The Cavalry: Episode 13

[cobalt-blue]

Sadly enough Wizard Magazine in a review of Level X: The Next Level of Dreaming compared my writing favorably to Claremont's.

[Horsenhero]

Don't sweat it. Claremont has written some good stories. Like most everyone else, I really liked the original "Dark Phoenix Saga". What came afterward, with all the resurrections and reslayings of Jean Grey (and assorted evil twins) got old. Heck, his first run on X-Men was awesome, both with Cockrum and with Byrne. a lot of the problems with his writing is, that he's beholden to corporate oversight and corporate overseers will beat the storyline to death, instead of letting it end when the artistic talent thinks it should. More than anything, Claremont has been a victim of his own success.

Some characters in these stories have opinions that are far in excess of the authors', or just not shared by me at all.

[Siansonea]

Episode 3 — Someone’s in the Kitchen

written by Horsenhero

Two days after the Cavalry's first big battle, the morning sun found Maddy Fox perched on a counter in the kitchen, reading yet another comic book as Lindsay McDonough, the staff manager, poured herself a cup of coffee. Over the last few months Madeline had gotten to know the handsome black woman and respected her. Moreover, Lindsay had three children under age twelve, she must be used to peculiar questions. Black Fox folded her comic shut and fixed her sole kitchen companion with a curious gaze.
 
"Lindsay, may I ask you a question?"
 
Smiling, Lindsay said, "You can ask me anything you like Miss Fox."
 
"Weelll," Black Fox started, sing song, giving herself time to frame her question. "We're in the business of law enforcement, right?"
 
"More or less."
 
"So how come I've got a photo shoot for a fast food chain’s ad campaign?"
 
"Ah," Lindsay nodded. "I can see why you're confused. The simple answer to the question is financing."
 
"I'm not sure I understand." 
 
"Look, today, you, Iron Eagle and Void have a photo shoot, Street is visiting a hospital, Red Hawk is attending a school fundraiser, Goryo has the day off and Fortress and Seraphim are on duty here as rapid responders."
 
"I know what we're all assigned to do." Madeline said, exasperation creeping into her voice. "What I don't understand is why?"
 
The older woman folded her arms across her chest, leaned back against the counter and pursed her lips as she carefully thought out her answer.
 
"All right, It's obvious you weren't paying attention during your first briefing on the matter, so I'll go over it with you. The Cavalry is a semi-private enterprise, much like a sports team, and as such, it needs financing. That financing comes from a number of sources, including philanthropic donations, capital investments, public bond issues and a variety of image marketing campaigns. The licensing of imagery for advertising, such as your photo shoot today, is important for public relations and working capital."
 
"Why don't we work for the government?"
 
"That isn't the way the organization is set up."
 
"That's another thing," Black Fox was warming to the topic now. "How come there isn't some sort of Super-human Registration Act, like in the comics? I mean, I had to register for things, but I read the papers. They were all official sanction requests and tax stuff."
 
Chuckling, Lindsay sipped her coffee. "I keep forgetting you grew up in an extra-dimensional rift space. Three times since World War II, there have been attempts to enact such a scheme. The first resulted in what historians call the Twelve Hour War. A devastating and embarassing defeat for the U.S. military was the result. Four Super-humans, Dr. Know, the Gold Banner, the Atomic Skull and Mega-Shark were all that were needed to engage a successful sedition. Ten thousand servicemen were either injured or killed in that action, along with the loss of several squadrons of aircraft and six naval attack vessels, including an aircraft carrier. Upon hearing that Congress and President Eisenhower were redacting the law, the four surrendered."
 
"The second time was much less dramatic. The law was too vague and the Supreme Court overturned it on Constitutional grounds. The third and finally last time, at least in this country, the whole thing came to a screeching halt over the one thing the government spends most of its time wrestling with, money."
 
"Money? You're joking right?"
 
"Nope. It's like this; since different super beings manifest their powers differently, and the  sources of power seem to vary widely, a prodigiously expensive variety of measures would be required to counteract them. So should they resist the program and the military and police are forced to apprehend and detain them, the government has to prepared to neutralize their threat to incarcerate them. Unlike in the comic books, the federal government doesn't actually have unlimited resources, so it just can't commission a bunch of prisons with four foot thick, reinforced concrete walls, with individually designed cells so each power set can be countered, staffed with guards in power armor, so they can put down any sort of prison break or riot. Not to mention the energy burden such places would have. Each one would require its own nuclear power plant."
 
"So, we're free because it's too freakin' expensive to lock us up?"
 
"Pretty much."
 
"That sucks."
 
"Mmm-hmm." Agreed Lindsay. "That's the way of the world though."
 
"But," Black Fox hadn't quite given up yet, "they still need to control us right?"
 
"Yes they do baby-girl, but they do it in a far more insidious way than going all Nazi Germany on you."
 
"Photo shoots."
 
"Yup. You're celebrities, with special powers, responsibilities and privileges and to maintain all those things, you have to pursue the American Dream like rabid dogs."
 
"I thought the American Dream was truth, justice and freedom."
 
Lindsay laughed richly. "No, if there's one thing the 21st century has taught us, what with 'American Idol', Facebook and the Patriot Act, it's that Americans want to be rich, famous and admired and would give up a great number of freedoms in order to have those things."
 
"Being a hero sucks."
 
"Being a villain sucks worse."
 
Black Fox hopped down off the counter and walked off dejectedly. She seemed disappointed that she wouldn't be 'defending a world that feared and loathed her'. Lindsay could understand. That was the type of world where a hero that was idealistic could shine. Everything there would be black and white. Good and bad. Instead the world was a murky place, where to do the right thing, you had to end up a toy in a happy meal and success as a hero meant having money. Having money meant success at things that were hardly heroic.
 
Sighing, Lindsay refilled her mug and began the business of making certain the heroes could be heroes. What she didn't point out to Black Fox was that also unlike the comic books, there wasn't just an intrepid butler doing the grunt work. The Cavalry had a staff of close to twenty, not including embedded reporters, camera, sound and production crews. Lindsay’s job was to make sure the heroes could be heroes, and that meant cracking the whip as the good right arm of Lisa Ortega. Top to bottom, reality took the romance right out of super heroes.

