NeoNazo356: Alright folks, a few small questions from the Readers and then we can get this show on the road.

White Tiger of Kumo12: Just one question, is Raul Creed a real character or just someone you came up with?

NeoNazo356: The answer to that is, Raul Creed is another character from Ergo Proxy, just like Re-l Mayer and Daedalus Yumeno. After that is…

guisniperman: Just who did Moxxi sleep with for one of her daughter to get Energy Claws a la Wolverine.

NeoNazo356: The answer to that is… quite obvious. I've given her name, her power, and an adjective commonly associated with her. The father is the same, but obviously, the mother is different. Anyway, not that many QUESTIONS to answer, so without further adeau, we will continue his arc; which will now be 4 parts instead of 3. At the very least they'll be easier to write this way and I can end THIS part in an appropriate place.

*VERTIGO: THE TRIAGE*

Bludhaven
October 8, 07:00 EST

The night after Virgil's botched date he hadn't gotten a wink of sleep, too torn-up about what happened to Athena to nod off.

Every time he closed his eyes, his mind was plagued by that one moment and how it all could've gone horribly wrong. That every time he dodged, that knife could've found its way into her eye, or her heart. In other iterations, the knife would hit someone else in the crowd, horribly wounding or even killing them. Of course, since he didn't consider himself a "hero", none of those phantom nightmares mattered to him, but even still, it tore him up inside knowing he could put so little value on the life of a stranger.

Then again, that's probably why he would never be a "Hero" by society's definition; because ultimately, he'd choose the save the life of one friend instead of a hundred strangers he'd never met.

Not like he had any problem with that.

*BEEP-BEEP-BEEP-BEEP-BEEP*

His alarm clock blaring in his ears, he got up to go to work, only to realize he no longer had to go to Marcus Munitions from eight to four. Which was probably good since after a night of no sleep he was groggy as hell.

With nothing else that really needed doing until he got called in, either by Re-l or Balalaika, he decided get a little more sleep. After that, he decided to take the advice he gave "Arrow-Girl" or whatever she called herself the night before. In layman's terms, getting back in shape.

One-hundred push-ups.

One-hundred sit-ups.

One-hundred squats.

A sufficient sweat built up as he did the three exercises in rapid succession, right as he was about to hit the showers and take his "ten kilometer run", his phone went off on the nightstand. Picking it up, he saw the tell-tale signs that the message was encrypted in a burst transmission. Shutting the blinds, he turned his attention to the screen.

Snake. More of the base has been repaired and retrofitted. In light of this, we're raising your security clearance and giving you access to the above-ground entrance. From now on whenever the need is not urgent, you will be able to go to the above-ground entrance yourself as opposed to arriving via pick-up. However, you will only be allowed into the base once it has been ascertained that doing so will not compromise the secrecy of The Bunker. Your cover for coming and going from the front of our above-ground base will be detailed on-site.

Otacon

Watching as the text deleted itself, replaced with a map leading to the east side of Bludhaven out by The Dust, he memorized the content before tossing it to his bed and getting dressed.

"Guess I know where I'll be taking that run."

*VERTIGO: THE TRIAGE*

At the same time, Athena toiled in her bedroom/laboratory.

Soldering iron in one hand and wire in another, with a set of high-tech goggles on her face, she systematically attached various components to a state-of-the-art motherboard with practiced ease, her movements' coordination rivaling that of the next-gen fabricators at places like Wayne Tech or even LexCorp. Glancing between her work and the monitor on her right bearing the electric diagram for her current project, as she got back to her work, another presence made itself known.

"You could've done something, you know."

"I know that…" Athena grumbled.

"You had a gun. Pop one into his thigh like mom taught you and things would've gone much smoother."

"I knoooow!"

"But you didn't. You froze up and now-"

"Stop talking dammit!" Athena raged as she grabbed a screwdriver threw it, the implement finding home in the center of her door with a loud *thunk* as the tip wedged itself in the wood.

"Athena, I heard a noise! I'm coming in!" Shaula said rushing into the room. Seeing no-one but herself and Athena, she looked around her room before letting out a tired sigh as she saw the screwdriver skewered into the door. "Sis… Is your imaginary friend bothering you again?"

"She isn't my imaginary friend, Shaula! She's a psychosomatic manifestation of my repressed aggressive tendencies," the genius explained, casting a sideways glance at said manifestation standing off to the side.

"Not to mention your repressed sexual tendencies," the specter huffed as she bounced on the balls of her feet. While the height and build were the same as her own, the Jekyll to her Dr. Hyde had a few noticeable differences.

