Black Tiger sniffed at the ground in front of him, and turned to his companions. “Yeah, this is the spot. I can smell a whole lot of dead things down there. Prolly a few of them still up an’ around, if ya know what I mean.”

	Jarhead nodded, while Synergy scowled. “You jus’ remember, Junior, we’re not here ta sink yer claws into the Undead. We’re here simply to destroy the control panels so they can’t use the nukes,” grumbled the grey-haired hero.

	“Yeah, yeah,” said the catlike young man. “But if we run across ‘em in the halls, I ain’t just gonna buck and run. I got a score ta settly with a couple of ‘em, anyway.” Reaching down, his powerful arms wrenched away the fake rock in front of him, revealing a grate, which opened on to a ventilation duct deep into the heart of the base.

	It had apparantly been more than a month since Blackblade, his minions, the Undead, and his personal army, the Doom Guard, had taken over one of the two subterranean complexes of NORAD. Only the absolute devotion to duty that the soldiers, Marines, and airmen had sworn to had kept the villains from knowing the secret codes to operate the united States’ nuclear arsenal, a duty all but one had given their lives to uphold. They could not take the chance that Blackblade’s minions had deciphered the codes, and they had their mission.

	Meanwhile, far from the three heroes, the rest of legion staged themselves for an all out assault upon their foes. “Remember,” began Silverlance, “don’t hold back. We may be just a diversion for the infiltration team, but these creatures are powerful, and highly organized. Their leader is also insiduously cunning, and has likely prepared himself for our attack.”

	Hauler, the eight foot powerhouse that had been one of the founding members of the team, spoke up. “Should the fliers take to the air? And should one of ‘em carry me?”

	Before the team leader could speak, another voice piped up. “Verily, mine ogrish comrade,” pronounced Dragonlod, “I shall bear the aloft, that when our antics to force our foe to reveal himself, I may drop thee pell-mell amidst his uncounted hordes, none of whom possess the power to pierce thy steely hide!”

	“Actually, that’s a good idean, Dragonlord,” said Silverlance before anyone else could say anything. “Amber will be having her hands full, so to speak, and Wingstorm isn’t strong enough to lift Hauler, let alone carry him. Okay, everyone, positions. Amber, you can hover if you want, but you need to be close to the ground for our plan to work.”

	“Of course, Silverlance.” At a mental command, Amber’s golden energy radiated from her, sheathing her and her costume, a simple blouse and leotard the same color as her hair. She rose off the ground five feet, and began focusing her will and her energies.

	Meanwhile, as Dragonlord lifted Hauler into the air, followed by Wingstorm, the rest took up positions around the area Gunnery Sergeant Capitriano had described as being the concealed entrnce to the base. Darkenwulf and Silverlance stood to one side of her, while Flamestrike stood to the other. Gateway remained at the Hostel, ready at a radioed command from Silverlance to gate them back there if the mission should fail, or upon completion of the mission.

	“NOW!” yelled Silverlance, as he thrust out his hand, and his shimmering silver energy lanced forth, ripping through the flase stone of the cliff face in front of them, and cascading across the massive steel wall thus revealed. beside him, a pinpoint beam of star-hot flame jetted its way to the upper edges of the wall, rapidly melting a growing rift in the seam between wall and door, as Flamestrike added her own impressive firepower to the effort at hand. Finally, the golden glow from Amber lashed out, forming a giant fist of raw power that slammed into the five foot thick steel doors with enough force to shake the mountainside. A second hit, and the hideous shriek of metal tearing itself asunder filled their ears as the door was driven back into the man-made cave over which it stood guard.

	Seventeen Doom Guard soldiers, stationed at the gate for just such an eventuality, spun to face their attackers. Originally their number had been greater, but several had been in front of the door when it was caved in, and were beyond the need for battle. Most of them immediately took cover behind the massive door frame, but two reached for their belts, and hurled grenades at the heroes.

	If they were hoping to at least force the members of Legion to flinch, they failed. An almost contemptuous gesture, and the grenades were sealed in spheres of energy by Amber, where they exploded harmlessly. The rest of the guards then began to open fire, with the primary purpose of distracting the metahumans, or attempting to force them to keep their heads down, as energy bolts of various hues and frequencies whizzed over their heads. Legion obliged them, falling back several paces, which inspired the overzealous Doom Guard to advance out of the cover of the armored doorway.

	That was when Hauler slammed into the earth in the middle of their hasty formation, fists the size of a man’s chest sending them flying. Panic started to take hold in their minds, but a shout of defiance from one of the chaplains steeled their nerve. It would only be a matter of time before their leaders, the Undead, arrived after all.

********************************

	A lone Doom Guard soldier walked down the hall of the base. There was some sort of excitement going on outside, but he had been ordered to maintain his watch. After the escape of the last man who knew the codes, security had doubled, and at least one man from every watch was required to maintain his post even in the case of full-out attack. 

	“Ah, whoever they are, the bosses’ll deal with ‘em,” he muttered. Looking around, he surreptitiously pulled a pack of cigarettes from his pocket, and pulled one out. He sniffed it, then stuck it into his mouth, and began fumbling for a lighter. “Dadburned chaplains saying no smoking for no durned good reason...” 

	His internal monologue was cut short, however, by a blue clad arm snaking around his neck, and squeezing, hitting the cartoid artery just right to send the man to sleep, from which he would awaken with a terrible headache. “Don’t you know those things’ll kill you?” muttered Jarhead as he let the man slip to the ground.