[Siansonea]

Episode 4 — A Hard Day’s Night, Part 1

For thirteen-year-old Joaquin Sinclair, it was the bast day ever. His family was going to Breckenridge to do some early season skiing. Joaquin loved to ski, even if that a-hole Cliff Bradley from school insisted black people don't ski. Cliff was an idiot. Cliff didn't ski. He was just jealous. Joaquin had waxed up his favorite K2's the night before and had been the first one ready to go in the morning. It had taken his parents and sisters forever to finish getting ready. Once the Eisenhower tunnel was in sight and it was still only 8 a.m., he knew it was going to be a good day. Then the first tractor-trailer had hurtled onto the road from the sky and burst into flames.
 
Fujiko Osaka was jacked into Fort Denver via her machine telepathy, so it didn't matter that she was in the janitor's closet when the call came in. The young super merely translated the datastream in her head. It thrilled her every time the Cavalry was called. A Japanese-American girl with multiple sclerosis could never be a superhero. Everybody knew that to be true. Fujiko had known it too, until a serious looking man named Esteban Ortega had shown up at ther college dorm. A rare multi-fold genius, the government already kept tabs on her. Throw her super-powers into the mix and she was the NSA's wet dream, except for one teeny little problem. Her condition left her confined to a wheelchair. Esteban saw her potential and made her an offer. Scant weeks after that first contact, Hard Drive was born.
 
"Fortress and Seraphim, report to the Silo, Code 3." Fujiko's voice boomed over the Fort’s intercom.
 
Fujiko's body was slumped in her chair as her mind reached out through the complex’s electronics to coordinate disaster response.
 
"Pilot to the hangar deck," her voice boomed again.
 
"Natalie, please move your tour group away from the launch corridor," crackled her voice over Natalie Schumacher's radio.
 
"Mitch, are you ready for launch?"
 
In the silo, Mitch Lorrey, the mechanic responsible for maintaining the Cavalry's vehicles, dabbed absently at his greasy hand with an even greasier chamois. "Dark Horse V is in the catapult."
 
The heroes came sprinting into the hangar deck, straight toward the waiting aircraft. From a doorway opposite, Athena Petropoulos, a security specialist who pulled double duty as a pilot, raced into the aircraft, fastening her flight harness. Both heroes smiled. Athena was their best pilot and a bad-ass to boot. In fact, the only thing that kept her out of the spotlight was her looks. Athena was a lot of things, good looking wasn't any of them.
 
As they buckled themselves in, Buck Holtzman and his media crew barely made it onboard before Athena sealed the craft and fired up the EMF drive.
 
"Strap in." She barked, settling into the pilot's chair. Throughout the cabin, people snapped four-point harnesses into place and leaned back into the G-chairs.
 
"Is my corridor clear Fujiko?" Athena's voice was steady, crisp. She was virtually fearless and it showed in her supremely confident manner. Three years prior, she'd rammed the Dark Horse II into an alien spaceship in order to save the team. If she'd had super powers, they would have made her the leader.
 
"You are go for launch Athena."
 
"Roger that. All right you lot, hold onto your lunches!" Athena triggered the catapult, launching the craft high into the sky.
 
It was the worst day of Joaquin Sinclair's life. His family's SUV was covered in burning gunk from one of the tanker trucks, and they were trapped inside. Somehow a convoy of semis hauling hazardous materials had come tumbling off Loveland Pass onto the highway below. Several cars were crushed and flames were everywhere. The flammable ooze burned so hot it was melting the road and billowing clouds of caustic smoke were blistering the paint off vehicles not yet afire. The same smoke was pitting and eating away at the windows.
 
His mom was crying and praying to God to save them. His sisters were screaming hysterically, clutching at each other, paralyzed with fear. His father was looking around frantically, as if seeking a path to drive out of danger. It was like his mind wouldn't acknowledge the huge axle impaling the hood of their Chevy.
 
Meanwhile Joaquin felt calm. He just wondered if Cliff Bradley would realize how bad he was and change his bigoted ways. Somewhere, deep in the recesses of his mind, he recognized he was in shock. Psychological trauma was affecting his ability to react to danger. Score one for the first-aid class he took in the sixth grade. Then something shook the SUV and a sound like a million bees filled his ears.
 
The Dark Horse reached maximum speed in a matter of seconds. The G-forces pressed everyone back into their seats. Only Athena's flight suit, what the team called her "Cylon costume", kept her able to function. At ten thousand feet she opened the drives full out. The engines, specially designed and built by Ulrech Von Horn, synchronized with the electro-magnetic field of the Earth and the planet itself hurled them toward their goal at Mach 5.
 
"Under thirty seconds to target," Athena announced. Fortress was just waiting for her to say "by your command".
 
Swooping in, she reversed the polarity on the engines' mag-field, essentially hitting the brakes.
 
"Korova!" Gorky gasped, gazing at the mayhem below.
 
"Did you just say 'cow'?" Buck Holtzman asked, trying to blink the floating black spots out of his vision. Even with the Gee couches, the forces of the vehicle’s flight, wreaked havoc on people’s physiology.
 
Slapping the quick release on her restraints, Rosa Maria forced herself to her feet. "Athena, open the bulkhead! I need an exit!"
 
"Roger that." The pilot flipped a toggle and an aperture opened in the floor.
 
Rosa Maria dived into the cold mountain air without hesitation. Heat blasted up at her through the numbing temperatures and the wind whipped her hair around her head like a dark halo. Staring at the carnage, she pressed her hands together, a prayer on her lips. "In the face of all that is evil, I beseech thee, bring the justice of Heaven."
 
In mid-fall her form burst with brilliant light and in place of Rosa Maria, the angelic Seraphim dived into the disaster, a golden beacon of hope.
 
"I suppose that is my cue as well," Gorky said, getting out of his seat.
 
"We're still a hundred feet off the deck," Athena announced.
 
"Then I will have time to sight-see on the way down." He dropped through the portal. As he plummeted, his body expanded and his mass increased until he reached his maximum height of twenty-four feet and maximum weight of sixteen thousand pounds.
 
Ahead of him, Seraphim landed in the chaos near a car where the inhabitants had opened the door to flee, only to be disabled by the caustic fumes. Scooping them both up, she launched into the sky as Igor Dragunov landed thunderously.
 
Up above, Athena dropped the Dark Horse to a hovering height, fifty feet off the deck. She then launched a quartet of observation drones so Fujiko could have a clear view of the field.
 
"Athena," Fujiko radioed in, "tell Seraphim to concentrate on the injured. Her healing powers are currently the only medical treatment on scene."
 
"Roger that Hard Drive. Any instructions for the big man?"
 
