"It's called Hell's Peak," Mr. Raven said, "it's a refuge for superhuman criminals or scum hiding from other scum. It's neutral turf and protection for anyone who can pay."

General Tier stood in the center of his suite, surrounded by his bodyguards. They called themselves Hellhounds, and were werewolves who further enhanced their supernatural abilities with cybernetics. Their canine faces were illuminated by red eyes, and their claws were made of surgical steel.

"They just need money, it doesn't matter what kind of scum they are…"

Steeltrap took the mutant growth hormone inhaler, and took a deep breath. He could feel the power flowing in his veins like molten steel.

"God," Steeltrap sighed, "if I knew the bitch could do this for me, I'd have turned her into product ages ago."

Cyber took the cigar from his lips, and smiled.

"I like you. You look at me like you're not afraid for tomorrow. You'll learn."

"As if that weren't bad enough, the owner also stores weapons for AIM, Hydra and countless others. Hell's Peak acts as a safety deposit box for weapons of mass destruction, organic or otherwise."

Thrill Blade gaped at the…thing…bound in the sleek metal chair. He was only two sizes smaller than the Hulk, his wrists were covered in thorn-like protrusions, though that was the limit to what the young mercenary could see. The giant was bound in countless chains, and he doubted they were of regular steel.

"What the hell is that thing?"

"That? That's what happens when RAID dabbles in genetics and doesn't want to throw away the results. Just keep your fingers away, kid."

"I need to reach the top. And because of the defenses, I have to start at the bottom. That means I have to deal with seventy floors of super human criminals, terrorists and not even God himself knows what else."

Hurricane brought his machete sweeping down. His enemy's skull exploded like an over-ripe grape. Blood and bone splattered across his arm, but Hurricane barely had time to notice. Because he was still surrounded by over three dozen men and women who had to kill him, if they wanted to survive.

The Shroud struggled to move the arm as it pressed against his windpipe. The grip was stronger than steel, and already the Shroud could feel his mind slipping away. He threw his elbow into his attacker's side with enough force to shatter a normal man's ribs, but the grip around his throat only became stronger.

"Just give up," his enemy said, his voice growing more and more distant, "dying here is easy."

"On top of that, he employs four of the deadliest bodyguards in the world."

Weapon Chi gave Warcry and Scorpion a look of cold, calculated murder. Her sais dripped blood, and she raced towards the women.

Hrist swung her war-axe into the grey behemoth's chest. It sank at least five inches into the giant's chest.

The giant reached down, and yanked the blood soaked weapon from his chest. He dropped it on the ground without ceremony, and pulled back a giant fist…

"Even if things go according to plans, it'll still be a march through hell."

Hurricane tossed the .50 Cal. to Hrist, and grabbed a pair of loaded shotguns. The two mercs took less than a second to find their target, and opened fire.

Hurricane pumped his shotguns with each pull of the trigger, and if Hrist noticed the recoil of the .50, her body gave no indication. Bullet shells and death fell like rain.

Thrill Blade saw the wave of teeth and claws charging at him, and smiled. He gripped his sword, and charged.

A steel fist punched through the wall, and grabbed Hurricane by the throat. Before he even realized what had happened, Hurricane was pulled through the brick and mortar like a rag doll, and was thrown to the floor.

Hurricane rolled to his feet, and only saw his cyborg enemy out of the corner of his eye. He raised his arms across his chest just split second before the metal-man's knee would have smashed into his chest.

The sheer power was enough to pitch Hurricane through the air like a football, until a steel wall brought him to a crashing halt. The merc saw double, as his foe casually strolled over to him.

"Just give up, man. Look at you! You're half dead already! Why not just give up?"

The marksman couldn't feel his legs. His arms felt as if they were on fire. Each and every breath brought only more pain. Hurricane took his combat knife from his shoulder holster, and assumed a fighting stance.

"Because I ain't dead yet!"

"Interested?"