Earth-9: Survivors

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Survivors

This was originally posted to the Callahanian Army of Light Spin-Off story list on 24 Dec 2001. Blue text was written by Roland, green by Morgan, and red by Dhyrclhanc; Dhyrclhanc's were written after Roland and Morgan's, and interspersed for (hopefully) ease of reading.

Earth-9. New York. Manhattan.

The Champions stood on a building several blocks from Ground Zero, along with a strange new (if somewhat temporary) companion, staring at the smoke rising from the city's gaping wound.

"He's brooding," Quantum whispered.

"Of course he's brooding, Q," Seeker replied. "We just got here. This is his home. Defender's looking for someone to throttle, or I'm a dingo. An' just between you and me, mate, I'm not a dingo." He winked.

Quantum frowned slightly. "How can you make jokes in sight of...of that, Seeker?"

Seeker shrugged. "I'm three thousand years old, Q. I've seen worse. And to be perfectly honest, it's laugh or scream, and I'm already a bit hoarse." He fingered the ninja-to hilt on his back. "I'm not sayin' I blame him, mind. Just..."

"You're worried about him," Quantum finished.

Seeker nodded.

"Maybe I'm a youngster compared to the great Akashic master, but by my two hundredth birthday I'd seen quite a bit. I don't know about worse, but I've never seen anything quite like this before. You?" Quantum asked.

Seeker frowned, and after a moment shook his head.

"So far, I haven't even lived to my 500th birthday, and even I have seen anything this horrific." said Dhyrclhanc to no one in particular.

In deference to his brother's Spandex-set in this Reality, Dhyrclhanc had adopted his more humanoid "Lens-T'Skrang" form and donned his "Sentinel costume", slightly altered based on his current size and shape, to better blend in with the "natives".

However the combination black body glove, which covered everything except for his feet, hands, tail, wings, and neck and head. The mid-calf-length green boots -- with knee-pads, flared tops and ankle-ties. The bicep long, green, fingerless gloves with elbow-pads, flared ends, and wrist-ties, and which also ended in handwraps so that his fingers and palms were exposed. The turtle-necked, green hued leotard which covered his entire torso, and with the arcane white "capital-I" shape with the wide base serif, twice as large as its top, and a circular centerpiece inside of which was a strange black, red and green starburst shape. In addition over his shoulders is draped a bulky orange photo-journalist' jacket/vest. And covering his face from where his jowls meet the rest of his head to where his crest begins, is a large mask which resembles nothing so much as a strange cubist's representation of the face of some strange demon. This mask had holes for his eyes as well as a single hole for his Lens. And where would normally hand draped a long green cloak and high collar, which looked like it had been stolen from the possession of some Sorcerer Supreme, somewhere, Dhyrclhanc had opted to go only with the collar.

Of course, on one of the fingers of his left hand, he wore the Magickal Green Lantern Ring through which he focused the energies of some DC Hypertime's equivalent of the Starheart.

But the strange mix of appearance and clothing made him appear even more alien, even amongst such a diverse groups as his sibs' Champions.

"Then don't worry too much about the boy scout," Quantum replied with a smile. "He's tougher than he looks."

Seeker scowled at a very surprised Quantum. "And he's much less the boy scout than he seems. I've trained him in the arts of the Mind, and I know him better than most. He's more resistant to your immortal taint than most, born as he is of two Eternals. But he was born with it, as well. He can never be rid of it, never be 'clean' in his own mind. So there it sits, a small pool of rage waiting to turn into a tidal wave."

Quantum frowned. "Ugh."

Dhyrclhanc's eyes bulge slightly in light of this revelation.

[I guess that I don't give my "Brother" the credit he deserves.] mused Dhyrclhanc silently [then again, next time Roland goes flying off the handle, I should give him a little more lea-way than I have in the past]

Seeker nodded again. "Exactly. What worries me most is that the one time he should be afraid of it seems to be the one time he isn't."

"You should save a little worry for the enhanced senses my armor provides," Defender said casually. Quantum and Seeker jumped slightly.

And Dhyrclhanc as well.

"Every time I think I have that boy pegged..." Seeker quipped ruefully. A smile died aborning as he regarded the Champions' leader.

In his armor, Defender looked like a statue as he stared, literally unmoving, at the devastation in the heart of New York. Beside him, Solitaire stood quietly, her hand on his shoulder.

A wry grin, likewise met an early grave, when Dhyrclhanc beheld his brother in his "full-Defender-mode."

