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WARBIRD
Featuring WarBird!

"You know I don't want all the hype. Just give me my pills and I'm outta here."

"WarBird!"

"Back off Steve. You had your chance. You were up for it all. The Secret Soldier serum, the WarBird position, everything! And you pissed it all away. Don't give me that WarBird crap old man! I'm the hero now."

The red and blue WarBird suit was based in style and color after the American flag. And like America he wasn't going to take any crap. Grabbing the small silver box, he pops two of the red and one of the blue pills within. Almost instantly a calming influence falls over the hero known as WarBird.

"Remember who's the hero Steve. Remember who leads the Pheonix Knights."

"Yeah WarBird, How can I forget."

Meet Steven Rogers. In another life he could have been an icon to millions. Here a simple man working in the government doing the only thing he can.
Steve now in his mid seventies, remains the only witness of the original super soldier experiment.
A moment in time he'll forever regret, and never forget.

Dawn & Dusk
Featuring Dawn & Dusk!

Elizabeth Hurley was an aspiring attorney. Or rather almost an attorney. There was still that little matter of the B. A. R. test she hadn't taken.

"Ms. Hurley? Ms. Hurley? Beth'?"

Oh John, it's you."

The legal papers in her hand freefall past her lap, fanning out to cover the floor around her chair.

"You OK?"

A fellow intern, and wonderful dresser, John was well known among the single female interns all about the office.

"Yeah, just got one of my premonitions. That's all."

Beth' (as she was known around the offices) had had such premonitions before and they were never wrong.

"Something about the party tonight? I mean, your still going to accompany me after the party to the comet thingy right?"

"Comet thingy?..."

Beth had heard about the Phoenix comet. A sizable chunk of unknown debris moving swiftly toward Earth. Not toward, by. The scientist eggheads in Washington actually said the comet would "skip" across the atmosphere. A plop here, a pip there and the comet would continue on it's way. A pretty light show on this most celebrated of holidays, but nothing more.

"Oh that, ah yeah the comet watch. I don't know if I really wanna stay up to ring the new year in. I might just go home and curl up with a good book."

"Ahh c'mon Beth. I thought it would be you and me..."

Scooping the last of her papers into her briefcase, Beth gets up moving past her fellow intern.

"Tell you what John, You go alone."

Later that night she would regret her decision. It might have made all the difference in the world.

"Give me the gun."

Dawn's muscled fist held the crook easily a foot in the air. And at almost 300 pounds it wasn't your usual sight.

"Y, y, yeah sure. Whatever you want."

Almost crying the crook drops the gun, his arms pinwheeling in the air.

"Jes let me go!"

The young African American man wasn't normally afraid of women. Specially 5 foot ten inch blonde white women, but this one...

By day Elizabeth Hurley found her possessed by the spirit of an ancient warrior and she called herself Dawn, at night she was taken over by that of a mad necromantic mage, known as Dusk.
And where does this leave Beth? Beth finds herself in control for a mere two hours a day. Twilight time. That meager time when dawn has yet to overtake dusk.

Posse
Starring Posse!

"Do it Leroy."

"Don't punk on us Leroy!"

Leroy Brown. 16, and a drop out from high school. Leroy quickly mastered the streets and back roads around his and neighboring streets. No one was better at getting from point A to point B than Leroy. Course if that were true, then how did he end up here?

"You miss Leroy, and I won't."

The . 45 in his hands felt cold, real cold. But no where near as cold as the one at his temple.

"Do it sucker!"

"Clack"

The hammer came down on an empty round.

"You shit!"

Pulling the gun back in the window, Leroy hides his relief as the target, a six year old girl on a bike, rides safely away.

"You shit! You give me an empty gun, drive me out here, and then you pull this crap!"

Before Leroy can react, the gun at his temple moves back before cracking him solidly in the head.

"whatdefu..."

"Leroy we ain't done with you yet. Aim the damn gun!"

Crack, again the gun strikes him hard to the head. Leroy had joined the Ultima's when they asked. Who wouldn't! Course if he said no, he'd be the target on the street. In this world you were either the mugger or the mugged. And he wasn't nobodies mug. If that even was a word.

