RKMBs Forums .::Important::. Writer's Block Vanguard: MURDER MYSTERY!

"Mr. Dead? Hero?" The slightly-charred Strikeforce men looked at the petite winged redhead that opened the patio door. Although Brianna was walking towards them, her head was tilted sideways. "Nice that you two could make it. We were worried you weren't going to show up."

"Good evening!"

"Evenin' Miss Banshee. Um, why aren't you looking at us?"

The pair realized that Brianna was holding two old bathrobes in one hand. She tossed them in their direction. "Because you're in the nib, that's why." She smiled faintly. "Drinks are inside when you're ready to come in." With that, Brianna gave one final nod and rejoined the party. She left the patio door open.

~o~o~

Inside, Vanguard was enjoying another round of victory. Music was playing through the flat through Montag's system of speakers scattered throughout all the rooms. Cocktail shrimp, creamed spinich on crackers, and deviled eggs were being passed from member to member, from hero to friend.

"Ozzy," said Phil. "You cannot just make light of the whole situation and name a drink after the enemy!"

"Come on!" shouted Ozzy. He was pouring a round of various liquors into a tall beer glass. Once the mixture was completed, Ozzy lit a match and dropped it in the drink. It erupted into flames. "It's too catchy to ignore. 'Flamming White Dukes'?" He quickly grulped down the beverage before the flames burnt his nosehairs. "It's brilliant. Wait till it hits the market."

Phil rolled his eyes. "And what's worse, is that you're supporting him."

Grissom Montag shrugged his shoulders. "Everyone needs a hobby. Besides, if it's so wrong, how come you're drinkin' it?"

Having lost the arguement, Phil set the empty glass down on the bar. "Doesn't hurt to try."

~o~o~

Drake, meanwhile, was with his own team. "You did good."

Icarus laughed. "You kicked grande-ass yourself, old man?"

Drake nearly dropped his cookie. "Old man? Listen you little snot-nosed air pirate, just because you get a pat on the back doesn't mean you get to taunt the superiors."

"Look, look!" It was plain to see Icarus wasn't too concerned about punishment in such a public place. "I just meant it as a compliment. Really. I had more thrills on this mission than I ever hoped to expect. And you led us great."

"Icarus, you have a weird way of complimenting people."

~o~o~

Brianna found Grissom with Phil and Ozzy. "Hey."

"Hey, luv, want a drink?" Ozzy grabbed the liquor for his own mix. "Nah, she'll take a Bailey." He looked at Brianna and laughed. "Lightweight."

Brianna smiled and took a sip. "Nice seeing you again Ozzy." Baxter nodded. "I've been working on my punches, just like you taught me."

The news did intrest Ozzy. "Really?" Brianna nodded. "That's great kid. Show me a move."

"What, now? We're in the middle of a bloody party."

"And? We're also by a well-decorated bar, and Grissom can afford to have a few pieces of expensive furniture broken. Come on, let's all see the world's only Boxing Pigeon."

BAM!

What Ozzy should have said was "Please wait a moment while I set my drinking glass down and prepare myself for having a small fist-shaped mass hurled towards me at an alarming velocity."

The end result was clear -- Brianna had punched a quick upper cut, and Ozzy had taken out Montag's 19th century Gothic revival mahogany end table.

"Oh my God! Ozzy, I'm so sorry. You're not bleeding are you? Oh, wait, you don't bleed. Oh Ozzy, I'm so so so sorry."

"Forget him, he's indestructible!" shouted Montag. "Baxter, you've broke my table!"

~o~o~

Victor and Gaunt were standing in a corner. "You like corners, don't you Gaunt?"

"I suppose somewhat more than most people do. Enjoying yourself?" Victor looked at the shadow-man. "Oh I forgot. Well, this has been a plesent evening."

"Do they always celebrate like this?"

Gaunt took a moment to look about the room. "I think they have a reason to celebrate a little more this time." Everyone was certainly enjoying themselves. "We've just defeated an opponent that's killed people like us. Things are changing. Vanguard Prime is now free to leave La Perdita, if they decide to. The Strikeforce...well, with Merlin gone, things will be different for all of us."

"And us?"

Gaunt shrugged. "We got to see what the other teams were like."

"I see." Victor took a look at the robotic rodent, the winged redhead, and the undead men (one with ax and one sans ax). He turned back to Gaunt -- not quite grinning, but obviously showing some signs of a mental discovery on his face. "I hate to be the one to point this out, but it appears we might be the only normal ones here."

"Nobody seems to notice us, Brandon. I was right. No one want to talk to us, we were their enemies."

"No, no Brian. They don't want to embarrass us because we are wearing bathrobes. I am sure they are a bunch of warm and fun people. Let's do the first step."

"Mhhh are you sure? The party is a disaster anyway for us, thanks to you, Hero. I am sure it would be best to do wallpaper for ten minutes and then go away unnoticed..."

"Lighten up, Dead. We are here to have fun..."