"With all due respect, Defender, what are we doing here?" Obsidian asked, cutting the tension if not breaking it.

"Waiting," Defender replied, still unmoving.

"For what?" Obsidian asked with relentless calm. "The mortals have asked us to stand aside in this task, now that we know that there are none left to save and no evidence to find. What are we waiting for?"

"Scavengers," Defender said flatly.

Dhyrclhanc let out a low whistle.

Obsidian raised an eyebrow, but Jaguar growled audibly. "There is only one thing here worth scavenging that would need us to guard it. What evil could possibly be willing to harvest it?"

Defender remained still for one more moment, then at last he moved, his hand a blur for a moment as he pointed down. Behind him, a display unfurled, and eight figures were shown skulking through the back alleys near Ground Zero. Police officers ignored them, becoming dazed momentarily as they passed. Their leader was dressed in strange robes, and had an almost organic armor beneath them.

"Markoth," Defender snarled.

^?^ Solitaire sent. A moment later, she scowled.

"Necromancers" oathed Dhyrclhanc, quietly to himself.

"What is he up to?" Jaguar growled back.

"Markoth?" Quantum asked, eyebrow Spocked. "The name sounds familiar..."

"Who is he, sib?" Dhyrclhanc, ever the subtle one.

"One of the most powerful -- and foulest -- Wyrm sorcerers in existence," Defender explained, voice shaking slightly. "Not counting true mages, the only one worse is Archimago himself. But why..." the Eternal trailed off, horror filling his eyes. "No. Light, no. He couldn't. Not even Markoth..."

Dhyrclhanc stepped up, placing his three-digited hand on Defender's other shoulder.

"What?" Behemoth said impatiently, leaning on his maul. "Even Markoth wouldn't what?"

Seeker looked pale. "When you combine hate, death and grief on a scale this massive, it creates certain types of energies. Those willing to tap into those energies can gain a fair amount of power in the process. You don't find energies much fouler, however. I imagine even a sorcerer as corrupt as Markoth will be tainted by ch'i that vile."

"Quick roster, folks," Defender cut in, all business. "The decrepit guy is the 'Black Magus,' a former host of the Black Paladin's. The guy with the full face mask and the Batman eyeslits is Whitestar, a blaster type. The crown guy with the black wings is Dark Seraph, and he makes Markoth look cuddly. He's sort of a low-rent Zod-wannabe -- strong, fast, tough. He can also phase, and has a powerful lightning bolt that takes a moment to throw.

The tall guy in the cloak...blast, that's Malais, shapeshifted into something almost human. I'm sure glad the Big Guy's here."

ooo^ Nice Playmates you have here, Brother-of-Mine, you should invite me to this kind of party more often. ^ooo Dhyrclhanc sent over the private link he shared with his sibs, in an attempt to lighten the situation.

Roland, probably wisely, ignored him and continued.

"I don't know who their tech-boy is. The lovebirds have to be Black Paladin and his lady Ylionore. At least they don't look happy to be here.

"Let's make the rest of them unhappy to be here.

"Let's go introduce ourselves," Defender finished darkly.

* * *

"Bask in it, my darkly devoted colleagues," Markoth reveled. "Bathe in it. Did I not promise you such ebon glory? Did I not --"

"Spare me the comic-book dialogue," Black Magus sighed "Wyrm knows I've heard enough of it lately."

"You're just old, Magus," Whitestar laughed. "You've forgotten why you fell in love with the Dark Arts in the first place."

"It wasn't some tryst, you dilettante," the Magus scowled. "I am a serious scholar on the ancient quest for immortality. You are a fool who lucked into a talisman that gave you a speck of the Shadow Realm's glory."

Dark Seraph laughed as Whitestar turned on the Black Magus, the contorted look of fury visible even through the full face mask. Malais put its clawed, scaled 'hand' on Whitestar's chest. "Not now," was all the shrunken dragon hissed, in a voice eerily similar to James Earl Jones spoken through a respirator. Whitestar took one look into the hood hiding Malais' head and backed off.

"I can't believe I'm doing this. Casimir, Magus, whatever the hell you're calling yourself, you better not welch on me. And I've seen enough movies to know that 'getting what's coming to me' doesn't mean something good," the gadget-laden man commented.

"Fear not, Mr. Barrett, my debt to you will be paid as you expect." Casimir chuckled darkly. "There will be unpleasant surprises today, but not for you."

"Hmf." The Black Paladin looked highly dubious. "You should not sound so pleased, Casimir. I would be most grateful if we concluded our business here and departed as quickly as possible."