"Just get people out. His dimensional space is the safest method of extrication you've got."
 
It was the coolest day of Joaquin Sinclair's life! They were about to die. He knew they were doomed as the heat built up in the burning vehicle. Then a giant knelt next to the car, his eyes glowing. One by one his family vanished. He was the last to go. Only he reappeared in what looked like the inside of a castle! Even their skiis and stuff appeared with them. Then, just as suddenly, they were back in the real world, standing down the road, safely away from the disaster.
 
Joaquin knew who saved them, even if his dad never let him watch the Super Hero Network on television. He and the other survivors watched all morning as the heroes worked. Almost everyone lived, thanks to Seraphim. Fortress even used his strength to free the people trapped inside the tunnel. Before they left, he got his skiis autographed by them both and some guy named Buck gave his family free passes for a tour of Fort Denver. Seraphim even remembered his name when she shook his hand and told him how brave he was. He bet his dad let them watch super heroes on TV now.
 
Then they took off in their ship and rocketed back to Denver. There was no skiing, but it didn't matter. Joaquin Sinclair was gonna rub this in Cliff Bradley's face. He met the Cavalry! Best. Day. Ever.
 

[Siansonea]

Episode 5 — A Hard Day’s Night, Part 2

The night was black as pitch. Clouds obscured the moon and stars and huge, old trees blocked the weak light thrown by the street lamps. Through the murky dark, a pair of figures darted like wraiths. Moving across stately lawns and slipping over crenellated walls, they raised no alarm. Even dogs, awake late guarding their territories, failed to note their presence.

Denver Country Club is a neighborhood of the well-heeled. Stately, understated homes not far from the heart of the city geographically, but light years away from the grime and refuse. It was not the gated enclaves of the Polo Club or Cherry Hills, neighborhoods that in spite of (or perhaps because of) their “ask no questions” security attracted many whose wealth was ill-gotten. Yet, it was here that the investigation into the presence of the Apocalypse at the drug dealers’ led. Here, to a three-story Colonial-style home, the red-brown bricks blanketed thickly with ivy.

Making use of the vines, Goryo and Red Hawk scaled the aged wall to a darkened window. No words passed between them as the Japanese hero slid through the shadows into the empty room, taking Red Hawk with her. In the dark they stood silently, listening for any indication that their entrance had been noticed. The room was silent.

Resuming their stealthy hunt, they crept from the room into the hallway. From below, they could hear what seemed to be a dinner party of some sort. Red Hawk shuddered to think what kind of dinner might be served here in this house. He glanced over at his companion and noted the hard, determined look on her face. Between that look and the thin, black blindfold across her eyes, her garish face paint was even more unsettling. Beckoning him forward, she moved into a long shadow and with a sudden lurch, the pair stepped out of the darkness into the dining room.

The gathered party went silent. “Master Iblis, we wish to have words with you.” She rasped.

The man at the head of the ornate dining table smiled, showing his fangs. Iblis was one of two vampire lords in Denver. The second, Lilith had tighter security and fewer known connections to the criminal underworld.

“Just Iblis please. I really don’t stand on ceremony.” His eyes glowed red in the wan light of the candles illuminating the room.

Red Hawk was careful not to look directly at him, well aware of the undead’s hypnotic gaze. Goryo on the other hand faced him directly, her blindness providing her with an insurmountable defense against that particular power.

“What do you know about the Apocalypse being in town vampire?” she asked, not responding to his honey-tongued false courtesy.

“Why do you think I would know anything about terrorists?” His voice remained light, playful almost, but the ninja’s superhuman senses noticed the tension in his posture.

“Come on Iblis,” Red Hawk said, raising his bow-gauntlet, “you don’t want to do this the hard way.”

Then the vampire laughed, “What? You’re going to assault me? In my own home? On camera?”

“All anyone will see, even if you have security cameras in here is me shooting an empty chair, you undead piece of filth.” The hero growled.

Iblis fixed him with his gaze and shook his head. “You really should have consulted with an arcanist before coming here. I don’t have a reflection, due to the nature of the curse of vampirism. It is a supernatural expression of my metaphorical lack of ownership of my soul. I can be filmed. Don’t believe what you see on television or the movies.”

After a brief, dramatic pause Iblis continued. “Vampirism is a mystical curse, not some sort of quantifiable scientific phenomenon. Really, didn’t your Angel tell you anything?”

Both heroes remained silent. The Vampire Lord smiled then. “I understand now. The Angel doesn’t know. This is not an official visit. You’re here to rough me up. To intimidate me. I wondered when you appeared, where your camera crews were.”

“I’ll tell you what…just go away and I won’t call the police to report this illegal raid and I won’t call my lawyers to flay you for violating my rights.”

“Your rights!” Goryo growled. “You drain people of their lives! You turn humans into mockeries of life!”

“Tsk. Tsk. My dear, all my spawn are legal. You can check their paperwork. They all had terminal conditions and all signed the requisite releases stating they understood the physiological and spiritual changes becoming a vampire would wreak on them.” He leaned back in his chair, a wicked smile on his lips, his fingers steepled in front of his face.

Both heroes were shaking their heads, as if trying to banish his words. His grin meanwhile became that much larger. “You know, if the pair of you are going to make it anywhere as thugs, you should at least know how to threaten people. Like this…get out of my home or I will call the police and the news stations and your precious super-team can try to recover from the avalanche of bad publicity this would bring. I am a sentient being in the United States. I attained my citizenship over fifty years ago. I…have…rights. AND, I have my own lawyers, not to mention the ACLU on speed dial.”

Shadows leaked from Goryo, twining around her like predatory serpents her rage was so pronounced. Adam on the other hand merely shook his head. “Let’s go. He’s right. I knew this was a bad idea.”

“His kind is a blight on the planet! We cannot just walk away!”

“Yes we can Hitomi. We have to or this investigation is going to be side tracked by meaningless legal wrangling.”

“Yes. Walk away.” Iblis gloated. “But bring back a camera crew in the morning and I’ll be more than happy to give you the information you seek.”

“You know who brought those terrorists to town?” Goryo was tight as a spring. Ready to leap at the pale skinned creature at the slightest provocation.

“Not directly, but, I have some ideas about who may have brought them to this city. They aren’t still at large are they?” He was trying to sound casual, but even without the hitches in breathing and changes in skin tone and perspiration that mark stress in living humans, Red Hawk could tell he was tense.

“No. They’re in custody.”

