The "From The Pages Of..." Comics Universe RPG

"Chuck." Sarah's voice instantly grabs my attention. She puts her hands on my face and I darn near melt into the floor. "Chuck. Calm down. Focus."

"...whatever you say..." She gives me a smile that could put a man in a trance and I lean my face closer to hers...

SLAP

"...I'm going to say OWW!" She grabs my face again and points it towards the computers.

"What do you see?"


"I see-"

...my eyes cross.

I smile. "I see how to blow this place to hell."

The Huey cruises a few hundred feet above the ocean. The inside is packed to the rafters with my team, Casey and his two guys, and Bond and No. BA gives a queasy look outside the window as Murdock pulls up on the joystick and hovers above the water.

"Ladies and gentlemen, thank you for flying Murdock Airlines. If you look out the right side window, you'll see the supervillain's evil lair be blown to kingdom come in three....two......one..."

BOOOOM!

The island compounds goes up in flames and a shockwave from the blast shakes the helicopter. BA's face turns green and he swallows hard.

"I'd say that was a mission complete, boss."

I smile and pull a cigar from my jacket pocket. Lighting it up and taking a big puff, I smile as I blow smoke.

"I love it when a plan comes together."
 
"Number 6, you say -"

"My name is the Doctor. I am not a number," the Doctor said calmly to the man across the metal desk.

The man adjusted his bronze rimmed spectacles, pushing them up his nose slightly and looking down at the Doctor. He opened his manilla folder and flicked through it.

"I must say, if this is true, you have quite the file," O'Brien said. He flicked through the papers inside, through ten or so large laminated photos.

"Yes, well, I don't like to brag," the Doctor said, smiling briefly and coldly "Where is Miss Pond?"

"Ah yes, Number 7," O'Brien said, reaching for another case file "That is most interesting. It would appear that Miss Pond has no papers, and also the rank of political officer of the Norsefire government. Silmultaneously. In the same room. I was very impressed,"

The Doctor raised an eyebrow in a quick show of surprise "Oh," he said "Well that changes things slightly,"

"Really? And how is that Number 6?" O'Brien asked genially.

"Well it would appear that this is a universe alternate than my own. With it's own version of me even, which is a rather new experience I must say. Finally, some intelligent conversation,"
 
"Call a council," the Vampire Lord commanded his first lieutenant, Vicente. He stood, and headed towards one of the windows of the palatial Romanian mansion in which he lived. The moonlight shown brightly against his pale face, and he continued, "I wish to speak with our people."

"Are you sure, sir? There hasn't been a council in almost twenty years," the bat-like vampire responded. Vicente was older than Dracula by almost five hundred years, and through that time he had lost what was left of his humanity, turning him into the frightening visage he was today. It was rare for an older vampire to be subjugated by a younger one like Dracula, but that was merely a testament to the Vampire Lord's power.

After his transformation, Dracula had set out to united the Vampire clans, and had succeeded in uniting the beings of the night. Those that came under his power willingly were rewarded, those that resisted were killed, and after the Vampires were united, he secured alliances with the other supernatural beings on the planet, forming one of the largest fighting forces under The Ring's control.

But most vampires wouldn't fight, would never rise up against the humans. They enjoyed there privacy, and they feared for the deaths of too many humans. But Dracula and his comrades in The Ring had developed something that would change all that.

"I need to speak with the clans," he said , turning back to Vicente. "And the Weres as well. We have something to take care of."

"Very well," he responded.

"Oh, before you go," Dracula stopped the other before he left, tossing him a folder. "Bring this to me. It's time we teach some lessons."
 
ntsig.jpg


I sit, meditating in Usagi Yojimbo's home. It's nothing more than a small hovel right outside of Tokyo, but it's warm, and very comfortable, even with two anthropomorphic animals staying in it.

Smiling slightly to myself, I think hard about my brothers. About Splinter. About New York, and the responsibilities I've left behind there. I can't help but feel like a coward being here at a time like this, especially after my defeat at the hands of the Shredder...

*******

New York

A Foot soldier looks suspiciously over his shoulder as he and his cohorts exit a wharehouse along the edge of the New York water front, carrying a few boxes towards an awaiting moving van.

As the soldier heads back towards the entrance of the wharehouse, he receives a bowstaff to the face, smashing his nose to pieces and spilling blood into his mask. His friends meet similar fates, one slit across the Achilles tendon with a sai, and the other smack across the temple with a nunchuk.

"Let's move. We need to find out what's going on in here," Donatello says, opening up one of the containers. They had been watching this whare house since Leo left, knowing the Foot were receiving packages from an unknown source. As Donnie looks in the box, he recoils at its contents.

"What is that? Some kind of gun?" Raph asks.

"It's an energy weapon," Donatello whispers. "The Foot are amping up their operation."

"Bummer," Mikey gasps.

Raphael takes a small ball from his utility belt and tosses it into the wharehouse. After a split second, the building bursts into flames, destroying the rest of the supply that's left in the building.

"Take one of them. We'll need to know what we're up against."

*******

Tokyo

"There is much on your mind, Leonardo," Usagi says, entering the main room of his home with some food for me.

"Yes," I say, exiting my meditation. "I...I'm currently in a self imposed exile. I need to regain my honor after being defeat by our enemy."

"And yet you do not know whether this was the right decision?" he asks, and I shake my head. "Do not let your misgivings affect you. Do not let your doubts linger on your heart. Your destiny takes you where you need to go, Leonardo. And I feel like you are destined for something great."

I nod, "Thank you."

"Do not mention it. Now, eat. We must prepare for tonight."

*******

Outside of Yojimbo's home, two figures stand in the shadow, watching the two creatures they had followed out of the city.

"Are you sure that's the one you want, Lynch?" a female voice asks.

The other nods, "No doubt about it. The turtle shows promise, discipline, and courage. It has to be him."

"Well, we'll see how he handles the next few weeks."
 
"Norsefire..." The Master muttered under his breath. "Why does that sound so familiar?"

The Master tapped his finger on the TARDIS' console, looking over the data pouring in from the local information network.

