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Sunset felt the coldness of the thing chip away another layer of her psyche. 

 

This...this...seriously ain't groovy...ya know? this thing needs to be flung to the deepest ocean in the most distant star....

 

She had nothing in reply. The Radical would bleat on about solar power and renewable energy, and getting in tune with the earth and the cosmos. She half agreed usually. Right now, he seemed dead right. Unnatural, that was what this thing was. Like touching something from a different time, a different land. It made her nauseated, to say the least. 

 

She didn't drink, as a rule. Her Hindu discipline. Not a hard rule, but one she tried to keep too. Right now though, she had a craving for oblivion. 

 

Man, I am seriously freaked out...I need a smoke...

 

That was frightening too. The Radical had tried his best to keep straight after his drug addled decade in the sixties. He was cracking up. More than she was. 

 

"Glad to join you, forgive me if I don't drink" she said, bowing slightly and getting a grip on herself. 

 

The psychologist rattling around her head was somewhat disapproving of alcohol too, although even that faint echo was chilled by the thing. 

 

"And, under these situations, I cannot advise alcohol..." she explained. 

 

A good shot of valium is what we all need....

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  • 2 weeks later...

The canteen was as jovial as it could be. There was actually something of a party going on, if slightly restrained. It wasn't often that research bases at the bottom of the world got visited by a full court press of superheroes, and the researchers felt the need to celebrate. Some of the good booze, kept in reserved, was broken out for those who wanted it; for those who abstained or were underaged, there was soda, lemonade, and a good set of other options. Tales were traded; where the researchers talked about angry elephant seals and friendly back-and-forths with the Russians across the lake, Cannonade traded stories of punching out radioactive Nazi zombies. For a little while, this dark, cramped base felt lively and warm.

But slowly, on the edge of his senses, Cannonade registered a sense of cold, despite the warming sensation of the whiskey. A second later, an alarm rang through the base. Soon after, a scientist ran in.

"Something... something got it... tore open the wall..."

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Sunset flared a right orange for a moment, before spinning around. 

 

"Where? When?"

 

This was bad, very bad. They had to recover the...thing...whatever it was. Unnerving as it was, it was all the more unnerving for being stolen. Especially by something other than human. 

 

"I'm going there....find out what happened...see who took it....when they took it....and where did they go?" she told the others, before running off as fast as she could. 

 

Going back centuries and more was a strain, and probably a dangerous one. Going back minutes was as easy as breathing. If she was lucky, the thief would show a trail. 

 

As she dashed to the scene of the crime, her mind was already peeling back the seconds, rewinding the clock. Through the haze of her mind, she dialled back time, minute by minute, to when the theft occurred...

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  • 2 weeks later...

GM

Time wove back behind Sunset's eyes, spinning onwards towards the appointed minute. As it did, she could feel something at the edges of her perspective - that same light from the sky, burning cold within her mind. It did not hurt... yet... but it did not feel pleasant. As it felt like it might surge into her consciousness, the scene cleared, and she was in the past.

The lab was empty. Dr. MacGregor was with the others, sharing a moment of celebration. Then, there was a sound like a battering ram. One of the walls collapsed entirely, letting in the whipping winds of the cold Antarctic. From the hole emerged a man in full Arctic survival gear - thick coats and pants, gloves, face mask, goggles, and hat. He was so done up - if that was even a "he" - that Sunset couldn't glimpse the face. He pushed forward, moving towards the cone. As he did, another figure entered from the doorway - the very scientist who'd flagged them down. He looked rather composed, given the gigantic hole that had been torn in the base. He merely glared at the man in the snow suit.

"We've had enough of you," he said. "Leave. Or our guests will have to deal with you."

The man in the snow suit locked eyes with the scientist - as far as Sunset could tell - and fled for the outdoors, slightly faster than the average human. The scientist shook his head, then took off, panic creeping over his features as he ran towards the mess hall.

When Sunset came to, she was there at the lab, standing in the pile of debris that the man in the snowsuit had punched out of the wall. Dr. MacGregor was right behind her. "Oh, thank God, it's still here," she said. "What was that?"

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Sunset wobbled slightly, then slumped to her knees. The whole cosmos seemed to be stormy for a moment, like a grand scale sea sickness. Going back never felt quite like that. Something truly magnificent, or truly awful, was happening here. 

 

"Some guy in a Snow Suit...made a grab...." she said, pointing at the wall. 

 

She shook her head. 

 

"I don't think....I don't think it was human. Can't be sure, but it moved...fast, and strong...but it was too wrapped up in furs and goggles for me to see...."

 

She looked at MacGregor more directly then. 

