Kitiara Club

Centurions: Power Xtreme · Assault Weapon Systems · Doc Terror

Systems Crossed: Power Xtreme Glitch

Archive Guest · 6 pages

Comic

A glitch in the system—at the worst possible moment.

Sky Vault control room at night: Crystal Kane at consoles, beam-down columns ready. Through the viewport, a burning ocean platform below, storm clouds swirling. Chromed AWS modules hover in light. Crystal is focused, Max Ray stands ready in blue armor, Ace McCloud balances a helmet, Jake Rockwell arms crossed.
Team—platform fire. Ready for AWS dock?Crystal Kane
Let’s do it, Crystal. Cruiser mode, now.Max Ray
establish crisis and the glitch1 / 6
Beam-down columns fire. Max Ray is mid-transit, but his AWS docks wrong: brown and silver modules mix with blue. He staggers, surprise and confusion on his face.
What—my AWS is all mixed up!Max Ray
AWS registry scrambled! Trying to compensate!Crystal Kane
Jake and Ace materialize on the burning platform: Ace in air-ops kit with a heavy anchor, Jake in Fireforce with one seabed leg. Background: flames, panicked workers.
Ace, I think you’ve got my kit!Jake Rockwell
This isn’t how I fly, Jake!Ace McCloud
the glitch hits; discovery and confusion2 / 6
Close-up on Crystal Kane in Sky Vault, frantic at her controls as Doc Terror’s green-tinted image flickers across screens.
You see, Crystal? Flesh is inferior. Machines will always fail you!Doc Terror
Not today, Terror!Crystal Kane
On the platform, Max Ray, half-air, half-land gear, tries to fight fire with an air jet while Ace attempts to fly awkwardly, both off-balance. Jake braces a shaking catwalk, platform chief signals them urgently.
Hold on! I’ll clear smoke!Max Ray
We can’t reach the hatches! Hurry!Chief Alvarez
Doc Terror’s monitor face is superimposed over the chaos, gloating, as the Centurions struggle. Flickering green overlays the action.
Give up, Centurions! Your teamwork is obsolete!Doc Terror
We’re not done yet, Terror!Max Ray
pressure mounts, Doc Terror intervenes3 / 6
Crystal’s fingers race over controls, face set with resolve. HUD diagrams show AWS modules realigning.
Override protocol—relink! Come on, Power Xtreme...Crystal Kane
Energy beams arc down—Max, Ace, and Jake’s gear snaps into correct colored modules in a flash of light. They stand ready, new confidence.
Power Xtreme!All
Crystal’s desperate fix; the tide turns4 / 6
The Centurions, each in their signature AWS, work together: Max breaks a water line dousing the flames, Ace soars above signaling rescue drones, Jake wrenches open a hatch for survivors. Platform Chief leads workers to safety.
Back in the sky!Ace McCloud
Hatch’s clear—move, move!Jake Rockwell
climax: rescue in perfect sync5 / 6
On the platform, steam clearing, Max, Ace, and Jake stand together, battered but triumphant. Platform chief thanks them. Early dawn on the horizon.
You guys are something else. Thank you!Chief Alvarez
All in a day’s teamwork.Max Ray
Sky Vault above Earth: Crystal Kane looks out a viewport, thoughtful. Doc Terror’s green glare lingers on a small monitor, fading.
We’ll be ready next time, Doc Terror.Crystal Kane
aftermath and team banter; Doc Terror’s threat lingers6 / 6
Chapter prose
A red warning blinked across the Sky Vault main console, and Crystal Kane’s eyes swept the readouts with practiced calm. Below, in the storm-lashed South Atlantic, an ocean oil platform was ablaze, black smoke clawing at the sky. Three Centurions stood ready for beam-down, suited for sea, land, and air. "Ready, Max?" Crystal’s voice was smooth over comms, but the tension was sharp. Max Ray—steady, salt-tanned, the sea’s own centurion—nodded, his gaze locked on the inferno that threatened dozens of lives. "Ready, Crystal. Initiate dock." Ace McCloud, helmet spinning in hand, grinned. "Showtime." Jake Rockwell just grunted, already bracing for trouble. Crystal's fingers danced. "Stand by—modular config: Cruiser, Fireforce, Skyknight." The docking beam sizzled. But as Max stepped forward, the sequence flickered—static crackled, and the white light that should have split and reformed into blue Cruiser modules instead locked a tangle of air-ops and land-ops gear onto Max’s frame. Limbs misaligned, Max’s familiar sea-blue was spiked with brown armor plating and a winged air-pack. He staggered, systems chirping errors. "Max, your AWS—" Crystal gasped, recalibrating furiously. But there was no time: screams sounded through the comms from the platform below. Jake and Ace were already in beam-down, exo-gear snapping into place. Ace landed first—his usual Skyknight kit, but a critical water-lance missing, replaced by an unfamiliar anchor module. Jake followed in his Fireforce, only to find one leg built for seabed footing, one for hard ground. "Ace, you’ve got my anchor!" Max shouted, struggling to adjust his posture as his body tried to recall decades of perfect sea maneuvers but found itself a hybrid. "This isn’t funny, Crystal," Jake barked, ducking a burst of superheated steam. Crystal’s voice was urgent. "The AWS registry scrambled! Hold position. I’m trying to—" Across dozens of screens, a sickly green light flickered. Doc Terror’s face—half-flesh, half-machinery, eyes afire with fanatic glee—filled the Sky Vault’s monitors and the Centurions’ visors. "See how the machines mock your fragile unity! Your systems betray you, Centurions!" His voice boomed, echoing into the burning sea. Hacker, his cybernetic henchman, loomed behind. "We’ll still save them," Max muttered, jaw set. "AWS or not." On the burning platform, a crew chief waved frantically as oil drums threatened to detonate. Ace rocketed upward—half his lift lost to the mismatched kit. Jake stabilized a crumbling catwalk with a single grounded leg, shouting, "Max, water up top!" Max’s new hybrid AWS coughed, but he found toggles that snapped open an air-jet usually built for Ace. He launched a burst of wind, pushing smoke aside, then fired Jake’s old earth-cutter through the tangled rigging. The three moved like a stuttering machine—imperfect, but somehow still a team. Doc Terror kept up his broadcast. "Human error: inevitable. Surrender!" Crystal’s voice sliced through. "AWS override—now!" Max’s suit snapped fully into sea mode, blue light burning through alloy. Ace’s sky gear and Jake’s ground armor realigned in flashes of color and energy. "Power Xtreme!" the team cried as one, modular silhouettes locking into correct formation. The platform’s main water line burst open under Max’s precise aim, drenching the flames. Ace soared high, relaying data to rescue bots. Jake wrenched open a jammed hatch, pulling the last trapped worker to safety. Doc Terror’s green visage faded, snarl twisting. "You persist—for now." Sky Vault’s viewports glowed serene again. Crystal exhaled, relief in her smile. On the battered platform, the Centurions stood amid steam and survivors, battered but unbroken. Ace winked at Max. "Maybe next time, you’ll let me show you how to fly." Jake clapped Max’s shoulder. "Or dig a proper hole." Max just grinned, the ocean breeze on his face. "Teamwork, gentlemen. Even when the machines fail." Above, Crystal watched her team framed against the blue horizon, already calculating where they would be needed next.
Original idea

Assault Weapon Systems path: Crystal’s beam-down docks the wrong AWS onto Max Ray mid-rescue. Ace McCloud and Jake Rockwell have to finish an ocean-platform fire with mismatched exo-gear while Doc Terror broadcasts the glitch as proof humanity is obsolete.

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