"Why are you so hung up on some little Earth government?" asked The War Chief.

"Norsefire Norsefire Norsefire..." The Master continued. "... oh. Oh my. That is brilliant."

He shot up out of his seat and turned to his allies, grinning.

"The Doctor is in a lot of trouble."

"What is it," asked The Rani.

"Fascists," he said. "Britain's being run by a bunch of fascists. The UK is putting on the reich."

"And you didn't know about this?" she said.

"Nope. Complete surprise."

"How does that effect our plans?" she asked.

"Completely ruins them. Well, the second half, anyway. We'll have to improvise. This is going to be fun."
 
He smiled to himself as he watched them file into the rocky cavern. They were the leaders of the Vampire clans from all over the world. He noticed how the American Vampires carried themselves, proud and strong. Each state in the country had its own king or queen, and each of them was here, along with some of their most trusted advisors, known as sheriffs. This was the hierarchy throughout the world, but only the kings and queens from other countries had made the trip to America for the first council in decades.

Dracula paced silently in the middle of the cavern, he had been waiting for this for a long time. Finally, they would be making a move out from the shadows, along with the rest of The Ring.

“Lord Dracula,” The Magister, a sort of advisor to the monarchies, as well as an enforcer of Vampire laws throughout the world, announced his presence to the Vampire Lord. “How wonderful to see you today. We are honored by your presence.”

“You may dispense with the pleasantries, Magister,” the Son of the Dragon responded coldly. “You know why I am here.”

The Magister had been present when the breakthrough was made, and was one of Dracula’s most adamant supporters. He had also pushed for more open aggression against humans along with his Master at the last council, which was promptly shot down by the assembled group.
But this time it would be different.

**********

Two Days Earlier
“Listen up people!” Thomas Manning, the director of the BPRD, announced to the assembled agents in front of him. “We’ve got word that there’s some huge vampire meeting going on somewhere in the Rocky Mountains. Hellboy, Abe, I’m putting you on it. Put a team together and be out of here by 1300.”

“Sir,” the blue-green creature known as Abe Sapien spoke up from the front of the room, “if you don’t mind me asking, where did this information come from?”

“For years now we’ve had informants on the inside of the Vampire hierarchy feeding us information on large and dangerous nests,” he replied. “They tipped us off that some sort of council would be going on in a few days, and that one of the contacts would like to speak with us.”

“You’re telling me we’ve had vampires working for us?” the red goliath known as Hellboy said, rising out of his seat in anger. He had hated the way BPRD had been run lately, and this secret revealed did nothing to curb his misgivings. Vampires. He hated them. Never met a decent one in his life. “Do you have any idea how dangerous that is? They’re a dangerous race. Giving them any information about us-“

“Relax, Red,” the director responded. “You’re right; there are plenty of dangerous, violent Vamps. But some are content just to lead a semi-normal existence. They have no desire to hurt humans, nor do they have a desire to hurt us. Trust me on this one. Your father did.”

The mention of Trevor Bruttenholm instantly made Hellboy quiet. He didn’t know if was telling the truth, but it made him think. Maybe there were decent Vampires out there. He doubted it, but it may be true, “Understood, sir.”

**********

Now

“My brothers and sisters!” Dracula announced from the stage of the amphitheater-like cavern. “How wonderful it is to see all of you! I would like to start by thanking our gracious hosts here in America, and welcoming the kings and queens of all the vampire clans across the world!”

A thunderous applause erupted in the auditorium, and Dracula raised his hands for silence, “We’re also joined tonight by the American Were packs, for what I have to say tonight will affect them as well.”

A howl rises up from a corner of the room as a mangy group of humans call as if to the moon. Dracula had always respected the Weres, very much unlike the majority of his kind. Their animal ferocity and strong fighting skills made them valuable allies, although he could already feel the trepidation from the vampires in attendance.

“For too long,” the Vampire continued is a lower, more serious tone, “have our kinds been the hunted. We have watched friends and allies die because we were afraid. But of what? Why are we afraid of the humans? What have they shown us for us to fear? Their weapons? Most can’t even put a scratch on us. Their unity? Please. Most would turn their backs on the rest of their kind for a few dollars or a ****e to lay with. No, the humans have nothing that should strike fear into our hearts.”

“In fact,” he continued, “we have always been the ones to strike fear into them. We are the ones they make movies about. We are the ones that scare their children. Or at least we did. We have become neutered in this new age. We have become nothing more than a cliché. And why? Because we are afraid of a species that we are all far superior to. It is time to banish our fear and once again create it in the hearts of humanity. It is time for war, my friends.”

“And what of our food supply?” the King of California spoke up. “More Vampires are made every day, and open aggression towards humans could diminish the food supply.”

“I am a step ahead of you and ten steps ahead of the humans,” Dracula replied with venom lacing his words. He motioned for a table to be brought out, and on it was a chalice of red, blood-like liquid. Dracula picked it up and drank the warm liquid down, the viscous juice sliding down his throat giving him sustenance.

“This, my brothers and sisters,” he said holding the cup high over his head as some of the liquid dribbled out the sides of his mouth and rolled down is chin, “is a synthetic substitute for human blood. It sustains us just as well, and is the key to our ascension to be one of the dominate races on the planet.”

The mummer and energy in the cavern instantly rises. They had been moved by his speech, and the revelation of the synth-blood had opened their eyes, and their minds, to the great possibilities of what the future could hold. They now knew they could be freed from their shackles of fear. They now could take the fight to the hunters, rather than having to wait for them to find them. Their fears had been answered.

“And my furry friends,” he said turning to the Weres, “with your help, we can rid ourselves of the many hunters throughout the world. They stand no chance against out combined might. Nor does the insolent BPRD. Together, we shall destroy those that stand in our way, and take our rightful spot on top of the power structure."

“I know many of you are wondering what will happen to those of our kind that stand against us? Let me show you,” he said, motioning to the side yet again, and out were pushed a family of vampires, each bound by silver and being escorted out by Dracula’s Dread Guard.