"C'mon Leroy. Don't fail us this time!"

"Shoot man."

"It was him or me, way I figure it. Here it is a year later. That cop I shot, well he was DOA before the ambulance pulled up. My boys the Ultima's thought I was cool, took me back to their crib even. Got the royal treatment. Then I waited until they all passed out in 40 ounce comas. When I left that night every one of them was dead. Killed by my hands. All 20 of them.

Posse:
Granted the incredible power to split off exact duplicates of himself, Posse is his own one man gang, and intends to stay that way.

Father Salvation
Starring Father Salvation!

"Tell me my children, who is it hat will lead you in the dark? Tell me children, who is your savior?"

The crowds today are less than normal, but the money flows nonetheless. Give the crowd what they wanted and they'd empty their wallets in return.

"God isn't life wonderful!

Out on stage, father Salvation was preaching to his latest crowd. Amongst them some of his greatest critics. Abner Downs, critic for the Times Herald, Toby Myers, public forum's publisher, and the list went on. Somehow, some way Father Salvation won them all over. Even now came the most exciting part of the show. The part were the sick, the unbelieving, were marched up to the Father in order to be saved. A touch of the palm and...

"Praise Father Salvation!"

The "saved" individual falls back into the waiting arms of several brawny men. After a moment to regain their footing, the "saved" are then marched off the side of the stage and out of sight.

"Thank you all for your donations and please come again next week!"

Taking a bow the father makes his way quickly from the stage.

"Get me those readings! I want all those converted taken to the holding cells. Alert Victor that we have new converts, and someone get me my gloves!"

"Here Bastion, here's your gloves."

The Priest takes the black leather gloves, slipping them snugly, and quickly onto each hand. Before the intern can react, the priest's gloved fist rockets out, clubbing the intern across the head.

"Father, Father Salvation, my Savior even, but you will never, never, call me by that name again!"

The preacher's hand slips out of his glove, and in a movement much like he does on stage, the man known as Bastion touches the intern's head. Skin to skin contact is all it takes.

"Um, oh, sorry sir, ah Father. I'll get those figures for you."

The incident all but forgotten, the intern makes his way to do as he was commanded. Another of the Converted.

Grifter
Starring Grifter!

The truck never stood a chance. Grifter's stop spikes bit deeply into the truck's tires bringing it to an immediate halt. A hastily constructed paintball gun covered the windshield in multicolored splashes of paint. Blinding the driver and his gun toting helper.

"Smooth as silk."

Small propane tanks appear from within his trenchcoat, each connected to a pencil top torch.

"First you crack the nut."

The specially modified torches make short work of the van's reinforced back doors. Inside the still Smokey interior, the man known as Grifter sites his target, a specially padded crib. Padded enough that the child within is still asleep, even after the horrific wreck.

"C'mon girl. Your rides here. You better hope you dad pays up."

"Ting, ting!"
Bullets ricochet and rebound from the metal remains of the van's doors. Wrapping the infant snugly in his trenchcoat, Grifter dives from the truck.
Dodging riflefire and pistol shots as easily as most would open a refrigerator, Grifter sprints, dives, rolls and tumbles across the street.

"Ain't you got something better to do?"

From the right sleeve of his coat fall several small film canisters. Into his palm the innocent looking canisters fall. Then in a quick flick of his wrists, the canisters sale across the road landing before the bewildered two guards.

"Tell yer boss, he offers me more he can have her."

Grifter grins as the canisters explode in a blinding spray, bringing both guards chokingly to their knees.

"C'mon kid, I gotta see a man about a million dollars."

Prototype
Starring Prototype!

"What do you mean the suit's not ready? Get it ready!"

Lance Jargon. Electronics' and design specialist, and the only man alive capable of wearing the Prototype armor. Specialists of all kinds rush around adjusting dials and settings as Lance stands on a small alter like stage. Dressed only in a skin tight black suit, Lance watches as the Techies ready him for the next mission.

