RKMBs Forums .::Important::. Writer's Block HR #11 [The Lost City of the Dragons]

The mainland was in sight........and ole Bertha was floundering....

The starboard engine cut out about twenty minutes ago.....and the port propeller had been stopping and starting for the past ten.

"We ought to start thinking about some sort of emergency procedure.....I think the plane does not has much air time left" Priest announced.

"Well......I sure am glad we brought a genius along.” Dirk remarked as he lit a Lucky Strike he procured from the pilot.

Grimm placed his hand on the pilot’s shoulder. “Did you have some sort of plan in mind?”

“Yeah……I figured I’d try ta find somewhere away from trees or obstacles……if we make it that far…..and then attempt to land without killing us….”

Grimm stared at the man, as well as anyone without eyes could, and said “…..Yeah…..”

Just then the other engine sputtered and stopped… only the sound of the wind remained …everyone looked at each other.

The pilot flicked some switches, took off his headset (which, to the surprise of the group, instead of being a communications up link……It was playing Rock me like a Hurricane.”) and turned toward the attentive passengers.

“Gentlemen…we are now gliding.” The man behind the wheel said as he put his headphones back on, and returned his hands to the controls. “Lets see if I can get us back down……come on baby….Rock me like a Hurricane!!!”

“This is not exactly the flying I’m used to” Tayden said with a grimace.

“Look on the bright side” Dirk replied with a smile, “You’ll be back home before ya know it….”

CRASH!!!!!

"...Danny!" Ktl shouted, in the guise of Mxy.

"Uh... yes. That's me. Listen, I just wanted to talk to you for a second..."

"Yes! You did just wanted to talk to me for a second! For I am Mxy!"

"...yes..."

"THE MIGHTY MXY!"

"...you sure are. I'm not sure how much of our conversations you hear when Mick is in charge, so I just wanted you active for a minute so I could fill you in on the mission."

"Mission! The mission. That I'm going on. For I am Mxy. Mxy's mission. Mission: Possible!"

"Yes. That mission. I guess..."

"See, it's like the TV show, but I changed Impossible to Possible. It's wordplay. Mxy likes wordplay!"

"He sure... you sure do. Listen, we're going to Berlin..."

"Berlin is where the pictures come from. The German pictures."

"I'd imagine so... so, it's you, Tobias, Kristogar, and myself. We're raiding the tomb of a nazi war criminal in order to see if he's been buried with the Liber Vitae, or any clues to it's whereabouts..."

Danny stopped to consider the ridiculousness of what he was saying. But only for a moment.

“I can fill you in on the exact details next time we speak. I just wanted to give you the rough idea.”

”Thank you. I like cows. For I am Mxy!”

“Okay, yeah, cows are pretty good…”

”Delicious.”

“Anyway, we’re all packed. We just need to get to the airport.”

”Done and done! Mxy can do! Do that! It’s done!”

Danny wondered what he meant by that when he felt the building start to tremble. It started slowly, but soon picked up in both force and volume.

<…he’s not doing what he I think he’s doing, is he?>

“I hope not, Hal…”

The sound of tearing metal and splintering wooden beams filled the air around them as the building was ripped from it’s foundations. Danny thought he heard screaming from the other rooms.

<Oh, shit.>

Danny was thrown to the floor as the building shot upwards and begun to hover.

“Mxy!”

Ktl, in Mxy’s form, floated freely in the middle of the room.

”To the airport.”

Danny looked up from his place on the floor, to the room’s window. He could see treetops outside, lining the waterfront. The treetops began to move, picking up pace.

Now, trees beginning to move of their own accord would just be silly. Which meant, in Danny’s mind, there was one real possibility.

“Mxy! What the hell are you doing?!”

Ktl stopped. The building stopped.

Everything stopped.

”…taking us to the airport.”

“Put the building back exactly the way it was. Now.”

Looking up, Danny thought he noticed the yellowish light that exuded from Mxy’s eyes fade for a moment. Just for the briefest of moments. It almost seemed as if it was replaced by a darker light. But… only for a moment.

”Okee dokee artichokee.”

Danny stumbled and fell to the floor again as the building shot back the way it came. It planted itself back on it’s foundations, and strange noises echoed around them as pipes and wires repaired themselves. Wood and concrete re-molded itself. The building was settling back, exactly the way as it was.

This went on for a minute, and Danny listened silently. Eventually… it stopped.

“Mxy…” He said softly, once he was sure that the work was finished. “I want you to listen to me very, very carefully.”

”Okay. I shall listen. For I am Mxy,” Came the reply, just as softly as Danny’s remark had been.

“Do not do anything without clearing it with me first. There are some things you just shouldn’t do. Lifting up a building and throwing it across the island is one of those. And the list continues well beyond that. If you’re thinking about doing anything like that again… Ask. Me. First.”

There was a brief silence. Danny thought he saw the darkness once more, but that could have been his eyes playing tricks on him. He was still dizzy from the spinning building.

Danny blinked, and realised Mxy was still shining brightly.

”Okay.”

“Good.”

If Ktl had been more adept at interpreting human emotion, he may have seen something in Danny’s eyes that amounted to doubt. Or perhaps suspicion.

Maybe.

“Now, can we please have Mick back?”

An hour later, and Danny was waiting at the airport. Next to him stood Mick and Kristogar Velo. Mick was staring intently at a German tourist brochure.

Danny reached into his pocket and pulled out his mobile phone.

He remembered when he'd got this. A few months ago now, not long after they'd relocated to the island. Pete paid for them, and Kit arranged them, and now just about everybody on the team had one. Nobody paid them much attention except Danny. They all viewed the phones as a perfectly normal way to keep in touch. To be placed in pockets and forgotten until you need to make an urgent call, or order a pizza. But Danny... when they first got them, Danny had found them strange. Bulky. Yet another space-consuming thing to carry around. Along with his passport, and wallet, and other stuff he had never been used to.

He remembered a time when he could place a tiny earplug into his ear and operate it with voice commands. And he could talk to anyone in the world with it.

This was one of thousands of tiny irritations that had bugged Danny ever since he got to this time. The mundane details of everyday life that had made life unbearable. That had just about driven him insane. He turned the phone over and over in his hand. This thing had driven him nuts for months.

But now he barely noticed it.

Looking up Grimm's number in the phone's memory, he hit the button to dial. After waiting a moment, he was diverted to Grimm's voicemail.

"Grimm. Message. Beep," Came the recorded greeting. Danny waited for the beep, then began to speak.

"Grimm? It's Danny. I'm leaving this message with the field leaders of both missions, so I'll be talking to Chance in a second as well. I just wanted to ask you to check in with me on arrival. Then let me know the second you find anything... or, you know, anything important happens that I should know about. Not to sound like a control freak or anything, but... well, I'd just like us all to keep in touch. And I'd like an idea of exactly how we're all doing. You know? Right. Okay. Talk to you later."

Danny hung up, then dialled Chance's number. After a few rings, there was an answer.

"Hello?"

"Kris? It's Danny."

"Hi. What can I do for you?"

"I just wanted to ask you to check in with me as soon as anything happens. I'm trying to keep us all in touch. And I want to gather an idea of how the mission's going. I've asked Grimm, now I just wanted to ask you. Since you're leading your mission and all."

"I am?"

"You are."

"Okay then."

"Okay. So you'll give me a call when anything happens?"

"Sure. Not a problem."

"Thanks. Oh, and Kris...?"

"Yes?"

"I'd like you to keep an eye on Ed. He's seemed... I don't know... stressed out or something lately. Just... keep an eye on him."

"Sure thing."

"Thanks. Okay, I'll talk to you later."

"Bye. Good luck."

"You too."

BLAM!

"Wide left."

Grissom rolled his eyes. "Losing my touch, mate." He aimed and fired again.

"Just a bit low." Phil stood up and inspected the target. "Pretty close that time, though."

"You sure that thing's not moving?" Grissom joked.

Phil shrugged. "Pretty sure."

Grissom turned and lined up his shot. He peered over at Phil subtly as he aimed and fired again.

The target moved a half inch to the left.

Grissom whirled around. "You bloody bastard! You moved that thing!"

Phil grinned. "Guilty as charged." He walked over and accepted the gun from Grissom. "Sure was a good idea to squeeze a firing range into the security sublevel, don't you think?"

Grissom nodded. "Works out nicely. And I'm sure Mr. Bell will appreciate having yet another arena to one-up us in." He sat down. "Pretty hard to believe that she was still alive, wasn't it?"

Phil nodded. "You said I looked like I'd seen a ghost, and for all intents and purposes I had." He shot at the target and missed the ten-ring by about an inch. "Crap." Phil picked up a grease pencil from a nearby work bench and marked a little line on the side of the gun barrel. "But yeah, now you know why things have been so weird lately."

"And it explains the trouble with Leslie." Grissom concentrated for a moment, and a sandwich appeared in his hand. "But is it possible that she may have figured out what's going on too?"

Phil shrugged. "Anything's possible, really." He aimed and fired. "Bullseye."

"Nice shot," Grissom remarked as he took a bite of his sandwich. "The reason I'm wondering is because if she's really a bounty hunter, and if she's been assigned specifically to track you down, then there may be an intelligence connection in there somehow."

Phil nodded. "I still don't understand why the KGB has so many files on me, but nobody else has a clue who I am."

"I haven't finished breaking the encryption sequences," Grissom admitted, "so I guess you'll find out when I do."

"But do you really think that the GRU is after me?" Phil asked.

"That's what Leslie told you," Grissom replied. "I would say it's a pretty safe bet."

"And if Leslie didn't deliver me to them?"

"She's got information," Grissom said, "and she knows where you are. The GRU would count on that, and so their first course of action would be to track Leslie down and try to get what they needed from her. Once that was taken care of, then they'd come after you."

Phil frowned. "So now Leslie's the one being hunted."

Grissom nodded.

Phil dashed to a nearby phone. "I gotta talk to her."

"The line isn't secured yet," Grissom warned.

"Doesn't matter," Phil said. "Let 'em trace me here. She's the one they're after."

Puerta Mibela International Airport

The Learjet touched down precisely on schedule at the recently rebuilt airport. The pilot taxiied the small plane past rows of hangars, over to the smaller private terminal. A stairway was wheeled out as the jet came to a halt.

The door opened as the engines shut down. Two men in black suits and sunglasses stepped out. One turned to escort a third man down the stairway. "Welcome to La Perdita, sir."