“These are the Cullens. They are a disgrace to our race, feeding on animal blood instead of that of a human, and worst of all, one has fallen in love with a human,” he hissed as many jeers flew from the audience. “Humans can be our play things, but never our equal, or our significant others. Bring her out!”

At his command, a dark haired, human female is drug by one of his guard. As the girl was presented to Dracula, one of the Cullens spoke up, “No!”

“Oh, don’t fret, Edward. This will only take a moment,” he said before driving his fangs into her neck, ripping and tearing at her neck. Her blood flowed swiftly down his throat, and with one more tear, he allowed her to fall to the ground in front of the Cullen boy. As she laid there, choking on her own blood, the liquid flowing out of her mouth, nose, and the wound, Dracula nodded to his guards, “Kill them all.”

His guards drew swords and decapitated the traitors, followed by a quick stab through their hearts, ensuring they would not return, and the girl died from choking on her own blood. The message had been sent.

As the cavern erupted in cheers of rage and war, the Vampire Lord merely smiled to himself, and slunk back deeper into the cave. He had done what he came for. A war would explode between the world of the light and dark. Vampires and Weres would openly attack humans in mass, drawing the attention of the hunters and the BPRD, allowing him and his cohorts even more secrecy in their activities.

**********

As the auditorium continued to cheer, a few small groups watched on in silent horror. One such Vampire, known only as Godric, shook his head in disgust. In his two thousand years of existence he had slowly become an advocate of peace with the humans, and here he was in a meeting that was basically a war declaration against them.

Dracula’s incendiary words may have swayed the masses, but not him. He had seen through the charade almost instantly. He called those that did not feast on humans weak, yet presented a synthetic substitute to their blood. His goal was not power for the vampire race, but power for himself, not matter how many deaths it cost.

Godric made his way slowly out of the cavern, making sure not to draw attention to himself. But as he did, he noticed others doing the same thing. Others with which he had conversed and met with before. Others who had planned and feared this moment for a long, long time.

They all made their way to another meeting place in a deep, secluded forest. Once everyone had gathered, he began, “The time we have all feared has come, my friends. Dracula’s power and influence has finally turned our people into raving lunatics, and his lust for power will bring the end to the innocence of this world.”

Godric spoke in a soft, soothing voice, but power laid behind his words. He was well respected, and was the most powerful vampire living in the US.

“Maybe he is right, Godric,” Eric Northman, one of his prodigies and most trusted friend replied. Eric was over a thousand years old, and Godric made him at a time when Eric was dying on an ancient battlefrield. “I mean, the humans have always feared us.”

“With good right, my friend,” he smiled. “But peace is possible, and should be desired for both sides.”

“But what you’re saying…we would be branded traitors. Rebels. And we have no hope of defeating the combined armies. Not by ourselves.”

“Which is why I have made an arrangement for help,” the ancient Vampire replied matter of factly. “You may come out now.”

As if called from the dark forest itself, a large, red, demon-looking creature emerged, along with a fish-man, and a cadre of human agents. The red-one looked distrusting of the assembled group, but spoke anyway, albeit through the side of his mouth that wasn’t inhabited by a cigar, “Name’s Hellboy. I’m with the BPRD. I hear we’re going to have a little uprising on our hands.”

**********

Bill Compton had stayed dead quiet through the council with Lord Dracula, and had yet to speak in the meeting with Godric. He assumed it was due to shock at the Vampire Lord’s plan. To wage war on humanity was a reprehensible and heinous course of action. Of course, Bill had biased reasons for that.

After all, he had fallen in love with a human a few short months ago. It was foolish, really, but he couldn’t help it. Sookie Stackhouse was the epitome of beauty and grace. Just thinking of her now brought a slight smile to his face. But knowing Dracula’s plan for all out war quickly wiped it away.

He had never trusted Dracula. Bill always found him to be different, in the wrong sort of way. And if the stories Godric had told him were true, Bill worried deeply. It was believed that Dracula was not created as most vampires are, instead it’s said that he was made by the devil himself, as a warrior and instrument of darkness, bound to walk the Earth in service of the Fallen One. Whether it was true or not, no one was really sure. But to Bill, the story seemed plausible considering he had subjugated much older vampires underneath him.

But he was not afraid for himself. Open rebellion against the Vampire Hierarchy might mean his destruction, but it was a price worth paying if it protected those he cared about.

Besides, most vampires sickened Bill. They had lost their humanity along with their souls, rather than fighting the animalistic urges like those he was currently meeting with. The ones around him were still civilized. They were still sane. And now with the BPRD’s backing, they may stand a chance against the hordes of Dracula.

“Look at his hand, it’s freaking huge,” a young, red-headed vampire whispered to Bill about Hellboy. Her name was Jessica, and Bill had been forced to sire, or create, her after he murdered another vampire during a scuffle. She was naïve, curious, and not yet used to her powers and urges yet, but she was a sweet kid. Bill was against the idea of caring for another one of his kind, but the girl was starting to grow on him.

She had been selected by the Queen of Louisiana, who was a spiteful and cold hearted ***** to say the least. Jessica was sheltered and innocent before her transformation, and the past month and a half since her transformation had been a sad and shocking experience, but she was beginning to adjust to her new, immortal lifestyle.

“Quiet, Jessica. Show some respect. That is Anung Un Rama. The being that is destined to bring about the Apocalypse.”

“Yea, and the hand comes in…well handy,” Hellboy said, grunting a bit at the terrible pun and surprising the young vampire. “Now…what’s the plan?”

“Until we know who else we can trust, and until we can formulate a solid counter to this, we shall stay in hiding. But expect a communication soon.”
 
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"Well, once you have eliminated the impossible, whatever remains, no matter how improbable, must be the truth.I wasn't always relegated to the works of fiction. It happened in the 50's. The propaganda machine that was in charge of the English government seen fit to delegate me as an "un-person" and all factual events and details of my life was put down as fiction."

I pause and look at the two young men.

"Gentlemen, I am Sherlock Holmes. It's been a pleasure meeting with you and working with you."

For the first time in a long time, both Sammy and I are speechless. Our jaws hang open like morons, but we can't help it. This guy just dropped a bomb on us the size of Jupiter.