"Who's next on the list?"

"The mutation known as Sinkhole sir."

Specs and diagrams spring up all around him. On the screens appear his target, and other relevant material.

"A mutation eh? Ever miss the days when all I went after were ganglords and drug smugglers?"

His joke goes unanswered, as alarms and sirens rock the base.

"Target Sinkhole within range. Powering up Prototype armor mark zero."

Mechanical arms erupt from the floor and ceiling around him. Each arm carries a small weapon or section of armor, while others wield tools.
In seconds the orchestrated dance of weapons and equipment ends with a fully armed and armored Lance. Standing a full four inches taller, Lance is completely unseen beneath the weapons and armor grafted onto his suit.

"Prototype activated!"

Lance always felt a rush as the cyber bootjets ignited, carrying him out of the base and high over the city in less time than it took to tell.

"OK Jarvis, what have you added on this time?"

Tiny earbud style hearing aids keep Lance fully updated from his support crew below.

"The mutation is thought to have powers granting him control over the ground."

"Ahhhh mother nature's revenge! So tell me. What's stopping swat from just taking him out?"

As Lance tops the next building before him, the truth becomes clear.

"Damn is he big!"

Lance Jargon. Just another man in a suit? Hardly. The Prototype armor is of a special modular design allowing weapons to be removed and replaced as needed to best suit his target. Why is he called Prototype? Because he's never needed a Mark One!

A World Without Heroes?
"The seeds have been planted. What was once a World Without Heroes has been given life. In the wake of the Phoenix comet, people all over the world began experiencing the "Burn". Named from the first public display of the effect, the Burn was an intense build up of the primordial energies in those "mutations" upon the emergence of their neo powers. In most instances this is easily overcome as the mutation's power comes into being. But there are those rare few who find it impossible to contain the energy and literally Burn themselves out. The first such incident occurred in the former USSR, as a fireworks technician spontaneously combusted, taking out the explosive fireworks, and 6 of his co workers! Workers afterward combed the wreckage finding the mutation's body. It was in perfect condition, even though the mutation was reported to be DOA. None of his coworkers were found intact.
Those who survive the burn have gone on to thrive in the aftermath. Mutations are not generally feared yet. Since the Phoenix Effect affected people seemingly at random, most people are not hostile towards those with powers. But as mutations breed mutants this may change.
In the last year, other "mishaps" have become more commonplace. What were once considered freaks and misfits are now looked upon as possible heroes and villains. Scientific experiments (and even moreso scientific mistakes!) have created beings far superior to mortal man. In the past such beings never survived, or didn't live long enough see adulthood. Now such beings are becoming more prolific. What this says for the future..."

Selrach turned away from his computers, contemplating the next line of his report. A wrong word here, a mistake in context there and his superiors would be sure to check in on him. Sel` had only gotten this position because the planet below was so sleepy. So... easy to watch. He wasn't ready to relinquish his post just yet.

"...it says that the future will be one worth watching. Watcher Selrach reporting."

There he did it. Without a second thought incredible telekinetic control allows him to depress the "send" button sending his message speeding across the cosmos.

"Now what are we going to do with you?"

Selrach had watched the Phoenix comet, as had everyone on the planet. But unlike those below, he was a Watcher. He had seen into the comet's core. Into an inner chamber.

"Have you awoken?"

On a table before him lay the limp body of a beautiful young red haired woman in a sleek solid red body suit.
HR>No Right Click ALL ARTWORK COPY PROTECTED BY X-TENSION'S AUTOMATED DEFENSES!

