RKMBs Forums .::Important::. Writer's Block Vanguard Europe #3: Oktoberfest!

The Bavarian Heaven had not taken kindly to Penny trying to meet the band...while they were on stage. While the audience was impressed with her dancing skills, the proprieters were not. Two bouncers kicked Penny and Tommy out of the tent...where two giants from the Munich Police escourted them out of the fair. 'Escourt' was a nice way of putting it. The Vanguard secretary began laughing, yelling, and wimpering at the policemen all at the same time.

"Stupid English tourists," one of the cops said to the other. He was forced to carry the drunk girl over his shoulder.

Penny wouldn't let it go. "We kicked your bloody arses in the war!"

Two seconds later, the petite girl and the rookie shapeshifter found themselves kicked out of the festival. Penny landed flat on her bottom, and Tommy rolled until he crashed into a trash can. "Wow. Those guys can throw pretty hard."

"Yes, Adem, I concur..."

Victor sighed.

"Why am I even here?" He asked.

"Because McGregor says you need a psychological evaluation."

"So why the hell are you here?"

"I..." Dr Huerta began, leaning back in his leather chair as he did so, "...am a psychologist."

"Seriously?"

"Seriously."

"A good one?"

Huerta shrugged. "Sometimes."

"So I'm supposed to... tell you about my dreams?"

"Are your dreams very interesting?" Huerta asked.

Victor scrunched up his face in thought. "Not often."

"Then I'd rather you didn't. Nothing bores me more than uninteresting dreams. As long as it's nothing messed up like dreaming about killing people, then..." Huerta paused as he noticed the look on Victor's face.

"...you dream about killing people, don't you?" The doctor asked.

"Sometimes," Victor replied.

"People you know?"

"Celebrities sometimes. I once dreamed about killing Tony Blair. And David Beckham. Or killing Tony Blair WITH David Beckham."

"What?"

"You know... swinging Beckham around like a club."

"You're messing with me now, aren't you Victor?"

"Maybe." Victor grinned as he said this.

Huerta leaned forward in his chair. "You're not taking this particularly seriously, are you?"

Victor shrugged. "Not very, no."

"Why are you here?"

"Like you said. McGregor says I need a psyche exam. Today I'm being paid to do what McGregor says."

"Is that the only reason you're here? You're on the company clock, so you're getting paid?"

"Don't see any other good reason."

"So why are you here?"

"Didn't we just..."

Huerta held up his hand to silence Victor.

"I mean why are you here at Vanguard Europe?" Huerta asked. "Why take the job? Why work for Paragon?"

"Government was about to cut me loose. And the price was right. So sure, I'll play superhero for hire for a while as long as Paragon keeps the cheques flowing."

"You're doing it for the money."

"Yeah."

"What else do you want?"

"From Paragon?" Victor said, sitting back and stretching his arms over the top of the armchair. "Nothing."

"I meant... what else do you want in general? From life."

Victor laughed slightly at the question. "I want what any normal guy wants! A good laugh, a good shag, a good beer and a meal on the table."

"And Paragon's money can keep you living comfortably."

"It's as good a job as any other."

Huerta nodded at this statement. He rolled his chair back and threw his legs up, resting them on the edge of his desk. "Do you enjoy... what you do, Victor?"

"You mean... the fighting? The killing?"

"Yeah. You've killed before, in your period of employment with the government. Did you enjoy it? Or was it just a means to an end? A way to keep the money rolling in."

Victor shifted his gaze towards the ceiling. "Haven't thought about it much."

"But you dream about it."

Victor grinned. "Point. I guess... I enjoy the satisfaction of a job well done. A mission completed. But that's different than enjoying the act itself, isn't it?" He smiled again, to himself. Then his face fell serious for a moment, and his eyes locked with Huerta's. "It's what I do. It's what they made me for. If I was better at something else, I'd go and do that instead. If I could make a better living as a painter, or a doctor, or an architect or merchant banker... but this is what I do."

"Perry, you'll never believe what these horrible people have done!"

The Shadow Chancellor stood before his teammate, his face betraying no shade of emotion. "No, I probably won't."

"First this dreadful man with food all in his beard and clothing and the worst breath you've ever seen on another human being. . ." Sidewinder began his tale in deliberately overmelodramatic fashion.

"Human. Hmm." Gaunt smirked ever so slightly.

". . .and then this. . .this transexual! started coming onto me! I mean, she . . .he. . .it. . .was pawing at me like some sort of beast! The nerve. . ." Sidewinder continued, not noticing the subjects of his rant standing behind him.

"Nerve indeed." Gaunt simply answered.

"Perry, is there something I should know?" Sidewinder stopped, realization dawning upon him.

"Icarus, I think you should meet Olaf Thorson Longtooth, head of the council of the tribes of the Wolves." Gaunt motioned with his left hand, as Olaf bowed to Icarus, looking up at the pilot with a gleam in his eyes.

"I've yet to meet a human who could fill my belly, boy." Olaf licked his lips hungrily.

"And the other side of our little peace treaty, Nyork Wrilrig, warrior priest and poet of the Klor. This is their first time among humans." Gaunt gestured with his right hand as Wrilrig lifted Icarus off of the ground, to stand him eye to eye with "her" full six foot ten height.

"Weak." The deep, rumbling bass voice sounded as Icarus glared into the fiery green eyes of the being.

"Well, gotta go!" Icarus said, as Wrilrig dropped him to the ground. As he wandered off, Sidewinder could be overheard telling passersby about the red haired transvestite and the gay slob who'd attempted to molest him.

Gaunt turned to the two. "Ignore him. Shall we continue?"

"Ozzy?"

"Yes, Adem?"

"How do you shave?"

Baxter cocked an eyebrow at the alien, the two strolling the perimeter of the festival. It was evening, now, and a nice spring-like breeze had begun to kick up. The fresh air was enough to flutter the man's tee-shirt a bit.

"I don't." he finally admitted.

"You don't shave...at all?"

"No point, really." Baxter replied. "My hair doesn't grow anymore."

"So, no haircuts then, either, I take it?"

"What could do it?" Ozzy asked, the concept seeming to irritate him slightly. "Damn hair's as indestrucible as the rest of me. Otherwise, I'd probably be bald by now, from all the fires and explosions I've stood through...."

Adem eyed his widows-peak hairline.

"Well....looks like it's close enough."

"...says the hairdo created by Curt Swan...."

"What?"

"Nothing." Ozzy smiled.

The two strolled along a bit further, silent. They took in the sounds of the festival drifting along the breeze.

"Anymore." Different said outloud. "Your hair doesn't grow anymore. That is what you said, right?"

"Yeah..."

"So, then, it used to grow?"

"Sure, when I was younger..."

"When did it stop?"

"When my metegene kicked-in, and told it to stop." Ozzy explained. "Look, you're awfully obsessed with my hair today...."