"...********." It's all I can manage to say.

"Dean-"

"No, no, just....no! No way do I believe this! The guys puts on a phony British accent and...no!" I turn to Crews-Holmes-whatever and poke him in the chest.

"Vampires? Sure, no problem. Boogeymen? We've faced them down. Aliens? Maybe. Fountain of Youth? A big stretch. But Uwe Boll has a better chance at winning on Oscar then you being a real life, immortal, Sherlock Holmes."
 
For the first time in a long time, both Sammy and I are speechless. Our jaws hang open like morons, but we can't help it. This guy just dropped a bomb on us the size of Jupiter.

"...********." It's all I can manage to say.

"Dean-"

"No, no, just....no! No way do I believe this! The guys puts on a phony British accent and...no!" I turn to Crews-Holmes-whatever and poke him in the chest.

"Vampires? Sure, no problem. Boogeymen? We've faced them down. Aliens? Maybe. Fountain of Youth? A big stretch. But Uwe Boll has a better chance at winning on Oscar then you being a real life, immortal, Sherlock Holmes."

"What do you want me to do?" I ask as I lapse back into my American accent. "I've talked like this for the better part of fifty years. I'm more comfortable talking like this, and old habits are hard to break. So, what do you want me to do to prove that I am who I say I am? I can't think of any thing I can do to prove my point, so how about we call it a night and you believe my story?"
 
The Huey cruises a few hundred feet above the ocean. The inside is packed to the rafters with my team, Casey and his two guys, and Bond and No. BA gives a queasy look outside the window as Murdock pulls up on the joystick and hovers above the water.

"Ladies and gentlemen, thank you for flying Murdock Airlines. If you look out the right side window, you'll see the supervillain's evil lair be blown to kingdom come in three....two......one..."

BOOOOM!

The island compounds goes up in flames and a shockwave from the blast shakes the helicopter. BA's face turns green and he swallows hard.

"I'd say that was a mission complete, boss."

I smile and pull a cigar from my jacket pocket. Lighting it up and taking a big puff, I smile as I blow smoke.

"I love it when a plan comes together."

We step off the plane after a much, much smoother ride back. Everyone all over the airport are looking out at the column of black smoke in the distance. Everyone except us, of course.

"I don't know about the rest of you, but I'm thinking about sitting on the beach, mai tai after mai tai, until I fall over into the sand. Who's with me on this?"

Face puts his arm around my shoulder. "Now you're thinking. Of course, if it was me, I'd also add a girl, or two, under each arm..."

"Mai tai's sound just lovely. Or maybe a nice mojito, you know, to mix things up? Tell you what, I'll get behind the bar and-"

"No more Murdock specials, fool. It took me two months to grow the mohawk back. I'll just have a nice cold milk."

"Milk? I know you need to keep those muscles nice and strong, big guy. But it's time to celebrate a job well done."

"I can agree with that,"
Sarah says, giving me a small smile.

"Well, if it's celebrating you're in the mood for..."


I slide up close to Sarah. "I always buy her the first drink," I lie.

"I'd love one."

"Really?! I mean, sure. I'd...love to have one with you too."

"Ah, well, then..." two barely dressed blondes stroll past us, and a slow smile spreads over Face's face. "I'm...sure I can think of...something to occupy my time."

"I could go for a mojito." We all stop and stare at Casey. "What? If we were back home I'd be having a scotch. But scotch and tropical islands don't really mix. Well, there was that one time off the coast of Burma..."
 
"What do you want me to do?" I ask as I lapse back into my American accent. "I've talked like this for the better part of fifty years. I'm more comfortable talking like this, and old habits are hard to break. So, what do you want me to do to prove that I am who I say I am? I can't think of any thing I can do to prove my point, so how about we call it a night and you believe my story?"

"If you're going to make a crazy announcement like 'I'm the fictional character Sherlock Holmes!', you better be able to back it up."

"Dean, he doesn't need to prove anything to us. We've taken care of the next. Let's get back to Bobby."

"No way, Sam. We put our lives in this nutjob's hands. He owes us the truth. So, go ahead big shot. Whatcha got? Prove you're the real Holmes."
 
"If you're going to make a crazy announcement like 'I'm the fictional character Sherlock Holmes!', you better be able to back it up."

"Dean, he doesn't need to prove anything to us. We've taken care of the next. Let's get back to Bobby."

"No way, Sam. We put our lives in this nutjob's hands. He owes us the truth. So, go ahead big shot. Whatcha got? Prove you're the real Holmes."

I look between the two men, eyeballing them up and down.

"Okay. How about that famous deductive reasoning? Here we go...."


I switch my focus to the younger one, Sam.

"You've always had a chip on your shoulder. Either you were bullied as a young boy, or think your parents denied you something. You learned to fight the hard way, by taking your lumps as a boy. You're also something of a technofile, you like to have the latest technology and gear."

I turn to the older hunter, Dean.

"You're a bit immature for your age, you like making jokes to ease the tension of the present situation. You're scared of flying. You're in excellent shape, but I'm not sure why. You eat enough greasy food to choke a horse. Unlike your brother, you jumped into this line of work feet first. You enjoy it and love your work. And you're a bit of a skeptic. You've seen some wild stuff, but you have trouble taking it all in."
 
We step off the plane after a much, much smoother ride back. Everyone all over the airport are looking out at the column of black smoke in the distance. Everyone except us, of course.

"I don't know about the rest of you, but I'm thinking about sitting on the beach, mai tai after mai tai, until I fall over into the sand. Who's with me on this?"

Face puts his arm around my shoulder. "Now you're thinking. Of course, if it was me, I'd also add a girl, or two, under each arm..."

"Mai tai's sound just lovely. Or maybe a nice mojito, you know, to mix things up? Tell you what, I'll get behind the bar and-"

"No more Murdock specials, fool. It took me two months to grow the mohawk back. I'll just have a nice cold milk."

"Milk? I know you need to keep those muscles nice and strong, big guy. But it's time to celebrate a job well done."

"I can agree with that,"
Sarah says, giving me a small smile.