	World Without Heroes ARE YOU MUTANT ENOUGH?
	X-TENSION HEAD QUARTERS \| HOMO-ULTIMA \| CURRENT EVENTS \| MEMBER BIO'S \| S. H. I. V. A. \| F.A.Q. \| WORLD W/O HEROES \| X-TENSIVE LINKS \| UPB CHAR CREATION \| UPB POWERS 1 \| UPB POWERS 2 \| UPB POWERS 3 \| UPB WRAP UP \| AWARDS \| MEMBER PICS

Welcome to a preview of a World Without Heroes Closing out his monitor, the blue and white robed Watcher turns to stare off into space. Selrahc watches as the Phoenix comet bounces across Earth's atmosphere several times before it is caught in the planet's gravity well. Like a huge slingshot, the space stone is whipped around the planet and thrown off into space as centrifigul forces carry it past the moon. "This is an omen?" Selrahc turns away from his clear domed ceiling, and stares down at a humanoid robot beside him. An exact replica of a human wrought in iron, the sentient seeming robot also watches skyward. "It could be the birth of a new race has begun. A new race and a new era for A WORLD WITHOUT HEROES!" The Watcher Selrahc turns back to his computers, sending a signel to his fellow Watchers. Like all his past transmissions this one updates what he has seen. And what he dreads will come...
WARBIRD Featuring WarBird! "You know I don't want all the hype. Just give me my pills and I'm outta here." "WarBird!" "Back off Steve. You had your chance. You were up for it all. The Secret Soldier serum, the WarBird position, everything! And you pissed it all away. Don't give me that WarBird crap old man! I'm the hero now." The red and blue WarBird suit was based in style and color after the American flag. And like America he wasn't going to take any crap. Grabbing the small silver box, he pops two of the red and one of the blue pills within. Almost instantly a calming influence falls over the hero known as WarBird. "Remember who's the hero Steve. Remember who leads the Pheonix Knights." "Yeah WarBird, How can I forget." Meet Steven Rogers. In another life he could have been an icon to millions. Here a simple man working in the government doing the only thing he can. Steve now in his mid seventies, remains the only witness of the original super soldier experiment. A moment in time he'll forever regret, and never forget.
Dawn & Dusk Featuring Dawn & Dusk! Elizabeth Hurley was an aspiring attorney. Or rather almost an attorney. There was still that little matter of the B. A. R. test she hadn't taken. "Ms. Hurley? Ms. Hurley? Beth'?" Oh John, it's you." The legal papers in her hand freefall past her lap, fanning out to cover the floor around her chair. "You OK?" A fellow intern, and wonderful dresser, John was well known among the single female interns all about the office. "Yeah, just got one of my premonitions. That's all." Beth' (as she was known around the offices) had had such premonitions before and they were never wrong. "Something about the party tonight? I mean, your still going to accompany me after the party to the comet thingy right?" "Comet thingy?..." Beth had heard about the Phoenix comet. A sizable chunk of unknown debris moving swiftly toward Earth. Not toward, by. The scientist eggheads in Washington actually said the comet would "skip" across the atmosphere. A plop here, a pip there and the comet would continue on it's way. A pretty light show on this most celebrated of holidays, but nothing more. "Oh that, ah yeah the comet watch. I don't know if I really wanna stay up to ring the new year in. I might just go home and curl up with a good book." "Ahh c'mon Beth. I thought it would be you and me..." Scooping the last of her papers into her briefcase, Beth gets up moving past her fellow intern. "Tell you what John, You go alone." Later that night she would regret her decision. It might have made all the difference in the world. "Give me the gun." Dawn's muscled fist held the crook easily a foot in the air. And at almost 300 pounds it wasn't your usual sight. "Y, y, yeah sure. Whatever you want." Almost crying the crook drops the gun, his arms pinwheeling in the air. "Jes let me go!" The young African American man wasn't normally afraid of women. Specially 5 foot ten inch blonde white women, but this one... By day Elizabeth Hurley found her possessed by the spirit of an ancient warrior and she called herself Dawn, at night she was taken over by that of a mad necromantic mage, known as Dusk. And where does this leave Beth? Beth finds herself in control for a mere two hours a day. Twilight time. That meager time when dawn has yet to overtake dusk.