"Just a curiosity." Different shrugged. "Why, have I fondled a conduit?"

"...touched a nerve...?" Baxter asked with a slight grin.

"Exactly."

"No, man, it's just....you seem very suddenly interested in my hair, is all."

"Should I be interested in something else?"

Ozzy paused, trying to explain.

"I just mean, for human males....it's a highly irrelevant topic....hair, that is..." he said.

"Certainly more relevant than those colored pieces of paper you humans seem so keen on collecting."

"You mean, money?" Ozzy asked. "Come on, Diff! Money is important to everyone....everywhere! Don't tell me that your society had some form of advanced, enlightened system that eliminated the need for money. Because, if that's true, I want to hear about it."

"Of course we have, what you would call, money." Adem nodded. "However, ours is not a system of using worthless slips of molded wood in place of the actual object of value....that being here, the mineral you call gold."

"So, what do you use?"

"Numbers."

Ozzy looked over at him, coming to a stop.

"...numbers?"

"Yes."

"Numbers."

"Yes."

"Want to...I don't know....explain that one for me?"

"Which part?"

"The part where it stopped making sense."

The alien detective paused, considering this.

"...'Hello, my name is Adem'...?"

"Har-dee-har-har."

"I beg your pardon?"

"Stop playing stupid-alien and answer my damn questions!"

Adem crinkled the corner of his mouth in his best 'grin', yet.

"The point isn't what we use, Ozzy. It's how we use it." he explained. "Humans shift this monetary system around as a means of barter. All well and good. However...and correct me if I'm wrong....but there is more currency in play than there is actual gold to back it up. Correct?"

"Well...in the States, definitely..." Ozzy shrugged.

"This is common knowledge." Adem continued. "I learned it off the internet. And, yet, everyone continues to use it...knowing that it can never be paid out in its' absolute worth."

"Sure, but, who needs to lug around bricks of gold in their pocket?"

"I do not believe you are following me here."

"I believe I am, and my point is, show me something better. Show me a better way."

"With numbers." Adem offered.

"Again with the numbers-thing...."

"Use a numerical system to shift estimated worth at every level. Eliminate the need for physical representation of monetary value, and simply rely on absolute mathematics."

"I'm not good with math..."

"...Ozzy..."

"They're imaginary, Adem!" Baxter exclaimed with a slight chuckle. "Numbers are imaginary!"

Adem reached over, slipping a euro out of Baxter's pocket.

"So is this." he replied shaking the money at the boxer.

Ozzy paused, finally snatching the money back from the man with a smile.

"Well, I'll just hang on to this particular hallucination, if you don't mind. That is, until everyone else in the world starts imagining numbers like you..."

"...humans..." Adem sighed deeply.

"Heh...come on..." Ozzy said, turning to continue their stroll.

"You." a voice said from behind them.

Ozzy and Adem turned to see a gun being brandished towards them.

"Over here. Now." the man with the small pistol hissed, motioning for them to step over near one of the generator trailers.

Ozzy and Adem looked at each other with an almost amused expression. Ozzy raised his hands with a grin, elbowing Adem to do the same. Of course, Adem had never really gotten the whole 'raising-your-hands-in-submission'-thing, and raised his hands in such an odd position that he looked like he should be holding a planet up on his back. They walked over behind the trailer, being led at gunpoint.

"Now...hand it over..." the man hissed, looking around to make sure he was clear.

"What?" 'Atlas' Different asked.

"The money you freak!" the man replied under a harsh whisper. "Give me your money! Now!"

"Heh." Ozzy chuckled, lowering his arms.

Adem looked at him, still holding an imagined globe.

"He's mugging us." Baxter said, Adem finally lowering his hands again.

"As in, stealing?" Different asked.

"Yep."

The gun cocked, leveling at Ozzy's face.

"The fucking money, NOW!" the man demanded.

"Oh, come on." Baxter shook his head. "What's that...a .35? Man, if you fire that thing out here, every cop in a three-mile radius will be on you like crazy. You could have at least put a silencer on it..."

The mugger reached out, grabbing Ozzy's shirt and jerking him into a pointblank range, by pressing the barrel to his chest.

"Give me the money right fucking now, or you'll see just how loud this thing is!"

Ozzy glanced down at the gun, and back over at Adem.

"Anything else you want to observe, or can I end this?" he asked nonchalantly.

"No, it's okay. I've seen enough." Adem shrugged.

Ozzy nodded, and rammed his forehead into the mugger's nose with a sharp crack of impervious skull. The nondescript man's nose gushed blood as he hit the ground quite unconscious.

"...you're right...it's much more interesting in the movies..." Different nodded.

"Motherfucker!" Ozzy exclaimed, staring at the blood stains splattered across the chest of his white-tee.

"Don't you have alot of those?" Different asked, the boxer pulling his shirt off.

"Yeah...got a ten-pack from Wal-Mart.com...." Baxter replied, wadding the ruined shirt up. "...still, this asshole just cost me at least seventy-five-cents...."

He bent down, turning the man over and searching his pockets. He finally pulled out a wad of money.

"He was carrying alot for a man desperate for more." Diff commented.

"Probably from other scores today. Some poor tourists or something..." the boxer replied, pulling the navy-blue tee-shirt off the unconscious man.

"So...he robs people..."

"Looks that way, doesn't it?"

"And...now, you're robbing him back?"

"Damn right." Ozzy said, slipping the new shirt on. "It's what he deserves."

He reached down, picking up the pistol.

"We aren't going to alert the authorities?"

"What's the point?" Ozzy asked, popping the spinner out, and shaking the bullets out. "All they'll do is detain him for awhile. And, then he'll get out and go straight for his next fix..."

"Ah, drugs..." Adem stared at the track-marks from needles lining the unconscious man's arms. "He could afford a gun...and had all of that money on him...and yet he wanted more?"

"His kind of good-time is very expensive...." Ozzy said, wiping the pistol down with the ruined white-tee, and tossing it under one of the generator trailers.

"Sad."

"It is."

The two continued back onto their original path.

"See, if you would listen to my number-system, no one would go without..." Adem began.

"Oh sure, what...'Hands up! Now hand over your calculator!'....?" Ozzy shook his head.

"Harley-harley--"

"No, no...har-dee-har.."

"Harley-dee-harle--"

"No, not harley...there's no 'ley'...where are you getting the 'ley' from? Har-dee-har-dee-har..."

"Har-dee-har-dee-har...."

"Right, right....like laughter...." Ozzy nodded.

"It's supposed to sound like laughter?"

"Right."

"Who laughs like that?"

"It's a--I don't know---No one! It's an exaggeration, Adem!" Ozzy sighed.

"So, it's represenative of laughter?"

"Yes!"

"And, yet...no one laughs like that?"

"I guess..."

