"Citizens of Detroit, for years you have enjoyed peace and prosperity. You thrive in the wake of the fleeting victory achieved against me by your pitiful champions. In my absence, numerous pretenders to my throne have arisen, but now the true Destroyer will return to reclaim his rightful inheritance... first this city, then the world!"
"Dandelions," Foxfire muttered as she fluttered past the giant digital sign. "Not him again."
Every hour, on the hour, this 'Doctor Destroyer' would hijack the airwaves to make his position clear to the one or two that had been stuck in Millennium City's sewers for the past couple weeks. It wouldn't be bad, she thought, if he wasn't just so repetitive. "It can't be that hard to liven up the act," she gestured wildly to the giant villainous face on the screen. "Bring in a guest star or- or do a musical number!"
With a disappointed sigh, she banked into the wind and took off with a flutter of wings. There never seemed to be an end to the number of Destroids loitering across Westside but, golly, there also never seemed to be an end to the number of heroes fighting them too! No, today would be a perfect day for flying. Perhaps she could get back out to Canada where there was nothing but trees and open skies and the occasional sound of loud explosions in the distance-
"Uh oh."
Her contrail of bright rainbows and twinkly sparkles bent at an ugly angle as she spun about. Things were blowing up, things coming from the direction of Champions HQ. Not just more Destroids,it sounded like a whole army of them! The thought of which only had her putting on the fairy afterburners. Canada can wait, there was an even bigger adventure ahead! Really big! Really... really... big.
The rainbow trail came to an abrupt top just outside of the Ren Cen, the tiny winged figure in vibrant orange at its head barely containing its disbelief. "It- It can?t be! Not you too, Mazinger!"
A beat. "No," she paused thoughtfully as a Teleioclone went flying past her. "Those are Destroids. Really huge Destroids! Fairy magic can't fix this!"
In an instant, a pair of orange and silver pistols appeared in her hands. Also appearing was a very wide, very innocent, and thus potentially very disturbing smile. "That's why I have you two. C'mon, let's get to work! Our new friends need us!" In an all too cheery twinkle, she charged straight into the fray with both guns blazing away in a hail of semi-automatic laser fire.
Forget thinking it was 1992 all over again. Right here, Millenium City just flashed back to 1984.
The Teleiologist ignored 43762-A and clicked the next video on the laptop. "And in THIS video, they've looped the footage of you flying across the battlefield to Tchaikovsky's 'Waltz of The Flowers'. Oh, and look at this one! They've edited several famous movies so that you're blasted across the screen during explosions. And you're drunkenly singing a French song about bird torture in this one. That's some very clever splicing.... Wait, that's genuine. My mistake."
"I said I was sorry!"
"Not sorry enough," Number Six muttered so quietly that 43762-A almost missed it. "Here's the entirety of your interview with Sandra Lancaster. Thank you so much for telling everyone about my crippling terror of Rakshasa. I appreciate it as much as I appreciate all the hentai jokes in the comments section. Really, I do."
43762-A cringed. Six's voice was rarely this emotionless, and it was a sign that bad things were about to happen. The poor Mark I would have fled if he hadn't been strapped to the bed.
"And what do the top comments say? 'At about 1:50 he calls himself a Teleiologist. WTF is that? Does he study Teleioses?' And the reply? 'And here we have the majestic Teleios in its natural habitat: this laboratory deep within the Canadian wilderness. A clever creature who feeds on an unending supply of narcissistic worship by its identical servants, it has many other homes hidden throughout the world to flee to should its lair be attacked by predators such as the Superherois Maximus or the Soldierius Untillius. It has taken me many days to ascend its tower without being captured by the Teleioclones and there have been several close calls, but I have managed to distract them and escape by hypnotizing them with their reflection in my handheld mirror.' Hilarious," Six deadpanned.
43762-A thought it was, but Six fortunately didn't wait for a reply before continuing.
"Ignoring these degrading videos for a moment, let's sum up the situation, shall we? Everyone on the planet knows we're in Millennium City now, because YOU decided to be a hero and attack six Mega-Destroids. If that wasn't enough, you spoke to a news crew and told them your pseudonym, you utter moron. Why didn't you give them our address, too? Or our phone number? Why not put a flashing neon sign in our window saying 'Teleioclones here, come kill us'? We're going to be massacred, and it's all your fault."
"I'm sorry," 43762-A muttered, unable to look at the other clone.
"Not yet, you're not," the Teleiologist said flatly. "You haven't even started being sorry." He clicked another video. "Now in the next clip, they're interviewing superheroes who have knowledge about Teleios. They all state that either the Perfect Being has gone mad, or you're an extremely stupid and/or flawed clone. Also that they wish they could see Teleios's face when he sees the coverage. Oh, and they agree that seeing you being thrown like a rag doll was hysterical. But I digress."
43762-A heard him shut the laptop. The Mark I's eyes remained firmly locked on his blanket's floral pattern.
"Look at me, Thirty-Seven." 43762-A slowly raised his head to meet the Teleiologist's cold stare. "Now that I have your attention... you're going to explain precisely what was going through your tiny mind."
"Destroyer was going to kill us all." His voice sounded so pathetic. "He was going to cut us all open and torture us to death. I didn't want to be vivisected!"
"So you decided to vivisect our reputation first? How thoughtful."
"I didn't mean to! I was supposed to die!"
"Oh, you want to die? What a happy coincidence, I want to kill you." Six moved away, laptop in hand. "But we both know that's what you want, so it's out of the question."
43762-A stared at the Teleiologist's back as his superior stuck a flash drive into the computer. Number Six wasn't going to kill him?
Oh.
Crap.
"Now, you're probably wondering WHY I'm not going to kill you," the Teleiologist continued and grabbed an extension cord for the computer. "After all, I know you're an extremely flawed, imperfect, idiotic clone, and Teleios says imperfection must be eradicated. But if I killed every flawed clone, I'd never leave my vat. Plus I'm addicted to your cooking." He jammed the plug into a socket, and the air in front of 43762-A flickered for a brief second. Then it solidified into a holographic screen.
"Uh..." 43762-A said hesitantly. Why was Number Six showing him a huge projection of a yawning kitten? He had expected torture, not adorableness. Perhaps Angelique was forcing Six to kill him with cuteness?
The Teleiologist yanked the flash drive out of the USB port, and the screen went blank. "Wrong one," he muttered. "That could have been very dramatic, but noooo, the Perfection of Minds gave me cats. Freaking cats!" He quickly stuffed another drive in and glared over his shoulder at 43762-A. "Shut up."
"What are you going to do?" 43762-A said, trying to ignore the mishap. Six was angry enough.
"Well, I initially planned to send you to Teleios so he could turn your blood to acid, but...." He didn't need to finish. They both knew the Perfect Being was unreachable. Even if he was still alive, they'd had no contact with the other clones since the Monster Island incident. It was the reason life had gone so crazy. "Anyway. I had one of the brains write a special program for you. Would you like to know what it does?"
"Oh, I don't see why not."
Six ignored him. "The Perfection of Minds designed an algorithm to find all videos on this site involving you. It will play every single one, including the comments section, until you've seen them all, have a nervous breakdown, or are dead, whichever comes first. I'm not picky."
43762-A raised an eyebrow. "That's it?" To be honest, he was rather relieved. Watching a few videos that would help him piece together what he couldn't remember wasn't a punishment at all!
"Well, forgive me for not building an elaborate torture chamber just for you! We're on a tight budget here. Not that it really matters, since after you watch a dozen of these you'll be as brainless as the zombies chewing on the stop signs outside."
Zombies chewing on stop signs? He could have sworn Necrull wasn't their neighbor anymore.
He began to ask if restraining orders applied against corpses, but Six had already started the video documenting the battle at Champions HQ and whisked out the door. Before it had even fully closed 142009-A sauntered in, a bowl balanced in the crook of his right arm.
The green-shirted clone ignored 43762-A and rearranged the furniture to his liking. Once he was satisfied with the armchair's new placement beside the bed, he flopped into it and began watching the screen. Noticing the restrained Mark I staring at him, 142009-A smirked. "Oh, I'm just here to gloat about how right I was." He thrust the bowl at his brother.
Zalantae muttered some very rude things under her breath as she looked up at the darkening sky. She'd only barely gotten out of the hospital after the Destroid incident, and now Takofanes was on one of his usual rampages. Undead everywhere. Screaming people. Murder and mayhem.
"Someone ought to send him flying. If I had Destroyer's phone number, I'd ask to borrow a Mega-Destroid for the purpose."
Smacking one of the undead with another, she half giggled to herself at a stray thought. "Maybe Zerstoiten is compensating for something. He does seem to love large death machines far more than is healthy."
At that point, she had to dodge one of the famous undead heroes, which immediately crushed her pleasant mood. She growled some unpleasant curses referencing Takofanes, his mother, sheep, and Destroyer, as she sent a bolt of lightning flying at the rotting undead. "A complete utter disgrace." Even Teleioclone videos couldn't cheer her up at this point.
This time she had thankfully made sure to put in some extra thick padding between the lightning generator and her back. Maybe, for once, she'd avoid ending up painfully injured.
As the dead Eclipse fell to the ground in a smoking ruin, whispering a quiet thank you, Zalantae couldn't resist muttering a prayer under her breath for the fallen hero's soul. She'd never really believed in a god, but the habits of childhood died hard sometimes.
HandyMan sighed as he reread the latest draft of his After-Action Report, then picked up the mic.
"In conclusion, analysis of the attack patterns here, when compared with earlier Destroid actions, indicates that this was the beginning of something. Whether this Destroyer's the real thing or just some guy in a fancy outfit, he's got serious resources, and control of a robot-teleport system that at least looks like the one Destroyer used to use. The attacks, though, didn't seem that serious - they feel more like somebody probing at our defenses, trying to figure out where we're strong and where we're weak.
"The Teleioclone incident would appear to be unrelated. I looked more closely at the video, and it looks like he was trying to shoot one of the giant robots with that laser when something jostled him. Makes some sense - both Teleios and Zerstoiten are the kind of guys who don't like sharing, so neither one would want the other to take over. Interesting side note - from the interview footage at the hospital, there must be several such clones active and capable of getting out into the world. The one from the fountain responded to the other one calling him 'Thirty-Seven', and called the armored one 'Six'. This implies the existence of at least 37 free agents, if not more, with Teleios' face. It seems unlikely that Teleios himself survived the Monster Island incident, but I suppose this can't be dismissed out of hand - these guys have a habit of just popping up out of nowhere.
"So yeah, looks like this Destroyer, whoever he is, is planning something big, and the clone thing was just a distraction. You guys had best be looking out for whatever's next on the horizon. File ends."
He pressed the "Send" button, dispatching the file across the 'Net to UNTIL. Just then, his eyes were drawn to the TV screen, where he'd had WCOC on mute. The words "BREAKING NEWS" were flashing across it. He unmuted just in time to hear, as well as see, a shot of a stony crypt erupting from an intersection in Millennium City.
"Arise, my undead minions..."
HandyMan stared for a moment in disbelief. "You have got to be kidding me," he muttered. "Knew I should have set up shop someplace calmer - like New York, or an active volcano, or something..." As he complained, HandyMan strapped on his gear and headed for the exit from his lair. Takofanes needed to be reminded to stay dead - again.
"Science teaches us to expect -- demand -- more than just eerie mysteries. What use is a puzzle that can't be solved? Patience is fine, but I'm not going to stop asking the universe to make sense!"
The area was so crowded with heroes it was hard to see anything clearly. Especially not the lumbering form of the Turakian Deathlord. Or Takofanes for that matter. Zalantae was half wondering if that was fear she was seeing on the Undying's face. If it wasn't, it should be, due to the sheer crowd of heroes nearly trampling each other in their desire to see the Deathlord...well, dead.
When she'd stumbled upon the scene, the thing was half dead. Even so, she'd joined in, the stench of fried zombie filling the air until some heroes actually threw up. Thus narrowly missing being flattened by the Deathlord when it fell.
Takofanes made some pompous remark about how this was just the beginning before teleporting away.
The crowd slowly dispersed, some people standing around clapping each other on the back and congratulating each other, some wandering off, likely looking for a new challenge or a shower. Some were stumbling to their feet, having gotten trampled in the crush.
Zalantae, on the other hand, was busy cleaning the undead guts off her heads-up display. Sometimes she seriously wished she could take the thing off. Run it under the tap or something. But if it came off, she hadn't found the switch to make it so. Instead, it attached firmly to the side of her head.
The energy which is released when 6 Mega-Destroids release their all-out shockwave attack simultanously is immense. It can demolish buildings, crumble tanks and turn flesh and bone into a fine mist. Kaufmann's survival was a wonder. That wonder consisted of several components: The emergency force-field in his belt which activated, the heroine who just flew by and protected Kaufmann and the heroes standing in the vicinity with some sort of shimmering kinetic shield and the fact that he just ducked behind a very large fallen boulder to reload his sniper rifle.
Despite all this, Kaufmann was sent flying. One second he had talked to the strange man with the laser rifle about the price of questionite-tipped armor-piercing bullets, the next second he found himself flying through the air. The last thing he noticed before his head hit something hard was that luckily nobody paid attention to him, because most heroes instead watched the strange man with the laser rifle fly through the air. Kaufmann grinned. That would have been disastrous for his reputa... Boulder.
The Bloodmoon rose over Millenium City, dragging up a tide of undead horrors. The Maniacs fought desperately to hold their territory but fists, chains and bullets were not enough to blunt the waves of reanimated dead. Maniacs fell and then rose again to mindlessly attack their former allies but the worst was yet to come. Pavement shattered, crimson light spilling through the cracks and a massive figure hauled itself free from the earth. Johnny Hercules, dead since the Battle of Detroit and returned not to save the new city but to harvest the bodies and souls of its citizens for his new master.
"My master Takofanes commands and I obey!", he bellowed, "This city and all within it will be his!". Whatever else Johnny Hercules might have been about to say after that was abruptly interrupted by the pickup truck that crashed down on top of him.
Metal shrieked as it was torn apart, Johnny Hercules shredded the steel frame of the truck asunder with his hands and disentangled himself from the wreckage. "WHO DARES ATTACK THE SERVANT OF TAKOFA...". Once again, Johnny Hercules found himself interrupted but this time the interruption was an 18-wheeler that flattened him and about a dozen zombies as well.
It took Johnny Hercules a few minutes longer to extract himself this time. He shrugged the truck's cab off his back, stood up, looking rapidly from side to side for the source of the insult, face twisted into a bloodless rictus of anger. Then something tapped him gently on the shoulder twice and a woman's voice spoke just behind him.
"Hey there, big'un."
Johnny Hercules turned to see the source of the voice but all he saw was the flat side of a gigantic broadsword right before it smashed into his face and knocked him sprawling.
Now Johnny Hercules could see her; a towering figure in black and green armor, curved horns sprouting from the wild tangle of red and black hair on her head, tattered reptilian wings casting a wide shadow over him. Green flames flickered in her eyes and licked along the edges of the nicked and scarred sword in her fist. She grinned at him and in that moment if Johnny Hercules' heart still functioned it would have begun to hammer madly inside his ribs. Johnny slowly got to his feet, cautiously keeping an eye on the woman. "And who are you, that you come here to die and join the legions of my master?", he asked her, his fists clenching and unclenching in anticipation of the coming fight.
She laughed. "Listen buddy, if I can get stomped on by half a dozen Destroids, be shot in the back of the head with an anti-armor rifle by some misfit of science and still be here to knock you on your butt, what gives you the idea that you're going to take me out?"
Her answer was a slab of asphalt, torn up by Johnny Hercules' hands and hurled at her with terrible force, smashing her into the trashed hulk of the 18-wheeler's trailer. "I am Johnny Hercules. And you WILL die here, to rise and serve Takofanes.". He strode over to the truck, grabbed her by one ankle and dragged her loose from the crumpled metal. Johnny Hercules raised both of his fists above his head but before he could strike he found himself engulfed in emerald flames, scorching his rotting flesh as he flailed madly.
"I choose who I serve. I know who you are. And I'm gonna set you free if I have to beat you all over Westside to do it.".
While Nemesis was in the middle of her showdown with Johnny Hercules, Mertvaya Ruka was across the city near Champions HQ dealing with a showdown of his own. Specifically, he was in the middle of trying to explain the principles of protelarian revolution to the mass of zombies surrounding Vigil. It wasn't going well.
"Brothers and sisters!", he shouted, amplified by the PA system built into his armor. "You must cast off your chains! Strike off the shackles Takofanes puts on you! You labor for him but without you he is having nothing!".
The turakians gawped silently at him. They didn't even blink. It was possible they were trying to figure out why he was talking to them instead of running away screaming or attacking them. Several of them quietly drooled. From somewhere nearby, there was a light trilling sound. Mertvaya Ruka turned his head slightly to the left and realized the source was a five and a half foot tall insect-like humanoid wearing what appeared to be a lab coat, rubbing two legs together.
"Comrade Doctor Doodlebug. You are comedian now, wonderful.". Doctor Doodlebug shrugged. "I don't think you're getting through to them, comrade.". The insectoid scientist looked over at the assembled horde. "Nope, definitely starting to look hostile now.". The turakian undead were now shuffling purposely towards both of them, hands outstretched, moaning and growling.
"Ah well. It was worth the trying.". Mertvaya Ruka's jet boots ignited, lifting him a few feet off the ground in a gout of smoke and fire. "Now we are having to do this the hard way.". Heavy particle cannons extended from his forearms, the micromissle pods in his shoulders opened and began targeting a volley on the front line of zombies and the 12.7mm gatling gun on his left shoulder swung into firing position. The six-barrel cluster on the gun rapidly spun up and Mertvaya Ruka opened fire with all weapons.
Crawling out from under its fallen comrades, unseen, a lone turakian zombie tottered off down an alley away from the carnage. In the dim recesses of its mind, a spark, flickering enough to drive out the darkness that only spoke of hunger. It had a name once, long ago when it still drew breath, before the city fell and Takofanes took that name away. Bob., it thought. My name was... is... Bob.. Identity took root, spread like a plant long mired in darkness now brought into the sun. Fingers tipped with dirty, cracked nails clenched into a fist. Ribs creaked as air was drawn into leathery lungs and then exhaled in a rattling, dry voice.
After the first sentence the turakian zombie had spoken with his newly found voice and identity a smile came on its face, causing small bits of flesh to fall from the corners of its mouth. It had its life back! Takofanes' spell was broken! A new life awaited it, maybe not the one it knew, but that didn't matter! It would use its zombiefied status to its advantage, becoming a hero! A hero to the world, a hero to the people, a hero to...
"Nice shot, Jones.", Smith said as the bullet of Smith's sniper rifle splattered the brains of the lone zombie wandering through the streets of Downtown all over the street. Jones looked up from the scope of his rifle to grin at his spotter. Both of them wore uniforms with a white shirt, black combat vests and pants and a red tie. On the brim of their berets was the insignia of Kaufmann Inc. "Thanks, man!", Jones answered cheerily and looked down from the observation spot he and Smith had occupied on the roof of a building. Smith looked down the streets with his binoculars. On the end of the streets two heroes could be seen fighting against a horde of zombies and the undead hero Vigil. "Do you think you can get a shot into the mayhem back there?", Smith asked and focused the binoculars. Jones looked into the same direction using the scope of his rifle. Then he shook his head with a scoff. "Hell no... Do I look like the boss to you?", Jones said dryly. Smith chuckled. "No, guess not. You lack the insanity in your eyes.", Smith grinned then sighed "...you know... Do you also sometimes have the feeling that all of this has gotten really complicated? I mean since the invasion of Dr. Destroyer started?" Jones was quiet for a few moments, scanning the street up and down again, then looked up to his spotter again. "I know what you mean, man... Sometimes it feels like this world is viewed and puppeteered by many, many, MANY different beings so powerful and all-knowing that we can barely even understand, let alone resist whatever they attempt to guide us into...", Jones said contemplative and leaned against a vent on the roof of the building. "That's f*cking deep, man.", Smith said appreciative. "I think you might be onto something here..."
Before they could further elaborate on the topic Smith's communicator sprung to life. Smith listened to the message and nodded sometimes, then simply said: "Roger." Then he looked at his partner. "The boss has called in a meeting.", he said. Jones stared at him. "Oh, f*ck...", he sighed.
...
Jones and Smith showed their papers to the two guards strapped into the heavy exo-skeleton's Kaufmann Inc. used instead of power armor, then they entered the huge conference room of the Kaufmann Inc. HQ after the guards had waved them through. Jones and Smith looked around. Nearly everyone was here. They exchanged some greetings and friendly words with their colleagues and got some coffee and snacks from vending machines on the sides of the room. "Crowded.", Jones said. Smith nodded and took a sip from his cup of coffee. It tasted terrible. "I guess the boss wants to give a big speech...", he said and nodded to a group of soldiers he knew as they made their way to two empty seats. "F*ck no...", Jones grumbled as they sat down and looked around. The room was really huge, but it still didn't really feel comfortable. The ceiling was low with huge neon lights which gave off a bright, cold light. The walls were stark-white, the furniture seemed to consist mostly of aluminum and black leather and the whole atmosphere was way too sterile to feel comfortable. Their boss's personal taste really showed here and for that matter in the whole Kaufmann Inc. HQ.
Speaking of Dr. Kaufmann himself, a procession of five people entered the room right now, causing the crowd of about 60 soldiers, agents, pilots and technicians to fall silent from one second to the other. The first to enter the room were two large, burly men. They looked almost identical, which was made worse by the fact that they wore identical outfits too: Black business suit, white shirt, red tie, black sunglasses. The Kaufmann Inc. standard. Smith sipped from his cup of coffee. Everyone knew those two. They were Dr. Kaufmann's bodyguards - not that he needed bodyguards, but they were mostly to emphasize his importance - Mr. Cloak and Mr. Dagger. Of course those were not their real names, but nobody actually knew them. They only talked when necessary and were in general quite stoic, mysterious and frankly also really creepy. The next in line was their boss, Dr. Kaufmann himself. "Jesus... What happened to him?", Jones whispered and Smith shrugged uncomfortably. Their boss really didn't look to good. He was walking with a hobble, sometimes almost stumbling over his own feet. His face was bruised and instead of his usual crimson-tinted shades he wore a bandage on his head, leaving his long black hair to fall onto his shoulder in an uncharacteristically wild manner. He even had cut down his usual dress code, wearing only black dress pants and a white shirt without the red tie. Through the top two opened buttons of the shirt one could see that his upper body was also covered in bandages. The soldier next to Smith and Jones leaned over to them. "I heard he got into a one-on-one with a Mega-Destroid...", he whispered. Jones looked at him disbelieving and then one of the technicians who sat in the row before them turned around. "...no, no... Not against a Mega-Destroid. I heard he got into a fight over the right to take a Mega-Destroid as a trophy with some Canadian superhero... Then it was some crazy, all-out, everyone-against-everyone battle between the boss, some 40 heroes and the Mega-Destroids!", the technician whispered ominously. Smith chimed in: "I heard there was a Teleioclone too..." Jones sighed and shook his head as he nedged his spotter in the side. "That's bullsh*t, man. Teleioclones..." The discussion was brought to an end when the procession reached the presentation table in front of the waiting Kaufmann Inc. personnel. Some brave men whistled and whooped as the fourth member of the procession passed them: Kaufmann's secretary Janine Golami, as usual looking like she stepped right out of a cheap adult film about naughty secretaries: Fiery-red hair in a bun, black vest, white blouse, black mini-skirt, business high-heels. But today she didn't even threw one flirty glance towards the men, occupied with carrying a stack of folders with one hand and using the other to aid her boss whenever he stumbled. The last one in the procession was a very gloomy looking James Roberts, Kaufmann's current adjutant. No one of the regular employees liked Roberts pretty much, because being the boss's personal adjutant had gotten to his head. Luckily Smith, Jones and everyone else hadn't much to do with him anymore. Then there was the fact that Kaufmann's adjutants had the most spectacular failure rate of the whole company. Not a single one had the position for longer than half a year. In fact there was a betting pool on how long Roberts would make it...
As the procession reached the presentation table, Kaufmann leaned on it, breathing heavily while Janine quickly got him a glass of water and then started to prepare the various folders she had brought to the table. Mr. Cloak and Mr. Dagger stood in the background, doing nothing but looking menacing while Roberts slouched down on a chair in the corner with a grim expression. "I heard he f*cked up really bad and pissed the boss off...", someone near Smith and Jones said quietly. Grins could be seen. Then Kaufmann whispered something to Janine and looked up at his assembled employees.
"Ladies and gentlemen...", he started followed by a cough attack. It took him some time to catch his breath. Smith sighed and sipped from his coffee. This would be a long meeting. "As I said: Ladies and gentlemen!", Kaufmann continued. "I'm very happy to announce that Operation: Clean Sweep as I've come to call it has been a reasonable success!" Whispers could be heard through the room which quickly died out as Kaufmann continued. "We had a success rate of 94 % with all assigned contracts and missions. Our losses have been estimated to be at a reasonable 8 % and the failure rate of equipment and material have been as low as 0.2 %. I'm very pleased, ladies and gentlemen. Good work. As the marketing department has informed me, we our estimated popularity rating increase should be somewhere between 12 and 14 %, which is above expectations. Again, good work. Furthermore...", Kaufmann said, occasionally looking at single documents Janine gave him from her stack of folders. Kaufmann went on for a few more minutes, throwing out percentages and numbers about the operation. Smith and Jones weren't the only ones not paying attention. Kaufmann first got the attention of the whole room back as he got to a more interesting topic. "...also we have a special cause to celebrate. Team 17 has successfully managed to initiate 'Protocoll A' on a cybernetically enhanced hero. It was really a shame he looked so much like a Destroid, right? Congratulations Team 17!" Polite applause echoed through the room and the members of Team 17 grinned at each other knowingly. "Posers...", Smith whispered to Jones who just nodded. Kaufmann waited for the applause to die out, then he continued. "I'm very satisfied with each performance. This was a great opportunity for Kaufmann Inc. and almost everyone exceeded my expectations. Good work, ladies and gentlemen!", Kaufmann said with a smile, but in the corner Roberts shifted on his chair uncomfortably as Kaufmann said 'almost'.
"Now, ladies and gentlemen. Please don't pat yourselves on the back just yet. We still have much to do and in fact have already several new assignments and contracts waiting for us. I hope I don't have to say that this means even more chances to obtain money, fame and good publicity!", Kaufmann continued still smiling. The '...and chances to kill more heroes...' hung in the air, despite nobody spelling it out loud. Smith looked to his partner. Jones wasn't even looking at their boss and instead texting to his girlfriend. As he looked around, he noticed several people were either asleep or doing anything but paying attention to Kaufmann. It wasn't like they usually hung at his every word during the meetings, but this lack of discipline really was unusual for Kaufmann Inc. and a testament to how exhausting Operation: Clean Sweep had been for all of them. "As you know, the Blood Moon has risen once more AND our sources and contacts have reassured what we all have suspected anyway: That Dr. Destroyer isn't quite finished with whatever he started. I want you - every man and woman of Kaufmann Inc. - to be ready for anything, be it undead, robots or something else altogether!", Kaufmann said, trying to sound epic and important, but the cough attack that followed the speech undermined that effort quite a bit. Janine quickly got to him and whispered to him for several moments. They quietly argued for a while, then Kaufmann finally sighed and nodded to her. He looked at his soldiers again and sighed again. "Janine will continue to brief you about the particulars of the next days... Good evening, ladies and gentlemen...", Kaufmann said still coughing and left the room quickly with Mr. Cloak and Mr. Dagger in tow. Janine smiled at the assembled soldiers nervously. "Uhm... Hi!", she said and brushed a strand of her red hair out of her face. Nobody was asleep anymore.
Older than history, the great lich sat on his throne, suspended over the streets of Millennium, surrounded by corpses as the baleful red moon watched and gleaned down on the streets like a set of bloody teeth set in a grin. Craig Carson, covered from head to toe in vomit and blood, flew toward the lich on a crest of thunder. "Get off the damn throne, Takofanes!" Thundrax shouted, lightning flashing from his eyes, then forming a nimbus around his body. The sky roared in approval.
But Takofanes was not moved. Kul-Tarak, within the soulless dessicated folds of what passed for a mind, had heard many a challenge in his day, and mnded them not at all. He had heard many thunderclaps, and did not cringe like a cowering dog, for he was, now and forever, King of Earth, Krim's scion. The offal that spoke to him mattered not at all, despite the lofty source of its power; Takofanes answered to neither man nor god, only to the malign pricks of his caprice and designs. He bespake a prophecy of his return that warmed his heart (and chilled the onlookers to the bone), then vanished back to his home in the grim drears of the Netherworld's undead estates.
Suddenly the sky shifted color, and the moon became pale once again. Craig slumped, exhausted. Three days. At least this wasn't three weeks again. He wasn't sure Millennium could endure another long siege of the undead.
