Sirens and warning alarms blared through Exigent Circumstances headquarters. Everyone there knew there was something about The Interlopers, six people who had showed up from somewhere and proceeded to upheave plans long in motion. Double agents in Vanguard Research and development had reported that The Interlopers weren't Manifested, the source of which was still under investigation, and that further testing could bring disaster.

They didn’t make any sense. Reports on the leader's combat effectiveness had been swinging wildly for two weeks. One day he was tearing through an armed convoy, a week later he was struggling against trained thugs, then the next day he was ripping apart a well known supervillain. A theory had been put forth that the Interlopers, Fergus, had been tired, but this was shot down as nonsense. Still, if nothing about The Interlopers made sense, why would this?

Either way, that wasn't why alarms were going off. Alarms were going off because Fergus had amassed a small, fast, powerful army that was engaging in all out war against Exigent Circumstances strongholds. Where and how did he find the bases? No idea. Who kept disabling the alarms? Probably that one guy who couldn’t be recorded for some reason. What was his actual goal? Beyond general destruction, it looked like he didn’t have one.

With each fort Fergus and his army bulldozed through, they were able to grab more weapons, more ammo, new vehicles, and precious medical supplies. Each attack left the non adventurers on Fergus’ mob reeling, people died but Fergus' attack didn't stop, couldn't stop. He knew the stakes here, if the blitzkrieg failed Fergus would never find his gear again, never find the rest of his friends again, and would probably be dead by the end of the month. If the assault ever slowed, it would give the bases more time to prepare, and Fergus didn't have the manpower to attack multiple entrenched positions. It was a desperate, wild attack to fight back against the coming disaster the adventurers had been sent to stop.

"We can clear the rest of this base!" Fergus barked, "Roger! Take squads two and three and move on!"

"Boss, you sure?" Diego asked.

The base that Fergus had slammed his army into was a mess. Bullet holes covered computers, screens, walls, floors, and ceilings. Walls had been smashed through, chunks of plaster pooled with blood, human and alien alike. Fergus had a good feeling about this place. Resistance had been especially tough, and this particular base had a nice, central location that made it an easy pick for transport and storage.

“Roger, did you get any intel?” Fergus asked, wading through the destroyed base.

“I did!” Roger cheered, appearing next to Fergus, “Pilfered a report about a delivery.Shipping manifest was redacted, but I’m fairly sure it’s what we’re looking for.”

“What’s the lead?” Fergus asked.

“They’re taking backup, and a lot of it,” Roger said, “Three whole convoys!”

“Huh,” Fergus grunted, “That’s a lot, is it?”

“It is,” Roger said, “Lotsa armored vehicles, lotsa guys, and lotsa long range, explosive artillery. Personally, I don’t know if we can do it.”

“Really,” Fergus remarked, “Really?”

“Well, we’d survive, sure,” Roger said, “But I think only we’d survive. And, given how entrenched the enemy will be, they might run off with our stuff.”

“And when our stuff leaves, we’re probably not getting it back,” Fergus concluded, “That’s it, I’m calling off the attack, we’re going to regroup for now.”

“Erm, why?” Roger asked, “Don’t you want to strike while the iron is hot?”

“Look, we can’t guarantee victory here,” Fergus said, “And if we don’t secure this win, you’re going to be the only person on the team who has their stuff.”

“Right,” Roger said, “That’d be bad.”

“It would be,” Fergus continued, “You said the shipping manifest was redacted, but you didn’t say the location was redacted. “

“It’s not,” Roger said.

“Then we’re going in, just the two of us,” Fergus said, “We’ll be able to soften the target, move quickly, and avoid detection. Other people will just slow us down.”

“Just the two of us, though?” Roger said, “You sure we’ll make it?”

“If the two of us can’t make, the rest of the team can’t make it,” Fergus insisted, “Calling the rest of the team now.”

The jeep rumbled down the road as Diego bounced and jostled in his seat. The stench of gunsmoke was heavy in the air, and Diego and the rest of the team were grim faced and determined. Another Exigent Circumstances base was fast approaching. Diego’s phone rang, a call from the boss.

“Boss, moving to-” Diego said.

“I’m calling off the attack,” Fergus said, “Retreat and go to ground. Repeat, retreat and go to ground, I’m calling off the attack.”

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“Boss, why?” Diego demanded.

“My partner found a priority target, and we can’t risk the target moving,” Fergus explained, “Get out of there.”

“We have them on the run-” Diego said.

“That’s an order!” Fergus barked, “You move forward, you move alone. Over and out.”

Diego was quick to pass the word around. They were done for the night. Enough damage had been done to Exigent Circumstances, and “good enough” won wars. The rest of the heroes and vigilantes didn’t like it, but Diego made Fergus’ stance clear. Anyone who moved forward did so alone. This was a job for adventurers.