"So, it's like your money, then?"

"Oh, fuck off, Adem...." Ozzy sighed with exhasperation, slapping his hands to his side.

"Quite." Different nodded.

The two strolled the perimeter quietly for a bit, taking in the sounds of the festival.

"So.....why is your hair white?"

"Huerta told you I'm crazy, didn't he?" Victor asked, sitting cross legged on a leather couch that sat along the wall of Ian McGregor's office.

"Not quite," McGregor said, adding something to the folder that had the word 'Reilly' scrawled across the front in red marker then sitting down behind his desk.

"Sure he did. He told you I was crazy and wanted to kill people and sleep with my mother and bury my shoes in the yard."

"Why would he... your shoes?"

"You heard the crazy man!"

"Nobody here thinks you're crazy, Victor," Ian said.

"Except you."

"I used the word 'intense'. And you weren't supposed to hear that."

"Yet I did! I have fantastic hearing."

"I noticed."

"Better than yours."

"You just think I have bad hearing because I've stopped paying attention to anything you say." McGregor leaned back in his chair with his arms behind his head as he said this.

"Are the others crazy?"

"The others?"

"My teammates. You haven't really talked about them. Neither has Paragon," Reilly said.

"Let's see... the others..." McGregor said as he leaned forward again in thought, resting his elbows on the desk. "There's Drake Marshall. He's the leader."

"Marshall? That Nightwatch guy from the TV? I have to take orders from a guy who's been in ads for carpet shampoo?"

"I'm pretty sure he never sold carpet shampoo."

"He may have. You don't know that for sure."

"I'm sure it was very high quality carpet shampoo. The very best," McGregor said.

"So who else?" Reilly asked.

"There's Adem. He's a good time... an alien, you know."

"There's an alien on the team."

"Yes."

"That kind of freaks me out."

"Yes."

"What's he like?"

McGregor's eyes raised themselves in reflection. "Smart. Scarily smart. He doesn't always seem it... sometimes he comes across as a little... naive, maybe. But don't let it fool you. It's just that he's looking at this world through newer eyes than your or I. And then there's Lykopis..."

"I like the name."

"She's scary in a kind of Xena the Warrior Princess kind of way..."

"I always found Xena kind of hot," Reilly said.

"...don't tell Lykopis that."

"Noted. Who else?"

"Uh... Gaunt. Edmond Gaunt. The Shadow Chancellor."

"What does he do?"

"You'll know it when you see it."

"O... kay."

McGregor continued. "Then there's Icky..."

"Who?"

"Icarus Sidewinder. The pilot. He's quite good at flying."

"Nice."

"A complete and total fucking wanker, but quite good at flying."

Reilly chuckled at this. "Anyone else I should know about?"

"Oh, yeah. Ozzy Baxter. Nice guy."

"And what does he do?"

"He's just completely indestructible," McGregor said.

Reilly narrowed his eyes in thought at this.

"Indestructible? As in unkillable?" Reilly asked.

"Yeah."

"Are we sure he's indestructible? Have we tried throwing him into the sun or something? Maybe he's just much less destructible than other people," Reilly said, leaning forward in his chair and becoming quite agitated as he did so.

"We're pretty sure he's indestructible," McGregor answered, a little concerned by the look in Victor's eye.

The evening sun was bright and blinding, sliding through the atmosphere at its own speed. The crowds had thinned a bit, most having found their nesting tents for the nights festivities. Still, a good number of people, young and old, strolled through the paths, a canvas of pitched tents lining each side.

Ozzy squinted against the orange hue of the sky, sitting up on the back of a bench, casually watching the stragglers pass by....

"So...what do you miss most?" he said, munching on a new bag of popcorn.

Sitting down on the bench properly, Adem's lanky legs were stretched out in a relaxed posture, his back slumped against the warm metal. He never looked up at Ozzy, both staring out at the crowd.

"My sister." he replied, his voice carrying a bit less neutrality than usual.

"You have a sister?" Baxter frowned.

"Had."

"Oh. Right." Ozzy replied with a hint of regret. "Sorry, man."

"What about you?"

"No, I'm an only child...."

"No, what do you miss the most?"

"From what?"

"In general."

"Boxing." Ozzy said, popping a few more fluffy kernels in his mouth.

Adem nodded, both men quietly enjoying the tranquility among the masses.

"You should get back into it."

"Nahhh...." Ozzy shook his head, his expression a bit melancholy. "....no point."

"Why? You could certainly win...."

"Yeah, every match." he shrugged. "But, boxing....for me...wasn't about the knock-out....it was about the dance...."

Ozzy actually chuckled a little, memories obviously being dredged up.

"...that sole-slide across the mat....'baby-steps to K.O.' one of my trainers told me...." he grinned, looking off. "...the hair-trigger breaths that gun from your lungs on a third-eye-bob..."

"...third eye?"

"Uhh...going into a weave-and-bob based on gut instincts. Eye movement and foot placement usually set it off....the trick is knowing what your opponent is going to do the moment before he does it...."

Ozzy leaned down, resting his elbows against his knees, his two hands still occupied with the bag of popcorn.

"It's all about seeing the tells."

"Like gambling." Different nodded.

"Exactly like gambling, Diff..." Ozzy nodded.

Different nodded, the two resuming their quiet stint observing. Ozzy wasn't exactly taking alot in. This was more for Adem's sake. Giving him a chance to soak in some random humanity. For Ozzy, it was more about sobering up.

"Well, look at these two morose motherfuckers here..."

Ozzy cocked an eye at an approaching Icarus Sidewinder. Icky walked up, hands in his pockets, shades on. He looked around a bit, almost as if trying to see what held the two men's interest.

"What's shaking?" he asked, turning back to Baxter.

"Not much. Just enjoying the view." Baxter shrugged, popping a few kernels. "Yourself?"

"Heh....trying to stay ahead of my fanclub..." Icarus replied. "...it's tough looking this good, you know?"

He paused, looking Baxter up and down.

"Well, maybe you wouldn't...." he added.

Baxter paused in mid-popcorn-into-mouth-throw, furrowing his brow at the lad.

"You're some piece of work, Sidewinder...." he sighed, resuming his eating.

"So, you get my newsletter?" Icky grinned smugly.

"Heh." Baxter chuckled.

"You have a very abrasive pattern of speaking, Icarus." Adem said earnestly. "Perhaps if you were somewhat more amicable with others, interpersonal relationships wouldn't be so difficult..."

"Well, thanks, but, I don't think I need 'human' lessons from some fucking martian...." Icky rolled his eyes.

"Watch your mouth, Sidewinder." Ozzy stated very clearly, pausing to look up at the obnoxious man.

Icky turned to stare at Ozzy, lifting his shades up to make eye contact with the man.

"...or what, old man?" the cocky pilot asked, a smug grin on his face.