"Craig," one of the younger superheroes asked. "What do we do about them?"
A circle of superheroes had surrounded twelve men, who were garbed in green and yellow and bore a very familiar snake emblem. The local VIPER Nest had sent two six-teams to assist in the battle against Takofanes.
"Put your weapons down!" Craig shouted, another adrenaline surge ending his respite.
"VIPER, weapons down!" the squad leader ordered. The agents looked at each other, but they were surrounded and outnumbered, two to one, by superheroes. "We were protecting our city," the squad leader stated calmly. "Release us."
A superhero wielding two bloody daggers sneered at the agents. "You want release? Come to daddy!"
"Everyone stop!" Thundrax shouted, recognizing that this could get real ugly, real fast. "There's been enough bloodshed tonight..."
"Bloodshed delayed is still bloodshed," a robotic hero stated. "They will be back, with decidedly better tactical options."
Craig had no time for arguing. Instead, he turned toward the nervous cluster of VIPER agents and spoke in his best authoritarian voice. "You have a choice. Surrender, and your service tonight will be taken into account by the courts. Or force us to take you, and have an additional resisting arrest charge added to the list."
"The serpent does not surrender." the Nest leader boasted defiantly. "He bites."
"I've seen enough VIPER agents put up their hands to know that's a lie," Craig retorted, folding his arms in annoyance. "Surrender now, or---"
"Oh for pity's sake...." a woman in runed black and red robes muttered, and she threw up her hands. Runes erupted from his fingers, encapsulating the agents like fireflies. The VIPERs collapsed to the ground, asleep. "Bloody amateurs," the woman muttered as she walked away.
"Secure them and take them to Surhoff." Thundrax instructed, hoping the situation had been defused.
"What's twelve more bodies among so many?" Knife-Boy said, smiling at the unconscious agents.
"Or thirteen," Craig replied, glaring at the psychotic with an intensity that even Takofanes might have noticed.
The vigilante turned around and fired a grappling gun at an adjacent building. "Screw this," he said. "Have fun when they escape and start murdering innocent people -- again." He swung onto a rooftop and vanished from sight. Craig imagined he'd stay close and use a telescopic lens to spy on them. It didn't matter, he told himself.
Then several shots rang out -- from a different direction -- and the fallen squad leader was struck in the helmet by a high-powered round. He wasn't killed, and a heroine surrounded the VIPER agents in a force field while two others took off the ground and flew in pursuit. The sniper would later be identified as one Gerald Cranston, formerly of Hudson City. But he would only be part of a bigger story: "VIPER Agents Fight Bloodmoon, Surrender, Ambushed by Heroes" would be tomorrow's headline. Considerable ink would be spilled on the "are heroes out of control?" question. For once, Craig couldn't blame them.
Craig sighed. It was getting so the aftermath of Bloodmoon was worse than the actual event.
"No! Hell no! I just got discharged from the hospital six minutes ago!"
"But you're a professional decoy."
Taze the Rainbow vehemently shook her eye-searingly bright head. The purplish-pink spikes jiggled, but stayed in place above the vibrant red her hair was dyed. "My arm is still broken!" She lifted the cast to display to the Manimal, who she knew didn't care. "I'm not distracting an army of undead with such an obvious injury!"
"All you have to do is fly in circles and zap one occasionally," Emma argued. "With your outfit," the darkly dressed bird eyed the bright colors disdainfully, "Nimbus will never see the rest of us. We can take her down in seconds."
"And what about the crowd of corpses with her?" The rainbow-tighted heroine demanded. "They won't just lay down and die once she does. This isn't Independence Day, she isn't the mothership! You want me to distract them so you can loot her body, and then you'll fly off and leave me to get eaten!"
The teenaged Manimal rolled her orange eyes. Well, the left one. Taze couldn't see behind the black hair covering her right eye, but she assumed Emma had rolled it too. "Taze, I'm an emu. Emus can't fly. Duh. Once Nimbus is dead, we'll clear out the rest. And why are you so paranoid? You can fly away. I can't."
"I'm still injured from the Mega-Destroids!"
"And I'm missing half my tail feathers. So what?"
"You don't channel your powers through your butt! I channel mine through my arms, which are broken!"
"Only one. You can use your right arm."
"I'm left handed!"
A scream came from the back of the hospital's exterior. "Well, if you won't help, guess we'll kill Nimbus ourselves. It's your fault if anyone gets eaten." The Manimal turned on her clawed heel and sprinted towards the noise.
Taze scowled and put her face in her hands. Why her? She had so been looking forward to that shower at home, and then a lovely week-long nap.... She sighed, then vanished. A giant ball of electricity appeared in her place, arcing towards the source of the scream. At the back of the hospital stood hundreds of undead, shuffling towards the civilians who ran and screamed in terror. The orb spluttered and Taze rematerialized atop the mob of zombies.
Their leader spotted her. Wasn't hard, though, considering Taze's flight powers left a trail of rainbows, glitter, and chirpy music in her wake. "You'll be dead like me soon, hero..." Nimbus gurgled at her, "and a servant of the great Takofanes!"
At least, that's what Taze the Rainbow thought she said. The undead heroine's lower jaw was gone and flesh sloughed off the corpse with every movement. Large rips marred her moldy, previously white and red costume. If she hadn't seen pictures of Nimbus alive, Taze wouldn't have been able to tell. But all in all? For being dead two decades, Nimbus didn't look that bad.
Nonetheless, poor Taze's eyes watered from the stench of decomposition. Lamenting that she hadn't integrated a gas mask into her costume, the rainbow heroine fired a charge of electricity with her uninjured hand. It missed Nimbus, zapping a nearby zombie.
Why couldn't she be right-handed like everyone else?
Emma finally rounded the corner of the hospital, as did seven other heroes. She snapped her fingers, and a large, dark rift appeared among the zombies, pulling them inside. The Manimal's silhouette smirked at Taze the Rainbow as the rift and zombies vanished. She made it look so easy.
Taze repressed a scowl and focused on the undead mob shuffling after her. The multi-colored heroine flew above them and blasted her bright blue volts upon them. She missed most of the time, but it kept their attention. They ripped off chunks of themselves to hurl at her, but she had mastered evasive maneuvers early in her career. She dodged, bobbing up and down, randomly shifting directions, and occasionally phased into an electrical ball when one got too close.
But Taze had always preferred flying. The bright contrails her flight ability left behind were the best attention grabber, so good that they prompted her to become a professional decoy. The young mutant's powers made her early attempts at being stealthy impossible, so she became the gaudiest hero in Millenium City. Why not play to her strengths? She loved being the center of attention, and if subtle heroes could save lives while she hammed it up by throwing glitter in yet another oh-so-dark-and-evil supervillain's eyes to distract them, all the better!
While she flew randomly across the sky, a humanoid bird statue delivered the final blow. With a wave of its talons, a large slab of pavement ripped itself out of the road and slammed into Nimbus. She didn't get up.
"Nice shot, Hawk," Emma said, seemingly unconcerned with the army before them. Dark tendrils shot from her arm, killing four zombies on contact.
The statue just threw more pavement.
In no time, all the undead were redead, and Taze landed gingerly on the devastated ground. The city's construction workers were going to hate Hawk. "Any casualties?"
"I got guts on my jeans," Emma complained and tried to brush them off. "This is going to stain so bad."
The brain in the robotic silver body shook its head. "You had them hypnotized. I'm usually the decoy, so thank you for that. They seem to believe my dome seals in delicious flavor.... Idiots," it muttered and kicked Nimbus's now still corpse.
The rest of the heroes chuckled lightly, but Taze frowned. That voice sounded awfully familiar.... "No problem. Now, if no one else needs me, I'm leaving."
"But Amazing Grace is just down the road with another army," Emma protested.
Taze the Rainbow lowered her glasses and glared at the emu with her bloodshot brown eyes. "Emma, I've been in the hospital two days, I've worn this costume three days, and I haven't slept in four. My arm is broken, everything hurts, I can barely hit a target, and smell like I bathed in guts."
"But we need your help."
Taze continued to glare.
"Innocent people could die," Emma continued.
"I could die!"
Emma sighed and waved her hand dismissively. "Fine, go home. We'll take care of it." The Manimal turned and left. Most of the heroes followed.
An older, blonde man wearing a military uniform paused, his face stern and carved with wrinkles. Taze mentally prepared to be berated by the old man. "You did well," he said instead. "Go rest." With that, he left as well.
The flamboyant hero stood amongst the corpses, watching them go. "Damn conscience," she muttered before she shot off after the others.
Zal rested her head against the side of a building. She'd been perched on a decorative bit catching her breath for the last few minutes. Three days straight of fighting had exhausted her. She slapped the side of her heads-up-display with a hand, but the numbers for suit effectiveness firmly stayed at about 50%. Not good. She might have to find someone who knew enough about power armor to fix it.
She hoped no VIPER would show up. She'd broken a few arms earlier during Blood Moon, until she'd realized they were actually trying to help the city. After that, she'd stayed closer to gang territories where VIPER would not actively go.
In addition to the inevitable headlines about heroes attacking people who were trying to help, there was another issue she would have to face eventually. What if any VIPER member recognized her? What then? She had left, after all. You didn't just turn your back on VIPER. Not to mention that they might want to use her as bait for Grond.
She sighed, thinking she should get up and back to her tiny apartment in Downtown. It was a shoebox, but it did the job. Just a few minutes more, though. She was tired. So tired.
Mentella sighed and sat down on a park bench, the foul, rotting stench of zombie flesh was difficult to overcome without some sensory inhibition which was why she had brought a Hippocamptic Sonombulator along with her to block out the smell.
She reflected on the fight she had with "Amazing" Grace. Mentella shook her head, Takofanes protection over Amazing Grace was too powerful for Mentella to breach as well as other heroes. He had gone to great lengths to stop mind control being a possibility, something which Mentella excelled at, she flicked her blonde hair back and sipped the warm refreshing taste of peppermint herbal tea.
She watched as various heroes and even some villainous organisations helped with the clean up effort. Mentella has caused quite a stir by commandeering a large fleet of PSI members to assist in the efforts of the recently passed BloodMoon and rise of the Undying Lord Takofanes, however after receiving a quick jolt of mental pain for attempting to attack the mind controlled PSI members, most heroes quickly understood that she was in control.
She had recently released her hold on the PSI members, only a few of them perishing in the effort against Takofanes and his undead legion. A number of them shuffled past her in the park, most avoiding eye contact, others nodding in appreciation and respect.
She met eyes with a VIPER soldier who was staring at her, drooling almost. She raised an eyebrow, he suddenly remembered himself and quickly burned out a zombie carcass. Mentella smiled as she imagined the scenario if her sister ForceGirl had been here, her intense hatred of VIPER would cause her to mercilessly wipeout countless squads, regardless of their good intentions. The SummerStone Sisterhood, needed to regroup, alot of them were not in the same city or even continent, she decided to arrange one as soon as she could.
Mentella felt a sudden dull pain on her head, she rose up in alarm to see a remnant of a zombie torso, still clawing it's way towards her and had throw a bone at her head. She grimmaced in disgust, focused a psionic blast and blew it to pieces.
"So pathetic..." She frowned
Mentella brushed off the piece of rotting flesh which had landed on her costume and exited the park stepping over a multitude of undead torso's. Most young heroes had the right idea, by burning them or slicing their heads off.
A small vibration in her pocket distracted her for a second, she reached in and answered her phone.
"Hello?"
It was her sister;
"Mentella where are you? I could do with some help, there are still some zombies in the out skirts of Canada, Black Diamond and I as well as a few other heroes are fending them off, but...but..some of us have fallen and the infected bite has turned them against us..backup would be appreciated!"
Her sister then hung up. Rolling her eyes, Mentella took to the skies in a flash of psionic magenta energy.
She directed her mind probe to different reporters and news casters all over Millennium City, like some other heroes, she was convinced this was not the only effort which Takofanes would put out.
As she neared the superjet, she landed and was greeted by several UNTIL soldiers, whom she acknowledged before getting onto the jet.
The jets engines roared as it took off into the skies bound for Canada.
(damn you Kaufmann, I was just about to make a Bob the Zombie toon)
(Sorry, too tempting You wanna kill off Kaufmann's adjutant Roberts in return? :biggrin:)
"VIPER Agents Fight Bloodmoon, Surrender, Ambushed by Heroes...", Kaufmann read and sipped from his cup of spiked tea. "I should be injured more often! Great things happen when I need to stay in bed!", he laughed and threw the newspaper onto a nearby side table. Roberts immediately jumped to clear the table and refill Kaufmann's cup. "HAHAHA! Yes, doctor! Very good!", he said affably and his cybernetic eye hummed as it focused on Kaufmann's face. Kaufmann looked at him and his forced grin and raised an eyebrow. They remained in that uncomfortable stance for a moment - Roberts trying to smile so hard that he should actually get a lockjaw and Kaufmann looking at him doubting - then the helicopter took a sudden turn which threw Roberts off balance and caused him to bump into the wall of the vehicle. He sweared under his breath and started to clean his uniform off the tea he had spilled on it. Kaufmann still sat comfortably in his chair and sighed.
It had been three days after the meeting he had to leave early. Janine had managed the rest of the meeting quite well, with minimal losses of dignity and information about her favorite dishes. Kaufmann was quite satisfied. He had expected his injury to be more problematic for the plans he had. The injury. Kaufmann gritted his teeth as he thought back to the last day of Dr. Destroyer's invasion on the Champions HQ. He had hit a boulder. A boulder! Good thing nobody had seen it and that he had only been unconscious for a few minutes before Roberts returned with the helicopter to get Kaufmann out of there. He still passed out in the helicopter, but not before giving Roberts a verbal smack-down about not being on time and organizing being not one of his strengths. Kaufmann may also have involved Roberts's mother several times, but he didn't remember too well. The concussion was clouding his memories of the time immediately after Operation: Clean Sweep officially ended. In fact he had slept the rest of the day after the extraction from the Champions HQ. The next day he had tended to his injuries, which didn't stop him of reviewing everything about Operation: Clean Sweep and the attack of Dr. Destroyer in general, much to Janine's dismay. His secretary insisted on him being easy on himself. And - as he grudgingly had to admit - due to her excellent care, his own medical skills, a perceived truckload of stim-packs and other medicine and even a potion of Kaufmann Inc.'s own shady alchemist, he felt much better now. He still had some pains here and there and his concussion prevented him from using the Telekinetic Neural Enhancement Chip in his brain to control his bullets, but at least he was back in the field.
This was about time as he thought. The Blood Moon was still looming over Millennium City and Kaufmann Inc. had its hands full of contracts, combat assignments and other missions. Not to mention that there had been some interesting developments during Dr. Destroyer's attack and the Blood Moon, for example the sudden appearance of Teleioclones in the middle of Millennium City and the VIPER hostage incident he had just read about. Kaufmann knew that if he wanted to be able to take full advantage of such happenings to further his own goals, he had to be there to get the whole picture. "A little to the left, Roberts.", Kaufmann said to his adjutant and sipped from his tea again. Roberts nodded and made his way to the pilot, carefully avoiding Mr. Cloak and Mr. Dagger who had opened the side hatch of the helicopter to shoot at the hordes of zombies beneath them in the streets, one of them using a high-tech gatling gun and the other a high-powered recoilless rocket launcher. "Mr. Cloak, Mr. Dagger. Turakian Deathlord to the left. Kill it. Again.", Kaufmann ordered and put his cup of tea on the side table and stood up with a pained moan to observe the battle beneath them. Mr. Cloak and Mr. Dagger had already opened fire on the undead sorcerer and Kaufmann nodded his head appreciative as the titanium-tipped gatling rounds and plasma-warhead rockets burst into the horde of zombies around Takofanes' lieutenant.
Of course several other heroes also were present and currently fighting the Deathlord, but right now most of them had pulled back a bit to escape the inferno Cloak and Dagger had unleashed on the undead together with the pilot who had joined in with the helicopter's mounted weapons. Kaufmann grinned as zombies were obliterated left and right. He pushed Mr. Cloak arm slightly to the left so the blast of the next plasma rocket also had a chance to scorch some of the heroes in addition to another bunch of zombies. "Don't worry about friendly fire, gentlemen! Superheroes are invincible, aren't they?", he said to his bodyguards and grinned evilly. Then he turned his head and yelled through the helicopter: "ROBERTS! My rifle!" His grin grew wider as he heard his adjutant cursing as he stumbled through the helicopter to prepare Kaufmann's sniper rifle. "It's good to be back in business...", Kaufmann thought and picked up his cup of tea again.
The Hunter of Skulls was rapidly becoming annoyed.
A few short hours ago he'd finished meeting with the rest of Dead Reckoning, going over all their observations during the fight at Champions HQ. Several tons of Zertstoiten's salvaged tech had been catalogued and stored. Ammunition stocks for the proto-port delivery system were replenished. Minor injuries had been treated and damaged equipment was replaced or repaired. After everyone left, Hunter of Skulls changed into more formal attire and stepped outside, planning on spending the rest of the evening quietly drinking at Vibora Bay's Minefield with his partner.
And now his nicest boots were spattered with zombie gore, he'd lost a few buttons off his shirt and it seemed like every other zombie was intent on snagging the top hat off his head.
Hunter of Skulls leveled both of his vintage MARS Syndicate pistols at the nearest grabby turakian. "Get your own hat.". Both guns fired; the resultant flash and BOOM making it seem more like they exploded instead of just discharging. Hunter of Skulls began firing at a steady pace, fresh .45 Mars Long rounds teleported to the bottom of the guns' magazines from Dead Reckoning's home armory. Somewhere on the other side of the huge crowd of undead was a Deathlord; Hunter of Skulls could feel the tug of its presence like a miniature black hole but he knew other heroes were all ready engaging the creature. Others had to try to contain the zombies before they infected and killed civilians. Hunter of Skulls turned to gun down a few strays and then his entire field of vision flashed white.
When his sight finally cleared, Hunter of Skulls found himself lying in a sprawled, smoking heap. A scorch mark on the pavement surrounded by charred zombies marked the spot where he'd stood just a moment ago. Also next to that mark was a smoldering, tattered ruin that could only be his hat.
A high-pitched whistling sound preceeded another white flash and another knot of zombies turned to kindling. Plasma rockets. The silvery smoke trail angled up from the street in the direction of a helicopter currently idling over the fight, its occupants unloading ordinance with abandon into the melee below. "Oh that is IT. Strelok Dukh.", Hunter of Skulls muttered almost inaudibly, yet the summons was clearly heard by its intended recipient. A tall, angular figure shimmered into view in front of Hunter of Skulls. Glowing amber eyes regarded him from beneath the wide brim of a black leather hat, the rest of the figure was wrapped in black as well from coat collar to boots, accented with buttons and buckles of glinting brass. "Containment. None of these things leave the area, yes?", Hunter of Skulls said. Strelok Dukh's only response was a brusqe nod before it whirled about, caved in a zombie's skull with one metal-capped boot and then began dispassionately dispatching more undead with a graceful combination of small arms fire and hand-to-hand techniques. "I''m going to go have a word with the myopic idiot in the helicopter.", Hunter of Skulls grumbled, flying upwards.
He landed standing with both feet on the helicopter's skid and then... changed. His features ran like molten wax and his body contorted with a sound that suggested a good number of the bones in his body were breaking and then reassembling themselves. The tailored shirt and jacket subsumed themselves beaneath oily black seeping through the fabric that then solidified into overlapping armored plates. The helicopter tilted sideways as he gained mass, engines straining against the sudden addition of nearly a half ton of weight. A rack of twisted horns thrusted upwards through a beastlike mane of black hair and the face beneath took on the sunken and angular contours of a skull; all bleached, polished bone and grinning teeth. The Hunter of Skulls nearly filled the entire side door of the helicopter and he gripped the frame on the left and right with taloned hands, claws puncturing the sheet metal.
"Right. Which one of you morons owes me a new hat?"
"Right. Which one of you morons owes me a new hat?"
Kaufmann stared at the thing clinging to his helicopter with a raised eyebrow. He had to admit it was fast. The thing had flown up from the ground and transformed into what Kaufmann suspected was its true form in a few moments and was now viciously snarling at Kaufmann and his two bodyguards who both had their weapons pointed on the unexpected passenger hanging in the side door of the helicopter. Speaking of the helicopter: The additional weight of the thing gave even the upgraded and powerful engines of Kaufmann's private helicopter a good challenge and the whole vehicle had tilted to the side, causing Kaufmann's cup of tea to fall from the side table and roll over the floor of the vehicle out of the side door. Kaufmann looked after the cup for a second and the corner of his mouth twitched. He then gestured to Mr. Cloak and Mr. Dagger to lower their weapons. Neither of them was any use now. Kaufmann had no doubt that they had enough firepower to damage the demonic looking beast, but he was also sure they would damage the helicopter first.
He stepped forward from behind his bodyguards and defiantly stared in the skull-like face of the thing. He was the Freeshooter, Dr. Pascal Hugo Kaufmann. He had faced undead warlocks, vampire lords and archdemons. He surely wasn't afraid of some skull-faced misfit. "This is a private helicopter. Get lost.", he simply said to the thing and waved his hand dismissively. He listened over the roar of the helicopter engines and the noise of the battle below and could hear Roberts cursing slightly. Apparently he was still preparing Kaufmann's sniper rifle and hadn't even noticed that they had been boarded. "Useless idiot...", Kaufmann thought, then spoke to the thing again: "I'm not telling you again, skull-face. Remove yourself from my helicopter or I'll remove you." The thing stared at Kaufmann for a moment. If it had visible eyes, Kaufmann would've sworn that it would have blinked incredulous a few times at his remark, then the thing snarled at him angrily. Mr. Cloak and Mr. Dagger immediately brought their weapons up again, but Kaufmann just clicked his fingers and they hesitated for a moment before lowering them again.
The staredown continued for another moment, then the skull-like face of the thing contorted as its mouth opened to say something. "I...", it started, then two things interrupted it. The first thing was an angry battlecry; the second thing was the butt of Kaufmann's sniper rifle being hammered into its face with a good amount of force. Roberts had rushed into the back of the helicopter, seen the thing hanging in the side door looking menacingly at his boss and reacted immediately. This was his chance to get back into good grace with Kaufmann! Cloak and Dagger couldn't do anything with their bulky weapons right now and Kaufmann himself was too close to the thing to pull off any of his infamous dirty tricks. So Roberts did the most logical thing: He grabbed the KSW-8, Kaufmann's freakishly huge sniper rifle he had assembled and loaded and rushed to the thing. Shooting it would have been more effective of course, but there was a certain chance that he hit Kaufmann himself and his boss wouldn't be very happy about that. So he used the good old rifle butt. The end of the heavy rifle connected with the face of the surprised beast. Roberts doubted that he had done any lasting damage to the thing, but the momentum and surprise were enough to throw it off guard. Its claws let go of the frame of the side door and for a second it swayed back and forth, balancing on the edge of the vehicle, then it fell out of the helicopter door.
For a split-second silence came over the helicopter, then Kaufmann nodded appreciatively: "Not bad, Roberts." The adjutant grinned at Kaufmann. "I kno...", he started then suddenly the engines of the helicopter shrieked, now working again fully and the whole vehicle jerked back into the usual horizontal position now after the additional weight of the beast didn't strain the engines anymore. The sudden shift of the floor threw Kaufmann and even Cloak and Dagger off balance, but Roberts had the worst luck. With a horrified yell he lost his balance and dropped the heavy sniper rifle to grab the frame of the helicopter door, but it was too late. His hand grabbed nothing and he fell out of the helicopter. On his way down he yelled in fear of death, then halfway on his way to make an ugly stain on the ground he collided with something hard. It all happened way too fast to actually get any details, but out of his peripherals he realized he had fallen right on the demonic-looking beast he had kicked out of the helicopter. Apparently after the initial surprise of being thrown out, it had catched itself in mid-fall and turned around to fly towards Kaufmann's helicopter again. Until it collided with the falling Roberts, which caused both of them to fall to the ground in a knot of limbs now.
A second of shock came over Kaufmann as Roberts had fallen out of the helicopter, then he rushed to the side door and looked out. The only thing he could see was the chaotic battle between the superheroes and the Turakians below. "ROBERTS!", he yelled, already knowing it was futile. No human could survive a fall from this height. He gritted his teeth and hit his fist against the steel frame of the helicopter door, which promptly caused him to hurt his hand at the steel the claws of the beast had shredded. Kaufmann roared angrily and picked up his sniper rifle, firing shots into the crowd below, not caring if he hit zombie, superhero or surviving civilian. "Doctor?", Mr. Dagger asked carefully behind him. Kaufmann whirled around furiously and pressed his rifle into the hands of the surprised Mr. Cloak. "I don't know what that thing was, but it killed Roberts! MY adjutant! An employee of MY company! A human! Some filthy supernatural animal killed a human under my watch! I want that things ugly head on a plate!", he spat out and the two huge bodyguards took a step back, so frightening was Kaufmann's sudden fit of rage. He cursed angrily, which mainly consisted of descriptions which involved the business end of his sniper rifle and the orifices of all metahuman and paranormal beings in the universe, then made his way to the pilot, already yelling to activate the stealth-shields of the helicopter and getting back to base for reinforcements. Mr. Cloak and Mr. Dagger exchanged a glance. Kaufmann's face while swearing revenge had been scarier than the skull-like visage of the thing. Neither Cloak nor Dagger said anything, but both had the same thoughts. This wouldn't end well.
((I really wanted to join in after this, the whole thing was hilarious. Maybe not the smartest idea when Kaufmann is that pissed off, though.))
Below, there was a scream of pain and anger as a couple of Kaufmann's sprayed bullets hit Senka hard in the shoulder. Even as mutated as she was, that hurt. Especially when she'd been awake for nearly three days straight, fighting the undead hordes.
Looking over at her shoulder, she swore quietly in Croatian, which does sound absolutely weird when done with a Detroit accent. In addition to piercing flesh, the bullets had broken part of her cybernetics. A snapped tube was spilling a glowing pale blue fluid across the shoulder, which stung badly. As if the readouts showing that the armor was on its way to breaking down wasn't enough.
Gritting her teeth, she activated the jetpack on her back, flying over to the helicopter, figuring that the bullets had to have come from there.
Landing in the open door, she looked at the assembled humans. "Which one of you broke my armor?" she stated flatly, pointing with one clawed, gloved hand at her shoulder.
Mr. Cloak and Mr. Dagger stared at the heroine in the battered armor. The heroine stared back. The look on the faces of the two nearly identical huge bodyguards was priceless: Somewhere between shock, surprise and plain disbelief. Mr. Dagger turned his head towards Mr. Cloak who shrugged slightly, or maybe his shoulders just finally gave way to the weigth of the gatling gun AND Kaufmann's sniper rifle he was holding. This awkward scene continued for a few seconds, then the helicopter engines roared and the vehicle started moving. Suddenly an angry voice yelled from the cockpit: "Mr. Dagger!!! Get over here NOW! I know you can fly a helicopter and the pilot... uhm... hit his head! Very hard! No external application of force in a fit of rage! If someone asks and nobody will, but if, he still looked pretty conscious when I came here... Why am I justify... GET THE HELL UP HERE!!!"
Mr. Dagger looked at Mr. Cloak, then at the waiting heroine, then back towards the cockpit. He repeated that pattern two more times then walked to Mr. Dagger, completely ignoring the angry heroine. Angry superhuman was bad, angry Dr. Kaufmann was worse. He pressed his rocket launcher into Mr. Cloak's hands who now really started to sway back and forth under the weigth of the three huge weapons he was holding, then turned to the heroine. "Seriously, get out. It's for the better.", Mr. Dagger simply said and walked to the cockpit, leaving the overencumbered Mr. Cloak alone with the heroine, who now looked more confused than angry.
"Okay, seriously what the hell...", the heroine started confused but still angry nobody in this chopper was paying real attention to her. "...is going on here, for f*cks sake?", Dr. Kaufmann finished her sentence as he waltzed into the back of the helicopter again, face crimson red with anger. The heroine opened her mouth, but Kaufmann cut her off: "No, really? What does this look like to you people? A public transport? This is Predator-1, my own personal, private transport helicopter! Can't you people get that in those thick skulls you carry around? Or are those just so it doesn't rain into your necks? I mean, seriously! Look around! You see that chair and side table? Quality aluminum with mahagoni wood and REAL black drake leather! Do you know what that costs? More than a VIPER agent makes in a whole year!!! Do you think I'm putting those things in here, so random heroes can waltz in? 'Haha! Look at Kaufmann Inc.! They have mahagoni furniture!' You know who else has mahagoni furniture? Vladic Dracul of Vibora Bay! Does he constantly have to put up with people storming into his crypt? BLOODY NO! So why do I? Listen, lady I really don't know what this is about and frankly I. Don't. Bloody. Care!!! I'm telling you, I've got a concussion and thus the worst headache since I was up against Medusa with only a box of nails as a weapon, a whole can of sinfully expensive Chinese tea spiked with even more expensive Irish whiskey just fell out of this helicopter and probably hit the head of Takofanes' dogsbody down there of who I'm sure wouldn't even know expensive tea and whiskey anymore even if IT HIT HIM ON THE HEAD, my personal adjutant just got killed by something which even Tim Burton would have found too cheesy and now another BLOODY cape is waltzing into my helicopter like it's the freaking Museum of the Battle of Detroit on a public holiday, not too mention that the latest addition to this merry little band of unwanted visitors is leaking some barely identifiable blue goo on the floor of my private chopper, which hasn't happened since I had a pair of succubi in here, which I was preparing to throw into a bloody volcano, which they found hot in several meanings!!! Seriously, WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG HERE??? Now get off this helicopter before I shove a sniper rifle so deep up a very special part of your anatomy that I can use you as a BLOODY SILENCER!!!"
