Are We Heroes? Ch2: The Dawn of War[IC, Superhuman]

[Cruxa]

Chance
New York City

The lights were out, and Chance was pretty well hidden. Having seen Overkill following him, he'd taken a shortcut and had ample time to prepare. Pacing around his apartment repeatedly, he'd tried to throw off however the guy was tracking him, then climbed onto a sturdy shelf in his closet that was above head-level. It had been a really tight squeeze getting up here, but he'd managed to do it. His suit was splayed on the bed in a rather realistic sleeping position. Maybe it was a bit close to his hiding spot, but...

"Delivery!"

No time now. He stayed silent and absolutely still. He needed this guy to get close. He needed to read his mind, but gently enough that he wouldn't notice...

He began to breathe deeply.

[Kenmoria]

Charles Smithson
Chicago

"Please could you take me to the Chicago midway airport." Charles asked in a polite tone. Now he had experienced the horrors of CADMUS imprisonment he had no desire to be found again. The taxi driver turned round, a quizzical expression upon his rather large face. After a few moments of uncomfortable silence, he spoke, "Are you sure? You know what's happened, don't you?" This was even more puzzling than before. Evidently something had happened to the airport that had been broadcast all over the news. If he said that he was not aware of the conundrum facing the building, he may be suspected. However, if he replied that he knew of the situation, this might lead to him being out of his depth with the conversation. Fortunately, the driver, a middle aged person with the look of being slightly disinterested with the world, filled in the blanks. "Ever since the Chicago incident, the one with those muties, most airports have shut. I don't know if they'll ever be in use again." That offered a clear explanation for the peculiarity facing Charles, something had happened whilst he was imprisoned, effectively grounding him in Chicago. This could pose some difficulty.

Still, Charles at least knew why the airport was shut down and there was a lesser chance of him being caught. "Ah yes, that thing. Those damn terrorists ought 'o be locked up." He stiffened at his own words but the driver seemed to take it. He asked again where Charles wished to be taken and, despite the exorbitant fees, he answered with the border between Chicago and the rest of Illinois. Naturally, taxis all around the city charged at least triple to make up for the huge queues and inordinate levels of annoyed traffic but on the way out of the CADMUS facility he had found a stash of notes on the ground that more than covered this. They were proabably dropped by some unfortunate mutant and left there by the guards. In a way, Charles felt guilty to be using money that rightly belonged to another person. One who, if they by some miracle had managed to avoid the realm of the deceased, would need them far more than him. That said, one should always prioritise the living over the dead, he always wrote that in his papers subtly supporting the mutant cause, back in his writing days. Which reminded him, when he finally got to Nebraska and found the safe house, he would write another book which would pursue whichever small shred of fighting the bill remained.

After many imaginings of the various words he would use when writing this book, Charles drifted off into sleep. Unlike his previous encounters with the dream world, this one was devoid of any colour or sound, and did not have two-dimesional planets floating in incomprehensible leaps. As a direct result of this, he was not forced to sit through hours of waiting or take a blood test when he drove out of the city. Finally, he had escaped the depths of madness.

[The Cyberiad Council]

CADMUS field office: Chicago Branch

The panicked CADMUS agent fired off the pistol rounds in rapid succession at Prophet's form until the clip was empty and the gun only made a mocking clicking noise. In a last act of anger, or desperation, the agent chucked the pistol at Prophet's head only to have it harmlessly glance off. Prophet launched a rocket punch and clocked the man right in the nose. Dropping like a stone, the last agent in the group went down with a dull thump. "Where to now, Cypher?"

"There is an elevator straight down the hall that leads to the containment area." Cyphers tone sounded terse, and more than a little agitated.

"What's gotten into you? I'm plowing through these agents."

"No, you're playing with them. I would feel better if you just put the poor bastards out of their misery; you're letting your guard down."

"No, I'm not..."

"Behind you!" A squadron of heavy riot shield wielding agents rounded the corner and took aim at Prophet.

"Relax, bullets don't do much to me."

"Don't be too sure..." Cypher's mind was on high alert. This was different. Cypher slowed time in his mind and analyzed the oncoming wall of soldiers, raising his pistols all the while. The echoes coming off the shields didn't sound normal if it was made of the usual materials. He analyzed the distortion in the reflected sound waves, and it seemed consistent with... Oh no, he thought to himself. The Sheilds seemed to be made of a ceramic material or at least had a ceramic layer. Prophet's void armor and energy blasts drew on BEC (an unusual state of matter) from the void, and BEC and void energy are disrupted by ceramics. By now, Cypher had his guns raised, and not a moment too soon. Cypher watched as the first agent pulled the trigger on his gun and a bullet slowly exited the barrel. Cypher's fears were confirmed; the bullets had ceramic tips, designed to punch right through the void armor. Doing the math with impossible speed, Cypher fired one of his guns, causing the bullets to meet and fragment mid-air. He kept firing off rounds to match the onslaught, at the same time, shouting at Prophet to move. The managed to dive around a corner, giving them a temporary respite.

Cypher reloaded his empty clips as they could hear the enemy doing the same. "What's wrong, Cypher?"

"Those shields and bullets are made with ceramic materials: they were ready for you." Nate's face grew pale under beneath the swirling mass of energy. Suddenly, a mass of red and black vapors of energy erupted out of thin air to reveal Shard. "You better believe we were ready for you," He snarled viciously before he and Nate disappeared in a swirl of energy. It happened before Cypher could rattle a shot off, but he didn't get any time to formulate a plan; The armored squadron rounded the corner, and shard took off running.