Baxter said nothing, still eating even as he stared sternly at the youth.

"I mean, I apologize if I've insulted your girlfriend here, but---"

Ozzy suddenly hopped off the bench, coming to his full height as he stepped up eye-to-eye with the man.

"...anytime you're ready..." he stated in a near whisper.

"Jeezus!" Icky exclaimed with a laugh. "Stop being such a little girl! I'm just fucking with you.....jeez...."

Ozzy just stared at him, even as the man laughed it off.

"You a good shot?" Ozzy asked.

Icarus paused, looking at him.

"The best you've ever seen." he stated with utter confidence.

Baxter nodded, a grin crawling over his mouth. He looked around a bit, finally settling on a very attractive lady almost thirty feet away. She was bent over, trying to wipe melted ice cream off her four-year-old's hands. Wearing a v-cut blouse gave a perfect line of sight to a set of very nice bossoms.

"Twenty says you can't get a shot between those from here..." he motioned, Icky's eyes settling on the breasts.

"Using what?"

"This popcorn?" Baxter offered.

"Impossible." Icky said.

"I thought you were the best?"

"The popcorn is too lite!" he exclaimed. "The sheer wind velocity dominates the mass/weight differential of the popcorn. That's simple fucking physics. But...hand me a coin...any coin...."

Baxter dug in his pockets, fishing out a coin.

"...this is coming out of your winning money..." Baxter mumbled.

"Okay, then...raise the wager..." Icky said. "....thirty says not only can I do it, but, she won't even notice..."

"Deal." the boxer nodded.

Icky grinned, turning towards the woman. And, without even a moments aim, tossed the coin in a perfect arc....thirty-feet...straight between the breasts perfectly.

The woman did not even flinch, having felt nothing as she continued scrubbing the dirty hands.

"Ha!" Icky exclaimed.

"Hrm." Baxter grimaced. "Double-or-nothing."

"Your money..." Icky shrugged, as Ozzy handed him another coin.

Another toss, another perfect shot.

"Impressive." Adem added, as Icky turned to Ozzy to gloat.

Baxter said nothing, not really acting all that upset. He handed Icky another coin.

"Same bet."

Icky threw another. And another. And, even, another. All sailing perfectly on target, the woman not once even noticing as coins fell from the heavens to bury themselves between her breasts.

"I AM the real deal, baby! Ha! Ha! Ha!" Sidewinder gloated, as he turned to Ozzy with a dramatic bow. "Now, give me my fucking money, you tired....old....man! Ha!"

Baxter grinned, handing over a wad of cash.

"Worth it." he said, staring over Icky's shoulder.

"Oh? You don't mind paying me to show you real skills?" the pilot asked, counting his win.

"What skills?" Baxter said, beginning to take a few steps backwards. "The skill to toss some money into a lady's bra? Or the skill to not notice the most obvious things in your surroundings?"

Icky paused, looking up at the man.

"...what things?"

"Oh, things like that lady's husband who's coming up behind you to kick your ass...." Baxter grinned with an evil glee.

Icky spun around just in time to get a fist square in the face. The man was yelling something in French at Sidewinder, even as Adem hopped up to seperate them.

"<No, no, please...please...he is not worth it...>" Adem calmned the man, even as Icky pulled himself up onto the bench holding a bloody nose.

Baxter slumped down next to him, wrapping an arm around the man, as if they were enjoying a quiet evening. He looked over at Icky with a wide smile.

"Don't ever call me old man...."

Lykopis had become boring company. It was clear that for short periods of time, the Amazon was enjoyable to be around. She had spent the last few hours bonding and drinking with her coworkers. But after Gaunt left to go back 'on duty' as the Shadow Chancellor, Lykopis was reverting back to her more solitary self. It seemed Lykopis could only stand so much bonding in so many hours.

"You okay on your own?"

Lykopis nodded. Drake understood better than she thought. Have fun with your trumpeter. Trombonist. Whatever. A few fleeting seconds later, Lykopis was just another girl in the crowd.

Drake had just reached the main street when a familar sight pulled into view. Icarus Sidewinder, his nose bloodied and his eyes wide in fear, came running from behind a tent. Behind him, a angry tourist was shouting curse words in French. Mr. Sidewinder was not the greatest runner in the world, but everyone have a little bit of lightning in their legs for moments like this. He had the look of a jackrabbit escaping the jaws of a grayhound. Drake almost felt sorry for him.

"Icarus!" shouted Drake. Why does this always happen to me?

Icarus dropped down onto his knees in front of Drake. It was clear the day's events had worn out even the team's hotshot. His sagging shoulders were the outer signs of weariness and defeat. "Big...Frenchie...who knew...they could fight..." Icarus took a gulp. "Help me."

The giant Frenchman was gaining fast. Both Icarus and Drake saw him spot the pilot and run towards the kneeling Icarus. "Bitten off more than you can chew?" Icarus said nothing. Well, everyone needs to be humbled. "I'll help you if you admit you screwed things up."

"Okay. I fucked up."

"Not good enough."

The French Goliath was getting closer. Icarus groan. "I fucked up! I messed things up royally! I was really naughty! I'm up a shit creek! I acted before I thought it out! I swear I'll --"

"Wait, what was that last part?"

"I acted before I thought it out!"

"Bingo!" shouted Drake, grinning widely. It was exactly what he wanted to hear from the flying hotshot. The scorned French husband jumped, attempting to crush Icarus, when Drake launched into the air as well. One uppercut was enough to send the massive man into one of the tanks, with crusants spinning over his head. "Le ow..."

*** *** ***

"Stupid tourist!"

Drake and Icarus found themselves airborn as the Munich police kicked them out of the fair. Icarus got up first. His nose was still red and bloody from the punch. "Whoo-hoo!"

Drake rubbed his head. "Ow..."

Icarus pulled Drake off the dusty sidewalk. "You sir, kick ass. That was great. One punch. Uno. Singular. You rock sir."

"Thanks." Drake looked at Icarus. "It was kind of stupid of you to piss him off."

Icarus looked embarassed. "Yeah...sorry that got you kicked out of Ocktoberfest."

Drake shrugged. He was still amused by Icarus's antics. Too bad the rest of the gang didn't get to see him humbled. I wonder what Gaunt would have payed to see that. "Come on. Let's find a place to wait for the rest of the team."

"But they'll probably stay until tonight."

Drake sat down on a bus bench. "Vanguard Europe?" Drake shook his head. "Nah, I see us getting booted out of many social occasions in the future..."

Doctor Ian McGregor threw his folder down on Doctor William Paragon’s desk and stood there with his arms crossed. Paragon glanced down to see the word ‘Reilly’ scrawled across the front in big, attention-seeking red letters.

“Is that everything?” Paragon asked, still sitting behind his desk as McGregor stood.

