SSR #2: Generation S

[AI]

Darkness embraced Lutonopolis like an old friend, clinging to the darkest alleys and dizziest heights of the city as if to protect it and it's inhabitants from a monster under their beds. And they had every right to be afraid - The sky was raining fire.

The sky was red with luminous balls of flame, as they tore into the planets atmosphere with abandon. Thousands of comets intruded upon an otherwise clear night, rewarding onlookers with only brief glimpses of the milky white stars that shone despite of them. Yet, in that sea of burning crimson, hidden from all by the most prying and observant telescope or satellite, there was a streak of green.

It was larger than the other comets, burning off a strange gas as it rushed forward towards it's goal. It smashed through another comet, sending burning hot rock-shrapnel spinning off into all direction, creating small pock-marks where they collided the other chariots of fire - Anybody watching at that precise moment would have seen the resulting explosion light up the sky like a glorified firework, but no trace of the strange green construction.

It moved, hurtling Earthwards faster than it's peers. Soon it was all but clear of them, leading the pack like a prized race horse. It had no cover no, to distraction to keep away unwanted eyes - But that was of no concern, for soon... It hit the atmosphere.

* * *

"Heh, Momma always said never go anywhere without an umbrella..." Mused Robert Y. Castro, In case you're wondering, the Y stands for 'Why me?', otherwise known as Disastrous Jim. Never had he thought that nickname was more fitting than tonight. "... But then, my mum was a silly old bint to start with..."

He walked down the streets of the Inner-city. It was quiet, and not just too quiet either. The place made a graveyard look like an all-week rave that had only just got started. But then, he could see why - The sky was bleeding. Even if you were big enough and ugly enough, which to be honest, most people were, to sell your own grandmother down the river - This would probably have you hiding under the bedsheets, and suddenly wishing that ole nanna was around to comfort you.

The expression 'paint the town red' had never been more literal than it was tonight. Everything glowed with an unearthly fire, casting a foreboding ambience onto just about anything that had the audacity to be below the angry glare of the shower above. Luckily, Jim Castro was made of sterner stuff - And, all modesty aside, the fate of the world could rest on this journey.

"Urr." Grunted George, another man who wasn't going to be put off by a little brimstone hurtling from the heavens, as Jim approached. George was the doorman-come-bouncer of Club Voes, a Dunstable mutant who was built like a brickhouse and had all the charm and endearing quality of a pug.

"Evenin' George." He nodded to the mutant. "Slow night, eh?"

"Always slow night here, Jim." The lumbering lummox rumbled quietly.

Jim stepped up to the door, out-stretching his hand to reached for the handle - Only to find no handle was there. Raising an eyebrow, he pressed his hand against the door, only to find rough, splintered planks nailed across it. He took a step back - He hadn't noticed it because of the eerie red ambience that was cast across the entire country - If not the world, but the lyliac neon tubes that had once proclaimed 'CLUB VOES' proudly above the rest of the street trash beside and around it was gone. What hadn't been lifted by some young hoodlum was smashed to pieces.

"George, what the pissing hell are they..." He looked around, met with just an empty street and a stray gust of wind. "George?"

He spun around, scanning every nook, cranny and lingering shadow for any sign of the bouncer - But nothing. And it wasn't like you could hide something the size of George, it'd be like trying to hide an elephant in a carwash. But there was nothing, just row after row of desolate buildings and empty tarmac.

"*****." He muttered.

He heaved a sigh, slipping his hand into his coat pocket and retrieving a crow-bar from it's depths. Unlike an umbrella, he never left home without one. He hooked it behind the boards, applying the required leverage - The boards started to creak under the strain as the nails were played from their place. It was obvious he'd done this before... More than once.

Soon both the boards were discarded at his feet, and with a ginger push of his finger tips, both of the doors swung inwards. Layers of thick, grey dust swirled up into the twilight of the room as it was disturbed from it's various resting places. He took a cautious step inside, examining the scene. Most of the furniture had been stripped, only the main circular bar and settings for the various lights and fish-tanks remaining. His shoes left footprints in the dust, as if he was walking on a slushy grey snow.

*KKKKRRRRR-BANG!*

"Oh you have got to be kidding me..." He muttered, as the door slammed shut behind him. "Great Jim, you've walked out of Lutonopolis and into Scooby-pissin'-Doo..."

He tucked his crowbar back into his coat, replacing it with his lighter. Nothing but him and the spiders in this hole - Which struck him as strange. This place was the most happening joint in the inner-city, the best of the best. Considering it's location, that was no minor feat by any means. It couldn't have gone out of business already, the place was never bleeding empty... No, something was rotten in Lutonopolis... And it wasn't the sewerage system.

"Hello?" He called out, feeling like a right prat. "Okeanos?!"

Nothing. He carried on into the back room, or at least where the entrance to it should have been. This was exactly where squid-for-brains had led Diva and him on their first night here. Albeit he hadn't been back since, he'd had... Other things on his mind.

He pressed against the wall, running his hands along the surface of the brickwork. Nothing. No loose bricks, secret entrances, special combination... Just solid bricks and mortar all the way to the ceiling. He sighed. Another bloody dead end. Heh, at least the weather was right for it, he supposed...

... And then, he caught something out of the corner of his eye. He knelt down on the floor, pushing away the layers of dust to retrieve what was hidden underneath. It turned out to be a worn, yellowing playing card - It's edges singed by flame and curling with age. On the face was a picture of Jim, dressed up like the traditional Joker, with two small 'J's' in the corner. There was nothing to laugh about though, as behind him looked a great, ominous shadow, thing string-like fingers oozing down from it's hands to entangle around his limbs, playing him like the fool he felt...

"Thanks for that, you decrepit old cow...He sneered, thinking of a dozen different curses he could throw at Madame High-and-bloody-mighty if she were here right now. "... Thanks a flamin' lot...

* * *

Something quite extraordinary had happened in Lutonopolis. Something that hadn't touched the city since the late sixties - Super hero mania had gripped the country, and once again, Lutonopolis was in the eye of the storm. And if that eye had a pupil, it was most certainly the SSR Head Quarters. Rebuilt from the ground up since the incident with the Chaos King's Warriors, the new tower was bigger, better and more commercial friendly than ever.

The bottom floor mainly consisted of the reception area, gift shop and the ever-expanding Sensational Secret Reserve museum. It was a haven of all things SSR, with everything from letter openers shaped like Crimson's sword to miniature wind-up Mavericks. There was also the VIP area and a full bar and disco, free for wedding receptions, office parties, kids birthdays and gatherings of secret societies. Complete with refitted DAMAGE barman and a wide range of Equaliser's greatest smackpunches on the radio system - Seen as the epitome of Battle Metal, taking the phrase quite literally.

The middle floor was generally the heart of the building, with the briefing room, surveillance areas and living quarters all taking up this level. With the level directly above being purely recreational. Housing, among other things, full training facilities, a smaller relaxation area complete with mini-bar, water cooler and of course, resting next to the Helicopter landing pad, was the swimming pool.

Which is where Illioto-Kapvik, soon to be known to the world as Icicle, could be found.

She lay down in the pool, water flowing up and over her chest keeping only her head and hands above the water. Taking one hand off the book she was reading, a novel called Casino Royale, to dip it into the pool, she lowered the water temperature considerably. Giving a muffled, yet contented, moan, she slipped her hand from the water, freezing the excess to the point that it shattered - Leaving the skin underneath bone dry. Satisfied, she flicked another page. It wasn't to her usual tastes, really, but she liked to absorb all aspects of this worlds culture - And she had to admit, she found the devilish charm of the main character rather appealing, if not somewhat attractive.

She spared a glance up towards the sky, basking in the glow of the blood-red comets. Unlike others, she wasn't afraid or intimidated by them. The way she figured it, the Gods of this people were angry with them - And thus were punishing them for their sins. She, on the other hand, was a devout follower of Lord Sikrinaok, who would no-doubt protect her from this heathen shower.

If she were honest, she actually found it quite relaxing. It reminded her of home. Of the great, burning torches lined up along the Great Pyramids inner-sanctum. Where great rituals were held, including the Winter Offering. A grand tradition for her people, with the tale of Sikrinaok's birth and the fall of the Titans being the highlight of the event. She closed the book, and her eyes simultaneously. Placing the book on the poolside, she sank below the waters, leaving only her mouth and nose above the surface. She allowed the ice-cold waters to flow over her - Reminded instantly of the natural streams of her home, remerging only after a good five-ten minutes to be met with a blood-shot sky. If she had had any doubts about joining the Reserve, they were all but gone now - This was the most perfect, carefree night she had ever spent since she had left home. Free accommodation, no more bills, no more strange looks from Co-workers, and finally, after all these years, her powers were recognised as a gift, not a curse. She felt as if she was being accepted for them, instead of shunned like a wild, untamable llama.

Still, that might all change by the time her official initiation into the Secret Reserve took place at this 'convention', but until then she was just going to enjoy the moment. This peaceful, serene bliss that had all but washed over her.

Unfortunately, like all peaceful moments, this one was created to be shattered. Wiping her soaking wet hair from out of her eyes, she noticed an intrusive blue light blinking away from inside her pile of clothes. Her newfound duty to Truth, Justice and the Neo-English way was calling to her.

Shards of ice sprayed from her sparsely covered body as she rose from the water, shaking her hair to get rid of any excess. When, out of nowhere, the aftershock of a great explosion rocked the tower. She lost her footing on the damp, ice-ridden sides of the pool - Thrown to the floor. She crawled to her feet, sprinting over to the edge of the building to see that the streets were ablaze. A once small, but popular restaurant turned to nothing by a smouldering crater.

"By Sikrinaok's light!" She gasped, gathering up her belongings and making her way down towards the briefing room.

[VO]

A strange night for a funeral.

It was raining, as it was meant to do when only a handful of people turned up to see a coffin buried beneath the earth. But this wasn’t water, but something from beyond this world. Shooting stars, thousands of them, lit up the sky, and smeared it crimson. Twinkling lights and the black backdrop were forgotten, lost in the wash of red across the heavens. The moon was stained the colour of blood, what clouds there were in this indian summer night lit on one side by the yellow glow of the city and the other by the baleful red of the comets. New Oxford Street was half subsided into the ground, the Prime Minister was facing a vote of no confidence in parliament, CKW laywers were baying blue murder at Wescorp’s throat over the damage to their buildings, a new crimewave of supervillains had spread across the city. Those that fought for the same cause as the SSR in Lutonopolis and across the land; Lady Stardust, Cosmic Comet, The Mancurian, Celestial, Green Knight, even Sergeant Smackpunch were taxed almost beyond their strength. There were prophets on the streets, rats in the walls, tabloid doomsayers predicting death and destruction, as if that hadn’t already come.

Crimson.

Aside from the priest and DAMAGE undertaker, there were five people at the funeral. Riona Chasey was one of them. She was clad in a black jacket and skirt that couldn’t help but show off her generous figure, a black flower in her scarlet hair. Crimson’s younger sister, Kori, was there, the hood of her navy blue SSR hoodie pulled up high enough to hide her tears. Jacob Huang, the Adamantium Boy, in black tracksuit bottoms, t-shirt, and glaringly white trainers held her hand. Gruff Sergeant O’brian, was another, the SSR’s nominal boss in the spider’s web of Wescorp power structures, and representing the company here. The fourth was a young man in a grey raincoat and wide-brimmed hat. His eyes, behind round-rimmed glasses, had glinted electric blue and a downy light beard covered his cheeks. Riona could have sworn she’d never seen him before, but somehow, something about the cut of those muscular shoulders or the way he ran a cloth over a long-handled walking stick… seemed familiar. She’d spoken to him briefly before the service - he claimed to be an old school friend of Crimson’s, roommate and joint captain of the cricket team at the British Expatriate School in Japan. He hadn’t seen him since, he said, until he heard word of his passing… Apparently Crimson’s parents were long dead; he had no living relatives in Britain, as far as he knew, and certainly none who could be bothered to come to the funeral save Kori.

Where were the others… over the last weeks everything had happened so quickly she wasn’t sure. Half of them were still busy cleaning out the swathe of violence; superhuman or otherwise that still plagued the city after the events of last issue*. Some of the new ones hadn’t even met Crimson, being recruited during all that business with Chaos King. It wasn’t surprising that she was the only one who had been able to make the funeral; at least most of the others had sent flowers to the wake. As for Crimson… Crimson was dead. The casket was closed, but that didn’t change anything. Crimson had been blown to a billion little bloody pieces.

*see SSR #1– ED

Kori had read his eulogy. It had been brief, and heartfelt; detailing what little was known of Crimson’s life, his brief and frankly sensational career in the Secret Reserve. Crimson had had action figures, every licensed product from knitwear to branded cutlery, and most obviously hordes of fans. Riona wondered what had happened to them. They’d probably deserted him for another of the barely-past-teenage superhuman heartthrobs now that Crimson was even less than a mangled cadaver. Kori detailed the ninja’s passions; his restaurant, Sushi Express, flipping out and smashing faces, stamp collecting. She stumbled over each word with a crackly voice. Now rows of seats had been laid out on the grass of the Lutonopolis Municipal Graveyard, but most were empty. Riona wished the Secret Reserve could be here now; in truth none of them had really known Crimson but that didn’t matter. This was his funeral, for christsakes, he deserved something.

Even Jim. Bloody Disasterous Jimothy Castro, who’d buggered off as soon as things got bad. No doubt he was planning something, doing his bit in whatever was going wrong with the world – or drinking himself silly in some backwater tavern on the edge of Lutonopolis’ red light district. Riona knew what she suspected. She wouldn’t let herself think she’d had feelings for the dirty and offensive man who must have been at least twice her age, no more than she’d had for Crimson… but without him, the SSR felt strange… vulnerable. She wanted to see him here, just for that reassurance that all wasn’t going to hell and Jim was there and doing something, even if it was just reeling off a few words about how Crimson had been the heart and soul of the team. All she’d got from him when he’d left, right after that thing had got loose under Lutonopolis was a ‘no, you’re probably not pregnant with a demon baby, but keep me posted’ – but Jim had left his mobile telephone in the drawer of his desk in the empty office in SSR’s old HQ.

They hadn’t found Crimson’s body, of course, there had been little more to do than wash the blood off the walls with a mop when the ninja had met his end. All they’d found was his sword, polished to a sheen, which now lay in the coffin and signified the end of a founding member of the SSR. Riona felt a lump in her throat as the robotic DAMAGE undertaker began to lower the coffin into his grave with its extendable mechanical arms. She’d seen the tombstone. RAY SMITH – LIVED BY THE SWORD, DIED BY HIGH EXPLOSIVES.

“No! Stop!”

Suddenly, Kori leapt up, kicking over a plastic chair. She dashed through O’brian’s flailing arms, past the clergyman, jumped fluidly over the empty grave and kicked the DAMAGE undertaker. Sparks flew from its body where her foot punctured some vital mechanical organ. Adamantium Boy called something after her, moved to stop her then tripped as the shoelaces she’d tied sent him crashing to the ground. Riona dropped her bag, and a tube of lipstick rolled out onto the grass.

Kori heaved open the coffin as it hung over the pit with considerable strength for one of her stature. The heavy lid swung open under the unnatural sky. The petite girl reached in, grasped the katana in one hand and swung it out to above her head in one fluid motion. It shimmered red in the light of the comet storm, and the girl’s hair twisted slightly in the breeze. Riona could see the tears glint on her cheeks; she didn’t know what would happen to the girl now – Wescorp-sponsored adoption, probably.

“Crimson died before his time!” Kori shouted hollowly, and waved the sword. “But he lives on! I’ll take up his blade and redeem his honour!” Still brandishing the weapon, she wobbled on the edge of the grave, almost falling in then steadying herself, squeaking in a voice hoarse from crying. “I will avenge him, fight evil in his name, live on as the new Crimson!”

The mysterious stranger let out a strangled gulp, and instinctively reached for his cane.

[SW Freak]

A hand was layn on the girl's shoulder gently to steady her as she threatened to fall again. She looked over her shoulder to see the vampire, Ronin. He was adorned in black, but that was nothing special. To acknowledge the fact that he was attending a funeral he had pinned a black rose to his coat. Kori flinched slightly, moving away from him in what was, unfortunatly, the only direction to go. Straight ahead, and into the open grave. She gave a cry as she slipped, the earth around the edge of the grave crumbling as she tried to regain her footing. Again Ronin reached out, this time to grab her hand and pull her out. She looked up at him for a moment before shaking her hand from his grip.

"I'm sorry for what happened."

"No you're not! You tried to kill him!"

"I know. We never matched wits, but the crossing of blades can tell one warrior all he ever need know about the other. Your brother was a noble man, and he deserved a better ending than the one he received."

He knelt by the grave, pulling out a piece of paper with a Kanji symbol inscribed upon. He looked at it for a moment before dropping it into the grave. Then he looked up, and his and the stranger's eyes met.

"May it serve you as well as it served me," the vampire said, not breaking the gaze.

Then he stood and strode over to the seats, looking at the meager crowd. There were a couple of strangers here; a member of Crimson's past one of them, no doubt, and from the description Ronin had received the other could only be Seargent O'Brian. There was Diva, looking striking as always and the young boy, around Kori's age, that he had had shot not so long ago. Whoops.

Once the ceremony had drawn to a close Ronin waited for Diva as she talked to Kori. Once she turned away he fell into step with her. Either she ignored him or simply didn't care, both of which suited Ronin anyway. Apologies never came easy.

"Sorry I couldn't make it in time for the ceremony. I...I had my own dead to attend to."

Diva glanced across at him. Once more his clipped, prim and proper speech had been replaced by something more approaching normal. Ever since his awakening, so to speak, he had become more...normal. For a vampire, this, of course, was a relative term.

"At least you did show up."

"Still holding out for Jim?"

"Well, arn't you? I thought you two were close."

"Hmm. Close-ish. I doubt anyone could ever really call themselves close to Disastrous Jim."

He paused for a moment as the stranger walked past. There was something irritatingly familiar about him, but..no. Doubtful. He looked past him at the two teenagers, still seated, the Admantium Boy comforting the girl. Ronin hesitated for a moment.

"What's left for her, do you suppose?"

"Kori? Adoption, probably."

"We can do better than that. I'll see you back at the tower. I have to make some peace." He walked over to the two. The boy gave him a very distinct Go away and die look, but Ronin ignored it. "Kori, I really am sorry about what happened, and I have no right to tell you where to go from here. If you want to take Crimson's place, that's entirely your choice. But I want to make sure that you don't meet his fate as well. We can offer you board in the tower, and I can offer you training, if you'll take it. Like I said, I can't stop you from taking over for him, but I can do my best to keep you alive if you do."

[Wesforce]

'I... I never thought I'd see the day.'

The assembled funeral goers all turned to look at the new arrival who'd quietly slipped into the crowd. All aside from Kory who snarled.

'Oh great. Did anyone actually turn up on time?'

'Nice to see you back.' Said O'Brien in a measured tone. It was the first any of them had seen of Equalizer since the fateful day... At least in her Equalizer garb. It had looked touch and go whether she'd been rejoining them for a time but...

'Well here I am. I'd like to say a few words, if I may.'

'Go on...' Kory Said. She was well aware Equalizer hadn't been the best of friends with Crimson... She herself had been on the receiving end of Equalizer's powers, and didn't harbour much good feeling for the woman. But she allowed this once...

Equalizer stepped forward. Conservatively, she wore a black overcoat over her costume, but still kept her hair in the distinctive multi-coloured style. She knelt at the grave side and dropped a handful of red R.Zimm plectrums that looked remarkably like Rose Petals.

'Rather you than me.' She said.

'WHY YOU!' Kory screamed, and Ronin had to hold her back.

'Look I'm sorry for what happened.' Said Equalizer. 'For what its worth... I apologise for the way I treated him...At times.'

Kory sniffed.

Equalizer took her mask off, and fixed Kory with an uncharacteristic, remorseful stare.

'Kory. I'm... sorry.'

She put the mask back on and went to the back of the group. It was the first time any of them had seen her unvisored face. Many were stunned by this new side to the Impetuous Arse-kicker they all knew. Many questions were raised about her disappearance, and what had actually happened to her, but it didn't seem appropriate to ask at this time. For better or for worse, the Sonic Equalizer was back.

'So,' She brushed some dust off her shoulder. 'Whats with the light show?'

[SW Freak]

"No idea," replied Ronin. "But I do know that it's visible all over the country. From coast to coast. Trust me on this. I haven't heard any reports from America, though, so maybe it's a targeted attack on Neo-england...?"

There was a quiet beeping and a red dot flashed in the collar of Ronin's coat. He glanced at Kori, stood from his seat and depressed a hidden button by his neck.

"Ronin here...Roger that. I'm on it. Diva and Equilizer are here too. Shou- Roger that." He lowered his hand. "Well, madam Equilizer, it looks like you arrived just in time to save the world again. Or, at least, those parts of it shiney enough to give Wescorp some good publicity when we appear on TV. One of these meteor-things seems to have crashed down right beside the tower, and there's still more coming down. We've been tasked with saving as many as we can and helping Lutonopolis' inept fire service dowse the flames."

The three superheroes strode away, towards the road and their respective transports. Kori stood, angry again.

"How can you just walk away like that? Just ignore the fact that Crimson is dead? Shouldn't you have a, a, a moment of freaking silence?!"

Ronin stopped, the other two halting to watch him. The vampire looked over his shoulder with a slight frown on his face.

"If it were any one of us lying in that grave, and Crimson was put in the same position, what do you think he would do?"

They continued their walk, leaving the girl staring at the ground. Ronin's vehicle turned out to be some variation of a Harley, pitch black body with chromed parts; the boy was still a yankie to his very core. He sat astride it, checking that his sword was still strapped to the bike's side, and looked at the two women.

"I take it neither of you need a lift?"

[VO]

GM - FYI the comet storm is visible all over the northern hemisphere

Astronomers the world over turned their heads to the stars this night. They battered against the atmosphere, bouncing of incinerating themselves in streaks of red. A thousand million shooting stars, more than had ever been seen before or indeed more than ever would be seen again.

One slips through.

It is green, rather than red, and wrapped in a corona of burning gases as it plunges down towards this watery world. First it dips over the ocean, then shoots across sibera and Russia, over fortresses of solitude in the cold and frozen wastes. The Ukraine, radioactive mutants turning their heads skyward, and west over Europe. Volga, Danube, Elbe, each is passed by as it hurtles downwards, over Germany and the Low Countries, down down down over the sludge of the English Channel and into British Airspace.

It is nearing the ground now, and as it flashes by at impossible speed the lone inhabitant of the rocketship reads the airwaves. Pictures, sound, reality TV fill it's mind as it seeks out information. It learns the basics of the English Language in just under 8 seconds. The rocket is nearing ground now.

It has been a long trip, and the inhabitant has been in stasis for much of it, only thawing recently. This world was new to him, and he must absorb it's customs.

Down, down.

Over London and now Lutonopolis and the green spaces inbetween it falls, lower and lower. It will land here. The ground rises up to meet it with a crunch.



The Centurion felt his body released as the pneaumatic catch opened the doors of his capsule. He could smell smoke in the air, see fires and sirens. It had been quite a landing.

Slowly, he unfolded his body from the confines of his craft. He was human-shaped, more or less, his skin shiny with the moist confines, and green as grass. His arms, legs, torso were longer; fully stood he would be eight feet tall when standing erect. Lights flashed on the interior of his capsule - he paid them now heed, He was here now, and even the sickly oxygen-rich atmosphere of this planet would not hinder him.

He looked around him. This was a conurbation of some sort, tall towers lit by yellow lights and the red of the comet storm above. His eyes are blurred with long disuse, but slowly they come into focus. Traffic, primitive petrol-driven cars line the streets, signs most likely, he considered, scanning their emissions, illuminated by what could be translated into Neon in this people's name for the chemical elements. The people themselves were gathering, hurrying from the structures that lined the road, from abandoned vehicles themselves, to point and scream.

"Sushi Express is gone!"

Sushi? Centurion scanned his advanced mind... sushi... he knew that. Ah yes. Rice. Fish. Seafood. Egg. All alien terms to him, but all foodstuffs for this people. A cusine hailing from the island archipelago near his entry point that was known to this race as Japan.

This was a restaurant, then. People were climbing from the wreckage - most of the roof of the building had collapsed and now it was being licked by flames. No-one had noticed him yet, this mysterious green-skinned giant rising from the ashes.Then he sensed a child's eyes upon him.

Six years, by the reckoning of this world, Centurion thought, caucasian racial stock, blood type O, rhesus negative, no obvious inherited diseases, probably above average intellect. Sandy yellow hair, blue eyes, one a fraction of a shade darker than the other. One arm raised, dirt under fingernails (closer inspection reveals matchbox containing three slugs in left pocket) . Pointing at him.

"Look! Look!"

There were shrieks, people screaming as they beheld the colossus in their midst. Unflinching in the flames, tall and imperious and muscular. A paragon of excellence in every field.

"Grittings," he said warily. Speaking this language is harder than I thought, I need more data to construct a better synthesis. "Ma nam is Kenturian. I haf com to saev you. Taek me to your leader."

[SW Freak]

Ronin was the first to reach ground zero, pulling up just outside the crowded mass. They were picking through the wreckage when he first arrived but suddenly drew back, screams piercing the night. Cautious, Ronin pull his sword off the bike, holding it in his left hand almost casually. Then he pushed through the people. They made way for him. Word had spread about him and nobody wanted to be dinner. The vampire stopped a few meters away from the giant alien, looking him up and down.

"Kenturian? I am Ronin. I represent a body of heroes on this planet known as the SSR. What is it you think we need saving from?"

[Wesforce]

With a slightly off-kilter high-pitched blast of static, Equalizer materialized next to Ronin. Three metres off the ground maybe, but she managed to land fairly gracefully.

Mental note: Next time you have to jerry-rig a sonic displacer screen add more copper wiring to the secondary Reverb Amps. Gives a tighter displacement.

Ignoring the cries of a little boy in the background who'd just suffered a flash nosebleed, she sidled in close to her SSR colleague. The creature was large and even more imposing than his size would have suggested. A martial pose, an indomnitable expression, a commanding air, and the overpowering odour of fish, but that might just have been the remains of the sushi stall. Nevertheless, he had Bad News written all over him. Equalizer dropped into her patented Defensive Crouch, expecting action.

'Careful Ronin. Haven't you ever seen War of the Worlds?'

'Big deal, if we get in trouble, he'll be dead from a Cold within the week.'

'Or we will...' Equalizer reminded.

[Nyerguds]

Charge walked through the SSR tower. He was visibly stressed. "Damn this...I should be at the funeral, not taking care of another hundred moronic supervillain-wannabes." he snapped at the huge man walking next to him.

Mammoth Man kept his mouth shut. He knew all too well that bothering Charge when he was stressed would only make him spark even more than he already was. He just handed the SSR leader the file he was holding, and followed him into the empty interrogation room.

"You've got to be kidding me..." Charge said, slumping down in one of the chairs. "Unnecessary Violence Man? Who the bloody hell comes up with these names?!"
He looked back at the file. "So, what does this guy do?"
"He walks around, beating the stuffing out of people." Mammoth Man replied.
"Great." Charge said, throwing the file carelessly on the table before him. "What else do we got?"

"Ah, friend Charge! Perhaps multiple bank-robbery would be more to your liking?"

"Well, sounds more interesting, at least." Charge said as he took the second file and looked at it.
"The masked... pervert." Charge sighed and leaned his head on his hands. "There isn't even a picture, or a description. What do you know about this guy?"

"He seems to wear a strange article of underclothing over his head... Is this some kind of strange, Modern custom I am unaware of?"
Charge looked up. "Underclothing?"
"I believe my team-friends said that it was female underclothing. Is it some kind of mating ritual, perhaps?"

"So he puts on panties and a mask and goes around robbing banks, and thinks that's enough reason to call himself The Masked Pervert? Grudd allmighty..."

"It would seem, Friend Charge, that these undergarments are his mask. Reminds me of ancient tribes men of my homeland, during a great feast they would run around with nothing but the kull of a great beast covering their heads. Smeared in blood and gore they would go out to hunt Great One Tusk - The mightest mammoth that had ever lived! None came back alive."

"This one seemed to be showing off his own Great Tusk..." Charge grumbled. "I begin to understand why there's no picture."

"Oh, but friend Diva did in fact take pictures! It's quite odd that they weren't included in the report."

"Right." Charge groaned. "Remind me to never ask her about them."

Mammoth Man frowned, but eventually decided it'd be better just to nod in reply.

"Friend Charge, something has been bothering me. It's about names."
"What then?" Charge asked, hoping the man wouldn't start about the ridiculous supervillain names again.
"Well, when they introduced me to the Tribe, I found out that you only use your Hunter Names when you are working for the Tribe. For the rest, they have told me a series of other names you use in your daily lives."
"Yes..." Charge said. "We use the 'Hunter Names' only so people wouldn't constantly bother us. Even though we like to show our pride, we also want some piece and quiet from time to time."
"Right, I understand that, friend Charge. What I didn't understand was that besides myself and Friend Maverick, the only one of which there was no second name was you. Maverick explained to me he did not need a second name, but he assured me you should have one, and didn't understand either why no one knew it. Is it a leader privilege of some sort?"

Charge sighed. "Well, you see... I used to be an ordinary man, with an ordinary name. But when I changed into this, I became too different to see myself as that man. Charge is my only true name now. The rest... is just the past. It's over, and only serving as cover."

"Is that so?"

"Ye-" Charge suddenly realized something was wrong. That wasn't Mammoth Man's voice,or the voice of anyone from the team. But it was a voice he could never forget... it had been burnt into his mind from the first moment he had heard it... so long ago...

He stood up and turned around, only to look straight into the eyes of his wife, Samira.
"Is that really so, Murat Aziz?" she said, almost whispering.


The long, uncomfortable silence was broken by Mammoth Man. "Friend Charge, do you know this woman?"

Charge's shocked expression changed to a smile. "If there's anyone I truly know, it's her... Mammoth Man, meet my mate, Samira." he said. "Samira..."

He swallowed, then gave her a tight hug. "By Allah, I missed you so much!"



The next moment, the tower was shaken by an enormous explosion.

[VO]

Humans.

Subject One : Above average height, muscular body, extimated age two decades, although anomalous carbon date on biomass. Garb fits 'goth' youth stereotype. Armed with steel longsword, possibly other weapons. Biometrics scan indicates chemical abnormality; based on incomplete culture information indicates 'vampire' or 'haemovore' mutation or alteration. Male. Threat level medium.

Subject Two : Below average height, light build, esoteric garb. Biometric scan negatory, but apparitory entrance indicates high technology. Armed with musical instrument 'guitar' class, unlikely to be concealing others. Female. Threat level negatory.

("What's he doing?" whispered Equaliser.)

SSR. Accessing incomplete planetary database; require immediate download of 'internet' or technological equivalent to verify. Discard :'Soviet Socialist Republic', 'Solid State Radar', accept :'Sensational Secret Reserve'. Accessing archive.

("How should I know?", replied Ronin.)

SSR : Sensational Secret Reserve : 'Superhero' organisation currently in command of 'Wescorp' multinational corporation. Headquarters in Lutonopolis, England. Known members : Charge, Diva Ex Machina, Crimson [deceased], Loki, Ronin, The Sonic Equaliser, Mammoth Man, Maverick, Mr Bitesize, others (not known, estimated 6). Recently reformed. Accuracy level 96%

"You would be Ronin?" said Centurion to the samurai. "Take me to your leader." The scan had given him a quick refresher on the language. Flames lapped around his feet.

***

"Typical"

Equaliser dissapeared with a squealing riff that made Riona's ears ring. Ronin had already whizzed away on his motorcycle - only seconds after offering her a lift. Not that she'd have accepted, of course, but it was the thought that counted.

Now they were both gone, leaving her on the edge of the graveyard, alone. The comets streaked by overhead. Equaliser and Ronin could probably deal with the crash themselves.

"Waiting for someone?"

It was the mysterious stranger from the funeral. He was taller than her, and the night wind tugged at his hat. He pushed it down with one hand.

"No, not really. What about you?"

"Maybe," said the stranger. He had a thick, heavily stressed accent; a voice that wobbled between absurdly high and deep as Crimson's bass. "To tell the truth I don't really know"

"What's your name, anyway?" While Riona could catch one of the taxis that hummed by on the busy road, the company of this hansome, well toned young man might be preferable. Even if he turned out to be as argumentative and stubborn as Crimson.

"Um..." said the stranger. "Nick. Nick... Alexeiv." He snapped it, as if he was trying to get the worlds out quickly. "I... I knew Ray at school in Japan. We were joint Captain of the cricket team... roommates...."

"I know. You told me before."

"Yes! I did didn't I? Of course I did!"

"Say, do you want to go out for a drink or something?" said Riona. "Talk about old times with Crim.... I mean Ray? You seem a bit flustered"

"Yes... I mean no, no I can't, I er, have to go. Goodbye!" Nick Alexeiv clamped his hat to his head with one hand and dashed away down the pavement, raincoat billowing.

"What a strange man," thought Riona, and hailed a cab.

[Wesforce]

'He is our leader.' Equalizer said, thumbing in the direction of Ronin.

Well I'm not taking this thing to Charge without some answers, and I'm certainly not going to give that slag Dean the pleasure of acknowledging him as my leader.

'May we ask you what your purpose is here exactly?' She continued.

Centurion ignored her completely and was staring down Ronin. Equalizer felt about as significant as a gnat inbetween these two. She nudged Ronin gently.

'Go on, ask him...'

[SW Freak]

Ronin nodded warily. He could understand her concern. Besides, Charge probably had enough to deal with as it was. He looked up at the alien again. Above, the red aura that had submerged the world in flame still blazed away merrily.

"Before I begin, I just want you to know that the building you landed on held quite a lot of sentimental value with some of my people. That, and your less than cheerful demenour, do not stand in your favour." Then the joking was over, and he was Ronin again, the samurai this time. "I welcome you to earth and ask you again; what is it you feel you must save us from? Is this meteor shower your doing, or were you simply caught in it?"

[AI]

Illioto rushed down the stairs, the sleeves of her uniform flailing about her midrift as she ran. Slung over one shoulder was a great, white cloak that she had designed just a few days ago. She was quite fond of this uniform, even though in an ideal world she'd have liked to have gone for something a bit more traditonal of her people - But no, she wanted to forget. But then, she didn't. Even after what must have been five years, she still didn't know what she wanted... Or even who she was anymore.

Not that it mattered - People could die down there whilst she pondered her life, something she wasn't going to let happen.

She burst into the room below, skidding on the fleshly polished floors on her heels. She came to a stop with a level of skill and expertise that would make the most profound ice skater green with envy. She'd spent her whole life on ice, and not even this accursed footwear was going to negate that!

She looked around the room to find three sets of eyes on her. Two she had a vauge recollection of, the other was a complete stranger. She was taller than Illi - But then, very few people were actually shorter than her. She had long dark hair, features not unlike Charge - An unusual skin colour, long black hair... Quite pretty.

From a certain point of view, at least.

"If this is a regular occurance..." She said in a measured, sarcastic tone. "... Then you've been having far too much fun in Neo-England without me, Charge"

She said the last word with a wink, which baffled Illi - As why would somebody put so much emphasis on somebody elses name?

"Icicle, put some clothes on. You'll catch your death of... Wait, nevermind." Sighed Charge, fighting the instinct to rest his head in his hands.

Illi complied, slipping her hands into her sleeves and then whipping one behind her back. Catching the zip to the costume and yanking upwards. Once it was halfway up her back, she shattered the crystaline string and let her fingers take over.

