What Tomorrow Might Bring RPG

With a lightning strike, she started screaming and his body fell through the table in the front room with a crash. “Medic, NOW!” she screamed at the top of her lungs, franticly trying to cover his wounds . His body lay sprawled out covered in blood as people rushed around him. The hysteria filled the room, as the alarms sounded and young soldiers rushed forward guns drawn. Seeing the dead man laying on the table they quickly retreated into the background. She didn’t have time to explain how they landed in their living area or why the man sprawled out across their table was practically dead filled with bullet holes and blood oozing out of every body part, she just continued to scream for help until it arrived.

Clear!

His body jumped off the table as electricity ran through him. The medics worked franticly on the man as a few bystanders took in the scene from a distance. “That man…..he looks like” a young girl spoke in a soft tone. “Don’t even say it….I know what you’re thinking and don’t even say it” another one spoke quietly. They continued to watch the doctors work on him, unleashing a wave of tiny robot spiders that crawled all over his torn and ripped body. The spiders moved freely working their way into and around his body, all the time reading his DNA and removing anything that was foreign. The clang of bullets started to hit the floors over and over dumping bullet after bullet onto the floor. The metal feathers fluttered to the ground one after another leaving his back clean of all trace.

Clear!

Once again his body came off the table, as the spider like surgeons once again crawled over his face and onto his face. They pulled at his eyes and removed the cybernetic optics that once glowed blue. With a gasp he came back to life, breathed out a scream. Everyone watched as he sat up and shook the remaining spiders off of him. In his darkness he screamed again until he heard her voice. “It’s ok baby, it’s ok! I’m right here.” With a deep breath he calmed down and listened to the sounds of her breath. Slowly his body began to heal and his wounds began to close on their own. His eyes once cybernetic replacements grew back to their deep green color. Her face came into focus in the soft light. “Mani.”

The room took a collective sigh as he sat up on the table. His body was covered in body head to toe and his face was a red mask. He spat blood onto the floor and his mouth that once was filled with the taste of cooper was clearing. He whipped his forehead to keep his long hair that was soaked in blood out of his eyes.  A young lady tenitively made her way to him with a clean wet towel, and as he wiped his face he room shifted with excitement. “I told you it was him” a whisper came from a corner. Hawk took in the people in the room, scanning each one of their faces looking for anyone he might recognize. There were none, but the room he had been too many times.  Looking eye to eye with each of them he quickly studied them, until he came upon a little girl who stared at the wall above his head. Hawk smiled at her as she looked from his face back over his head. Hawk turn and glanced at what she was looking at, only to see a portrait on the wall behind him. His eyes looked back at him from the picture and below the picture read a quote. “Greater love has no one than this, that he lay down his life for his friends”

Two days later

He walked with the de facto leader of what once would have been called the Wolf Pack. Now they were a group of pre-teens and a few older people here and there. All of the men and women of age to fight had died, on the battle field either rebelling against the system or just searching for food. The old grizzled man spoke to them as they walked. “The world had been shaken an changed in the last several years. Non-humans had become hunted down and eradicated, no questions asked, no trail needed. Anti-metas groups ran the streets freely burning and stalking down non-humans as if they were a rouge pack of dogs. A few groups had tried to stand against them only to be broken and scattered like the wind. We have given up fighting and now just try to survive.”

Hawk walked out into the once glorious courtyard of the Wolf Pack and only saw a ruin. They climbed to the tower were Hawk used to look for miles, now smoke and destruction was all that he saw. The world had fallen and all that was left was ruin. There was no one left to fight, the heroes were all but dead. A once proud warrior stood and looked out over the land that he once love and only saw destruction caused by hate.

“What caused this old man? What was the spark that set it off?” The old man explained what he knew and what he could remember. They talked for hours about the past, or to Hawk the future, until Hawk had enough. He looked out over the remains of the fallen world and said to the man briefly before walking away. “It’s time to fight again.”

My Story

     Present day.  NYC 
      
     Dead bodies.  They were everywhere.  Sprawled along the streets, their blood seeping into the city gutters.  Most of them were twisted...mangled beyond recognition.  A wretched, putrid smell permeated the air, defiling the oxygen; the feel of fear was setting in.  Dark clouds loomed over head and thunder growled in the distance, like a taunting laugh at the dead and their failures. 
      
     Sylver, vampire-Elf of New York City, was petrified.  Not with fear...but of not-knowing.  What had done this...who had done this?!  She stood at the end of Time's Square, just under the giant tower of former-advertising signs.  Sylver's eyes widened as she surveyed the buildings.  They were broken, rusty...abandoned.  Debris was scattered everywhere, burying the streets with the time-worn cars and cracked sidewalks.  A helicopter, who's blades were bent and tail was broken off, was embedded in a store front.  Sylver looked closer.  She could see the piolet's bloody head smashed through the window.
      
     "Merciful heavens...."  She muttered.  This had to be a dream.  Just think, Sylver.  What was the last thing you did...consciously?  She asked herself.  But she wasn't sure.  Everything here seemed so real....vivid.  Certain.  She could smell the cold blood, taste the dust and humidity in the air...feel the revultion at seeing her city littered with corpses.  Her senses were prickling with that adrenaline-feel, like she was waiting on the edge of a cliff....something terrible was about to happen.  Or already had. 
      
     "You!" 
      
     Sylver spun around.  Just behind her, crawling out of the building's ruins, were people.  They were ragged, with a frenzied look about them, like that of a rabid dog.  And they were armed.  Sylver's eyes scanned the group, trying to make some discernment on who they were.  Every one of them had a weapon, from the seventy-some year old men, to the teenage girls.  But the group only numbered about twenty.  Sylver's muscles tensed.  If they attacked, she could definatly take them. 
      
     A knarled, scarred redhead pushed her way from the midst of the group, boney hands gripping an M-16. 
      
     "You!  You're one of them--them freaks!"  She screamed madly.  The group behind her shrank back, clutching their weapons tighter.  Confusion filled Sylver's eyes. 
      
     "Ma'am, who are you?  What happened here?"  Sylver asked calmly, hoping that it would reason with the lady.  She waved her gun at Sylver threateningly.   
      
     "What happened?!"  She growled.  "You happened!  You freaks made those things come!  Those soldiers!  The war destroyed everything!  It took everything from us!!!" 
      
     Sylver raised her hands higher as the lady raised her gun.  Her magic flowed to her fingers, precautionary, in case they attacked.  But what was this women raving about?  What war?  What soldiers? 
      
     "Ma'am....who made the soldiers come?  What were they?"  She asked, venturing onward.  A dark feeling welled up in her mind....she wasn't going to like the answer. 
      
     The woman spat onto the ground, turned to a corpse lying a few feet from her, and sent a round of bullets into its lifeless body.  Sylver allowed her hands to begin glowing with the magic.  This lady was crazy.  The insane redhead turned back to Sylver. 
      
     "They made the soldiers come!  The heroes!  The freaks!  They said they'd save us, protect us....well they were WRONG!!!!!"  She shrieked, shooting the corpse again.  "And now they're all dead!  Dead, dead, DEAD!!!!!" 
      
     Then, as if someone had pressed pause, everything froze.  The insane woman's tortured face motionlessly stared back; the entire group of homeless people did not move.  Sylver turned around, expecting to see the empty street, but gasped, and shot a bolt of magic fire at the sudden figure.  Like a baseball, it caught the energy in its hand, and dispelled it.  Sylver's eyes widened.  Perhaps this was the one responsible? 
      
     "Who are you?!"  Sylver yelled, growing bold with frustration, "And what the bloody crap is going on here?!" 
      
     The figure didn't move for a moment, its emerald cloak covering its face.  The only identity that Sylver could make out were two glowing blue eyes peering from beneath the hood. 
       
     "Sylver."  It addressed, stunning Sylver further, "Those people have tasted only a portion of what the world will suffer.  Or already has, at least in my time.  The war will come and the peole, the heroes, the villians...all will fall." 
      
     Sylver took in the stranger's message, scrutinizing the femanine voice, the stillness.  The lack of a heart-beat.  "No way...are--are you--?" 
      
     The cloaked stranger held up her hand.  "Listen Sylver, I don't have much time.  Whatever you do when you wake up, don't pick up the phone!  Just do what you think of doing first, but don't pick up the phone!  Do you understand me?"  She rushed frantically. 
      
     Sylver opened her mouth to speak, but didn't know what to say.   She was dreaming...but was this real?  This future....was she really being warned about it?  "I...who are you?"  She managed to ask. 
      
     Suddenly, the emerald figure became fainter, paler, as if she were fading.  Sylver took a step forward.  She was fading.  The figure looked up at Sylver, blue eyes locking.  "Please, Sylver, you have to listen to me!  You have to remember what I say!  Don't pick up the phone!  If you don't go, then they can't come here, and everything is fixed!  Whatever happens, the past must be re-written!  This must not come to pass!" 
      
     "But--what--?" 
      
     "SYLVER!  Look at them!  The corpses!"  The figure grew fainter, as if she were being pulled back into another place, "Look at them!"  She screamed louder.  "If you want to save them, do as I say!  I must not fail again....you mustn't fail again!" 
      
     Shocked by the stranger's sudden fear and cryptic words, Sylver obeyed and looked at the face of the closest dead body.  "No....no, it can't be!"  She said, her eyes pleading with the figure's.  She turned around frantically, looking at every body, and with every one, a horrid terror overcame her.  Suddenly outraged at the stranger, she wheeled at her, striding closer to her fading form.  "WHO ARE YOU!?!  How do you know these people??!! What did you do to them?!"  She roared.  This was crazy!  This was madness!  Something...no, everything had to be wrong! 
      
     Sylver grabbed the stranger by the neck and shook her.  "Who are you??!!"  The cloak hood fell back.  Sylver froze.  And like a wall of cold darkness slamming into her, Sylver disappeared from the horrific scene, falling into blackness, all the while confused and scared beyond belief. 
      
     The corpses were of her friends...her family: the Wolf Pack.  Dead. 
      
     And the emerald cloaked stranger....was her.  Sylver had been warned by herself. 
 
      
     Ring!  Ring!  Ring!

     "Uuuhh...bloody crap."  Sylver moaned, pushing herself up on her elbows, awakening from her spotty sleep.  She had had that same dream every day this week: the one week out of the year that she actually slept: the only week she needed to sleep.  She looked to her right, where on the black, ironwrought nightstand, lay her ringing cell phone.  Her brow creased in sudden curiosity.  She'd had that dream every day, and yet she'd never received a call on any of the mornings, except this one. 
      
     But it was just a dream... Sylver reasoned with herself.  It had been wrong every night until now; why should she believe it.  And besides...it's not like it's the first time I've had apocalyptic dreams.  Sylver thought.  It was true.  Dreams of dead bodies, worlds in terror, and dark futures were common in the few times she'd slept in her lifetime.  It just came with the job of being an assassin.  What you do is what you dream. 
      
     Ring!  Ring!  Ring!

     Sylver rolled her eyes and grabbed the phone.  Almost expecting some attack or collapse of reality, Sylver paused for a moment.  Nothing.  Just the constant ringing of her phone and the sounds of a busy city outside her temporary apartment in New York.  Now confident that her paranoia was pointless, Sylver flipped open the phone and saw that it was her alarm system going off. 
      
     Get to Base at 9:00am sharp!!! 
      
     Sylver remembered.  She'd set it the night before to remind herself to check out her team, see if anything was up.  She needed to get to Base.  Forgetting about the dream, Sylver rushed out of bed, threw on her usual outfit (black, leather pants and long-sleeve cut-off top, with silver leather boots, gloves and belt), and teleported to work with her spells. 
      
     It seemed like a regular day.  Nothing could go wrong.  All was well. 
       
     After all, what could a silly dream mean anyway? 
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      Many years in the future, a vampire-Elf arose from her meditation, a dark, haunting feeling said that her warning had been in vain.  Her pain-worn blue eyes were tired...her hope extinguished.  There was no saving them now.  She walked up to a wall, covered with pictures of those fallen before her, and whispered, 
      
     "I am sorry.  I have failed you again...it has already begun."
     

Streets of London - The Future

Greystoke Manor - Present

Present - Wolf Pack HQ

     Cold.  Solid.  Impenetrable. 
      
     Whatever nervous questions had plagued her earlier, were gone now.  Whatever kind of fear that had been, dissipated.  It was replaced now with the untouchable aura that always surrounded the vampire-Elf.  The chilling effect that enveloped her being, keeping even her teammates at a distance sometimes, was under her command.  But at the moment, hidden in the shadows, there was none to see it. 
      
     Cold.  Solid.  Impenetrable: Sylver's icy forget-me-not eyes scrutinized the scene before her: an old man effortlessly knocking guard after guard aside with his sword, but purposely not killing them.  He could have.  Sylver could see that much about him.  He was skilled, and not at all unnerved by the sudden onslaught.  Almost as if he'd expected it... 
      
     Sylver crouched down lower from behind her hallway wall, watching the fight play out, curious.  What was that light he and the woman had come out of?  Who was he?  The old man grabbed one of his attackers from behind and flung them across the room like a rag doll.  Sylver toyed with Caldavich's handle, strapped to her back.  Her gut instinct told her to attack and keep the old man held down until William could come and interrogate him.  But something else...something deeper, forced her to remain still.   
      
     His eyes.  The old man's eyes...she'd seen them before.  He himself looked so familiar.  And the woman next to him, probably his wife...Sylver'd seen her before too....  A vivid memory suddenly flashed across her mind: a prison compound, a terrible battle....Anubis....the woman, she was crying over a dead body....her teammate's dead body.... 
      
     "No way..."  Sylver muttered, creeping closer to the light.  It couldn't be him....  "Hawk...?" 
      
     A flash of movement rushed passed her.  Sylver stood straight.  Hunter.  He walked into the room and shouted, "Stop!"  The fight around him ceased.  He helped pick one of the fallen fighters from the ground, and turned to the old man.  Sylver smirked.  Now they would find out who this guy was.  After all, it couldn't be Hawk.  Hawk wasn't that old...and if he was, and was here now, he'd have to be from the...  Sylver felt her throat go dry.  Future...  The word was like a curse in Sylver's mind, an assurance of her fears.  And she would not be afraid. 
      
     The old man and Hunter approached the corridor where she hid.  Sylver slinked back a bit, clasping her hands together.  "Invisible."  A glamour covered her immediately, and with her flight, she floated up to the ceiling, watching like a tiger.  The two passed beneath her, silent, but with a manner serious enough to catch Sylver's attention.  This man knew something dangerous...something terrible.  The two entered William's throne room, closing the door behind them.  Sylver slid down next to the door, still unsee-able, a wondering fire in her eyes.  Well, whatever it was, she was going to find out. 
 
     Future: 2090 -

     The Wraith of . 
      
     That's what they, the people, used to call her.  That is...when there were people.  Now there were just meta-humans, Lycans, a few vampires, and those unfortunate normals born in the ruins of yesterday's world.  They were the resistance.  They were what was left.  And they were alone. 
      
     A faint smirk formed on Sylver's lips, as she gazed over the dead steel city, thinking back to better days.  It was almost nightfall; the radiant flame of the horizon shimmered off the skyscrapers still standing, reflecting from the glass windows, like giant grey torches slowly burning out.  Sylver drank up the last rays of sunlight with longing.  She missed the times when she would sit in the cathedral bell tower, on the other side of town, and watch the sun disappear on the edge of the sky, while the masses of people below remained oblivious to their vampire protector.   
      
     Protector.  Sylver missed that word also.  When someone was a protector, there were people to protect.  Now, there was a cold, dead city with her and her followers as its ghosts.  But she couldn't complain.  There were things to be thankful for...she just had to think hard to find them.  And one of them certainly wasn't the night.  In the days of flourishing cities, the dark night was Sylver's play ground.  It was when the monsters came out from the ugliest pits, and Sylver sent them back every time.  Back when there were monsters, back when there were people, back when she existed.  Back when.....  Sylver smiled.  Now the nickname had come true.  She was a wraith haunting her beloved, ugly city of steel and bone skeletons.  But she wasn't the only one. 
      
