Falin' Angels - On Bloodied Wings (RP)

[snowdog]

Somewhere in paragon city


she was on the run, she knew that much. The why wasn't as important as the how, as in how she'd get out of this. Going back through the portal wasn't an option, she'd managed to scan a few news stories here and there about what was going on. I mean really, this universes Dr Schrodinger selling drugs to school kids? Well maybe coffee..but even then she was more responsible than that. She needed money though, her few Coles were more as curios than anything else, the money on Primal Earth was different. But the mechanism for distributing it was the same, only cruder. She glanced around, no one was paying too much attention to the cyborg catgirl, though that could change at any moment.

Peering at the ATM, she gave it a quick scan with her data glasses. So much more primitive than the ones she hacked into for the resistance back in Praetoria, no DNA scans, retinal print, just a simple magnetic reader and a number input. It took a minute to get the program into the system, another two for it to complete. She kept a nervous eye out, her tail twitching...come on, hurry up



“come on man, hurry up!”


The longbow team was hustling. They'd gotten a report from a shopkeeper about another of the Guardian Angels being spotted. This time they weren't going to let them get away, and they would do it without PPD getting in the way. Not that their PPD liaison was still around, she'd gotten a call from her department recalling her back to her precinct. Fine, they didn't need her. Looking through the sniper scope from the rooftop he could just see her under the awning of the bank, probably going to rob it. As soon as the civilians were clear, they'd make the shot. Tranq this time, things were getting ugly enough as it was. There, she moved back into sight, and the civilian went around the corner. Sighting in, he slowly squeezed the trigger.



She was watching the screen flicker...then there was a beep, and the cash drawer opened. Just a couple hundred dollars, borrowed a penny at a time from different accounts. The delay was the backtrack program erasing that she'd been in there. She hummed happily to herself, this should be enough to get her some food and out of sight while she figured out what was going on, when there was a sudden loud metallic 'Thunk!' that resonated loudly. She blinked, as a tranq dart, it's tip bent into a u shape by the reinforced nanoweave of her artificial arm, the dart falling impotently to the ground. “Stupid badgers...”
from the angle it hit her the trajectory was a simple physics problem, there was a flash and she stepped sideways out of reality


Thunk? Tranq darts didn't go thunk thought the Longbow sniper, something wasn't right here..there was a flash and the target was gone “oh crap, target has teleported, location-”

“Ey badger? You tryin to peepersneak on me me with that thing? Not polite to do that to a girl, ya might end up rattleslapped...”

He did the only thing he could do. Shouting out to his troops “GET HER!” besides, their goggles were set to ignore her illusions... but not the gravity tossing, and the energy blasts? She waded into the middle of the Longbow, red and white uniforms flying through the air like confetti as he himself was held in a vise like grip, over the edge of the building. It was short, and not fatal thankfully, she was holding back. Still, something wasn't right. As the last of his men slumped unconscious to the roof and she started stalking towards him, tail twitching angrily he stammered “y...you can't do that!”

“I just did it badger, and you try to chomp me again you'll just get worse!”

“No, I mean you CAN'T do that, your powers don't work that way! I've read your file!”

She was nothing like her file. Schrodi was supposed to be flighty, easily distracted, this one...there was an intensity to her...he squirmed helplessly in gravity's embrace as she stalked closer, finally stopping nose to nose with her “yo...you'll never get away with this! We'll keep coming!”

She just smirked “well everyone has to have a hobby.” she said, as she hooked something to his harness, then suddenly, the grip was gone, he was released...and was standing in mid air four stories over the ground. She gave a little smile as he shrieked like a little girl, falling to his death-with a sudden jerk he realized he wasn't dead...hanging upside down, the bottom half of his uniform hooked into the cable she had hooked there, hanging bare assed over the street.

As he swung back and forth there were the sounds of snickers, and oh God no..the news team van he'd called to record their capture of one of the Guardian Angels...how the hell was he going to explain this?

[caios]

(( This time around I wanted to update a bit on what some of the other side peoples were up to, just to keep things interesting, and to show that these guys aren't just sitting on their ass this whole time. ))

Director Pearl had been pleased with the progress of their latest operation. Certainly the resistance had been more then anyone could have anticipated but the Director had expected something like this might happen. More importantly things were going according to plan on the public front, which would allow the grander scheme to come to fruition down the road.

There were still, however, a couple of snags. Bothersome details that he had to deal with before the whole thing unraveled. The biggest issue was of course the heroes themselves. They remained out of his control, unpredictable, and dangerous. But there was little to be done about that for the moment.

By comparison the other details were very minor, but Pearl had not become the man he was by letting such details escape his notice. Indeed he knew quite well how even the smallest details like this had a tendency to destroy even the best laid plans. Fortunately he had just the tool to take care of both problems.

As the door to his office opened, two large Malta operatives entered leading in the soon to be Senator White who was currently wearing a black bag over his head specifically made to completely blindfold the man. As he was seated one of the operatives removed the bag, allowing White to look around and get a sense of his bearings.

"You know you could have called." White said to the Director once he recognized the man.

"Times like this call for the utmost care and secrecy." He nodded the other operatives away and waited until they were out of the room before he continued. "I had to make sure we could speak safely, as well as make certain you had no tracking devices or bugs of any kind on you."

"Why would I be wearing any bugs?" White asked.

"It is not you I'm worried about but someone getting close enough to you to plant one." the Director explained with a frown, as if he was speaking to a child.

"Fine, so what do you want that you'd bring me way out here, where ever this is, to talk?" White insisted.

"Considering the current state of the situation, I think it benefits us both to handle every possible detail. That is why you are here." Pearl said.

"Alright so what kind of details."

"First and most obviously, the confrontations against the Guardian Angels are getting most violent." the Director said.

"I know, which is great." White smiled, "The more they run and fight like this the more fuel they add to the fire. Already made a big speech about it at a rally yesterday, reminding the people that I was right all along and all that."

"Which is all well and good, except some people may have gotten a bit overzealous." the Director explained, "We've had reports that one of the Longbow on this man hunt shot and killed one of the heroes that was about to turn herself in."

"I heard about that, damn shame and all, but can't blame Longbow for being careful." White said dismissively.

"This can be a major problem for you if we don't take steps to deal with it right away." Pearl frowned hard at the politician, "It can swing a great deal of public opinion away from you by sympathy alone."

"But you have a plan to deal with it?" White surmised.

"Have dealt with it." Pearl corrected, "My agents will be releasing a new video of the event, clearly showing this hero, this .... Xenolizard as she is called, attempting to attack the Longbow operatives that shot her down. Quite clearly she was killed in self defense."

"I see," White nodded, "Those video boys of yours are quite handy, any chance you could make one up of my -"

"This isn't a service we provide for you amusement, Mr. White." Pearl interrupted him, "We have a number of extremely skilled techs working with the best technology available to make these videos. Even then each one is a risk if they are discovered false. This last video is not even up to the level of perfection I am comfortable with, but events forced a quick reaction. I an certain eventually someone will discover this particular video was doctored, but by then you will already be in office. All you need to do is be aware of it and act accordingly. We cannot afford to have you lose ground in this election."

"Alright fine." White said, "Is there anything else you need from me?"

"Yes there is." Pearl added, "Firstly the Longbow task force you've assemble is beginning to stumble against the local police on this matter. If these men are fighting against local law enforcement then they are not doing the task we want of them, which is putting the pressure on the Guardian Angels." He didn't much care if the Angels were actually arrested or not, Pearl simply wanted a constant negative pressure on them to eventually force as many of those so called heroes to eventually fall into his hands. "I need you to pull whatever strings you can, I don't care what favors you need to call in, but take the heat off Longbow or they are of no use to us."

"I understand, I think I know a few markers I can turn in for that." White smiled.

"As an added incentive, I would suggest you take this opportunity to provide a hefty bounty for the capture of these Angels, dead or alive." Pearl suggested, "There are quite a few mercenaries out there that can make things that much more interesting for them. Make it a large sum of money, for your sake, and I will make sure word gets out to just the right people."