Satisfied, she whipped her cloak from over her shoulder, unfolding it and letting it flow around her - Clipping it aroun her neck whilst the fabric still floated in mid-air. Once it had settled around her spandexed form,, she took the brim of the hood and pulled it up over her face - And with that simple act, Icicle came into being.

"Charge! A comet has just landed next to the..."

"Settle down, we know." He turned to his wife and rested his hands on her shoulders carefully. "Listen, Samira, I have to go - The city needs me..."

"I'm coming with you. I need you too, and besides... I'd like to see you at work."

He looked at Illi, who's face was unreadable because of the hood. He sighed, then turned back to his wife.

"Ok, but stay in the Reserve Rover at ALL TIMES. You could get hurt." He then turned to Mammoth. "Look after the villains, we have a city to save."

* * *

A white-blue flash cackled across the side of the Secret Reserve HQ as a streak of lightning barrled down from the sky. As if competing with it's comsic counter-oart, nature roared, another white-hot flash giving the world a restbite from the sickly red glow. Raindrops started to fall from the sky, real rain - Pure, ntural. Only this time tinged with crimson...

... For all intents and purposes - The sky was raining blood.

Gears and cranks whirred from within the tower, the sound of Hydraulics adding to the background ambiance. Great chains slackened and fell, as an almighty ramp disembarked from the side of the Reserve HQ and clattered towards the ground.

It was a ramp built for speed - A quick exit from one of the most profond grages in the world. A sleek, stylish demon of a car should have burst forth, engines roaring in the dead of night. But no, instead out come the Reserve Rover.

The Reserve Rover rolled down the ramp at a top speed of thirty miles per an hour. A sleek, freshly painted Vauxhall 8x8 designed by Loki... In which case, they're lucky it only has eight wheels. It was plastered in all the latest SSR merchandise and promotions, with a small Wescorp logo replacing the familar badge on the front.

"By Sikrinaok!" Exclaimed Icicle, as she sat uncomfortably in the passenger seat. "Will you hurry up? There could be people dying out there..."

"Icicle, settle down." He said, sternly. "We are the Secret Reserve, and as such we are role models for a generation. This means we have to respect the laws laid down by the Authorities, up to and including the speed-limit."

"Does your nation have a speed restrictsion on air travel?" She asked.

"No, wuh..."

Icicle slammed her fist down onto a large, red button just under the gear stick. The wheels of the Reserve Rover folded outwards, being replaced by eight, mighty hover jets. Before Charge could say 'Wobblin' Wescokes!', the SSR were in the airborne.

"I made a point to study the manual of your vehicle." She smiled towards Charge. "I wish to learn how to use your mechanised-llama in case of an emergancy."

"The day I trust you with this..." Charge muttered, fighting for control of the vehicle. He flicked the windscreen wipers one, soon wishing he hadn't.

If the sky was on fire - Then the street was something else. Nothing but a burning crate, giving off an offensive green gas. Not knowing what else to do, he tapped into the radio to see if anybody else was on the scene.

[VO]

"Human," said Centurion. That was better, he could pronounce these strange human words now. He could sense the belligerence levels rising in the confrontation, but knew there was only one way.
"Would that I could have prevented this destruction, but unfortunately the forces arrayed against your species are immense. There was no other way." He stepped out of the flames towards the duo, who couldn't help but notice that, aside from tiny metallic briefs, he was completely naked.
"The cometary storm is not of my doing, and I regret that it is only part of a greater scheme against your kind. Ronin. From your own records I understand that you are not the President of Wescorp Industries, that would be Wesley Dean III; neither are you the current de facto leader of the SSR. All sources indicate that that honour is awarded to the being known as Charge. Kindly cease any disinformation on your part and I will treat you with the respect a champion of your cause deservess, but do not test my patience - my duty is towards your survival as a species, not individuals. Take me to your leader now. I will not ask you again."

[Nyerguds]

Swerving around chaotically, the hovercar arrived at the disaster scene. Charge noticed that having a super-brain wasn't any use if the physical controls seemed to have a will of their own. He did his best not to crash into any buildings... knowing Loki, the airbags could be boxing gloves punching them all in the face, too.

Finally, he managed to stop on a somewhat decent spot. He pushed the red button to land the hovercar and return its wheels to normal position.

"Equalizer! Good to have you back!" he shouted at them. "What's the status?"

Then, noticed the big green man behind them.
"Oh... eh, hi."

[SW Freak]

The corner of Ronin's lips twitch upwards slightly.

"Nice. A very mother nature approach to it. Bad from my point of view, good from everyone else's. Fine. You know so much about me. I don't know anything about you."

He looked around as the rover touched down.

"Speak of the devil. Big and green, meet Charge. Charge, meet Centurion. Or possibly The Centurion. I'm not exactly sure. Either way, he says someone's going to kill us all, and he's here to save us. He wanted to see you, but I just had to tell him that he didn't have an appointment."

[VO]

"You would be the being known as Charge?"

"Yes, I..."

"Very good," Centurion said. At least these humans were efficient. "I congratulate you on your timing, I barely had to ask your haemovore friend here." He gestured at Ronin with one green hand.

"Thanks I..." began Charge, but was cut off again.

"I'll get to the point, human, I am aware that your city is under considerably stress at the moment and will assist you as best I can. My name is ElKal, a Centurion of a world orbitting the galactic core that I am not at liberty to inform you of. I am here to aid your world's efforts in the calamity that will befall this planet at the end of the current millienium, by your reckoning."

"Calamity?"

"Yes, surely you are aware the fact that without action, your world will end on the 1st of January 2000 years by your anno domini or common era?"

[Wesforce]

'He's pretty bloody insistent, and doesn't seem to be in a hurry to make friends. For that matter, he could probably do some real damage here if he wanted to.' Equalizer mused, out loud.

'Real damage? Real damage?' Squawked a portly little man with half his clothes burned. The rest of the clothes, Equalizer couldn't help noticing, began to fall off in scorched lumps. 'Sacre bleu, you cannot talk about ze real damage until your sushi restaurant is quel dommages! Merde!'

The French-Japanese chef carried on for some time until the timely appearance of a duo of Binmen, come to control the crowd. They palm-slapped their hittin' sticks and eyed the man relishly.

She tuned out the yelps and cries of pain and turned back to watch proceedings, as Charge went to talk to Centurion. She couldn't help the feeling that she was being sidelined from proceedings... Punishment for leaving the SSR maybe?

The newest member of the SSR was standing nearby, Icicle. Her face was covered in the kind of 'Ooh isn't this exciting!' wonderment that Equalizer hadn't seen for a long time.

'Keep sharp.' Equalizer advised her. 'Nice to meet you by the way. Sonic Equalizer.'

[AI]

Icicle looked down distastefully at the two bulky, visored man taking out their agression on the poor citizen. Her fists curled up into balls, begining to shake violently. It wasn't right - They were here to protect people... Not to punish them for no crime.

"Excuse me." She said to Equaliser, turning towards the assult.

She paced over to the man, tapping him on the shoulder. He turned around, grunting. She cleared her throat.

"Excuse me, but I wish for you to desist from harming that poor citizen." She said, stern but polite.

"Whatever lady." The man chuckled vulgarly. "Just doing my job..."

"It was not a request." She stated. "It was an order!"

She brought up her hand, now covered in a block of jagged ice. It conneted with the mans visor, cracking it through sheer weight as it shattered against the man's skull. As his comrade fell to the floor, the other man brought his nightstick up over his head and charged towards her. With nothing but intense, painful flames behind her - She had nowhere to go. Only to accept the pain like the leader she was meant to be. Only the man didn't get that far.

"Sound off, wiseass! She's with the Reserve!"

A splattering of red stained his visor, the stick falling from his hands as he was brough to his knees. Icicle looked around, preplexed by the situation, only to find the woman known as Sonic Equaliser pointing some form of bizarre weapon towards him. It was crude, and looked very different from the pictures in the papers - But it had to be the Blastmaster.

"Thank you..." Said Icicle, sheeplishly. "I am Icicle."

S'pleause to meet you." The woman smiled, taking her hand in a gesture of greeting for this culture.

"Merci! Merci!" Cried the French-Japanese chef at her feet. "I make you the best meal inna town! Jus' you name the date! I kees you! Muuowa! Muuowa!"

Icicle stood there for a moment, cheeks reddening as the man kissed her on both cheeks. She let out a strained giggle, and something that may have been 'yuh... you're welcome' if it hadn't become caught in her throat.

She took the time to anaylse Equaliser, having only seen photographs in the tabloids or on posters - She looked much more impressive in real life. Everything from her outlandish costume, erractic hair colour (that made Icicle's eyes sting if she stared at it for too long), right down to her stern-yet-strangly-alluring facial features and her pettite figure. She was very pretty...

... From a certain point of view.

"The pleasure is all mine." She nodded her head, graciously. "You have done a great many things for the city, it is an honour to meet such a prolific hero."

"Thanks, but don't get starcrossed. The city takes its own toll on you sooner or later."

"I... Will keep that in mind." Blinked Icicle, how could one so great be so cynical? "I believe we should assist in extingushing the flames - As it seems we are little other use around here."

[Nyerguds]

"Well, I guess we still have a few months then..." Charge said, dryly. No matter whether the alien was right or not, there were more pressing matters at hand.
"I gladly accept your help." Charge said. "But you just put our city under even more stress by crash-landing in the middle of it."

He looked at the people of the SSR that had gathered around them. "Our first priority is to stop these fires. Icicle, be careful; you're one of our greatest asset in this, I don't want anything to happen to you. Cool it down, but keep your distance. Concentrate on small fires threatening people."

"Gee, thanks." Equalizer remarked sarcastically. "Looks like I'm dead weight."
"I'm not finished." Charge said. "You can displace yourself?"
"And how! I'm back, baby!" Equalizer grinned.
"And it's good to have you back. Try to locate people in the fire and displace them out out."
"What about you?" she asked.
"I can absorb heat. I'll just walk through refilling my energy stock, putting out fire and rescuing people, all at the same time, ain't I awesome?" he said in a dry, self-mocking voice.

Charge turned back to the Centurion and Ronin.
"Ronin, ElKal... Is there any way in which you can help?"

[VO]

"We will discuss the fate of your world later," said Centurion. "And I apologise for the damage caused by the crash landing. I will reinburse the owners of the restaurant with my share of the merchandising."

"Merchandising?" said Charge. We don't get paid for the merchandising, but this guy may be useful.

"I will be joining your organisation temporarily. No doubt you will find me useful." To demonstrate, Centurion blew out a nearby fire like a candle with his alien breath. "Now, we have a city to save."

[Wesforce]

'Aye aye, Sonic bloody Equalizer reporting as bloody ordered.' Equalizer muttered when safely out of earshot. She imitated Charge's authoritarian tones 'Oh you can displace people out, blah blah blah...'

Icicle was watching her.

Bad move Tanya. Don't want to alienate the newbies already... Say something nice and encouraging...

'Hey, Icicle, this'd be a good time to show them old fraggers what you can do. Make a good impression on 'em. Just be careful, okay?'

She flipped Icicle the thumbs up, and concentrated on listening out for trapped people she could go and displace to safety. It was difficult: Standing here you could imagine the whole bloody city sliding into hell, inch by inch...

And that bloody alien didn't exactly help things when he landed.

Target located: A mother and three kids screaming for help from the top of a nearby High-rise.

'I just hope none of them suffer nose-bleeds.' She said, displacing.

[AI]

... time to show them old fraggers what you can do.

The words floated around her head - Crude, perhaps slightly patronising... But at the same time, encouraging and effective. She knew what she had to do.

No sooner had Charge commanded her to her task, was she in the process of doing so. She threw down the hood of her cloak, revealing her red face, beads of sweat rolling down her face. She brushed her soaking wet hair back behind her ears and leapt onto a nearby table.

From her platform she began to orchestrate the flames like a conducter, all the while struggling for breathe in the intense heat. She scoped out the small fires that had surrounded the resteraunt patrons, spotting a group of people cowering behind a wall of flames, she jerked her hands upwards. The flaming picture that had threatened to topple down onto the patrons was frozen solid, instead shattered as it hit the ground - The shards spinning off into the flames.

Then, with a wave of her hand, she tackled the fire it's self. A light mist formed over the blazing wall, almost like tightly compacted snow, dropping down on it and quelling the flames slowly. Eventually, the path was clear and she motioned for them to run.

Except one didn't.

A small girl, clining onto her favourite dolly, remained. She was wearing a scourched, plaited dress with sandals and a pink hairband - What must have been her mother screaming blue murder and sobbing as two binmen ruthlessly held her back away from the scene. Taking off her cloak, Icicle left it with one of the Wescorp employees.

"Don't worry, madam..." She said, carefully. Wiping her forehead with her sleeve. "I'll get her."

[SW Freak]

"No you damn well won't," said Ronin, stepping forward and holding her back. "You'ld probably melt, newbie. Work on the fires that're spreading out. I'll grab the girl."

He stepped through the rubble, moving around the fires that still burned within the wreckage. This was Crimson's old resteraunt, but Ronin had only been in it a few times. He was looking for the picture before he even remembered it, and once he realised what he was doing scanned all the walls. There. He remembered when that picture had been taken; Crimson had insisted on having something to keep close to him from the SSR. Everyone was in plain clothes, and staring at the camera with the slightly bored expression of people who really didn't want to be in the picture. Jim had, of course, been trying to sneak off for a quick smoke and only the vampire's hand clutching the back of his coat had kept him in place. Ronin plucked it off the wall and pulled it out of its smouldering frame. He had meant to leave it by Crimson's grave, but hadn't gotten back in time to get it.

Shaking his head to clear the nostalgia, he grabbed the girl and bustled out. Icicle was looking a little annoyed at his interruption, but was slightly relieved underneath, if he was any judge. No one liked facing their only weakness.

"Here you go, madam. Try to stay out of trouble, little girl. Charge, I can probably help put out some of these fires. Either that, or set fire to an entire building. My powers are still kinda in the nix..."

[AI]

Icicle glowered at Ronin, giving him a look that would curdle milk in a llama's stomach. How dare he undermine her like that. She who should rule Empires, she who was blessed by the Gods, she...

... Who spent a good two years of her life cowering like a dog in the corner of an abandoned military base, like a pathetic little animal.

She snatched her cloak back off the binman almost as fast as she'd placed it in his care. She refastened it with a huff, going back to her duty with an axe to grind. Whatever her noble standing, and whatever common sense might have backed his decision - He had no right to speak to her like that. And she'd be watching him...

* * *

Meanwhile, in a dark room of the Secret Reserve HQ - Previously a janitors closet - Something stirred. Among a web of wires and cables, entangled around the room and linking into almost every computer system, company and prviate (not that the SSR needed to know that), was a shiney metalic android.

Maverick allowed the information to flow through him and into him, he had never felt so alive in his life - Metaphorically speaking. His inbuilt hardrive expanded as information passed into it, any information, it didn't matter what. The only thing that mattered was that he knew everything. Right down to the colour of Charge's boxer shorts.

He was unsure what had first compelled him to do this, it was just an electrical impulse that shot through him one day, the idea spawning in his mind. He passed it through O'brian with suprising ease - With the pan-dimensional being known only as the Thing on the loose, they needed all the intel they could muster. That, and it never hurt to have an archive of everything your employees had ever said or done.

Something jarred against his systems.

There was something forgien in the system, something implanted from outside. He wasn't sure what it was, and couldn't get a lock on it. He couldn't even absorb it into his own systems, cause it was absorbing him! He panicked, trying to disengage the wires the conntected him to the mainframe - But they didn't move and inch!

Something was trying to get in... And it was intent on taking over!

[Nyerguds]

"Be careful with that superbreath!" Charge shouted at the Centurion. "You might bring down houses on survivors."

His last orders and advice given, he walked into the flames. Any heat coming near his body was immediately absorbed. The cloth of which his suit was made was designed to conduct heat faster than it would melt. Charge felt his internal energy levels grow as the heat of the oxydation processes around him was converted to electrical energy. His mere touch stopped fires, and if he actually concentrated on absorbing more heat than that, the flames in a radius of about two meters around him extinguished without leaving a single smouldering red spot.

He wouldn't be able to do this for very long though... his internal capacitors would overload, and if he released electricity it could very well start new fires, or a city-wide blackout.

He didn't mind that now though... he knew his internal energy levels very well, and knew he could probably extinguish the entire block before that happened.

He just hoped he didn't have to go that far... afterall, at this moment only part of said block was burning.

[CKW]

Burnt. It smelt of burnt. Scorched rubber, tires to be more precise. Like a red, raging bull, the fire truck raced towards the blast site, cornering in each blocked pathway to afford the scarce seconds. The siren roamed, raged, embedded on the haste of the vehicle, wich was leaving a considerable oily and gray tray behind, a mix of smoke and dust. People stood amazed, still in confusion. Firemen were hasty, but nowhere near as hasty as this. The fire truck glided, skidded, accelerated, and even jumped on several debris ramps that had been scattered all around the way, to land shortly after. Driving firmly and fastly towards its goal, the nearby fires.

Reaching the zero zone at full speed, the behemoth didn't took the worries of braking from a safe distance, only in the last second it blocked it's wheels and turned to his side, skidding sideways as dirt and debris were propelled all over. It stopped completely inches away from the face of the astonished SSR members that hadn't moved yet, and covered their faces in charcoal dust.

Before anyone could say "What the frag?", the door of the vehicle opened, revealing a somewhat bizarre figure. A biker sort, wrapped in chains, symbols all over the racing suit, his tattered helmet reinforced with plates, his spare right eye glaring with an unnatural red light. He didn't waste any time in talking, his metallic, distorted and raspy voice croaking something.

"Didn't find the fire extinguisher, chumps, maybe this will do?"

It was the Doom Racer.

Half-recovered of the weirdness of the event, Ronin stiffened his face up. He'd seen before. And not in somewhere he'd like to see. He had been in the SSR cells, as a prisoner.

"Weren't you in the SSR prison?"

"Well I was. They'd say they would release me when the sky fell off, and well..." He shrughed,mockering. "Look, grave-boy. I've got TONS of reasons to be here and help, now if you feel like it you can grab the fire hose, and start suffocating these fires, old fashion. If not, well, i suppose they'll eventually run out of stuff to burn and die." He said, while pointing the rear of the truck.

[Wesforce]

'You might want to shut yourself off for a second.' Came the disembodied - projected - voice, right in Charge's ear. He knew from experience he only had a split-second to react when:

FRAZOOOM!

Static crackled and hissed, the air rippling from the soundwaves coursing through it as Equalizer appeared, several metres in the air. A few metres abover her and off to the side appeared a water tank - The sort you found on the roofs of high-rise buildings in downtown Lutonopolis. It's momentum carried it into the building where it ruptured like a massive water balloon, drenching a wide arc and taming what of the fire was left in the building. Water splashed and fizzled and ran round Equalizer and Charge's ankles.

'Found this while I was going back and forth and... Well you looked a bit tired.' She said patting Charge's shoulder. She drew her hand back with a mild electric shock triggered out of spite.

'I am capable of drawing my energy from the surroundings, in this case both heat and light and thanks to you, sound, are abundant in this area. As such the word "tired" is nonsensical.' The SSR's pre-eminent superhero replied. 'Anything to report?'

'I think we have most of the civilians out. We're getting the fires under control, but new ones are starting, and most likely will until the bloody sky stops falling on us. How are the new additions fairing?'

Charge couldn't help but notice the emphasis she put on the words and the small twinges in the visible part of her face, but wasn't quite sure what she was getting at.

Equalizer heard the boisterous boasts some distance off: The third new member now, in a "mine's bigger than yours" contest with Ronin already.

'Boys will be boys.' She rolled her eyes.

[SW Freak]

"Yes, miss high and mighty. Because you're serious all the time too. All right, big, dark and ugly, hook that hose up to the mains."

As that task was done, with some reproachful mutterings from the newcomer, Ronin glanced at Charge. He was looking a little worse for wear, the result of overtaxing himself, no doubt. The nearest buildings were out, but fires were still dancing merrily about the place.

"Equilizer, any suggestions? Centurion? Is there anyway we can stop this rain? Didn't we apply for a space ship grant in our budget a while back?"

[AI]

"No." Elkal said, surprisingly deadpan. "This is no common meteor shower you are experiancing - My calculations suggest they have been accelerated to a rapid velocity, pulled from their natural orbit by a force of great power."

"So somebody's dropping space rocks on us?" Ronin sighed. "Great..."

"Affirmative." He confirmed. "This is just the begining of the end - But we shall discuss the later, fir..."

"I can't hold them!" An exhasperated voice cut The Centurion off mid-sentance.

Icicle dragged her feet as she stumbled up to the assembled heroes, sweat dripping off her forehead in bucketloads as she stuggled to breathe - Face as red as the skies above. Elkal shot her a look of distaste that made her skin crawl down the back of her neck and migrate down her spine. That same facial twinge came over Equaliser, as she wrapped an arm around the woman and took her to one side - Away from the over-bearing alien figure.

"Well?" Said Charge. "You heard her, what are we waiting for? Get that engine working!"

[Wesforce]

Safely out of earshot, Equalizer - who should know when someone would be able to overhear her or not, had a quiet word with Icicle.

'Don't let him get to you. You're doing... Okay.' Said Equalizer, trying not to patronize her new colleague.

'You saw?'

'I did. He doesn't seem to hold any of us in high regard, least of all us two. But remember we're the SSR. We're above this. Okay?'

'Y... yes.' Said Icicle, not sure how to reply.

'He probably thinks we're weak. And, of course, we're going to have to work twice as hard to be seen as doing half as good as the others. Can you handle it?'

'I can!'

'Good. Not that I think the bugger is particularly deserving of our efforts, or that his respect matters much to me, but we have a job to do.' Equalizer said, uncomfortably aware that she'd renounced the job not so long ago.

'Lets go, shall we?'

As pep talks go, Equalizer was no expert. But she could give it her best shot... She didn't want some alien fragger undermining the team's confidence.

[VO]

Centurion fought fire.

The blaze was considerable, having spread from the ruins of Sushi Express to the ajoining buildings, but the considerable efforts of the SSR - even the women - were beginning to pay off, despite the ice-controller's failings. Of course he was doing the majority of the work, smothering flames with his indestructible cloak and blowing them out like candles with his breath, but 'Charge' was also working efficiently. Not entirely human that one, almost on level with his own species.

This new arrival - well. He wasn't on the reports he'd had access to so ElKal had reason to assume he was a new member, already promoting strife within the team and hijacking a rescue vehicle to boot. He'd have to open up his hearing range incase a fire broke out somewhere else in the city while this one was so comandeered, and intervene if necessay. A quick scan of the individual who called himself Doom Racer indicated an almost baseline human with largely dormant mutations that were only beginning to express themselves. Perhaps a 'Dunstable' source. If Centurion was going to take charge of this rabble he would have to enforce a stricter uniform guideline - both the haemovore, the 'Equaliser' woman and this one flouted any sense of order in their dress. That would have to go.

***

Riona took a cab back to the SSR HQ.

She told the taxi driver she was a secretary for the company; that was easy enough for him to believe, given the sheer amount of administrative staff the SSR now employed at all hours of the day, despite the fact that in the dark he couldn't see her face and would be unlikely realise she was Diva Ex Machina from the Reserve. She took the staff entrance to the building - a nondescript double door away from the main glass atrium and smiled at the mousy secretary at the desk - nothing like the beauty queens Wescorp had out at the front who were in turn nothing like herself. The lift arrived switfly with a *ting* and she rode it up as high as the SSR's apartments, near the middle of the tower. The doors opened and she was in a different world; it was quiet.

Something was wrong.

Riona stepped out of the elevator and looked around - the team's common room was to her left, complete with the the snoozing D.A.M.A.G.E. barman that Charge had reprogrammed and a basket which belonged to Pal, the talking superdog. On the wall of the corridor was the water cooler, recently repaired after the incident with Mammoth Man. The SSR's post was deposited in a set of pigeon holes nearby. Riona glanced up the corridor as she took her handful of letters from the rack, thinking she'd seen something move from the corner of her eye.

With her bag on her arm, she made her way down the corridor to her room. Most of them were still empty, unfurnished, some of the others occupied by the second SSR which, lead by Mammoth Man, had rescued them from CKW after the incident with the thing. She passed Charge's, Equaliser's, and one of the new members - who'd rather distastefully stapled a poster of a half-naked women from Sidekicks Gone Wild to the door. Her room was on on the corner, giving her a beautiful panoramic view over the city and the river. She turned her key in the lock with a click and opened the door, glancing back along the hallway. There was no-one there.

Everything in her rooms were as she had left it; all the furnishings that had been brought from her apartment fitted snugly in the living room, miniature kitchen, bedroom and on-suite bathroom that each of the SSR members enjoyed, even with some room to spare that had had to be filled up by even more stuff. Her expensive leather sofa, which would have dominated a smaller room, sat opposite a wide screen TV, a pile of trashy magazines and bottle of expensive Chateau Wesley wine, unopened on the table, besides an empty glass. A Ziggory Aybabtu origianal was framed on the wall. Almost all the SSR had moved into the new building - Riona was resigned enough to her fate now that she knew it was simply more conveniant to live here when you were on Wescorp's beck and call anyway.

On second thoughts, she went back and locked the door. She dropped her bag onto the coffee table, flicked on the Television with the remote, and regarded herself skeptically in the full length mirror. In the reflection, she could see Lady Stardust, avoding questions about the meteors posed by a haggard looking Rosetta Dawn.

I need a shower, Riona thought as she regarded herself. I'm getting stressed out.

"D.A.M.A.G.E, make me a coffee," she said. Charge had insisted on them having one each - after the raid on the factory there were far too many of the robots to go around. Riona's model had found itself subject to a hasty refit by Wescorp technicians so that it now found itself as a sort of robotic manservant. It woke up from where it had folded away into an absurdly small cupboard, opening up to the size of a man. She'd considered calling it Jeeves or Chudley. and dressing it up in a suit, but the name hadn't stuck. Now it busied itself grinding coffee beans in it's robotic fist.

Riona's bedroom was as tastefully, if expensively furnished. She entered and stripped off, leaving her funeral clothes discarded haphazard on the bed. This high up, she didn't need to close the curtains - only someone with superhuman flight could have seen in, and Wescorp had a security no-fly zone around the building. The newsreader on the television was talking about a meteor impact downtown. The rest of the team were probably dealing with that, and she'd let them. Fighting fires was a job for firemen, not superheroes.

"Coffee, madam?" said D.A.M.A.G.E, offering her a cup of the steaming hot beverage as she stepped out of her room.

"No thanks, D.A.M.A.G.E, can't you see I'm naked?" Riona laughed, her long, luscious red hair falling around her perfect body. "Make me one for when I come out, though." She'd have to see about getting it's AI upgraded about that; although to tell the truth the Wescorp scientists who had reprogrammed the robot probably hadn't had butlers serving nude superheroines at the top of their priorities - and if they would they probably would have installed cameras. She pushed open the door to her bathroom and stepped inside, closing and locking the door.

The bathroom was large enough for a seperate bath and shower - she'd asked about a jacuzzi but apparently Wescorp said she'd have to use the communal pool like the rest of the team. Hrmph. She turned on the water, and stepped into the shower, not bothering to close the curtain. The water ran, refreshingly cool, over her flawless porcelain skin...

... and reformed into a figure, growing up from the spray and slipping into human shape. Rivulets ran off his skin as he rose and grew; it was only due the generous size of the cubicle that their bodies didn't press together, but it was closed. He was tall, incredibly hansome, with eyes the colour of seawater, long blonde hair that fell to his shoulders and rugged features softened just a touch. His body wasn't simply toned but sculpted, built like a mythilogical hero or a demigod and wearing only a tight pair of speedos that did nothing to conceal an extremely generous gift beneath.

"Hi," he said, flashing impossibly pearly white teeth at her. "They call me Trident. I hear I'm quite a catch"

[Nyerguds]

(OOC: LOL! pwn intro VO :D)

After leaving the unconscious man to the care of the paramedics, he flew back to Ronin, who was reluctantly starting to help the newcomer with the fire truck.
"Look," Charge said to Ronin, "we can be glad at least one of these so-called 'heroes' comes out to help us... most of these damn vigilantes don't show their faces until it's time to get praise."
He gave a nod to Doom Racer. "Thanks for your help. I appreciate it."

He looked around, and spotted Icicle. She wasn't holding up well in the heat of the blazing fire.
"Icicle..." he said, walking up to her and giving her a tight hug. Her face became even redder than before. "Charge, wha-"
"Just a second." he said, calmly. Immediately, she felt the excess heat flowing away from her body as Charge absorbed it. He let her go and smiled. "You looked like you needed a hug. Good work so far."

With that, he disappeared back into the raging fire.

[AI]

Hugs! Hrmph. She didn't care that she practically felt like a new woman, she felt as though she was being patronised on every level of her being - And she knew who to blame.

She glowered at the God-like green alien, as he stormed through the land, blowing out fires like candles - And possibly causing countless thousands of pounds in property damage.

Not that she minded - It's just that there were still people inside that building. People that could get hurt.

"Equaliser!" She called, her authortarian tone rising to the fore as she decided it was time to take command of the situation and end this now. "I need you to speed up your efforts - Please, get everyone out of the area..."

She could have added '... I don't want to have blood on my hands', but decided against being so heavy handed.

"You got it!" She said, displacing with that awful, ear-shattering sound that made Icicle's nose trickle. She licked the blood from her top lip and savoured it, before limbering up the ladders on the side of the doom-fire-engine.

"Out of my way, old timer!" She said, with the same flippancy with which he had treated her. She lammed her hand to the roof, covering it in a thin layer of ice, before pushing Ronin off the top with a single nudge. Taking command of the doom-hose.

"You!" She said to the new comer, who looked like he had just stepped from her very nightmares - Or an intensive care unit. "You drive, yes?"

"Best in the business, lady." He gave her a mock salute and chuckled.

"Get behind the wheel of your machine and await my instrucstions. This has gone on long enough."

Not waiting to to see if he had complided out not, she dipped her hand into the jet stream and retrieved a small cube of ice. She slipped this into her mouth, it would do little to ease her parched throat - But it was all she could spare time for.

Once that was out of the way, she began what she had came up here to do. Dipping a hand into the jet stream, and struggling to hold it with the other... In fact...

"You, down there! Get up here and help me." She commanded of the one who had tresspassed her, grudgingly melting the ice at her feet for him to safely step on.

Holding the doom-hose under her arm, for the time being, and stablising it with her free hand, she began to freeze the water that was coming out from it. She guided the hose masterfully, side to side, in one great frozen tidal wave of ice that eventually rose above the infected area. Charge saw this, and hovered down to her - A stray tabby cat under one arm, and a young child under the other - Both were kicking and screaming to be free and with their respective familes...

... Because even a cat had a family...

"What are you doing?!" He demanded, shaking the thought from her head.

"I'm going to create a wall of ice around the area. Just be ready to melt it on my signal."

"Are you crazy? Think of the amount of property dam..."

"Think of the amount of property damage it has caused already! Think of the amount of property damage it will cause if it is still blazing! Think of the amount of property damage your friend will cause with his meathod of fire fighting - We're not here to save property, we're here to save lives. Now make sure everyone is out."

With that, she hammered against the roof of the doom-engine, the occupant of it poked his garish head out from the window.

"Yeah?"

"Do you think you can drive me around the infected area?"

"With my eyes closed, darling!" He shot back, a growl emitting from the engine.

[Wesforce]

The Vehicle tore off in a haze of dust and burning embers, leaving Equalizer choking on fumes.

'Oh, I can tell this is going to be the start of a new and productive partnership.'

Grumbling aside, she took a second to marvel the sheer scale of the curved ice-wall Icicle had run up... It towered over her and the other SSR members and looked like it should be crashing down already. It had that weird sense of frozen motion about it, like a Video on pause.

'Noooooo!!!! The fires shall not take me! I will take my life's work with me when I go! Goodbye, cruel world!'

From the top of the tallest building in the vicinity, a small black figure was silhouetted against the sky. A portly man threw a bundle of papers into the air that danced and rolled on the hot currents. Then he jumped.

Equalizer sighed, thinking I might as well save the fool. Grudd knows he'll probably cause an Earthquake when he lands.

Taking care to fine-tune the displacement field, Equalizer listened to the man;s terrified screams. Like almost all suicide jumpers, once he was in the air he suddenly decided he wanted to live after all, screaming long ans high on the way down.

'Ah, music to my ears...'

'Equalizer!' Scolded Charge.

'Okay, okay...'

FRAZOOOM!

She appeared, the man shrieked again, she (grimacing) put her arms around him...

FRAZACCKKK!

She landed, heavily with the huge bulk in her arms.

'Did you realise your building wasn't even on fire?' She reprimanded the suicidal novelist.

'You saved me! You saved me! OhmygohohmygodohmygodI'm SAVED! THANK YOU, THANK YOU-'

He moved to kiss her. Reflexively she dropped him with a loud *thud*.

'Hmm..' Equalizer said, putting a finger to her lips thoughtfully.

'Charge,' she said into her WesCom5 'Thats about everyone. Could use an ambulance though.'

Sheets of blackened paper landed on her and the sprawled novelist.

[VO]

Jesus Christ!

Riona stepped back bumping against the door of the shower, and with the praeternatural ability that all fictional females display when threatened, managed to find a towel and wrap it around herself in one movement, despite the seeming physical impossibility of the shower door still being closed. The towel was small, and just managed to cover up her most intimate areas.

"Who are you?"

"I'm known as Trident," said Trident. Despite the confines of the shower, he struck a heroic pose, then reached into his speedos.

"My card," he said, handing a small rectangle, laminated in waterproof plastic to Riona. She took it gingerly in one hand, careful to hold the towel in a PG position around her body with the other. The picture showed this man smiling self confidently in the midst of seven other costumed heroes, each wearing a different coloured uniform. On the flipside it read 'Trident : Blue Warrior, Rainbow Warriors' and gave a mailing address and cellphone number. She viewed it sceptically.

Trident took advantage of the the silence to open his mouth and speak in a husky, masculine voice:

"So, do you uh, come here often?"

"This is my shower," said Riona.

"So, uh... it is," said the swimwear-clad hero, looking a bit put out . "Still, like what you see?"

Riona looked the aquatic hunk up and down, taking in every inch of flesh. "Yes, but... this is all a bit unexpected..."

"I mean the card"

"Oh..." Trident frowned. "You haven't been reading the promotional materials we've been sending you?"

"What materials?" Riona read clothes catalogues, glossy magazines and paperback novels. She didn't leaf through pizza flyers like certain other members had been like to do. When they moved from the old HQ they had to call in an industrial cleaning crew to get the layers of cheese and tomato off the culprit's floor.

"Rainbow Warriors. The premier new crime-fighting outfit in this town! Currently comprised of eight highly-trained specialists, we offer highly competitive pay and advanced facilities to the modern superhero... surely you read the induction pack?"

"Induction pack?" Must have been that brown envelope I thought was the gas bill, thought Riona. "I'm not sure I understand... I'm a member of the Secret Reserve... not a freelancer looking for a team..."

"We know. We've been following your progress, and decided that you fit our critera perfectly. The Rainbow Warriors are always looking for new talent for the fold. We'd like to offer Rainbow membership to yourself to fill a vital slot in our organisation. We offer an incentive!"

"Incentive?" echoed Riona.