"Well, if it's celebrating you're in the mood for..."


I slide up close to Sarah. "I always buy her the first drink," I lie.

"I'd love one."

"Really?! I mean, sure. I'd...love to have one with you too."

"Ah, well, then..." two barely dressed blondes stroll past us, and a slow smile spreads over Face's face. "I'm...sure I can think of...something to occupy my time."

"I could go for a mojito." We all stop and stare at Casey. "What? If we were back home I'd be having a scotch. But scotch and tropical islands don't really mix. Well, there was that one time off the coast of Burma..."

"A mojito goes good in Saudi Arabia as well" a voice says behind us. A skinny man in a black suit comes up. "Lynch. CIA."

"I remember a Lynch from my first tour in the Gulf War."

"Yeah. There was a Company spook named Lynch in Burma with me."
"Then there was a CIA man named Lynch I worked with in Kentucky."

"Yeah, there are a lot of Lynch's. I need for Mister Bond and his...package to come with me for debriefing."

"I suppose you'll be calling this in to your people, Lynch?"

"Why?" He asks with a smile. "I'm CIA. It's not my job to capture federal fugitives. I believe M will be wiring you your money soon. I can get all the information from Bond and No. Of course, if Agent Walker needs a debriefing, I'd be more than happy..."

"No thanks."

"What a shame, Lynch. Nobody to water-board tonight."

"There's other fish in the sea. We've already detained No. Mister Bond, if you will."

I look over at Bond and nod. "It was a pleasure, 007."

"Working with you people has been a....unique experience. Best of luck in the future."

"You can thank us for saving your ass, too," Casey grumbles.

"If you recall, Major, my arse was in the process of escaping when you busted into the compound. But I appreciate it, you helped me out. I'm sure whoever hired you got your money's worth."

With a final nod to us all, Bond follows Lynch through the terminal and out of the airport.

"The plane is secured," Captain Sparrow says as he wobbles in. "Did someone say something about drinks?"

"Mai tai time, baby!"

"No, love. In the Caribbean, it's rum or nothing at all."

"We'll decide when we get there. For now, let's just get to the bar."

The group walks through the airport, Sparrow bringing up the rear and singing to himself.

"Drink up me hearties, yo ho........and really bad eggs."
 
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New York City

"This is incredible!"
Ray Stantz proclaims. Along with Doctor Egon Spengler, he examines the MRI scan in front of him.

"What is it?" The Gunslinger asked from behind them. He'd been with these strange men ever since coming through the portal in Alaska. Roland originally though they were wizards of some kind, but he'd learn that the world he'd come into was filled with technological marvels. These men used their technology to capture spirits and demons. They were known as the Ghostbusters.

"From this scan," Spengler replies, "It seems to me that you're almost four hundreds year old."

Roland gave a stoic nod. Time had moved on in his world. What seemed like hours could in reality be years, and days could stretch on for a decade. He'd been traveling a long time. And still, he had a long way to go until he reached his final destination. The axis of all reality. The Dark Tower. There was a sickness in the tower, tearing the worlds apart and slowly destroying each one. It was his destiny to stop it.

"What can you tells us about this vision of yours?"

"It was cryptic to say the least. I saw myself with my own Ka-Tet."

"Ka-Tet?"

"It's a word we use in my world. It's a group banded together by Ka, or fate as we call it. You and your friends are a Ka-Tet."

"Ka-Tet...I like it. Please continue."

"The dream showed each and everyone of my Ka-Tet. Then I saw a strange red-headed man reciting an old poem. 'See the turtle of enormous girth, on his shell he holds the Earth.' In my world, the Turtle is one of the guardians of the beam. The beams hold the Dark Tower together."

"And that's the thing that holds our worlds together?"

"Yes. Without it, the whole of existence collapses and is plunged into the darkness. In my dream, I had a gun. Not the two Guns of Eld that have been passed down for years. This was a different gun. A revolver like mine, but smaller and more effective. It was-"

"The Colt," Ray says with an ashen face. "I know because I had a dream years ago. In it, I saw a cowboy with a gun. Colt gleamed on the barrel."

"Are you talking about the gun I think you are?"

"Yes. Check Tobin's Spirit Guide. It's in there."

"What are you referring to?"

"The Colt is gun made by Samuel Colt. It's supposed to be a legend. A gun blessed by God. Something that will kill any kind of demon or creature it hits."
"That has to be it. My destiny lies with the Colt."

"How can you be so sure, Roland?"

"It has been written. All things serve the beam. Ka.
 
"You're crazy,"

"So many have claimed," the Doctor said evenly.

The redhead had her hair tied back in a severe bun, small spectacles perched on her nose. She wore a tight black uniform that accentuated her curves, but also reminded the Doctor of a cliched Nazi uniform. He sighed and tried not to look Amy Pond in the eye.

"Why are you here? Who are you working for?" Pond asked, almost disinterested.

"I'm here of my own volition," the Doctor said coolly.

"I was hoping you'd be difficult," Amy said, letting out a little giggle of glee. She pulled a taser out of her pocket and put it down on the steel table. The Doctor raised an eyebrow.

"You think that threatening me will work? My dear Miss Pond, it would appear that they drained all initiative from you,"

"Who are you working for?"

"Do you know the muffin man?" the Doctor asked, smiling. He shrieked, and his hand spasmed as Pond struck him with the crackling taser.

"Let me surmise some things about you, Pond," the Doctor growled "Your parents died when you were very young, you don't remember how. Your aunt palmed you off to a state orphanage where you were indoctrinated into the Norsefire regime. You performed outstandingly in every test you ever took, and you were recruited into the political officer corps of the party. And now you enjoy it,"

"Very impressive Doctor. One would almost think that you're agency training had included psychoanalysis," Pond said, looking mildly surprised.

"You know me Amy. Deep, deep down, you know who I am. Let me go," the Doctor pleaded.

Pond backhanded the Doctor viciously.

"Let's start again. Who are you working for?"
 
ntsig.jpg
Tokyo

Rain pelts against my face, the droplets rolling down the front of my face and into my mouth. I lick my lips and brush the liquid out of my eyes. Standing outside of a Black Dragon store-house, I wait for Usagi's signal before infiltrating.