"Huh, I'll have to see what I can pool together for that." White thought out loud.

"Now is not the time to be stingy." Pearl warned him, "Whatever you invest now will be returned to you three fold once you are elected, but until then you are useless."

"Alright, I get it, I'll do what I can." White put his hands up.

"Secondly," Pearl handed White a pieve of paper, no bigger then a business card. "On the front of the card you will find a phone number, call it. The person on the other end of the line will know why you are calling, just make sure to let them know the contract is for another operative, her name is on the back of the card."

"Whoa this sounds a bit dangerous for me to be involved in." White protested, "Isn't this the sort of thing that should be in your court?"

"In this case you are better off making the call." Pearl said, "I have placed a number of feelers and observers to track what goes on during this entire operation. Some of them have brought back disturbing evidence that suggest another operative may be making moves against me. Nothing I can prove, of course, but now is not the time to take risks with loose threads. I can't be seen making a move in this case so you must be the one to make the call. All you need to do is call her and give her the name. Everything else is taken care of, and none of this can be directly linked back to me. Understood?"

"Yeah, yeah, I got it." White said as he looked back and forth at the paper in his had. The number on the front was a big one, obviously an international call.

The name on the back however was very strange. What the hell kind of name was "Siren Cobalt Domino" anyway.

[snowdog]

Portal corp offices, peregrine island


Pearl had wanted to send a full team in. That in the gunslingers mind was pure overkill. The target was unconscious, would be for several more hours. So he convinced the director of his plan, and gotten the go ahead. He did have backup waiting outside in a vending machine company van, once the target was secured, they'd drop her off right in the middle of a school house bombing. Too bad the bombs would go off before she regained consciousness, but that should be more than enough to totally destroy any good will the Guardian Angels had left.

The first part of the mission had been a bit dicey. There was a Longbow warden who had information that could derail the plan. He had been taken care of, body dumped in the middle of a pile of Nemesis troops in a back alley of Peregrine Island. As far as longbow knew, the man died a hero, instead of someone unfortunately in the way of more important things. Disabling the security was easy enough for someone of his training, besides it wasn't like the didn't just waltz in and out of Portal Corp or anywhere else they wished whenever they wanted. There , the office was easily enough spotted, and there was no one around-no wait. One young man, mid twenties, unarmed and untrained by the way he was moving, sitting in Dr Scrhodingers office across from the sleeping feline scientist, totally absorbed in some game or something on his mobile phone. Oh well, collateral damage couldn't be helped. They'd just list him as a terrorist suspect and no one would care in the slightest.

He stepped silently into the doorway, the intern never even had a clue, until the silenced bullet hit him in the base of the skull, the round high enough power to penetrate, but not powerful enough to leave an exit wound. He slumped to the ground in a lifeless heap as the man known as Kitty Kat Delta three stepped over to check on Schrodi. She was out solid, snoring heavily. Fortunately he had something to ensure she never woke up again. She was nothing but a loose end...wait..what is that smell? He lowered his gun, looking around the office...there in the corner was a coffee maker , evidently the intern had set a pot brewing for when the Dr awoke. Strange , never saw one with a metal carafe before but the smell...My God... He debated for a moment, he really should get her out to the van and continue with the mission..but he considered himself a coffee aficionado, and the smell was just so good. Fortunately there was a thermos in the office, labeled 'Dr Scrhodinger ONLY!'

“must not like to share” he chuckled as he filled the thermos, sealing it and slipping it into a cargo pocket. There was enough left over for a good sized cup...he really shouldn't be taking the time, but he'd try it first, and savor the thermos later, after delivering his target to her fate. He poured the rest of the coffee into a large cup, the look of it, the way the steam rose and the smell.. it was like the mother of all coffees.

<Control to Kitty Kat Delta Three. Status update>

he sighed, work first. <Delta three, target secured, heading towards extraction> oh well, he thought, gulping the contents of the cup down in one gulp, then heading towards the couch , raising his pistol...but why was it moving so slooo...or was it the universe that was speeding up....there was a light flash as the neutronium density coffee, brewed with deuterium caused his head to explode, the body falling forward with a wet thump.

[gothicshark]

((well I wanted to write some things but since everyone has made a big splash all at once and I haven’t had time, I figure instead of doing Mariels Response to this situation, and well it would have been an interesting response. I figure I should do either Irken or Malkavians response each of which would be interesting…so I am going to do both, in a way))

The Director was sitting at his desk looking over the roster of the Guardian Angels he was happy with the progress of the main Members but he then looked and realized that some of the lesser well known member where being ignored. He pulled out a phone and issued a short series of orders.

Next day:

Malkavian was walking as he/she/it usually did somewhat oblivious of his/her/its surroundings when he/she/it heard the sounds of police sirens and helicopters. They where converging on his/her/its warehouse where he/she/it kept his/her/its personal belongings and diaries, realizing this was a bad thing Malkavian Switch forms into a mild mannered male something that could pass anywhere without being noticed. He then continued walking as if nothing was odd. When he noticed the longbow special teams rushing around in his area, Seems they were using Physic hunters and quantum gun men.

Time for plan B Malk thought and ducked into an ally way, which led to a manhole cover. Silently Malk dove into the Murk and switched to Nova form, which was better in the murk and darkness. Using as much speed as possible Malk made it to a man-hole cover near the port.

An Hour later

Agents Rosearik of the FBI received a call:

“Yes, yes.. ok so the two fugitives are Malkavian Who Wanted for suspicion of being a Serial Killer, and the Irken for possibility of being an Illigal Alien,” his face had a look of annoyance. “well I understand the serial killer which I need all the profile information for my team, however shouldn’t the INS deal with the Irken?”

He started to nod his head saying ‘oh’,’ ah’, and ‘I see several times’.

“Understandable sir, we will get on this right away. agents Rikki, Allen, and Simons are in the office now. So if you can fax all the details we will start the search. Honestly I am surprised that no home of record has ever been found on ‘the Irken’ it sounds like he is a bit of an Idiot and him being from a Known Hostile Planet, makes it all the more surprising.” Rosearik said, “Oh and what is this Operation called?”

“Ah Operation Disable Invader Based, or D.I.B., No problem.” He said as he hung up the phone and looked at his team “seems we have two Aliens to find in Rhode Island.”

Thus DIB is Born

----
(( and the Names for the Agents who will be both Irken and Malks Nemesis for the remainer of this drama are named for the Actor who played Dib 'Rosearik Rikki Allen Simons' yes that is his full legal name such good names for FBI Agents))

[fenix]

“You are my starshine, my only starshine, you make me happy, when dogs are grey.”

“Imagika.”

“Tell all the reindeer, they’re high above you,”

“Imagika.”

“And they’ll bake, the starshine all day.”

“Imagika!”

“What?”

“Could you stop in at that coffee shop up ahead?”

“Why? Ooh, are you going to let me drink coffe?”

“No, Imagika, no coffee. You’re hyper enough as it is. I just need to use the internet for a minute.”

“Aww, you’re no fun.”

If Fenix still had a physical body, he’d be rubbing his temples right now. “Listen, if you stop in here, and are a good girl, I’ll get you a treat later, okay?”

“Candy?!”

“Sure. Why not.”

“Kay!”

Imagika took a seat at the nearest table by the window, and set the netbook containing Fenix across from her. Fenix then plugged himself into the internet.

First things first, he had to check on the Angels. News reports were showing more of the same. Angels wanted for acts of terrorism, drug trafficking, Heh, that video showing “him” groping that bank teller is kinda funny, have to remember to save that one when there’s time. Arson, muder, Angel killed in police standoff, blah blah bla-

Wait. “Angel Killed”? Who? Oh. Oh, no. Xenolizard. But the video looked... off. Xenolizard’s movements as she was “attacking” the killer, they didn’t seem quite fluid enough, almost as... Faked. Of course, it’s a goddamn fake, how else could they have pretended to be the “protectors” of the people from the people who keep the safe at night.