The heroine stared at him with her mouth open. Mr. Cloak looked from the heroine to Kaufmann and back. Then he catched the heroine's gaze and silently formed words with his mouth: Get. The. Hell. Away...
((While he did put a bit of words into her mouth there, they did fit quite well, so...not complaining. Also, the rant was priceless.))
Urgh. Why did she even bother? Fortunately she had experience with this kind of boss. She could rant and rave and kick things, but it would benefit her just as much as tapdancing through Project Awakening naked.
Shaking her head, Senka covered her eyes with her hands for a second. Though one of them was green and over two meters tall, and the other dressed in a pretty nice suit, they looked pretty much equally tired and worn out at this point.
But he was right. It was pretty nice furniture. "At this point, I would have asked which kind of VIPER agent, as the payscale varies with seniority and ability to kiss the Supreme Serpent's posterior, but this really isn't the time for levity." She pointed at the broken piece of cybernetics, which was currently dripping fluid down her arm and onto the carpet. "Somebody on this chopper broke my armor, but I see I should just have sent a bill instead." She paused. "In case you need kindling for a fire." The last bit was said with a rather bitter sigh.
Looking over her shoulder out of the helicopter, she shrugged. "I'll see myself out." She grabbed the edge of the helicopter, swinging herself down towards the nearest building. At this point, she didn't trust the jetpack at all. It had been coughing nastily.
The Hunter of Skulls looked up from where he was lying in the wreckage of a parked car and watched Senka fly off. Apparently the helicopter crew was ticking EVERYONE off today. He shifted to try and get up and that's when he noticed he wasn't alone.
There was a body sprawled across him. Hunter of Skulls grabbed the collar of the man's shirt and lifted him. Even through the blood and rapidly-darkening bruises he recognized the face. It was the daft b*stard who'd hit him in the face with a rifle stock. He appeared to be breathing but probably had more than a few broken bones; Hunter of Skulls had taken the brunt of the impact with the car but his armor didn't really make for a soft landing. If Hunter of Skulls had eyes in his sockets, he'd have rolled them. "A+ for guts. F- for follow-through. Next time you should buckle your safety belt.". Hunter of Skulls let out an exasperated exhalation and slowly clambered off the car while carrying Roberts. in one hand and the rifle in his other. "I suppose I should get you to the EMTs.", the Hunter rumbled. "Serve you right if I left you in the street though. But that's not how I play the game.". Hunter of Skulls carried the unconscious Roberts to where a group of medics was working on injured heroes and civilians alike. The Hunter placed him on an available gurney, then hefted the rifle. "Decent design. Optics survived the impact. More than fair compensation for the hat, I'm thinking.". Hunter of Skulls sat heavily on the tailgate of a nearby truck. "Guess we'll wait for your boss to come collect you. Hopefully he's not as cheap as he is rude.".
((this is helping me keep my sanity at work, thank you all))
"Activate.", Kaufmann said and the technician nodded and got to work. One after the other, the monitors covering the whole wall in front of them sprung to life. After the heroine had left his private chopper there had been no more unfortunate incidents on their way to the HQ of Kaufmann Inc. on the outskirts of Millennium City and Kaufmann's rage had somehow cooled down. Not that it was better now. Instead of a burning anger, there was now a cold and calculating hatred, much more typical of the mercenary mastermind. "How long until we have something?", he asked the technician and lit a cigarette. "About two minutes, doctor.", the technician said nervously. He had only heard rumors about what happened on Kaufmann's flight to Millennium City, but you didn't need to be psychic to know from Kaufmann's behaviour that something had went terribly wrong. But the technician was also smart enough not to ask his boss, who was currently pacing up and down in the observation room of the Kaufmann Inc. HQ, which was filled with radio's, monitors and other spy hardware. They were alone.
"I give you one more minute.", Kaufmann said dangerously quiet. The technician gulped and desperately tried to prepare the systems faster. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity to both of the - albeit out of different reasons - the technician sighed relieved. "Doctor, we have a picture now.", he said and Kaufmann walked back to the monitor wall. "Show me.", he demanded and the technician typed some commands in. On one of the monitors a familiar scene appeared.
...
James Roberts, personal adjutant of Dr. Kaufmann was comatose. That sounded worse than it actually was, because he wasn't in any danger right now. He still was where the supernatural hero Hunter had placed him: At the EMT camp near the latest battleground against Takofanes' servants, somewhere in Millennium City. Nobody was paying too much attention to him, since he wasn't in any danger of dying right now. Not the EMTs, MCPD running around securing the area or one of the superheroes still hanging around the place, either being tended to by the medics, helping the MCPD or just plain old resting.
The Hunter of Skulls was also still sitting around, clutching a half-broken KSW-8 sniper rifle, one of Kaufmann's personal weapons and waiting for Kaufmann himself or at least someone of Kaufmann Inc. showing up to retrieve Roberts. Then Roberts' cybernetic eye started to hum, barely audible and opened. The lens swirled around and finally focused on the Hunter.
...
"Do we have sound too?", Kaufmann asked slightly annoyed at being presented a silent movie. The technician shrugged. "I can get sound too, but that would take about half an hour of further adjustments to the...", he said but Kaufmann cut him off "Okay, okay, okay... Zoom here a bit..." The technician did so and Kaufmann gritted his teeth. "That thing... has one of MY rifles!", Kaufmann spat out angrily "It's touching one of MY rifles with its filthy supernatural claws!" The technician stealthily moved his office chair a bit away from Kaufmann just to be sure. "Everything alright, doctor?", he asked carefully. Kaufmann started to chuckle quietly, then it got louder and louder until it was a full blown villainous cackling.
The technician looked at him shocked and confused. Kaufmann slowly calmed down again, then looked at the man. "Tell me... Did anyone ever tell you what my personal equipment is infamous for internally?", Kaufmann asked with a sadistic grin. The technician stared at his boss for a moment, then it came to him. Kaufmann was famous for rigging his equipment - all of it, be it spent ammo clips, weapons, gadgets and whatnot - with tiny, but powerful charges of remote-detonated Fordite explosives. The technician understood and smiled uncertain. "Yes, you understand...", Kaufmann said with a smug grin and leaned back in the office chair he had slouched down on. "Let him have my scope! Let him use it too! I'm gonna wait just for the right moment... Maybe when he's surrounded by Mega-Destroids and needs to rely on the thing and then... Boom. One hero less.", Kaufmann said and lit another cigarette. "Brilliant, doctor!", the technician said eagerly, trying to maybe milk Kaufmann's sudden good mood for a raise. "Thank you... Now... Would you please start to work on sound here? I'm sure they're soon going to bring what's left of Roberts into Mercy Hospital and we all know that right now there's no better place to... listen in on the various heroes who got injured during Dr. Destroyer's attack or the Blood Moon. All of them at their weakest... Such a tragedy...", Kaufmann said coldly and the technician immediately got to work.
((Don't worry, last bit for today. Just needed to get this out already so Kaufmann has a chance to know about the UNTIL Carrier event.))
((this may or may not be the last bit for me today too))
Hunter of Skulls, having waited until he was certain Roberts would receive medical attention, shifted back to his human guise and got ready to head home. Sadly, he was still missing several shirt buttons, wearing viscera-streaked boots, sported several scorched holes in his cape and of course his hat was a complete loss. On the plus side, he'd helped contain a pretty serious supernatural outbreak and he had an interesting new piece of tech to examine. "Strelok Dukh.", again a whispered summons and again a near-instant response as the elegant scarecrow figure of the gunslinger spirit manifested before the Hunter. Hunter of Skulls handed the huge sniper rifle over to the silent being. "Take this back to base. I want it set up in the WORKBENCH and programmed for detailed teardown in the next hour. Put Destroyer's tech on hold for now; the optics on this are intriguing, the machining is top-notch and I want to see if there are any innovations here that might be of use to us. Strelok Dukh took the rifle from Hunter of Skulls and shimmered out of sight again.
Hunter of Skulls flew into the night sky; he'd check on Strelok Dukh's progress later. He was certain the spirit construct was probably nearly finished with the disassembly process anyway. Right now, there was a cold drink and a warm smile waiting for him at the Minefield.
Kaufmann's people might have a little trouble getting the blue goo off the carpet. At least it wasn't radioactive, just a mix of liquid Draysha and a few other chemicals, mostly combat drugs. Stuck to cloth and fibers like Destroyer's armor to the man himself, though.
Senka finally managed to make her way down to the ground, not too far from the EMTs. Not wanting to go right back into Mercy, she borrowed some duct tape and a bottle of rubbing alcohol. It took a bit of time to tape the cybernetic back up and then remove the goo stuck to her arm. The undershirt was definitely a loss. But what worried her more was that it wasn't the armor. It was the cybernetic. Stupid monstrous thing. She swore quietly under her breath. Unfortunately she couldn't just yank the thing out, if she wanted to still be able to use the arm.
Finally deciding she needed her own tools to try to fix things, she stood up, putting the roll of duct tape and the rubbing alcohol down on a gurney.
Hey...hadn't the rude fellow with the nice suit said something about a can of tea falling out of the chopper?
She headed back into the mess of dead Turakians. With a bit of luck, the thing had survived the impact.
Moving a few bodies aside, she soon found what looked like it, buried halfway into the Deathlord's brain. With a wrench, Senka pulled it out. Shaking off the worst of the brain-matter, she unscrewed the lid and took a small sip. Wow. That man hadn't been kidding. This was good stuff through and through.
Putting the lid back on, she decided to start walking back towards her apartment, can still in hand. With the readouts currently telling her the armor was at 35%, she wasn't going to fly.
Hunter of Skulls wandered downstairs from his Vibora Bay townhouse to the garage, bleary-eyed and clutching a giant stainless steel mug full of steaming coffee. He keyed in a short code sequence on the pad next to a wall rack of tools, which then quietly slid to the side to reveal a long stairwell that descended down out of sight. Minutes later he was in the main room of the headquarters he shared with Nemesis, Mertvaya Ruka, Nachthexe and Strelok Dukh. As usual he was the first one awake, his partially demonic nature having said "Screw that noise." to circadian rhythm many years ago. At least it hadn't taken his taste for coffee.
The Hunter gulped down more coffee and headed for the lab/machine shop/workroom where tech confiscated from supervillains was examined, torn down, catalogued and occasionally reverse-engineered. The process was relatively streamlined thanks to a rapid-prototyping system stolen from Argent about four years ago; inside the vaultlike room robotic arms carefully disassembled items while laser-scanning the dimensions of individual parts, checking material composition, plotting the assembly of the entire item and storing all the information for later duplication or modification. These days the room itself was insulated with several layers of lead backed up by a Faraday cage, a quarter inch thick layer of silver and iron laminate and several feet of steel-reinforced concrete. Sometimes "borrowed" tech has owners that are both eager to get it back and fully capable of reducing the property value of the entire neighborhood to negative numbers.
Hunter of Skulls unlatched the heavy door to the workroom; although it weighed several tons it was so perfectly hinged it swung open with oiled ease. The damaged rifle he'd taken possession of last night lay disassembled on the WORKBENCH, broken down to its smallest pins and springs and... something he didn't recognize.
His eyes narrowed at the small, cylindrical objects set by themselves away from the other parts. "Whazzat?", he mumbled. "Explosives.", came a reply from somewhere behind him.
"GAH!".
Hunter of Skulls whirled around, seeing Strelok Dukh standing near the computer-run lathe. Doubtless the construct been here all night, standing in the same spot like a statue, idle but never sleeping. "You know, if you keep doing that, I'm going to seriously start doubting the whole 'I don't have a sense of humor I'm aware of' thing.", the Hunter grumbled. He could swear he felt a grin behind that featureless mask. "Now what's this about explosives?".
"Composition, Fordite. Method of detonation, narrow-band encrypted radio signal side-by-side with audio and limited visual surveilance capability. Status, disabled.".
"Disabled, well that's something at least. Pretty sure 'exploding' wasn't on my to-do list this morning. Clever b*stard this Kaufmann, isn't he?"
Strelok Dukh paused for a moment, then responded with the same clinical tone used to describe the devices, "I do not understand the correlation between intelligence and illegitimate birth.".
Hunter of Skulls waved his hand. "Rhetorical question. But I think you knew that. Anyway, this is a pretty good find. High explosive payload in a very small package, plus precise control of detonation. I'm thinking we could adapt this tech to upgrade Nachthexe and Mertvaya Ruka's anti-armor capabilities. Let's get this added to the database, run some test builds and... oh yeah. Take the surveilance devices and dump them in the bathrooms at the Dog Pound. Meet me in the main room when you're done.".
Strelok Dukh gathered up the small electronics in a gloved hand, walked out of the workroom and vanished. The Hunter of Skulls was almost certain he heard a dry sound approximating a chuckle, but shook his head and returned to his coffee.
Hugh scrutinized the box warily. It was about six inches long, and its black spiky exterior radiated dark, vaguely familiar energies. Why had she brought it to him? Mr. Mann hadn't been trained in the magical arts, but he still knew this box was bad news. Of course, the bloodstains on its sharp spikes were a bit of a giveaway.
"Where did you find this, Emma?" The office worker finally asked.
"Deathlord," the Manimal replied, continuing to toy with her skull earrings. Hugh wasn't entirely sure how she, an emu, could wear earrings. Did she even have ears behind that black hair? Her next question broke his train of thought. "So? What do you think about it?"
"It's definitely evil," he said.
"Duh."
Hugh ignored the teen's rudeness. "Takofanes is the Deathlord's master, so it's a likely conclusion that the box belongs to him. I think it's from the Netherworld, but I don't know much about magic. Why didn't you bring this to Witchcraft? I'm just a weapons expert."
Emma rolled her orange eyes. "Witchcraft? More like Bitc--"
"Emma!"
"Oh, what, you have a crush on her? Typical middle aged man," she muttered. The emu was clearly carrying a grudge.
"I don't have a crush!" Hugh protested and quickly changed topic. "Why didn't you ask a magic expert for help? Why me?"
"Because I already tried Sos. She said it was from the Netherworld too."
Hugh frowned. Sauce? Why was a mage named after what you put on spaghetti? "Then why do you need my opinion?"
"You're good with locks. Can you open it?"
"Locks? I didn't see a--" Oh. There is was. "I don't think opening this is a good idea," he said as he began fiddling with it. "Ever heard of Pandora?"
Her eyes rolled again. "You people are obsessed with that story. Can you unlock the stupid thing or not?"
"No," Hugh said. "It looks like it needs a special key."
"Sos said that too. Hand it over," she pointed at the box. "I'll get someone with super strength to smash it open since you can't."
Hugh carefully obeyed, trying not to stab either of them with it. "With those spikes, they'd just get injured."
"So I'll pay someone invulnerable. Duh," the Manimal said and stuffed the evil box in her backpack.
"And if that doesn't work?"
Emma shrugged. "Tie a rope around it, swing it at villains' heads. You know a better use for an unbreakable box?"
Hugh watched her walk out of his office. That weapon was going to kill someone. Wonder when her manslaughter trial would be televised?
Late afternoon in Vibora Bay found the members of Dead Reckoning gathered around the conference table in their shared headquarters beneath the Hunter of Skulls' townhouse, going over the events of the past few weeks and discussing possible future troubles.
"Okay, so this is what we've got so far. We've got a boatload of captured tech from Zerstoiten's toys warehoused, seems like his teleportation tech has been improved so that'll be in the next update for the proto-port ammunition delivery system. Speaking of ammunition, we also have the wonderful Dr. Kaufmann to thank for the new lightweight range-specific detonation anti-armor rounds Mertvaya Ruka and Nachthexe will be using. Let's be sure to send him a thank-you fruit basket or something. He seems like an 'Edible Arrangements' kinda guy to me. There were very minimal civilian casualties from the last Bloodmoon but as you all know we're coming up on Halloween so that means Takofanes himself is going to be paying us a visit. I'll be ramping up production on all munitions in anticipation of us being up to our frickin' eyeballs in turakians again. Just in time for that, Anarchodroid's retrofit has been finished and his combat efficiency is vastly improved by the addition of the flame projectors and thermal energy converters we 'borrowed' from Argent last month. And lastly, Nemesis appears to have made herself a new friend; one of Teleios' happy little duplicates has it in for her now after she told some interviewer for WCOC that she depopulated the entire Tower in Canada by herself. So, what, a rogue angel wasn't trouble enough for you luv?"
Nemesis gave a brief snort of laughter. "I needed someone more ridiculous as an enemy and Camiel doesn't have an entire Youtube video series dedicated to him.". Hunter of Skulls still had trouble reconciling Nemesis' normal human appearance with the towering amazonian creature she became when her patron deity empowered her. But, as a 5'1" pixieish Goth girl, she wasn't constantly bashing her head on the ceiling. "Besides, I think Six got the message after that battlefield surgery episode. And I think he realized that sending pizza delivery guys to the house that looked like Teleios wearing a fake mustache wasn't going to work either. And the pizza was cold.".
Hunter of Skulls chuckled. "You should have asked for a refund. Okay, anybody got anything else?", he asked. No one responded. "All right then. Let's take the rest of the day off yeah?".
Senka glared at the box sitting on the windowsill. It was black, spiky and very locked. The small pile of broken lockpicks sitting behind her told the tale of her efforts to get it open.
Also, she'd cut her finger on its spikes.
With a small growl, she tied a long rope around the box, and threw it hard at one of the pigeons outside. End result, one flattened pigeon stuck to the thing.
Hmm... The next few minutes were spent flattening pigeons and throwing them one by one into the cookpot. That was one lunch she didn't have to buy. And when she saw that oaf Kal-Turak again, she was going to hit him with the thing. Preferably in a very sensitive spot. Provided that hadn't rotted off.
Kaufmann Inc. quartermaster Frederik Mullins rolled his eyes as another black van drove down the ramp to the underground motor pool of the Kaufmann Inc. HQ. "Another f*cking delivery...", he grumbled as the black van with the logo of Kaufmann Inc. on the side stopped next to him with screeching tires. The doors opened and two very tired looking soldiers climbed out and went to the back of the car to open the doors to the cargo area. "Don't tell me...", Mullins started, then just sighed annoyed as he glimpsed into the van. The whole cargo area was stuffed from top to bottom with with black boxes, each of them out of a glossy black metal and decorated with intricate but macabre designs and wicked looking spikes and about the size of a shoe box. "That's the fourth one this day!", Mullins said angrily. The two soldiers turned around and looked at Mullins with tired expressions. "There are two more already on the way, Sir...", one of the soldiers sighed. Mullins was tempted to throw the clipboard he was holding at the stack of boxes or into the face of the soldier, but restrained himself.
"What the hell are those things? They can't be opened by any means we know of, they cant be broken, hell we can't even scan them for any valuable data!", Mullins exclaimed agitated and scribbled something on his clipboard. The other soldier shrugged. "No idea, Sir. All we know is that Takofanes' rotting shamblers are throwing them around like candy on Halloween... Sir. So where do you want us to unload them?", he said. Mullins sighed again and took a quick glimpse on his clipboard. "Then bring them to storage room 24-B for f*cks sake...", Mullins mumbled and started to contact the personnel in said storage room, who were also less than pleased to receive yet another load of the strange boxes. In fact, as of late nearly all previously unoccupied storage rooms of the Kaufmann Inc. HQ were almost full of the things. "Sir?", one of the soldiers already carrying four of the boxes towards the storage room suddenly stopped. Mullins looked up. "What?", he asked, maybe a bit more angry than necessary. The soldier ignored it. "What exactly are the plans for these things? I mean... Why are we stockpiling them like they are gilded questionite nuggets?", the soldier asked.
Mullins sighed. "Orders from very high up the command chain, soldier.", he simply answered and pretended to study his clipboard again. The soldier already turned around again, then Mullins let out a snort which caused the soldier to stop in his tracks. "If you want to know it, soldier...", Mullins said, "Orders from the boss himself. He does have a plan for those things. I think the plan is quite clever, but it still has a certain air of lunacy around it, but that's nothing new in this company, huh? Well, anyway... The boss plans to issue every Kaufmann Inc. soldier, no matter the exact division one or more of these boxes to carry into the field. In case they are defeated by superheroes or other law enforcement, every man is to drop one of these boxes as a distraction to prevent whoever defeated them from looting anything actually valuable from them... You know... Equipment, weapons, modification cores... All that stuff. I guess the rumours were true and the boss really lost one of his sniper rifles in battle and is overreacting a bit now... Well, anyway that's the plan.", Mullins explained to the soldier in a tired voice. The soldier listened until the end, then raised an eyebrow. "Well... That is clever... But that's really something only the boss would think of... Sometimes I think I should have signed up with VIPER... I bet they don't have to lug around metal boxes for no reason than to drop them in an emergency...", the soldier simply said and continued his way towards the storage room.
In his head Mullins kind of agreed with him and finished noting the delivery on his clipboard, when he noticed the other soldier who had apparently also been listening in on the conversation. "Sir... Speaking of the boss... Have you heard anything?", the soldier asked and picked up a box which was fallen out of his hands. Mullins shrugged. "Only what everyone has heard.", he said, "That the boss has locked himself in the surveillance room for almost three days now with his secretary, only coming out to eat and sleep." The soldier pondered that for a moment. "You know that WOULD be kinda hot if the boss was a hot chick like that Devana Hawke, but like it is, it's just freaky.", the soldier said and carried his stack of black boxes towards the storage room. Mullins wanted to say something, but the only thing he could say as another black van drove down the ramp was: "F*CK!"
Dr. Destiny sighed heavily. He thought something - well - interesting had occurred when Westside's gangs had suddenly begun radiating evil magic. He'd gone into their midst, using his degree in Applied Thaumaturgy in ways that would have made some of his professors faint, pressing his powers to their limit - and every time he thought he'd rooted out the demonic taint, it turned out that one of them was carrying one of these stupid boxes. Black, spiky, cold to the touch, and seemingly impossible to open or damage in any way, at least at the power levels available to Dr. Randall Destiny at the moment, they seemed to have no purpose whatsoever, aside from the magic-radiation thing.
He sighed again, tossed the ugly little box through the dimensional portal, and closed his storage pocket. There had to be somebody who'd want these damned things. He'd heard rumors of a mercenary company offering a price for them - a low price, to be sure, but more than they were worth to him. Then again, maybe he should check the price on eBay...
"Science teaches us to expect -- demand -- more than just eerie mysteries. What use is a puzzle that can't be solved? Patience is fine, but I'm not going to stop asking the universe to make sense!"
Flying relatively peacefully over the rooftops of Millennium City, CharmCaster was enjoying the breeze in her hair and the warm inviting sunlight on her skin, her electrical levitation incantation was almost used up so she decided for find a safe place to land, as she approached the building a wave of mystic energy radiated outwards ending the incantation early and knocking her out of the sky, sending her spinning towards the ground. She braced for impact as best as she could before a swift force seemed to pull her sideways, she looked up to find herself in the firm grip of a fellow superhero, who was, exceptionally muscular.
"Thank you."
"No problem, just doing my job. You have any idea what that wave of energy was for? I mean it doesnt seem to have had any---"
His sentence was cut short as the ground beneath them seemed to erupt spewing necrulitic energies in the form of purple protoplasm, with it came legions of the undead. CharmCaster knew what was going on straight way, around the same time last year, she had encountered this problem before. It was Takofanes, or as some younger heroes call him, Takoface. Either way this was bad news. Other heroes had already started swarming to the Downtown area near Harmon Labs and had begun engaging the army of the undead creatures.
CharmCaster muttered her levitation incantation and was lifted into the air by the electrical energy in the air. She looked around and noticed that this wasnt localised to one area, it seemed to cover Millennium City in a scarlet shroud of dark magic. Many a mage had tried to dispell the dark magic and had been fatally wounded as a result.
Her attention was brought back to the battle after a zombie lept up and grabbed onto her foot and started trying to chew through her boot. She kicked it off and then summoned a bolt of lightning to strike it down, she muttered a few other spells before striking down multiple zombies helping to aid the effort to drive them back to where they came.
She looked to her left as one wizard appeared beside her and shouted as he fired a stream of cleansing magic energy;
"YOU SHALL NOT PASS! GO BACK TO WHENCE THOU CAME!!"
CharmCaster rolled her eyes. Wizards...soo dramatic. As time went on the odds seemed to be falling in the heroes favor, thanks to the abundance of charms and luck spells she had conjoured up.
Then things changed. A new bigger zombie was summoned up through the erupted earth, coated in a field of ancient magic. Heroes valiantly tried to attack but to no avail, the shield was of ancient and very powerful dark magic. Not even the scrolls of the Ancient Ones covered dark magic to this extent, the shield was impenetrable. One of the heroes below noted that it was an old hero known as Vanguard, to which the zombie responded.
Soon enough the Hex Shield around the zombie Vanguard dropped and he drew his bow and arrow and began to attack. CharmCaster's runes and spells were being hexed by the zombie's lingering magic resulting in a lack of potency, she had but only one choice. Ancient Magic.
She focused her energy and muttered a lengthy chant which drew on the power of the natural world, in this case, Lightning. She was struck by a beam of yellow energy from the sky and was infused with ancient energy, which she quickly directed out of her at the zombie, significantly injuring it, within 10 seconds the active damage of the heroes soon out balanced the hex magic, nullifying it and the zombies then retreated back to the purple plasma, but not without having turned some civilians into zombies themselves.
Her incantation ended and she was slowly let down towards the earth, the ancient magic had hexed her slightly, making her unable to focus ancient magic for a while.
"Urgh, that was disgusting" Gildar the Warlock grimaced as he wiped the vomit from his feet.
CharmCaster laughed at him and picked out the bits of rotting flesh which had stuck to her.
She noticed a small black and rather volatile looking box which seemed to appear out of nowhere to her left, she attempted to open it but it wouldnt budge, she tried various spells but it seemed to be very well protected, she placed it in her Dimension Bag and figured there were more important things to think about than a small box, which didnt seem to hold any value.
The Wizard standing next to her looked around and summoned a cleansing ward which evaporated all traces of undead and healed the ailments of a majority of heroes in the surrounding area. The only thing which seemed to defy cleasing was the rupture in the earths surface, even some earth manipulators were unable to close it.
Instead the rupture sprouted two earthen arcs infused with necrullitic energy and a portal formed between them, shining with dark purple energy.
Few heroes ventured near it, most left the area. CharmCaster was eager to check it out, she beckoned Gildar and they approached the portal. Before they could go any further a beam of bright almost burning light appeared blocking their path, the light faded and an angelic like creature was infront of them, her wings were extraordinarily large and she seemed to have an essense of purity about her.
"I will accompany you, my assistance will be needed. I am Alara the Light Guardian."
CharmCaster wasnt about to argue or refuse, she simply nodded and the three continued onwards followed by the wizard who introduced himself as Zolto.
Alara breached the portal's magical window and stepped in, followed by Gildar and Zolto, CharmCaster looked around and then stepped in.
She had a bad feeling about this, even with all their mojo...
Destiny looked up. "Sorry, Karen," he said to the young grad student who was assisting his research. "Just figured out what's up with these boxes. Takofanes is being exceptionally clever this time."
"What do you mean?" Karen asked. "They're well-sealed boxes, requiring specialized techniques to open, that have a few trinkets inside and radiate magic like nobody's business. The trinkets aren't cursed or anything, though - are they?" There was a slight quaver in her voice as she finished.
Destiny chuckled. "Nothing that obvious, no," he replied. "It's the magic in the boxes itself that's clever. Looks like every time one is opened, there's a tiny pulse, barely noticeable - that shakes the dimensional membranes. Open enough of them, and Tako can enter this world much more easily than usual, meaning he'll have a bigger reserve of power to fight us all with when he breaks through."
"Oh, no!" The girl looked nervously about. "How soon do you think he'll try--" A sudden shaking interrupted her. In the distance, they could hear an ancient voice ranting at magically-enhanced volume.
"Oh, about now, I'd say. Stay here. I'll be back."