---

Overkill
New York

Overkill waited for about thirty seconds before he got bored. "Well, I knocked..." He gave the door a kick dead center, sending it splintering off its hinges into the penthouse, "... and nobody was polite enough to let me in."

He stepped inside and dropped the pizza on the floor. "Anyone home?" He had tracked the suit to the building but wasn't sure if its occupant was present. He took another deep sniff and exhaled pleasantly. "Oh, it's here alright." He concentrated and strained, and the metal shards growing out of his arm liquified, flowing down his scars before taking the shape of an oversized revolver in his hand. The gun was jet black with red energy pulsing through the intricate metal work that ordained the entire gun. He kept the gun high as he slowly crept through the apartment, moving as if he had military training. Eventually, his sweep took him to the bedroom. He kicked down another door, and moved into the room. Not seeing his target, he lowered the gun as he noticed the suit on the bed. He moved closer to take a better look. Overkill could have sworn he heard a buzzing, but he brushed it off...

[Talchyon]

Nearing Chadron
Richard Weinkauf (aka "The Artisan")

Vanguard Extraction Team
Nearing Chadron

Arsenal and Quill had alternated driving throughout the night so they could reach Nebraska as soon as possible. It was Arsenal behind the wheel now, as the eastern edge of the sky just started to brighten up as dawn approached. Arsenal glanced in the rearview and saw all the passengers peacefully asleep. He reached over and hit Quill, jarring him awake as he extended some spines defensively. "Calm down scaredy cat, it's just me."

Quill sighed and rubbed his eyes. "You're a real jerk sometimes, you know that tin man?" Arsenal chuckled for a bit for coming back to the reason he woke Quill up in the first place, "We're getting close to the camp, you think we oughta wake them up before we get too close?

"Yeah, probably." Quill turned around and placed his fingers in his mouth, giving a shrill whistle that woke up the vehicles groggy occupants. The teenagers gave Quill a death stare, to which he replied, "Rise and shine sleeping beauties we're getting close to home! Alright so. Have any of you ever wondered how CADMUS has never been able to find us with telepaths? Well, Two of our founders, Homer and Ebisu, are telepaths. They managed to keep up some kind of psychic field around our camp to prevent any kind of mental incursion. But, it has some adverse side effects if someone who they don't know tries to absent-mindedly stroll in. Symptoms include dizziness, nausea, migraines, and occasionally mild amnesia, so What I need for you to do is think about buttercups."

It had not been the best of nights. His muscles ached from sitting all night. His joints were stiff and hard to get moving due to some of the arthritis in his knees. And his bladder was full. Yes, it was a bucket seat he was in, and as far as car seating goes, it wasn't horrible. Still, sleeping in a moving car all night doesn't help aging bodies. Richard hadn't been able to sleep much. On and off, and then a little more was about how it went all through the night.

His conversation with Theo the night before (or was it way too early this morning?) had connected them. Both had a similarity with the other. Attempted kidnappings on the same day, even. But before they had been able to talk about too much more, Theo had drifted off to sleep. Then Richard fought the losing battle with trying to recharge. He didn't normally feel this way in the morning. Normally he got up at 5:30, did his morning exercises, followed by a nice shower, getting dressed and then buttered toast and coffee for breakfast. Crammed in a van and trying to sleep meant his morning routine had just been reset.

The early morning sun shone on the scraggly plains of eastern Wyoming. Stifling a yawn and rubbing his weary eyes, Richard was entranced by the different color combinations of the Wyoming wilderness. He had never been out here before. In his mind, he saw this as a place of possibilities for capturing realism with layers of textures. Maybe one day he'd be free and be able to come out to a place like this, just to do some landscapes.

Quill got everyone up and going with loud words. They were close. Close to what might be considered Vanguard's home. But as Quill began to describe the side effects of this psychic field that surrounded the Vanguard's camp, Richard helplessly wondered which of these (or rather, which combination of these) would affect him. None of it sounded good. "Buttercups." Richard's first word of the morning was merely a repetition of Quill's last word, as if he had to speak it to rev up his tired mind to grasp it.

Buttercups? That was the way to get in? Whatever. Richard remembered he had something that might help. Just a print in his journal, but enough to focus the mind. He undid the leather satchel straps that were off to the side. And pulling out his journal, Richard opened it, looking until he found what he was looking for. Hicks' painting with the innocent young peasant girl in the red hat holding a bouquet of buttercups. It would do.

George Elgar Hicks. Buttercups

And as Richard began to look at this print and think of the buttercups the child was holding, the van came up the two-lane road with a small sign that read, "Nebraska... The Good Life." Chadron wouldn't be far at all.

[Cruxa]

Chance
New York

Mental pain can be endured quietly. As he took his reading from the top levels of Overkill's mind, his brain was seared with fire and pain, a sign of the demons residing in Overkill's body. He could keep his silence, though. Withdrawing from Overkill's mind, he returned to hiding. In his silent vigil, he began to realize: If he died, there would be no one to miss him. He'd be lost in time, cared about by no one.

He'd survive this. He had to.

But first, he had to stay quiet.

