NationStates Jolt Archive

Rafzekael smiled.
"Well," he said, cracking his knuckles, " I got some free time." He sniffed the air and smelt blood. He thought, then shook his head. He let the demon temporarily take over, and flitted towards a building behind the ship then scaled it. Then, Raf took over again and the voice said, "Nice choice."

Alliance was searching a different part of the city. He was unaware that their target had already been found. He was however aware that something was coming towards him fast. Seconds later, he was sent barreling into a building, thanks to an unknown assaliant. Taking a look up, he saw a man in a white-jump suit with strange symbols standing over him. The man then proceeded to attack Alliance rapidly, punching him in the chest at inhuman speed. Despite Alliance's superhuman durability, he was soon covered in bruises.

Pushing himself up, he telekinetically hurled the man away. He then grabbed a nearby parked car and threw it at the figure, who had already recovered and side-stepped quickly. He ran back at Alliance, who was struck in the face and once again found himself hurling through the air, down a crowded Parisian street. By now, he had attracted the attention of many standers by. Deciding that now disguise was useless, he ripped off the sweatshirt he was wearing and revealed his iconic, multi-flagged shirt.

As people looked at him in awe, realising who he was, he prepped himself for the next attack from his superspeedy foe. It came soon enough, but this time he was ready. Utilizing his own superhuman speed, Alliance took off down the street. The two were now in a fast paced race down the streets of the city, dodging cars and pedestrians as they went.

Meanwhile, at the location where Foxfire and the group near him was, a similarly suited figure to the one pursuing Alliance, except for the fact that this one was much more heavily muscled then the other. He turned the corner into the alleyway where the group was and immediately swung a punch at Foxfire, who was struck by a force roughly equal to a locomotive.

Seconds later, a second figure arrived, this time a woman, floating down from above. Choosing her own target, Psyarch, she flew towards him at incredibly speed, smacking straight into him.

(These are the guys Axis called for.)

Foxfire never even saw the man coming. There was a noise and some instinct in his mind wispeared Danger. He transformed into a small red fox, taking him down far below the punch. He immediatly transformed back and unsheathed his katana. "Bad move, buddy." he said as he slashed at the man's chest.

"Oi!" Alex pulled his gun out and ran into the middle of the choas "I placing you under arres..."

He seemed to stop and think about it for a moment "...is there really any point me saying this?" he asked nobody in particular.

That was enough. More than ten bodies that looked like they'd gone through meat grinders, a woman so scared that she couldn't tollerate her own shadow (who was now under attack and had called for the Metal Man's help) and now, this.

It would have been different if there had been time, but that woman needed help.

The swords came out from the Metal Man's hands again, but this time they were far from full extension. Rather, this time, it was the little muzzles just under the sword blades that were all the way. Two more sprouted from his shoulders.

In a moment, the Metal Man rained plasma fire on the two new arrivals, concentrating on the one who was after Psyarch, three of the four guns trained on her. With Psyarch's powers, she probably wouldn't last long--better that she fall victim to one of the cyborg's stun blasts than face what he would no doubt do to her. At the very least, however, the Metal Man would provide a distraction, allowing Psyarch to find the new limits of his powers, which would be lessened by the Metal Man's presence.

"Not NOW! She needs our HELP!"

Gear flew over Caen and continued searching for the group he had previously met. After a short time, he decided that he had best head towards any sort of disturbance knowing that the group he was looking for wasn't going to blend in very well. He flew upwards, and noticed a large group of people that wasn't moving and decided to check it out (OOC: This is where Alliance is fighting)

After noticing Alliance's signature clothing, he flew full speed towards him and watched the fight unfold. After the mysterious person took off in his direction, he decided to act. He hurled a light graviton--not strong enough to do any permanent damage to civilians but enough to knock the villain off-balance.

"Need help?" He asked

Foxfire flipped back at the last second, his sword inchs away from his attackers chest. "Who needs our help?!" he yelled to the MM.

Rafzekael sat on the roof, legs idly kicking against the wall, watching the ongoing fight. He wondered who was going to win, but he had his money on the 'good' guys. He held his sword across his lap and idly made the moonlight glint off it.

"The girl!" the Metal Man exclaimed. "Psyarch's first witness! Someone's attacking her!" He let loose another volley, his right-hand weapon trained on the big guy and the rest on the floating woman, just to make sure that the newcomers knew that he meant business.

As the mysterious attackers had struck, Solus had prepared himself for battle immediately. It seemed, however, that the two were focusing primarily on other members of this company. And now Solus's companion was worrying about the woman they'd interrogated earlier. Choices...

"Solus...head for Object: witness. Protect until help arrives." With this statement, Solus gave one last glance at the attackers before leaping atop the nearest roof. He quickly replicated this feat as he bounded across the rooftops of Paris. If memory served, she should be within reach before too much time elapsed. Hopefully. And assuming she was still at home, as the Metal Man had told her. For some reason Solus seemed to feel an inkling of urgency. Strange...she had naught to do with Nexus...

"It's alright, Solus is going for her!" Foxfire dodged another punch. He launched himself at his attacker and bit down hard on his wrist, his teeth sinking into the man's arm, Foxfire's mouth filling with warm blood. The sensation was horrible and pleasurable at the same time.

The plasma bursts weren't even slowing the attackers down. The Metal Man had hoped that the stun setting would be sufficient, but wasn't really surprised when it wasn't. Both had somekind of shielding. That was a mistake--but so was refusing to negotiate with him, or even acknowledge his attempt to communicate.

"If things are as I think they are, Psyarch needs to be in on this," he said. Then, he held his fire for a moment. In that time, he brought his weapons up to quadruple their original charge. Then, he re-aimed them all to fire at the levitating woman simultaneously. As she struggled with Psyarch, he let loose another volley of plasma packets. This one cut right through the shield and headed on toward the target behind it.

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

"Please!" Angelica cried, "I have done nothing to you!"

"You were there when they killed my brother," the large man said. "I will know who, and where to find him."

"But I know nothing! It killed those men and just flew away!"

"Then I am deeply sorry for you," the man replied. He brought his gun up to the neckline of her blouse.

Solus could hear the noise of diminishing energy-weapon discharge behind him as he continued across the rooftops. So long as he could reach Angelica in time...Then what? Can a human be of help? Of worth?...Perhaps.

He neared the apartment complex in that moment, only to hear the enraged voice of another human. Or so it sounded. Landing on the roof of the adjacent building, Solus peered through the gently swaying curtains and into the scene inside. He had but a moment to respond, and there was only one calculation that predicted a modicum of success.

Solus boosted himself to the height of speed whilst casting himself across the void separating the structures. He smashed headlong through the window and between the would-be killer and his objective. In all probability the gun would go off, and Solus would take the bullet. Not that that would pose much of a problem for him...but the thug would soon feel the wrath that could be unleashed upon Nexus' foes. But is he truly one such? Strange...

OOC @ 7 Grand: It would REALLY HELP if you'd post and show some of what those two NPC's you came up with are made out of. You've put my subplot on hold. Please clear the log jam.

IC:

Angelica screamed. The man looked toward Solus and fear took over his gaze.

Far from attempting to harm Solus, he pulled his gun up to his chest, turned and ran as fast as he could for the nearest door.

Solus regained his balance after a second or two, only to see the thug turning tail and fleeing. Solus darted after him and slammed him against the door through which he was trying to escape. After he had done so Solus aimed a blow at the man's side, where his ribs were. That amount of force should be sufficient to break the ribs with ease. Don't kill him. Discourage him. Once Solus had dealt with the thug he cast him down the stairs of the building, towards the nearest exit.

With the immediate threat dealt with, he turned back to Angelica. He relaxed his fighting stance so as to not alarm her, before attempting to explain that he was here to help her. "Solus sent by Metal Man. Help on way. Delayed by..." Solus realized in that moment that he'd failed to discover exactly what the individuals were and what they were doing there. He felt an almost overwhelming urge to return immediately, but...What about the human? She might still be in danger. Objective conflict. Safety of human irrelevant. Protect Nexus! Terminate threats! Human obstructing objective. Terminate!

Solus collapsed upon his knees while placing his arms above his head, as though to ward off reality and all those in it. After a moment a faint whooshing sound could be heard and Solus began to pulse a faint blue. Electrical arcs jolted off of him a short distance before grounding in the surrounding structure. He dropped his arms to his side as he climbed purposefully to his feet. A grimace played across his features as he looked down at Angelica. Just as he raised his hand to point in her direction, he groaned in pain and collapsed over backwards onto the floor. The blue light subsided, as did the electricity. His eyes snapped shut, and returned from the pale blue they had become to their original green. Not that anyone could hardly see them anyway, taking into consideration that they were closed and behind a curtain of hair.

Since the attack, Psykarch had used the chaos to teleport towards the woman. With her relatively safe thanks to the pale creature named Solus, Psykarch turned his attention to the other man. Like a bullet, Psykarch speared through the alley, grabbing the hurt mugger and skyrocketing into the air. He landed on a building with the man on the ground holding his broken ribs.

"So, I hear you were looking for me," Psykarch spoke softly. His Aevumkinesis began activating as the ribs began seperating, shooting pain through the entire body. The man howled in pain as Psykarch's hold lessened. "Luckily for you, I am in a good mood today. The cops should be here." He sat next to the hurt man, waiting for the others. Perhaps there was much to be discussed.

OOC Sorry for not being around. Was a lone Yankee fan at Boston with girlfriend for the break...lovely...

Breaking away from his attacker, who seemed to be rather stupid, Foxfire used a fire escape and a series of well placed bricks to get to the roof where Psykarch was. He licked the blood off his katana, minding the blade, then sheathed it, the sword on his back. "Who are you?"

OOC @ 7 Grand:

I'm sorry. It's been too long since you last posted. I have to advance my plotline.

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The woman landed with a soft thud. The plasma weapon had stunned her. There was no telling when she would regain consciousness, but she was out for now. Noting that Foxfire had made good his escape, the Metal Man similarly dispatched his attacker.

In a moment, he had levitated to a spot in the air, a short distance away from Psyarch and Foxfire.

"So," he said, making a pointed argument to the psychonaut, "you kill one and another rises up to take his place. How many will you have to kill before you realize that violence only begets more violence? There are better ways to cure a disease than by attacking the symptom only."

He moved to the man, whose breathing was now quite ragged. Examining him in X-Ray, the Metal Man noticed the broken ribs. There was also signifigant damage to the man's left kneecap and a variety of bruising. He must have taken quite a spill. This was not something that Psyarch would do--he would have crushed the man's entire rib cage, or, to cause pain, attacked his knees. "Looks like Solus gave you a little lesson in manners," he said.

"This man," the gunman gasped, "he...killed..."

"And so you chose to walk the same dark path as he did," the Metal Man replied. "It would seem to me that you both need the same lesson."

He looked across the street. Angelica stared, wide-eyed, out of her apartment window. Solus lie, unconscious, on her living room floor.

"Perhaps, Psyarch, there may be some use for you after all. Let us see if you can heal as well as you can inflict. Please meet me in the young lady's apartment. And make no mistake, we will be having words when this situation quiets down. I am going to need to speak with you both."

With that, the cyborg levitated into the apartment, navigating gracefully through the window that Solus had so violently broken. Angelica had not moved.

"Bon jour, madamme," he said. She blinked. Good. She could still be reached.

"Please forgive my companion of travels," he continued. "We are still working on his social skills." Then, he turned to his friend and gave him a total, full EMS inspection. No glaring deficiencies.

"Can you tell me what happened to him?" he asked.

Somehow, she remained calm. "He...broke through my window. Then, he threw out the man with a gun who had come into my apartment. Then, he uttered something in english that I did not understand and fell on the floor like a machine that was breaking down."

"Were you harmed in any way?"

"No. Just scared."

"Good. I will see to it that your window is replaced straight away."

"Solus, can you hear me?" he asked, reverting to english.

OOC: Foxfire! Foxfire! Not "Firefox!" One is a character. The other is an excellent computer program.
Foxfire sat crossed-legged on the roof and closed his eyes. He suspected that his help would no longer be needed here.

Processes corrupted. Purge: Failure. Sounds... Solus' eyes slowly opened up beneath his hair. He could see Angelica and the Metal Man standing over him, or nearly so. He slowly craned his neck so he could look about the room. "Solus...knocked to ground. A first. Yes. Solus hears you. Query: Condition of human. Intact?" After he asked his question Solus looked over at Angelica. She seemed to be perfectly alright. Solus clambered slowly back to his feet and flexed his arms. Then he gently put a hand to the back of his head. All was well with him.

"Solus dealt with thug. Threat terminated. Life...intact." Solus looked more at ease with this concept than he had been when it had first been introduced to him. "Query: Fate of attackers. What?"

"All the humans are intact, Solus," the Metal Man replied, "though Angelica is still a bit traumatized. It seems that you have learned the first lesson that I sought to teach you: that, among creatures of the light, a direct threat to any is an indirect threat to all. You have also made progress on the second: that violence is a poor method of obtaining one's objectives.

"As to the attackers, I left them stunned in the alleyway. They were undamaged. I would like to return and see if one of them can be interrogated--but we've got to fix Angelica's window first. I wonder if Psyarch is capable of reforming a shattered glass..."

Psykarch spoke not to Foxfire nor Metal Man. He pressed his hand onto the gunman as a green energy emanated from his hand as the ribs began closing together. The bone cells were reproducing at an incredible rate until the ribs were closed together.

"There," Psykarch said to Metal Man, "Good as new. Now I believe it would be best that I stay invisible to the woman as I am quite sure she does not want to see me after last night. I will head over as soon as you are ready"

The man, Jean, looked into Psyarch's eyes. What he saw only added to his frustration and confusion. They were empty, as if the man behind them had no soul, did not even know what a soul was. He had no doubt that this man was capable of abusing his gifts to kill Jean's brother, but...if that was so, then...

"You...healed me. But why?"

Solus looked at the shattered window as the Metal Man mentioned it. There was nothing Solus could do to fix it. That sort of feat was beyond his capability. Now he just had to see if Psykarch was indeed capable of solving this conundrum. Then, perhaps, they could resume the search for the Colt they'd come here to find. Not that Solus even saw he who required it anywhere about.