	Synergy snorted. “Ain’t killed me yet. So the door’s just around the corner?”

	Jarhead nodded. “And be ready. They probably still have at least a few more guards. Ryan, you take point. Their weapons are some from of blaster, and you can just drink that up like a sponge. Calvin, when we enter, go as feral as you can. We want to scare the living daylights out of them, and force them to make mistakes.”

	“You got it,” said Black Tiger. “Savage Tiger it is.”

	Taking up their positions, they looked at the door. Once, it had some form of highly sophisticated and futuristic electronic lock. Now, however, the console was torn open, and several wires crossed. Apparantly, the Undead had forced their way in here in the first place. “Good,” muttered Jarhead. “Makes our job easier. Ready... GO!”

	The powerful muscles of the humanoid tiger knocked the door inwards, though not off its hinges, and he dove to one side, letting Synergy dart ahead of him. However, instead of the energy bolts they expected, they were met with laughter. “How predictable of you,” called a masculine, yet mellifluous voice.

	“The Vampyre!” snarled Black Tiger. 

	“Why, yes,” proclaimed the man they beheld. He was incredibly handsome, almost inhumanly so. His upper torso was bare, and his skin quite pale. He wore baggy, dark red silk trousers, which were wrapped around his ankles where they met his shoes. Long black hair hung from his head, and draped about him like a shadow’s caress. “And you are the Black Tiger, Jarhead, and Synergy, one of the newcomers. And you are too late.”

	“Too late? What do you mean?” demanded Jarhead.

	“We have already deciphered one of the codes. Already, a nuclear device is headed this way, launched from a top-secret floating launchpoint in the Gulf of Mexico. It shall arrive in perhaps fifteen minutes. The Doom Guard and the Undead shall survive, yet you all, and this city, shall fall.” Vampyre bowed slightly. “And now, i must take my leave of you. Farewell!” As he stood, a spray of blood erupted from his shoulderblades, congealing into hideous, batlike wings, that gave his countenance a decidedly daemonic feel. He launched himself into the air, and dispersed into mist as soon as he made contact with the ceiling, a mist that soon vanished.

	“No! We’ve got to contact them, tell them to call off the assault! Tiger, destroy that control computer just in case. Synergy, help me find the intercom system!”

****************************

	Silverlance watched the flow of battle, and began to get worried. This was simply too easy. All they had fought were foot soldiers, and perhaps two chaplains. None of the undead came out to fight, and none of their elite troops. And definitely not Black Blade.

	After only a few more punches and energy blasts, the mountainside was quiet. Hauler looked around, and started counting. “Boss, no way was this a force that could take over a military base. Something’s wrong.”

	A squeal of feedback interrupted them, which soon congealed into a voice. “Silverlance, they got a nuke launched! It’s headed for Mountainrock!” came Jarhead’s voice.

	“Amber! Fly me to where the missile is! My energy blasts and your solid projections may be able to stop the missile!” barked Silverlance.

	“No way, boss!” came a more gruff voice over the intercom. “This intercom thingy is two way, an’ I heard that.” Synergy coughed a little into the microphone. “I reckon I can deal with it better. If we don’t stop the missile, I can suck up all the energy an such.”

	Silverlance growled to himself, but realized the older man was right. “Go. Quickly. And I want you both back safe and sound at the hostel after this is over, no grandstanding!”

	With a nod, and a burst of golden energy, Amber was off into the mysteriously empty compound, to retrieve her uncle.

************************************

	“There it is!” cried Amber over the rushing wind of her flight. A sphere of energy around them allowed them to both breathe and speak at these speeds, but the missile was still a tiny speck with an incandescent trail up ahead.

	“We only got a few minutes before the dadburned thing goes off! Drop me on it, and bubble us with the strongest set of bubbles you can!” her uncle shouted.

	“But... if it goes off...” she objected.

	“But nothing! I can take it, I know I can! Just get me on there, maybe I can rip out enough wires to keep it from going boom in the first place!”

	Nodding, Amber raced to intercept the missile and its deadly payload. With less than two minutes before it would reach its target, she finally got close enough to drop Synergy off, and set up the bubbles. She couldn’t use them to stop it, as the missile’s detonators would register that as having made contact, and therefore detonate, or so she thought, and didn’t want to take the chance.

	Synergy had absorbed some energy from Amber in flight, and used the strength that had given him to rip a panel off the nose cone of the missile. Underneath was a bewildering array of wires and plates. Feeling the radiation, and getting yet more strength from it, he began to fitfully yank wires. “More bubbles! Put as much as you can around us until you can’t put any more, just in case!” he yelled, yanking out another handful of wires.

	Amber nodded, and set up no less than eight more spheres of energy around the missile, each one slightly larger than the last. One tiny corner of her mind noticed something she did not want to see... Mountainrock was visiblle ahead of them. “Hurry, Uncle Ryan! Hurry!”

	“I’m doing the best I can! Amber, if this is it, I love you like you were my own daughter!”

	“Don’t say that! I know you can do this!”

	Synergy didn’t respond. He merely looked at what he had uncovered, and sighed. “Decoy wires. To prevent sabotage. Goodby, Amber.”

	And the world vanished in a brilliant fireball of light, heat, and radiation.