Each hero one after the other sprang into the vault-elevator before sam unleashed a torrent of duplicates. A platoon, no an army rushed from the elevator to meet the austere corpse shambling toward the heroes.

"Oh come on now. Why are you guys leaving? We were going to have fun! Come on, can't we all just ... sit down and work this out together? Violently?"

The clones didn't hesitate in their advance.

"Fine then."

As the front lines broke upon Wraith, the dead man seized a Sam by his throat and beat his brothers with Sam's limp body. The Sam clone's neck had snapped but that did not stop Wraith from weilding his corpse like a midieval ball and chain knocking Sam after Sam to the ground. The Sam clones set up a perimiter around their foe, just outside the reach of his weapon which he spun now above his head in wide circles.

"Stopping that quickly? It's just a dead body. Weilding a dead body. To produce dead bodies." Wraith ruffled his brow for a moment in concentration. "I suppose I am frightening! Hooray! I've been working toward this day for a long time I'll have you know. And I wont have you spoil it!"

Wraith turned and saw Doctor Anderson holding a bottle of chemicals, preparing to throw. The Sam clone however, was released first and met Anderson with a squishy thud. Pinned to the ground holding his unbroken chemicals Dr. Anderson watched helplessly as Wraith shambled toward him, knocking out Sam clones as he went.

"Oh, the indignaty! My enemies won't even fight me directly." Dr. Anderson struggled as Wraith grew near. "It's all 'ooh, lets throw some chemicals at him!' or 'I wonder how he'll react to bloody lot of duplicates'. You're toying with me. Experimenting with me! Aren't you?!"

Wraith now stood over Dr Anderson. "Well, I won't have that. Not anymore." The corpse prepared for a massive punch when suddenly the other corpse, pinning Anderson in place, launched from his stomach and into Wraith's face. The next second saw Darren pulling Adnerson toward the vault from across the room.

What remained of the Sam clones jumped on top of the momentarily unbalanced Wraith creating a hill of Sam's that bobbed and swayed as Wraith attempted to throw them off. Anderson landed in the vault and threw the chemical bottle at the hill. Just as the beaker was about to collide, it seemed to pass through the Sams and instead landed only inches from the feet of Wraith inside the pile. Jazz sighed releived.

Volkov said "Now can we get the hell out of here?!" And threw a pile of money at the ceiling, starting the elevator going up.
_____________________________________________________________________________________________

The group reached the second story and started the rush passed the still incapacitated Wrecker. Anthony seemed surprised by the tied down bomb and paused slightly in his run. Looking back to the group he ran to catch up. Then ran slightly ahead.

Then turned, slid, tripped Volkov, snatched the beaker from the air as it fell and made a dash toward the caged Wrecker. It all happened in a second, before anyone could even react.

He stood over the bomb and looked at the heroes who had stopped their retreat and were now approaching him. "Keep running! Get out of Ridley I don't want any of you hurt when this goes off!" Anthony shouted to the group.

The heroes stopped about half a room away. Anthony indicated the beaker. "This? This is dangerous. In more ways then one. It can't be allowed outside Ridley. And I can't let your scientists make more." He pointed toward the unconcious The Opposing Force being dragged along by Mika. "The same electrical shock that stopped that signal most likely fried their computers. But they still have hard files down there. And they still have their chief guinea pig. And they still have this!" He said shaking the beaker.

"Bringing the roof down is the only way to end this ordeal permenantly. It's the only way. And I am going to do it." He stared out at nothing for a moment before seeming to recover.

"So get out of here. Quickly!"

Aileen runs out of the room quickly. She is breathing hard, following the path out from memory more than anything else. "That thing...what was it? How is it around? How can we beat it if it shows up again?"

Mika drags the Opposing Force to the next elevator and drops him inside.
Mika then looks out of the elevator at Anthony and ask, "Are you sure you want to do this?"

Anthony turns to Mika. "I'm the only one who can."

Vanguard1219:

Spoiler: Click to View

Someone private messaged me and informed me joining might be possible for me- can someone give me a list of powers already taken so I can come up with a character?

The_Logician19:

Wait a minute...

Anthony waves the group a parting farewell before delivering a brutal kick to the tied Wrecker. Jazz jumps toward the teen shouting for him to stop.

A moment passes. Nothing happens.

Anthony delivers another kick and Daniel can be heard grunting inside the elevator. "In case you've all forgotten recruits, we're here to retrieve the beaker and protect Ridley. If that Wrecker goes off we lose the compound and more likely than not this entire floor goes crashing on top of the one below us."

