It often rains on the tropical islands of the Pacific, and Kaine Island is no exception to this. A simplistic police boat puttered through the stormy waters, closing in on the small landmass. Its occupants weren't actually controlling it; the course was preset. On the boat were three contrasting figures, all surveying the approaching island.

At the prow stood a Spartan, another member of the ill-fated Freelancer project. His armour was a golden colour. His arms were folded, and he was murmuring to himself about his AI partner, who strangely wasn't present alongside him.

Behind him stood a man who was mostly machine. His platinum blond hair was just about visible through the black visor that obscured his face. He was lithe, and seemingly everything below the neck was mechanical; a darkly coloured, humanoid automaton. He held a katana in one hand, which he twisted impatiently.

The final passenger of the boat was a brown raccoon, of more realistic dimensions than Sly; that is to say, he was shorter than Meta Knight and quite stout. He wore a blue jumpsuit, and held two laser pistols. His beady black eyes glared at the approaching island from under his brown fur.

"This place seems raccoony," he remarked in, of all things, a Cockney accent.

Raiden, the man with the katana, shot him a look. "I thought you said you could provide us with a plan. So plan."

The raccoon glared at him. "You're just lucky I'm not carrying any weaponry bigger than myself, pal, because otherwise we'd be seeing how well your cybernetics hold up against sea water."

"Fellas, please," said the Spartan, raising his arms and gesturing for peace. His voice was friendly and suave. "We're supposed to fight Kessler, not each other."

Rocket Raccoon and Raiden glared at each other for a few more moments, before breaking away simultaneously. Agent York shook his head and returned to looking at Kaine Island.

Raiden walked up beside him. "What do you suppose this Kessler is like?"

"Hard to say," said York. "All I can tell you is that taking him down probably won't be easy." Raiden grunted in agreement, examining the shoreline.

"Do you see that?" he asked, pointing to something on the beach the boat was sailing towards. York followed his finger and gulped. He could vaguely make out an angry crowd on the sand. Although it was impossible to be certain from the distance they were at, they seemed to be a collection of twisted genetic experiments. York readied his assault rifle, and Raiden his katana.

"Looks like the locals aren't too happy to see us," noted Rocket Raccoon, walking up to join them. He drew out two laser pistols and held one in each hand.

"That's putting it mildly," agreed York. He rolled his shoulders under his golden armour.

"I've decided," declared Rocket Raccoon. Raiden and York turned to him, expectant of whatever he was going to say.

"This place is definitely raccoony," said RR.

The look Raiden and York shared could almost be seen through their respective helmets.


Azula stood in front of Tai Lung, Loki and Scar. The former had his legs crossed and was meditating, and the two princes were lounging on a couch, half asleep.

"Why, exactly," said Azula disapprovingly, "do you three seem to do nothing around here?"

"I'm a cat," responded Tai Lung, without opening his eyes. "Are felines not perceived as lazy and feckless?"

"I am a prince," replied Loki, twirling his staff. "I'm unsuited to any form of hard labour."

Scar, lying on his back, shot an upside-down grin at Azula. "Do you even have to ask?"

"Well, get up," snapped Azula, unamused. "We have something to discuss. Privately." She motioned for them to follow her into Maleficent's room.

The three shared glances as she left, unenthusiastic about having to get up.

"I liked her friend better," rumbled Tai Lung.


The atmosphere in the engine room was expectant. The Engineer made a few final adjustments to the Medigun. Ratchet and Clank spoke to each other, and Zeke watched the door impatiently.

"I'm glad you're here for this," said Ratchet. "From the sounds of things, it's going to be pretty interesting."

"It's something of a shame that I can't monitor this experiment from the bridge," replied Clank. "However, Meta Knight and HK-47 are performing some kind of modification to the room that they claim I am not needed for, so I am glad I have something to do while outside."

It was at this juncture Cole appeared, strolling into the engine room with his hands in his pockets. Everyone turned to look at him, and he blinked at them. "What?" he said, slightly nonplussed.

"We've been waiting for the guinea pig to show up," joked Zeke. "Time to test out my new engine idea."

"Is that what this is about?" asked Cole, whose briefing clearly hadn't been very thorough.

"Dr Dunbar has suggested a rather unorthodox method of powering the ship," explained Clank, "with you quite literally at the centre."

"Still, we're all about unorthodox here," smiled Ratchet, "so we're looking forward to seeing it in action."

Cole looked at Zeke incredulously. "Doctor Dunbar? Just what have you told these people about your qualifications, Zeke?"