"Science teaches us to expect -- demand -- more than just eerie mysteries. What use is a puzzle that can't be solved? Patience is fine, but I'm not going to stop asking the universe to make sense!"
Weeks after the battle at Champions HQ, 43762-A still hurt. His convalescence hadn't been aided by the Teleiologist strapping to a bed for torture with YouTube comments.
The Teleioclone winced. What the hell was he thinking, attacking a Mega-Destroid? Why had he spoken to Lancaster and her cameraman? What was wrong with him? Besides the obvious 'brain damage due to his idiocy'. If he wasn't the Teleiologist's favorite cook, he'd be dead right now. Many of his siblings still wanted him ripped apart by rabid Teleiosaurs. Oh, they didn't say anything, but their cold stares said all that needed to be said.
It was odd, then, that they still allowed him to prepare their meals.
43762-A shrugged to himself and continued chopping strawberries. Six had wanted a fruit salad today. It was ridiculously easy to make, so he watched the news while he worked. The recent zombie attacks distracted the media's Teleioclone obsession, which was a blessing. He couldn't take any more discussions about him between Z-list celebrities and washed up news reporters.
The Mark I rather liked this new development. All the footage of Takofanes' undead minions eased his homesickness, and the live feed of rotting organs splattering heroes' faces was hilarious. He'd even seen one zombie rip its own head off and hurl it at a heroine! Much better than the videos of him getting smacked by a giant robot!
But back to preparing his employer's meal. Did Six want the salad in a carved out pineapple again? If he did, he was going to be disappointed. Whoever was in charge of groceries during 43762-A's absence had done a shoddy job of restocking his kitchen. There was no milk, no bread, no flour, no eggs.... He could probably steal some of the latter from the hatchery, but recalculating recipes that used chicken eggs into recipes that used giant dinosaur eggs gave him a headache.
Made scrambled egg breakfasts easier to cook, though.
A clip of the Archlich's attack on Champions HQ caught the clone's eye. That had better not be what the 43762-A thought it was. The Mark I peered closely at the TV screen, intensely focused upon a tanned, dark-haired man. The hero looked like an excellent specimen as he punched a zombie's head off, but the clone wasn't concerned about his physique.
No, he was fixated on the man's clothing. His very, very familiar clothing. A dent in the armor where a Nether Demon's sword had been deflected. A small burn from a Steelhead soldier's laser fire. A scratch from the Warbeasts getting too rough while they played. All barely noticeable clues, but the clone knew them well. It was unmistakable now.
Dr. Kaufmann was sitting in his office and reviewing the latest mission reports. It had been a quiet week. There had been few missions, mostly because heroes were gathering in Millenium City to defend their haven against the prophecied return of Takofanes during Halloween, so the demand for private security services was low. Kaufmann was okay with that: It gave him enough time to gather his thoughts, rest after Dr. Destroyers attack and the following chaos and to prepare. Three things were occupying Kaufmann's attention currently.
First, there was the obvious matter of the aftermath of Dr. Destroyers attack, which had cost Kaufmann his adjutant Roberts, who was comatose, one of his beloved sniper rifles and - as he saw it - much of his dignity. Kaufmann did not forget. He was not currently planning revenge on the two heroes who had boarded his private helicopter as he frankly was too busy right now - he had a company to run after all - but he'd remember that day.
Second, the boxes. Kaufmann would never admit it, but the idea with the boxes came to him during a particulary nasty drinking session with his secretary. But luckily he didn't have to justify anything here: It worked. After Kaufmann Inc. had started to buy up all the boxes they could find for a ridiculously low price and started to issue every soldier one or more of the strange black boxes, equipment losses had went down to almost 1 %. For some strange reason the heroes and villains who managed to defeat his troops were much more interested in the useless boxes than in the technology and equipment his soldier carried in the field. Kaufmann found it kind of hilarious. He had indirectly managed to bribe superheroes.
And last but not least: Dr. Destroyer. Kaufmann was sure that the attack on the Champions HQ hadn't been the last the world would see of Dr. Destroyer and his robot armies. The important question was: What would come next and how could it benefit Kaufmann Inc.? Unfortunately Kaufmann was at a loss. None of his contacts could dig up any information. Not that it surprised him, it was Dr. Destroyer after all, but even the direct link into the 'Superhero Haven', as he had started to call Mercy Hospital, had brought him any infos. The cybernetic eye of his comatose adjutant Roberts was sending audio and video data non-stop, but until now, nothing even remotely interesting had come up. The first days he had spent every minute in the surveillance room of the Kaufmann Inc. HQ, but after a while his frustration had beaten his enthusiasm and now 'Roberts Duty' was the newest disciplinary measure of Kaufmann Inc. and even more hated by the soldiers than cleaning the toilets.
Kaufmann sighed. His head hurt and the cigarette he was smoking tasted stale. He had reached a dead end here. Maybe it would be better to take the last few days until Halloween off, to relax properly? Kaufmann pondered that thought and actually already started to pack his stuff into his briefcase to go home, when the door of his office suddenly opened and his secretary rushed in. "Pascal!", Janine yelled and panted heavily, apparently she had been running all the way into his office. "It's here!", she said eagerly and held up a small black leather suitcase about the size of a shoe box. Kaufmann dropped everything he was currently holding and a big grin creeped on his face. "Really?", he asked and closed the distance between her and him in record time. She smiled at him and held the briefcase up. Kaufmann reached for it, but in the last second she pulled it away and pointed at her cheek with a sly grin. Kaufmann sighed, but didn't care in that moment. He gave his secretary a quick kiss on the cheek and grabbed the briefcase. After that he immediately made his way out of the office and down the next corridor, Janine on his heels.
"Is this really what I think it is, Pascal? What we were talking about?", she asked with awe in her voice as they entered the elevator. The elevator doors closed and Kaufmann nodded, still grinning like a maniac. He pushed the button for the basement and the elevator started to move down without a sound. Janine checked her reflection in the mirrored elevator walls for a second, then turned to Kaufmann again, who nodded at her excited. "Oh, yes. This is our Halloween gift to this city, Janine...", Kaufmann said as the elevator doors opened again. They were in the lowest basement level of the Kaufmann Inc. HQ. The featureless walls consisted of grey concrete, illuminated by white neon tubes, which gave them a cold, sterile look, like everywhere else in the HQ. In fact down here it was even worse. The maze-like corridors of the basement, together with the sterile architecture gave it the appearance of an abattoir. Someone who had never visited this place would surely expect some cow halves to hang from the ceiling after the next turn of the corridor.
But Kaufmann and Janine made their way through the maze of corridors without any reaction, used to the look (after all Kaufmann had designed it) and most of all, still eagerly talking about whatever was in the small black suitcase. After a short while they took a turn and stood before a security door, guarded by two soldier in the uniform of Kaufmann Inc.'s elite squads. Both of them saluted silently and stepped to the side, so Kaufmann could access the console next to the heavy metal door. He typed in the code, almost making a mistake out of excitement of what would come next. The servos of the door hissed and it opened slowly. Kaufmann smiled.
((So that's just the weekly look into the madness that is currently going on at Kaufmann Inc. Insert Kaufmann's evil scheming theme: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=927lwH61lho))
Zalantae was not happy. She'd laid down for some much needed rest, when this ancient voice had started ranting at a magically huge volume. Right in her ear, it felt like.
Blood Moon. Again. Hadn't Takofanes been there just before?
She swore as she dived around Vigil. It was odd, really. Some fallen heroes, like Nimbus, couldn't really move for the sheer amount of heroes trying to drive them back. But others...she pretty much had to do it all. With screeching Turakians throwing bits of bone at her. Was funny when the one threw its leg at her and promptly fell over, though. It had made her laugh out loud for the first time in weeks. Those blasted boxes...even the drill she'd stolen from the neighbor hadn't worked.
At last, she made her way into Vigil's crypt, the heads-up display translating the darkness into something she could navigate. She really wondered why the crypt was so bloody long, and so filled with zombies. Maybe it had been a crypt for other people of Detroit as well. But then, HOW was there any room for a sewer system anymore, with all these crypts under the city? Were they even there yesterday?
And at the end of it all, a horrible demon. She hated horrible demons. It took far too much of her Tesla Coil Apparatus' electrical charges to take it out. Thank goodness she'd stolen this cannon thing from another fallen hero. It did have a pretty noticeable effect.
In the end, Vigil's soul was freed, and he faded away with a silent thanks. If she wasn't cold, tired and covered in zombie guts, Zalantae would have been more happy. But as it was, she smiled slightly. One down, twelve to go...if she could get enough of a charge.
===============
Velheya glared as she looked down at Takofanes sitting there on his throne. And ranting. And ranting. Wouldn't he ever shut up?
Then, he hopped down off his throne. She blinked. Seriously? Was he going to...She grinned wickedly as she raised her staff, sending a large electrical charge right at the lich's eye. Followed by a summoned storm of lightning and several lightning bolts.
Funny, it seemed others felt as she did. The lich was pummeled and kicked and shot at so fast he seemed taken aback."Didn't expect that, did you, Kal-Turak?" she murmured before summoning more lightning.
In the end, the battered and bruised lich fled, swearing to be back. He probably would be, but for now...
She studied one of the boxes she'd found thoughtfully. The magic charge was evident, casting a red, evil glow, making her blue skin look purple. She still couldn't get it open, but she had to admit...the spell was pretty cleverly woven.
Mentella and ForceGirl after a successful effort driving back the legions of the Undead created by Necrull's magic in league with Takofanes spells were truly overwhelming. Mentella scowled at her younger sister for getting into such a mess like that in the first place, she just simply didnt know when to stop "exploring" in Burial Butte.
ForceGirl looked pretty sorry and looked over at her sister.
"I'm sorry about this..but I was curious.."
Mentella sighed
"No matter, it would have happened eventually, be it, you, another hero or even a villainous organisation around here, there are plenty of them around."
Mentella looked around here, they had to stage the battle in and around Force Station Steelhead, it was a disgusting mess of rotting flesh and undead body parts. They were just fortunate Witchcraft was in the area, her cleansing ritual was powerful enough to repel Necrull and nullified his necrulitic energy and control causing the zombies to slowly fall apart. However Mentella was convinced if CharmCaster was with them it would have been an easier job to do, not to mention to be less hassle.
"Right I think we are done here, lets leave this place, we've done our fair share of the clean up effort and neither Black Diamond, CharmCaster or Bionic Bullet are responding to my mind probes, I fear for their safety."
ForceGirl didnt need much more prompting than that to leave she created a force field around them and they slowly levitated into the air before thrusting forwards at great speed towards Millennium City.
***** Hours Later *****
The sisters arrived in Millennium City to be greeted by more undead. Takofanes had risen again and this time he seemed more determined than ever to consume more of the living. ForceGirl was fatigued from the endless flight and rested on the steps outside the Rennaisance Center. Mentella frowned as Amazing Grace rose from the dead once more, surrounded by the same impenetrable shield. Mentella left ForceGirl in the capable hands of the two PRIMUS power armor soldiers and went to assist with the effort to push this twisted version of Grace back to the underworld. She put out a telepathic message calling across the city requesting help with the effort. Few Heroes responded along with some pilots of the New line of Jets for heroes.
"Back for round two?" Asked Mentella
"You are a fool who got lucky the last time, this time YOU WILL BE CONSUMED!!" Amazing Grace replied.
Mentella frowned and unleashed a psychic wave which wiped out a wave of 20 zombies with just a single thought.
"Yes, mom. I'll be fine. There's no werewolf-hunter war going on here... yup, just zombies. How many have you busted back there? Oh, wow... ten wolves and thirteen hunters? I guess that's what happens when you mix beer and werewolf hunting..."
The black haired, blue skinned alien girl with the strange yellow catlike eyes was standing near the entrance to Radion's crypt on her cell phone, having a much-needed talk with her mom, who was working hard in the Royal Canadian Mounted Police to keep the peace during the war between werewolves and the hunters.
"Oh, you know I'm going to come visit. I'm sorry I missed Thanksgiving... maybe we can make up for it? Good, that sounds like a great plan. I've gotta go now. Love you, mom!"
She hangs up, putting her phone on her utility belt and looking at the gate to Radion's tomb. Saber Strider was always a mama's girl, and speaking with her gave her the courage to enter the crypt. She pulls her mask on, adjusts her goggles and pulls her hood up, and with a flourish of her cape, she enters.
She hunts unusually rotten prey tonight. Her boomerangs slice through undead heads like a hot knife through butter, she catches the big guys with her bolas and finishes them off with a strike to the head. The spirit of wrath, the burning undead man, goes down easily with a few boomerangs to his head. She advances, and leaps over the charging massive zombie... the Strength of Takofanes, was it? He can't hurt what he can't hit. She leads him around the room, hiding in the shadows... then she strikes.
She leaps onto the muscular zombie's shoulders wielding two boomerangs in her hands and drives them into his head before backflipping off of him. He fell with a thud... and she picked up a blue box. She shakes it. "Does everyone carry these blue boxes with them nowadays?" She opens it and finds the most valuable common metal within, Questionite...
Onward to the cathedral where the spirit is held. She sees the demon responsible for keeping Radion here, radiating dark energy. She smirks under her mask and takes out a remote. Somehow, her SaberJet targeting system worked here. She wasn't about to question it.
The demon hears the jet scream by, and it feels the bullets ripping into it with explosive force! ... and equally explosive results.
Saber Strider goes to Radion's spirit. "So, is everyone held in a crypt like this?" "Yes... thank you so much for saving me!"
"Don't mention it. This is a breeze." She leaves through the portal and finds herself back out on the city street.
Zalantae was beyond exhausted. Was that thirteen crypts she'd been through? She thought so. Either way, judging by the battery charges on her armor, she was done for the day. More than done. That last demon had ended up a claw-to-claw battle when the last bit of juice in her Tesla coils had run out.
Fortunately, after she'd beaten down a bunch of zombies outside the local convenience store, she was able to afford a couple bottles of beer and some microwave tacos (fangless). Why not? She'd earned dinner at this point.
She was trailing zombie guts up the stairs, but at least it wasn't her own. This time. If that bastard Tacoface or whatever his name was kept on like this, that might change, though.
Ignoring the disapproving glances of the old woman across the hall, she unlocked the door to her apartment.
It didn't take long to hook the batteries up to charge. Heroes didn't steal electricity, she knew, but if she had to pay for the lot herself, she'd be out on the street in five minutes.
Slumping down in the battered chair in front of the TV, tacos and beer in hand, she decided to watch something funny. Now, if she could only find out which neighbor had been blasting those Teleioclone videos for days on end...
Behind the heavy metal doors was the containment room. A small foyer with another guardpost led to three cells, each of them with another heavy metal door. Kaufmann and Janine passed three more soldiers playing cards at the guardpost, who saluted hastily and stood before the middle door, leading to the only cell which was currently occupied. Kaufmann turned his head around to the three soldiers. "Open.", he said with a sigh and one of the soldiers pressed some buttons. The door opened and Kaufmann and Janine entered the cell. It looked like a combination of interrogation room and abattoir. Grey concrete walls, neon tubes on the ceiling spreading cold light, a metal desk and a metal chair. On the metal chair a slumped figure had been chained. "Good evening, Eduardo.", Kaufmann said cheerfully and placed the black suitcase on the desk. The figure looked up.
It was a vampire. In fact it was a high-ranking member of the Vibora Bay gang New Shadows, sometimes called the 'Immortals' by the public. But this particular vampire didn't look fearsome or awe-inspiring. It was bruised and beaten up with scorch marks of laser weapons on his skin here and there, his fancy Victorian clothing was ripped and torn and it looked half-starved. In fact it was, as since it had been captured by Kaufmann Inc. one week ago, it hadn't been fed. Kaufmann refused to sacrifice the blood of any of his men to it. Questionite zipcuffs held it to the metal chair which was bolted into the floor and a pentagram with various runes around had been painted onto the floor with water-proof paint and prevented it from turning into mist or any other magic tricks."How do you feel tonight, baby?", Janine teased the vampire with a smug grin. The vampire raised his head - his face was even more emaciated than usual - and hissed at her. Hissing was also the only thing it could do. As it opened its mouth one could see that almost all of its fangs had been broken out of its mouth, most of them taken as trophies by the soldiers who had captured it. In fact, the two most prominent canines dangled in silver settings from Janine's ears now. The earrings had been an early Halloween present from Kaufmann to his secretary.
Kaufmann and Janine gloated over the miserable vampire for another second, then turned around to the suitcase again. Kaufmann opened it slowly, with a good amount of dramatic. Both of them looked into it, even the vampire tried to get a look. In the suitcase were bullets. About 40 of them, in different calibers. They were pitch-black and metallic, but otherwise looked like normal bullets. Janine looked a bit disappointed. "That's it?", she asked, "They look kinda... normal." Kaufmann picked one of the bullets and took it out of the briefcase. It was cold as ice to the touch. "They are better than they look, believe me.", he said and held the bullet up. The hard, cold light reflected clearly from the black metal. "What exactly...", Janine started, but Kaufmann interrupted her. "The hull is of a common titanium alloy. Not remarkable. It's the core that is intersting. The hull is razor-thin and breaks off after it has been fired, revealing the core.", Kaufmann explained and gave the bullet to Janine. She took it and looked at it interested. "It feels cold... What is the core? Holy water?", she asked quite professional. All the time as Kaufmann's secretary also had taken a toll on her. Kaufmann shook his head and took the bullet back with an evil grin. "The core is... special and the reason this suitcase full of bullets cost me a small fortune. The core is an amalgam of different cryogenically frozen liquids. We have a basilisk's poison, angel's tears, holy acid - yes, not holy water, holy acid - and ice from the Frost Tomb of Kigatilik himself. Cost me a fortune, but these bullets might be the greatest weapon there is against supernatural targets. They penetrate almost every defense, kill instantly and melt almost instantly, leaving not a single trace.", Kaufmann said with a big smile on his face.
Janine stared at the bullet in awe, then smiled at her boss. "That's genius, Pascal.", she said and took another bullet out of the suitcase. "Well, we'll see about that.", Kaufmann said and pulled his revolver, the 'Blattschuss' out of his coat. He picked a fitting caliber from the suitcase and loaded it into the gun. With a grin he turned to the vampire, who was violently throwing itself around now, desperately trying to get out of its shackles. "Oh, shut it...", Kaufmann said with a snarl and bashed the butt of his revolver into the creature's face. He didn't knock the vampire out, but the impact left it dazed and it stopped its struggling for a moment. Kaufmann took a step back and aimed his gun. Then he felt something touching his back. Janine slung her arms around his shoulders and slid her hands up his arms until she was also holding the revolver, pressing herself into his back. Kaufmann grinned. "Ready?", he asked. Janine didn't answer but instead pull the trigger of the revolver. The bullet hit the vampire in the chest.
At first nothing happened and Kaufmann and Janine remained in their awkward position for a moment. Then the captive vampire started to shiver and tremble. It moaned in pain and the veins on his neck and face started to color themselves black slowly. It started screaming in pain. Janine let go of her boss and stepped next to Kaufmann to get a better view. Kaufmann still had the revolver in his hand, just to be sure. But it ended just as quickly as it started. The vampire threw himself around, but after ten seconds of violent thrashing he stopped. Even the black veins disappeared and their normal color returned. The vampire chuckled barely audible. Kaufmann twitched. Then he threw his gun on the metal table and turned around angrily. "JANINE! Tell the men to get that bloodsucker out of here and put an execution squad together! Oh, and send those useless bullets back to...", Kaufmann ranted, while he was already walking out of the containment cell.
In that moment the vampire let out a scream of agony and quickly turned into a pile of black dust, which turned the floor of the cell, Janine's high-heels and Kaufmann's dress shoes into a huge mess. Kaufmann and Janine stared at the dusty floor, then at each other. Then they started laughing hysterically. They held onto each other and gasped for air, as they laughed for a minute or so, before they calmed down. Kaufmann looked at his secretary who grinned at him. "That was an Immortal.", she simply said. Kaufmann nodded. "You know who else is immortal?", Kaufmann asked. Janine nodded. "Takofanes.", she said. Kaufmann nodded again. "I'm gonna try those bullets on him. Should be interesting.", Kaufmann said with another grin. Janine hugged him. "What do you think sounds better in newspaper headlines: 'Dr. Kaufmann, Killer of Takofanes' or 'Kaufmann Inc., Bane of the Blood Moon'?", she asked and playfully started to adjust his tie and shirt collar. Kaufmann laughed. "We'll see... We need to prepare this... Nothing's going to stop us this time... Oh, and we need a clean-up team.", he said and crushed a fang of what was once the captive vampire under his heel.
((Vizzone, I stole the reporter's name from you, hope you don't mind.))
Zalantae stepped hesitantly out of her apartment, peering at the bright light. She'd slept for days, but had been forced out of her hidey-hole by the need to go to the shop for a few necessaries like milk for her tea.
She hadn't gone two steps when she was stopped by a young man with a fierce, angry expression on his face. "My cousin's in VIPER. He has two broken arms now, thanks to you." he snarled.
Zalantae sighed. Her actions during the Blood Moon had come back to bite her in the ****. Big time. Forgotten was all the time she'd fought to keep Millennium City safe. Instead, the mistakes got the attention.
And to boot, there was a reporter nearby. One Sandra Lancaster, who immediately buzzed over, sticking her microphone into Zal's face.
"Lady Zalantae, I'm Sandra Lancaster. May I have your explanation of your cruel actions during the Blood Moon?" the woman asked cheerily. "No comment." Zal answered testily, trying to walk past, but the cameraman was blocking her way.
"Can other groups expect the same treatment?" Sandra continued, with the same cheery demeanor. She was certain there was a story here. Digging a little, she'd found that Zal had a bit of a reputation when it came to VIPER.
Zal growled and tried to push past, finding her way blocked. "My sources tell that the reason for your intense dislike of VIPER has to do with the fact that Draconis supposedly dumped you?" Lancaster continued.
This earned her a glare from Zalantae that would have melted steel. "Let me make one thing absolutely clear." she answered icily, making rude gestures with her hands for emphasis. "I would not touch Alexander Dracoulides with an eleven foot pole. He's an arrogant, slimy, self-loving, disgusting bag of ego. Am I making myself absolutely clear?"
"How did you come by your knowledge of Draconis?" Sandra pushed on. Now this could be interesting...
Techna Ology ran around her base making sure all her orders had shipped out to earth on time, it had taken a long while to scrub away all the grusome parts of undead flesh out of her base and she had upped defense systems in order to prevent them getting in again.
Her technopathic powers were being stretched to the limit, she was keeping the lights on and running the clean up bots as well as making sure the production line at Vehicles R Us was still functioning correctly.
"Phew...I sure hope I've done everything..because I am at my limit!" She sighed
Techna walked over to a chair and dropped into it, expecting fluffy delight, instead she was greeted with a rather sharp pain to her rear end...
"OW!"
She got up and spun around, blaster drawn and ready to fire. She narrowed her eyes as she saw a small black and red box wedged in her seat, one of it's horns were sticking out from the folds in the seat. Techna reached out for the box and pulled it from between the seat folds, sat down and examined it. It was a small box, it didnt seem to have any relevance or purpose, but something about it increased the natural curiosity in her and she attempted to open it, but to no avail.
Her armor systems were constantly scanning the box and suddenly started beeping loudly, Techna checked the read outs and it seemed this box was radiating some weak energy waves, the energy signature was faint and was gradually growing fainter, but she was able to find a match to the earlier energies which she had picked up during the assault on Millennium City by the Deathlord Takofanes, who thanks to CharmCaster, Alara the Light Guardian as well as a multitude of heroes had been driven back to where he came.
One of her heavier looking robots came across to her and tried to open the box, even blasting it with a particle beam, but it didnt seem to open, whatever magic was left lingering around this box, as faint as it might be, it was enough to prevent anything from opening it and unveiling its secrets. The robot made an almost annoyed beeping sound before dropping the box on the floor and flying away.
Techna shrugged and walked over to her kitchen and made a cup of tea and took out her favorite biscuits from the cupboard, she flipped on the television and was happy to hear Millennium City was recovering well from the recent attack, the same had been true for Canada, where she was currently stationed.
Her communicator flashed brightly before a hologram portraying Mentella's face appeared in mid air.
"Oh, Mentella! Hi?"
"Nice to hear from you again, but sadly I don't bear glad tidings..we are going to need you in Millennium City ASAP."
Techna frowned
"Oh? Why? Is there something wrong?"
"You could say that...Remember the UNTIL Sky Carrier which was shown last year in the UNTIL Report?"
"Yes, I do, it was quite impressive!"
"Well, it's under threat...Bionic Bullet tells me they are going to need your technopathy to help us combat the damage and help repair things, it's Dr. Destroyer, his forces are on route to the Sky Carrier and we think he may have hacked the defense systems on board, there are very few weapons functioning. I'm on the helicarrier along with Bionic at the moment and---"
The transmission ended as Mentella's image seemed to fade out and the hologram switched off.
Techna frowned and holstered all her weaponry and summoned her Anti G.R.L. As if by chance the news casters received a breaking news report about the Sky Carrier. She ran into the TV room to hear more but only caught the last end of the report:
"With other Carrier vessels miles out, with no hope of getting to them in time, who will help save the lives on board the Carrier from the clutches of Dr. Des--"
Techna rolled her eyes, the electricity had cut out again, compliments of the harsh Canadian winter weather.
Techna readied her self and keyed in the coordinates of a location in the Renaissance Center and the teleportal device started charging up.
"Initiate Primary Phase Teleportation, followed by Secondary Phase Robotic Unit Teleportation."
The computer responded accordingly and prepared her battle bots and healing drones for teleportation.
Hopefully this time she won't teleport too high into the sky and drop on someone or teleport too much into the ground and find herself surrounded by concrete with just her head sticking out. She sighed as the spinning rims infront of her started to spin faster and faster lightning up and creating a portal which showed an image of the Renaissance Center with Defender looking around and speaking to various heroes.
Techna checked her Medical Nanites in her bloodstream were functioning at full capacity and battle ready. The readout said 100% capacity, so she sighed and clicked the teleport button and was swiftly jolted from her base into the teleportal.
"Helllloooo? Neocortex? You in there?" Medulla banged on the lab door. "I said the Sky Carrier is being attacked by Destroids! We have to get up there! I know you don't have ears, but you're not deaf!"
No response came from her partner. He must have switched off his body's audio receptors so he could focus on that Qliphothic sample in peace.
With a sigh, the telekinetic heroine teleported through the locked blast doors.
Before she'd met him, Neocortex's lab had been attacked by supervillains. In the ensuing explosion, he, his attackers, and the lab were all destroyed. Well, all except his brain. Medulla still wasn't sure how he had built himself a robotic chassis while he was floating in a jar. Or how he could even see with no eyes. When she broached the subject he got irritable, threatening to take back the powers he'd given her through his genetic tinkering. Clearly, it was a sore subject.
Right now, the scientist was leaning over the workbench with his back to her, completely absorbed in his work.
"Hey! Neo! Your freaky science project can wait! UNTIL is under attack!" She tapped his shoulder to get his attention. He didn't move. "Neo?" She shook his sleek silver shoulder. "Are you alright?" Medulla whirled him around, then gasped.
Neocortex was gone.
The dome that housed his brain was empty. It wasn't broken; the fluid was still inside, and she couldn't see any damage to his robotic body. But he was gone without a trace.
Well, not entirely without a trace. His kidnapper had taped a note to his head, which she pulled off and read with a frown.
The letter, made from cut out newspaper letters glued onto a Post-it note, was not a ransom. No, it wasn't a ransom at all, for the note said,
**user HAPPIFUN SECURITY SYSTEM X-4 has logged on**
Previous analysis confirmed. Attacks on Champions HQ designated Homestead were intended as a probe of Millennium City's defenses. Current attacks on UNTIL Sky Carrier are being carried out with much higher levels of offense. Note particularly the introduction of a new variant, designated Drone Helicopter, consisting of one robotic attack craft similar to UNTIL's Osprey carriers, although smaller and more heavily armed. This is at variance with established pattern of Shadow Destroyer, whose new units have generally been magical in nature, such as his Karkaradon allies. This lends support to the concept that the original Dr. Destroyer, Albert Zerstoiten, has returned to Millennium City. This unit's human contacts are disturbed by this idea.
Further data analysis to come.
**user HAPPIFUN SECURITY SYSTEM X-4 has logged off**
**antivirus report: virus DESTROYER'S SLAVE quarantined and deleted**
**clumsy organic attack on silicon perfection**
**hail mechanon**
"Science teaches us to expect -- demand -- more than just eerie mysteries. What use is a puzzle that can't be solved? Patience is fine, but I'm not going to stop asking the universe to make sense!"
- from the records of David Haskell, aka Detroit Iron -
Design notes:
Need some better way to dispel static electricity. The sand blowing around in the Desert plays merry hob with the targeting circuitry - having trouble even maintaining a target lock on those stupid Totems, and they don't move! And then the sand starts static-clinging to the visual ports, so I can't even see anything...