“Excellent. Then I can help, after all my image can always use a little polishing in the eyes of the public. I don’t need the peasants coming after me with torches, crucifixes and holy water.”

“We’ll be back.” Goryo’s voice was controlled, but still angry. Still, she simply put her hand on her partners’ arm and the vanished back into the shadows. They appeared a mile away, the limit of Goryo’s shadow walk.

Goryo touched her commlink and spoke. “He knows something. He did everything except dance around us to taunt us with the knowledge.”

“I understand.” Void replied. “Street is dialing up the judge right now to get a search warrant.”

“How are we going to play this?” Red Hawk asked.

“Confidential informant.” Void answered.

“And his security system?” Goryo queried.

“Your cousin assures me that it suffered an inexplicable glitch for the time you were in the house. The cameras never saw you.”

The pair smiled grim smiles at one another. Iblis would get his moment on camera, but it wouldn’t go as he had planned.

[Michuru81]

Bumping this in the hopes that it will inspire (guilt) the writer into giving us (me) more.

[Horsenhero]

More coming. Siansonea is getting beat by work in RL, so it may take a wee bit more time, but I promise, it's coming.

Sheesh some peoples GM's.

[Siansonea]

Episode 6—You Can't Always Get What You Want

The raid had gone off with clockwork precision. The Police, led by Detective Burns, had arrived and secured the premises. Once dawn broke, the lesser vampires, Iblis' spawn, retired to the crypt in the basement to sleep the day away. The heroes were a little disappointed the chamber was like a locked apartment, with comfortable beds as opposed to a dank, stone mausoleums filled with coffins. Iblis himself remained awake.
 
"Tell me again how this search was approved, Detective," the vampire lord said, not quite hiding his irritation.
 
"Confidential informant," Burns replied, casually flipping through a file from Iblis' desk.
 
"Who?"
 
"If I told you, they wouldn't be confidential now, would they?"
 
The vampire matched the detective’s insouciance, shrugging off the deflections of his inquiry. "It doesn't matter. I am a law abiding citizen...despite what you may think."
 
"I don't make judgements." Burns tossed the file onto the heavy, antique desk and yawned. "I uncover criminal behavior. I leave it to the courts to decide what to do about it."
 
Unfortunately for the heroes, thus far the search seemed fruitless. Iblis did not believe in computers, so there were no electronic files and he'd surrendered all paper files without any fuss, once he saw the search warrant. The camera crews had given up hope of anything really interesting happening a mere hour into the raid. Buck Holtzman, eager to be ready for anything like the previous days' action, had taken his crew back to Fort Denver. Nelly Trujillo stubbornly held out, but, had her crew hold off on any more filming. Even the Crime Scene Technicians of the Combined Regional Super-Human Crimes Division, dedicated as they were, seemed to be losing enthusiasm.
 
Then, just as Detective Burns was about to call an end to the search, Street spotted something on the wall, partially obscured by a book case.
 
"In here people!" She called out. Instantly, cameras switched on and Nelly's crew crowded in, right behind the police and heroes.
 
"What is it Street?" Red Hawk said anxiously. He had been party to the lie that got them the search warrant and was feeling guilty. A break in the case would really go a long way toward assuaging that guilt.
 
"Move the book case and I'll tell you." She was up close now, studying the symbols she could see.
 
"Step aside please." The voice was hollow, as if merely an echo in a well. Void hung suspended in the air, inches above the floor. It hurt to look at him, for except forthe radiant splash that outlined his human silhouette, he was an empty space in the universe. Despite his control, everyone could feel the tug of his gravity. With a gesture, the ancient, mahogany furniture slid out of the way.
 
"Exactly as I thought," Street smiled triumphantly at the revealed image, "a magic portal."
 
For a moment, a little, victorious thrill ran through the assembled heroes.
 
"To where?" Detective Burns' voice cut the air.
 
"What do you mean?" Red Hawk asked, his voice heavy with suspicion.
 
"I mean, unless that portal announces somehow that it is how the Apocalypse entered the city, it's meaningless."
 
The statuesque mage rounded on the detective. "That can't be true!"
 
"Unless you can prove a connection with the investigation, it is. It's just a random magic portal, that for all I know, leads to the Aurora Mall, or Hell, or some other place unconnected to the investigation and thus not covered by the search warrant." Somehow, the detective still managed to sound bored.
 
"Aren't Hell and the Aurora Mall pretty much the same place?" whispered a sound man.
 
"Hell's nicer." Nelly Trujillo rasped back. "Now shush!"
 
It was obvious from the sorceress' body language she could not meet the policeman's criteria. Her shoulders slumped. Stepping out from the shadows near Nelly's crew, Goryo whispered to the camera operator. "Get a complete shot of that circle quickly."
 
After staring at Street for several seconds, awaiting a verbal response and receiving none, Burns spoke to Void. "Cover it back up. We're done here."
 
"What about him?" Street pointed at Iblis.
 
"What about him?"
 
"He's a vampire. A spawn of Hell. He needs to be destroyed!"
 
The Detective gave Street a long-suffering look and yawned again. "He's a protected minority. I'd be careful with the Hellspawn talk."
 
"Indeed," Iblis spoke from the corner where he had watched everything silently. "I'll sue your spandex pants off for defamation of character."

* * * * *
 
Meanwhile, at Fort Denver, Vitaly Sharapov got up from his seat in the Logistics Control Room and stretched. Still working the kinks out of one stiff shoulder, he turned to Natalie Schumacher, his companion in the room, and said; "It looks like this was a bust. I'm going to grab a cup of coffee and have a smoke. Do you want anything?"
 
"No thank you, Mr. Sharapov." She replied, turning on her blisteringly brilliant smile. "Take your time. It looks like I can handle things here."
 
Vitaly passed Natalie twice more on the way to his destination. He did grab a cup of coffee on the way, and when he stepped out into the recessed courtyard to smoke, he found himself alone. It was expected. Only he and Thurston smoked, and now the lawyer-turned-superhero was gone. He quit the superhero business and went back to lawyering. So the smoking area at the headquarters was pretty much Vitaly's alone. Convenient at moments like this.
 
Lighting a cigarette, he then pulled out his cellphone. The secret one with the signal encryption, and made the call he had to make.
 
"Hello V." Said the voice that answered the call.
 
"Hello." Vitaly nearly whispered. "I just thought I should warn you, they are suspicious of the Apocalypses' activity and are investigating."
 
"We expected as much. They are not completely naive, these heroes."
 