"That's the point!" Anthony kicks again viciously at the barrier Daniel has formed around the living bomb. "That thing down there, Wraith, it can't be contained. If we don't crush it now it's going to come after us."

Jazz is between the two looking at both with an air of urgency.

"Then we take care of Wraith. But first you hand over that beaker." Daniel says wiping the sweat from his brow as Anthony pounds on the invisible box.

"Doesn't work like that." Anthony redoubles his assault on the Wreckers cage bringing Daniel to his knees. "This stuff," Anthony holds the beaker aloft, "This stuff makes heroes - or villains. Either way, it's too much power for one person."

A final kick breaks Daniel's hold. "Now get out of the building. This Wrecker is going off."

A fist crosses Anthony's jaw, knocking him back. The fist reaches toward the Wrecker as if to grab a handfull of strings before its owner begins melting into the ground below. Jazz looks at Anthony, "Same advice to you, get out of the building."

"No you don't!" Anthony shouts diving into the fading hero and through the ethereal patch of floor, landing on the ground below with an agile roll. Jazz and the Wrecker are floating gracefully to meet him.

Daniel looks up at the ceiling as the pair disappear. "Rose! We have a situation!"
_____________________________________________________________________________________________

Anthony and Jazz land on the crimson cement flooring. Fifty or more Sam corpses lay about the room in varying levels of gore. Not one Sam is spared the horror and not one inch of the room is clean of blood.

Jazz looks around in disgust and fury. "Where the hell did he go!?" Wraith was nowhere to be found. "Where is that monster!? I'll-" An axe kick to Jazz's shoulder brought him to the ground and shortened his breath.

Anthony jogs to the Wrecker, beaker held close to his heart. "Never let your gaurd down."

"Stop!" Jazz races after him "I'll do it! I'm the only one who can survive it!"

"Really?" Anthony pauses next to the bomb still tied firmly in vines. "Really? Have you ever been at the boiling heart of a real explosion? If the answer is no then you only think you can survive it. You don't know. It's intangibility, right? But what about heat? If you can't control heat waves the explosion will cook you alive. How about sound waves? They'll shred your eardrums like a knife through paper; leave you deaf for the rest of your life. The compression wave, the pressure will slap you unconcious - or stop your heart. Have you got an answer for all that? If not, you only think you'll survive this." Anthony returns his gaze to the Wrecker. "That's why it has to be me."

"I'm not going to let you kill yourself!" Jazz shouts. "I have a better chance of living through it. It should be me who sets off the bomb."

Anthony stares at Jazz very critically. Seconds pass like hours in complete silence. Finally a slow careful voice is heard. "A heroic cause, rescuing the less adept. You know, the Red Hand use to have a different name. It was The Red Hand of Fate. As The Black Hand was The Black Hand of Fate. The Red Hand of Fate is mighty and The Black Hand of Fate is cunning; only Fate is just." Anthony proclaimes in a whisper.

"What are you talking about?"

"I think I like you and your group." Anthony says returning to his normal voice. "Fate willing, we'll meet again. In the mean time," he points to a rough hole hewn in the ground at the place where the bottle of chemicals thrown at Wraith met the floor. "There's a Wraith to hunt. And this place still needs leveling."

"Wait! It should be m-"

POP! "I'll take that."

Anthony's foot met the Wrecker. The world was washed in fire.
_____________________________________________________________________________________________

POP!

"Did you get them?!" Daniel shouts at Rose outside the shaking foundations of Ridley International Bank.

"Right here. The beaker and our overly exuberant recruit. Safe and sound like bugs in rugs." Rose sighs happily. Her left arm has a glossy crimson burn from the elbow down and she's dripping with sweat. "No soldiers hurt in the making of this rescue."

"Brilliant Rose! Brilliant!" Rose steers Jazz to rejoin Daniel and the other recruits. "Ridley is a mess but considering what we were up against and how little preparation we had, Jennifer will definetly consider this a success."

Rose held the beaker aloft "We got this. This is what were supposed to save. And we've got this. Mission accomplished."

"Lets go."

A dark silhouette fills the doors of Ridley. Anthony is racing toward the group of heroes. He seems younger, about fifteen, and his face is lined with anger and determination.

POP!

You find yourself back in your bed rooms at The Red Hand building. Rose and Daniel are on the other side of the room. Rose waves.

POP!