For one, the specter's musculature was slightly more pronounced than the original, giving her an Amazonian vibe by not sacrificing any femininity for strength. Her attire consisted of a black leather top with vertical white and red accents, skin-tight black pants, a red metal breastplate, a brown leather vest over that, and a hooded black scarf with silver accents wrapped around her head forming a scarf and a hood. Additional red armor plating was placed on her left shoulder, bicep, forearm, both of her shins, and her right thigh. On her feet were a pair of black metal-reinforced combat boots with block-shaped heels that looked capable of crushing a human skull underfoot. What was most different between herself and Athena's phantom was her hair; instead of blond, the phantom's was colored a dark indigo, shoulder-length and brushed to the left side of her face.

"Not helping, Athena!" the blond raged off to the side.

"You ever thought about giving her a different name?" Shaula wondered aloud. "You know, to make yourself sound slightly less crazy?"

"She might be a dissociation of myself, but she's still me even if only a fragment of me. Giving her a separate name from myself would be redundant and indicative of greater mental distress than which I am actually under."

"You know they've got pills for that, right?" her half-sister asked, barely understanding anything the genius had just said.

"Dammit, sis, you know I don't trust that garbage. Plus, the edge it takes off makes me feel like I'm losing brain cells," the blond grumbled as she got back to work.

"Huh. Guess Mordy was right about the crazy/hot scale," the brunette hummed to herself.

"Not helping!" the blond growled as she adjusted her glasses, her other half chuckling.

"Look, if this is about last night, mom should never have given you that gun in the first place. Put you way out of your comfort zone putting a loaded gun in your hands."

"It isn't just about the gun, alright? I'm concise, and analytical. I don't get scared unless it's warranted in situations I can't handle in a predetermined manner. Yet when I got face-to-face with some run-of-the-mill drug-fiend I just… I froze up! I come from a family of badasses, I'm not supposed to be the helpless damsel in distress!"

"Jeez, if it's bothering you that much, just go train with the Russians. Let that other half of you loose. I'm sure if mom put in a good word, Balalaika would let you into their gym."

"Yeah! Preach it, sister!" Athena's other-half whooped.

"I hate that side of myself! I hate that I can enjoy hurting people like that! I'm meant to make the world a better place through science; not perpetuate the same problems through wanton acts of violence and aggression," Athena growled, thinking back to the last time she let her other half have control when one of the guys at her mom's bar tried getting fresh with her.

If the guy hadn't already had a number of outstanding warrants in the state of Rhode Island, breaking both of the guy's legs and an arm would've turned out much worse for her family than it originally had.

"And yet you don't seem to have any problem helping Virgil do just that," Shaula said crossing her arms.

"I just make the tools. Guns don't kill people; people kill people," Athena huffed as she twirled her soldering iron between her fingers. "Power is innocent. People are not."

"Yeah, well, I saw that look in his eyes. He really cares about you, and he's not going to let this go," Shaula asserted. "But I'm not worried about what he's going to do. What I want to know is… what will you do?"

" . . . " Athena paused, looking up at her counterpart before sighing tiredly.

Getting down on her knees, she crawled under her bed, pushing aside boxes and rummaging for several seconds before grunting with exertion as she pulled a heavy circular object out into the open. Clearing her work table of all present projects, she huffed and wheezed as she hefted the large disc-shaped object onto the table.

"At times, sometimes the best offense is a good defense," Athena said as she looked at the object, now revealed to be a black circular shield decorated with a pair of red and white concentric rings, a red stylized Omega symbol stamped onto the center.

*VERTIGO: THE TRIAGE*

One shower and a change of clothes later, and Virgil was making his way across town on foot. A pair of earbuds in his ears, the red-eyed teen listened to Eye of the Tiger with his phone, his heart beating at a steady, yet elevated pace. The satisfying burn of his muscles as he ran told him that the next time he ran, he'd be all the faster and stronger for it, that he'd have to work harder to achieve the same burn, but above all else, that there was room for him to grow as a human.

Eventually, his morning run took him to the eastern-most part of Bludhaven where the most run-down parts of the bad side of town gave way to The Dust. The majority of the businesses had run dry, pun not intended, years ago, and the bulk of the buildings looked like they should be condemned. A lot of them actually were, but none of them were torn down because it would cost money no-one wanted to spend and the land wasn't in demand because it was so close to "bandit country".

Pulling up the map on his phone, Virgil looked around for a landmark to orient himself with before realizing his destination was the only building on the block that didn't look like it was condemned and/or falling apart.