On another note, the armor upgrades appear to be effective against ectoplasmic bullets, which is a sentence I didn't ever think I'd find myself writing. But yeah, there are ghosts, and there are a hell of a lot of ghosts in Burnside, one of those old abandoned mining towns near Burning Sands. Mean bastards, too, but then I suppose being dead for a hundred and fifty years could do that to a guy.
Might want to see about upgrading radiation shielding, though - I have to go talk to some guy in the Atomic Wastelands, and just flying near that place makes the Geiger counter scream like a lottery winner at a Black Friday sale. I might want to have kids someday, or at least not have cancer or something, you know?
"Science teaches us to expect -- demand -- more than just eerie mysteries. What use is a puzzle that can't be solved? Patience is fine, but I'm not going to stop asking the universe to make sense!"
Luke walked through the hide out, or "library", as his friend Hughe liked to call it. It was the strangest place he had ever seen, and being an underwear model, he had found himself in some very strange places.
There was the lass called "Mental Vortex" and her "bedroom hide out". Now that was strange. She had no physical desires, Luke sadly found out, but he was mentally ravashed for near a week before he could escape. He often wondered whatever happened to her.
No, this place was in many ways even stranger than that. Books seemed to fly about on their own, but this he only caught out of the corner of his eye. Candles floated about, with no table or stand to hold them up.
This was the last time he asked a mage to do his decor! Well paid as he was, he could have been more thoughtful of Luke. Not one picture of Luke was on the walls! Mirrors would reflect his image, but then strange smoke would fill them and weird voices would come out of the smoke. He didn't want smoke and voices, he wanted to comb his hair.
Luke sighed. He plopped more than sat on the throne like chair that was before the big table with books that Luke would never read. The covers had no pictures, and most did not even have proper wording. Hughe assured him it was true english, but Luke was not so sure.
A deep frown on his face showed his boredom. He had already did his obligations for the week. One paid very well, the other....he would not answer a weight gazers advertisement for an underwear model EVER again. Women who have been deprived of White Castle and chocolate for long periods of time seemed to lose alot of inabition! These women needed lots of inabition and control! Luke felt very thankful that he was well trained in self defense. Not that he hurt anyone, but he was able to duck, side step, and shimmy out of the way of the most bold of ladies that accosted him.
"I need a nice cold Pepper," Luke said aloud, and for the first time he found himself starting to like the place, as a cold, dark, fizzy drink rose out of the arm of his chair, and sat their as if it had been there the whole time.
Luke tried it, and was fascinated at how well it tasted. The syrupee goodness was a concoction that the Stop&Rob on the corner seemed to not be able to perfect with their Big Gulpers.
As the fire place began to crackle, he began to realize it was not so bad. He leaned back into his chair, kicked his boots up onto the table, knocking a book off, and relaxed as he drank his beverage.
He barely even noticed, out of the corner of his eye, as the book took it upon itself to fly to some shelf behind him and place itself in it's perfect alphabetical order according to author and volume.
"Uh, you sure?" the huge Canadian asked. "Lemurian?"
The air in the Millennium City coffee shop was bracing and filled with flavorful scents; Thundrax had good taste in coffeehouses, even if the petite chair was much too small for his huge frame. The reporter nodded and lifted the coffee cup to her lips. "And you heard about Java."
Thundrax sighed and slumped back in his chair, unconsciously patting down his hair. "That could be anything. That's not far from the ruins of a number of almost forgotten empires, including that of Kul-Turak. And we never did find out why Shadow Destroyer tried to kidnap Ken Haight on that island a few years back."
"I can think of a few reasons. Haight's one of the foremost conspiracy theory experts in the world, Craig," Julie Morgan answered. "Trust me, I'd love a one on one interview with him."
"Conspiracy theories give me the willies." Thundrax responded, quaffing a strong batch of tea from a thermos."But the Lemurian involvement is what concerns me. I never bought Arvad's "redemption", sad to say. The man was an ally of the Nazis! And how many times did he invade the surface world over the years?"
"I thought you were all about compassion and rehabilitation." Julie Morgan said.
"Even my liberal bleeding heart has its limits," Craig declared. "If Albert Zerstoiten appeared at the United Nations tomorrow and offered the world a miracle cure for every major human disease, free of charge, I'd be looking for the catch. Some leopards have too many spots to change."
"You have a point," Morgan agreed, a little sadly. "So what about that helmet the professor saw?"
"Eh?" Craig wondered aloud. "Oh those! I understand they uncovered a few of them. I know Brou took one of them, and I think a few other heroes were safeguarding the others. I'm sure they're important, but just how important remains to be seen. But something's in motion. Something big, mark my words."
Comments
"Dandelions," Foxfire muttered as she fluttered past the giant digital sign. "Not him again."
Every hour, on the hour, this 'Doctor Destroyer' would hijack the airwaves to make his position clear to the one or two that had been stuck in Millennium City's sewers for the past couple weeks. It wouldn't be bad, she thought, if he wasn't just so repetitive. "It can't be that hard to liven up the act," she gestured wildly to the giant villainous face on the screen. "Bring in a guest star or- or do a musical number!"
With a disappointed sigh, she banked into the wind and took off with a flutter of wings. There never seemed to be an end to the number of Destroids loitering across Westside but, golly, there also never seemed to be an end to the number of heroes fighting them too! No, today would be a perfect day for flying. Perhaps she could get back out to Canada where there was nothing but trees and open skies and the occasional sound of loud explosions in the distance-
"Uh oh."
Her contrail of bright rainbows and twinkly sparkles bent at an ugly angle as she spun about. Things were blowing up, things coming from the direction of Champions HQ. Not just more Destroids,it sounded like a whole army of them! The thought of which only had her putting on the fairy afterburners. Canada can wait, there was an even bigger adventure ahead! Really big! Really... really... big.
The rainbow trail came to an abrupt top just outside of the Ren Cen, the tiny winged figure in vibrant orange at its head barely containing its disbelief. "It- It can?t be! Not you too, Mazinger!"
A beat. "No," she paused thoughtfully as a Teleioclone went flying past her. "Those are Destroids. Really huge Destroids! Fairy magic can't fix this!"
In an instant, a pair of orange and silver pistols appeared in her hands. Also appearing was a very wide, very innocent, and thus potentially very disturbing smile. "That's why I have you two. C'mon, let's get to work! Our new friends need us!" In an all too cheery twinkle, she charged straight into the fray with both guns blazing away in a hail of semi-automatic laser fire.
Forget thinking it was 1992 all over again. Right here, Millenium City just flashed back to 1984.
The Teleiologist ignored 43762-A and clicked the next video on the laptop. "And in THIS video, they've looped the footage of you flying across the battlefield to Tchaikovsky's 'Waltz of The Flowers'. Oh, and look at this one! They've edited several famous movies so that you're blasted across the screen during explosions. And you're drunkenly singing a French song about bird torture in this one. That's some very clever splicing.... Wait, that's genuine. My mistake."
"I said I was sorry!"
"Not sorry enough," Number Six muttered so quietly that 43762-A almost missed it. "Here's the entirety of your interview with Sandra Lancaster. Thank you so much for telling everyone about my crippling terror of Rakshasa. I appreciate it as much as I appreciate all the hentai jokes in the comments section. Really, I do."
43762-A cringed. Six's voice was rarely this emotionless, and it was a sign that bad things were about to happen. The poor Mark I would have fled if he hadn't been strapped to the bed.
"And what do the top comments say? 'At about 1:50 he calls himself a Teleiologist. WTF is that? Does he study Teleioses?' And the reply? 'And here we have the majestic Teleios in its natural habitat: this laboratory deep within the Canadian wilderness. A clever creature who feeds on an unending supply of narcissistic worship by its identical servants, it has many other homes hidden throughout the world to flee to should its lair be attacked by predators such as the Superherois Maximus or the Soldierius Untillius. It has taken me many days to ascend its tower without being captured by the Teleioclones and there have been several close calls, but I have managed to distract them and escape by hypnotizing them with their reflection in my handheld mirror.' Hilarious," Six deadpanned.
43762-A thought it was, but Six fortunately didn't wait for a reply before continuing.
"Ignoring these degrading videos for a moment, let's sum up the situation, shall we? Everyone on the planet knows we're in Millennium City now, because YOU decided to be a hero and attack six Mega-Destroids. If that wasn't enough, you spoke to a news crew and told them your pseudonym, you utter moron. Why didn't you give them our address, too? Or our phone number? Why not put a flashing neon sign in our window saying 'Teleioclones here, come kill us'? We're going to be massacred, and it's all your fault."
"I'm sorry," 43762-A muttered, unable to look at the other clone.
"Not yet, you're not," the Teleiologist said flatly. "You haven't even started being sorry." He clicked another video. "Now in the next clip, they're interviewing superheroes who have knowledge about Teleios. They all state that either the Perfect Being has gone mad, or you're an extremely stupid and/or flawed clone. Also that they wish they could see Teleios's face when he sees the coverage. Oh, and they agree that seeing you being thrown like a rag doll was hysterical. But I digress."
43762-A heard him shut the laptop. The Mark I's eyes remained firmly locked on his blanket's floral pattern.
"Look at me, Thirty-Seven." 43762-A slowly raised his head to meet the Teleiologist's cold stare. "Now that I have your attention... you're going to explain precisely what was going through your tiny mind."
"Destroyer was going to kill us all." His voice sounded so pathetic. "He was going to cut us all open and torture us to death. I didn't want to be vivisected!"
"So you decided to vivisect our reputation first? How thoughtful."
"I didn't mean to! I was supposed to die!"
"Oh, you want to die? What a happy coincidence, I want to kill you." Six moved away, laptop in hand. "But we both know that's what you want, so it's out of the question."
43762-A stared at the Teleiologist's back as his superior stuck a flash drive into the computer. Number Six wasn't going to kill him?
Oh.
Crap.
"Now, you're probably wondering WHY I'm not going to kill you," the Teleiologist continued and grabbed an extension cord for the computer. "After all, I know you're an extremely flawed, imperfect, idiotic clone, and Teleios says imperfection must be eradicated. But if I killed every flawed clone, I'd never leave my vat. Plus I'm addicted to your cooking." He jammed the plug into a socket, and the air in front of 43762-A flickered for a brief second. Then it solidified into a holographic screen.
"Uh..." 43762-A said hesitantly. Why was Number Six showing him a huge projection of a yawning kitten? He had expected torture, not adorableness. Perhaps Angelique was forcing Six to kill him with cuteness?
The Teleiologist yanked the flash drive out of the USB port, and the screen went blank. "Wrong one," he muttered. "That could have been very dramatic, but noooo, the Perfection of Minds gave me cats. Freaking cats!" He quickly stuffed another drive in and glared over his shoulder at 43762-A. "Shut up."
"What are you going to do?" 43762-A said, trying to ignore the mishap. Six was angry enough.
"Well, I initially planned to send you to Teleios so he could turn your blood to acid, but...." He didn't need to finish. They both knew the Perfect Being was unreachable. Even if he was still alive, they'd had no contact with the other clones since the Monster Island incident. It was the reason life had gone so crazy. "Anyway. I had one of the brains write a special program for you. Would you like to know what it does?"
"Oh, I don't see why not."
Six ignored him. "The Perfection of Minds designed an algorithm to find all videos on this site involving you. It will play every single one, including the comments section, until you've seen them all, have a nervous breakdown, or are dead, whichever comes first. I'm not picky."
43762-A raised an eyebrow. "That's it?" To be honest, he was rather relieved. Watching a few videos that would help him piece together what he couldn't remember wasn't a punishment at all!
"Well, forgive me for not building an elaborate torture chamber just for you! We're on a tight budget here. Not that it really matters, since after you watch a dozen of these you'll be as brainless as the zombies chewing on the stop signs outside."
Zombies chewing on stop signs? He could have sworn Necrull wasn't their neighbor anymore.
He began to ask if restraining orders applied against corpses, but Six had already started the video documenting the battle at Champions HQ and whisked out the door. Before it had even fully closed 142009-A sauntered in, a bowl balanced in the crook of his right arm.
The green-shirted clone ignored 43762-A and rearranged the furniture to his liking. Once he was satisfied with the armchair's new placement beside the bed, he flopped into it and began watching the screen. Noticing the restrained Mark I staring at him, 142009-A smirked. "Oh, I'm just here to gloat about how right I was." He thrust the bowl at his brother.
"Popcorn?"
"Someone ought to send him flying. If I had Destroyer's phone number, I'd ask to borrow a Mega-Destroid for the purpose."
Smacking one of the undead with another, she half giggled to herself at a stray thought. "Maybe Zerstoiten is compensating for something. He does seem to love large death machines far more than is healthy."
At that point, she had to dodge one of the famous undead heroes, which immediately crushed her pleasant mood. She growled some unpleasant curses referencing Takofanes, his mother, sheep, and Destroyer, as she sent a bolt of lightning flying at the rotting undead. "A complete utter disgrace." Even Teleioclone videos couldn't cheer her up at this point.
This time she had thankfully made sure to put in some extra thick padding between the lightning generator and her back. Maybe, for once, she'd avoid ending up painfully injured.
As the dead Eclipse fell to the ground in a smoking ruin, whispering a quiet thank you, Zalantae couldn't resist muttering a prayer under her breath for the fallen hero's soul. She'd never really believed in a god, but the habits of childhood died hard sometimes.
"In conclusion, analysis of the attack patterns here, when compared with earlier Destroid actions, indicates that this was the beginning of something. Whether this Destroyer's the real thing or just some guy in a fancy outfit, he's got serious resources, and control of a robot-teleport system that at least looks like the one Destroyer used to use. The attacks, though, didn't seem that serious - they feel more like somebody probing at our defenses, trying to figure out where we're strong and where we're weak.
"The Teleioclone incident would appear to be unrelated. I looked more closely at the video, and it looks like he was trying to shoot one of the giant robots with that laser when something jostled him. Makes some sense - both Teleios and Zerstoiten are the kind of guys who don't like sharing, so neither one would want the other to take over. Interesting side note - from the interview footage at the hospital, there must be several such clones active and capable of getting out into the world. The one from the fountain responded to the other one calling him 'Thirty-Seven', and called the armored one 'Six'. This implies the existence of at least 37 free agents, if not more, with Teleios' face. It seems unlikely that Teleios himself survived the Monster Island incident, but I suppose this can't be dismissed out of hand - these guys have a habit of just popping up out of nowhere.
"So yeah, looks like this Destroyer, whoever he is, is planning something big, and the clone thing was just a distraction. You guys had best be looking out for whatever's next on the horizon. File ends."
He pressed the "Send" button, dispatching the file across the 'Net to UNTIL. Just then, his eyes were drawn to the TV screen, where he'd had WCOC on mute. The words "BREAKING NEWS" were flashing across it. He unmuted just in time to hear, as well as see, a shot of a stony crypt erupting from an intersection in Millennium City.
"Arise, my undead minions..."
HandyMan stared for a moment in disbelief. "You have got to be kidding me," he muttered. "Knew I should have set up shop someplace calmer - like New York, or an active volcano, or something..." As he complained, HandyMan strapped on his gear and headed for the exit from his lair. Takofanes needed to be reminded to stay dead - again.
- David Brin, "Those Eyes"
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When she'd stumbled upon the scene, the thing was half dead. Even so, she'd joined in, the stench of fried zombie filling the air until some heroes actually threw up. Thus narrowly missing being flattened by the Deathlord when it fell.
Takofanes made some pompous remark about how this was just the beginning before teleporting away.
The crowd slowly dispersed, some people standing around clapping each other on the back and congratulating each other, some wandering off, likely looking for a new challenge or a shower. Some were stumbling to their feet, having gotten trampled in the crush.
Zalantae, on the other hand, was busy cleaning the undead guts off her heads-up display. Sometimes she seriously wished she could take the thing off. Run it under the tap or something. But if it came off, she hadn't found the switch to make it so. Instead, it attached firmly to the side of her head.
Despite all this, Kaufmann was sent flying. One second he had talked to the strange man with the laser rifle about the price of questionite-tipped armor-piercing bullets, the next second he found himself flying through the air. The last thing he noticed before his head hit something hard was that luckily nobody paid attention to him, because most heroes instead watched the strange man with the laser rifle fly through the air. Kaufmann grinned. That would have been disastrous for his reputa... Boulder.
...
The Doctor on the PDB
Fahrenheit on the PDB
The Bloodmoon rose over Millenium City, dragging up a tide of undead horrors. The Maniacs fought desperately to hold their territory but fists, chains and bullets were not enough to blunt the waves of reanimated dead. Maniacs fell and then rose again to mindlessly attack their former allies but the worst was yet to come. Pavement shattered, crimson light spilling through the cracks and a massive figure hauled itself free from the earth. Johnny Hercules, dead since the Battle of Detroit and returned not to save the new city but to harvest the bodies and souls of its citizens for his new master.
"My master Takofanes commands and I obey!", he bellowed, "This city and all within it will be his!". Whatever else Johnny Hercules might have been about to say after that was abruptly interrupted by the pickup truck that crashed down on top of him.
Metal shrieked as it was torn apart, Johnny Hercules shredded the steel frame of the truck asunder with his hands and disentangled himself from the wreckage. "WHO DARES ATTACK THE SERVANT OF TAKOFA...". Once again, Johnny Hercules found himself interrupted but this time the interruption was an 18-wheeler that flattened him and about a dozen zombies as well.
It took Johnny Hercules a few minutes longer to extract himself this time. He shrugged the truck's cab off his back, stood up, looking rapidly from side to side for the source of the insult, face twisted into a bloodless rictus of anger. Then something tapped him gently on the shoulder twice and a woman's voice spoke just behind him.
"Hey there, big'un."
Johnny Hercules turned to see the source of the voice but all he saw was the flat side of a gigantic broadsword right before it smashed into his face and knocked him sprawling.
Now Johnny Hercules could see her; a towering figure in black and green armor, curved horns sprouting from the wild tangle of red and black hair on her head, tattered reptilian wings casting a wide shadow over him. Green flames flickered in her eyes and licked along the edges of the nicked and scarred sword in her fist. She grinned at him and in that moment if Johnny Hercules' heart still functioned it would have begun to hammer madly inside his ribs. Johnny slowly got to his feet, cautiously keeping an eye on the woman. "And who are you, that you come here to die and join the legions of my master?", he asked her, his fists clenching and unclenching in anticipation of the coming fight.
She laughed. "Listen buddy, if I can get stomped on by half a dozen Destroids, be shot in the back of the head with an anti-armor rifle by some misfit of science and still be here to knock you on your butt, what gives you the idea that you're going to take me out?"
Her answer was a slab of asphalt, torn up by Johnny Hercules' hands and hurled at her with terrible force, smashing her into the trashed hulk of the 18-wheeler's trailer. "I am Johnny Hercules. And you WILL die here, to rise and serve Takofanes.". He strode over to the truck, grabbed her by one ankle and dragged her loose from the crumpled metal. Johnny Hercules raised both of his fists above his head but before he could strike he found himself engulfed in emerald flames, scorching his rotting flesh as he flailed madly.
"I choose who I serve. I know who you are. And I'm gonna set you free if I have to beat you all over Westside to do it.".
"Brothers and sisters!", he shouted, amplified by the PA system built into his armor. "You must cast off your chains! Strike off the shackles Takofanes puts on you! You labor for him but without you he is having nothing!".
The turakians gawped silently at him. They didn't even blink. It was possible they were trying to figure out why he was talking to them instead of running away screaming or attacking them. Several of them quietly drooled. From somewhere nearby, there was a light trilling sound. Mertvaya Ruka turned his head slightly to the left and realized the source was a five and a half foot tall insect-like humanoid wearing what appeared to be a lab coat, rubbing two legs together.
"Comrade Doctor Doodlebug. You are comedian now, wonderful.". Doctor Doodlebug shrugged. "I don't think you're getting through to them, comrade.". The insectoid scientist looked over at the assembled horde. "Nope, definitely starting to look hostile now.". The turakian undead were now shuffling purposely towards both of them, hands outstretched, moaning and growling.
"Ah well. It was worth the trying.". Mertvaya Ruka's jet boots ignited, lifting him a few feet off the ground in a gout of smoke and fire. "Now we are having to do this the hard way.". Heavy particle cannons extended from his forearms, the micromissle pods in his shoulders opened and began targeting a volley on the front line of zombies and the 12.7mm gatling gun on his left shoulder swung into firing position. The six-barrel cluster on the gun rapidly spun up and Mertvaya Ruka opened fire with all weapons.
Crawling out from under its fallen comrades, unseen, a lone turakian zombie tottered off down an alley away from the carnage. In the dim recesses of its mind, a spark, flickering enough to drive out the darkness that only spoke of hunger. It had a name once, long ago when it still drew breath, before the city fell and Takofanes took that name away. Bob., it thought. My name was... is... Bob.. Identity took root, spread like a plant long mired in darkness now brought into the sun. Fingers tipped with dirty, cracked nails clenched into a fist. Ribs creaked as air was drawn into leathery lungs and then exhaled in a rattling, dry voice.
"Must... crush... capitalism..."
After the first sentence the turakian zombie had spoken with his newly found voice and identity a smile came on its face, causing small bits of flesh to fall from the corners of its mouth. It had its life back! Takofanes' spell was broken! A new life awaited it, maybe not the one it knew, but that didn't matter! It would use its zombiefied status to its advantage, becoming a hero! A hero to the world, a hero to the people, a hero to...
"Nice shot, Jones.", Smith said as the bullet of Smith's sniper rifle splattered the brains of the lone zombie wandering through the streets of Downtown all over the street. Jones looked up from the scope of his rifle to grin at his spotter. Both of them wore uniforms with a white shirt, black combat vests and pants and a red tie. On the brim of their berets was the insignia of Kaufmann Inc. "Thanks, man!", Jones answered cheerily and looked down from the observation spot he and Smith had occupied on the roof of a building. Smith looked down the streets with his binoculars. On the end of the streets two heroes could be seen fighting against a horde of zombies and the undead hero Vigil. "Do you think you can get a shot into the mayhem back there?", Smith asked and focused the binoculars. Jones looked into the same direction using the scope of his rifle. Then he shook his head with a scoff. "Hell no... Do I look like the boss to you?", Jones said dryly. Smith chuckled. "No, guess not. You lack the insanity in your eyes.", Smith grinned then sighed "...you know... Do you also sometimes have the feeling that all of this has gotten really complicated? I mean since the invasion of Dr. Destroyer started?" Jones was quiet for a few moments, scanning the street up and down again, then looked up to his spotter again. "I know what you mean, man... Sometimes it feels like this world is viewed and puppeteered by many, many, MANY different beings so powerful and all-knowing that we can barely even understand, let alone resist whatever they attempt to guide us into...", Jones said contemplative and leaned against a vent on the roof of the building. "That's f*cking deep, man.", Smith said appreciative. "I think you might be onto something here..."
Before they could further elaborate on the topic Smith's communicator sprung to life. Smith listened to the message and nodded sometimes, then simply said: "Roger." Then he looked at his partner. "The boss has called in a meeting.", he said. Jones stared at him. "Oh, f*ck...", he sighed.
...
Jones and Smith showed their papers to the two guards strapped into the heavy exo-skeleton's Kaufmann Inc. used instead of power armor, then they entered the huge conference room of the Kaufmann Inc. HQ after the guards had waved them through. Jones and Smith looked around. Nearly everyone was here. They exchanged some greetings and friendly words with their colleagues and got some coffee and snacks from vending machines on the sides of the room. "Crowded.", Jones said. Smith nodded and took a sip from his cup of coffee. It tasted terrible. "I guess the boss wants to give a big speech...", he said and nodded to a group of soldiers he knew as they made their way to two empty seats. "F*ck no...", Jones grumbled as they sat down and looked around. The room was really huge, but it still didn't really feel comfortable. The ceiling was low with huge neon lights which gave off a bright, cold light. The walls were stark-white, the furniture seemed to consist mostly of aluminum and black leather and the whole atmosphere was way too sterile to feel comfortable. Their boss's personal taste really showed here and for that matter in the whole Kaufmann Inc. HQ.
Speaking of Dr. Kaufmann himself, a procession of five people entered the room right now, causing the crowd of about 60 soldiers, agents, pilots and technicians to fall silent from one second to the other. The first to enter the room were two large, burly men. They looked almost identical, which was made worse by the fact that they wore identical outfits too: Black business suit, white shirt, red tie, black sunglasses. The Kaufmann Inc. standard. Smith sipped from his cup of coffee. Everyone knew those two. They were Dr. Kaufmann's bodyguards - not that he needed bodyguards, but they were mostly to emphasize his importance - Mr. Cloak and Mr. Dagger. Of course those were not their real names, but nobody actually knew them. They only talked when necessary and were in general quite stoic, mysterious and frankly also really creepy. The next in line was their boss, Dr. Kaufmann himself. "Jesus... What happened to him?", Jones whispered and Smith shrugged uncomfortably. Their boss really didn't look to good. He was walking with a hobble, sometimes almost stumbling over his own feet. His face was bruised and instead of his usual crimson-tinted shades he wore a bandage on his head, leaving his long black hair to fall onto his shoulder in an uncharacteristically wild manner. He even had cut down his usual dress code, wearing only black dress pants and a white shirt without the red tie. Through the top two opened buttons of the shirt one could see that his upper body was also covered in bandages. The soldier next to Smith and Jones leaned over to them. "I heard he got into a one-on-one with a Mega-Destroid...", he whispered. Jones looked at him disbelieving and then one of the technicians who sat in the row before them turned around. "...no, no... Not against a Mega-Destroid. I heard he got into a fight over the right to take a Mega-Destroid as a trophy with some Canadian superhero... Then it was some crazy, all-out, everyone-against-everyone battle between the boss, some 40 heroes and the Mega-Destroids!", the technician whispered ominously. Smith chimed in: "I heard there was a Teleioclone too..." Jones sighed and shook his head as he nedged his spotter in the side. "That's bullsh*t, man. Teleioclones..." The discussion was brought to an end when the procession reached the presentation table in front of the waiting Kaufmann Inc. personnel. Some brave men whistled and whooped as the fourth member of the procession passed them: Kaufmann's secretary Janine Golami, as usual looking like she stepped right out of a cheap adult film about naughty secretaries: Fiery-red hair in a bun, black vest, white blouse, black mini-skirt, business high-heels. But today she didn't even threw one flirty glance towards the men, occupied with carrying a stack of folders with one hand and using the other to aid her boss whenever he stumbled. The last one in the procession was a very gloomy looking James Roberts, Kaufmann's current adjutant. No one of the regular employees liked Roberts pretty much, because being the boss's personal adjutant had gotten to his head. Luckily Smith, Jones and everyone else hadn't much to do with him anymore. Then there was the fact that Kaufmann's adjutants had the most spectacular failure rate of the whole company. Not a single one had the position for longer than half a year. In fact there was a betting pool on how long Roberts would make it...
As the procession reached the presentation table, Kaufmann leaned on it, breathing heavily while Janine quickly got him a glass of water and then started to prepare the various folders she had brought to the table. Mr. Cloak and Mr. Dagger stood in the background, doing nothing but looking menacing while Roberts slouched down on a chair in the corner with a grim expression. "I heard he f*cked up really bad and pissed the boss off...", someone near Smith and Jones said quietly. Grins could be seen. Then Kaufmann whispered something to Janine and looked up at his assembled employees.
"Ladies and gentlemen...", he started followed by a cough attack. It took him some time to catch his breath. Smith sighed and sipped from his coffee. This would be a long meeting. "As I said: Ladies and gentlemen!", Kaufmann continued. "I'm very happy to announce that Operation: Clean Sweep as I've come to call it has been a reasonable success!" Whispers could be heard through the room which quickly died out as Kaufmann continued. "We had a success rate of 94 % with all assigned contracts and missions. Our losses have been estimated to be at a reasonable 8 % and the failure rate of equipment and material have been as low as 0.2 %. I'm very pleased, ladies and gentlemen. Good work. As the marketing department has informed me, we our estimated popularity rating increase should be somewhere between 12 and 14 %, which is above expectations. Again, good work. Furthermore...", Kaufmann said, occasionally looking at single documents Janine gave him from her stack of folders. Kaufmann went on for a few more minutes, throwing out percentages and numbers about the operation. Smith and Jones weren't the only ones not paying attention. Kaufmann first got the attention of the whole room back as he got to a more interesting topic. "...also we have a special cause to celebrate. Team 17 has successfully managed to initiate 'Protocoll A' on a cybernetically enhanced hero. It was really a shame he looked so much like a Destroid, right? Congratulations Team 17!" Polite applause echoed through the room and the members of Team 17 grinned at each other knowingly. "Posers...", Smith whispered to Jones who just nodded. Kaufmann waited for the applause to die out, then he continued. "I'm very satisfied with each performance. This was a great opportunity for Kaufmann Inc. and almost everyone exceeded my expectations. Good work, ladies and gentlemen!", Kaufmann said with a smile, but in the corner Roberts shifted on his chair uncomfortably as Kaufmann said 'almost'.