"You don't sound worried."
 
The voice chuckled. "What is there to worry about? By the time our stalwart worthies get permission to interrogate them, they will have escaped prison, and fled the country."
 
"Ah. I see."
 
"Thank you for the call sir. You'd best get back to work."
 
Not too many miles distant, William Walks-far-under-big-sky Moore, was just climbing back to conciousness. He knew he was going to be sick, even before he fully regained his senses. It had been a hard night of drinking with nothing to eat. Sure enough, as soon as his eyes fluttered open, his stomach heaved. He rolled onto his side and drooled a thin line of bile onto the ground.
 
Spitting repeatedly to rid his mouth of the taste of his gut, he struggled to a sitting position. He looked around, bleary eyed, trying to divine where he'd slept this time. In the mud. Behind some bushes. Under a bridge. Probably beside the Cherry Creek Trail. The not too distant sounds of a conversation between joggers confirmed it.
 
Fighting off a wave of nausea, he lurched to his feet. On the ground next to him, was his jacket. He had taken it off at some point, and...given the shape it was in...wrapped it around something. A bolt of panic shot through him right then. Just looking at the lump in his jacket made him nervous. Flashes of a not-quite-remembered nightmare, niggled at the back of his mind.
 
The lump was just the right size for a human head. Oh God, it couldn't be. He wasn't macabre enough to have picked up a murdered man’s head, not even drunk! He wasn't a killer, so it couldn't be that he...it just couldn't. Prepared for the worst, he grabbed his jacket and yanked. He pulled it like a magician doing that trick where they pull the tablecloth out from under the place settings.
 
With a thump, a skull fell to the ground. A clear, plastic skull. Or maybe it was glass, it sounded heavy when it hit. Relief flooded him. It was life-size, sure, but just a Halloween prop. He started to laugh, only to choke on it when the empty eye sockets flared, with a cold, blue light.
 
He wanted to run, but, his feet wouldn't move. It was then he noticed the interior lining of his jacket was coated with frost. Run. Run! RUN! He fell to his knees. His mind gibbered with fear, but his voice was paralyzed. His hands, shaking mere momnets before, reached out, rock steady, to grab the skull. Numbing cold lanced up his arms.
 
His final thoughts were strangely calm. "It's very cold. I wonder if it's carved from ice?"
 
A wave of cold exploded from under the bridge. Trees. Cars. Joggers. Even the creek itself, were instantly frozen solid. Where William Walks-far-under-big-sky Moore had knelt, a new figure arose. Tall, emaciated, dressed as a Plains Indian Chief and coated with hoarfrost...he was Shakak. Winter spirit. Destroyer.
 
Looking around with a frozen, rictus smile, he raised his arms toward the sky, summoning his deadly winter...cackling madly.
 
 

[Siansonea]

Episode 7 — A Cold Wind

Before..
 
The Cavalry was back. At least some permutation of the team had returned. While they had yet to threaten the rule of Malefactor in Underworld, it was just a matter of time. As his majesty's ranking agent among humanity, Li Lung could not permit it. Their  predecessors had opposed Malefactor's plans. MP3 Playa had even been so impudent as to engage the Lord in personal combat. The Dragon mage would not permit this latest incarnation of the team of mortal meddlers to have the opportunity to inconvenience the master.
 
To this end, the sorcerer researched a threat capable of destroying, or at the very least, distracting the heroes. The work was exhausting, for it had to be done quickly. Fortunately, the mythic realms are awash with forces antithetical to mankind. He finally settled on something local. Local phenomena always brought the best reactions. The mythic forces linking them with the land were strongest. The shockwaves through the dreamscape, the most potent.
 
Taking his prize out of the overrealms, he swaddled himself in a human guise. Shakak, the destructive winter spirit, had a physical body of its own. Its manifestation in the earthly realms was an icy skull. This meant the spirit needed a host. Preferably one of its own faith. It took long days before Li Lung found the perfect victim. William Walks-far-under-big-sky Moore was a Navajo man in crisis. Vulnerable. Weak. Doomed.
 
Now...
 
Shakak strode from the frozen underpass into the blizzard that heralded his arrival. The closest things to him had already been flash-frozen at the moment of his rebirth. Humans such as it had never seen before were immortalized in glacial ice. He could feel the warmth, the power, the life, beyond the storm and his cold heart burned with hatred for it. He was the brittle death. He was not the harbinger of doom, but doom itself.
 
"Come my children," he said, in a voice like winter wind, and all the frozen dead things fell in step behind him.
 
Within minutes the native diety's force of icy minions had multiplied in numbers many times. An ever widening circle of the city was caught in the deadly blizzard. Within that radius temperatures had plunged below freezing and the swirling wind sent the ice crystals flying in flesh-scouring blasts. Several times police officers tried to confront the threat. Brave officers, pitting courage and modern weapons against supernatural winter. Those officers now shuffled along as part of Shakak's army.
 
The tall, spindly diety, with the death's head grin and cavernous dark eyes reveled in unholy joy at each death. With each tiny flame of mortal life snuffed, the cold grew more bitter. With each risen dead, the dread blizzard swelled. Shakak shouted a victory cry of howling wind. The dieties and heroes that once opposed it were long dead or diminished unto helplessness. Confidently, it pushed forward.
 
Heat blasted down from the sky, and the front rank of zombies shattered. From the left, something swift as the wind and powerful as the river, ricocheted among its' slaves, breaking them as it passed. From the right, a sound like thunder boomed. The ground shook and the frozen dead scattered like thistles in a hurricane. Aghast, the frost-coated monster could barely comprehend the threat. A trio of squaws with godlike powers opposed it.
 
"That's far enough creature!" The woman who had rained down fire on his minions announced. Garbed in a skin tight costume of gold and purple, haloed in white-gold fire, she hovered on high, a solar avenger. She called herself Charisma. She was the second heroine to wear the costume and alias.
 
"Surrender cabron." The Latina speedster known as Amp ordered. She didn't expect that the creature would comply, but Jenny Sanchez felt the warning should be given just in case. She had very specific ideas about how a hero should behave.
 
"Naw. Y'all don't have to surrenduh sugah pie," the last of the trio said. "In fact, Ah puhsonally would prefah y'all didn't."
 
She was a tall woman, almost six and a half feet, dressed in a muscle shirt to show off her bodybuilder's physique. Her dark skin glistened and she clenched a cigar in her teeth. Casually, she spun a wrecking ball by a steel cable. She was a radical feminist, ultra-competitive powerhouse who went by the name Ballbreaker.
 