"Well," the Metal Man said, "I guess that our friend Psyarch has better things to do." An antenna extended from his left arm. "Do you speak French, Solus?"

His companion's only response was a blank stare.

"Pete, I need two things from you."

"Yes, boss."

"First, I need an earpiece for Solus. While he wears it, I want you to provide translation services from whatever language he's hearing."

"On it, boss."

"Second, scan this location. You'll find small shards of glass in the room and on the pavement below. Some will even be on Solus. It is the remnants of what used to be the front window. Use the mattran to pick it up. See if you can reconstitute it, fill in the missing pieces and zap it back into the window frame."

"Working. Hold out your hand."

The Metal Man extended his right palm. Immediately, a small piece of what looked like plastic, shaped to perfectly fit Solus' ear, appeared there.

"This is for you, Solus. With it, you'll never have to worry about not understanding something again."

Solus put it on.

"Now, Angelica," the Metal Man said, switching back to French, "I'm sorry for the trouble we caused you."

"I am getting used to it. But who is this man Solus whom you travel with?"

"Like many of us, he has a task to accomplish. From looking at him, I believe that, like me, he was once a man, and was altered, in his case to help him achieve that task. Unfortunately, I believe that the alterator had a poor understanding of humanity, and this has hampered his progress. I think that only when he rediscovers the humanity within him will he be able to complete his task. Therefor, I am trying to help him to accomplish this." He smiled at Solus. "He appears to be progressing along his path."

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

A short time later, the Metal Man found himself back with the others. The gunman's name was "Jean." At least it's not Jaques, the Metal Man mused.

"Well," he said, "are we going to attempt to interrogate our friends in the street below? Should we continue our search? Try to talk some more sense into Psyarch? Something else?"

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OOC: Please excuse the minor character control. The earpiece won't cause him any trouble--but it will still be cumbersome for him to try to speak in a language he doesn't understand. :) :) :)

Foxfire frowned. "This is all very good, but have we forgotten what we are here for? The weapon, remember? Psyarch should only be a side-mission. He's hard to find and even harder to catch. And another variable comes into play: Our friends mental landscape in deteriorating rapidly. Plus we've got that Alekra guy to worry about. I say we concentrate on finding the weapon, and if we have time later we'll worry about Psyarch and those others."

"That's one vote," the Metal Man said, "for 'continue our search.'"

OOC: Nah, it's all good.

IC: Solus watched impassively as the Metal Man issued orders for the reconstruction of the window. He did, however, recieve a strange device which seemed to allow him to actually understand those in this particular country. Interesting technology, that. As the Metal Man spoke with Angelica, he could actually comprehend their discussion. Excellent. This surely will further the cause, and allow for a greater understanding of the humans around him. When the Metal Man smiled at him he he stared back, almost entirely dispassionately. However, upon closer inspection, one could see that the corners of his mouth were twitching upward. Perhaps he was beginning to understand the significance of that expression.

Now the group was down in the streets below. Well, what remained of the group. Solus didn't see several of those unique beings he'd met before. Ah, well. Seemed they had a decision to make. "Solus concurs with Object: Vulpes Sapiens. (I don't think Solus has heard your actual name) Objective of group: Find firearm. Psykarch temporarily irrelevant." Of course, to find the weapon they'd likely need the input of he who needed it. Which means they'd have to link back up with him...

""Vulpes Sapiens" has a name you know." Foxfire bowed to Solus. "Foxfire Rose, my good man. And you are?"

As Foxfire bowed to Solus an amused grin played momentarily across his features. He tilted his head and nodded to Foxfire as he did so. Gesture: anachronistic. Behaviour...odd. Unthreatening. "I...am...Solus." He said 'am' pointedly, like a child working through a word they'd not seen before. As he spoke he pointed to himself.

He did, however, recieve a strange device which seemed to allow him to actually understand those in this particular country. Interesting technology, that.

OOC: It's just a two-way radio. Pete the AI listens in on the conversation, translates it and sends the translation to the earpiece. Solus hears English in the ear. There's no magic involved.

IC:

The Metal Man did not know whether Solus had actually heard what the cyborg had said about him. He had made a point of coming out with it. He didn't want there to be any misconceptions about what he was trying to accomplish.

"Interrogation is now irrelevant," he said, glancing at the alleyway below. "Our attackers have disappeared. The only thing left is a strange symbol left on the wall above where the levitating one fell.

"I, too, cast a vote for continuing the search--and Solus is right. We need to find that posessed man before that demon gets full control again. It could threaten us all, including this nexus that is so important to him. Psyarch has a journey to make. We'll meet him again along the path."

As Foxfire bowed to Solus an amused grin played momentarily across his features. He tilted his head and nodded to Foxfire as he did so. Gesture: anachronistic. Behaviour...odd. Unthreatening. "I...am...Solus." He said 'am' pointedly, like a child working through a word they'd not seen before. As he spoke he pointed to himself.

"Pleased to meet, you, Solus. From where do you come from?"

OOC sorry for the long break. NS wouldntlet me on... idk why.

Also, Psykarch has a k in his name lol

IC

Psykarch walked after the group, hands in pockets of his trenchcoat.

"So, since you all are apparently here for something other than little ol' me, how can I help?" Psykarch was curious about what they wanted to do...

The Metal Man looked back at Psykarch.

"So, on speaking terms again, are we? Not reading their minds to get the information? I'm surprised.

"We have among our number a man who appears to have a demon posessing him. Every now and then, he wrests control from it, but then it returns. He claims that there's a pistol, an old Colt '45, to be found somewhere on the beaches of Normandy that will allow him to exorcise the demon. We're looking for it. If you can somehow divine its location, it would help us immensely. Otherwise, I'm going to have to go over those beaches with my ship's sensors. It could take me days to find which rotting old gun sinking into the ground is the right one."

OOC: It's just a two-way radio. Pete the AI listens in on the conversation, translates it and sends the translation to the earpiece. Solus hears English in the ear. There's no magic involved.

OOC: Yeah, I know, but Solus probably doesn't fully understand how it works. He doesn't know who Pete is, so he just knows it allows him to understand what's goin' on.

IC: "Solus comes from Nexus. Site...Zero. Query: Origin of Foxfire Rose. Where?" He tilted his head, as per usual when he asked his question. When Psykarch strode over to the group Solus looked at him warily. He'd had little interaction with this one, as of yet. Destination: unknown. Not Nexus. Perhaps... Solus observed whilst the two conversed. He didn't intervene, as he had his own conversation to manage. Don't want to be putting stress on one's social skills, after all.

"Solus comes from Nexus. Site...Zero. Query: Origin of Foxfire Rose. Where?"
Foxfire gave a low, humorless laugh. "My mother, a long time ago. Before she was killed. Before I became...this." he gestured to himself, having temporaraly turned the cloaking holographic disguise off. "Immediate Origin was America, but we're in France now..." He shrugged. "So what is this...Nexus which spawned you?"

"Nexus is..." Solus seemed to be struggling with the words to describe it. "Solus is Nexus' avatar. Protect Nexus. Nexus not Solus' creator." He seemed satisfied with himself after he'd managed to muster this response, as though it'd been difficult for him.

"Alright." Foxfire was sure that this guy was either a very strange human or a robot of some kind.

Listening to the conversation, the Metal Man chimed in. Again, he imitated Solus' speech habits, but he tried putting in something to influence them. At times, he could be arrogant, and he had a reputation among the secret services of the world as a being who was capable of extreme violence, but he saw himself as a teacher--and a student--of the processes of life.

"Interesting," he said. "Querry: origin--person: Solus. What? Where?"

With any luck, Solus would take the next step and stop referring to people as objects. Then, conceptualizing the difference would only be that one last step away.

When the Metal Man spoke up Solus turned in his direction to respond. He smiled as he shook his head while responding. "Solus not person." He pointed to himself with his pointer finger. "Solus manifest program. Construct. Made in Site Zero."

The Metal Man's expression changed. "Site Zero? But that was the code name for--." He stopped midsentence. "You must be--. My God. I tried to shut it down when I heard of it--I even threatened to turn their high-rise into a crater--but I was too late. I'm terribly sorry, Solus. I failed you. I couldn't prevent them from turning you into...what you have become.

"But you must understand that, even if you're not a person now, you were one once, and, I believe, will become one again. That, I believe, is what you must learn before you awaken the nexus. The only way you will ever understand humanity is by becoming human again--at least in mind. And, if it's what I think it is--or, rather, they are what I think they are--then the nexus will need to be reawakened."

He understood now. Site Zero--a place where young men's dreams were turned into such nightmares that they dared to dream no more. It was yet another super soldier project gone bad. The cruel irony was that it was right in the middle of Japan, a country that had renounced its army.

The Metal Man had heard whispers of it through the intel networks five or ten years ago. When he did, he rose up like a revolt and, despite his belief in non-violence, strong-armed his way right into the intelligence ministry. It was amazing how threats to humanity could draw him out of the woodwork. He warned the ministers of the dangers of the program, and arrogantly ordered them to shut the program down. Within a day of his doing so, the news ran a story about a toxic spill. The Metal Man knew better.

He hadn't had time to act further, though. His arrogance was repaid, with interest. His enemies had begun to learn about him, and they had subjected him to a sensory barrage that eventually left him in a catatonic coma for almost a year. He had only recently begun to fully recover. That was why he was trying to buy candles when he and Solus met. When he meditated and prayed, it cleared his mind.

So...he and Solus had walked parallel paths for some time now, and had never so much as suspected as much until those paths had crossed.

There was so much to do.

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

OOC @Soulforge: Hope you don't mind my involving my character in Solus' back story. I'll delete this post if it's not consistent. As is, they never met, and I wrote my story to run parallel to yours. (I'm getting tired of everybody trying to figure out who and what Solus is, anyway. It's time to move on.)

:) :) :)

Foxfire frowned, looking back and forth from Solus to MM. "What?"

The Metal Man turned to Foxfire. "Our friend here may be known by another name: Subject Seven. The details that reached me were sketchy, but, from what I could gather, there was a supersoldier project in a place called 'Site Zero' in the hills of Japan. It was shut down shortly after I found out about it, but the word I got was that one of its products broke out of the project. That was Subject Seven. This 'nexus' that he keeps referring to is something extraterrestrial located at that site. I'm not sure what. My best guess is that they're a group of alien astronauts that have somehow been forced into hybernation. Again, my best guess is that they were sent to conduct a census of the planet. If I'm correct, Solus was a man who was exposed to their boitechnology, and is now conducting their census for them. When he is done, he will awaken them and report his findings. If we're all very lucky, they'll be scientists and, having gotten the information that they need, will restore Solus and leave. If we're not," the Metal Man looked at Solus, "we may have to transport them to a place where they will not threaten the people of this world. If we have to do this, we should try to do it without harming them. I gave my word to Solus that this is how I would behave, and I believe in keeping my word."

He hoped that this would be enough to satisfy Solus' programming. He knew that he would be no threat to the nexus' health. He wondered what he would have to do if it was not. At least Solus could look forward to an honest deal. and would know where the Metal Man stood. He would try for confirmation.

"Solus," he said, "querry: term signifigance, 'Subject Seven.' Relevance to construct: Solus?"

OOC: Nope, it's all good. Just a point. Technically, Site Zero isn't in the hills of Japan, it's smack dab under a scientific research facility in Yokohama. But other than that, it's all good. And sorry for the minor delay, but my interwebs were full of a lack of connection. I might end up introducing Subject Seven in later, but we've already got enough plots going on at the moment, so that'll wait for a good while.

IC: Solus seemed a little bewildered when the Metal Man started to exhibit unusual expressions. He seemed a little curious as well, for he knew nothing of what the Metal Man had gone through. Whilst he was campaigning against the Alpha Project (as the super-soldier program was code-named), Solus had been busy doing...other things. Things best left unremembered. The CSC was a joint operation between two governments, those of Japan and the United States. It was this organization that had discovered Site Zero underground, and commenced assorted research projects upon it. These projects included using a substance they had discovered within to alter the abilities of humans. Solus shook his head when the Metal Man got to the part about failing him. "Solus never human. Solus always construct."

When Foxfire exhibited his total bewilderment at the events unfolding, Solus emitted one of his hollow laughs. "Object: Foxfire Rose. Status: Confused. Listen to Metal Man. Veracity: mostly correct."

Solus shook his head again when the Metal Man postulated his theory about alien astronauts. "Nexus not astronaut. Nexus construct. Nexus objective: unknown." He smiled when the Metal Man mentioned alien biotech, however, Solus' apparent joviality dissipated almost immediately upon the mentioning of Subject Seven. His eyes narrowed and he looked over at the Metal Man once more. "Subject Seven not Solus. Subject Seven threat to Nexus. Threat Level: Very high. Subject Seven: Name: Derrick. Query: Location of Derrick. Where?" While he waited he looked around him, as though he'd find him lurking in the shadows. "Query: Continuation of search for weapon. When?"

OOC: Vaguaries of intelligence gathering can explain TMM's incorrect knowledge. Remember: he's going through back channels. Waste of time to introduce 'em now, though.

IC:

"Whereabouts, Subject Seven: unknown," the Metal Man replied. "Continuation of search: as expedient."

He probably is Derrick, but doesn't know it. Probably conditioned to reject his former life to the point where he'll attack anything that reminds him of it. Still, it's possible that he's telling the truth. HE certainly believes it, unless he can fool a voice stress analyzer.

"Foxfire, you with me in Brain Jar or with someone else?"

For a moment, the ground shook slightly. It was almost as if the entire planet had gone over a

BUMP.

"I was in that jet, but I can go in the Brain Jar if you wish." Foxfire shifted slightly, thinking about this so-called Site Zero. Seemed alot like the kind of thing that he had been exposed to. "We," he glanced at Solus, "need to help him."
OOC:
Bringing
Up
More
Posts
I think we need to go investigate Site Zero. No one else seems to be posting aside from us, so keeping to the game plan will get us nowhere, and I don't want to see this thread die.

"Alright," the cyborg replied. "I trust these gentlemen to relieve that demon of its posession. Let's go."

Six Hours Later, Over the American Foreign Embassy in Japan

If Blankenship was surprised to find himself in Brain Jar's conference room, he certainly didn't show it. Then again, the man was as competant as he was corpulant, and had probably been expecting this little visit for the year that the Metal Man had been away. He sat at the conference table wearing his long-sleeved white shirt and tie along with an impassive expression, occasionally gnawing on one of the doughnuts that his host had been good enough to supply with perfect teeth under a gray mustache.