"In such a hurry to part ways, Sir Giles? After so long an alliance?" Casimir sighed dramatically. "What became of the 'darkly devoted' warrior with whom I terrorized so many would-be heroes?"

"Perspective," Sir Giles replied softly, looking back at his lady.

"Do not doubt our resolve," Ylionore added with a voice of steel. "Your bargain will be fulfilled. From there, we will have no more to do with your schemes. My lord no longer desires power over men...and I must admit," she continued, her tone softening a touch, "that I find myself agreeing with him."

Markoth, Casimir, and the Dark Seraph shared a look. "Well, if you both feel that way," Markoth said silkily, "then that makes our decision easier. Now."

The two corrupt sorcerers lashed out at the Paladin, with spells that made even those near that dark place shudder from being near them. Ylionore gasped, then moved to counter -- only to find the unholy angel in her path. Barrett, the odd scientist out, flung a disc onto the Paladin's armor. Sir Giles choked off a scream, and his armor and mace vanished from his body, leaving only a charcoal-grey mail suit and his sword. The armor and mace reappeared around Barrett, merging with his many devices.

"Oh yeah," Barrett replied. "There's a new Black Paladin in town." He flexed his fingers, feeling the unnatural strength the armor gave his body. "I think I'm going to like this."

Ylionore hissed something that made even Markoth pale, and raised her hands to strike -- but Sir Giles placed his hand on hers and shook his head. He chuckled in dark amusement. "Had you wanted the armor, Casimir, all you needed do was ask. I am done with it, regardless. Our business is concluded." He turned to leave. Malais was in his way.

"Alas," Markoth hissed delightedly, as Sir Giles and Ylionore began to find themselves surrounded by their six 'companions,' "we require something of you which you are much less willing to part with." Markoth's smile grew as he stared meaningfully at Ylionore, who shared a desperate glance with Sir Giles.

There was a tap on Markoth's shoulder.

"Not now, fool--" Markoth began. Then he realized that he could see all of his companions. His eyes went wide and his mouth went dry as all of those still allied with him, save Malais, stared in fright behind him. He turned.

He saw Defender towering over him, staring down with a fierce smile. "I love seeing that look on the faces of bad guys."

"Take him you foo--gkh!" Markoth said, the rest of his sentence cut off as Defender's fist closed around his throat. The other villains began to look to the sky, preparing for an all-out attack by the Champions. All, that is, except Malais...who laughed.

"Pathetic glob of flesh," the dragon spat, exploding out of his cloak and shrunken form. "I am one of the Three. The other two slumber. With Atlan gone and Destroyer weak, I am the most powerful thing on this world. What will you do against me, child of the Eternals?" He spread his massive wings and roared, shaking the nearby buildings.

Defender didn't even flinch. His smile didn't even change. He simply uttered a single word, in both statement and invitation. "Dhyrclhanc."

... and "Sentinel" stepped out from behind Defender and began marching straight and unflinchingly towards the other dragon.

Malais glanced at the approaching 'human' dismissively. "Bah. Another...another..."

As Dhyclhanc's steps took him closer and closer to Malais, his form rippled and grew -- changing his 6' tall psuedo-T'Skrang form into his "natural" 20' tall Ruby Fire Dragon form and changing his Sentinel costume into the double-crescent shaped leather head-dress that adorned his head-crest; the Anla'shock robes (and badge) that hung down from his shoulders and cloaked his form; the back, red and blue half-gloves that covered his palms and hands, the green and black medieval vest that adorned his torso and the MacLeod of Harris Modern patterned kilt and baldric which covered his upper legs and draped over his chest.

The effect on Malais, as well as on everyone else, was spectacular, however the older dragon quickly recovered.

Even with Dhyrclhanc standing head-to-head with Malais, or more correctly, eye-to-nose. As large as Dhyclhanc was, standing upright Malais still had a good 6 feet on him.

Malais' supreme confidence faltered. "...another dragon. Clever, Atlantean. But there is none to match me in this world, unless you found--"

Dhyrclhanc simply drew Redemption, his Rune-nanomagitech, amethyst cutlass from it's sheath on his back, pointed it's tip towards the larger dragon and calmly announced,

"I am Dhyrclhanc, sometimes called 'Sentinel', more often called 'Lensdragon', I am the Servant of the ancient Heliopolitan Gods of Egypt and Our Lord and Lady, Bahamut and Tiamat, I am also the adopted brother to those who you know as Defender and Solitaire. More importantly, perhaps, as those like my friend Seeker have tried to impress upon me, in another lifetime I apparently held another name. Perhaps one you may have heard of... "

"... Nyxator."