"Why me of course." Trident laughed. "They say I was the greatest lover in all of Atlantis"

[CKW]

The engine roared up, hasted by the right foot, rammed on the gas pedal, trembling, as it was paralized by the pressed clutch. Doom Racer gripped himself to the steering wheel, sight leveled on the horizon, his hands grasping the wheel firmly.

"Hold on to your bra, miss... There *will* be curves ahead." He yelled out loud, and let his left foot loose. The clutch was released abruptly, but very well timed, as the truck suddently jolted in sheer released force, wich however did not choke the engine.Instead, tires skidded on the dust, releasing burnt rubber bits in the process. And it went forward, like an sprinting bull.

And it paced, driving at nearly impossible speeds, giving Icicle a hard time of balance.The vampired seemed to cope well, though. He never cared about the vertically of the truck, as it seemed he could drive with one or two wheels in the air. Heck, he even skidden in a 270º because he could not turn to his left directly. He was sure however, his "passengers" were doing what they were supposed to do, sighting both the water stream and the obstacle course that was his trail. The girl was managing fairly good for being on top of a truck that was speeding insanely in a nearly impracticable course.

He banged the roof, yelling. "JUMP ahead!" when he spoted the huge, ramp like debris that had collapsed in front on him. Without thinking he skidded, to approach the jump from the best position he could...

And the engine flew, like a motorbike, like a huge, overweighted stunt car on steroids, landing with such violence that Racer's helmet almost banged on the steering wheel wich he firmly gripped. He checked if the ice girl and the other guy were still on their places after the forced landing...

[SW Freak]

Icicle was still on top of the engine, gripping the hose with grim determination and lacing the world before her with ice. Ronin, however, was...gone. Lost, it seemed, to the road behind. But then a hand reached up, over the edge of the truck, scrabbled for purchase for a moment and found Icicle's dainty foot. Using this, Ronin hauled himself up, swearing under his breath. His hand progressed up Icicle's thigh as he stood a little unsteadily, having had his face smashed against the back of the van, looked at the point at which his hand had halted, looked a little further up into the heroine's face and received an icy slap to the face that almost knocked him off the truck again.

Muttering quietly, he grabbed the hose again so Icicle could concentrate purely on the ice. They circled the flaming block until a precarious wall of frost hung over the entire scene. The Racer reinged the screaming engine to a halt right where it had started with an impecable skill that impressed even Ronin. He hopped down from the top.

"Charge! Icicle is ready for you!"

[AI]

Icicle regarded her masterpiece, as the last few drops dripped from the doom-hose and down her leg. She shuddered at the sensation, breifly remembering the warmth of that man's hand. By Sikrinaok it was warm... So warm, warmer than the others - Even in these conditions.

There was something very strange about him, but to give him his dues, she owed him. He had, mostly, kept calm and level - Directing the hose exactly as she had requested and the end result was all she had expected. A great wall of ice, curved inwards towards the flame. Already she could see it dripping from the intense heat of the fire - If all went well, it should all fall inwards and there wouldn't be any impromtu water damage to clear up...

... She hoped anyway.

Her task complete, she let the hose drop from her fingers, falling to her knees just as the hired driver came in to a stop. He turned furiously, skidding to a wide-angled halt and taking the engine off onto two wheels. Icicle, her stomach already churned to an extent where she didn't think it could be churned anymore, and her limbs weak with physical pains, finally flew off the halted vehicle. Slamming against a soft-topped vehicle before hitting the tarmac face down.

"You alright, newbie?" Said the man she had been working with, offering her a hand up.

"Scrapes and bruises, nothing more." She said, rising to her feet with a wince, which soon turned into a cringe as her aching joints and muscles protested.

"That was quite a show." He smiled, something about that smile... Only it was too breif for her to catch. "Name's Ronin."

"I... Thank you for you help." She stumbled over the words, unsure of what to say. She was genuinly gratful, and yet part of her still despised this man...

"No sweat." He said. "Guess the rest is down to sparkles."

"Yes..." She replied, unable to say much more because her throat was so dry. That much work had taken a lot out of her, she felt as if the lifeblood from her viens had been drained, struggling to stand despite the Ronin's help.

"Perhaps it would be best if we leave, least I misjudged the angles." She suggested, anything to take the conversation away from her own physical weakness.

[Nyerguds]

"Do NOT call me sparkles!" Charge yelled at Ronin. Ronin frowned, wondering why the man couldn't take a simple joke. But the grim look on Charge's face showed him all he needed to know. "Only Jim's allowed to call me that." Charge said.
And now we lost Crimson as well... dammit. Why did that bastard have to leave? Charge thought. He had grown attached to the cheating, lying bastard with the heart of... well, most probably some arcane substance of which you were much better off not knowing it could even exist. He had loved their little battles of wits, showing him time and time again that his advanced brain was still no match for a cheeky tongue.
Right now, the only one he had left to compete with was that complete and utter arsehole Mr.Spectacular.
Focus! his Charge part brought him back to the current situation.
"Right. I'll get on it." he said, and flew inside the walled off area. He increased his flying speed, flying close to the wall underneath the curved part, while emitting enough heat to melt most of the ice. Balancing his speed and heat emission he sped along, as behind him, the top part of the weakened ice structure melted and collapsed inwards. Chunks of ice melted as they fell on the fire, putting it out, leaking down and eventually pouring back to the wall as black, murky water filled with ashes.
"I just hope they won't want us to clean all of that up..." Charge muttered to himself.

[SW Freak]

"Yeah. Come on. Let me give you a hand."

He slung her arm over his shoulder, bracing her with his own arm at the same time. Together they slipped and slid across the road, until they reached the SSR building. Ronin helped Icicle into one of the seats therein, and she flopped down gratefully.

"Hey, sorry about being so brash back there, when I kinda bossed you around. It's just that most of us superheroes have a real tendency to martyrdom. I'd hate to see someone with so much potential get womped, or whatever. We've already lost someone..."

He grew sad for a moment before brightening up a bit.

"But, listen, you stay here. You've done...Phew, you've done more than enough. That ice sculpture of yours is pretty impressive. Sit, rest, get someone to get you a glass of ice water and I'll fill you in on the details later. Take it easy, Icicle."

With that, he hurried out. He could probably still help out there, and there were still plenty of fires burning. Of course, with all these people hanging around gawking, it was hard to find the most troubled zones-

"What the-? Hey! Hey, you!"

Not the most original cry, he knew, but it would have to suffice. That woman was there, the one he had seen in America however long ago it was now. She smirked, as she had back at the cemetary, and turned. No need to run; no matter how hard he tried, Ronin couldn't push through the crowd quick enough to reach her before she turned a corner and disapeared. The vampire rounded the corner soon after her, but just like before she had disapeared.

"Goddamnit! Who the hell are you?!"

He sighed, and headed back towards the ice wall. There were no immeadiate cries for help, nothing much for him to do, so he was just milling himself. He noticed the Sonic Equilizer and waved her down.

"Anything I can help with, Equilizer?"

[AI]

Atop one of the taller buildings that surrounded the Reserve's HQ, eyes were watching. Perched atop a block of flats with a pair of binoculars, zooming almost, almost, in vein through the layers of smoke and ash sent up by the flames, a figure watched the SSR's movements.

Satisfied that the blaze was finally quelled, he folded his eyepieces away, instead taking up something much more sinister - A fully loaded, sniper rifile.

Lying on his stomach, settling down amongst the grit and broken beer bottles (they get everywhere, don't they?), he set up his weapon with great speed and efficency, he lowered his eye to the scope and began to seek out his target.

Droplets of rain lashed against his skin, soaking him through as another volly of thunder and lightning shook the angry red sky. Visiblity was already piss-poor, if he was any judge, even with the sky lit up like the red light district - But the smoke was almost impossible.

To reitterate, almost.

After some adjusting and figeting, he soon had his target...

... He smiled as he saw Ronin's head through the crosshairs.

* * *

"I dunno, everything seems pretty much under control. Just a few little off-shoots, shouldn't grow into anything..."

"AGRH, JEEEE-SUS!" Ronin bellowed, recoiling as something his his shoulder at break-neck speeds. His vampiric build stood up to it, naturally, but it still felt like somebody had taken a hammer to him.

He righted himself, instinctivly slipping his hand back to feel for blood, holes, anything... But there was nothing. No sticky, crimson substance dripping from his fingers, nor any trace of black powder. Curious, he took off his coat and inspected the affected area, noting the large, blue Wescorp :\\//\\//: on the back. He remembered that well, they had asked him to wear spandex and prance around like you're regular super hero...

"Over my smouldering ashes!"

Had been his reply to that. But they had reached a compromise, this being it. That aside, when he finally managed to locate the affected area, he couldn't believe his eyes...

Binmen Sercurity Inc: We take out the TRASH! No: 0500-FRAG-THIS

It read.

It hadn't been there before...

[Wesforce]

The moment the shot had hit home, Equalizer emegency-displaced herself around the corner of the nearest building. Only then did she notice the status of Ronin, his (lack of) injury.

'Nice to know you've got my back covered.' He told her.

'Hey, you're a big boy now. Besides, it's rather fetching, don't you think?'

Ahh, the Binmen, Equalizer thought. WD's loyal trained attack Dogs. You just have to treat them as such, throw them a bone now and then and they'll leave you alone.

She rewound her thoughts slightly.

Trained attack Dogs. And what of us? Sure we help out around the city now and again, but we jump through hoops every time that fragger asks. Are we really any better because we do it more efficiently?

She cast her mind back to recent events.

Yes. We're better. We don't do everything he tells us.

'Come on Ronin. Lets see what the situation is.'

She paused.

'And watch your back.'

[VO]

"How dare you!"

Riona's slap took the half-naked male across the face, swinging his head back against the shower door with a crack that didn't happen. Millimetres from impact, Trident's body came apart into billions of tiny droplets of water which sprayed all over the cubicle's interior and slipped through the slats in the panelling. Outside, the man reformed almost instantaneously, puddles running together and taking form as the aquatic superhero.

"Miss Chasey, I..."

Keeping the towel held tightly around herself with her left hand, Riona opened the shower door. Water - hopefully not bits of the other superhuman - ran down her skin. Her naked feet touched down on the plush rug.

"How dare you," said again. "To presume..." She was lost for words.

"Miss Chasey, it's just... well, your appetites are well known!" Trident flashed another highly reflective smile. Riona was speechless with rage. The next slap twisted his head almost ninety degrees and sent him reeling back, tripping over into the bathtub. He slipped inside, half turning to water before he noticed the open plughole and hastily regained human form. One leg was draped awkwardly over the edge, his tight swimwear bulging. Strands of flaxen hair draped over his face; despite the awkward position Trident still managed to look supremely smug and self confident. His impressively muscular chest rose and fell.

“So, you want get take that towel off and climb in?”

This was not a time for words. Riona seized a handful of Trident’s mane in her one free hand and with a burst of effort heaved the man half out of the bathtub. He yelped in pain.

“Heh, yeah, I like it rough too… where to now? The bedroom?”

“Shut up!,” she hissed through clenched teeth. “Stop speaking!” She slid her arm so that her left elbow was pinning the towel to her generous figure, and slipped the hand under his chin. Trident’s jaw was forced shut as she dragged his body across the room, his arms flailing against the walls. A bottle of shampoo fell off the shelf and bounced off his forehead, spraying them both with sticky goo. Seconds later a jar of talcum powder followed. She kicked up the toilet seat and with one final jerk pulled him up so that his head was over the bowl.

“You know you want me…” muttered Trident. Riona pulled the flush. The water in the bowl gurgled and swirled, tugged at the blonde locks which dangled in. As reflex, Trident turned to his liquid form… and was rapidly pulled into the pipe. He screeched, unable to stop the supreme suction of an Armitage Shanks WC Turbo 1000 Siphon. At the last moment, a hand emerged, fighting the tide that pulled it under. It flailed for something to hold onto, found the edge of the towel and clamped tight around the fabric. Riona raised her arm and let it fall away from her body, flushing the toilet once more to be sure that she was rid of him.

She stood over the toilet, panting, as the heat faded from her face.

[AI]

Charge lowered himself down to the edges of the improvised swimming pool - Though God help anyone desperate enough to swim in it. The water was inky black, tinged with a violent red glow - And everything from paper bags, to chunks of charred, jagged metal of dubious origin were floating on the surface. It was a mess, but as Icicle had said - I would have been worse if they'd let the fires continue to burn... Much worse.

"Minimise the losses, Charge..." He sighed. The words becoming gravely familar to him since his time with Wescorp.

"Whoa..." Said the new member, Doom Racer, as he wandered up to the scene with a low whistle. "Remind me never to get on the ice bitches bad side, huh?"

"Just take that fire engine back to where you found it, and apologise if nessesary." He said, bluntly. "Oh, and I'd hardly say calling her a 'bitch' is the first step to getting on her good side."

"Whatever you say, Darkie." He remarked flippantly, before waltzing back over to the Doom-Engine.

He turned away from the man, towards the approaching Equaliser and Ronin. He couldn't see the look on her face, but he knew that she'd heard all of that - And no doubt wasn't happy. He sighed.

'Great, no sooner does Crimson die and she's probably already found a new punching bag...'

"Where's Icicle?" He asked, he hadn't seen her since he' melted her master piece.

"I took her back to the HQ, she looked pretty rough." Ronin explained.

"Why didn't you just leave her in the Rover?"

"Rover?" Equaliser asked curiously, before Charge motioned towards the eight wheeler. "Can I drive?"

"No!" Charge and Ronin said in unison, niether had seen Equaliser drive anything before - But they could imagine.

"Is that the last of it?" Inquired Ronin.

"I think so. Are you alright? You look like you've seen a ghost." Charge remarked, noticing how shaken the vampire looked.

"I think I might have..." He muttered, before raising his voice and showing Charge the affected area of his coat. "Just been marked by the fashion police, it seems."

"We can worry about that later." Came a voice from the sky, as Centurion came in to land. "All the fires are out, your city is safe. Now, we have important matters to discuss - The fate of your world is at..."

*WHIRRR-BOOM! WHIRRR-BOOM!*

The ground shook benath the assembled heroes feet, the sound of cogs and gears whilring, whislt metal grinds against metal feeling the air. Whilst the smell of oil, steam and... Dairy products overpowered the ash and smoke from the fire. A great shadow loomed over the heroes as a hastily assembled mammoth of a machine towered over them. It was a great block of metal, rolling along on two conveyor belts come tracks, with two, large squirt-guns bolted to it's 'shoulders'. There was only one man, however, who would waste the time and energy sewing together an enormous chefs hat to rest on top of it...

"Alas, Dear Yorrick!" Cackled Loki dramatically, as he rose his newly recovered skull on a stick to the bleeding skies. "It appears, we are late!"

"This might be a good time to take cover..." Charge whispered to Centurion, who ceased his analysis of the trouble-making-trickster to stare down at him.

"Because of his volitile nature?"

'What's that? Oh, yes! How right you are, my Yorrick! T'would be a shame to let these devlish delights go to waste!"

Loki slammed his hand down on a big, red button on the control panel (mainly made up of oversized buttons and levers) in front of him. Both of the guns opened fire, spraying the crowd, human, super human and alien alike, with cream. There was a short crack of static as Equaliser vanished, leaving the others to be coated before reappearing just inches away from where she was previously stood a few seconds later.

"He is right, you know..." She said, coating her finger in cream from Charge's shoulder and sucking it dry. "... It was too good to waste."

"Why, it appears we have a desert of dessert!" Loki quipped, leaping down from his giant, converted cream-cake making machine (borrowed from a factory across the road) and boped Ronin on the head with Yorrick. "Now, now! Didn't your mother ever tell you that you shouldn't play with your food!"

* * *

"I was wondering where you'd got too." Icicle turned to see Equaliser enter the room.

She pulled up a stool next to her at the bar, taking a seat. Icicle had been there since Ronin left, not content to sit there in full view of anybody that happened to pass by, feeling like the third-wheel on a unicycle. At least here she could look like she had a purpose - Even if it was to drown her sorrows, alone. Still, she spared Equaliser a smile all the same, it was nice to know there was one friendly visor in the building.

"I needed a drink..." She said, nursing an empty glass in her hand. "Would you like one?"

"Yeah, I shall take an Industrial Cocktail..." Icicle looked at her, preplexed. "It is the small, nameless, yellow and black button in the corner."

"Ah, right..." She said, rolling a few coins into the DAMAGE barman-come-vending machine, pressing the two buttons, the one Equaliser instructed her to push and one for herself, something called a 'Snowball'. She'd never tasted it outside the tower - But it just seemed appropriate.

"So... How are you?" Equaliser inquired, taking her drink from Icicle - Who was all but terrified of it. It hissed and spat with acidic, neon green fluid that seemed to change colour periodically.

"Tired..." There was a long, slightly akward silence that hung in the air after that. Illioto finally took off her cloak and cast it over a neighbouring bar stool, whilst Equaliser raised her visor just enough to sip her poisonous looking drink. Illi took the que to sip her own, then ask. "... And you?"

"Better once I do not smell like a coal refinery." She flippantly replied.

"Yes, I'm going to have soot in my hair for weeks..." Illi sighed. "Was it over... When I left?"

"Pretty much, if I'd have known he was taking you, I would have displaced you..." She said, then quickly added. "Just to save the walk, really.You looked exhausted."

Illioto moved her cloak as a lost looking man in a garishly coloured spandex suit and cape sat down the other side of her. He wasn't particularlly attractive, nor even athletic. He just seemed... Out of place in this building, full of arrogant, self-satisfied super humans. Perhaps much like Illi herself.

"Hello Doctor." Equaliser called to him, he turned around sharply, then relaxed slightly when he saw the speaker.

"Ah, hello! I seem to be covered in cream... You wouldn't know why would you?"

"Not a clue, Doctor." She rolled her eyes behind her mask slightly - They'd all but given up trying to explain his mischievous alter-ego to him. Doctor Oppenhiemer was by no means a dim-witted man, in fact he had one of the sharpest minds on the team, but there are some things a person just doesn't want to accept. Which, was fair enough.. She supposed. "Want a drink? The new girl's buying."

[SW Freak]

"Don't mind if I do."

Ronin flashed a grin as only a vampire can as the others turned to look at him and sat down beside Equiliser. He ran a hand through his hair and let out a sigh. Then he pulled his coat off and looked at the back again.

"I ask you, what kind of crazy bugger shoots an ad at you? Punch in a bloody mary for me, Icicle. The one with the R beside it, mind. That reminds the bot not to mix his metaphors." He smirked again and tossed his coat on the stool beside him. "I'm not opposed to fire in general, but I'm glad that's over. I'd hate to die again."

Considering I may not wake up the next time. And I'd never find out who she is.

"Thanks, newbie. You did good today. I'll fork over for the next round." He produced a handful of change and then sipped his drink appreciativly. They had applied specially for a blood allowance in the budget. The blood bank had been happy for the extra publicity.

[Wesforce]

'A nice glass of water, unfluoridated, room temperature would be adequate, young lady.' Dr Oppenheimer replied.

'DOES-NOT-COMPUTE' Came the grinding voice of DAMAGE. Dr Oppenheimer turned to leave, but DAMAGE took issue with that too over some niggling technicality that the programmers had obviously overseen. Dr Oppenheimer began to look very worried, but Equalizer was so bored from just that snippet of contact she paid him little to no attention after that, and instead regarded Illi and Ronin curiously.

The action had changed Illi, she deduced, but there was more to her. She'd only hinted at the leadership potential she could display...

She caught herself staring into space twenty centimetres in front of Illi's face. Luckily Illi wouldn't have noticed. This was the reason, after all, Equalizer wore a mirrored visor.

[Master Chris]

"Oh, oh dear."

Irvine stammered helplessly as the bar-bot continued to stare, as only robots can, unblinkingly at the scientist. Irvine could hear cogs whirring and other clunks and sproings, all of which contributed to a mechanical cacophony.

"REPEAT-ORDER."

"Ahh, hmm, perhaps this will work: I request three hundred millilitres of Di-Hydrogen Monoxide, served at three hundred degrees Kelvin in a beaker."

"MAY-I-SUGGEST-THE-ADDITION-OF-ETHANOL-TO-YOUR-BEVERAGE?"

Oppenheimer looked around at the others, confused. Ronin lowered his glass and nodded at the doctor, licking his lips before speaking:

"Best take his advice, for your own safety."

"Well, I suppose so. My good man, I shall take you up on that offer. Add a little Ethanol to my drink."

In jerky, uncoordinated movements DAMAGE leant over an empty glass and, with a rusty screech, it's jaw swung open and the bar-bot vomited a murky liquid into the glass.

"WILL-THAT-BE-ALL?"

"Well, umm, ahh, hmm, yes. Yes, that will be all."

DAMAGE turned it's back on Dr. Irvine and made a poor imitation of polishing mugs, while Irvine poured the suspect liquid in his glass into a conveniently placed pot plant, which looked rather worse for wear (no doubt from previous customers choosing to dispose of their drinks in the same manner of the good Doctor). Irvine commented:

"Never drink the stuff, I'd hate to imagine what would happen if I were ever under the influence. Probably do something horrible and not remember it the next day. Ha ha!"

Someone coughed in a manner which sounded awfully as if they were saying:

"Denial!"

[Nyerguds]

"You have a lot to explain." Samira said to Murat.

They were back in the room where she walked ino on Charge's conversation with Mammoth Man. Only this time, they were alone.

"Actually, so do you..." Murat replied.
"Forget it. You first." she said stubbornly. "What happened to you, and what were you talking about earlier?"
Murat sighed, and sat down on one of the chairs. "Quite simply put? I got a second intelligence crammed in my body. An intelligence made of pure energy."
"And you're OK with that?" Samira said. "Can't you just kick it out or something? Or are you addicted to all that power?"

Charge couldn't help but laugh when he heard the word 'power'. "Sam, you got no idea. Even if I could reject the energy stored inside me... it's equal to a state-of-the-art 100-megaton H-bomb. Do you have any idea what that means?"
Samira turned pale. "Th-that's... enormous."
"An explosion that would evaporate everything in a radius of 20 kilometers, then move on to melt concrete for about 20 more kilometers. The shockwave would destroy everything up to about 90 kilometers. In all directions, that is, of course."
"Then why on earth are you risking your life out there?" Samira yelled at him. "You're gambling with the entire city at stake!"
"The city isn't safe enough for me to live in, that's true..." Charge said. He seemed somewhat uncertain with Samira pointing out such an obvious fact. But he knew why he started fighting crime, and not even Samira would stop him from accomplishing his goal. "But see, that's exactly why I have to do it. To make it safer. I got so far... I became leader of this team. All to make the city safer. You have no idea how many random bystanders get killed in some of these super villain attacks. If not for us, they'd have free reign over this city. Imagine what would happen if I was one of these random bystanders, Samira..."

The uncomortable pause that followed was broken by Samira.
"It happened, didn't it?" she asked, calmly.
Charge swallowed. "Sort of. I got shot in a bank robbery. I lost control, and..." he suddenly looked away from her, with a painful expression on his face.

"I can't stand it!" he yelled at her. "They're all dead, and it's my fault! Twenty-seven people, not including the bank robbers."

Samira didn't reply. She was analysing his words... something didn't seem right about it. Suddenly she realized what it was.
"Not including the bank robbers? Why not including the bank robbers?"

Charge stood up, and walked out of the room. "They deserved it."

Samira stood in the room, astonished about what she just heard her husband say. Only then she realized how he had told her the truth... he had indeed changed too much to still be Murat.

But she'd be damned if she'd let him go.

[AI]

(Hope this is ok with you, MC... I admit I took one or two liberties ;) If not, say the word and it is edited!)

Illi turned around to face the Doctor, Equaliser becoming increasingly silent whilst the presence of Ronin made her slightly uncomfortable - Perhaps she was being silly, but she found his arrogance totally unappealing. In fact, it was on the verge of revolting to her... Which was a shame, as he did have a rather handsome quality - Albeit rather rough. Which bothered her, everything about him seemed just a little tarnished - She mused that if you could see his soul, it would probably be frayed and jagged at the edges.

Yet, there was more than that. A Bloody Mary wasn't that bizarre a choice of drink to her, after all, she came from a race that was not adverse to canabilism. She had indulged in it herself from time to time, especially in the more savage parts of the Antectian Empire. When you were a diplomat, you found yourself partaking in things you'd usually be disgusted by... Not that eating human flesh bothered her much - Tasted like pork.

This wasn't her culture, however, and canabilism was, to her knowledge at least, generally frowned upon. So it was curious this man got away with it in plain view of the worlds media... Hm, perhaps she could ask Equaliser about that another time.

"Hello, Doctor..." She tried her best to smile, or at least half-smile, at the man, but all she could muster was a somewhat nervous, borderline tense and possibly even giggly expression. "... I'm Icicle. I don't... Well, I haven't seen you and... We haven't met."

"Ah, yes, yes..." He looked from the glass he was holding, seemingly unsure what to do with it, seeing as the DAMAGE barman may take offense at the minor tremor it may cause being placed back on the bar, to her, then back to the glass. Deciding to press it down into the moist soil, just to be on the safe side. "... Always good to see new faces!"

"I hope you don't mind me asking..." She began, catiously. She'd hate to offend the people she was working with. "... But what exactly are you a Doctor of?"

"I was a doctor of Neruoscience." Oppenheimer replied.

"Neruoscience?"

Ah, how to define Neuroscience..." He said, rubbing his chin between thumb and forefinger, before snapping them as the answer came. "Simply put, young lady, Neuroscience is a field of study that deals with the structure, function, development, genetics, biochemistry, physiology, pharmacology, and pathology of the nervous system, divided into the central nervous system, which, in laymans terms, would be the brain and spinal cord, and the peripheral nervous system, which consist of a myriad nerve pathways running throughout the body."

Clearing his throat, and looking at his one-woman audience to find - Much to his surprise - That she was still interested, he then concluded...

"It is basically the biological study of the brain."

"Oh..." Said Illi, somewhat daunted by the detail of the explaination given. "That sounds... Interesting."

"Oh, it is!" Exclaimed Irvine, grinning from ear to ear. "People don't appraciate what we can learn from the Human mind, it is a very powerful and verstile tool with vast amounts of untapped potential just waiting to be discovered!"

"And have you... Ever untapped... This potential?"

"Well of course not, I'd be a genius otherwise!" He chuckled, Illi elicted a few nervous laughs, unsure wether it was polite to play along or not. "My last project skimmed rather close to this, however. You see, mankind only uses half of their brain - Our aim was to inhabit this brain with a totally different personality, basically allowing two distinct people to live in the same body."

"But... Why?" She asked, throughly preplexed. "What would be the benefits from this excercise?"

"Mainly discovery, pushing our potential. If this is possible, it's easier to work down. There are a number of afflicitions to the brain we could have cured with certains elements of the treatement... If only..." He sighed, suddenly wishing he had some water - All this talk was thirsty work.

"What happened?" Inquired Illi, finding herself being, as unlikely as it sounded, enraptured by the conversation. "I took the liberty of reading through the schematics for the Reserve Rover - It is clearly a work of genius, why are you not one of this countries leading scientists?"

"Oh... I wouldn't.. Well, that's very nice of you... But..." He Doctor adjusted the clasp of his cape and fiddled with the collar of his suit, his face flushing bright red. "The fact of the matter is, the experiment was shut down, for one reason or another - I'm still not sure why, ha ha! I And I've really been doing odd jobs like this for Wescorp ever since."

"Ah..." Said Illi, musing over what he said. If this man was an Antecian, would he be celebrated.... Persecuted much like herself... Or by and large ignored, just as he was here? "... That is a great shame."

'Crawler' That mysterious phantom cougher spluttered out, causing her to hang her head.

Fantastic, Illioto... You've come on too strong and allientated the others... Again.

[Nyerguds]

"Get back here!" Samira yelled through the corridor.
Charge sighed and stopped. "What now?"
"Who are you?" she said in a bitter tone.

"I am Charge. The result of the merging of Murat Aziz with the extradimentional energy being. I'm sorry about this, Sam... but if you want to continue with me, you'll have to accept that my view on some things are radically changed by the Charge part inside me."

"When were you planning to tell me?" Samira asked, slightly calmed down.
"When I'd have enough money to let you come over to Lutonopolis." Charge said. "But given the recent events, that didn't seem like a good thing to do anymore."

"I know." Samira said. "That's exactly the reason I came."
"What? What do you mean?"
"Let's go back inside." she said. Charge followed her back into the room.

"Murat..." she said, "my mother is dead."
"Eh? What happened?"
"You know she could talk to the spirits, right?"
"Well..." Murat's mother-in-law had been respected by the community as a wise woman, but he never really believed much of the whole spirits thing.
"Oh, save me that." Samira said. "After all the supervillains and crazy stuff you've been through, you still can't accept that? I heard you even got a paranormal detective working with you."

"Had. And believe me, when Jim's talking about paranormal stuff you'd think it's all a scam anyway."

Suddenly, the door was opened, and ElKal, the 'Centurion', barged in on the conversation. "Charge. I've waited long enough. I must talk with you-"
"...about the end of the world, yes, I know." Charge snapped, taking Centurion by surprise.
"Yes." Centurion said.
Samira, however, was getting quite fed up with the interruptions. "Get out." she said. "We were having a private conversation here, and we're planning to continue it."

Centurion looked at the human female for a brief moment, then turned back to Charge. "A dangerous entity has been-"
"Didn't I make myself clear?!" Samira yelled. "Get out!"
"-released on earth."Centurion continued, ignoring her. "This entity will-"
"Look." Charge said. "She made herself clear."
"Yes. You must really learn to keep your lessers under control." Centurion remarked casually.

"Excuse me?" Charge said, shooting a dark look at the alien. "Centurion, Samira is my equal, and in common sense probably more than my equal most of the time. I will talk with you later. Now do as she says."

The tall alien frowned, glanced at Samira again, and left the room without saying a word.


Samira stared at the door for a few seconds, then turned back to Charge. "Right. Where was I?"
"Your mother." Charge said.

"My mother, yes. One night she started screaming about the end of the world, about some great evil having appeared in England, and about you being in the middle of it all."
She paused for a second.
"And then, she died."

Charge looked at her. He knew what had happened to Maelstrom at ground zero that day, and they had been given reports about mysterious possibly paranormal-related deaths all over the world. But he had never thought about his own mother-in-law, who calmed angry spirits for the people in her village. She'd been one of the many that would never be mentioned on any list.


"We fought it." Charge said. "The 'Thing'. We don't know what it is. Centurion seems to know though. I'd better talk to him about it as soon as possible."

He leaned back on his chair.
"But enough about that for now... how on earth did you find me?"
"That was easy." Samira said. "Apparently it's a lot easier to find Charge when looking for Murat Aziz than it is the other way around."

"Wescorp." Charge said with a wry smile on his face.
"Yeah. It seems I was too low-priority to bother you with... but since I had a legal marriage certificate, they couldn't send me away. In the end they just got fed up with it all and gave me a badge to get into this place."
"Ah, Wescorp bureaucracy. Gotta love it."

He stood up. "Well... I guess that about covers it. We'll have time to talk later."
"Yeah, just go." Samira said. "You got a world to save."

[Wesforce]

Draining her glass, Equalizer left it in the tender care of the DAMAGE Barman (THANK-YOU-FOR-CUSTOM' *crunch* ) and made her excuses.

'Wait, you're going?' Illi said. It was clear she wanted to talk to her about something, something troubling her, but that would have to wait.

'Sorry, I really have to go. There's been something troubling me.' And visiting hours are almost over. 'We'll talk later. Good work out there today, by the way.'

In a flash, Sonic Equalizer was gone.

***

Several minutes later, Tanya walked out the front door of her apartment building wearing a casual grey skirt suit and shoes, a long black coat, and her hair in a precise ponytail. Wescorp had offered to reinstate her and thus give her back the use of the surname, but she wasn't sure she wanted to use it. For the time being, she remained just Tanya, and this Tanya needs a damn cab. Civilians don't usually travel by Displacer Screen.

'Awright luv, where ya gawin'? Ah ain't gawin sarf 'the river Lea this time a night.' Said a parked cab driver, guffawing as if he'd just made some kind of hilarious joke.

'Royal Lutonopolis Hospital please.'

'Yuss ma'am. Metre's running.'

It was, at ten to the dozen, as taxis have the distressing habit of doing. Several miles and a small fortune later, Tanya found herself at the hospital, being led to a small, dingy ward bearing the grand title "Mayor Randuff Nyerguds Memorial Ward".

'Memorial Ward? He's not dead...Is he?'

'Naw luv.' Said the Matron. 'E's alive an' kickin'. Just Sir Wesley's way of tellin' him to keep 'is nose clean, if ya nose what oi mean.'

The ward contained down and outs, drunks barely consious of the WesCare program that kept them (mostly) alive, a man (not like she could tell) covered entirely in plaster suspended by bungees from the ceiling like a hammock, and in the corner, covered by filthy sheets... Joe.

He tried to sit upright as he made Tanya out, but his plastered arms wouldn't let him. He tried to speak, but his voice croaked. A sore throat from throwing up, the effects of anaesthetic.

'No, sit down.' Tanya said, hoping it didn't sound too much like an order. 'I... I just came to see how you were.'

'Well... I'm alive.' Joe said weakly, attempting a smile, failing.

'You probably saved my life back there... Thanks.'

'Yeah.' Said Joe. 'No problem.'

There was a glass of water on the patchwork bedside table next to Joe, he tried to reach it. Something in his arm went click.

'Ah.' He said. His eyes filled up with water, his face set in a stifled grimace.

He must be in incredible pain Thought Tanya, holding the water to his mouth. His face was drawn, pale with big dark circles under the eyes. His head had been shaved and bandaged too, and she could tell he really missed his hair.

'I guess I won't be playing guitar for the next couple of weeks, eh?' He said, winking.

Tanya wanted to cry, but suppressed the emotion. The Doctors all said he'd never play again, not with an arm broken in three places and a compund fracture in the other.

'Yeah... A couple of weeks.'

'Ah. Oi'll leave ye be.' Said the Matron. Tanya and Joe both looked at her until she went away.

'So the band's finished.' Said Joe. 'Are... We... finished?'

'I don't know Joe. Are we?'

'I asked you.'

'Hmm... As far as I'm concerned, nothing's really changed... Apart from the fact that I've gone back to my old job, as a superheroine working for Wesley Dean III's Super Special Secret Reserve...'

'Eh?'

[VO]

"Thank you DAMAGE."

*YOUR-WISH-MY-COMMAND*

Riona sat on the sofa and sipped delicately at the steaming hot cup of coffee. She was clean, coiffeured and now dressed, wearing a casual, gauzy blouse and a knee-length skirt. She let her hair shorten itself so that it's voluminous tips just touched her shoulders, made sure her green eyes had just that extra, superhuman sparkle. She'd had to shower again, after that awful business with Trident, had dried herself by morphing since, quite frankly, she'd spent enough time cold and wet for one day. She slid a nail along the seam of the envelope, gutting it and spilling out the contents onto the coffee table.

Delicately, she picked up one of the sheets and slowly read it; not because she was stupid but instead so that she was careful to take in every word. She turned it over, running her elegant fingers over the embossed letterhead.

Hmmm..

*EVERYTHING-IS-OKAY?*

"Yes DAMAGE, of course." I'm lucky that thing doesn't have proper eyes, she thought, replacing the contents of the envelope and standing up. Where can I put this?. There was a bookcase on the wall, mostly filled with slushy romance novels but the top shelf was dominated by larger books. Riona took out the copy of SSR POP UP SURPRISE (with fold out ninja-action Crimson) that they'd been sent by marketing and put the letter inside, closing the book tightly and putting it onto the shelf. She slid her feet into a pair of elegant shoes, unlocked the door, and left.