Special Agent Steve Fisher smiled. "Thank you, Davis. I'm sure I'll enjoy my stay."

"I swear to God, it was the strangest thing I've ever seen," would have been the reaction of anyone who witnessed the crash landing of one decomission WWII transport plane named Bertha. But there was no one to witness it. So no one did.

The pilot had known what he was doing ( ) to some extent. As the plane began to decend over the vast blue ocean, he pulled the nose up a little and began to sing:

"O beautiful for spacious skies,
For amber waves of grain,
For purple mountain majesties
Above the fruited plain!"

The hull of the plane smacked onto the water. The passengers were tossed about as the pilot kept singing while being jerk about in his chair, restained only by his seat belt:

"America! America!
God shed His grace on thee,
And crown thy good
With brotherhood,
From sea to shining sea!"

The plane miraculously skipped like a flat stone in a pond across the waves. Grimm was thrown to the back of the plane. Priest flipped head over heels and back down to the floor. Dirk bounced up, hit the roof against his back, and was harshly greeted by the floor below. Tayden had gotten tangled up in some mesh netting that seemed to serve no purpose at all but to keep him from harm. And still the pilot sang on:

"O beautiful for pilgrim feet
Whose stern impassioned stress
A thoroughfare for freedom beat
Across the wilderness!
America! America!
God mend thine ev'ry flaw,
Confirm thy soul
In self-control,
Thy liberty in law!"

A hard thud slowed the plane incredibly and launched Grimm, Priest, and Dirk forward. The plane was finally at rest. The pilot undid his seat belt, picked up a small pack and a rifle from the floor of the co-pilot area and headed outside still singing:

"O beautiful for heroes proved
In liberating strife,
Who more than self their country loved,
And mercy more than life!
America! America!
May God thy gold refine
Till all success
In nobleness,
And ev'ry gain divine!"

"How many lines does this song have?" Grimm asked as everyone regained their composure, exited the plane and stepped onto a patch of soft ground a few feet from the beach.

Once again, had anyone see it, they would have said, "When it got to the beach, it just bounced in the air like a friggin' frog! It had to have gone thirty feet before it hit!" Once again, there was no one to do that.

The pilot adorned the plane with memorabilia from it's days in serve. Helmets from Nazis stormtroopers to pictures of her old crew now sat across her wrecked body. And still he sang:

"O beautiful for patriot dream
That sees beyond the years
Thine alabaster cities gleam
Undimmed by human tears!
America! America!
God shed His grace on thee
And crown thy good
With brotherhood
From sea to SHINING SEEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAA! "

The pilot then saluted the plane, aimed his rifle in the air, and gave Bertha a 21 gun salute (minus 20 guns).

"Someone up there still likes you," Dirk said to Tayden as he popped his neck.

"Yeah," he responded. "I know."

[ 02-11-2003, 03:31 PM: Message edited by: thedoctor ]

La Perdita International Airport: early afternoon...

Kit Piper paced back and forth as he watched the plane Danny, Kristogar, Mick/Mxy and Tobias Christopher were taking to Berlin. He couldn't believe how pokey they were being just when he needed them to get out of his hair long enough for him to raid the Hero Revolution Fund for the funds he needed today. And Danny's group had the longest trip ahead of them out of all three groups, having to cross the Atlantic Ocean and all. He wondered briefly why they didn't have Mxy just "beam" them over to Berlin immediately, but put that thought out of his mind. He had a man to meet here.

Kit continued to sweat profusely as he waited in the airport for Gambini's man to show up with his daughters. His palms were sweaty, and the briefcase he held in his right hand felt heavier by the second. His knees were shaking, and he was racked with guilt over having stolen from the guys and abused their trust so badly.

Oh well, he thought to himself, maybe I can make it up to them later somehow. But the only thing that's important right now is getting my daughters back. Nothing else can matter as long as those bastards have them.

***

North Vancouver, British Columbia: The home of Dr. Henry Quantos...

Henry Quantos took another sip of his English Breakfast tea and smiled as he thought about Barbara Townsend yet again. For far too long now he'd believed himself to be too old to get involved with another woman, and yet once this beautiful redhead (it always seemed to be a redhead with him for some reason) came into his life, he'd found a new passion. He was in his early 60s, but he felt like a young man again when he was around her.

"Time to get back to work," he finally said, tapping a few keys on his computer to log into the MBL Consulting database once again. Dr. Quantos was always ready to keep the team informed of any information they needed, and each field team could contact him at any time they needed to through the specially-built communicators each was given for the missions which tracked their location with a built-in GPS system.

Mandelovia whined at him then.

"Mandy, what are you whining about, girl?" he said, bending down and petting her head. "I just took you for a walk half an hour ago." At the word "walk" the dog began wagging her tail heavily and began fidgeting in excitement. Finally she couldn't take it any more and barked at him. Henry laughed and started wrestling her for the next few minutes. Finally, he got up and said, "Okay, Mandy, I'll take you for a walk."

He clicked the leash onto her collar and went back to the front door of his townhouse. Mandelovia always seemed to get what she wanted.

As he shut his door and took Mandy around the block, he failed to notice that part of his screen was blinking red...

The circus caravan pulled up to the small Pennsylvania town.

Semi-trucks with huge paintings on their sides of trapezes, the strong man, and various animals, stopped in the middle of Main Street.

A large man, with a derby hat and a half chewed cigar got out the lead truck and starting walking to the rear, in a gorilla like manner.

Upon reaching the last truck, which had the picture of a huge elephant and words Jumbo on it, he and opened its door.

Our heroes, wearily, climbed out the back.

“Ya sure I can’t change your mind about staying boys……we could sure use ya……especially you, Death man.”

“My name is Grimm”

“Yeah………your names money is what it is…..damn shame….well, good luck boys.” The robust man then walked back to his truck. And the caravan left with our heroes standing on a deserted street.

“Let us never speak of the last week again…..” Grimm requested.

“Amen to that, Death man.” Tayden tried to hold in a laugh.

“Well at least we are here, now.” Said Priest.

“Looks like we’re the only ones though” Dirk noticed.

Not a single person was in the downtown area. Not single shop window had someone in it. The few cars that were there look like they were abandoned, some of the doors let open………There was not even a bird singing.

“Man…..this place seems dead.” Tayden stated while staring out at the street.

They all felt uneasy as Grimm said, “Yeah….I think so”

Michael Ringo pulled himself up from the floor that was serving as his bed. He didn't know what time it was, or what day, year, or month, for that matter. All he knew was that it was time to begin what had become his daily routine. They would come soon, as they had been for months now, and he would battle them. Night after night, day after day, no matter how many he stopped, they always seemed to come back. Today would be no different.

He walked over to the back door of the shop that he had slept in last night, opened it and stepped outside. The sun hung lazily in the bright blue sky, giving the impression that all was right in the world. But it wasn't.

Michael Ringo climbed onto his bike, started it up, and drove off down the street. Just before reaching the intersection, he touched the glowing gas cap and was transformed. . .

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

As Grimm, Tayden, Dirk, and Priest entered the town, they noticed what seemed to be signs of struggles. Shopfronts with shattered windows, doors knocked in, dried blood on the sidewalks. This was getting stranger and stranger.

"Bell, take the point," Grimm said, noting that the gunslinger already had his weapons at the ready. "Tayden, see if you can contact Dr. Quantos. Ask him if he's heard anything odd about this town."

"Right." The fallen angel replied, pulling out his cellphone and hitting the speeddial for Quantos' number.

As the four men cautiously moved into the town, heading in the direction of the occult bookstore known as The Dragon's Den Priest made his way up next to Grimm and spoke.

"So, would you do it?"

"What?" Grimm replied, moving his head up and down the empty streets.

"Kill Hitler. Would you do it?" Priest repeated, watching empty apartment buildings for signs of life.

"Never really thought about it. I guess I would, yeah. . ."

Priest seemed to crack a slight grin and started to speak before being interrupted. . .

"Congratulations, Grimm, you've just doomed the American economy into total collapse and subjugated the world into rule by Communist Russia. Hope you're proud of yourself." Bell said, a few feet ahead, never missing a beat.

[ 02-13-2003, 12:50 PM: Message edited by: Grimm ]

"So," Kristogar says to Danny, who was sitting next to him on the plane, "What do we do once we get to Berlin?"

Mick, sitting on the row next to Kristogar and Danny, looks back to his teammates.

"We get down of the plane and kick some Nazi butt," Mick says.

"We're a bit late for that, Mick," Danny says. "We're going as soon as possible to the Berlin University library to meet this..." Danny took a piece of paper from his pocket with some adresses, a phone number and name written in it, "...Dr. Seltsamliebe... so he can tell us how to find Netzel's tomb"

"Ah," Kristogar replied.

"And when do we get to kick some Nazi butt?" Mick asked.

"We don't," Danny answered.

Mick mumbled something and directed his view to the front.

Something different happened during the transformation. There was a vision...of sorts. Ringo could see The Skull that had haunted his nightmares. He felt with every fiber of his being that the body The Skull belonged to was close. Perhaps It was coming for him. Perhaps it was his ticket out of the horror movie his life had become. All he knew was It was close, and he was bound and determined to find It.

What he would do when he found It was a totally different story...

The one thing he did know was a single word, and that word was "Grimm".

[ 02-14-2003, 02:29 AM: Message edited by: Spirit Of Vengeance ]

Outside the window of the hovercraft, the infinite forest fades in a light mist toward the horizon.

Green everywhere, broken only by the meandering flows of the occasional river.

But the beep signalling the position of Ameristar is louder every second that pass. And Chance is piloting the “ufo-craft” right toward the source.

“Look there, hour twelve !” says the swedish. I look, and out of the mist a big, bulking structure appears. A very steep pyramid, higher than the Eiffel tower, and lusciously overgrown with vegetation.

“The tower of Cuccubao” I whisper.

“Reach Ameristar and the other guy, I’ll go to give a sight to the place” I say, opening a hatch and jumping outside, before Chance could stop me.

I spread my feathers, and begin to glide toward the Tower.

Drake and Ameristar where slugging it out with the strange hulking man that had begun to attack them.
Drax had willingly comeforward into the fight and was engaging the man by himself.

In the meantime the one known as Unit had taken Ameristar by the wrist and was presently trying to twist her down onto the ground.
His grip was terrifying...and it was almost crushing her armor. Ameristar fired a round into his foot...she beleived him not to be a evil peron, but rather a confused retard, who apparently didn´t have his loyalties straight...and that could be used in the future.