He's across town, ready to take the other one. It's risky that decided that we've split up, but it was the only way to make sure we saved all the slaves.

"[FONT=&quot]Go,[/FONT]" his voice comes over the comm he gave me, and leap from the rooftop I'm on towards the whare house.

**********

New York City

"Have you discovered their secret, Donatello?" Master Splinter says, hovering over Donnie's shoulder.

A drip of sweat drops off of his chin as he pours over one of the confiscated weapons from the Foot. He shakes his head in frustration, and turns to the rest of the turtles and Splinter, "No clue yet. It's like nothing I've ever seen. It's like it's..."

"It's like it's what, Donnie?" Mikey asks impatiently.

"Oh no," Donnie says picking up a small blinking device out of the weapon. "It's a tracker. The weapons were a trap. The Foot are on their way."

**********

I slink through a skylight of the wharehouse, dropping quietly onto one of the building's rafters. Taking a quick overview of the inside, I only see a small group of guards standing in a circle around twenty or twenty-five slaves.

My fists clench at the site of them. I can't help it. It's like a reflex. Injustice angers me. It infuriates me. It has the ability to drive me into a frenzy.

I take a shuriken out of one of the pouches on my belt and flick it towards the electrical box on the other side of the building, covering the entire room in darkness.

As those below begin to panic, I drop down, my katanas in hand.

**********

"How can this happen!?" Raph says, twirling his sais in his hands. "We're smarter than this."

"Apparently not, dude," Mickey says as he continues to set traps around the home.

"So, how are we gettin' out of here?" Raph asks.

"Well, there's the escape vent in the-"

"No," Splinter says, cutting Donatello off. "We will not run. We must stand and fight."

"But they'll kill us."

"No. They will hold us. Shredder needs bait to lure in Leonardo."

"And we're just going to be okay with that!?" Raphael screams, slamming his fists into the wall. Even if Raph isn't always happy about how Leo leads the team, he wasn't about to serve his brother up to the enemy. "That's insane!"

"No, it is not, Raphael," Splinter says in a stern tone. "Leonardo will return, and he will rescue us. I have faith in him."

**********

I slash again and again with my swords, slicing through the assembled gangsters. Some fire clumsily with their weapons into the walls of the facility, but to no avail. Nothing comes close to hitting me, nor do they have any clue as to where I am.

Flashes of metal against the moonlight are their only clues to my whereabouts as I move around them, almost like a dance. I strike out with my weapons, punishing them for what they've done to these poor people.

My anger shows in my attacks, as well. Master Splinter always warned me about allowing my anger to flow into my fighting, but here? I don't care. I want these men to hurt, to know what they've done. But I won't kill them. I want them to suffer.

As the last of them falls, I unbind the captives before slinking back outside, as sirens approach.

I walk confidently down a side alley as my comm springs to life, "Very impressive."

"Who the hell is this," I spit back at the unfamiliar voice.

"Someone who has your friend," the voice responds, laughing. "And the man who will kill it."

**********

A Foot soldier goes flying over Mikey's head as Donatello flips the man over his head with his bowstaff. Michelangelo slides along the ground and springs up, driving his heel into the stomach of another ninja.

Their home quickly fills up with their mortal enemies, and the turtles and their master are quickly forced into a corner. As they continue to fight for every inch, the wringing of metal against the stone sides of the sewers can be heard, growing louder and louder by the second.

As the footsteps come to a head, the massive form of The Shredder is seen at the entrance to the Turtles' home. He surveys the damage, and sees plenty of his men gravely wounded or killed, "Well, well, you are quite skilled."

He then approaches Splinter, chuckling menacingly, "Hello, rat. It has been too long. Over twenty years, no? I really thought I had killed you during the Purge. But apparently I should have made sure."

"Yes, Saki. I am amazingly difficult to take care of," Splinter replies in a rare showing of sarcasm.

The armored ninja replies by summoning a ball of dark energy, and firing it into Splinter's chest, sending the mutant flying backwards and slamming into a wall, knocking him out.

"Take them away."
 
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"Come check this out," Inspector Finch motions for his partner, Dominic Stone. "I think I may have got something on our masked friend."

"Yea? What's that?" Stone asks, not looking up from his own computer screen.

"It seems that both Prothero and Lilliman worked at a Norsefire work camp before being promoted to their higher positions. Prothero was even listed as a commander," Finch says, rubbing his chin.

"Commadner? Prothero? That's a gas," the other man chuckles. "He was way too puffy."

"Well, it's on the Fate Network," Finch replies, slightly annoyed. "And it's something I'm going to look into."
 
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London, 1889

A noise shakes me from my slumber. My head thumps like a drum kettle, my mouth is dry and my eyes are effected by the slightest light. It wasn't until a few decades later that the term "hangover" became a popular description of my maladies.

"Mister Holmes," the inn's proprietor calls from outside the door. "You have a visitor."

"You wake me for this reason?"

"With all due respect, sir. You have been sleeping for almost eighteen hours."

"Point taken....Give me a moment to repose myself. Then send my guest in."

"Yes, sir."

I spring off the bed, sliding on my baggy pants, wrinkled coat, and attempting to make my hair lie down.

I turn around just in time to see a tall, gray-haired man enter the room. He eyes me suspiciously.

"Mister Holmes?" he asks in an American accent. "The Sherlock Holmes?"

"That is me, good sir. Sherlock Holmes."

"....I never pictured you being this....shabby."

"To each his own."

"Right...anyway. I've heard you are a man of science. Is that ture?"

"Yes, sir. That is the truth."

"Then I am in need of your assistance," he says with a thin smile. "You and Doctor Watson."

I scowl, slightly suspicious of the man. "You seem to know a great deal about me, sir. I know I am quite a popular character in the papers. But I was not under the impression your American papers carried my exploits."

"Oh, well...I'm a bit of a traveler," he replies with a glint in his eyes. "Anyway, I am in need of your help, sir."