"Hah, that's just Cole's usual sense of humour," laughed Zeke lightly. He turned slightly from the others to give Cole a dark look. Cole rolled his eyes in response and shrugged.

"One doctorate's nice enough," said the Engineer, adjusting his wrench. "But come back to me when you rustle up 11."

"Anyway," said Cole forcefully, "what am I doing?"

"Viola!" said Zeke, intentionally mispronouncing the word. He pointed to the former engine in the centre of the room.

The engine's frame remained in place, but the large crystal that once presumably floated in its centre was gone. Instead, two restraints hung from the top of the frame; large, curved and silver, they would both easily cover a hand completely. There were near-identical ones on the bottom of the frame, evidently for feet.

Cole blinked. "I'm not even going to say what that looks like to me," he said. "Not in polite company."

Zeke sighed. "We modified the old engine, which ran on pixie dust or some junk. Now, Tinkerbell presumably died in the crash, cause the thing's got no juice. But who needs fairies when you have a superhero?"

"You saying what I think you're saying?" asked Cole.

"Damn right. The feet thingies'll supply you with some electricity. Electricity that you'll amplify with your powers, and shoot into the hand thingies."

"And just like that, the whole ship's running again," said the Engineer.

Cole grinned. "Plug me into this marvel, already!"

He stepped into the device, placing his hands and feet into the corresponding grips. Zeke tightened the various grips and soon Cole was in place.

"I'm monitoring the instruments," said Ratchet from a console. "Give us some power."

"It may be wise to begin gently," added Clank. "This is merely an experiment for the system."

"Gotcha," said Cole. Zeke flipped a switch and immediately Cole could feel the electricity coursing into him, directly through his sneakers. He savoured the power for a brief moment, and then started to release lightning from his hands. The electricity was immediately drained by the restraints and pulled into the engine's body.

The others watched as a few of the devices they had nervously plugged into the engine's wiring activated. The machines turned on without incident.

Zeke's grin was as wide as it was triumphant. "We now officially run on Cole Power."


Raiden leaped into the air, a shining silver silhouette against the moon. He cleanly beheaded a monster upon landing, turned quickly, and charged at another.

York emptied a magazine of his rifle into a crowd of mutants, then threw a grenade. "Well, this is fun. Where to next, gentlemen?"

Rocket Raccoon zipped out of range of a large lobster claw which attempted to crush his head, using his rocket skates. He fired at the beast with his laser pistols. "Top of that mountain?" he suggested. "Better view."

"Affirmative," said York. A final monster shambled towards him, and he dismissively elbowed it in the throat. It crumpled, choking. "Coming, Raiden?"

Raiden sliced his last opponent, and then scanned the area via a quick 360 degree spin. No mutants remained. "Behind you."


Sokka picked his way through the desert outside the Halberd. Meta Knight had asked if some heroes could try to excavate the Halberd's wings from the sand which entrapped them. Although Sokka knew that he could hardly dig them out by hand himself, he wanted to give the problem a look.

He found a assemblage of heroes each trying their own method to free the wings. She-Hulk was pushing up the metal of the wing, Thor was trying to pull it out from the air, and Aang was blowing sand away from the purple folds of the wing.

Sokka walked up to Aang and asked how things we progressing. "Not great," said Aang, with a rare lack of enthusiasm. "There's too much sand to dig the wings out from above."

"Then why are you doing it that way?" demanded Sokka. "Do some Earthbending! Push it up from below!" He made some comically inaccurate Earthbending gestures to jokingly underline his point. Aang didn't even smile. "What's wrong?" asked Sokka, now completely serious.

"I want to, but..." Aang lowered his voice out of embarrassment, and checked to see if the others outside were listening to him. "I can't!" he confided in a panicked whisper. "Since I got here all I have is Airbending! I remember learning the other arts, but they're just not coming back to me."

Sokka thought for a moment. He watched She-Hulk wave to Ratchet, who was visible in a window of the engine room situated just above the wing.

"Did you try that spirit-talky thing with the past Avatars?" asked Sokka.

Aang nodded sadly. "I tried really hard, but I couldn't get through to Roku or any of the others. The whole spirit world feels all weird. It's... wrong."

Sokka was about to say something when a large shadow fell over him. "Have you a reason for stopping?" asked Thor, a friendly curiosity on his face.

Aang shook his head quickly. Sokka said, "No, I guess not."

Thor smiled. "Very well. The wing awaits our assistance."

Sokka nodded. He gave a look to Aang, signifying that they'd talk later.


