The Uranium Heist

[The Widowed]

The intruding odor of mildew all but choked the darkly lit room, a half-finished cellar crudely dug out beneath the abandoned farmhouse. Strings of electric lights crossed the coarse concrete ceiling at odd lengths and angles. The subterranean shelter was crude and hastily constructed, but it was sufficiently large enough for the assembly's needs. And more importantly, it was private, innocuous and easy to defend; What few passersby came to and from this far out in the hills would hardly suspect that the root cellar was, indeed, anything more than a humble root cellar. What few came closer to investigate--or to intrude--wouldn't be a problem for long.

The dowel in her hand rapped soundly across the map stretched across the table which stood shyly among that circle of menacing and forboding figures. As the tip of the pointer skated its way to Pennsylvania, her voice explained her views and intentions in a contrarily childish tone.

"Once upon a time, there were some bad, baaad people who liked to dig. They hated the King of America, and the dukes and barons, and all of the knights who upheld the law in the kingdom, so they built houses and sandbags and guns. And to hide their crime, they would dig into the mountains every night, deeper and deeper. Dig. Dig. Dig. And one night, as they were digging, they found some magical ghost rock! The ghost rock was poison and it made people get sick and die, but these bad, baaad people hated the King, and they wanted to use the ghost rock against him."

Before her, her nimble fingers reached out randomly to cradle the elegant but chipped crystal goblet filled halfway with old champagne. A quick sip of the contents and a slight tremoring of her head brought her back to speaking, though the voice was now crisp, stern and more elegant.

"Now, all of us should know the story about most criminal heists. The perpetrators plunder silver, they plunder gold, they plunder fine art and rare, historical artifacts. If one cannot swindle a comfortable fortune legally, why, the only other recourse is through more socially unsavory means, correct? Hmmm, quite. But let me tell you this much: Uranium, plutonium and all the other radioactive rare earths...now those, I daresay, are where the greater profits are to be found. Among other devices, uranium powers medical devices, it powers security systems, it powers power plants and it powers thermonuclear weapons. Not only is it rare, but it also has countless uses. It is also incredibly valuable with a virtually endless host of buyers, thanks to the black market. And we would do well to capitalize on that. Whether or not this serves the goals of Arachnos is irrelevant; If we cannot take care of ourselves, then how ever should we truly take care of those poncy dullards appointed over us? Excuse me."

This time, both her hands seized the plastic toddler's tumbler filled with a cheap, sugar-laden fruit punch, the cup's innocent teddy bear motif standing out in almost comical contrast to its surroundings. A quick pull on the tumbler's spill-proof spout was enough to soothe Bloodywedd's drying palate.

"But the King of America did not like the bad, baaad people, and they did not like him. So the king told the bad, baaad people to give the ghost rock to him. But the bad, baaad people did not want to give the ghost rock to the king, and they crawled deeper and deeper into their houses and castles and mountains. So the King of America sent his knights to slay the bad, baaad people. And so they did. Now the king's knights have the ghost rock, and they are bringing back to him. And then there will be peace, and there will be parties and a royal feast...maybe Prince Charming will marry the Princess of America too. I don't know. The story's not finished yet. But you see...we want the ghost rock too, and some of us might not like the King of America either...."

Two sips later, the simple tin stein and its half-consumed ale were returned to the resting place at the end of the table. In the glowering, assertive and monotonous manner of a military officer, she uncurled a sheet of blueprints across the map as she laid out her ideas, contributing her piece of the plan.

"The uranium is presently being held at the Legersen Federal Building just south-by-southwest of Pittsburgh. Sometime in the near future, the authorities plan to transport the uranium to Virginia via a heavily armored train travelling an undisclosed route; The transport train will naturally be well-protected, complete with security devices on every car, multiple decoy cars, a well-armed defense team and an escort train running three miles ahead to make sure there aren't any breaks in the tracks; Ideally, we should be able to liberate the uranium before it leaves Legersen. Now, these are the heavily-censored blueprints which were available through the public sector...and even with that access, the blueprints were difficult to locate and retrieve. It's not perfect, not by a long shot. But it will have to do. We can expect the usual security measures: motion sensors, pressure plates, infrared laser tripwires, magnetic code readers, retinal scanners...and there may be some new security gear the Feds just dreamed up yesterday, for all we know. But we will need to come up with a plan that is well-defined enough for an idiot to follow to the letter, yet flexible enough to accommodate any nasty surprises. We will also need personnel who are capable of overcoming any security measure they can throw at us. If we cannot come up with a suitable and successful plan for this operation before we go in, ladies and gentlemen, we're dead in the water."

A moment later, the emptied shot glass shattered wrathfully against the far wall. Bloodywedd wiped the trace of malt liquor from her lips and glared hatefully at the assembly.