Dr. Volkov's emotions were a large mix of conflicting notions and strong contradictions upon his safe return, but the most dominant one amongst them was fear. He had a vague notion that he was currently flailing in the deep end, as superpowered sharks in business-suits eyed his legs.

In the prime of his life, Volkov had certainly been a very important individual, as much as a double-dealing, capitalising unethical researcher could be, but that was decades ago, and things had certainly moved on. For example, in his days, corpses had not been capable of walking. Dr. Volkov had once set up a colossal project, with the aims of creating something like Wraith, but he had been informed shortly after its conception the idea had ceased to produce results.

Which, in his world, had meant the subject had ceased functioning altogether. He had written the failure off as a sign that it was truly impossible - the dead stay dead, certain biological facts cannot be disregarded or even bent, and this was clearly one of them.

Thus, the real source of Volkov's fear was that the world had moved on, and he hadn't - someone had surpassed him, greatly so, and had created Wraith as a result. The chance of Wraith existing on his own power was inconceivable - something like that abomination was not a natural occurrence, it was manufactured.

He sighed as he left the bunk beds, ignoring Rose's wave as best he could. His failure to create what would have been a prototype of Wraith's kind was quite possibly the largest 'cock-up' of his career, in that no notable result was gained, no benefit to him or the scientific world. That subject was presumably where it had been left - in the lab in which it ceased to exist, and was undoubtedly no more than a rotted skeleton now.

To Volkov, the mission had been a waste of time - the only 'success' was in the retrieval of a beaker he would never be given a sample of, and in their actual objective, they failed quite pathetically, Ridley International blown up in several different places, most likely. Whilst to their employer, this unknown organisation, the mission was certainly a success, it had had no benefit to him.

He left small puddles of...something...as his arm slowly snapped back into place. Dr. Volkov was not entirely sure where he was going, but he did not fancy spending time with their immediate - and insufferable - superiors, nor did he enjoy the company of his fellow pawns. He still didn't have a lab to go to, and it was not a good idea for him to go swimming, with his arm, in case he left more bits of 'something' in their pool.

He settled for aimless exploration. Perhaps he would find a lab he could quietly observe, and mumble to himself, telling the 'scientists' how truly incompetent they were. Dr. Volkov smiled to himself - yes, exploration, far...far away from his colleagues, was a fantastic idea.

Alright, here's my character sheet-

I look forward to joining! :D

Aileen wanders around the base, a little dazed by the last mission. So much had happened in her life since that fight...she goes to the pool, hoping to forget what happened, if that was even possible. Swimming always helped to relax her. But after a few laps, she realizes that "always" had an "almost" in front of it. She climbs out of the pool, drying off and dressing, then wanders around the base, seeing the sights, too nerve-wracked for sleep.

Spartan Bannana:

Welcome, but...

Alright, alright, I get it. Sorry.

Let me know when and where I should make my character's introduction.

Dr. Anderson was lying on a bottom bunk, staring up at the slats of the bed above. There was too much spinning around in his head, considering the events that had occurred.
He'd screwed up, badly. Releasing that walking corpse had hardly been his finest hour. At least he'd managed to help with getting that beaker out of Ridley, when he wasn't pinned down anyway. He felt awful. He'd been dead weight for most of the mission and messed up the bits he had tried to join in with. He wasn't cut out for this, he was an academic after all...
No. Not anymore. He was here with the Black Hand, fighting those evil Red Hand types. Hang on... Red Hand? Black Hand? That's too similar, surely? Nah...
Anderson decided to stop thinking and go and annihilate something. There's always advantages to more target practice.

Mika lays in her bed, quietly contemplating about anthony.
'Who exactally is he? How did he survive the explosion? What's his power?'
These are the questions that kept running around in her head like a hyper-active dog after it was allowed to drink a can of red bull.
She eventually decided to get up and eat some food.
She then go's to the cafetiria and gets some food.

As Aileen walked through the base she passed a young woman clad in mostly dark clothing. She had short raven black hair with bangs that obscured the upper left half of her face. Her hands were tucked away in her jacket pockets and a duffel bag was slung over her shoulder. Her name was Anessa Rhae.

The two women didn't acknowledge each others presence as they crossed paths. Anessa broke her gaze from the floor just long enough to get a passing glance. The other woman had odd-colored eyes and platinum blond hair that was a little stringy, suggesting that it had been wet. She looked exhausted, both physically and emotionally. The blond didn't look like she was in the mood to talk to anyone, which was fine as far an Anessa was concerned. She didn't like associating with other people that much anyway.