Shakak sneered. These modern...aberrations would not stop him. He gestured and a white wave of killing, cold burst outward. The solar plasma around Charisma flared brighter. Amp dashed behind cover, and Julia Moreau, the Ballbreaker, just let it wash over her, encasing her in ice.
 
The tall heroine shrugged her muscular shoulders, shattering the frigid sheath encasing her. "Is that all you got sugah pie? Pathetic."
 
The death god merely snarled silently and raised his arms heavenward. Before him, the swirling snow congealed into a pair of icy giants. Immediately, the titans lumbered forward, on the attack.
 
The big woman shook her arms loosely, like a boxer warming up for a match. The first giant swung a crudely formed fist, only to have the woman deflect it with the wrecking ball. Grinning, she puffed casually on her cigar and waited for the second behemoth to attack.
 
She never got the chance to take it on. Her companions were equally anxious to defeat the villain. Faster than the eye could follow, Amp dashed up behind the first frozen beast and brushed her fingers across it. The barest caress and she released an incredible wave of kinetic force. The wintry automaton shattered. The second fared no better, as Charisma rained super-heated plasma down on it, reducing it to vapor in a heartbeat.
 
"Well Tonto, that leaves y'all for me Ah guess." Ballbreaker said, spinning her wrecking ball in a deadly arc, charging her enemy.
 
The steel sphere struck Shakak and he exploded in a cloud of crystals. For a moment a victorious smile spread across the hulking heroines' face. Only for a moment. The cloud of icy flakes enveloped her and numbness filled her.
 
"Oh god! Carla, he's..." the sentence would go unfinished as the cold death of the plains, sucked the heat from Julia Moreau. She collapsed in a heap.
 
"Julia!" Jenny Sanchez stared at the deathly still form of her friend. The rage welled up within her.
 
"You think being snow can save you from me?" She thrust her hand forward, palm out. A wave of pure force burst forth, decimating everything in its' path, including the mass of swirling snow that had been the primitive god. To preserve himself, Shakak reassumed his corporeal form.
 
The damage to him was obvious. His body was shot through with cracks and fissures. He fell to one knee, leaning on a skinny arm for support. Amp surged forward, a killing charge built up in her raised fist. Shakak grinned, and a frozen policeman, drew his service weapon and shot her in the back.
 
Jenny stumbled, eyes wide. Pain lanced through her and blood gouted from the exit wound in her gut. The kinetic force in her fist, flickered and vanished. Looking back, she could see Shakak’s remaining zombies, including the one that shot her, shambling forward. The pistol flashed again and pain exploded in her neck.
 
"Dammit!" She gurgled. "They don't get to kill me and get away!"
 
Summoning the last reserves of her strength, she rocketed at the horde, a monstrous force wave in her wake. The impact was tremendous. Zombies shattered. Cars and buildings were smashed. The street ruptured, throwing frozen rubble into the air.
 
"NNOOO!!" Charisma screamed. The air around her burst into flame. She was consumed by fury. Her friends were grievously injured. Perhaps dead. Her city was under attack. there was no more need for control.
 
The first Charisma, Darla Carpenter, had been the older of two girls born to David and Stephanie Carpenter. She was an intelligent, likable girl, who believed in serving mankind. Her mutant powers first manifested in her late teens. Flight. Incredible strength and durability. Control over ionized plasma, and extremely potent psychoactive pheremones. As a member of the Cavalry, she used her powers for the good of all. Then she was killed in action.
 
Carla Carpenter, was the spitting image of her older sister, right down to the mutant powers. But where Darla had used her powers for altruistic purposes, Carla used hers selfishly. Then known as Sinister, Carla’s activities involved enriching herself and lashing out spitefully at her sister. Charisma never ceased trying to rehabilitate her criminal sibling. That just enraged Sinister even more. Then Darla was killed. For Carla, it was a life-changing moment. Everything she had ever done, was to spite the sister who never stopped loving her. Sinister died with Darla.
 
Carla swore an oath to uphold her sister’s ideals. The first thing she did was assume the mantle of her sibling’s heroic identity. Then she convinced two fellow villainesses to join her in honoring Darla's memory. As Trinity, Charisma, Amp and Ballbreaker did not have the backing or resources of a major super-team, but they tried to help as best they could.
 
Now Amp was lying in a pool of her own blood and Ballbreaker in a frozen heap. Both were dying or already dead. Grief and rage exploded in her. The fire outside reflected the fire within.
 
"You son of a bitch!" she howled. "I'll kill you!"
 
Blasts of super-heated hydrogen poured from her like a river. The evil god was engulfed. In return, ice and wind swirled violently around her, pummeling her with gale force. For long minutes, the elemental combat raged, advantage shifting first to one combatant, then the other. At long last though, the gods' endurance proved greater and Charisma was hurled back by a bolt of solid ice.
 
Her impact with the street was jarring. A normal human would have perished. Carla struggled to regain her feet. Her flame was guttering, dying in the frigid storm, but still she rose. Then a lambent hand touched her shoulder and a golden glow pushed back the storm. Turning, she beheld a serene, angelic visage.
 
"You have fought most bravely Carla Carpenter," The angel said, "But you may rest now."
 
"Yeah...take a breather. We got this." Black Fox said, cracking her knuckles. "You hear that popsicle? The Cavalry has arrived! Prepare for a whuppin'!"

[Horsenhero]

So, Michuru has lit the fire under me again to keep this story going. With Siansonea's work life pummeling her mercilessly, all future posts will come direct from me, without going through my editrix first. This means grammatical errors are bound to increase many fold.

As always feedback is appreciated, in fact at least a cry in the wilderness would help me, for despite my love of the story...I assume no feedback means lack of interest. I'm funny that way.

[Horsenhero]

Episode 8: Riding the Storm Out


Brooklyn St. Claire was eight years old when she first felt the city breathe. She had been asleep in her bed, when the tingle she always felt at the edge of her awareness roared into a lightning storm. Every new thing, every birth, every death, monolithic buildings and racing cars filled her. All the city encompassed, whether constructed edifice or living creature blasted into her being. She woke screaming.

By age twelve she understood what she was. She did not know her potential. She barely grasped her kinship with the metropolises of the world. She understood that she was a spirit of cities. What that actually meant, she did not know.