[The Cyberiad Council]

Overkill
New York

The buzzing suddenly subsided and all humor drained from Overkill's face. He looked around the room one more time. "Looks like no one's home, But I know how to draw out a pest." He walked out of the room, stepping over the splintered remains of the doors and out into the hallway. In the elevator, he tore off the fake uniform, revealing body armor underneath. He snapped his fingers, and a tear opened in the center of the elevator. He stepped through, and he was in the Nether realm. The world changed to a twisted and hellish red reflection. The walls and floor rippled and shifted like waves, lights were dim and flickering. There were no "people" to be found, just shimmers of light that marked their position in the real world. The lights were the person's soul shining through; better people had brighter souls, jerks had dimmer ones. The doors of the elevator opened to the lobby, and Overkill walked out through the glass doors. A pedestrian jumped as the door suddenly swung open seemingly on its own. No one could see or interact with anything that existed solely in the Nether Realm, but everything in the real world had its mirror image in the "other place".

Everybody had their own names for it; The Nether Realm, The Underworld, Valhalla, The Flipside, The Inferno, The Infernal Regions, The Abyss, Eternal Damnation, Perdition, Fire and Brimstone, Hades, Sheol, Acheron, Gehenna, Tophet, Hell, etc etc. Whatever people choose to call it, it was the same place. The Underworld was a place of demons; the world-in-between-worlds they used as a highway to move about undetected. Most people were freaked out by his appearance, so it was nice to slip around in the shadows.

Overkill made his way down the street a few blocks before creating the tear that brought him back into the real world. He stepped next to a bank and looked around for a moment before manifesting an assault rifle. He grinned and strolled into the bank. "Everybody, Down On The Ground. This is NOT a robbery!" He gave a throaty laugh as he blew away the guards that drew on him. He continued laughing as he placed his left palm on the ground. A strange emblem burned itself into the marble with the same red glow that radiated from Overkill's scars. All the door locks clicked as the magic locked every entrance or exit to the bank.

"Alright star-boy. come get me."

[Kenmoria]

Luxon
Illinois

The normal hustle and bustle of everyday life working for CADMUS has subdided. Though there was still the hum of computers and a multitude of fingers hitting keys, not a single voice was heard. A prisoner by the name of Charles Smithson had escaped and given the recent events, the organisation felt a need to increase their security. All the airports within Chicago were shut down and they began carrying out blood tests on the whole staff on a regular basis. Times were dangerous and Luxon feared he would not survive. He was praying with all his heart they would not chose him though he was not religious. Then, the dreaded thing happened.

"Lucas Elauon," droned a guard, "Present your arm for a blood test, immediately," this was the sound Luxon had been dreading for the past ten years of his life. At first he protested, said this was interrupting his work flow. In response, the guard slapped him around the head and pinned him down. Luxon felt the guard grab a machine and stuck a needle into his arm. Thinking quickly, he used his light bending powers to make the monitor display a different result. He had not of course anticipated an alarm running through the building. Luxon realised this meant there was no chance he could escape without killing someone. It was a moral rule he was willing to break.

Luxon sent a bright flash of light echoing around the room, blinding anyone in the nearby vicinity for the next two minutes. He ran down a corridor filled with security cameras and turned into a nearby supply cupboard. Working at CADMUS for so long, he knew all of the possible exits. In the brown room there was a small windows which could be smashed easily with the supplies inside. To cover his trail, he cast an illusion which made the wall extend all the way up with no breaks. It was possible to spot the mirage if the guards knew what they were looking for and considering CADMUS enhanced his powers they probably did. That reminded him of a fact that made his blood run cold, if they gace him his powers, they could take them away. With a jolt of electricity the mutation-controlling device on his chest dropped off. The illusion was broken and the guards circled around him. Luxon put his hands up but it was no use. He was dead in three minutes.

[Cruxa]

Chance
New York

He'd been fast, and he knew it was Overkill. He'd heard the mental screaming. Following the noise of the shoot-up, he came to the bank. He'd have to get out of New York after this disaster, he thought as he crouched on a flagpole above the scene. He loaded his guns- he'd be needing them to fight a demon. Cocking the weapons, he dove off the flagpole a story to the ground and rolled, coming up outside the bank. Mentally projecting his voice, he screamed, "I'M HERE. WHAT DO YOU WANT?" even though he knew.

The demon reloaded his assault rifle and turned around to face Chance. "You. Dead. NOW." With a wicked smile, he opened fire on Chance, who ducked and rolled to the side. Coming up in a particularly shadowy portion of the bank, which he'd entered through a newly shattered window, he quietly moved about, creeping behind Overkill. The demon, confused, executed a slow turn around the bank. "The hell?" he said, looking for the telepath.

Once he'd turned three hundred and sixty degrees, Chance flew at him and delivered a hard punch to the base of Overkill's skull, snapping his head backwards. While he stumbled forward from the blow, Chance fired twenty shots into his torso, hoping the inaccurate SMGs could hit an internal organ. The demon fell forward and stayed there for a while, unmoving.

THen he stood up. "You know, for an amateur, you are pretty good," said Overkill, grimacing from the pain. "But I think you'll find killing me is harder than killing some mobster in the dark and out of sight." Ignoring the barb, Chance took a swing at Overkill's jaw, but missed. Overkill seized the opening to strike him with the butt of his gun right in the solar plexus, knocking him back but not really injuring him due to his armor.

"Fire at will!!" he screamed as he poured Hellfire Rounds into Chance, a few of which tore through his armor and into his shoulder. Grimacing from the pain, Chance jumped through the air, drop-kicking Overkill in the face. The move brought both men down, but only one had a black eye and broken cheekbone. Chance stood and kicked Overkill hard in the stomach as he got up, but that didn't stop the demon from recovering and grabbing Chance by the throat.

"Any last words, little boy?" said Overkill as he drew a revolver from seemingly nowhere and put it under Chance's chin.