While she walked Anessa thought about recent events. She had been recruited by this organization called "Monos the Hands of Fate" or something like that. She hadn't quite caught the name, but she knew that these people knew about the things she could do. After bring her to this compound they talked about hiring her and mentioned something about a team that was already out somewhere. She still wasn't quite sure what was happening, but she had already taken the opportunity to enjoy their otherwise unsolicited hospitality while she had the chance.

The agent that had brought her to the compound had mentioned there was a large company wardrobe on the seventh floor. He wasn't exaggerating when he said "large". The room was fairly huge and was crammed full of shelves and racks of clothing. Anessa flicked on the light switch as she entered the room. No one was inside. Anessa allowed a small grin to briefly cross her face. She was alone, just the way she liked it. She turned and closed the door to the room before disrobing completely. All of the clothes she was wearing at the time were fairly shoddy and in bad shape. She simply couldn't afford anything better. If this company was giving her the opportunity to get replacements she was going to take it.

After grabbing a nearby duffel bag next to the door she started walking amongst the rows of clothing, trying on things that caught her eye when she saw them. Anessa didn't give a damn if someone walked in and saw her like this. No one in her life seemed to give a rat's ass about her before, so why should people suddenly start to now? Even if someone did she could care less what they thought anyway. She continued browsing like this until she emerged from the room twenty minutes later clad in a fresh set of clothing with the duffel bag now stuffed full of brand new clothes. She deposited her old set into a trashcan outside as she left. She wouldn't be needing them anymore.

Anessa was wearing a pair of dark colored jeans and a white tank top that "clung to all the right places" as she liked to put it. Over that she wore a brand-new leather motorcycle riding jacket. It was solid black and other wise featureless. She had also taken the opportunity to grab new pair of sneakers. They were a pair of red Converse "All Stars" that probably would get worn out in at least a couple weeks. Anessa tended to go through pairs of sneakers pretty fast, mainly because of what it was she could do. As she walked Anessa put on a pair of fingerless gloves before putting her hands into the pockets of her jacket as she entered the elevator.

Anessa had just gotten off of the elevator when she passed the tired blond with the different colored eyes. She was looking for some kind of living quarters she was told that she would be staying in. It wasn't long before she opened a door to find the place she was looking for. The room had polished wood floors and several bunk beds. There was a handful of people inside, all of which looking fairly exhausted. Without speaking or making eye contact with anyone she walked to the very back of the room before sitting on an empty bunk with her gaze focused on the wall.

Seth gasps as he suddenly becomes conscious, his mind slowly adjusting to his unfamiliar surroundings. The last thing he remembered was taking a step closer towards the rift, and then....blackness.

Thankful that he was still wearing clothes, Seth staggers to his feet and takes a look around. He appeared to be near some kind of swimming pool.....and just before he had blacked out he had felt his essence being 'drawn' to something or someone. He takes a seat in a nearby chair, steadying himself as he does so, and waits for someone to arrive. Hopefully a native of this strange world could enlighten him.

Khedive Rex:

Sorry for the lull

Happy 18th birthday Rex! :) ;)

As for the whole dimensional thing, you don't have to worry at all; Seth is from a separate RPG forum than this one called the Gleeplane ICly that is fairly similar to the D&D realms of Faerun and Eberron.

By 'he's-from-a-different-dimension' I mean Mortal Kombat VS. DC Universe different dimension, not Buckaroo Banzai different dimension. Hope that cleared things up.

POP!

The group finds themselves in Jennifer's office, the three newcomers next to her desk, the rest, along with their immediate superiors, across the room. Jennifer herself sits behind her desk, staring off into the distance, as she had when you last saw her. After a few moments, her attention focuses on the group.

"Congratulations on what was mostly a success - your VA's inform me that to preserve Ridley was beyond the realms of possibility - and more congratulations are in order for not dying. As such, you've been promoted, still at the very bottom of the food chain but now that we know you aren't useless you'll enjoy a higher standard of living here at the Red Hand. You each have your own rooms, right next to each other, not far from where you were sleeping before. I hope you find the introduction of walls into your sleeping arrangements agreeable."

She beckons to Rose, who immediately places a file on her desk.

"As always I am very busy, so I shall make this brief - the three individuals across from you were part of an infiltration mission that was no where near as successful as yours. Let's just say that their team was as big as yours before we sent them off. I hope that, by placing them with you, you'll have a good influence on them, setting a fantastic example by every last one of you living."