“Every test I could think to run,” McGregor replied, planting himself without invitation in the armchair across from Paragon’s desk.

“And?”

“And what?”

“Is Reilly going to up and die on me before I get my money’s worth?” Paragon asked, planting his arms in a pyramid on the desk and resting his chin on the apex.

“No. He’s fit and healthy and could outrun us both in any track event you could name. There’s no diminished lifespan as a result of his alterations,” McGregor said, and sighed. “And THAT is what confused the fuck out of me.”

“How so?” Paragon asked, one eyebrow raised.

“There SHOULD be some sort of side effect. You can’t just amp up the strength, stamina, reflexes and senses of the human body like that and expect the guinea pig to come away unscathed. Except he did.”

“And exactly how amped up is he?” Paragon asked.

McGregor wrinkled his forehead in thought. “Think Captain America.”

“Right.” Paragon nodded.

“I just don’t get it…” McGregor continued with his earlier point. “The technology to do this just doesn’t exist.”

“But he’s going to be okay?” Paragon asked.

“Sure. Fine.”

“That’s all I needed to hear.”

“Actually, no, it isn’t…” McGregor said. Paragon just made a curious sound and stared across the room at McGregor.

“They’ve… um… this is difficult to describe. They’ve done something to his brain.”

“Well, yes… they would have had to. Upgrades to the eye and the central nervous system would necessitate-“

McGregor cut Paragon off. “No, not just that. They’ve taken something away. They…”

McGregor noticed the look on Paragon’s face and cut short his explanation. “You know, don’t you?” He asked. Paragon didn’t respond for a moment.

McGregor cocked his head somewhat disbelievingly. “You know that they destroyed the emotional centres of his brain. He can’t feel anything beyond the level of immediate stimulus.”

A moment of silence passed between the two. The moment stretched out to two, then three. At four point seven moments, Paragon spoke.

“Yes, I know. But I wasn’t sure if you’d pick it up.”

“But why would they do that?”

“Think about it,” Paragon said. “You’re a government agency turning a soldier into the perfect killing machine to carry out covert assassinations for the government. What would you NOT want this soldier to be capable of?”

McGregor dropped his head and looked down at his shoes as he answered. “Remorse.” He raised his head again. “You wouldn’t want your soldier to feel remorse.”

Paragon concluded. “So you’d take away his ability to feel any deep emotion.”

“So he can’t feel love, respect, sorrow…” McGregor said, not looking at Paragon. He was staring over the man’s shoulder, at something invisible outside the window.

“No,” Paragon said, a trace of regret in his voice. “He’ll eat, he’ll drink, he’ll fuck, he’ll fight.”

Another few moments of silence passed between the two. McGregor sighed loudly and leaned back in his chair.

“Oh, man.”

Paragon nodded.

“I don’t get it…” McGregor said.

“Get what?”

“Why you hired him. You’ve gone out of your way to encourage a bond between the others. Sending them off to party together and everything. You want them to respect each other, but Reilly just isn’t capable of it. So why…?”

McGregor trailed off. He wrinkled his forehead in thought again. “Oh, god…” He stood up.

“You wanted him to not become close friends with them!” Paragon tried to interject, but McGregor just kept going. “You wanted a killing machine who would never fall in love with anyone on the team, never have any strong loyalty or friendships on the team… because you wanted someone on your payroll who you knew would be willing and able to take out anyone else on the team if they ever got out of line!”

McGregor stayed standing for a moment, his finger pointed at Paragon. He eventually sat back down again.

“You complete bastard…”

Paragon took the insult as a prompt to keep talking. “This is a dangerous business. Any one of those metas would be a risk to everyone if they ever got out of control. I’m simply running this business as safely and efficiently as possible.” Paragon’s voice remained calm and even throughout.

“Fuck you,” McGregor said as he stood up, then stormed out of the office.

"You guys waiting on us?"

Drake looked up from his spot on the public bench to see Ozzy and Adem casually exiting the festival through the main entrance.

"Yeah..." Drake nodded. "....where's everyone else?"

"Hell if I know..." Ozzy shrugged.

"Think we should we wait on them?" Drake asked.

"Your call, sir." Baxter offered.

"Wot', are we sixthe'?" Icky said, his nose plugged with tissue pieces. "We ned' ta' hald dear' handsth? Fock thisth. Lesth go!"

Drake, Ozzy, and Adem stared at Sidewinder.

"...did anyone catch that...?" Ozzy asked.

"Not me..." Drake shrugged.

"...something about sacrificing a small pigeon to anacronistic gods...." Adem added.

Sidewinder mumbled something that probably should have come out as 'Fuckers!', but sounded more like 'Boxers!', and bolted up from the bench in a quick stride towards the bus stop down the street.

Drake and Ozzy chuckled, Adem merely raising his eyebrows a bit, as they followed him.

"So....what did you two get kicked out for?" Drake asked, Baxter striding directly next to him.

Ozzy glanced at Adem, and back again.

"Um...we just left..." he replied a bit confused.

"You didn't get thrown out?" Drake asked with a frown.

"No..." Adem shook his head.

"You didn't get thrown out?" Drake asked again, looking directly at Baxter.

"Heh...no..." Baxter half-laughed, amused at the man's intensity. "Why, did you?"

Drake looked straight ahead again...

"...I don't want to talk about it..." he sighed.

"Wait, did something happen?" Ozzy asked, his expression turning serious. "Do I need to kick someone's ass?"

"Heh, no, no..." Marshall grinned.

"Okay, 'cause, I mean, no one fucks with Nightwatch on my beat..." Baxter added, dead serious.

Drake just rolled his eyes.

"Oh, Ozzy....I thought we were over that..." he sighed again.

"Over what?"

"This 'hero-worship' thing you have with me...." Marshall replied.

"It's not hero-worship....you are 'The Man'!" Baxter said. "That's just a fact!"

"I promise Ozzy....I promise....my career was greatly, greatly exaggerated..."

"I know that." Baxter replied. "Come on. I mean, I know there was no way you took down the Knightrider Gang down with your bare hands....."

"Exactly...I had help with that one..."

"I know. And, hey, she's cool in my book, too...."

"...she?" Drake paused.

"Yeah....NightGirl..."

"NightGirl?!" Drake exclaimed.

"Yeah...your old female partner..."

"I never HAD a partner, Ozzy!" Drake laughed.

"But, the newspapers said--"

"It was the FBI, Ozzy....it was the Feds that helped me out with that one..." he sighed with exasperation. "...they spun the story for the media because it became a classified job..."

"So, there was no NightGirl?" Baxter asked.

"No..." Drake shook his head.

"Then how do you explain the Gulag-17 incident, huh?" he asked. "She had your back on that one!"

"NO one had my back on that one, Oz." Drake replied. "There was never any partner."

"So, you mean you went against the Gulag-17 by yourself?"