"YES," he said with all the force of his mind. And so, he unleashed his attack. Plunging deep into the burning recesses of Overkill's mind, he began to wreak as much havoc as he could, pulling on every single neuron in the man's brain. This sent Overkill reeling back across the room. Chance continued his assault, now projecting images of crosses and churches. The demons in Overkill's brains were being burned by religion, and Chance's only private thought is that he needed to disengage.

[The Cyberiad Council]

Overkill Vs Chance
New York

Overkill stumbled for a few moments more while Chance struggled to his feet, his shoulder bleeding profusely. Overkill stopped moving, his hands still clasped to his head, but then a deep rumbling laugh echoed off the walls of the bank. Chance looked on, slightly daunted by the laughing demon. Overkill still laughed, mocking and maliciously as he summoned a new revolver and lined up the gun with the wounded Chance.

"Oh, Kid." He shook his head, still chuckling. "Nice try. You actually got me there for a minute, but..." Overkill winced in mock sympathy, "Pictures don't pack the punch of the actual place." He pulled back the hammer and cracked an evil smile. "Time to go into the light, Pest!" He squeezed the trigger and the bullet flew, striking Chance through the heart. He fell to the ground seemingly lifeless. Overkill cockily walked over to the body, dispersing the gun as he went. He stood over Chance's body, but his face quickly broke into a scowl. "How the Hell aren't you dead?" He bent down for a closer look, and sure enough, Chance was still breathing. A dawning look of horror grew on Overkill's countenance as he started to realize what was happening.

His train of thought was interrupted by a curved blade suddenly protruding from his chest. The wielder of the blade threw the impaled Demon, dislodging the blade as Overkill landed with a skidding thump a few dozen feet away. Overkill touched his hand to the large wound through his midsection, he drew his hand back to find it soaked in the blood of his host. He looked up at the mystery assailant. A man stood wearing combat armor and boots with a long cloak that was tattered to shreds trailing behind him as he stalked towards Overkill. Every inch of skin was covered by combat gear, even his hands that were clothed by heavy gauntlets. The man's hooded face was obscured by a skull mask that gave the sneaking suspicion that was made from real bones. The revealing badge of the attacker's office rested in his right hand. A large scythe with a black metal handle ended in a silver blade that drew to a menacing point.

Overkill broke the silence, choking on blood as he spoke, "Really? I heard the rumors, but there's a new Reaper? " Overkill struggled to his feet and drew a revolver. He fired round after round through he progressing man's heart, but the man didn't even flinch. When he was a few feet away he finally spoke, "You can't kill death idiot..." The man held his free hand towards Overkill's gun, and it melted into a puddle of slag at the demon's feet. "...Or has it been so long you've forgotten?"

"Piss off gloomy, I've got a contract on that kid's head. I thought you guys were only supposed to reclaim souls that wriggled their way out of the pit, not save the life of vermin. What are you doing here?"

"I have my reasons, this man's life is to be spared."

"Well I have bad news, he's banged up pretty bad. You might not let him die, but he's going to be a vegetable the rest of his life; last I checked you little rays of sunshine can't do the whole healing thing."

"No, but you will."

Overkill laughed, but it was noticeably strained and nervous. "What makes you think I can do something like that."

"Damage done by Hellfire rounds can be undone, and you are going to do it."

"Oh? And who's going to make me?"

Any shred of humor remaining in Overkill's face was replaced with pain and terror as his eyes burst into flames. He screamed and writhed in agony, clawing at his eyes, but he couldn't extinguish the flames.

The Reaper leaned close and whispered into Overkill's ear, "I am. Because I can make you feel all the pain you've ever caused all at once, and I can keep it up for as long as I want." The Reaper's eyes were glowing bright yellow as he stared at the groveling Demon. "Do It!"

"Alright I'll do It, Just Stop!" The flames stopped and Overkill gasped for breath. He gave the hooded man a death stare and his eyes flared in intensity for a moment.

Chance regained consciousness as all the wounds inflicted by the demon suddenly vanished. "Thanks, now sleep." The Reaper touched overkill and he collapsed, lifeless. He walked over to Chance and offered him a hand. "Nice to meet you, call me Grimm."

---

Cypher, Shard, and Prophet
CADMUS' Chicago Branch

Cypher ran full sprint down the hallway, dodging the pot shots the riot brigade was launching at him. He pulled one of the disks off of his belt, activated the trigger mechanism in the center and rotated around his right foot, sliding the disk on the ground, under the shields of the men. Cypher continued his rotation and resumed his sprint as the disk detonated, either killing or incapacitating the men in the squad. He randomized his route, slowly circling back to the elevator which lead to the containment level.

Prophet wasn't having quite the same luck. From the hallway, Shard teleported them to an empty section of the base. He gave Prophet a mental shove and the energy clad man flew through the room before levitating and righting himself. He fired a void blast at Shards head, but the suited man simply teleported a few feet to the side. "You know something, Prophet? You and Subject one have been the biggest pain in my ass."

"Sorry, We don't play nice with evil organizations." Prophet fired another void blast which Shart simply sidestepped again.

"Ooh, Got me there." Shard held up his hands. "It's not that simple, Mr. Peterson." Shard smiled and shrugged. "I'll take your stunned silence as a sign we're right." Prophet suddenly lunged forward with superhuman speed and threw a punch at Shard's face, but connected with nothing but air.

"Where are you, you teleporting son of a bitch!?" Prophet whirled around looking for Shard when he suddenly ducked as a ceramic blade flew over his shoulder.

