The troubles with timey wimey gooey stuff (EXILES)

[Morph]

Does anyone ever look at the time their born in, and think: Things are so bad, any time line would be better than this?
Originally, I wouldn't have thought to think such a thing, but it's amazing how time-jumping changes a perspective.
It seems my time was so bad, it practically imploded, and ceased to be.
But somehow I got a lucky break, some guy called a 'Time Broker' took me out before it all went into nothing, and offered me a chance to fix it all.
It seems time-lines can be fixed, if certain events are kept from happening, things go 'as they should'.
Of course, there's all sorts of complications, since there happen to be more time-lines all running at the same time than one could really fathom.
But since I can't go back to my own time, I might as well try to help fix others.
I've been an Exile for awhile now. I've seen team mates die, ask to be left behind, or get ripped from the team by the time broker all together.
The team I have with me today is on it's first mission.
We've barely met and had brief introductions, but I don't even know what powers these guys have, or anything. And a couple of them, do not look like super heroes in the least.
But, the time broker's probably get something on each of them, he usually does, so I don't really have to fear, they will want to finish the mission.
Hard to trust others to get your back in battle, when you've only just met.
And some of these guys are probably fresh out of their own times, so that adds even more stress.
And lucky lucky me, yours truly gets to play field leader.
We get beamed down to yet another time line, and I make the best team assessment I can in such short time with such little information.
I hate wearing the Tallus too. De-facto Leadership badge or not, having to shift around the object is just uncomfortable at best.
After the usual nauseating feeling of being moved through time, we end up on the Earth.
I give everyone a moment to collect their stomach fortitude before rallying the troops.

[glow=yellow,2,300]"O.K. guys, we're here to stop some war-lords from locking horns and continuing the skirmish.
We got some Russians, and we got some Americans.
Now, if it's one thing I know about being in a new time, it's that things may get lost in customs."[/glow]

I turn into a female flight attendant to pull off my pun, and looking very good in a mini skirt.

[glow=yellow,2,300]"So let's try to stay neutral and friendly to the natives, keep the casualties down.
We need to find a Russian leader that has super powers.
So let's keep our eyes peeled."[/glow]

I turn into my usual hot self, and salute, turning to see if there's anything around to give us a direction to start in.
And that's when I hear the sound of lots of guns all being trained on us at once, and someone shouting in a harsh language.
Well that was much faster than I thought.
I hold my arms out looking down the barrel of a gun.
He can't really kill me with it. But I just told my team to play nice with the natives, best to lead by example.

[glow=yellow,2,300]"Hey uh guys, this may just work in our favor..."[/glow]

I turn to the soldier holding the gun on me, obviously Russian, so it might work.
I grow little antenna, and turn my skin green,

[glow=yellow,2,300]"Take us to your leader?"[/glow]

[Azzurro]

I don't like this. No, I'm serious. I literally don't like this. This is not a "I'd prefer otherwise" or "I can do better" scenario. Everything that characterizes my current predicament sucks. Maybe I should be politically correct and say "our" predicament. After all, I am now officially part of a major superhero team: the incredibly hip, exciting and nigh unstoppable Exiles. The superhero group so awesome it shouldn't exist. Or doesn't exist. Kind of. But not really. I never paid attention in my diverging continuities class. I guess I didn't really pay attention at all.

You see, this guy called the "Time Broker" plucked me out of my reality (which I thought was reality) and gave me a rather intriguing invitation. If I joined a bunch of super-powered people from other realities and helped repair aberrations that occur within the fabric of time, I could escape my own particular seam within this fabric. I accepted without hesitation.

Where I come from, there's no such thing as heroes. I mean heroes exist and possess flashy powers and stuff, but they are not good people. That's because they work for the government. Perhaps governments is better. In my time, heroes apparently grew tired of always fighting the same bad guys with the same bad agendas, all the while failing to make any inroads toward resolving the violence and poverty affecting human kind outside of the West and Japan. So what did they do? They decided to help Western governments eliminate those areas where violence and poverty lived. What did they accomplish? The deaths of a billion or two people.

I am tasked with eliminating these "heroes" so that a better world can come about. Problem is, I'm no hero. I've had this blasted suit of mine for only a month and I haven't experienced any major combat to speak of. Heck, after living in East Africa for 5 years, I didn't even know which "heroes" to get rid of. By joining this team of reality hopping hobos, however, I may be able to see some heroes in action. From there, I can maybe see how my reality formed and what I can do to alter the outcome. More importantly, I'll know which heroes to get rid of.

For all that to take place, though, I need to know my so-called team members first. They're certainly not an impressive looking lot by any means. I bet I could take 3 or 4 of 'em down one on one and I 'm still learning how to fight. We've got a robot and a bunch of other weirdos. I'm not saying I don't fit into the weirdo category, but yeesh... I'm not like these guys. Or am I? Maybe that's why that Time Broker dude chose me. He's wrong (I think). And what's with that dude anyways? What's he get out of putting us all together? If he's true to his name, maybe he gets some sort of interest. But then we'd all be getting paid. Wait, are we getting paid? If there's a weirdo union, everyone else got a better salary. Grrr...

Our leader takes the cake. He thinks he's funny, but he actually just grates on my nerves. Fact of the matter is, all his shape-shifting didn't prevent us from getting surrounded by Russkies. Regardless, I don't see why he doesn't let us take these bozos out. Just one of us could probably do the job in seconds. Oh well. Guess I have to follow orders for now. Looking around our environment, and then at our "team" I can't help but feel a little underwhelmed. "If we're gonna be stuck in this place for a little while, the least we should do is be able to let some stress out. Can't we fight these guys? Please?

[Death Metal]

Hate this slag.

Hate every bit of it.

Some son of a bit named 'Time Broker' or that kind of scrap pulls me out of my own time, tells me its up to me to save the multiverse.

Like I give a scrap. Who's to say what universes are fragged up and what ones aren't? Sounds like the sort of black boot rhetoric that the Corporations are always tryin to shove down your throat.