What stood out apart from the completely-intact building was the brand new chain-linked fence, sporting not only a menacing-looking spiral of barbed wire along the top, but also a number of signs in different languages that said WARNING: Trespassers will be shot on sight. Some of the signs were in English, a number of them in languages he couldn't read, and while there were a couple he knew to be en Española, it seemed that whatever function of SECOND allowed him to understand what Lopez was saying only applied to the spoken word as opposed to the written one.

Situated within the chain-link fence was the destination itself. The building was large and rectangular with gunmetal gray-colored aluminum siding, a spacious parking lot in the front, and dedicated delivery lanes looping around to the back. Just beyond the rear of the facility was The Dust, while looming over it were a number of watchtowers oriented twenty feet above the ground, armed guards keeping steady vigil for any roving threats from beyond Bludhaven's borders. Slapped onto the front of the building was a large horizontally-aligned hexagonal panel, the left side solid while the right was comprised of several smaller panels. Over the top was the word CELL while the word MOTORS was oriented underneath.

'Cell Motors... On one hand it could reference the word in the biological context, while on the other, it could be a reference to CryNet's C.E.L.L. branch,' Virgil thought to himself as he walked along the fence to the front security gate. 'If I didn't know Otacon was leading me to some sort of front company, I never would've made the connection. Given the size of the freight elevator in the carpool, it makes sense that whatever cover The Bunker would use, would need to have a sensible reason to have large supplies coming and going,' he added as he adopted a contemplative pose. 'Plus, with how out-of-the-way it is, any would-be trespassers could be seen coming a mile away due to the lack of reliable cover.'

So deep in thought was he that he failed to notice he'd reached the company's front gate until movement out the corner of his eye caught his attention. His nerves alight as he focused on the potential threat, he realized that his supposed opposition was rather… two-dimensional in nature.

Of course, I don't mean that the would-be threat was simple. I mean it was literally two-dimensional.

"Freeze, intruder! Stop your intrudin' right there!" a pre-recorded voice suddenly shouted out. The cassette player that the sound came from was attached to a spring-loaded metal cutout that was bolted to the concrete of the front driveway. Said cutout took the form of a grizzled gray-haired man with a buzz cut and a moustache with steel gray eyes, clad in a dark red-colored security guard outfit, a pump-action shotgun pointed toward the camera that took the picture for the image being used.

"Who made this thing?" Virgil asked aloud, wondering who in their right minds would approve to have something like this bolted to the ground of a business.

"I did!" a living duplicate of the cutout shouted as he sprung up from the nearby security booth, a military-grade shotgun in hand and leveled right at him. "Now, raise your hands you damn dirty… communist!"

"Whuh?"

"Hands where I can see 'em, you godless Ruskie!" the old man ordered.

'Who the fuck hired this guy?' Virgil wondered as he was held at gunpoint.

"Sarge!" a new voice shouted out, drawing Virgil's eye to a man running towards them. As opposed to the man leveling a live shotgun at him, this man was marginally younger and probably in better mental condition, clad in a regulation sand-colored security guard uniform, a firearm holstered at his side and a clipboard under his arm. He had blond hair in a regulation buzz cut, a strong jawline, and blue eyes giving him a very strong Captain America vibe, though not to the point that you'd say they were related. "I think I saw some intruders near the east watchtower. You should fix that, I'll fortify defenses here."

"Can do, soldier," the so-named Sarge said, pumping his shotgun. "Prepare to die, you godless communists! Eyaaaargh!" he bellowed as he ran off like a man ready to storm the trenches.

"I… am so sorry about that," the man proceeded to apologize.

"Um… Who are you?" Virgil asked, happy he didn't have a gun in his face any longer.

"Oh, I'm John Elizabeth Andersmith. Security guard," the man returned squaring his stance.

"And… who the heck was that?" he asked pointing to the dot of red disappearing around the side of the building.

"That would be Sarge… Yeah, that's his real name," John replied. "He was supposed to be guarding the back side of the facility, but when I went on break and my replacement failed to show up… he probably took it upon himself to fortify our forward defenses. While Sarge has had many exemplary years of service under his belt, his time overseas may've left him a little bit… rattled."

'Well… at least this guy is actually disciplined,' Virgil sighed to himself as he thought back to the raving old man with the shotgun. "Has he actually had reason to use that shotgun?"

"Well, when the building was being renovated, he did guard the construction site against any scavengers who tried to abscond with any supplies back into the Dust, so…"

"Say no more, I get the idea," Virgil said holding up his hands. He could easily imagine Sarge as the sort of guy to shoot first ask questions never. Seemed a little toxic to have at a business, but if he was a good-enough soldier to keep trespassers away, that was probably his saving grace. "Anyway, I'm here for a…"

"Ah, yes, you must be Vincent. You're here for the job interview, right?" John asked looking at his clipboard.