     On the ground far below, a Hound patrolled.  Sylver slid down, leaning against the balcony's wall, avoiding the sun's rays catching her emerald cloak.  Hounds were big, six foot tall pieces of nasty.  They were robots....advanced cyborgs of sorts, with a crude, chunky look about them.  They resembled a human skeleton, but five times thicker, and armed to the teeth.  Titanium plated and smart as a super-computer, Sylver had a fun time extinguishing these tool boxes.  She wasn't sure of their real names, but she and her group called them Hounds, because they were sent to find anyone hidden in the ruins of cities.  They didn't come around as much anymore, mainly because when they did, Sylver would capture them, erase their memory, and send them back to whoever the heck owned them. 
      
     With quiet, careful movement, Sylver removed an old friend from its sheath strapped across her back.  Its white-silver blade caught in the light, as if it glowed, and Sylver closed her eyes, imagining the many ways she would dismember the monster below...that thing that was after her charges....that animal, like the ones before it, who had killed her friends.  A dark burn of rage awakened in her.  The memories came back....and all the blood, all the screams, and all the dead bodies that came with them.   
      
    Sylver's upper lip curled back, revealing razor fangs.  She hated these creations...these monsters...and whoever made them.  They'd taken everything from her and destroyed the world in doing so.  The sudden, yet deeply rooted seed of anger came alive yet again, and she stood up, allowing herself to be seen.  The cyborg caught her movement instantly, looked up at her, and began firing an M-16.  A sick guttural laughter came from Sylver's throat. She extended her hand; it burst into a glowing white flame.   
      
     "Reflect."  She whispered.  The magic responded, catching the bullets just under her hand and blasting them back, ten times harder.  Like a million pieces of shrapnel raining down, the Hound was struck and hammered into the dust without a chance.  The roaring patter of bullets died away, its echo resounding in the empty streets.  Sylver watched from above as the cyborg twitched, its sensors and controls sputtering sparks as it tried to arise.  It wouldn't be long before it sent a distress signal to its home base.  Sylver stood on the balcony edge.   
      
     "I'm coming for you, dog."  She growled, and then jumped. 
Two Hours Later

     "Dang it, Harper, I said no!" 
      
     "But Sylver, I--" 
      
     "That's "Ma'am" to you.  Makes me sound old, but I am, so I don't care.  But you should.  You're under my command, and I'm telling you that there's no way under heaven that I'm letting you take the night watch outside ." 
      
     "Wh--" 
      
     "Because, there's worse things that crawl around there besides Hounds.  You know that.  The chemical traces in the winds were the worst there; those mutated people, or cannibals really, are still alive and kicking in the ruins.   They’re monsters, and I’m sorry if I sound racist, but someone a little more durable than a human is required to stand guard at that entrance.”

     “But—“

     “No “buts”.   I’m sending Kingley.”

     “Oh, sure, send the Lycan.   Ya know, one of these days you’re really going to need m—“

     Sylver slammed the door to her study and waited until Harper walked away.   When all was quiet, she slipped off her emerald cloak, hung it on the door, and walked over to her desk.   She’d found two more Hounds crawling around the city after the first one.   They were busy lately, and that made Sylver nervous.   There were few here, aside from herself that could take down the Hounds and re-wire them back home.

     The compound was silent that night.   Most had already gone to bed.   There were 233 inhabitants in all.   217 of them were human.   Most had come from outside the city; the few who were from within were older and sickly from the radiation residue left over from the bombings.

     Yet even with this over-powering weight of responsibility on her shoulders, Sylver always found release in the night by writing.   After the blood-skirmishes, battles, and never-ending deaths and funerals, the terrible understanding had been brought upon Sylver: she was alone.   All her friends, her former team…they were all gone.   She was alone, and so she wrote.   Everyday she wrote, for the past thirty-some years.   A small closet was to the right of her desk, filled with journals.   She wasn’t sure why she kept them…or of what importance they might serve.   But they gave her release from the pain…the emptiness…the cold, and so, they helped.

     Sylver had always come to the understanding that being a vampire meant she was undead.   Her separation from the Elves seemed like a dream that it was so far away; she sometimes questioned if it had ever happened.   But her quest for belonging and placement in the human world had become so permanent, so everyday, that when it was gone, her one comfort and hope, her one “feeling” of being “alive”…was gone.   She was now, truly dead.

     A golden glimmer caught Sylver’s attention and caused her to look away from her journal.   Hanging from a hook on the wall was a locket: heart in shape, with gold flecks mixed in with the ocean blue stone.   A sadness gripped Sylver for a moment, and she remembered the day she gave the locket’s twin away…

     “Here.”

     “What is it?”

     “Open it.”   Sylver smiled.   She knew her friend would like it.   She’d made it herself.   Her friend opened the locket and stared at the two smiling pictures inside.  

     “It’s us.”

     “Yeah.   Well…after all these years…I never actually gave you anything nice for your birthday.   Guess we’ve always been to busy saving the stupid world.   And yes, I do show up in pictures…and mirrors too.”   She said laughing.   Her friend laughed too, looking at the locket’s intricately cut stone.   “I have one just like it.   I guess…I made them ‘cause….well, everyone says that the anti-meta-human groups are going to do something radical.   We might be at war soon and well…I don’t know if we’ll see each other much and…uuhh!”

     Sylver crinkled her nose and shook her head.   “Gosh you know I hate getting all mushy, Laura.   What I’m trying to say is, I wanted a way for us to always be together.   I’ve never had a sister, biologically, and well…never had much of a friend either.   Before now.   If anything happens, or if it takes years to see each other again, I’ll always be there to keep an eye on you.   You’ve got a really annoying knack for getting into trouble, young lady!”

     The memory vanished as soon as it had come.   Sylver closed her eyes, trying to study the scene over again, as if reliving it might wash away the pain.   Laura died only a few years later, and for the thirty-some years afterwards, Sylver still didn’t know how or why.   She’d been in , using her magic to close off the portal into the Elven world.   Even though her connection to them no longer existed, she couldn’t let her former home and race suffer another apocalypse.   But in doing so, she’d lost her closest and dearest friend.   But Laura wasn’t the only one.   Year after year, Sylver would receive more news that another of her friends had died.   And after awhile, the news stopped coming.   The people stopped walking around.   had become Ground Zero; Sylver’s Ground Zero.   No matter what happened, she could not leave.   Leaving before had cost her the lives of those she loved.

     Sylver looked back to the door where her emerald cloak hung.   Emerald…green…it symbolized fearlessness, boldness, power.   That had been the Wolf Pack.   That had been her family.   And they were gone.   And so Sylver promised to protect those she could in their stead.   No matter what.   For as long as she lived.

     Sylver picked up her pen, opened the journal, and began writing.   May 22, 2090.   Today, I failed again.   For the first time, hundredth time…I don’t know.   Time is fluent.   But in the past, I failed to listen, and the world is paying the consequences.   The opportunity is gone.   There is no saving us now….

Present – Wolf Pack HQ

     "Alright," the Hunter said as he made his way through the stronghold with his team.  "We need to split up into two groups.  One group will into the future with Hawk in order to aid the resistance fighters and to find out who is behind all this to begin with.  The other group will stay in the present to conduct their own investigation.  Once the group in the future knows for sure who is responsible for this, it will be up to the group in the present to hunt down and stop whoever that individual may be.  Understood?"

     The command feebly resounded in Sylver’s mind, as she followed her team in a stunned sort of stupor.   On the outside she appeared unaltered and in control.   But appearances are deceiving.   On the inside, she was screaming.

     She’d stayed by the door of William’s throne room and heard everything the future-Hawk had to say.   She now wished she hadn’t.   No…she begged that she hadn’t.   Because it told her one thing; the dreams had been real, the future was destroyed, and she had been given a chance to change it….and failed to do so.

     They stopped outside the armory as Hunter went in and began preparing his equipment.   "Now," he said.  "Those of you who are going into the future need to arm yourselves and meet back at the conference center in ten minutes.  Let's move!"   Sylver’s head jerked up, awakening her from her shell-shocked state.   Go…to the…future?   NO!!! She screamed inside.   I can’t go there! It’s my fault!   But didn’t say anything aloud.   Could she even admit to them what she’d done?   No…no, she couldn’t.   But perhaps she could still fix it.  

     A faint, flicker of hope surfaced in Sylver’s chaotic mind.   Hunter had said that some could stay there and search for a way to stop the future.   There had to be another key point that unlocked the hellish future beyond them!   Her one action couldn’t have caused it all….right?   Speaking up before she was assigned to anywhere, Sylver said loudly, “I’ll stay here.   I’ve got a book of searching-spells that we can use to find who, or whatever is causing this.”   She paused when she said this, feeling as if she were telling a bold-faced lie.   “And besides, I’ve had a bit too much experience with the future to want anything more to do with it.”   She added, facing Hunter, and then turned away to find her book.   Yet on the inside, the screaming had stopped….but now she was running.

     Running from herself.    

A week ago

 
Deep in an oasis of blood near the Hi River just outside of Idzumo, a spot of black protruded though its surface and slowly began moving to shore. Moving closer to the coastal line a pair eyes became visible, looking almost reptilian like. The iris that cover the entire eye was as red as the crimson liquid it was gliding through. Hunched over after exiting the carmine lake, his hand arms hung freely just out of reach of the land while gravity pulled on to the scarlet phlegm that cover his body soaking the ground. AS the liquid dyed and ran down his body, small patches of his tanned skin along his face and upper torso became visible. Though the texture of skin was no that of human. Correcting his posture to a more erect state the ninja bought his hand up to his head, and motioned it to the back of his head slicking back his hair as he did so before tying it into a ponytail.

Making an hand seal, he took a step back almost looking as though he was dividing into two being before the him that was covered in the dyed up reddish liquid fell to ground completely hollowed out and dissolved into the earth. "So I see you’ve mastered the molting jutsu, Boy." A deep ground rumbling voice said. Closing his eyes and then reopening them Vann looked up to see the giant snake king Manda looking down at him. "Eh… you say that like your surprised or something." He replied back in a smug tone as his skin like his eyes returned back to a human like state. "Still as arrogant little mortal, but no I’m not you’re the first of your kind that has been allowed to set foot near the lake of Yamato no Orochi let alone in Koshi." The snake hissed in discussed before going on, "Well you have reached the end of your three years training here though in your dimension only about three months passed." Manda finished before slithering away. 

Present- Los Angeles: WAL Tower

 
Crowded as always the street of the city of angels crawled and echoed with life especial outside of the shinobi’s home WAL Tower. Running through their daily routines the masses running in and out the building was caught off guard as a strong gust spinning like a cyclone of wind that sent papers, articles of clothing and other object airborne while shrieks and yelled of terror and fear of what was causing it called out in the mid of day. Women held on to the bottoms of the skirts to shield the public form a view of their unmentionables while men brought their arms up to cover their faces from the wind while trying to peer through to see what was headed from them. The mini tornado outer wall was covered in dancing leaves and as quickly as the swirling air appeared it vanished. Allowing the leave to fall and revealing a man whom shadow hadn’t darken the doorways of the building for some months now.

Frozen for a second or two in silence whispering became audible once the shinobi began walking towards the door and into the building. His eyes moved back and forth scanning everything that was going on in the tower, as expected his absence wouldn’t cause hick up he knew Nova and Izaac would see to that. Gripping on to the strap of his duffle bag he went to take a step forward but stopped when he was met by one of the delta squad members "Sir! Is that really you!" The young green skinned mutant Joseph said with excitement. NeVann didn’t reply with words only with a gaze that was more cold and inimical than ever before. Intimidated by the ninja’s glare he took a step back before speaking again. "In the time you’ve been gone some strange things have been happening, almost no other then main team have been allowed to leave the Tower. This was due to the fact that since around the time you vanished other metas and non humans have been slow coming up missing. No one has taking calm for it and no has been able to find any clues so a statement hasn’t been released to public. For some time we thought that maybe you were one of the first that was abducted." Joseph then lowered his head and began fidgeting his thumbs to try an avoid another glare from the shinobi.

"Thank you for the information Joseph." Vann said in a low voice placing his hand on the teen’s shoulder as he started to walk away. "Oh yeah do me a favor, tell Nova and the others that a meet will be held in about an hour but don’t tell them the I called or it. Better yet don’t inform them that I have returned and make sure no one else does the same."Vann asked before heading to his room. His duffle bag plopped on his bed as he headed into his bathroom and turned on his shower waiting for the room to fill with steam. After disrobing he enter his shower which heat almost instantly turned his light golden tanned skin red like a lobster. His hair become over saturated with the boiling hot water sticking to his face as it rolled over and down his body. Letting out a sigh of both worry and relief as he reached his right arm over left shoulder and ran his fingers over his sealed curse seal. "Mikaboshi…" he whispered to himself as he thought about the note he found that caused him to leave in the middle of that tournament the UN held all those months ago.

Your eyes that it said to see though all illusion,

But how good is the perception of the one that

Is said to be the master of the Sharingan?

Everyone lives bound by their own

Own knowledge and awareness.

That’s call Reality.

But knowledge and awareness are vague and,

Perhaps better called,

Illusion….

Everyone lives their own interpretation.

Don’t you think?

So tell me how me how far can you see with your,

Sharingan?

     Present - Wolf Pack HQ

     The smell of old books permeated the air, its thick, faintly sweet odor mixed with clouds of dust.  In the one room that had been designated as library in the Wolf Pack base, there was one section that had been sealed off by a ceiling-to-floor door of bulletproof glass, among other unseen precautions.  The large, leather bound books of assorted colors and sizes were spread along the floor, stacked in heaping piles. 
      
     Sylver sat cross-legged inside this fortress of books, spilling through each one, searching rabidly for the needed spells.  Normally, she would have loved to sit down, take in the aroma of these wisdom-filled pages, and learn new spells.  But this wasn't a "normally" situation.  In a small stack behind her was a pile of books, filled with spells on searching and finding objects, people, whatever... 
      
     Sylver had already found what she'd been assigned to do, but that wasn't what drove her.  In one of these books, just one of them, there had to be a spell on speaking through dreams.  There were dozens upon dozens of volumes that Sylver had had installed in the library (specially protected because of their value and power); the spell had to be here.  Why?  Because some time in the future, she had used it....on herself.  And she needed to use it again...on herself. 
      
     Flipping rapidly through the manillia pages of a ruby-leather bound book, Sylver's eyes darted from page to page like a scared animal.  "Come on....come on..."  She would mutter to herself every few seconds, "Where are you?" 
      
     Because, in reality, she was scared.  Scared that the spell wasn't in one of these books and that she'd learned it later on.  Scared that the part of her team that had gone to the future might get hurt, because they might need her.  Scared that the other part of her team, here, wouldn't be able to find another link to the future..... 
      
     Scared that it had been her. 
      
     Sylver paused for a moment, closing her eyes, breathing in.  No...she couldn't think like that.  She had to keep trying, for the sake of her teammates....for the sake of the future.  If she had caused this mess, she would fix it.  She had to be strong.  Like Laura... 
      
     Sylver did a double-take.  Laura?  What had made her think of that?  Talon had been missing for months.  After their battle with Precise in Rome, she'd slipped into a coma, and her father (aka Precise) had sought it fit to hide her away.  Sylver's nose crinkled in anger.  And now they hadn't the slightest clue as to where she was. 
      
     "After I fix this calamity, Laura, I'm coming to find you."  Sylver promised, lingering on the thought for a moment, but then returning to her search.  Yet, she was confused.  Sylver had thought of Laura quite often since her disappearence...but not like this....  The oddest thought had come to her, that Laura was dead.  But she knew she wasn't.  If Laura had died, they'd have found out.  Sylver shook the troubling thought off, trying to consentrate. 
      
     Why on earth would she think that Laura was dead? 
 
NYC Resistance Base - 2090

     Sylver was thinking of Laura....again. 
      