But hey, its not like they actually gave me a choice. Nope, just up and scooped me up like some sort of pet, dumped me on the whitest meatware I've ever met, and my new troop of buddies.

I had enough of this sort of 'team play' crap with my double getting bent over the table by Doom. No reason why I have to put up with it. Second I get the chance, I'm getting the glitch out of here. Ghost Works is out there...somewhere...and I'm going to find those metalheads and give them a piece of my mind.

For now though, I'll play the protocol droid and do what I'm told. My chance will come...and any meatware that stands in my way is going to get broken down for spare parts.

Of course it doesn't help things when whoever is in charge of this cascade glitch drops us right into the middle of a mob of russian guards wielding rifles...not that I'm all that concerned about bullets. Judging from the tech level, they won't have any conventional arms that'll scratch my casing for a few more decades. Automatic rifles? Oh please...I almost burn the lot of them down just for the thought...but of course out fearless leader has to go and try diplomacy.

Frag, I knew I was going to hate this gig.

Of course at least One of my new buddies has the right idea, suggesting just what I was thinking, which I have to voice myself.

[glow=87CEEB2,300]"Agreed. Lets frag the lot of them. Don't look like nothing but a bunch of black boot rentascum. This worlds Gotta be better without them..."[/glow]

The words come with an action as I feel my laser array start to come online, humming softly as my optics start to glow red. Targeting schematics overlaying onto those around us. Almost want to pop my chainsaw too...But that'd just get them shooting, and once that happens all my new buddies...including the one with the slider tech, will be dead...and I'll be stuck in the middle of Glitchin Siberia with a bunch of dead russians, and no backup.

[Blue Beetle]

"What now?" she said, looking up from the data readout on her wrist.

Only a few days ago, Mary had been comfortably wrapped up in studying some curious if somewhat inelegant time-travel technology used by a Justice Society foe called "Per Degaton". The files that had been gathered by her father's mentor Bruce were all very interesting, but he had not innovated as he might have. There were useful insights on how one might use this technology by itself or combine it with several other cross-referenced files: Martian technology, the energy generation and storage capacity of Gorilla City's thinkers, and so on. She probably should have done that, but instead found herself too impatiently building and tinkering with a miniaturized version of a time-portal generator after connecting it to a proper power source.

It worked quite well, actually. She found that she could in fact dial in various time periods, but for some reason the scenes available were translated in space as well as time (at least as far as she could tell). This was certainly not what she had expected, and made little sense to her. Mary presumed that this phenomenon of the artifact itself, she admitted to herself that there was a considerable probability that she should have spent more time thinking of the theoretical underpinnings of the device's technology rather than just building the thing and testing it.Before she could consider how to proceed, the scene changed to show a huge castle made of pink crystal. Curiosity got the better of her, so she geared up and stepped through the portal.... which immediately became unstable and collapsed, with the projector device on the far side.

Luckily, it was not all bad, as she was offered the chance to be assigned to a team that would enter damaged timelines and attempt to repair them before they collapsed in paradox. This seemed more than interesting... there might be curious technology she could study, and she would definitely be able to gain insights on reality even if they failed and the timelines unraveled. She could at least satisfy her tendencies to want to help people. Her parents would have insisted in any case.

So, she fell in with a team led by an omnimorph with that scanned in quite an interesting fashion. A sample of "his" (he seemed to self-identify as male) material would probably be fascinating to study, but so far she was too polite to ask. This one (called "Morph") seemed to be a bit more than stressed out, but he was the choice for team leader given to the rest of them, so she went along with it. Doubtless he had seen any number of dead or lost teammates by now, and they were all intended to be expendable.

This mission was something about Russian and American warlords on an alternate Earth. She had recorded the ersatz briefing, and had intended to listen to it again... but there were some very interesting readings coming in when she became aware of voices speaking in Russian and the more insistant sound of rifle rounds being chambered.

"Fantastic." she continued. More than one of her teammates were powering up their systems, ready for a fight, but there were unlikely to be anyone in the area with the proper sensors. That was backed up with their comments about eliminating the opposition.

"I have to agree to some extent. We can't allow ourselves to be captured. But if it will help, I do know a bit of Russian." Her modesty didn't allow her to mention that she spoke several dialects and her onboard computers would help her with anything she couldn't do off the top of her head. "Opening fire may not be the best option, though, not if we intend to work with their leaders."

Just in case, though, she had already evaluated the best way to disarm and disable the nearest gunman. She would use him as as a shield so she could blind the rest of the opposition with her strobe gun when and if the situation came to blows.

[Mimic]

I guess the first thing that comes to mind…is the queasiness. I don’t know what your normally suppose to feel after you’ve been shifted from one plane of reality to another, but for me, it defiantly queasiness. Queasiness and a migraine. It takes a bit of effort not to give in and toss my lunch on to the snow, which apparently I just know realize I’m standing in. Freezing cold, biting winds, and white pounder surrounding my shoes. I liked these shoes. Atleast I’m not vomiting on them, keeled over like this.

So how did I get to this point?

Two days ago, I was a bodyguard for a Congresswoman, who was murdered in her own home. And yours truly was the prime suspect. I was framed, but with no one on my side I was setting up to go away for a long time. It would be the second time I was sent to jail, but this time I was innocent. I was doomed, until the little man in the butler outfit came and offered me a deal: rot in jail or save a bunch of worlds from disaster.

No brainer, right? Well that must be true, because only an idiot would put himself in this situation. I’m stuck in what looks like Siberia, with a cast of rejects and psychos. And the leader of this team? A shape-shifting motor-mouth spaz who should even lead a group of cub scouts. And to make things worse we were not alone. Almost immediately we were greeted by armed soldiers ready to mow us down with gun fire.

Well, if they did start firing I could just turn to steel-skin and take these russkies out myself. But there are two things wrong with that: firstly, I don’t know what my team mates can do, little lone know if they can handle being shot at. And secondly, we’re here to stop the fighting in this country, not provoke them. So when I hear a couple of the other so-called Exiles start priming themselves for a slug-fest, I let my tongue waggle and start saying what’s-what to their macho-pinhead brains.