Inside DAMAGE, motors whirled and circuits buzzed with electricity. Imperceptiby, the robot's photoreceptors turned to follow her, storing everything they saw for transmission to the teenage WesTechnician who had contravened one of the most important regulations in the book to install them.

[CKW]

"Extra booze, bunch of scrap, and make sure it leaves me blind." Doom Racer strolled in, barely unrecognizable without his spooky gear and voice syntethizer. There was no sign of his boots, claws or helmet, just the attitude reminised. He pulled one of the stools with one of his foot, abruptly, and sat with the same haste, stretching his arms, making his leather jacket's stretch as well, fully revealing the "Doom 4 U" motto painted of it along a cruise missile, a reminiscence of what he had been one day.

"IMPRECISE-LANGUAGE, REPEAT-YOUR-ORDER."

John frowned. He'd to put up with several more or less angry firemen after delivering the engine, and he now faced a completely drole machine...

"Okay, bolthead. I'll have a Stomach Churner, but replace the Wescoke with Wolfsi, and be generous with the Vodka." He said, while tossing a few coins with expertise, describing an arc towards the coin slot and entering it flawlessly, a trick he'd been practising for quite a while.

The machine whirred and buzzed, complying with his order, producing a disgusting brownish goo that looked like sludge and handed it. John grasped it in one hand, and messed the hair with the other hand. What a first day, remindered him of the training camp.

He then noticed a frowning stare from some of his peers, towards the manners he had displayed. He didn't give a damn about it, after all, he had brought the engine wich had been most helpful. And some of the others hadn't even been in action.

The SSR was an odd group, indeed.

[SW Freak]

"Well," said Ronin, plonking his glass on the counter and wiping away his red moustache, "I'm going to take my leave of the bar. I'm heading up to my lodgings. Later, newbie."

With that, Ronin stood, grabbed his coat and sword, walked over to the elevator and jammed the button. He glanced behind him as the doors closed, though he wasn't sure why. Simply to look at Illi perhaps. He lied to himself that he was just concerned for her and the huge amount of work she had put in today. To begin thinking anything else would just be a distraction for both of them...

The doors pinged open on his floor and he paced sedately down the corridor. Few of the apartments along this hall were occupied, and that suited Ronin fine. It meant none of the annoying newbies (Though he practically fell under that title himself) would pester him. He fished around in his pocket for the key and pushed open the door to his apartment. The coat was tossed onto the stand inside the door as Ronin passed and he placed his sword in its rack on the wall. Then he paused and looked around his home

He had managed to get a number of Japanese decorations brought in; jade dragons, Oriental tapestries and the like. All along the walls hung many weapons, all of which he had gathered through his many jobs and his long life. He hadn’t limited himself to any one kind, but rather had taken any object of destruction. As such, heavy machine guns and rifles lay beside swords and blades. The whole back wall was just one big window, allowing for a panoramic view of the city. If that was your idea of a good time. To the left was his room/crypt and in the right corner was his mini-kitchen. It wasn't much, but it was enough. He examined the rows of weaponry clinging to the walls, ran his hand over a couple of heavy axes before selecting the huge odachi and hauling it down. It was finely crafted and practically sang as he pulled its entire seven feet from the scabbard. Ronin admired it for a moment before leaning the scabbard against a nearby gun case.

“Damage. Activate.”

The robot bowed over in the corner stood, its eyes lighting up. Various nicks and scratches adorned its hull, for it was Ronin’s sparring partner. For some reason no one else would spar with him. He had gotten the whiz kids over at Wescorp to modify it especially for him. Now in its databanks were filled with any number of martial arts and skills. It was of unique design; Sleek, slim and streamlined and, as a point of interest, eight feet tall.

“Setting to intermediate.”

“YES-click-SIR.”

The robot extended its handless arms. There was a quiet popping sound and a blade slid from the end of each limb. It took up a textbook Kendo ready stance and vampire and robot squared off for a moment. Then the D.A.M.A.G.E bot attacked, both arms swinging down towards Ronin’s head. The odachi came up horizontal and the three swords met with a chiming ring. Ronin spun away to the left, dragging his weapon with him and swinging at the robot’s back. One hand came back to block the huge blade while the Damage’s right arm darted out like a snake. A movement of a few inches spared the samurai a swift makeover and before his opponent could try again he was acting once more. This time he stay where he was but swung the nodachi low. The robot gave a quick hop to avoid the blade and then ducked as it whistled back at neck height. Ronin whirled the sword before him in a circle, taking a few steps back as his opponent retaliated, stabbing rapidly at him. The attacks were deflected by the swinging blade and both combatants paused for a moment, several feet away from each other. The bot stood with both swords aimed directly at the vampire’s heart, whereas Ronin stood with his weapon held level with his head, right leg bent beneath him, left leg extended before him, the tip of the odachi inches from the robot’s optical sensor.

“Hold it. This is too easy.”

They both straightened up. Ronin turned back to the wall, grabbed the scabbard and sheathed the odachi. Then he hung it up again and examined the various weapons before him.

“Damage. Setting to…” He trailed off in contemplative silence.

“PLEASE-CONFIRM-whirr-SETTING.”

“Setting to eviscerate.”

“YES-SIR.”

There was a click and suddenly the robot seemed to half explode. Twin rows of blades popped out along its back, spikes slid out of its chest and two more arms unfolded and were swiftly adorned with double-edged blades. It worked its way into a lumbering run as Ronin inspected the arsenal pinned to the wall. Finally his hands rested on a pair of big, double headed axes and they were pulled from their holdings. He took a couple of steps backwards and then moved forward swiftly, planted one foot on the wall and pushed off. He soared over the bot’s head, upside down, arms out to either side. As he landed he swung upwards with both weapons. The axes were deflected as the robot swung its lower pair of arms behind it. Ronin staggered back slightly and brought his arms down, only to be blocked again, this time by the upper arms. The DAMAGE bot’s head spun around too, and it glared at the vampire with inanimate malevolence. Its four arms became a tangle of blurs as it stepped forward, forcing Ronin back, his own arms darting this way and that as he deflected and blocked, ducked and spun. As he pirouetted aside, he saw a blade snaking straight for his chest. Hastily, he swung with his left arm, leading him around. The robot’s sword caught the curved underside of one of the axe’s blades. The weapon was wrenched from his grip and sent spinning into the wall. Ronin brought his right arm forward, catching the blade as it made for his heart. Spinning the axe, he caught the other three swords in the inner curve of his own blade, pressing forward until the robot’s arms crossed over its chest. They were deadlocked, with neither able to move the other. Ronin turned his gaze from the DAMAGE’s glowing green eyes as he heard a tapping sound on the window. Looking over his opponent’s shoulder, he frowned in confusion.

“Hey! It’s-”

He got no further in his cry, however, as, with the soundlessness borne of being outside several sheets of thick glass a number of stories up, the mystery girl he had been chasing the world over levelled a heavy duty machine gun straight at him and began spraying the room with bullets.

[AI]

Illioto heaved a sigh, wandering down the empty corridors of the Reserve HQ. It was so big... Bigger than anywhere she'd ever been in years! Almost rivaling the grand temple of her homeland. She mused on this for a moment, that the 'Sensational Secret Reserve' was almost akin to a religion. She had thought about this a lot since she had arrived in this land, it was almost godless. Almost. Their religion was a joke compared to her own, and its followers routinly ridiculed - Yet something emerged to take it's place. A commerical church, one filled with saints in the guise of celebrities - And the SSR were just another facet of this. Something for the people to believe in, attempting to fill the vaccum that religion left in it's wake.

She almost felt sorry for them.

In the meantime, she was trying to delude herself - Into thinking she wasn't lost. It reminded her of a maze - Only with the odd signage here and there. Instead she turned her mind towards the future - It was looking brighter than ever before. She'd finally got out of her tediously mind-numbling job... Finally been accepted for her blessings... And apparently Wescorp were going to give her a new job. Teaching people to walk on ice, they'd said... Figure something. Didn't sound very hard, but then she hadn't read the piles of books they had...

... She paused, standing in the middle of the corridor and looking around her curiously. Something had changed... Things were suddenly a lot less... Vibrant. As if the colour had been drained. She soon realised the cause of the problem... The power had gone out.

* * *

"And this scar..." Boasted Doom Racer, as he lifted up his shirt to reveal a garish red mark. "... That was the result of ice on the runway. I slipped over, clipped my back on the edge of the wing - Nasty scar and a two week hospital stay. Lucky it wasn't longer!"

"Uh... That's... Nice..." Muttered the Doctor, trying to be polite. He eyed left and right, seeing that everybody else had abandoned him, leaving him to deal with this rather unsavory character whom he had never seen before.

"Poser!" Coughed that very same voice again. Doom Racer frowned.

"Who the Hell keeps..." He muttered, but stopped midway - As suddenly all the lights went out and the DAMAGE barman slumped over, a glass shattering on the floor as it slipped from his fingers. The automatic doors slowly slid open, all of them, and jammed that way. "... Heh, powers out."

"Yes... I think I'd better go see if I can help..." The Doctor said, attempting to make his excuses and leave.

"Heh, might as well go myself. After all, what's a bar without beer?"

As the two left, an upturned bowl on the bar rattled and moved as something emerged from underneath it. Crawling out from his makeshift shelter, a slightly tipsy Mr. Bitesize chuckled to himself as he leaned on a half-full glass for support. He smiled smugly to himself.

"Losers." He coughed.

* * *

"Oh, well this is just perfect..." Muttered Charge, as he entered the room with an impatient Centurion waiting for him. Almost as soon as he set foot inside, everything went completely dead. He had felt no sudden serge in power - So he already knew that somebody had switched them off dilberatly. He sighed, probably nothing to worry about, just Wescorp doing a routine inspection he imagined. "I hope you don't mind working in the dark."

He sighed, but Centurion seemed preoccupied, he followed the small TV screens that adorned the wall behind him - Several hundreds of them, with the idea of monitoring every aspect of Lutonopolis for even the smallest crime they could bleed publicty out of. However, the idea hadn't really taken off - Mr. Spectacular, and Mr. Spectacular alone (mainly due to his own arrogance), only his rather erratic behaviour left it unmanned for long periods at a time - While he went to try and genetically enginer a wooly elephant from Mammoth Man's DNA or recreate the big bang in his living room. But now, they were all flickering to life, one by one, all focused on one image.

The leering, shadowed visage of a cool, hard glare from benath a fedora. Charge could see little else of the man, just his eyes and the outline of a trenchcoat, any defining feature hidden by shade.

"J... Jim?" Hazrarded Charge, it wasn't beyond belief and the sky was bleeding...

"You'd be so lucky." His voice sounded like it had been run through a dozen different machines and synthizers, the end result sounding not unlike an industrialised version of the car from Knight Rider. "Jim Castro is otherwise engaged. My name is Mr. Sly - Neo-English Government. Ah, and here come the rest."

He paused for a moment, as Doom Racer, Doctor Irvine and Illioto rushed into the room, only to stand in front of the wall of Sly with their eyes wide - Even the usually unflappable Doom Racer was phased. Just stunned long enough for the doors to slam shut behind them.

"Now that I have your attention..." He stated, calmly crossing his arms - His hands covered with thick, brown gloves. "We have business to discuss."

"Hold on a minute!" Charge protested, taking a bold step up to the screens. "If you want to discuss business, you come down here and do it in person! I have no tolerance for anybody who takes over our head qauters and puts peoples lives at risk!"

"May I remind you, Murat Aziz, that you are - At this moment, harbouring an illegal alien. And of course, there is also the matter of your citzenship in this great, and noble country..." His hand vanished off screen, and returned with a file - Which he held up to screen. "I know things about you Wescorp don't even know, and I can certaintly make yours, or any one of your lives, a living Hell if I wish... So, be good little spandex clad children and sit down."

The SSR begrudingly took their seats, whilst Mr. Sly waited paitently for them. Once they were all seated, he continued.

"A few months ago, before your little fiasco with the Chaos Kings Warriors, a very dangerous criminal escaped from the Area 15 Military establishment..."

"I thought that place didn't exist..." Mused Doom Racer, his feet up as he slouched in his seat.

"Technically, nor do I. I'm just a figment of your perverse little imagination, sweetie - So do us all a favour and go back to sleep." He finally placed the file down, after idly flicking through it, and then continued. "This man is called the Locksmith - A former member of the World War II super hero team The Ice Breakers. He's been branded an enemy of the British government since the latter stages of the war, a known nazi-sympathiser and traitor to crown and country. Naturally we're very keen on getting him back... But it seems somebody is protecting him."

"And I take it you know that as well." Charge said, dryly.

"If we knew that, Charge, we wouldn't be in contact with you right now." An image of a man in a plain white mask adorned the screen, a small keyhole adorned his forehead. Two pipes ran into the side of his neck, out of the collar of his coat - But other than that, no defining features. Much like Sly himself. "He's old, but he's still highly dangerous. Is believed to have a split personality that makes him highly erratic, couple this with a specialised drug that imbues him with the strength of an ox and the power to put people under a powerful trance, and it makes for one mean war veteran."

"I thought he specialised in locks..." Muttered Doom Racer, recalling some half-remembered information he read on the internet. "I mean, he is the bastard who got most of the Ice Breakers killed, right?"

"Yes, he is. And he could indeed pick any lock that had ever been made - At the time. We believe that power is outdated now, though."

"You'd be surprised..." Doom Racer shot back.

"I'm never surprised." Mr. Sly replied bluntly. "It's his other power we're worried about - There has been a series of thefts from very important places recently. Doors burned off their hinges, guns fused closed at the muzzle... We believe that the Locksmith, or whomever is hiding him, maybe using his powers to control a very powerful superhuman. Find the super human, you find the Locksmith... Or so we believe."

"Your task is to find out who is hiding this felon, and if he is controlling somebody. You will bring both him and his accomplices to justice. The Neo-English Government will aide you in any way we can."

"And what if we don't want to run your little errand?" Charge inqured, crossing his arms.

"One of our experimental orbital lasers, disguised as a harmless television satalite, is trained on your exact co-ordinates even as we speak. If you refuse, to put it bluntly, we will simply blow you, and your little tower, off the face of the Earth."

"You have got to be kidding... You do realise what kind of energy you're going to unleash if you kill me, right?"

"Yes. Perfectly well." Sly replied, cooly. "Simply a matter of blaming a faulty gas main, or super villains. Yes, it's a few thousand peoples lives... But on the other end of the spectrum, think of the amount of security legislations we can pass in the time that follows... How many little thorns in our side we can remove, in our zealous hunt for 'Super Villains'. Even if the public see through us like a strained glass window - It would be the end of Dean and his ilk. Putting control firmly back in Westminster, where it belongs. Just give me a reason, Charge... Make an accident happen. And such a shame with your wife in the country..."

He idly checked his watch in the moment of silence that preceded.

"Ah, it appears you have work to do. We shall be in touch very, very shortly... And remember..." He paused slightly, coming closer to the screen so that his fedora almost filled it. "... However big you think Wescorp is, however powerful and however influencial.. Just remember, we're bigger. And compared to us, Wescorp will always be the small fish in the mighty ocean."

The screens flicked once more, and died similtaniously. Soon afterwards Charge left a great serge of electricty as all the power returned to the buildings, the lights coming on and the monitors returning to their original purpose - Seconds later, a shrill alarm and several flashing lights followed. Centurion paced over to the screen, he had been oddly silent during the proceedings, and scanned them quicker than even Charge's mighty brain was capable of. He soon identified the one displaying the old Shadow Zero FM radio station, a lunatic in a yellow and black cape hanging off the transmitter, his arms addorned with strange rings as he was assited by...

"No..." Charge checked, and doubled check, but he'd fought enough of them before to recognise the familar colour scheme. They were DAMAGE robots, alright - Used for what CKW Enterprises originally intended. A few weeks ago Lumberjack had vanished in a jailbreak, but they couldn't have got reorganised this quickly... Surely. Half of them were dead...

... Or worse.

"Right, I'll meet you guys, and hopefully the rest of the team, by the Rover." He said, knowing that the team's Wescoms would flash in the case of emergancy. "Centurion, we'll talk later - I know you claim it's the end of the world, but believe me - If this is Chaos King..."

He remembered that day. Deep down in their lair... Down when the thing was unleashed. Even to this day, he still remembered Maelstrom's face as she broke down into tears, beamoaning the end of the world... Begging the pain to stop. In a way, the thing's affect on others was scarier than the beast it's self.. But he couldn't think about that now.

He had a job to do.

[Wesforce]

Equalizer arrived with the ear shattering sound that was customary to her, right next to Charge.

'Equaliser, good timing.' He said. 'How do you always know exactly where to Displace to?'

'Thats Equalizer, lightbulb. Its mis-spelled for a reason, a reason that won't become apparent for quite some time. As for the displacement trick, well I'll tell you later.'

What I won't tell him is that I've already Displaced through twenty different parts of the building trying to find him, but he doesn't need to know that.

'Anyway, where's the fire?'

'What? I thought we put them all out!'

Equalizer groaned and decided it was a bad expression to use.

'I meant, whats the rush?'

Charge told her.

'Well good!' She said Unequivocably. 'Its about time we did our Patriotic Duty!'

'What?' Said Charge, perturbed 'While we may not agree with everything he does, he's still the head of this organisation - And we take our orders from him!'

'We are no bloody jumping chimps, Charge! If we jump through hoops for anyone, it should the Government, not that megalomaniacal bastard!'

Charge stopped, he couldn't belive what he was hearing.

'I wouldn't go around saying that if I were you. You never know who's got super-ears for super-listening. Its not like you.'

Equalizer too, paused. She recognised the feelings that came not just from personal experience with Dean and co., but from her past life as a fanatically government-loyal Equalizer.

'Sorry. Right, forget it. I take it we're on Battle Stations then?'

[AI]

He took a deep breath, the foul, polluted air rushing through his cape - Wrapping it around him majestically. It was part of the reason he'd chosen to stand here so long... A symbol, if you will. He'd go from near nothing, in command of a rag-tag group of super-nothings, almost ruined by those accursed heroes... To the natural born ruler of his damned city. Hee Hee... He quite relished the prospect.

*CONSTRUCSTION COMPLETE*

The DAMAGE unit informed him. He was rather fond of his robo-minions, and at the same time, sickened. Sickened that those Wescorp slime balls had taken them and used them for... For domestic chores! The very audacity of it all made his blood boil! He'd kill them for this! He'd kill them all! But first, he'd reclaim what was rightfully his...

Hee hee, and what a reclaim it would be!

"Stand aside you overbearing mechanical oaf!" He snapped, walking over and poising himself over the large red button. Just one depress... That was all it would take. And the Reserve were nowhere in sight to stop...

"BONZA!!!!"

A torrent of flame rushed past his left side, almost knocking the DAMAGE from his feet. It soildered on through the flame, but he could see the smooth, organge surface of the beast slowly becoming molten. He'd have to have them flame retarded as soon as he got back to the HQ. The other was about to bring his heavy machine guns to bear, but a vivid purple pentagram formed underneath it.

"GGL. Darkness enfolds you."

up from the pentagram roses a great shadow, that slowly engulfed the machine - And then in a blink of an eye, it was gone. Another purple symbol formed in front of him, and up from it rose the figures of three people. One a lithe, young woman who looked as though she'd been recently dug up - With hints of the same vivid purple in her costume as the teleport symbol. Another was a strange, near-naked man in a nothing but a speedo... Not quite what he needed to see at this time in the morning. And the other was the most interesting of all.

He stood tall, well, he was left with little choice. The lower half of his body was naught but a giant roller-ball, that looked like it belonged in a science-fiction movie, that was connected to the rest of his body by a mechanical pelvis. His torso was covered in a tight, red, nylon jumper, a small, triangular symbol on the right hand side of it. His face was covered in a black wire mesh, like a fencing mask, with a great, bowl-haircut that spread out from the sides of his head and could almost double as an umbrella. He wore a cape, sporting the red, black and white of the Neo-English flag. The same colours were expertly painted onto his mask.

"Hm... Not who I was expecting..." Doctor Destructo, new leader of the Chaos King Warriors, mused as he depressed the button. "But... Hee Hee... You're too late now, anyway... It's begun..."

"It's never too late to put a creep like you in jail!" Grunted the supposedly leader. "Rainbow Warriors, strike!"

They all charged forward, along with a burly, stubble-ridden man in a floppy hat with corks hanging from it and red-hot hands, who he assumed had toasted his DAMAGE. Oooh, he'd pay for that one! Hee hee, but all in good time. Doctor Destructo pointed his deadly ring blasters down at the roof and discharged, the so-called Rainbow Warriors finding the ground falling from benath their feet.

Doctor Desctructo took one last look over the city, then measured wether it was worth joining the fray. Balencing his overwhelming urge to kill, with his new responsbilities...

"Hee Hee... Not today. Not with them..." He muttered. "Go my precious DAMAGE's... Go and wreak havoc..."

* * *

'Yo-Yo-Yo, da bioyatch an' da ho! All git down ta mah ghetto, cause I'ma super pimp-Yo!'

"Turn. That. Off." Growled Equaliser, towards Doom Racer, in responce he turned it up, keeping his eyes firmly on the road as he fiddled with the volume switch. Charge frowned, and switched it off, whispering towards him.

"Don't piss her off, ok?"

"Alright, alright!" He said, exasperated. "Not my fault if the bitch is touchy..."

"You do realise she can hear every word of this, right?"

He suddenly went deathly silent.

"So..." Doctor Irvine said, licking his lips nervously as he was crushed between Illioto and Equaliser. "Um... What do you... Ladies think of my Rover... The Rover! I mean, not *my* Rover, it belongs to the... Haha..."

He suddenly became very quiet himself, when he realised that niether of the women was paying him any attenion. Although he had to admit, he was partly relived by the fact. Both of them looked engrossed in their own thoughts.

"Equaliser...." Icicle said, gazing out the window.

"Hm?" She replied.

"I..." She began, then suddenly cut herself off. "Is that a man being savaged by a robot?!"

"What?!" Equaliser exclaimed, then peered over the doctor to gaze outside Illi's window. "Jesus on a motorbike... Doom-Whatever, stop the car right now!"

"What is it?" Charge snapped.

"It's the DAMAGES..." She said, observing another orange robot bursting out of a butchers, whirrling his various cleavers and knives at an astonishing speed, whilst another one - Possibly the one that had attended Crimson's funeral earlier, stormed out of the Undertakers. A man in a tophat and waistcoat raised above his head, his spine slowly being bent in two by the amazing strength of the robot.

"... I think they're malfunctioning."

* * *

Meanwhile, in the tower, amidst the carrnage that was unfolding and zillions of bullets that flew by, something stirred within the DAMAGEs circuitry. It rose up to full height, either unaware or uncaring of the bullets that chinked off it's orange armour. It's green eyes shone as it ran an inventory of it's impressive on-board arsenal... And then, that all too familiar warcry from days gone by, long thought wiped from his memory, returned...

*kill... Maim... BURN!*

[Wesforce]

'DAMAGEs going berzerk! Dammit, why doesn't anyone ever listen to me?' Equalizer fumed.

'Probably because...mmphh!' Began Doom Racer.

'Listen to what?' Said Charge, raising an eyebrow.

Equalizer recalled the time not so recently she and Joe had been on the receiving end of a DAMAGE's tender mercies. She remembered after that the damning report she intended to file about the supposed reprogramming of DAMAGEs that... That somehow she'd forgotten to file.

'Ah.'

'Well?' Continued Charge, edgily.

The conversation was ended abruptly as DoomRacer, with a raucous rebel yell flipped tapes to some menacing German metal and revved the Reserve Rover to combat speed.

[Nyerguds]

Not in my team you don't Charge thought. He had checked the man's internal build thoroughly, and it contained enough metal to control pretty much all of his movements with some subtle magnetic fields.

Moments before the Rover hit the robot, Doom Racer felt his Doom Arm being pulled to the side, and the vehicle missed it by an inch. Charge jumped out of the vehicle and magnetized the robot to prevent it from breaking the man's spine.

"MISCALCULATION IN ENEMY CAPABILITY. COMPENSATION INITIATED." the DAMAGE droned, as a third limb appeared from somewhere within the robot and was about to finish the job with one precise blow in the middle of the man's spine.

Then, something flashed out, and the third arm was lying on the ground. Below the droid stood a young girl in ninja outfit, ready to cleave the robot in half.

"Kori?" Charge said. "Don't!"
The girl obeyed immediately.
Charge ran forward and touched the robot. Suddenly, electrical charges started rolling all over the robot, towards Charge's hand. The girl ducked out of the way as some bolts and flames blew out of the robot's chest.
A few seconds later, it was silent.
After the last charges had disappeared into Charge's skin, the black man floated up and grabbed the man still hanging helplessly in the robot's claws.
Charge quickly broke them open with his magnetic powers, and put the man safely on the ground.

"Thanks, eh... Crimson." Charge said. "But that man would've broken his spine if the robot had fallen."
"Right." Kori replied.
"How'd you get here?"
"In the trunk." she said, her mischievous smile hidden behind her ninja mask.

"All right team, let's help these people!" Charge said. Though he knew he didn't have to; the others were already swarming out.

Charge gave them all a message on their communicators. "Don't go too far. We need to find the source of this."

[CKW]

Why, why... aren't we picky, sparky boy? Doom Racer thought for a second. He didn't take too well the sudden intervention on his drive. He was the Racer, and not some idiot with a car. He knew what he was doing. He switched the radio on some good ol heavy metal, and as soon everyone was out, he pressed the gas to its maximum, the rover skidding on the dirt. And raced fast, his right hand, sparking with electricity, out of the window doing an obscene middle finger gesture to his supposed leader.

Wescorp pays the Rover. He thought, while running over his first DAMAGE roadkill, followed by a cowboy snatch with one of its chains, trampling the robot by one of its legs and making it eat the dirt behind the car. He then braked suddenly, and used the momentum of the trailing machine to propel it towards a couple of its peers, pinning them to the ground in a mixed sound of banged metal and broken optics.

"Just like bowling." He sneered, charging up his right hand with energy, a glowing plasma gas building up beneath its grip... to finish the junk off."Trust wescorp tecnology..." He mused, while unleashing the ion-rich plasma towards its robotic targets...

[Wesforce]

Equalizer watched the crazed driver gun the Rover and saw the little bitty chunks of DAMAGE flying from beneath the wheels, before the vehicle disappared through an expanding plasma cloud of white-hot ex-DAMAGEs. He seemed to be taking to his job like a DuckTron 2020 to oil, which pleased her greatly. Looking around for the other new SSR member, she stayed close to Illi.

There was a loud *BZZZT* sound. Both women looked up, seconds before the old boarded-up KFMC joint in front of them crumbled to rubble.

'PENETRATE. VIOLATE. DESECRATE.' said the DAMAGE through massive distorted speakers, coming towards the two, waving its long bendy clawed arms frantically. Bricks and stones that could have broken bones went flying this way and that.

Equalizer powered up her Blastmaster Mk2 and triggered off a minor Barre chord to test the weapon. A small patch of ground exploded in a puff of dust.

'Groovy. Okay Metal-head, prepare sound... off...'

Her battle cry trailed off unspectularly, as she had a sudden surge of doubt. What if Charge was behind her, about to interfere like he had with Doom Racer? The overgrown Double-A had been jittery of late.

Something was coming up fast behind Equalizer. Something slightly short, but in red, moving like a blur.

If I stick my Blastmaster out just so...

WHACK!

Kori's head hit on the flat end of the guitar with a sickening bang and the girl ended up flat on her back, holding her head.

'Oops' said Equalizer. 'Thats what you get for jumping the gun. This one's mine.'

Illi took note. There was obviously some long-standing bad feeling between these two. She'd heard rumours that Kori had once fought against the SSR, and it seemed Equalizer knew how to harbour a grudge. Poor Kori seemed to be out cold. While Equalizer unleashed a rapid-fire hail of jagged sonic shrapnel, Illi moved to see if she was okay, lifting her head off the ground. She was short, but lithe, well-toned, possibly attractive from a certain point of view...

(:p)

[AI]

Illioto held the young girls head just a few centimetres above the ground, nursing it in one head like... Well, a sick child. She looked at her unconcious face, and suddenly felt physically sick. Not for the fact that Equaliser had hit her, that could have been an accident - And even if it wasn't, it seemed to be the only right course of action for the situation, no matter what the intention. A young girl... A CHILD! Somebody this young should not be allowed on the field of battle, let alone be condomed by a figure of authority. What kind of society allowed this... And was it the kind of society she wanted to help protect....

"Equaliser..." She called, but saw she was busy, so instead, pressed the button on her Wescom. She'd studied the manual for it on one of her spare evenings, it was surprisingly simple to use - Once you got the hang of it... After a whole night of head-splitting practice.

*Yeah! EAT THAT YOU ROBOTIC SUNNUVABITCHES!* Scremed the voice on the other end, Icicle cleared her throat.

"Doom Racer?" She asked, having picked up his name during the idle conversation in the bar. "It's Icicle, I need you here, now please."

*Sorry sweetie, kinda busy...*

"It wasn't a request." She said, in a cold, curt tone. A few minutes later, the Reserve Rover - Looking no worse for wear despite it's obvious battering - Pulled up in a cloud of smoke, metal and circuits crunching between eight different wheels. The drivers-side window wound down, and the ungodly visage of Doom Racer peered out at her.

"Get DOWN!" He snapped, thursting out his doom claw, already pulsating with plasma.

*SEEK-AND-DESTROY!* Chattered the butcher-DAMAGE, knives and cleavers swinging like an industrial round-a-bout - OF DEATH!

Illi hit the floor hard, covering the fallen girl with her own body as Doom Racer unleashed a volly of Doom Plasma, causing the robot to explode violently. Illi raised her head, only to see the Rover rock from side to side as a great, four-legged metal hulk landed on top of it.

*SMILE-AND-O...* The robot was soon replaced by the bastard child of a gargoyle and an ice sculpture.

"It should come lose when you pull away..." She informed him. Then remembered why she'd called him in the first place. She rushed to the otherside of the car, opening the passenger door before dragging Kori over and propping her up in the seat, tightening the seatbelt around her. "Look after her, please... This is no place for a child..."

"And she's better off in a tank then in the middle of a warzone, yeah, yeah, yeah..." He replied, flippantly. "I'm all over it, ma'am."

She could feel his eyes rolling behind the racing visor, but it didn't bother her - She had more important things to worry about.

"Oh... And... Um..." She began, clearing her throat. "Keep up the good work... You're skill is impressive."

"That's what all the girls say." He shot back, she smiled at him and he turned his radio up a few notches. "Give 'em Hell, cause I know I will be!"

She slammed the door shut, and then he sped off into the distance, splattering the tarmacadam with a few more bits of DAMAGE as he went.

* * *

He bent almost vertically backwards on his wheel as the purple android took a slow, cumbersome swing for him. The intense heat emitted by the Barbeque Master's blasts sending beads of sweat rolling down his face, under his mask. All sound in the room had been nullified, not a grunt, woosh of flame or the sickening sound of flesh on flesh to be heard. Out of the corner of his eye he could see Apex engaging in a deadly, dimensional dance with what appeared to be a ghost - Dipping in and out of all the reflective surfaces in the room, as Apex dipped in and out of the Darkness. Elsewhere the Barbeque Master was trying to take down a beast of a man, his red and black checked shirt burned off his back - Exposing ever-bronsing muscles underneath. And yet he still pushed forward, unleashing one of his specialised bombs that exploded - Without sound - Knocking the Master off his feet.

He hadn't expected them to be this good.

Not this soon.

The leader had gone missing - Probably assumed they wasn't worth the effort and left them as fodder for his minions. It was a mistake he'd soon regret. He'd take these creeps in, make no mistake about that, and when he was done with them...

... Well, the criminals of this city had better watch out. Because justice had a name...

... And that name was Captain Kered - Neo-England's Finest.

[CKW]

Confident on the steering, Doom Racer gripped the wheel firmly, allowing the rover to stylishly slide inbetween the warzone, trampling whatever DAMAGE bots were at reach. However, it wasn't the time for doing funny things. He had a female package in the passenger seat, and he'd be screwed if he dumped her in a random place, hoping no one else would notice. After all, he wasn't one to babysit. He was a full, disciplined soldier and didn't need to lug around teens pumped in hormones with a penchant to save the world. At least she was asleep, she couldn't make any more trouble in that state. He remembered the Sparky boy calling her Crimson. But Crimson was a guy...

"WOOO, that HAAAD to hurt." He cheered while trampling yet another of the misfunctioning robots, its severed head rolling over the front glass.

He switched the heavy metal to some funky hip-hop style, while speeding around the city, seeking a safe place to leave the package. With a little of luck, she'd not wake up before he placed her away.

And then, a muffled sound caught his attention. Reducing its speed and switching the music off, he realised it was the Rover's intercom.

"HQ to Rover, HQ to Rover, Please answer."

Oh, please, what now? He thought, while picking the microphone, and leaning it close to his helmet speakers.

"Doom Racer here."

"Oh, thank god you're there. Where are you?" The voice crackled, with signs of stress, but he could remember that pitch anywhere. After all, it was the voice of one of the SSR members who had him locked up. Stapler.

"We've got...some traffic, Stapler... YEAH! TEN POINTS!" He interrupted his speech upon seeing yet another wreck flying to the air with the sheer impact of the metal tons of the vehicle.

"Oh, dear god. The HQ is under distress now, all the DAMAGEs..."

"I know i know, started to go nuts and attack everyone on sight. We are dealing with them in several sectors on the city."

"Sigh... Oh well, luckily we're at some sort of stale point in here, we don't have an immediate risk, i've secured two DAMAGEs to help us fight the revolting machines, but don't expect reinforcements. You're on your own."

Doom Racer sighed, and then flicked his team's intercom.

"Doom Racer here. It looks like the HQ has been affected as well. This has gone too far. I'm going to terminate this with more expeditive methods. I will be around back. Don't die on me!"

And so, the rover skidded in a impressive U-turn, opened its doors, allowing Doom Racer to drop its passenger on a nearby secluded corner. It was a bit smelly, but fairly secure. Hopefully the gal wouldn't mind. His package delivered, Doom Racer gripped the steering wheel once again, and pressing the gas to its top, raced away, towards the Head Quarters.

At maximum speed, it didn't took long to reach the magnificent building, despite the random DAMAGES runing amok the streets. Without a thought, Doom Racer didn't brake, and he just adjusted his body for a crash course. There was no time for considerations about doors.Wescorp will hopefully handle the repairs he thought, while smashing the vehicle against the main entrance, scattering metal debris and glass shards in its course.

"What the..." One of the assorted Binman gathered to piece, upon seeing the spectacular crash course. And then, the open door, revealing a rather unappealing fiendish hybrid of biker and cyborg, stitched up and wrapped in chains. Doom Racer.

"I've got no time for explanations." He casually croaked. "I'm going to the helipad." And thus, his mechanical claws fully extended, he swooped himself in the chaos of the crossed fire, jumping with feral resolution.

[VO]

"Whoo-eeep!"

Reginald Thumbb, miniature superhero extraordinaire stuffed two fingers into his mouth, letting loose a whistle at a pitch high enough that only Liliputians... and dogs... could hear. He rolled sideways, out from beneath the massive caterpillar-tread foot of a rampaging DAMAGE bot as it came crashing down, just as Pal sent a gout of demon-fire to blow open the doors that seperated him from the melee.

"Atta-boy!"

The hellhound leapt over the prone chest of the robot which Mr Bitesize had just kicked in, skidding past him as he came to a stop. Reg leapt up, grabbed hold of the collar, and swung onto it's hairy back. The Hellhound woofled happily, and eviscerated the next DAMAGE in the choked corridor.