Just before the two mighty forces engaged, Malais' confidence shattered entirely. "no! nyxator! ...IT CANNOT BE!"

Dhyrclhanc sheathed Redemption and with the flick of the wrist of his off-hand, extended his dragon-sized *denn'bok*, or Minbari fighting pike.

Having only moments to distract Malais from him brother and sister and their compatriots, Dhyrclhanc took a few steps back, separating himself from Malais by a hand-full of yards, and swung the pike around into a defensive position in front of him.

Then, he said, in a draconic tongue he was sure his opponent would understand...

"{C'mon 'Mayonnaise', let's dance!}"

" 'Mayonnaise ???!!! My! Name! Is! MALAIS!!!!!!"

... And the titanic battle was joined.

At which point the larger Malais leaped at Dhyrclhanc, crossing the distance between the two in a single jump.

However, on the decent it became suddenly obvious to all watching that he was going to miss his mark, at which point Dhyrclhanc switched around his grasp on his denn'bok and quite readily dodged Malais' notably clumsy initial attack.

It was all Malais could do after landing, not to tumble into the rubble that was the remains of the World Trade Centers.

Dhyrclhanc smiled a vicious smile.

"Ever since I heard about this happening," commented Dhyrclhanc, while twirling around his denn'bok in an almost hypnotic pattern while Malais tried to recover his balance, "I've been waiting for somebody to elect themselves as a punching bag do that I could take it out on them and I think you just volunteered."

Malais looked at him with what for a lesser being might be construed as shock or horror.

And for Malais it may have been, but it'd been so long the great beast truly couldn't be sure.

But then Dhyrclhanc grinned and said, "Had enough yet?"

"You!" returned Malais while pointing an accusatory finger at the younger dragon. "You are not Nyxator." he fumed, "You are simply a Hatching with Delusions of Grandeur and you will pay for trying to make me look like a fool!"

"Who's trying?" Dhyrclhanc quipped while steadying the Minbarii staff in a defensive position.

But more quickly than Dhyrclhanc had been prepared for, Malais lunged at Dhyrclhanc, and in one swipe took the staff away from him and tossed it away not even looking where it would land. The staff clanged to the ground, landing harmlessly at the edge of the ruins.

Two more swipes with the older dragon's claws and large sections of both Dhyrclhanc's Anala'shok Robe and medieval vest are ripped completely through.

In mock outrage, Dhyrlhanc shrieks back, "Do you have any idea how expensive these Nano- magitech 'smart-clothes' are!?" and in one swift motion he somehow removes both the vest and robe and shoves them forcibly into Malais' face. Momentarily blinding the larger of the two.

A smell of ozone fills the air as electricity crackles from Dhyrclhanc's hands and forearms and is conducted though his clothing into Malais.

*'My baby's got a bottle filled with lightning and rain', Soft-Shell!* he sends with a hint of viciousness in his mental voice.

At which point the other combatants can see that what looks like it's been somehow fused with Dhyrclhanc's upper torso is what appears to be the gold-encrusted ribcage of some huge giant humanoid creature, partially hidden by Dhyrclhanc's still intact tartan-patterned baldric.

Leaving Malais, once again, with his jaw hanging open while wisps of smoke rose off of his body from Dhyrclhanc's electrical attack.

"WHO...? WHAT ARE YOU?!" the older dragon asked, his voice betraying his incredulity.

"As I believe I said before," the Lensdragon replied, as he assumed a defensive posture, "I am Dhyrclhanc, and while you may not give any credence to my friend Seeker's assertion that I am Nyxator reborn, the fact that I wear this; the Rib-Cage of my Lord, the late Osiris, proves that I AM the Servant of My Lady Isis and My Lady Bennu, the Phoenix; the Heliopolitan Gods of Light of Ancient Egypt."

Then a loud expulsion of escaping air occurs as Dhyrclhanc "exo-ports" a weapon that looks like an all-metal, double-headed, Voulge into his hands.

With a flourish, Dhyrclhanc grabs ahold of the weapon and transforms his defensive posture into an offensive one; pointing the business end of one of the "butcher-blades" at Malais.

"... And as such I will always stand against Creatures such as yourself!"

So saying, Dhyrclhanc shifted his grip on the battle-staff and, pivoting at his waist, swung the weapon in a wide arc.