[glow=yellow,2,300]“Hey! Stow it, you two! I know the fan is blowing shit-flavored air in our faces right now, but dropping bodies isn’t going to get us anywhere. So suck it up and save it for when it counts.”[/glow]

Don’t know if I’m getting to them, and from the looks of these guys I doubt anything would stop them. And now it seems the blue chick was favoring the notion of fighting the soldiers. If she didn’t turn around and cast her vote towards diplomacy like our leader, I would have had to re-evaluate my position in this team.

[glow=yellow,2,300]“Thank you, the one sensible thing I’ve heard yet. So let’s make like our surrounding and chill.”[/glow]

Seriously, I CHOSE to be here? I chose to freeze and possibly die or be imprisioned in a Russian jail over going to an American jail where alteast a third of the inmates speak English? Bang up job, Cal, maybe next you’ll pull a rabbit out of your ass and have sex with a pink elf. God, I need a beer.

[Thunderstrike]

* What in the puss-spewing fuck did I get myself drug into?*

* Honestly... this day was going just fine... even with the old man calling us up for one of Jr's Sit-rep's. We where mobilized to take down some organ-stealing cult down in 'deliverance' country. Considering their 'lackluster' track record (chased off by freshmen... man that story never gets old), SHIELD sicking all of us on these dumb-asses seemed like overkill... even WITH Creed sitting this one out. You'd THINK that at least.*

* Thing is... those circus freaks had dropped off the radar LONG before M-day... Intel never would have guessed it wasn't an entire sect but a single member we where dealing with. An organ hoarding psycho-bitch who'd had what few powers she gained tweaked even further. She made dupes of herself... little worker bees to go secure organs for her, and with the constant feed of Mutie McNuggets she just kept getting bigger and bigger.... until...*

* Mother of god... it's like John Carpenters 'Thing' Meets one of those Immobile fat guys on Springer.*

* Didn't take long... even with that 5 ton sack of lard's existing powers she was hardly a match for anything that me, Laura, or Mercury had to dish out. And then... after the head's cut off... all hell breaks loose. Like a hornets nest hit with rocks... all the dupes Frenzy and Barnes hadn't killed just went all Bat-shit Crazy on us. It's like they lost what little minds they had to begin with... and planned on ripping us to pieces.*

* Even with so few of them left... it's not easy dealing with Rabid animals... especially rabid animals with superpowers. What was once cleanup turns quickly to hauling ass to the extraction point... and having to split up to do so. Mercury, Frenzy, and Barnes on one team... me and Laura on the other.*

* And there isn't anyone I'd rather have watching my 6.*

* Adamantium and Electricity flashing in the darkness as we have to cut our way through these abominations. God damned things don't know when to stay down... each one we seem to kill another is ready to take it's place. I drop the latest freak with a little high-tension CQC... charging up as I turn to incinerate the berserker trying to blitz Laura. I let loose a shot before the world around me starts to blur. Not like it's new... this happens if I overuse my powers... but... this is different. My sight isn't the only thing that starts to fade on me. That pungent, sticky air disappears... the atmosphere around me turning into a null calm. The blood, the screams, and the darkness fading to white. That chaotic bloodbath I was in the middle of just fades away into a white... nothingness, and there I am standing in front of some balding old man.*

* I won't lie... I was ready to kill that tweed-wearing mother fucker.*

* Honest to god... I did not give a shit whether he called himself the 'Time Broker' or 'Higgins', I was ready to fucking kill him if he did not drop me back in that swamp. And I wasn't afraid to let him KNOW it. Laura was back there... Alone. She may be the best at what she does... hell, she's kicked my ass enough times... but I am not going to turn my back on her because some temporally misaligned butler got bored!*

* The next few words out of that old man's mouth make my blood run cold. He asks about the reason for my concern... then says her name. The void behind him lights up... flashing to a picture... showing Laura, years down the road... locked in an infirmary with a straight-jacket and chains... a wild look in her eyes... like those things we had to fight her way through. Don't even bother to look at this twerp when he tells me I've become unhinged from time, chosen to join a team to fix reality... and if I do it... he'll fix Laura's future... keep her from turning into... that.*

* What am I really expected to do? Save her in the present... or in the long run? Like I said... she's the best... this possible future showing she survives... but there is that lingering doubt. Concern. You don't just bail on a Friend, regardless of their being a super soldier... but seeing that picture... seeing her like that... in that mindless, sub-human state...*

* there's no way I'm going to let that happen to her.*

* That single word barely passed my lips before I was turning cartwheels, that whole 'slider' crap flopping me down into a brisk January Arctic heatwave. All the remaining moisture on my body... from the water that soaked my boots to the sweat under my armpits starts to crystallize. Mother Fucker even with my body chromed over I can still feel winter's bite set in. Jet lag is bad enough on it's own... but getting plucked from some inbred, backwoods sauna and then just dumped into some frostbitten hellhole... considering such lovely little words as 'hypothermia', the phrase 'fucks you up' is an understatement!*

* A little warning... maybe a coat would have been nice.*

* Apparently I'm the last one to join in this little tea-party... joining a motley crew that includes some kid wearing what looks like a speed-suit, some heavy-metal themed Terminator wannabe, a girl in one of the silliest bug-themed costumes I've ever seen, and some guy in prison togs with your typical 'CIA' haircut. THIS is supposed to be a reality-saving task force? What the hell was Higgins SMOKING? My lack of faith in this endeavor only increases once who I assume is our bi-polar CO gives us our sit rep while pointlessly showing off his shape-shifting. Seems we got a long-standing World War going down, and the only way for the Krauts and Ruskies to play nice is for one battalion to sit out a round. Just a matter of finding them first.*

* He isn't even done more than 3 seconds before the click of safeties and angry Slovakian dialects echo through the frosty air, as a small army of Russian soldiers literally come out of the woodwork. And all of their guns pointed down at us.*