     It had been difficult, all these years, to accept that train of thought, that she was gone.  Everytime Laura had disappeared, or was presumed dead, she'd always come back, just as fiesty and crazy as ever.  She was just one of those people who couldn't be taken down, couldn't be held back, and most certainly couldn't die.  Sylver ran her hands through her flared-spikes of ebony hair.  But Laura had died.  Sylver had seen the body.  Even the most unstoppable forces could be stopped.  In part anyway.... 
      
     A large map was spread out on Sylver's desk.  Pins and hand drawn lines covered it, and Sylver studied them carefully.  After the bombs had fallen, the face of the world had changed.  Landmarks were wiped off the map.  Whole cities became non-existant.  And roads...well, they were like arrow-heads back in the early 2000s: hard to find, and you were lucky if you saw one.  Some were still see-able, in the inner parts of big cities that still stood.  Like New York City.  34th street was till visible, but there sure wasn't any miracles happening on it now... 
      
     "But we could sure use one..."  Sylver mused aloud.  Miracles.  It was foreign word in her vocabulary.  Those under her supervison here were growing tired and despondant.  What are we waiting for, they would ask.  When can things go back to normal?  Sylver could never answer that one.  Normal wasn't a possibility anymore.   
      
     Sylver carefully scrutinized the one section of her map; it was a vague idea of what Boston looked like now.  She'd heard rumors from people who had come in that there were a couple meta-humans living farther up north.  Because the climate had gotten colder up there, the people who controlled the machines didn't live there.  And the machines didn't hunt.  Sylver knew she couldn't give these people a miracle, but maybe she could give them hope.  If she could recruit these meta-humans, maybe they could help her destroy those that opposed her resistance.  Maybe-- 
      
     The door to her study flew open, and the Lycan Kingsley stood in the frame, looking exausted and sweating heavily.  Sylver was over to him in an instant.  "Peter!  What in the mercy--?" 
      
     He held up a finger to be quiet.  Sylver pursed her lips, impatient to understand his interruption.  "Miss Sylver...I'm sorry to rush in like this, but you need to be made aware of something.  I was waiting at the Harlem entrance like you asked, when I spotted this girl.  I waited to see if she was one of us, but she wasn't.  She came stumbling through the buildings, a real crazed look on her face, and she must've tripped an alarm because there were about five Hounds on her at once." 
      
     Sylver flashed him a look of shock and worry.  If this girl was in Harlem, there would be worse things finding her besides five Hounds.  She grabbed her cloak and sword and rushed out the door.  "Walk with me."  She said quietly to Kingsley.  It was still early morning; there were few up yet.  They walked speedily through a series of earthen hallways, separated by thick steel doors, while Kingsley relayed the rest of his information to Sylver.  If this girl was fighting the Hounds, she was going to be in big trouble.  
      
     "Do you have your scrambler?"  Sylver asked the Lycan.  He nodded.  Out of the many abandoned technology centers in the city, they'd managed to build small machines that, if stuck into the Hound's cerebral cortex, would erase its memory.  Sylver was the only sorceress here, so they had to make due somehow.  After climbing up a long, spiraling wooden stairway, the two reached a giant, 30-foot high blast door, an amalgam of iron and steel.  It had taken a long time to build, but it was well worth it.  Sylver had yet to find something on the outside that could penetrate it. 
      
     The guards opened it up just a crack, so that the two could slip through, and then shut it again.  They were now in a delapidated, but still distinguishable, railway tunnel.  It was large, and the tunnels provided them a means to access the entire city underground.  Their base was behind and beneath these tunnels, so that any sonar wouldn't be able to penetrate through the metal plated walls.  The tunnel was dark, mildewy, and damp.  Sylver breathed it in, searching for anything out of the average.  She turned to Kingsley and signaled with her fingers "nothing, all clear".  She placed a hand on his shoulder and quietly whispered, "Transport...Harlem." 
 
Harlem - New York City - 2090

     "Oh my gosh."  Sylver uttered.  She and Kingsley were crouched behind the ruins of a collapsed warehouse, watching the grizzley scene play out.  The girl had been swinging wildly at the Hounds with a metal pipe, furious and crazed, but one of the machines had jumped her and slashed her ribs.  The girl fell to the ground, blood spilling from her.  Sylver turned to Kingsley.   
      
     "I'll stun them; you wipe their memories.  Then we'll transport back with the girl."  She said, keeping her eyes on the Hounds.  They had to do this quick, before other things from the ruins found them.  Sylver pulled Caldavich from its sheath, crouched, ready to spring, and yelled, "Go!" 
      
     A flash of emerald and steel-white, Sylver darted at the Hounds, sword at the ready.  "CALDAVICH!!!!!!" She roared, drawing their attention from the girl.  She plunged her sword into the first, straight through the chest, then spun around, clipping the second one's head off.  The others approached her quickly, but she kept her sword swinging in sweeping, controlled arcs; a dark, playful grin appeared on her face.  Just like old times. 
      
     The other three were down in ten seconds flat, dismembered in some way.  But that wouldn't keep them down.  They could repair and heal themselves...if they had time.  Kingsley rushed to each machine, plugging a seringe like device into each's skull.  Sylver dropped to her knees next to the girl and cradled her bleeding head in her arm.  She brushed the shock of white hair out of the girl's face and gasped. 
       
    Kingsley heard her.  "What?  What is it?"  But Sylver couldn't respond for a moment.  Her blue eyes gazed into this girl's face, fully knowing who it was, but couldn't accept it.  There was no way....it just couldn't be... 
      
     "I...I know her."  Sylver said, barely above a whisper.  It was Alexandra....Laura's little girl.  An overjoyed smile formed on Sylver's face.  She wasn't so little anymore.  It had been years since Sylver had seen her....years.  They'd been separated after the last string of bombs fell on the Northern border.  After searching constantly, but finding no one by the name Alexandra Monroe, Sylver had to assume she'd been killed.  But now she'd found her... 
      
     Sskrreeeeeeeeeech!!!!!!!

     Sylver's senses reacted to the hellish sound.  Her eyes widened.  Oh crap... They'd been found. 
      
     Instantly, Sylver's mind kicked into high gear.  They had to get out of here.  "Peter!" 
      
     "I'm done--" 
      
     Thoooom!

     One of the small, ramshackle houses collapsed, dust fumed into the air.  Sylver froze, sword gripped in her hand.  It was one of them...one of the Freaks: humans mutated into mindless creatures over time by the radiation.  It's body was shaped like a lizards, only eight feet tall and jet black.  A stringy mass of oily hair was sprouted from its skull and slinky neck, and it swayed from side to side as the creature slowly approached them.  But its face...its face was scaled, but looked like it had been smashed in with a mallet, with slimey feelers extending from its crumpled snout.  Its pale yellow eyes glared at Sylver and Kingsley, as if undetermined as to what they were.   
      
     Sylver looked to Kingsley, whose eyes were wide, as if asking her what they should do.  She gestured with her eyes to the girl and then to the ruins' exit.  He carefully nodded, and Sylver gripped her sword.  Their movement was quick, lightning fast.  It had to be.  Sylver flew into the air and dove at the creature with her sword.  It roared angrily, and with a flick of its thick, tree-trunk tail, sent Sylver sailing into a pile of broken rubble.  She was up in half-a-second, watching as the giant thing charged her. 
      
     Out of the corner of her eye, Sylver saw Kingsley running away with Alex in his arms.  Good, now to deal with this Freak.  Knowing what she had to do, Sylver put Caldavich back into its shealth, and waited as the beast ran at her.  Swords would do little good here.  It would work eventually, but there wasn't any time to spare.  At the last second, Sylver dove for the ground beneath the beast, sliding under its scaled belly.  She whipped a knife from her belt and slammed it into the lizard's underside.  It screamed, half-blinded by rage, and began thrashing around to remove its attacker. 
      
     But Sylver held on, driving the knife deeper.  She had one chance to do this.  She opened her mouth and screamed, "Inflammo!!!"

     Instantly, the lizard's insides were set ablaze.  Blinding, white flames shot out from its mouth and eyes, consuming its head entirely.  Sylver rolled out from under the beast as it thrashed and seizured in pain, screaming and wailing miserably.  Unable to think, feel, or breath any longer, it fell to the ground, smoking and charred. 
      
     Sylver flew to where Kingsley was with Alex and landed next to them.  "Come on, we've gotta get out of here now! Transport...base!"

Half Hour Later

     In the make-shift sick bay, Sylver sat next to an unconscious Alexandra, toying with a blue-stone locket in her hand.  Even though all the commotion and noise may bring more Hounds to the area in days to come, Sylver didn't mind.  For the first time, in a long time, she felt relieved....peaceful, almost. 
      
     Her best friend's daugher was here, healing, and alive.  From her mundane, desparing future, came a reason for happiness...hope.  Sylver brushed the girl's white hair out of her face, gently, to get a better look at her.  She looked like her mother, aside from her hair.  But not just in features...her expression resembled her too.  Even in a deep sleep, she seemed nervous...unsettled...maybe even angry.  Sylver sat back.  What happened to her?  What sort of horrible things had taken place since they'd last met? 
      
     The medic here said that Alex would be awake...maybe in a day or two.  Aside from her injuries, she was exhausted, like she'd been exerting herself for days on end.  But she would be alright soon...and then Sylver could talk to her.  Sylver smiled again. 
      
     Maybe she couldn't fix her past.  Maybe the was a chance for the future.  And maybe, just maybe....there were miracles.

Wolf Pack – Present

The old man sat out on the upstairs balcony looking out over the view in front of him. His breath was visible as he breathed in and out slowly. The snow fell lightly on the lawn below and began to gather on his shoulders, but he did not move more than just his breath. His long white hair and beard hung down like icicles from his face.

My old bones can feel the tension in the air. They want to be young again and fight ….cough …cough…they long to kill and win the day. But you know what I miss more than anything? Flying, I haven’t flown since before we were in jail. I know that seems like just a few weeks ago to you. It was a lifetime ago for me.

His old friend walked over and sat next to him in the snow. In all the time we have known each other I’ve never heard you cough, I’ve never seen you have a scratch. Now you arrive and… The old man held up his hand and shook his head. It’s been a long hard fight my friend.

They walked together into the armory, checking their gear as they went. Hawk’s long overcoat was worn and tattered with signs of battle all over. On his sleeve was a worn and faded Wolf Pack patch, Hunter looked it over as they walked. The word in the middle stood out to him, Alpha. Hunter bit his lip and wondered what could have happened for Hawk to take the reins. He wouldn’t push the issue, now was not the time.

We go into a war zone. We fight together, we die together. The old man looked into each of their eyes as he spoke; they were so young and full of hope and faith in the world around them. He moved one by one looking them over, their black and red uniforms were a thing of the past for him. He smiled at the leather and steal, remembering the day Hunter gave him his death dealer status.

The old man and Hunter made eye contact and with a nod to Mani lighting flashed around them and in a blink they were gone.

10 miles outside of Wolf Pack HQ – 2052

The lighting crackled and exploded in the night sky. The old man quickly gathered his bearings and looked at Mani shaking his head. I’m sorry she whispered, this is the closest I could get. He gave her a smirk and called out to Hunter. They will be coming in quick, arm yourself and let’s get on the move. No teleportation they will key onto that quickly and find our home base! He barked out orders and fell into his old routine. They moved quickly and stealthily. The old man stood up stalk still all of a sudden listening for a familiar sound. He heard the whirl of the Dogs, the sentinel’s recon creation.

They were in for a fight as MRD trucks and sentinels came flooding in. Lights began to shine around them and Hawk began to shout. Mani, disappear! Hunter coordinate your people on the MRD trucks, I’ve got the dogs!.

A blur of steel and teeth came at him as he pulled out twin short blades from his back. His blades and coat spun in the air and the first of the dogs split in half lying on the ground twitching. The old man could see it trying to pull its self back together already. These models were 40 years less advanced than the ones from his time (2090) and they should have been easy work for him. His blades cut through them quickly, moving into just the right spots to disable them one after another. 4 now 5 were down but more and more were coming, as they would until they were eradicated.

He had dogs in front of him and behind they were becoming more than he could handle, he yelled out for assistance just as arrows filled the sky. Standing high on a hill with the sun at his back stood a young man with his crew at his side.

Looks like you could use some help old man. The cocky man with long black hair swept through the dogs quickly leaving them spread out along the ground as his crew aided the Wolf Pack. The young man’s eyes gazed over the Wolf Pack with questioning eyes.

The young Hawk looked over to Hunter, Looks like we need to talk. The moved quickly into the Wolf Pack headquarters, Hawk’s men quickly put down their weapons and returned to dinner excited about the new arrivals. Hawk stood at the head of the table with a young dark haired man by his side. Dinner first then we talk. The Old Man sat down laying his jacket down under him, he did not want for Hawk to see that it was the very coat he wore. They said the blessing and eat, Lord our meals are few and far between, we give thanks for this food and this day. Please allow us another.

The Future

 Razor sharp, pale white claws tapped furiously on the keyboard as the transmission was making its way back to the Pack HQ. Sam listened intently, a pair of headphones masking his green, scale covered ears. “Risk... I’m gettin’ it, All of it. I’ll see you with the rest of the Pack,” he whispered through the microphone that swooped down from the headphones to the mouth.

"You were a good boy, Robert. You told me everything I wanted to know. You may live... for now. Be sure to get better friends soon or we might see again...” said the slightly muffled and static voice through the speaker of the headphone, and within an instant, Risky was behind him, showing the absolute prowess of he teleportation skills.

“Good to see you back so soon Risky,” said Sam without even turning around. A wry smile made its way across Sam’s face, revealing his pearly, venomous fangs. “Aaaand he should be heading for the phone.... now.”

As if on cue, sound of a dial tone made its way through the headphones, followed by the dull beeping of one number. The ringing came after, and Sam’s yellow eyes and black, slit pupils were glued to the wavelengths on the monitor before him, and he prayed for an answer. One ring... two rings... three rings...

“Hello.” Finally, a voice on the other end. The wavelengths on the monitor vibrated and rolled appropriately

"Olliver? Yeah, Robert here.” Trevors’ voice was frantic.

Sam chuckled, “Sounds like he’s just seen a ghost... or worse.” He tuned the computer to speakers so the conversation could be heard throughout the room.

“Is everything okay?” Olliver said on the other end, the confused tone in his voice was apparent.

“No no, listen. No, I’m okay. We have to do something. You know that Glassmann freak?”

“The army brat?” Olliver’s voice had turned suspicious.

“Guess who just visited me and pointed a shotgun at me. Yeah, we have to be cautious. Get this thing moving fast. We don't have much time. The freaks are hot on our tail. No, I will disappear for some time. But get this thing moving!!!" Trevors left no room for questions, and a click followed the statement. Someone was in a hurry to leave, and Sam wasn’t sure which one it was.

“Looks like that’s all we’re gettin’ outta that...” Sam drawled, his slight Texan accent making a rare appearance. “Searching all names and aliases on our watch list with the name ‘Olliver’” Sam’s fingers went to work and the monitor brought up the list of thousands of known enemies of the Wolf Pack. From henchmen to world leaders, they were all there. But the name Olliver brought up something rather interesting.

“We’ve got a match.”

Olliver Doyle
Age: 64 (6-3-1946)
Occupation: Standing United States Senator (R)- West Virginia
Achievements: Co-author of Anti-Mutant Integration Act (2002), Armed Services Committee (1998), Budget Committee (2001), Secretary of Defense (1992-2000), Director of Central Intelligence (1988-92)
Author: In Defense of Joseph McCarthy (2003).
MIlitary History- Col. U.S. Army MACV-SOG (Military Assistance Command, Vietnam-Studies and Observations Group) (1968-1972), Central Intelligence Agency- Special Activities Division (SAD) (1974-1983)
Notes: Alleged ties to Human Liberty Movement and Hands of God. Doyle is a very charismatic, and is admired by both government and civilian authorities, including military.
Last known Location- 40677 Pembroke Road Springfield, VA 703, Fairfax County.

