--Vanguard--

Time has passed.

Reality has shifted.

The world has changed.

There are only eleven people on the planet who know something is wrong.

Six of them have just learned the terrifying truth...

"Mxy." Lykopis stated with a calm voice.

The crash of waves against the rocky shoreline seemed to echo with the word. The gust of salty breeze dimmed her voice a bit, playing carelessly with the tiny strands of her unbraided bangs.

"What is a....'Mxy'?" she asked, sitting on one of the dark, worn rocks.

"...I don't know..." Ozzy replied, squinting a bit with the early morning sunrise.

Victor stood behind them, arms folded. A black bandana know wrapped across his eyes. If the man felt even the slightest bit of weakness from the sudden handicap, he showed no signs. Razor-sharp senses seemed to tell him everything he needed to know about his surroundings....keeping a new balance to make up for the loss of his sight. But, no matter whether it was his near-inability at long-term emotions, or, his own private pride...he refused to allow any hint of personal loss.

Adem Different stood a few feet away, hands folded in their normal position behind his back. He too remained silent. But, not due to any emotional needs or sorrow. He simply didn't seem to be able to speak their language.

Icarus, on the other hand, was painted by his own sorrow and shock. Constantly staring at the silver and gold bio-circuitry lining his arms, his hands...from what he could tell, every part of his body...he seemed mesmorized by this sudden change.

"I have heard of this name....Mxy." Victor spoke up, Ozzy and Lykopis turning to look at the blind assassin. "In Paragon's files."

"How do you know what Paragon's files say?" Ozzy asked.

"Simple research. Would I blindly...." he paused briefly at the word. "....would I join your team if I was not prepared to know who I was working with?"

"Wait...are you saying that 'Mxy' is a person? That they're a member of Vanguard?" Lykopis asked.

"Oh!" Ozzy's eyes shot wider, Lyly glancing over at him. "Oh, I just remembered...."

"What?"

"...'Mxy'...yeah...I remember...back on the old team...in La Perdita...Grimm mentioned the name a few times....so did Smith....'Mxy'...I mean, I thought they were talking about a rock group, or something..." he explained, eyes wandering in the back of his memory. "...but...no....'Mxy'...it must have been...a teammate of some kind?"

"*^^^{*}**())" Adem commented, taking a few steps closer.

Ozzy and Lykopis looked up at him. Ozzy's face twisted into a slight expression of pity.

"Adem...." he sighed. "...what the hell's happened to you, man..."

Baxter stood up, walking over to his friend.

"I CAN-NOT UN-DER-STAND YOU..." he said a bit louder, and a bit sharper, trying to get through to the alien. He pointed at his own ear a few times, and shrugged accordingly.

Adem stared back with a very flat, very dry expression. Then, simply reached into his coat, and pulled free a small tablet of paper, and a pen. He quickly scribbled something, and then, handed it to Ozzy. Ozzy took the paper, reading it aloud...

"But, I can understand you....so stop talking so loudly..." he read off.

Adem quickly scribbled something else, handing him the paper again.

"...you schmuck..."

Adem drove home the statement with a sharp smack to the back of Ozzy's head.

Different began writing and writing, Ozzy rubbing the back of his head with a small scowl. After a moment, Adem handed the paper to Lykopis.

"Obviously, something or someone has altered the mechanics of my language centers. I am trying to speak English..or any other language for that matter...but only my native tongue comes forward. Still, it has had no effect on my hearing, or comprehension skills. As for this 'Mxy', I would suggest we contact the Munich office, and determine what has happened in the year that has passed. Assuming the Munich office is still there." she read off.

"Wow...you sure can write fast..." Ozzy said to Adem. "Oh! Hey! What about Jym? Can you contact him?"

Adem shook his head 'no', writing again.

"I have tried, but Jym doesn't seem to be linked in with my nanites anymore. Just as baffling, my nanites do not seem to be able to repair my speech pattern. Most curious."

"Okay, I agree with Adem. We should head back up to the castle and see if Gaunt has made any progress..." Lykopis announced.