[glow=dbdbdb, 2,300]" Wonderful... just fucking wonderful..."[/glow]

* As our CO keeps them pre-occupied with the 'take me to your leader' crap, I'm eying the crowd... trying to size up our situation while listening to my team-mates reactions. The kid and Sparky both think we should take them down... a sentiment I have to say I agree with... even with all the AKM's pointed down at us. Blue-bug and Flat-top both agree with stretchy... play nice with the natives.*

* Spare me.*

[glow=dbdbdb, 2,300]" You both can shove your Diplomacy! I don't fucking surrender to nobody! We can negotiate with these fucktards all you want AFTER we're done kicking their asses!"[/glow]

* We're supposed to keep these guys out of the fight... that's fine. Nobody ever said we had to be nice about it.*

[Morph]

As I try to lead by example, I hear my teammates discuss the options.
None of them jump into directly fighting, and I really have to be thankful for that.
This is after all just a bunch of humans with guns. They wouldn't last long at all in battle against a group of supers that all have battle experience out the Yin Yang against people with actual powers.
And Blue is right, We can't afford to just walk in and get captured. Just because they are Russian, doesn't mean they are aligned with the same Russian leader we are looking for.
Of course if these guys aren't a real threat now, letting them take us to their leader really isn't much danger either.
What's a little walk before beatings?
Decisions, decisions.
My skin goes back to normal, the antennae disappearing as I turn from the guy to contemplate what my 'buddies' are saying.
While my team seems to be undecided on fight or follow me into captivity, I make the decision for all of us.
I Shrug my shoulders at the guy pointing a gun point blank in my face,

"Well it looks like we're going to have to meet in the middle then."

Turning into a May-Pole, I form hands on the ends of each ribbon, grabbing the Russian's guns out of their hands as they stare slack jawed at my form.
Like taking candy from a baby, really.
I twist my ribbons around in one direction, before winding them in the other, throwing the guns into the distance.
With that out of the way, I got back to my own form,

"Be gentle guys, they are unarmed."

I punch the guy who had the gun in my face before, knocking him down easily.
He's so freaked out by what I just did, I doubt he wants to get in close contact with me.
*sigh*

"You win some, you lose some. I was hoping we'd meet someday and laugh about this moment over some hot cocoa.
With bunny shaped marshmallows in it.
And sprinkles."

The man doesn't seem to understand much English, or doesn't get a joke, because he pulls out a radio and speaks with allot of harsh consonants, probably calling in back up.

"Hey team, eyes peeled, I think this Army's got a calvary on the way."

Will it be more humans with guns? Or could we gain enough attention to draw the one we want to see?
I don't like not knowing what's headed to the field.

[Sasha]

My morning begins in the usual manner, as I awake to the sounds of my alarm. Dawn is a half hour away, and the day will be a busy one. I rub the sleep from my eyes as I stare up at the ceiling. Sleep had not come easy to me, even though it should have. My unit is being reassigned to the European front, and we’ve been resupplying for two days now. Outpost B-166. It is an excellent place to rest. The buildings are heated, and there is enough warm water to allow a proper bath. I have no reason to be unroasted, yet I could hardly sleep. We are two hundred miles from the nearest front. I have no reason to be on edge, but I can’t simply turn off my instincts. We leave tomorrow, I can deal with my misgivings a while longer.

By the time I finish dressing, the sun has already broken over the horizon. General Winter has always been our greatest ally, but he does not show kindness to those who do not show him the proper respect. The temperature has been hovering around negative 30 during the day. Unprotected, frostbite attacks in minutes. Wrapped in a cocoon of military issue garb, and insulated from the chill, I head out of the barracks and into the morning light. Even early as it is, my men are busying themselves. Breakfast is cooking; the smell of bacon and eggs is strong in the air. I assert my rank, bypassing the line and acquiring my morning rations. Coffee is provided, piping hot, black as tar. Sugar is hard to come by, has been for years. Sugarcane doesn’t grow in Russia, and few of our allies can provide us with any. You learn to like the taste.

As I eat, feeling the air begin to warm as the sun creeps higher, my second in command approaches me. Ivan is a good soldier. He lost most of his left eye years ago, took a grenade to the side of the face. An injury like that would be enough to send lesser men home, but not Ivan. He told the commanders that he never needed that eye anyway. After all, he only needed his right one to look down the scope of a rifle. I wouldn’t want anyone else beside me in a fight. Ivan briefs me on the current situation. Things are on schedule, and moral amongst the men is up. Again, the uneasiness that kept me awake into the night returns. I ask him to get together a dozen men and have them do a sweep of the area, out to five clicks. He doesn’t question me, and just nods in acknowledgment. Ivan is a good soldier like that, he doesn’t question orders.

After breakfast, I make my way to the communication tent, to see if any new orders have come in. Radio has been spotty, the machines don’t like the cold. Our short range systems have been working fine, but anything beyond fifty kilometers is outside our range. There’s that uneasy feeling again. If we can’t the radios working, then we’re stuck on our own should anything happen. I don’t like it. My unit is the best, and every single one of them has more grit in them than even I can believe sometimes. But war is an ugly thing, and good men die in it every day.

A crack erupts in the air, and as one, my men duck down, hands flying to their weapons. A few moments later, the sound of harsh cursing follows, and we relax. No gunshots, just the backfiring off one of the transport engines. Perhaps I’m not the only one on edge, even if none of us would admit it. I leave the communication tent, but as the door is beginning to swing shut, the radio squawks to life. I freeze in my tracks, rushing back inside. I know what I heard, but I demand immediately for confirmation. I get it, and my heart sinks.

My voice booms out over the campsite as I give the order. We are under attack. The scouting party was incapacitated by an unknown faction of powered individuals. Like an overturned anthill, my soldiers, my men, all take action. Ammunition is stocked and checked, weapons find their way into hands. Ivan is at my side, and I’m glad to have him there. He can cover the situation here. I will head on ahead and deal with the assault force.