"Bitesize to Stapler, do you copy? Over," he said, muttering into his miniature SSR-communicator. The situation down here was getting more and more chaotic. It was time to retreat.

"This is Stapler," came the flat, boring voice of Eric Andersonn. "I'm rerouting power to the primary mainframe, gonna bypass the firewall and debug the hardware... hack their DOS prompt and reboot. Their operating system's defunct." He said the last word as if it was a capital crime.

Bitesize nodded. Somewhere above in the tower, the Stapler was trying to shut down the DAMAGE bots. Mr Bitesize thought he'd be more useful down here, but then again, someone had to keep an eye on Mr. Spectacular.

"I'm going to pull everyone up a level..."

Too late. He'd grabbed hold of the communicator.

"Remove yourself from this comlink this INSTANT! For it is I! Mr. Spectacular! And I require this line as a direct link to Spetacu-Clones Six, Eight-five and Sixty-Nine! No, no! Do not question my brillance, for my state of the art Anti-DAMAGE measures, that I have actually been working on for several days in the confines of my freezer awaiting for such a day like this to come, is so overtly complex and mind-boggling to somebody of even your calibre, not that I'm suggesting you have one mind, that it would simply be a waste of my time to even begin to try and explain the basics. So desist from speaking to that ruffian immediatly, and allow an expert in the field of just abouy everything to do the work!"

Bitesize switched off the communicator and gave the order. The defenders made for the stairs. Only he, Pal and Radar were down here, and it was nice for a change that, for a change, he could pull rank on the other members. Probably because they were animals. Pal picked up a potted palm in it's teeth, and used it to trip a pair of DAMAGES, before dashing for the stairs. Grudd knows where Diva and Ronin were in all this; it was bad enough that half the team weren't here, and half of those that were present were fiddling with computers.

Pal leapt again, Bitesize clinging with one hand to the collar. He used the other to grab a DAMAGE as they passed and wrench it's arm out of it's socket. Pal dashed around a corner, and the rider realised just too late where they were headed. He jerked back just a moment too soon, splatting against the wall like a cartoon character.

"Farking hell," he muttered. "Not everyone can walk through walls."

[SW Freak]

*kill... Maim... BURN!*

Ronin sighed from his prone position on the floor, where he had been pushed as the DAMAGE had tried to protect him from the gunfire before going berserk, presumably from the bullet-inflicted damage. His right hand curled around the axe handle and he looked up into the robot's eyes as the bullets finally stopped flying.

"Y'know, I do believe I know this dance."

He rolled aside as the bot's left arms came down in a twin strike. Then he rolled back, letting fly with a punch that severed the topmost left arm. The DAMAGE bot tried to straighten up but found the vampire gripping its intact lower arm. Ronin pulled, driving the blade at the end of the arm deeper into the floor. He then lashed out a kick that threw the bot off balance, sending it stumbling to its left with the tortured groan of steel being bent out of shape. It tried to tug its arm from the floor, but found that the sword was irrevocably mangled. It looked back towards Ronin in time to see him bring the axe down vertically through its leg, pinning it in place.

"Now you just stay there," Ronin said, wagging an admonitory finger at the robot as he climbed to his feet.

"Cute," muttered the mystery girl as she stepped into the room, pulling back the hammer on her recently reloaded gun.

"Oh, yeah. You."

Ronin flicked his boot up, launching the severed robotic arm into the air. He snapped his hand out, grabbed it as it soared past and transferred its momentum into a curve. The limb sped, blade first, towards the machine-gunner, flung over arm by Ronin at phenomenal speed. She slid aside easily, however, and the bladed appendage shot past her. (And, incidentally, skewered a passing pigeon that, had it believe in fate, would have known that its only role in life had been to die with a humorous squawk. This revelation was not to be for a number of key reasons, however. One, because pigeons are not great thinkers and lack the existential angst necessary for belief and two, there's not much left to think with when hit with a large sword travelling at mach 2. It was lucky to manage the squawk. Or maybe not so.)

The distraction gave Ronin time to reach the wall, off of which he yanked the first thing that came to hand. It happened to be an archaic halberd, pilfered from who knew where. Spinning it over his head, Ronin pirouetted, ending facing his opponent with the pole arm nestled behind him in the crook of his arm. He charged forward as she brought her machine gun up to fire. By sheer luck, he made it first, and his mystery woman was forced to dodge once more. She danced away as the blade hissed through the air where she had been. Ronin followed the slash, spinning around to slash at neck height at her. The black-clad woman ducked swiftly and pushed herself to her feet, gun coming up once more. Drawing his arm in, the vampire spun the halberd before him, the haft knocking the threatening barrel away. Then it came down to bite at her ankles, but her foot stamped down, pinning it in place. Heaving on his end, Ronin catapulted her into the air. She flipped over his head and landed with cat-like grace behind him. He spun, dragging the halberd with him. Again it came at her at head height, but Ronin, displaying an unnatural control of the heavy weapon, stopped it inches from her neck.

“One reason. Just give me one reason as to why I shouldn’t kill you now.”

“Well, for one thing, I think tall, dark and ugly over there might skewer you first.”

Ronin glanced over his shoulder, swore and turned. The DAMAGE bot, the axe still buried deep in its leg, threw forward two blades and a lump of bent metal and floor. The pole arm came up once more, caught one blade, was deflected by another and then torn from his hand and sent thudding into the roof.

“Down!”

The vampire ducked as she shouted, hitting the ground for the second time. There was a prolonged roll of thunder and the robot stopped moving, save for a few twitches and spasms. A wisp of smoke trickled from its devastated hull and it fell over with prehistoric slowness. Ronin gave a quiet “Oof” as it landed on him. The stranger blew the smoke from her gun, stepped around the mechanical hulk and tugged the halberd from the roof. Spinning it around, she raised her arm to slam it down through the dead bot. There was a quiet moment as she hesitated, and then the blade dropped.

It was about halfway down when the robot was propelled straight up. The point of the weapon was knocked aside and only a hasty backswing stopped her from being gutted as Ronin came up in a roll, axe in one hand, pistol in the other. The haft of the halberd shattered and flew from the woman’s grip. She staggered back from the force, dropping to one knee and pulling a machine pistol from her coat.

They made an interesting tableau for a moment. He standing stock-still, the axe in his left hand unnoticed for now, and with his gun pointed right between her eyes. She, dressed, now he could see properly, in a selection of the newest TrendyGoth ™ fashion gear, with a look of surprise on her face, a heavy machine-gun hefted effortlessly in one hand.

“I’m still looking for that reason,” muttered Ronin.

“I’ll give you two. First off, I just saved your life-“

“After trying to take it.”

“And second,” she continued, as though not interrupted. “I’ll tell Mom if you do, John.”

There was a quiet eternity as Ronin’s brain shattered. Yes, it did look like her, all right. Older, of course, but only by a couple of years. And that had been her favourite line. Jonathon had always taken the blame for everything in that household. Unless he had gotten to their mother first.

“A-Alexia??”

“Who else?”

“You’re dead.”

“Sounds accurate.”

There was silence again. Alexia stood slowly and, through unspoken agreement, both lowered their weapons. Ronin looked into her eyes, thought hard upon the various ways she could still be alive, gave up and swept her into an embrace. She returned it.

“Alexia, sis, I thought I’d lost you.”

“You did, for a while.”

“Now, while it’s great to see you and all…What the hell do you think you’re doing?!”

“Had to make sure it was you, brother dear. I knew that if I fought you I could tell.”

“You could have asked…”

“Would have believed it was me?”

“No. Probably not, actually. I’m still not sure I do.”

“I know. I’ll explain everything. Soon. That graveyard where you put your friend to rest? Meet me there tomorrow night.”

“You get a weird kick from graveyards, don’t you, Alexia?”

“Meh. Your friends are in trouble, you know. Downstairs. All the robots are going berserk.”

“Crap…Stay here, help me. Then we’ll talk.”

“Sorry, John. Hate being ordered around.” She looked about the room. “Like the new place. Try not to set this one on fire.”

With that, she took a small step backwards and fell out the shattered window. Ronin rushed over to the ledge and saw her jump off the side of the building as she fell to land on one of the neighbouring roofs. He shook his head as she sped off along the rooftops and disappeared from sight.

“It couldn’t be…But…”

His mind ablaze, he headed for the stairs. Now that he was in a mood to listen, he could hear the sounds of battle raging beyond. He couldn’t do anything about this woman who claimed to be his sister, but he could do something about the robots.

[AI]

Kori stirred slightly on her bed of the discarded filth and grime of Lutonopolis' youth. Discarded cans, various Kalorie King packages and containers, nub ends and other, more unsavoury things that certaintly wouldn't and shouldn't be mentioned in polite company. She murmured the half-legible mutterings of the semi-concious, but unbeknown to her - Mechanical eyes.

The DAMAGE, former killing machine specialising in tunneling turned road-worker drone, trundled up to her on heavy tracks. It's green eyes cast a glow across her face, as a panel in it's upper body, the typical orange with the lower part haphazardly covered in damage tape, moved aside and deployed an industrial drill. It began to spin, slowly at first, before eventually building up speed as it hung just above the young girls head.

As it began to build up momentum, it began to gradually lower it's self down towards the girls head. The point of the drill aiming directly for her forehead...

*DANGER-DANGER-MEN-MACHINES-AT-WORK.*

It droned - It's audio processors not yet fully repaired.

* * *

"What's happening?" Exclaimed Samira. "Where is my husband."

"Doing what a good leader does best, Ma'am." Snapped a dashing fellow with facial features so ridgid they could have been craved from stone and a moustache that wouldn't look out of place on a Victorian Gentleman. He was well turned out in his emaculate binman uniform, adorned with various Wescorp employee rewards. Including the covented Employee Of The Month blue W. "Wescorp Sercuri-Corp Captain Charles Johnston Dashfordly, at your service, ma'am."

He tofted his beaker cap towards her then tilted his head left to right.

"Dashed mess we've got on our hands, wot? Better see you off somewhere safe. Jenkins!" Another Binman turned up, this one from the greater-or-common-leery-bastard variety. "Escort this young lady to a safe, convient place, would you old bean?"

He nodded, sneered, then took her, surprisingly gently, by the arm and let her away to what she hoped was safety. "Right, chaps..."

He said, addressing the Binmen behind him.

"Right, men! Seems we got a bloody great task ahead of us, but honour be damned, we will ALWAYS look ahead! Ahead to danger! Ahead to adversty! Ever forward, never back! Gentlemen, some of you may die out on the cold, grey steel - But fear not! For you shall not die in vain! Cause we're going to show those dastardly tinpot spam cans what good old British Steel and a stiff upper lip can do! Tally ho, and last one to dig in is a super-powered-pansy!"

But something had already dug right into the fray.

"HHHHRARGH!"

A spray of cogs, whirlygigs and various pieces of scrap metal flew towards the assembled masses of blue and even lighter blue, clattering against their raised riot-sheilds (standard issue for all Binmen). Dashfordly raised his head just in time to see what could only be described as a man-beast bursting from the wreckage, wires entangled around his massive tusks. He took a deep breath and looked down at the assembled men.

"I would say that is good for a super-powered-pansy, yes?" Mammoth Man grinned from under his beard.

* * *

Stapler was practically close to ripping his hair out. Every time he came anywhere near a breakthrough, another system went down. He wandered over to the coffee machine to pour himself a nice, steaming hot of coffee, only to be told by a synthed-pre-recorded message that...

*This facility is out of order. Reason: Power diverted to another area. We apologise for the inconvience - But remember, Wescorp Loves You.*

"YOU BOLLOCK!" He screamed at the top of his voice before slamming his fist down on the side. He was about to go back to his work when another announcement over the communicator channels was made.

"Hello, God here, and I'm turning out the lights. So I hope none of you lesser beings are afraid of the dark. I unfortunatly need to divert all the power from the Secret Reserve HQ into my quite brilliant DAMAGE busting machine. Fear not! For this is not the worst case scenario! I haven't even had to leach a single volt from the cities mainframe yet... Spectacular out!"

Almost instantly all the lights and monitors went out. The electronic doors swung open automatically, an inbuilt safety feature. Stapler sat down in the dark and sighed... Sometimes, he wondered why he even bothered.

* * *

Meanwhile, Diva suddenly found herself cast into pitch blackness. The long, dark corridors stretching out in front of her becoming more opressive with every step she took. She could hear the sounds of fighting downstairs, and wondered if there was a safe place she could hide - When she heard heavy set footsteps behind her.

GOOD-EVENING-MISS-CHASEY.* Droned her once loyal robo-servant from behind her. *I-DO-NOT-BELIEVE-YOU-HAD-YOUR-TEA.*

It stated, before letting loose a spray of steaming hot brown liquid from one of it's many internal pipelines.

[VO]

"Jovis Christ!"

Riona Chasey threw herself to the side, just in time to avoid the high-pressure, high temperature beverage. It instead collided with a bust of Wesley Dean, sending the marble oligiarch to the floor in rapidly dissolving peices. Bits of boiling tea splattered across her blouse, an ugly brown stain. She took shelter behind a water cooler as the second gout was unleashed from the DAMAGE's other arm.

*DANGER-DANGER-MISS-CHASEY* The DAMAGE advanced slowly down the corridor, hindered only by it's bulk and the multitude of clutter - potted plants, pointless cabinets, and mail shelves. It folded back the hose extensions and from it's hands jutted knives, potato peelers, apple corers... all essential features around the home but not exactly the kind of thing Riona wanted to meet up close and in the dark. From it's eyes, beams of light scanned the corridor as it's mechanical head turned left and right. Whisks whizzed menacingly.

Riona ripped the SSR communicator off her wrist. The only way they'd got her to wear one was by puting it inside a stylish designer casing. Holding it infront of her, she pushed the buttons on the side of the watch, tryed to raise a signal. The tiny face flipped impossibly, to be replaced by a LCD screen. Maybe she could raise some help. She certainly needed it.

"Spectacular here. I'd apologise for the discontinuation of this service, if it wasn't obvious even to your puny little minds that it's purpose is miniscule compared to my own aquisition of it's precious resources! Yes! Struggle to comprehend the magnitude of my plan to singlehandedly diffuse the situation without spilling a drop of mechanical DAMAGE blood. Or oil, to be precise. Which I could do very easily if I tried..." exasperated, Riona mashed it against the wall, the arrogant twat's tinny voice continuing to echo out from the device.

"Hm."

The DAMAGE bot loomed closer, a whirling cavalcade of culinary evisceration. Below it's wrists were slung ketchup dispensors, cheese slicers, even a miniature blow-torch.

"I hope this works..." Riona picked up the still squeaking wristwatch and tossed it down the corridor. It bounced off the walls, but carried on going on the recently waxed floor. Photo and audio receptors in the DAMAGE's sensory centres sprung into action.

*SUPERIOR-THREAT-IDENTIFIED. EXTERMINATE-WITH-EXTREME-PREJUDICE*. Momentarily distracted, the robot lurched past Riona, in search of this phantasmal Mr Spectacular. Riona leant back, making her body as small as possible to avoid it's legs in her sheltered position. It passed mere millimetres away from her skin.

She could leave it now, make an escape the other way down the corridor, find an elevator, Ronin, someone. She could avoid it completely. But something within her stirred... something primal... it had messed up her outfit.

Riona pulled off her high heeled shoes, and, taking one, spat onto it's heel. She ran her fingers up and down, massaging the liquid in with her fingers.

She stood up, and walked purposefully behind the DAMAGE, easily beating it's lumbering gait. Within seconds she could touch it, and she stood on tights-clad tip toes to plunge the nanomolecular blade into the back of the robot's mechanical neck. It slipped easily through the layers of circuitboards and aluminium, puncturing electrical vessels and arteries.

*MULTIPLE-CRITICAL-FALIURES**SELF-REPAIR-INSUFFICIENT*. It began to smoke, belching great clouds of grey from all it's exhauts and orifices. Parts of it glowed, and the whole great torso began to spin around it's waist, faster and faster. Forks, spoons, turkey basters and meat cleavers clacked insanely, tore strips of paper from the walls.

*EXPLOSION-IMMINENT*, it said, which turned out to be quite appropriate.


Riona stepped over the smoking remains. She picked up her shoe, examined it, then tossed it away. She could always buy another pair; maybe even two. There was a pale brown liquid oozing from the slag. She knelt down on shapely thighs and sampled it with a long, elegant finger.

"Hm", she said. "I always preferred coffee."

[Nyerguds]

WARNING. DEATH FROM ABO- *KZZZzzzt*

Charge floated a bit higher into the air. Most of the DAMAGEs didn't have any ranged equipment, so it was easier to just destroy them while floating beyond their reach. He hoped there weren't any construction DAMAGE bots with nailguns or stuff like that around here.

"Team, regroup!" Charge yelled into the comm devices. "Sweep towards Shadow Zero FM radio station."

"Hello Charge! I'm afraid I must use this connection for organising my brilliant plan to disable all DAMAGE robots!" Mr. Spectacular's voice replied to his call. "Don't worry, it will all be dealt wi-"

Charge deactivated the device, and was very close to melting it. His second personality, however, was very close to self-destructing to prevent others from suffering in the same way it just suffered by ridding the world of Mr. Spectacular and any remaining clones. And although Murat did wonder for a few milliseconds if the lives of half of Neo-England's population would be worth it, he hastily interfered with Charge's plan, and steered back to the radio station. After all, the bugger probably had some clones in space anyway.

He looked in the distance, and noticed a group of people battling the man they'd seen on the screen.
He squinted his eyes to look at them. "What on earth..."
He remembered a report he got on these people. These 'Rainbow Warriors' had quite impressive abilities, but their tactics relied more on impressing and showing off than on actual, well, tactics. And if there was one thing Charge knew, it was that showing off did not work when dealing with mad scientists, evil geniuses and other supervillains.

Right. Time to end this.

"What on earth is going on here?!" he yelled with the tone of a parent disciplining fighting children.

As a response, he was hit squarely in the chest with a blast from Dr. Destructo.

Charge ignored the slight push, realizing that the bulk of the blast's destructive power was safely stored inside him now.
"That'll do, maniac." he said, totally ignoring the rather baffled-looking Rainbow Warriors.

"Excuse me..." A man wearing nothing but a speedo said. "Do you mind? We were here first, after all!"

Charge frowned, glanced at Dr. Destructo, and then back at the half-naked guy, "Shut up." he said, throwing a bolt at electricity at the guy.

Although the bolt of electricity did very little to the man in speedos, who turned out to be incredibly conductive with very little electric resistance, Dr. Destructo had apparently gotten fed up with the guy as well. After the blast, all that was left of the half-naked Rainbow Warrior was a burning speedo and a large cloud of evaporated water, floating away while muttering "Nooot faaaaiiir...."

[CKW]

" Fragging spawn of a gooish chemical vat." Doom Racer muttered with his usual, synthetic raspy voice as he took tumbling, speedy steps up the ladders. he didn't mind about the lights out, after all, he had built in nightvision and infrared, but he had to hike like twenty floors just because some idiot had to cut the power for some idiotic plan that, given Spectacular's profile, would result more dreadful than useful in the end. He hadn't much trouble with the rampant DAMAGEs, though. Their adaptation to their new roles had many of its plating removed ,assuring them little resistance. And for some man with cybernetic claws, this had been an advantage... albeit he had got this awful smell of burnt circuitry resin...

"Floor 17... I'm close." Doom Racer muttered under his breath while he sprinted towards the above, taking two stairsteps in each motion of his legs. This section seemed too quiet. Too odd in his opinion.
It was when he saw the huge, towering DAMAGE in front of him, blocking the way. He jumped back, and readied himself to rend it to pieces. But the hulking, mechanic monstrousity that had been recycled into furniture transporter, judging by the oversized, gorilla like limbs didn't lunge upon him. Instead, with a monotone, syntethized tone replied.

"STATE-YOUR-BUSINESS." Its zooming optical detectors locked upon him, judging wether he was a threat or not. A defending behaviour, rather than an actually agressive one. Doom Racer he then recalled Stapler had somehow managed to keep a couple of them operational. And that meant, Stapler was bound to be nearby. Its confirmation came from a tired sigh from a shady figure outside the room, while he was grasping a formidable heavy weapon- the staplegun, ready to shoot down any DAMAGE that might come close.

"Stapler?" Doom Racer ventured to say.

"Oh, it's you. I thought you were in the battlefield." He replied, with his characteristical tune.

"I was, but i need to fetch something here."

"Right. It's futile. I tried to hack..."He ran a hand through his messy hair, trying to relief his frustration.

"Cry me a river, chump. I had to come all the way up through the stairs. Actually, don't cry. If you're going to stay idle like a statue, you'd best come with me. I could use a gunner. I've seen you firing that ugly monster" He pointed at the staplegun the stressed man had in his hands." As you don't shoot the rotor blades, you'll do fine." Doom Racer ventured to say, while turning his back on stapler, not waiting for a reply.

Stapler sighed, and rised from his relatively comfortable watching position... What had he done to deserve this?

It didn't take much time to hike up the remaining two floors, one way or another, these had been cleared by either Stapler's bots , Stapler's himself, or the dreaded Spectacular that had just hijacked the communications. Doom racer kicked the manual metal doors of the helipad open, and paced towards the neatly piled metalic crates, snatching several belts and a heavy caliber machinegun out of it, wich he handed to the sighing Stapler.

"It's time to hit back." He announced while gesturing Stapler to move towards the elegant, flawless Wescorp Riot Chopper. He always had this fascination for well built machines... and more if they came with neat antivehicle weaponry. He didn't hesitate in discarding the superhero headgear and gauntlets into a storage compartiment of the aircraft, wich would only clumsy its piloting and jumping in the pilot's seat, while Stapler was struggling to mount the machinegun in a support. Mechanically, he started to pull the switches of the control panels active, checking the fuel, the oil and the state of the helicopter after all, including the ammo.

No sooner Stapler finished mounting the machinegun and adjusting himself to his role, John slided the headphones of the vehicle ,and tapping the microphone, switched the radio frequency to that of the Lutonpolis air Station.

"Lutonpolis station, this is John Collins, ID 9583. I request clearance for hostile maneuver."

"Roger, pilot collins. The sky is clear for you. Bring hell down to those robots!"

He smiled, the rotor blades speeding up in a turbulent noise, and crackled through the interphone towards Eric.

"Showtime!"

He said, while jacking his Mp5 device into the incorporated loudspeakers, that inmediatly began to play "Ride of the Valkiries". With a swift, elegant movement, the chopper slided into the skies of lutonpolis, pacing towards the warzone...

***

Kori was shaken. Unable to move, the spinning drill pacing towards her horrible death. She couldn't help it. She was going to die. She wanted to go home, forget about revenge. If only she had a weapon. If only she had a chance to live another day...

The robot's drill began to deceleratte, its systems became more and more stiff. Kori took a few endless instants to gather what had happened. Blue sparks sprout from the back, as well as burnt smoke.

"POWER FAILURE Errrooo...." The DAMAGE managed to agonically announce, its many systems failing due to a blackout. It's power source had been damaged, the wires had been severed. Kori couldn't believe her luck, as she tried to struggle out, half dazed.

It was when she spotted the black knife, nailed deep into the power source of the mechanical beast. It... it couldn't be possible. She couldn't believe it. She grasped the throwing weapon firmly in her hand, and the blood and pain from the punctures she had made alerted her it wasn't a dream. It had happened. Someone had saved her with a well aimed blade throw. What did this mean?

She didn't had too much time to think, as a weird funky sound alerted her, and set her sight into the skies. A chopper, playing some kind of music throught its speakers, was speeding towards the battlefield. She could swear it was a Wescorp helicopter...

[SW Freak]

Ronin pushed the door open. He had remembered himself enough to retrieve his coat and lash his favourite sword to his back, as well as grab his pistol. Now he was creeping along the corridor, gun in his left hand, sword in his right. He could hear the sounds of battle down below, but closer to he could hear the sound of something stomping and crashing about in the room closest his. He pressed his ear against the door and listened carefully.

*CRUSH! KILL! DESTROY!*

"Hmm...Someone's a fan of the classics..."

There was a sudden silence. Ronin cursed his loose lips, despite the fact that his whisper had been all but inaudible. The next moment, there was the thud, thud, thud that marked a DAMAGE's loping run. The vampire pushed himself away from the door and spun aside as it burst into fragments. A cleaning bot came storming towards him, motorised floor buffer whirring like a mechanical demon. Somewhere along the line the bristles had caught fire, and the polisher was now a spinning circle of flaming death. Ronin hopped back a few times to get out of its range and lifted his pistol up. The DAMAGE's left arm, complete with an array of cleaning clothes and scrubbers, swung up and clipped it aside just as it fired. The bullet skimmed the top of the bot's chromed dome, doing no real damage. Ronin threw his head backwards and leaned as far back as he could to avoid the floor buffer of doom as it was thrust at his face, and thus was in position to see the second robot crash through a wall further up the hall.

Ignoring the second aggressor for a moment, he looked back at the cleaner-bot long enough to slam his katana into its robotic chest. He clung onto the hilt to stop himself from falling backwards as, above him, the robot spluttered a little. Then he released it just long enough to latch onto the spar that held the destructo-buffer at the end. He swung himself up and around, bringing his face dangerously close to the flames, and thudded against the wall to the DAMAGE's right, closest the buffer. He slid along the wall as quickly as possible as the robot rammed into the wall in an attempt to flatten him. Unfortunately, this put him between the two robots, and it was at this point that the newest arrival choose to make its move.

As it happened, being close to sixteen speakers as they began to blare heavy industrial music when possessed of an improved sense of hearing was not fun. There was a relatively loud bang, or, at least, as loud as it possibly could be, as Ronin's eardrums popped. He clapped his hands to his ears with a cry that was entirely drowned out by the music and sank to his knees. The cleaner-bot took a few steps forward, fiery buffer flailing. It connected with Ronin's head with a crash that the vampire completely, understandably, failed to hear but which sent him sprawling along the ground nonetheless. The pistol slid from his grip and skittered across the polished floor a ways. He reached for it but was stopped as the sound-bot stomped down hard. Something in the vicinity of his hips popped. The vampire gave a quiet groan and rolled over as the foot was raised and lowered again like a piston, this time aimed at his chest. He caught it awkwardly with both hands, ignoring the sharp stab of pain that lanced up from his lower back. His ears were already fixing themselves, so now instead of nothing he could hear an incessant whine. However, he managed, through much straining, to catch the creak of the floor beneath him. It would have had to be pretty loud, he realised, and under quite a bit of stress.

Probably about to collapse, too.

The foot came down once more onto Ronin’s braced hands, slamming them and itself into the vampire’s face like a freight train. There was a cracking sound from the floor that Ronin missed because the whiner had been joined by a gantry of bells. He noticed himself sink a little and then began to wonder, in the manner of the concussed, why the floor was rising. The fourth stomp finished off the maligned patch of tiling and finally dislodged the chunk of floor that held Ronin. He dropped down on the story below, dazed.

“Diva,” he said from his place on the floor as he saw the heroine further along the hall. “Sorry to drop in uninvited.” If she replied he didn’t hear it, for at that moment he was forced to roll aside as the cleaner-bot dropped down.

It landed with all the grace of a prize sumo wrestler, tried to regain its balance and promptly collapsed. Ronin ignored it for a moment as he scrabbled to wrap his hand around his gun. Then he stood and vaulted over it as it pushed itself back onto its mechanical legs. He turned to look at it and then glanced up as the stereo-bot eclipsed the hole in the roof. Acting quickly, he looked back to the cleaner, wrapped his empty hand around the blade protruding from its back and twisted it. A palm bashed into it from below sent it spinning up, cleaving the cleaner-bot’s face asunder. As the second DAMAGE dropped down, Ronin raised his pistol and shot. The bullet collided with the hilt of the sword and sent the weapon careening down the hall, whirring like an exceptionally deadly fan. It buried in one of the many speakers along the thing’s chest. Something important was perforated, seemingly, because the music stopped shortly afterwards.

“Ha!” muttered Ronin, swaying a little. The whining was lessening now, and he was able to tell that he had silenced his opponent. “Not so tough now, huh?”

The robot responded with a howl of mechanical rage and charged down the hall. Ronin had time to utter a quiet “Crap” before it hit him like an out of control WesWay cargo carriage. He was swept up and bull rushed backwards. Looking behind him to see what dangers the future held, the vampire saw Diva up ahead, looking on in surprise.

“Jane, stop this crazy thing!”

They cannoned past, Ronin pounding his fists into the brute’s back. Metal gave way beneath his blows and he took hold of a handful of wires and pulled. The stereo-bot’s legs gave way suddenly and it toppled forwards. The pair skid along the ground, the robot with its arms around Ronin, trying to squeeze the live from his body, Ronin in turn slamming his fists into the things shiny metal faceplate. Their travels ended as they came up against the wall of the open elevator. Ronin pushed the DAMAGE bot as hard as he could, shifting it far enough that he could scramble out from under it. A hand latched around his ankle as he took a couple of steps towards the door. He circled his arms wildly, trying to keep his balance, but toppled regardless. Rolling over, he planted a few kicks on the thing’s face and lifted his gun to blast it. The robot tugged suddenly, and Ronin’s aim was sent askew. The pistol discharged, sending the heavy slug ricocheting around the lift faster than the eye could see before punching through the escape hatch in the roof. There was an unpleasant little snick sound, and the elevator dropped slightly. The vampire’s and the robot’s eyes met and there was a general air of “Oh ****” about them. Then Ronin threw himself backwards, the DAMAGE bot still clinging to his leg, as the lift plummeted down, the wire holding it up cut in twain by the stray bullet and the hydraulic brake on the side of the shaft leaking fluid. A section of the roof buckled and splayed upwards as the robot went straight through it, gripping Ronin’s ankle for dear inanimate life. The resulting jerk pulled Ronin forward, leaving him dangling over the multi-story drop by his finger tips. There was silence, bar the distant sounds of fighting, and then a great crash rose from below as the elevator met the ground floor.

“Um, Diva? A little help?”

She hurried over and grabbed his hand. Hanging on awkwardly with his full hand, he swung his right hand up and latched onto her wrist. They were still for a while longer, the DAMAGE bot glaring up with glowing green eyes. Ronin coughed sheepishly.

“This is, uh, kinda embarrassing. I don’t seem to be able to pull myself up.”

“Well, I can’t pull you up!”

*WARNING! STUPIDITY LEVEL AT DANGEROUS HEIGHTS.*

“Shut up, you. Hey, stop!” The robot made a determined grab for the hem of Ronin’s coat, bringing all three of them dangerously close to plummeting. “Stop it, you’ll kill us all-”

He was cut off as the bot got a hold of his coat, causing his tenuous grip on the lip of the shaft to break. He and the robot dropped, dragging Diva with them. Sparing not a moment, Ronin, bracing himself against the wall in front of him, kicked backwards. The DAMAGE bot slammed backwards into the wall. It was pinned there for a moment, long enough for Ronin, his head clear enough now to allow him to act with his supernatural grace and agility, to make good use of it. With his left hand wrapped around Diva’s waist, he grabbed a hold of the robot’s foot, pulled himself swiftly up as it began to fall, and wrapped his hand around the sword. Swinging like a gymnast, he twirled up to plant his feet precariously on as much sword as he could. It was at that point that the DAMAGE resumed its descent. Using the weapon itself as a springboard now, Ronin bounded backwards, flipping head over heels. He landed with his heels placed precariously on the thin ledge afforded by the 1st floor elevator doors. He tried to maintain his balance as he rocked back and forth, but found it difficult with the added weight of the superheroine in his arms. He tipped forwards, turned his plummet into a dive with a leap and planted his feet on the opposite wall. After that, it was a careful drop off a few feet to avoid landing on anything dangerous.

“Ground floor…Killer robots, superheroes and the beloved bar,” muttered Ronin.

He stopped just inside the elevator doors, and stared into the lobby. The recent assault had taken its toll on his new home. The bar was in tatters, parts of DAMAGEs were scattered all over and some utter bastard had crashed the Reserve Rover through the wall. The whole building was going to hell. It seemed to be a bad habit developed by all his homes.

“You can let go of me now.” Diva’s voice, cold as Illioto’s any day, brought him back down to earth.

“Oh, right. Sorry.” He unwound his arm from around her waist.

Reaching down, he rolled the DAMAGE bot over. It made a few weak whirring sounds and reached weakly for his face. Ignoring it, Ronin tugged his sword from its chest. It gave a few more sounds of mechanical distress before a roll of thunder, courtesy of Ronin’s pistol, silenced it. He glanced up at Diva before striding from the room, looking around. He could discern sounds better now, even understand speech as he had just done, but there was still an underlying ringing in his pained ears, and he had one hell of a headache. He could just about make out the sounds of fighting down the hall, and the diminutive voice of Mr. Bitesize, so he headed that way. Waiting for thanks from Diva for saving her from plummeting to her death would doubtlessly be pointless. Granted, it had been somewhat his fault, but it was the thought that counted…

[Wesforce]

'...And that's for ruining my record deal you rust-stained vat of chip oil!' Flipping herself backward, Equalizer's kick caught the DAMAGE under it's chin and severed its head clean off. It landed several feet away, but that was on the start of its torment, landing on it with both feet repeatedly before picking up a hefty Iron bar and battering it into the ground until her knuckles bled.

'Equalizer!' Said Illi, shielding her face from flying tiny cogs and splinters of metal. 'There's something wrong with the radio!'

'Oh yeah?' The silver-clad woman said, brushing a strand of hair from her face and shaking her furry bootcovers free of steel splinters. She took the device from Illi and listened for a brief second. It sussurated with the rampant ravings of a man who, if he were anywhere near as spectacular as he was in his own mind, wouldn't even need a radio to further his schemes. On and on he went, spilling torrents of self-praise like a Wescorp Oil Tanker off the coast of Alaska, with about as much good effect.

'Ah I see.' Equalizer pulled a cable from her utility belt - One end plugged into the BlastmasterMk2, the other end going into the Radio's serial port.

Illi saw what was happening and instinctively covered her ears. Equalizer keyed the handset and plucked a single string on the device, which Illi barely heard.

'That... Thats it?'

'Well I wouldn't want to over-do it would I? Right now waves of crashing feedback are roaring up and down his machines like waves on a pond in the middle of a wind tunnel during monsoon season in Sri Lanka while there's a Windsurfing championship on. That should free up the radio nets for a while at least.' Equalizer imagined the green waves on CRT screens jumping up and down like buggery, fizzing out and exploding all over the shop. She like that trick. But - No time to savour it.

She handed the radio back to Illi.

'Aren't you going to call anyone?' Asked Illi.

'No, I don't use the damn things. But don't mind me.'

Equalizer crouched down to take stock of the situation. Still more DAMAGEs on the street. Charge was up head getting into a tangle with... Superhumans?

'Illi... I have to check something out.'

And without a further word, she had vanished...

***

...To appear abreast of Charge, twisting in the air to avoid a sizzling electricity bolt that threatened to electrocute her, or worse, completeky ruin her hair.

'Charge! No idea where the rest of the SSR are, who are these...'

Her jaw dropped. She dropped to, onto the rough ground where she landed unsteadily, facing down the 'Rainbow Warriors'. In particular the Bowl-cut man on the Gyro-ball.

'YOU!' She eventually spat, and immediately fired off a max-strength, max treble and bass and max tremello Sonic Broadside.

[AI]

Doctor Destructo turned, giving the costumed superhero a manic smile. His grin stretched as wide as it could, this is what he'd been waiting for - A chance to square off with the SSR... A chance to square off with Charge.