"And if any one of you damned bastards turns stupid on us and scuttles the frickin' plan, or if anyone gets soft and rats us out or throws in with the other frickin' team, I personally guarantee your stupid ass won't be seeing another goddamned sunrise!"

Long moments of heavy breathing ensued as something lost deep in the back of her shattered psyche calmed her down and brought her back to good composure. Her spidery fingers, trembling with a deep-seated anger, gingerly took up the tumbler once more. Panning over her associates and fellow crimelords, her glassy eyes softened as a trickle of fruit punch dribbled slowly from her chin.

"That ghost rock can help us get a lot of gold. With all that gold, I can build a really, really big dollhouse for me and all my friends. The rest of you can buy anything you want with your share of the pot of gold. Fair is fair is fair. Maybe we can go digging for more buried treasure in the future."

Her fingers traced idly to and from, following the contours of the blueprints.

"Won't you help me build my dollhouse?"

[Joe Schmoe]

“Dollhouse?” Slaphappy’s chair plops to the ground, from leaning back. He tips his top hat to her direction. "What a free thinker. I like that. Are we splitting the rocks or the money you get with the rocks? Cause I could use the rocks. Imagine.. The kind of bang you get with that.” The room begins to echo clicking as he plays with his lighter again, staring into the flame. Someone else starts to talk, but he jumps up from his chair with his arms up in the air. “BOOOOM! Hahahaha, hehe, it would be frickin’ huge man!” Slaphappy sighs happily, plopping back down into his seat, lighting his lighter again. “‘Ahhh ahhh I lost my legs’ they’d scream, hehehe.”

[Spectre-x]

Doctor Markon Sinistar raised his massive brow at Slaphappy's outburst. He sighed and rose to his feet.

His hulking, eight-foot tall form towered over the rest of the villains present and nearly reached the ceiling. His pale green skin made him look sickly in the irregular lighting, though nothing could be further from the truth. His brow cast shadows on his eyes, showing them to glow with an eerie yellow light.

He folded his hands behind his back and cleared his throat, then spoke in a deep and commanding voice.

"Mr...Slaphappy. I would thank you to stop your incessant toying with that lighter of yours. I must say it is quite irritating. Still, I share many of your sentiments. I would much rather have a share of the uranium-235, instead of something as trivial as human currency. After all, one cannot power machinery of war with dollar bills, now can they?"

[The Widowed]

"Of course we would be divvying up the recovered uranium," Bloodywedd sniffed aloofly as she scooted the goblet aside. "Ergo, the references to the black market and the rancor which some of you might feel for the present managers of the world's nations. What you do with the uranium once it is recovered is purely your own business. We need no contracts, no blood oaths, no paper trail. The uranium in any quantity is reward enough, and how much more likely our success would be if we called upon additional help as we have here today."

"It is quite evident that the uranium is in ample supply, and the Federal transporters have most likely stored the uranium within shielded containers by way of minimizing the threat of exposure to their own personnel. Unfortunately, that could also allow them the common ruse of filling certain decoy containers with nuggets of an equally heavy yet considerably less valuable mineral...let us say for example, lead. As the containers are most likely fashioned from lead and opaque on all sides, the only reliable way of separating the decoy containers from the containers filled with uranium ore is to open the containers...unless the environmental team were dullwitted enough to mark which containers were which. I firmly doubt that this would be the case; The authorities are well aware of the lengths to which others would go to acquire that uranium. These authorities might even be expecting intervention from superhuman sorts such as ourselves, which would most likely suggest superhuman guards in Federal employ...superheroes, if you will."

Settling back into her chair for the moment, Bloodywedd shook an ill feeling from inside her brain as her gaze rested on the blueprints and the railroad lines on the map. "Perhaps we would do better to acquaint ourselves with each other before we launch upon this bold venture. I, for one, would like to know which skills and powers you would contribute to this mission. Speak as you will."

[Akamaz]

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when everyone stared at S E A M U S a dull mechanical voice began:

<beginning translation>

Good evening Ladies and Gentlemen, Boys and Girls, and children of All ages. If I may interrupt for a moment, it seems to me that if you are looking at opening cases containing Uranium, it might be best for the opening to be done by a, dare i say it... less... biological person? My systems are shielded against hard radiation, thus, in the inrterests of my future employment with this fine organisation, I fear I must be included in this heist. Thank you.

With the translation complete, the self proclaimed "King of Pwn" reclined back in his chair, stroking his pet rock.

[Joe Schmoe]

"Perhaps we would do better to acquaint ourselves with each other before we launch upon this bold venture. I, for one, would like to know which skills and powers you would contribute to this mission. Speak as you will."