Sly leaned against a wall and took in the plethora of conversations which murmured around him. Tony and Sarge discussing the attachment one feels to the robots you build, despite their flaws; Spoony asking Auron invasive questions in regards to his journey to Zanarkand; Valkyrie giving Ty Lee thorough romantic advice – specifically, to never date a vampire under any circumstances.

A group dominated the centre of the room, where various heroes were swapping stories of the maniacs and monsters they had faced down. Sly had been in this group, sitting alongside Murray. Murray was animatedly recounting the gang's brush with the fearsome sea monster known only as The Crusher. Sly obviously knew how story went, and Murray told it with such enthusiasm that Sly didn't have much to add. Hence, he ducked out of the group to get a drink, and after leaving it had paused a moment to take in the social energy crackling throughout the room. He smiled to himself.

"You look happy." A gravelly voice cut across the myriad of murmurs, catching Sly's attention. He turned to see Jak striding through the room towards him.

"Hello Jak," grinned the thief. "Feel like sharing some tales? I'm sure you've taken down a few noteworthy monsters in your time."

"I certainly have, but I'm not a storyteller. Daxter's the one you want for that kind of thing. I'm here to ask you about something else."

Sly took a sip from his cup. "Go ahead."

"I've asked around, and there are a couple of guys who, like me, are getting a little restless just sitting around this ship with all this loaded weaponry."

"I guess chatting's not for everyone," said Sly stoically.

"So, since this desert isn't actually that hot – at least, by my standards – I was hoping we could wander out for a day, see if we find anything."

Sly nodded to himself. "That's a pretty great idea, actually. We have plenty of people here already, and there's been a lot of talk about exploring the area. You know, see if there's any clues to be found."

"If I find a crashed UFO, or a magic temple, I'll be sure to tell you," said Jak, folding his arms. "But to be honest, I just want to get some fresh air."

Sly finished his drink and rested the receptacle on a table. "Come on, I'll help you pitch this to the boardroom. Though we should probably be careful about the wording. Less 'desert gun party', more 'exploratory information-gathering expedition."

"Makes sense to me," said Jak as the two left the room.

"Bentley's going to pleased to meet you again," said Sly. "He hasn't seen you since that alien fiasco." Jak groaned, and Sly raised an eyebrow. "What?"

"I was hoping you wouldn't bring that up," growled Jak.

"Oh... sorry."


York stood in front of the heavy golden door which guarded the Cooper Vault. He put his hands on his hips and nodded to himself.

"That's one hell of a door," he said appreciatively. "Especially if it's as old as it looks."

"Yeah, yeah, raccoons are so marvellously crafty," said Rocket Raccoon. "Can you open it. Agent Locksmith?"

York examined the various drills which were installed around the door and on the high platform that stood on. "Someone's been trying to open this thing for a very long time, and unsuccessfully I might add. But I'll give it shot. Sometimes you need a fresh perspective to turn things around, you know?"

"You have fun with that," said the raccoon. "Seems to me it'd be a good place for Kessler to be hiding. Less mutant abominations inside, for a start."

"Or more."

"Yeah, maybe."

Rocket Raccoon left York tapping at the door and went to where Raiden's cybernetic arm appeared over the edge of the platform. The raccoon grabbed it and helped Raiden climb, drawing on strength unusual for his small size. Raiden accepted his help gratefully but silently. If he was daunted by the huge drop to sea level he was perilously close to, he didn't show it.

"What's the situation?" he asked.

"Goldilocks over there is working on the door," explained Rocket Raccoon. "We're going to see if Kessler's inside."

"I don't think that will be necessary," said Raiden calmly.

"Oh? And what makes you say that?" snapped Rocket Raccoon.

"Because I'm guessing that's Kessler standing right there," said Raiden, pointing to the man who was suddenly standing with them on the platform. Rocket Raccoon whipped around.

Kessler was old. His face was haggard and worn, but his glowing blue eyes distracted from this fact. His clothes were all white; his trousers, his overcoat, his hood, even his shoes. There was metal plating on his torso, with large blue lights glowing on it, and his right arm was encased in a complex metallic gauntlet. When he spoke, his voice was gravelly, but forceful.

"Cole MacGrath," he growled, addressing the three. "Where is he?"

"Sorry mate," growled Rocket Raccoon. He drew his pistols, and Raiden brandished his katana. "Never even heard of him."

"Then you three are useless to me," said Kessler simply. He raised his metal hand and fired a burst of white light at York.