The Metal Man stood and paced. Someone who knew Blankey less well might have thought the man was holding back a sadistic smile. The Metal Man knew better. Over the years, he had learned that Blankenship was all business. He really didn't give a damn whether the people he dealt with got hurt or not, except to the extent that it furthered his goals. That was part of what made him competant--and dangerous.

A sensor pack glared down from the ceiling. In another room, Foxfire and Solus observed all that occurred through Brain Jar's systems. If they had chosen, they could have set the monitoring room's holographic subsystems to reproduce the conference room in exact detail--to make it seem as if they had been sitting right there with Blankey--but they had chosen instead to view it in reduced size.

For his part, the Metal Man seemed distracted. As he stood, he muttered the lyrics to an old song that he had heard--Another mother's breakin' heart is takin' over.* For a moment, his face held an expression that seemed so lost that he might never return to reality. Then, he shook his head and regarded his old compatriot.

"You know why I'm here, right?"

"The last time we spoke," the black-haired man said between nibbles, "it was about a supersoldier project that has since gone awry. You know that. Since we can't pick up where we left off, I have no idea."

Over the intercom, the other two heard, "One of the things I dislike most about this man is that he can appear to sound engaging while giving no useful information. Be careful when you talk with him. I sure am."

"Oh, you're on the right track," the cyborg replied.

"I am? I don't understand. That boat went down with all hands. There isn't--."

"Not quite. It seems that there was some flotsam among the jetsam. One of the test subjects got away clean. You know that."

Over the intercom: "You don't have to correct me, Solus. I know that you aren't him--not any more, anyway. Blankey doesn't know this, though."

"OK," Blankey replied, a blank look coming over his face, "but what's the relevance?"

"Why don't you ask him, Blankey?" the Metal Man countered, leaning, arms crossed, on the wall in the corner.

"You're not serious. He's here?"

"We are in contact."

Now, it was Blankenship's turn to seem distracted. "Metal Man, I don't know what you think you're doing with him, but he's extremely dangerous. Anything that he regards as even the most minor of threats to himself, --." Blankenship drew his index finger over his throat.

"We're working on that," the seeming old man replied, "but you've missed a very important piece of the puzzle. It's not himself that he neutralizes threats to."

Blankenship was all eyes now. "Go on," he said.

"It's a vaguely-defined thing that he calls 'the nexus.' He believes that it created him, and that his purpose is to awaken it."

Blankey swallowed...hard.

"So, you know something about this nexus of his?" the Metal Man asked.

"Is he really listening in on this?"

The Metal Man smiled. "Have you ever caught me lieing to you?" he asked.

The spymaster cleared his throat. "Point taken," he said.

"So, what do you know about this 'nexus' thing?"

"That's classified."

"Thought we had a deal about that."

"We do. He doesn't."

"Fair enough."

The intercom stopped working.

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

OOC:

* "Zombie" by the Cranberries. 13 years old and counting as of this writing.
:) :) :)

"Damn it!"
Foxfire cursed loudly as the screen shut off. "Right at the good part, too." He felt he should be able to get though this, as Solus and he were in a very simular position, except Solus's change *might* be reverseable. He sighed to himself. "I have half a mind to walk in and demand to know, but that would hardly get me anywhere, now would it?" His question was not directed at Solus, although it seemed so, he was really just thinking aloud.

OOC: Sorry about the delay, I've been highly occumipied. If that's the song I think it is, it's awesome. And yeah, it seems that almost all of the dozen or do people that have signed up have collapsed. Unfortunate, that.

IC: Solus had gone along with his two compatriots readily enough. Though he'd have liked to have been able to witness the effects of the firearm firsthand, it seemed that Nexus was now a higher priority. As it should be... Now they had acquired one of the Metal Man's contacts from down below. The conversation didn't seem to be leading anywhere, at least until it got underway properly. And just at the moment that Blankey was going to start revealing things, it seemed that the technology broke down. Solus twisted his head at an angle as he stared out upon the scene. He'd have thought that the Metal Man would have kept his tech in better shape. Odd... The conversation had brought back some memories, however.

Solus had run into Subject Seven at some point. A long time ago now, but that was irrelevant. He had sought him out in Terminus Four, as he was by far the single greatest threat to Nexus. Terminus Four was the name for the research facility built atop Site Zero, both of which were concealed under the Carter Science Center. Solus himself wasn't terribly clear about the sociopolitical ramifications of the joint U.S.-Japan research center that was the CSC; all that he was concerned with was the threat that research posed to Nexus. He'd had the woman in his hands, nearly done with, until he showed up. The woman (Alex Hendrickson was her name, as he recalled) was his, until Subject Seven attacked him. He didn't understand the threat he posed to Nexus. Solus grimaced as he recalled those times. He'd been called back by Nexus just as they were in his grasp in order to...deal...with some of the military sorties into Site Zero. Solus still didn't trust these comrades of his enough to reveal exactly what Nexus was. He had...trust issues from his past. Nexus was a computer that oversaw the operations within Site Zero. more than that he didn't need to know. What it's goals were, why it was there, none of it mattered. Only that he protect it.

Solus was broken out of his reverie by Foxfire's comments. He shook his head to clear it and put his hand to his temple. After a moment he looked over at the strange individual. "Success of room entry: improbable. Answers elusive. Technology...oddly faulty. Inconsistent."

Foxfire shook his head. "The technology definitly isn't faulty. For some reason or other, the MM didn't want us hearing whatever is going on in there." Foxfire stood and began pacing, as he often did when nervious, angry, or frightened. Right now he was a little of all three.

"It's on again," the Metal Man said wanly.

"OK," Blankenship replied. "Now you know. I want your word that you won't share anything I just told you with anyone." He took a bite out of a fresh doughnut. "Mmmm," he said with a gulp. "Good."

"I'll keep it need-to-know. That's the best I can do for you. That one's a raspberry creme." After a short pause, the cyborg continued, "You think they're going to treat this as an abduction?"

"Depends."

"On?"

"Whether or not they realize that I'm gone." Blankey chuckled.

"In that case, I think I'll send you back," the Metal Man said.

"Does it hurt going backwards?" Blankey asked.

"Well," the Metal Man said, a slightly sadistic grin taking hold of his features, "a matter transmitter is a little bit like a meat grinder. It just puts you together again so you can feel it."

"Funny. Real funny." Blankey said. Then he was gone.

"Well," the Metal Man said into the intercom, "I know precisely where the research was conducted, and I know what they did there." He put his arms on the table, a gesture of supressed anger. "And the only thing I can think to do is complete the education process and awaken nexus. I'll need your help, Foxfire. Of course, if you can think of any other course of action, I will certainly listen."

And with that, the robot-man disappeared from the debriefing room and reappeared in the conference room, standing next to the others. "I'm sorry that I had to shut off the intercom," he said. "I gave my word."

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

OOC: I'm going to let you folks decide what direction you want to take this in.

Foxfire frowned. "I don't like being kept in the dark, but I see the need. I'll assist you in any way I can. Do you have a plan of some sort?" He took the katana off his back and unsheathed it, polishing it with a little kit he kept with him.

The Metal Man looked at Foxfire, his eyes seeming to come into focus on his newfound friend for the first time.

"You were a supersoldier gone wrong, weren't you--or should I more correctly put it, gone right?" he asked. Not waiting for a reply, he continued, "I can't stand supersoldier projects. They're always screwing up good people." He sobered. "It's not widely known, but I'm quite the teacher. I haven't taken on any students in over a decade, though. I think it's time to change that."

And that began a week of whirlwind learning. The cyborg didn't waste much time. He started with simple skills--learning to memorize an arbitrarily long list, to read 1200 words a minute with better than 90% comprehension--and quickly built upon it. Language training. Literature. Martial arts, from the ground up. Mathematics. World history. Basic engineering. Philosophy. At the end of it, Solus even had exposure to basic English grammar. He could speak as a human if he chose to--though he seldom chose to. It was absolutely interminable. The only rest was when the cyborg went into his chamber in the center of the huge craft they were in--Foxfire quickly found that it was much larger on the inside than it was on the outside.

Occasionally, Foxfire would join him. All that he did during that time was to sit in the middle of the room and stare at a candle for hours at a time. He never truly slept. Eventually, Firefox came to know that, when he was there, he entered into a meditative state, and that, if he went too long without it, he could go into a catatonic coma. The "invincible" cyborg had an Achiles heel.

It seemed interminable, but no one could question that the knowledge was useful--or that Solus was getting a good idea of the works and studies of humanity, and useful skills along with it. Still, it was a welcome relief when, one morning, instead of beginning another lecture, the Metal Man put his hands on the breakfast table and said, "OK. Now, we're ready to learn. When we're ready, to the meat grinder."

About a half hour later, they had assembled at the matter transmitter.

"If you'll remmeber, Foxfire," the cyborg said, "I told you that I'd need your help. The time is now. Today, you're the teacher and we're all yours. Show us the things that make humanity what it is--the good, the bad and the mundane." He smiled. "Tell me where to take you. I'm at your command."


OOC:

Your turn, Xis. Hope you folks don't consider it character control that I've given your characters the "basic training." You may choose to play them as having enhanced cognitive powers or not as it suits you. :) :) :)

OOC: Lol. Not at all, it's refreashing to see someone who dosen't nessiccarly play strictly by the book.
IC: Foxfire took a deep breath. "Where to go, where to go?" He was lost in thought for nearly thirty seconds. Finally he spoke. "Africa, Zambia. Humanity and what it does is not pretty. I think I'd better start with the worst."
OOC2: I've actually been there. It's really bad. Lowest life expectaensy in the world, something like 32 years. No one has enough to eat. Everyone had AIDs (I'm not joking). Unemployment is 92%. It's horrible. Allow me to narrorate. And don't worry, it won't all be doom and gloom.

OOC: No, it's good. Quite an interesting turn of events, actually.

IC: Solus went along with the training well enough. Most of the things he didn't know he picked up rather quickly, and once he'd learned something he didn't forget it. Some areas, however, required much more work than others. English, for example, wasn't Solus' strong suit, nor was literary analysis. Memorization posed no problem at all for him. Philosophy, however, Solus was almost completely unable to grasp. He seemed to somehow be unable to wrap his mind around the concepts that lie within that field. The less abstract fields, however, such as mathematics and engineering, posed little problem to Solus. In fact, he seemed to need no training in math, and a minimal amount in engineering. He could perform rather high-level calculations in a flash without recourse to calculators or the like.

His true field of expertise, however, was martial arts. If he had been in one of the finest dojos in the world he'd have been considered more than capable, perhaps even a master. His reflexes were impeccable, as was his timing. He also brought an incredible amount of raw strength to the refined art. He had a background in what appeared to be a form of judo, as well as a variation on savate. He also boasted considerable skill in a variation on sambo and one on tae kwon do. None of these forms of martial art were pure, however. There were many differences between these and those practiced by the majority, but the basic forms were the same. If the Metal Man knew other forms, Solus would gladly absorb what he knew. However, Solus needed no training in those particular styles. In fact, he could probably teach the Metal Man if he expressed an interest.

One oddity that was readily noticeable about Solus during this time was his reluctance to utilize technology directly. He'd expressed no problems with being on Brain Jar, or about the assorted other technologies around him, but he grimaced ever so slightly whenever any technology was brought for his personal use. For example, in mathematics he'd rather use his own head than any device. He also took no interest in learning armed combat, such as that Foxfire seemed skilled at. If the Metal Man offered to teach that, he'd decline and attempt to learn more about other areas.

Once the training was complete, Solus had acquired many more skills than he'd possessed before. While he had a decent understanding of the English language, he still spoke in his odd syntax. Not that he spent terribly much time speaking. He wasn't the most sociable individual ever. Solus nodded his head when Foxfire mentioned Zambia. With his new information he actually had some insight to the situation there. From his understanding it wasn't the most peaceful area on terra. For the sakes of those involved, he decided that any hostile individuals had best be clear of the area. Though it seemed that he should attempt to avoid slaying them if possible.

"An excellent choice," the Metal Man returned. "A place where we will not only learn, but, hopefully, experience the opportunity to help. Certainly, this will be a challenge. If memory serves, the army runs the place, and they're corrupt. The AIDS epidemic--caused mainly by a lack of education in general, but with the armed forces in particular, and the soldiers' propensity to express their libidos, coupled with the lack of opportunity, has made the society itself much more closed. You may wish, Foxfire, to adjust your hologram to make you appear to be a negro. It will certainly prevent some discrimination, though, as a foreigner, you'll face it anyway. On the other hand, as English is the country's official language, Solus will have little trouble understanding the native vernacular, though he may wish to keep his radio transceiver in case he runs into a tribe of natives who still speak something like Bemba or Lozi. Do you have a specific part of the country in mind? Lusaka, the capital? Chingola? The countryside?"

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

OOC: My bad. Should've TG'ed you folks about your characters' skills. TMM would certainly have allowed Solus to teach his techniques if he became aware of them--and would have rounded out Solus' education with some Floor Technique from Shao Lin Kung Fu. :) :) :)

"The official language may be English, but many of the Zambians speak French. We are traveling to Lusaka, and then to the countryside. You need to see how these people live, and why they live this way, although you outlined it correctly." Foxfire changed. He was now a 5,10 tall, 200 pound black male.

While the two were conversing solus was going through the information he had acquired from the Metal Man, and that he could find on the Brain Jar's consoles. From what he could tell his appearence might be a minor problem. Tall, pale, white-haired and green-eyed was bad enough, but horrible disfigurement usually drew attention as well. "Query: Metal Man. Do you have an Ob...a trenchcoat?" Perhaps a long garment such as that could conceal the disfigurement, and Solus could learn much from their reactions to his skin colour and other, more traditional portions of his visage. As in, not his disfigurement. Solus had heard the term associated with discrimination based on race, but had yet to see what it could truly do. Not the most positive human experience, but part of it regardless.

"Pete."

"Yes, boss."

"Please fabricate a trenchcoat for our friend, Solus, and transfer it to this location."

"Any particular color?"

"Light beige. We don't want something that would hold the heat."