He yelped in pain and let go of her. But the tortoise looking creature suddenly appeared behind ger and gave her a heavy knock on the head...she blacked out.
Drax roared in defiance but the combined strenght of the huge man and Unit was too much even for him...
They started to carry away the unconscious heroes when Unit stopped and exclaimed in a low whisper...

"Look Father...another one."

Above them, Raptor silently swept down through the clouds and started his search for his comrades.

They hid under a thick tree group and sat there silently for a few minutes...while the winged champion flew in circles above them.......

Come on big guy. Wake up!

Drake got no response, no matter how much he "yelled". Great time for a nap. Well, it looks like they're iding, so maybe I just need to attract some attention...

Drake pulled his second crutch out of the holder on his back and made the transfer, surprising the twisted residents of the swamp. He knew he'd probably bitten off more than he could chew, but as far as he knew he was their only chance.

Xo gestured with one of his claws. "Look! He awakens."

"Never was asleep, actually." The swamp clan moved to surround Drake, leaving Ameristar unattended.

"Don't let him get away!" Bellowed the one Unit called Father.

"You think I'm running?" Drake used his crutches to vault into Unit eith his right foot extended, knocking Unit off balance. One of the Unit twins had the breath knocked out of him as they crashed to the ground.

"Brother! We must get up!"

The one called Father moved in to attack Drake, but as he swung his massive fist, Drake dove forward past the huge attacker. He planted the crutches in the ground and kicked back with all his strength at the back of Father's right knee, forcing him to kneel down. Next, he cracked the back of Father's thick skull with one of his crutches, knocking him face first into the ground. He then turned his head toward Xo "Well, what are you waitin' for?"

Just then, a smallish figure dropped out of a tree and landed right in front of Drake. Before Drake could react, the little creature spat a viscous blob of goo right at the faceplate of Drake's helmet. With a sizzling sound, the glob of slime began to eat through the helmet's material. Drake quickly pulled his hemet off before the acidic substace could eat all the way though.

"Great, now the runt of the litter wants some."

"Ha! Wad got you! Wad did good!"

"Great, and he speaks in the third person too." Drake threw his helmet at Wad, making him skitter out of the way. Out of the corners of his eyes, Drake saw Unit and Father getting back to their feet. Drake got into the best imitation of a fighting stance he could manage with his bad leg, and hoped that help was coming.

As Vengeance turned the corner, he spotted a group of people walking along the street. They were the first living beings he had seen since he arrived in this god-forsaken town. He followed the group a short way before he realized that the bike was gaining speed. Focused now, he let the bike guide him.

As he gained on the group walking down the street, he had a flash that showed The Skull again. Only this time, he knew that The Skull was right in front of him.

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

"Wait, I hear something"

The group stopped and turned just in time to see a man in a white white overcoat and red helmet fly by them on the meanest looking bike they had ever seen.

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

We'll meet soon, dead man Vengeance thought to himself as he blew past the group. Oh yes, very soon...

[ 02-16-2003, 12:41 AM: Message edited by: Spirit Of Vengeance ]

“Out ETA for Berlin is 3:15 pm, local time. The time currently is 2 o’clock pm. Enjoy the next hour and fifteen minutes as we continue our in-flight presentation of Pauly Shore’s Biodome…” Came the voice of the captain through the plane’s PA system. Danny’s head rolled slightly to the left of his seat, and he looked out the window. He rubbed his eyes and yawned once, loudly. Mick looked at him from the seat next to him and grinned.

“You said you weren’t tired,” Mick said.

“I’m not. I’m just…” Danny’s sentence was cut off by the onset of another yawn. Mick raised an eyebrow at him.

“Okay, maybe I’m a little tired. We’ll rest for a few hours when we get to our hotel. Then we’ll go find this professor guy. Okay?”

“Okay,” Mick replied, nodding. The stewardess came past them with her trolley full of drinks, and Mick took a beer from her.

“Anything for you, sir?” She asked Danny.

“No thanks, I’m fine,” He replied. Before she left, Mick reached onto the cart and grabbed a packet of honey roasted peanuts. He then proceeded to struggle with the packet.

“Peanut?” He asked Danny.

“No thank you.”

“They’re good.”

“I’m sure they are.”

“You want one?”

“No.”

“Kristogar?” Mick asked, turning around in his seat and offering a peanut to the passenger in the seat directly behind him. Kristogar Velo eyed the open packet, then shook his head.

“Suit yourselves…” Mick said, facing forward again. He put on his headphones, and looked at the screen in front of him.

“Heh. That Pauly Shore…” He said.

Danny rifled through the pocket on the back of the seat in front of him, where the airline had graciously provided him with complimentary magazines. At the bottom, he found a colouring book and a small packet of crayons. He pulled them out, and flicked through the book.

“Colouring books are for kids,” Mick said, lifting up one of his headphones.

“… I’ve never seen one before,” Danny said.

“You never had a colouring book when you were a kid? Man… that’s just not right,” Mick said, and replaced the headphone.

“Modern sensibilities when it comes to realism in the art world would have you make the sky blue. But don’t let that restrict you. These things are open to interpretation. Most abstract artists would never dream of doing anything as bourgeois as making the sky blue,” Velo said, leaning over Danny’s seat and pointing at the colouring book.

“…huh?” Replied Danny.

“That’s a fine looking orange crayon, for instance.”

“…right.”

“Just trying to help.”

Something out of the corner of his eye caught Danny’s attention. Across the aisle from them, sitting in the centre of the plane, a group of men were leaning in towards each other and conferencing quietly. They were a few rows ahead of Danny, Mick and Kristogar, which made it hard for Danny to see exactly what they were doing.

They all suddenly stood up, and simultaneously reached for their carry-on bags in the overhead luggage compartment. Danny raised a hand over the back of his seat and directed Velo’s attention towards the men. Looking over, he found that it wasn’t necessary. Kristogar’s curiosity had already been piqued.

The men- four of them- all reached into their bags and pulled out balaclavas, throwing them on over their heads. They reached back into the bags and pulled out handguns, waving them over everybody in the plane. They all spread out, running to all four corners and standing guard.

Passengers yelled, and screamed to each other. They clung to each other for comfort. They begged the stewardesses to help them. Some even choked on peanuts.

Mick continued to enjoy his movie.

“Right! Everybody bloody well shut up!” One of the gun-wielding men said.

“What accent is that? Irish?” Kristogar asked, leaning towards Danny.

“Sounds like it.” Danny replied. Leaning close to Mick, he raised one of the headphones and said “Call Mxy.”

“Right,” Mick said. “Mxy…”

If anyone had been paying attention, they would have noticed the air pressure in the cabin suddenly drop dramatically. They would have noticed all the birds in the sky for miles change course and begin flying in the other direction. They would have noticed all the engines on the wings stop running.

All of this for just a second. After the minutest moment, things returned to normal. As was the nature of the havoc that Mxy’s entrances usually caused. Danny looked down, and noticed Mxy sitting there next to him.

“Quick! Disguise yourself as Mick!” Danny whispered. He hoped nobody noticed. He was fairly certain everyone’s attention was elsewhere.

”PHWOOSH! On a big jet engine. Um… I am Mxy!” Ktl said. But heeding Danny’s words, he remained in the guise of Mick. No top hat. No outward displays of power. The only hint that he was an immensely powerful fifth dimensional being was a pale light exuding from his eyes.

Danny and Kristogar slowly stood. Danny placed a hand on Ktl’s shoulder, getting him to stay seated. Ktl did so, as much as it rankled him to take instructions from Danny. He didn’t want to blow his cover.

“Yeh wankers! Stay the feck seated!” One of the men yelled, and pointed his gun in the direction of Danny and Kristogar.

“Whoa. Calm down,” Danny said, palms raised.

“We can talk here…” Velo said.

“We’re flying this bastard plane to Cuba!” The gun wielding man yelled.

“Wait! Cuba? Why Cuba?!” One of his companions said.

“’Cause I bloody well say so, yeh eedjit!” The first one replied.

“Yeh’ve gone mad, Shaun!”

“Hey! I thought we said we weren’t t’be using real names!” A third man yelled, cutting in.

“Mxy. Disarm them,” Danny said softly to Ktl while the hijackers quibbled amongst themselves.

They remained armed.

“Feck off! We’re going to Dublin!”

“Aye! Dublin!”

“…wha’ happened to Cuba?”

“Cuba can suck me bollocks!”

Kristogar turned to Danny and shrugged.

“Mxy…” Danny said, his voice sounding sterner.

“You guys are drunk, aren’t you?” Velo said, addressing the hijackers.

“What business is it of yours, then?”

“Well, we’ve ‘ad a few…”

“Shut up! We aint to be tellin’ them anythin’, Paddy!”

“NO REAL NAMES, BILLY!”

“What d’yeh want me to call yeh then?”

“Codenames, remember? I’m Super-Hawk-Three-Thousand!”

“And I’m Night-Cheetah!” Another of the man yelled.

“In answer to the question, sir… we aint drunk,” The man closest to Kristogar answered.

“…are you sure?” Velo responded.

“Aye! Of course!”

“I think you’re lying.”

“What makes yeh say that?!”

“You’ve wet yourself.”

The gun wielding man looked down at his pants.

“The bastard tap at the pub sprayed me in the loo!” The man yelled.

“So you were at a pub? And you’re not drunk?” Velo asked.

“SHUT UP!” The man replied. He pointed his gun at Kristogar.

“Bloody hell. You guys are the worst terrorists I’ve ever seen,” Danny said.

“What the fuck makes yeh say that?!” Another of the men yelled, training his gun on Danny while the first man kept a close eye on Kristogar.

“Well, just look at you!”

“Wha’?! We got the guns! And the whole Cuba thing! And we got these fancy balaclavas and such!” A third man yelled at Danny.

“That’s not a balaclava! That’s a bar mat with eye holes cut in it!” Danny yelled back.

“…so it is…” The man replied, rubbing a hand over his head.

By this point, all four of the men were focused on Danny and Kristogar. Their guns were pointed directly at the two men as they both stood next to each other in the aisle. The hijackers slowly walked in towards them. Velo and Danny looked at each other, and nodded.

“Airport security is very tight these days, you know,” Kristogar said.

“Which means…” Danny continued, “That either you’re remarkably clever, or those are plastic toy guns. And since I’m fairly confident I can rule out the former, that means we can do this…”

Danny and Kristogar both leapt sideways, away from each other. They ran headlong into two of the men each.