"Yes, it was just me....how on EARTH the media comes up with this stuff....."

Ozzy shook his head, the three men coming to a stop behind Icky. They all waited at the bus stop quietly, a public transport slowly making its way to their position.

"Unbelievable..." Ozzy mumbled with a smile.

"...what?" Adem asked, looking at the man.

"He took down a nuclear-armed rogue super-computer war machine....all by himself...." he said with a noticeable hint of awe, pointing at Drake in front of him.

Drake didn't even turn around, simply rolling his eyes, and letting his head slump to one side with exhaustion...

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

The Complex, thirty minutes later....

Doctor William Paragon stood by Penny's front desk, picking up a file. He scanned the pages checking a few mandatory facts between the manilla folders. He paused, looking up to see the four men walking in....

"Have fun?" he asked.

"Too much..." Drake replied, wearily walking past. "...I've got to call my wife..."

"Hey Doc." Baxter nodded, he and Adem coming to a stop.

"Baxter..." William nodded, looking over at the swelled nose on Sidewinder. "Icarus?"

"...ah dond wond ta' tock abot it...." the pilot replied, slumping into the lobby sofa.

Doc Paragon grinned a bit, looking back over at Ozzy. he paused, noticing Adem standing next to him.

"Adem?" he asked curiously.

"Yes, Doctor?" Different replied.

Paragon paused, staring at the man, he looked behind him, and back again.

"Did you leave again?" he asked.

"...excuse me?" the alien asked, confused.

Paragon stared at him, his brow furrowing.

"Didn't you just come through here about an hour ago?" he asked.

Adem and Ozzy looked at each other, deeply confused, and back to Paragon.

"Umm....no sir." Adem shook his head. "Should I have?"

The doctor placed the file back down on the desk, his face growing a bit concerned.

"Are you saying that you did not come stumbling in through those doors, no more than an hour ago?" he asked again.

"Doc....we've been at the festival all day..." Baxter said. "...he damn near hasn't left my sight..."

Paragon cocked an eyebrow, folding his arms.

"Okay. Then, please tell me who it was that came through those doors, carrying Ms. Goodweather's intoxicated form?"

Baxter and Adem stared at the man, baffled. Suddenly, Icarus shot up from the couch, bolting towards the main hallway....

"FOXE, YOU SONOFABITCH!!!" he yelled, running off to Penny's room....

"Todd?" Todd Briggs turned around to see who had called. Although part of him recognized the voice. An olive-skinned brunette was handing him a drink. "I thought I would buy this time."

Briggs made room for her on the bench. He had changed quite a lot since Lykopis had seen him last. His black hair now had strips of white and gray near the temples, and the skin around his eyes had aged a little. But the eyes themselves were still bright, and his white teeth blazed with smile that made the ladies blush. "You always bought, if I remember correctly."

Lykopis shrugged. "I was wealthy. You were the epitome of the starving musician."

"You always enjoyed patronizing the arts, Lykopis." The pair of them grinned. "I've missed you."

Lykopis. "You are in my thoughts as well. You always have been."

Briggs nodded and grinned, though the smile seemed a little grim. "Look at you, baby. You're just the way you looked when you left England. Same hair, same face, same mouth. Your eyes, I confess, do look a little funny. But you haven't aged a bit, Lykopis."

"I come from good stock."

"Daughters of Zues tend to stick it out pretty long." Lykopis let her jaw drop. "You don't need to be surprised. I've known your little secret for awhile."

Only a few people knew her immortal secret, and most of them were in Vanguard. Lykopis knew she was walking on thin ice. The question was whether or not Briggs was trying to push her into the ice-water or save her. "Secret?"

Briggs looked shyly away for a moment. "Granddad always told stories about the war. Told a lot of stories. He once told me how he was in love with a real Amazon goddess back before the war. That she was some warrior that never aged." Lykopis showed no expression on her face. "He even showed me a picture of this knock-out brunette. I never believed him. I thought it was just a picture of some old girlfriend of his." Briggs paused for a moment. "And then, you know what happened? I met this lady in the picture. I met you."

"You knew? Even back then?" Lykopis was never very good about hiding emotions.

"Part of me was suspicious...but I lied to myself, Lykopis, I lied. The picture was so worn, so faded...there are a hundred women that might look like that woman in the picture. There was no way I had fallen for some Greek immortal."

Lykopis lowered her head in shame. She had never told Todd about her 'gift'. She felt that if he knew, the intimacy of a secret would make it impossible for her to leave him. You are very good at making people feel pain, Lykopis. Sometimes, you do not even need a sword.

"But it always in the back of my mind...and then, there came the news articles. Strikeforce, Vanguard Europe -- oh don't scowl, baby, I know the reporters are arses to you. Anyways, I saw you again in the papers. Stil young, still fighting...and then I realized it was all true."

"Todd...it was not your fault I left. Please understand that. It had nothing to do with your character." Lykopis shrugged. "I have the horrible habit of throwing away every toy I get before I risk breaking it."

Briggs chuckled. "If it makes you feel any better, I know a lot of mortal women that say the same thing."

"Still, I wish I had told you a little more about me."

"Baby, would that have changed things? You still would have left me."

"True enough." Lykopis blushed for a moment. "I have made a lot of stupid choices. Any chance I could make up for past mistakes?"

Briggs laughed. "You're kidding. I thought you always kept your distance. Don't get too close. Don't get too attached."

Now it was Lykopis's turn to laugh out loud. "Please. I seem to be slipping in my rulebook." She turned serious again. "You have no idea what I am going through. With Vanguard...I do fear I am starting to become attached to them. Me! The cold-stoned fighter. Athena's brow, I am even liking Icarus more and more! So why should I not slip in other things? I will worry about the consequences later. I want to get emotional. Show some spirit. Right now I just want to mess things up."

Briggs leaned forward, grabbed Lykopis by the back of the head and kissed her on the lips. Suddenly Lykopis remembered something she had forced herself to forget a long time ago. Briggs pulled back and grinned. "Baby, I would love to make some mistakes with you."

Tommy Foxe sat outside Penny Goodweather's temporary quarters in Vanguard Europe headquarters. In all honesty, he'd much rather be inside the room, but something about it really didn't mesh well with him. No sooner had he taken Penny into the elevator, then the girl passed out cold, snoring loudly as they ascended.

What else could he do? Tommy really had no option, but to find Penny's suite and put her to bed. To go much further would be... well, criminal. Also, he was uncertain if an office romance would be the type of thing that his co-workers would look too kindly on.

Hell, if he wanted to get specific, they weren't even his co-workers yet... just people he'd met at the festival earlier today. Still, if he wanted to get a job here, he'd have to make a good first impression... and shagging the secretary before the job interview was not the right way to make a good impression.