"Yes, of course. Should've thought of that. Working."

In a moment, Solus' new clothing appeared on the settings console in the mattrans room.

"Remind me to reverse-engineer that hologram of yours, Foxfire. But you've brought up a good point. I need a change of clothes."

The mattrans activated. In a moment, the Metal Man was gone. A few minutes later, an obese black man reappeared in his place.

"How do I look?" the Metal Man asked. As he did, his arm and hand, including the flowing, light-colored robe he was wearing, seemed to melt for a moment, then reformed.

"Sorry about that," he said in response to the looks he was getting. "Prototype suit. Liquid metal. Doesn't always hold its shape in cooler rooms. Should be OK once we get outdoors.

"Metal Man?"

"Yes, Pete?"

"Would you like me to set the matter transmitter for any particular part of town?"

"You'll have to ask Foxfire. It's his show today."

"Foxfire?"

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

OOC: We've brought "the egg" out of storage. This is the most complex of TMM's suits--which means that it's the one that has the most things go wrong with it.

OOC: This 'ill be interesting :p.
IC: Foxfire frowned as he thought. "Send us to one of the poorer areas." He shivered mentaly as he waited. Zambia was not a nice place to live at all, especially so near the Congo. Here if you yelled that that man was a thief, the police carry automatic weapons and they'll just shoot him first, no questions later.

Solus nodded to the Metal Man in gratitude once the trenchcoat had been constructed. He then put it on, and it seemed to fit exceptionally well (I'm assuming). Very useful tech... Although it wasn't the colour Solus would have chosen (white), it would likely draw less attention than would a white trenchcoat. Or a black one for that matter. Now Solus was ready to see what this 'Zambia' had to offer. He paced about while waiting for the rest of the group to become prepared.

OOC: Naturally, I had to choose the most cliché piece of clothing I could think of.

"As you wish," the AI said.

In a moment, the whole world seemed to change. The climate-controlled room in the flying saucer was gone. In its place was something so different that it would almost make one wonder if Brain Jar had ever existed.

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

OOC: Take it away, Xis. It's all your show now. Might want to ask Solus if he'd like a wide-brimmed hat to keep the sun off of him. Might want one for Foxfire, too--and two sets of shades...

OOC: Will post soon, gotta read up.

The first thing that the Metal Man noticed was that there had been a minor glitch in the system. Instead of materializing on the ground, they came in about half an inch above it. When they DID reach the ground, it felt like a minor

BUMP.

OOC: Lol, sorry about that.
IC: They were surronded by brick buildings, squat and ugly. The area was sparsly populated, with only a few drunks weaving their way among the houses and the muggers who preyed on the drunks. Children sat on the streetcorner, doing something that looked extremely suspicious. "Drugs." said Foxfire. "Some kind of glue that makes you high. This is actually one of the better sections of Africa. There's more shelter and food, and no fighting or war goes on around here. Please, take us to" he rummaged around in his pocket "here." He pulled out a map and pointed to a blank space way out in the country near the only landmark, a highway.
OOC: Sorry, I should have picked somewhere I've actually been, like New York. I've been to Zambia, but only in the country.

The Metal Man looked around.

"Just a moment," he said. "You wanted to learn about humanity, Solus? Here's a place to start. It's an example of the lack of concern that humanity can sometimes offer. It's going to take these people generations to solve their problems, if they have the will and the luck. When Oprah Winfrey, a community leader, spearheaded the making of a school for women, this kind of place was what she was fighting against.

"Even in a place like this, however, there is hope, dim though it might be. Pete, take us to the nearest ring bearer."

They dissolved and reappeared inside one of the buildings. The walls had been falling apart, but were patched--though it looked like a homemade patch. Out of a window on the Metal Man's left, they could actually see the place where they had stood less than a minute before.

On a dilapitated couch to the right sat a woman, about forty years old, with large, affectionate brown eyes. She wore a flowing robe over her thin body, and a hat covered her hair.

"Gracie!" the Metal Man exclaimed.

She looked up.

"Metal Man?" she said.

"Ohhhh--you remembered me. I'm flattered."

Her smile turned radient. "Why, it is I who am flattered," she said. "What brings you to this corner of the globe?"

"As is often the case, I am in a learning retreat. My friends and I are teaching each other about what humanity has to offer. How are your plans going?"

Her features softened, and her face fell slightly. "It is difficult, but we are making headway. I have passed on the Leadership Skills that you taught me, and now for the first time the Academy of African Adventure is starting to become a reality. We have a long way to go, but we are growing up through the system. I know that you do not eat or drink, but would your friends like some tea?"

"Your steadfastness humbles me," the cyborg replied, "but we don't have the time right now. In a moment, we're to be whisked--"

And they found themselves in an open plane.

"--away." He turned to his friends. "I hate it when I'm right about that AI," he said quietly.

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

OOC:

Sorry. Couldn't resist. I won't do that again. Needed something to show what motivates TMM, though, and what REALLY makes him a superhero--if that is the case. The skills training shows people how to change the world. That is what he wants--normal people, empowered, doing good. I wanted to establish that aspect of the character.

Thank goodness this is a story. IRL, the problems with that place go much deeper than can be solved by starting up a school or two. They might never be solved completely.

OOC: True that. BTW, how did the women recognize TMM even though he was disguised?
IC: Two rusting soccer goal posts stood at either end of the field. There was the smell of something burning, and smoke rose into the sky to the north. To the east was just a jungle of plants, with a single dirt road going though it. The west held pure, long rows of banana trees. To the south was a larger dirt road, and some buildings could be seen in the distance. "They have to burn the underbrush daily to stop it from advancing too far." Foxfire said, indicating the smoke. He waved his hand at the banana trees. "The owner of this land harvests bananas for food and money. Up the road to the south is a complex. It is crumbling, what used to be a factory of some kind. Now nothing remains." He led them to the top of a convienantly placed termite mound. To the southwest one could see more aged buildings, and what looked to be a blackened, scortched church. "Years ago a group of missionaries came here to help the local people. Poverty is commonplace, unemployment is 98%, life expectency is 32 years old, if you survive birth. The police carry automatic weapons and wear soldier uniforms, and stores have alarms on everything. The missionaries gave out food, clothing, money, and the Word of God. They constructed a pen making factory, and local employment spiked dramatically. Men were actually making money. Families had good food and clothing again. Something you need to keep in mind though is how close this area is to the Congo boarder. One night a army of troops sweeped though Zambia, and this little place just happened to be in their way. All inside were killed, the place looted, and the buildings burned or fell. That was some years ago now. You see, all these people wanted to do was help other people, and you see how they are treated?"

OOC: Sorry 'bouts the delay, I was busy being made of fail. And busy-ness. Now on to the semi-good stuff.

IC: Solus looked around skeptically when they landed at the first village. They think this is bad? After a moment of glancing about Solus gave out one of his characteristic hollow chuckles. Children doing drugs was only a minor concern. It was, to his understanding, far less important than the intentional murder that took place here every day. Before he had more time to analyze the situation Foxfire was taking out his map for another jump. If this was the worst the Dark Continent had to offer, then Solus was somewhat disappointed. He turned his head when the Metal Man spoke up about the situation here, and oddly-named community leaders. When they showed up in the next building Solus looked around with just the smallest hint of distaste appearing upon his face. He looked curiously at the woman on the couch for a moment whilst listening to the conversation that was going on. The look of distaste was alleviated somewhat when the woman mentioned the Academy.

When they appeared out once more in the country, Solus looked around as he always did. When Solus saw the burning plants, and heard Firefox mention it, his eyes widened quite perceptibly. He took several steps towards the jungle while scanning the horizon. "They're in Site Zero! But what are they..." While Solus spoke he gestured at the banana trees that stood near them. He rubbed his eyes for a moment before looking back again. "Ah...incorrect. But similar. Strange." Solus calmed back down after a moment and shrugged awkwardly. It wasn't a gesture he was used to. Solus laughed lowly once more after Firefox had finished. The settings here still hadn't made much of an impression upon him. Regrettable, but not as horrendous as anticipated. Even if those here were only trying to be good people.

OOC: Gonna give TMM a chance to respond, then we jump to another area.

"I can't say I've ever cared for armies, or the wars they fight," the Metal Man said. In his new visage, his voice had a different timber than it had before, and he spoke with a slight accent. It was throaty, almost Brittish, but not quite. It would be difficult to tell him from a native. "Usually, there's some wealthy group of self-styled ubermench trying to use the conflict to increase their privalege. Too much of this spawns armed resistance like the Taliban--or worse. Still, Solus, you have a point. There can be no arguing that this situation is bad, but there have been worse--like when that army was here.

"You see that field? It was there before the factory burned. They burned the field then, too. They destroyed the farm equipment. So the plantation owner used men to pull the plows--and he used the whip to keep them pulling it even unto death. Twice, they tried to rebel, and twice, the rebellions were ruthlessly put down. If you bring out a metal detector and look hard enough, you can still find the remains of the spent shell casings in the ground. The torturer--he's still alive, and they call him 'the Piano Man' because he likes to beat people with a used piano leg--was busy that day.

"Oh, there were ring bearers here. Three of them. None of them made it. And none of them were involved in the torture. We all learned of it only after the fact. I came as quickly as I could, but there was nothing that I could do. Punishing the Congo would only have continued the cycle of violence.

"Life's a crap shot, Solus. Around here, just making it through the first year of it is a 50-50 proposition. The only recourse I have is to find the best people I can and give them my training and my ring. You have one now, Foxfire. I make mistakes, but I try to give these rings to those who will use them to do some good in this world. And, when a ring bearer needs me, I move mountains to get to them. But it's still all a crap shot. I don't always arive in time, and I can't always help. But I have one advantage in the game: time. Unless somebody shoots me, I'll live forever. So, when I'm given one of these setbacks, I rebuild. We rebuild, and build the world up anew. And I pray for this world. The army raid you spoke of was truly devastating. I never found a new ring bearer for this place. The day will dawn, however, when I start looking again."

"The ring bearers recognise the rings. Mine has a special stone. They come in different colors, but mine is the only one that is green. That is how Gracie recognized me.

"Pete, have you anything to contribute?"

"Not really, boss. That was quite a speech."

The Metal Man chuckled.

"Then perhaps we should be moving on, before the next war party arrives."

OOC: Clever
IC: "Than we shall move on to our last destination in Africa. One which I'm sure you have heard of: Darfur."

"You're really giving us the whirlwind tour," the Metal Man said. "Pete, where are you?"

"Right over your head," the AI responded. "Just got here."

"Excellent. Now, I'm sure that you heard what our friend has asked. Do it, please."

"Boss?"

"Yes, Pete."

"Could you please be a little more specific? Darfur is a pretty big region, you know."

"Very well. Foxfire, is there a particular city you'd like to go to? Nyala? Al Fashir?"

OOC: Well, I'm stumped. I'm unsure of locations, do either of you have an area or city that has seen some of the worst of it?

OOC: If it was me, I'd concentrate not on Sudan (the country where the Dafur region is located), but on neighboring Chad. There are refugee camps for Darfuris there. :) :) :) Just ask Pete to lock onto the nearest camp and send them there. The mattrans has a range of several miles. Brain Jar will send them and then catch up, just like the last time.

OOC: Don't mean to steal anybody's thunder. I'm just a Moron with a Mensa Card. I have an advanced knowledge of geography, and I'm a fairly quick study--but it's not like I've actually been there.

I'd like to bring back Foxfire's would-be kidnappers somewhere along the line, but this won't be possible if the group keeps moving around. Something is going to have to make them stay in one place for a while before our old friend the big, dumb barbarian can come back for another round or two.

Homework assignment de jour: a villain who can neutralize the Metal Man. I'm too close to the situation. I just plain like the shmuck too much. Maybe we can bring back the OOC thread to help design this supervillain.

IC: Foxfire shook his head. "Point us to the nearest refugee camp in Chad. That's where we will get the most exposure."
OOC: The only way that Foxfire's old kidnappers could come back is if the U.S. posted a worldwide bountry on his head, and a big one at that. Then the whole frecking UN would probably be looking for him, but the actual scientists and soldiers that participated in the experiment are back in the U.S. Of course, they could concevibly be working in Site Zero. What are the MMs weakness again? I might have an idea.

OOC:

By "Kidnappers," I meant the big guy and the sorceress whom he ran into earlier in this thread. They're working for Axis, if I recall correctly.

TMM's weaknesses are that his suits break down (especially the one he's wearing now) and that exposure to high levels of just about any type of electromagnetic radiation overload his brain and temporarily put him in a catatonic coma. An armor piercing round could also concievably penetrate his suit and crack the tank that holds him. If he loses too much "blood," he dies. Obviously, it he was at ground zero of a nuclear explosion, there wouldn't be too much left of him afterward.

IC:

The world changed again. Gone was the field and the factory. In thier place was a dusty golden-brown landscape, with an occasional bit of scrub punctuating the barren land. A single building stood against the hot noontime sun. Behind it, three queues of people in colorful robes sat on prayer rugs, some prostrate to God. Farther back, a row of tents showed where these people had lived since being driven from their land.

"Gentlemen," the Metal Man said, "we have arrived."

OOC: Pretty much seems that the MM's harshest enemy would be a destructive environment. Space, for example, would bombard him with electromagnetic radiation, or cause his suit to break down. A powerful but quick and silent enemy, to strike before he could respond, would be the most dangerious foe.
IC: Foxfire looked around. Beyond the building and the people he looked at the tents. "Come. We will stroll among the tents, and you shall see the depths of these peoples hopelessness." He walked forward.

IC: Solus looked around when they arrived at the refugee camp. He'd not expressed any opinion on the destination for their travels, and had remained silent while the others discussed. When his gaze fell upon the prostrate individuals he emitted one of his hollow laughs while shaking his head. Solus didn't see terribly much sense to religion. A waste of time they could be using to improve their situation...typical. When Foxfire began to walk forward Solus followed him, shaking his head as he did so, eyes turned earthwards.

OOC: What about a radio jammer? They emit EM radiation, over a decently-sized area. It could make for a nasty ambush if somebody were to use one, assuming it emitted a high enough amount of energy to induce the coma.

They were helpless, but they were not beaten. Their God kept them disciplined with their discreetly-timed prayers, and they kept each other alive. In a place like this, that was the best that one could hope for.