Danny was a little disappointed that he didn’t even have to use his powers. Two well places punches to the jaw and they were both on the floor, one lying on top of the other.

“Quit touching me, yeh wee homo!” One yelled.

“Well get the hell off me!” The other replied.

Looking behind him, Danny found that Kristogar had fared similarly well. And looking around the plane, he noticed that many of the passengers were offering the two of them a round of applause.

“Well, that’s always nice,” Danny said as they both walked back to their seats and sat down.

“By the way, you and me are going to have words…” Danny said to Mxy.

Just as Unity is about to smash Drake, over him falls, down from the sky, the Raptor.

Drake whispers, relieved for a moment, but the Unity twins are back on their feet in a matter of instants. They looks angry at the winged hero, which is standing on his feet, his sword Ladnikia aimed at the double monster.

It seems a fair duel, when Unity raise his heads and roars. It’s a terrible cry, the trumpeting of a prehistoric mastodon, that shakes the tree of the jungle. At the horrendous call, dozens of beings responds, coming out of the impenetrable vegetation. They seems men, but their skin is covered by short, dense hairs, of a yellow-brown hue, sparsely maculated by black blotches, and they have big, pointy hears, and yellow eyes.

“Jaguar-men, kill the winged one” shouts the Unity brothers.

They are surrounding me, coming out of the forests around Roncesvalles. Hundreds of Moorish, led by the fierce Saladin, brandishing their swords.

And I am alone, cut from the rearguard of King Charlemagne’s army. My men lying on the battlefield, I am the last one to survive. And soon I will suffer the same fate.

But until I will breath, I will bring death to the enemy, and Muslims will not advance a step toward the Holy Roman Empire soil.

I raise Durendal, her hilt firmly in the grip of my hands. I kiss the blade, and cross myself.

The Moorish come closer, holding their swords, their maces, their spears. They are all around me, a few yaards. Then they stop, and twelve, from behind me, from front, from right and left, departfrom the crowd and walks slowly toward me.

They smiles, anticipating the feast.

One more step, and their heads fly off in unison. Durendal sings her son of death and destruction.

I am merely her support. She guides my arm, and the muscles inside. She cuts and hit and pierces and punches.

She kills and rips open.

As the Moorish die one after the other, I found myself knee deep in blood and bowels. But they keep attacking, blind to my rage.

And they keep falling on the ground.

Until there are no more.

I take my horn, Olyphant, and blow. The army of Charlemagne will know that I, Roland, have won here in Roncesval.

But as I put down the horn, I see that, standing in front of me, the king of the Moorish, the fierce Saladin, is alive and well.

I raise Durendal, and attack. The oriental man parries it, and hit me over my left leg.

I fall, but lying on my back I am able to stop his blow with Durendal. He consequently falls back, while I manage to stand up. Sadly, my armour is much more heavier than his garbs, and he is standing back at my same time.

The duel that ensues is savage, indescribable. We both loose bloods from dozens of scarf and bruises. We are both very tired, it seems we are equal, and we are killing each other with each blow, no-one unable to prevail over the other.

The Muslim keeps talking, shouting at time, or whispering, but I don’t understand his language. And I keep insulting him, and his race of bastard dogs, but he, as well, seems to not to understand me.

Then, the noise of many horns breaks the utter silence of the valley. The army of Charlemagne is coming to rescue me.

When I turn, the fierce Saladin is gone.

I fall on my knee as many knights rush up, riding their horses.

Rinald quickly gets on the ground, and comes next to me, calling me: “Roland, Roland… Ed…Ed…”

Drake shakes Edulcore, still shocked by the battle of which he has been witness. The Raptor opens his eyes, his hands getting to the head.

“What happened?” he asks, and then he sees many dozens of cat-like people reversed on the ground, covered in blood. The whole ground, in truth, is red of blood.

The young man, standing up forcing on his croutches, wipe his sweat with an arm, and then says: “I guess you saved my life… oh, and you talked French, too.”

The Raptor stands up, takes a leaf from a nearby bush and with it clean the blade of his sword. The he puts Ladnikia inside the scabbard on his back. “Where’s Ameristar?” he asks. Drake raises one of the crutches, and point it toward the tower looming in the distance: “The turtle man got her there, toward the tower. The one called Unity has followed them, after you stopped to fight him.”

Edulcore looks disoriented, than takes a small radio from one of the pouches of his belt, and contacts Chance. A few seconds later, the Hovercraft lands in a small clearing of the forest. In less than three minutes, the three heroes are ready to follow the tracks of Ameristar.

And while they are penetrating inside the dense forest, the Raptor can’t stop himself to enjoy immensely the satisfaction produced by the feast of blood and souls.

Phil paused in the middle of logging a particularly tricky subroutine. That headache was getting worse and worse. He massaged his temples, hoping for relief but finding none.

Beep.

Phil checked the console. Everything was normal on the monitors.

Beep.

Phil looked again. Nothing had changed. He dialed the volume control back to zero.

Beep.

Where was that sound coming from?

Not this again.

Beep.

Phil sat back in the chair and closed his eyes. He couldn't fight it this time.

The beeping wasn't coming from the computer.

It was coming from Phil.

Beep... beep... beep beep beep beepbeepbeepbeepbeepbeepbeepbeep... The electronic beeps merged into one high-pitched whine.

Thoughts and sensations streamed through Phil's mind faster than he could process them. His brain was bombarded by a flood of information.

A flood of information he didn't recognize.

Phil grabbed the armrests of his chair and gritted his teeth.

He heard a metallic voice inside his head. It was speaking Russian, but he could make it out clearly.

Reset cycle stalled. Filtration cycle stalled. Entering failsafe mode.

The pain became too much. Phil gasped and fell out of the chair. "Grissom!" he called. "Griss!"

More information flew across his mind's eye. Bits and pieces of data in hundreds of languages - human and computer languages - sped in crazed circles through his brain.

Phil had lost all control.

He staggered to his feet slowly, relieved that he still commanded all his motor functions. Phil slumped into the chair and wound his arms through the armrests, trying to fight off whatever was attacking him from inside his head.

Erasure sequence aborted. Failsafe mechanism offline.

Phil stiffened and squeezed his eyes shut.

"Stop!!!"

Shutting down.

The voices all fell silent, and the whirlwind of information vanished.

Phil sank into the chair and heaved a deep sigh.

Grissom bolted into the room. "What? What's wrong?"

Phil opened his eyes and looked at him. "Oh, nothing's wrong, Griss."

The mercenary raised an eyebrow. "You sure, mate?"

"Perfectly sure," Phil answered.

He smiled.

[ 02-17-2003, 01:27 PM: Message edited by: Captain Sammitch ]

Grimm and Priest continued walking, neither looking at the other man.

“We’re not all that different.” Priest commented, replying back to Grimm’s earlier statement about killing Hitler.

Grimm looked back towards Priest, “And that would be a good thing?”

“Look, all I’m saying is that we might have a common enemy.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Priest leaned in, making sure that neither Dirk nor Tayden would hear him, “Keep an eye on Danny.”

Before Grimm could reply, a motorcycle speed by filling the air with smoke and there minds with a question.

Who the hell was that?

"DANNY!" Ktl yells. "What do you wanna talk about?"

"Keep it down, Mxy..." Danny says as he looks around to see if Ktl's screaming caught the attention of any of the other passangers. Turns out all the other passengers are distracted with the conmotion caused by the failed terrorist attack to notice him.

"Mxy, why didn't you do what I told you back then?!" Danny continues, as he sits in his seat, right behind Ktl.

"What did you tell me to do, Danny?" Ktl asks, making a plastic question mark pop above his head.

"I told you to disarm those terrorists, Mxy! Why didn't you do that? Had they been more competitive, we could be dead by now!"

"YOU would be dead..." Ktl thought. "But I did!" he then said.

"You didn't. They still had their guns on their hands, Mxy."

"But I took away the bullets, silly!"

"Did you?"

"I sure did!"

"Oh. I'm sorry, then."

"No biggie."

Danny remained silent for a moment. "Hey, Mxy, can you call Mick? I know he'd hate to miss the end of that movie they're showing..."

"Of course, Danno! Bye-bye! And remember, I'm Mxy! MICK!"

"Mick? Are you there?"

"Yeah, man... What happened?" Mick asks, confused.

"Just some Irish terrorists trying to take the plane to Cuba. You know, the usual," Danny answers. "Listen, Mick, I have something to ask you..."

"What?" Mick says with the headphones on his hands, ready for a dose of Pauly Shore.

"When there's trouble... Don't call Mxy right away. Call him only if it's really necessary."

"Ok... Why?"

"Nothing. Just a hunch."

Meanwhile, below them, Tom continued walking through Europe, heading for Berlin, like the voice in his head told him...

[ 02-17-2003, 10:47 PM: Message edited by: I'm Not Mister Mxypltk ]

The bike rolled to a stop in front of a dingy storefront bearing a sign reading The Dragon's Den. Vengeance slid off the seat and walked towards the front door. As he reached for the knob, the door opened of it's own accord. Stepping into the darkness, he was assulted by a stream of what can only be described as pure hate. There were visions of human sacrifices, dark rituals to summon the vilest demons hell could muster. The being known as Vengeance staggered back at the onslaught. Then, as quickly as it began, it ended.

Looking around the dusty shop, he saw row upon row of shelves holding books on every aspect of the occult; from the relatively harmless "New Age" magic to the ancient evil embodied in The Necronomicon. The place reeked of vengeance not wrought. The atmosphere of pain was like a ton of sand being dumped on him all at once. Pulling his coat tight about his body, Vengeance headed for the rooms at the rear of the store.

Finding a staircase, he headed into the depths below the bookstore.

Grimm's forehead exploded with pain, and he began to reel to one side, almost passing out, before being caught by Priest.

"Hey, man, you ok?" The soldier asked.

FLASHBACK

quote:

---

Taking a moment to stop at the old oak dresser that the room had been furnished with, he pulled out a black XL t-shirt (with the sleeves cut off) and put it on. He picked up a battered copy of Jack Kerouac's Dharma Bums (he had found it late one night while rummaging through the library)and settled down on the old couch in the far corner of the room, next to the window, to relax and read.

No sooner had he started the first paragraph, when he bolted upright, a searing pain bursting in his head, the word "Vengeance" burning in his mind spelled out in red flames. Grimm fell backward onto the couch, unconscious.

---

Regaining his strength, Grimm pulled himself back up to his feet and began moving again.