"Now, ladies and gentlemen. Please don't pat yourselves on the back just yet. We still have much to do and in fact have already several new assignments and contracts waiting for us. I hope I don't have to say that this means even more chances to obtain money, fame and good publicity!", Kaufmann continued still smiling. The '...and chances to kill more heroes...' hung in the air, despite nobody spelling it out loud. Smith looked to his partner. Jones wasn't even looking at their boss and instead texting to his girlfriend. As he looked around, he noticed several people were either asleep or doing anything but paying attention to Kaufmann. It wasn't like they usually hung at his every word during the meetings, but this lack of discipline really was unusual for Kaufmann Inc. and a testament to how exhausting Operation: Clean Sweep had been for all of them. "As you know, the Blood Moon has risen once more AND our sources and contacts have reassured what we all have suspected anyway: That Dr. Destroyer isn't quite finished with whatever he started. I want you - every man and woman of Kaufmann Inc. - to be ready for anything, be it undead, robots or something else altogether!", Kaufmann said, trying to sound epic and important, but the cough attack that followed the speech undermined that effort quite a bit. Janine quickly got to him and whispered to him for several moments. They quietly argued for a while, then Kaufmann finally sighed and nodded to her. He looked at his soldiers again and sighed again. "Janine will continue to brief you about the particulars of the next days... Good evening, ladies and gentlemen...", Kaufmann said still coughing and left the room quickly with Mr. Cloak and Mr. Dagger in tow. Janine smiled at the assembled soldiers nervously. "Uhm... Hi!", she said and brushed a strand of her red hair out of her face. Nobody was asleep anymore.
The Doctor on the PDB
Fahrenheit on the PDB
But Takofanes was not moved. Kul-Tarak, within the soulless dessicated folds of what passed for a mind, had heard many a challenge in his day, and mnded them not at all. He had heard many thunderclaps, and did not cringe like a cowering dog, for he was, now and forever, King of Earth, Krim's scion. The offal that spoke to him mattered not at all, despite the lofty source of its power; Takofanes answered to neither man nor god, only to the malign pricks of his caprice and designs. He bespake a prophecy of his return that warmed his heart (and chilled the onlookers to the bone), then vanished back to his home in the grim drears of the Netherworld's undead estates.
Suddenly the sky shifted color, and the moon became pale once again. Craig slumped, exhausted. Three days. At least this wasn't three weeks again. He wasn't sure Millennium could endure another long siege of the undead.
"Craig," one of the younger superheroes asked. "What do we do about them?"
A circle of superheroes had surrounded twelve men, who were garbed in green and yellow and bore a very familiar snake emblem. The local VIPER Nest had sent two six-teams to assist in the battle against Takofanes.
"Put your weapons down!" Craig shouted, another adrenaline surge ending his respite.
"VIPER, weapons down!" the squad leader ordered. The agents looked at each other, but they were surrounded and outnumbered, two to one, by superheroes. "We were protecting our city," the squad leader stated calmly. "Release us."
A superhero wielding two bloody daggers sneered at the agents. "You want release? Come to daddy!"
"Everyone stop!" Thundrax shouted, recognizing that this could get real ugly, real fast. "There's been enough bloodshed tonight..."
"Bloodshed delayed is still bloodshed," a robotic hero stated. "They will be back, with decidedly better tactical options."
Craig had no time for arguing. Instead, he turned toward the nervous cluster of VIPER agents and spoke in his best authoritarian voice. "You have a choice. Surrender, and your service tonight will be taken into account by the courts. Or force us to take you, and have an additional resisting arrest charge added to the list."
"The serpent does not surrender." the Nest leader boasted defiantly. "He bites."
"I've seen enough VIPER agents put up their hands to know that's a lie," Craig retorted, folding his arms in annoyance. "Surrender now, or---"
"Oh for pity's sake...." a woman in runed black and red robes muttered, and she threw up her hands. Runes erupted from his fingers, encapsulating the agents like fireflies. The VIPERs collapsed to the ground, asleep. "Bloody amateurs," the woman muttered as she walked away.
"Secure them and take them to Surhoff." Thundrax instructed, hoping the situation had been defused.
"What's twelve more bodies among so many?" Knife-Boy said, smiling at the unconscious agents.
"Or thirteen," Craig replied, glaring at the psychotic with an intensity that even Takofanes might have noticed.
The vigilante turned around and fired a grappling gun at an adjacent building. "Screw this," he said. "Have fun when they escape and start murdering innocent people -- again." He swung onto a rooftop and vanished from sight. Craig imagined he'd stay close and use a telescopic lens to spy on them. It didn't matter, he told himself.
Then several shots rang out -- from a different direction -- and the fallen squad leader was struck in the helmet by a high-powered round. He wasn't killed, and a heroine surrounded the VIPER agents in a force field while two others took off the ground and flew in pursuit. The sniper would later be identified as one Gerald Cranston, formerly of Hudson City. But he would only be part of a bigger story: "VIPER Agents Fight Bloodmoon, Surrender, Ambushed by Heroes" would be tomorrow's headline. Considerable ink would be spilled on the "are heroes out of control?" question. For once, Craig couldn't blame them.
Craig sighed. It was getting so the aftermath of Bloodmoon was worse than the actual event.
"But you're a professional decoy."
Taze the Rainbow vehemently shook her eye-searingly bright head. The purplish-pink spikes jiggled, but stayed in place above the vibrant red her hair was dyed. "My arm is still broken!" She lifted the cast to display to the Manimal, who she knew didn't care. "I'm not distracting an army of undead with such an obvious injury!"
"All you have to do is fly in circles and zap one occasionally," Emma argued. "With your outfit," the darkly dressed bird eyed the bright colors disdainfully, "Nimbus will never see the rest of us. We can take her down in seconds."
"And what about the crowd of corpses with her?" The rainbow-tighted heroine demanded. "They won't just lay down and die once she does. This isn't Independence Day, she isn't the mothership! You want me to distract them so you can loot her body, and then you'll fly off and leave me to get eaten!"
The teenaged Manimal rolled her orange eyes. Well, the left one. Taze couldn't see behind the black hair covering her right eye, but she assumed Emma had rolled it too. "Taze, I'm an emu. Emus can't fly. Duh. Once Nimbus is dead, we'll clear out the rest. And why are you so paranoid? You can fly away. I can't."
"I'm still injured from the Mega-Destroids!"
"And I'm missing half my tail feathers. So what?"
"You don't channel your powers through your butt! I channel mine through my arms, which are broken!"
"Only one. You can use your right arm."
"I'm left handed!"
A scream came from the back of the hospital's exterior. "Well, if you won't help, guess we'll kill Nimbus ourselves. It's your fault if anyone gets eaten." The Manimal turned on her clawed heel and sprinted towards the noise.
Taze scowled and put her face in her hands. Why her? She had so been looking forward to that shower at home, and then a lovely week-long nap.... She sighed, then vanished. A giant ball of electricity appeared in her place, arcing towards the source of the scream. At the back of the hospital stood hundreds of undead, shuffling towards the civilians who ran and screamed in terror. The orb spluttered and Taze rematerialized atop the mob of zombies.
Their leader spotted her. Wasn't hard, though, considering Taze's flight powers left a trail of rainbows, glitter, and chirpy music in her wake. "You'll be dead like me soon, hero..." Nimbus gurgled at her, "and a servant of the great Takofanes!"
At least, that's what Taze the Rainbow thought she said. The undead heroine's lower jaw was gone and flesh sloughed off the corpse with every movement. Large rips marred her moldy, previously white and red costume. If she hadn't seen pictures of Nimbus alive, Taze wouldn't have been able to tell. But all in all? For being dead two decades, Nimbus didn't look that bad.
Nonetheless, poor Taze's eyes watered from the stench of decomposition. Lamenting that she hadn't integrated a gas mask into her costume, the rainbow heroine fired a charge of electricity with her uninjured hand. It missed Nimbus, zapping a nearby zombie.
Why couldn't she be right-handed like everyone else?
Emma finally rounded the corner of the hospital, as did seven other heroes. She snapped her fingers, and a large, dark rift appeared among the zombies, pulling them inside. The Manimal's silhouette smirked at Taze the Rainbow as the rift and zombies vanished. She made it look so easy.
Taze repressed a scowl and focused on the undead mob shuffling after her. The multi-colored heroine flew above them and blasted her bright blue volts upon them. She missed most of the time, but it kept their attention. They ripped off chunks of themselves to hurl at her, but she had mastered evasive maneuvers early in her career. She dodged, bobbing up and down, randomly shifting directions, and occasionally phased into an electrical ball when one got too close.
But Taze had always preferred flying. The bright contrails her flight ability left behind were the best attention grabber, so good that they prompted her to become a professional decoy. The young mutant's powers made her early attempts at being stealthy impossible, so she became the gaudiest hero in Millenium City. Why not play to her strengths? She loved being the center of attention, and if subtle heroes could save lives while she hammed it up by throwing glitter in yet another oh-so-dark-and-evil supervillain's eyes to distract them, all the better!
While she flew randomly across the sky, a humanoid bird statue delivered the final blow. With a wave of its talons, a large slab of pavement ripped itself out of the road and slammed into Nimbus. She didn't get up.
"Nice shot, Hawk," Emma said, seemingly unconcerned with the army before them. Dark tendrils shot from her arm, killing four zombies on contact.
The statue just threw more pavement.
In no time, all the undead were redead, and Taze landed gingerly on the devastated ground. The city's construction workers were going to hate Hawk. "Any casualties?"
"I got guts on my jeans," Emma complained and tried to brush them off. "This is going to stain so bad."
The brain in the robotic silver body shook its head. "You had them hypnotized. I'm usually the decoy, so thank you for that. They seem to believe my dome seals in delicious flavor.... Idiots," it muttered and kicked Nimbus's now still corpse.
The rest of the heroes chuckled lightly, but Taze frowned. That voice sounded awfully familiar.... "No problem. Now, if no one else needs me, I'm leaving."
"But Amazing Grace is just down the road with another army," Emma protested.
Taze the Rainbow lowered her glasses and glared at the emu with her bloodshot brown eyes. "Emma, I've been in the hospital two days, I've worn this costume three days, and I haven't slept in four. My arm is broken, everything hurts, I can barely hit a target, and smell like I bathed in guts."
"But we need your help."
Taze continued to glare.
"Innocent people could die," Emma continued.
"I could die!"
Emma sighed and waved her hand dismissively. "Fine, go home. We'll take care of it." The Manimal turned and left. Most of the heroes followed.
An older, blonde man wearing a military uniform paused, his face stern and carved with wrinkles. Taze mentally prepared to be berated by the old man. "You did well," he said instead. "Go rest." With that, he left as well.
The flamboyant hero stood amongst the corpses, watching them go. "Damn conscience," she muttered before she shot off after the others.
Sleep would have to wait another day.
She hoped no VIPER would show up. She'd broken a few arms earlier during Blood Moon, until she'd realized they were actually trying to help the city. After that, she'd stayed closer to gang territories where VIPER would not actively go.
In addition to the inevitable headlines about heroes attacking people who were trying to help, there was another issue she would have to face eventually. What if any VIPER member recognized her? What then? She had left, after all. You didn't just turn your back on VIPER. Not to mention that they might want to use her as bait for Grond.
She sighed, thinking she should get up and back to her tiny apartment in Downtown. It was a shoebox, but it did the job. Just a few minutes more, though. She was tired. So tired.
She reflected on the fight she had with "Amazing" Grace. Mentella shook her head, Takofanes protection over Amazing Grace was too powerful for Mentella to breach as well as other heroes. He had gone to great lengths to stop mind control being a possibility, something which Mentella excelled at, she flicked her blonde hair back and sipped the warm refreshing taste of peppermint herbal tea.
She watched as various heroes and even some villainous organisations helped with the clean up effort. Mentella has caused quite a stir by commandeering a large fleet of PSI members to assist in the efforts of the recently passed BloodMoon and rise of the Undying Lord Takofanes, however after receiving a quick jolt of mental pain for attempting to attack the mind controlled PSI members, most heroes quickly understood that she was in control.
She had recently released her hold on the PSI members, only a few of them perishing in the effort against Takofanes and his undead legion. A number of them shuffled past her in the park, most avoiding eye contact, others nodding in appreciation and respect.
She met eyes with a VIPER soldier who was staring at her, drooling almost. She raised an eyebrow, he suddenly remembered himself and quickly burned out a zombie carcass. Mentella smiled as she imagined the scenario if her sister ForceGirl had been here, her intense hatred of VIPER would cause her to mercilessly wipeout countless squads, regardless of their good intentions. The SummerStone Sisterhood, needed to regroup, alot of them were not in the same city or even continent, she decided to arrange one as soon as she could.
Mentella felt a sudden dull pain on her head, she rose up in alarm to see a remnant of a zombie torso, still clawing it's way towards her and had throw a bone at her head. She grimmaced in disgust, focused a psionic blast and blew it to pieces.
"So pathetic..." She frowned
Mentella brushed off the piece of rotting flesh which had landed on her costume and exited the park stepping over a multitude of undead torso's. Most young heroes had the right idea, by burning them or slicing their heads off.
A small vibration in her pocket distracted her for a second, she reached in and answered her phone.
"Hello?"
It was her sister;
"Mentella where are you? I could do with some help, there are still some zombies in the out skirts of Canada, Black Diamond and I as well as a few other heroes are fending them off, but...but..some of us have fallen and the infected bite has turned them against us..backup would be appreciated!"
Her sister then hung up. Rolling her eyes, Mentella took to the skies in a flash of psionic magenta energy.
She directed her mind probe to different reporters and news casters all over Millennium City, like some other heroes, she was convinced this was not the only effort which Takofanes would put out.
As she neared the superjet, she landed and was greeted by several UNTIL soldiers, whom she acknowledged before getting onto the jet.
The jets engines roared as it took off into the skies bound for Canada.
My Characters on PRIMUS
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__________________________
(Sorry, too tempting
"VIPER Agents Fight Bloodmoon, Surrender, Ambushed by Heroes...", Kaufmann read and sipped from his cup of spiked tea. "I should be injured more often! Great things happen when I need to stay in bed!", he laughed and threw the newspaper onto a nearby side table. Roberts immediately jumped to clear the table and refill Kaufmann's cup. "HAHAHA! Yes, doctor! Very good!", he said affably and his cybernetic eye hummed as it focused on Kaufmann's face. Kaufmann looked at him and his forced grin and raised an eyebrow. They remained in that uncomfortable stance for a moment - Roberts trying to smile so hard that he should actually get a lockjaw and Kaufmann looking at him doubting - then the helicopter took a sudden turn which threw Roberts off balance and caused him to bump into the wall of the vehicle. He sweared under his breath and started to clean his uniform off the tea he had spilled on it. Kaufmann still sat comfortably in his chair and sighed.
It had been three days after the meeting he had to leave early. Janine had managed the rest of the meeting quite well, with minimal losses of dignity and information about her favorite dishes. Kaufmann was quite satisfied. He had expected his injury to be more problematic for the plans he had. The injury. Kaufmann gritted his teeth as he thought back to the last day of Dr. Destroyer's invasion on the Champions HQ. He had hit a boulder. A boulder! Good thing nobody had seen it and that he had only been unconscious for a few minutes before Roberts returned with the helicopter to get Kaufmann out of there. He still passed out in the helicopter, but not before giving Roberts a verbal smack-down about not being on time and organizing being not one of his strengths. Kaufmann may also have involved Roberts's mother several times, but he didn't remember too well. The concussion was clouding his memories of the time immediately after Operation: Clean Sweep officially ended. In fact he had slept the rest of the day after the extraction from the Champions HQ. The next day he had tended to his injuries, which didn't stop him of reviewing everything about Operation: Clean Sweep and the attack of Dr. Destroyer in general, much to Janine's dismay. His secretary insisted on him being easy on himself. And - as he grudgingly had to admit - due to her excellent care, his own medical skills, a perceived truckload of stim-packs and other medicine and even a potion of Kaufmann Inc.'s own shady alchemist, he felt much better now. He still had some pains here and there and his concussion prevented him from using the Telekinetic Neural Enhancement Chip in his brain to control his bullets, but at least he was back in the field.
This was about time as he thought. The Blood Moon was still looming over Millennium City and Kaufmann Inc. had its hands full of contracts, combat assignments and other missions. Not to mention that there had been some interesting developments during Dr. Destroyer's attack and the Blood Moon, for example the sudden appearance of Teleioclones in the middle of Millennium City and the VIPER hostage incident he had just read about. Kaufmann knew that if he wanted to be able to take full advantage of such happenings to further his own goals, he had to be there to get the whole picture. "A little to the left, Roberts.", Kaufmann said to his adjutant and sipped from his tea again. Roberts nodded and made his way to the pilot, carefully avoiding Mr. Cloak and Mr. Dagger who had opened the side hatch of the helicopter to shoot at the hordes of zombies beneath them in the streets, one of them using a high-tech gatling gun and the other a high-powered recoilless rocket launcher. "Mr. Cloak, Mr. Dagger. Turakian Deathlord to the left. Kill it. Again.", Kaufmann ordered and put his cup of tea on the side table and stood up with a pained moan to observe the battle beneath them. Mr. Cloak and Mr. Dagger had already opened fire on the undead sorcerer and Kaufmann nodded his head appreciative as the titanium-tipped gatling rounds and plasma-warhead rockets burst into the horde of zombies around Takofanes' lieutenant.
Of course several other heroes also were present and currently fighting the Deathlord, but right now most of them had pulled back a bit to escape the inferno Cloak and Dagger had unleashed on the undead together with the pilot who had joined in with the helicopter's mounted weapons. Kaufmann grinned as zombies were obliterated left and right. He pushed Mr. Cloak arm slightly to the left so the blast of the next plasma rocket also had a chance to scorch some of the heroes in addition to another bunch of zombies. "Don't worry about friendly fire, gentlemen! Superheroes are invincible, aren't they?", he said to his bodyguards and grinned evilly. Then he turned his head and yelled through the helicopter: "ROBERTS! My rifle!" His grin grew wider as he heard his adjutant cursing as he stumbled through the helicopter to prepare Kaufmann's sniper rifle. "It's good to be back in business...", Kaufmann thought and picked up his cup of tea again.
The Doctor on the PDB
Fahrenheit on the PDB
A few short hours ago he'd finished meeting with the rest of Dead Reckoning, going over all their observations during the fight at Champions HQ. Several tons of Zertstoiten's salvaged tech had been catalogued and stored. Ammunition stocks for the proto-port delivery system were replenished. Minor injuries had been treated and damaged equipment was replaced or repaired. After everyone left, Hunter of Skulls changed into more formal attire and stepped outside, planning on spending the rest of the evening quietly drinking at Vibora Bay's Minefield with his partner.
And now his nicest boots were spattered with zombie gore, he'd lost a few buttons off his shirt and it seemed like every other zombie was intent on snagging the top hat off his head.
Hunter of Skulls leveled both of his vintage MARS Syndicate pistols at the nearest grabby turakian. "Get your own hat.". Both guns fired; the resultant flash and BOOM making it seem more like they exploded instead of just discharging. Hunter of Skulls began firing at a steady pace, fresh .45 Mars Long rounds teleported to the bottom of the guns' magazines from Dead Reckoning's home armory. Somewhere on the other side of the huge crowd of undead was a Deathlord; Hunter of Skulls could feel the tug of its presence like a miniature black hole but he knew other heroes were all ready engaging the creature. Others had to try to contain the zombies before they infected and killed civilians. Hunter of Skulls turned to gun down a few strays and then his entire field of vision flashed white.
When his sight finally cleared, Hunter of Skulls found himself lying in a sprawled, smoking heap. A scorch mark on the pavement surrounded by charred zombies marked the spot where he'd stood just a moment ago. Also next to that mark was a smoldering, tattered ruin that could only be his hat.
A high-pitched whistling sound preceeded another white flash and another knot of zombies turned to kindling. Plasma rockets. The silvery smoke trail angled up from the street in the direction of a helicopter currently idling over the fight, its occupants unloading ordinance with abandon into the melee below. "Oh that is IT. Strelok Dukh.", Hunter of Skulls muttered almost inaudibly, yet the summons was clearly heard by its intended recipient. A tall, angular figure shimmered into view in front of Hunter of Skulls. Glowing amber eyes regarded him from beneath the wide brim of a black leather hat, the rest of the figure was wrapped in black as well from coat collar to boots, accented with buttons and buckles of glinting brass. "Containment. None of these things leave the area, yes?", Hunter of Skulls said. Strelok Dukh's only response was a brusqe nod before it whirled about, caved in a zombie's skull with one metal-capped boot and then began dispassionately dispatching more undead with a graceful combination of small arms fire and hand-to-hand techniques. "I''m going to go have a word with the myopic idiot in the helicopter.", Hunter of Skulls grumbled, flying upwards.
He landed standing with both feet on the helicopter's skid and then... changed. His features ran like molten wax and his body contorted with a sound that suggested a good number of the bones in his body were breaking and then reassembling themselves. The tailored shirt and jacket subsumed themselves beaneath oily black seeping through the fabric that then solidified into overlapping armored plates. The helicopter tilted sideways as he gained mass, engines straining against the sudden addition of nearly a half ton of weight. A rack of twisted horns thrusted upwards through a beastlike mane of black hair and the face beneath took on the sunken and angular contours of a skull; all bleached, polished bone and grinning teeth. The Hunter of Skulls nearly filled the entire side door of the helicopter and he gripped the frame on the left and right with taloned hands, claws puncturing the sheet metal.
"Right. Which one of you morons owes me a new hat?"
Kaufmann stared at the thing clinging to his helicopter with a raised eyebrow. He had to admit it was fast. The thing had flown up from the ground and transformed into what Kaufmann suspected was its true form in a few moments and was now viciously snarling at Kaufmann and his two bodyguards who both had their weapons pointed on the unexpected passenger hanging in the side door of the helicopter. Speaking of the helicopter: The additional weight of the thing gave even the upgraded and powerful engines of Kaufmann's private helicopter a good challenge and the whole vehicle had tilted to the side, causing Kaufmann's cup of tea to fall from the side table and roll over the floor of the vehicle out of the side door. Kaufmann looked after the cup for a second and the corner of his mouth twitched. He then gestured to Mr. Cloak and Mr. Dagger to lower their weapons. Neither of them was any use now. Kaufmann had no doubt that they had enough firepower to damage the demonic looking beast, but he was also sure they would damage the helicopter first.
He stepped forward from behind his bodyguards and defiantly stared in the skull-like face of the thing. He was the Freeshooter, Dr. Pascal Hugo Kaufmann. He had faced undead warlocks, vampire lords and archdemons. He surely wasn't afraid of some skull-faced misfit. "This is a private helicopter. Get lost.", he simply said to the thing and waved his hand dismissively. He listened over the roar of the helicopter engines and the noise of the battle below and could hear Roberts cursing slightly. Apparently he was still preparing Kaufmann's sniper rifle and hadn't even noticed that they had been boarded. "Useless idiot...", Kaufmann thought, then spoke to the thing again: "I'm not telling you again, skull-face. Remove yourself from my helicopter or I'll remove you." The thing stared at Kaufmann for a moment. If it had visible eyes, Kaufmann would've sworn that it would have blinked incredulous a few times at his remark, then the thing snarled at him angrily. Mr. Cloak and Mr. Dagger immediately brought their weapons up again, but Kaufmann just clicked his fingers and they hesitated for a moment before lowering them again.
The staredown continued for another moment, then the skull-like face of the thing contorted as its mouth opened to say something. "I...", it started, then two things interrupted it. The first thing was an angry battlecry; the second thing was the butt of Kaufmann's sniper rifle being hammered into its face with a good amount of force. Roberts had rushed into the back of the helicopter, seen the thing hanging in the side door looking menacingly at his boss and reacted immediately. This was his chance to get back into good grace with Kaufmann! Cloak and Dagger couldn't do anything with their bulky weapons right now and Kaufmann himself was too close to the thing to pull off any of his infamous dirty tricks. So Roberts did the most logical thing: He grabbed the KSW-8, Kaufmann's freakishly huge sniper rifle he had assembled and loaded and rushed to the thing. Shooting it would have been more effective of course, but there was a certain chance that he hit Kaufmann himself and his boss wouldn't be very happy about that. So he used the good old rifle butt. The end of the heavy rifle connected with the face of the surprised beast. Roberts doubted that he had done any lasting damage to the thing, but the momentum and surprise were enough to throw it off guard. Its claws let go of the frame of the side door and for a second it swayed back and forth, balancing on the edge of the vehicle, then it fell out of the helicopter door.
For a split-second silence came over the helicopter, then Kaufmann nodded appreciatively: "Not bad, Roberts." The adjutant grinned at Kaufmann. "I kno...", he started then suddenly the engines of the helicopter shrieked, now working again fully and the whole vehicle jerked back into the usual horizontal position now after the additional weight of the beast didn't strain the engines anymore. The sudden shift of the floor threw Kaufmann and even Cloak and Dagger off balance, but Roberts had the worst luck. With a horrified yell he lost his balance and dropped the heavy sniper rifle to grab the frame of the helicopter door, but it was too late. His hand grabbed nothing and he fell out of the helicopter. On his way down he yelled in fear of death, then halfway on his way to make an ugly stain on the ground he collided with something hard. It all happened way too fast to actually get any details, but out of his peripherals he realized he had fallen right on the demonic-looking beast he had kicked out of the helicopter. Apparently after the initial surprise of being thrown out, it had catched itself in mid-fall and turned around to fly towards Kaufmann's helicopter again. Until it collided with the falling Roberts, which caused both of them to fall to the ground in a knot of limbs now.
A second of shock came over Kaufmann as Roberts had fallen out of the helicopter, then he rushed to the side door and looked out. The only thing he could see was the chaotic battle between the superheroes and the Turakians below. "ROBERTS!", he yelled, already knowing it was futile. No human could survive a fall from this height. He gritted his teeth and hit his fist against the steel frame of the helicopter door, which promptly caused him to hurt his hand at the steel the claws of the beast had shredded. Kaufmann roared angrily and picked up his sniper rifle, firing shots into the crowd below, not caring if he hit zombie, superhero or surviving civilian. "Doctor?", Mr. Dagger asked carefully behind him. Kaufmann whirled around furiously and pressed his rifle into the hands of the surprised Mr. Cloak. "I don't know what that thing was, but it killed Roberts! MY adjutant! An employee of MY company! A human! Some filthy supernatural animal killed a human under my watch! I want that things ugly head on a plate!", he spat out and the two huge bodyguards took a step back, so frightening was Kaufmann's sudden fit of rage. He cursed angrily, which mainly consisted of descriptions which involved the business end of his sniper rifle and the orifices of all metahuman and paranormal beings in the universe, then made his way to the pilot, already yelling to activate the stealth-shields of the helicopter and getting back to base for reinforcements. Mr. Cloak and Mr. Dagger exchanged a glance. Kaufmann's face while swearing revenge had been scarier than the skull-like visage of the thing. Neither Cloak nor Dagger said anything, but both had the same thoughts. This wouldn't end well.
(Do what you want with Roberts!)
The Doctor on the PDB
Fahrenheit on the PDB
Below, there was a scream of pain and anger as a couple of Kaufmann's sprayed bullets hit Senka hard in the shoulder. Even as mutated as she was, that hurt. Especially when she'd been awake for nearly three days straight, fighting the undead hordes.
Looking over at her shoulder, she swore quietly in Croatian, which does sound absolutely weird when done with a Detroit accent. In addition to piercing flesh, the bullets had broken part of her cybernetics. A snapped tube was spilling a glowing pale blue fluid across the shoulder, which stung badly. As if the readouts showing that the armor was on its way to breaking down wasn't enough.
Gritting her teeth, she activated the jetpack on her back, flying over to the helicopter, figuring that the bullets had to have come from there.
Landing in the open door, she looked at the assembled humans. "Which one of you broke my armor?" she stated flatly, pointing with one clawed, gloved hand at her shoulder.
Mr. Cloak and Mr. Dagger stared at the heroine in the battered armor. The heroine stared back. The look on the faces of the two nearly identical huge bodyguards was priceless: Somewhere between shock, surprise and plain disbelief. Mr. Dagger turned his head towards Mr. Cloak who shrugged slightly, or maybe his shoulders just finally gave way to the weigth of the gatling gun AND Kaufmann's sniper rifle he was holding. This awkward scene continued for a few seconds, then the helicopter engines roared and the vehicle started moving. Suddenly an angry voice yelled from the cockpit: "Mr. Dagger!!! Get over here NOW! I know you can fly a helicopter and the pilot... uhm... hit his head! Very hard! No external application of force in a fit of rage! If someone asks and nobody will, but if, he still looked pretty conscious when I came here... Why am I justify... GET THE HELL UP HERE!!!"