“Damn...” was all Sam could say under his breath. “They... they know how to pick’em don’t they?” The room was silent. The stakes had just been raised. Sam lied back in the chair. His green scaly hands pressed against the back of the green, hairlike spines on his head. He noticeably sighed . “Looks like we’re going to Virginia...” he said as he nonchalantly took the headphones off his head and placed them on the computer table.

As he got up and walked out of the room, his reptilian tail swayed back and forth. “Oh, guys,” He rotated his head slowly. “I need chopper.” With that, he exited the room, and almost immediately, the surveillance room was back to its full running potential. The few analysts the Wolf Pack had were again scurrying around, doing whatever they could.

With the key in his blue jeans, he opened the footlocker in his room, and in it laid all the supplies he would ever need for any mission. Slipping out of his pants, he donned his black latex suit that hung so tight to him, it was like a second skin, which was exactly what he required. This allowed him to use his reptilian abilities to the fullest, and as he would camouflage himself, the green scales that covered his body would reproduce, crawl over the suit and camouflage it as well. The suit also allowed for ease of movement and didn’t hinder his superhuman agility in the slightest. The one thing it lacked was a pair of boots, which would have only made his ability to cling to walls that much harder anyway. Besides, the armor like toughness of his scaly body was able withstand small caliber bullets, let alone anything sharp he might step on while in the field. Under the suit laid his two weapons of choice, the FN 2000 Tactical, a modern, compact assault rifle with a bullpup design and a red dot sight, and a Walther P99, the workhorse of any of his covert operations. Of course, if worse came to worse and his weapons were to fail him, he had his bare hands, and more specifically, razor sharp claws that tipped the end of every finger and toe as well as an odd, paralyzing venom secreted at will through his teeth.

With his suppressed rifle placed diagonally across his back and his silenced sidearm at his side, Sam made his way for the hangar, a large open room filled with various kinds of aircraft, both rotor and fixed wing. His chopper waited for him, as well as his pilot, a man by the name of Thomas Sanderson, a former Nightstalker Pilot.

“Welcome aboard Sam, got the rotors already moving.” The SA 365 Dauphin was behind him and was readying for takeoff.

Sam chuckled, “I can see that.”

“Sam, from now on, we’re going by call signs?”

“You got it Razor 1. And remember... it’s Chameleon.” Both laughing, the two friends got on the chopper as the noise from the spinning rotors began to blot out all other ambient sound. Chameleon entered the open side door, took a seat, (making sure his tail wasn’t making him uncomfortable) and put on a set of headphones.

“You ready, man?” Sanderson called through the radio from the pilot’s seat.

“Not yet... we may be having a guest. It’s her call though.” Chameleon replied, his voice sounding muffled and staticky.

“Just say the word...”

The Future

Present - Wolf Pack HQ

     A black and white figure stormed through the halls of the Wolf Pack HQ, muttering angrily to herself and cursing the complexities of time and its chaos.  She had spent close to an hour tearing through every book in the magic section of the library, searching for that one spell.  And what had she found?  Nothing.  Absolutely nothing. 
      
     Sylver was heading towards the mission-control room, a large stack of searching-spell books in hand, when she stopped suddenly.  The hallway leading to her left had doors for the Wolf Pack dorms; one of them being her own.  She could see her door from here, and it had a note stuck to it.  The sudden prick of curiosity pushed away some of her self-propelled fury, and she walked over, pulled the sticky-note off of the door and read: 
     Sylver,

     You're in charge.  Good luck.

     --Hunter 
      
     In....charge? Her pile of books fell to the floor.  Sylver had to do a double-take, re-read the note and flip it upside down and backwards, just to be sure it was real.  And it was.  Oh crap... She had been in charge of a few minor missions before...but nothing this big.  For cryin' out loud, Hunter was putting her in charge of the whole freakin' future!  Who'd spiked his drink earlier?! 
      
     Sylver bit her lip, nervously thinking this over.  William was already gone.  Gone to the future with a good portion of the Wolf Pack, trying to see if there was any good they could do there.  And she, the one who had sealed off at least one chance of changing the future's outcome because she'd been too stupid to take it seriously, was in charge.  We are so all going to heck....   
      
     "Sylver...."

     Sylver spun around upon hearing her name, even though she already knew what it was.  Her imagination.  She was now facing another door, a couple feet away, with a newer shine than the other doors.  Sylver smiled faintly.  She should know why....after all, she was the one who'd kicked the old one down. 
      
     It was Laura's door....Talon's.  No one had touched it since she'd disappeared, and they planned on leaving it alone until she returned.  Whenever the subject about her disappearance was brought up, the aura of the conversation suddenly became awkward...in that reverenced sort of way.  Almost like she was dead.  But the main reason was them.  Their, and other's combined, involvement, had lead to a sporadic road of chaos, and Laura, stubborn as always, had refused to get out of the way.  And now she was in a coma.  
      
     Sylver took a few vaguely conscious steps towards the door, and leaned across the wall opposite.  Silence.  It was the expected answer, yet Sylver only wished that she could consult with her dear friend.  She hung her head, feeling tired with the pressure of this cross-road.  Which way was better?  What should she do?  Was it wise for her to even get involved anymore? 
      
     "Laura....I don't know what to do.  I wish you were here."  She said quietly.  Laura always had a plan.  Sometimes not the best, sometimes made up out of the blue, but she always had a plan.  And yet here she was: a trained soldier, a veteran of more wars than Uncle Sam, a tutor of the lessons that over 3,000 years of time had given her...and she had nothing. 
      
     "Sylver...remember what you told me...the day you kicked down the door?"

     Sylver exhaled sharply.  Yes...of course she did.  How could she forget?  As strange, and yet completely normal as it was, on that day, both Sylver and Laura had been bent on suicide missions.  Literally.  Completely ignoring her own agenda, Sylver had lectured Laura, furiously begging her to reconsider.  Begging her not to give up.  Well...they were both stupid, and had both gone through with it.  They'd died, but finally hearing their own advice, refused to give in, and escaped the demons together.  Not even angels, demons, and purgatory could hold them back. 
      
     And what did you learn from that Sylver?  Are you going to let these sacrifices go on in vain?

     Sylver's reminiscing smile faded, disrupted by her own thoughts....her own conscience.  Gosh, sometimes it sucked to have a soul. 
      
     "No..."  Sylver growled to herself.  "I...I can't fix it this time."  As soon as she said it, Sylver regretted it.  It felt like she'd slapped away any help, any friends that had ever pushed her to go on, pushed her to do better.  Pushed her to never give up.  She wanted to do something, she wanted to fix this so bad.... 
      
     Then do it, you self-pitying bum!!!  Fight back!!! 
      
     A sudden, hot fire sparked in Sylver's psyche.  An inner flame coming to life.  "F-fight...back?"  She echoed.  A thousand images, a thousand people who had told her that rained through her memory.  An Elven master slamming his sword against hers, as she fell to the ground,  "Fight back!" , a Union general screaming to them as the hot lead balls showered upon them,  "Fight back!" , a fellow comrade, shooting his gun at the hailing Japanese kamikaze planes at Pearl Harbor,  "Fight back!" ...Laura and her, charging the hoards of demons trying to drag them into the abyss,  "FIGHT BACK!!!!"

      The last memory shattered her deadened resolve, and a familiar fury lit up her eyes.  She slammed her fist against the wall, out of happy realization, not anger, and laughed out loud.  "Dag gummit!  I'll be darned if I don't see this through!"  With a fulfilled energy, Sylver scooped up her books from the ground and blazed off towards the control room.  Once she entered, she dropped the volumes on a table and raced over to the main computer.  Sylver pressed the "all channels" button. 
      
     "Wolf Pack, this is Sylver.  The future is in danger and Hunter has seen fit to place me over current operations...as scary as that might be to some of you."  This she added with a sarcastic grin.  "He has already gone to the future in hopes of restoring some order there.  And for those of us here, we are to make sure that that never becomes necessary.  We have been asked to change the future." 
      
     Sylver paused for a moment.  This was a tall order....nearly impossible, and most certainly maddening.  She finished off a mental checklist of all the requirements for a Wolf Pack mission.  Yep...this one cleared quite nicely. 
      
     "So let's do this people.  Call in and report to me where your current location is and I'll send you any leads that need to be followed."  Her mental revival came to mind, and the lessons that had prompted it.  This was going to be one heck of a battle, one that they might not even win.  But winning was never a guarantee...just a hope.  Fighting back however....that could always be arranged.  Sylver finished off her announcement simply, "Mount up Pack." 
      
     Good golly, she'd always wanted to say that! 
 
Future - 2090 - NYC

     Fight back.

     It's quite an important concept.  A deep urging, a valiant hero's calling.  A need.  It was something I'd learned to never abandon, never forget.  There were times that I'd fallen and thought that never again could I get back up.  I was always wrong.  And thank heavens for that.  My friends, those that I'd fought beside and loved, had taught me that.  Somehow, they'd seen the man inside the monster with me, and took a chance on a crazy vampire to stick beside them to the end.  I will never forget that.  And I will never give in.

     I am looking into a mirror now.  To others, I look the same as I did 1,000 years ago...maybe even 2,000.  But I see differently.  I see my soul through my unchanging, immortal skin.  I see a woman tried and tested time after time.  I see the scars of yesterday marring me, but never holding me back.  I see memories that have left their undying touch on my life, reviving and molding me into a new person....and hopefully, a better one.

     Though perhaps, in a small way, I do see some physical changes.  My hair, for instance.  I have the ability to change my superficial features to whatever color/shape I want, but as of late, I don't do it much.  I almost always wear my hair flared-out, just above the shoulder, and black.  I still do.  But time, pain, and the pounding stress of thousand of bodily straining spells and tortures reduced the front strands of hair, on each side, to pure white.  Sometimes, I leave it that way, to remind me of what I've been through...who I am....and those who have gone before me. 

     I am 3,890 years old.  And in all my years I am grateful for two things specifically:

     My friends and things that keep me fighting back.

 
     There was a sword three inches from Sylver's face.  She didn't like that. 
      
     But trying to renew her patience, Sylver remained still, silent, seeing what her companion might do next.  Just a few moments before, Rapture had been lying on her bed, moaning and tossing in her sleep.  Now she was sitting straight up, a sword just a hair from Sylver's nose.  In all this Sylver couldn't help but be amused.  Like mother, like daughter. 
       
     The girl was frazzled: hair askew, breathing ragged, eyes darting like a frightened rabbit.  Concern welled up in Sylver's mind, reminding her to kindly grill Alex about her recent....adventures, when she was well and calm enough to respond.  Allowing her sword to disappear, Alex laid back down on the bed, seeming to try and pull herself together.  All the while, Sylver remained still, only her eyes following the girl's sporadic movements, trying to read as much as she could about her friend's long lost daughter.  And her student. 
      
     Suddenly, their eyes met, and the girl sat up, oddly gazing at Sylver.  Then finally, after a good bit of awkward silence, spoke, “I did not require any assistance, yet since you did come to my aid I am forced to be in your debt and thank you.”  The abrupt, completely out-of-character statement shook Sylver, bringing out the reaction of a concerned frown to her statue-still face.   
      
     The part about not needing assistance...yes, she could expect that from Alex.  She was headstrong and a fighter, just like her mother.  But the "forced to be in your debt and thank you" was a little too much for Sylver to take in.  For goodness' sake!  She hadn't seen the girl in over three years!  She thought she was dead!  And the first thing she could say to Sylver was a robotic, alienated, unrealistic "thank you, I am in your debt"?!?   
      
      Bull crap!!! 
      
     Had Alex not been in a state of nervousness and perhaps even trauma, Sylver would have been tempted to slap her.  Not out of anger, but of fear and concern, to see if she could provoke a response from the Alex she knew.  What the bloody junk had happened to her in three years?  And why was she treating Sylver like a stranger? 
      
     Unintentionally, Sylver began leaning forward in her chair, her blue eyes piercing into Alex, trying to find an answer.  "Alex--I....what happened?"  She asked, standing to her feet as Alex did.  "Tell me." 
      
     Ignoring Sylver, Alex ran for the door and shouted, "Do not follow me..."  Leaving Sylver alone and completely stunned.  In less than a minute, Sylver had gained her long-lost companion back, and lost her again.  Sylver stepped into the hallway and watched Alex fly down the corridor, pushing past people.   She leaned against the wall, arms crossed, and rubbed her forehead, tired and confused.  

     She could easily follow or find Alex when she felt like it; that was the beauty of magic: never quits; so, she let her run off.   De ja vu’ was happening again, Sylver concluded.   She had had to do the same thing with Laura.   Alex would cool her head soon enough….   But just in case… Sylver reasoned.   She clasped her hands together and uttered her spell.

     About ten minutes later, Sylver floated cautiously and comfortably away from Rapture’s little battle scene, invisible, but close enough in case there was trouble.   Sylver glanced up to the city beyond.   Normally, at this time of night, it would have been aglow with the millions of lights and voices of millions of people, a city that teemed with life.   Now a metal skeleton, silent and cold, Alex’s anguished cries seemed to envelope its suffering and expend in pain.   Yet Sylver knew she had to let Alex get this weight off her chest alone; otherwise, Alex would suffocate from her own anger.

     Alex’s stifled cries and free-flowing tears pained Sylver.   What had happened to that young teenage girl she had trained so many years ago?   What had happened to her spirit?   Sylver sighed, and apparently, too audibly.   Alex looked up into the sky, obviously irked by Sylver’s following, and shouted, ““If you desire to know what I have been up too in the mean time I sadly will have to disappoint you. For I to not wish to divulge pointless information and burden you with my own problems”   Sylver gritted her teeth; why was Alex saying this?

     She continued, looking at a now-visible Sylver, ““Please I only came her for answers but now that I am here I see that there was no point and I have only endangered you further…for I know you have nothing to do with the matters that I am presently taking care of.”   The defensive words stung at Sylver, and she could see the emotional wall Alex was trying to erect, forcing her out.   She floated closer, the balls of her feet landing on the skyscraper roof’s ledge.   Alex seemed to recoil away from her and said, looking towards the approaching dawn, “Sylver…none of this is your business, forget I was here for soon enough it’ll be like you never knew me.”

     “ENOUGH!!!”   This pitying…this forcing away…it was too much for Sylver!   She gripped Alex by the shoulders and borred her vivid blue eyes into her black ones.   “Alex…I don’t know what’s happened to you, but I want to help.   Why are you pushing me away like this?   Don’t you remember who I am?”   She paused for a moment, eyes wide and searching, trying to find some truth to her words.   “I’m Sylver…your teacher.”   She paused again, lowering her head and realizing what needed to be done.   Something had happened to Alex.   Something terrible, that was causing her to back away from Sylver when she tried to comfort her with words.   So perhaps actions would have to justify.   “And I will not let you do this to yourself.”

     Sylver’s twin swords were out in the blink of an eye, both pointing deadly at Alex’s exposed defenses.   An energetic, vivid smirk increased on her pale, white face.   “So come!   If you think you can take your old teacher.   If you win, I will let you walk away and go wallow in your sorrow, something your mother would have never done, “This last part she added, knowing that a reaction was imminent, and the fires would be stoked.   If she was to help Alex, she might have to break her gently to find the girl underneath the pain.   “But if you lose, you will tell me everything that has happened to you since we last met, and you will stay here until I further say so.”

     She knew the last demand would push Alex to win, but she would not.   Sylver knew that.   Alex was too unnerved and scattered emotionally to focus, and Sylver needed to know what had happened.   She would not lose Alex again.

     “I care for you Alex.   You were a bright and wonderful girl….but I will not let you leave here without the knowing that you will be alright.   So!”   She said, backing away slightly, twirling her swords, “A weapons fight only!   A test of skill!   Let us see who has learned more lessons over the past three years!”

 The whip whip whip of the Dauphin’s rotors reverberated off the walls of the house, and as it lowered altitude, the grass on the lawn lied down flat as if cowering in fear of it. And the two of them were something to be feared. The two hour chopper ride had prepared them both mentally and physically. With one last cocking of their rifles and sidearms, the two fast roped down the chopper just before it quickly sped away, disappearing into the dark, starry sky.