The group began to trudge up the small embankment of the shore, Lyly pausing to look back...

"Icarus?" she asked.

Sidewinder was still standing there, staring off into the horizon.

"...I can hear..." he muttered, Lykopis walking back to him.

"What is it, Icarus?"

He turned to look at her, the confusion still dominating.

"...I can hear....sounds....words........messages...." he tried to explain. ".....signals..."

Lykopis just stared at him, not quite sure what to make of this.

"...I can understand them, Lyly...." he said again. "....frequencies...radio waves....electromagnetic reflections off the atmosphere........I can understand it....all..."

Lykopis grabbed Icarus by the shoulders, forcing him to look her in the eyes.

"Icarus, I...we...need you to focus. Get a hold of yourself." she stated very evenly. "We have all been changed in some fashion. If we are to figure this out, we need you here...with us. Do you understand me?"

"...Lyly..." he began, eyes wandering again.

"Icarus!" she barked. He suddenly snapped his attention to her, as if waking from a dream. "Do you understand me?!"

He paused, staring straight into her eyes. And, a calm seemed to finally wash over him.

"...yes..." he finally nodded. "...okay, yeah...I'm here....let's do this..."

She held him for another moment, and then, both finally turned and began walking up the embankment.

They crested into a wide plain, with small mountains on the horizon. A ways ahead, the rest of the group were making their way towards what appeared to be a very large, very ancient castle.

"...why..." Icarus began, trying to find a hold on reality again. "...why were we dropped here?"

Lyly shrugged.

"I am uncertain." she replied. "Baxter says this manor is owned by one of the La Perdita employees....a Mr. Montag, I believe..."

Icarus looked over at her.

"Montag? Grissom Montag?"

"Yes, I believe so..."

"THE Grissom Montag? The Sandcrawler?" he asked emphatically, this being the first time his old self seemed to be poking through.

"If you like..." she shrugged.

He looked back at the manor ahead...

"Cool."

Quote:

Goodbye, Mr. Gaunt
By Edmund Gaunt

The group trudged slowly up into Montag Manor, making their way inside. Once inside, they each briefly parted to reflect upon their conditions.

Lykopis showered, allowing the hot water to pour over every inch of her body. She lingered in the stall, letting the water and steam pour over her body.

Finally, she exited and began to towel off. Walking out into the bedroom she had selected, she began to dry her hair and get dressed.

Pulling on a loose, white blouse she found in a chest of drawers, she finished dressing in a pair of slacks and boots she also found. She would have to return the clothes to Montag at some point. Or, if he was like most of his clan, she would simply have some form of payment sent.

"How long have you been here, Edmund?" She said, lying back on the bed and letting a hand run over the scar on her face.

"Not long, She Wolf." Gaunt emerged from the darkness, beginning to take form. "Although I admire your physical gifts, I am no voyeur." Gaunt stepped forward, his appearance different once more.

Although still covered by the long, shadowy cloak, Gaunt seemed to have filled out again. He looked almost normal. But on closer inspection, his skin seemed dry, cracked in places. Inky, black tendrils of darkness seemed to constantly pour from him. Or was it from the cloak? Lykopis couldn't be sure.

The overall effect was disturbing.

"You have changed again." She offered.

"Sudden mesomorphic transitions are not a new experience for me, I'm afraid. Did you know they tried to kill me during the Spanish Inquisition? It-Ah, but I am off track. You wish to know if I had any luck contacting the others."

"Did you?"

"Yes, William is perhaps the most resourceful of your kind I've ever met. He's sent a craft to pick you up. It will be here in the morning. He felt you could use a night's rest before returning. I think he's right."

Lykopis looked up, her hands reflexively beginning to brand her long strands of hair. "You're not going with us?" she asked a little hesitantly.

"I am not. William and I had an agreement. It is time for that agreement to end now. I am too long derelict in my duties as Shadow Chancellor. Things have crept back into the world that ought not be. And someone has to watch over them. I am that someone. Goodbye, She Wolf."