"I'm fine." he said.

"Yeah, right," Priest replied. "First sign of life we see in this town, and you almost keel over like a dead. . .uh, well, you know." He said, rubbing at his bearded chin, as if in thought.

The sun began to sink into the horizon.

As the group approached the center of the town, Tayden spotted something.

"Hey, I think that's it. That looks like the sign that Dr. Quantos described."

Dirk's eyes looked off to the side. He seemed to see something. "Hang back a moment. I think we have a problem."

"What is it?" the former angel asked, more than a little intrigued.

"I've had this feeling, ever since we got here, like something was watching us. And something or someone is. . ."

"Dirk, look out!" Priest called from behind, as several decayed forms lurched forward on the group from all sides.

"What the hell is this, a George Romero wet dream?" The gunslinger quipped as several once living bodies lurched toward him. "Ah ah, sweetheart, not today," he said, shooting a hole into a grasping decayed hand.

Grimm's axe began to hum slightly and glow. Grimm felt a strange sense of deja vu for the second time in a series of moments.

As the group formed into a semi-circle while surrounded by the zombies, Grimm's mind flashed back again. . .

quote:

---

Grimm turned and began silently walking towards the area where Dirk still struggled for his life against the inhuman beings. The axe in Grimm's hand began to hum and glow with
pure blue energy.

By the time Grimm made his way back to the impromptu battlefield, the entire room was bathed in the incandescent blue light. The combatants stopped and peered towards the source of the light.

Dirk could swear that just for a moment, Grimm was different. That he was all skeleton, covered in flowing black, tattered robe, with large wings outstretched behind him. In that moment, throughout the castle and various realities a chill passed through all living beings. A king fell dead of a heart attack in battle, Several corpses pulled themselves up out of their graves in a cemetary in a small Pennsylvania town

---

"Shit!" was all the undead biker had time to say before the horde closed upon them.

The four men stumbled back in unison, attempting to make it to shelter, any shelter, but the zombies were quickly growing in numbers. Dirk cocked back two .45s, he tossed Tayden another. Priest had his own homemade weapon ready. The shine off Grimm’s ax showed that he was ready for the extra company.

Dirk looked around, “Zombies. You kidding me?”

Grimm looked left than right, the zombies were gaining numbers very quickly, a feeling in the back of his mind confirmed that he had something to do with this.

The gang paced to the side, the zombies moving with them but not attacking yet.

“Wait for them…” Priest said, clutching his gun, “…we don’t want to set off any unneeded violence.”

“Unneeded?” Dirk bellowed back, “They are brain eating zombies. Ya fuck.”

“Actually, I believe they just crave flesh.”

“That really helps put my mind at ease.”

One, skinny zombie jumped at Drk and was met with two shots in each eye. The body lingered back into the crowd and landed back on its feet. It continued its movement towards the gang.

“Crap.”

“Priest, look out!” Tayden yelled as zombies from a higher ledge jumped down on top of the large man. A shot fried in the air, almost like a firework and all hell broke loose. The zombies attacked all at once, bullets and blades flue as the team formed a wall of protection around each other. Priest and Grimm stayed in front as Dirk and Tayden covered them from behind clearing the way to a local shop. They were so close to the bookshop yet so far away. Dirk glanced down to reload and noticed a small chunk missing from Priest’s arm, That can’t be good.

[ 02-18-2003, 06:55 PM: Message edited by: GoozX ]

Berlin.

The plane arrived at exactly 3:15 PM, as announced. Danny made a commentary saying that maybe they had some of Chance's luck with them that helped the plane arrive on time. Then, they had to wait an hour and a half in the airport because of some confusion with Mick's passport...

"If you don't mind," Kristogar said to Danny, "I think I'll go to the Hotel and wait for you there."

"OK, I'll stay here with Mick and try to work this out..." Danny said.

"Do I look like I escaped from a mental hospital and turned people into cows in Chicago a year ago?! Do I?!" Mick yelled to an airport employee.

"That is what it says here, sir," the employee replied with a german accent. "It says you are wanted by an american goverment agency."

"What agency? This is insane! I'm NEVER using this airline again!" Mick exclaimed, as Kristogar walked out of the airport.

Once he was outside, Kristogar was about to take a cab when he saw TC talking to some american tourists.

"...and then you take a turn to the left. The museum should be right there," Kristogar heard TC say to the tourists as he approached him.

"I didn't know you knew Berlin well enough to give directions, Tobias," Kristogar said after the tourists left.

"I didn't," TC replied, "I was so bored waiting for you guys I decided to look around the city... A couple dozens of times. What took you so long? Where's Danny and Mick?"

"They had troubles with Mick's passport," Kristogar replied. "Apparently, Mick didn't remember the shenanigans he caused in Chicago before joining the team..."

TC nodded his head. Mick and Danny were going to be held in for a while, so this gave Kristogar Velo and TC, two members of the team who had returned recently but haven't posted much in the story, a chance to talk.

"So..." TC said, "do you think the team has changed?"

"It has. It's always been changing," Kristogar answered, "but you only notice it once you've been away for a while."

"There are many new faces..."

"More importantly, the old faces are not the same."

"I know. Euro... I mean, Raptor, is the one that has changed the most. I can hardly recognize the guy I met... Others have changed for good. Danny seems more adapted to this time. And Mick, he's gotten used to this, too. When we started out he didn't want anything to do with us, and now he's..."

"I wouldn't say Mick has changed for good," Kristogar interrupts. "I was always concerned by the fact that he's too powerful, but he didn't seem dangerous before. Now there's something about him I don't like."

"Mick too powerful? You mean Mxy, they're two different people..."

"Ah, that's right. And here they come," Kristogar said, noticing that Mick and Danny were leaving the airport.

"How did you get them to let you go?" TC asked.

"Well," Mick said, "they connected to the network to update the file they had on me, and the file dissapeared."

"How come?" TC asked again.

"I guess it must have been a MCCA file... Once they updated it, it dissapeared like all the other MCCA files after the agency went down," Danny explained.

"That was lucky," Kristogar said.

"Now lets go to the Hotel," Danny said, "I want to contact this doctor guy as soon as possible."

[ 02-18-2003, 09:03 PM: Message edited by: I'm Not Mister Mxypltk ]

A shining knight needs sunlight to shine...
This occurred to Ameristar as she woke up with a thundering headache...she felt heavy in the head...wait a minute...!
She realised she was tied up and hanging upside down...apparently in some cellar...
.....n...nn...nnn...no...noo...no!

A claustophobic feeling hit her like a sledgehammer in the chest.

This what happened to crasher...her beloved Crasher...
Raped! Left for dead...by those horrible Scorpion brothers...

This dark damp cellar reminded her of that horrible place...panic started to rise in her chest...
And that was when she realised her armor was gone...

Not thinking straight...must breathe...focus...

Ever so slowly she regained some tiny bit of focus, and began to look around in the darkness.
Black as night...but her hearing told her that someone was walking towards her. The noise of falling footsteps that approched her sent her into panic again...
No!!! shw would never let them do to her what they had done to her crasher!!! Never!.

She heard the klinking sounds of keys rattling the lock.

Taking a deep breath, she prepared herself for what would happen.
A huge man in his late fifties appeared with a small oil lantern, and begun to walk towards her with a fat hand reaching out for her.

The hand missed her with a fraction of a millisecond...as she teleported to the opposite side of the chamber...she realised she was only wearing her panties and a plain white t-shirt. If only her armor could be reached via the Gaia Unit...but there was no time for that now.

The man stomped towards her with spittle spraying from his large wet mouth.
Without hesitation she acted...

The man´s head disappeared...and for what seemed an eternity the body stood on it´s two legs...and seemed to decide which way was the best to fall...ofcourse it choose the way of Ameristar, and fell with a heavy thump on her. And she screamed in anger and horror at being touched by this stinking man in any way.
The odor almost making her puke on the corpse as she pushed it away...and that was when she heard the tremors of battle from upstairs...and a familiar roar that made her smile...
My dragon has come for me.

She started to walk towards the door when everything tuned black.

Standing over the unconscious Ameristar a young blond man in a black leather jacket and jeans, regarded her with fascination.
"So we meet at last...Ameristar. About time."

He picked up the body and walked into the darkness of the shadows.

"You sure everything's okay?" Grissom asked. "I could have sworn I heard you yelling for me."

Phil raised an eyebrow. "When was this?"

"Just a few seconds ago," Grissom insisted.

Phil shrugged. "I think I would recall something like that."

Grissom looked away. "Right." He looked around the room as Phil went back to working. "So," the mercenary asked, "you have any ideas on how to work out the whole Leslie issue?"

Phil frowned. "Leslie issue?" There was a long pause. "Oh! Yeah. That issue."

Grissom looked puzzled. "Not to be confused with... some other Leslie issue?"

"No, no, no," Phil said. "I'm with you on this." He looked down. "Nothing comes to mind, but I'm sure it'll turn out okay. It's not like she'll run off and join the circus or anything."

"You sure about that, mate?" Grissom sat in a chair across the console from Phil. "If the GRU is after her, then chances are they're not going to hesitate to rush to her last known location and do whatever it takes to get to her." He paused. "Do you really think that FBI guy Fisher thinks you're dead?"

Phil shook his head. "Not really. I'm just counting on the probability that he assumes I'm still in the US somewhere. Besides, he only has domestic jurisdiction anyway."

"But what if..." Grissom thought a moment. "What if he did come here, and he found you on the island? What would you do?"

Phil shrugged. "I suppose I'd fight him off."

"Because you have something to fight for," Grissom said. "Pretty much everything that matters to you is here." He looked around. "This room? Your creation. This supercomputer? Part of our plan that you fleshed out as a way to integrate all the team's assets together. This new integration plan - the first step toward giving the MBL a real purpose - that's largely your doing. Your friends are here. Gabi's here. There are people here who know you and respect you. So thank you for being honest - because there's no way you could convince me that you'd leave all this, even because of someone like Fisher."

"I suppose you're right," Phil conceded.

Grissom stood up. "But what about Leslie? Her livelihood revolves around not getting attached to people and places. Her purpose changes with every contract that comes in. Leslie has not only a need but a desire to move, to always be going somewhere. I know this, Phil, because I was the same way - until I came here. And I'm pretty sure you were the same way - until New York." Grissom rested against a wall. "Leslie took one chance, made one gamble at getting attached to someone. That was you. And it got her nowhere. Think about it, Phil. What incentive does she have to stay here?"