The ground opens up, swallowing me into it. Darkness surrounds me, but it’s a gentle and pleasant darkness. My bond to the soil and stone is great, and when I’m wrapped in it, I feel at home. Burrowing down, I move quickly. I stay deep, more than a hundred meters down, far enough that the surface will have no warning to my presence. It takes several minutes to reach the site of my captured men. Though the ground, I can feel their presence. Good, they’ve done as I trained them to. Each one of them is kneeling on the ground, holding their hands behind their head. It makes it much easier to pick them out of the group. There are a dozen of my men, and six assailants.

I take hold of the stone, my will becoming its will, a medium for me to work my power. The first duty of a commanding officer is to the safety of those in her command. I push the earth upwards, encapsulating my men in stone, and then, with a heave, I send them away. They are extracted from the assailant, pushed more than a kilometer away in the span of a few moments. And that leaves their attackers behind, with me to deal with.

I grit my teeth as the earth shakes. I feel it pulling apart, as it rises up. A huge slab of earth and stone upon which the six units stand begins to tilt, sloping to a harsh incline, till at last it reaches a complete vertical. I push three more equally sized slabs up, creating a box, trapping the group inside. One last push and a capstone seals them in. I hold my hands up, seizing the air with my fists as I seize hold of the stone with my power. The ground trembles ferociously, and with a mighty pull, I yank the entire chamber down, into the darkness of the earth, down to my level.
I hand suspended in the air, a single boulder carrying me aloft. I give a gesture, and the edges of the chamber crack open. A violent red light begins flowing in, the air warming as molten rock begins to pool along the outer walls, providing a soft illumation. I look down at the group. They are, without a doubt, the most bizarre collection of beings I’ve ever seen. If they took down a dozen of my men with little trouble, they are not to be estimated. But they are in my domain, and that is a very bad place for my enemies to be. I give another gesture, and fifty or so barbs of solid granit fire outword from the walls, creating a circle around the gathered people below.

“Ýòî áóäåò âàøåé åäèíñòâåííîé âîçìîæíîñòüþ ñäàòüñÿ, òàêèì îáðàçîì ÿ íàñòîÿòåëüíî ðåêîìåíäóþ Âàñ, áåðóò ýòî.”

My words seem to provoke no real response from the collective. They do not speak Russian. Strange indeed. Combat does not favor those who cannot understand the language of their enemies. I have learned half dozen different tongues, both of allied nations and opposing armies. I listen to them a moent, and pick up that they are speaking English. I repeat myself to them.

“You are all to beink soorendur, Now!”

[Azzurro]

Be easy on them? Pssh! How easier could it get. I mean, there are twelve of these Russian dudes. Twelve! That's like, I don't know, two per person. I was more or less being sarcastic (I think more) about fighting our opposition, as a dozen soldiers wearing goofy fur hats and toting Kalashnikovs is easy pickings (probably) for anyone in our group of merry men. And woman. Merry men and woman. I mean these soldiers are carrying Kalashnikovs, the choice of young, angry, and poor men everywhere! Not that the damage they do is anything to laugh at. I can't count the number of times that a pickup truck would appear in Somalia full of angry young men. These men would then go on to kill everyone in the aid camps. With Kalashnikovs.

Nevertheless, I can't help feeling a bit amused at the sight of our enemies. Am I supposed to punch them or kick them or what? I mean, I don't want to hurt them. I figure that if our ever so capable (yeah right!) leader can scare the whole group senseless by changing shapes, there's no telling what any of the rest of us could do, even if we are being gentle. Especially, Mr. Roboto and Thunderman. Particularly Thunderman. He seems a little, um... anal. Maybe he's poor too. He's certainly angry.

My decision on what to do doesn't matter anyways. After our leader decks the first guy, everyone else falls within seconds. Like I said before, when you have 6 super-powered people and 12 bad guys, that leaves 2 bad guys per person. Big deal, huh? I didn't even really get to show off my speed! By the time I get a full look around the area, every Russkie is on their knees and has all ten fingers behind their heads. The next thing that happens is even more ridiculous.

Before anyone else on our little "team" can even exchange congratulations, they're all trapped in stone. I'm trapped as well. Perhaps someone as fast as myself should have avoided a predicament like this, but I didn't see it coming, okay? How are you supposed to predict that kind of thing anyway? A trick like that is definitely not on my cool list.

After being trapped in stone, we're all pulled down into what looks like the freakin' center of the earth. Some lava or magma or whatever begins to creep into the team's enclosure and finally I am able to see who did this to me. Some chick is levitating on a boulder, which would be an awesome trick if it wasn't accompanied by the Russian language. Never liked Russian. Ugly sounding and dull. After hearing her speak, the whole team (me included) kind of just looks at the chick and then each other, not sure what to say.

Then the chick starts speaking English. Or tries to. Her teacher obviously sucked. Seeing as how nobody (including our fearless leader) has spoken up, I elect to take the initiative and try to talk some sense into our assailant. I get that she's the one we're looking for. She possesses the same powers and matches the physical description to a tee. In fact, she's a pretty good looking girl. If this whole mission works out well and we're both still alive, maybe...

Whoops. I need to pull myself together. If I don't speak nobody else will. That's not true, but I'd like to think it is. Either way, I give it my best shot. Staring at the chick in question, I begin.

"I thought I'd help you out. We're not being surrendered. I think you mean that you want us to surrender. Which is cool, but I don't think anyone has agreed to do that yet. I haven't anyways. If you want to give us an opportunity to surrender, then everyone here could fight back against you. That sounds a lot more fair. If you came down from that mighty big boulder, you would make things a lot easier for me and everyone else. I don't think we're supposed to fight you, but maybe we could reach an understanding that way. I mean you don't really speak good English and all, so yeah. What do you think guys? And girl. Sorry about that, Beetle." Always miss the girl for some reason.

[Death Metal]

Okay, now this is one sitch that's gone from bad to worse. No sooner does tofu meatware disarm the guards and leave them to us...with the shockin stupidist order I've ever heard for dealing with ratbiting blackboots, then their boss shows up, and goes all Godmod on us.