Leaning in slightly, Gaunt kissed Lykopis on the cheek and pulled back out. "The scar flatters you, my dear." Then he stepped back into the shadows and was gone.

Quote:

By I-Man:

Qayin ben h'Adam

One year ago, thirteen people vanished. Twelve served Him who spared me for my crimes. When I heard, part of me wished to take up the search, but the Dreams had not yet come.

Last night, in the land of Nod, the Dreams came. The Voice spoke to me, as it has for millenia, calling the Sinner to Sacrament. My nephews and nieces, possibly killed by smokes and mirrors. Once more, I am given mandate by Him to partake of that Sin I created, now in Service.

I go to Spain, once more to be my Brothers' Keeper...

Quote:

Metal Men
By Chewy Walrus

"Icky!"

Ozzy Baxter shook the young man's shoulders, evidently finally pulling him out his stupor.

"Wha..?" Icarus seemed... drowsy. Intoxicated. Numb.

"I've been knocking at your door for almost a full half-hour, man," Ozzy said, sitting down on the bed beside Icarus. "What have you been doing in here?"

Icarus shook his head as tears welled up in his eyes. Slowly, deliberately, he pointed toward the mirror sitting opposite the bed. Turning towards it, Ozzy looked... and saw, staring back at him, a man he recognized as himself, but completely covered in some kind of metallic ore. Next to that figure in the mirror sat a disheartened young man. His once long, luxurious head of sleek blonde hair now cropped almost to nothing around his head. His smooth skin now covered in wires, chips, blinking lights, and all manner of technologies. As that figure gazed too, back at Ozzy through the looking glass, the ex-boxer could see that one of his eyes was now a piercing red laser, gazing out.

"Who's gonna wanna fuck me now?!" the pilot groaned to himself. "I'm more machine now than man!"

"...twisted and evil..." Ozzy muttered under his breath, unable to pass up such a brilliant set-up.

"Oh, sure," Icky said, rising from his seat and beginning to pace the room. "Laugh it up! Make jokes at Mr. Roboto's expense! But you don't know, man... you don't know... having everything you ever knew, taken away from you, like that!" Sidewinder snapped to emphasize his point. "...that's, just... the worst feeling in the world."

Ozzy paused, the chinking sound of metal on metal as he ran his hand over his face, preparing for the next words out of his mouth.

"Icarus," Baxter said, completely calmly, "fuck you."

Icarus shot Ozzy a hardened glare. "Excuse me?"

"You heard me," Ozzy said. "Fuck you. Of course everything you've ever known has been taken away from you - because the only thing you've ever known is yourself! And when the time comes for you to be tried... for you to be tested... all you can do is crumple like a coward? Bullshit."

Ozzy rose from the bed, making his way toward where Icky was standing. "Back in my fighting days, there came a point where the realization sinks in - I'm washed up and there's nothing I can do about it. Every boxer wants a final chance... but I never took mine. By the time that realization sank in for me, I was in debt up to my eyebrows and had seven different mobs chasing me down to collect.

"Did you know there was a Hungarian mob?" Ozzy asked. "'Cuz I never did...

"I never took my shot, kid. In fact, it wasn't until Nuriko of the La Perdita branch pulled me outta that gunk that I even realized that life was giving me a chance again, asking nothing in return. Screw karma, man... 'cuz I didn't have any good karma coming to me after some of the crap I went through... but I got another chance.

"And that kinda puts things in perspective, y'know?"

Icarus' head hung in front of him as Ozzy finished. Slowly, the pilot brought his head up and nodded, looking Ozzy in the eyes.

"What the hell are you talking about, man?"

Ozzy sighed heavily. "These... these... things!" Baxter said, motioning toward the cybernetics covering his comrade. "You're looking at them all wrong, man. Maybe... instead of focusing on the external Icarus... it's time you got in touch with the Icarus inside, y'know? Maybe then you'll discover what it is you're supposed to do with these things.