It had taken Tommy about forty-five minutes to reason through the above three paragraphs, finally deciding to just let Penny sleep off her hangover by herself. Besides, if he got hired on as a field agent, there would be plenty of other opportunities to get into Goodweather's knickers. Of that, he was quite certain.

The idea brought a smile to Tommy's face as he stuck his hands in his pockets and began walking back towards the elevators...

...only to see the doors slide open to reveal an irate Icarus Sidewinder standing on the other side.

"Icarus," Tommy greeted, nodding to the pilot as he stepped onto the elevator.

"Oh, 'Icarus' yourself!" Icarus retorted, his speech slurred by a combination of his broken, bleeding nose (still stuffed with tissues), the amount of alcohol he'd drank throughout the day, and the painkillers he'd taken to ease the throbbing sensation of his nose.

Tommy raised an eyebrow, smirking a bit. "Beg pardon?" he asked.

"Wheresagirl?" he stammered, leaning up against the elevator.

"Who?" Tommy answered. "Penny?"

Icarus nodded, trying his absolute best to look threatening while weaving a bit as he stood.

"In her apartment," he said. "Asleep." Icarus began to look a bit nauseous as Tommy spoke. The shapeshifter tilted his head to the side. "Uh... are you alright, man?"

"Never better," Icarus said. He raised his finger to emphasize his point... only to have his eyes roll up into his head and his body to suddenly go limp, pitching itself forward into Tommy's arms.

"Aw, geez..." the newbie groaned. "Not another one..."

Lifting Icarus into his arms, Tommy grunted a bit... before realizing that if he shifted his arms to take on a bit more muscle mass, he'd be better able to haul his 'cargo' to the appropriate destination.

"Let's see..." Tommy said, walking down the hallway. "Where should we put him?"

Not really wanting to bother with it too much, especially due to the fact that it was Icarus who had passed out and not, say, a woman, Tommy merely walked as far as Penny's door and propped the passed-out pilot across the hall.

Then, brushing his arms off, he walked towards the elevators again, taking a quick glance back at Icarus to ensure that the pilot would be able to stay propped up until morning. He'll be fine, Tommy thought, pushing the down button on the elevator. As the doors opened, Tommy began preparing himself for meeting the head of Vanguard Europe, Dr. Paragon, and how exactly he'd go about asking for a job...

For the next half hour, Icarus slept in the hallway, snoring loudly... only to be interrupted by a gradual patting sensation.

Penny Goodweather, still not fully recooperated from her day o' fun, stood before him, absent-mindedly patting the pilot on the head.

Icarus opened his eyes halfway, too out of it to realize what was going on. "Whassahumma?"

"Adem, come back to bed," Penny said, before laughing uncontrollably for no reason. Losing her balance, she fell to the ground... or rather, atop of Icarus. The pilot grunted as she landed, causing the Vanguard secretary to laugh even harder.

Icarus grunted again. "Too loud..." he mumbled, waving his hand absently. "Too lou--"

I'm sure he would've kept on talking, but Penny's lips were planted firmly against his and her tongue was begging his to square dance a bit. And, going on his impulses, Icarus had no other option than to kiss back.

Bracing one another, the two stood to their feet, Penny kissing Icarus' face and neck as they staggered toward Penny's suite.

"Take me, Adem," she managed through kisses.

"Awright awright..." Icarus said, crossing the threshhold of the room. "Gimme a seconn..."

And, with that, the door closed, returning the hallway to its usual solitude.

Penny Goodweather woke up with the worse headache she had in years. Good God, did I get drunk yesterday? That hasn't happened since George invited me to that frat party at Oxford. The light hurt her eyes, so she kept them shut. It was clear she wasn't in her Munich apartment. Someone must have dragged her to the headquarters flat after Ocktoberfest.

"Mhh-hhhhm." Penny tried to move her torso. A wave of nausea hit her. "Bugger. I can't move that way." She switched from her left side to her right and curled into a fetal position. "That's more comfy." Now I just have to wait out this headache before moving again...

Penny's hand reached out and she felt some fur. "Oscar? What are you doing here, silly kitty? Did someone bring you from the flat to cheer me up? Silly kitty, silly kitty..."

"I am not your damn pussy."

Oh feck! Penny opened her eyes. Icarus Sidewinder, of all people, was lying across the bed, buck naked and looking like he had lost a fight with a boxer. Penny's hand was massaging his hair.

*** *** ***

"Something wrong, Jym?"

"Something weird is happening. All the computers within a twelve-mile radius have all crashed. That's the weirdest computer hiccup I've ever seen..."

*** *** ***

Penny shut her eyes again. "Oh bugger...this is not happening..."

"Tell me about it. You know, earlier, I thought you were just a big prude. Whoa, was I wrong. Dang girl, you must have been quite the little Alpha Sigma Sigma, am I right?"

Penny sat upright. The nausea was gone. "Oh feck...what are you doing here? Wait don't answer that..." Penny's photographic memory came back into focus. "Oh bugger..."

"You can say 'fuck', Penny. Everyone else does." Penny threw sheets over Icarus's form. "Hey! Cut it out."

Penny stood up. "I'm not doing anything." She made a 'cut-off' sign with her hands. "This never happened. You were never here. We never did anything. Tomorrow, when there's another meeting, this thing still did not happen." Penny's eyes were practically ice. "You will tell no one, you will never speak to me about it ever again. Keep in mind, Mr. Sidewinder, I don't want you to get the idea that I'm this little office callgirl for your every need. I'm professional. I'm no-nonsense. So you can just take your little secretarial fantasies and stick them up your...cockpit."

Icarus only grinned. "But you have to admit, it was pretty good, wasn't -- OUCH! OW! JEEZ! Stop hitting me! OW! Shit, I didn't mean -- LET GO! ARGH!"

Tommy Foxe lay passed out on the couch in the reception area of Vanguard Europe's office. He had pulled his brown leather jacket over his head to keep the light out of his eyes.

"Mr. Foxe."

"Mmnwhhuhgngh."

"Mr. Foxe." The voice came again, a little louder and sterner.

"Huhwhuzzah. . .?" Tommy moved his arms around and pulled his jacket down. His face was pale and his eyes were bloodshot and slightly out of focus. He looked up at Penny Goodweather. He couldn't make out her face. He tried to focus his eyes and failed miserably.

"Mr. Foxe, this is not a hotel. If you wish to stay here, you'll have to pass your job interview with Doctor Paragon, which starts about. . ." The secretary, somewhat pale looking and nauseous herself, for more reasons than one looked at her watch. "Twenty minutes ago."

Tommy bolted upright. "Shite!"

After a few moments, Foxe worked up the nerve to walk into Paragon's office. Paragon was sitting behind his desk reading a monitor display. Or rather, several monitor displays. As Tommy entered, he looked up. "Mr. Foxe. Glad you could join us this morning." His stoic expression did not change. "Have a seat."