Shard scoffed as Nate whirled to face him. "Those little precognitive abilities are going to make you really annoying to kill."

"That's it you suited bastard, I'm through playing games."

Nate focused and a breach opened near the floor. "I'm supposed to be impressed with tha..." Shard's speech was cut off as a ghostly tendril emerged from the breach and slammed into him. As Shard lay sprawled on the ground, a strange creature emerged from the breach. It appeared to be some strange hybrid of a bear and a lion, with two tendrils emerging from the corners of its mouth. Shard stood up and tried to use his telekinesis on the void beast, but it had little effect on the scarcely incorporeal monster. Shard started to look panicked for a moment as he teleported to dodge another swipe of the monster's tendril, but the monster moved with phantom-like speed, cutting Shard off and slamming him against the wall.

"Have fun playing with the void beast, I'm needed elsewhere." Shard scowled as he saw Prophet vanish into a breach. He was about to follow when he was slammed by another attack from the beast.

[New Cobastheia]

Theo Ashbrooks-Benn
Nebraska, Nearing Charon

---

Theodore had never been to Nebraska before, he never really felt an urge to go here, he didn't think that farmlands were the most beautiful thing, he preferred to look at the good parts of cities and mountains.

"Maybe that why they've been able to stay relatively hidden, no one would notice a group of mutants just hidden off in fly-over country." Theo thought to himself. He wondered what the hidden encampment would be like, what kind of people would be there, what their powers were, what the leadership structure was, what his and his partner's roles would be in this new society they were entering. All of these questions flooded his head as they got closer and closer to the town.

[The Cyberiad Council]

Vanguard Extraction Team
Nearing Chadron

After Quill's less-than-gentle wake-up call and explanation of the psychic barrier, Paladin noticed Richard's quizzical expression. "Think of 'Buttercups' as a codeword that marks you as a friendly since you haven't met Homer and Ebisu yet. Quill, who was it that came up with Buttercups again?"

Quill turned around from the passenger seat, "Uh, I think it was that little girl that interjected into one of our meetings. She suggested it, and it stuck."

Arsenal interrupted from the driver's seat. "I hate to break up the nostalgia, but I think we're being waved down." Arsenal brought the van to a stop little ways before the woman and her car. " Quill shifted his focus and was quick to speak up, "Don't worry guys, I got this."

Quill opened the door and stepped out. "Hey, having car trouble?"

Arsenal turned to Paladin in the van, "Oh God, is he?"

"I think he is."

"Do you think you better...?"

"Yeah, probably." Paladin exited one of the side doors and quickly followed Quill before he made a fool of himself.

[Flammaland]

The Other/Lillian Forester
Nearing Chadron

The Other shielded it's eyes from the sun with one hand, while the other held a gun behind it's back. While the occupants of the van seemed friendly enough, some of them looked dangerous enough for the Other to be concerned. It eyed the older man who had gotten out of the van. The first one hardly warranted consideration, he looked like he would die easily enough. But the older one, he looked like he knew violence, and how to use it.

"Not really, just wondering if you knew how to get past the telepathic barrier disguising what I assume is a secret resistance facility?"

It was a calculated risk, but the Other had never encountered a problem it hadn't been able to kill it's way out of. It wiped it's nose with the back of it's hand, revealing eyes like glowing orbs of amethyst. Blood trickled lightly from the Other's nose, and it grinned a disturbing grin that didn't match Lillian's face.

"Only, you don't seem to be having any trouble with it."

[Cruxa]

Chance
New York

"Thanks," he growled in his distorted voice. "Thought I was a goner." Assessing the stranger's appearance, he realized that they wore near-identical costumes. That was interesting, especially since this guy seemed to be some kid of death-spirit. Then it hit him- five minutes ago, he'd had a sucking chest wound and three other .905 caliber bullets lodged in his shoulder. Seeing them on the floor next to him was shocking. They were HUGE.

He had almost died.

"Why?" he asked suddenly.

"Why me?"

[The Cyberiad Council]

Grimm
New York

"Why Me?"

Grimm reached down and slung Overkill over his shoulder. He looked at Chance, his eyes glowing slightly through his mask. "We have our reasons. It wasn't your time to go. Overkill is one of the few entities that can kill people before their appointed time, and there hasn't been someone like me in a long time."

The masked reaper turned and hoisted his scythe. It glowed and cracked with red energy. He swung it through the air and a red ghostly tear opened in the blade's wake.

"And just a bit of friendly advice; CADMUS will be all over the city soon, there are other people like you, people who want to help. I suggest you find them. I'm here because War is coming. "

---

Vanguard Extraction Team

Quill and Paladin were quick to react to something that could be a thread to the Vanguard; Quill extended his spines, and Paladin created the astral armor and weapons. He stepped towards the unidentified woman and took a defensive stance. Seeing what was happening, Arsenal opened the door to the van and kept cover behind it as he drew a pistol and trained it on Lillian.

Paladin was the first to speak. "Who are you, and what do you know about the Vanguard!?"

[Talchyon]

A highway heading to Chadron, and pretty close
Richard Weinkauf (aka "The Artisan")

Something was wrong. After crossing the state line into Nebraska, there was a stopped car. That wasn't the problem. Neither was the problem when Arsenal, Quill and Paladin got out and asked if they could help. Who knows? Could be someone like them with abilities. It was a woman, that much Richard could see from his middle row captain's seat in the van. But she seemed... off somehow. While his vision wasn't the greatest from that angle, the lady wasn't seeming to act normal. She looked tense, hungry, and a little insane. And was that blood coming out of her nose? Were his eyes playing tricks on him?