Mr. Dagger looked at Mr. Cloak, then at the waiting heroine, then back towards the cockpit. He repeated that pattern two more times then walked to Mr. Dagger, completely ignoring the angry heroine. Angry superhuman was bad, angry Dr. Kaufmann was worse. He pressed his rocket launcher into Mr. Cloak's hands who now really started to sway back and forth under the weigth of the three huge weapons he was holding, then turned to the heroine. "Seriously, get out. It's for the better.", Mr. Dagger simply said and walked to the cockpit, leaving the overencumbered Mr. Cloak alone with the heroine, who now looked more confused than angry.
"Okay, seriously what the hell...", the heroine started confused but still angry nobody in this chopper was paying real attention to her. "...is going on here, for f*cks sake?", Dr. Kaufmann finished her sentence as he waltzed into the back of the helicopter again, face crimson red with anger. The heroine opened her mouth, but Kaufmann cut her off: "No, really? What does this look like to you people? A public transport? This is Predator-1, my own personal, private transport helicopter! Can't you people get that in those thick skulls you carry around? Or are those just so it doesn't rain into your necks? I mean, seriously! Look around! You see that chair and side table? Quality aluminum with mahagoni wood and REAL black drake leather! Do you know what that costs? More than a VIPER agent makes in a whole year!!! Do you think I'm putting those things in here, so random heroes can waltz in? 'Haha! Look at Kaufmann Inc.! They have mahagoni furniture!' You know who else has mahagoni furniture? Vladic Dracul of Vibora Bay! Does he constantly have to put up with people storming into his crypt? BLOODY NO! So why do I? Listen, lady I really don't know what this is about and frankly I. Don't. Bloody. Care!!! I'm telling you, I've got a concussion and thus the worst headache since I was up against Medusa with only a box of nails as a weapon, a whole can of sinfully expensive Chinese tea spiked with even more expensive Irish whiskey just fell out of this helicopter and probably hit the head of Takofanes' dogsbody down there of who I'm sure wouldn't even know expensive tea and whiskey anymore even if IT HIT HIM ON THE HEAD, my personal adjutant just got killed by something which even Tim Burton would have found too cheesy and now another BLOODY cape is waltzing into my helicopter like it's the freaking Museum of the Battle of Detroit on a public holiday, not too mention that the latest addition to this merry little band of unwanted visitors is leaking some barely identifiable blue goo on the floor of my private chopper, which hasn't happened since I had a pair of succubi in here, which I was preparing to throw into a bloody volcano, which they found hot in several meanings!!! Seriously, WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG HERE??? Now get off this helicopter before I shove a sniper rifle so deep up a very special part of your anatomy that I can use you as a BLOODY SILENCER!!!"
The heroine stared at him with her mouth open. Mr. Cloak looked from the heroine to Kaufmann and back. Then he catched the heroine's gaze and silently formed words with his mouth: Get. The. Hell. Away...
(Kaufmann rant!!!)
The Doctor on the PDB
Fahrenheit on the PDB
Urgh. Why did she even bother? Fortunately she had experience with this kind of boss. She could rant and rave and kick things, but it would benefit her just as much as tapdancing through Project Awakening naked.
Shaking her head, Senka covered her eyes with her hands for a second. Though one of them was green and over two meters tall, and the other dressed in a pretty nice suit, they looked pretty much equally tired and worn out at this point.
But he was right. It was pretty nice furniture. "At this point, I would have asked which kind of VIPER agent, as the payscale varies with seniority and ability to kiss the Supreme Serpent's posterior, but this really isn't the time for levity." She pointed at the broken piece of cybernetics, which was currently dripping fluid down her arm and onto the carpet. "Somebody on this chopper broke my armor, but I see I should just have sent a bill instead." She paused. "In case you need kindling for a fire." The last bit was said with a rather bitter sigh.
Looking over her shoulder out of the helicopter, she shrugged. "I'll see myself out." She grabbed the edge of the helicopter, swinging herself down towards the nearest building. At this point, she didn't trust the jetpack at all. It had been coughing nastily.
There was a body sprawled across him. Hunter of Skulls grabbed the collar of the man's shirt and lifted him. Even through the blood and rapidly-darkening bruises he recognized the face. It was the daft b*stard who'd hit him in the face with a rifle stock. He appeared to be breathing but probably had more than a few broken bones; Hunter of Skulls had taken the brunt of the impact with the car but his armor didn't really make for a soft landing. If Hunter of Skulls had eyes in his sockets, he'd have rolled them. "A+ for guts. F- for follow-through. Next time you should buckle your safety belt.". Hunter of Skulls let out an exasperated exhalation and slowly clambered off the car while carrying Roberts. in one hand and the rifle in his other. "I suppose I should get you to the EMTs.", the Hunter rumbled. "Serve you right if I left you in the street though. But that's not how I play the game.". Hunter of Skulls carried the unconscious Roberts to where a group of medics was working on injured heroes and civilians alike. The Hunter placed him on an available gurney, then hefted the rifle. "Decent design. Optics survived the impact. More than fair compensation for the hat, I'm thinking.". Hunter of Skulls sat heavily on the tailgate of a nearby truck. "Guess we'll wait for your boss to come collect you. Hopefully he's not as cheap as he is rude.".
((this is helping me keep my sanity at work, thank you all))
"I give you one more minute.", Kaufmann said dangerously quiet. The technician gulped and desperately tried to prepare the systems faster. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity to both of the - albeit out of different reasons - the technician sighed relieved. "Doctor, we have a picture now.", he said and Kaufmann walked back to the monitor wall. "Show me.", he demanded and the technician typed some commands in. On one of the monitors a familiar scene appeared.
...
James Roberts, personal adjutant of Dr. Kaufmann was comatose. That sounded worse than it actually was, because he wasn't in any danger right now. He still was where the supernatural hero Hunter had placed him: At the EMT camp near the latest battleground against Takofanes' servants, somewhere in Millennium City. Nobody was paying too much attention to him, since he wasn't in any danger of dying right now. Not the EMTs, MCPD running around securing the area or one of the superheroes still hanging around the place, either being tended to by the medics, helping the MCPD or just plain old resting.
The Hunter of Skulls was also still sitting around, clutching a half-broken KSW-8 sniper rifle, one of Kaufmann's personal weapons and waiting for Kaufmann himself or at least someone of Kaufmann Inc. showing up to retrieve Roberts. Then Roberts' cybernetic eye started to hum, barely audible and opened. The lens swirled around and finally focused on the Hunter.
...
"Do we have sound too?", Kaufmann asked slightly annoyed at being presented a silent movie. The technician shrugged. "I can get sound too, but that would take about half an hour of further adjustments to the...", he said but Kaufmann cut him off "Okay, okay, okay... Zoom here a bit..." The technician did so and Kaufmann gritted his teeth. "That thing... has one of MY rifles!", Kaufmann spat out angrily "It's touching one of MY rifles with its filthy supernatural claws!" The technician stealthily moved his office chair a bit away from Kaufmann just to be sure. "Everything alright, doctor?", he asked carefully. Kaufmann started to chuckle quietly, then it got louder and louder until it was a full blown villainous cackling.
The technician looked at him shocked and confused. Kaufmann slowly calmed down again, then looked at the man. "Tell me... Did anyone ever tell you what my personal equipment is infamous for internally?", Kaufmann asked with a sadistic grin. The technician stared at his boss for a moment, then it came to him. Kaufmann was famous for rigging his equipment - all of it, be it spent ammo clips, weapons, gadgets and whatnot - with tiny, but powerful charges of remote-detonated Fordite explosives. The technician understood and smiled uncertain. "Yes, you understand...", Kaufmann said with a smug grin and leaned back in the office chair he had slouched down on. "Let him have my scope! Let him use it too! I'm gonna wait just for the right moment... Maybe when he's surrounded by Mega-Destroids and needs to rely on the thing and then... Boom. One hero less.", Kaufmann said and lit another cigarette. "Brilliant, doctor!", the technician said eagerly, trying to maybe milk Kaufmann's sudden good mood for a raise. "Thank you... Now... Would you please start to work on sound here? I'm sure they're soon going to bring what's left of Roberts into Mercy Hospital and we all know that right now there's no better place to... listen in on the various heroes who got injured during Dr. Destroyer's attack or the Blood Moon. All of them at their weakest... Such a tragedy...", Kaufmann said coldly and the technician immediately got to work.
((Don't worry, last bit for today. Just needed to get this out already so Kaufmann has a chance to know about the UNTIL Carrier event.))
The Doctor on the PDB
Fahrenheit on the PDB
Hunter of Skulls, having waited until he was certain Roberts would receive medical attention, shifted back to his human guise and got ready to head home. Sadly, he was still missing several shirt buttons, wearing viscera-streaked boots, sported several scorched holes in his cape and of course his hat was a complete loss. On the plus side, he'd helped contain a pretty serious supernatural outbreak and he had an interesting new piece of tech to examine. "Strelok Dukh.", again a whispered summons and again a near-instant response as the elegant scarecrow figure of the gunslinger spirit manifested before the Hunter. Hunter of Skulls handed the huge sniper rifle over to the silent being. "Take this back to base. I want it set up in the WORKBENCH and programmed for detailed teardown in the next hour. Put Destroyer's tech on hold for now; the optics on this are intriguing, the machining is top-notch and I want to see if there are any innovations here that might be of use to us. Strelok Dukh took the rifle from Hunter of Skulls and shimmered out of sight again.
Hunter of Skulls flew into the night sky; he'd check on Strelok Dukh's progress later. He was certain the spirit construct was probably nearly finished with the disassembly process anyway. Right now, there was a cold drink and a warm smile waiting for him at the Minefield.
Senka finally managed to make her way down to the ground, not too far from the EMTs. Not wanting to go right back into Mercy, she borrowed some duct tape and a bottle of rubbing alcohol. It took a bit of time to tape the cybernetic back up and then remove the goo stuck to her arm. The undershirt was definitely a loss. But what worried her more was that it wasn't the armor. It was the cybernetic. Stupid monstrous thing. She swore quietly under her breath. Unfortunately she couldn't just yank the thing out, if she wanted to still be able to use the arm.
Finally deciding she needed her own tools to try to fix things, she stood up, putting the roll of duct tape and the rubbing alcohol down on a gurney.
Hey...hadn't the rude fellow with the nice suit said something about a can of tea falling out of the chopper?
She headed back into the mess of dead Turakians. With a bit of luck, the thing had survived the impact.
Moving a few bodies aside, she soon found what looked like it, buried halfway into the Deathlord's brain. With a wrench, Senka pulled it out. Shaking off the worst of the brain-matter, she unscrewed the lid and took a small sip. Wow. That man hadn't been kidding. This was good stuff through and through.
Putting the lid back on, she decided to start walking back towards her apartment, can still in hand. With the readouts currently telling her the armor was at 35%, she wasn't going to fly.
The Hunter gulped down more coffee and headed for the lab/machine shop/workroom where tech confiscated from supervillains was examined, torn down, catalogued and occasionally reverse-engineered. The process was relatively streamlined thanks to a rapid-prototyping system stolen from Argent about four years ago; inside the vaultlike room robotic arms carefully disassembled items while laser-scanning the dimensions of individual parts, checking material composition, plotting the assembly of the entire item and storing all the information for later duplication or modification. These days the room itself was insulated with several layers of lead backed up by a Faraday cage, a quarter inch thick layer of silver and iron laminate and several feet of steel-reinforced concrete. Sometimes "borrowed" tech has owners that are both eager to get it back and fully capable of reducing the property value of the entire neighborhood to negative numbers.
Hunter of Skulls unlatched the heavy door to the workroom; although it weighed several tons it was so perfectly hinged it swung open with oiled ease. The damaged rifle he'd taken possession of last night lay disassembled on the WORKBENCH, broken down to its smallest pins and springs and... something he didn't recognize.
His eyes narrowed at the small, cylindrical objects set by themselves away from the other parts. "Whazzat?", he mumbled. "Explosives.", came a reply from somewhere behind him.
"GAH!".
Hunter of Skulls whirled around, seeing Strelok Dukh standing near the computer-run lathe. Doubtless the construct been here all night, standing in the same spot like a statue, idle but never sleeping. "You know, if you keep doing that, I'm going to seriously start doubting the whole 'I don't have a sense of humor I'm aware of' thing.", the Hunter grumbled. He could swear he felt a grin behind that featureless mask. "Now what's this about explosives?".
"Composition, Fordite. Method of detonation, narrow-band encrypted radio signal side-by-side with audio and limited visual surveilance capability. Status, disabled.".
"Disabled, well that's something at least. Pretty sure 'exploding' wasn't on my to-do list this morning. Clever b*stard this Kaufmann, isn't he?"
Strelok Dukh paused for a moment, then responded with the same clinical tone used to describe the devices, "I do not understand the correlation between intelligence and illegitimate birth.".
Hunter of Skulls waved his hand. "Rhetorical question. But I think you knew that. Anyway, this is a pretty good find. High explosive payload in a very small package, plus precise control of detonation. I'm thinking we could adapt this tech to upgrade Nachthexe and Mertvaya Ruka's anti-armor capabilities. Let's get this added to the database, run some test builds and... oh yeah. Take the surveilance devices and dump them in the bathrooms at the Dog Pound. Meet me in the main room when you're done.".
Strelok Dukh gathered up the small electronics in a gloved hand, walked out of the workroom and vanished. The Hunter of Skulls was almost certain he heard a dry sound approximating a chuckle, but shook his head and returned to his coffee.
Hugh scrutinized the box warily. It was about six inches long, and its black spiky exterior radiated dark, vaguely familiar energies. Why had she brought it to him? Mr. Mann hadn't been trained in the magical arts, but he still knew this box was bad news. Of course, the bloodstains on its sharp spikes were a bit of a giveaway.
"Where did you find this, Emma?" The office worker finally asked.
"Deathlord," the Manimal replied, continuing to toy with her skull earrings. Hugh wasn't entirely sure how she, an emu, could wear earrings. Did she even have ears behind that black hair? Her next question broke his train of thought. "So? What do you think about it?"
"It's definitely evil," he said.
"Duh."
Hugh ignored the teen's rudeness. "Takofanes is the Deathlord's master, so it's a likely conclusion that the box belongs to him. I think it's from the Netherworld, but I don't know much about magic. Why didn't you bring this to Witchcraft? I'm just a weapons expert."
Emma rolled her orange eyes. "Witchcraft? More like Bitc--"
"Emma!"
"Oh, what, you have a crush on her? Typical middle aged man," she muttered. The emu was clearly carrying a grudge.
"I don't have a crush!" Hugh protested and quickly changed topic. "Why didn't you ask a magic expert for help? Why me?"
"Because I already tried Sos. She said it was from the Netherworld too."
Hugh frowned. Sauce? Why was a mage named after what you put on spaghetti? "Then why do you need my opinion?"
"You're good with locks. Can you open it?"
"Locks? I didn't see a--" Oh. There is was. "I don't think opening this is a good idea," he said as he began fiddling with it. "Ever heard of Pandora?"
Her eyes rolled again. "You people are obsessed with that story. Can you unlock the stupid thing or not?"
"No," Hugh said. "It looks like it needs a special key."
"Sos said that too. Hand it over," she pointed at the box. "I'll get someone with super strength to smash it open since you can't."
Hugh carefully obeyed, trying not to stab either of them with it. "With those spikes, they'd just get injured."
"So I'll pay someone invulnerable. Duh," the Manimal said and stuffed the evil box in her backpack.
"And if that doesn't work?"
Emma shrugged. "Tie a rope around it, swing it at villains' heads. You know a better use for an unbreakable box?"
Hugh watched her walk out of his office. That weapon was going to kill someone. Wonder when her manslaughter trial would be televised?
"Okay, so this is what we've got so far. We've got a boatload of captured tech from Zerstoiten's toys warehoused, seems like his teleportation tech has been improved so that'll be in the next update for the proto-port ammunition delivery system. Speaking of ammunition, we also have the wonderful Dr. Kaufmann to thank for the new lightweight range-specific detonation anti-armor rounds Mertvaya Ruka and Nachthexe will be using. Let's be sure to send him a thank-you fruit basket or something. He seems like an 'Edible Arrangements' kinda guy to me. There were very minimal civilian casualties from the last Bloodmoon but as you all know we're coming up on Halloween so that means Takofanes himself is going to be paying us a visit. I'll be ramping up production on all munitions in anticipation of us being up to our frickin' eyeballs in turakians again. Just in time for that, Anarchodroid's retrofit has been finished and his combat efficiency is vastly improved by the addition of the flame projectors and thermal energy converters we 'borrowed' from Argent last month. And lastly, Nemesis appears to have made herself a new friend; one of Teleios' happy little duplicates has it in for her now after she told some interviewer for WCOC that she depopulated the entire Tower in Canada by herself. So, what, a rogue angel wasn't trouble enough for you luv?"
Nemesis gave a brief snort of laughter. "I needed someone more ridiculous as an enemy and Camiel doesn't have an entire Youtube video series dedicated to him.". Hunter of Skulls still had trouble reconciling Nemesis' normal human appearance with the towering amazonian creature she became when her patron deity empowered her. But, as a 5'1" pixieish Goth girl, she wasn't constantly bashing her head on the ceiling. "Besides, I think Six got the message after that battlefield surgery episode. And I think he realized that sending pizza delivery guys to the house that looked like Teleios wearing a fake mustache wasn't going to work either. And the pizza was cold.".
Hunter of Skulls chuckled. "You should have asked for a refund. Okay, anybody got anything else?", he asked. No one responded. "All right then. Let's take the rest of the day off yeah?".
Also, she'd cut her finger on its spikes.
With a small growl, she tied a long rope around the box, and threw it hard at one of the pigeons outside. End result, one flattened pigeon stuck to the thing.
Hmm... The next few minutes were spent flattening pigeons and throwing them one by one into the cookpot. That was one lunch she didn't have to buy. And when she saw that oaf Kal-Turak again, she was going to hit him with the thing. Preferably in a very sensitive spot. Provided that hadn't rotted off.
"What the hell are those things? They can't be opened by any means we know of, they cant be broken, hell we can't even scan them for any valuable data!", Mullins exclaimed agitated and scribbled something on his clipboard. The other soldier shrugged. "No idea, Sir. All we know is that Takofanes' rotting shamblers are throwing them around like candy on Halloween... Sir. So where do you want us to unload them?", he said. Mullins sighed again and took a quick glimpse on his clipboard. "Then bring them to storage room 24-B for f*cks sake...", Mullins mumbled and started to contact the personnel in said storage room, who were also less than pleased to receive yet another load of the strange boxes. In fact, as of late nearly all previously unoccupied storage rooms of the Kaufmann Inc. HQ were almost full of the things. "Sir?", one of the soldiers already carrying four of the boxes towards the storage room suddenly stopped. Mullins looked up. "What?", he asked, maybe a bit more angry than necessary. The soldier ignored it. "What exactly are the plans for these things? I mean... Why are we stockpiling them like they are gilded questionite nuggets?", the soldier asked.
Mullins sighed. "Orders from very high up the command chain, soldier.", he simply answered and pretended to study his clipboard again. The soldier already turned around again, then Mullins let out a snort which caused the soldier to stop in his tracks. "If you want to know it, soldier...", Mullins said, "Orders from the boss himself. He does have a plan for those things. I think the plan is quite clever, but it still has a certain air of lunacy around it, but that's nothing new in this company, huh? Well, anyway... The boss plans to issue every Kaufmann Inc. soldier, no matter the exact division one or more of these boxes to carry into the field. In case they are defeated by superheroes or other law enforcement, every man is to drop one of these boxes as a distraction to prevent whoever defeated them from looting anything actually valuable from them... You know... Equipment, weapons, modification cores... All that stuff. I guess the rumours were true and the boss really lost one of his sniper rifles in battle and is overreacting a bit now... Well, anyway that's the plan.", Mullins explained to the soldier in a tired voice. The soldier listened until the end, then raised an eyebrow. "Well... That is clever... But that's really something only the boss would think of... Sometimes I think I should have signed up with VIPER... I bet they don't have to lug around metal boxes for no reason than to drop them in an emergency...", the soldier simply said and continued his way towards the storage room.
In his head Mullins kind of agreed with him and finished noting the delivery on his clipboard, when he noticed the other soldier who had apparently also been listening in on the conversation. "Sir... Speaking of the boss... Have you heard anything?", the soldier asked and picked up a box which was fallen out of his hands. Mullins shrugged. "Only what everyone has heard.", he said, "That the boss has locked himself in the surveillance room for almost three days now with his secretary, only coming out to eat and sleep." The soldier pondered that for a moment. "You know that WOULD be kinda hot if the boss was a hot chick like that Devana Hawke, but like it is, it's just freaky.", the soldier said and carried his stack of black boxes towards the storage room. Mullins wanted to say something, but the only thing he could say as another black van drove down the ramp was: "F*CK!"
The Doctor on the PDB
Fahrenheit on the PDB
He sighed again, tossed the ugly little box through the dimensional portal, and closed his storage pocket. There had to be somebody who'd want these damned things. He'd heard rumors of a mercenary company offering a price for them - a low price, to be sure, but more than they were worth to him. Then again, maybe he should check the price on eBay...
- David Brin, "Those Eyes"
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"Thank you."
"No problem, just doing my job. You have any idea what that wave of energy was for? I mean it doesnt seem to have had any---"
His sentence was cut short as the ground beneath them seemed to erupt spewing necrulitic energies in the form of purple protoplasm, with it came legions of the undead. CharmCaster knew what was going on straight way, around the same time last year, she had encountered this problem before. It was Takofanes, or as some younger heroes call him, Takoface. Either way this was bad news. Other heroes had already started swarming to the Downtown area near Harmon Labs and had begun engaging the army of the undead creatures.
CharmCaster muttered her levitation incantation and was lifted into the air by the electrical energy in the air. She looked around and noticed that this wasnt localised to one area, it seemed to cover Millennium City in a scarlet shroud of dark magic. Many a mage had tried to dispell the dark magic and had been fatally wounded as a result.
Her attention was brought back to the battle after a zombie lept up and grabbed onto her foot and started trying to chew through her boot. She kicked it off and then summoned a bolt of lightning to strike it down, she muttered a few other spells before striking down multiple zombies helping to aid the effort to drive them back to where they came.
She looked to her left as one wizard appeared beside her and shouted as he fired a stream of cleansing magic energy;
"YOU SHALL NOT PASS! GO BACK TO WHENCE THOU CAME!!"
CharmCaster rolled her eyes. Wizards...soo dramatic. As time went on the odds seemed to be falling in the heroes favor, thanks to the abundance of charms and luck spells she had conjoured up.
Then things changed. A new bigger zombie was summoned up through the erupted earth, coated in a field of ancient magic. Heroes valiantly tried to attack but to no avail, the shield was of ancient and very powerful dark magic. Not even the scrolls of the Ancient Ones covered dark magic to this extent, the shield was impenetrable. One of the heroes below noted that it was an old hero known as Vanguard, to which the zombie responded.
Soon enough the Hex Shield around the zombie Vanguard dropped and he drew his bow and arrow and began to attack. CharmCaster's runes and spells were being hexed by the zombie's lingering magic resulting in a lack of potency, she had but only one choice. Ancient Magic.
She focused her energy and muttered a lengthy chant which drew on the power of the natural world, in this case, Lightning. She was struck by a beam of yellow energy from the sky and was infused with ancient energy, which she quickly directed out of her at the zombie, significantly injuring it, within 10 seconds the active damage of the heroes soon out balanced the hex magic, nullifying it and the zombies then retreated back to the purple plasma, but not without having turned some civilians into zombies themselves.
Her incantation ended and she was slowly let down towards the earth, the ancient magic had hexed her slightly, making her unable to focus ancient magic for a while.
"Urgh, that was disgusting" Gildar the Warlock grimaced as he wiped the vomit from his feet.
CharmCaster laughed at him and picked out the bits of rotting flesh which had stuck to her.
She noticed a small black and rather volatile looking box which seemed to appear out of nowhere to her left, she attempted to open it but it wouldnt budge, she tried various spells but it seemed to be very well protected, she placed it in her Dimension Bag and figured there were more important things to think about than a small box, which didnt seem to hold any value.
The Wizard standing next to her looked around and summoned a cleansing ward which evaporated all traces of undead and healed the ailments of a majority of heroes in the surrounding area. The only thing which seemed to defy cleasing was the rupture in the earths surface, even some earth manipulators were unable to close it.
Instead the rupture sprouted two earthen arcs infused with necrullitic energy and a portal formed between them, shining with dark purple energy.
Few heroes ventured near it, most left the area. CharmCaster was eager to check it out, she beckoned Gildar and they approached the portal. Before they could go any further a beam of bright almost burning light appeared blocking their path, the light faded and an angelic like creature was infront of them, her wings were extraordinarily large and she seemed to have an essense of purity about her.
"I will accompany you, my assistance will be needed. I am Alara the Light Guardian."
CharmCaster wasnt about to argue or refuse, she simply nodded and the three continued onwards followed by the wizard who introduced himself as Zolto.
Alara breached the portal's magical window and stepped in, followed by Gildar and Zolto, CharmCaster looked around and then stepped in.
She had a bad feeling about this, even with all their mojo...
My Characters on PRIMUS
[#]WeNeedHeroicFashion - <Aura Suggestions> - <CO Wiki (WIP)> - <Crowd Control Discussion> - <Telepathy in Champions Online> - How to review The Force Power Set - Join the Champions Online: On Alert Discord!
I am @RavenForce in game
__________________________
"Beg pardon, Doctor?"
Destiny looked up. "Sorry, Karen," he said to the young grad student who was assisting his research. "Just figured out what's up with these boxes. Takofanes is being exceptionally clever this time."
"What do you mean?" Karen asked. "They're well-sealed boxes, requiring specialized techniques to open, that have a few trinkets inside and radiate magic like nobody's business. The trinkets aren't cursed or anything, though - are they?" There was a slight quaver in her voice as she finished.
Destiny chuckled. "Nothing that obvious, no," he replied. "It's the magic in the boxes itself that's clever. Looks like every time one is opened, there's a tiny pulse, barely noticeable - that shakes the dimensional membranes. Open enough of them, and Tako can enter this world much more easily than usual, meaning he'll have a bigger reserve of power to fight us all with when he breaks through."
"Oh, no!" The girl looked nervously about. "How soon do you think he'll try--" A sudden shaking interrupted her. In the distance, they could hear an ancient voice ranting at magically-enhanced volume.
"Oh, about now, I'd say. Stay here. I'll be back."
- David Brin, "Those Eyes"
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The Teleioclone winced. What the hell was he thinking, attacking a Mega-Destroid? Why had he spoken to Lancaster and her cameraman? What was wrong with him? Besides the obvious 'brain damage due to his idiocy'. If he wasn't the Teleiologist's favorite cook, he'd be dead right now. Many of his siblings still wanted him ripped apart by rabid Teleiosaurs. Oh, they didn't say anything, but their cold stares said all that needed to be said.
It was odd, then, that they still allowed him to prepare their meals.
43762-A shrugged to himself and continued chopping strawberries. Six had wanted a fruit salad today. It was ridiculously easy to make, so he watched the news while he worked. The recent zombie attacks distracted the media's Teleioclone obsession, which was a blessing. He couldn't take any more discussions about him between Z-list celebrities and washed up news reporters.
The Mark I rather liked this new development. All the footage of Takofanes' undead minions eased his homesickness, and the live feed of rotting organs splattering heroes' faces was hilarious. He'd even seen one zombie rip its own head off and hurl it at a heroine! Much better than the videos of him getting smacked by a giant robot!
But back to preparing his employer's meal. Did Six want the salad in a carved out pineapple again? If he did, he was going to be disappointed. Whoever was in charge of groceries during 43762-A's absence had done a shoddy job of restocking his kitchen. There was no milk, no bread, no flour, no eggs.... He could probably steal some of the latter from the hatchery, but recalculating recipes that used chicken eggs into recipes that used giant dinosaur eggs gave him a headache.
Made scrambled egg breakfasts easier to cook, though.
A clip of the Archlich's attack on Champions HQ caught the clone's eye. That had better not be what the 43762-A thought it was. The Mark I peered closely at the TV screen, intensely focused upon a tanned, dark-haired man. The hero looked like an excellent specimen as he punched a zombie's head off, but the clone wasn't concerned about his physique.
No, he was fixated on the man's clothing. His very, very familiar clothing. A dent in the armor where a Nether Demon's sword had been deflected. A small burn from a Steelhead soldier's laser fire. A scratch from the Warbeasts getting too rough while they played. All barely noticeable clues, but the clone knew them well. It was unmistakable now.