Slaphappy jumps up again, this time in full salute. "Codename: Slaphappy, mam!" He points to his 'My Name Is' sticker. Or Judas! Trained in several weapons of war, and several styles of fighting! ... Used in war! But most importantly, explosives master! Fire crackers, boom sticks, dynamite, C4, grenades, grenade launchers, then all the rest I don't know the names for! Also, I rock hard, party long, know my alphabet, and can tie my shoes! Not only that, but.." He plops back down into his chair, leaning back, murmuring every little thing he knows to annoy the two seated next to him.

[Spectre-x]

The Doctor smiled a little smugly.

"I think that you shall see that I, Doctor Markon Sinistar have much to offer this party. For one, I am my people's top scientist, or at least I would be, were I not banished from my world. A most unfortunate incident that I shall...correct once I inevitably seize power."

The Doctor coughed once, and then continued.

"Also, physically, I am almost infinitely superior to you humans." The last word was spoken with no small amount of contempt. "Still, I would not be speaking truthfully if I would deny the fact that some of the members of your super-powered community hit quite hard.
Back to the point, though. I also posess relatively minor...powers of persuasion, if you know what I mean. The weak-willed are easily swayed by me."

[Akamaz]

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[Spectre-x]

"Strangely, I cannot recall requesting the criticism of someone who is essentially a hammer." The Doctor said without even turning to look at SEAMUS.

[The Widowed]

The tin stein clacked on the table again.

"Enough. Let's reason together, ladies and gentlemen...and robots. Some of us haven't spoken yet, but at least we now have some idea of our capabilities. SEAMUS will be essential in extracting the uranium from the containment site and may be useful for manipulating computers should we need any data extraction or computerized security system overrides. Slaphappy can handle explosives, forced entry and any wetwork that might come up. Dr. Sinistar and I will handle the human element, whether curious crowds or intervening superhumans who can be brought down with psionics. Dr. Sinistar can also handle any applications of science and should supervise the uranium extraction itself, while I can deal with any need for psychology or medical knowledge that comes up. My telekinetic ability can also help with handling any objects or substances we'd rather not come into physical contact with."

Her leery eyes roamed across the assembly, inquiring, intrigued, perhaps even intrusive.

"So, then...would anyone else care to speak up and tell us who can do what, or shall we start scouring these blueprints till we come up with a plan that won't get us all killed?"

[Kurai Inago]

Alice snapped out of her thoughts after Bloodywedd Spoke again.

"Oh, Heh, Guess I should make an Introduction Eh? The Name's Alice. I could be considered a Champion Street Brawler, but that's not where my true Strength Lies." She said, making small pistoning punching motions in the Air. "That would be this." Her Punches became more Rapid and a Dark Firey aura Enveloped her Fists. "You see, I have a direct connection with Death. No, not some hokey Bullsh*t like the Skulls, this is the REAL Deal. This energy burns the very soul out of Living things." She Said, sitting back down in her Chair. "Another benefit of the connection is my Immortality. But I'm hoping I WON'T have to rely on that."

[The Widowed]

"So when you stare at the fingers of Mr. Death's black hand," Bloodywedd asked in a childishly inquisitive tone, transfixing Nightfire Alice with a vacant stare, "do they stare back?"

A pained expression creased her brow, and fidgetting hands stumbled towards the goblet to cradle it in a writhing grasp. A moment later, she expressed visible relief and returned the goblet to its place.

"I...apologize for the momentary lapse there. So I take it you're no stranger to the odd assassination or skirmish, then?"

[Kurai Inago]

"Not at all,"She Said with a slight smile on her face,"Death is shall we say... Quite busy in a place like this."

[The Widowed]

"Very good, very good. Now, if no one else is involved with this endeavor, here is what we'll most likely be facing once the task is underway."

Her pointer skipped across the blueprints, tracing the perimeter of the west courtyard and entrance of the Legersen compound. Explaining her views on each detail and asking for counsel on how to surmount Legersen's innumerable hazards and security measures, the Belle personality slipped further and further away, yielding to the Director personality as Bloodywedd progressed.

"The perimeter wall is a monstrosity of concrete twenty-two feet tall, one foot thick, topped with razor wire and reinforced with internal steel supports, "1.5 inches in diameter and set in two-foot intervals...a terribly unattractive way of fencing in a compound, wouldn't you say? Now, the droll sorts who run this establishment have apparently constructed two guard towers flanking the west entrance. Each guard tower is thirty-five feet in height, shielded against both weather and small arms fire and outfitted with both a small arsenal and a powerful short-range communication beacon used for sounding the alarm or calling in reinforcements. These two two-foot high concrete structures which stand roughly twenty feet to either side of the entrance walkway appear to be bunkers with subterranean access tunnels and gun slits overlooking the entrance and the courtyard; They may have sleeping quarters nearby to ensure that they are always manned in the event of a full-scale assault. We can safely expect night vision surveillance if we arrive in the dead of night, so let's plan accordingly. Or," she noted with a few terse taps of the pointer to draw attention to the south entrance, the apparently undefended clearing in the compound interior and the exposed sewer main access almost half a mile away, "We could instead focus on another point of entry if we decide that the west entrance is too well defended. The floor is now open to all ideas, suggestions and other contributions."