But this one was so odd, almost as if whoever made it to rush to make it presentable to the media at large. But, this was about a few hours ago, the person who faked it had to have known that there’d be a death, but not so far in advance that-

Hah. A bit obvious, in retrospect. What groups want to see the heroes dead, and have the technology to fake the footage? Two clear possibilities come to mind, and Crey would move to retrieve the body either where it fell, or from the morgue.

He’d have to get into touch with the other Angels first, though, make sure there’s a clear plan of attack.

....Ah. There it is. They’ve been using text through a secure line. Clever. Fenix added a message of his own.

<< Ima and I are safe. Heading to cave now. Pos. Malta or Crey connection. Need access to morgue. - F >>

A process set up earlier dinged. Fenix opened up the channel.

“-Sighting at 142 18th Ave. Repeat, possible sighting of fugative Imagika at 142 18th street.”

Shit.

“Imagika, we need to leave. Now.”

“When we get there, can I get that candy?”

“Be patient, Imagika. For now, we need to head to Steel Canyon.”

“Okay.”

[snowdog]

Dothan Municipal airport, Dothan Alabama

It was a bust. Georgia highway patrol had stopped the cab they were searching for, Dr Rachelle Kincaid, AKA Snowdog was not in there, though her luggage was. The driver said she had him drive her to a fast food place outside the airport, then gave him cash to take her luggage to Atlanta. Local and state police were looking for her, but CW4 Kowalski figured she was long gone by now. Pity, he'd been stuck in south Alabama training both army pilots and the occasional Malta recruit for years, and he was tired of it all. It was too hot, he hated the military mickey mouse bullshit that he had to deal with as part of his cover...he just wanted out.

At least with this goose chase over he could get back to his nowhere job he thought as he stepped into the restroom. Before he could even start to unzip his flight suit there was a beeping from his phone. Dammit, Malta never calls unless you're on the can. “Knight Raider 5 6”

“we have new information. Targets may be using Wolfetech resources-there was a wire transfer to a local bank in your area from Wolfetech a short time ago for approximately 200 thousand dollars. The transfer was to a company called Wiregrass Aviation, for a 1979 Cessna 310Q that was listed in trade-a plane.”

“Blue and white?”

“...yes it was. How did you-”

“Because I saw one waiting to take off when we landed here, nice plane. Look like it had been recently overhauled.”

“what did the pilot look like?”

“Girl , 20s maybe, bit of a looker, kinda light haired.”

“that's your target...and you just let her fly right past you!?”

“Hey now! You didn't tell me she was a pilot, just that she was a meta human that could fly!”

There was silence on the other end, and some muttering “point taken, we should have though of this eventuality. Can you intercept and bring her down?”

“possible..but unlikely. She's got a good 20 minute head start on me, and a 310 can cruise at 200 if she's pushing it. An Apache can make 200 for a short time before I get engine damage. It would probably be easier to call in some fighters, there's F 22s at Tyndall and Eglin, and F18s at Pensacola-all just a couple hundred miles from here.”

“Negative, we need to keep this quiet. Stand by, checking into ATC.” there was a short pause “Radar has her at 7000 feet, headed west at about 150.”

“probably to save fuel” he said as he grumbled “you realize this will destroy my cover”

“acceptable under the circumstances. Besides, didn't you want out of there anyway?”

“point, what about my gunner? He's not one of us.”

“if you can't leave him behind, sanction him if necessary.”

“understood.” The line went dead and he smiled. Day was looking better already.

[shadewing]

Somewhere above Paragon City.

"No, this can't be happening, could it?" Shadewing kept repeating to herself. She didn't want to believe what was going on, but the footage she saw in King's Row looked so real to her.

----Faultline, Paragon City.-----

Shade landed on one of the tallest buildings in Faultline, making sure she wasn't seen by anyone in the process, "Okay, what do I do now...? Oh! Right!" She quickly pulled out her communicator, but stopped herself before clicking it on, "Wait...If this is for real, they're probably monitoring this frequency...Lets see here. What did they say to do in case of emergency?' She fiddled with her device until she saw a message flash across the screen:

<< Ima and I are safe. Heading to cave now. Pos. Malta or Crey connection. Need access to morgue. - F >>

Shade paused for a moment, "Cave? What cave? Oh! There's more recent stuff!" She began checking through past messages, until she stumbled across the one with the location on it, "There we go!" She sighed and pushed herself up off the ground, "Guess I don't get to rest just yet..." Before she left, however, she saw fit to leave another message to let the others know she was coming:

<< Black Bat here. Safe for now. On my way. -S >>

With that, she flew off to continue her journey.

[Hollowpoint Heroism]

The wind hammered the lonesome Sothern tip of Talos Island with relentless vigor, only grasses and a few old stone foundations daring to remain defiant in the face of such and onslaught.

Few people ever ventured here anymore. Most complained of a feeling of 'being unwelcome', as if intruding on some manner. Still, for the two figures, man and dog who now shifted slowly across this place, this was the desired location. Situated to one side of this bluff was a single marble column, long-since been tipped over by vandals not much caring for the dignity of the dead. With a sigh, Adrian De'Havaland move to the stone, sighing as a sharp frown crossed his face. With a grunt he gently set the stone back on its plinth, dusting off the brass plaque.

With a sigh, hand resting on his cane, as he sits on his haunches, Adrian muses quietly to the spirits that may or may not linger here,

"I...I know it's been a long time. A lot's happened and I'm just startin' to find my feet again. I...wanted to come by sooner but...y'know..."

For a lingering moment he paused, gazing at the stone plinth, then to his dog which had thus begun busying himself sniffing around the ruins and barking at a passing seagull.

"Fact is, I know this point in my life ain't what y'had in mind for me, bein' all mopey and broken but...Well, Fate's a mean bitch at the best of times, ain't She?"

He falls silent again, remembering back to the crate sitting in his back room and its contents, his brow furrowing sharply as he recalls what said contents mean.

"Though...I guess this time around She's lookin' to help. I...Well, you all knew I was never the type to let others fight my battles for me. Always had to make a stand. Well, right now I got the opportunity sittin' in front of me to do that. People are sufferin', guys. Good people. Folk that have put their necks out for the little people around here and didn't ask for anything in return..."

With a sharp frown, he lifts his head,

"For the longest time it killed me that I couldn't help out, the thought that I might be stuck watching my battles fought for me becomin' a very real possibility.

I know you all wanted me to ease in to the quiet life, 'specially you, Ma, however I can't sit by anymore. I've been given a chance to stand up again, and I feel like I want to take it. So, all I'm sayin' is this: Put in a good word to the Powers-That-Be for me. I'm gonna need all the help I can get."

He groans, rising to his feet with a sharp wince before resting on his cane. With a sharp whistle, Kaiser, back from his rummaging about trots over to his master and barks, tail wagging happily. Before departing, he kisses his fingers, laying them atop the plinth and uttering.

"Thanks for hearing me out, guys."

Before turning and departing this lonely landscape, the pair of figures slowly vanishing from view, leaving the plinth to continue bearing it's message to anyone who might stray across it:

"In rememberance of the twenty-three friends and relatives of the De'Havaland family who perished on these grounds on August 11th, 1989.

You shall not be forgotten."

------------

He sat in a room of pure white, seemingly a place of infinite nothingness save a workbench to one side and a collection of weapon racks, ammunition crates and three suits punctuated by a hood and skull-mask. Adrian watched as the fingers of his new limb flexed and moved with effortless ease. It was an amazing piece of engineering, really. Hardy, strong and indistinguishable from a regular human arm.

Sitting on the bench near him was a belt adorned with a silver (he supposed) buckle, its face adorned with a celtic cross in pure sapphire. While an elegant fashion statement on it's own (And even more so now that he'd attached his belt-pouches to it to make it functional for his needs as well), it was designed to do something more. Through advanced technology, it would ease the pain in his ill-healed knee and return it to near full mobility in time. These two item had been set within the hefty steel case he had recieved earlier, both portents of his return to 'glory'.


((And a bit of musical acoompanyment as you read on: www.youtube.com/watch?v=dkGkkucLgbA Odd, I know but I was feeling cinematic while writing this.))