Only, much to Malais' surprise, the weapon's cutting edge comes nowhere near the elder dragon but instead opened up a scintillating tube in mid-air into which Dhyrclhanc disappeared.

Waiving his fists in the air, Malais raged on.

"Coward! Where is your boastfulness now?!"

Only what the older dragon doesn't see is the second hole that forms high in mid-air above and behind him almost immediately after the one in-front of him closes. What Malais also doesn't see is Dhyrclhanc falling out of the same hole, the bladed battle-staff gripped tightly in one hand.

The high-pitched cry emanating from Dhyrclhanc's reptilian mouth, either in rage or pain, is enough to tip the elder dragon off, however unfortunate it is for the super-annuated adolescent ruby fire hatchling.

"Worm! Have you no honor that you must resort to attacking me from behind?!" Then Malais pivots and whips his huge serpentine tail at the draconian Lensman.

Malais' tail hits the younger dragon with a thud, knocking Dhyrclhanc to the ground just outside the far side of the "Bathtub", or the outer-edge of the crater of destruction caused by the collapsing towers.

Somewhat ironically, Dhyrclhanc lands not far from his Anla'Shok Denn'Bok; his Minbari collapsible "fighting pike".

Getting up, Dhyrclhanc shakes his wings out, brushes himself off, then looks at Malais and smiles revealing his dagger-like teeth.

"Good, for a minute there I was afraid that this was going to get boring."

"Boring? BORING? BORING?!! You DARE to call Malais, one of the last surviving of the Three, BORING?!!!"

"Well... Since you did ask... "Yes!"

(OOC: Dhryclanc never finished writing the fight, so at this point we return to Roland's original post.)

As the dark warriors saw their ace-in-the-hole massively trumped, they looked at each other and ran for it. The Champions, with unexpected aid from Sir Giles and Ylionore, start to rout the villains...but they're unwilling to go down without a fight.

"Big, bad Defender, huh? Eat shock-discs, spandex-boy, and face a real Black Paladin!"

Roland quirked an eyebrow, amused at an attempt to use electricity against him.

"You can always spot the ones who didn't do their homework," Solitaire quipped as she and Quantum gave the Black Magus' male ego a serious bruising.

The moment, however, gave Markoth a moment to work with, and hissing words that foul the air itself, he grasped Defender's helm, searing it with Tainted energy.

Defender howled and let go of Markoth's throat; the sorcerer laughed. "Poor little hero, outclassed again. I'm afraid I must be off once more. Places to corrupt, things to summon, people to defile, all the things that make my life worth--GKH! not...again..."

Defender's hand had clamped on Markoth's throat again. Through the hissing wounds on the helmet, the glowing white eye slits were turning a fiery red. "You slime." He squeezed a little tighter, and Markoth's eyes began to bulge. "You scum." He squeezed a little tighter, and Markoth's face turned an interesting shade of blue. "You unrepentant, monstrous slug." He squeezed a little tighter, and Markoth rasped as he clawed at Defender's implacable grip.

^Honey,^ Solitaire sent more evenly than she felt.

^A moment, love,^ Defender replied, distracted. His hand shook. "You know, Markoth," he said in a tone far too conversational for their current position, "I dedicated myself to preserving life, once -- all life. I felt all life had value -- even the life of...things...like you."

Markoth beat at Defender's hand more weakly than before.

^Roland.^ Morgan's "voice" became somewhat more insistent.

^I'll be done in a minute,^ Roland replied, his own 'voice' almost calm. Except that dark, crimson undercurrents seemed to burn around the edges of his mind. "But right now, Markoth?"

Markoth scratched feebly at Defender's armored fist.

"I can't think of one...good...reason...not to keep squeezing until I pop your head LIKE THE BOIL THAT IT IS!"

^Ex-CUSE me,^ Morgan sent in a tone that refused to be ignored, then dropped back to a more conversational (if equally dangerous) tone, ^who are you, and what have you done with my husband?^

Roland shook, slightly stunned, and looked at the semi-conscious Markoth. Except for the epic draconic battle above, all else had gone still; the Black Magus and Dark Seraph had escaped, the other villains had been captured, and the Champions (as well as Giles and Ylionore) were staring in shock at their rock-solid leader, who was quivering on the edge. ^I...^ his hand slackened enough to allow Markoth (barely) enough air to breathe. "I..."