He linked his ring-blasters together, thrusting his arms forward. He stood there. Bold as bloody brass. Thinking he could absorb all that hit him. Well not this time, little Charge... Hee hee... This time, you're dealing with somebody carrying equiptment with... Well, you in mind.

He unleashed a deversating volley, not enough to kill him, killing him on the first shot would be boring. But even to put him down. The beams his Charge with a cringeworthy 'crack', as the super hero was knocked clean from his feet, backwards onto the gravel coated flat roof of the station. Destructo smiled, inhaling the stentch of burning flesh - Coming from two, smoking circles on the super heroes costume. He wandered over to the prone being, twitching and sparking away like a turtle turned on his back. The Doctor himself took a few volts, as the potentially deadly discharges met with his skin - Not that it mattered to him. He'd say pain was a think of the past... But in all fairness, he didn't know if it had been a 'thing' at all.

"Hello Charge..." He cackled, kneeling down. "... I don't believe we've met. My name is Doctor Destructo, and I'm going to kill you. You, and every single person in Lutonopolis with you..."

* * *

Equalizer fired away into what could only be described as a warzone. One group of super humans going at anothers throat, if she recognised any of them she didn't notice - She was still so focused on one man and one man alone.

Kered.


"Why is nothing HAPPENING?!" She cried out in frustration, not realising she was firing into what had become the equilivent of a sound vacuum.

Giving up, she unslung her Blastermaster and resisted the urge to smash it against the floor. Instead she dropped down the hole in the roof, agily rolling under a torrent of flame conjoured from a burly Australians hands. She weilded her Blastmaster like a club, silently (as if she had a choice) apporaching Kered as he stood on his gyro-ball, not even realising his opponent was nowhere to be seen...

... Until it was too late.

Something blunt and heavy hit against the back of Equaliser's head, causing her to fall to floor, slightly concussed. When she looked up, all she could see was a blur of purple filling her vision - A purple haze, if you will.

*WE HAVE A SCORE TO SETTLE, YOU CONIVING BI-ARGH* Void Eater gloated, breaking his self-imposed silence only to have a Neo-English flag smash into his visor. The precious gaseous form of his true self leaked out, as Kered stood tall and proud - His hand outstretched hand upturned to reveal a small projectile shooter tucked underneath.

"Are you alright?" He asked, the nullification finally clear.

* * *

The Doom-Copter roared across the skies of Lutonopolis, heavy set rotors thudding out a constant rythmn as Doom Racers chosen battle anthem could be heard miles away.

"Got some... Um... Bogies at... Ah, twelve... Eleve... Oh my GOD! They're everywhere!!!" Exclaimed Eric, a quick check on the inbuilt radar confirmed his suspicions. Several little dots were tailing them, coming ever closer - They were fast, faster than the chopper.

"Well don't just sit there, shoot you bollock!" Demanded Doom Racer, before focusing on the job at hand.

'THIS ANNOUNCEMENT WAS BROUGHT TO YOU BY WESCORP ATTACK CHOPPER THREE FOUR TWO. HAVE A NICE DAY, AND WESCORP LOVES YOU!'

A pre-recorded message cut into his music, the upbeat, over-excited female voice soon giving way to Wagner's classic again. He heard, above it all, the sound of heavy machine gun fire towards the back of the copter. Out of his window he could see a very small orb, much akin to a mechanical onion, level it's self with the chopper - The blade on it's own head spinning around, as a pair of deep, green eyes and - More important, a gun, turned towards him.

"GOD DAMN!" It was all he could do to lean back and prevent his face getting blown clean off. A bullet grazed his nose as the windows shattered inward. He had to think fast. Pulling a pistol from the side of the seat, kept there in case of emergancies, he quickly rose up his arm and fired. The rotor atop the airbourne DAMAGE - Probably modified for defence purposes, damn them! Exploded, sending the machine hurtling towards Earth.

"Hell YEAH!" He exclaimed. "I'm the MAN!"

Stapler, meanwhile, wasn't have as much luck. He shot madly at the miniture robots, barely making a dent. Their armoured hides easily withstanding his fire, and they moved far too fast for him to manourve the heavy artilary towards the rotors.

"Screw this!" He said, picking up his original weapon - The staple gun, and aiming at the robots. His computer aided sighting equiptment soon lined up a prime target, and he let loose. The giant staple cutting clean through one DAMAGE and into another, pinning them both clean to a nearby wall.

Just as he was lining up for another kill, the helicoptor tilted violently to the side, throwing the poor man from his feet and out the other side of the chopper - He may have pumetted to his death, had he not managed to grip onto a loose strap. A DAMAGE fired in vain, bullets pinging off the underside of the doom-chopper - Right where Stapler's head had been.

"WooYEAH! Sorry about that, chumpo! Glad to see you're not a... URGH!" He suddenly screamed, gripping his shoulders tightly as a great pain ran through his body.

Not a feckin' gain... He thought. Not... Now!

He started to spasm, the helicopter slipping from his control and going into a deadly dive - A dive straight into the Branson Foundation Orphanage for Abandoned, Misplaced and disgustingly cute children...

* * *

"Huh... Huh... Huh..." Illioto panted, throwing herself around a corner and flattened herself against the wall. Checking left and right to make sure she was safe, she raised the WesCom to her lips and spoke. "Where is everybody?! I'm all alone down here and the streets are overrun with robots! I've lost Equalizer, Loki and... And everyone!"

"Icicle?" She didn't recognise the voice. "Icicle, I can barely hear you, would you please rep..."

"AHA! So you thought your nefarious little prank could stop the great work that is my AMAZING DAMAGE DISABLING MACHINE? Well alas, for your scheme has failed and I! Mr. Spectacular, am back on the a..."

She tossed the communicator against the wall, letting out a grunt of frustration as she did. She bent over, hands on her knees,just trying to catch her breath. Where was Equalizer?! How could she leave her like that... Or more to the point, where was Charge?! Where was there supposed leader while people were dying out here.

"It looks like you are alone, Icicle..." She murmured to herself, picking up a torn of cutting impliment from a fall DAMAGE, no doubt. Resting it in her palm, she weighed it and found it adequate, then rejoined the fray.

She fought freociously, the first DAMAGE she came across reprogramed as a shef. Her blade cut through the wire of the whisk it was flailing, then rose up perfectly to block the rolling pin coming down on her head. With her free hand she conjoured an icicle, which piecred straight through the heart of the DAMAGE, rendering it limp - Just a piece of scrap metal.

Blood pulsated through her vains as beats of sweat rolled down her face, she lept backwards, out of the way of an oncoming STOP sign - This enemy designed as a Lolly Pop DAMAGE, of al things! She lashed out at her cloak with the knife, cutting it from around her neck without a second thought. On the next swing she grabbed hold of it, using her weight against it as leverage to twist the DAMAGE onto it's side. Once there she clamboured on top of it, raising her blade above her head and bringing it down, straight through the head of the DAMAGE.

And yet it still twitched. It was still alive!

Enraged by it's defiance, she kept on stabbing, thrusting in and out, up and down violently. Unleashing years of pent up rage into one, single fluid motion - And yet it stll wouldn't be enough. She imagined it was her own sister, lying there, bleeding oil... Prone and battered, ready to lay down and die for all the things she'd done to her! But it still just wasn't enough...

But it was certaintly enough to keep her distracted while a great hunk of metal lumbred forth out of the sewers, sneaking up on her and catching her on the back of the head with a muck-stained shovel.

She fell to the floor, her foot caught in the remains of the DAMAGE and assuring she landed akwardly. She screwed her eyes shut, biting her bottom lip slightly as an intense pain ran up her leg, all the way up from her burning ankle. When she dared open them again, the great, orange outline of a DAMAGE towered over her - Shovel raised high.

[Wesforce]

'Get away from me, Heretic!'

Kered's would-be helpful outstretched hand proved to be little more than leverage for his own pain as Equalizer pulled him off off the floor in an expert back-throw and sent him on his merry way - Head-first into the nearest wall, although the weight of his gryo-ball did serve to detract from his momentum. Equalizer was about to follow up by clubbing him brutally on the floor, Equalizer-style, a quick and dirty death as fitting for a criminal like this. But no, she couldn't, a gauntleted hand wrapped around her ankle.

'You still here?' She said down at Void Eater. The Super-Villain's gasesous form was fast escaping from the suit, but enough was left for this last chance attack.

'Pathetic.' She sneered down at the suit, cutting off Void Eater's rejoinder with a few quick stamps that crushed more of the suit. 'Time to clear the air, wouldn't you say?'

The heel of her left hand slammed against a pad on the wall - A fire alarm. The glass cracked under the impact, and water sprinkled down immediately, washing the gaseous form of Void Eater down the drains.

But now Equalizer's hair was wet and matted, and even her boot covers were soggy. She advanced on Kered, looking faintly daemonic. Off in the distance, Charge crackled and buzzed under the water. Equalizer was safe from electricity thanks to her insulating bootcovers. That was all the thought she paid to that.

[Nyerguds]

"It's so easy, you know!" Doctor Destructo cackled. "I just have to blast you one more time!"

"Not..." Charge said, weakly. "on my... watch."

"Ahh, you heroes never do give up, eh?" the Doctor answered. Then, he noticed the increase in temperature around them, and saw the tar on the flat roof melting and boiling away from under the gravel.

"There are probably innocent people inside this building, you know!" Destructo said, laughing madly.
"No, there aren't." Charge said calmly, without getting up. "I checked the top floors."
Then, he suddenly disappeared through a hole melted in the roof. Doctor Destructo noticed the rest of the roof was melting away from under his own feet.
"You fool! You can't kill me, Hehe!" he yelled, jumping into the hole in which Charge had disappeared. "You're only delaying the inevitable, Charge... I'm going to blow you away! And the city with you!!!"

Just as he landed on the floor, he felt Charge's hand grip around his throat.
"No you won't." the dark man said. "I melted your weapons."

[VO]

Combatant One: Construction-class DAMAGE automaton, closing at 1.5 metres with pneumatic hammer and cement launcher. Threat Level : Considerable

Combatant Two: Construction-class DAMAGE automaton, armed with nail gun but missing wrecking ball weapon, currently in rapid-repair mode following attempted lobotomy with heat vision. Threat Level: Fair

Combatant Three: Construction-class DAMAGE automaton, armed with welding tools and circular saw, location currently unknown, presumed dangerous. Thread Level: Unknown, presume extreme.

Analysing crosswinds, no anomalies, analysing Auditory input, possible movement and frictional action two metres above. Accessing Sixth Sense, high possibility of combatant three. Changes in auditory input suggest imminent attack from above

Centurion swung his green-skinned fist back with military prescision to crumple the DAMAGE which dropped from the hole in the scaffolding. He ducked, allowing the spray of high-powered nails to thud into his victim. Spinning, his rock-hard legs sent the robot toppling down the marble stairway, trailing sparks and oil.

Lutonopolis Town Hall was constantly being repaired. Although it's hallowed eaves were home to a sizable population of pigeons, recently the sheer number of reprogrammed DAMAGE bots used to maintain the architechtural status quo outnumbered even then. In the event of a riot, such as this one, he had calculated that their prescence put Randuff Nyerguds's continued existance as a whole functional human being at around 1.4%. This was worrying.

He beat in the chest of the first DAMAGE while he scanned the building. Ah, there he was. His X-ray vision revealed the Mayor in his office on the second floor of the building. He needed to reach him, and fast.

There was still one enemy DAMAGE in the blizzard of scrap metal the frenzied fighting had created, but there wasn't time to deal with that. With one flex of his alien muscles, the supersoldier launched himself up in a standing leap through a recently repaired upstairs window. Landing in a spray of glass and bits of wooden frame.

"Sorry Maam, charge it to the company." He flicked a Secret Reserve card from his belt to the startled secretary and nodded. "Which way to the Mayor?" Before she could even reply, he had calculated the quickest route, and blasted his way through the wall, directly into the office. Twin Lutonopolis and Neo-English flags hung on the wall, behind the man at the desk, who glanced up at Centurion over the top of his glasses. A pen hung from his hands, over a pile of papers.

"Can't say I recognise you, young man. I suppose it's the standard, though."

"There's a robot riot, human," said Centurion. "I'm here to rescue you."

"I know, I know," muttered the Mayor, putting on his jacket. Centurion scooped him up and made his exit through the window. "I am the Mayor, after all."

GAH. I'll make this nicer later, tired now.

[CKW]

"Damn it!!!" Doom Racer stiffened up, his quivering arms trying to grasp the control stick in his hands, while his bird plumetted towards the ground, an inminent crash about to happen...

"Not today!!" He finally managed to gather together, and in a last attempt, his knees clasped the stick, allowing him some limited control to avoid crashing.

The effects on the fall were quite blunt, the dive was halted in the last moment, a sudden turn upwards wich stabilized the helicopter, allowing it to hover inches above the ground, blowing away dirt, ground... and confetti?? Doom Racer turned his visage towards his left, his aching body now fully functional after that ordeal, and able to get a hold of the stick perfectly. He took a few doubtful seconds to peek over the scene, with a confused visage.

Little timmy was holding the leaning plate of his birthday cake, wich just dropped its cakepiece into the ground below, his puppy, green eyes of a child fixated on the huge monster. The caretaker was bellowing something, as so the children did scream, peeking at the winding metal monster that was playing some funny music while flawlessly hovering above in the ground. Here and there, his fellow orphan urchins scattered away, prodded by over-histerical caretakers, urging them to go inside, among high pitched screams.

Stapler, clinging on the chopper's edge after the sudden turn of events sighed upon the bizarreness of the situation. There was little time to crash birthday parties and frighten toddlers. "Say something at least, man." He pieced together, judging at how both the kid and Doom Racer's sights were locked. Calmly, John picked up the inbuilt microphone device inside the cockpit, and neatly halting the music, he announce through the speakers.

"Happy birthday, whoever you are. Oh, and Santa doesn't exist. It's just a market invention." He said, while barely waiting for Eric to jump back into the chopper. He then took off with haste, nodding to stapler to come forward into the cockpit.

"I'm tired of this crap, Stapler. Enough of games. Enough of cheezy action. Let's give them what they deserve." He coldly spoke, while flicking several switches of the chopper. The hatchdoors slided close, and a bright yellow light turned on. It was marked as "Heavy Machinegun".

"What are you doing! That's... oh... god... that's antitank weaponry."

"I know." Doom Racer bluntly replied."Frag the SSR. I'm going to do things MY way. And you're my navigator now. Where's the meeting point?"

"Not too far from here, Southwest, several blocks away."

"Good. We're going to give them a visit. And whoever is behind this, will get a nice, hot ration of .50 slugs."

The chopper swiftly turned away in a rough movement, and, tipping its tail up, paced at full speed, ready to do a strafing run upon the DAMAGE-filled streets... It's muffled,rythmical blade sound and the hammers of the barrel machinegun being the only signs of its wake...

[SW Freak]

"Icicle? Icicle, I can barely hear you. Would you please-"

That had been several minutes ago. Ronin had since thrown the radio at an incoming robot, causing considerable DAMAGE considering his strength. He and the other defenders had since cleared the ground and first floors, pushing the robots before them like a tide.

"Bitesize, will you guys be alright without me? I think some of the others need a hand."

"Go on," Ronin decided the diminutive hero said, for he was still having a lot of problems hearing. "We can manage."

"Thanks, little buddy."

They both turned as something went *Groink!* behind them. A DAMAGE, one thought to have been deactivated earlier, stood silhouetted against the sickly red light of the burning sky. Its right arm spasmed as something inside it went *Groink!* again.

"I got this one," said Ronin as Mr. Bitesize moved forward. "I was heading that way anyhow."

With that, he shot forward like a sprinter from the blocks. As he neared it, the robot flailed about with the pair of trousers hanging from its left arm; it was presumably an escapee from the SSR super laundry. Ronin easily defied the flicking leg wear.

*EXTERMINATE! EXTER-*

It was cut off as Ronin, flying almost horizontal in a lightning fast drop-kick, planted both feet on its chest. They crashed through the window, locked irrevocably together by momentum. The DAMAGE hit the tarmac first with Ronin standing on its chest like some kind of demented surfer. Ronin's feet went straight through the robot's chest on impact with the ground. He spent several minutes pulling himself from the scrap heap that remained before hurrying over to his motorbike. The city was a war zone already, but by following the trail of DAMAGE bits left by the rover he could probably locate the SSR. After a moment's travel he caught sight of Icicle's peril at the end of the road. His bike roaring as he gunned the engine, Ronin shot forward like a gun toting, sword wielding, advert bearing demon from the pit. Icicle, having made it to her feet with only a scar across her right shoulder to mark a narrow escape from impalement, looked down the street at the approaching scream of mechanics. The sewerage bot took its mark and lunged forward, shovel lancing out to pierce the super heroine's ribs.

Things would have been quite uncomfortable had it not been for the timely arrival of two bullets. The robot jerked off balance, turned its head to see its new attacker and caught the fireball issued from the pistol right in the mechanical face. Icicle followed its molten descent with her eyes before looking up at Ronin as he reined his hog in. He returned the gun to his belt and sucked at his burnt fingers.

"A neat 'arty thik," he said indistinctly. Pulling his hand from his mouth he continued, "But not much fun for me. You okay?"

"I...I'm fine. It's just a scratch."

"You should get it looked at soon. Who knows what was on that shovel. But first, have you any idea where any of the others are?"

"No. Doom Racer took the rover away and Charge and Equalizer disappeared elsewhere."

"Damn. We’d be best finding some way to regroup. Hop on. I'll take you back to the tower, we'll see about getting you patched up."

"But-"

"No. No buts, no martyrdom. Lutonopolis will manage with one less superhero tonight. You won't manage with any less of you. On the bike."

Somewhat sullen and affronted, she climbed up behind him. Ronin turned the bike about and drove off at, for him, a slightly more sedate pace.

"Besides, I'm sure the others can handle the situation with the utmost care."

DA DA DA-DA DA DA, DA DA-DA DA DA, DA DA-DA DA DA, DA-DA-DA-DAAAAAAA!

Ronin looked up as a helicopter swooped overheard, blaring the music. Whoever was inside was a good pilot, certainly, to avoid the deadly flying DAMAGEs that hounded him, but was reckless and, truth be told, somewhat showy. As he halted his bike to watch the helo came dangerously close to hitting a building, swerving aside at the last minute and soaring away as a number of its pursuers failed to display the same grip of aerodynamics. Shattered glass, metal and concrete rained down onto the, fortunately empty, pavement.

"I shall pretend I didn't see that," he muttered, kicking his bike back to life and looking down the street again.

And catching sight of the single largest DAMAGE he had ever seen.

It wasn't that it was 15 feet tall at the rounded shoulder. It wasn't that its hands ended in fork-lift-like prongs. It wasn't that it had a car dangling effortlessly from one spike. It was the height, and the prongs, and the car. They all combined to form a green eyed monstrosity that, as he watched, slowly turned to fix a, literally, steely eyed gaze on them. A twitch of one mighty arm sent the car flying over its shoulder as it squared its shoulders and let out a deafening roar that Ronin was happy enough to ignore in favour of the whistling that still rang in his ears. He unshipped his sword from the scabbard on his back and gripped it tight in his right hand, the point almost touching the ground. The robot ground its feet a few times, like a bull eager to charge. Ronin responded by revving the engine, creating a roar to almost equal the DAMAGE’s. The mighty construct took the challenge and pushed forward, pounding the ground with its patient run, slowly building up speed in a charge intended only to be stopped via collision with a continent or, failing that, God.

“Icicle?”

“Yes?”

“Hang on.”

The bike screeched forward, filling the air with the smell of scorched rubber. Crouching low over the handle bars, Icicle hanging on for dear life behind him, Ronin grinned. He hadn’t gotten to hit something really hard for a while now, and this diversion pleasantly took his mind from the dehabilitating reappearance of long lost siblings. As the two titans neared, Ronin drew the bike out to the left a little and then jerked it back in suddenly. A seemingly, ridiculously, effortless twitch sent the half ton weight of the bike into the air like a trained stunt biker, sliding through the night diagonally, almost broad siding the DAMAGE. Ronin’s arm came around like a master guitarist’s. Halfway through the arc there was the grinding sound of metal rending metal, and the robot’s arm was falling away. The vampire finished by slamming the katana dead into the centre of the brute’s chest. It spat and hissed, and its remaining arm neatly lodged itself between the spokes of the Harley’s back wheels. Ronin had time to issue a quick swear that was hastily lost to the wind before he and Icicle were sent flying from their seats by the laws of conservation of energy. Ronin, half turned already, enveloped the smaller hero in a protective embrace. He landed with a thump that jarred the base of his spine, skipped like a stone and sprang away down the road a way.

“Ow! Crap! Damn! ****! Argh!” Each exclamation was punctuated by a crash landing and a bounce.

By and by, their infrequent flight came to an end. Ronin lay back a groaned a little as Icicle climbed to her feet. She had left a streak of blood on the vampire’s coat, and he did his best to ignore how sweet it smelled. He stood himself, hand pressed against the base of his back.

“Well…that was fun. In a painful, dangerously not fun sort of way. You okay?” Icicle nodded. Ronin looked past her, gazing at his bike. The back wheel had been pulled halfway out of its bearings, dragging a good portion of the body of the bike almost asunder. “Aww, no! My hog! Damn…Ah, at least I got the bloody robot.”

*INCORRECT, HUMAN!* Even when simply speaking the DAMAGE’s voice was an angry bellow. *ONLY MINOR DAMAGE HAS BEEN SUSTAINED!*

“What! You’re arm’s off! You’ve got a sword in your face!”

*LOGIC SENSORS OVERRIDDEN: YOU ARE MISTAKEN, MEATBAG!*

“Look!”

*SABOTAUGED CIRCUITRY IS IRRELEVANT TO CURRENT OBJECTIVES!*

“It’s your bloody arm!”

*DISCUSSION IS INCONDUSIVE TO COMBAT!*

And so, by unspoken consent, the two charged again. The robot’s left arm speared out, but Ronin had anticipated the attack and was already jumping. He landed on the spike with cat-like grace and grabbed hold of his sword. The DAMAGE bucked, heaving the vampire over its head. The katana slid free as Ronin was sent flying like a flipped pancake. As he passed by, upside down, he swung as hard as he could. There was a click as metal met, and then the fork-lift DAMAGE’s second arm was falling away. As he touched down behind it, Ronin thrust forward as hard as he could. The sword punched through the plate metal before him and was lost to the hilt in the vast torso cavity within. The impaled bot shuddered, gave a weak voip and fell to its knees. After a hesitant moment, Ronin sighed with relief and pulled his sword free. He stepped around the hulk to pull his scabbard off the remains of the bike.

“Finally. That’s that. Thank God, ‘cause-“

A powerful kick threw him off his feet. He rolled aside as the same foot stomped down with enough force to send shards of road peppering his face and bounced to his feet.

“What the hell! You’re beaten! Stop, this is embarrassing!”

*OBJECTIVES ARE ALWAYS COMPLETED TO THE OPTIMUM LEVEL!*

“There’s something wrong with your programming, isn’t there?” asked Ronin, just before hopping aside to avoid a knee shattering kick. “Look, stop it. Stop it! I’ll have your leg!”

The, seemingly circuit-fried, robot tried to another kick-

-“Right!”-

-and found that its leg suddenly ended at the knee. It wobbled a little but managed to remain standing.

“Done?”

By know sparks were flying from the things half-cleaved cranium. It twitched and clicked irregularly and rocked back and forth. Yet it seemed determined to have the last word.

*THE CHAOS KING’S FORCES ALWAYS SUCCEED AT THEIR DESIGNATED MISSION!*

At which point it attempted to jump on Ronin. The vampire had, in his despairing mind, half expected this and twirled away. He sword spun with him and bit at the robot’s final limb, severing it. Shaking his head in despair, Ronin turned away, too embarrassed by the pathetic waste of metal before him to even finish the job.

*A COMPROMISE SHALL BE AGREED UPON.* It shouted to his retreating back. *HALT! RETURN, MEATSACK! I SHALL MASTICATE UPON YOUR KNEECAPS!*

“You don’t even have teeth!”

But whatever tortured downwards spiral its CPU had been following had come to the end for all the DAMAGE replied with was *ERROR! ERROR! ERROR! CENTRAL PROCESSING UNIT FAILURE! DATA BANKS CORRUPTED! FATAL MEMORY ERror…*

“That was quite possibly the most bizarre thing I’ve ever seen,” said Ronin, sheathing his sword and hefting his bike onto his shoulder. “Come on, newbie. Let’s head back to the tower. I need a drink…”

[AI]

GM: More to come! Will post rest later. Cheers.

*Twack, Twack*

Mr. Spectacular pulled his rubber gloves as far they would go up his arms, letting them go with a sharp twang each. He glanced across his lab one more time, making sure everything was in place and as it should be. Convinced, he allowed himself a fleeting smile of victory and then prepared himself for the task at hand.

"Mashteeer..." Hissed a small, deformed fellow next to him. He wore a large hump like a dog-eared camel, his face an imperfect vision of the God that looked down on him. "... Thee plansh!"

"Excellent, Clone 2.6." He said, taking the instructions, then gave the wretched little fellow a sympathetic look. "Don't worry, 2.6 - When I have five minutes free I will cure you!"

"I ashck for notheeg moore, Mashter!" He slurred in reply.

"Sixty-Eight, Seventy." He snapped, two nubile women in lab coats covering naught but revealing bikinis stood to attention - Both of them identical in everyway, right down to Spectaculars own face. "Assume your pos... No, no! Not those positions! By the machine! BY THE MACHINE!"

The two buxom beauties sashayed over to, what could only be described as, an intricate array of controls and whirlygigs. Each of them struck a seductive pose on their chosen piece of machinery, and with all his might, Spectacular was forced to look away! There was work to be done! Adjusting his own lab coat, he ran through the proceedure one last time in his head - Then realised he didn't have too! Everything would be perfect, you could bet your bottom bagel on it!

"Sixty-Eight, divert all communications channels into the DAMAGE Buster Command Modules!"

"Diverting, Master..." She moaned in a sickly sweet tone, flipping an oversized switch which she had been resting on.

"Seventy, charge the Virtual Oscillating Energy Systems THREE MORE POINTS!" He ranted out madly, knuckles white as a solid metal bar was crushed under his mighty grip.

"Charging, Master..." She obeyed, running her perfectly mannicured nails over a console and depressing three buttons on it. An on-screen display flickering as three more lights were lit.

"2.6, more power to the Hyper-Netrix Plasma Core!"

"Thee powah! Mashter! We haff dryaned thee billdeengs powah!" The impish sevant spat out, forcing down an archaic lever as far as it would go whilst trying, almost in vain, to hold another in place that was twice his size.

"Damnit!" Cursed Spectacular. "Tapping into district reserves..."

"Ees steel nawt ee-narf, Mashter!" Groaned the Spectacularling, using his entire weight on the errant lever.

"There's nothing for it..." Spectacular announced, dramatically. "We're going to have to.... DRAIN THE CITY!"

* * *

"BALDERDASH!" Cursed Captain Dashfordly. They'd just finished clearing up all the mechnical curs from their base of operations, and then suddenly all the power went out! Leaving them all in the bloody dark and unable to see a pimple on their own noses. All the communications was down, except one. "Captain Charles Johnston Dashfordly calling Reserve Agent Maverick, come in Maverick..."

*I hear you, Captain.* Came the androids voice through his Wescom.

"Revert power to back up, and fast!" He ordered.

*I'm afraid I can't do that, Charles.* He stated. Dashed over-grown tinker-toy, never been the same since Wescorp rebuilt him! One of his vital parts probably fell out and they didn't have a damned clue how to put it back in!

"You'll bloody well do it, or I'll 'ave your mechanical hide!"

*You do not understand. The cities power grid has been drained of all reserves, the entire city is on black out - This very line is only maintained via my own power-core.*

"Don't we have any ruddy generators?"

*Yes we do, Captain, but it would be like throwing dust into the path of a vaccum cleaner - Futile and, ultimately, a waste.* Dashed rotten luck, he muttered to himself. *I can tell you, however, that according to my own sensors - Something large is approaching the building to the west at an increasingly dangerous speed.*

"On it!" Snapped one of the super humans, the tiny little one - Mr. Pintsize or something. He lept from the edge of the desk into the matted and frayed hair of Mammoth Man, climbing up to the top of his head and then giving it a sharp tug. "Let's go, big man! We got a tower to save!"

The hulking beast of a man took to his feet, running full pelt towards the nearest wall and not stopping until he was on the other side. He cast his eyes to the blood red sky, a burning ball of orange gases hurtling towards the pair and growing at an alarming rate.

"Heh, guess the sky is falling." Cracked Bitesize, as he pulled out his Miniaturiser Gun and fired directly at the on-coming meteor. Suddenly, as if somebody had pressed the rewind button on life, it became smaller and smaller until it was barely a speck in the sky. It pinged against the floor benath them as it landed, making a small dent in the concerte below, then skimmed along the surface for awhile before...

*Crunch*

... Being crushed under Mammoth Man's boot.

"Look at the sky..." Gasped the hairy giant, ****ing his head to the sky as, amid the lurid red, flashes of orange exploded across the Lutonopolis skyline as several more burned up in the atomsphere of the planet. The towering skyscrapers jutting up into the sky lit up which each one, creating the perfect backdrop for, say, a double page spread in a comic book.

"Didn't even have a light show like that on New Years Eve..." Mused the miniture hero. "... Not that I'd remember it..."

Then suddenly, the heroes were rocked by another explosion, not unlike the one made by Centurion's craft. The two looked at each other, and then with something approaching a sigh, said in unison...

"Town Hall."

* * *

She stumbled behind him, much to her disgust, trying to stay close as he strode out in front, bike over one shoulder as if it were naught but a plaything. She realised how resentful her line of thinking was towards him, and hated herself for it. She was gratful to him, he saved her life, and he wasn't by any means a disgusting specimen of manhood... But he was so arrogant. He carried himself with such ghusto, and his flippancy knew no bounds... He made her feel inferior...

... He made her feel weak. And she hated him for it, despite herself. Still, she'd rather feel cowed and overwhelmed then be dead.

She spared a glance up at the sky above, it was getting angrier than ever now. Whatever this civilisation had done to upset their Gods, it must have been tremendous in scale. But then, looking around at this... This faithless place, she could easily see why. But that was their fate, and perhaps it is just as well. Her sister would easily dimiss them all as heathens, she'd lead wars... Crusades against them, enthused with holy rightousness and the word of Sikrinaok she'd either slay or convert them all. She knew it was the right thing to do - But it sickened her so! They were humans, living, breathing, mostly intelligent beings capable of things just as great, by the light! Even greater than the Antecians...

"Are you alright?" Asked The Ronin, casting a curious eye over to her. "I mean, you just look a little dazed..."

"I am fine." She said, simply. She considered blaming her condition on the battle, but didn't want to exagerate her defeat.

"We can stop for awhile if you like... Streets are pretty empty, must have nailed most of the overgrown tincans in this area..."

"I said that I am fine!" She replied, sternly. Much more sternly than she'd intended. Realising how cold and heavy handed she had been, she decided to try and initiate conversation. "Ronin... Why do you refer to me as a 'newbie'?"

"Oh. Well, 'cause you're new to the reserve, really." He replied, more taken aback by the question than she'd expected. "I don't mean anything by it. I've just not known you all that long, and I hadn't seen much of you before tonight, so all I know of you is that you're new. Newbie, y'know? New-bie? Does it bother you?"

"I... I'm not sure." She lied. It bothered her, but what would he think if she got hung up over something so... Petty? At least it would have appeared more decisive...

"I can stop if you like. It's no problem. It's just that... I guess it's just that I haven't called anyone newbie in a long time. Stupid, isn't it? It was almost like I forgot how..." He explained, his well-toned chest heaved with a sigh. "Did anyone ever tell you, y'know, about me? What I am, where I'm from kind of thing? I know they have some info on file..."

"No, they did not. And I'm not going to ask for it or look for it..." It was her turn to sigh, closing her eyes and remembering times past... It seemed to be her favourite past time these days. "There used to be a time... A very long time ago, where I used to seek to know people inside out. Their mannerisms, their quirks, their desires..."

She let out a small laugh.

"Especially their desires. I just don't want to be that person anymore. I have no desire to read you, or anybody, like a book Ronin - So unless you open it for me yourself, I'm content staring at the cover."

"That sounds familiar. Man I knew once, he lost a lot along the path he took. Some of it was his fault, some of it wasn't. Either way, he reached the conclusion that life would be easier if he wasn't human any more. He locked people out. Worked a job where he didn't meet a lot of people, or, at least, not for long, and made that job his life." It was obvious, to her at least, that he was talking about himself. The body language, the sentimental tone in his voice... The emphsis on he and him. She didn't make a point of it though, she felt a pang of guilt even noticing, considering what she had just said, Without pushing the matter. "Took a very special group of people and a bit of luck"-to bring him out of that rut. I believe he joined the SSR. Ask around, if you like. You might hear tell of him. Never was much liked when he was locked away, even by himself. Dunno how much better he's liked now, but he's certainly easier to live with."

They walked together awhile more in silence, she was unsure what to say, and really, after such an admitance to somebody who was, by his own admission, a perfect stranger he probably needed time to compose himself. Eventually she curved her lips up into a warm, genuine smile and held out one, gloved hand to him. "I don't believe we've done this yet - My name is Illioto."

He stopped, turning towards her and shooting her a smile of his own. He tucked his sword under his arm and reached out with a hand so much bigger than her own, taking the dainty limb in, what she had expected to be a vice-like grip, but was... Not so much gentle, but firm enough. She also noticed how warm her was compared to her, much like everyone else here. The contrast felt... So strange, yet not uncomfortable.

"Jonathon. John, for simplicity's sake. Pleased to meet you, Illioto."

"The pleasure all mine, and in that case - You may call me Illi. And now we're formally introduced, you have no excuse to call me a 'newbie'... And if you do so again..." Her hand suddenly became much colder, negating the warmth of his own body and leaving a brittle layer of ice on his hand. "... I'll chill you to the bone."

She winked as he drew his hand away, a smile still dominant on his face.

"Ow! just so long as it doesn't annoy you." He begins to concentrate, a cinder sparking in his hand, melting away the thin coat of ice in a puff of smoke. "Heh... Glad to see your not made of ice."

"John... One last thing."

"Hmm?"

"Thank you."

"Never a problem." He smiled, thencast a catious glance over the street. "Hm... Power's out. Come on, We better get moving!"

* * *

[Anonomuss]

Far above the city of Lutenopolis a figure was packing up after work as the power went, back-up power began to kick in as he threw on is coat and fetched his umbrella.

Through his door a DAMAGE robot crashed. Wielding a pair of claws in front of a whirring opening on it's front. It turned towards him and he backed away gulping. He felt the wall at his back and saw the robot getting steadily closer. The lights cu tout again and a shining figure was standing in the ruined doorway. It drew two longswords. It launched itself at the DAMAGE and impaled it on it's swords. It pulled them outwards in a swinging motion and the robot fell quiet. "You have to get home, NOW!" it said. He was not in a position to disagree. He finally saw the face of his saviour and found it was no other than timid Ari from across the hallway. "I said, now" Arisiel said, as he saw him staring agape.