Before I know it I'm in a shockin stone box with real lava lamp ambience, and some blond chick telling me to give it up in Russian. Datafiles decript it fairly easily, but I don't waste juice responding, not even when she restates it in english. No reason to waste cycles on chatting it up with the shockin bitch running the prison.

Cause thats just what this place is. Seismic scans tell me we're at least 50 meters down, and surrounded by lava. Even without her watching, I know the meatware in this group isn't going to last a day in this enclosed of a space. Shockin Stonehenge cellblack, is what this is, and that means we've got to play nice nice...for now.

Absently, I lean back against the wall, feeling the warmth of the lava at my back, as subroutines come into play, scanning the room around us, assessing the bithead in charge, the weakpoints of the room itself, interlaying targeting diagrams for how to take her down before whatever freaky rock powers she has can come to bear. At least 12,000 possible computations, less than 100 of which have a 90%+ success rate....and then we're still stuck in shocking stone tomb.

Just for fun I interlay my new teammates into the scenerios as well...My odds are better of snuffing all of them than taking on the blond vodka chugger.

Not that I would of course...but its a fun thought to consider. Maybe even run simulations on after. I ain't much for killing in its own sake, but it can be fun to consider...partcularly when the people in mind land you in this kind of a ratbiting mess.

Since I got no shcokign idea what to do, that means it falls to the meatware to do the planning, so I turn my attention to them.

[shadow=008080,left,300]"This Sitch is read-only. Any of you got a plan that doesn't leave us entombed like the ratbiting pharohs?"[/shadow]

As I wait for the reply I run an systems check on my ace in the hole. Long experience has taught me the value of having an escape plan in mind, and mine is currently sitting against the rear wall, cloaked and ready. I cloaked my raptor right before making the jump to this ratbitten dimension, and its stayed that way since. Actually came within maybe a foot of getting made into recycle by the big shockin walls of doom, but I was fast enough to move it into the safe zone.

Not that having a high speed aerial transport is going to do a jammin bit of good in a shockin tomb.

[Blue Beetle]

BB waits patiently, expecting that her more aggressive teammates are likely to beat the soldiers down without needing her help.

As expected, Morph changed into a rather interesting shape and defeated the batch of foes in only a few moments.

All seems well at first, but then suddenly there are some fascinating energy readings all around the team. Before she can warn anyone, though, they are all suddenly entombed in a chamber of rock and thrust deep into the earth and that (impossibly) surrounded by magma.

"Curiouser and curiouser." she says, examining the chamber with her suit's sensors for structural integrity as the others talk to the Russian-speaking woman. Of course Mary understand the gist of what the lady is saying (though the dialect is a bit odd) and her suit's computers are more than capable of sorting out the details. No need to reveal that she can understand... that could come in handy later.

Orders are repeated in English anyway, to surrender.

"We certainly can go along, since she asked so nicely."

[Mimic]

Well, look at that. We’re all deadlocked. Half of us want to keep a cool head, the others want to die or fail our mission, or possibly both. Fantastic. Gives one a sense of pride knowing that I can make such lasting decisions with my life if this is what I pick over the slammer. Seriously; three meals a day, free weights, all the anal raping I can handle. Got to say it doesn’t sound too bad right about now. At least I wouldn’t be standing if in a fucking blizzard with a bunch of dumbasses. Well, except maybe the bug lady, she seems like the brainy type.

So if we were going to fight these soldiers I had to be ready to at least defend myself. Why spoil these guys’s fun? Besides, if we knock out some of these guys I can grab a coat off one of them. Hell they live here, their used to the cold. Luckily our leader decided to take action by coming up with a different approach to the situation. And by different, I mean…well shit, I don’t even know how to describe what he does. Changing into one of those festive polls that you see Swiss kids playing with and disarming the soldiers with the ribbons is certainly creative…and weird. Then he decided to punch one of the unarmed soldiers and make jokes.

[glow=yellow,2,300]“Wow. Punching an unarmed man and then make fun of the fact that he doesn’t understand you. Great job setting an example to group there, boss.”[/glow]

Was that the best line I could have used? Probably not, but seeing as how I really don’t care about anything except the early stages of hypothermia setting in, I’ll worry about giving my A-list material for when we're in a warming climate. Oh, and still alive, since I’m pretty sure the guy our leader punched was calling in reinforcements. Now I’m really starting to get annoyed. I have to wait even longer in the frozen wasteland for more people to come and threaten my life? At this point, I’ll gladly wear an inhibitor collar and a straight-jacket if it meant going indoors. And yeah I know, bitching isn’t going to help.

Just then, the ground around us started shaking violently, and several stone slabs boxed us all in. Then it felt like we were dragged downward into the Earth at a very fast rate until we were what I’m guessing is so far down we wouldn’t have to worry about the weather anymore. The dark chamber was filled with a hot, bright red light that was blinding at first. Then I watch as the sides of the chamber were covered with hot magma, heating the place up even more. I guess you have to be careful what you wish for, huh?

I looked up and saw the person responsible for our capture: a blonde soldier floating on a boulder and wearing what looks like lieutenant markings. Or what I think is lieutenant markings, since I’m not an expert with their ranking systems on this world. Either way, I’m guess she’s the person who dragged us here, and she’s the person we have to talk to in order to get our mission underway. And since were trapped in a lava-lined stoned prison underground after we spooked her comrades, that is going to be a bit of a challenge. After she translate her orders to us about surrendering, I turn to our leader and give my vote of confidence.

[glow=yellow,2,300]“Okay boss, how are you going to handle this one? Drill a hole to China to escape and then call our capture fat?”[/glow]

I find myself moving in closer to these guys to keep from accidentally touching the walls. Even if I turn to steel-skin it would be dangerous to get any closer. At least I’m getting closer to the bug lady, whom I’m finding is more and more appealing as I’m looking on to my inevitable doom. Ain’t that a bitch?