At age sixteen her abilities were truly blossoming. The streets were alive to her. The very substance of the city was hers to command. She could even form the loose detritus into a composite creation, crudely in her own image, that her consciousness could inhabit. She began her study of philosophy and magic.

By age twenty, Brooklyn was fully immersed in arcana. She was a civic activist, ever striving to improve and enrich her city. She often wondered if her abilities would increase in a larger city or diminish in a smaller one. It was that curiosity that drove her to teleport from city to city across the United States. It also revealed to her limitations to her abilities. She had to incant...supplicate for the cities to empower her. Outside urban environments, her powers were greatly diminished. And no matter where or how far she travelled, she always returned to her home...to Denver.

At age twenty two, fully aware of her powers and potential, but searching for direction, she joined the Cavalry. It was the best, most anxious decision she ever made. With a simple signature she went from being spiritually connected to the city, to being its' physical defender. Now her city was under attack. Laid siege to by a spirit of a bygone era. She would not abide this crime. Could not.

Her only problem was, she disliked violence. It was...uncivilized.

Closer to the winter spirit, Black Fox did not share her scruples.

"Damn it's cold!" She cursed, advancing on the villain, using her tumbling talents to confuse it.

The creature hurled icy spear after icy spear at her, but none found the mark.

"Ha! Your kung fu is weak!" The furry heroine taunted. "Now I shall show you my Northern Pain in the Butt style..." She did a quick Mr. Miyagi impression. "...done properly, no can defense."

With a graceful spin, she launched herself at the evil creature. "Haaaiiii...crap!"

Hurricane force winds swirling around Shakak caught her mid-leap and hurled her toward a frozen store front.

She was going to splatter like a ripe melon against the brick facade. She threw up her hands in a futile gesture. White light flashed around her and she tumbled painfully to the ground, bouncing across a stone floor. Wooden torches burned in sconces on the walls.

"Ouch." She gingerly wiped off her knees and buttocks, her tail lashing in frustration. "Great. I'm in the head of a lummox."

In the real world Shakak raised a horde of frozen automatons to attack these new enemies, only to have them shatter one after another, as they stepped forward.

Even in this deathly cold, Red Hawk was confident he could destroy vast numbers of the constructs. Fiery bolts from his armbows splintered them easily. Unfortunately, the rime encrusted indian reacted quickly, increasing the wind shear, deflecting his arrows.

"That's not the only way I can play this." The scarlet clad hero growled. With a quick, double click, the bows folded into the gauntlets and twin blades slid out. Just over a foot in length, the double bladed weapons gleamed like high tech katars. A quick twist of his wrist and they burst into flames. Adrenaline pumping, the yound hero waded into the fray.

Shakak, simultaneously found himself on the defense against a withering assault by Iron Eagle and Void. Particle beams and Gauss projectiles hammered at the ancient spirit, driving it backward, arms pinwheeling.

"Ve haf him on ze ropes mine freund!" Iron Eagle exclaimed. His voice was exhuberant, almost joyful.

Void on the other hand said nothing. The gravitic guardian rarely spoke in combat.

Suddenly a pair of Ice Giants, these in the shape of Bison careened into the heroes...or at least into Iron Eagle, since Voids "body" was no more than a humanoid gravity well. The collision sounded like a ten car pile-up. Iron eagle found himself pinned under tons of ice.

"Zis is ludicrous!" He snarled. His armor had saved him from the worst of the collision, but, he was pinned, unable to get leverage to free himself.

The sound of club-like hooves of ice stomping the German hero's armor was deafening. Electonically amplified grunts of pain accompanied every blow.

Now facing Void one on one, the ancient god's power forced the gravity manipulating hero onto the defensive.
A cold smile split the spirits' face as it sensed the tide turning in its' favor.

On the edge of the storm, Street, Seraphim and Goryo made plans.

"This combat is pointless." Declared the city sorceress, squinting against the snow.

"How so?" Goryo inquired. The two mystic heroes had stopped her own entry into the battle. A warrior by nature, she was not pleased.

"Shakak cannot be stopped by physical violence. He...it, feeds on violence and death. This sort of confrontation works to its' advantage." Seraphim explained.

"That is true." Street nodded sagely. "Only by returning it to its' prison may it be defeated."

"Where is this prison?" The blind ninja asked.

"Somewhere close. It would resemble a human skull carved out of ice." As she spoke, Brooklyn looked around, as if she might see it laying in the open.

Goryo nodded sharply. "Void has the senses best suited for such a search. I will engage out enemy. Seraphim retrieve him from the field of battle."

"Are you sure about this?"

"All tactical maneuvers carry a certain amount of risk, however I believe numbers will tell. Shakak is losing his zombie army and as powerful as it he may be...Iron Eagle, Red hawk, Black Fox, Fortress and I ought to be capable of delaying his progress without loss of life."

Street chewed on her lip, as she considered the shadow warriors' reasoning. "All right, let's do it."

to be continued...

[Horsenhero]

Episode 9: Cold hands...Colder heart

If his rictus smile could possibly get wider or more vicious, now was the moment. Despite a valiant effort, Franklin Fawkes, alias Void, was faltering. For the second time, immortal endurance proved to be the deciding factor. The diety stepped forward, an impossibly cold, spear of blue light appearing in his hands. As Void slowly sank to one knee, the icy demon raised the weapon for the finishing blow.

That blow never fell. A golden blur shot by, scooping up the gravitic champion in an orb of divine light. Before that truly registered, the avatar of winter death found himself assaulted again. A foreign warrior appeared out of his own shadow, wielding weapons seemingly formed of solid darkness. The wind howled Shakak's rage.

Goryo was almost knocked off her feet by the savage gale. She blocked thrust after thrust of the gods' spear. The wind and cold stole her breath. The same arctic conditions stole the heat from her body. In the first moments of combat, ice began to build up on her clothes. She was not about to flee or fail though. She screamed her defiance.

"Kage Bushi!!"

"Hoochie Koochie!" Came another scream. Black Fox slammed into the dumbstruck villain. "Hi honey! You would not believe the day I've had!"

While the attack of the hirsute heroine did not harm the death lord in any way, her arrival distracted him from Goryo. The shadow warrior took advantage of the moment to slam her dark weapon through the glowing spear of her enemy.

"Not the spear Daniel-san!" Black Fox shouted, wrestling the icy villain. "Sweep the leg!"

"This battle is no joke Fox!"

"Hey! You just said my name! You're gonna give away my secret identity!"