Never before in his eighteen years on this Earth had Sam ever felt that he was on a more important operation. The success of this mission possibly determined the fates of not only his own life, but for the thousands like him. For Sam, it was especially crucial. There was no hiding what he was. With the exception of his body’s shape and frame, it was clearly visible that he wasn’t human. Often, he could only feel shame when looking at himself through a mirror, his green, armor like scales covering him head to toe and a reptilian tail protruding out his backside. But this was a chance to change all that. If they got what they needed out of Doyle, maybe he wouldn’t have to hide anymore. The thought was foreign to him, just as the thought of his mutation was two years ago. He had to re-focus

“This is Razor-One. Will provide overwatch as necessary. Over,” Sanderson said without emotion through the radio.

“This is Chameleon. Copy that Razor-One. Preparing to breach,” said Sam through the radio on his neck. The helicopter could still be faintly heard in the distance, acting as both a confidence booster and a tactical asset. Chameleon and Risky slowly approached the glass back door. It was locked. Risky readied her weapon to break the window but Chameleon stopped her and placed his index finger to his lips.

With a flick of his hand, his five razor sharp claws shot out about an inch away from his fingers. Placing his palm on the window, he slowly turned it in a circular motion, cutting away a chunk of glass that his hand could easily fit through. With extreme caution, he placed the piece of glass on the ground and slipped his hand through the door, unlocking it. Risky nodded and the two proceeded inside, weapons drawn.

The house was as dark as pitch, but Sam’s yellow, reptilian eyes penetrated the darkness, adding an illuminating, light blue hue to everything he saw. Risky had donned a pair of night vision goggles.

“Clear...” Risky whispered.

“Roger that,” Chameleon replied. “Subjects appear to be asleep. Goin’ stealth.” As he said it, the green scales that covered his body slowly began to spread and multiply. First growing over his tight latex suit and then making their way across his FN 2000 across his back and his P99 that he held with both hands. Slowly, the green color began to fade and fade until he was nearly invisible as he began to camouflage. In the day time, he was almost gone, only to be slightly seen when he moved, but in the darkness, he was as good as a ghost. 

“Continuing upstairs to master bedroom,” Sam whispered.

“Chameleon, you take the rooms to the right at the top of the stairs, I’ll take the ones on the left.” Risky replied. There was a sound of professionalism in her voice that was rare. She was confident, cool, and relaxed, yet somehow always on guard, a quality that was sorely lacking with most mercs, who were either incredibly cocky and overzealous or could never get the job done. But then again, this wasn’t Risky’s first rodeo. She was a veteran of countless operations, most notably the Civil War that happened a few years back, a war Sam was glad he wasn’t forced to participate in.

“Yes ma’am.” The creakiness of the stairs was something Chameleon wasn’t about to take a risk on. So as they approached the stairs, he readied himself and placed his palms on the wall one at a time. The tiny suction cups in his fingers and palms did the rest of the work. Then, once he knew he had a good hold, he placed his feet on the wall, and began to quickly and quietly scurry up and over on the wall, reaching the top of the stairs without making so much as a sound. Risky had another idea. Jumping high enough, she reached the bottom of the balcony above, and displaying an impressive amount of strength, she pulled herself up and over.

Sam had to restrain himself from making a witty remark. “Right side corridor clear.”

“Left side Clear,” Risky Replied.

Weapons drawn and safeties off, the two went their separate ways, skulking the hallway and placing one foot in front of the other quickly as not to put any weight on the hardwood floor. “Clearing room number one.” Sam whispered as he pressed his invisible face against the wooden door. Slowly and carefully, he turned the knob. After getting out of the chopper and into the house, the last thing Sam wanted to do was to wake them at the last second. He silently prayed that Doyle would be in the room.

The monotonous sound of snoring filled the bedroom and he saw a man of about sixty sleeping soundly in his bed next to his loving wife. “Subjects spotted.”

“Copy that,” said Risky through the ear piece. “Clearing the rest of these rooms. Don’t want any nasty surprises. Over.”

The scales on Sam’s clothing quickly disappeared and the green pigment returned, revealing his true face again. He wanted Doyle to see who he was messing with. Taking out a syringe filled with a sedating solution and putting his pistol back in his holster, he advanced toward the man on the left side of the bed. The needle made contact with his neck. 

But suddenly, something went wrong. Doyle’s eyes shot open. The lights flashed like a sun. Chameleon instinctively shut his eyes like a trap and a voice entered his ears. “Don’t... move... Dad.” 

When Sam felt that it was safe to open his eyes again, the image of a young boy, about thirteen years old stood before him, holding a 12-gauge shotgun. He cocked it.

“Risk... we may have a problem here.” Sam barely moved his lips when he said it in a low whisper. 

“Get your filthy green hands off my dad you mutie bastard.” The kid shouldered the shotgun while Chameleon flashed the claws out of his fingertips. Venom slowly began to accumulate in the glands of his fangs.

“Riiiisk.” Still not moving his lips. A sound of desperation was in his voice.

“Fifteen Seconds.” Se replied through the radio. Doyle and his wife just stared at the situation, their minds still trying to comprehend exactly what was happening. 

“I don’t have fifteen seconds.” Chameleon slowly reached for his holstered P99, his claws brushing against its metal surface.

“Five seconds.” The boy’s finger moved towards the trigger of the shotgun. 

“Take the shot!” Chameleon finally yelled.

A single, silenced round was heard followed by the loud resounding boom of a shotgun. The boy knelt to the floor, a bullet through his shoulder or back, Sam couldn’t tell. What happened next was all in slow motion. He could see the flash from the shotgun. He could see the dozens of pellets leave the muzzle. He could see them coming at him. Then, the world returned to regular speed.

The pellets made their way deep into his scaly skin on his right shoulder, but they didn’t penetrate through it. Instead, through the force of the weapon, he was sent airborne, pirouetting through the air like a dancer. The next thing he saw was Risky enter the room, her SMG drawn, kick the shotgun away from the kid.

Tapping his fingers on his resting legs as if they were the ivory keys of a baby grand. NeVann was slowly growing restless as 20 minutes from when he stated the meeting would start had passed. To take his mind off that fact, he began to think back to a few months ago shortly after he went M.I.A. It felt as though it was only yesterday he found himself making his way through a man crafted passageway in the middle of mountain, deep within the heart of Japan. Many echoes bounced off the mass wall walls of the catacombs, caused by the dozens of different creatures that that called this dark dank place home. With torch in hand that only illuminated things that were a few feet in front and behind him. Vann cautiously followed the walk way, only stopping for a brief moments to examine the hieroglyphic like cave drawing that not even he could fully decipher. "How far can I see with my Sharingan? Knowledge and awareness could be nothing more than just illusion… What does all this mean?" The Shinobi thought to himself, just as he reached the end of the path.

A reverberation sang out in the bows of the mountain as the torch the ninja was holding fell to his feet. His eyes widened and was filled with skepticism as to why there was a large engraving of the curse seal that was on his back. His left arm rose as stepped forward looking like a moth that was hypnotized by a majestic flame, as he approached the carving. Running his hand along the surprisingly smooth rock like wall, NeVann accidentally triggered its opening mechanism, causing him to quickly jump back as the wall began to split in two. A flaring light pierced though the opening as if it was being freed from an inescapable prison, and hugged on to the Uchiha’s face forcing him to raise arm over his eyes like shield. "So it seems you are ready to see the illusion you call reality?" he heard a voice say. Lowering his arm as his eyes adjusted to the light that had peered through the doorway, they rested about the person that voice came from.

"So you’re the one that lured me here… but for what?"

Raising to as much of a vertical state as he could the man turned and began to walk back inside the hidden chamber while saying, "My name is no use or important, but the answers to the your other questions awaits you inside." Curious of what he would find out the ninja followed, only to find himself in awe at all the scrolls and statues that had to be dozens upon dozens of century years old. His eyes scanned from one end of the room to the other, and the one thing that kept reappearing was his Heaven Curse Seal. "W-what is this place…" Still scanning around Vann asked. "This is the lost temple of Ama-no-Kagaseo." The man said as he searched through the hill of scrolls. "Ama no kaga… what?" Vann replied back.

"Ama no Kagaseo… and you the prophet child said to be born of fire and water, with eyes that look like two full blood moon. That has the ability of clairvoyance, and born with blood of man and animal…" He said as he finally found the scroll he was looking for and handed it to the shinobi. "Born of fire and water… wait you mean the fact that I’m a child of both the hidden leaf that’s in the land of fire and the hidden mist that’s in land of water?" Vann said as he was handed the scroll. "Yes, two elements that hatred for one another would never let them mix. That is the reason why you were almost kidnapped as a child. The leader of mist village knew of this prophecy as well and ruled you a future threat…" Vann listen to him say as he looked over the scroll. "Umm… there’s something wrong here though I don’t have Precog powers and I’m not some man animal hybrid… And still doesn’t explain why my family curse seal is all over this place." Vann said overly confused while still looking at the scroll, only to stop after realizing that he knew about the event that happen to him when the ninja was only a baby.

"It is true you have only a third of its soul… but that curse seal as you put isn’t something that was passed along through your family bloodline, though there was another Uchiha that had a false marking. The mark you bare is the August Star of Heaven emblem. And it means you are the living incarnation of…"

His thoughts were cut short as he heard a female voice that was oddly familiar but at the same he had never heard say "Vann? Haven’t seen you in a while. What’s the lowdown?" Still leaning back the shinobi eyed the female twice over noticing both the talon like nail and the emerald eyes. "Es… Is that you? Where’s Cly?" He said in an unsure tone before going on, "Did you and Cly run across a spell that allowed you two to fuse or something?" just before she could reply the brash, boorish demi-God made his into the room joking insulting the Human form of the dragon. Almost seeming to dismiss the existence of the ninja before sitting down. Slightly annoyed that no one else had shown the ninja stood and began pacing back and forth.

"Well it looks like you two are the only ones to show I guess everyone else is either out on a mission or working the what I’m about to talk about so I’ll just have this recorded and they can play it back once they get here. Okay first let start be apologizing for vanishing for as long as I did with any word or contact… But in my return I have been made aware of the facts that a large number of metas and non-humans have been disappearing and or been coming up dead. This has been going on since around the time I went M.I.A. And well if we haven’t got involved we are now."

Present - ,

      "Oblivious!"

     The seven "hidden" security cameras swiveled strangely for a moment, but then, unable to see the figure crouching before them, turned away.  Walking past the cameras, Sylver, invisible at the moment, stopped at the edge of a sheer drop cliff and stared down into the vast canyon.  The moon was full tonight; it bathed the never-ending display of mesas, canyons, and rocky ground in a eerie blue-white light.  Scanning the illuminated landscape, Sylver caught a glimpse of what she'd been looking for. 
     A triumphant, playful smile came to her lips.  Stupid humans, She thought to herself, always thinking they can hide from me.  Quickly pulling out her communicator, Sylver began relaying her teammates the coordinates.  She paused for a moment, looking down at the evidence she'd discovered.  The dark, hateful feelings that had split through her heart earlier, for these evil wretches, had given way to a sort of care-free, unfeeling-ness.  But when Sylver decided not to care, was when things got scary... 
     And messy, Sylver giggled mentally.  She turned the communicator back on. "Ok guys, you know where I am now.  The base is just below me, in the canyon.  From the position of the door, I believe that it leads underground.  When you get close enough, call in, and I'll cloak you.  They've got at least ten cameras on this ledge, and about fourteen on the one across from me...probably more on the canyon walls."  
     She paused again, her pointed Elvin ears picking up the few sounds that penetrated the impregnable silence of the desert.  One of them being the hundreds of pounding hearts in the hundreds of human bodies below ground.  They were faint, but from the amount of them, Sylver knew they were there. 
     "And one more thing guys…prepare for ultimate casualties." 
    The faint smirk she was wearing faded away.  Underneath it all she was angry...and disgusted.  Not even an hour before hand, Risky had called into her, saying that she'd gotten some very reliable information that a group of meta-human haters had a base in .  And that they had the Legacy Virus.  And as world-destroying, future-disrupting disasters go, the Virus sounded like a good place to start hunting. 
     A guttural growl simmered in her throat.  These vile...pigs!  What kind of world did they think they were living in?  As if there wasn't enough hate and meaningless murders to go around!  Sylver had seen this kind of group before...throughout the centuries, someone, always discontent that they couldn't make another miserable, decided to push their misery on another, whether it be for skin color, or religion or station.  Different reasons, different times, same goal.   
     But there was one other thing that all these racist, ignorant people had in common... 
     They had made a very big mistake.  And Sylver had punished them for it.

     Sylver pulled a spade-shaped dagger from its sheath.   It was small; she would have to be closer to her prey to kill them.   She might even have to hold them down, or let their warm, pulsing blood spill on her boots.

     Sylver shrugged.   The matter was not important.   They were soulless killers of their own race.

     They were not human.

     2090 – NYC

     What makes people family?

     Surely it is not such a bad question.   A very simple one…but what defines the answer?   I have lived a long time…too long perhaps, I tell myself sometimes, and I have seen many things.   But this is one of the many questions that elude me the answer, putting yet another thing on my unanswerable questions list.

     Family.   Is it a person, people, a group of common-blooded folk?   Or is it similar-thinking or feeling creatures?   Is it a pre-destined connection of two peoples’ souls, an understanding and bond that cannot be described?   I would lean towards the latter, more than anything.   For the first question, I can rule out within my own life examples.   My team, long ago, the Wolf Pack was my family.   None of us had anything in common.   No blood…barely the same morals…and sometimes barely any tolerance in between.   Yet we were family.   A disjointed one, granted, but a family none the less.

     The second question…I do not believe answers it either.   For even within a fully related family, each member is different.   Even in my own family; my older brother, Kard, was a calm, gentle strategist, while my younger brother, Luar, was more outspoken and energetic.   We all had dreams, hopes, plans…all so different, and yet we were “family”.

     And finally, the last question.   I believe in every family, no matter how deranged and broken, there is a love, entwined and unbreakable, for each member.   Some sort of deep connection…something that goes beyond our own initial feelings and desires, so that, even if they break us, or burn us, or tell us that they hate us and wish us dead, we are still theirs, and they are ours.   It is the pit within the cherry…the very inside of our souls…the family: a place to find another, a connection, a bond.   It is what drives us on, fighting and hoping, striving to be better for them, that the bond may become outwardly shown and not just the useable seed.  

     Sometimes that bond can be a thorn in the memory…a curse to those uprightly set apart from their terrible relatives.   But if not always, it is what brings us back, no matter how far we have fallen, to our roots and closest loves.  

     I have lived a long time, and seen many things…and felt along with that.   I have felt what it is like to have family.   Though that family was, and still is, few, I have come to the place where I can contemplate and know what this deep bond is to me…what it makes me to be.

     A dearest friend of mine, of whom I have chosen to call sister, was Laura.   So different were we, that I questioned how it was that we never killed each other (although, almost did many times, I dare say.)!   And now I know why.   It was because we were more than just outward friends, simple business partners, unfeeling and soulless.   We were family.   She was my sister.   I stood beside her, no matter what, through the tragic end of her involvement with the Wolf Pack, to planning our survival in this new, war-torn world, to raising her daughter when she died.

     But now she is gone.   But her daughter remains.   She hates me, to a minimal degree, simply because she sees the truth in my words and the love in my actions.   She has been scarred and is trying to run from her fear and pain.   But because I love her, because she is my family, I will make her face it head-on.

     I will not abandon her…because I cannot.   The bond is too deep, the inside of my soul.

    And indeed, I will not have my soul torn again.

   “You expect me to fight some one as old as you? Yes you might be immortal but please…don’t insult me.”

    The insult was a feeble one, Sylver could see that much.   Rapture’s small, angry form trembled in anger and frustration at the words Sylver had spoken.   Yet Sylver could barely retain a straight face.   Though Alex believed that she had grown up, Sylver could see the little girl underneath, trying to make sense of the world and her inexplicable emotions.

     Honestly, Sylver didn’t want to fight Alex; she would prefer it if the girl would simply talk to her.  But naturally, that wouldn’t happen… “Alex, you’re upset.   Just sit down, and we’ll talk.”