"Life has given you a second chance, Icarus. Don't blow it by thinking about yourself..."

With that, Ozzy turned, walking out of the room. As he reached the door, he stopped in his tracks at the sound of his name being uttered with a slight Russian accent.

"Yeah?" he responded, looking over his shoulder.

"Where are you going?" Icarus asked.

Baxter shrugged. "Don't know. Thought I'd find Edmund... Adem... Lyly... Vic... see what's getting done, y'know?"

Icarus paused, opening his mouth several times, as though wanting to speak, but not able to. His hands fidgeted a bit in front of him like a hyperactive child who had just been told to stand still. Finally, the words came.

"C-can I come with you?" Icarus asked, sounding more meek than he had probably ever been in his life. "I... don't think I should be alone right now."

Ozzy smiled. "Sure thing," he said, holding out his arm, wrapping it around the younger man's shoulders as they exited the room. "Let's go see how the other's are doing..."

New York City

Thin lips puffed on the dark brown wrapper of a Cuban cigar, the dark grey ash falling from the opposite end. Those lips twisted into a smile as they looked down, surveying the whole of city that he practically owned.

...and he saw that it was good.

A string of hostile takeovers ranging from the Dawson Corporation to Paragon Industries to the TriVex Corportation to a struggling Mandelovian enterprise called MalvanX had placed him in a class all his own. His long blonde hair combed into a tight slick look on his slightly tanned head... it was enough for him, now the richest man on earth, to be named the World's Most Eligible Bachelor. He truly had everything going for him...

Moving away from the window, he ran a three-fingered hand over his desk of solid mahogany. His other hand ran down the fabric of his three-piece silk suit. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out his solid gold pocket watch, opening it.

5:00 pm on the nose.

As if on cue, a soft feminine voice came over the intercom atop his desk. "Mr. Montag," the voice chimed, "Inga and Rhiannon are here for your five o'clock massage..."

Taking another drag off of his cigar, Grissom Montag's lips once again folded into a smile. "Send them in, Miss Tegan."

Moments later, the door to his office opened and two young women - a voluptuous blonde and a curvaceous Nubian - entered his office dressed in tight one-piece massuse uniforms, the skirts of which crawled well up their thighs.

Slipping off his suit jacket and tossing it onto his office chair, Grissom smiled. "Well, ladies... shall we get this started?"

The women smiled seductively as they slowly began to unbutton their uniforms.

Yes... Montag thought. Life is good...

Somewhere

He no longer felt the fire. That was no comfort, though; it still hurt like hell. He stopped feeling the heat years ago... or was it months? Maybe he'd only been here for a single year and it fell like an eternity because of the pain. Ha.

He could still see the fire. There was little he could do about that: if he closed his eyelids, in a matter of seconds they would burn away. It wasn't in front of his eyes, it was in them. Invading his whole body.

He wondered how much of his body was left. Was he just a hanging head and a torso, with not even the ashes of his limbs left under him? What would happen when the remaining parts fell apart too? Would he be able to...?

*click*

And then it stopped. Just like that.

If he had any sensibility left, he would have felt the hook on the back of his skull be removed, letting what was left of him fall to the hard rock floor he had been hanging over this whole time.

It was a pathetic view, even worse than he had imagined: a single head, its flesh blackened by the fire, with nothing but a small section of his spinal cord attached to it.

For the first time in, he would learn later on, eleven and a half months, he closed his eyes... and began slowly regrowing himself, wondering if he would come out as Link Fox, or something completely new.

The fireplace flickered with errant licks of orange and yellow, the crackling embers the only real sound in the massive room. Obviously an ancient meeting hall of some kind, it had well been converted into a luxurious den of antique sofas and fine wood tables. Ancient bronze shields, scuffed and marked from battles centuries past, along with twin broadswords of a celtic design hung over the thick, deep granite fireplace.

Ozzy leaned against the edge of massive furnace, peering into the dancing flames. The soft glow and warmth reflected in a muted, hazy fashion from his iron-like hide. He had recently noticed that the metal wasn't shiny or polished like steel, but more of a dense, rough grey.