[The Widowed]

As if struck by an afterthought, Bloodywedd's head rolled to one shoulder and gazed intently at the cobbled wooden ceiling. With the drinking vessels emptied, she was bereft of the psychological placebo which she used to control her personality shifts. Something inside her made a mental note to supply herself with more beverages as the Belle mind pushed to the fore again.

"An additional moment of consideration, if you would. Let us note that Doctor Sinistar also has a formidable degree of physical strength and durability, while SEAMUS is capable of manipulating local weather conditions and gravitational forces. Hence we should also consider these abilities as we devise our plan. My initial thoughts would be to locate an incoming shipment bound for Legersen, have SEAMUS blanket the vehicle's approach with heavy rain and thick fog as we travel in our own vehicle not far behind the shipment's transport, and then steal in invisibly through the gate before the gate is closed. The weather's concealment may not be enough, so I'll be standing by to psionically daze and stupify any guards who start to peer too closely."

"I dare say that the only problem with this scenario is its uncertainty. Which gate would such a transport use for entry? What manners of detection and resistance could we expect once inside the courtyard? How would we shield the sounds of our own vehicle and muffle our approach? Rendering a car invisible is one matter, but silencing its mechanics is another matter entirely. Though it is good to have measures of brute force such as Slaphappy's explosives and Nightfire Alice's darkness attacks, I feel that we should focus on achieving an undetected entry. Please contribute, everyone."

[Alumette]

Alumette rubbed her temples, sitting back in her chair at Dawn Patrol HQ. Her recent resignation of her officers' commission hadn't seemed to reduce her workload one bit. She couldn't even remember the last time she'd seen Dominic, besides late at night; when one or the other of them would creep into bed quietly, so as not to wake the other after an exhausting day of heroing for both of them.

This new intel was perplexing, to say the least. There were new villains on the horizon, something was brewing... but what? The file listed several other heroes as possible liaisons. It would be good to get in touch with them, but first she thought she'd take a look around on her own. She stood up from her desk and grabbed her trademark black and purple leather jacket and purple gloves. Zipping it over her petite frame, she touched her necklace for reassurance and started heading down the hall.

"What's up, babydoll?" Shadow asked, a steaming mug of black coffee in his hands.

"Just checking some things out for a possible new case," she said smiling; although it was evident that she was preoccupied with something. Shadow nodded and kissed her on the cheek. "Just come home in one piece," he said. He stepped into his office and she could hear the familiar sounds of him gearing up for his own missions: rifle loading, armor buckling, helmet clasping over his head. "You too," she said, almost more to herself. No matter how long they'd been heroing, she could never get used to the sickening fear that he might not come home one day. "I intend to," he said, his confident voice crackling over the comm. Alumette smiled and headed out into the late afternoon sunshine, taking to the sky and setting her GPS towards the Rogue Isles.

[Akamaz]

<autotranslate engaged>

Well, R0CK, P4P3R, and 5C1550R5 wouldn't have much of a problem with making a door for us to drive through, i'm just a bit concerned with their safety in such an endeavor. Has anyone given any thought to bringing the Freakshow in on this heist? a few Freak tanks Could be just the cannon fodder... errrr distraction we need...

[The Widowed]

Bloodywedd wiped a bead of sweat from her cheekbone. Her thick eyeliner was starting to crack under the warm ceiling lamp not far overhead.

"That is a good idea. Pity that I myself have no associates among the Freakshow. I still retain a minor acquaintence with a handful from the Carnival of Shadows, though my relationship with them is tepid at best. A bribe may be in order; Surely they will demand payment up front, as I doubt the promise of future uranium acquisition will be enough to compel them. Perhaps someone else here retains cohorts among the Freaks or other stout-bodied allies?"

[Spectre-x]

Doctor Sinistar stood up again.

"I may have some realtively small arms laying about in my base which I am sure would greatly please the Freakshow. We could use those to pay them. Combined with some gentle mental nudging, I believe we can get them to do most of our dirty work, or at least distract the majority of the base's security force."

He sat down again, gently smiling.

[Druid]

There was a skittering of claws upon stone and the villains at the table turned to see the entrance of Whiptail. At a first glance he didn't appear to be much more then a young kid, but then, after he looked up, one could get a second glance in at him. There were many things one noticed in that second glance. What may have been mistaken for a dark complexion turns out to actually be a thick layer of fur. Gloved hands turn out to be paws, tipped with long claws. His nose is stretched and tipped with a black point, thin wispy whiskers reaching out and twitching as he moved.