Yet when Richard saw Quill grow his spikes, and Arsenal drew his weapon and aimed it at the woman. "Uh oh," Richard thought. Not knowing what this lady was all about, Richard began flipping pages in his art journal that he had opened before. No longer was the innocent girl with the buttercups showing. For Richard had found another piece of artwork that could be used if things went south. This one from the Middle Ages. He began to concentrate on it, in the hopes that he wouldn't have to use it. But if he sensed any kind of combat, that's what he was going to use. The Caraviggio.

[Flammaland]

The Other/Lillian Forester

The Other tilted it's head to one side and it's grin widened. It had been right about the two men. Movement caught the Other's eye and it saw a third man draw a pistol. If they started a fight, the Other wasn't sure who would win.

"Oh, so I was right. Well, that's good, otherwise I'd have been very embarrassed. Right then." It threw away it's gun and held up both hands. "Let's dispense with the niceties, shall we? I killed five CADMUS agents getting here and my meat sack is starting to wear out. As much as I'd enjoy dismembering all of you, I doubt even I could handle the entirety of... the Vanguard, was it? So it seems my part of the bargain is done."

The Other's eyes rolled back in it's head and Lillian stumbled forward, bracing herself on the bonnet of the stolen car. The purple was gone from her eyes and when she spoke her voice cracked.

"Please, I'm sorry, it... Help." Then she fainted. The last thing she heard before the darkness enveloped her was the Other,

I did promise I'd give back control.

[The Cyberiad Council]

Vanguard Extraction team
Near Chadron

Paladin let out a pensive breath. "Arsenal, stand down and come look at this car. Quill, put her in the backseat." William dissipated the Paladin armor and started back towards the van.

"What are we going to do with her? You can't seriously let her into our camp."

William stopped and look back to Quill, "She needs our help, we're not going to leave her here. Now go on." "If you say so."

Quill scooped up the girl and walked to the rear door of her car. Meanwhile, Arsenal approached and placed his robotic palm on the hood of the car. "Holy Shit! There's a body back here!"

Arsenal looked up from the hood, "Is it a civi?" Quill put down Lillian and opened the door. "No, it's CADMUS." Quill pulled the body out and threw it by the side of the road, picking up Lillian again, he laid her in the seat.

"What are we going to do about him?"

"I don't know, but we have bigger fish; The car is Lojacked, CADMUS is probably on their way."

Paladin called from the van, "Then we need to get moving. Quill, Throw the body in the trunk and come drive the van. Arsenal, disable the tracker and follow us in the car."

"Way ahead of you," Arsenal called back as green static arced around the edges of his hand. The men climbed into their respective vehicles and the convoy was off.

---

It wasn't too much further to the Vanguard's base. When they arrived, they were met with the sight of roughly a hundred people milling about, some were training, the younger ones were playing tag or hide and seek. There was a small tent village set up not too far from where they parked the vehicles. The town of Chadron was about five miles north of their position, but it was strongly ill-advised for anyone to leave. The Extraction team exited the cars, Arsenal and Quill moving to deal with the body and the mysterious visitor. Paladin opened the side door of the van and spoke to their newest members, "Welcome to the Vanguard! You are free to explore the camp as you see fit, but don't leave unless you let someone know where you're going. We have some basic rules, but they'll be explained to you fully a bit later when we introduce you to our leader. If you want to get some rest, go to the supply tent and ask for Victoria. She'll give you three a tent, and one for you, Richard. We eat at six, so come hungry."

"William!" The mountainous man looked to see Stryker approaching. "Did you get them?"

"We did! Four new members!" He walked a little closer and whispered so only Stryker could hear, "We have a problem." He nodded his head towards the car and Lillian. "I want her watched, and I need to speak to Angela right away."

Stryker nodded. "I'll have Quill take her to Warden, He'll watcher her."

[Arstotzmerika]

Joseph Lero
Near Chadron

Joseph hiked along the roadway heading south, carrying a backpack filled with some supplies such as food and water. He was only several miles close to his destination of Chadron, Nebraska as Cypher had told him to go to. The road was generally empty of cars, however he managed to notice a few cars filled with several people that disappeared into the woods nearby, which was only a few miles to Chadron. When Joseph got to the road that branched out, he looked down it, seeing it lead into the woods. He presumed its probably just where the group of people that he saw live, after all many people live out the middle of nowhere all over the United States. He turned south and headed to Chadron, only five miles left to go.

[Flammaland]

Lillian Forester/The Other
Chadron

Lillian was floating in an infinite blackness. She could see her own body as if removed from it, yet she could also see normally, though there was nothing around her to see. There was a faint purple glow, a crack appeared in the darkness, and the Other appeared. It looked like Lillian, but wrong. Too thin, too tall, too pale, with purple eyes and long, matted hair.

"See? I told you I was going to let you have control back. I'm not even controlling your body now you aren't using it. I delivered on my end of the bargain. You should start trusting me more often." Lillian hugged herself tightly and dug her fingernails into her back.
"These people want to help us. You can't kill them." The Other smirked
"I didn't kill them even a little bit. Not saying I don't want to, but I didn't. I'm showing remarkable self-restraint today. Anyway, there are people who'd like to talk to you, so it's time to wake up Lillian." It reached out and tapped her on the forehead. Lillian screamed as pain wracked her body and she sat bolt upright, banging her head on the side of the van. She drew deep, ragged breaths, and looked around, expecting someone to drag her away to be strapped down and sedated. That was what had always happened before.