Think I need a wax... he thought, a slight smile creasing his lips.

"Your hair..."

He turned, looking back at Lykopis. She lay comfortable along one of the softer sofas, the fireplace playing havok with the glitter of her eyes.

"...is it....solid?" she continued.

Ozzy cocked an eyebrow, running his hand through his tossle of white.

"...no..." he replied, seemingly just learning this himself. "...it feels more like...like...fiber-optic thread...or something..."

He paused, frowning.

"Want to touch it?" he asked, leaning his head out.

"No, no...that's okay..." she held her hand up. "...simple curiousity..."

"And boredom?"

A slight grin upturned the corner of her mouth. It was the first expression resembling a smile he had seen from her since all of this had happened.

"...somewhat..." she sighed.

"Where is this 'craft' that Paragon is sending?" Ozzy asked, turning fully from the fireplace.

"It's not coming, Ozzy." Lykopis stated very evenly.

He stared at her for a moment.

"What? But, you said--"

"Edmund said that he had talked to Paragon. That William was sending a ship. That we were going back to Munich." she replied, her eyes still staring at the flame. "As if everything was normal. Status quo."

She glanced up at him.

"There is no craft. No ship is coming for us. And he had not talked to William."

"Wait...how do you know all--"

"Did you see him, Ozzy? Did you talk to him?" she interrupted. She shook her head, looking back down at the fire. "He was....mad."

Baxter shrugged.

"Mad about what? About the situation? I mean, we're all somewhere between shocked and---"

"No, Ozzy. No. Not angry. Mad." she drove home emphatically, catching his eye. "His mind was...he...he wasn't acting himself."

Ozzy stared at her for a moment in silence.

"How...how do you know, Lyly?"

"After centuries of human interaction...after the falls of empires and the conqueoring of nations....do you not believe I know madness when I see it? When I hear it?" she explained. "Something in his voice...his urgency to leave us...the...humor in how he took his transformation, and how he tried to repair it....it was transparent...sad."

"...Edmund lost more than his body in our missing year..."

They both went silent again, Ozzy contemplating her words.

"....we...are...alone..." she finally said, the words escaping her lungs in a breath of sorrow and mental fatigue.

They were both silent for a few minutes, her last words hanging in the air, and in their minds.

After a moment, Ozzy walked over. He picked her legs up off the sofa, just enough to be able to slide in under them, gently replacing them back down in his lap.

Lykopis lay there, staring into the flickering light. Ozzy sat at the end, still holding her ankles softly. He, too, stared into the fire, as if they were both going to find the answers they were looking for in the random dance of flame.

"I've been alone before." he finally spoke, his voice rising above the crackling fire. "Trust me....this isn't it...."

"Hmp.." she grunted, lost in the flame.

"You....me....Adem....Vic and Icky..." he continued. "...as long as we stick together...", his voice trailed off, finding no need to continue.

The two sat there listening to the snapping fire for awhile, content in their own silence...

New York City

"Getting quickly acclimated to the good life, aren't we, Monsieur Montag? But, then again, those who live on the razor's edge often live such."

"What?!"

The two women stopped their foreplay and scattered as Grissom dove for his desk. Not for cover -- but for a weapon.

"There's no use. You can't kill me, anyway. And I'm merely here to talk to a fellow businessman."

Something about the man's eyes spoke volumes. Dark volumes. Well over six feet tall, his red hair was pulled back into a tight ponytail, his beard cropped close. His appearance was multiethnic and ageless. But Montag still kept his focus on his eyes.

"My name is John Sainte-Germaine. At least it is this week. I've been watching you. You've shown the same ruthlessness in business you've shown on the battlefield. Some of the companies you've poached were ones I had my own eyes on. Not to say your miniscule fortune threatens mine, but it's a fair start for a self-made man, so I have an offer for you."

"I'm not for sale."