Markoth glared malevolently at Defender. "You wouldn't dare! If you think to take my place in the favor of the Shadow Realm--hkk--"

Defender squeezed just enough to cut off Markoth's foul voice. "I'm sure," he drawled, his voice just this side of shaken, "that you have many posthumous revenge plans for just such an occasion. I could care less. If you don't want to need them...don't ever push me again." A short burst of electricity later, Markoth slumped to the ground, unconscious. Defender backed away, his hands shaking.

"um...i surrender?" Whitestar said timidly.

"Good choice," Seeker said with a nod. "Eh, come on, mates, let's mop up this lot."

"But -- ow," Behemoth said, and Obsidian's foot came off his toes as he stopped.

^For a moment there, I thought I was going to be the one giving you the 'code against killing' speech,^ Morgan quipped, though she couldn't entirely get the shakiness out of her "voice."

^Light help me. I wanted to do it, Morgan. I...^ He looked up at the smoke still rising from the heart of the city. ^...I wanted to do something.^

^Someone to take it out on?^ she asked gently.

Roland looked down. ^Have I been wrong, all this time? I was guilty over killing Byron, but given the choices, who could argue that it wasn't the lesser of evils?^

^Well, I am a little biased on that particular situation,^ Morgan sent with a shaky chuckle.

^You've been telling me that it doesn't make sense to let them go, to leave them alive to steal and hurt and...kill...again and again...^

^And you have always pointed out to me that, sometimes...^ Morgan mentally "pointed" behind them. Roland followed her psychic gaze, only to see Sir Giles and Ylionore holding each other with desperate relief. Two hearts, once as deep in the Shadow as any, now in a far brighter place.

Roland swallowed. ^Do you know why I cling to that code, that ideal, so tightly, Morgan?^ He looked at the two old lovers, his fists still trembling. ^Oh, I believed in it, to be sure. But I held to it just as much out of fear. Fear of this...thing...inside me. Fear that once I started killing, I'd never stop. Fear of the monster in me. Not the one in them.^ He gestured in disgust at Markoth. ^In me.^

^You have killed,^ Morgan replied. Roland flinched. ^You took that 'first step' a long time ago, before we were married. I don't see that it's turned you into...^

Roland looked down at his trembling fists and laughed bitterly. ^That only makes this all the more tragic. Was it cowardice, then? A coward on one side, a monster on the other...did I do this?^ He gestured, without looking, at the smoke streaming into the sky.

^And other than having been here, during that short time, what could you have done?^

Defender fell to his knees, his eyes squeezed shut. ^They believed in me. I convinced them to believe in me. How am I supposed to defend universes...even worlds...when I can't even be here for my own city when they need me?^

^How can you save worlds and universes, or even other cities, if you stay in one city all the time?^ Morgan asked with a gentle smile.

Defender's eyes snapped open, his mouth agape. He laughed a sob, and in one motion, stood, turned, and threw his arms (gently) around Solitaire. ^What would I do without you?^

^Angst a lot more?^ Morgan wisecracked.

Silently, they shared laughter and tears inside their minds.

After a moment, Defender released Solitaire, and his armor glowed slightly. "Yes, Sir Giles?"

The former Black Paladin stopped suddenly; he and Ylionore had been approaching the heroes. "Ah. Defender. I...that is, Ylionore and I...did wish to thank you, and your compatriots, for your timely aid. Markoth, I believe, meant to..." he grasped Ylionore's hand tightly. His face shook. "...I thank you, and whatever this poor excuse for a crusader can do for you, it will be done."

Defender smiled. It was a weak smile, but a smile all the same. "Just do what's right, 'crusader.' That's all I ask."

Sir Giles looked around at the Champions. "Aye. Crusader is as good a title as any, I suppose."

Defender's eyes flickered, and a Defender-robot began to patrol the sky above the city. "I can't be everywhere, but I intend to see this city safe. In the meantime, however...drop this lot off with UNTIL, then take a break, all of you. That's an order."

"An' you, mate?" Seeker asked pointedly.

*Oh, this druid has the perfect prescription for him,* Morgan replied, sending to the Champions alone.

*I was planning on taking my own advice, love, but what did you have in mind?* Roland asked.

*Dr. Morgan has a little 'shot' to remind you why we do this. Two sweet little pills named Rachel and Liam.*

Roland coughed as he choked on his first reply. *They are a couple of pills, aren't they?*

*Nothing puts the world in perspective quite like holdin' yuir children.*

*Amen,* Quantum and Seeker replied.

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Next: The War of the Third Key

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