"Yep… That's me," the brunette replied. 'So I'm going to be working here? As far as covers go, that makes sense I suppose.'

"Alright then. Normally the doors require a key card, but because you've been scheduled, all you'll need to do to be let in will be to show your face to the camera. Once you're in the lobby, go up the stairs and down the hall on the left to Vanessa's office at the end of the building. Wait in the waiting room with the other candidates, answer any questions Vanessa has for you, and she'll give you a keycard to get into your designated areas if she decides to bring you on."

"I see. Thank you very much," Virgil said giving the man a nod before walking toward the building's front entrance, passing by a few cars already-parked.

*VERTIGO: THE TRIAGE*

'I feel… so under-dressed right now,' Virgil thought to himself as he sat in the waiting room out in front of the boss' office.

Sitting across from him were a number of employee hopefuls, ranging in age from their early twenties to their late thirties. Those further along in their lives had dressed up in suits with a shave and a haircut, while those toward the younger end of the spectrum were clad in blazers and blue jeans with sneakers. He in comparison was wearing knee-length shorts, tennis shoes, and a T-shirt. That on top of the light layer of sweat dotting his body and he looked like the grungiest out of all of them.

'If this was some sort of test meant to teach me to ask for more intel at certain opportunities, I think I may've failed,' he added as he weathered the derisive looks being sent his way. 'This day can not end soon enough.'

The door to the office creaking open, a nervous-looking man batting at his forehead with a pocket square stepped out, a relaxed look slowly overtaking his features.

"Mr. Valentine. Please come in," a woman's voice called out, the brunette getting to his feet and swiftly making his way into the room. The office was Spartan in design, featuring only the bare essentials to conduct business, likely to promote work and mitigate distractions. "Please have a seat. I'll get to you in a moment."

Nodding his head, Virgil took a seat and smoothed out the creases in his clothes, trying to make himself somewhat presentable before looking up to appraise who would be interviewing him. Based on the small plaque sitting on the desk that read Vanessa Kimball, at the very least he had a name to put to the face. Vanessa was a beautiful African American woman with light-brown skin and deep blue eyes, her straight dark-brown hair framing her face with her bangs pulled back into a ponytail, and a small amount of lipstick and eyeliner. Her attire consisted of a sand-colored business suit with a few ice-blue accents giving it a small splash of color.

"Vincent."

"Yes, ma'am?" Virgil asked as he sat up straight in his seat.

"You…" she said looking at his attire with a taste of disdain, possibly because she'd been led to assume he would've dressed up. "You will be working in the basement with Mr. Pesado as a mechanic's apprentice. Your work hours will be emailed to you in advance. For the time being, you'll be given this RFID that'll let you onto the premises past whatever doors you have clearance to. Do not step out of your appointed sector, you have a half-hour for lunch, and most importantly, do not lose it or the replacement fees will be taken out of your pay," she said sliding a card with his picture and name on it forward, the card attached to a clip-on lanyard.

"Mr. Pesado… You mean Lopez?" the brunette asked, remembering how down in the basement, Lopez often referred to himself as "Lopez the Heavy", in Spanish, while at the same time insulting his co-workers down in The Bunker because they could never understand a word he was saying; and as such could insult them as much as he pleased.

"Yes. Him," the woman replied. "Here's a map of the facility. You'll be given a brief period to familiarize yourself, though I ask that you be quick about it and leave quickly since you are not officially employed by Cell Motors just yet," she said passing him a map of the building, albeit with a red line drawn on for his own benefit. "Any questions?"

"No, ma'am," he replied, keeping the exchange of dialogue between them to a minimum. For all he knew she could know everything about The Bunker, or nothing at all, so for all intents and purposes he'd choose to treat her as her potential cover would necessitate.

*VERTIGO: THE TRIAGE*

Making his way out the waiting room past the other would-be employees for Cell Motors, he followed the map he was given down the stairs and into the back of the facility, coming into a large garage. There were a number of work-spaces with equipment meant for hoisting cars into the air so under-carriage work could be done, a large number of powerful-looking tools, and a slightly-ajar door leading to a warehouse filled with what appeared to be large sheets of metal in varying sizes.

Thus-far the impression he got of the place was that it was intended to custom-modify vehicles to facilitate bulletproof plating and windows. Made sense as a cover for a paramilitary force.

Since he assumed the whole "mechanic's apprentice" thing was a cover to explain him NEVER BEING AROUND, or at least never being seen, it made sense when his map took him toward a room in the back near where the fresh supplies were brought in at the furthest corner of the place. The room in question was a small break room that smelled of old tacos, had a dirty-ass-hell couch against the back wall, an old bunny-antennae TV against the opposite wall next to the door, had an absurd amount of Mexican memorabilia on the walls, and smelled of old tacos.