And saying that, Hero walked straight toward a group of Vanguardians standing around a table.

Lykopis and Bruteforce were trying their strength, standing to a still, their arms vibrating, sweat running down their temple.

"It's even" declared RoboSquirrel, while the two Vanguardian were shaking their hands.

Lycopys eyed Hero, and smiling mischievously asked: "And you, kid? Do you want to measure with me?"

Hero turned instantly red, and raised his both hands: "I don't... well, it's that... you see, I am... how can I say it... pretty powerful, I don't think I should..."

"You mean I'm no powerful?" said Lykopis, frowning?"

Hero turned even redder. "No, no, absolutely, it's not what I was meaning... It's that..."

"...you are scared by me. By a woman stronger than you..."

"Excuse me, miss, but I believe you are largely overestimating yourself" began to reply Brandon, but was stopped by the arrival of Brian Dead.

"Brandon, this will result in an even greater disaster, I am sure..."

"Oh, shut up, dead guy. Let's show these people what us Strikeforce are able to do..."

"No, Brandon, no..." was saying Dead, but Hero was not listening to him, sitting in no time at the table, in front of Lykopis.

The immortal woman and the superhero put their arms over the table and took each other hand.

The strength of the grip amazed Brandon, who never experienced such a firm take from anyone, man, woman or monster would be.

Lykopis noticed the stupor in Hero's face and smiled. "Loosing confidence so easily, kid?"

Hero grimaced. "I am no kid". The words formed silently on the New Zealander lips.

The uncanny strength of the man began to push over the arm of the woman, whose smile quickly disappeared.

With the experience of whole millennia passed fighting male warriors, Lykopis forced the arm to resist, stopping the advancement of Hero and then starting to gain millimetre after millimetre. Now it was the turn of Hero to stopping in defence. So, he pushed heavily over his elbow.

And under the phenomenal pressure, the table broke with a loud crack, sending shivers everywhere in the flat.

One, the bigger, fled across the room planting himself right between the eyes of a Mona Lisa hanging from the wall.

All the eyes of the Vanguardians were fixed over the framed oil painting. Only dead was looking in the opposite direction.

Hero, followed by Grissom, went to the picture. Brandon took the splinter away, and then looked for some seconds to the painting, finally turning to look at Montag.

"It's a very good replica, Mr Montague" the Strikeforce said.

No reply came from the Vanguardian, just the most hateful look that the young man ever experienced.

"Is... is it a replica, right, Mr. Montague?"

Grimm chugged down another Flaming White Duke and looked around the room. Wiping his face off with his sleeve, he seemed to be pondering something for a moment. As he watched Hero destroy Grissom's painting, he seemed to make up his mind. Yeah, definitely time to go. There's things I've been putting off doing for too long.

Turning and quietly walking down the hallway, Grimm walked down the stairs and out the front door. Stepping outside, he was greeted by a stern voice. "Just where do you think you're going, mister?!"

Startled, he turned back to see Brianna in the doorway. Grissom and Phil behind her. "You haven't said goodbye yet, ye daft wanker." Flying over to Grimm, the small irish girl threw her arms around his massive waist in an embrace. Slowly, he returned the embrace. "It was good seein ye again. Even if only for a little while."

"It. . .was good to see you also, Bri." Grimm lightly patted the girl on her back. "But I have to go now."

"Sure you don't want to stay?" Montag asked, a small glass of white Zinfandel materializing in his hand. "We could use you, especially now."

"No, I have matters that need my attention elsewhere. I enjoyed my time here, but. . .that time is gone. It's time to move on." Grimm walked up to Montag and shook his hand. "You're a good man, Montag. You'll do well."

"If you need us, we're listed. Just call." Montag returned the shake.

"I'm here too, you know." Smith interjected.

"Smith," Grimm paused for a moment, "Stay out of my head."

Phil was momentarily shocked before the realization dawned upon him and a small smile crept over his face. "Heh. Your head's not on my list of places to visit this year." Smith clapped the undead biker on the shoulder. "Good luck, man."

"And to you."

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

Sitting on a smail boat headed for the US mainland, Grimm watched the small isle of La Perdita fade into the sunset. His mind wandered back over the time he'd spent there, the people he'd met, and the adventures he'd shared in such a brief period. He wondered how different things would be if he'd never met them in South America, and if he'd never gone back to La Perdita with them.

Truly it was an age of discovery and wonder. But as with all things, it must pass. Things move on and so must we. La Perdita vanished over the horizon and Grimm turned towards the future.

*Not the end*

Victor Reilly stepped up onto the back of the couch, beer in hand, looking as if he was about to say something.

He fell from the couch, striking the ground and spilling his beer everywhere. He stood back up, looking down at the puddle his beverage was now making.

He laughed out loud, then went to get another beer.

"He's enjoying himself quite a bit for someone you said had no emotions," Bruteforce said to Phil.

"He has a lot going on on the surface," Phil replied.

"Huh?"

"He can enjoy himself. In a sense. He'll respond to anything immediate."