     “You say you care…if you did, you’d leave me alone!”   Alex shouted back, running her hands through her white hair, furiously, as if she were still fighting some inner turmoil.    She threw her hand out, preparing to summon Gemini.   Sylver simply smiled.

     Alex’s stunned expression showed enough, that Sylver understood Laura’s sword more than her daughter did.   The sword was a weapon of justice, of peace.   It was meant for purposefully fighting, not fits of rage.   Spitting curses under her breathe, Alex still pulled out the sword, though not as powerful as it would have been, had Sylver been an actual enemy.

     Alex held the sword up, still shaking and flushed with uncertain flurries of emotion…mainly rage.   “I will not be defeated by the likes of you Sylver! I’ve worked to hard for my road to end here!”   She screamed at her former-trainer.

     Shock formed on Sylver’s face, as if she’d been slapped.   In what moment had Alex become so full of vengeance…vengeance that had no reason?   Sylver gripped her twin swords’ handles tighter.   “Indeed Alex!   It seems your road here has been very hard, but undoubtedly, you did nothing to make it so.”   She paused a moment, trying to get any read of emotion from the girl’s face besides anger.   Perhaps she could stop this before Alex did something she’d regret…

     “You’re running, Alex!   You’re running from your pain.   You think that bravery?   Skill?   You think that is what’s gotten you here?   No.   The only reason you’re still here is that your fear hasn’t caught up to you yet, and destroyed you.   Let me help you—“

      “I warned you Sylver…I said leave me alone. I said do not come near me…I warned you! Never say I didn’t do so! But now…you leave me no choice…if needed I will kill you to finish what I started and to fulfill my destiny!”  

     Sylver growled, mainly out of self-irritation.   Wherever she had failed to help this girl, she would make up for now.   Alex claimed she would kill her.   Sylver stifled a laugh.   Let her try…

     Sylver caught Alex’s sword strike with a perfect parry, pushing the blade off to the side.   With inhumanly fast reflexes, she spun her one sword around and slammed the butt into Alex’s forehead.   Sylver’s face became hardened, skeptical.   She was the teacher again, and this was her most important lesson.

     “You’ve gotten slow, Alex!   You haven’t been keeping up with what I taught you.”   She chided, blocking another blow, spinning her own blades about Alex’s, as if the young girl were standing still.   Alex’s strikes came on hard and blunt; Sylver’s were smooth, direct, and on target.   Another flash past the defenses, and Sylver had made a small slice mark on Alex’s cheek.

     Sylver put her foot behind Alex’s, nearly tripping her, as the girl tried to back away from her teacher’s spinning blades.   With her attention divided, Sylver came on hard, strike after deadly strike, slamming hard against Alex’s defenses, eyes blazing in a blue fire.   Sylver knew she would win; not because she was proud, but because she understood her abilities and how far Alex had fallen from hers.   Plus, there was fear in the girl’s eyes.  

     They were at the edge of the roof now, blades flashing and screeching.   Sylver knew she had to end this…quickly.   It could not go on forever.   Alex needed help; more so emotionally than physically.   She would simply have to shove this piece of humble pie down her throat, and move on.

     Lightning fast, Sylver held her blades against Alex’s, raised her foot, and slammed it into the girl’s rib cage.   The wind knocked out of her, Alex would be partially and temporarily stunned.   Now.   Sylver tackled the girl head-on, causing her to drop her sword.   With her iron grip, Sylver pinned Alex’s legs down with her own, and held the girl’s hands above her head.

     It was momentarily silent, only interrupted by Alex’s heavy breathing.   Sylver didn’t breath, but kept her burning-ice eyes locked on Alex’s face.   With the soldier persona retreating into her mind, Sylver looked down at the girl, caringly.  

     “Alex…”   She said, barely above a whisper, “I’m so sorry.   I’m sorry I didn’t look for you harder….then you would’ve been spared whatever’s been haunting you.”   Still aware that the girl was angry and ready to bolt, Sylver pulled her up and held her close.   Moisture forming in her eyes, Sylver hugged Alex tighter.   The agonizing guilt that, had she looked harder…longer…even for just a day, she would have found Alex…Laura’s little girl, was killing her.   She’d promised Laura to look after her….and she’d failed.

     “But I won’t fail again.”   Sylver said, her thoughts becoming words.   She held Alex by the shoulders and faced her, both of them sitting on their knees atop a broken skyscraper as the dawn broke.   Sylver brushed a piece of Alex’s white hair from her face.   “Alex, I know I’m not your parent…and maybe that’s why you don’t want my help…but I can’t leave you again.   I’ve seen too many good friends…close family die when I couldn’t help it.   But I can help it now.   And I will…because you’re my family, Alex.”

     She gripped the girl’s shoulders tighter.   “Ya hear that, Alex?   I’m your family.   I care for you, not because your mother asked me to, but because I want to.   And I will not leave you.   Ever.”   She paused, giving time for her words to sink in.   Alex still seemed unnerved, whether by Sylver’s actions or words, she did not know.   The one thing she did know was…she had found Alex again, had been given a second chance…she would not fail.  

     For both of their sakes.

     Sylver looked back to Alex’s face, trying to lock eyes with her.   “So, Alex…I did win after all.   How about we head back to base?   I’ll fix us something to eat and then we can t—“

     BAA-BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOMMMM!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

     A thick, roaring sound cut off Sylver, and shook the building they were sitting on.   Sylver immediately covered Alex’s head, fearing that the Hounds had brought Flyers in, and were on a bombing raid of the city.   But when the burning shock wave of fire didn’t come, Sylver raised her head.  

     But then, she dearly wished she hadn’t.

     Only a couple blocks away, at the Central Station entrance, a wall of smoke and flames covered the sky.    

 “Risky, Chameleon, do what you have to and get out of there. I’m seeing four tangos preparing to breach the front door of the house,” Sanderson said through the radio on his helmet. “They’re armed.” The muffled boom of a small caliber pistol reached his ears followed by more static.

Sam jumped to his feet and took the pistol out of his holster while he slowly approached Doyle’s room. The light from an open door blinded him at first, but as soon as he came to his senses, he saw Risky before him, an emotionless look on her face. Nonchalantly, she closed the door, checked the bottom of her boot, sighed, and wiped her boot on the rug, leaving a red residue behind. “Yeah, I copy,” was all she said.

Sam lowered his sidearm and the two walked back to the balcony overlooking the glass and wooden front door. They crouched behind the low wall and waited.

“Four, he said?” She asked

Sam winced at the pain in his shoulder “Yeah, four. But they don’t look like Rent-a-cops. Probably some PMC hired by Doyle or the Purifiers. Rules of Engagement?”

“After what I just heard... none.” She was solemn and serious, and she took her SMG from her back strap.

“Copy that.” Sam said as he lowered the grip on his FN-2000. “Here they come.” he whispered.

Almost as soon as he said it, there was a loud crash as the door was kicked open. Flashlights and lasers under the barrel of the security’s guns danced across the floor and the ceiling like a beautiful light show. Then, the fireworks started. Simultaneously, Risky and Chameleon lurched their guns over the wall, not letting go of the triggers until the clip was dry. Bullet casings ting tinged as they hit the oak wooden floor one after another. Chameleon’s eyes created a form of natural nightvision, giving everything a blue hue while Risky’s goggles did the job for her The four security mercs responded in kind, firing blindly at whatever they perceived as a threat, but they were no match for the two Spec Ops trained members of the Wolf Pack in an elevated position. One by one they fell, there knees buckling and arms flailing wildly. The entire event seemed to go on for hours, but it was over in mere seconds. The ambush was successful. All was silent.

The two reloaded and moved like clockwork. They ran down the stairs, sacrificing stealth for speed. They checked corners and watched each other’s back until they were at the back door again, the hole in the glass cut by Sam’s claw was still there, undisturbed. Then, they just ran, Sam’s bare, scaly feet and Risky’s heavy combat boots making an odd click clop sound as they sprinted to the nearest exfiltration point.

“Razor-One, Razor-One, this is Chameleon, where the hell are you?!” Sam shouted into the radio, his breath running low.

“This is Razor-One. Chameleon, you’ve got the whole nine yards coming after you two. I  count fifteen plus foot mobiles approaching south along with three technicals near the intersection. What’d you guys do?”

“Just get to fu^%#in’ LZ Alpha. Over.” It seemed like they would never get there, but they had to keep moving and cutting through neighbor’s yards, hopping fences, and accidentally knocking over grills with a reptilian tail was the only way to get to the primary Landing Zone, the Kitchner Park Playground.

They tumbled over one last fence before running past a patrol of mercs, who would have been unaware that they were even near if it weren’t for Sam’s tail thwacking against a metal mailbox. They gave chase, firing their assault rifles and machine guns into the night, bullets ricocheting off the metal slide of the children’s playground. Sanderson’s helicopter was getting closer and closer, as evidenced by the sound of loud, chopping rotors becoming increasingly louder by the second.

It was then, when they were so close to escaping, that Sam caught a 5.56mm bullet in the back of his calf, through his latex suit, embedding itself, but not penetrating his green, scaly armor. The resulting shock and burst of pain sent him diving to the ground. He knew he was dead. There was no way he was going to be fast enough to get up and run, at least for several hours until he began to heal. He pulled out his sidearm. If he was going down, he was going down fighting. Panic shots of desperation escaped the muzzle of his silenced P99, and when he reached his ten round limit, he dropped his magazine and reloaded like a machine. The chopper was readying for landing, and it was so close, Sam could hear bullets ricochet of its metal fuselage from their pursuers some thirty yards away.

Suddenly, there was another pressure at his shoulders, not a painful one as if from a bullet, but a steady one. Finishing off another magazine, he loaded his final, only to look up and see Risky pulling him by the shoulders with one arm and firing her sidearm with the other. Sam smiled as their eyes met, and maybe, just maybe, there was a brief smirk on her face as well, before going back to business of firing in the direction of muzzle flashes, somehow earning a kill shot with every bullet. With a heave, Risky and Sam were on the chopper, and Sanderson, took off into the night.

“Next time... Next time, we find a closer LZ.” Sam chuckled while lying on the floor of the chopper. “Risky... thank y- Ow! What are you doing.”

“Taking buckshot out of your shoulder. You’re lucky your skin is like kevlar, kid.” Risky smiled.

“What I was trying to say was... thanks. You’re a good partner, Risk.”

“Just doing my job. Now turn over, let me see how bad this bullet in your leg is.” She ordered friendly but firmly. Taking the pain, Sam winced and tried his best not to cry out as she dug what was now a crushed round from his calf.

“Hey guys.” Sanderson called through the radio. “Where to?”

“Arizona...” Risky said. “We need to get there now. It’ll take too long like this. Sam, are you ready.” Sam looked at the wounds in his shoulder and leg. Minute by minute, they were slowly starting to heal without buckshot and bullets in them.

“Yeah... I think I am. This is my first time. Sanderson”

“Yeah?”

“I want you in Arizona by morning. We need the best pilot we can get”

“Will do Sam.”

“You ready now?” Risky asked. Sam nodded, and she embraced him. Within seconds, as their matter was ripped apart atom by atom, there was nothing left of them in the helicopter. They were instantly all the way across the country.

The loud noise of the airplane made Refuel cover her face with her hands and making her ear go fuzzy. The sweat dripped on the steel floor and Refuel´s hand shook, she closed her eyes to forget that she was in an airplane. She was sitting on the brown crate with net over it so it won´t move around, this was not normal airplane, this was army airplane, belonged to the army, hearing a little bit what the other guys were chatting about and hearing them move around. Looking up she saw that there was a green light, she then looked at the pilot who was giving her the thumb up and then she looked over to her right were the army guys were looking at her and giving her the thumbs up, she wasn´t going to go in an helicopter because that was very much to obvious she wanter to go on an transportation that was very long fall and the feeling was great. Refuel took up her backpack where all her stuff were on. She was wearing very rare costume, it had these wings between her hand and stomach and then in between her legs, making it easy to penetrate through the air and to have more speed.  
 
Refuel looked up once again, and one of the guys opened the door for her, as soon as he opened the door, some of the guys lost their helmets and closed their eyes because of the wind that came through the wall, the pilots "Hull Breach" started beeping and Refuel ran towards the door and jumped out, as soon as she was out the guy started to try and close the door and it was a success.  
 
She put on her yellow red sun glasses to save her eyes for not closing and not able to proceed further more on the mission Sylver, Risky and Chameleon were going on, the air started to get faster and Refuel started to get more down-wards. The costume was great, she had never felt like this in years, the feeling was that she thought she was unstoppable, like when she is killing someone the feeling is rather awkward then great. The way she penetrated through the air was faster then being on Mach-5. She felt she was getting closer and closer to the ground, that was true. She got through a cloud and when she could see again she saw the ground was just few miles away, she started to slow down by moving her hands side to side and crossing her legs, she was just few kilometers away from touching the ground when she spun around, making it easier to land, when she landed she dropped her bag right away.  
 
"Oh My God! I´m dizzy!" Refuel said to herself as she put her hands on her head and tried to easy herself. She dressed herself quickly out of the costume and got on a crouch position to open that bag, taking up a M16A4 and two Desert Eagles, putting it on the buckle and then she was ready, took few attachment with her and some equipment she might need. Picking up her communicator and turned it on, put it on her right ear and started to hear the voice of Sylver through it.  "Ok guys, you know where I am now.  The base is just below me, in the canyon.  From the position of the door, I believe that it leads underground.  When you get close enough, call in, and I'll cloak you.  They've got at least ten cameras on this ledge, and about fourteen on the one across from me...probably more on the canyon walls." hearing her breath a little bit, Refuel looked at her arm where there was an heartbeat sensor, senses other heartbeats, but there were only two heartbeats, Refuel´s and Sylver.  "And one more thing guys…prepare for ultimate casualties." Sylver said after breathing a little bit.  
 
"Refuel here, I´m just few meters away from you, I´ll get a little bit closer when you´ve cloaked me." Refuel said pushing a button on the communicator on her right ear. Refuel stared at her hands for awhile, some time later of staring at her hands she got cloaked, Refuel nodded and a smirk came on her face.  
 
"And yeah, no sudden movements." Refuel said to herself. She made her way towards Sylver, climbing up rocks jumping down few, and jumping across a long way down, where there was a lake, if you fall down there you will certainly be dead.  
 
She jumped down where she could she on her wrist that the two heartbeats were just right at the side of each other. "Sylver?" Refuel whispered in the air. "Are you here?" Refuel whispered again, taking up this little scope that she uses on a sniper rifles, you can press one button and it will change from Thermal scope to Normal scope. The Thermal scope you can see the heat in enemies body but not now, there were no heat in no body, she then presses the button and looked through the normal scope and there were six things on patrol.  
 
"Two on the right and three on the right and one that is going down the stairs to the bottom of the cliff. What do you think?" Refuel whispered and looked up in the sky.

The two Packs moved through the night with the stealth of a shadow on a hazy day. The Old Man fell back into the New Pack lead by Hawk. Hawk's presences was enough to silence a room and as they moved quickly and quietly through the streets not even his long coat ruffled in the wind. The high buildings provided an alley of destruction if they were caught in the midst of them, but Hawk's adopted son ran the roof tops scouting ahead of the groups. His eyes glowed in the moon light a crisp yellow as they looked down on a group of sentinels on patrol. 
 
Lone Wolf to Alpha....the radio clicked in their ears.
 
Yes/Yes.... Hawk and Hunter both answered at the same time. Hawk gave Hunter a look out of the corner of his eye and answered again. Go ahead Wolf. 
 
Sentinels patroling the area, counting 5 dogs, 4 ironmen, check that NUMBERS JUST DOUBLED......We are in trouble IN COMING MOVE MOVE!
 