The old-taco smell was that bad.

"So… am I supposed to sit down or what?" he asked looking for a blanket or something to put on the dirty-as-hell couch so he wouldn't have to touch it himself.

However, before he could look around for too long, a half-circular railing rose up out of the floor behind him before the back-half of the room spun around like something out of Scooby Doo. He could only assume that an exact copy of the same room was on the other side of the spin-around wall so that no-one would notice what was missing.

" . . . At least I didn't have to touch that dirty-ass couch," he thought to himself as the railing at his back receded back into the floor, a clean metal wall with a matching bulkhead and a number of identity-discerning scanners now in his path.

*VERTIGO: THE TRIAGE*

Letting his voice, eye, hand print, skin cells, and even weight distribution be measured, Virgil was swiftly ushered to a miniature freight elevator set parallel to the main one connected to The Bunker's carpool, the miniature freight elevator itself meant to move maybe a half-dozen people from the surface to the underground base at a time.

Arriving at the carpool a minute or so later, Virgil bypassed Lopez who gave him a lazy greeting in Spanish as he repaired one of the Bunker's jeeps; how the hell that thing got totaled without anyone noticing, he'd never know.

Meeting up with Simmons in the Comm. Room, Virgil expressed his urgency to get in touch with Re-l, the friendly neighborhood nerd working to make it happen in a swift and expedient fashion.

"Okay, I've pinged Ms. Mayer, but she's busy at the moment so she can't take your call right away."

"Makes sense," Virgil shrugged. "You mind if I wait around until then."

"As long as you don't make a mess like Grif, you're fine," the man shrugged.

"Kay," Virgil shrugged as he took a seat, reading one of the nearby periodicals.

" . . . You wanna play me in Minesweeper?" Simmons asked a few minutes later.

"You can't play someone in Minesweeper. That's a single player game," Virgil replied.

"Nah, see, first I go, then you go and try to beat my time."

*VERTIGO: THE TRIAGE*

Strangely enough, playing against someone in Minesweeper was actually pretty fun. It got a little old after a while, but it helped to burn an hour or so away. Still, when Re-l was available to talk via the War Room, he had no problems leaving Simmons to doing his nerd thing. As far as nerds went, Simmons was actually pretty cool, but at times he came across as a bit of a snob.

Like the last time he'd been to the War Room, he was greeted to a single pulled-back chair, and waiting for him was the same pair of Augmented Reality sunglasses. Slipping them over his eyes, he blinked a few times as Re-l's image imposed itself into the space above the chair across from him.

"Hello, Virgil. Is there something you need?" Re-l's voice said from the other end of the line.

"I need your help," Virgil said getting right to the point.

"What do you need help with?" Re-l asked returning the sentiment.

"I need your help to track down Count Vertigo, the guy that's been distributing some new-age drug through Bludhaven in the past few months."

"Hm. I see. Might I ask why you want to track him down?"

"One of his drug-fiends really scared my friend the other night. The long story short of it is he made this personal."

"You mean on your date?" the woman asked with a small smile.

" . . . Yes," Virgil replied. He would assume they were monitoring how that type of situation would implicate the development of SECOND inside his head. Also, since it was illegal to lie on federal forms, he didn't want to know what'd happen if he lied to his Handler's face during a pre-mission briefing. Especially one he was requesting clearance to undertake said mission.

"I see. Unfortunately, I cannot commit military resources to help you with your… errand."

"But-" he found himself blurting out.

"However… If you come across your own information that would lead to him… I might be willing to loan out the Nanosuit and some weapons for a little more live-weapons testing. However, as this is not a matter which directly benefits either Foxhound or CryNet, you will not receive any pay for services rendered."

"Trust me, making this Count Vertigo guy eat his own teeth will be payment enough," Virgil growled as a manic smile pulled at his features, only for him to shake his head and pull his hand down his face. 'If I start thinking too much like that, I could turn into the Joker, or something worse with that quirk in my DNA screwing with my head,' he realized. Who knew that a percentage as small as Two could be so menacing? "Thank you for taking the time to meet me on such short notice."

"You're welcome. Contact me again if you come upon any credible information, and I'll see about making the arrangements. At the minimum, I'd like for you to wait a few days until the OctoCloak has been fully repaired. While capable of turning near-invisible alongside the suit, it cannot emulate Armor Mode's properties. As such, on the last mission, its structural integrity was heavily compromised."

"I doubt I'll find out his address after one day, so I don't think you'll have to worry about me trying to storm the trenches that soon," Virgil returned. "Thank you, and I hope you have a nice day."