"Are you pinning all this on me?" Phil asked indignantly.

Grissom shrugged. "I suppose you could have just let her take you to the Russians. Or I suppose you could have given her a chance and pursued a serious relationship with her. Those were choices you made. One was self-preservation. One was a question of loyalty. Those choices are behind you now. But you haven't given Leslie what you still can and probably should offer her - a sense of security. And if she decides she can't get it from you, she'll go to anyone who can and who will offer it to her."

The mercenary looked at Phil intently. "I'm not pointing fingers here, Phil Smith. I'm simply warning you not to take Leslie for granted, because in all honesty I don't expect her to stick around for much longer at all."

MBL Temporary HQ
"The Fish Factory"
Leslie's room

"I would love to know how you got my number," Leslie grumbled.

"That would be telling," the voice on the other end of the line said smugly. "I'm not here to chit-chat. We're making you an offer here."

"For all I know," Leslie protested, "you're GRU. How do I know I can trust you?"

"You don't," came the reply. "But if I were with the GRU, I would have been able to track you down a long time ago."

"All right," Leslie conceded. "What's the deal, then?"

"It's quite simple, really. All you have to do is come and work for us, and I can guarantee that neither the Russians nor anyone else will be able to find you. We can erase you from the databases of every agency out there, and you're guaranteed consistent employment with more than adequate compensation."

"I don't understand," Leslie argued. "Why would you do all that for me?"

"Your abilities interest us," the voice replied, "and they would be a valuable asset to our work."

"Can I find out more about you before I commit?" Leslie asked.

"No, you can't," the voice replied bluntly. "Just get on the plane and meet us at O'Hare International in Chicago. You won't be sorry."

"I'll do that," Leslie said reluctantly. "We'll talk again, Mr..."

"Turner."

The line went dead.

Dirk:

The 45’s hammer jacked back for the final time to present an empty chamber. With almost meta-speed he holsters it with one hand and unsheathes a bowie knife with the other. In the same fluid motion he severs the head of an attacking female ghoul in a Waffle House uniform.

“Always have a back up…...Be Prepared.” The Boy Scouts Handbook (The man has been training a long time)

As the quote entered his mind he started to think of what his next move was. He quickly surveyed the town. He saw it almost immediately……..a strong, secure building with an open front door to boot……..the County Courthouse.

“6 o’clock, 25 yards, courthouse door……NOW!” It’d been a while since his pulse raced with this much emotion. A town of zombie’s can do that…. I suppose.

Grimm:

Oh GOD! This is my fault!
All these people………dead……undead……my fault…….

Then he felt a tug……. A small hand was pulling at the chains on his jacket trying to get at flesh…….

She couldn’t have been more than 6…..7 tops. “Arghh! Arghhh!” It’s wail was unholy.

Grimm knew he could no longer pause……there will be time for guilt later……lots of guilt…if there was a later.

Without a word the thing was dispatched.

Without hesitation he continued and Grimm’s Axe split two men in half at the torsos in a single stroke.

If this was his fault…..He will not let it continue…..he will not let it spread.…He will rectify the mistake or be damned trying!

Priest:

It had only been a few minutes since the wound had been inflicted but the process had already started.

His arm burned as it were fire……..beads of sweat started to form on his brow…..it was getting hard to breath……..no……it was getting impossible to breath!

He fell to his knees.

He felt real hot…….an then cold…….so cold……….a cold that didn’t surround him but came from within him……

Some how his attackers noticed the change and started to focus their attention on the others.

“Come on….Think!” He demanded of himself as he slammed his fist into the asphalt.

No time for an ingenious invention.

No futuristic foresight on this one.

No energy to bounce back……….…or was there?

Tayden:

How can these abominations even exist? Not that it matters now. They’re apparently as real as skull faced bikers and twice as ugly.

Click, Click………the sound of an empty pistol echoed in his ears louder than a loaded one……because that meant he was out of time.

Then Priest collapsed to the ground.

“Priest!!”

The momentary lapse of attention was an invitation to the undead to swarm him. Tayden was brought to the ground with a horde of Zombie’s reaching with grouping arms and gnashing teeth above him.

He punched and kicked trying to defend against the onslaught……but inevitably………..one slipped by and brought its mouth to Tayden’s hand…..

However it did not produce the desired affect.

As soon as its lips touched the former angels finger, a blast of blue energy…..escaped from the creatures eyes and shot into the air……..the corpse then dropped as lifeless as it should have been to begin with.

The blast knocked back the other undead and Tayden launched to his feet.

Perhaps it was a freak occurrence, perhaps God was looking out for the team (not that there was any question to that), perhaps……maybe….being able to soothe people’s spirits includes being able to release them……

“6 o’clock, 25 yards, courthouse door……NOW!” He heard Dirk yell.

Tayden’s hand struck the forhead of another with the same result as before…..then another……..and another.

Tayden yelled toward the team…….”Grab priest and go..NOW!”

Grimm picked up Priest and took off. “We are not leaving you!”

“I’m right behind you………GO!” Tayden exclaimed with an uncharacteristic authority in his voice.

As Dirk, Grimm, and Priest ran for the Courthouse……the zombies’ closed the gap and blocked Tayden’s way.

All of the horde sneered toward Tayden and elevated their moans and crys……

The angel balled his fist……stared hard at them …...and said

“You are going to have to do better than that.”

The courthouse was huge. The walls were opened and the ceiling high. Marble stairs led up to the second story and the old attic bell tower. This was the pride of the small town. The team took deep breaths and tried to regain composure. Priest slumped his body against a large column. Sweet dripped from his head as his body once again got the chills. Dirk reloaded and looked around, he shuffled through papers and notebooks which were scattered along desktops. Grimm stared at his axe, looking at his reflection in the blood stained mirror.

Tayden kneeled next to Priest, “How ya doin?”

“I’ll live for the mean time.” Priest ripped off the lower half of his shirt and tightly wrapped it around his arm, “We have to lock up all entrances and windows, we don’t want anything to get in.”

Blam

Grimm, Priest and Tayden turned towards Dirk who had just put a bullet into the corpse of a security officer.

“Just making sure.”

“How bad is the bite?”

“I wasn’t bit.” Priest flexed his arm and pain surged through it, “One of the, zombies, clawed me, gouged a clunk off my arm.”

“Maybe you aren’t infected than?” Tayden hoped for the best but worried what might happen if the powerhouse of the group had suddenly turned.

“No, something is happening in side of me. It’s not normal.”

“If there is a cure, we’ll find it.” Tayden tried to reassure his teammate.

Priest turned toward Grimm, “If not, don’t let me become one of those.”

Grimm glanced him a look than used his axe to break apart a desk.

“This wood is strong, we should be able to board up the front doors, but who knows what might already be in here.”

Dirk returned with a toolbox and a bag of power tools, “Just our luck, unfinished construction was taking place in the back offices.” He threw the bag on the ground and moved to help Grimm with the wood from the desk.

Priest’s eyes shot open and he looked around, everywhere he saw darkness, objects flew around his body, his mind. Then he felt it. Someone was inside with them. The feeling was very strong.

“You ok?”

“Vengeance…”

“What?”

“VENGEANCE!”

All heads turned and stared at the huge man. Rage field his eyes and he stumbled about. Grimm grabbed Priest and pushed him past Tayden, slamming him into a marble column.

“What did you say?” Grimm yelled bringing his axe up towards Priest’s neck. The blade pressed onto the surface of Priest’s dark skin. Priest’s jaw contoured into a wicked smile, he whispered to Grimm, “Your past is going to be one of our deaths.”

Grimm’s black holes stared directly into Priest’s blood shot eyes.

“Monster!” an unfamiliar voice shot through the air followed by: Blam

A bullet shot through the air, with one clean swoop the tiny bullet was cut in two by Grimm’s axe. Grimm’s axe stayed pointed in the same direction; a young man in his mid twenties stood there with a hand gun pointed toward Grimm.

“Get away from him creature…” the man said, trying to sound as tough as possible.

Grimm let go of Priest and started toward the young man. Tayden jumped in front of the huge undead biker. “Whoa big guy, stand down.”

Dirk rolled his eyes and continued to board up the entrance way.

Tayden approached the young man, easing his mind, taking away some of the fear caused by Grimm’s appearance.

“Look, we are not the bad guys.” Tayden spoke softly, as one would with a child.

The young man first shook a little than lowered his weapon.

“They are all dead.” He spoke.

“Who is dead?”

“Everyone. Everyone is dead.”

[ 02-24-2003, 12:12 PM: Message edited by: GoozX ]

And once again Ameristar woke up in darkness...but this time she found herself on a bed, strapped in with steel flexiwire around her wrists and ankles.
Something was stuck on her forehead, and it made irritating buzzing noise...she couldn´t focus....

Someone entered the room with a blinding light from opening door.

"Ah, I see you´re awake, my dear....Ameristar you call yourself, yes?"

Her vision was still blurry but after a few seconds her eyes started to organize the colored blobs of light into coherent shapes...
A man was standing in front of her...with a lab coat.
She gasped as she recognozed him...

"You!!"

Grissom was upstairs working on the security sensors on all the doors with Charley, and Phil decided it was time to get a breath of fresh air. He made his way through the motor pool and out onto the loading dock. The setting sun glittered over the ocean, and Phil paused to take it in.

"Pretty sight, isn't it?"

Phil turned to see Leslie walking up to him. He smiled. "Hey."

"Hey." Leslie looked down. "I'm sorry that I got angry at you earlier. I guess I was just frustrated that things between us didn't work out."

"I understand," Phil said. "Not many people would have reacted differently in your shoes. And I'm sorry things are... complicated."

There was a long moment of silence.

"I came by here to say goodbye," Leslie finally admitted.

Phil raised an eyebrow. "Any particular reason?"

"I have reason to believe that the GRU is after me," Leslie said, "and I've been offered protection by another agency."

Phil frowned. "Another agency? You're not safe with us?"

Leslie sighed. "It's not... it's not that. It's just that..." She thought a moment. "It's just that I... I need a change. I need to get out of here. I can't stay here forever. And these people have offered me work, and their offer is really good." She looked at him. "You've been great, despite our occasional disputes. But now I need to go. I'm sorry."

Phil finally nodded. "It's your life, Leslie. I can't tell you what to do, and I honestly don't know what's best for you. I would like you to stay here, but if you think this is better for you, then I would encourage you to take that chance."

Leslie looked at the ground. "Thank you," she said quietly.

