, figger something out. Escape. I want a rematch with those Vanguards.” Gnaw struggled to remove the muzzle over his face.

“Of couse you do.” The guard outside said. “I can give you just that chance. All you have to do is accept my offer.”

“Who the fuck are you and why should we?!” Gnaw asked, jumping off of his cot, and moving towards the man.

“My name. . .is Ludlow. . .” the guard smiled.

Epilogue: Vanguard

The trip back to La Perdita had been silent and uneventful, which was just what the team needed after this adventure. As Chance and Priest piloted the Stormloader in for a landing
and docked it, the team retired to their quarters to clean themselves up and get some rest.

Mick and Shirley headed off to their room to be alone. They were both exhausted and slept easily.

Phil returned to his encrypted messages to Leslie, attempting to sort out the day’s events from what he’d been working on. Psi’ words haunted his thoughts. Another telepath named Smith? It couldn’t be, or could it? Phil was unable to concentrate.

Blackwulf decided to have a party to celebrate the team’s success and called down to Jake’s for several kegs.

Grissom decided to check over the holes in the walls for repair work. Dr. Quantos had already mostly debugged the computer systems, and he and Phil could easily finish that.
Grissom would handle the rest of the repair work, this time with a crew he knew and trusted. As he measured the hole, Tayden and Banshee walked past. Griss lost his
concentration. “Get it together, old man, this ain’t like yeself.” He muttered under his breath. He touched his hand to his jaw where his “son” had punched him. But it was the words that really stung. “The bloody Montag curse, aye?! Yer drinkin, and gamblin, and livin it up wi’ yer hoores!” Montag’s face dropped for a moment, his measure slipping out of his grasp. “It won’t be like that, Brian. I swear.”

Tayden and Banshee walked the grounds of the Complex, talking. “So what where you doing when you were holding drax?” She asked, stretching out her wings. Tayden smiled
with an innocence that was completely sincere. “What else would I be doing? I was praying.”

“Did it work?” She laughed.

“Everything worked out, didn’t it?” He took her arm and they continued their walk. “C’mon, I hear Blackwulf’s throwing a party. . .”

Dirk Bell finished repacking his bags, and slung them over his shoulder. Should be easy enough to leave again, he thought to himself, they’ll all be busy sleeping or partying. As he made his way to a side door, he noticed someone standing there.

“Leaving again?” Nuriko asked.

“Got work to do.” Bell simply stated. “Don’t bother trying to stop me.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it.” Nuriko stood aside as Bell began to walk out the door. He walked off into the distance without turning to look back. As Nuriko watched, her cell phone went off again. Fishing it out of her pocket, she looked at the number flashing onscreen. Her brother. Again. Perhaps it was time to find out what he wanted. Seems she could use a trip home after all.

After a few hours, Grimm, Blackwulf, and Priest returned from Jake’s with the kegs. Setting them up in the den, Wulf attached keg taps to all of them and began pouring them
out into cups for everyone.

Everyone was in attendance. Charlene came up from the motor pool and pulled Chance away from his science books. Mick and Shirley couldn’t take their arms from each other.
Dr. Quantos, Miss X, Nuriko, and Kit, all joined the party, as well.

Grissom, Phil, Priest, and Nadia stood in one corner of the room, exchanging stories. Phil was mostly quiet, but
laughed at the other’s tales. Griss was in rare form, though his eyes often wandered to Bri and Tayden sitting in front of the fireplace.

Kristogar Velo briefly joined the assemblage to remind everyone how much he hated gatherings, before returning to his room. Ed wandered from person to person in the room,
Ladnikia attached to his belt the whole time. Nadia divided her attention between Priest’s advances and Ed and his sword.

Grimm, Ringo, Danny, and Drake stood around in a semicircle as TC and Blackwulf attempted to out drink each other. Soon, the party was joined by several metas from the
bar, and things carried on into the night.

Blackwulf stood atop a table and raised his glass in the air. “Comrades, a toast to you all. To good friends, and good drink!” Everyone toasted and drank. The Luchadore downed
his third drink of the night and immediately ran for the bathroom, puking all over Johnny’s boots before he managed to get there. As Bates screamed in abject horror, the woman
he’d been talking to used the opportunity to quietly slip away.

Yes, things were back to normal in La Perdita.

Final Epilogue.

The onyx pyramid hovered silently over the obsidian water. A staircase slowly descended, the waters churning lightly from the displacement of air around it. The Time Trust slowly
walked down the stairway, cradling a form covered in sackcloth. As he reached the edge of the stairway, he knelt down, releasing the cloth and it’s contents into the dark waters below. As the granite skinned remains slowly descended beneath the waves, the android turned and began making his way back up the staircase. Reaching the edge of the pyramid, the staircase retracting behind him, he spoke silently, “Goodbye. . .brother.”


The End.