With a determined scowl, He rose to his feet, approaching the case containing his signature suit and looked it over with precise contemplation, gazing into the eyes of the skull-mask as a single quote uttered by Aristotle filled his mind, flowing across his lips as he whispers...

"We make war that we may live in peace."

With that, he opened the case and began to suit up.

Micromail armor came first, sheathing his body in it to guard against bullets, knives and whatever the world could throw at him, its contrasting black-white coloration and close fit doing little to disguise Adrian's musculature, rather using it as a point of intimidation. The Grim Huntsman was strong, unrelenting, tireless.

Next, gloves and boots of sturdy leather. He snapped both gauntlets onto his hands, clenching a fist each time to dig his fingers right into the tips of each glove. With sharp motions, he strapped them up, doing much the same with his boots, steel-capped and weighty, good for crushing the wicked underfoot.

Next came the belt and bandoliers, clipping both into place with a quickness. Upon clipping the belt around his waist, a wash of ease raced through him, the pain in his knee dulling to a point where it was still somewhat stiff, but FAR better than before.

Next, the Mantle and spike pauldrons. Bullet-proof composite and titanium spikes, designed to look as mean as they were effective, the mantle wreathing him in lightless black, a pitiless void where no mercy emenated.

Next, the mask, drawing it over his face and under his chin, the luminous eyes burbling into life in icy blue. This was followed shortly by the signature hood, also in lightless black. With a newfound determination in his stride, he moved to the menacing multi-purpose Assault Rifle sitting on it's own stand and picked it up, followed by a menacing combat knife with a glinting red lion, fangs bared on the blade. Last but not least his .357 revolver, shoving it into a holster on his thigh.

The image was complete, the final step of the ressurection of the Shadowstormm a drawing back the bolt on the rifle, it clicking forward with a mechanical whine....



Outside, a dark shadow suddenly rippled across the sky, a few heads turning to watch it eclipse the moon briefly before vanishing into the night. Lies would be peeled back to reveal truths, deception burned away to awaken the slumbering spirit of retribution.

Shadowstormm, The Grim Huntsman was back.

[snowdog]

Paragon Police Department, kings row


Her job was probably toast, but the chief of the Paragon City Police was so mad she could spit nails as she looked for the conference room in the Vanguard office she had gotten a mysterious message to go to. She had gotten eleven calls from aldermen, state Representatives, and a couple congressmen trying to convince her that she should drop the charges against the heroic Longbow forces who bravely took down the terrorist Amy Richardson, or Xenolizard as she was called by the FBSA due to the 'new footage' that was all over CNN, MSNBC and local channels. Never mind the 37 eye witnesses who saw something entirely different, or the fact that fifteen different security cameras showed a different story. Never mind Longbow stationing snipers on her department, without telling anyone they were there.

No, the Longbow murderers, and that's all she could think of them as, were going to walk. Not now, both the DA and FBI backed her on this..but political pressure was building. If she didn't cave, they'd replace her with someone who would. She'd been brought in to turn the PPD around, from a force that ran in terror from teenage hoodlums in skull masks to a proud and disciplined force that willingly got between the citizens of their city and danger. Now? All that would be destroyed in an instant, for the sake of some political points because it was an election year. There was already grumbling from the union rep, about a possible walk out, while technically illegal, would also probably not happen because the men and women of her department cared about their city. No, it would probably more likely be an exodus. The best and the brightest she had, turning in their badges rather than work for a department willing to do whats politically expedient, instead of whats right. There had to be a way to stop this.


Portal Corp, Peregrine Island

Waking up with two dead bodies in your office was never a good way to start the day. Schrodi had finally woken up from the smell from the blood all over the office , and her. the headless corpse with the gun, the bullet hole in the skull of her intern, and the fact that everyone knew she was in the midst of a nap attack meant that no one would accuse her. But she shouldn't have been out that long! It was getting worse. The longer the put it off, the worse it would get, and she knew it. The resonance cascade she had avoided , the lack of focus she had kept at bay with ever stronger and denser caffeine infusions...it wasn't enough. Even now she could feel her attention being pulled this way and that, the fly landing on the headless body, her tail twitching as she fought the impulse to chase it...she let out a hiss as her claws left bloody half moon shapes in her palms, the pain was enough to get her back on track. Stumbling past the bodies to her computer, she was about to call security when she saw the blinking priority messages..

She stared at them in shock. Amy dead...the Angels on the run, accused of murder and worse...her analog from Praetorian earth on the run from Longbow..and here she was, useless! Worse than useless, people being killed over her while she slept like a bump on a log. Blinking back tears she stumbled to her coffee pot. She had to be focused for this...she'd put it off long enough. Time to do it. Taking a deep drag of the coffee, she steadied a bit, then concentrated, opening a quantum portal. She'd need help for this...



..and in breaking news, Longbow has received word that wanted Fugitive Dr Michelle Schrodinger, AKA Schrodi, is dead of a possible murder or suicide, they are not quite sure which here at Portal Corp. Longbow Captain Mattias Spangler had this to say.

“We had received word that both Dr Schrodingers we were on the look out for had been spotted in one of the testing labs of Portal Corporation. We had forces on route, and , well, it was a quite disturbing scene..”

Viewers are advised the next scenes are contain disturbing images.

(the camera is obviously a security camera, in one of the labs. There are two Schrodingers, one with data glasses and a cyborg arm, the other blood covered, and looking rather dazed. There are technicians unconscious around the lab, the two appear to be arguing, but the camera's can not pick up what they are saying with the noise...)

She was as frightened as the time she was locked in the teleport chamber back at Aperture. But she was trying hard not to show it...the coffee was wearing off, and she had to stay focused. Praetorian Schrodi looked just as nervous, and angry. “Look, ya don't have to go this route! We can try the merge-”

“and if it doesn't work...we'll both be dead instead of just me , if this doesn't work. I'm losing it...this is the best chance I have....”

The cyborg just frowned “and the odds of this working are even less!” she sighed as info flashed across her lenses “we got badgers inbound, are you sure this is what you want me to do?”

“no...but I want to lose my mind even less. Get me in and get out of here...others are in Perez. Get to them, can help.”

(the screen shows the cyborg cat girl carrying the blood covered cat girl into a large test chamber marked Intrinsic Field Subtractor. The door is shut, and the camera view moves to one inside the chamber. As lights come on, a blue glow starts to fill the room...the hair on her head and the fur covering Dr Schrodinger stands up, before she starts disintegrating, molecule by molecule it seems, the light getting brighter and brighter until the camera cuts out)

“We found no trace of the Dr Schrodinger in the chamber, and the praetorian cyborg outside...put another ten brave Longbow soldiers in the hospital in her escape. We will not rest until she is in custody, all citizens should be on the look out, if spotted report to your nearest Longbow representative!”



Peregrine Island shore.

“this is getting repetitive” the cyborg muttered, knuckles on her meat arm sore from longbow skulls. “I really hope she knew what she was doing...now where the hell was this Perez place?

[The Cheshire Cat]

The interrogation room was pretty standard. Small, rectangular room with a table and chairs, big two-way mirror on one wall. It didn't have the single hanging lamp above the table to make the perp sweat, but you can't have it all. Ordinarily super powered threats would have been taken to a special high-security lockup facility where their powers could be nullified, but since Ellen had been fully co-operative she was being treated as a standard case. That could change, however, depending on how much the PPD liked the answers she gave to their questions.

Since she'd published her book, Ellen had more or less retired from the superhero gig, which meant her profile was incredibly out of date. Her eyes no longer vented eldritch energy like the circle of thorns, although her irises did have a faint greenish glow to them, suggesting that her magical abilities were merely unused rather than gone. There was some mention in the profile about her merging with a nictus to become a Warshade, but she seemed to take it much more seriously now than the last time she'd been in contact with the FBSA.