"Will I hear from you again?" Phil asked.

"Without a doubt." Leslie handed Phil a small slip of paper. "This is my secure-mail address. I'm sure you can crack the encryption protocols." She hesitated a moment, then hugged Phil gently. "Thanks for everything," she said.

Phil smiled. "You're welcome. And thank you for not handing me over to the Russians."

Leslie laughed. "I do what I can."

She turned to leave. "Who's that?"

"Who's who?" Phil asked.

Leslie pointed at a cluster of men in black suits getting out of a black Lincoln parked across the street.

Phil froze. He turned to Leslie. "Get inside."

Leslie looked at him. "What? Why?"

"Get inside the building!" Phil ordered. "Now!"

Leslie obeyed and hurried across the loading dock as Phil stood there, looking at the taller man leading the mysterious figures toward him.

Agent Fisher. We meet again.

Phil turned and followed Leslie inside the building.

This was going to be trouble.

The tower of Cuccubao. Straight out of a Gustave Dorè incubus.

Walls over walls of stones engraved with thousands of monsters, gods, demons out of every mythology the Earth has ever known. Visions of every Hell man had to endure. Tortures, violences, rapes…

Vines and lichens and strange mushrooms encrusts the bas-reliefs; among them, a varied fauna of deadly insects, venomous amphibians and poisonous serpents crawls and twists.

We are circling the base of the tower, trying to find a way to enter. But there is no trace of a gate, an entrance or even the small of the holes.

“It’s not that we are not finding it, Ed. There is not any gate. Or I, without doubt, would have find it. By chance, obviously!” smiles Kristopher, still stroking every stone, hoping to release some hidden mechanism.

“They had to enter somewhere” I say.

“Maybe they phase just like Ameristar. See? Their tracks ends here, right in front of this steep wall”.

“Or they can fly” I suggest, while my feathers sprout out of my arms, while I am ready to take flight.

“Wait a moment!” says Drake. “They could have fled, or phased, or shrunken to subatomic size… we don’t need to follow their way… when I can summon Drax!”

And all of a sudden, the young man disappears, and a big, white, furry dragon takes his place.

“Comrades… follow me!” The creature opens his way trough the stone, ripping the walls like tissue.

We walk inside. There is a long corridor, spiralling up, lit by torches. On the internal side of the corridor, there is a seemingly infinite row of wooden doors, closed.

“Which way?” I ask.

Chance looks around, and then…

Descending into the darkness, Vengeance is suddenly surrounded by a host of screaming zombies. Grabbing the nearest one by the neck, he gazes coldly into the dead eyes of the zombie. As if lit by some internal lamp, the zombie begins to glow, and then crumbles into a pile of dust at the spirit's feet. The other zombies, sensing something different in the person standing before them, stop in their tracks.

Deciding to push his luck, Vengeance advances towards the pack of zombies. As he neared the group, the nearest one said, "Your days are numbered living deadman. You shall be among our ranks...He will see to it."

"Yeah, well, we'll see about that." was his only reply. With that, he walked on into the darkness.

“I’m sorry.” as Tayden spoke, the young man was sure he saw a glow form around his body. He was sure for a moment he was talking to an angel, “What’s your name?”

“Jason. Jason Hill” the young man’s hand shook a little as he pushed it through his blond hair.

“Now do you know what happened here?”

“No, I- no.” The boy paused holding back a flow of emotions, “Look, I was on my way home to visit my parents. Things didn’t end on the best terms, ya know? When I got here the place was a ghost town. Finally I see someone, looks to be hut in the street, but it was dark, I couldn’t fully see. When I got to him, he was only the upper half of a police officer. Just the upper half, but he lived, was a monster of some sort. Then they came out of the woodwork. They flipped my pickup before I could hit the road, trapping me here. As I ran away I tripped over the officer’s legs and was able to arm myself with his gun and nightstick. There were so many of them, so many. I- They.”

Jason dropped o his knees in tears, Tayden used his power to comfort him as much he could.

Priest wiped sweet from his forehead, for at least a moment the room sopped spinning. He felt strong again. He joined Dirk in boarding up the door.

“At least one of you sissy’s is gonna stop crying and help protect the place.” Dirk mumbled, not fazing the large build man, “How you even standing? A minute ago you looked like the worse hang over I’d ever seen.”

“My body has immunities to diseases YOU have never seen.” Priest rubbed his wound, “I, (he paused, unsure of himself) should be just fine.”

The apartment building contained some of the most advanced security systems ever devised. Elaborate scanners, sharp sensors, layers upon layers of security barriers, and an extremely powerful supercomputer to run the show.

And at the moment, it was all useless.

Phil and Leslie were being followed through the building by six well-armed MAW agents led by Special Agent Steve Fisher, and unpowered security devices weren't of much use to them at the moment. Phil thought about using the panic room and decided against it - the air tanks weren't pressurized yet, and there weren't enough supplies inside to hold out for long.

Time to improvise.

Phil stopped at the weapons bin and grabbed his .44, an MP5, and an ammo belt for each. He gave Leslie a pair of Ingrams and two 9mm ammo belts, and they both grabbed all the flashbang grenades they could carry - no high explosives inside the building.

Phil looked at Leslie. "Right about now there would usually be some cheesy cliched line having something to do with making fireworks, rocking and rolling, the presence of a full metal jacket, or getting funky, but since the team is away right now, let's just cut to the chase and kick some ass. You okay with that?"

"As long as I can make my flight on time," Leslie said as she slapped a cartridge into each Ingram. "Where are they?"

"Just around the corner," a voice called. "Phil, we don't have to go through this."

"Save your breath, Fisher," Phil shot back. "And if you even hint at quoting some cheesy fascist cliche or even a catchy comic-book villain, I'll blow your brains out myself."

"There's still a chance to deal here, Smith," the agent replied. "Don't throw it away."

"If I had any intention of negotiating with you," Phil said, "I wouldn't be sitting back here with a shitload of heavy weaponry, now would I?"

"Fair enough," Fisher said. "But you know, being stubborn about this is only going to get your friends killed faster. You can lead us on a wild goose chase if you want. We'll just kill anyone and everyone who gets in our way, that's all." Fisher paused. "We're not here to kill you, Phil, but I have no moral compunctions whatsoever about wasting anyone who gets in the way."

"Then by all means," a familiar voice chimed in, "let me in on this. I want a piece of the action too!"

Fisher whirled around. A cold grin slowly spread across his face. "I figured you probably weren't in that Explorer on the bottom of the Hudson either." He turned. "Your Gabriela is out here, Mr. Smith, and she's got guns. At the Academy they told me that that's enough of a reason for me to shoot her right now. I would hate to see anything happen to her on your account."

Phil froze.

"That's right," Fisher said. "She's standing twenty feet from us right now, and nobody misses within twenty feet."

"I know I don't."

Fisher whirled around, trying to find the source of the unfamiliar voice. Something whistled through the air and ripped into the shoulder of his suit coat, pinning him to the wall behind him. Fisher's men spun around, searching for this new shooter, which gave Gabi all the time she needed to disappear - and gave Phil and Leslie a chance to sprint down a maintenance corridor and slam the heavy door shut behind them.

Fisher pulled the object out of the wall. It was, in fact, a #12 construction nail. The kind you'd find in any high-powered nail gun.

From her perch on the catwalk overlooking the basement level, Charlene Montoya took in the whole scene and smiled. She emptied another pouch of nails into her nail gun and headed for an exit.

"They're gone, sir," one of Fisher's men said.

Fisher spun around and slammed the agent against a wall. "Thank you, Captain Obvious," he snarled. "Why don't we go find them?" He released the man and stormed off toward a stairway. "Split up," Fisher ordered.

"And take out anyone who gets in your way."

[ 02-25-2003, 11:05 AM: Message edited by: Captain Sammitch ]

The Fish Factory:

Kit Piper was curled up in a ball of pain next to his desk in his improvised office. He'd lost everything. Absolutely everything. And as soon as the guys learned what he had done with their money, he'd soon be put in jail or worse. What was he gonna do?

The communications screen beeped. It had been beeping at regular intervals for half an hour now, the telephone also ringing endlessly. Kit knew who it must have been: Dr. Henry Quantos, who must've noticed what he'd done. Kit had sent Shirley off for the day to do some much-needed shopping in Puerta Mibela, and nobody was around to answer the telephone in the office. Kit wasn't about to answer it himself -- he had no idea what he was going to say if he did.

***

56 Oakwood Ave, the 13th floor:

Grissom's phone rang. Looking at it, he recognized the number: Dr. Quantos, calling from Canada.

"Hullo, Doc!" Grissom said. "How're things in wild northlands of Canada? Snow much?"

"Actually, no," Henry Quantos answered. "It rarely snows here in the greater Vancouver area, and this winter has been very mild and sometimes warm. We've gotten a lot of rain, but no snow at all. The local ski mountains haven't been having very good business at all, I'm afraid. Vancouver's mild winter weather might score a point against her for hosting the Winter Olympics in 2010."

"Ah..." Grissom replied, not knowing how to respond to the answer of a question he hadn't asked. "So... how can I help you?"

"Sorry," Quantos replied, laughing. "So many people seem to hold the misconception that Canada only has one climate zone from the east coast to the west coast, as if there wouldn't be any variations in a country as large as mine. Sometimes I get a little bit defensive when people assume we're all living in igloos up here or something. Anyways, to get back to the point, I've been trying to get ahold of Kit. Have you seen him around, by any chance?"

"No, no, not since this morning, at least," Grissom said. "Though he did seem a bit under the weather. Anything the matter?"

"Well... well, yes, there is. Something with the MBL's funds."

"Oh, right, right... Kit mentioned something about the company losing control of, uh... BountyLand Foods, was it?"

"Right," replied Dr. Quantos. "That may be part of it... but... Ah, but I should speak with Kit personally about it. Must be some kind of a mistake with the numbers or something. Only problem is -- I haven't been able to reach Kit all afternoon. He's probably just out on a business lunch or something, but his cellphone doesn't seem to be on, either. Uh... if you have a moment to spare, could you get in touch with him for me? I really need to speak with him. It's very urgent."

"Will do, Doc," said Grissom. "Anything else?"

"No, that should be everything... thanks, Grissom," replied Henry. "Talk to you later."

"Right then. Bye."

Charley walked up to Grissom. "So what's up?" she asked him, wiping grease from her fingers.

"Oh, that was Dr. Quantos -- looks like he's trying to get in touch with Kit, but he hasn't had any luck so far."