[The Cyberiad Council]

The Vanguard
Chadron

Quill was so startled by Lillian's sudden struggling as she struck her head on the side of the van, that he accidentally dropped her. Arsenal dropped the body he was carrying and drew his gun. Stryker's hair stood on end as he summoned balls of electricity in his palms. "Woah, Guys! Back off!" They begrudgingly stood down as Quill crouched next to Lillian, "Hey, hey, it's okay. You're okay. No one is going to hurt you I promise. Can you tell us your name?"

Arsenal gritted his teeth but picked up the body again and resumed the task of taking it to be buried. Stryker looked at Paladin, "Who is she?"

"She, or something in her, stopped us on the way in asking about the psychic field. She knew something about us."

"I don't like it. Something's off about her."

"I agree, but she needs our help."

"Fine, but I'm still going to have Warden close by so he can stun her if necessary. I have to go, That guy Cypher met in Chicago should be close to Chadron by now, I'm going to pick him up."

"Be careful, Stryker."

"I always am."

[Flammaland]

Lillian Forester/The Other
Chadron

Lillian looked up at Quill and raised her hand to her head. A red mark had formed and blood was trickling down her face. She grimaced and her fingertips glowed purple. When she lowered her hand, the wound was gone.

"My name is Lillian. I'm sorry if... that thing did anything. It told me it didn't, but..." she trailed off.

If I had done anything, you'd be dead. Because they would have shot you for it.

Lillian shook her head violently from side to side. "I... We were in a facility in Denver when CADMUS people came. The nurse helped me escape and... I didn't have a choice I had to let it in I'd have died otherwise. It killed the people trying to kill me. And it stole a car and... and... oh god I killed the driver. It used my hands to kill someone an innocent person oh god oh god I..." Lillian's head fell and she began to cry.

Oh excellent. I try and help you and this is the thanks I get? I'd be surprised if they let you in now. They need monsters like me, not children like you. Next time you need my help see how well you do without me.

[Kenmoria]

Charles
Illinois
Charles thanked the taxi driver for sitting through the three hours of traffic they encountered leaving the city, and gave a generous tip. He then proceeded to walk to the nearest piece of greenery in the area. As was typical with most cities, it was a good eight miles away. When he got there, he snapped off a medium-sizes branch of a tall, crooked tree and placed it on the ground. CADMUS had removed his walking stick when they captured him so this would have to fill in for it for the time being. He placed it on the ground with a satisfying thud. The noise reverberated through the ground and Charles nearly collapsed from the unsteadiness that resulted. He briefly entertained the possibility of buying a proper walking stick, but then dismissed the idea. His money was precious and considering CADMUS, he would have few ways of earning any cash.

The distance from Illinois to Nebraska is 887 kilometres, a fact Charles remembered from when he first arrived in America. A quick google search told him it would take around ten hours in a car, but 195 hours on foot. The former was annoyingly long, the latter was completely unacceptable. What was even more annoying was that, had the airport in Chicago not been closed, he could have flown to the safe house in less than an hour. Taking into account that buying a car was impossible with the resources Charles had been given, and that he happened to know that nearly all taxis were obligated to ask for ID before driving anywhere, the best course of action seemed to go via bike. Another search, this time on a different engine, told him the journey would take fifty hours that way. Once again, that was far too long. So Charles opted for plan B. He opened up google and manipulated a few settings so it would show the source code. This transformed his screen into something filled with ones and zeros. Then, translating could begin.

Charles started slowly, and translated 101010011110000011101010111010101 into "Google^tm search engine." It was a slow process, any good programmer knows that binary takes ages to write, not that he was a programmer, though, considering his abilities it could be a good career choice. Brushing these thoughts from his mind, Charles translates the whole page, then the next, then the next, then the next. He managed to translate completely the first twenty pages in a matter of minutes. That would be enough, the information he had gathered told him that the best route was to cycle to the second-nearest airport, a distance that would take three hours, then take a plane that would land in Nebraksa. Unfortunately, no airport landed anywhere near Chadron but the distance from that point would take only four hours to traverse. Overall, the whole journey would take around a day.

[Talchyon]

Vanguard camp, south of Chadron, Nebraska
Richard Weinkauf (aka "The Artisan")

Sometimes bombs don't explode. There can be fakes, or duds. Some part of the fuse refuses to ignite, or burn properly. Two wires get crossed, or two parts get separated. And then instead of damage, destruction and injury, instead of this, nothing is what happens. While Richard knew nothing about bomb disposal, he was happy that the situation with this new lady who seemed so odd and who had raised the tension levels hadn't exploded either. When he saw her collapse, and the Vanguard companions lower their weapons and begin to help the lady, he also eased up. No need to concentrate on Caraviggio now. That could wait for later. Richard was thankfully relieved that he didn't have to use that one.

As they put the lady in the back of the van, she seemed out of it. They had to jostle around some of the artwork Void had gone back to pick up at his place. To be honest, he did hope his artwork survived. It was the only thing really connecting him to his old life, other than his journal of prints in his leather satchel-bag. But at the same time, he felt some fear and also some compassion for the new arrival. A dangerous lady, but one so vulnerable and helpless. What a paradox.