"So, dr. Timmit-" the interrogator asked, before being cut off.
"While I will respond that name, technically it's incorrect. My name is 'Abyssal Corona' now."
"Yes, I'm familiar with kheldians and their naming customs. So tell me, Ms. Corona-"
"Doctor." She cut in again.
"Excuse me?"
"I didn't stop being a PhD when I started being a warshade, dear. Though I admit 'Dr. Corona' sounds more like a mixed drink than a person's name. Just 'Corona' will be fine."
The interrogator rubbed his temples. "All we want to know is where the other Guardian Angels are hiding, Corona. On account of your cooperation, we're willing to offer you a very good deal if you help us find them, but you don't help us, we can't help you, understand?"
Corona sat back in the chair and crossed her arms. The interrogator knew what that posture meant; this was going to be a less than fruitful discussion.
"Even if I did know where they were, dear, a reduced sentence for a crime I didn't commit is still more time than I deserve. Likewise, the idea that to earn that reduced sentence I'm expected to damn my old colleagues to serving time they don't deserve either does not particularly entice me."
"And how are you so sure they didn't commit these crimes? You've said yourself that you've been out of contact with them for quite some time. We have very strong evidence implicating both you and the rest of the Guardian Angels with a string of crimes around the city. Are you suggesting this is all some kind of elaborate joke?"
"On the contrary, dear; I don't find it amusing at all. But surely you aren't new to the myriad of ways that a hero can be falsely accused of a crime in this city - assuming the videos aren't simply high-tech video edits, there's the possibility of Nemesis Automatons, Praetorian twins, illegal clones, illusionary magic... I could go on. As for how I'm certain the Guardian Angels are innocent...?"

Corona stood up and walked to face the two-way mirror. She spoke directly into her reflection, not turning to face the detective at all.
"Do you know why I chose the name 'Abyssal Corona' as my Warshade name? Literally, it means 'Crown of the Abyss'. A 'Corona', however, is also the name of the atmosphere of a star; the very outer layer. Heroes live their lives on the edge of a great darkness, and Warshades understand this better than most. Superheroes don't have the fortune of fighting criminals whose behaviour can be excused. Most petty criminals aren't bad people at heart, simply people caught in a bad situation who, in their desperation, make bad decisions because they feel they don't have any other choice. If given the opportunities of a more fortunate individual, those criminals would likely lead normal lives like any other productive member of society. Supervillains are not those kinds of criminals. Supervillains are people who have been given an opportunity greater than most, yet still choose to live a life of crime. Supervillains are not the kind of criminal you can negotiate with, because they do not regret the course of action they've taken. The only way to stop a Supervillain is with force; sometimes the kind of force that would be lethal to a normal human being. To stand any chance against a supervillain, a superhero is forced to engage them on their own level of violence, and beat them through superior firepower. Yet, when the battle is over, the superhero needs to bring themselves back from the brink - to show mercy rather than strike that final blow. That restraint is what separates us from them. The people I know may skirt closer to the Abyss than most, but they have always pulled themselves away from the darkness before it consumes them. No matter what evidence implicating them you claim to have, I know they are innocent."
Her speech finished, Corona turned away from the mirror and sat back down in the chair.
"At this point I am invoking my right not to answer any more questions until I am able to consult with my attorney."

On the other side of the glass stood the man whose eyes Corona seemed to be staring into the entire time. Captain Spangler shook for a moment, as if recovering from a daze. He'd heard every word that she'd said, but he couldn't seem to process them at the moment. Staring into her eyes, he felt as though he'd just stared directly into the vast blackness of the universe, and the universe, upon noticing him, judged him unworthy.

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

Julie Brennan found the meeting spot without too much difficulty. It seems a few of the Guardian Angels members had left a few "warnings" to the locals which kept the more dangerous elements relatively clear. This sort of thing really didn't help their case, though she supposed that at this point it probably wouldn't make a difference one way or another. Despite the Angels clearing out the area, she'd still chosen to exercise her second amendment rights, just in case. She headed inside the cave to find the meeting place.

[drjackwolfe]

“…so given the situation I’m leaving the Guardian Angels and starting the procedures to turn over the name to the PPD.”

The Wolftech logo shimmered as it reflected off of Silver Lake’s surface, as Jack addressed the press across the street from the company’s corporate headquarters. The assembled press corps began pepper Jack with questions as the cross-hairs settled onto his chest.

On a ledge over1200 yards away the warden muttered to himself as he peered though the scope “Embarrass my team, make us look fools will you old man? You’re going to die by you own hands.”

“You really need to work on your situational awareness” the deep sultry voice said out of the shadows, “I mean I’m a 7 foot tall red head wearing red leather and you completely missed me up here. A little obsessed are we?”

The warden quickly rolled bringing his rifle to bear, just as quickly the large enamel looking broadsword cut the rifle in half. “OH, Wolfetec MKIV linear accelerator, with impervium slugs. Nice, these will punch through a tank; and the explosion when all that kinetic energy was released against the old man’s hide would take out everything within 200 yards, probably killed hundreds; and all you’d have done is piss the old man off. You have no clue with who or what you’re dealing with.”

“I know more then you think Ragnrok, you're dumb bitch who can’t even spell her name right.” The warden gave a telekinetic shove to the imposing redhead and sprung to his feet.

Reaching for the English woman’s mind he stopped dead as the enigmatic blade pierced his chest. “If you really knew anything you’d know the name on my license is a bloody typo; you’d know I don’t like people taking shots at my friends; you’d know my sword is a sentient holy blade wielded first by an angel, then by my family of Church knights for the last 900 years so it’s damn hard to do anything it considers evil with it and most importantly you’d know, and this is really relevant, I don’t take prisoners. I am a bit of a bitch though.”

She dangled him, impaled on Dragonfang’s enamel like blade, over the edge of the skyscraper and promptly inverted her massive blade

The warden felt the air rush by and tried but could not summon will to counteract gravity. As he fell the 30 stories to the ground he thought he heard the bitch’s voice “he’s at midfield leaving the defenders in the dust, he shoots;” crashing into an open dumpster he heard “GOALLLLLLLL” as the last of his life bled away.

Sheathing her blade in the pocket dimensional scabbard on her back Rok smirked “Goal, hee, Karen?”

<Yes Kyrie?>

“When you get a chance tell the vampire I left her some dinner in the canyon….If she’s not too picky about the quality of who she eats, and tell Jack that Longbow might not be buying his act” Pulling a Snickers out of The Scabbard, Rok leapt into the air heading for the park.

“…so Dr. Wolfe, you’re abandoning your friends?”

“No, Tish, I’m leaving the board of directors of a public service organization, and helping set up a new one with a familiar name, but more on that later in the week.

Turning to face the camera Jack’s eyes blazed “Let me be clear here” he said, “ Anyone who thinks I’m not on the Angels 'side is mistaken, anyone who thinks I won’t put all my resources behind clearing the Angels is mistaken, anyone thinking I won’t be getting justice for XenoLizard or any other Angel who has been wronged is mistaken, anyone facing an Angel thinking they are NOT facing me, Wolfetec and any resources I can bring to bear IS mistaken; and ANYONE who wants to have a "discussion" with me about my stance knows how to find me.”

[ghostveil]

The wind raced through her hair as a black winged figured dived between buildings and alleyways, ducking beneath underpasses and gliding and weaving her way through the cityscape. Haunting her every move, far overhead were the jet engines of a squadron of Longbow Chasers, accompanied by their Warden leader. A hail of missiles streaked down toward the streets below, without care for the civilians that would be caught on the crossfire.

"Fucking hell, they're serious!" Ghostveil furled her wings around herself, using the momentum of her flight to keep herself airborne momentarily as she turned to face the incoming missile fire. She raised her hands, darts of black energy bursting from her fingertips and swirling towards the missiles, impacting and detonating each of them in midair. The resulting explosion shattered the concrete walls of the nearby buildings and blasted the winged witch out of the air, sending her hurdling toward the ground.

She deftly twisted herself so that she dived headfirst towards the road beneath her, and unfurled her wings, creating an immediate lift which sent her airborne. The chase was on once more.