"First, introductions. You know a great deal about him, and you hold your disadvantage over me. And you are?"

"A fellow man of science. Doctor Emmett Brown, at your service. I believe I have something that is of great interest to you."
 
The Doctor sat in the back of the truck, looking very fixedly at the handcuffs on his wrists. Norsefire was transfering him to a more secure facility, with his new found status as a political prisoner. He was surrounded by armed guards, none of whom were even looking at him. No chance for escape. No chance to rescue Amy, who he was sure was still locked up in the original prison.

The motion of the truck made the Doctor lurch on his iron bench. He frowned; the truck was speeding up - had the driver seen something unpleasant?

KRA-KOOM

The truck flipped on it's side, sprawling men everywhere. The Doctor knocked his head on one of the metal benches, making a gash along his right temple. There was the sound of automatic fire.

"Captain Price, it's bolted from the inside," came the shout from outside.

"Set a charge!" Price shouted, followed by more automatic fire. Obviously there was some kind of support vechile behind them.

One of the guards began to stir, and the Doctor dragged him away from the door, after getting rid of his gun. There was a deafening crunch as the back door of the truck blew inwards.

The Doctor looked up, blinking in the first real sunlight he had seen in weeks. Two figures were sillhouetted in the light. One stepped forwards with his pistol drawn, offering the Doctor his hand.

"Let's go," the man the Doctor knew as Captain Price said.

He pulled the Doctor up and pushed him through out into the light. There was another spray of gunfire from the second figure, killing the unconscious soldiers in the back of the truck.

"You can't do that!" the Doctor slurred, head groggy "Those were defenceless men,"

"Black Ops Doctor - no survivors. Soap's just doing his job," Price said, dragging the Doctor off of the road and into the dense woodland.

"Then it's the wrong job," he growled.

"Ma'am did say he'd be difficult sir," Soap said "We need to get moving, the LZ's a half click from here,"

The three men ran off into the woodland.
 
The man in black walked across the desert, grinning like a wolf. He was so close he could almost taste it. The longer he stayed here, in one place, the more he knew about events, about himself, and about his destiny. And his masters destiny. The Tower resided here, in this keystone universe, waiting for the first figure to enter it since creation began. All that stood in his way, in his masters way, was the Colt. And the Winchester brothers. But he was so close now. He could almost taste it.

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My name is Harry Blackstone Copperfield Dresden. Conjur by it at your own risk. I'm a wizard. The only wizard, if the Chicago phonebook is anything to go by. But of course, that would be far too simple. In actual fact there's a Grand Council of wizards, ruled over by the Merlin. We don't get on much. I'm the black sheep of a whiter than white flock. Anyway, the important thing is that I help people, and I occasionally get enough money to pay the rent.

I also know a thing or two about vampires. There are a dozen different type of vampires. There's Red Court (vicious bastards who put on a human glamour), White Court (vampires that feed off of human emotion) and just about everything in between (such as the Order of Aurelius, a particularly loopy offshoot of the red court). I may have accidentally kicked off a war between the White Council (that's the wizards) and the Red Court (that's the bloodsuckers). Either way I know enough about vampires to know when I'm talking to one. Which is why I didn't really hit things off with my most recent client.

"I need your help,"

"You need my blood. Those are two entirely different things," I said from my desk. This particular vampire can't cross the threshold to a persons home. I do so love it when ritual gets in the way of their hunting.

"Please, I'm being hunted,"

"By another vampire? What did you do, steal its slave?" I asked with a smirk. This particular vampire was handsome, if you were into the tall dark and broody kind. His leather jacket was a little older and more battered than my own, and he was a little broader across the shoulder than I am.

"My name's Angel-" the vampire began. I drew my blasting wand out of my pocket and pointed it at his chest. Where his heart should be.

"Angel as in Angelus? Angelus as in the Scourge of Europe? Scourge of Europe as in the butcherer of more women and children than any other man is likely to set eyes upon in his lifetime?" I said.

"I have a soul now!" Angel pleaded "You more than anyone should know that a man can change,"

"Call me a hypocrite then," I growled, keeping my wand level.

"But you aren't sure, are you? Otherwise you'd have blasted me by now. Look, haven't you been wondering about the recent rise in vampire-related events? Not just the Court wars, but the uprising in Alaska, all the everyday sightings, the current fascination in the media! The vampires are rising up again, under a leader. A powerful one. There's a meeting in the Rockys. I need to go there so I can try and convince some of them to back down. And I need protection,"

I paused for a second. Everything added up, made sense. But of course, the best lies did.

"You're so big and bad, what do you need protection from?"

"A vampire named Marlow led the attack in Alaska. He's following me now. Someone wants me to be out of the way when this war sparks off,"

I sighed. Someone powerful seemed to think that Angel was the only person that could prevent a war between man and vampire. That meant that I had to keep him alive, and get him to this meeting. Or it could be the end for mankind. Again. I hate my job sometimes. But I hate vampires more.
 
I look between the two men, eyeballing them up and down.

"Okay. How about that famous deductive reasoning? Here we go...."


I switch my focus to the younger one, Sam.

"You've always had a chip on your shoulder. Either you were bullied as a young boy, or think your parents denied you something. You learned to fight the hard way, by taking your lumps as a boy. You're also something of a technofile, you like to have the latest technology and gear."

I turn to the older hunter, Dean.

"You're a bit immature for your age, you like making jokes to ease the tension of the present situation. You're scared of flying. You're in excellent shape, but I'm not sure why. You eat enough greasy food to choke a horse. Unlike your brother, you jumped into this line of work feet first. You enjoy it and love your work. And you're a bit of a skeptic. You've seen some wild stuff, but you have trouble taking it all in."

"Call me a skeptic, but I've seen carnival psychics do the same thing."

"I believe him."

I roll my eyes. "You believe everybody! With all the garbage we've had to deal with, and all the times we've been stabbed in the back, how the hell do you keep giving people the benefit of doubt?"

"How can you stand there and completely throw out this guy's story when we've taken on demons, demi-gods, and freaking vampires?!"