"My apologies on the late entrance, but I am afraid I have a tendency to get wrapped up in my experiments. I overheard a difficulty in by passing security? Perhaps this is where I could come in." He was about to take a seat when he noticed the blank look on many of their faces. "Of course, so forgetful of myself. I am.. that is to say, you may call me Whiptail." The large scaly appendage cracked once in the air as if to emphasize his namesake. "My particular talents could prove quite useful in not only by-passing security systems, but in dealing with any stray guards we might come across."

"A rat, a rat. Man he's like freaking Splinter in a labcoat. Aww man it's like crazy cool. I wonder if he has fleas, or if he likes cheese. Hehe I made it rhyme." SlapHappy began to murmur to himself about many other unrelated subjects.

"Ehemm. I do hope I haven't come to the wrong place. You are the ones planning this Uranium heist, correct?"

[The Widowed]

The firm shaking of her head betrayed the shift to a visage of wide-eyed, childlike innocence, but an innocence which only thinly veiled the mad, scattered focus behind the eyes wracked by seeing indescribable things lurking in the shadows of the world.

"Ratman! My, what a bi-i-ig tail you have! Won't you sit and have tea with us?"

Her hands gestured to the nonexistant teacups scattered about the well-aged table, circling a teapot which existed only in her fevered imagination. With nary a pause she continued.

"The big space doctor was telling us about the big metal Freaks. He has some special toys which he can give to the big metal Freaks, and then they will come play with us! Then we can alllll go to the big castle where the King's men are keeping the ghost rock, and then the big metal Freaks will go 'Stomp! Stomp! We're here to smash your fort!' and the Army guys will go 'Oh, no! It's the big metal Freaks! They're here to beat us up!' And while the Army guys are playing football with the big metal Freaks, we sneak downstairs and find some ghost rock to play with! All the ghost rock we want. Won't that be fun?"

A slight melody burbled from between her glistening teeth. "La la la-la la...and I know some clown ladies with masks, and they think I'm a bad little brat, but I can tell them secrets which the King's men don't want anyone to know...and those secrets are all inside big, scary Castle Legersen! And maybe the clown ladies will come with us and find those secrets too! But the King's men are selfish. They don't want to share their ghost rock with anyone, so they have traps and locks to keep us outside. They have things with eyes that wake up when they see you walking, and they have floors that go crazy when you walk on them, and they have little beams of light that start screaming when you walk into them. Bad, bad stuff."

"Is it true that you can fix the screaming lights and people finders and screaming floors, Mr. Ratman? Have you done it before?"

[Joe Schmoe]

Judas sips the imaginary tea. "Delicious! Oooo! Can I join the Freakshow in the distraction?" He fans himself with his top hat, running his hand through his long hair. "Imagine the explosions with them at my side! Is it hot in here?"

[Charon]

Charon listened carefully from the dark rooftop in King's Row, as the rain lashed down on his back. He could only pick up one side of the conversation going on in the room, but that would serve him right for only audio tagging his immediate enemies.

He'd come across Slaphappy before. Many times before, in fact. Hotel bombings. Warehouse bombings. Rest room bombings. If there was anything Slaphappy could possibly get a bomb into, he did it.

Last time, they'd fought, and Charon had become bogged down in Slaphappy's thugs... Of which he usually had many making sure his bombings didn't go wrong. However, in the commotion he'd managed to bug his costume... But sadly, that meant all he could hear were insane ramblings.

"Oh man, oh man. This is gonna be so Sweeeeet! Just imagine it.... BOOOOOOOOOM! 'Oh, oh please help me, please help me oooooh!' Oh man, oh man.'"

Charon listened intently, trying to pic up any other sides of the conversation.

"There....as few.... innocent... as possible..."

It wasn't going to be a bombing based on casualties, then. He just needed to know where. His bug was no way near good enough to hear it from anyone else in the room. He was going to have to hope that between his insane screaming, Slaphappy was going to spell it out. All he'd said so far of any use was 'rocks.' But that, in a town like Paragon, could be anything.

[Druid]

"Is it true that you can fix the screaming lights and people finders and screaming floors, Mr. Ratman? Have you done it before?"

"Oh yes, I have done it before. Allow me to show you one of my favorite talents." Whipail closed his eyes in concentration.From all around the villains there came soft squeaks and the clacking of claws on cement. Tiny eyes flashed the dim light back at the table of villains, dozens of pairs all focused on Whiptail. THe creatures moved closer and closer to the rat man. Dozens upon dozens of rats and mice all mindlessly moving towards the scientist. "Oh my dear, you really ought to clean up after yourself, just look at the company you're keeping." He flashed a wicked grin, revealing a set of pointed fangs.