Passing through Atlas Park had been a mistake. She could have attempted to make her way through Independence Port and Kings Row instead, but she instead tried to take the most direct route to Dark Astoria, hoping she could evade being spotted in the more densely packed districts of Paragon. All it took was for one Longbow officer to spot her on her way south out of Atlas Park for Longbow to send a squad after her. However, this was no time for regrets.

She dived lower into the city streets, her wings beating rapidly to send her screaming through streets and alleyways, moving at a dark blur as she attempted to evade her pursuers. It would be too easy to blind the visual sensors of the Longbow Chasers and send them crashing into the ground, but she did not want to add murder to the list of charges which already included mental assault. No, not this time, she had to evade capture without harming the Longbow officers...a task which she knew might prove to be impossible.

She took a sharp turn and flew east across the district, flying underneath the Skyway underpass, weaving over and then under the train line tracks. She flew under the Skyway as long as she could, the concrete over her head shielding her from any attack from the overhead Chasers. Eventually, however, her shield of road ended, and she emerged into the open air. A volley of missile fire whirled past her, blasting into the grass of Hide Park, destroying one of the stone walls encasing it. Ghostveil no longer had time to check Longbow's collateral damage anymore.

The tunnel to Talos Island was near. If she could reach it, the Chasers would be forced to give up. Just ahead, a block of brick apartment buildings, which Ghostveil took advantage of, flying into the middle of them and turning sharply, emerging from them onto an open road leading into the tunnel. She smiled triumphantly.

The shot echoed loudly over the sounds of traffic and congestion in the chaos of rush hour. A burst of black feathers fluttered past Ghostveil's vision, followed by specs of blood, and the feeling of intense pain in her left wing and shoulder. That pain was joined shortly by the crunch of bone in her right arm, as she crashed into the concrete below. She rolled over onto her back, and struggled to pull off the cloth covering her eyes. On the building above, a Longbow sniper gazed down at her, his rifle aimed squarely at her chest.

Her vision began to darken as the Longbow Chasers landed around her, the sound of heavy boots running toward her the last thing she heard before blacking out.

---------------------------------------------------------------------

Sam Whitford adjusted his collar again, never quite satisfied with how it looked on camera, and he had to look good. The Guardian Angels scandal was one of the best things that had happened to local news in quite a while, and Sam needed all the camera time he could get. He smirked to himself as he went over the story one more time in his head. The cameraman in front of him raised his hand and counted down with his fingers. Three...two...one...

"Good evening, Brenda. I'm standing here in Skyway City where just moments ago Longbow Officers finally apprehended the dangerous renegade Guardian Angel, Danielle Veil, also known as 'Ghostveil'. Longbow officials report that Ms. Veil was attempting to flee to Dark Astoria when she was spotted by a Longbow patrol. It was a Longbow sniper who finally managed to bring Ms. Veil down, after she fled through the city and endangered the lives of many of the citizens.

Longbow claims that they have Ms. Veil in custody now. The Paragon Police Department has asked that Ms. Veil be handed over to them, but so far, Longbow has refused to give her up to law enforcement officials. They say that the Paragon Police Department does not have the equipment necessary to keep Ms. Veil safely behind bars, and that because she was involved in an assault on Longbow officers, she is under Longbow's jurisdiction. The Paragon Police Department has not yet issued a response. In thus reporter's opinion though, Ghostveil is exactly where she belongs. Back to you in the studio, Brenda."

He smiled smugly for the camera until the camera light finally blinked off. Sam lowered his microphone and loosened his tie. Another perfectly delivered report. If he kept this up, he'd have Brenda's job in no time...

[snowdog]

Somewhere over the Conecuh National Forest, south Alabama

November six eight five

She tried not to think too much. Flying came first, she'd grieve later once she was back on the ground. She had enough fuel to make it to Texas, though she'd probably have to land for a restroom break before then. In flight relief systems for light aircraft were primitive at best. She had gotten a feel for the 310 , settling down to an efficient 150 knots, plenty fast enough without burning too much gas. Fortunately the GPS was pretty intuitive , just tap on the touch screen where you wanted to go and it actually put a moving way point on the display to follow. There was no chatter in the radios about her escape, it seems she had gotten away clean. A few quiet hours of flight time, then once on the ground and safe she could fall apart.


Warlord 88

It was too bad about the kid. Just curious enough to ask why they'd been sent chasing a Cessna, yet when he'd ordered him to arm weapons, he tried to call into Ft Rucker to confirm. The cockpit smelt of blood and gunpowder, the young CW2 in the front seat slumped over , gunshot wound in the back of his flight helmet. Knight Raider 5 6 opened a vent, not that the smell bothered him, but it did distract him. Temp gauges on the engines were both in the high yellow mark, as he pushed the Apache to 180 knots. According to the Malta agent hacked into the air traffic radar system, he was gaining on his quarry. Should have her in sight any minute, too bad with the kid gone he couldn't use the helicopters primary armament, as the Hellfire guided missiles were fired from the front seat. But he could use the 30mm gun just fine from his position. There, he zoomed in on his helmet mounted sight. Couldn't tell in the green picture if it was blue and white, but it was a 310, right where he expected it to be.


“Knight Raider 5 6, I have target in sight.”

somewhere in paragon city, a Malta tech compared the radar picture he'd hacked into with real time sat images. That probably was the aircraft, but with as many slip ups as there had been, best to verify. “close in and verify tail number before engaging, should be November six eight five. Want to make sure its the right one.”

“Rodger, what are my instructions once she's down?”

“we have a tac team in Atlanta. Head east as far as fuel allows then set down, I'll vector them in.”

Not a great plan, but he'd had worse. He slowly gained distance, trying to make out through the targeting system the numbers on the side of he Cessna. There, it was the one. He closed in a bit further, just to be sure, lining up the cross hairs on the cabin


Six eight five

She was playing with the systems, just seeing just all the 310 had a stereo installed. Whoever had overhauled it had pulled out all the stops, it was no wonder they hadn't been able to sell it. all these gadgets while nice, raised the price. She had thought she had found it when there was an automated voice in her headphones, from the TCAS system
“Traffic, aft. Traffic, Aft”

she glanced over her shoulder wide eyed and slammed the throttles forward, other hand sending the 310 into a hard left bank away from the gunship, the rounds from the 30mm gun impacting the wing and right engine instead of into the cabin. Smoke and flame erupted from the ruptured fuel tanks, the right engine seizing as the rounds ripped through the lightweight magnesium and aluminum alloys. The Cessna reverberated from contuing impacts, and she screamed as hot shrapnel ripped through her leg. There was a crack and a sudden violent snap in the other direction, as one of the rounds shattered the right wing spar, the flaming wing breaking off from the aircraft.


“good, clean kill” he thought as the Cessna broke up. It was over a mile to the ground, fortunately they were over a national forest, so chances of being seen were slight but still...Snowdog was a meta, he dove the nose of the Apache and followed the wreckage down...best to be sure.

It seemed like she had been out for hours,but it was only a few seconds. The wreckage was spinning, outside of the windscreen she could see trees fast approaching. Her right arm didn't want to work as she fumbled for the seat belt latch, no it was just slick with blood, couldn't get a grip..there, belts released..trees getting closer....she had to get out..but the door was on the side that was on fire. Fire or ground, those were her two choices...gathering what moisture she could in the air around her she dove through the inferno with her eyes closed, hoping she was headed up.


His exultation turned into dismay as at a scant three hundred feet above the trees there was a figure bursting from the falling pyre, trailing burning avgas like a comet as she rose into the air. Good thing he followed his instincts and came down to make sure he thought as he slowed the Apache down, the 30mm chain gun on the bottom of the aircraft coming to bear.

Rachelle's face was bloody both from debris and her biting her lip to keep from screaming, the last thing she wanted was to suck the fire into her throat. Desperately she reached out with her powers, the humid Alabama afternoon giving her plenty to work with, in seconds she was encased in ice and water, the fire flickering out. Below here there was a blast as the plane impacted into the forest, a fireball boiling into the sky and in front of her....she growled, gathering her reserves, it was all she could do to stay in the air..but if she didn't end this now...she'd be. She saw the gun on the bottom of the Apache swivel towards her and she shot upwards, out of its line of fire.