"Anything I can do?"

"Uhhh... yes, yes," Grissom said as he pondered the situation. "Would you mind finishing up the work here with the security sensors? Doc said his business with Kit was urgent. I should probably go find him."

"No problem," replied Charley. "You can look over my work later, I guess."

"Thanks, Charley. You're a dear."

Berlin.

Danny, Kristogar, Mick and Tobias weren't in the mood to do turism in this trip. They wanted to go meet Grissom's doctor friend, find the place Netzel was buried, see if the book was there, and get this over with.

They arrived at the Berlin University library, and found Dr. Jurgen Seltsamliebe waiting for them. Dr. Seltsamliebe, a man around Dr. Quantos' age, sat in front of a large table filled with open books, and a computer.

"You must be Grissom and Henry's associates, I presume," he said with a german accent, as he stood up, when he saw the four men coming.

"That's us," Danny replied, shaking the doctor's hand. "These are Kristogar Velo, Tobias Christopher and Mick Harrison. I'm Daniel Hearn."

"Pleased to meet you," the doctor replied, as he took his seat again. "You look younger than I imagined!"

"I'm sorry if we kept you waiting, Doctor. We had a problem at the airport," Kristogar said. He looked at Mick.

"Yeah, uh..." Mick said, embarassed, "Yeah."

"Actually, young men, you are in luck. While I was waiting for you I decided to do some research... And I think I have located Netzel's resting place."

"Oh?" Danny smiled.

"Yes," the doctor continued, "I checked the records of the local cemeteries, just in case, and I found a crypt in one of them with nameless people resting in it. The number of people in the crypt is the same number of Nazi leaders that are suppoused to be buried with Netzel. I'd say there's a big possibility that it's the real thing."

"Wow. That's lucky," TC said.

"This is where the crypt is located," the doctor said, writting down a direction in a piece of paper, and then handing it to Danny, "though I don't how you will get there... The security must be very big."

"We'll find a way, Doctor," Danny said with a smile. "Thank you."

The team took transportation to the cemetery immediatly. It was alredy kind of late, and by the time they got there, it would be dark. Perfect for grave digging.


There were two men inside the cabin at the entrance of the cemetery. One of them was talking over the phone, and the other was looking at a german Talk Show in a small TV, as he eyed the monitors of the security cameras from time to time.

"Ja, Honig, kaufe ich die Zwerge," the one talking over the phone said. "Ja. Ja."

Somebody started knocking at the door. "Halten sie auf einer sekunde," the man said to person at the other line, as he left the earpiece on his desk, and stood up to open the door.

The man opened the door and saw Tobias. Half second later, he and the other guard were tied to their chairs, and their mouths closed with tape. Then Kristogar, Mick and Danny walked into the cabin.

Kristogar started working on shutting down the cameras so they wouldn't be recorded. Danny started looking for some kind of map of the cemetery. Mick noticed the earpiece on the desk.

"Uh, yeah, talk to you later," he said to the person on the other line, before hanging the phone.

"Done," Kristogar said, and the monitors went black.

Danny found on the desk the map he was looking for. Written on the locations of all the tombs were the names of the people buried there. Except for the people in one tomb.

"OK, this is it," Danny said. "Let's go."

Danny leaded the way through the cemetary, and the others followed behind. Kristogar hurried his pace and caught up with Danny.

"You know, you could have made Mxy send the guards to France and magically find the crypt. Why didn't you do it?"

Danny looked at him. Kristogar wasn't really asking. He knew the answer.

"So, you have your suspicions too," Danny stated.

"I've always had them. But now more than ever."

Behind, Mick overheard the conversation and wondered what the hell it was about.

"It's not anything certain, Kristogar..." Danny said, "So far, nothing has happened to confirm my suspicions..."

"How about the whole thing with the terrorists? You asked him to disarm them and he didn't move a finger... How did he explain that, by the way?"

"Oh, he did disarm them. He took the bullets away."

"Danny" Kristogar said, changing his tone to a more alarming one. "Those were plastic guns."

"...he couldn't have taken the bullets away..." Danny's eyes were wide opened. He and Kristogar stopped walking.

Before he could say anything, Mick had the familiar feeling of something taking over him. He took his hands to his head and started yelling, as he fell to his knees.

"Mick!" TC said. "What's going on?!"

Mick stopped yelling.

"Mick... You OK, man?" TC asked.

Mick looked at him and smiled. His eyes were covered by something darker then the night above them.

"Hello, boys," Ktl said.

"...shit..." Danny replied.

[ 02-26-2003, 03:40 PM: Message edited by: I'm Not Mister Mxypltk ]

Phil kicked open the door of the maintenance elevator and crawled out of the empty shaft onto the fourth floor. He paused to catch his breath, then turned and helped Leslie through the door into the hallway. "You okay?" he asked.

"I'm fine," Leslie replied. "What's next?"

"I'm not sure," Phil answered. "I thought Grissom would be around here somewhere."

"Are you kidding?" Leslie said. "You're not gonna find him aorund here!"

"What do you mean?"

"Grissom's a merc," Leslie said. "He didn't have to tell me anything, I could tell without really having to think about it much. When you've been around this business a while, you recognize your own kind." She ran a hand through her auburn hair. "If he's anything like your average mercenary, he's got a real aversion to the government. Any government."

"And that would preclude helping us?"

Leslie nodded. "If it was anyone but you getting chased by these guys, I would be long gone by now."

Phil pounded his fist against the wall. "Perfect. So now we got six MAW guys and Fisher running around out there, and it's just me, you, Gabi, and maybe Charley trying to stop them."

"Seven norms against three metas and a norm. Not bad odds," Leslie replied with a grin.

They heard footsteps approaching from down the hall. Phil and Leslie darted into rooms on opposite sides of the hallway.

A lone MAW agent was approaching, his gun pointed down as his gaze swept the corridor intently. Phil looked at Leslie and held up one finger. Leslie nodded - and began taking off her left shoe.

Phil's jaw dropped. What was she doing?

The MAW agent heard a sound and started toward them. Phil stepped back into the room, and his hand fumbled with the safety of his MP5.

Click.

Unfortunately, the safety switch made noise.

The agent moved toward the room Phil was in swiftly. He reached the doorway and paused, waiting to spring around the corner. His face came into view, and Phil started bringing the gun up.

The agent turned and noticed Phil. His eyes widened.

But the gun never came around. The man's knees buckled, and he slowly sank to the floor. A small dart stuck out of his left calf - a dart Leslie had fired from the compressed-air cylinder in her shoe. The agent's eyes closed slowly, and he slumped to the floor, breathing heavily.

"5cc's of my secret-recipe Versed-phenobarb cocktail," Leslie said as she slipped her shoe back on. "He'll be out of commission for a few hours."

Phil shook his head. "You still surprise me sometimes, you know?"

"I'm full of surprises, hon," Leslie replied. "Now let's find the rest of these bastards so I can catch my flight on time."

Ten minutes later, Phil and Leslie found themselves on the seventh floor with Fisher, four of his men, Gabi, and Charley unaccounted for.

"I almost feel sorry for that last one," Phil said as he checked the hallway.

"You hit him over the head with the gun," Leslie replied. "All I did was distract him." She checked her watch. "I wish these sons of bitches would just all materialize at once so we can get this over with."

"Leslie," Phil said to her, "forgive me for being less concerned than you with the time your plane leaves, but I'm trying to keep people alive here, ya dig?"

Leslie nodded.

Phil's eyes widened as he stepped out into the hallway. "Holy shit," he breathed. He paused. "Sorry."

"I hear ya," Leslie said. "Now this is a construction area."

Charlene had definitely gone to work. There were nails sticking out of both walls - and two unconscious MAW agents duct-taped together on the floor. Each had a handful of nonlethal but painful-looking wounds, as well as the telltale patch of burned skin left by a powerful taser gun.

Phil slowly crept over and inspected the two agents. Both had their hands cuffed behind their backs and were missing their guns and ammunition. He looked around but couldn't find anyone else on that floor.

"Nobody?" Leslie asked.

"Just me," Charley said as she walked out of one of the rooms. "There's two more in the stairwell. Your Gabi isn't too bad with a stun gun."

Phil frowned. "Where did she go?"

"To look for you," Charley answered. "After she gave me my taser back, of course. We make a pretty good team."

"Fisher and one of his agents are still out there," Leslie said. "Not a very good idea to be running around looking for people."

Charlene shrugged. "She looked like she had things under control."

"We'd better go find her," Phil said.

"Where would we even look?" Leslie asked. "She could be anywhere." She looked at Phil. "What?"

Phil didn't answer. His eyes were closed, and he seemed to be listening to something distant.

"What's he doing?" Charlene asked.

"I've learned it's best not to ask," Leslie answered.

Phil snapped to attention. He turned and headed for the elevator without another word. Leslie and Charlene shrugged and followed him.

"See what I mean?" Leslie muttered.

Priest held the last board up to the large entranceway as Dirk nailed it in.

“This mission has gone to hell.”

Dirk laughed, “When do they ever go normal.”

Priest shook his head. For a moment his mind drifted to another time.

quote:

---

He shuffled through his pants pocket, pulling out a flat silver watch, aged with time. Engraved on it, the letters AR.

Smiling, he continued his journey. Walking past many men and women in uniform. Everyone stood at attention as he passed. Walking directly towards a high wall covered in white light. Never stopping, he simply walked right through the wall, the light seemed to engulf him. Waiting on the other side, a man whom he has known all his life. A man one could only wish to work with, let alone be respected by. His weathered features speaking volumes of his life, yet not even cracking the surface of the full story. His story.

"Sir."

---

“Okay,” Grimm’s voice broke Priest’s attention; “we have to secure the rest of the building for the mean time. Until we can figure out how to contact the others.”

Tayden glanced down towards his cell, no signal, …stoopid zombies probably ate the radar…

Grimm continued, “The problem outside takes precedence over the mission. We have to find some way to stop this – disease - from spreading outside the town.”

“Noble words.” Dirk smerked, “But if you hadn’t noticed we’re low on ammo and man power.”

“We make due with what we have.” Grimm glanced towards Tayden, “Tayden, Dirk, you two take Hill and look for anything useful in the upper level.” Grimm turned towards Priest, “We’ll hit the basement and do the same.”

“We’re taking orders from a skull?” Hill whispered toward Dirk, who replied with “It’s better than taking orders from a fat con man.”

Hill just shrugged his shoulders.