"It's not a bid, it's an invitation. On the night of April 1st, I am having a get together with other members of the Draco Group and their allies to nominate this year's members of the Plumed Serpent Society. The normal idle rich and hoi polloi will be there, boring us all. I'd like you to come as well -- I'll have more to say there."

Sainte-Germaine strode forward and took a cigar from the humidor on Montag's desk, lighting it.

"You don't need to answer now. Showing up at Rauza Bal in Kashmir that night will be answer enough. Bring a date -- a real one, not these medically-liscensed whores. There's a world you don't know the full truth of out there, Monsieur Montag."

Grissom Montag began his usual sort of retort, but Sainte-Germaine wasn't listening. He merely walked straight to the plateglass window, removed it from the wall frame by hand, and leapt out at a stand to a hovercraft waiting three stories below.

"You'll get an answer, you meta bastard..."

"I'm not so sure, man," Icarus stammered, hesitantly.

"Do it."

"You certain?"

"Do it."

"Okay, I'm going to count to three out loud."

"Don't bother."

Icarus gulped once, counted to three silently, then hurled the large bread knife he held in his right hand as hard as he could towards the blindfolded Victor Reilly.

Victor heard the low wooshing sound Icarus' arm made as it moved downwards through the air, and the crumpling of Icarus' shirt sleeve.

Microseconds later, he heard the slightly higher pitched thwipping noise of the knife cutting rapidly through the space between them.

Victor pivoted on his left heel, pushing out his right arm and slamming his palm against the flat side of the knife. It ricocheted away from him and clattered harmlessly against the floor.

"Wow. Okay," Icarus said.

"Again," Victor said, walking over to the spot on the concrete floor in the building's garage where he had heard the knife land. He stopped directly in front of it and reached out with his left foot. He stepped once to the left and shuffled a few inches to the right, searching. When he felt the knife beneath the sole of his shoe, he kicked it across the floor to where he knew Icarus to be standing.

"You sure?" Icarus asked.

"Again," Victor repeated, in a voice that would seem to someone unfamiliar with him to be annoyance. Icarus knew that the repetition was simply there in the absence of anything else to say. Victor Reilly had no concern for Icarus' reservations.

"Okay."

Icarus gripped the knife handle hard, and drew his arm back."

"Okay..." He repeated, and then threw.

Victor shot his right arm out as the knife neared him. He wrapped his hand around it and stopped it mere inches from his face.

He let out a small wince as he realised that he'd caught it by the blade and not by the handle, as he'd intended. With his left hand, he tucked the knife into his belt.

Icarus noticed the blood dripping from the cut in Victor's hand, and stepped forward.

"Oh, jeez, I'm sorry man..." He said.

Victor ran a finger along the wound.

"It's not deep," Victor said.

As he spoke, he heard footsteps approach the garage and stop in the doorway. He tried to guess the weight and height from the sound of the footsteps and the distance between them.

"Baxter?" He guessed.

"Got it in one," Ozzy Baxter said, leaning against the doorframe. He turned his attention to Icarus.

"Domo arigato," Ozzy said.

Icarus grinned, nearly laughing but not quite.

"That's what I like to see," Ozzy added.

Icarus approached Ozzy slowly.

"Is there any word from Munich?" He asked.

"Ah... we're not so sure on that front, Ick..."

As they spoke, Victor took his blindfold off with his free hand and wrapped it around his bleeding palm, taking a moment to crudely tie it off.

He opened his eyes, seeing nothing but the blackness that he'd started becoming accustomed to.

"But I thought Gaunt said...?" Icarus said, and was cut off.

"See, now, that's the issue," Ozzy replied.

Victor raised his uninjured hand to his face, holding it about a foot away. And then, he concentrated.

The spectrum of vision available to most humans was, since his enhancements, only part of the visual range to which Victor Reilly had access.

A faint blur began to make itself visible before Reilly's eyes. An orange shape, roughly that of his hand, with a red centre.

Victor made a mental note that his infra red still worked.

"Victor?" Ozzy said, and Victor snapped his head over to where his two teammates were standing.