Arisiel watched as the office managerran out and started his car. That was the last of the civilians, he thought. He heard a whirring behind him and lept aside as a plurry of pencils came flying through thte placce he had not so long ago occupied. He turned around and saw his assailant. A DAMAGE with a whirring circular pencil gun. What the hell was the world coming to? he thought. It fired again, it's spent ammunition breaing on pillars, car chassis and the cool stone floor. Arisiel launched himself at it, knocking the few remaining pencils of the clip aside, with one longsword and thrusting forward with the other. He didn't make it. A second volley came from his right. He rolled behind a pillar and took stock of the situation. A pen had pierced his right arm, he alsol felt an oozing down his back telling him that this new DAMAGE was a lot more dangerous. He heard the pinging of the bots stop. he jumped out and flung one of his longswords at the second DAMAGE . It was impaled, and began sparking. Meanwhile Arisiel reached the first robot, he sliced downwards and cut through it's main power unit. He retrieved his swords and left.

Arisiel walked out onto the deserted streets. he looked left and right at the deserted streets. He pulled off his trenchcoat. Light suddenly illuminated the street. He grabbed his pen lodged in his right arm and pulled; it came free with a sucking noise. He left his swords down, resting on the wall, within arms reach. Ari ripped the sleave off his shirt and used it to bandage the wound. He then pulled his wing out, wincing. The pen had lodged itself near the base of his wing, where blood stained his shirt. He pulled it off and threw it away, where it clattered into the gutter.

Work tommorow is going to be interesting Ari thought, and smiled. He ripped off his other sleve and bandaged the root of his wing. he then looked for his trenchcoat. A dog had grabbed it and run off. He sighed and picked up his swords. No harm he thought. It's not like anyone's here to see me. He began to walk down the winding streets, looking for people to help. He had only gone a couple of streets before he came upon the site of a fight, amongst the ruins he saw something he didn't expect to see. Arisiel had seen a Vampire.

[AI]

"This is Rosetta Dawn, daredevil reporter for Freemedia Entertainment, live from our eye in the sky over the once derlict Shadow Zero FM radio station. Believe you me, the airwaves are certaintly abuzz tonight - As atop this very station the Sensation Secret Reserve battle it out with what seems to be the remains of the Chaos King's Warriors, thought to have disbanded earlier this year, and an unidentifed trio of super humans..."

Oblivious to the news camera above, the Sonic Equalizer brought her boot down heavy into a recently formed puddle of water, sending ripples across it's lurid red surface. Her breath was heavy, passing through gritted teeth. The sprinklers carried on their seemingly endless assult, a drop of water dripping down from Equalizer's nose and dropping onto her lower lip. It sent a slight shiver down her spine, as if somebody had just walked over her grave... Either way, she knew she'd be putting this scum into one soon.

"Equalizer, what are you doing?!" Called Charge from across the room. "Round up the rest of the warriors!"

She ignored him and continued, placing her foot on his torso and bending over him so they could face each other. The two stared at each other as intensely as they could without making actual eye contact, her into his garishly painted fencing mask and him into her smooth, emotionless opaue visor. She grasped the fabric of his shirt until her knuckles turned a ghostly white, the tension in the room so thick and heavy a knife driven into it would bend and break.

"You." She hissed.

"Equaliser, damnit!" Charge yelled, carefully stepping backwards as a large Australian was thrown in his path. The Lumberjack soon followed, towering over Charge like a tall building. He was topless, his skin bronzed as if out in the sun too long. He gurned manically at her hero.

"Oi, that's our leader, e-AAAAIIIIIIEEEEE!" He bellowed, as a searing torrent of flame impacted against his right side.

The Doctor remained erriely silent in his hands, giving Charge only a manical grin and a soft 'hee... hee... hee...' when they made eye contact.

"Hee... Hee..." He bared every single one of his teeth, casting his gaze to the sky and following a blazing trail downwards towards them. "Ding-dong Charge, you're bus is about to come in!"

* * *

High in the sky, Doom Racer skillfully piloted his doom-chopper through the vivid red skies above. He weaved skillfully through the sky-scrapers of Lutonopolis where he could, flying above them where he couldn't.He gunned down DAMAGEs when and where he could, but there weren't many left. Slick blue vans seemed to be driving right out of the woodwork like roaches, deploying the Wescorp Sercurity Incorperated Special Robotic Disruption Units. Otherwise known as DAMAGE Busters. Tricked out with armour piercing weaponry and EMPed up to their eyeballs. They were doing such a good job, that he was just going to do one more round around the city when something heavy hit the roof of the chopper.

"What the hell?!" He spat, then looked around at Stapler, who gave a meek shrug.

Atop the chopper, a DAMAGE Postal Droid, that had literally gone postal, grasped the rotating blades in his mighty hands (with inbuilt postbox-adaptor) and started to bend them upwards. The Postal DAMAGE units were in an experimental stage, fitted with jet-propellants to literally fly through the city and deliver to even the roughest places. This DAMAGE had certaintly made good use of this modifcation, and sent the doom-copter into a downward spiral - Straight towards the ShadowZero radio tower.

* * *

"There appears to be some sort of dispute down there, Trevor, between the Sonic Equalizer and an unknown..." Reported Rosetta Dawn from her perch above the tower, when suddenly her camera man swiftly turned the tool of his trade skywards. "Hey, hey! What are you... Oh. My. GOD!"

* * *

They came down, hard. Not that Doom Racer was aware of this, by a stroke of luck he'd been unconcious for the crash it's self - But now he was awake, and he felt alright. Ish. They'd almost torn a news chopper out the sky getting here, but he'd managed to gain enough control over the falling bird to swerve and avoid it. He tore out of the mangled remains, climbing on top of the wreckage and scouting for surviviours.

*DEAD OR ALIVE....* The DAMAGE who had felled the Doom Chopper began before Doom Racer spun around and dug his claw deep into it's CPU.

"Everyone alright?!" He called out. "Stapler?"

"Urgh..." He groaned, trapped in the wreckage - His power suit would hold him, no doubt. He looked up, and Charge came in to land next to him. "Nice save, darkie."

"Where's Equalizer?" He asked, ignoring the crude comment, and almost on cue Doom Racer's nose exploded with blood - Splattering against the inside of his visor. On the other side of him, Equalizer appeared out of nowhere.

"Nice landing, fly boy. What do you do for an encore? Crash into the building instead?" Once he was done flipping him off, she continued. "Doctor Doom and his flunkies all managed to slip off, I saw them before displacing. They each had a dimension hopper, looks like we're on our own..."

[Wesforce]

On our own... The words rattled around Equalizer's head like pennies in a Nyerguds' orphanage donation box, before plummeting down into the cashbox that was her psyche.

'Bloody hell! Has anyone seen Illi?'

No answer was forthcoming. Equalizer tried her WesCom, but the line was now filled with static. Whether this was yet another side-effect of Spectacular's so-called Master Plan, or just interference from the many EMP weapons being deployed, she couldn't be sure. She made as if to displace, but checked herself.

Back, under the wreckage... He'd D-hopped just before Equalizer had displaced. But what kind of state was he in? Was he alive? Dead? Injured? There was no way to tell. Not without some kind of D-tracing equipment. Something Equalizer wasn't sure was even possible - yet.

'I must go.' She said. 'Somewhere, a crime is being committed.'

And I suspect just who will be committing it. Traitor. Heretic. Wrecker...

Charge stood before her, arms folded, with a face like Thunder.

'Whaaat?' She moaned.

[SW Freak]

"I'm here. I'm fine," came the belated answer to Equalizer's first question.

They looked across to see Ronin and Icicle walking towards them, a stranger who looked for all the world like an angel of some kind tagging behind. Strangly, Ronin was keeping as far from him as possible. Even odder, the vampire seemed to have been badly injured; his right hand was heavily bandaged with thick white cloth, with care taken so that each finger could still be used individually. Charge noticed.

"Are you injured?"

Ronin glanced across at the new comer, venom in his gaze for a moment before his features softened slightly and he looked back at them.

"No. Just some sunburn."

Like there's any other word for it. Jovus Christ, but it burnt. Jovus, but it still burns. More fool me for shaking his hand, he added mentally.

"Just some sunburn," he repeated, ignoring their confused looks. He looked around, as though only noticing the wreckage and the heavily damaged radio building. "Why don't I ever get invited to the parties?"

He saw the look that passed over Eq's face, and knew now wasn't the time for joking. He sighed, flexed his hand with a barely audible grunt and looked up and Charge again.

"Well? What now? Do we run clean up duty, or can I take the rest of the day off?"

[Nyerguds]

"Neither," Charge said, still not taking his eyes off Equalizer, "before Equalizer here explains exactly what she means with her words. And if this is important enough, we go together."

"This is personal." Equalizer spat.

"Eq, I really hope I don't have to give you the whole ridiculous 'We're a team' speech. We've both been with the team from the beginning, and I respect your opinions, but if you go on some personal quest you know you'll end up half-dead in some gutter."

"Why's that?" Illi said, looking rather confused.

Charge shrugged. "Well, you know. It's just the way stuff like that always goes."

[AI]

"No, I don't know actually." Icicle asked, cold as her namesake, staring glaciers at their so called leader.

"The very concept of rogue heroes just doesn't work. They usually cut off all communications with their team and end up not getting help when they most need it. I've seen some superheroes die that way. We all get personal about stuff from time to time. But that's no reason to do it alone."

"So that's why you let a child, an infant almost get herself killed out there!" She snapped, suddenly she felt a rush of anger well up inside her. "I don't know what's standard in this culture, but where I come from we don't put our youth in harms way! Especially when they will see it as a reward for their reckless attitudes!"

"That was her own choice." Charge snapped. "No matter what I would've done, she'd have gone through with it anyway. Just like her brother..." He sighed. "She's not even on my team. I can't command her, nor keep her safe all the time."

"YOU DIDN'T EVEN TRY!" She screamed, to everybodys surprise. "She snuck into your motorised-llama, went into battle with YOUR blessing! You condoned it! And where is she now!"

She snapped a quick glance to Doom Racer, who shurged.

"I ain't no baby sitter, I put her somewhere safe."

"Look, the only difference between sending Kori away and telling her to go ahead is that in the first case she's not going to be angry and even more reckless." Charge retorted, before turning to Doom Racer. "Safe?"

"Sure, seculded, out of sight..."

"And heat sensor?" Charge stated, arching his eyebrow.

"Oh sh..."

"Icicle, go..."

"No." She stated, bluntly. "I don't want anything to do with you right now, Charge. I'm going - Maybe back to the tower, maybe to find Equalizer - Surely her own vendetta can't be as dangerous as the game you're playing with other peoples lives."

She unclipped her cloak and froze it in midair, it shattered into thousands of pieces soon afterwards. Once they were cleared, she was nowhere to be seen.

"Illi?" Muttered Ronin, looking around.

"To find..." He turned around, only to find that the silver cladded heroine had also vanished. Probably during his initial explanation to Icicle. "Great." He sighed, rolling his eyes. "Just like the old days."

* * *

She raced down the stairway that Ronin, herself and the new person who had burned Ronin so intently had came up, taking the steps two at a time. She was still so furious, a good leader wouldn't have allowed this to happen. A good leader would have been able to reign in a young girl.

A good leader. A kind leader. Like she could have been, in her sisters place? She laughed at the notion. No, there was no place for somebody like her at the top - And even though she'd never let on, it still slightly stung her so.

Once on one of the central landings, she cast her hand over the banister, forming a pole of solid ice down to the floor. Pushing against it to test it's stediness, she braced herself against it, wrapping her arms and legs around it and then slipping down to the bottom and landing with all the grace of... Well, a princess.

She charged out the double doors, into the murky, iron coloured streets of Lutonopolis, only to find what could only be described as a media frenzy waiting for her. She sheilded her eyes as a million flash bulbs went off at once, and then tried to make out the buzz of questions that followed.

"Excuse me! Terry Fox, Lutonopolis Avenger - Who exactly are you and what is going on up there?!"

"Kent Clarkson, Weekly Globe, was there a Reserve member piloting that Chopper? Are there any casulties? What exactly were you hoping too..."

"Paula Zaun, Enviromentalists Front Magazine. In the last few minutes, the entire city grid has been drained into the SSR Tower. How do you respond to such wanton waste? Or is this some new, hardline tactic on energy abu..."

"Ahem, excuse me..." She spoke clearly, in a clam and measured tone. Enough to make them listen. "I am not authorised to answer any of your questions, but I will say this. The Reserve is dedicated to the protection of Lutonopolis, and this night... I think we have both suceeded, and failed equally in our duties. Suceeded in our duties to the city... And failed in our duties to the individual. Any further questions will be dealt with upstairs... Thank you."

She dashed through the throng, slipping into a nearby alleyway and standing with her back against the wall for awhile, until it was safe to emerge. Once that was possible she began to walk somberly away from the tower, unsure of where she was going. The tower seemed attractive - But Charge was right on one point, she couldn't go out on her own. She'd get herself hurt... Possibly killed. But where would she go?

"Equaliser?" She whispered in vain. "Where are you?!"

[Nyerguds]

Charge was very close to swearing, but stopped himself when he realized the media had to be arriving soon.

"Doom Racer." he said. "What happened to Kori?"

"I don't know." Doom racer said, waving his Doom arms. "Icicle just called me, asked me to come over, and then she dragged the unconscious kid in the rover."
"You got no idea what actually happened?" Charge asked.
"Nope." Doom racer replied. "Can we get back now?"
"Yeah, to where you left her behind." Charge said, lightning zapping around his eyes as he stared at Doom Racer, reminding the man of the fact that Charge's looks could indeed kill.

Doom racer shrugged. "All right, all right."

[SW Freak]

"'Just like the old days?' Well, in the old days, I tried to kill you guys. Not quite like them, you'll find." He wiped the blood away from his nose, caused by Eq's disaparation, and sniffed the air. "Look at it this way, Charge. If you go and I stay here to deal with the reporters pounding up the stairs, I'd get so frustrated I'd probably kill someone. If you stay here and I go to find Illi and Equalizer...well, you're trained to be Wescorp's beauty spot. Hang onto angel boy. You can recruit him on air, if you really need a snag." The first of the reporters rounded the bend, baying questions like hungry dogs. "Saionara, buddy. Gomanesai."

With that, he turned on his heel and sprinted straight towards the news-hounds, the way Icicle had run. They parted like water before him, a few timidly venturing questions, most unwilling to draw his attention, and then flowed together and turned back to Charge. Ronin, ignored for the most part, vaulted the banister, leaning his weight on his good hand. He thumped to the ground below, paused for a moment and closed his eyes.

Her scent hung in the air. Given the chance, he might have found it from her cloak, but that made little difference now; she was still bleeding from that cut she had gotten earlier. Even if his head had been wrapped in velvet, he could have sniffed it out. It smelt of winter mornings in the mountains of home, in the streets of home. The word had two meanings now. But no time to think of the past. Focus, focus; Focus on that lingering whisp of snow, the tang of ice, the weight of passion. Even her blood was head-strong, if such a thing could be said. Her whole body buzzed with a single purpose, and some day it was going to get her killed.

"But not today, Illi," he whispered, opening his eyes and setting forward.

He trotted through the streets, stopping every few moments to close his eyes and sniff the air again. He was on the right track, that was certain. Most likely she wouldn't be happy to see him, but that seemed to be a major feature with the people in his life right now. She had been through a lot, disagreed with most of it and torn her favourite fashion accesrory just for him. She needed time to cool off. He knew that. He also knew that she wouldn't take it. Whatever she had been in a past life, Illioto did not respond well to inactivity. Glancing up at the sky, swearing as the time dragged dangerously close to dawn, Ronin took one last sniff. She was around the corner and, surprise surprise, not happy to see him.

"Charge bores me," he said by way of explanation, shrugging. "I'm here to help you look for Equalizer."

[Wesforce]

The fires that had burned all day down in old Lutonopolis had finally gone down, and the light drizzle that followed washed inky black into the gutter. Cloying, smoky air that stuck at the back of your throat and sent dozens to the beleaguered hospital was finally being cleared. Through this grey, murky drizzle still flittered the odd flake of ash, partially obscuring the shape of AC/DC World - Lutonopolis #1 Computer and Electronics store.

'Come see the world's biggest computer mouse!' Proudly advertised a giant blue and yellow advertisment board - If anything rotten, trodden into a road-wide sooty puddle and partially burned could still be called proud. A man shuffled about uncertainly on the street corner with a dripping Fedora slouched over his face. He sweated palpably in the humidity, and kept nervously fingering the contraband hidden about his coat.

An odd noise filled the man's ears. A rolling, scratching, whirring squeaky sound - Somewhat like a one wheeled shopping trolley loaded with bricks and fired down a steep hill by a steam catapult. How odd it was, he wondered, trying to pinpoint the direction the sound was coming from.

A dark shape loomed from the mist. Immediately the man cleared his throat.

'Oi mate! I got the straight goods for you 'ere, innit! Roll right up and...'

The sales pitch died in his throat as the man rolled literally into view. Or half a man - The top half, that is, with the drooping, rain-sodden wide bowl cut, mounted on the gyro ball that was the lower half. The gyro ball had been damaged and was what was producing the squeaking noide.

The overcoated man thought for a moment, and turned.

A woman stood in the rain behind him, clad in soot-steaked silver. Her hair and furry leg warmers may once have been vibrant and filled with colour, but like her costume, and the array of speakers strapped to her shoulders, and the mean-looking guitar slung on her back, everything was dyed a dirty grey.

She carried a huge, heavy-looking rubber-coated ball.

'How did I find you?' She shouted at the distant man-on-a-ball. 'Why, I just asked myself: If I was a lying, traitorous, murdering anarchist and coward, where would I go?'

She threw the ball to the ground heavily, making the overcoated man jump in fright. He recognised the ball as the mouse-ball from the Biggest Computer Mouse in the World. The woman must have stolen it.

'To get some balls of course!'

Silence hung between the two. Even the rain stopped. The overcoated man wondered if the man on his damaged gyro-ball could use the mouse ball as a replacement. Then he realised something heavy was going down - And he was right in the middle of it.

'I'll come back later...' He muttered, and jumped down a nearby oopen manhole, splashing into raw sewage.

[AI]

"How did you..." She began, but he simply nodded at her shoulder. She ran her fingers over it, and realised it was bleeding. She'd been cut so many times... Especially in recent times, and so infuriated, that she hadn't really noticed. "Ah."

"It's heady stuff, you really want to keep it to yourself..." His lips curled up into a wicked smile. "... Or you might lose it."

She slapped him, without even thinking about it. She didn't need to think about it. Blood was precious in Antecia, and there were only two places it belonged - Out on the snow kissed batte field or sercure in a temple.

"It's marked." She snarled, then turned away. Picking up her pace and hoping he didn't follow. It was too much to ask, as ever.

To think, she'd given up part of her cloak for this man. It saddened her slightly that she'd wasted it so, she was rather fond of it... She would occasionally wear one of the like in her homelands. Out near the frozen wastes, where the winds were so bitter they could chill even the most hardy Antecian to the bone and if you weren't careful, freeze you to the spot.

"What's wrong?" He asked, rubbing his cheek.

"I want to be alone." She stated simply. "Go back to Charge."

* * *

"Very clever." He said, simply, resting his fencing mask, currently clamped between his arm and his chest, to the ground. "I can remember very little from my past life, but I do remember how skilled they were at persuing their chosen quarry. It was almost fanatical."

"You haven't even begun to see fanatical from me yet!" She snapped back. "Or would you like me to refresh your memory on just how much Equalizer weapons hurt and sting?!"

He sighed, and rocked back on his gyro-ball. Regarding the over-sized mouseball as it rolled away like an absent minded tumbleweed... Until it came to rest in the open manhole, trapping the gentleman inside.

"It is true I don't remember much of my past life, but I do remember that I was a bad man. A terrorist, a liar, a traitor, murderer, coward... You are right on all these counts. But don't you see, don't you see? This is my second chance. I have been reborn, born into a new world! With a clean slate! A slate I can fill with good deeds... A chance to give something back." He shook his head, fumbling in his suit to find something. "I know you won't believe me, but I want to make something good of my life. I've gathered together people like us... Super heroes, people who want to make a difference, free from Wescorp controls!"

He threw a card to the ground between them. It read 'Rainbow Warriors', dipicting six super heroes, some of them Equalizer had seen on the roof with him, standing in front of a rainbow of colours. The two stared at it for what seemed like hours, before Kered continued.

"Perhaps one day, you will even see fit to join us. But for now, I ask just one thing..." He looked at her with pleading eyes. "... Please, allow me this one small act of kindess. Allow me to help this city, in the way that you have been."

[Anonomuss]

Arisiel saw the approaching and varied media and approaching and felt it best he made himself scarce. Light flowed around him and he blended into his background. He felt it better to keep himself unkown and travel about, revealing himself only to those in need, or should he be in need himself. He headed down an adjoining corridor and a flight of stairs. He found an intact piece of furniture to sit himself down upon and promply did. Lifting his swords to his knee he examined them. They were stained in places with oil, which he wiped off. The blades remained balanced and hummed slightly while swung.He sheathed them in a scabbard across his back, between his broken wings. He was unsure as to what was bothering The friends of Ronin and Icicle. They certainly seemed extrordinary. He felt it out of place for him to ask and then to leave. he wouldn't have stayed round the media long in anycase. He didn't like technology, or rather it didn't like him. On camera he showed up on photographs as a bright shaft of light if viewed indirectly. If pictured directly, it was better not to linger on the fate of the camera. The effect was even more pronounced upon digital cameras. Their screens cracked and the plastic cases simply melted, the innards having beaten them to it. He was here to help people not causing them difficulty. he rose and walked towards a window. The crowds seemed occupied. He lept out the window and landed with a catfall, and he began to walk away. One unlucky cameraman was unlucky enough to attempt to take a photo of him. He went to press the 'capture' button, but it wasn't there.

Ari, thought about the mysterious group of warriors, fighting against the forces of evil without incentive nor reward. Perhaps there was a way to redeem himself without being so secretive. He looked to the left and out of the city. He looked right towards the destroyed and yet saved city. Arisiel didn't rise. Repentia rose and marched determinedly back towards the Radio building.

[VO]

It seemed like she'd been asleep for months. Just a few moments, she'd thought, I just need to rest my eyes. She'd slipped onto her bed as soon as the all-clear message was broadcast throughout the building and her perfectly-curled lashes had pushed together and zipped up tight. She was tired. Oh god, so tired.

Riona looked every bit as beautiful as ever as she sat up, leaving only faint creases on the linen. It was a sight that men across the country dreamt about, those prefect red tresses just slightly askew, that generous bosum rose and fell, those slender limbs supporting her as those sea-green eyes blinked with just the right weighting of innocence.

She had not slept well.

The Television - why was that on, she thought, did I turn it on?- was tuned to the news channel. Apparently the city was saved. That was a relief, she thought, as she watched blurry home-video footage of costumed superheroes. She recognised some of them; others were no doubt just another face of the constantly changing rubic's cube that was the city's superhero scene. Was it like this everywhere she thought? Or were disasters just predisposed to affect Lutonopolis? She was interrupted, quite suddenly, by the throbbing of her skull.

He'd been there in the dreams again.

He. Suddenly, she was so certain it was a him. The thing. That broiling, latent evil prescence that had once seemed to be Sharpe and was always there when she dreamt had a sex. The concept horrified her, there was something, utterly revolting about the knowledge that wrenched parts of her deep in side. Riona dropped her still-pounding head into her hands. This was like a bad hangover, only ten thousand times worse, and on some kind of non-prescription drug. She stared at her legs for moments that seemed like minutes, screwing up her eyes as her mind unfolded itself, parts sliding back into their proper places.

"Jesus..." muttered Riona. "It's getting clearer."

She needed to speak to Jim.

[AI]

Doctor Destructo all but fell out of the full-length mirror, The Lumberjack and Wildpaw not far behind. He climbed to his feet, snapping several of his bones back into place and cursing the dark man under his breath. That would not happen again, he'd be more careful next time. Reflectia was the last to come out of the mirror, the violet-skinned mistress of the mirrors stepping gracefully from the looking glass and seeming to float across the floor as she floated through the dark, dark space between the worlds. If the Doctor felt fear, he may have been afraid - But he had all but killed his fears and anxeities a long, long time ago.

"I see you have returned."

His mouth dropped open, the ghost of his dead fear almost seizing him as the great, black and red robed figure in a towering hat that resembled a small temple more than it did any item of head-gear stood over him.

"My king." He said, rising to his knees. He had not seen the King for so long, so long... Not since he had locked him benath the Earth all those years ago.

"Get up and walk with me. The rest of you, to your duties." He commanded, crisply. The Doctor scrambled to his feet, and the two walked briskly through the bland, featureless corridors that filled the new complex. It was so easy to get lost here, every single part of it looked alike. But even though his lord had been away for far too long, he walked with confidence.

"You have won me back my robots, I see." His King commented.

"Well, hee hee... Those that haven't neem destroyed, of course."

"I'd rather they were destroyed than employed in Wescorp's service." He spat. "That was Wesley's folly, thinking he could blunt weapons of war to become domestic slaves. The city deserved to suffer for sharing in any part of it."

"Hee... Quite so!" Destructo gleaned, not adverse to any mild descrution. Or not so mild, now he thought of it.

"Hm, it still won't be enough, of course." The Chaos King frowned. "Nowhere near enough. I have been betrayed, Doctor. Betrayed, had my people vanish without a trace... And have had them murdered."

The last word hung heavy in the air, as heavy as the King's heart on the matter no doubt. The Doctor knew how much he cared for his black and blue bitch, even if he probably would have murdered her himself. And as for Blitzkreig, he was a good man from what the Doctor could remember - Which was very little. Remarkable little. He wouldn't mourn him, all the same, the Doctor didn't weep or grieve for anybody.

"Hm... Yes, yes, it is true we are scattered..." The Doctor began. "... Yet we rebuild, my King. Rebuild and become stronger every day..."

"But not strong enough." His King said pointed. "I have seen the new champions you have given to me - They are hardly worthy of the name. And you, yourself, it seems that you have all the prowess and discipline of a child!"

"Hee hee... Perhaps..."

"There is no perhaps. You were ambushed, and defeated. And ran back to here, with your tale lodged firmly between your legs. And this is not the first time." Something about his King's tone would have made the Doctor uneasy, but it just so happens that he'd killed his own unease too. "I am no King of Chaos, Doctor. I am a King of crooks, felons, fools and machines - Though perhaps that can change..."

"Well, if my King wants to rule Chaos, hee hee, he need only have asked!" Destructo announced, with manic glee.

"I need more of your chaos like I need another layer to this hat." He glowered. "I will become King of Chaos, though, my good Doctor, Though it's not for you to worry about how. My deal with the devil can wait, there are more pressing concerns to be dealt with."

"Hm, pressing? Yes, yes, like what city we are going to loose all those magnificent killing machines on next.. hee hee..."

"No, Doctor." The Chaos King came to a halt in front of a pair of double doors, as thick as they were imposing. "This is a matter of adequate leadership, something I shall be without for not much longer..."

He threw the doors open, to reveal a cold, clinical room that sent chills down even the Doctor's spine. The walls were a sickly green that offended the eye, the floor plated in great slabs of rivited steel. In the centre was a console, with a single balding scientist, with whisps of grey hair being his scalps only refuge, standing in heavy black boots, kissed by the pristine-white of a labcoat with matching gloves and goggles protecting him from any percived harm, not that the Doctor could see anything particularlly dangerous... Aside from the tank that rested just in front of it.

It jutted out from the ground as if it had been part of blutprints for the room, wires winding out from the console and snaking to a small monitor that sat just beside it, with what didn't go into the small box rigged up to the contents of the tube. She hung there, weightless, a full grown woman with only wiring and a ventilation mask here only clothing. She was near bald, with the only hint of hair being the short black stubs that grew from her head like sandpaper. But the Doctor knew, he just knew. Those facial features, the perfectly shaped almond eyes, currently closed to the world but so wicked when open, the perfectly toned body and pale complexion... She was flawless. The Doctor would have been happy to say that he had never seen a more perfect example of womanhood - But he had. So long ago. And she was dead now.

He took a step back, and would have taken many more, had his King not placed a hand on his shoulder.

"My good Doctor..." He began, with a wry smile. "... Allow me to introduce you to your replacement, Miss Grey Aura."

[SW Freak]

Sighing, Ronin said, "I cannot do that, Illioto." His voice was so deadpan that Icicle had to turn to look at him. "I will not allow you to go and get yourself killed by any enemies that may still be out there. I am coming with you, Illioto, wheter you like it or not."

The expressionless quality of his own voice shocked Ronin. It shocked and terrified him that he could still cut himself off from emotion as smoothly as he had done before he had a past. But what he needed right now was to be free of emotion. With them, the likelyhood would be that he would finally yell his frustration at everything at Illioto, and she didn't deserve it, not when she was the cause of none of it and had been so kind to him. No, he couldn't allow that. She was on a delicate balance at the moment, and he couldn't risk driving her away. Without even realising, the vampire fooled himself into thinking he simply didn't want that because she was a member of the SSR, and thus was important to the cause. The truth, that, even in the short time he had known her, he had grown attached to her, wouldn't help anyone now.

"I fail to see any enemies on the streets, Ronin. And surely a woman has a right, even in this backwards land, to walk where she pleases." She sighed despite herself. "However, if you're worried that I'm going to shatter my frail little bones like the poor, defenseless girl you obviously take me for, then fine. If you don't trust me to walk alone, then take me back home like a scalded child, if that will make you feel better."

Ronin pinched the bridge of his nose, eyes closed. He suddenly felt weary. Too weary to bother with her any more. He had tried to be helpful, and, perhaps understandably, she had snubbed him. It didn't matter any more. The moment was gone, and he was free to feel again. Yet all he felt was a dull dread, though of what he did not know.

"Fine, Illi. Fine. You're right. I don't have the right to stop you. Just be careful. Just..." He sighed again. "Forget it. Goodbye Illioto. Thanks for the bandage."

He turned and trudged back towards the tower. All he wanted to do was rest, take a moment to assemble his thoughts. His sister had seemingly returned from the dead, Equilizer had vanished, Kori was probably dead...It was all too much. He just had to sort his mind out. But first he made a stop at the local tailors' and purchased a ream of likely looking material. He couldn't remember the journey home, apart from that it was uneventful, and was asleep before he had hit the sofa. He dreamt of life and love lost.

[Nyerguds]

Charge found himself alone in the room with Doom Racer, the rest of the team having taken off just like that.
"Gruddammit, what am I doing wrong?" Charge muttered.
"Eh, shoulda just slapped the bitches." Doom Racer said, obviously joking.
"Heh. You know what's worse?" Charge said as they walked towards the exit of the building.
"Hm?" Doom Racer asked.
"You might actually be right."

The door. Grudd how he hated that. He knew what would happen when he went through it. The media attention hitting them (and mostly him) with a force more lethal than Destructo's blasters at point blank range. But he knew the media was an essential part of the survival of the Secret Reserve... Ironic though, how the very fact it wasn't secret at all kept it alive.

He sighed, and opened the doors, expecting camera flashes and obnoxious reporters.

Instead, all he got was a load of reporters standing in the rain panicking while looking at their melting camera's, and all facing the other way, where a bright figure walked towards them.

"That guy again?" Charge frowned. "Why the hell is he attacking those cameras?"

He ran towards Arisiel. "Hey! What do you think you're doing? Stop that!"
The fallen angel looked around, apparently only now realizing the immense damage he was causing. "Oh... I'm sorry. I just have that effect on cameras. I just don't look good on photos."
Charge paused. No matter how hard he scanned, the man was not emitting any kind of energy, except for a faint glow he identified as either the same or the exact opposite of what he had sensed on Ronin. But not even that seemed to be directed at the electronic equipment that was randomly exploding, sparking an melting in the hands of the media people. As far as he could sense, the cameras just collectively decided to commit suicide because they happened to be facing the man.
"You mean you're not doing this on purpose?" Charge asked.
"No. Technological equipment just doesn't like me." Arisiel replied.
"What's your name?" Charge asked.
"Repentia." Arisiel answered.

Charge turned towards the media people. "I'm very sorry about this, it is not our fault. This gentleman calls himself Repentia, and he has helped our team while we were defeating the villain who calls himself Doctor Destructo. Aparently, Destructo is the one responsible for reprogramming the public service robots. Mister Repentia here has told me he has a rather awkward effect on your technological equipment, but doesn't seem to be doing it on purpose. I suggest not trying to take video footage of him until we figure out a way to solve this minor inconvenience. That is all. Be safe!"

With that, the three men ran off into the rain, Doom racer leading the way.

"Minor inconvenience huh." Doom Racer grinned. "I think their TV stations might disagree, especially after seeing the bills."
"It's the risk of their job." Charge replied, not caring a bit. "They know freaky things can happen. Anyway, where'd you leave her?"

***

Sirens whined in the background. This city block hadn't suffered too much, but apparently there had been a few heavy-duty drilling bots around.

"So, this is the spot?" Charge said.
"Think so yeah." Doom Racer replied. "Was around here somewhere."

Charge looked around in the deserted buildings.
"Well, there doesn't seem to be much around here..."
"Oh, hey!" Doom racer said. "That was the spot!"

Charge looked at the alley Doom Racer was pointing at. There was nothing to be seen except two huge holes in the wall.

"Well, those holes weren't there yet." Doom Racer added.

Charge looked in the hole. There was no sign of anything or anyone else knocked inside with the wall. No blood, no body. He was a bit relieved, since it meant she at least managed to dodge one attack. But that didn't mean she was safe.

They looked up as an ambulance stopped at the other end of the alley.

"Why is it stopping?" Charge said.
"There is something lying in front of it." Repentia said. "It seems to be one of these drones."

They hurried towards the ambulance. Charge quickly used his magnetic powers to move the DAMAGE bot out of the way.

"Hey, look at that." Doom Racer said, pointing at the robot. "It's all sliced up."

[AI]

He'd just got in when the phone started to ring. Which was bloody typical, and he had half a mind to let it ring - But he knew he couldn't afford to. Not now, not when so much could hindge on so little. It sounded mellodramatic, sure, but it was true. He stumbled over to his desk, and he answered the phone.

"Hello, you've reached the office of God almighty - How may I help you?" He replied sourly.

"Jim?"

"Jesus H..." He gaped, the phone almost slipping from his grasp. "Riona?"

"Jim, I had a dream... I can't explain right now, but I know..."

"What do you know? What's happened. Jesus, Jesus, JESUS!" Jim Castro removed the phone from his ear, and held it with his hand over the reciever for a few seconds whilst he regained his composure. It had been a long, fruitless night, and if the broad of every mans dreams had a lead, it'd help. "Listen, Riona. It's not safe to talk here."

"Why, do the walls have ears?" She sighed sadonically. He had to smile, even at this hour her wit was as sharp as ever.

"The walls, the ceilings - Hell, even the ears could have ears at this point. I'm not ruling out anything. But I need you here, I need to know what you know and I need to run a few tests..."

"You said everything was clear..."

"It was. Doesn't mean it still is. Listen, just meet me here. Tonight, tomorrow - Anytime you like, just make it soon, ok?"

"Here? Where the hell is here?!"

"Jesus H Blasco, will you calm down woman?!" He closed his eyes and muttered something about 'stupid broads' before continuing. "My office, my old office that is. I left you the address with the number. Meet me here, then we'll talk. In the meantime, don't mention this to anybody else - Not until we know what we're dealing with. In fact, might be best to just avoid everyone full stop. Castro out."

He put the phone down. He didn't mean to hang up, but she'd only ask a torrent of questions which he wasn't prepared to answer. Not yet, at least. He collapsed into the chair behind his desk and poured himself a stiff drink. Spinning around, he fingered the volumes on his bookshelf before pulling out a hardback, leatherbound number that contained more dust than the rings of Saturn.