That night, Fergus and Roger gazed down at the Exigent Circumstances base. It was on high alert, which shouldn’t have come as a surprise. In the past week, an army lead by one, just one, of The Interlopers had smashed apart E.C. bases in a brutal blitzkrieg. Patrols had been tripled, squads of soldiers, tanks, and troop transports rumbling across the hard cement. Spot lights covered every square inch of the facility, the lone road leading to it, and the sky above. War was lurking in the dark, so the base had prepared for war.

“Think you can break me in?” Fergus asked.

“Eh, could be tough,” Roger said, “Overlapping patrols, no shadows, swarming with guards-”

“Can you do it or not?” Fergus demanded.

“I- of course I can do it,” Roger said, “Just wanted to point out that this takes finesse. I can get in, but it’s going to be hard for me to get you in.”

“Should I wait for your signal, or what?” Fergus asked.

“These don’t look like the kind of guard that would return to patrol,” Roger said, “If I make a distraction, it’s probably not going to make an opening.”

“What about stealing a uniform?” Fergus asked.

“Nah, they check all the guards, see?” Roger said, pointing towards a door, “Everyone who comes in or out shows I.D.”

“And they probably recognize me,” Fergus groused.

“And they probably recognize you,” Roger said, “I’ve seen you a lot on the scrying boxes, or whatever they’re called. They say you’re a wanted man.”

“I’ve got the skills and talent to be one,” Fergus said, “No surprise there.”

“I think it’d work best if I went in first,” Roger said, “Confirm the target, then make an opening.”

“So, wait for your signal, then?” Fergus asked, “Or do we attack together?”

“I was thinking a pincer strike,” Roger explained, “I attack from inside their defenses, then you attack from outside their defenses.”

“That’s a lot of defenses for me to fight through,” Fergus said, “I might need my stuff for that. Hold on, they have all our stuff in there, right?”

“Probably?” Roger guessed.

“Then we probably only need to get to our stuff before they can move it,” Fergus concluded.

“We’re gonna run in there and get ‘em?” Roger asked.

“We’re gonna run in there and get ‘em!” Fergus declared, “You keep ahead of me to soften targets, and I’ll be right behind you.”

“Gotta appreciate the classics,” Roger said, “Welp, now’s the now!”

Roger vanished, and for a moment Fergus pretended to see him. When Fergus felt that the time was right, he charged the base.

The Interlopers had struck again. The Combatant was covering a path of destruction ahead of him. Defenses were disabled before he got there, doors opened, guards struck down, and agents slain. The Interloper who hadn’t been arrested, but their abilities defied logic and reason. As far as High Command could tell, The Combatant was working alone. Everyone on the base thought that the rogue was around somewhere, but thermal sensors, heartbeat sensors, and sonar couldn't detect him. Those who didn't die before The Combatant reached them didn’t fare any better, he had been monstrous before and he was monstrou now.

With a full report, High Command issued their orders. The base would be destroyed. In the Grand Scheme, the loss of High Command’s most fortified base in America wouldn’t be a major loss, and the sacrifice came with the chance of killing two of The Interlopers, a group that was quickly becoming a problem.

Thunder rumbled and the ground shook as Fergus looked around in confusion. Fergus knew that rumbles and earthquakes usually signaled the arrival of some giant, awful, tiresome monster, but Fergus had also learned that he was a long way from where that was normal. He tackled a guard to the floor, slapped the rifle out of his hand and bellowed “What was that noise?”

“Huh?” the guard asked, eyes wide as Fergus pulled a fist back.

“That noise, and the rumble, what was it?” Fergus demanded.

“The- artillery,” the soldier said, resignation crossing him, “The base is being shelled.”

Fergus mulled that over. A giant dome was closing over the base like a shell? Usually when the adventurers unearthed forgotten flying machines they didn’t make this much noise. No, wait, the man had said it was “Artillery”, whatever that was.

“An attack?” Fergus asked.

“Wh- yes! An attack! Get off me!” the man said.

Fergus stood back up, a smile on his face. This was great! If people were attacking, it meant nobody could leave, and if nobody could leave then nobody could leave with his stuff! He could almost smell his treasures, nearly feel the weight of arms and armor. The attack was something Fergus could handle later. He had been attacked more times than he cared to remember, attacks were nothing new and Fergus knew how to handle them.

“This way!” Roger shouted, appearing before Fergus, “Hurry!”

Fergus moved with renewed vigor and excitement, until finally Fergus stood before his sword. The adventurers’ gear was laid out on shelves and racks of a storage room nestled away in the base, some of it still in shipping containers.

“I shall sever your bonds,” Fergus recited, tears in his eyes and a smile on his face, “Wedblock!”