Posse Starring Posse! "Do it Leroy." "Don't punk on us Leroy!" Leroy Brown. 16, and a drop out from high school. Leroy quickly mastered the streets and back roads around his and neighboring streets. No one was better at getting from point A to point B than Leroy. Course if that were true, then how did he end up here? "You miss Leroy, and I won't." The . 45 in his hands felt cold, real cold. But no where near as cold as the one at his temple. "Do it sucker!" "Clack" The hammer came down on an empty round. "You shit!" Pulling the gun back in the window, Leroy hides his relief as the target, a six year old girl on a bike, rides safely away. "You shit! You give me an empty gun, drive me out here, and then you pull this crap!" Before Leroy can react, the gun at his temple moves back before cracking him solidly in the head. "whatdefu..." "Leroy we ain't done with you yet. Aim the damn gun!" Crack, again the gun strikes him hard to the head. Leroy had joined the Ultima's when they asked. Who wouldn't! Course if he said no, he'd be the target on the street. In this world you were either the mugger or the mugged. And he wasn't nobodies mug. If that even was a word. "C'mon Leroy. Don't fail us this time!" "Shoot man." "It was him or me, way I figure it. Here it is a year later. That cop I shot, well he was DOA before the ambulance pulled up. My boys the Ultima's thought I was cool, took me back to their crib even. Got the royal treatment. Then I waited until they all passed out in 40 ounce comas. When I left that night every one of them was dead. Killed by my hands. All 20 of them. Posse: Granted the incredible power to split off exact duplicates of himself, Posse is his own one man gang, and intends to stay that way.
Father Salvation Starring Father Salvation! "Tell me my children, who is it hat will lead you in the dark? Tell me children, who is your savior?" The crowds today are less than normal, but the money flows nonetheless. Give the crowd what they wanted and they'd empty their wallets in return. "God isn't life wonderful! Out on stage, father Salvation was preaching to his latest crowd. Amongst them some of his greatest critics. Abner Downs, critic for the Times Herald, Toby Myers, public forum's publisher, and the list went on. Somehow, some way Father Salvation won them all over. Even now came the most exciting part of the show. The part were the sick, the unbelieving, were marched up to the Father in order to be saved. A touch of the palm and... "Praise Father Salvation!" The "saved" individual falls back into the waiting arms of several brawny men. After a moment to regain their footing, the "saved" are then marched off the side of the stage and out of sight. "Thank you all for your donations and please come again next week!" Taking a bow the father makes his way quickly from the stage. "Get me those readings! I want all those converted taken to the holding cells. Alert Victor that we have new converts, and someone get me my gloves!" "Here Bastion, here's your gloves." The Priest takes the black leather gloves, slipping them snugly, and quickly onto each hand. Before the intern can react, the priest's gloved fist rockets out, clubbing the intern across the head. "Father, Father Salvation, my Savior even, but you will never, never, call me by that name again!" The preacher's hand slips out of his glove, and in a movement much like he does on stage, the man known as Bastion touches the intern's head. Skin to skin contact is all it takes. "Um, oh, sorry sir, ah Father. I'll get those figures for you." The incident all but forgotten, the intern makes his way to do as he was commanded. Another of the Converted.
Grifter Starring Grifter! The truck never stood a chance. Grifter's stop spikes bit deeply into the truck's tires bringing it to an immediate halt. A hastily constructed paintball gun covered the windshield in multicolored splashes of paint. Blinding the driver and his gun toting helper. "Smooth as silk." Small propane tanks appear from within his trenchcoat, each connected to a pencil top torch. "First you crack the nut." The specially modified torches make short work of the van's reinforced back doors. Inside the still Smokey interior, the man known as Grifter sites his target, a specially padded crib. Padded enough that the child within is still asleep, even after the horrific wreck. "C'mon girl. Your rides here. You better hope you dad pays up." "Ting, ting!" Bullets ricochet and rebound from the metal remains of the van's doors. Wrapping the infant snugly in his trenchcoat, Grifter dives from the truck. Dodging riflefire and pistol shots as easily as most would open a refrigerator, Grifter sprints, dives, rolls and tumbles across the street. "Ain't you got something better to do?" From the right sleeve of his coat fall several small film canisters. Into his palm the innocent looking canisters fall. Then in a quick flick of his wrists, the canisters sale across the road landing before the bewildered two guards. "Tell yer boss, he offers me more he can have her." Grifter grins as the canisters explode in a blinding spray, bringing both guards chokingly to their knees. "C'mon kid, I gotta see a man about a million dollars."