Hanging up the line and leaning back in his chair, the teen let out a sigh before getting back to his feet and making his way to his private room.

Later, as he leafed through the deployment orders available with his present GMP, he wondered just how he'd find out where Count Vertigo's stronghold was. On the one hand, he could be really subtle about it but spend weeks chasing dead ends, or he could try something a little more direct, but run the risk of having Vertigo know that someone was onto him. Well, someone other than the police that is.

There was also the fact that he could potentially make the Moxxi family targets of retaliation, and that wouldn't sit well with him at all. Not that they couldn't defend themselves or anything. They definitely could; especially Tina who was "The World's Deadliest Thirteen Year-Old". But he didn't want to get any blood on their carpets.

'Maybe there's something in the R&D that can help me out,' Virgil hummed as he looked through the Development window of his console. There were a whole slew of gadgets and weapons he could now afford the license to use, though he was wishing there were an App or something he could use to put a down-payment on something in advance.

Apparently with GMP it was an all-or-nothing kinda deal.

*VERTIGO: THE TRIAGE*

Bludhaven
October 8, 19:34 EST

"Hey 'Sug, you've been picking at your dinner for a while now. Is something wrong?" Moxxi asked Virgil, who at the moment was idly picking at his food.

"Nothing's wrong. Just thinking," he sighed.

"What're you thinking about?" Rina asked.

"Probly 'bout gettin' revenge on Vertigo for scaring his girlfriend with that whack drug-fiend," Tina shrugged.

"It was just one date!" Virgil and Athena cried out at the same time.

"Virgil…" Moxxi said setting down her dinnerware. "You aren't thinking of doing something risky, are you?"

"N-No! Not risky at all!" Virgil said waving his hands in front of himself. "I just want to do what I can to help the BPD put Vertigo behind bars for good. I'm afraid of there being a repeat of what happened last time if I ask Athena out again-"

"Oh, so there will be a second date, hm?" Moxxi asked with a knowing grin. "Do I need to have a certain talk with my baby girl?"

"M-Mom!" Athena squealed red in the face.

*VERTIGO: THE TRIAGE*

That evening after a very awkward dinner, Athena asked Virgil to come to her room. That of course led to a myriad of misunderstandings that had to be cleared up, so it was more like a half-hour after dinner until the two of them could talk.

As usual, the whole room was a mess, through Virgil noted that everything in the process of being worked-on was different from the last time he'd been in there. What was on her primary work bench also had a tarp over it, but it wasn't like he was going to poke around, especially with how some of the stuff in the room was rumored to be super-volatile.

He did not want to wind up as a black scorch mark on the floor.

"So um… Athena…" Virgil said nervously. "What did you want to talk about?"

"It's about at dinner… Do you really need to go after Vertigo like this?"

"I'd feel better with Vertigo off the streets, yeah," Virgil said with a shrug. " . . . But yes, I won't deny that some of this is personal."

" . . . There's no stopping you, is there?"

"No… There really isn't," Virgil admitted. "And even if you don't want to get even with Vertigo for our ruined date, I still do. It'll make me feel better. Plus, I wouldn't feel comfortable taking you out again until Vertigo's off the streets. So call me selfish if you want, but… with great power comes great responsibility… and also the desire to use said power for personal gain, but still…" he said holding up a finger. "Going after Vertigo, even if only indirectly, will still help more than just myself."

" . . . Fine. Fine…" the blond sighed, a blush on her face as she scratched her cheek. "Just… Wait a couple days, okay? I'm making you something. Something special, that'll help you out, and I don't want you breaking into Vertigo's house without it."

"How many days we talking?" Virgil asked.

"Saturday evening at the latest, but even then, you'd need a day or so to get the hang of using it," Athena answered.

"A little less than a week… I can wait," Virgil nodded. "Plus, it isn't like I know where the guy's shop is or anything, so I couldn't raid his base even if I wanted to."

"Thank you," Athena sighed. "I'd have it ready sooner…" she said casting a glance at her work bench, "but I want to make sure everything's working flawlessly before you take it out to the field. You only get one life, and I don't want it wasted because of shoddy craftsmanship."

"Hey, if I had to choose between waiting a week for something that will work, or a day for something that might work but get me killed if it doesn't, I'd wait the week any time," Virgil replied with a shrug.

"Thank you. You're…" she paused, a confused look on her face. "You're being really reasonable about this."

"If I go in there half-cocked and get myself killed, the only one that helps is Vertigo," he shrugged, "and the people in my life are worth too much to lose it all just because I'm a little impatient. If I have to wait, I'll wait. I'm nothing if not patient."