Kowalski swore, things just got more difficult. If he could use the hellfires, he could just get a lock on her ass and let the missile chase her down-he slowed the gunship more, raising the nose trying to keep her in sight...with a curse he realized she knew enough to stay above it. Well bitch..if he can't shoot her..he can carve her to bits with the rotors.

She could see him..the guy in the front seat looked dead, as he came closer climbing towards her. She was weaker than she thought, and only had one chance, darting to the side, taking advantage of the rotors effect on the moist air...she concentrated, sucking the heat out as fast as she could from around the Apache.

Knight Raider 5 6's first indication of trouble was the icing alarm. Weather..thats right the bitch could manipulate weather he thought as the gunship began to vibrate suddenly, ice forming from the now sub zero air around the blades. He kicked the pedals, trying to swivel around to get a shot when there was a bang and the world was spinning rapidly, the ice encrusted tail rotor failing.

She wasn't in a position to gloat, when the tail rotor failed it did so on a rather spectacular fashion sending shrapnel of the blades and gear box flying in all directions, one chunk hitting her with the force of a shotgun blast. She fell from the sky, hitting the ground in swampy water not far from the burning pyres of the two aircraft.

[Hollowpoint Heroism]

Steel Canyon, that evening.

lieutenant Wetherby did not need this today. He'd been flat out dealing with the REGULAR threats in Steel Canyon and now he'd been standing behind a barricade ringing the entrance of a popular, three storey clothing boutique, sixteen people held hostage on the top floor. The stand-off had lasted nearly six hours, apparently some manner of clothing launch for some up-and-coming starlet who'd probably be yesterday's news within a year.

Still, the Sky Raiders had seen an opportunity to make a quick buck, ransom for someone with so many adoring fans would be astronomical...however, in turn so was the police response. Snipers posted on the rooftops, Police and SWAT at the doors. Not only that but the woman they'd been meaning to grab through all of this had proved to be all the more slick than anyone would've expected, her security detail having ushered her out with a quickness the moment the Pirates had made their presence known.

She now sat in the back of a Paramedics van, a brown blanket draped over her shoulders, coffee in hand and eyes streaked with both tears and running mascara gazing upward at the top floor of the boutique. Her publicist was still in there. Joanna had always been good to her...and now, if Rhode Island wasn't able to make with the fifty-million dollar ransom, she'd be dead by midnight. Not to mention the other fifteen poor souls still trapped inside.

The media had been swift to jump on the band-wagon, this situation an absolute media gold mine. Vans, cameras and lighting all over the place as they relayed the situation back to the hungry masses of Paragon's evening audience.

"And as we can see, six hours in and the situation is still tense. Paragon Police have established perimeter and negotiations are on-going..."

"A total of sixteen hostages, who had been attending a fashion launch..."

"...Unknown yet whether a strategy has been formulated..."

"...with no sign that the situation will be over any time soon..."

Above the noise and confusion, two icy-blue eyes, burbling like a font of cold calulation surveyed the scenario. While he'd hoped for a more...gentle return to his career of vigilantism, this situation was at best, disasterous and someone needed to act. Where the police were dumbfounded and confused, their intel scattered and contradictory, Shadowstormm knew better. A thermal vision scope had indicated there were eight hostage-takers in all. Sky Raiders. Automatic weapons, body armor and at least a decent level of military training. However the greatest weapon in combat is not the one that you carry in your hands, it is the one that manipulates your enemy into doing what you want.

Tactics, Strategy, Emotion.

Fear, more specifically. These men had been trained, but were not immune to one of the strongest of human emotions.

Paragon's Grim Huntsman vaulted from his ledge, shimmering into invisiblity as his cloaking generator hummed into life the dark figure gliding high over the melee of police, media and onlookers below. It was time to return to the eyes of the public, time to make his mark once more.

---------

Six hours, six freakin' hours cooped up in a damn fashion store with a pack of mewling sissies all pleading for their lives. This raid had gone south faster than any of them could've expected. Overhead, the thick thudding of a helicopter's rotors could be heard, the searchlight beaming in the windows between racks of clothing. That freakin' media princess had given them the slip, but that was okay. Sixteen hostages were more than an ample bargaining chip. However, his men were getting restless, trigger fingers getting itchy.

Some fat guy began another round of pleading for his life, as if it'd make a difference. Though the group-leader was starting to grow tired of his crap, hopping off the checkout counter and tromping over to the stammering fat-body, levelling a pistol to his head, which made him descend into blubbering whimpers instead,

"Seriously, fat-man, all the begging in the world won't save you. Come midnight we start topping hostages and if you keep up with this 'making noise' ****, we're starting with you. Clear?"

The porcine, sweating, suited man nodded his head vigorously, causing his pudgy chin to wobble comically as a smile or a chuckle filled the air from the Sky Raiders, who went back to keeping an eye on the news.

"Hey, Officer Hill, Sir! We're on TV!"

"Dwight, we've been on TV since we invited ourselves in. What's new?"

"Well...nothin'. Just thought you'd be proud or somethin'..."

The Officer shook his head, gazing out the window with a frown before checking his watch: 11:45pm. Fifteen minutes until they'd begin opening up on civilians. He smirked a little, plodding over to his radio to give the Pigs a hurry-up...before his hand stopped, it crackling into life on its own...as the lights in the store suddenly cut out and the escalators shut off.

He blinked, head wheeling around, brow furrowing as the red emergency lights came on with a hefty CHUNK! He gestured to his squad, already all of them on their feet and weapons shouldered. The civilians, too, seemed rather confused, daring to lift their heads a bit before the Raider Officer pointed sharply at one of his cronies and gestured to the hostages, the man turning back to the previously moving staircase.

Suddenly there was the sound of something punching through glass, several members of the group, five in total slumping to the floor, neat holes in their skulls. Again the Officer, Hill by his name tag, wheeled around, blinking in horror as more than half his team hit the floor..

----------

Outside the PPD respose to the shots fired sent the radio into a frenzy:

"Roof teams, confirm shots fired!"

"Roof team one here. Negative, no shots fired. Confirm full mag."

"Roof team two. Also confirming no shots fired. Whoever the shooter is, he isn't one of us."

Lieutenant Wetherby lowered his radio, gazing up at the skyline. Another shooter? Damn it. This was hardly the time for some crackpot of an ameteur vigilante to be trying to make his mark. LIVES were at stake here. He clicked onto his radio, barking into it,

"Roof teams, do a sweep. Find whoever took those shots and...."

He blinked, staring at his radio and giving it a shake as unnoticed above glided a ghost's shadow, vanishing into the gloom above the shop's roof...just as the radio crackled into life with the most curious signal he'd ever heard...

-------

Raider Officer Hill scowled sharply and plodded back to the radio. Damned Pigs had suddenly grown a pair and had decided to start shooting. With a fierce growl, he picked up the radio and began speaking into it,

"Oh, that was CUTE. Though five of us means five of THEM! Eye for an eye!"

He clicked off, gazing at the radio but there was no response. He blinked, checked the button again, only to find there was no static when he depressed the button. It was then the radio bursted into life, an infamous quote with equally infamous connotations:

"Well there's a passage I got memorized, sort of fits this occasion. Ezekiel 25:17.
"The path of the righteous man is beset on all sides by the inequities of the selfish and the
tyranny of evil men. Blessed is he who, in the name of charity and goodwill, shepherds the
weak through the valley of darkness. For he is truly his brother's keeper and the finder
of lost children.

And I will strike down upon thee with great vengeance and furious anger those who attempt to poison and destroy my brothers. And you will know I am the Lord when I lay my vengeance upon thee."

Officer Hill let the radio fall to the ground, drawing his pistol as the escalators ground into life, both running UPWARD toward the floor they were standing on. The Sky Raider clenched his teeth as he leveled his pistol, barking sharply at the air.

"Oh, that's REAL funny, J*ck*ss! Y'know what? Come and get it. I'm right..."