The Metal Man, too, followed in this procession, head hung low. Foxfire had chosen his location well. If the Darfur province of Sudan wasn't the worst, most wretched place on earth, then there were some new contenders that the cyborg didn't know about. Even the United Nations had abandoned its charter and, for eight years, refused to aid Sudan. Yet, there was finally some hope on the horizon. An all-African UN peacekeeping force was moving in. It offered some new choices--hard choices, but new ones.

OOC:

Yep. A jammer would work OK. Just a word to the wise: TMM doesn't go out like a light. He suffers a painful decline. Just so you'll know.

Foxfire looked around, studing his two compainions reactions. Solus seemed unimpressed, but since when did Solus ever show emotion? MM seemed world-weary, as though he'd seen such before and wished it would end. Foxfire just shook his head sadly. "One more place. Pete, please take us to Afghanistan, Baghdad, nearest to the local American Army Base. Metal Man, you wouldn't happen to have battle armor in your bag of tricks, would you? Our visit will be short, but it may be painful."

"I cahn probably improvieeese sometheeng to help protect you," the cyborg replied, his accent thick, "but Iee don't think the AI will be doeeng too much for youhr othah request."

"Can't help you," the AI replied.

"Before Pete makes a show of this, I'll clue you in: Baghdad is in Iraq, not Afghanistan. The capitol of Afghanistan is Kabul. Both are excellent choices for what you wish to show. Which would you like to go to?"

Foxfire shrugged. "There was a reason I failed my eighth grade geography test. Take us to Iraq, that is my intention. Sorry about that."
OOC: Seriously, the fault is mine. I should really look at a map more often.

The world dissolved again, and then reappeared. This time, it was the familiar corridors of Brain Jar's transport room. It was much as it had always been, but for a small platform to the left of the main operations console. Atop the platform were a large case marked "Firefox" and a post with a harness hung over it marked "Solus."

"Christmass time, kiddies," said Pete the AI. "On the left, we have the best suit of armor I could fabricate on such short notice, and, on the right, a personal cloaking device."

"Why not the same for both?" the Metal Man asked.

"Solus has shown a reticense toward the use of technology. While less effective, the cloaking device is also less intrusive, and easier to use. I felt that it would be impossilble to convince Solus to wear the power armor, but merely difficult to convince him to use the cloak."

"As ever, the thoughtful host," the Metal Man said.

Foxfire grinned quite like a kid openeing a Christmas present. "Thank you, Pete." He opened the case marked "Firefox" and took out the suit. "Oh, wow..." he whispered. The suit was a uniform gray, with black armor at various vital places, such as the joints, boots, groin, chest, and shoulders. He turned around. "Do you have a, ah, bathroom I can change in?" Black, fox, or Human, one still has old habits. Like modesty, dispite the fact that none of those present were human, nor would they care if he changed in front of them. Still...

A fitting room made of some shiny, futuristic-looking white stuff materialized in front of Firefox. It had a hinged door that opened to the inside.

The Metal Man looked distracted. Unbeknownst to the others, he was playing 'pong' on an internal video console.

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

OOC:

>:-P

Foxfire came back out, now fitted with the suit. He looked at Solus, waiting for him to put on his stealthsuit.

As he looked, the Metal Man's visage folded into something new. Gone was the black skin, gone was the short, kinky hair. In their place were an olive complection, a veil-like turban and a short, black beard.

"When we arrrre rrrready," he said, his voice taking on an arabic accent.

OOC: The Metal Man looked distracted. Unbeknownst to the others, he was playing 'pong' on an internal video console.
lmao...

IC:Solus glared at the cloaking device with obvious distaste. He wasn't terribly fond of such contraptions, though as the AI had said, it was less despicable than was the power armour. When Foxfire requested a private room Solus snorted with laughter for a moment before returning to his traditional placid demeanor. He then turned back to the device and glared at it some more. "Query: Does...Does Solus need to wear this...thing?"

The Metal Man looked at Solus.

"Of courrrse not," he replied. "Eet would be of benefit in avoideeng confleect, but, eef you feel that you arre up to a gude scrrrum weeth gentlemen who cary automateec weapons, then, by all means, go as you arre." As he finished, his face took on a broad and obviously quite false smile.

Foxfire stared at the Metal Man's new shape. "Okay, that's just creepy. Stop it, you're going to give me nightmares."

The Metal Man turned that horrid, obnoxious smile on Foxfire.

"Perhaps thees look EES a little too Perrrsian," he said. Still, he didn't morph again.

Solus didn't seem to be the slightest bit discomfited by the odd accent exhibited by the Metal Man, though he seemed to be less on edge after the Metal Man had finished explaining the consequqnces of phailing to utilize the cloaking device. "Deduction: If men are so hostile to attack Solus on sight, then Solus has moral right to defend, yes?" He had smirked slightly when the Metal Man mentioned the automatic weapons, as though he found such devices nought but an amusement (and he did).

"Moral, perrhaps, but not legal," the Metal Man replied, "and I don't theenk we'll have the time to deal weeth the so-called law when they come forr you, which they weel. Eet would ruin the day's lesson."

Solus grimaced again. "If lack of Object: cloaking device" at this he gestured at the contraption "is required for the lesson, then Solus will tolerate." If he had to wear it in order to facilitate learning then he supposed he would.

"Eet weell help to faceeleetate the peace that Allah intended us all to live een."

And with that, the Metal Man went to the main console and checked the coordinates for the drop.

"We ready or what?" Foxfire asked impatiently, gesturing in his black armor. "I'm ready, what we waiting for? A sign from God?"

"Very well, gentlemen," the Metal Man said. "Step back onto the platforrm."

As they stood ready, the Metal Man pressed a button on the console and strode over to join them. Shortly after he arrived, the world dissolved arond them again and, once again, a new one appeared around them.

It had been mid-afternoon in Chad. Here, in Baghdad, it was later in the day.

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

OOC: Your show, Xis.

OOC: Right then.
IC: It was early evening in Baghdad, and the failing light cast high shadows over the buildings they were near. A street sign near them read Al-Rashid Street in Arabic, if any of them could read the language. The street was nearly empty save for a few people hurrying home. Foxfire retreated into the shadows with the little group. "It is very dangerious to be out after dark here." Somewhere a RPG exploded, the blast echoing across the city. Several streets over a Humvee could be heard speeding away, and a few spats of gunfire. "Since the invasion U.S. forces have been plauged by insurgents. There has been fighting in this city ever since the initial invasion in 2003."

"So what are the specific problems?" the Metal Man asked. "How were they created? How can they be stopped? How can these people be allowed to reach their full potential?"

Foxfire sighed to himself. "There was once a man called Saddam Hussein. He was the dictator of this place, and life under him was terrible. People who spoke out against him would vanish during the night, never to be seen again. He killed many of his own countrymen, and left them to starve while he lived in splendor. Well along comes this group called al-Qaeda, led by Osama bin Laden, and nineteen terrorists hijacked four airplanes filled with passengers from various airports in the US. Two hit what were known as the World Trade Centers, causing each building to collapse and kill many hundreds of people. Elsewhere another plane crashed into the Pentagon, damaging it and killing one hundred and twenty-five people. The fourth plane crashed in a field in Pennsylvania because the passengers rallied and attempted to take the plane from the terrorists. I think this plane may have been bound to crash into the White House. Nearly three thousand people in total were killed. Approximately one month after the attacks, the United States led a broad coalition of international forces in the removal of the Taliban regime for harboring the al-Qaeda organization. The Pakistani authorities moved decisively to align themselves with the United States in a war against the Taliban and al-Qaeda. Pakistan provided the U.S. a number of military airports and bases for its attack on the Taliban regime and arrested over 600 supposed al-Qaeda members, whom it handed over to the U.S. Are you two still with me?" He looked at the MM and Solus.

"Still here," the Metal Man replied, "though, even though I know the story better, I have trouble understanding what Al Queda has to do with this place."

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

OOC:

:) :) :)

Maybe you'd like to read some of my posts in "A Powerful Emergence."

:) :) :)

OOC: Say what?
Foxfire nodded. "I'm getting to that. In the immediate aftermath of the attacks, the Bush administration declared a war on terrorism, with the stated goals of bringing Osama bin Laden and al-Qaeda to justice and preventing the emergence of other terrorist networks. These goals would be accomplished by means including economic and military sanctions against states perceived as harboring terrorists and increasing global surveillance and intelligence sharing. Immediately after the September 11 attacks U.S. officials speculated on possible involvement by Saddam Hussein; although unfounded, the association contributed to public acceptance for the 2003 invasion of Iraq. The second-biggest operation of the U.S. Global War on Terrorism outside of the United States, and the largest directly connected to terrorism, was the overthrow of the Taliban rule from Afghanistan, by a U.S.-led coalition. The U.S. was not the only nation to increase its military readiness, with other notable examples being the Philippines and Indonesia, countries that have their own internal conflicts with Islamist terrorism. Al-Qaeda in and of itself has very little to do with here: However, that groups actions has brought an array of countries to bear arms against this one. War is still going on, obviously, and likely will for a long time. The people originally welcomed the coalition forces as saviors, but as the fighting and death dragged on they lost their popularity. Something like only 13% of residents still believe that this is a good thing. The basic overview is that the coalition, mainly the US, are trying to restore order and peace this this country, but Iraq politicians are scared and the Iraq Army is inexperienced and unaffective. We cannot leave; We started the war, now we must finish it. Yet we cannot afford to stay, with more money and lives lost with each passing day. It is a moral dilemma that will haunt many for the rest of their days. That, I believe, is the story." He bowed his head. As and American and barely an adult, he was rather biased in his views and information, but he felt he had conveyed the correct data and feeling.
OOC2: A good amount of this comes from Wiki, in case you couldn't guess.

'Solus is still here.' As usual, he wasn't particularly impressed with the situation. Three thousand casualties? That comes nowhere close to this 'World War II', and yet this is viewed as worse. Odd. It seemed that humans were rather inconsistent with their application of morals. It also appered that this 'America' was willing to invade countries based on the actions of a few citizens. From what Solus knew of Machiavelli, this was quite justified, but it seemed as though this was against human morals in the main. 'Solus not understand what America hopes to achieve by rehabilitating Iraq. Country worked fine under Saddam. Projection: Machiavellian thought would see little reason to rehabilitate, unless intending to stay for a long while and expand empire. So why does Foxfire see a moral dillema?'

Foxfire sighed again. "It's fairly simple, actually. We had to do something. So we did this. We couldn't, for reasons that I understand but do not emapthize with, say 'We were attacked by people who happened to come from this nation, let's use counterterrorists instead of invading a whole country and killing alot of people.'" He looked at the Metal Man. "Perhaps you can explain better? Come to think of it, you're the one who should probably be leading this thing."

The Metal Man smiled. "You brought us here," he said.

"Nonetheless, I'll try to answer Solus' questions--though mine are more difficult to answer. The invasion of Iraq was not the act of a single government, but was done through the influence of extragovernmental agencies. Seen as something done purely by America or by her government, it makes no sense. For starters, there was a tradition in America. They have claimed to act based on certain...moral values. One of these values was never to punish someone for the crimes of another, or based on false claims. The crimes of the Al Qua'eda organization were demonstrably unconnected to the regime in Iraq, and the accusation that the Americans made that the Houssein regime had and was developing a huge arsenal of weapons of mass destruction was demonstrably false, even when it was made. Nor can it be argued that the invasion was in order to subdue the Muslim population in the region--the regime in charge was doing that all by itself.

"The war makes sense only if viewed as the act of an extragovernmental cabal intent on subjugating both the United States and the entire middle east.

"Viewed in those terms, the WTC Massacre was merely a convenient excuse--which is completely consistent with its use to attack Afghanistan and topple the Taliban while not bothering to capture the man the war was supposedly fought to bring to justice. Furthermore, the takover of Afghanistan and Iraq was merely a stepping stone to hegimony in the greater middle east. The next steps along the path are Iran and Syria. Thisis consistent with moves that the regime in power in the United States is making now--but they appear to be failing. Opposition to these maneuvers is still quite strong.

"Either way, the United States lacks the resources to conduct such a military effort. Occupying these countries is driving them bankrupt...which will leave them unable to continue the process...which will leave this region as a giant terrorist training camp...which will lead to multiple simultaneous attacks against American and European targets in years to come.

"So...the moral dilemma is simple. If you're a United States citizen, you've got to live with the fact that you were suckered into a war, through lies and inuendo, whose affects will be, first, to reduce the lives of the people living here to perpetual poverty and misery, and, second, to make your own country less safe and less secure than when it started.

"Oh, and the casualty reports have been vastly understated. Though it's true that approximately 3,000 American Soldiers have lost their lives directly in conflict, when you count those who lost their lives after being removed from the conflict, that figure almost tripples--and this is excluding the tens of thousands of Iraqis who have lost their lives as well.

"So, it was against their national tradition, it was against their self-interest and it was against common sense. Yet, they did it anyway. Sounds like more than a moral dilemma to me.

"Have I left anything out?"

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

OOC:

I don't have to read the wiki. I subscribe to certain email lists...and follow the news. I knew that something was terribly wrong with the 9/11 massacre--that it was more than just a simple terrorist atack--about 10 minutes after the first building fell, when I heard government representatives, before any evidence could be collected or any analysis performed, tell me that they already knew who did it. Alarm bells started going off in my mind immediately--and nothing that has happened since has done anything to silence them.

Foxfire shrugged. "I was under the imperssion that our losses were always much larger than we were told. But, I have one question about your theory: Why would the Bush administration make such long-term plans if they could only be around for eight years at most? The next President would have to carry on the attack, unwittingly, but I doubt that things would go the way those now in power would like them to...unless they are either able to stay in office long after their term had expired or somehow plant their own agents at convenient places to control this."
OOC: I was in the third grade when the 9/11 attacks happened, so I had no impression beyond "Oh Gosh, that's pretty bad." But I've pretty much grown up with Iraq war reports in my ear, and between the zero exit strategy, IEDs, under-armored Humvees and troops, Abu ghraib, allies steadly withdrawing, an under-trained, inexperienced Iraq Army, US Marines casually murdering innocent civilians, suicide bombers, more terror attacks and good people dying needlessly every day, thing are not good, and won't be getting better.