Goryo spun and launched a bone shattering kick into the sternum of the immortal villain. For the first time, Shakak grunted as if in pain. They were wearing him down. Goryo wondered if it would be soon enough.

"You do not have a secret identity, jester."

"I'm not the Jester! The jester wears a clown outfiiii...aack!"

A burst of razor sharp shards of ice silenced Black Fox and sent Goryo tumbling to the snowy ground. Blue light flared in Shakak's cavernous eyes, as he stared down at his victims. His moment of silent gloating cost him dearly. A wrecking ball sized fist slammed into his chest, hurtling him into a nearby building. The impact cracked like the splintering of a great glacier.

"Remain here my friends. Catch your breath. I can keep him busy for a bit." Said Fortress, his long legs carrying him in rapid pursuit of his target.

"Ouch....show off." Groaned Black Fox.

"You know, one day we are going to face a villain who can shut you up." Snarled Goryo, forcing herself back to her feet.

"Shows...What...you...know." Panting, Black Fox pulled herself up, using the blind ninja's arm to steady herself.

"Let's go!" Goryo dashed forward, a Kusari-gama of pure darkness forming in her grip.

"Wait!" Madeline gasped. "Crap...I think...that...Dances-with-wolves-meets-otter-pops, creep...really...hurt ...me."

Then she crumpled in a heap.

"I haf mein fraulein." The electronic tones of Iron Eagle's voice hummed in her ear.

"Oh...hi Ulrech. I'd get up...only...I think I'm...bleeding to death. Kinda busy...with that."

The armored hero scooped her up. "Let's see vaht Seraphim can do about dat...ja?"

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

The storm had quit expanding, but the ground blizzard was raging fiercely and encompassed a huge portion of the city. Most of her methods of gaining intelligence were being interfered with by the storm. That made Lisa Ortega furious.

"Fujiko! I need eyes on that battleground!"

"We have them Ms. Ortega. Several drones are still airborne and Nelly's team has penetrated the combat zone, but, atmospheric disturbance is making broadcast reception problematic."

"Dammit!"

Ever since Esteban's murder, Lisa had been in charge of non-combat operations for the Cavalry. Logistics, operations, everything down to janitorial went through her office. She was used to feeling in control. She did not feel in control now, and it grated on her.

"Well...have we had any luck getting any back up, just in case?"

From across the room, Natalie Schumacher chimed in, her perpetually perky voice, hardened in clipped, professional tones. "Roger that ma'am. The Clearwaters' are on their way up from new Mexico, and The Posse is on standby in Austin."

"Fujiko, patch me through to the silo."

"Done."

"Mitch, is the Warwagon ready to go?"

"Aye. That it is." The gruff technician answered. "Athena, Dorian, Neftali and a pair of Natalie are on board, ready to roll on your word."

"Spectacular. I've got everything I need...except intel. Fujiko is there any way to boost the signal strength from our eyes on scene?"

"Working on it."

"Wonderful."

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

While the Cavalry's support staff was having difficulty, several observers were not. From the stroage room of a custom sheepskin factory, Nelly Trujillo and her crew liberated coats. Diligent effort kept their cameras clear of ice. She was not going to let this battle go unrecorded. Despite the deadly cold, they were doing their job.

Elswhere, Li Lung watched with pleasure. Black Fox had been evacuated from the field of combat. So had Void. Goryo was barely moving. Red hawk had collapsed under an onslaught of ice boulders. Iron Eagle and Fortress were still battling valiantly, in what was surely a doomed effort. Then a look of consternation crossed his reptilian visage. he had not seen the Angel since she whisked Void away and the sorceress had not become involved at all. Just as these realizations flitted through his mind, the wintry death god convulsed, as if stabbed in the back.

"NO!" The Dragon mage shouted at the mirror.

Shakak knew fear. He felt his hold on his mortal host begin to fray. Someone had found his prison. Someone who knew the ritual to return him to it. A wave of glacial force exploded from him, throwing his foes to the earth. He spun and a wave of ice lifted him. He rode the avalanche toward where he sensed the skull to be.

He saw them, the mage and the angel. His skull floated between them as they chanted, invoking the ancient curses. The being of emptiness warded them from the worst of his blizzard. His ice wave reared up over them, like a cobra about to strike. His glowing, blue spear formed again in his hands. he could taste the deaths of his enemies. It would be delicious.

Then his world exploded.

He slammed into the ground with a sickening...whomp. Raising his head, a wave of heat washed over him.

"I really want to kill you." Charisma sneered, white hot plasma curling around her. "But you hi-jacked an innocent person for this...so I'll have to settle for kicking the snot out of you."

Pain wracked him again. More fraying. Then his foe yanked him off the ground. A warknife of ice appeared in his fist, only to vaporize in a gout of fire. Her fist rammed into his gut, causing him to double over. An uppercut sent him hurtling into a frozen cadillac.

Hatred surged in the god, as he pushed himself clear of the wreckage. He would not tolerate this...thing defying him. he raised his arm and a war hatchet of cold, blue light appeared in his fist. Only to flicker out as another wave of pain coursed through him, fraying his mortal connection that much more. Piece by piece, thread by thread, his hold on his host was pulled apart, unravelled.

Then...the storm stopped. No warning was given. The snow and wind just...ended. The temperature bounded from below freezing to the mid 60's in a heartbeat. Shakak turned to glare at Street and Seraphim. His knees buckled and he collapsed, but, it was William walks-far-under-big-sky Moore, who hit the ground.

Street felt the icy skull grow even colder in her hands.

"Lucky for him, you managed to pull that off." Black Fox quipped, limping up. "I was just about to school his breech clout wearing butt."

to be continued...

[Michuru81]

I adored the banter throughout (especially the Karate Kid reference). T'was well worth the wait. Now, get to work on episode ten! [cracks the whip]

[Tattooedman]

Ya know, I've been trying to read this thread for awhile now.

I've read the first post about 6 times, trying to start from the begining only to have something come up or time restrictions get the better of me.

Today I actually managed to read the whole thing.

Very nice work HH.

~still wishing there was a "thumbs up" smiley~

[Horsenhero]

Thanks for the vote of confidence TM. I appreciate it. Obviously, at least currently, my storyline is somewhat more 4 color and light hearted than the inestimable Michuru's, but, some of the characters' are a blast to write.

My only regret is that I could not properly convey the shock and disbelief when the players found out "in game" that Vampires are a legally recognized minority group in the NWU. I thought heads were gonna 'splode.