Driving into the camp was an interesting experience for him. There were a lot fewer people here than he expected. But the one thing he had not expected were the children. The American pravda, as he liked to think of the obviously biased news media, labeled Vanguard as terrorists. They didn't see this side, with families looking out for each other and parents hoping their kids grow up well. There were tents set up. That was a disappointment but probably was to be expected. Without good climate control, the artwork wouldn't last as well. But nothing could be done, unless there was someone who had the mutant ability here of making areas a nice, controlled temperature setting.

Paladin the giant told them where they could get rest. He was going to have his own tent, which was good. But when Paladin said that the three young ones, two boys and a girl, could all share a tent too, Richard got pretty disgusted and said, "Putting two high school / college age boys and one college age girl together in the same tent is a bad idea. Unless you want the possibility of an unplanned pregnancy and you want to act like a midwife 9 months from now. I was a teacher for decades. And I've seen it all. If you put boys and girls together in the same tent, or even in tents close to each other, you're inviting trouble." He said these words quietly, to Paladin alone, hoping to keep this out of Theo's ears. It would not help their situation if they had an unmarried, pregnant college freshman here, not to mention one or two unready youths thrust into being a father.

Another man came up, who apparently knew the extraction team. They were talking to themselves. But it was clear who they were talking about. The late arrival. The lady who was not right somehow. Richard wondered what they were going to do with her.

Getting his artwork out of the back of the van, Richard managed to be careful with them as he lifted the pieces of art over the distressed lady. He set each piece by piece, leaning against the side of the van. Then, taking them in a pile, Richard went off in the direction of the supply tent to find a place to put them. Victoria was the name to remember, who could help get him set up. Hopefully she'd be able to recruit some others who could help set the tent up or hold onto his artwork.

[The Cyberiad Council]

The Vanguard

Quill looked slightly exasperated; not quite knowing how to handle Lillian. "Hey, come on; Let's take you somewhere more comfortable than the ground." He helped Lillian to her feet and led her over towards the tent village. "We try and keep one or two tent's empty for our field agents that only swing by from time to time." Quill opened the entry flap and gestured Lillian to enter. "This is all yours for the time being. Our leader, Angela will be here soon to talk to you. Until then, we need you to stay here." He turned and looked at a bald man approaching. "Lillian, This is Warden. He'll be posted outside your tent to make sure you're alright. I have to go, but I'll be back with Angela and some of our founders. Try and get some rest." Quill gave a half smile and started walking off.

---

Stryker pulled up to a mom and pop diner on Main street, the place that people were told to go when they were sent to find the Vanguard. Stryker exited the old red pickup and headed inside. "Jeremy, good to see ya! What can I get for you today?"

Stryker smiled upon hearing his alias. "Just a coffee, Jim. I'm waiting for a colleague. Have you seen anyone new in town?"

---

Angela sat in a chair massaging her temple. "So, CADMUS is on their way?"

"We think they were at least tracking the girl to where we picked her up."

"And the Girl! You brought her into our camp, not knowing if she was a spy or mind controlled, or possessed, or any of the three!"

"She needed our help, Angela."

"I know, William, I know. But this is dangerous, we might have to move again!"

The Vanguard's governing body was assembled in the main tent. Angela sat in the leader's spot with Paladin, Tempest, Homer, and Ebisu were arranged around her sitting on chairs or desks. They were joined by Arsenal and Quill, who stood near the middle of the tent. "Maybe not, Angela," Homer spoke up from his seated position while Ebisu looked on intently. "If they think they are merely tracking down a runaway girl, then we let them think they captured her. Then we lead them somewhere else."

"How do you propose we do that?" Arsenal piped in from the sideline.

"We knew you'd ask that, Arsenal." Both men smiled as Ebisu turned to look at him, while Homer continued to stare off into space. Homer continued his explanation, "When they come looking, Ebisu and I can wipe their minds, and make them think one of their compatriots is Lillian, then you can rig up a drone of some sort to make it appear that the signal is traveling elsewhere."

Arsenal cracked a grin and nodded. "I'll get right on that."

Angela still looked slightly upset, "While we're on the subject, why don't you tell me why you bought two humans into the heart of our operations?"

Paladin spoke up, "Angela." His voice was calm and loving, but slightly chiding. "They are with Theo, and if we left them out there? They would be dead in a few days, and Theo wouldn't trust us. Gideon would have done exactly the same thing."

Angela sighed. "You're right. We'll take care of them."

Paladin spoke up again, "And Richard raised a good point about the three younger ones. It would be best to split them up."

"Again, I Agree, but we don't have the resources. A supply group is coming tomorrow morning, we'll split them up then. For tonight we'll have to give them the talk and trust them."

Tempest, An older, weathered man sitting in the corner broke his silence and jumped in. "What about Terax? How much longer is his project going to take?"

"I don't know Tempest, but we need a permanent home. It will be done when it's done. Nothing else we can do now. Homer, Ebisu, lets go meet our new troubled guest."

[Flammaland]

Lillian Forester/The Other
Chadron

Lillian entered the tent, ready to back out if she needed to. Seeing it was empty, she sat down in the corner, digging her fingernails into her palms. She was still exhausted, physically and mentally, but she didn't dare go to sleep. She knew that the man outside was there for other people's protection rather than hers. Most of her life had been spent under guard. Not being heavily sedated and strapped to a table was a nice change though.

They're going to want you to fight for them. This is a resistance movement. I'm what they need. Not you. You'll just be an embarrassment. They'll probably hand you right back to CADMUS. Good luck being dissected.

Lillian closed her eyes and pushed her nails in deeper, blood welling up underneath them. Now it was just a matter of waiting it out, to see if the Other was right.