The sky lit up and the air filled with static as the sentinels came down from the sky, Man I'd kill for my wings. Hawk thought to himself as he climbed a high building meeting the first of many ironmen dropping down. The New Pack fell into formation around him Hybrid Knight jumping off the roof tops and onto the back of a dog. His teeth were bare and his eyes glowing with power. Hawk called out to them,
 
Move quickly, take out as many as you can.....we need to get out quickly! 
Hawk looked at the street that was below him, it was a trap for sure. The buildings were high and tight and the Ironmen landed perfectly at the ends moving in towards them. They were trying to cut off all areas of escape. Hawk moved quickly letting his swords fly through the air. Hawk pulled his mace out from underneath his coat and threw it though the chest of the nearest ironman. The mace exploded parts and pieces of the sentinel fell from the sky. Hawk's mace landed at the feet of the Old Man. A smile crept across The Old Man's face. It's been a long time my friend. 
 
The Old Man picked up the mace and all hell broke out. Machines were falling left and right and as Hawk and Hunter yell out their orders to the two Packs The Old Man looked for an escape route. He remember old battles as he weilded the mace in his hands and laughed. Now why didn't I think of that before. 
 
With a spin and a flick of his wrist the mace exploded through the bottom of a close building. Hawk look over to see the building fall and it hit him, this man and him were one and the same. As Hawk watched the building fall he smiled. As Hawk's concentration slipped for just a moment he didn't see the dog sentinel coming up from behind him. The dog jumped towards Hawk with his teeth bare. Hawk turned only to see The Old Man jump in front of Hawk. 
 
As the blood trickled down Hawk's face he moved out from underneath the dog's metallic body his left eye was filled with blood and he only saw red. The Old Man lay beside Hawk gasping for breath, Grabbing Hawk by the collar he chocked out his last words, Mani.... don't stay in jail. Spitting up blood The Old Man's eyes rolled back in his head and his heart stopped. 
 
Hunter took the lead as Hawk looked at his own death. As Hawk's eye dripped with blood he saw the end of it all. Hunter called out to Hawk, as the world around them exploded as fire and rumble fell all all around them. The world seemed to be in slow motion until Hybrid Knight pulled him away from The Old Man's dead body. The blood surrounding his body spread out on the ground, the blood trailed off and looked like angel wings on the ground. Hawk covered his eye and turned his back on his fallen body. There was still a battle to be fought. 
 
 

What the resistance thought was an extermination camp was actually a sentinel processing plant.  By using the bio-signatures of non-human prisoners, government forces had created the appearance of a mass population of captives.  Instead, it was all a trap.  Amidst all the commotion, an explosion from behind suddenly sent Michael's body flying forward like a rag doll.  Quickly, Hybrid Knight regained his composure midair and landed in a crouched position on all fours.  As he looked up, the young Greystoke Legacy saw a new wave of reinforcements arriving to the battle zone.
 
These reinforcements were from Wolf Pack, and leading them was none other the legendary Hawk.  Long ago, he had traveled from the future to help combat the government oppression.  He had even fought alongside Michael's father in the "glory days."  Thought their arrival inevitably saved his detachment from total obliteration, young Greystoke could not help but despise their arrival.  Michael wanted so disparately to forge his own legacy; yet everywhere he went, he would constantly hear of his father's accomplishments.  He was not even a pure-bred, but a hybrid.  However, the term "hybrid" was simply another way of calling him a half-breed.
 
Along with Wolf Pack was a newer group of individuals - a group which Hybrid Knight had never seen or heard of before.  One of the individuals was an old man who seemed to be fighting very well.  He noticed that the old man was staying relatively close to Hawk as the two fought side-by-side.  However, Michael had more serious issues to deal with as machines began to literally pour into the battle field.
 
The explosion from earlier had knocked away Hybrid Knight's sword.  Therefore, he raised his plasma rifle and opened fire on the massive tide.  Leaping over a pile of rubble, Michael dove forward in a roll as he hit the ground.  Suddenly, a machine grabbed him by the back of the neck and threw him back.  Before he even hit the ground, the machine landed on top of him and put its metallic hand around his neck.  With its other hand, the machine attempted to drive its titanium fist through young Greystoke's skull.  However, just as it was about to deliver a killer blow, a metallic whip wrapped around its neck and the machine was violently jerked off.  Michael looked up to see one of his vampiric comrades holding a metal-laced whip and nodding in acknowledgment.
 
Jumping up to his feet, Michael then noticed Hawk and the old man fighting side-by-side on the battle field.  Suddenly, the old man was violently brought down and Hawk stopped.  At that same moment, more machines were on their way to take down Hawk.  Without enough time to race across a battle field, Michael suddenly dove into the shadows.  He then emerged on the other side of the battlefield, grabbed Hawk and roughly pulled him out of the way of an oncoming attack from a hound.  As the metallic hound lunged through the air once more, Hybrid Knight caught the machine with a 360-degree spin kick to its head.
 
As his heel met the machine's head, the pure power of the kick sent the creature falling to the ground with its spinal column severely broken.  Rushing over to it, Michael put his foot on the hound's throat and fired several blasts from his plasma rifle into the machine's cerebral cortex.  Just then, Michael looked across the battle field and saw his sword sticking in the ground several yards away.  Amidst all the explosions and fighting all around him, Hybrid Knight instantly ran through it all and grabbed the sword by the handle.
 
However, just as his hand seized the handle, another hand seized it as well.  Without thinking, Michael looked up into the eyes of the Wolf Pack member who was holding onto the sword and yelled, "This is my blade!  Get off!"
 
"I do not think so!" the individual replied, refusing to let go of the blade.
 
"Look," Michael shouted.  "I don't give a d@mn about some the bounty rule!  This is still MY sword.... so back to F#CK off!"  With that, Hybrid Knight angrily swung out at impostor with his fist.  However, the unknown individual simply caught Michael's hand mid-air and stared him down right there on the battle field.  As Michael looked into the being's eyes, his own eyes suddenly widened.  "It can't be...." he said with a tone of uncertainty.
 
Just then, a large harvester machine rose up out of the ground and landed with a thunderous impact.  The giant machine's shoulder-based weapons then targeted Michael's cruiser and fired a powerful blast of energy followed by two glowing missiles.  Instantly, the cruiser blew up midair.  As the gargantuan machine moved its giant robotic legs, it began to target the resistance forces.  They would need a miracle to take down this brute....

NYC--2090

     "I don't know what's happening/Everything around me has come crashing to the ground/It's here I see my need/ All the devastation/I'm praying for a miracle/Help me to escape/Again // My life is a mass-destruction! You're pulling from the mess I'm in/Take me away! /There's glass in the air I'm breathing/Somehow my heart keeps beating too/Take me away!"--Kutless 
 
     “I am sorry old friend but sadly our roads need to diverge….once more. Go aid your friends...and once done seek me out…I will not be hard to find”    
    

     Sylver shook her head, as if trying to knock this paralyzing haze from her brain.  Alex was...leaving?  The base was....gone?  Sylver's eyes were locked on the billowing fumes of fire and smoke, all the more highlighted by the burning dawn.  She stumbled to her feet, then looked at Alex, who took off towards the Flyers hovering above the explosion.  This couldn't be happening...it just couldn't.... 
    

     Another explosion, probably in the artillery room, sent another ball of fire into the sky.  Somehow, it broke that stunned levy in Sylver.  "No!!!"  She screamed, a building anger fuming inside her. All those years...all those people....dead.  Her icy blues seared into the Flyers.  All because of them. 
     

     A feral snarl ripped out of Sylver's throat, a piece of that dark instinct she kept hidden beneath her collective exterior.  Go, kill those things!  They've destroyed everything...all those people!  Her rage screamed inside her.  No!  Go help the survivors!  Alex has the Flyers...Go!  Do what's right!  Her reason snapped back.  Practically unable to control her self, Sylver grabbed her fallen swords, shoved them back into the sheaths, and took off towards the base; all the while, that dark hate pounded at her consciousness.  She wanted to kill...but it would have to wait. 
    

     Within seconds, Sylver landed atop the charred, still burning, rubble that had been Grand Central Station: the main entrance.  Using her magic, Sylver moved the large fallen beams out of the way, and trudged on.  Before she even reached the main door, there were bodies.  Severed, burnt bodies.  Sylver grabbed at her shaking arm, and forced herself to look away.  She had to stay focused for now...she had to find survivors.  After she found them…then she could let go, and kill. 
    

     The giant, metal blast door was still standing...but the walls holding it up had been torn away, and from the smell of the earth beneath them, the fire had gotten through.  She could smell burnt organic materials...burnt flesh.  Sylver gripped her hand tighter.  Burnt people.  But she kept going, pushing through the broken wall and into the large corridor behind it.  Everything was dark, save for a few fires still licking the ceiling and floor.  It was like stumbling through an old mine; Sylver could barely recognize the hallways anymore.  But she had been here for years...by gosh, she'd helped construct the whole thing!  She would find those people!   
    

     With her finely tuned hearing and eyesight, Sylver pushed past all the half-melted doors, collapsed walls, and fried corpses of people who had been trying to escape, trudging through the mushy, yet crisp dirt, following the sound of faint heartbeats.  And with each corner she turned, with every minute that passed, another heart ceased to beat.   She had to hurry!   Time was running out.

      But with every step, with every corpse, the urge to turn around and tear those murderers to shreds became greater.   The monster in her mind wanted blood…wanted revenge….   It had been so long since these dark, hatful stings had come through her.   For so long, all she’d known was this small sliver of hope for survival, for her and all those with her.   They’d all faced the end of the world, struggled for survival, watched loved ones die…They were a family…they were her small tie to reason and humanity.   The strong, impenetrable Sylver had died years ago; her crumbling shell remained, becoming hollower every day.   The wars had done more than steal Sylver’s family and friends; they’d taken her heart with them.   No, Sylver brushed the thoughts away; you have to concentrate, Sylver.   Now is not the time for---

     Sylver froze.   No…it can’t be…Not him, not now!   Peter Kingsley, her faithful Lycan companion, was looking up at her; cold, filmy eyes in a never-ending staring contest.   Well…only half of him was staring at her.   His top half lay on the floor; from the waist down, was still embedded in the ceiling, severed by several metal beams.     

     Somewhere, buried in the piles of metal and dirt, the last heart stopped beating.

     Something dark happened then…something that hadn’t happened in ages.   Sylver’s consciousness fell away…broken, in shock, in pain…and the primal instincts of the vampire came through.   Its black bloodlust peered through Sylver’s eyes, and it felt….nothing.

     Less than five minutes later, the dark Sylver stepped out from the rubble full of dead bodies.   It held no pleasure for her.   No…no, she needed something living…beating…blood.   The black eyes tinted red.   Blood.   The razor fangs appeared.   Blood.   The hunter had spotted her prey.

     Faster than the human eye could see, death overcame one of the Flyers hovering in the sky.   She slammed her fist through the windshield, grabbed the pilot by the skin of his belly, and ripped it out.   The Flyer began to drop, spiraling down like a top.   The vile thrill of holding the human’s intestines in her hand sent more waves of hunger throughout her unstoppable weapon of a body.   More blood.

     Dark Sylver grabbed the Flyer by the tail, overpowering its hover-jets, and dug her stone hands into the metal.   Then, with a burst of raw strength, spun around, and sent it slamming into another Flyer.   It exploded, and the vampire savored the sound of their skin frying.   Oh yes…she savored it a lot.  

     Her eyes followed until they found another target: one of the five remaining Flyers.   The men inside stared back at her, horrified at this unknown creature…this inhuman beast.   She drank it all in.   

     Dark Sylver flexed her blood stained fingers, a wild, terrible grin spread across her face.  

     She smelled more blood.

     Arizona-Purifier Base- Present

     Sylver smiled as she snapped the man’s neck, feeling his spine splinter and crack under her fingers.   How she loved being neutral!

     She used the body for a bullet shield a couple times, before dumping him and then picking up one of his friends as a new target.   Every once in awhile she’d glance over and see Risky and Refuel happily shooting away, easily and efficiently taking care of each problem.   Yep…it was just one of those days.

     Play days.

     Yet, despite the great position they were in, two things continued to nag at Sylver’s thoughts.   One: how did she not see this coming?   She should have at least heard them, even from outside the blast door…heck, she should have smelled them!   Sylver released her frustration by smashing a guy’s nose into his brain.   Perhaps they had special technology that could cloak that…somehow?   It confused Sylver, but she soon decided it was irrelevant.   These people couldn’t stop them anyway.

     Two: why couldn’t she stop thinking about blood?   Now granted, she was a vampire; it kinda came along with the description.   But not constantly.   Over many, many centuries, Sylver had been able to control her bloodlust.   Yet during this battle, the random thought kept coming to her: blood…blood…and ripping out someone’s stomach.   Sylver had to agree; that would be strangely fun, yet entirely too messy for what they needed to do right now.   She would save that for their leader.

     But she was certain of one thing: she was going to have to do something about these random, out-of-character thoughts.   It was probably unhealthy…but it wasn’t like she had much to lose mentally.

     Sylver glanced down the hallway.   At least twelve in the close vicinity.   Yes…she could handle twelve.   Sylver raised her hands up.   A warm, electrical burst of energy flowed through them as her eyes and scar began to glow.  

     She focused on the twelve men.   “Blood burn.”  

     Instantly, all twelve began to convulse and then, their blood set on fire.   Like a flame expanding on gasoline, the twelve soldiers were instant torches.   Screaming torches…but torches none the less.   Sylver signaled to her teammates, while grabbing one of the soldiers gear.

     “Let’s go!   We’ll be able to find the leader’s location with these; we gotta hurry before he escapes and—“   Sylver slammed her fist into a flaming soldier’s face, who’d tried to grab her.   Blood exploded outward: flaming blood.   Sylver looked back to her teammates, unfazed and smirking.

     “—and have some fun while we’re at it.   Let’s give these dogs what they’ve always wanted.   A couple of freaks, up close and personal.”   She tossed to Refuel a map of the complex.  

     “The map shows where the chemicals and processing goes on.   That’s our main target, next to getting their leader.   Refuel…Cham, I’d like both of you to get to the room, and at least seal it off.   Risky and I will go after the head of this operation, get whatever info we need from him, and then off him.   Then we’ll give you the signal to get rid of the place.   Explosives are cool…but if we don’t have those, I’m sure we can improvise.”   Out of the corner of her eye, Sylver caught a surveillance camera narrowing in on her.   She grinned.   With a simple, fluid motion, she picked up a piece of rubble and sent it soaring right through the camera lens.   It shut down and fell from its perch.

      Sylver pulled out Caldavich and began walking towards the door.   “Perfect,” She said, with a believable air of excitement, “They know we’re here.    Now they’re scared…and scared people run.   This is going to be fun.”   She kicked the security code box, forcing the door open.

     Sylver dramatically bowed and gestured to the doorway, a sly grin framing her blazing blue eyes.   “Shall we?”    

The Future

Public Name:  Daniel Edward Archer
Real Name:  Daniel Edward Doyle
DOB:  1996-02-16
 
Background:  Born to Oliver and Marie Doyle on February 16, 1985, young Daniel.................. his father, Senator Oliver Doyle, was secretly aligned with the anti-meta group known as the Purifiers....   father was allegedly murdered by meta-humans on..... assailants infiltrated the compound......

The PAST

Purifier Base, Arizona--Present 
 
     This was pandamonium.  Plain and simple, chaotic and wild. 
      
     Sylver tore through the complex's hallways, taking guard after guard out, searching for the main office.  But they were fighting back.  They tossed grenades and smoke bombs while shouting out attack orders to each other.  Sylver rolled her eyes.  So stupid.  If they shouted out what they were doing, she would know to avoid them.  Stupid humans... 
      
     In the whirls of flying rubble and flames and smoke, Sylver had lost Risky somewhere in the past few hallways, and Chameleone and Refuel weren't giving her any updates on their status, so she simply assumed that they weren't finished yet.  Sylver took her spade shaped dagger into a guard's forehead, then spun around and gutted his friend's belly, right through the kevlar vest.  But that was quite alright with her...she wasn't finished yet either. 
      
     As the bodies piled higher and the amount of attackers increased, Sylver knew she was getting close.  There were at least thirty men in the hallways leading to where she was, all armed, all coming for her.  A playful smirk revealed one of her fangs.  Sounds like fun.  But then she frowned (while beheading three attackers).  She was losing focus.  She needed to find her main target. 
      