An uncomfortable silence.

Rose coughs awkwardly.

"I am afraid that you will not have much time to get to know each other - I am already sending you on your next mission. We've acquired information that shows movements by the Black Hand, to and from an oil refinery off the coast. They're storing something there, and we'd like you to get this something, so we can know what this something...actually is. Don't look so negative, they're not nearly intelligent enough to capitalise on something as dangerous as what you found in the basement of Ridley. It's probably perfectly safe. It's just the guards, the bullets, and the highly flammable fuel that isn't. Oh, and regarding this walking corpse - the existence of Wraith, and why he was in the basement of Ridley is very complicated, and discussion of such should not stretch towards those unaware of his existence, and your three new colleagues. I hope you recognise the need for discretion."

Jennifer gestures to Rose once again, who forcefully encourages the newcomers towards the group, half-waving, half-pushing.

"Okay, we've got a little while to get used to the new faces, before I pop us on our way...try to be nice, it isn't their fault their friends all died."

______________________________________________________________________________________________________________

The sewers under Ridley were, well, particularly sewer-esque. Other than the sizable hole above, from which a strange chemical dripped into the waste...canal...tunnel...below.

Anderson landed in the vault and threw the chemical bottle at the hill. Just as the beaker was about to collide, it seemed to pass through the Sams and instead landed only inches from the feet of Wraith inside the pile.

A chance event, and a most fortunate one, as that wrecker could have been incredibly inconvenient for the corpse that now stalked the sewers below.

A solitary mouse sniffed its way along the sides of the waste-river, in between the thudding feet of Wraith, hurriedly rushing past the angry stamps. It was stopped, however, when a gloved hand snapped at its tail with surprising accuracy.

"Ah-ha! Thought you could slip by, did you? Thought you could, what, polymorph into vermin, and evade my clutches? You underestimate me, fool! Now, take me to your superior."

The mouse struggled and squeaked, attempting to free itself from the dead man's grasp, and so Wraith walked in the direction it struggled, using the mouse as a form of swaying compass. It was not terribly long, before, by chance, Wraith happened across another life, most probably human, unless one had rather intolerant attitudes towards the homeless. What a vagrant was doing in the sewer, Wraith did not question, as he believed he already had the answer.

"At last, we meet the superior officer, the one behind this ratty surveillance."

The homeless man woke from a deep sleep in a startle, and jumped at the sight of the tall corpse in military uniform before him.

"Now, my friend, I am going to interrogate your subordinate, and then I shall move on to you."

Perhaps in a drunken stupor, perhaps believing himself to be dreaming, the homeless man, rather than question the series of events, made a rather astute point.

"...Thass'a mouse, mate."

"Yes, I fully recognise that it appears to be a mere mouse, but in a world where superpowered individuals are becoming more frequent in everyday life, am I to really believe that this mouse passed me by chance? Right after my daring escape from Ridley International? No, my adversary, this is quite clearly, a transformation, a human with the ability to become a mouse - perhaps even other forms of vermin!"

"...Super...powered...what now?"

"I'll ask the questions here, thank you very much."

He raised the panicked mouse up to his unblinking eyes, and began the interrogation.

"You're going to tell me everything you know about the Red Hand, and the Black Hand, or I'm going to pop your head like a grape."

A few moments passed, the mouse said nothing. Neither did the homeless man.

"You know, I'm beginning to suspect that this...might...just be a mouse."

"Iss'a mouse, mate."

Seth listens patiently to Jennifer's long yarn, and then interjects, saying, "Excuse me, not that I don't appreciate being part of a team and a powerful organization and anything, but I'm a little lost- my homeworld is called the Gleeplane, and it's rather far from here; the last thing I remember is stepping through some kind of rift and waking up in this world."

Jazz listened halfheartedly to their new assignment. If he put his mind to hit, he might be able to figure out what they might be doing over there, but he would leave that for another time. There was a more pressing matter at hand.

Raising his voice so that everyone could hear him, Jazz said, "If we're all going to stand a chance living through this, we need to be able to work together; we got lucky last time, but I don't think that's going to happen again. We need to know each other's names and what we can do. I'll start. My name is James McHarris; my friends call me Jazz. I can make matter intangeable, although my powers don't work on living things. I can also coordinate attacks and movements if no one else is up to the task."

Jazz waits for a moment while everyone gives him an odd sort of look, be it aggrivated or bewildered. "Well? What are you waiting for?"