It was going to be a long night.

* * *

The streets of Lutonopolis were a cold, loney place to be at night. Especially on a night like this. She didn't fear the sky, after all, she wasn't the one the Gods were punishing - But they still dampened her mood, Carried an ominous sense of dread, that seemed to tain everything it touched. Still, at least it was dimming now... And at least the sky wasn't still caving in on them.

She'd watched snippets of reports as she walked along, the paving stones and tarmac still drenched from the nights storm. And so was she, now that she thought about it. She wasn't cold, that was impossible, but she still felt exposed. She'd treated her wounds as best she could, but with nothing to bind them with, they were exposed to the elements and causing her a great deal of undue pain that she didn't really need right now. Still, her internal chaos was nothing compared to the depths of which the world had been plunged into. Right across the world they'd fell. Wrecking havoc wherever they landed. Fires, buildings flattened, whole cities ground to a halt - And she had a feeling this was only the begining. It meant something, and she'd like to say she didn't know what... But she did. It was the wrath of the Gods.

"Well, well, what d'we have here?" She glanced up, a young man in a baseball cap. She thought nothing of it and pushed past him, and his hooded friend, but he grabbed hold of her wounded arm, causing her to wretch in pain. "Looks like one of those so called super heroes..."

"Y'mean the ones that were supposed to be protecting us, Chaz?"

"S'right, looks like you haven't been doing your job, luv..." He sneered, pulling her so close to him that she could smell the beer and cheap, processed take-away on his breath. "Maybe you need to consider a new line of employment... What d'ya think Ty?"

"Reckon I got one in mind." He made for the back of her costume, but she darted out of the way just in time, twisting her arm even further in the process.

"You're making... A big mistake..." She grunted. "And all it's going to get you... Is Cold Comfort!"

She twisted her hand around at the wrist, generating enough ice to spook the man holding her, though not freeze his face clean off. Although it had to be said, the latter was a tempting option. She sprang to her feet, just in time for the hooded hoodlum to attempt to knock her off them. She swifly ducked, taking advantage of his lack of balence and sweeping him off his feet in the process. Rising to her feet again, she caught a glimpse of the over man scrambling to his and making a run for it.

"You just had to pick tonight to fool around, didn't you?" She muttered, forming a globe of solid ice in her good hand, just the right size to throw at the back of the retreating man. She watched it shatter against the back of his neck, then watched him collapse to the floor soon after.

She strolled over to him, sure to implant her boot into the small of the hooded man as she went by, nudging his prone form with the tip of her foot and then removing his coat and cap.

"Thanks." She said, tipping his own cap to his unconcious form. "I was starting to feel a chill."

With Equaliser nowhere to be seen, and Ronin having vanished a long time ago, she decided to make her way back to SSR HQ. Hoping that by now, everyone would be asleep and that she could do the same uninterupted

[VO]

Riona tipped the driver hansomely and stepped out of her taxi onto a chill november pavement. She instinctively drew the expensive fur coat around her, but shivered all the same. Dry leaves gusted around her feet. The sky was clear and empty - no moon - only the callous pinpricks of stars glared down at her.

Was this the place? She glanced down at the faded business card. Philidelphia Towers. A grimy council estate in the maw of central Lutonopolis, long run down and boarded up, too downmarket even for teenagers and drug addicts to frequent. A triumvirate of concrete dormitories, ruinous and squalid, empty - like something from the old Soviet Union. Paint peeled and windows gaped broken and dark. Flyposters advertising shady events from the late '80s plastered the ground floor walls. The glow of the city's light industry - cheap and churning at all hours - buzzed just on the horizon, taking the workload off flickering steetlamps.

"You O.K. miss?" The cabbie leered from his rolled-down window. "Ain't really the kinda place for a young woman like you, round here."

"Yes, thank you." She just wanted to find Jim now. The card advertised Jim as being a resident of the nearest, shabbiest block - Einstein House. A long time ago the name had hung proudly over the entrance in marble-white lettering - now half the uppercase shapes were missing, like a jawline in desperate need of a dentist. The cab began to move away, and she walked into the mouth of the building. The doors had once been chained up, but rust and someone with a crowbar, had got there first. She could see arc tracks in the autumn detritus infront, where they had been opened. The handle was cold metal and she fumbled with it for a moment before wrenching the glass door open and stepping into the entranceway. Two elevators stood on one side of the hallway-cum-lobby, nondescript doors on the other, each padlocked, and a stairwell on the far end, lit by the night. It was almost too dark to see.

“Bloody hell,” swore Riona. How was she going to find Jim in here?

She stood very still for a moment, in total silence. She could hear the sounds of the building as it shifted in its forty-year old foundations, two score floors of concrete and metal weighing down into the ground. A generator hummed somewhere, far away. Cars honked and called in their engine-voices on the main roads of the city. A skittery papery insect batted itself against the glass doorway. She half-imagined she could hear breathing, a heavy, irregular rasping, and a second, separate songlike exhalation with a tempo two or three times as fast. Her limbs, muscles, tendons turned to ice, and her heart beat red-hot and frantic in her chest.

“****” Riona steeled herself and took a step forward. Her heels clacked against the floor. Only a few feet in, and it was almost too dark to see. She reached one hand out to guide herself on the wall, and wished she didn’t. It was clammy- years of mildew and spiders webs and seeping damp and rotting wallpaper peeled and came away at her touch.

There was no way she was going to find Jim in this.

Arrufff.

She froze. What was that? There was a patter of footfalls on the stairs, too rapid and light to be human. The door creaked, and something pushed its way through, something low to the ground and rapid. It moved towards her, shape impossible to tell, but feral, animalistic. There was nowhere to run, no time but she stepped back anyway, and then the light came on, a bright brilliant beam that illuminated her from its source on the ground. There was a dog in front of her, a hairy mongrel with a torchlight clenched between its canine jaws.

Did Jim have a dog? Riona had no idea. She thought he’d mentioned it once, maybe…something with a stupid name, The Janitor, or The Gaffer or something. Normally Riona would have decided against it – the paranormal detective didn’t really seem like a dog person. But evidenced with this – this mutt with a lantern – in the most unlikely of places, well, she’d have given serious thought to the possibility of Jim having a pet chinchilla if it had brought her a light. She crouched down on her haunches and looked at the dog. It dropped the torch, and she picked it up, tentatively. The rubber grip was warm and wet with dog-spittle but she controlled her revulsion.

“Do you know Jim?” she felt more than slightly stupid, talking to a dog like this.

The hound wagged it’s tail – not enthusiastically, but just enough windscreen-wiper replication to acknowledge her. It looked at her with a visage that seemed almost human – not that it’s expression was filled to the brim with broiling emotion, but more that the dog seemed to be eying her up.

Riona ignored this. “Can you take me to him?” After a moment of thought, she added “Good dog”


Thirteen floors up, and the smell of human urine had faded enough to be replaced by the overwhelming aroma of tobacco. Someone smoked a lot up here. The dog lead the way and she followed, flashing the torch’s beam infront of her and revealing landing after landing of padlocked doors, spent syringes and all the assorted detritus of humankind. They peeled off here, and her furry guide trotted off down a corridor with more doorways doorways on each side. This level wasn’t exactly clean, but it was tidier than the rest – someone had swept away the worst of the litter and dumped it off the lip of the landing so it piled half a floor below. It was dark, almost as much as below, aside from the pale corona of light that shone through the door at the end of the corridor, casting circles on the grotty ceiling. Unlike the other entrances, the featureless front-doors of the individual flats had been replaced here by one with a frosted glass window. There were letters engraved in the glass.

JIM CASTRO
PARANORMAL INVESTIGATOR

This was not quite how she’d imagined his office to be. A desk dominated the room, pushing the filing cabinets and bookshelves and a metallic waste paper bin towards the walls. There were papers – thousands of papers, but stacked neatly and wrapped with rubber bands. Some of these were weighed down with paraphernalia – Ouija boards, pendants, dowsing rods and scattered tarot cards, a telephone, a bowl where a fat goldfish circled lazily. A hairy sack – obviously the dog’s bed – lay crumpled in one corner of the room, and in another a potted fern had died. A door lead off from each side, where space allowed between furniture. The desk was covered in papers and open books, upon one of which a pen slowly bled viscous black ink. In the centre sat Jim, eyes closed and half asleep the a lit cigar trailing from his mouth providing the only source of light in the room, save the glow of the embers in the ashtray by his right hand.

He looked up.

Jim looked wasted, ten years older or more. Skin clung to the bones of his face as if the stubble was all that nailed it to his chin. In this light his hair seemed more gray than black, and his eyes were shot with veins. His shirt was creased, and had obviously been worn for several days. There was an almost empty bottle and a dirty glass infront of him. He smelt of booze.

“Riona,” said Jim. His expression was grim.

[AI]

"Honestly? I didn't expect you this early." He said, rolling back from his desk and fishing through the draws. He withdrew a bottle simular to the one on his desk and, much to Riona's surprise, unscrewed the top and poured half the contents into a nearby dog bowl. "You didn't pet him, did you?"

"Um... No, I didn't..."

"Good. I can't stand it when people do that." He glanced down at the glass on his desk, frowned and then knocked the bottle back. "I went back to the club today..."

He said, wiping his mouth.

"The Club? You mean VOES?"

"Heh, got it in one. You know what I found?" He leaned forward, as close to her as the desk would allow. "Nothing. Only not just nothing. The whole place, derlict. Abandoned. I had to break into the damned place, and when I got in - Like I said, nothing. No bar. No stools. None of those damned Octopi. It wasn't just empty, Riona - There were layers of dust there that looked as if they were decades old."

He leaned back, expecting a reply that never came. He glanced at the bottle again, and then poured a few drops into the fishtank.

"Heh, see, I love this... This is us, Riona. Swimming around, aimlessly, around and around in circles - The very air we breathe drugged. I'm intoxicated, but not in the tradiational sense - There's something I'm not seeing, something that's not falling into place..." He watched the fish for awhile, as it became ever more sluggish and disorientated, grazing the side of the tank on several occasions and even bumping into it at one point. "... And it's all her fault. She gathered us there for a reason, I'm sure of it now. You, me, hell, even Count Chanula back at the HQ - We're all tied into this somehow, I just don't know how yet.... But I'll find out. Those gifts were meant to be more than just trinkets... She saw this coming."

"Wait... The woman from the club, you think she knew about him?"

"Heh, yeah. And I intend to... Wait, did you say him?" He paused for a moment, placing the bottle down and stubbing out his cigar. "Jesus H. Blasco... Take a seat, I think you need to tell me what the hell's going on here."

[VO]

Jim’s office was cold. High above the city, the wind rattled windows and the paranormal detective exhaled smoke from the cigar. Riona crossed and uncrossed her legs uneasily. She fiddled with a strand of her red hair.

“Dreams” prompted Jim. “You wanted to talk about dreams.”

“Yes I… Jim, have you ever had a dream, and you know it was real? Because I… the Thing… Jim, I dreamt about it, and I know that it’s getting stronger. It’s more… defined now, Jim, it’s a He. And it’s evil Jim, I can feel it… pure, unrefined, volatile…prime evil… it’s old and feral, Jim, something arcane…”

Jim grimaced. “Well, that’s a lead, at least. Something to look up in the A-Z of Ancient Evil. Did you get anything else? It’s National Insurance number would be a good start.”

“Not really, it’s just… well, it’s like it’s watching me…”

“Paranormal Stalker from Hell? Maybe you need some Holy Water Self Defence spray…”

“I don’t know… Jim, I really” The girl was obviously worried “…Jim, I’m scared and I want to know what’s going on.”

[AI]

"Heh. I wish I knew." He said, rolling his chair into his bookcase and then around to face her. "I know you're going to think I'm talking bull****, after all, me not knowing something is like manure from a porcelain cow - But right now, all I got is that there's this big, extra-dimensional bastard out there giving the paranormal community a serious headache - And that it's gotta be stopped before it... Heh, he rather, does an Athene on us all."

"It left me, though Jim. You saw it, it jumped straight into Sharpe..."

"Nothing's ever that simple in this line of work. It touched you. And it might not have left anything behind physically, or even left behind anything harmful - But you're marked."

"Marked?"

"Uh-Huh... Think of it like a smudge on a TV screen that you just can't get off. Annoying, ever present and trying to wipe it clean would probably only make it worse - But harmless, really."

"So it's left a dirty great finger print on my brain?"

"Heh, pretty much. Going by past experiance with big nasties... You escaped. Things like that don't like it when what they want slips through their fingers..."

"Oh God..." She gaped. "Are... You're not saying he wants... Me?"

"Wouldn't it be a classic case of beauty and the beast?" He saw the look on her face and shook his head. "Sorry, bad taste. Look, I'm only theorising here..."

"This is all your fault!" She suddenly snapped. "You and your stupid coin!"

"Oh Jesus H. Blasco and all of his merry disciplies, will you calm..."

"You're the 'Paranormal Expert'! All those silly little trinkets, all that pointless bravado - Every single bloody book on that shelf of yours, and you didn't even have an inkling what was inside that... That... THING?!"

"Honestly? Even if I did, which I didn't if that's what you want to hear, I wouldn't have thought that somebody would be so... So utterly brain dead to use it as a flamin' battery! I screwed up. But it might surprise you to learn that I'm only human."

"Jesus... Jim, I'm... I'm sorry." She said, resting her head in her hands. "It's just so hard... You don't understand, it just feels..."

"It's alright." He said, standing up and putting an arm around her. He lightly propped her chin up with fingers. "Listen, kid. There's a whole world out there, a world full of lying, cheating, lowdown, dirty, rotten scumbags that'd rip your head off soon as look at you. And believe me, it's going to get a lot worse before it gets better. I don't know what he is. I've gone through every book, chased up every contact, done everything I can and more - And all I know is what I started out with. From now on, he's imprinted on all our brains - And God knows, if we don't stop him now... This city, maybe even the world, is never going to be the same."

He fished in his pockets for a moment, pulling out the tattered, worn down card he'd found in Club Voes.

"When I said I'd found nothing in the Club, well, that was a bit of a fib. I found this on the floor. God knows what it means..." He placed it in her palm. "But it does mean that she was there. And that if anybody can shed a little light on all this, it's Madame Octopus."

"You think there's some relation?" She asked, already knowing the answer.

"Heh, course. Just a matter of finding her and beating the truth out of her if I need too..." He looked down at her and smiled weakly. "No offense, sweetheart, but you look a mess. Want a ride home?"

[CKW]

It had been a long day. A long, improductive and frustrating daily task. Doom Racer laid in his bed,shabby stubble and uncombed hair denoted his exhaustion, a lost stare as if somehow could see through the thick concrete celing up into the skies. He sighed, mentally reviewing images of the last hours. The robot madness. The vat-grown idiot. Stapler. The chopper crash. Charge mad at losing someone. Playing fox-and-hound unsucessfully.

He slowly rised his torso, staying in a sitting position, his right hand scratching the back of his tensed neck as a reflex act. It itched. Charge itched. He was the almighty leader, but... even a leader had to be prepared for casualties. A thing Doom Racer had assimilated, since he had been a soldier, but the sparky man failed to do. A leader had to assume some people make foolish mistakes. That some people die. That, when under all the unfavourable circumstances, grievous decisions should be made. They had lost the trail of the girl. It didn't matter whether she was alive or dead. The events of today had stated clear there were bigger fishes to fry.

And only in the last moment Charge had resigned to it. But not after an overexhausting search with few clues and several out-of-place traces. And one knife. One army knife. That didn't belong to anyone who we knew.

Alas, this was not the Detective Agency united. This was the SSR. John stood up. He had his share of rest now. Now he desired his share of vices. He took his civilian clothes, his trademark "Doom 4 you" jacket, and his trusty cigarrette box, wich he tapped into one of his pockets. He strolled past the door, crudely combing his hair with the hand, and ignoring the "NON SMOKING" big red signal, lit a cigar in the corridor, while walking towards the exit door.

Smoke and Booze. He needed the two.

But as soon as he pushed the door's handle, something made him stop for a while, and think of something else than vices.

Illioto. The Ice girl.

"Illioto." He repeated, his thoughts being voiced by inertia.

[Wesforce]

The doors slid open, and all eyes were at once turned to the entering figures. Relief and a bit of fear shone on the faces of the present SSR members at the sight of the first one in her dirty silver leotard, and the members got into fighting stances at the sight of the second, rolling in on his rickety gyro-ball.

'Equalizer!' Exclaimed Illi. She took a few steps forward, and then stopped. Equalizer seemed to compose herself, as if being unused to her surroundings. Then she hugged Illi, who was wearing an ill-fitting and foul-smelling coat, and a burberry baseball cap.

'Hey. You're okay.'

'And so are you. Equalizer, who is-'

'Kered. Kered the Damned.'

'If that is the name by which you wish to refer to me, so be it. But I-'

'Can it.' Snapped Charge. 'What business do you have here?'

'I have a proposition for you.'

'I'm all ears.' Charge said, and Equalizer walked off - She'd already heard it before. Kered wished to repent - Not that he thought he'd sone anything wrong - and join the SSR. Equalizer hadn't exactly warmed to the idea, but the bastard had convinced her to give him a chance. She washed her hands of the responsibility, and went for a show and a change, and checked out her private WesCom.

There was one message, from Joe. He was out of hospital, back trying to restart his band, but it was clear he was becoming frustrated. Rambling and incoherent. Equalizer's heart ached. This was so much different from the Joe she knew and loved. She'd neglected him for her SSR duties. She vowed to go and see him as soon as she could... Just as soon as things were okay here.

Illi walked into the room with some tea. Ice-tea, Equalizer noted with a quirk of a smile.

'So, Icicle, what'd I miss? And maybe you'd like to explain that ridiculous hat...'

[AI]

"Some guys thought I was cold and... Uh... Were kind enough to give them to me." She placed the tray with the ice tea down on a nearby table. "Why, don't you like it?"

"It's abysmal."

"Oh." She took it off and dropped it into Equalizer's garbarge disposal unit. Currently out of order dew to the DAMAGE invasion, like much of the tower's facilities. Indeed, most of the cities. It was almost in complete blackout, with the SSR Tower running on back up generators that Maverick had discovered and hooked into at short notice. "It made my head itch anyway."

The coat she'd gained had long since been discarded in her own room, she felt that all it needed was a good wash and it could come in handy. She'd taken the oppertunity to get changed and treat her wounds the best she could, they didn't look anywhere near as bad as they felt.

"Where were you? You all left me on my own, and... If Ronin hadn't have been there, I dunno what would have happened!"

"You got attacked?!" Equaliser exclaimed. "Are you hurt?"

"Just a pretty nasty cut on my shoulder and a few unfortunate cuts and bruises elsewhere."

"Let me look."

"Equalizer... I don't think... I mean, it's fine..." When she saw the uncompromising look in her eyes, she sighed and shrugged her shirt off one shoulder. "It's nothing, really."

"Yeah... Are you sure you only got hit on..." She asked, noticing the faint outline of something else lower down her arm. She took it and rolled up the sleeve before the ice princess knew what had quite happened, she suddenly had an arm criss-crossed with scars exposed to the world. "Actually, forget the hat - Maybe you'd like to explain these instead."

"They're nothing." She snapped, rolling up her sleeve and turning her back to her fellow super heroine. "Relics from the past, that's all."

"Some of them look pretty recent..."

"The past has a habit of stalking you." She replied simply, effectively giving her the cold shoulder and cutting off any further conversation on the issue with a swift. "What about you? Are you ok... That man... You look... Upset."

"Whatever happens with Kered is out of my hands. There's somebody else though... What you just said is pretty close to the mark, really."

"Is it serious?" She said, settling down next to her.

"Just something I should have saw too awhile ago, nothing to get your cape ruffled over."

"It's a cloak, actually." She retorted. "But listen... If you... I know that I... If you need help. I'm here. Even if you're just going to some guys house and want me to sit in the automated llama or stand outside the house for support, I'll... Help."

[CKW]

"Just another hellish day in this line of work" Doom Racer shrugged, while walking down the corridor. Before that guy, Karen, or Keren,whatever, he could have used some booze to drown the cummule of trash and failures this day had been. And by the looks of Equaliser, who was peeking outside her room, watching Illiotto leaving... he figured she'd felt like the same.Oh well.

"I assume you were the one who did that?" He pointed at the opposite direction, where Kered had been left with Charge. "Good fishing there." He cheered.And then stopped, delighting himself in sampling his cigarrette.

"I'm outa this hole for a drink,wanna join? I'll pay." He said to the sonic superheroine, stretching his trademark "Doom 4 you" jacket. "I've heard of a new place, it has good beverages, called Dark something...Whaddya say?"

[Nyerguds]

Murat sighed, as he sat down on his bed. It'd been a long day. Far too long. But the crisis was finally over, and he was just happy to sit down for now.

At least Kori was safe... there'd been a call from the hospital. Apparently she had gotten lightly wounded after saving an ambulance from a DAMAGE bot.
Grudd knows how she got the phone number connected to his SSR comm device... well at least she never told the people in the hospital whom they were calling.
He hadn't bothered to tell Doom Racer though. He'd been too fed up with his behaviour, and he was just glad it was all over.

He got out of the black suit. Samira was already asleep, or at least pretending to be. He still didn't know how she managed to convince the Wescorp people to let her sleep in the Tower, and got them to put a double bed in here.

Then again, she might just have taken advantage of the confusion and done it all herself.

Grudd, he loved that woman.

[AI]

The next morning, deep in the bowels of SSR HQ. Something stirred. Or to be more precise, whirred. Through a spiders-web of wires, Maverick came to life. He'd been forced to donate his own private power supply to the tower during the black out, and had been taking the oppertunity to recharge from the back of generators when the message came in. It wasn't directly too him of course, but he'd patched himself into all communications so he decided to take it anyway.

"Hello, this is the Secret Reserve Head Quaters, I believe?"

<You believe correctly. How may I help you?>

"A robot manning the phones? How queer. I'd have thought Wescorp would have learned from... Ah, previous mistakes."

<I'm more of an administrator and general organiser, really.>

"Yes, I see." The man on the other end of the line cleared his throat. "My name is Charles Warickson, as I'm sure you're aware, and I would like to employ the services of your... Ah, organisation."

<And you say a robot manning a phone is queer.>

"Hm. Quite." He said, mildly amused. "I'm making my first public appearance in... A considerable amont of years in a few days on The Mordern World, as you can imagine I would appreciate protection. And I have something that I would rather like our respective heroes to hear first hand... They may benifit."

<I doubt it. I'll pass it on to Charge. Don't call us, we'll call you.>

"It speaks in cliches, how amusing. I'll await your reply with bated breath."

<Jerk.> The robot muttered once he'd hung up, patching himself this time into the rooms of the SSR members and annoncing the following through whatever device he could...

<GOOD MORNING STARSHINES. THE WORLD SAYS HELLO. Just had an interesting phone call. Couldn't be bothered setting up a party line. I have a recording if anybody wants to hear it.>

* * *

Illioto, meanwhile, was walking aimlessly around the corridors of the SSR tower. She hadn't slept much last night, she'd had nightmares. Nightmares about blood red skies, towers lit up in flame like an inferno and robots. Such terrible, twisted robots it still made her squirm a little to think of them. She'd carried out her morning worship hours ago, and with little else to do had taken to exploring her new home.

She walked past one door that was still open, inside it looked like a burned out laboratory with four people who looked very much like they could be relations lying around in various states of conciousness. She paused for awhile, concerned that they might need help. They may have fell foul to the DAMAGES that had been rampaging around the tower whilst she'd been gone. There were signs of them everywhere, scourch marks on the walls, smashed up furniture, holes in the floor... Repairmen were booked to come in later in the day. But personally, she'd rather have been somewhere else. It didn't seem safe.

Just as she was about to go and help, one of the various machines that was still intact pinged like she'd heard a microwave do. A small cube was ejected from a slot in it, and fell into the hand of a lab-coated man.

"Aha! My amazing, ingenious DAMAGE-busting weapon is COMPLETE at LAST!" He leapt to his feet, raising the cube above his head in a gesture of absoulete trimph. The cube started to quiver and wobble in his hands, the hard outer shell cracking to reveal... "It's ALIVE!!!! AAAAAAAALIVE!!!!!!"

... A square chicken.

It chirped and pecked at it's creators ear with it's little rectangular beak. Icicle just moved on. Finding that nobody else was awake, or at least awake and out of their rooms, she decided to do what she should have done the moment she'd come in last night. She walked down the corridor to Ronin's room, tapped on the door and in a hushed whisper (partially hoping he wouldn't hear) uttered to the door...

"John? It's Illioto... I just.... Wanted..." She bit her words, forcing herself to say the last couple of words. "... To apologise."

Glad that was over, and not giving wanting to give the vampire the chance to stir, she turned and started to walk away.

[SW Freak]

"Illioto?"

She turned at the sound of his voice. He was struggling into a t-shirt as he emerged from the door, bare footed, his strange tattoo visible for a moment. He looked as though he hadn't slept, but, according to rumour, he didn't need to. Of course, according to the same fanboyish rumours, Ronin could take on Chuck Norris with both hands tied behind his back, so they, perhaps, had to be taken with a pinch of salt.

"Uh, hey. Um, I, uh, I mean...You don't have to apologise. I shouldn't have hastled you yesterday. We were all a bit on edge. And you're right; you don't need to be coddled. I mean, hell, I owe you one," he smiled wanly, waving his still-bandaged right hand.

The encounter was still fresh in his mind; he had taken the angel's hand in his own, and, within seconds, the flesh had been seared from his palm. It was healing, but the damage was so extensive that it would take longer than his injuries usually did to repair itself.

"Oh, hey, speaking of which."

He darted back into his rooms. Illioto raised an eyebrow curiously as he emerged again, a bundle of fabric in hands. He shook it out and then held it before him for Icicle to take. She could see that it was a cloak, soft and, while a bit unproffesional looking, almost as nice as her old one. She gave an involuntary gasp and took it from him.

"I got the stuff on my way home last night, and the sewing machine I borrowed from The Amazing Seamstress. It took me a few tries, and it's not perfect, but I hope it's good enough."

"Jonathon, I...this is...Thank you."

She kissed him, rather awkwardly, on the cheek. Ronin smiled again, a bit embaressed by the display of affection, and then took the cloak gently from her hands. He swung it behind her and clasped it around her neck. Then he stepped back, afraid he had offended. Illioto blushed and looked down.

"I have to go, I, um- goodbye. Thank you."

"Never a problem," Jonathon muttered to her retreating back.

He slid back into his dwelling, glad he had done it, gladder still that it was done and dusted. Why was it that he could go toe to toe with killer robots without a twinge of doubt, but it had taken all his courage to step into the hall?

[Nyerguds]

"<GOOD MORNING STARSHINES. THE WORLD SAYS HELLO.>"

Charge groaned. "Marv... I know you're all crazy about knowing absolutely everything lately, but now you're really getting delusions of grandeur."

"<Just had an interesting phone call. Couldn't be bothered setting up a party line. I have a recording if anybody wants to hear it.>"

Charge got out of bed, and looked at Samira.
"Don't mind him, honey. He's just a nosy robot."

He got dressed and went to the briefing room, wondering what on earth could have gotten Marv out of hibernation log enough to speak with them.

[Anonomuss]

Arisiel sat on his bed in a small bedroom he had 'borrowed' in the SSR headquarters. He didn't like it. It was small, plushy and artificial. His last few hours and days in Lutenopolis were hazy to him, while events decades ago were clear in his mind. It was just... new to him. The group of supernatural beings, robots and creatures of darkness was something he had never encountered before in his life. He had, in his short capacity as a financial consultant, heard vaugue hints of a secret force fighting evil, but nothing quite so strange as this. He suddenly started twitching, uncontrollably, and fell onto the floor before falling unconcious.

A group of threads hung in the middle of space, carrying some unseen burden of great weight. They began snapping one by one, as though being cut by a knife. The cutting stopped and they held, although straining visibly. A great sense of something magnificent but distant taking place could be felt. The remaining threads shattered like glass struck by something large and blunt.

Arisiel woke up. He was lying on the floor in darkness. he pulled himself to his feet, using the wall for support. He groped around in the dark for a light-switch, or a pull cord. His hand fell upon the handle for the door and he pulled it open. The light blinded him momentarily and he staggered back. Once he had recovered, he turned on the light in the room and closed the door. He sat back down on his bed and he tried to stop himself from shaking. Once he had fully recovered, he wandered out into the brightly lit hallway. He wandered on, nobody seemed to notice. Perhaps, he thought, there are so many strange things going on here, a person with wings isn't unusual. He stopped by a pair of double doors. Something seemed to resonate from behind them and he felt compelled inside. He opened the door and it became obvious to him him that it was some sort of conference room. He had once had to bring a glass of water into a room almost exactly like this for a particularily thirsty executive. Except instead of executives this time Charge was standing at the head of the long table.

[Nyerguds]

"You..." Charge said when the winged man entered the room.
He sat down. "I'm sorry, but you appear to be quite a serious problem. Do you realize you've forced the entire building's security system into an emergency shutdown?"

Arisiel looked baffled. "No, but..."

"This is one of the most hi-tech buildings in the entire city. All of that technology seems to react badly on you. There are, at this moment, at least two cameras registering you... or they would be, if not for the shutdown. Your intentions may be pure, but you're causing us a lot more troubles than you're worth..."
Charge sighed. "I'm very sorry, but I must ask you to leave. We depend on electronic equipment for our intelligence and security, and we need the media for our public image. We can't have someone in our team that destroys all of that just by being around."

[Anonomuss]

"No, but" Arisiel Stammered

"This is one of the most hi-tech buildings in the entire city. All of that technology seems to react badly on you. There are, at this moment, at least two cameras registering you... or they would be, if not for the shutdown. Your intentions may be pure, but you're causing us a lot more troubles than you're worth...I'm very sorry, but I must ask you to leave. We depend on electronic equipment for our intelligence and security, and we need the media for our public image. We can't have someone in our team that destroys all of that just by being around."Charge said. Arisiel didn't need to hear anymore. He'd heard nothing of the sort before but then again the last few days had been completely new to him. He still knew when he wasn't wanted.

Arisiel left the room by the most direct route available; the door. He passed by a dozen people on his way, heading in the opposite direction. He heard a cry of "Aha! My amazing, ingenious DAMAGE-busting weapon is COMPLETE at LAST!", but just kept moving on towards where he thought he remembered the exit was. He left the building and began to run, in no particular direction, but yet it seemed the most specific direction he could think of. he spread out his battered wings, and took off into the sky, wheeled twice and fell out of the sky into a small alleyway.

Lawrence Dobson, Journalist, was walking towards the SSR headquarters, to catch the almost-daily press release. He'd missed the last one, after they'd beaten off the crazy DAMAGE robots, and his boss had nearly gone bezerk. A shape tumbled out of the sky right in front of him as he cut down an alleyway, which cut a good 30 seconds off his route. He looked at it. It was a winged human, no an angel, not that he believed in rubbish like that. He'd heard about it, no, him, a new member of the SSR. Repentia or some such. For some reason there were no pictures to be found of him. Now at last he'd have a front page exclusive. He lifted his camera and took a few photos.

He dropped the folder full of pictures down on his editor's desk. The editor looked at the pictures. 'At last something we can use!' He said. 'Expect a pay-check this month Dobson'. He turned to his layout designer, 'Front page headlines tomorrow, SSR: FLYING OR FALLING WITH STYLE?, It'll be an instant bestseller.

[SW Freak]

John slipped out into the hall again, this time in his daytime gear; that was to say that from neck to ankle his heavy, buttoned up overcoat covered him, exposing only his boots and his gloved hands. Somewhere in recent years, damned if he could remember where, now, he had picked up a large, wide brimmed hat, which he wore now. The set up wasn't perfect, but if he stayed inside and didn't venture too close to the window's, he could survive. It wasn't comfortable, of course, and after a few hours his head began to ache almightily, but it worked. What with the shattered windows in his room right now, it was as good as anywhere. The darkened glass had been swept up from the floor, but it would take a while to get replacements in, he had been told. All in all, he'd rather be somewhere, trying to do something important than in his room, squinting in the glare.

He insinuated himself into the briefing room, nodded at Charge and skittered over to lean against the wall, out of the light. Whipping off his hat, he blinked tears out of his eyes and shook his head.

"Good morning."

"Says you," the vampire muttered in reply.

"You're not a morning person?" shot back Charge, smiling.

"Oh, to make a hollow laughing. You're looking uncharacteristically serious this morning, Charge. What could possibly make our fun loving leader so eager to joke?"

"Marv has a message for us."

"Yeah, so I heard. Sunshines, indeed! You listened to it yet?"

"Not yet. That Arisiel guy we picked up yesterday wandered in."

"Oh? What'd he have to say for himself?"

"Not a lot. I told him we really couldn't afford to keep him here."

"Damn straight. Little bastid. Alright, Maverick, what's this message?"

They listened for a moment. Ronin gave a little chuckle at Maverick's manner; he could completly understand. The twerp on the other end of the line set his teeth on edge for reasons he couldn't quite understand now. He sounded like the kind of man who Ronin used to do jobs for. Not directly, of course, one who always thought that the mercenaries never knew who they were, but it definitly reminded him of them.

"That's...interesting. Charge? What do you say? You know anything about this Warickson guy?"

[Nyerguds]

Charge frowned. "Charles Warrickson... he can't be serious. Something more's going on here."

"How so?" Ronin asked.

"Not only is he the owner and CEO of CKW Enterprises, Wescorp's biggest rival company... we also have clues that he might personally be linked to the attacks of the Chaos King."

"So, you're saying it's a trap?" Equalizer remarked casually.

"Pretty much, yes." Charge looked up to one of the camera's in the room. "Marv, what do you think?"

"I think Mr. Warrickson didn't like the idea of a robot answering the phone." Maverick said through some comm line.

Charge groaned. "...any USEFUL thoughts?"

"No, sorry." the robot replied.

"Right..." Charge said. "I want to get to the bottom of this. Marv, get him on the phone."

[AI]

Charles Warrickson settled down in his office for the first time in fifteen years. It felt remarkably refreshing. It was small and windowless, just as he'd always liked it. He found it comfortable, yet the close confines seemed to intimidate others - To each his own, he supposed. The disappearance of Miss Black, his personal assistant and stand in CEO for the company at large had been... A great personal loss, it had to be said. But business before pleasure, it wouldn't run it's self - Especially such delicate affairs.

Speaking of delicate affairs, the phone began to ring. Just on time. He smiled and picked up.

"Charles Warrickon's office, how may I help you?"

"Mr. Warrickson, this is Charge on behalf of the Secret Reserve."

"Ah yes, Charge. I arranged a business proposition for you earlier, as I believe you well know, have you come to a conclusion?"

"Just what kind of proposition are we talking about?"

"Protection, mainly. For a public appearance. I have been missing for a good many years, yet I still fear that even now the grudges of my enemies are as inflamed as ever. A pity, really. I feel that if I do need protection, I may as well hire the best. And you are the best, correct?"

"Well..."

"Good. I've had my appearance rescheduled to tomorrow, if you are willing to accept my proposal, for I will be more than willing to pay your company the standard fee for your services, we shall meet at Goliath Studios, Set 12, at six in the afternoon. If not... I will be gravely disappointed, for I have something I wish Lutonopolis' leading guardians to be present for."

"What kind of something?"

"Ah, now that would be telling." He smiled, and hung up. Seconds later, he picked the reciever back up, which was automatically patched through to his secutary. "Yes, put me through to Wesley Dean, I believe he's expecting me."