Prototype Starring Prototype! "What do you mean the suit's not ready? Get it ready!" Lance Jargon. Electronics' and design specialist, and the only man alive capable of wearing the Prototype armor. Specialists of all kinds rush around adjusting dials and settings as Lance stands on a small alter like stage. Dressed only in a skin tight black suit, Lance watches as the Techies ready him for the next mission. "Who's next on the list?" "The mutation known as Sinkhole sir." Specs and diagrams spring up all around him. On the screens appear his target, and other relevant material. "A mutation eh? Ever miss the days when all I went after were ganglords and drug smugglers?" His joke goes unanswered, as alarms and sirens rock the base. "Target Sinkhole within range. Powering up Prototype armor mark zero." Mechanical arms erupt from the floor and ceiling around him. Each arm carries a small weapon or section of armor, while others wield tools. In seconds the orchestrated dance of weapons and equipment ends with a fully armed and armored Lance. Standing a full four inches taller, Lance is completely unseen beneath the weapons and armor grafted onto his suit. "Prototype activated!" Lance always felt a rush as the cyber bootjets ignited, carrying him out of the base and high over the city in less time than it took to tell. "OK Jarvis, what have you added on this time?" Tiny earbud style hearing aids keep Lance fully updated from his support crew below. "The mutation is thought to have powers granting him control over the ground." "Ahhhh mother nature's revenge! So tell me. What's stopping swat from just taking him out?" As Lance tops the next building before him, the truth becomes clear. "Damn is he big!" Lance Jargon. Just another man in a suit? Hardly. The Prototype armor is of a special modular design allowing weapons to be removed and replaced as needed to best suit his target. Why is he called Prototype? Because he's never needed a Mark One!
A World Without Heroes? "The seeds have been planted. What was once a World Without Heroes has been given life. In the wake of the Phoenix comet, people all over the world began experiencing the "Burn". Named from the first public display of the effect, the Burn was an intense build up of the primordial energies in those "mutations" upon the emergence of their neo powers. In most instances this is easily overcome as the mutation's power comes into being. But there are those rare few who find it impossible to contain the energy and literally Burn themselves out. The first such incident occurred in the former USSR, as a fireworks technician spontaneously combusted, taking out the explosive fireworks, and 6 of his co workers! Workers afterward combed the wreckage finding the mutation's body. It was in perfect condition, even though the mutation was reported to be DOA. None of his coworkers were found intact. Those who survive the burn have gone on to thrive in the aftermath. Mutations are not generally feared yet. Since the Phoenix Effect affected people seemingly at random, most people are not hostile towards those with powers. But as mutations breed mutants this may change. In the last year, other "mishaps" have become more commonplace. What were once considered freaks and misfits are now looked upon as possible heroes and villains. Scientific experiments (and even moreso scientific mistakes!) have created beings far superior to mortal man. In the past such beings never survived, or didn't live long enough see adulthood. Now such beings are becoming more prolific. What this says for the future..." Selrach turned away from his computers, contemplating the next line of his report. A wrong word here, a mistake in context there and his superiors would be sure to check in on him. Sel` had only gotten this position because the planet below was so sleepy. So... easy to watch. He wasn't ready to relinquish his post just yet. "...it says that the future will be one worth watching. Watcher Selrach reporting." There he did it. Without a second thought incredible telekinetic control allows him to depress the "send" button sending his message speeding across the cosmos. "Now what are we going to do with you?" Selrach had watched the Phoenix comet, as had everyone on the planet. But unlike those below, he was a Watcher. He had seen into the comet's core. Into an inner chamber. "Have you awoken?" On a table before him lay the limp body of a beautiful young red haired woman in a sleek solid red body suit. HR>No Right Click ALL ARTWORK COPY PROTECTED BY X-TENSION'S AUTOMATED DEFENSES!