It's an old fight between us. Normal brothers would probably yell at each other over sports teams, dating the same girl, typical stuff. Us? We argue over the fate of people's lives, and occasionally, the end of the world. Yeah, that's Saturday night with the Winchester brothers.

I give Sam and...Holmes a glare. "Fine. I don't know if I believe you. But you helped us kick some bloodsucking ass, so I guess you've earned at least a few points."

"So..." Sam gives me a nudge and I roll my eyes. I stick out my hand. "...Thanks for the help."
 
I give Sam and...Holmes a glare. "Fine. I don't know if I believe you. But you helped us kick some bloodsucking ass, so I guess you've earned at least a few points."

"So..." Sam gives me a nudge and I roll my eyes. I stick out my hand. "...Thanks for the help."

"Told you you wouldn't believe the truth," I say with a shrug. Shaking Dean's hand, I smile. "I've got a couple of pissed SFPD officers I need to attend to, so you fellows will have to excuse me."
 
ntsig.jpg


I push the doors of the other wharehouse open like I'm some cowboy out of the old Western movies. The only thing I see inside is Usagi tied to a chair with a single light fixture shining down on him. I can tell he's bleeding as I approach him, and has obviously been severely beaten.

"You shouldn't have come from me," he says, coughing up some blood in the process. "It's a trap, you know."

"Of course it is," I say with a nervous chuckle as I begin to untie him. "But I don't leave people behind."

"People?" the voice from earlier chuckles, and a figure emerges from the darkness. He's a large, and I mean large, man garbed in martial arts robes, a black dragon tattoo wrapping around his left arm. But his size isn't the most intimidating factor. The left side of his face is missing, and replaced by a cybernetic eye and skull. "You aren't people. You're freaks."

Kano_01bcopy.jpg


He begins to circle me, sizing me up for an attack, and I do the same, making sure I pay attention to my back and sides, in case more of his goons show up. "Interesting opinion from the hairless gorilla with the metal face."

Sneering, he replies, "It's amazing what a guy can do to get out of some jail time. I could have survived with half a face, but Cyberdyne Systems offered a deal to the Japanese government. They got me, and I go free."

Cyberdyne. That name again. I remember Flynn mentioning it when I first met him.

"Well, seems like you lucked out," I say, drawing my blades, as he draws two as well. "But that runs out tonight."

"Nah, friend. You ain't stoppin Kano tonight," he laughs as he rushes at me. Our blades clash like thunder in the gigantic wharehouse. He wings wildly at me, and his blows carry a great power behind them. He backs me up, but I send him off guard by rolling out of the way of one such attack.

I quickly retaliate by kicking the small of his back and sending him tumbling over head. He quickly regains his footing however, and recovers in time to block a powerful slice from both of my swords. We stand there struggling against each others strength.

Eventually, my swords slip, and he tosses me over his shoulder and through a few crates. As I'm in midair, he slices at me, and catches my shoulder with one of his blades. The pain shoots through my right side like electricity, but I try to remember Master Splinter's teachings.

Pain is nothing. Survival is everything.

I play possum and allow him to approach. When he's close enough, I spring off my palms and drive my feet into his chest. He flies back, dropping his swords in the process. As he gets up, I toss mine aside as well, "It's only honorable."

"Honor gets you killed, reptile boy," he says as he drops into the Xing yi style of fighting. It's an aggressive striking style, so I drop into a defensive Aikido style. He comes at me with his fists flying, and I have to use all my speed to bring my forearms up in blocking motions.

He manages to break through my defenses and strikes me across the chin. I stumble a bit, and he goes for another quick strike with his right hand. I manage to catch his blow with my left and quickly deliver an upper cut. He's knocked of his feet, and slides back on the slick floor, "No, honor separates me from you."

As he gets up, his eye begins to glow brighter and brighter. He begins laughing, "Well, it's been fun, turtle. But I'm ending this. Now."

As a beam of red light springs from the eye, I dive for my swords, and bring them up in front of me as the beam reaches me. The alloy that they are made of reflects the beam into Kano's chest. It creates an explosion when it hits him, and he's blasted outside through one of the walls. The explosion rocks the wharehouse and I can tell it's going to come down.

I rush over and finish untying Usagi, "Have you gotten all the slaves out?"

"There were no slaves," he replies weakly as I put his arm over my shoulder and begin to rush out of the building. "It was a trap. He wanted to tire me out at your site and then take me down here. He didn't count that I'd have help."

As we get out of the building, and it begins to collapse, we rush off towards the shadows and away from the commotion that will no doubt follow.

As we head away from the scene, Usagi looks over, "I didn't get to say thank you."

"You don't have to."

**********

"Pretty impressive, no?" the man known as Lynch says to his companion.

She nods, "Very impressive."

"Come on, I've seen enough here," he says. "We're going back to the states."
 
Crewes...Holmes...whoever gets in his fancy car and peels out into the night. "That guy's weird. But he had great taste in wheels."

"We should get back to Bobby."

"Yeah...there's just one thing left to do..."

***

I close the trunk of the Impala and join Sammy inside. He's just looking out the front windshield, and I stare with him for a second before starting the car.

"I need some tunes."

Sam pulls the box out of the back seat and digs through the tapes. He finds the one he's looking for and slides it in place.

Living easy, living free
Season ticket on a one-way ride


"Perfect." I rev the engine, put her in gears, and kick up dirt while pulling away. The house burning to the ground behind us.
 
Angel and I drove up to the Rocky's in a hastily blacked out car. You know how awkward certain drives can be? Yeah, it was the equivilant of driving your girlfriends father around after you'd just romanced her in the backseat. Even when I put some music on...he sang along. My god, there are some things that people should just never have to hear. But yeah, we made it with no fatalities - though there were some close calls.

"So what now?" I asked, tucking my wand inside my leather duster. The sun had just set, and Angel hopped out of the car, looking around.

"I have some...allies around here. Somewhere," Angel said, waiting expectantly.

"Angel and Harry Dresden?"

"That's us," I said, holding my scorched staff like a comfort blanket "Who wants to know?"

"I am Eric Northman. I was sent to collect you,"
 

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