His voice slowed to a stammer as something came up the escalator: First a black hood, followed by a glowering skull mask with glowing blue eyes, gazing at him with disdain. Spiked shoulder guards were next, gleaming in the ruddy lights. What followed was all bullets, bandoliers and angry, a gleaming Colt Python held in his hand as the moving stairs ground to a halt, the shadowy figure's cape lazily drifted forward a moment with leftover motion.

Raider Officer hill shook his head in horror. The one face he had hoped was gone for good was staring him in the face. He'd always thought the Shadowstormm to be a damned tale used to scare the hell out of greenhorns who got too uppity.

"No...not you..." was all he could stammer, the Grim Huntsman's eyes narrowing sharply as he growled in response,

"Yes, me...Me, me, me."

The arm holding the revolver snapped up fiercely to level at the three Sky Raiders, the hooded skull tipping to one side slightly as more words followed.

"Running time, fellas. Tell ya what, I'll even give you three a head-start."

He drew the hammer back on his revolver, the men in blue overalls not hesitating to sprint toward the glass.

-----------

Outside, shrieks of surprise rang out shortly after three bright flashes accompanied by hefty booming sounds echoed from the top floor of the Boutique. The radio went into overdrive, comm chatter going balistic as the police tried to figure out what was going on:

"Holy...SHOTS FIRED! SHOTS FIRED!"

"Roof teams! Status report!"

"Still searching, sir! We haven't fired a shot! Trigger-man must be inside!"

"Jesus CHRIST! Get me an eye on the hostages. I want status on the Hostages, dammit!"

There was a long, agonising silence. The collective crowd holding their breath for what seemed an eternity before the radio crackled into life again,

"I...I got movement. Lots of movement. It looks like the hostages are coming downstairs!"

There was a cheer of triumph as sixteen of sixteen hostages came barreling out the main doors of the boutique, clapping ensuing as they all departed to worried loved ones. Though, where was the Hero of the hour? Who was responsible? Cheers of delight and relief slowly ebbed away as people saw the last figure to exit the doors. In the face of spotlights came a somber figure, cape billowing as he stepped onto the stairs. Faces agog with awe and shock, hands pointing the direction of the door.

Shadowstormm. The media had labeled him a murderer, a vigilante, even a terrorist, and yet here he was, standing tall in the face of spotlights and cameras.

The towering figure strode into the middle of the curved barricades, his hooded face and glowing eyes looking upon the crowd with uneasing sharpness before a barrel-chested voices issues forth,

"Your media has labeled myself and my Brothers and Sisters in arms, the Guardian Angels terrorists, thieves, CRIMINALS. Senate-hopeful Donald White has labelled us enemies of the state and has set his Longbow hounds on us to drag us in for his 'justice'."

The hooded, caped, spike adorned figure nearly spits the last word as if it were a distasteful flavor in his mouth.

"Though I ask YOU, people of Paragon-" He gestures to the building, where not sixty seconds prior he had ended a hostage situation single-handed. "Are THESE the actions of an enemy of the State? A terrorist? A criminal? Are these the actions of a man who extorts, steals and trafficks in the illegal? Selflessly putting his own life in danger to save YOUR own?"

The unforgiving gaze shifts, watching the cameras. Lights were still on. They were still recording. Good.

"You have been LIED to, People of Paragon City! A veil of untruths dragged across your eyes to shield you from the real truths lying just beneath the surface. Donald White and his pack of boot-licks have deliberately decieved you for the sake of his own political position...and the people that stood up and protected you from the worst things to crawl out of this city's alleys have suffered for it.

Well I say this: For every 'crime' that Donald White dredges up, there is an equal truth behind the matter. Donald White may be able to sick the dogs on us, drag us in or gun us down, but he CAN NOT silence the combined voices of the citizens of Paragon City. So open your eyes, seek, look, dig beneath the surface and you WILL see the truth. Then question, retort and contradict. Because, people, you are entitled to the truth. You deserve to hear it spoken."

A final, icy glare locked upon the camera in front of him before the towering figure of the Shadowstormm suddenly blinked from view, vanishing into the night once more.

[snowdog]

Several days later, Martin Army Hospital, Ft Benning GA

waking up wasn't something Rachelle expected to doing to be honest. It was a hospital, somewhere, though she had no idea where she was. She remembered the flight, and the fight...that was about it. She took stock of her self, right arm in a cast, bandages everywhere, and her legs...weren't working

“good morning, how are you feeling?”

The sudden voice almost made her jump, she looked for the sound of it, but her eyes were having a bit of trouble focusing. There, she wasn't sure if the fact it was an Army doctor was a good thing or bad thing under the circumstances. “I don't know...my legs aren't working.”

He just smiled reassuringly “they won't for a bit, you've just come out of surgery a few hours ago. There was some shrapnel a bit closer to your spine than we liked, so we took
it out. The block we administered should wear off before too long.”

“OK..where am I?”

“You're at the hospital at Fort Benning Georgia. As for why you're in an army hospital, well it was an army helicopter that collided with your plane. When the rescue team from Fort Rucker arrived, they had you airlifted to the closest hospital best capable of treating injuries like yours.”

she blinked..they didn't know? But then, on radar it might have looked like a mid air...” I don't really remember that...”

“I'm not surprised, you're damn lucky if you ask me. “ he looked over her chart “six broken bones in your right arm, you to shrapnel to both legs, torso and a good sized chunk left a nice furrow in your skull, you've got burns but fortunately nothing more than 2nd degree, must have been the water when you hit the ground.” he looked up at someone out of the doorway “and investigators wanting to ask you a few questions, if you feel up to it.”

“uhm..” crap. Oh well, might as well get it over with. “sure.”

He smiled and patted her reassuringly on her shoulder as he left. Three people entered the room, for the first time her spirits raised. Two of them she recognized...one was Miss Black from Wolfetech legal, and the other..

“When I said you should come down and visit me and Shannon, I didn't mean doing it this way Rachelle.” General Gregory Knox had been her brothers boss both during the Rikti war, and when he died a few years ago. He had been there at his funeral, and he and his wife had helped her afterwards.

“Trust me, this wasn't the way I wanted to drop in either.” She looked at the other person in the room, a Major, her insignia of a military intelligence unit “hate to ask..but am I under arrest or anything?”

“you might have been, if Longbow hadn't pulled one of the most boneheaded moves I've ever seen in 28 years in the military.” Knox said with a gruff chuckle, pulling up a chair and sitting down. “they heard you were brought in...and flew an assault team down, landed right in the middle of the base to apprehend you. Without asking for clearance, or permission. Three of them are in the morgue, the rest in the stockade on Federal charges.”

“wait, longbow just up and invaded an Army base??”

“or tried to” said the CID major “which brings us back to the issue at hand. Why was Chief Warrant officer Kowalski trying to shoot you down?”

She looked at Miss Black, who just nodded “Wolfetech is a major defense contractor, and once the details of the incident were discovered by investigators..”

Knox growled “the Army is royally pissed. Especially after the longbow squad showed up.”

“you are listed as a Wolfetech employee Dr Kincaid. The Army has granted you full immunity in this matter.”

“oh...well in answer to your question Major, I honestly don't know. I knew longbow was pushing trumped up charges against colleagues of mine, and when the plane diverted to Dothan, called for advice. Wolfetech purchased the 310 and advised me to head west. I did...and was shot down.”

The major nodded “the copilot of the Apache was killed by a single gunshot wound to the base of the skull. From the evidence that survived, it was done while in flight, approximately a half hour before the crash. Kowalski, if that is his real name, we're finding odd things in his personnel files, was found with a gun in a holster under his flight suit that was the murder weapon. Odd gun too, it seemed to have several different kinds of ammunition, including one type that seem to be cyrogenic rounds.

Rachelle blinked, looking at them wide eyed, remembering the gunslingers she fought in the streets of Peregrine Island. Suddenly it made sense. “Malta...”




Paragon City

Director Pearl was pissed. No, beyond pissed. He snarled into the phone “I don't care if she's in military custody, you get a team there and have her eliminated!” he slammed the phone down, sadly being a cheap mobile the handset just broke in his hand. This was not a good start to his morning.