"That's my uniform!"
First, there was the obvious matter of the aftermath of Dr. Destroyers attack, which had cost Kaufmann his adjutant Roberts, who was comatose, one of his beloved sniper rifles and - as he saw it - much of his dignity. Kaufmann did not forget. He was not currently planning revenge on the two heroes who had boarded his private helicopter as he frankly was too busy right now - he had a company to run after all - but he'd remember that day.
Second, the boxes. Kaufmann would never admit it, but the idea with the boxes came to him during a particulary nasty drinking session with his secretary. But luckily he didn't have to justify anything here: It worked. After Kaufmann Inc. had started to buy up all the boxes they could find for a ridiculously low price and started to issue every soldier one or more of the strange black boxes, equipment losses had went down to almost 1 %. For some strange reason the heroes and villains who managed to defeat his troops were much more interested in the useless boxes than in the technology and equipment his soldier carried in the field. Kaufmann found it kind of hilarious. He had indirectly managed to bribe superheroes.
And last but not least: Dr. Destroyer. Kaufmann was sure that the attack on the Champions HQ hadn't been the last the world would see of Dr. Destroyer and his robot armies. The important question was: What would come next and how could it benefit Kaufmann Inc.? Unfortunately Kaufmann was at a loss. None of his contacts could dig up any information. Not that it surprised him, it was Dr. Destroyer after all, but even the direct link into the 'Superhero Haven', as he had started to call Mercy Hospital, had brought him any infos. The cybernetic eye of his comatose adjutant Roberts was sending audio and video data non-stop, but until now, nothing even remotely interesting had come up. The first days he had spent every minute in the surveillance room of the Kaufmann Inc. HQ, but after a while his frustration had beaten his enthusiasm and now 'Roberts Duty' was the newest disciplinary measure of Kaufmann Inc. and even more hated by the soldiers than cleaning the toilets.
Kaufmann sighed. His head hurt and the cigarette he was smoking tasted stale. He had reached a dead end here. Maybe it would be better to take the last few days until Halloween off, to relax properly? Kaufmann pondered that thought and actually already started to pack his stuff into his briefcase to go home, when the door of his office suddenly opened and his secretary rushed in. "Pascal!", Janine yelled and panted heavily, apparently she had been running all the way into his office. "It's here!", she said eagerly and held up a small black leather suitcase about the size of a shoe box. Kaufmann dropped everything he was currently holding and a big grin creeped on his face. "Really?", he asked and closed the distance between her and him in record time. She smiled at him and held the briefcase up. Kaufmann reached for it, but in the last second she pulled it away and pointed at her cheek with a sly grin. Kaufmann sighed, but didn't care in that moment. He gave his secretary a quick kiss on the cheek and grabbed the briefcase. After that he immediately made his way out of the office and down the next corridor, Janine on his heels.
"Is this really what I think it is, Pascal? What we were talking about?", she asked with awe in her voice as they entered the elevator. The elevator doors closed and Kaufmann nodded, still grinning like a maniac. He pushed the button for the basement and the elevator started to move down without a sound. Janine checked her reflection in the mirrored elevator walls for a second, then turned to Kaufmann again, who nodded at her excited. "Oh, yes. This is our Halloween gift to this city, Janine...", Kaufmann said as the elevator doors opened again. They were in the lowest basement level of the Kaufmann Inc. HQ. The featureless walls consisted of grey concrete, illuminated by white neon tubes, which gave them a cold, sterile look, like everywhere else in the HQ. In fact down here it was even worse. The maze-like corridors of the basement, together with the sterile architecture gave it the appearance of an abattoir. Someone who had never visited this place would surely expect some cow halves to hang from the ceiling after the next turn of the corridor.
But Kaufmann and Janine made their way through the maze of corridors without any reaction, used to the look (after all Kaufmann had designed it) and most of all, still eagerly talking about whatever was in the small black suitcase. After a short while they took a turn and stood before a security door, guarded by two soldier in the uniform of Kaufmann Inc.'s elite squads. Both of them saluted silently and stepped to the side, so Kaufmann could access the console next to the heavy metal door. He typed in the code, almost making a mistake out of excitement of what would come next. The servos of the door hissed and it opened slowly. Kaufmann smiled.
((So that's just the weekly look into the madness that is currently going on at Kaufmann Inc. Insert Kaufmann's evil scheming theme: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=927lwH61lho))
The Doctor on the PDB
Fahrenheit on the PDB
Blood Moon. Again. Hadn't Takofanes been there just before?
She swore as she dived around Vigil. It was odd, really. Some fallen heroes, like Nimbus, couldn't really move for the sheer amount of heroes trying to drive them back. But others...she pretty much had to do it all. With screeching Turakians throwing bits of bone at her. Was funny when the one threw its leg at her and promptly fell over, though. It had made her laugh out loud for the first time in weeks. Those blasted boxes...even the drill she'd stolen from the neighbor hadn't worked.
At last, she made her way into Vigil's crypt, the heads-up display translating the darkness into something she could navigate. She really wondered why the crypt was so bloody long, and so filled with zombies. Maybe it had been a crypt for other people of Detroit as well. But then, HOW was there any room for a sewer system anymore, with all these crypts under the city? Were they even there yesterday?
And at the end of it all, a horrible demon. She hated horrible demons. It took far too much of her Tesla Coil Apparatus' electrical charges to take it out. Thank goodness she'd stolen this cannon thing from another fallen hero. It did have a pretty noticeable effect.
In the end, Vigil's soul was freed, and he faded away with a silent thanks. If she wasn't cold, tired and covered in zombie guts, Zalantae would have been more happy. But as it was, she smiled slightly. One down, twelve to go...if she could get enough of a charge.
===============
Velheya glared as she looked down at Takofanes sitting there on his throne. And ranting. And ranting. Wouldn't he ever shut up?
Then, he hopped down off his throne. She blinked. Seriously? Was he going to...She grinned wickedly as she raised her staff, sending a large electrical charge right at the lich's eye. Followed by a summoned storm of lightning and several lightning bolts.
Funny, it seemed others felt as she did. The lich was pummeled and kicked and shot at so fast he seemed taken aback."Didn't expect that, did you, Kal-Turak?" she murmured before summoning more lightning.
In the end, the battered and bruised lich fled, swearing to be back. He probably would be, but for now...
She studied one of the boxes she'd found thoughtfully. The magic charge was evident, casting a red, evil glow, making her blue skin look purple. She still couldn't get it open, but she had to admit...the spell was pretty cleverly woven.
ForceGirl looked pretty sorry and looked over at her sister.
"I'm sorry about this..but I was curious.."
Mentella sighed
"No matter, it would have happened eventually, be it, you, another hero or even a villainous organisation around here, there are plenty of them around."
Mentella looked around here, they had to stage the battle in and around Force Station Steelhead, it was a disgusting mess of rotting flesh and undead body parts. They were just fortunate Witchcraft was in the area, her cleansing ritual was powerful enough to repel Necrull and nullified his necrulitic energy and control causing the zombies to slowly fall apart. However Mentella was convinced if CharmCaster was with them it would have been an easier job to do, not to mention to be less hassle.
"Right I think we are done here, lets leave this place, we've done our fair share of the clean up effort and neither Black Diamond, CharmCaster or Bionic Bullet are responding to my mind probes, I fear for their safety."
ForceGirl didnt need much more prompting than that to leave she created a force field around them and they slowly levitated into the air before thrusting forwards at great speed towards Millennium City.
The sisters arrived in Millennium City to be greeted by more undead. Takofanes had risen again and this time he seemed more determined than ever to consume more of the living. ForceGirl was fatigued from the endless flight and rested on the steps outside the Rennaisance Center. Mentella frowned as Amazing Grace rose from the dead once more, surrounded by the same impenetrable shield. Mentella left ForceGirl in the capable hands of the two PRIMUS power armor soldiers and went to assist with the effort to push this twisted version of Grace back to the underworld. She put out a telepathic message calling across the city requesting help with the effort. Few Heroes responded along with some pilots of the New line of Jets for heroes.
"Back for round two?" Asked Mentella
"You are a fool who got lucky the last time, this time YOU WILL BE CONSUMED!!" Amazing Grace replied.
Mentella frowned and unleashed a psychic wave which wiped out a wave of 20 zombies with just a single thought.
"Bring it."
My Characters on PRIMUS
[#]WeNeedHeroicFashion - <Aura Suggestions> - <CO Wiki (WIP)> - <Crowd Control Discussion> - <Telepathy in Champions Online> - How to review The Force Power Set - Join the Champions Online: On Alert Discord!
I am @RavenForce in game
__________________________
The black haired, blue skinned alien girl with the strange yellow catlike eyes was standing near the entrance to Radion's crypt on her cell phone, having a much-needed talk with her mom, who was working hard in the Royal Canadian Mounted Police to keep the peace during the war between werewolves and the hunters.
"Oh, you know I'm going to come visit. I'm sorry I missed Thanksgiving... maybe we can make up for it? Good, that sounds like a great plan. I've gotta go now. Love you, mom!"
She hangs up, putting her phone on her utility belt and looking at the gate to Radion's tomb. Saber Strider was always a mama's girl, and speaking with her gave her the courage to enter the crypt. She pulls her mask on, adjusts her goggles and pulls her hood up, and with a flourish of her cape, she enters.
She hunts unusually rotten prey tonight. Her boomerangs slice through undead heads like a hot knife through butter, she catches the big guys with her bolas and finishes them off with a strike to the head. The spirit of wrath, the burning undead man, goes down easily with a few boomerangs to his head. She advances, and leaps over the charging massive zombie... the Strength of Takofanes, was it? He can't hurt what he can't hit. She leads him around the room, hiding in the shadows... then she strikes.
She leaps onto the muscular zombie's shoulders wielding two boomerangs in her hands and drives them into his head before backflipping off of him. He fell with a thud... and she picked up a blue box. She shakes it. "Does everyone carry these blue boxes with them nowadays?" She opens it and finds the most valuable common metal within, Questionite...
Onward to the cathedral where the spirit is held. She sees the demon responsible for keeping Radion here, radiating dark energy. She smirks under her mask and takes out a remote. Somehow, her SaberJet targeting system worked here. She wasn't about to question it.
The demon hears the jet scream by, and it feels the bullets ripping into it with explosive force! ... and equally explosive results.
Saber Strider goes to Radion's spirit. "So, is everyone held in a crypt like this?" "Yes... thank you so much for saving me!"
"Don't mention it. This is a breeze." She leaves through the portal and finds herself back out on the city street.
"Let's do this."
Fortunately, after she'd beaten down a bunch of zombies outside the local convenience store, she was able to afford a couple bottles of beer and some microwave tacos (fangless). Why not? She'd earned dinner at this point.
She was trailing zombie guts up the stairs, but at least it wasn't her own. This time. If that bastard Tacoface or whatever his name was kept on like this, that might change, though.
Ignoring the disapproving glances of the old woman across the hall, she unlocked the door to her apartment.
It didn't take long to hook the batteries up to charge. Heroes didn't steal electricity, she knew, but if she had to pay for the lot herself, she'd be out on the street in five minutes.
Slumping down in the battered chair in front of the TV, tacos and beer in hand, she decided to watch something funny. Now, if she could only find out which neighbor had been blasting those Teleioclone videos for days on end...
It was a vampire. In fact it was a high-ranking member of the Vibora Bay gang New Shadows, sometimes called the 'Immortals' by the public. But this particular vampire didn't look fearsome or awe-inspiring. It was bruised and beaten up with scorch marks of laser weapons on his skin here and there, his fancy Victorian clothing was ripped and torn and it looked half-starved. In fact it was, as since it had been captured by Kaufmann Inc. one week ago, it hadn't been fed. Kaufmann refused to sacrifice the blood of any of his men to it. Questionite zipcuffs held it to the metal chair which was bolted into the floor and a pentagram with various runes around had been painted onto the floor with water-proof paint and prevented it from turning into mist or any other magic tricks."How do you feel tonight, baby?", Janine teased the vampire with a smug grin. The vampire raised his head - his face was even more emaciated than usual - and hissed at her. Hissing was also the only thing it could do. As it opened its mouth one could see that almost all of its fangs had been broken out of its mouth, most of them taken as trophies by the soldiers who had captured it. In fact, the two most prominent canines dangled in silver settings from Janine's ears now. The earrings had been an early Halloween present from Kaufmann to his secretary.
Kaufmann and Janine gloated over the miserable vampire for another second, then turned around to the suitcase again. Kaufmann opened it slowly, with a good amount of dramatic. Both of them looked into it, even the vampire tried to get a look. In the suitcase were bullets. About 40 of them, in different calibers. They were pitch-black and metallic, but otherwise looked like normal bullets. Janine looked a bit disappointed. "That's it?", she asked, "They look kinda... normal." Kaufmann picked one of the bullets and took it out of the briefcase. It was cold as ice to the touch. "They are better than they look, believe me.", he said and held the bullet up. The hard, cold light reflected clearly from the black metal. "What exactly...", Janine started, but Kaufmann interrupted her. "The hull is of a common titanium alloy. Not remarkable. It's the core that is intersting. The hull is razor-thin and breaks off after it has been fired, revealing the core.", Kaufmann explained and gave the bullet to Janine. She took it and looked at it interested. "It feels cold... What is the core? Holy water?", she asked quite professional. All the time as Kaufmann's secretary also had taken a toll on her. Kaufmann shook his head and took the bullet back with an evil grin. "The core is... special and the reason this suitcase full of bullets cost me a small fortune. The core is an amalgam of different cryogenically frozen liquids. We have a basilisk's poison, angel's tears, holy acid - yes, not holy water, holy acid - and ice from the Frost Tomb of Kigatilik himself. Cost me a fortune, but these bullets might be the greatest weapon there is against supernatural targets. They penetrate almost every defense, kill instantly and melt almost instantly, leaving not a single trace.", Kaufmann said with a big smile on his face.
Janine stared at the bullet in awe, then smiled at her boss. "That's genius, Pascal.", she said and took another bullet out of the suitcase. "Well, we'll see about that.", Kaufmann said and pulled his revolver, the 'Blattschuss' out of his coat. He picked a fitting caliber from the suitcase and loaded it into the gun. With a grin he turned to the vampire, who was violently throwing itself around now, desperately trying to get out of its shackles. "Oh, shut it...", Kaufmann said with a snarl and bashed the butt of his revolver into the creature's face. He didn't knock the vampire out, but the impact left it dazed and it stopped its struggling for a moment. Kaufmann took a step back and aimed his gun. Then he felt something touching his back. Janine slung her arms around his shoulders and slid her hands up his arms until she was also holding the revolver, pressing herself into his back. Kaufmann grinned. "Ready?", he asked. Janine didn't answer but instead pull the trigger of the revolver. The bullet hit the vampire in the chest.
At first nothing happened and Kaufmann and Janine remained in their awkward position for a moment. Then the captive vampire started to shiver and tremble. It moaned in pain and the veins on his neck and face started to color themselves black slowly. It started screaming in pain. Janine let go of her boss and stepped next to Kaufmann to get a better view. Kaufmann still had the revolver in his hand, just to be sure. But it ended just as quickly as it started. The vampire threw himself around, but after ten seconds of violent thrashing he stopped. Even the black veins disappeared and their normal color returned. The vampire chuckled barely audible. Kaufmann twitched. Then he threw his gun on the metal table and turned around angrily. "JANINE! Tell the men to get that bloodsucker out of here and put an execution squad together! Oh, and send those useless bullets back to...", Kaufmann ranted, while he was already walking out of the containment cell.
In that moment the vampire let out a scream of agony and quickly turned into a pile of black dust, which turned the floor of the cell, Janine's high-heels and Kaufmann's dress shoes into a huge mess. Kaufmann and Janine stared at the dusty floor, then at each other. Then they started laughing hysterically. They held onto each other and gasped for air, as they laughed for a minute or so, before they calmed down. Kaufmann looked at his secretary who grinned at him. "That was an Immortal.", she simply said. Kaufmann nodded. "You know who else is immortal?", Kaufmann asked. Janine nodded. "Takofanes.", she said. Kaufmann nodded again. "I'm gonna try those bullets on him. Should be interesting.", Kaufmann said with another grin. Janine hugged him. "What do you think sounds better in newspaper headlines: 'Dr. Kaufmann, Killer of Takofanes' or 'Kaufmann Inc., Bane of the Blood Moon'?", she asked and playfully started to adjust his tie and shirt collar. Kaufmann laughed. "We'll see... We need to prepare this... Nothing's going to stop us this time... Oh, and we need a clean-up team.", he said and crushed a fang of what was once the captive vampire under his heel.
The Doctor on the PDB
Fahrenheit on the PDB
Zalantae stepped hesitantly out of her apartment, peering at the bright light. She'd slept for days, but had been forced out of her hidey-hole by the need to go to the shop for a few necessaries like milk for her tea.
She hadn't gone two steps when she was stopped by a young man with a fierce, angry expression on his face. "My cousin's in VIPER. He has two broken arms now, thanks to you." he snarled.
Zalantae sighed. Her actions during the Blood Moon had come back to bite her in the ****. Big time. Forgotten was all the time she'd fought to keep Millennium City safe. Instead, the mistakes got the attention.
And to boot, there was a reporter nearby. One Sandra Lancaster, who immediately buzzed over, sticking her microphone into Zal's face.
"Lady Zalantae, I'm Sandra Lancaster. May I have your explanation of your cruel actions during the Blood Moon?" the woman asked cheerily. "No comment." Zal answered testily, trying to walk past, but the cameraman was blocking her way.
"Can other groups expect the same treatment?" Sandra continued, with the same cheery demeanor. She was certain there was a story here. Digging a little, she'd found that Zal had a bit of a reputation when it came to VIPER.
Zal growled and tried to push past, finding her way blocked. "My sources tell that the reason for your intense dislike of VIPER has to do with the fact that Draconis supposedly dumped you?" Lancaster continued.
This earned her a glare from Zalantae that would have melted steel. "Let me make one thing absolutely clear." she answered icily, making rude gestures with her hands for emphasis. "I would not touch Alexander Dracoulides with an eleven foot pole. He's an arrogant, slimy, self-loving, disgusting bag of ego. Am I making myself absolutely clear?"
"How did you come by your knowledge of Draconis?" Sandra pushed on. Now this could be interesting...
Her technopathic powers were being stretched to the limit, she was keeping the lights on and running the clean up bots as well as making sure the production line at Vehicles R Us was still functioning correctly.
"Phew...I sure hope I've done everything..because I am at my limit!" She sighed
Techna walked over to a chair and dropped into it, expecting fluffy delight, instead she was greeted with a rather sharp pain to her rear end...
"OW!"
She got up and spun around, blaster drawn and ready to fire. She narrowed her eyes as she saw a small black and red box wedged in her seat, one of it's horns were sticking out from the folds in the seat. Techna reached out for the box and pulled it from between the seat folds, sat down and examined it. It was a small box, it didnt seem to have any relevance or purpose, but something about it increased the natural curiosity in her and she attempted to open it, but to no avail.
Her armor systems were constantly scanning the box and suddenly started beeping loudly, Techna checked the read outs and it seemed this box was radiating some weak energy waves, the energy signature was faint and was gradually growing fainter, but she was able to find a match to the earlier energies which she had picked up during the assault on Millennium City by the Deathlord Takofanes, who thanks to CharmCaster, Alara the Light Guardian as well as a multitude of heroes had been driven back to where he came.
One of her heavier looking robots came across to her and tried to open the box, even blasting it with a particle beam, but it didnt seem to open, whatever magic was left lingering around this box, as faint as it might be, it was enough to prevent anything from opening it and unveiling its secrets. The robot made an almost annoyed beeping sound before dropping the box on the floor and flying away.
Techna shrugged and walked over to her kitchen and made a cup of tea and took out her favorite biscuits from the cupboard, she flipped on the television and was happy to hear Millennium City was recovering well from the recent attack, the same had been true for Canada, where she was currently stationed.
Her communicator flashed brightly before a hologram portraying Mentella's face appeared in mid air.
"Oh, Mentella! Hi?"
"Nice to hear from you again, but sadly I don't bear glad tidings..we are going to need you in Millennium City ASAP."
Techna frowned
"Oh? Why? Is there something wrong?"
"You could say that...Remember the UNTIL Sky Carrier which was shown last year in the UNTIL Report?"
"Yes, I do, it was quite impressive!"
"Well, it's under threat...Bionic Bullet tells me they are going to need your technopathy to help us combat the damage and help repair things, it's Dr. Destroyer, his forces are on route to the Sky Carrier and we think he may have hacked the defense systems on board, there are very few weapons functioning. I'm on the helicarrier along with Bionic at the moment and---"
The transmission ended as Mentella's image seemed to fade out and the hologram switched off.
Techna frowned and holstered all her weaponry and summoned her Anti G.R.L. As if by chance the news casters received a breaking news report about the Sky Carrier. She ran into the TV room to hear more but only caught the last end of the report:
"With other Carrier vessels miles out, with no hope of getting to them in time, who will help save the lives on board the Carrier from the clutches of Dr. Des--"
Techna rolled her eyes, the electricity had cut out again, compliments of the harsh Canadian winter weather.
Techna readied her self and keyed in the coordinates of a location in the Renaissance Center and the teleportal device started charging up.
"Initiate Primary Phase Teleportation, followed by Secondary Phase Robotic Unit Teleportation."
The computer responded accordingly and prepared her battle bots and healing drones for teleportation.
Hopefully this time she won't teleport too high into the sky and drop on someone or teleport too much into the ground and find herself surrounded by concrete with just her head sticking out. She sighed as the spinning rims infront of her started to spin faster and faster lightning up and creating a portal which showed an image of the Renaissance Center with Defender looking around and speaking to various heroes.
Techna checked her Medical Nanites in her bloodstream were functioning at full capacity and battle ready. The readout said 100% capacity, so she sighed and clicked the teleport button and was swiftly jolted from her base into the teleportal.
My Characters on PRIMUS
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No response came from her partner. He must have switched off his body's audio receptors so he could focus on that Qliphothic sample in peace.
With a sigh, the telekinetic heroine teleported through the locked blast doors.
Before she'd met him, Neocortex's lab had been attacked by supervillains. In the ensuing explosion, he, his attackers, and the lab were all destroyed. Well, all except his brain. Medulla still wasn't sure how he had built himself a robotic chassis while he was floating in a jar. Or how he could even see with no eyes. When she broached the subject he got irritable, threatening to take back the powers he'd given her through his genetic tinkering. Clearly, it was a sore subject.
Right now, the scientist was leaning over the workbench with his back to her, completely absorbed in his work.
"Hey! Neo! Your freaky science project can wait! UNTIL is under attack!" She tapped his shoulder to get his attention. He didn't move. "Neo?" She shook his sleek silver shoulder. "Are you alright?" Medulla whirled him around, then gasped.
Neocortex was gone.
The dome that housed his brain was empty. It wasn't broken; the fluid was still inside, and she couldn't see any damage to his robotic body. But he was gone without a trace.
Well, not entirely without a trace. His kidnapper had taped a note to his head, which she pulled off and read with a frown.
The letter, made from cut out newspaper letters glued onto a Post-it note, was not a ransom. No, it wasn't a ransom at all, for the note said,
'HIs brAIn Was DeLICioUS'.
Previous analysis confirmed. Attacks on Champions HQ designated Homestead were intended as a probe of Millennium City's defenses. Current attacks on UNTIL Sky Carrier are being carried out with much higher levels of offense. Note particularly the introduction of a new variant, designated Drone Helicopter, consisting of one robotic attack craft similar to UNTIL's Osprey carriers, although smaller and more heavily armed. This is at variance with established pattern of Shadow Destroyer, whose new units have generally been magical in nature, such as his Karkaradon allies. This lends support to the concept that the original Dr. Destroyer, Albert Zerstoiten, has returned to Millennium City. This unit's human contacts are disturbed by this idea.
Further data analysis to come.
**user HAPPIFUN SECURITY SYSTEM X-4 has logged off**
**antivirus report: virus DESTROYER'S SLAVE quarantined and deleted**
**clumsy organic attack on silicon perfection**
**hail mechanon**
- David Brin, "Those Eyes"
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Design notes:
Need some better way to dispel static electricity. The sand blowing around in the Desert plays merry hob with the targeting circuitry - having trouble even maintaining a target lock on those stupid Totems, and they don't move! And then the sand starts static-clinging to the visual ports, so I can't even see anything...
On another note, the armor upgrades appear to be effective against ectoplasmic bullets, which is a sentence I didn't ever think I'd find myself writing. But yeah, there are ghosts, and there are a hell of a lot of ghosts in Burnside, one of those old abandoned mining towns near Burning Sands. Mean bastards, too, but then I suppose being dead for a hundred and fifty years could do that to a guy.
Might want to see about upgrading radiation shielding, though - I have to go talk to some guy in the Atomic Wastelands, and just flying near that place makes the Geiger counter scream like a lottery winner at a Black Friday sale. I might want to have kids someday, or at least not have cancer or something, you know?
- David Brin, "Those Eyes"
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Luke walked through the hide out, or "library", as his friend Hughe liked to call it. It was the strangest place he had ever seen, and being an underwear model, he had found himself in some very strange places.
There was the lass called "Mental Vortex" and her "bedroom hide out". Now that was strange. She had no physical desires, Luke sadly found out, but he was mentally ravashed for near a week before he could escape. He often wondered whatever happened to her.
No, this place was in many ways even stranger than that. Books seemed to fly about on their own, but this he only caught out of the corner of his eye. Candles floated about, with no table or stand to hold them up.
This was the last time he asked a mage to do his decor! Well paid as he was, he could have been more thoughtful of Luke. Not one picture of Luke was on the walls! Mirrors would reflect his image, but then strange smoke would fill them and weird voices would come out of the smoke. He didn't want smoke and voices, he wanted to comb his hair.
Luke sighed. He plopped more than sat on the throne like chair that was before the big table with books that Luke would never read. The covers had no pictures, and most did not even have proper wording. Hughe assured him it was true english, but Luke was not so sure.
A deep frown on his face showed his boredom. He had already did his obligations for the week. One paid very well, the other....he would not answer a weight gazers advertisement for an underwear model EVER again. Women who have been deprived of White Castle and chocolate for long periods of time seemed to lose alot of inabition! These women needed lots of inabition and control! Luke felt very thankful that he was well trained in self defense. Not that he hurt anyone, but he was able to duck, side step, and shimmy out of the way of the most bold of ladies that accosted him.
"I need a nice cold Pepper," Luke said aloud, and for the first time he found himself starting to like the place, as a cold, dark, fizzy drink rose out of the arm of his chair, and sat their as if it had been there the whole time.
Luke tried it, and was fascinated at how well it tasted. The syrupee goodness was a concoction that the Stop&Rob on the corner seemed to not be able to perfect with their Big Gulpers.
As the fire place began to crackle, he began to realize it was not so bad. He leaned back into his chair, kicked his boots up onto the table, knocking a book off, and relaxed as he drank his beverage.
He barely even noticed, out of the corner of his eye, as the book took it upon itself to fly to some shelf behind him and place itself in it's perfect alphabetical order according to author and volume.
Paragon Vanguard
Luke Minhere
Hughe of The Purple Robes
The air in the Millennium City coffee shop was bracing and filled with flavorful scents; Thundrax had good taste in coffeehouses, even if the petite chair was much too small for his huge frame. The reporter nodded and lifted the coffee cup to her lips. "And you heard about Java."
Thundrax sighed and slumped back in his chair, unconsciously patting down his hair. "That could be anything. That's not far from the ruins of a number of almost forgotten empires, including that of Kul-Turak. And we never did find out why Shadow Destroyer tried to kidnap Ken Haight on that island a few years back."
"I can think of a few reasons. Haight's one of the foremost conspiracy theory experts in the world, Craig," Julie Morgan answered. "Trust me, I'd love a one on one interview with him."
"Conspiracy theories give me the willies." Thundrax responded, quaffing a strong batch of tea from a thermos."But the Lemurian involvement is what concerns me. I never bought Arvad's "redemption", sad to say. The man was an ally of the Nazis! And how many times did he invade the surface world over the years?"
"I thought you were all about compassion and rehabilitation." Julie Morgan said.
"Even my liberal bleeding heart has its limits," Craig declared. "If Albert Zerstoiten appeared at the United Nations tomorrow and offered the world a miracle cure for every major human disease, free of charge, I'd be looking for the catch. Some leopards have too many spots to change."
"You have a point," Morgan agreed, a little sadly. "So what about that helmet the professor saw?"
"Eh?" Craig wondered aloud. "Oh those! I understand they uncovered a few of them. I know Brou took one of them, and I think a few other heroes were safeguarding the others. I'm sure they're important, but just how important remains to be seen. But something's in motion. Something big, mark my words."
Do folks want to begin using it again or open a new one to replace this one?
Yeah, yeah - BRAINS!