[Thunderstrike]

* Un-FUCKING-Believable.*

* We're in the middle of what could be the shortest opp in recorded history... and the boss-man is taking his sweet time. Even WITH Russian artillery shoved in his featureless kisser. Mother of GOD this 'Time Broker' must be a few planets short of a galaxy, placing a team like this under some shape-shifting screwball.*

* Then he just shrugs... saying we'll have to meet in the middle... right before turning into one of those girly tether-ball poles and single-handedly disarming the entire lot of them, and before he turns around to lay a pounding on the nearest slack-jawed dumb-ass, he tells us all to take it easy on them.*

* Oh brother...*

[glow=dbdbdb, 2,300]" Tell you what... since I'm in such a good mood I'll let them keep a few of their teeth!"[/glow]

* While everyone else is moving in to take care of business, I follow suit; rushing up... I use a combination of CQC and my chromed-over fists making short work of two slack-jawed idiots too stupid to haul ass once they lost their firepower. The rest of 'em might harp on me later... but this is as 'easy' as I go on anyone. Can't be helped when you have metal bones. Doesn't matter how much hamburger you wrap around a crowbar... it'll still fuck you up when it strikes.*

* Doesn't take long for all of us to make short work of the rank and file. Pretty soon the 12 who're still conscious have all assumed the surrender position right in the center of formation. Varying expressions of pain and fear. I just brush my hands off... a metal on metal sound grinding for everyone to hear as I turn to pimple puss*

[glow=dbdbdb, 2,300]" Well, this was anti-climactic. So, whitehead... what now?"[/glow]

* Just HAD to ask. I feel a tremble run through the frozen tundra... then allasudden the ground just 'heaves' up... wrapping around those Ruski loser's like a pair of hands sheltering a kitten... before their all sucked down and disappear.*

[glow=dbdbdb, 2,300]" What the fuck?!?"[/glow]

* Doesn't take long before we have a whole lot more of this freaky landscaping going on... as what was just our battlefield just heaves upward, sloping up into a massive stone cage, which despite our best efforts, doesn't seem to want to give. Soon enough we're locked in from all sides... left to stew in pitch darkness. Briefly at least... It doesn't take much effort for me to use some AC to illuminate the situation. Thing is, my concentration is shot when somebody proceeds to drag underground...*

* Cozy... like a tomb.

* Even in the darkness... you can tell somethings moving, something that ain't us. Soon enough... my earlier illuminations doesn't seem all that fancy... as within moments the walls of this little rat-trap start to crack open and glow. The temp in this place slowly starts to move from icebox to sauna, as fucking LAVA starts to creep through, illuminating the room like some god damned sulfuric lantern.*

* What the fuck did we get drug into?*

* Don't even get a chance to think before the walls just heave open... a bunch of damned barbed spears shooting out, creating a perimeter around us, caging us in like rats. It's only after another voice comes out of the darkness that I realize where our 'host' is situated. Blond chick dressed in the same fatigues as or previous playmates, those cold baby blues staring daggers down at us. She starts barking out orders in Russian... can't understand a thing she says... about as bad when she starts up with the broken English. Then again, we all got the general 'point' a LONG time ago.*

* Her way of telling us to assume the position.*

* Can't say I'm too confident in my comrades here... Zippy likely just pissed himself, Biker-bot uses PC geek-talk to ask us for any good ideas, Blue-bug figures we should oblige her since she 'asked nice', and flattop is turning back to the boss-man for answers as he starts ignoring the 'personal space' barrier. A disciplined Military unit like X-force wouldn't get caught with their damned pants down like this. We'd have Intel at the ready, an actual plan of attack which we'd be drilled over on in the sit-rep. Here, I'm fucking stuck with a bunch of untrained posers who don't fucking know their asses from their armpits!*

*This is downright pathetic.*

[glow=dbdbdb, 2,300]" What do we do?"[/glow]

* I growl out in a whisper, carefully reaching down to my belt, slowly pulling out one of the transistors I got stored for a special occasion. Carefully pulling out the tabs and plugging it into my arm. I cringe a little... feeling my little hypodermic piercing slide in.*

[glow=dbdbdb, 2,300]"We do what we where sent here to do and fucking neutralize that bitch. THAT is what we fucking do!"[/glow]
* Just gimme a few seconds, and I'll light up Natasha like the Forth of July!*

[Morph]

And I'll repeat: I don't like not knowing what is headed to the battlefield.
I shrug at Mimic's words on making fun of the poor Russian guy. Purely misunderstanding, I wasn't trying to make fun exactly... Not in a cruel way... anyhow.
I've been through some pretty Hellish situations, timing jumping blind with half baked explanations of our goals...
There's no way to plan for the unexpected, and as the ground gets vertical, I figure we've at least hit pay dirt on summoning the one we're looking for.
Now let's hope we don't die before completing our mission.
Things go from shaky, to downright lethal as the Earth boxes us in, and seems to drag us under.
But wait, the show's not over yet, there's some lava, and some spikes, and a blond woman shouting Russian at us too.
Some days, it just doesn't pay to get out of bed.
Not that I can remember the last time I got the luxury of sleeping in an actual bed, mind you.
One team mate starts shouting back at her, and I wonder just how much is going to get lost in translation... or not... either way it might be enough to get her to kill us.
The tech-talking one asks the team if anyone has any plans, at least, I think that's what he meant, The lady says we could go along, but I think she's just cracking jokes at this point, I notice she's also analyzing our crypt as she says it.
Mimic looks to me for a lead, and Thunderstrike starts to power up like he's going to fry our captor.
It looks like I can still keep a bit of charge on this group. Their apathy shows they don't really want to be here.
I hold my hands up to Thunderstrike,

"Whoa there Sparky, stand down one moment.
Our mission is to keep her from facing the American forces on the field today.
That doesn't mean we have to die killing her.
Let me try and reason with her.
If it doesn't work, cover me."