 

"One of your scientists...the guy who flagged us down....he just told the thief to leave...and he did! What's going on?" she said, through a muzzy brain. Even the Radical was silent, spinning in his own world in what he would no doubt term a seriously freaky trip. 

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Cobalt Templar had changed into less armor-y clothing as he'd sat and shared a few drinks with the others in the canteen. He figured between being immune to the alcohol and being more than old enough, it wasn't a big deal.

 

And then someone came running in yelling about walls and things breaking them, and he was right behind Sunset, again clad in his shining blue armor.

 

He frowned at what Sunset said as she...apparently she could use some form of psychometric reading. Interesting.

 

He walked to the hole in the wall, narrowing his eyes against the harsh land around them. Trying to see if he could spot any trace of who, or what, broke through the wall.

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While Cobalt Templar took watch at the gaping hole in the base's wall, Midnight took a more direct approach and stepped through the twisted metal and out onto the ice and snow. Redbird was already pulling around to meet him in the Night Sled, signaled by a silent transponder in the stoic detective's belt. Anything with enough power, physical or otherwise to tear a whole like the one he'd just exited through wasn't likely to be intimidated by a solitary academic. If their would-be burglar had left so easily there was more going on than they'd been told so far, which was nothing new. However superhuman the thing fleeing the base was Midnight doubted it was faster than a Furion autonomic machine intelligence begging for an excuse to cut loose.

 

Swinging one leg over to sit down atop the Night Sled he wordlessly turned to the others, his intentions clear as he gave them a moment to decide whether to join him or follow up on other leads.

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Wander lost no time in exiting the base and jumping onto the sled behind Midnight, zipping up her parka and tugging on her hood as she went. It was still way too cold, but the prospect of imminent action made it much easier to ignore. "Whoever it is, they've got a head start, but there aren't a lot of places to hide out here. We just need to start looking for heat signatures." She drew her bat, which immediately began to frost up in the frigid air, and held it to her side at the ready. "He may not have gone very far. This could be a ruse." 

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"Good point," agreed Edge, neatly wedging himself onto the machine behind Midnight and Wander. He rubbed his gloved hands together, then belatedly grabbed onto the snowmobile. Oh, right, the need to not die! "If I were a sneaky arctic guy, I would hide behind the weather...hey, there's an idea! Midnight, it might get super-bumpy if the permafrost melts or something! Come on, you guys!" he said with a wave of his wrapped-up sleeve in the direction of the other heroes. As they started up, he concentrated and the sky overhead began to brighten, transforming from grey to a shade of piercing cerulean blue that was almost blinding in its clarity. "Hey, I made it stop snowing! Neat!" he said cheerfully. 

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As the others came in, passed through, and went outside, Corbin shifted a bit. Once his three friends had boarded the snowmobile, he turned to Sunset for a moment.

 

"Looks like we're going scouting. If you want to stay here, just give us a yell in the brain if trouble starts to brew. I'll get back ASAP if that happens."

 

With that, he uncrossed his arms and took to the sky, hovering near the Night Sled.

 

"Good work, Mark. Should help visibility. Let's roll."

 

His voice was calm, but it wasn't just determination in his eyes and his posture. There was...caution. It wasn't mature enough to be fear, but clearly this whole affair had him a bit spooked.

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"A yell in the brain?" replied Sunset, shaking her head from cobwebs. 

 

"You don't want a yell in the brain from me, I can  tell you...." she explained. "I only take"

 

She flared a bright orange, a burning orange, all over her black suit. The power of the Radical was scorching through the Psychoreactive Suit. In the sixties, all he did was peer into peoples brains and steal their thoughts. In the advanced technology of the suit, he could pour his psychic energy into pure power. 

 

Like a bolt of lightning she took off, racing through the arctic skies leaving a trail of pure psionic energy, glowing a beautiful orange ray over the sky. 

 

At this speed, it would be moments before she would catch up, with the other heroes and, with luck, the thief. 

 

It just wouldn't last very long...the Sunset power was phenomenal, but its fuel tank was not. That psychic energy was a limited well, and ran dry quickly. 

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  • 2 weeks later...

To Cobalt Templar's eyes, at first there was little but snow and wind. But to Wander's thermal vision and Midnight's gaze, there was a humanoid figure off in the distance, having covered a greater swathe than a normal human could have in that time. The temperature was also somewhat hotter than any human should display in this weather. Once Edge's magic cut the storm out with all the gradual decline of a flipped switch, the rest of the group could see the figure.