[Alumette]

Speeding high above the city, Alumette spied a familiar figure on a rooftop in Kings Row: Charon. She smiled to herself, and touched down gently near him, whispering, "Bonsoir, Charon." He seemed to be listening intently to something, and she didn't want to disturb him, but chances were, if Alumette had intel on possible criminal activity, Charon would have tons more. Perhaps they could compare notes, work together?

If nothing else, it was good to see him. Their paths hadn't crossed in a while. She smiled down at him in her usual gentle, compassionate way and waited for him to respond.

[Akamaz]

Yeah, so we are agreed then, the lab rat wil take out secuity, My Lackeys will be doing transport, and we'll get some freaks to mix it up with the guards. While I'm inside directing my boys, I'll be outside with the freaks pounding on the walls. Now what else needs looking after?

[The Widowed]

"The extraction itself comes to mind," Bloodywedd asserted in a familiar stately tone. "By the time our acquisition folk venture into the hold where the uranium is to be found, I daresay the defenders of this establishment shall have mustered enough of their own to surround us in that selfsame hold and contain us there. Such a scenario would be...inconvenient at best. This possibility begs the question: Where do we position Slaphappy? While Doctor Sinistar could be physically formidable enough to breach one of those dreadful reinforced steelcrete structures, his knowledge would surely be better brought to bear directly on the acquisition itself. Having such noteworthy combatants as Nightfire Alice among the acquisition team ensures that we could endure a siege situation at least for a brief spell, should any superhuman defenders make their appearance. And that is why I humbly propose that Slaphappy should establish a watchpoint outside the compound, and he should stand ready to assist the Freaks and detonate a path of egress into the compound. As he is a capable fighter, he should enjoy a greater capacity to thwart any who wish to intercede. Not that he couldn't procure a small contingent of Freaks to escort him, of course. The structure itself is most likely resistant to damage or intrusion efforts, so Slaphappy should be prepared for this eventuality with additional amounts of high explosives."

"We cannot be certain how well this facility is shielded against the various manners of communication media, so we will need to arrange for several ways for us to contact Slaphappy with a cue should such measures become necessary. SEAMUS can easily handle radio and electronic forms of communication, while I could establish a direct telepathic network among the flesh-and-blood minds of our team, which would include Slaphappy. And if by chance none of these approaches prove valid, we shall simply need someone who is capable of launching a radiant blast or a large, visible projectile through the roof...which, I remind you, may be a reinforced bomb-resistant layer of steel and concrete four stories upstairs, or possible more depending on how far underground the facility extends."

With a slight shrug, Bloodywedd scooped one of Whiptail's rats from the table and sent the creature tumbling to the floor with a disgusted flourish. "Most of us have had the dubious pleasure of breaking out of the Ziggurat. Some of us have put forth the effort of breaching ten-ton steel vault doors as part of the odd bank robbery. Surely Legersen cannot keep us out. It is only a question of whether or not Legersen can keep us in once we're there. So if anyone can think of a better deployment for Slaphappy, I would hear the notion. Doctor Sinistar? Whiptail? Anyone? Lend me your tongues."

[Druid]

"Your plan seems the most sound at this point." Whiptail said, wincing as the rat crashed on the floor. The disdainful treatment of the rodents was yet one more reminder of what he had become. A pest.He shook the feeling off and continued with his speech, a little resentment slipping into his tone. "Anything to keep him away from me. I have had the misfortune of working with him before, and am happy to have him far enough away from me that I do not have to hear that inane chatterbox yammer on endlessly."

He felt a sudden shudder in his body, starting from his whiskers and traveling down his snout through the rest of him. It was a feeling he only got when being watched, but he pushed it aside. I am too stressed after a disappointing day in the lab that's all.

[Akamaz]

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Buzz Buzz… Whirr Whirr…

Z0MG! STFU! I’m picking up 4 r4di0 sign41 c0ming fr0m this r00m.

S E A M U S Began scanning around he room, staring intently at his readout on his forearm. He stopped right in front of Slaphappy.

S0 M34tb4g… c4r3 t0 3xp14in why y0u’r3 g10wing 1ik3 4 1itt13 pr3tty tr33 t0 th3 313ctr0m4gn3tic sp3ctrum?

[Spectre-x]

"We should not waste time with futile questions when we allready know someone has been listening to our little chat." Dr. Sinistar hissed as he leapt to his feet. He grabbed Slaphappy by the collar, lifting him up with the greatest of ease.

"You had best pray that I find no traces of your conscious involvement in this treachery, lest you wish to be reduced to your constituent atoms."

The Doctor lowered Slaphappy to the ground again and looked around. He turned to Bloodywedd. "I am afraid that my own psionic abilities are limited to enforcing my will upon those weaker than myself, and as such do not have the capacity for mind-reading. In light of this new revelation I would suggest a psychic sweep of the area. If you would be so kind?.." the Doctor said politely.