"The answer to this lies in the person of the Vice President. Richard Cheney was a member of the Nixon Administration. Nixon, before he was president, was the Vice President for the Eisenhower Administration. Each of those administrations was well-known for its corruption, as was the Reagan administration, which, until George W. Bush came along, had the distinction of having the most members of its regime resign under duress or be prosecuted.

"In each case, the new regime picked up where the old one left off. Even George W. Bush, who had an administration of the opposition party in power for eight years, was able to continue his policies basically unabated, because the opposition party had done virtually nothing during its eight years in power to undo the legacy that he inherited.

"Likewise, if the opposition party is going to do anything to counter the steps that have been taken to turn their country into a fascist police state--the Real ID act, the Military Commissions Act, the Patriot Act and the so-called Protect America Act, among others--it is certainly showing little resolve.

"The junta's strategy is long-term. They're counting on the next regime allowing their policies to stay in play until they can pick them up again--and, judging from the opposition party's past performance, this seems a pretty safe bet.

"Bear in mind that these same people, or their ideological successors, have been coming back to power for over 50 years. Contrast this with the Clinton Administration, which ran on a platform distancing itself from the Carter Administration, and Clinton's Vice President, Al Gore, who ran on a platform distancing himself from Clinton. Unless something is done to reverse the policies of the current regime, future regimes will merely pick up where they left off, just as they did with their predecessors."

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

OOC:

I'm 43 years old. I came of age politically when the Repugs kicked Carter out of the white house because they didn't like his image. Never mind that the man led the cleanest regime in the last half of the 20th century, that his appointees' economic policies eventually got us out of the Nixon recession, and that he got farther in negotiating a mideast peace than any president before or since--he was instrumental in the peace accord between Egypt and Isreal. The ONLY accomplishment by any of his successors that rivals his is Reagan's part in bringing down Communism in the Soviet Union, and, through this, in Eastern Europe.

The Bush Administration is rotten to the core, and the only things that they will understand are substantiative measures that will undo their policies and punish them. They have acted decisively on several occasions to attempt to legalize Bush's illegal policies, and to commute the terms of criminals within the regime who were convicted of crimes--as did their predecessors, most visually, but not only, with Ollie North. This shows that they understand jail and that they understand undoing what they have done.

This is what needs to be done.

I hope that America has the stomach for it.

Foxfire grimaced. "It's like an evil Enigizer Bunny. It just keeps going and going and going..." He shook his head. "We're not here to debate politics. Evil has a way of destroying itself. Let's move on."

"Move on?" came a woman's voice from somewhere nearby. "But you haven't even introduced yourselves."

The Metal Man looked up. There, hovering over them, was the same woman who had appeared in the alley in France. Normally, the cyborg's senses could detect someone moving in from a great distance off. She had simply appeared where she was over their heads.

"Foxfire!" he called out. "Behind you!"

And it was just in time. The large gentleman, also from the alley, had appeared behind the former supersoldier and raised his big, beefy arm to strike. As he did, a bandage on his forearm came into view.

Foxfire, like last time, didn't think. he just reacted. He threw his body into a roll to the side, coming up on his feet with his sword in hand. "You again!" He struck quickly, a vertical slash intending to cut the man's chest open.

They'd learned from the last time. The blade bit quickly through the big man's robes--and stopped cold in a thick layer of body armor. The big man laughed and, with strange, metallic gauntlets, swatted the sword away. Then, he raised his other hand.

Likewise, when the Metal Man brought his plasma cannon to bear on the floating witch, he found that it had no effect. This did not stop him, however. Switching to his ice ray, he rose into the air.

"Little man," the woman said, "do you really think that toys will deter one such as myself from her goal?"

"And what might that be?" the Metal Man asked.

In response, she merely smiled and laughed--and opened her palm to let loose a near-blinding flash.

EMP! The Metal Man's systems were hardened to some extent, but that didn't stop its affects on his mind! For all the hardware that he surrounded himself with, in the end, the Metal Man was still of flesh and blood--and his mind could barely handle all the information that his cybernetic sensors constantly poured into it. A sudden barage could tip him over the edge, and drive him temporarily insane. He blinked and began desparately to lower his sensors' thresholds. During that time, the hovering witch swirled her hand and sent a bolt of force straight into his body. Before he could react, it threw him back against a nearby wall. Dazed and confused, he raised his shields even higher and shook his head, as if to clear it.

Foxfire backed away from the hulking giant of a man, sword held out defensivly. He saw out of the corner of his eye the MM get hit by what he recognized as an EMP blast. Knowing he could never actually hope to defeat the floating women in combat, he called up to her as he lept straight up, slashing his sword. "Why don't you fight fair, bitch?" He was sure that if the man who attacked him tried for the MM or Solus they would be able to take care of him.

"Fair is for simps who want to get beat!" she replied. Then, she opened her hand and sent one of those force waves Foxfire's way.

Back against the wall, the Metal Man had started to relax. In the middle of the melee, he was starting to meditate.

There's no such thing as magic. The universe doesn't play favorites. There's equal opportunity for all.

Slowly, the anti-magical field that seemed to surround him began to expand and intensify.

"Gaariggh!"
The force wave hit Foxfirein the middle, throwing him backwards as if he had just been hit with a giant baseball bat. He went tumbling down and hit the ground hard, skidding and coming to rest only after he hit the wall of a nearby building. Though all this he had managed to hold on to his katana by wrapping part of the cord wrapped around the hilt onto his wrist. He wasn't moving.

Now at the full measure of his anti-magical capabilities, the Metal Man rose into the air. As the witch unleashed another force ball, the Metal Man dodged to the side. In a moment, he was hovering almost next to her.

She growled--obviously, she was not used to having her powers challenged. As she did, the big man pulled something out of his jacket and turned toward the dueling pair.

The Metal Man's mind was beginning to go, but he still recognised his surroundings. The moment the two of them were both in range, he let loose a shield blast.

Normally, shields are thought of as a defensive weapon. Of course, this is not true in of any shield from the oldest wooden shields to the most modern energy bottles. They can all be projected at an enemy as well as used to deflect an enemy's blows. In this case, it administered a powerful electric shock.

For a moment, the witch cast a spell with her hands, and her improvised shields held--for a moment. Then, the Metal Man's anti-magicalness kicked in and they faded. ZAP! She fell to the ground, unconscious.

The man fared much better. His body armor disipated the charge. He screamed, but stayed active. And his gun didn't leave his hand.

The Metal Man concentrated his full attention on the man now. Something in his right arm whirred--a weapons change. Before the man had regained enough muscle control to fire the gun, a columnized electron beam shot out of the Metal Man's arm.

Without the armor, the hit would have killed the man. With it, he just let out a blood-curdling yelp and fell to the ground. Smoke rose lazily from his armor.

The Metal Man looked around. He looked at Solus.

In his native French--a distinctly Canadian form of the language that would have been poison to the ears of half of the people in France--he began to sing an old nursery rhyme called "Frere Jaques." (Sp?)

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

OOC: Other members of this thread are welcome to play the villains.
Other people are welcome to join this thread.

The ground shook and several cracks formed in nearby buildings. People nearby staggered slightly. Earthquake? No. It was as if the earth itself was questioning, asking. BUMP? Foxfire's prone body moved slightly with it, blood trickling out of his mouth. The shockwave of phsysic energy seemed to have broken or ruptured something.

The Metal Man blinked and looked around. Slowly--far more slowly than was normal--an antenna extended from his left hand. "Pete, get us out of here," he said.

"Can't tell whom to zap up," the AI replied. "Too many folks down there."

Quickly, the Metal Man retracted the weapons from his right arm, levitated himself down to Foxfire's unconscious form and scooped it up in the now usable hand. "Solus!" he called out. "To minimize this threat, get to the center of the street!"

And the buildings around them shook as the three travelers isolated themselves.

As this was happening, a group of men with machine guns appeared at the far end of the alley.

"Pete, now would be a good time!"

And, in that moment, the three of them were engulfed in a white, electromagnetic aura and disappeared.

The muslims with the machine guns fell prostrate. It was not often that a man got to see an angel, even if it was just leaving. For years, they would wonder just what evil they had perpetrated to draw Allah's wrath.

Lights
Blood everywhere, a curved katana, gray steel red, two broken forms, a laughing man, red and blue flashs...
Darkness
Tears...shapeless darkness...flaring, then falling, sand and silver, defeat, engine, zero, halt.
Pain
Black mask, green armor, white room, gray table, cold eyes, steel tools, screams, incomprehensible language, blood and bone...
Death
Screams, blood, helpless flailing, flames, shards of something, 'isn't part of me no not part of me why helpless tail orange death' roar, smash, yell...
Silence
Coolness...darkness...power. Travel, food, run, hide, run, sleep, dodge...
Find?
Foxfire briefly opened his yellow slitted eyes. "What?" he spoke softly, then slipped back into his sleep, dreaming delirium.

The EMP blast finally took its full toll. The moment he appeared on the transmat pad, the Metal Man fainted, joining Foxfire in his unconscious slumber.

Pete the AI knew that this meant trouble. There was a massive earthquake building beneath him--right at the center of a tectonic plate. These things simply do not happen--someone had to stop it. The witch and her henchmen, his sensors noted, had disappeared shortly after the landing party. And Pete had no idea what to do. Solus, he reasoned, would be worse than useless: this phenominon was inexorably scientific, only to be solved by technology, and Solus had a natural disdain for the stuff. The Metal Man was down, his mind in flux. That left only one being to work out and impliment a solution: Foxfire.

It wasn't long afterward that one of the Metal Man's suits--a rather humanoid one at that--came with a hypodermic syringe and injected something into Foxfire's arm. Hopefully, it would revive him as another drone was busy dragging the Metal Man to the meditation chamber at the heart of the ship.

Foxfire slowly, carefully, opened his eyes halfway. "Mother?" he squinted. Then his eyes opened wide and he looked around, disoriented. He hurt all over, feeling as though he had just been run over by a bus. The Metal Man was nowhere to be seen. He shut his eyes, the black pupels dialating. When he spoke his voice was raspy and low. "Pete...what happened?"

"What do you think happened?" the AI responded. "They shut down the boss! The Big Guy hurt you pretty bad, too. But the worst of it was those infernal force waves! They started an earthquake in the middle of Baghdad! You gotta help, Foxfire! You're the only one left who can show me how to figure out what they did! You're the only one left who can go outside and stop it! And, dammit, next time, remember your martial arts training! You should've been able to clock that overgrown side of beef, body armor or no! Don't you remember your iron shirt training?"

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

OOC: As a student of Shao Lin Kung Fu, I humbly and hesitantly point out that, by letting all the air out of your lungs and tightening your chest muscles, a man can make his rib cage so strong another man can't put a switchblade through it. The lessons that Foxfire went through should've improved his fighting skills.

"Fuck yes I do, I just didn't have a lot of time, okay?" he spoke loudly. "A earthquake in the middle of Baghdad...why me? Okay, uh, what do I do? How do I help?"

"First, go to the main bridge. Access the sensor logs. You can reconfigure them into graphs or diagrams as you need. From there, we can figure out what's causing this and how to put an end to it."

Foxfire nodded. "Right." He half ran to the main bridge, acessing the sensor logs in seconds. From there he configured the readings in a short simulation, computer generated. Foxfire still wore the battle armor, which had sand and gray dust all over it. Strangly, it wasn't scratched or dented from the beating he had recieved, but it wasn't shiny anymore either. Dried blood had caked around his mouth and still ran out the corners to his chin,which he licked with irritation to keep it from dripping and fouling the controls. According to the sensors, the shockwave, if that what it was, hadn't happened above ground. It had happened deep within the earth, some kind of explosive perhaps. Except...it must have been dug a long time ago with much persision to have been planted so well. At the moment the plate Baghdad was on was only sliding minutly, but it was enough so it certainly didn't feel minute to the people on the surface. He relayed this to Pete. "Man, I know nothing about geophysics or any of that, so you'd better come up with a solution. If you can think it up and give me the tools, I can impliment it. Seems I'm the only one who can, what with the state of Solus and the Metal Man."

"OK. The tectonic plate is breaking in two and they're starting to slide against each other.

"According to my best heuristics, we can stop the chain reaction if we relieve the pressure--it'll take two counterforce explosions, one here and one here." As the AI spoke, a map appeared, with two red dots on it.

"I have a sonic concussion device that you should be able to use. Are you in on this?"

Foxfire shrugged. "If I wasn't, would I be here?" He touched each dot with a finger. "Show me the charges and I'll do the deed," he paused. "No chance that all the Coalition and Insurgent forces have gone into hiding, is there?" he asked hopefully.

"Oh, that's the fun part. The coalition is getting everything that can fly into the air, and the insurgency is coming out of its hiding holes--like angry little bees, only with burp guns instead of stingers. We're going to have to dodge them AND those mongrels who've been trying to abduct you--if they have the poor sense to come back. The device is in the workshop. We've got about two hours left before, as best I can tell, the crack will become irreversible and Baghdad will turn into a rather large, rather angry volcano.

"Can I panic now?"

"I'm afraid we'll have to save the panic until after I've either saved or doomed us all." Foxfire said as he walked into the workshop. He picked up two small canisters, just lying there on a silver workbench. They had little red caps on either end, and a small readout in the middle. The innards were blue wireing and computer chips. Foxfire picked them up, surprised at their relative lightness. He stuck them in his utility belt and twicted his ears, his tail whipping madly. "I feel just like Batman." he muttered. "Alright, Pete, can you fly me to the first site?"

"We'll be there in about the time it'll take you to get into the transfer room."

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

In the temple, in the heart of Brain Jar, the metal man lie sprawled on his side, his eyes turned to watch a candle burning in the center of the room.

He blinked.

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

"I think the boss is going to come out of it this time," Pete said to Foxfire. "He's already showing signs of awakening."

"Tell me Pete," said Foxfire as he entered the transfer room, "can you give me a weapon? My katana's fine, but it's a little lacking in short range." He paused. "The Metal Man is waking up? Good. He's just in time for possible armaggedon."

A gladeus with a fairly large, ornate hilt appeared on the table in front of Firefox, along with a case to allow Firefox to wear it at his waist.