"Think we can still catch --" Even before he said it, Sunset was blazing out of the base, tearing through the air. As the energy poured into the suit, there was that sensation from when she peered into the past - like she was surrounded by some weird light, the gaze of something invisible and ever-present. Only now, it felt like it was sitting and reacting, rather than pouring into a gap.

She was the first to catch up with the man in the snowsuit. Like in the vision, he was dressed from head to toe in survival gear - snow suit, boots, gloves, face mask, goggles, and hat. But up close, it seemed as if there was a solid, but not strong, approximation of the human form under that gear. The person under the suit might be somewhat bulky, but not usually in those places...

"Good," the figure said in a smooth, lilting, but still somewhat masculine, voice. "You got the signal. Are your friends coming? They should get out of there sooner rather than later. I don't think the 'staff' can keep up the facade this long..."

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Sunset stopped and paused.She knew better than to judge a book by its cover. Deception upon deception. Trust no-one. The Radical was reminding her, powerfully of his drug -fuelled paranoia in the sixties. 

 

Best not go there. 

 

"Nobody here but you and me now, sir" she said politely. Hand on hip and trying to ignore the bitter cold. The Sunset suit was extremely powerful, but not insulated. 

 

"It would be good manners to show your face. But I am guessing your face is something you want hidden. And not just because you stole something" she suggested. The thief was not...quite...human?

 

"And if you really want to be open with me, I could always read your mind..." she added, as both a suggestion and an edge. 

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  • 2 weeks later...

As the Midnight Snowmobile zoomed up next to the alien guy, the first thing on Edge's mind was what came out of his mouth. This provided a lot of cover for his stealthy, acrobatic teammates - one of the many reasons they kept him around. "No more games, Parka Guy!" he declared in all seriousness. "You can't fool the finest detective in the world, or the veteran survivor of a thousand battles, or the bearer of the mystic blue ring of fire, or the mightiest psychic in armor, or me! What do you mean saying staff all sarcastic like that, are they alien shapeshifters?"

 

His eyes lit up. "Are they Grue? Those bastards! And you're the one heroic Grue who's going to tell us how it works?" he asked, practically jumping off the snowmobile to crunch up next to the misshapen fellow. "C'mon, it's gotta be that, right? The Grue usually take hostages and anything else would be awful! They seemed like nice people and they're doing cool stuff!" 

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"I'm not sure I would recommend that," said the man in the snowsuit. "Our minds have always been designed to be... receptive. Adaptive. If you don't enter in the right sequence, I'm afraid that something might happen that would spell destruction for both of us. And that's the last thing I want." He turned to Edge. "As for these 'Groo' - I do not know what you speak of, but yes. They are shapeshifters."

By the time the words were out of his mouth, Wander, Midnight, and Cobalt Templar had caught up with Sunset. "As long as you're all here, I suppose it would be better to show you." The man lifted his dark, reflective goggles - only to reveal that the area beneath was just as dark, with only the rudimentary impression of eyes sticking out of tar-like flesh. The face mask was ripped down as well, revealing that it wasn't just color - the rest of the figure had the consistency of roofing tar, almost forced together into the impression of a man. There wasn't even a mouth that stood out from the mass.

"My name is --" A high, bird-like trill cut through the arctic winds. "I wish I could translate it to your tongue, but if I did, we'd probably be here all day. Our kind are shapers of flesh and form - but obviously, some of us are better at it than others. Those 'scientists' back there? They're not the scientists. They are imitations, facsimiles left by the Elders. You're all in terrible danger..."

It was around this time that Cannonade finally caught up, stumbling to a stand still with the rest of the group. "Man, running in snow is always a -- whoa. All right, I'm guessing I missed one hell of a thing..."

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Cobalt Templar landed a couple feet to the right of the Night Sled, his mouth curved down into a slight frown, but one eyebrow raised. He was figuring this guy was some metahuman, maybe part of some sort of splinter faction of New Freedom. 

 

When he heard the bit about "our minds", his arms uncrossed, his posture shifting a bit. 

 

Somewhere between pulling down the mask and trilling out a name so alien most human tongues couldn't even properly give it form, Corbin had taken two steps back, his feet leaving steaming impressions in the ground as flickers of flame moved across his armored body. His pupils dilated a bit, and his eyes seemed to move around, as if viewing a movie only he could see.

 

 

Corbin was moving through snow-blasted wastes with a pair of squads, searching for signs of these supposed Nazi research bases.  

 

Suddenly there was a terrible cry over the winds, and a pack of...things...raced out of a snowbank to the right and laid into the squad closest to them. But instead of just killing them, the things seemed to...merge...with the hapless soldiers, the combined forms warping and twisting into something far worse than the sum of its parts. The moaning monstrosities turned their now-ponderous selves to face the others, their weapons inching upwards.