[Joe Schmoe]

Slaphappy giggles and cracks a grin. "Wait wait wait, stop!" He pats himself down. "Am I seriously glowing? Where is a mirror, I want to see!" Patting the walls, "Its dark in here, if you guys are yanking my chain, I'll be disappointed!"

[Akamaz]

TR4C1N6 516N41.... ....

L00l<s 1ll<3 K1N65 R0W... 5H411 1 53Nl) 0U7 4 DR0N3?

[The Widowed]

The Doctor lowered Slaphappy to the ground again and looked around. He turned to Bloodywedd. "I am afraid that my own psionic abilities are limited to enforcing my will upon those weaker than myself, and as such do not have the capacity for mind-reading. In light of this new revelation I would suggest a psychic sweep of the area. If you would be so kind?.." the Doctor said politely.
"But of course, Doctor," she offered obligingly. "I ask all of you not to take this personally, but we must know for certain. The cold sensation you experience inside your head is only temporary, I assure you...."

Bloodywedd met Slaphappy's crazed leer gaze for gaze. With a scant moment of subconscious-level mindprobing, she had her answer.

"Even if something on Slaphappy's person is broadcasting, Slaphappy knows nothing of it, and neither does anyone else here. I cannot interpret SEAMUS' artificial mind, but given his role in the accusation I believe it safe to place SEAMUS beyond culpability...which leaves only me, but I would hardly be one to plant a spy device on Slaphappy and jeopardize my own stake in this endeavor. So somehow, an aural receiver was planted on him by a guilesome hand without the knowledge of anyone gathered here. Perhaps SEAMUS can pinpoint our tiny eavesdropper...."

"TR4C1N6 516N41.... ....

L00l<s 1ll<3 K1N65 R0W... 5H411 1 53Nl) 0U7 4 DR0N3?"
The tension wearing visibly upon her, a curt shake of her head precluded her reply. "I fear it would do us little good at this point. Beyond this transmitter and its immediate destination, we have no conceivable idea of to what extent this knowledge of our conference has spread. A third party could already be uploading an MP3 file of our conversations to the internet for all we know. We can easily gather that our spy was someone who has personally encountered Slaphappy, but this tells us nothing of what opposition is gathering to confront us. So we should depart for the mission at once. Our plan of intrusion may be half-baked, but there'll be hell to pay if we wait around while the people tuning in on us gather a task force. We take our posse and mount up, we call up some Freaks on the way, we follow our half-ass plan as well as we frickin' can and we break any fools stupid enough to get in our way! Any questions?"

But Bloodywedd had already produced the keys to her purple Volvo as she stomped angrily to the door, cursing bitterly under her breath.

[Joe Schmoe]

"But of course, Doctor," she offered obligingly. "I ask all of you not to take this personally, but we must know for certain. The cold sensation you experience inside your head is only temporary, I assure you...."

I feel the cold sensation all the ti-

Bloodywedd met Slaphappy's crazed leer gaze for gaze. Oooooooo... Prettttyyy.

With a scant moment of subconscious-level mindprobing, she had her answer. Judas jumps up and down excitingly. Again again again!

"Even if something on Slaphappy's person is broadcasting, Slaphappy knows nothing of it, and neither does anyone else here. ("I don't even know what we're talking about!") I cannot interpret SEAMUS' artificial mind, but given his role in the accusation I believe it safe to place SEAMUS beyond culpability...which leaves only me, but I would hardly be one to plant a spy device on Slaphappy ("Like James Bond?") and jeopardize my own stake in this endeavor. So somehow, an aural receiver was planted on him by a guilesome hand without the knowledge of anyone gathered here. Perhaps SEAMUS can pinpoint our tiny eavesdropper...."

("Are we talking about a tiny tiny man? A tiny tiny.. James Bond! In my hair! I think I understand the fuss now, there's a tiny spy on my person, am I right, did I win? Is anyone listening? Bond, James Bond, do you hear me?")

"I fear it would do us little good at this point. Beyond this transmitter and its immediate destination, we have no conceivable idea of to what extent this knowledge of our conference has spread. A third party could already be uploading an MP3 file of our conversations to the internet for all we know. We can easily gather that our spy was someone who has personally encountered Slaphappy, ("I didn't face James Bond.. Who did I fight recently? I killed a mail man.. a taxi driver.. a circus bear.. He was asking for it.") but this tells us nothing of what opposition is gathering to confront us. So we should depart for the mission at once. Our plan of intrusion may be half-baked, ("Already there man!") but there'll be hell to pay if we wait around while the people tuning in on us gather a task force. We take our posse and mount up, we call up some Freaks on the way, we follow our half-ass plan as well as we frickin' can and we break any fools stupid enough to get in our way! Any questions?" ("Where are we going again?")