Tommy sat down and waited for Paragon to speak. Tommy looked at the ground, the walls, the large, bay window and the view of Munich it provided. Everything but Paragon. Paragon said nothing. Finally, Tommy managed to mutter, "So, uh, how did I do?"

"Well," Paragon began, looking rather thoughtful. "You attempted to disrupt a long in the making peace treaty that Edmund was overseeing, you let the field leader of the team know that you had personal information about the group, you were an active participant in indulging Mr. Baxter in his gambling addiction, and you cheered on my secretary in an improvisational, drunken strip tease."

Shite, I've blown it. Tommy thought to himself. Shiteshiteshiteshiteshite.

"On the other hand, you kept Ozzy and Adem out of severe trouble with local criminals, steered Penny home safely, and seem to have made genuine friends with them and Drake. Lykopis and Gaunt didn't kill you, which is always a plus."

Tommy looked up at Paragon for the first time. "And Icarus?" he asked.

Paragon paused for a moment before finally breaking out into that warm smile of his. "Icarus hates your guts. I think I can safely say that you've passed your initiation, Tommy. Welcome to the team."

"Later that day" or whatever.

Lykopis was the last to enter the meeting room and take her seat at the table. She quickly scanned the scene and found Gaunt and Adem sitting to her left, while Icarus, Ozzy and new recruit Tommy Foxe were sitting to her right. At the head of the table stood Doctor William Paragon. She noticed a man behind him leaning against the wall, his arms crossed in front of his chest.

She didn't recognise this man. He was tall, a few inches over six feet. He had short, dark hair, that was ever so slightly receding. Brown eyes sat in a face that seemed only half interested, and the scruffy growth around his jaw suggested a man who only occasionally mustered the willpower to shave. His frame was muscular without being huge, and he wore a grey t-shirt over green cargo pants and army boots.

She wasn't sure why, but Lykopis took an instant dislike to the man. As she looked across the room at him, his eyes met hers. Their gaze was locked for a second, before his eyes shifted downward.

"Now that we're all here, I can begin," Paragon said. "Most of you have probably guessed why I've called you all here. I've recently acquired a new member for the Vanguard Europe field team. Meet Victor Reilly."

Victor nodded and raised one hand in a half-hearted wave as the team gathered around the table nodded and murmured their greetings.

Paragon turned to his second newest recruit and said, "Victor. This is Tommy Foxe, Ozzy Baxter, Icarus Sidewinder, Lykopis, Adem Different, and Edmond Gaunt."

Lykopis noticed that Reilly's eyes lingered on her for most of the introductions, his gaze only shifting momentarily to the other team members. The only other member he paid any significant attention to was Ozzy. Lykopis noticed Reilly cock his head and look curiously at the indestructible boxer, and it was only when Ozzy noticed the attention and glared right back at Reilly that the new recruit's attention shifted back to Lykopis.

Paragon continued. "Victor comes to us via the research arm of the British government. He possesses enhanced strength, reflexes and stamina, as well as enhanced senses. These abilities, coupled with his military training, make him an incredibly useful ally to have with us-"

Paragon was interrupted by a raised hand from the group.

"Yes, Adem?"

"When you say 'enhanced senses', could you be more specific?" Adem asked.

Lykopis looked to Adem as he asked his question, then looked back up at Victor Reilly. His eyes once again met hers, then shifted downwards to be looking at her torso.

"Of course," Paragon replied, nodding to Adem. "Victor's sight and hearing have been adjusted to levels far higher than the average human, and his eyes also possess infra-red and X-ray capability."

"X-Ray? Cool," Icarus commented.

"As in...the ability to see through solid objects?" Lykopis asked.

"Well... yes," Paragon answered.

"Bastard!" Lykopis yelled, getting up from her chair and storming across the room, removing a dagger from her belt as she did so. She pushed Paragon aside and pressed Victor up against the wall with her forearm.

"If I ever catch you looking at me like that again..." Lykopis hissed. "You can say goodbye to these." She held her dagger against his crotch. She held the position for a moment, then stormed out of the room. Icarus waited until she had exited to let loose the laughter he'd been stifling.

"That went well," Victor said to Paragon, who just sighed in reply.

"And I believe you've met Penny," Paragon said, gesturing towards the doorway where Penny Goodweather had just appeared. Icarus noticed her enter. He pulled the chair next to him, the one Lykopis had just vacated, out from under the table, and patted it with his hand, looking invitingly up at Penny. She stayed standing.

"Hey," Victor said, nodding to her and waving.

Drake suddenly ran into the room behind Penny, doing up his trousers as he ran.

"Sorry everyone... I was on the john..." He said.

Epilogue

As the organizers of Oktoberfest began to tear down their respective tents, packing up whatever beer was not guzzled down and putting away their equipment, the area seemed oddly reminiscent of a forest slowly transforming into a barren wasteland. Vagrants and street urchins trolled the area like tumbleweeds, ambling aimlessly, trolling for some handout or a meager draught of their drug of choice... finding nothing. Other vagrants simply stayed where they were, as though they were animals being sent away from their homes, not knowing of any other place to go.

Friederike Goethe - 'Rike' to her friends - would look like such to the casual observer. Drunk, she lay in the shade of one of the few still standing tents, her eyes finally opening after a night filled with drunkenness. A college student at Bonn University in Bonn, Germany, Rike had taken a road trip down to Munich specifically for Oktoberfest with a group of his friends. However, after running off towards the end of the festival, Rike's friends left without her - leaving her to bunk there, using only a tent and the shadows to keep her out of sight.

Her head pounding from the inevitable hangover, Rike sat up slowly, her hand on her temples. Shaking her head a bit, she opened her eyes again, squinting from the sunlight. Rubbing the 'sand' from her eyes, she began to stand, bracing herself against a tent pole.

She suddenly saw something out of the corner of her eye - a short young man, not much younger than her, dressed in black. He carried a long pole in his hands, which he held beside himself like an ancient soldier might have carried a spear.

Now, maybe it was the hangover. Maybe it was the fact that he was the first person she'd seen that day. Or... maybe it was the fact that she hadn't had sex since high school. Something inside of her found him... absolutely ravishing.

Walking towards the young man, she reached her shaky hand toward his face, caressing it softly. Slowly, she pressed her lips to his, kissing him deeply. Opening her eyes as she kissed him, Rike noticed something odd - his eyes had no pupils... or irises... or whites. She stared into the inky blackness of his stare... and frantically tried to pull away.

Only, she could not. The young man's mouth was open and, as much as she tried to fight it, Rike could not stop kissing this young man. Immediately, her mind raced. Her life flashed before her eyes as she regretted having walked over to the young man at the fair.

And, as her life wound down, the last thing she saw was the harsh, unfeeling Void dominating her vision... and claiming her soul...