"This'll deal with body armor like that big guy was wearing," Pete said. "It's similar to what the boss uses. The blade is a monochrystal diamond. When it's activated, and it contacts anything, the laser in the hilt turns on and heats the blade to a tremendous temperature. It'll cut through almost anything.

"And, if you press the button at the bottom of the hilt and hold it for two seconds, the laser fires straight up through the blade. Packs quite a wallop, too--a thousand watts. But be careful. You can only fire it for five seconds before the power cell runs out. You can recharge it from a wall plug, though. Only takes about a day."

Foxfire admired the blade, then snorted. "A day. Wow. And I've heard of cell phones that can do better than that." He strapped the katana to his back and picked up the gladeus and hefted it up, staggering only slightly. "Still, it is a nice weapon. Right. One more thing. A long-range weapon. Not extremely, just a pistol or something. In case the people trying to kill me don't feel like tangling with a gigantic, superheated, glowing crystal sword." His ears flattened to his skull. "God help me or them...I'm not sure which."

"Cell phones," Pete retorted, "can't level buildings."

Then, it paused. "Ahhh, what to give you..."

A pistol-like device appeared in front of Foxfire.

"OK," Pete said, "this is a plasma blaster. At full power, it can shoot for about seven minutes in a single burst before its power cells are depleted. You should never use it that way, though, because it has a cooling problem. It won't stop working, but it could burn your hand off. Don't worry, though, you'll have plenty of warning.

"It has two controls: beam intensity and focus. Beam intensity allows you to change it from 'stun' to 'kill' to 'obliterate.' Focus lets you fire it as a narrow beam or a wide-area shot. The wide-area is best used with the stun setting."

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

OOC: A gladius is a short sword--shorter than a standard sword, but longer than a knife. It's the weapon after which the Roman Gladiators were named--and at the point of which much of the Roman Army perished in Spartagus' slave rebellion. Turns out that a Roman Army sword is a lot clumsier in the field than a gladius.

Every weapon I introduce is going to have its plusses and minuses. The sword has limited energy, the blaster has a cooling problem, and so on and so forth.

OOC: Well naturally. There is no such thing as a weapon without a drawback.
IC:
Foxfire picked up the plasma blaster, turning it over in his hands. "You guys have some real nice toys, you know that?" He flipped the "beam intensity" to "stun" and the "focus" to "wide area shot." "I think I'm ready. Ah hem, Beam me down, Scotty." he grinned at his own joke.

He found himself at the site. It seemed as though it was the middle of nowhere, and his only companions were the sand dunes. And, though it was nearly dusk, the place wasn't air conditioned like the inside of Brain Jar.

There was a beep from something on the blaster.

"Synchronize charges to go off at four minutes from my mark," Pete's voice said.
"You know where to plant them. They need to be at least four feet underground to be effective. With your new weapons, that should be EASY. Four... there... two... one... MARK!"

Damn it's hot. Foxfire primed the charges with a few simple taps on the controls and a twist of the level. 4:00 appeared on the screen. As he watched it changed to 3:59. Right then. Foxfire kneeled on the ground and, after holstering the blaster, took out the gladius. "Here goes nothing." He activated the short sword. A heavy thrumm sounded and the crystal blade glowed softly. He lifted it over his head and smashed it into the ground before him. The blade sliced easily though, with surprising ease. He carved though the rock, cutting a rough section away. Then he lifted the rock out, moved it aside, and dropped in the charge. He replaced the rock with no small amount of grunting and sweat. He shook his head, clearing away the sweat from his forehead. "Alright, what's next?"

((OCC. I wish I knew where your locations are!))
Scott wondered through New York letting the sights and sounds wash over him. He 'created' a Kebab and walked some more. Looking for 'misfits'.

OOC: Foxfire is about 50 miles due east of Baghdad, Iraq. Brain Jar is at a point to the southeast of the same city.

"Get away as far and as fast as you can," Pete replied. "You have three minutes and five seconds to get out of the blast zone."

Foxfire looked at the sky. "I assume there's a reason you can't just beam me out?" He looked around absentmindedly, then realized. He was, quite literally, standing on a powerful explosive device. He began to run away, very fast. As he ran his body changed. Reddish fur sprouted all over him, and he shrinked towards the ground, sprouting an extra set of black-furred legs. In seconds he was a little red fox, bounding over the burning sands. Unfortunatly, it wasn't any cooler down there closer to the earth, and all the fur wasn't helping much.

"Yes," the AI replied, "I'm too far away right now. I'll come back as soon as I'm done over here."

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

The Metal Man shook his head and, with a soft moan, rolled over.

"How long was I gone, Pete?" he asked.

"An hour or two," the AI replied. "You going to stay with us now?"

"I don't know. I'll try, but I can't guar--." He stared into space.

Right. Foxfire thought as he ran over the dunes. He couldn't speak, of course, but he could still hear Pete. For some reason that would probably never be explained, whenever Foxfire "morphed" so to speak, he retained all clothing and whatnot he had been carrying. This was a good think, because it's not a good idea to be stark naked and weaponless in the middle of a warzone. He crossed another dune. He thought, maybe, that he could see the city ahead. Maybe.

"Pete, what's going on?" the Metal Man asked. "The seizmometer readings just don't make sense."

"Yeah, I know," Pete replied. "Those force balls they were throwing at you guys set off an earthquake--don't ask me how. Firefox and I are setting off counterexplosions to try and stop it."

"Explosions? When...?"

"Hang onto your sombrero, amigo--THREE...TWO...ONE..."

BOOM!

The deck floor under the Metal Man shook for a moment.

"Wow," he said. "We're several thousand feet in the air."

"That one was the BIG one," Pete said.

"You mean there were MORE of those?"

"I needed at least two points of counterforce to balance the tectonic pressure. The other one was much smaller. Firefox should be OK."

"You left him out there alone?!? Pete, you idiot! What if the thugs who tried to abduct us return for him?"

"How can they do that? The don't know where he is."

"They shouldn't have known where we were last time, either, Pete."

"OK. Point taken. Moving into transmat range."

Foxfire's little fox body was thrown by the force of the explosion, even though he was miles away by that point. Sand errupted around him as he went tumbling down the slope of a now non-existant dune. There was no shockwave, but the earth beneath him trembled. He now lay under three feet of sand, the wind knocked out of him, stunned, but alive. He stayed still, not that he had any choice. Reverting to human now would certainly kill him.

"Where IS he, Pete?"

Silence.

"PETE!!! WHERE!!! IS!!! HE!!!"

"Ummmm...sensors are starting to clear now. He's...just outside of the blast zone, about three feet underground."

"WHAT??!?!?! By God, Pete, if our folly has killed that man, ..."

"He's not a man--in fact, right now, his life signs are...distinctly...canine."

"I don't care what regeneration mechanisms those damn experiments gave him, I WANT HIM BACK ALIVE, AND I WANT HIM BACK NOW!"

"Don't have a cow, boss. I think just as much of sentient life as you do. We're coming in range now, and...uh oh."

"What now?"

"Good news and bad news."

"Don't play games with people's lives, Pete."

"The good news is that we won't have to dig him out because someone else is digging him out for us."

"And, don't tell me, the bad news is it's the people who already tried to kidnap us twice, right?"

"Ummm, actually, no."

"No?"

"That's the bad news: they've got help this time."

Foxfire heard the sand shifting around above him. It suddenly fell in in a flash of daylight. He felt strong hands lift him from his burial into the air. Still dazed as he was, he could tell these people were not Solus or the Metal Man. In fact...
Oh, I'm fucked.
It was the same two people who had attacked them before. The hulking giant of a man stood next to that women, the one with the energy beams. Or something. Around them stood half a dozen or so distinctly Arabic men. They wore bandanas and the like around their head and face, concealing their identity. All were carrying modern weapons of some sort, mostly AK-47s, but a few carried weapons Foxfire didn't recognize and one held an RPG launcher. The man lifting him into the air was one of these, and he laughed as he did so. The other men laughed with him, gutteral and loudly. At that moment Foxfire changed so instead of holding a ten or so pound fox the man was trying to hold a one hundred and fourty three pound human. His hand dropped under the sudden change in weight and Foxfire fell to the sand on all fours, coughing and shaking sand off himself. The women gave a dark smile. "And so we have you at last."
OOC: Where did these people (the "supervillians") come from again?

OOC: They were originally supposed to be from the Supervillain Organization, and be Axis' minions. That may be subject to change, however.

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

IC:

There was a soft buzzing sign behind the crowd. In its wake appeared one of the strangest contraptions that ever walked the land.

It was basically a dark green sphere on four legs, though the "feet" all had tank treads on them. In its center was a white, metallic plate that curved gently inwards. Its sides were lined with different sorts of weapons--blades, missiles, ray guns--giving it a rather messy but dangerous appearance.

"Get away from my friend," a voice that came from it said. It then said the same thing in perfect Arabic.

Foxfire recognized the voice. It was the Metal Man. This must have been one of his combat suits.

The thing was noticed and for at least a second all anyone could do was stare at it in a kind of shocked silence. Then the insurgents screamed as one and opened fire on the strange battlesuit. Bullets and tracers streaked towards it, and the man with the RPG got down on one knee and fired it. The huge man with his arm in a sling scooped up Foxfire and began to run in the direction of the city, taking loping strides over the sand. The women rose into the air, little bands of white energy forming around her wrists. "You really don't learn, do you?"

"We seem," the Metal Man said, "to have that in common."

A hail of small arms fire impacted against his shields as he stood his ground on metal legs. :mp5: :mp5: :mp5: They held, but it was a drain on his main generator. Then, one of the miscreants fired a rocket propelled grenade. That would be a greater challenge, and the cyborg didn't feel like committing his energy reserves just to show that he could. If this got messy, he might need the energy.

He lifted off the ground, an angel on magnetic wings. No, not an angel--flowery language, he reminded himself, was another symptom of an impaired mental state. He launched, and the missile missed him.

The hired help didn't take long to deal with. A simple shot of ball lightning put them all down without killing anyone--they could do that to each other well enough by themselves. Another one, aimed at the woman who led them, did not fare as well in its objective, however. She merely smiled as it spread harmlessly around some kind of shield that she, too, wielded.

This series of skirmishes was starting to swing in her favor. Every time he used a new weapon, she found a way to counter it--and, though the same was true of him, her attacks were also getting stronger, a little harder to counter each time. The Metal Man did not like where this led. :headbang: Fortunately, his shielding stopped a force ball that she threw at him, but it took a nice little bite out of his energy reserves. :gundge:

Right now, all he could do was try another new weapon and hope that she wouldn't be able to toss it aside as easily as the old ones. If he and Foxfire survived this encounter, they were going to have to have a little chat about the circumstances in which they found themselves.

In the meantime, the Metal Man decided to do something a little unpredictable. While using a series of plasma charges to disrupt the woman's senses (he knew that she had somehow warded herself against them, but they threw enough dust and sand into the air that it distracted her), he let another one go that she probably hadn't thought about--right into the back of the second assailant. It was a simple gambit: she had locked onto him, and Firefox wasn't really her quarry. If the Metal Man could free him, or even turn the tide of the battle that he was fighting, then perhaps together they might stand a better chance than either of them stood alone.

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

OOC:

You know, Xis, Foxfire's awfully wimpy. With the training and the new weapons he has, that overgrown side of beef shouldn't be much of a challenge for him. But...somehow...he keeps finding ways to snatch defeat from the jaws of victory... :P :P :P

OOC: Keep in mind his age and circumestances: An eighteen year old simply dosen't have the strength or endurance that a older person has, despite his genetically altered abilities and enhanced training. He's also been on the run for years, so he runs and hides a lot more than he actually fights. I'm not saying he can't hold his own-he can-but the circumstances under which he has met these people was firstly him trying to "save" MM, and secondly he was helpless in another form, stunned by the blast. That wears off pretty fast, though.
You're in control of the women, BTW.
IC:
Foxfire felt himself being carried swiftly and none-too-gently over the dunes and sands be towards Baghdad. He was fully alert, not dazed or tired any longer. The giant who carried him seemed unaware of his attention. Foxfire smiled wickidly. Good. He let himself slide slowly backwards in the man's huge hand, then suddenly bit down on the arm, teeth sinking though flesh and muscle. The man yelled and whirled, Foxfire hanging on by his teeth for dear life. Then he went into a controlled spin of the man, landing somewhat unsteadly, but on his feet. They now stood facing each other. The man stepped sideways, and Foxfire did the same-Just as a bolt of energy flew by him to impact the sand some distance away. Foxfire tossed aside the gladeus and holstered his pistol. Either weapon could have easily taken down the man, killing him in some form or fashion, but Foxfire wanted to do it the way he always did: By his weapon, the katana. He drew it, flourishing it, slicing the air. The giant seemed a little less confident now, eyeing the sword wearily. Foxfire didn't stop for words, he flew at his attacker. Despite, or perhaps because of, the villain's size he went down quickly. His blood poured over the sand, soaking it a dark red, his body rent in places where dozen of slashs had bit in with quick succession. He was dead for good, even the super strong armor he wore could not save him. Foxfire picked up the gladeus from where he had dropped it and turned to watch the women who he had subconciously named "witch" and the Metal Man. He held the sword as best as he could to aim at her, and pressed the button on the side, triggering the laser. If this worked, he only hoped the concussive blast would not kill or injure the Metal Man. If it didn't work, which was more likely, it would at least distract her from the Metal Man, having to face two enemies. And Foxfire was determined not to go down as easily as last time.

OOC: Dude, a man's body reaches its physical peak at about this age. Training can improve performance, but the physical aging process begins then.

IC:

That shield of hers had neutralized every weapon he had, but one--and using that one was a gamble. Normally, a shield is considered a defensive weapon--in fact, most people don't even think of its offensive potential until a spiked one hits them in the face. Now, it was time for the Metal Man to sharpen the spikes on his shielding--power spikes, that is.

The witch had not been idle. She'd summoned an unnatural wind. The Metal Mans maglevs had proved stouter so far, but it left their owner to wonder what other feats of weather control his adversary was capable of. As he moved in, he found out one of them. His shields deflected a lightning bolt from a cloudless sky. Holding his ground against the breeze, he flew straight into the witch's shields. Where the two shields met, they canceled each other out. In a moment, they were standing in their own private little world, a still spot in what seemed a universe of turmoil.