"So if he wasn't here he'd be out picking a barfight or getting laid."

"Exactly," Phil said. "But there's nothing going on under that. If you went over there and pissed him off, he'd probably take a swing at you, but tomorrow he'll be back to having no opinion of you."

"He can't hate, then."

"Or love. Or respect. Or be depressed."

"That's fucked up."

"Yeah."

"Brandon?"

"What, Brian?"

"Let's go, before it's too late!"

"Why, Brian? Things can only improve..."

"Brandon, you just destroyed the Mona Lisa. The authentic one..."

"Well, Brian, if Montague keep it hanging from the wall instead of storing it in a bank or something, it can't really be my fault, no?"

"Brandon, we are in a bathrobe, they hate us, and you just destroyed their proprieties. Let's go, I beg you..."

"Brian, you must learn to look at things from the positive side: it can't get worse, so it will surely improve. Look, those guys are looking at NBA on the plasma TV... there, nothing awful can happen, right?"

"If you say so...."

... late breaking news: UN spoke-person Mira Niederstein has just announced that as of immediate the international peacekeeping force Strikeforce 3 is disbanded, following a failed coup of the late General Merlin....

"Brian, what does it mean?"

"It means we have just been fired, idiot!"

"Ah... gosh..."

"Hey... don't get so depressed, Hero..."

"Ah well... I can always... I mean... I know how... or I could... ... ... ... ... Say, how is being dead, Brian?"

"Not bad, Brandon, not bad at all..."

"I could always suicide myself, then, Brian..."

"And how, Brandon?"

"..."

"So?"

"I hate you, Dead."

Link was sitting on one of Montag's expensive couches, holding a glass of scotch, while most of the Vanguardians in the party watched the basketball game on TV. Drake left the game for a second, and sat next to Link.

"Listen..." Drake said, "I'm sorry for doubting you, we just..."

"Nah, don't sweat it," Link interrupted, patting Drake in the back. "All the evidence pointed towards me... Plus, I was in the team for so little time I didn't give you guys a chance to know me. You did the right thing."

Drake smiled. "So, are you coming back?"

"You know..." Link sat back. "For like... 80 years I've wanted to go back to adventuring and be in a team without having to constantly look over my shoulder, and now that it's finally possible I... I don't know, I just wanna sabor the moment. I wanna travel the world again for a while, like I did when I was younger, take on adventuring by myself... And then, when I'm ready, get back to the team, only on a full-time basis and with no holding back my powers."

"Well, when that happens, give us a call," Drake replied. "There's always gonna be a parking space in our building for you."

"Thanks, pal," Link smiling at the reworked cliché. "And if you ever need some extra muscles to beat down an alien invasion or something, call Quentin and he'll contact me..."

"What's he, your mother?" Drake laughed.

"No, more like a queer british nanny..."

"Remind me to introduce him to Ian."

"Will do." Link stood up. "Now, if you'll excuse me, there's a jet waiting for me at the La Perdita airport..."

"You leaving so soon?" Drake asked.

"Don't worry, I'll be back before this thing ends... You won't even notice I was gone!"

"Heh. Where are you going?"

Link grabbed his coat and headed the door. "I'm gonna visit a friend..."

New York

Link had seen many funerals over the years, more than a man should see in his lifetime. After years of observation, he'd come to classify attendees of such gatherings in two types: those who were there to mourn, and those who were there under obligation. He could tell one kind from the other in a second or two, even if he was watching the funeral from the distance, like he was now.

There wasn't a single mourner in this particular funeral.

Link didn't have to wait much to approach the grave; as soon as the bishop closed his bible the people started leaving the cemetary without looking back. He looked at the gravestone in front of him:

JACK MERLIN
1976-2005

"1976," Link read. "Heh. I saw you in '77... You looked pretty tall for a one year old. Not to mention you were more talkative than twenty toddlers put together! All that talk of changing the world... wonder where it all went.

"If my new friends knew I was here they'd probably think I'm a monster, again..." Link shook his head. "Nobody ever understood our friendship, not my allies, not yours. Not even Mr. Kal. I never told you this, but our arguments over you were probably what broke up the Rogues. Bet that'd make you laugh. I kept telling K you were honest about going straight again, but he always said people like you never change..."

Link suddenly looked saddened. "I guess in the end he was right.

"You were my first friend. My first enemy, too, of course... but my first friend nonetheless. I'm aware of all the horrible stuff you've done, and the even worse things you had in store, but still I couldn't hate you if I tried. My 'brother' knew this and used it to get to you. Our friendship was the only good thing you ever had, and it ended up being what killed you. In a sense, that makes it worth it for both of us... you're finally not hurting other people or yourself. And me..."

Link bent and left a small wooden sword on the grass, a simple object that had brought Little Jack and The Worm hours of entertainment aboard Nigel Montag's Charybdis more than a hundred years ago.

"I can finally be in peace with being your friend." Link turned his back on the gravestone and walked away.

END