     Sylver sighed depressingly, slamming her fist into one guard's Adam's apple, killing him instantly.  Her fun would have to wait.  Sylver clapped her hands together and focused on her destination.  Several guards positioned themselves at the end of the hallway, machine guns ready to fire.  Sylver's eyes and scar glowed an electric, vivid blue, and as the men pulled their triggers, she was gone. 
      
     The bright flair of magical energy swarmed around her, then dropped her into a dark office room.  Sylver paused, breathing in deeply, taking in her surroundings.  It was a small office but with fine furnishings: an oak desk with pretty designs, leather chairs, a fancy laptop, a stained-glass lamp...  Sylver studied the lamp before walking over to it and touching the bulb.  It was searing, but she didn't feel it.  It had been on for awhile.  She looked to the laptop screen; it was still at an open window.  But the sounds...  Sylver craned her head back pleasureably.  Yes..she could hear it very clearly....  The pulsing, raging heartbeat of a fearful man. 
      
     She'd known since she'd stepped into the room.  Like a tv switching channels, her senses instantly adapted to this room's.  He was in the bathroom behind her, in the dark, sweating feverishly, and making a poor attempt to hide his breathing.  Sylver smelled peppermint on his breathe.  He was crouching behind the doorframe, and Sylver suspected that in the next few seconds, he would try to make a run for it, thinking that she couldn't see or hear him.  Sylver chuckled to herself.  Stupid human... 
      
     But she had been right.  He bolted out of the bathroom, headed for the door...but never made it half-way.  A force, sharp and raw, shot into his stomach, causing him to howl in pain and fall onto the floor.  His hand went for his stomach, only to find a pencil shoved into his flesh, all the way up to the eraser.  He looked up, a cold, white face eyeing him.  He would have screamed, but Sylver slammed a pen into his kneecap. 
      
     "Shut up, you insect."  She hissed, dark and icy.  She had no patience for this pathetic creature.  He had done terrible things, and she was to return to him the favor.  MIght as well get to the point.   
      
     "My name is Sylver.  I am a vampire.  I am here to kill you."  She grabbed his two hands and shoved a pencil through them.  The man screamed louder, so Sylver shoved the pencil in his stomach farther in.   
      
     "I said shut up!"  Sylver growled, grabbing his jaw and pulling him closer.  "Listen, pig.  I don't have time for your little pity screams.  No one can hear them.  No one cares.  I'm going to kill you, and that's that.  But I want to know a few things first..." 
      
     Sylver released her grip on him and reached into her back pocket, producing a scribbled on piece of paper: questions she'd thought up of earlier.  She grabbed a pencil from the box next to her (which she'd gotten from the desk.  Stationary tools were so multipurpose and helpful.  A torture tool and a writing utencil.).   
      
     "Ok...so...question number one...." 
 
15 minutes later 
       
     "Well...that went just peachy."  Sylver remarked, kicking down the half-molten office door and stepping outside.  At least a dozen bodies lay piled on the floor in front of her, but she kept walking, completely uncaring, as if they were just a bad carpet job.  Her hands had been bloody, but she'd cleaned them thoroughly.  If you're going to play with your food, don't be messy. 
      
     Sylver was soon flying through the hallways, searching for her teammates.  She wasn't disappointed in what she'd done.  She'd gotten the information they would need to track down other anti-meta-human groups and the director of this one was dead.  Sylver snickered randomly, a mental image of the room before she'd left it came back: guts lining the floor, blood covering the man's half-naked and mutilated corpse.  And the two dozen pencils and pens jammed into his body.  Sylver was content.  Yes, it had been a successful day. 
      
     Within minutes, Sylver received conformation that her teammates were out of the building, and she was teleporting to the canyon ridge outside, with an unconscious Risky in tow.  In a flash of light, Sylver was standing hundreds of feet above the canyon floor where the Purifier base lay.  Sylver laid Risky down next to her, and then peered over the canon ledge. 
      
     She breathed in deeply the cool, brisk night air and sat with her legs dangling over the edge.  The moon was still out, framing the landscape in a pale glow, while lighting up the black sky and blotting out the stars.  It was a serene feel, one that Sylver enjoyed almost as much as sunsets and sunrises.  But it was being on a cliff edge that really excited her. 
      
     Many centuries old, Sylver had gotten over her fear of heights long ago, and had found that she enjoyed the occasion of cliff jumping.  With nothing but air, space, earth and death facing you, it was exhilerating...and it reminded Sylver of the only mortaltiy she possessed: that of her soul.  She still felt alive inside, even if her body wasn't. 
      
     Sylver stared down at the Purifier's base for a few quiet minutes.  She could still hear some heartbeats and screams of the dying, and those that had found their dead.  Survivors were never good in these kind of missions.  They could escape and continue on their cause.  Sylver looked back at Risky.  She'd done all she could to heal the mercenary, now the girl just needed rest. 
      
     "Hmmm...yes.  I suppose so."  Sylver muttered to herself.  "One more spell." 
      
     Sylver raised one hand in the direction of the base, fingers spread wide, as if trying to magnetize the magical forces.  In her mind, she imagined the energy wrapping around the structures keeping the building standing...invisioned them ripping each molecule apart.  Slowly, she grasped the whole of her target, her mind's eye watching the snakes of magic invisibly lock onto her target. 
      
     She took a deep breathe in before releasing her spell, and for a moment, she could smell the blood, both dead and alive, pulsing and spilled, filled within the complex.  She could hear the canyon's stones around the building shift.  She could feel the gravity of the earth suddenly expound around her enemies. 
      
     Then she breathed out. 
       
     "Crollo."

     The moutain shuttered.  The metal walls flattened.  The earth groaned.  And all the people died. 
 
NYC--2090 
 
     Something in the time dimention shifted. 
      
     Even in her crazed, semi-conscious state, Sylver felt it.  Magic could flow with time, and so magicians or time wizards could feel any massive ripples in time.  And something massive had definatly just happened.  Or rather...didn't happen. 
      
     Sylver allowed her consciousness to slightly flow back into a deeping thinking.  The "ripples" or effects...they felt ghostly, like something had disappeared.  Or ceased to exist.  Perhaps someone had died in the past who hadn't before, or someone was born who hadn't been before, causing the time-lines to split.  Alternate realities, a time wizard had once told her, are created all the time.  The vaguely different ones don't impact us greatly, just the maverick ones. 
      
     It was strange...intreaging...but not worth Sylver's time at the moment.  Her mind couldn't hold its civilized mode for long now.  It hurt too much.  Too much emotion...too many memories...  Animals act only on instinct, and that was what drove her now.  Her memories and emotions had abandoned her for now, because they meant little and hadn't fulfilled her before.  Just instinct now... and when that burned her out, she would be herself again and grieve for what she had lost. 
       
     But even that was lost to her... she couldn't remember who had died or why she was angry.  She could barely even recall where she was.  She just knew that she had to find the men...the humans that had made her angry.  And kill them. 
      
     The night air snapped at Sylver's face, fraying her spikey black hair in all directions, the white strands of her bangs standing out like her pale skin.  Her iron grip and inhuman strength kept her locked into place around the landing legs of the "helicopter".  Her emerald cloak was wrapped around her, starkly illuminating her piercing blue eyes that focused on the Flyer's course.  Wherever this Flyer landed, when it did, she would kill everyone on board and anyone in their base. 
      
     No more planning.  No more waiting.  They died now. 
      
     The past was dead.  The future was hers.  And in the end, as it always had and would be, she would do it alone. 
      
     The sun suddenly began to rise, ripping the black sky apart with streams of color...and for the first time, in the many times Sylver had seen sunrises, she could not see its beauty or feel its hope of a new day. 
      
     She saw the color of blood and felt the dark tunnel leading away from it. 
 
Wolf Pack Base--Present 
  
     Sylver sighed contently as the roar of her '69 Dodge Charger resonated throughout the garage.  She turned to inspect all her equipment in the back seat, just to make sure she had everything.  Guns...knives...sword....black leather...gum.  Yep.  She was set. 
      
     The garage door opened; Sylver gently tapped the gas, crawling smoothly out under the pre-dawn sky.  Ribbons of salmon and indigo reached across the slate-blue sky and Sylver put down her windows.  It was a good day.  For some reason, it felt as if change was coming.  And for once, it was good change.  Sylver couldn't explain it, but she had the strangest thought that she had nothing to worry about...like a weight had suddenly disappeared. 
      
     Perhaps it was just a long-hoped for sense of accomplishment.  Or maybe... Sylver wondered.  Maybe something really had changed...  The future?  The thought had plagued Sylver for the past couple days after they'd returned from Arizona.  Maybe.  Perhaps their efforts againt the Purifiers really had made a difference, or the actions they would take.   
      
     Sylver shrugged.  In any case, why worry about it?  What would happen would happen.  All they could do is approach every test with the confidence that they would come out of it better, and better others by it. 
      
     And I do hope...that I'll find you Laura.  Sylver thought to herself, setting her eyes on the road ahead.  She had made a promise before that when the Purifier mission was completed, that she would go searching for Laura.  Now, she knew that the Wolf Pack would need her, and that her search might take some time even with her magic.  So she would split her time between both, but keeping her hunt for her long-lost friend in first place.  Despite their differences and crazy similarities, Sylver had the odd feeling that their friendship would sustain them a very long time in the future. 
      
     The sun peeked over the horizon's ridge, a flaming neon orange and red spitting splatter-paint designs into the sky.  It sent shivers of excitement and thrill through Sylver's body, and she grabbed for her nearest cd and popped it in.  She cranked the volume all the way up, just in time to hear Foreigner's "Long, Long Way from Home" blare through her speakers. 
      
     "It was a Monday/ A day like any other day/ I left a small town/ For the apple in decay--" 
      
     "It was my destiny/ It's what we needed to do/ They were telling me/ I'm telling you!"  Sylver finished, half-shouting, half-singing to the song, partially scaring the cars driving by her.  But she didn't care.  She had her rock songs, a 9-second car, and enough weapons to dismantle an army. 
      
     It was a good day.

 The tinging and thumping of bullets against aluminum filled Sam’s ears as he dove headfirst behind a pair of oil drums. One thing was for sure. He was soon to be done for. The sheer amount of lead being spat at him through the barrels of over a dozen assault rifles was enough to make even the most hardened soldier quake in his boots. But now was no time for fear. Now was a time for action. With one swift motion, he yanked his FN-2000 from his back, its shiny black metal frame contrasting incredibly with his green, scaly skin. 

He was tense, too tense, and when a soldier is tense and under pressure, they tend to do things, stupid things, such as hide with your back to a pair of oil drums while metal slugs rained down from the upper story catwalks like a hailstorm. Toong Ting Ting Toong. The bullets bounced off and pierced the barrel, sending vibrations through it and a chill down Sam’s spine. Go! Get up and Go! You can’t stay here! Get out of there now! Why Can’t you move?! 

This had never happened to him before, at least not since before his training. Ting Tong Ting Toom Spft. Pain shot through his body as the small bullet embedded itself in his tough skin, without enough force to pierce into the muscle. He snapped back to reality, his instincts, his training, everything he had learned suddenly reacquaintenced itself with him  “Agh. Sh!t! Freakin third time today. Sonnova...” 

With lightning like speed, he popped his upper body over the top of the barrels and brought his rifle to his shoulder. His menacing yellow eyes embedded themselves to the middle of the crosshair. One, two, three bursts. Three down and that was all he needed to do. There was no need to fight them all, if the mission went according to plan, they would all be dead anyway. Sam just needed to... thin their numbers.

He ducked back under and put his back up against the barrels, bullets still ricocheting off their metal surface. He couldn’t fight them all. He needed to get out... undetected. Sam closed his eyes as his scales slowly grew over his black, latex suit, his pistol at his hip, and the rifle on his back, creating a tick tick ticking sound as they multiplied and spread across his clothing and equipment. Then, his skin color began to change. The scaly appearance of his skin disappeared and faded out more and more until he resembled the environment around him. He was perfectly camouflaged.

The firing stopped. It was as silent as a Christmas night. Silently, Sam skulked out from behind the barrels and made a move towards the exit. His part in the mission was over. The enemy had been distracted long enough. It was now up to everyone else to rid the Earth of this abominable place. 

The pitter patter of his armor like feet hitting the ground with each step was louder than it should have been against the silence of the massive room. What was left of the guards on the rafters shouldered their weapons once again, tracing the sound as he moved across the room as silently as he could. A burst from their rifles blasted the floor, sending shards of broken lead through the air like shrapnel. They missed.

Sam kept on moving, making his way to the exit. It was so close. Another burst from nearly a dozen rifles in the rafters hit and ricocheted off the floor. Must keep going he thought, his camouflaged eyes fixated on the door and his camouflaged figure’s outline could slightly be seen moving across the pearly white tile floor. 

Another burst. This time... they didn’t all hit the floor. Three armor piercing rounds tore through his skin near the base of his tail, sending him diving face first across the tile. Not even his scales could stop this kind of ammo, their hollow points embedded themselves deep within the muscle spattering ruby red blood across the room. Red blood... that wasn’t camouflaged. As soon as the first drop of the crimson liquid hit the ground, the rafters lit up like a firestorm.

In an instant, he managed to roll from his belly behind another set of barrels and the bullets riddled the location where he once was. The pain in his back was ruining his concentration and causing him to panic. Suddenly, his green pigmentation was beginning to return and his scales over his latex suit began to rescind and deplete like dominoes falling in a row, making a tick tick tick as they moved. He was left, once again, totally exposed, green scales and all. “This is Chameleon, does anyone copy? Over!” He screamed through his comm while he pressed down on it with his fingers on his neck. “I am pinned down and wounded. Does anyone copy? Risky, I could use some help here.” ...Static.

“Fu&^ing piece of sh!t! Where are you guys?” More static. It was over. He was done for. He put his hand next to his sidearm in its holster, his white claws slowly stroking its black, metal finish. He was not about to be some informant guinea pig at the cost of thousands of others of his own race. He slowly readied his sidearm, pulled back the hammer and placed it at his temple, near his hair like reptilian spines, while the pullets continued to ricochet and bounce off the barrels he had used for cover. He took a deep breath and readied himself. He placed his finger on the trigger and began to apply slight pressure as he closed his piercing yellow eyes one last time.

“This is Razor-One. Is anyone still in there? Over”

Sam’s eyes shot open. Taking the gun away from his temple, he pressed the communicator on his neck. “Sanderson! You’re here! This is freakin’ outrageous!”

“What’s your Twenty, Sam? You stirred up a hornet’s nest down there” 

“I’m under heavy fire from the rafters 20 meters from the main exit. I spot more than a dozen tangos firing on me from an elevated position. You are cleared hot! Get here ASAP!”

“Copy that Chameleon. I’m coming in hot.” The chopping sound of the rotors coming from outside filled Sam’s ears. It grew louder and louder and louder until it was almost deafening. The Dauphin helicopter dipped below the top of the exit, hovering only a few meters above the ground, it’s cockpit facing directly at Sam and the Purifiers. 

Suddenly, another sound joined the rotors as the two vulcan miniguns mounted on the weapon emplacement decks began to spin until they filled the entire facility with the humming of six thousand rounds per minute. The bullets passed directly over Sam’s head as he got as close to the ground as possible. The purifiers however, spasmed and fell like rag dolls as they were filled with bullet after bullet, firing their weapons desperately in every direction.

“You’re clear Sam. Go go go! We’re getting the hell outta Dodge.” said Sanderson over the radio, his words reflecting the urgency in his voice.

Instinctively, Sam got up and sprinted towards the hovering chopper, blood from his back and tail trailing behind him. He jumped in as soon as he could through the side utility door. “Go go go Sanderson!” He yelled, his legs still partially dangling outside the helicopter. 

“Will do.” Sanderson said matter-of-factly as the two gained altitude and flew away from the base. Seconds later, the entire facility collapsed. The mission was complete... but at what cost?