But Bloodywedd had already produced the keys to her purple Volvo as she stomped angrily to the door, cursing bitterly under her breath. "SHOTGUN!" He skips as he follows her. "You don't play N'Sync or anything in the car, do you?"

[The Widowed]

Slaphappy's mirthful request elicited a more pleasant mindset from Bloodywedd, and she paused to collect her thoughts as Monster again submitted to Belle.

"N'Sync? No, no. I should certainly hope not. You'll find that my CD caddy sports a broad variety of musical tastes to accommodate whichever...mood I find myself in. I used to keep some of Kryo's music in my car, but I had to stop offering transport to her after she decided to change her persona mid-journey once. Most unpleasant."

Having said that, Bloodywedd strolled into the cellar's adjoined latrine and emerged with a filled five-gallon gasoline can held fast in each hand. "And now, ladies and gentlemen, our operation here has been compromised, and so we must quit this locale post haste. Those who wish to assist in covering our tracks by so helpfully participating in the dousing and subsequent incineration of this humble shelter may fetch more fuel cans from the privy and empty the contents here, there and everywhere. Those who do not wish to participate in a strategic display of arson for whatever reason may kindly proceed to the vehicles and prime the ignitions. And do be quiet, please; Heaven forbid we should awaken whatever vagrants or stray animals may be sleeping upstairs."

A snap of her hand tore the nozzle from one fuel can, and with a drop and a kick she sent the container tumbling across the floor, splashing and spreading its contents as it went.

"Oh, and would someone be a dear and fetch the plans from the table as we leave? Thanks ever so."

[Joe Schmoe]

Carrying a fuel can in each hand, prancing into the room, Slaphappy gets excited. "Hey, Ratty rat rat man, grab the plans? Or the Tin man. Somebody. Lets light this mother up!" He swings around like a ballet dancer, dumping the fuel on everything. "This is going to light up reeeeaaaal nice like. So pretty. I got the light if we need it! Can I light it? Can I? Pretty pretty please? I can light it. Can I? I got a lighter! Or a match. I got both." A rat gets dumped with some of the gas. "Hey Splinter, hairy face, Spit-tail? I forgot, can I burn one of your pets? Haha, do they squeek in pain? I want to light him! Or point out the loser rat of the pack that you don't mind parting with. You know, the one that prattles on about the show MASH or something."

[The Widowed]

"Now now, Slaphappy. Let us refrain from tormenting or otherwise alienating our cohorts; it would be socially untactful and, frankly, counterproductive to our aims. Time is money, and at present I see our time wasting. Shall we?"

• • •

The reinforced concrete walls towering over the grounds of Legersen cast their imposing shadows across the surrounding countryside. What little light rained from the crescent moon lingering just over the horizon would only serve to obscure their profiles further against the heavily forested backdrop a quarter of a mile out.

By then, Bloodywedd's heightened determination in the face of impending threats had brought the Director persona to the fore. "As we covered back at the farmstead, the entrance gate would appear to be the most heavily guarded and fortified entrance to the facility. Perhaps that is true, or perhaps that is only what the Department of Defense wanted intruders to think when they designed Legersen. There could be any number of concealed guard bunkers or security measures at the two other entrances or within the drainage line which runs beneath the entirety of the base. The question remains: Which entrance should we bet on?"

They had left the idling vehicles back at the roadside in order to conduct reconaissance undetected. How soon until the need for stealth had passed?

"All I can say at this point is that we should be ready for anything. This base is littered with dangers. But the challenge will only make the reward more satisfying. Now, if everyone knows their roles in this operation, I shall begin the telepathic network."

The tendrils of Bloodywedd's psyche pressed invisibly into the cerebrum of each supercriminal present...save for SEAMUS, who had no organic brain with which she could link. The surface throughts flowed freely among them, from Dr. Sinistar's cold, stoic thoughts to Slaphappy's broken ramblings to Whiptail's traces of self-loathing to the brooding and oppressive gloom of Nightfire Alice's emotions.

And throughout that psychic web Bloodywedd seemed to speak with six voices, voices which spoke in unison just long enough to deliver her message before breaking into disharmony and bickering among themselves again.

"The drainage line is buried about twenty feet deep at the point where it exits the west perimeter of the base. I expect the drainage line to be fraught with security devices and water of questionable toxicity, but there would be no personnel...which presents a problem for me, as my psychic abilities would be more injurious to living guards than to machinery. If we were to take this path into the base, we would need someone perceptive and, if possible, resistant to injury to take point and lead us forward. Do we have a volunteer, or is there a more preferable approach we could follow instead?"

As fast as the speed of thought was, the answers she sought would not be long in coming.

[Druid]

((Post Saver.. sorry wanted to update but some serious things came up tonight, will update tomorrow))