York yelped in surprise. He reached for his pistol and dived out of the way. He fired a few rounds at Kessler, which joined the lasers shot by Rocket Raccoon, but Kessler showed no reaction to them. The hooded man glowed brightly for a few moments, and then pushed his torso forward. A ripple of air came from him, zooming towards York.

"Son of a bit-!" swore York before the wave slammed into him, throwing him off his feet and plummeting to the jagged ground several storeys below.

Raiden ran towards Kessler, swinging his sword. He swung widely, aiming to decapitate him. However, by the time the sword reached where Kessler's neck was, Kessler's neck was no longer there. Kessler teleported erratically, within a short area, before teleporting a final time and disappearing from view.

Rocket Raccoon said a very nasty word indeed. "Where'd he go? Where'd he go?!"

"Be ready," murmured Raiden. "He'll be back at any-"

Kessler was behind Rocket Raccoon.

Kessler walked forward in several directions, diverging into spectres of himself; ghostly images little more than white outlines. Raiden sliced several in half with his sword, but none were the true Kessler. The true Kessler was, in fact, choking Rocket Raccoon with his gauntlet. Kessler ran several volts through the raccoon and then threw him off the platform.

Rocket Raccoon sailed through the air, disorientated. He recovered quickly, and activated his rocket skates in an attempt to regain ground. He knew that he was too far from the platform to return, but he did manage to guide himself into one of the nearby guard towers.

He caught the ledge and pulled himself up. The tower was fairly simplistic, with only one computer console contained within. Rocket Raccoon ran to it and banged furiously on the buttons on its face.

On the platform, Raiden was engaging Kessler, but the battle was one sided. Kessler seemed unfazed by Raiden's constant sword swings, and was regarding him with a detached disinterest, making no real move to counterattack.

Rocket Raccoon saw a big red button sitting ominously in the middle of the console. His eyes lit up. "Eat this!" he roared at Kessler. "Whatever it is...!" He swung a fist in an arc and dramatically depressed the button.

At once, the defence systems of the island came alive with a scream of sirens. A multitude of guns, lasers, turrets and missiles turned towards Kessler and began pounding into him. Kessler growled and disappeared again.

Rocket Raccoon swore. "Try to hold him in place! I'll see if I can focus these!" he yelled.

Raiden grunted in acknowledgement. The systems had also marked him as a threat, and he was having to employ an unending stream of acrobatics to remain intact. A normal man would have run out of stamina in a few seconds, but then again, normal men are usually entirely made of flesh, whereas the same could not be said of Raiden.

Kessler reappeared, already halfway through preparing another surge of energy. The weapons immediately starting tearing into him again, and he made no move to dodge them.

Rocket Raccoon fiddled with a few dials urgently, glancing up at Kessler constantly. "I got it!" he called. "Hold him still!"

Raiden slid past missiles firing at him from either side, running towards Kessler. Kessler shot his hands forward and blasted an air ripple at him. Raiden flipped over it, turning in the air and readying his sword as he flew over Kessler. He landed behind Kessler and, spinning on his heel, he drove his sword through both his own body and Kessler's, pinning the two together.

Rocket Raccoon rolled his eyes. "Showoff," he thought. "Still, oughta keep him from teleporting." He pressed several buttons at once.

Simultaneously, the defence systems of the island fired at Kessler. Raiden withdrew his blade and kicked Kessler, propelling himself away and getting a sufficient distance between them.

Kessler was thrown off of his feet and sent hurtling off of the island by the collective power of the weaponry. Clearly, he wasn't that badly hurt, as even mid-air he was still firing projectiles at Raiden and Rocket Raccoon. However, hitting the ocean was another matter entirely. Kessler's body lit up the water, sending electricity pooling in all directions. However, it was mostly centralized around his body, and it was clear that despite his powers, there was nothing that prevented Kessler's own electricity from hurting him.

Rocket Raccoon strained his eyes on the whiteness in the ocean. "Is he dead?"

The two suddenly found themselves on the bridge of the Halberd, to the shock of Meta Knight and HK-47.

"I think so," said Raiden.

##

Rocket Raccoon kicked open the door of the boardroom.

"Easy with that," chided Phoenix. "It's not as strong as it looks."

"Little late today, hmm?" said Revan.

"I was helping your friend up in the bridge set up a little something," said Rocket Raccoon. "When we'd finished, he pointed me here as the tactics room. So," he said, hopping on to a chair and slamming a small hand on to the table, "what's your plan, and why haven't you done it yet?"

Revan tilted his head. "You're hired."

"I used to say that," said L.


People used to review, too. Me and L, we pine for the good old days.