"So," she said, "you're still arrogant enough to think that you can actually challenge me."

"It is good that you still can't read my mind," the Metal Man replied.

And, the next moment, both unleashed their arsenals. Somehow, despite the Metal Man's magic-dampening abilities, the witch fired a tornado spell, an acid cloud and a space twister all in combination. The Metal Man launched all his missiles, fired all his ray guns and threw a metal punch with a grapple arm that came out of his combat suit's left side. The air around them seemed to explode. When the dust cleared, there was a meter-deep crater where they had originally stood--and each of the two combatants had been thrown a good ten feet back.

The Metal Man was in tough shape. The green skin of his suit, lying on its side at a precarious angle, two of its legs having been blown off, was pocked with holes. The silver circle was now a bent, twisted piece of junk. The weapons were bent and ripped away--virtually all of them were useless. Still, a metal arm had somehow survived, and showed that its owner had, too, as it slowly moved to a point at what was now the top of the spherical casing and began to flip through some of the wires.

The witch had also not gone unscathed. One of her legs and an arm were bent at impossible angles, and her face was scarred and bloodied. Still, she, too, had somehow survived, and was conscious. Her fingers twirled in the air, preparing yet another spell.

An antenna extended from the Metal Man's body.

"Foxfire," he said over the comlink, "are you alright? Can you help? If we let that woman get off a healing spell, we might not be able to overcome her."

"No problamo, amigo."
Foxfire was already running towards the blast crater, his plasma gun leveled and his katana and gladeus on his back. He flipped the switch again, and fired a beam on narrow intensity on "kill." Holstering the weapon, he unsheathed his katana to dive in on her in that didn't work.

Just before he struck, her body vanished, leaving him to come down on a small recess between two sand dunes.

"Aww, garbage," said the Metal Man.

"Shit," Foxfire muttered. "She'll be back. But I eliminated the big guy." he jerked his thumb over his shoulder, where across several dunes the man laid, blood leaking from his wounds, body ravanged by Foxfire's sword.

"I noticed," the Metal Man replied. "Too bad you had to kill him. He wasn't trying to kill you. Then again, maybe what he WAS trying to do with you--and, later, with me--would have been worse.

"Pete, can you get us out of here?"

"I thought you'd never ask."

In a moment, both combatants were safely back aboard Brain Jar. The Metal Man's suit was a total wreck, but he regarded his combat suits as expendable. It took a while, but, eventually, he ended up in his humanoid suit and the local muscle that had been hired to help clean him up was picked up and put on the streets of Baghdad.

"We couldn't just leave them there to die," the Metal Man said.

"Now," the cyborg continued, "what do we know about our would-be kidnapper--besides the fact that the tracking device I shot into her in the heat of the battle is now in New York City?"

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

OOC @ Mussleburgh:

Sorry it took so long. If you'd like to join in, feel free.

"We couldn't just leave them there to die," the Metal Man said.
Foxfire curled his lip. "I could have,"
"Now," the cyborg continued, "what do we know about our would-be kidnapper--besides the fact that the tracking device I shot into her in the heat of the battle is now in New York City?"
"Well," said Foxfire, pacing across the room, hands behind his back, "we have nothing. We know they're out to kill us. We know they're powerful. I suspect, with their methods and the hired guns back there, that they are a part of an organization. And, let's face it, what with all those other people back in America and that business in France, we're not hugely hard to track, except for your ship here. And even that could be tracked if they knew exactly how fast and in what direction it was going from point A to point B." Foxfire had changed out of his sweaty, grime covered, sandy filled armor into his normal clothes again. "Her beacon is in New York?" he continued, "She was smart. And good at what she did. I don't think she'd allow herself to be stuck like that and not know. I sense a trap."

"I concur on all but two counts. I don't think they were trying to kill us.

"After the big man dug you out of the sand, rather than finishing you off, he picked you up and tried to make a run for it. Not what a would-be killer would do. And we're not that easy to track. As you may recall, we snuck through NORAD's grid to get to the beaches of Normandy. Given that one of them was using some form of occult power against us, I can't rule out divination as a means of determining where we are--and a mage who can divine my location is a powerful one indeed.

"What do you recommend?"

Foxfire thought about this. "Well, they may not have been trying to kill me, but judging by the size of the crater outside, they were trying to kill you. I can't argue the second point, not when I'm in a space ship," he shool his head at the unrealisticness of it all. "What do I recommend? We go to New York. Spring the trap. We have no other leads, and I think my little tour it over." Foxfire looked around. "It's too bad, really. I was going to show you the better side of human nature, and some of the wonders of the world, but that plan was fouled by the better side's evil, ugly twin."

Scott was still looking around NY. He had a means of escape if he got in to trouble but right now he was just enjoying the views. That was however until a 'hunter' found him. Then he panicked.

((OCC. Sh*t I know I will do a better update tonight.))

"Sounds as good a plan as any," the Metal Man replied. "To New York, then." He put his hand to his head. "I think I'll meditate while en route. I'm still feeling that EMP blast she hit me with."

Pete took the hint--and the slow way. Still, Brain Jar was no slouch. In five hours time, the two travelers were standing at a viewport and looking at the New York skyline.

"A tribute to the powers of mankind," the Metal Man said. "Solus has asked to leave. I could think of worse places for him."

"He'll get on all right here. It takes all kinds, eh?" Foxfire viewed the New York highrises and steel and glass buildings shooting up into the sky like barbs. "They could be anywhere. It's a big city. Millions of people. I've been here before, once in the winter and once in the summer. It's always packed, and parking...don't get me started. Taxi's cost a fortune if you can't take the bus. I had to run here, once. Lost myself in the masses. That was before 9/11, so getting in and out was easier. After the attacks I couldn't go anywhere near an airport. A man without most of his head showing it rather conspicious." he smiled grimly, remembering.

A bemused grin took hold of the Metal Man's features. "I believe," he said, "that Solus has found us to be quite un-threatening.

"Do you have friends here? If so, we must avoid them until it is safer for them. Some of my friends here will never forgive me if they find I haven't consulted them, though...OR...we COULD just spring the trap and see what happens. The device is now in the center of Times Square, and it's not moving. Our quarry has obviously found it."

Foxfire laughed without humor. "Friends? I have none, anywhere. The most I could do was kill for money. A hitman. And I won't do that. Not after what happened to my parents. So that concern is zero. I think it would be good to have a base, get a little rest...we can't be up and moving all the time. Or at least," he glanced at the Metal Man, "I can't. If one of your friends is well armed and can deal with this sort of thing, we should go for it."

OOC: Can I just assume that Cavourna has returned home to New York?

OOC: As far as I'm concerned yes. We need a little more traffic in this thread anyway.

OOC: I might set up a new one of these, y'know?

OCC: im going to assume i was accepted, can i know where you guys are so i can jump in.

OOC: Good assumption.

OOC: NC, Al, currently the MM and Foxfire at in (above, actually) New York. Solus has decided to stay in New York, and we are pursuing a women who attacked us in Baghdad. We've left pretty much everyone else behind, which is conveniant because no one else is posting. And there's still this mysterious 'Scott' person.

"I hate to be the bearer of bad news," Pete chimed in, "but while you two were busy jawing, I ran a little sensor scan of the tracking device. Looks like it's in a little box with no markings and a faint electrical field. In other words, IT'S A BOMB AND WE'D BETTER DEFUSE IT BEFORE IT BLOWS TIMES SQUARE TO BITS!"

Foxfire groaned. "Ah, you've got to be kidding me. Didn't I just do this? And look what happened last time!" he rubbed his aching side, where the blast wave and the giant's forearms had bruised his skin. He ran over to the transporter.

"Not so fast," said the Metal Man. "Pete, is there anything that prevents us from just transporting the whole mess a kilometer or two offshore, into the Atlantic?"

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

OOC: Feel free to RP Pete. He IS a Non-Player Character, after all.

OOC: Yeah...well, true. But I really prefer that you RP him, you probably do a better job than I would.
IC:
"There's too much mass around the bomb," Pete responded, "it is surronded by people, vehicles, buildings, and other objects. If we transport the bomb, we would end up transporting about thirty people, two buildings, eight taxis and a bus along with it. Looks like you'll have to do it the old fashioned way. By the way, the bomb is big enough to obliterate a city block." Foxfire put his head in his hands. "Why me? I'm not getting paid for this. The people I'm trying to save would put me back on a military operating table somewhere if they had a chance. And on top of this, we've got some secret sinister organization trying to kill us! Why do I have such bad luck?" he stared at the Metal Man.

"Half the people you're trying to save--or more--would give up their lives to prevent what already happened to you from happening again. And it would be no use. The toughest friends I have aren't tough enough to volunteer for this job--and I include you among my friends, if you'll forgive me. Ya got one, so there." A wry grin had formed on the Metal Man's lips as he spoke those words.

"You're right about that, too. Neither of us should be expected to volunteer for this when there are professionals available.

"Pete, call the bomb squad."

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

OOC: I had to create some form of commotion to draw the other player characters to the little band of merry men. Why not involve professionals, and police radios and all the other little goodies that will attract these folks' attention?

:) :) :)

OOC: Ah, I see. As opposed to the usual random meeting, like at the begninng of the thread.
IC:
Foxfire visibly sagged in relief. "Oh thank God." Pete was already on a telephone, calling New Yorks Finest about a possible threat in Time Square.

Hammering down the streets of New York towards Times Square were four blue and white Squad Cars. As they weaved through the traffic, sirens wailling and lights flashing, sitting in the lead car was one of the less well known Cops on the force, Alexander Cavourna

"So what's this about?" He asked his partner as he lazily jerked the car out in front of a bus.
"We got a Bomb Call in Times Square, Dispatch wants us to clear the area for the Boom Boys to work"
"Right then, no time to lose" He brought the car around the corner sideways and gunned it up towards Times Squarem, the other three cars in pursuit.

"I'm going down to show 'em where it's located," the Metal Man said. "Care to join me?"

Foxfire shrugged. "Sure, why not? Pete, if you'd be so kind." Suddenly the Metal Man was facing not Foxfire, but a six foot four, hulking Jamaican man with dreadlocks and a cheerful looking face. He grimaced, showing bad, stained teeth. "Very funny, mon." he said to the room at general. There was another blurr and now Foxfire was a short Japanese businessman in a suit and glasses. He said something in Japanese, then glared at the ceiling. Laughter came from all around as the man spoke in English. "So what the hell am I saying-Ah, there we go." he, like the Jamacian, had a thick accent, but not so bad that he could not be understood. Foxfire-the-Japanese-guy nodded. "This will do."

The Metal Man smiled. "I need a little change of attire myself. Ah. Here's the suit now."

An sliver, egg-shaped contraption levitated in through the viewing room's twin doors. It had no discernible markings. As the Metal Man walked up to it, its metallic surface flowed back to reveal a docking station. "You don't mind seeing me," he grinned--he looked left--he looked right, "naked, do you?"

He unbuttoned his shirt and his chest split open. A tank, less than a meter tall, with pulsing organs in some kind of clear, viscous fluid, came out of the old man and settled into the egg-shaped contraption. Then, the old suit's chest cavity closed as the silver metal flowed back around where the tank had gone in.

"There," the Metal Man said. "And now, for something a little more presentable."

The metal flowed into a new form. Arms and legs sprouted, and they took on a new shape and color. As Firefox watched, it morphed into an obese, elderly black woman with wing-tip glasses and a rather gaudy yellow flower-print dress.

"Whach-you think? They ready fo' me?" "she" asked with a smile. "Ha ha HEHHHH!"

Foxfire raised his Japanese eyebrows. "So that's what you really look like? I don't think the Big Apple is ready for this, but what the hell," he grinned. "Let's do it anyway!" A few seconds later they were suddenly in Times Square, not amid the crush of people, but off to the side in a nearby alley. Foxfire brushed some imaginary dirt of his suit. "So what's our story? Husband and wife? Brother and step sister?"

"Jehova's witnesses spreadin' the word--A-MEN!" The Metal Man laughed at her sarcastic remark. The "old lady" had a bright smile and a very friendly laugh. She put her hand on Firefox's arm. "You can be mah son's buddy from the war. Now...I'm gonna get me a good look at that thang."

There was a lamp post at the corner of 43rd and 7th. Most of it was what one would expect--tall and slender with a coat of dull gray paint over it. This one, however, had a foot-long metallic box attached to its base. "Yessir," the Metal Man said, putting her hand on her glasses and looking down. "Led-lined so it cain't be X-rayed. Don't stop no MRI, though." She ran her hands over its sides. "They we go," she continued. "Petey, you got them pictures I just sent you?"

"Got 'em, boss."

"Good. Now you let me know when you got schematics from them thangs, an' then you print 'em out an put 'em in mah purse fo' me, K? Po-leese should be gettin' here any time now."

OOC: BUMP for Alversia.

The NYPD Cruisers, now eleven strong in one, long convoy tore around the corner and headed straight for Times Square, the sounds of the sirens blended into one symphony of white noise, driving the lead car was Officer Cavourna. He relished the oppurtunity to tear around New York at these speeds. It was one of the main reasons he became a Cop in the first place.

A soft buzzing sound came from the "old lady's" purse as the plans were zapped into it. She looked at Foxfire.

"Get ready," she said. "When the po-leese get here, that's when they pro'ly gonna try an' kidnap somebody."

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

OOC: Would you hurry up and arrive already? GEESH!!!

Dastardly Stench;13399741']A soft buzzing sound came from the "old lady's" purse as the plans were zapped into it. She looked at Foxfire.

"Get ready," she said. "When the po-leese get here, that's when they pro'ly gonna try an' kidnap somebody."

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

OOC: Would you hurry up and arrive already? GEESH!!!
"Undoubtably." said Foxfire in his distinct Japanese accent. "I hope this all plays out well. It would be a shame if I was gunned down by police, after all I've faced."

OOC: Alversia, we're waiting.

OOC: Alversia, we're waiting.
OOC: Alversia's home computer is down, he can only post from his school computer, so his time is limited. Please be patient.

This thread is hereby transferred to "The Guardians RP" thread.

OOC:
*cries*
So all the history about Foxfire is explained in the OOC thread. I can take this out of my SL. Yahh!

SL? What's an SL?

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