It doesn't take much to stretch my arms up like laughy Taffy, to grab onto the rock she's floating on above us.
Once I have a hold on it, I just make my arms short again, bringing myself to the rock without much effort.
Of course, getting on top of it and standing to face her, is another story, but I manage, putting my palms up to show her I mean no harm,

"Wait. I think we have a miscommunication here.
You're men stopped us.
We didn't attack them until they put their guns in our faces.
And my men could have killed them easily, but they didn't.
There doesn't have to be any death today.
My team is here to help fix your time.
There's supposed to be a skirmish today between you and the American military, and if that happens, you're entire universe will be ripped apart.
We were sent here to keep that from happening, to help end this war.
Look,"

I point to the Tallus on my arm,

"This thing here lets us travel through time, to help keep things on the right path.
Once we are done, it'll flash us away to another time again, and you'll have nothing to worry about.
Instead of burying your timeline's saviors, can't you just stop all fighting for the next 24 hours?
Think of all the lives we don't have to be wasting out here."

She's a leader, a soldier. She has to have some compassion for the lives of her men, which means I have a shot at getting through to her.
And hey, if I don't... We still have Sparky on backup.
For what that's worth.

[Sasha]

These stranger people are far from what I expected. They don’t react like soldiers at all. They squabble with one enoughter, some wanting to fight, others not, all of them chattering. They are no soldiers. Maybe spies of some kind. It is not an unheard of tactic, acting incompetent, allowing them to get captured. But then, they took down my men so fast that they didn’t have any time to retaliate. That, simply, should not happen, and yet it did. I have supervised these men, trained them long and hard to ensure that each and every one of them has what it takes to fight on the front lines. They have drilled on tactics against non-human enemies, people with powers. This group acts like circus clowns, but they must be far more dangerous.

Unfortunately, they are at my mercy now. Underground as we are, I am undefeatable.

My understanding of their responses is that none of them have any intention of surrendering. The only one who’s remained silent is the white one. From the way the others speak, I would guess he is the group’s commanding officer. He suddenly reaches, his arm elongating as it grabs hold of the boulder I’m standing on. With a snap, he crosses the distance, now only an arms length away. Mentally, I grab a section of the wall, ready to transform it into a hail of spears and impale this strange man. But, he doesn’t attack, instead seeking to negotiate. I listen, not lowering my guard.

He speaks of things that are not only impossible, but inconceivable. I have to listen carefully, many of the words he uses are difficult for me to translate on the fly. But, unless I’m wrong, he talks about time and dimensions, how his team come from a different world, and are here to correct some mistake in events, to keep me from a battle, in which my presence would only serve to escalate the fighting. He mentions their mission, to run interference and keep me off the battlefield today. I would curse, but I keep silent. It they are working for the Americans, and there is going to be an ambush, I need to get back to my men. The radio doesn’t work, not this deep down, so I cant communicate back with base. We’re hundreds of miles from the front line, nobody will be expecting an attack this deep into our territory. I put everyone on high alert before leaving, but that very well might be enough.

The worry I now feel doesn’t show on my face. I keep my expression cold and intense, my eyes never wavering from his. He shows me a device, some kind of bracer. If he is telling the truth, than it is what allows him to travel in time and space. He asks, quite simply, for me to stop the fighting for a day.

His story is unbelievable, and I suspect it’s all an elaborate lie. He speaks of fantasy, of worlds beyond this one, of changing events that haven’t happened, or undoing ones that have already come to pass. I don’t buy it. The world is shaped by me and my choices, by the actions of those who live on this world. I refuse to believe that this tiny group would wield a power that should be in the hands of gods. They are lying, that much is certain. And yet, it is my duty to assess the alternative. Your enemy doesn’t strike by walking in right where you expect them, they hit you in ways you we’re unprepared for. If you build a solid defense, then they seek to out maneuver you. If your offense is to strong, they’ll use guerrilla tactics to break you down slowly. Battles aren’t won by batting yourself against the opposition till one side breaks. They are one by throwing low shots when nobody is looking. That is why every officer in service is given a standing order to always ask ‘what if’. What if the enemy has heavy artillery? What if they sneak around to the backside of our position in the night? What if our reinforcements are delayed? And what if, what if, there really we’re visitors from a different world?

“You speak many of strange thinks”

I half mutter, as if in deep consideration. I cannot kill these people. If they have knowledge of events that haven’t happened yet, then that information is to valuable to lose. And this device which moves in dimensions, its value is greater still. With such a means to act, we could stop the war, strike at our enemies in the past, or recruit the future to lend us aid. My eyes snap up as I prepare to act, my muscles tensing, my stone beginning to shift.

I draw the earth to me, affixing it to my hand as I make a grab for the gauntlet, managing to get a grip on it, as I lean forward to elbow the white stranger in the solar plexus. With one hand on the gauntlet, the stone flows around the strange time device, making a clamp which grips it tightly. Once that happens, I give a very strong tug, expecting it to be sturdy enough to take the forces.

CRACK!

I look, and see that a large fracture has appeared along the surface of the device. A strange, entirely alien looking glow begins pouring out of it. I retreat instinctively, but do not make it far before a pulse of energy erupts outwords, expanding to fill the chamber. As it passes through me, my movements slow to less than a crawl. I hang there, almost frozen in an instant, the world stopped. What have I done?

Things happen, things which I can’t describe. Its as if I am suddenly grabbed by a giants hands, the world twists sharply to the side, and it feels like I being streached out into a single thread and then spun about. Faster and faster, everything spinning and shaking. I see a flash of something, the world suddenly multiplied, infinite variations on the same thing, but it comes and goes so fast that I’m uncertain it ever existed at all.

With a crash, suddenly, everything grinds to a halt. I fall to my knees, gasping for air. Something is suddenly very wrong. The air tastes entirely different, its warm and pleasant. There is the smell of flowers and grass. Indeed, as my vision clears, I find a thick bed of grass underfoot. Impossible though, as grass went extinct generations ago.

My body feels heavy as I lift my head up to look around. My homeland has gone, this place is entirely different. I haven’t traveled far enough to know where I might be, only that its not my home. There are rolling hills of grass, patches of flowers. And, a short distance away, looks an ancient castle of stone.

What have I done?