"I'm glad you think so," Athena sighed. "You're really incredible, you know that, right?"

"Nah, I'm still an ordinary guy right now. I'm no Steve Rogers," Virgil replied.

"No… You aren't," Athena admitted. "You're Virgil Valentine, and that's just as good," she said leaning forward and planting a kiss on his cheek. "Now go on, get going. I've got work to do."

"A-Alright. I'll see you later," Virgil said, a small flush on his face as he stepped out, only to come face-to-face with one Madeline Moxxi, grinning like the cat that ate the canary. "Ah… Fuck me," he groaned.

"Why Virgil, you strapping young thing, you. Take a girl to dinner before going past third base with her~" Moxxi cooed as she bat a paw at him.

"Walked right into that one…" Virgil muttered to himself as he walked past his landlady.

*VERTIGO: THE TRIAGE*

Bludhaven
October 9, 10:30 EST

Since whatever next-gen tool Athena was working was maybe a week away and Re-l wouldn't green-light his mission to raid Vertigo's base of operations until he had some credible intel to go on, he decided that instead of spinning his wheels, he'd put in the necessary legwork for his self-satisfying sense of vengeance. While he could just ask the nearby dealers where they were getting their supply of Vertigo from, on the one hand they probably wouldn't be willing to tell him, and even if they did, it wasn't like a criminal mastermind would be dumb enough to distribute his drugs from his doorstep.

Without support from FoxCry, his own resources were rather limited. However, he thought back to the connections he'd made outside the paramilitary organization, and realized there was something he could do to find the intel he needed.

To that end, he had decided that the best course of action was to pick the brain of the local Russian crime lord, though that just raised the question-

"How do I even set up a meeting with someone like Balalaika?" he wondered, since in context, he was nothing more than a cog in the machine for her. "I mean, it's not like I can just walk into her front office and say I need to speak to her about something without an appointment, right?"

*VERTIGO: THE TRIAGE*

As it turned out, he could just walk into her front office and say he needed to speak to her about something without an appointment.

Of course, it probably helped that he had his Diamond Dogs uniform and patch on, so the man at the front desk probably assumed it was something related to work.

So, here he was, being escorted up to Balalaika's office by a pair of burly Russians in custom-fitted suits. Balalaika already knew he was on his way up, so the knock on her office door was just a formality. The woman in question was currently sitting at her desk, a bored look on her face as she looked over files on her computer, her second-in-command Boris standing nearby.

"Hello, Virgil," the woman said with a relieved smile on her face as she turned the monitor away. "I've been looking for an excuse to get out of doing work for a bit, so you came at a good time. What's on your mind?"

"The topic is a little… sensitive in nature. Is there any possibility we could have this talk in private?"

The woman's only response was to open up her desk drawer and pull out a cigar before cutting off the tip. Boris, ever-faithful, had a match on hand and lit the cancer-log with practiced ease, the woman taking a drag and letting out a contented sigh before waving the two men that had escorted Virgil out of the room.

To most this would've come across as her saying she trusted Virgil not to pull anything, or that if he did, then Boris would resolve it quickly without outside help. However, the truth of the matter was that she was telling them if Virgil did pull anything, she could and would kill him all on her own, with the cigar she just lit.

"What did you need to talk about?" she asked around her cigar.

"Well, for starters… Raul Creed asked me to say 'Hello' the next time I saw you," Virgil began.

"And how exactly are you acquainted with Bludhaven's own Commissioner of Police?" Balalaika asked with a raised eyebrow, debating whether or not she should have her new courier patted down to see if he was wearing a wire.

"Well, long story short, after Athena and I went to the movies, one of the local drug fiends came out and attacked us. I kicked the guy's ass, Athena's hand got nicked, and after the paramedics arrived to haul him away, the police pulled us aside for questioning. Creed pulled us aside to ask what we knew, and after that he gave us a ride home," the brunette summarized.

"Are you alright?" Balalaika asked. "My men have come across a few drug fiends same as you, though some of them were able to do more than flail around angrily."

"I'm fine. He didn't hurt me or anything," Virgil replied.

The woman looking him in the eye, her gaze momentarily shifting between him and the drawer of her desk before returning to lock eyes with him. "I don't believe you," she said after a few moments. "Come here. Let me get a good look at you," she said crooking a finger.

"Uh… Okay…" Virgil replied nervously as he got up from his seat.

The next moment the woman leaned forward, grasping the sides of his face before pulling him towards her. Bending him over the front of her desk as she turned his head from side to side, she looked him over with an analytical eye, taking in his every feature as her brow scrunched in concentration. This position of course gave him the perfect vantage point to look down into her cleavage, but given the things she could do to him (not like that, you perverts), he figured it best to keep his eyes above the neckline, as opposed to raising the ire of a woman whose hands were only a few inches away from throttling-range.