 

The professional soldiers reacted before the hero, bullets racing out to try and put the other squad out of its mercy. Bullets did almost nothing; at most, they were an inconvenience. Within 3 minutes Cobalt Templar was the only unaltered person there. With a cry, blue flames washed form his body, beginning to cleanse the area...

 

"תועבה!"

 

His arms moved up into a cautious, defensive stance.

 

"Ich werde Ihre schrecklichen precence von der Erde zu durchkämmen mit reinigenden Flamme!"

 

And then suddenly he was holding a flamethrower, complete with backpack tank. He pointed the weapon at the...person...who was trying to help the Liberty League, still caught up in his fever-dream of a memory!

 

"You're not hurting anyone here, foul servant of the Elder Things!"

 

Someone should probably stop him.

Edited by KnightDisciple
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  • 2 weeks later...

"Stand down, Templar," Midnight intoned in the closest thing to an officer's bark his characteristically measured tone could manage. One hand still on the controls of the sled he used the other to flick a bladed throwing disk produced from somewhere in his sleeve to the side. The weapon landed squarely at the tip of the light construct's nozzle, quivering slightly as it bit only a fraction of a millimeter into the blue flames. It wouldn't have stopped the ring powered attack for an instant but the black clad gadgeteer hoped it would at least serve as a visual wake-up call to accompany his words. It was hard to know how far into his own mind the deceptively old soldier had retreated.

His eyes never left their tar-like new acquaintance, however. "Elder suggesting society, not primordial entities?" he asked for the benefit of clarification. He wasn't completely sold yet on the parka wearing creature's story but then if was generally his role on the team never to be completely sold on anything.

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Cobalt Templar reflexively snapped to something close to military attention for a long moment, before his eyes drifted down to the disk quivering in his construct. He blinked, tiny blue flames (or were they eyes still?) winking on and off as he did, until suddenly the backpack and firing assembly just weren't there any more. A small blue hand of fire caught the disk and carried it over to Trevor once again, gently laying it down on the console in front of the stoic crime-fighter. 

 

And then without a word Cobalt Templar was airborne, tracing a wide holding pattern over their area. Clearly on self-designated overwatch once again. But everyone could tell he was watching the whole proceeding like a hawk (albeit one of a size with most professional football players or wrestlers), ready to slam into the strange parka-wearing being at the first sign of trouble. 

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Sunset drew back from the fingers of the Radicals mind creeping into the thing. Whatever thing it was, she judged the warning fair. 

 

"So if we can't mind read those...scientists...." she asked the strange creature. "How do we know whom is whom? Why should one word be more honest than another?" she asked, politely. 

 

"What say you? What is to say that your words are not a ploy, huh?"

 

She scanned the icy horizon. 

 

"And, I got to ask. Where exactly where you running too? Its just ice, snow, and cold blue air here. For miles in every direction. Maybe you won't freeze to death, but...what was your plan? Just to run?" 

 

Something crawling in her mind, and probably everyone else's too, was itching and disturbing. The bleak landscape only added to the encroaching madness. A madness that could make a man run, just run, not towards anything, but away. 

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The black lump in the snowsuit let out a high-pitched trill - much like a scream of alarm - as hard tendrils ripped through the material, forming spines like an urchin. Once it was clear that Cobalt Templar had yielded to Midnight's command, though, the tendrils withdrew back into the form, leaving a man-shaped blob given form by wrecked clothes. "I understand the reaction," he said. "Some of us are... quite fearful in our element. You must have met our chained cousins." There was no shaking of the head - in as much as there wasn't truly a head - but there was a slight slack to the blob, the same way one might slump their shoulders if defeated. "When I say 'Elders,' I mean 'both.' They are the ones who gave us life and bound us to service - still bind some of us to service. You're standing in the ruins of their empire, all of it. And some of you have gotten too close."

"That why the base is supposedly full of your cousins?" asked Cannonade.

"No 'supposedly' about it. The scientists dug too deep, got too close. The other shoggoths were sent out by - I believe your friend with the flamethrower called them the 'Elder Things,' which is a close approximation. They would not allow their territory to be breached, and sent out their lackeys to secure the front and create the illusion that all was well. That is, until they can find another solution...

"As for why you should trust me - I broke in and ran away because I knew you had arrived. Had you stayed there with them, they would likely be trying to do the same thing to you, no doubt when your guards were down. By putting you on alert, I gave you a fighting chance. You're free to return them, say what you've seen. I'll no doubt be far away by then. But keep watch - they'll be waiting..."

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