"So, what else did you come here for, outside being Creed's errand boy?" she asked as she tilted his chin upward, looking under his jawline.

"Do you know where Count Vertigo has set up shop?" Virgil asked getting to the point, the woman letting him go a few seconds later.

"And why do you want to know what I know?" Balalaika asked with a raised brow.

"Well, given your… professional relationship with the BPD… I figured even if you did know, you wouldn't really be in much of a position to tell him if you knew, nor would he be in one to ask you, so I figured I could be the go-between in case you did," he answered. If there was a chance the BPD could deal with Vertigo, then he wouldn't hesitate to call in the real authorities, so in that regard he wasn't technically lying to her. Of course, what he left unsaid was that he wanted to get his own shot in at Vertigo before letting the police get involved. "I might be new to the whole courier thing, but I figure I can deliver an anonymous tip if necessary. Keep the tabloids or internal affairs away from the whole thing."

"Well…" the woman said with a smile. "You wouldn't be wrong in your assumption," she shrugged. "To answer your question, no, I do not know where Count Vertigo has set up shop. After getting chased out of Star City, he's being more-careful about advertising his presence to law enforcement and heroes."

"Hm. I see."

"Still, I want his drugs and his addicts off the streets as much as any other citizen of Bludhaven, so I don't see any problem with exchanging information," she said taking her cell phone from her breast pocket. "Give me your number, and I'll give you a call in case I come up with any sort of lead for you to give to Creed Oh, and if I do come up with something, you didn't hear it from me."

"R-Right," Virgil replied, checking the number on his phone before handing it over to Balalaika. The woman casually putting his information in her listing, Balalaika nodded her head before handing it back over, the brunette waiting to see if the woman had anything else to say.

" . . . Well?" the woman asked after a few moments.

"Ah-Right!" Virgil replied as he hastily got up from his seat. "Thank you for seeing me on such short notice, and I hope you have a nice day," he said bowing at the waist before stepping out of the room. It was only when Virgil had left the room and was in the elevator that Balalaika let out a pained hiss, her hand going to the left side of her chest close to her shoulder.

"Are you alright?" Boris asked worriedly.

"I'm fine," Balalaika said as she fished in her desk drawer, leafing through a messy pile of old photographs. After a few seconds she found what she was looking for, tossing it onto the desk under the light of her desk lamp. " . . . Tixij," the woman muttered under her breath, the man at her back flinching as he rubbed a now-throbbing part of his lower-right abdomen, the two looking at the photograph as their minds drifted back to the Cold War.

The photograph in question was old, maybe three decades in age, the paper yellowed and corners worn. The backdrop was dominated by the Seychelles off the eastern coast of Africa, the midground occupied by a black UTH-66 Blackfoot military helicopter. Standing in the foreground in front of the Blackfoot were two people caught in what appeared to be a candid shot.

Standing to the right, a mid-range assault rifle slung over his shoulder with a smaller firearm at his waist and a few grenades on his belt, was a muscular Caucasian man clad in jungle camouflage military fatigues and combat boots. His left arm from the forearm down was clearly a prosthetic, largely mechanical in shape, composed of black metal with dark red armor plating. He was clearly an American with strong features and a disciplined look on his face, his brown hair swept back while his moustache and beard were slightly unkempt. The scars on his face were very distinguishable, from the one across his nose and down his bottom lip and dominating the left side of his face over his eye, his right eye covered by an eyepatch. However, what was most-distinguishable were the two black shards of metal sticking out of the right side of his forehead, the larger of the two resembling a horn.

Following behind the horned man was a beautiful Caucasian woman with fair skin, brown hair pulled back into a ponytail, and striking green eyes, a massive and powerful-looking Brennan LRS-46 sniper rifle slung over her shoulder. While the man's attire was common for those in paramilitary organizations back in the eighties, the woman's choice of clothing was minimalistic with the dial cranked up to eleven. Her attire, or lack thereof, consisted of a black front-tied bikini and thong, torn stockings, dark green military boots, a green leather glove over her right hand, a bicep-length black leather glove over her left arm, and a small amount of combat webbing over her shoulders and around her waist holding a canteen and additional ammo.

"Virgil Valentine…" the woman muttered as she interlaced her fingers, resting her face behind her hands. "Why does your presence incite this same phantom pain I haven't felt in so long?" she asked as she continued to peer at the photograph, rubbing the aching wound on her shoulder. "Just who are you…?"