He made another mental note: Icarus showed up in his field of vision as an orange-red blur, the way most people would. Ozzy barely registered, managing only a cold greenish-yellow.

"Yes?" Reilly replied.

"You hungry? We're headed to the kitchen."

"Yes."

The beginnings of a migraine made itself known at the back of Victor's head. Using his infra red for more than a few moments had always been a strain, and now was no different. He stopped concentrating and the reds around him faded.

The world was once again black.

Guiding himself using their footsteps, he followed Icarus and Ozzy out the door.

"You sure this is what you want to do?"

"Positive."

"And what are you going to tell them?"

"What they need to know. What they need to hear."

Frustration. "You haven't told me all of that yet."

"No. I haven't."

"So you're just taking off to find this group of people - maybe half of them people you know - and when you get there, assuming they don't think you're crazy, you're going to tell them things you haven't even told me yet?"

"That's about the size of it."

"But... why???"

"Simple. For all I've accomplished over this past year, for all I've done, and for all I know now that I didn't know before, I've been without a purpose. I need these people. And, even though they don't know it yet, they need me."

"Doesn't sound very simple to me at all."

"Look. I'm sorry I can't explain this to you any more than I have, but I promise I'll come back to you as soon as I can. No matter what happens with these people, it's not gonna mean anything if you're not with me. Understand?"

A long silence.

"I'm trusting you on this one. But please hurry back. I miss you already."

"We'll see each other again soon. You know I'll be thinking of you."

"Is that supposed to tide me over until you get back? I can't read your mind."

Laughter. "I'll call you. Okay?"

"You better."

"I will. I love you."

"I love you too."

Click.

"What'll it be, Icky?" Ozzy said, spinning a cast iron skillet in his hand before placing it, with a clang, onto the wood-burning stovetop.

"Honestly," the pilot said, sliding into a chair beside Victor, who had somehow managed to find a seat unaided, "I'm really not hungry... at all."

Ozzy arched an eyebrow.

"I can't really explain it," Sidewinder said. "I just... I just don't feel hungry anymore. Like my appetite is completely gone."

"You think it's the new hardware?" Reilly asked.

Icarus furrowed his brow, looking down at his hand. Even after talking with Ozzy, he still wasn't used to all of this... and probably wouldn't be anytime soon.

"Could be..." he said quietly. "Honestly, I'm not too--"

Suddenly, Icarus just stopped talking, gazing out into nothing in particular. Ozzy walked over to where Icarus was seated, waving a hand in front of the young man's face.

"What happened?" Reilly spoke up from beside, looking to Icarus' general direction and then to the point where Ozzy had been standing.

"Not sure," the boxer said, tapping Icarus on the shoulder. "He just... stopped."

"...wow..."

"...what?" Ozzy said, leaning in close.

"I'm like... a hub..." Icarus said, his mouth filled with awe.

"A... hub?" Victor asked.

"Yeah..." Icarus said, holding up a hand to his ear, moving it slowly back and forth, mimicking a headset. "Remember how, on our way up here, I could... hear things? See things?"

"No," Ozzy said, deep in concentration.

"Yes," Victor said. Both Ozzy and Icarus shot the man a curious look. Sensing their glare, Victor smiled, tapping his left ear. "Enhanced senses, remember? Made even more acute by the blindness. I overheard him when he was talking to Lykopis on the way in."

Slightly disconcerted, the other two exchanged a glance. A brief silence followed as Victor cleared his throat, urging Icarus to continue.

"So... yeah..." Icarus began again. "I noticed that... well... I can hear things. Information. Radio waves, signals, codes... all sorts of things. It's like..."

"...you're a hub," Victor finished. "So what?"

"Well... I-I just caught a radio wave... one of my favorite songs."

Ozzy smiled. "Oh really? Which one?"

"Duran Duran's 'Hungry Like the Wolf,'" Icarus looked up at Ozzy. "I think I've been getting the words wrong all these years..."

Ozzy smiled. "So... you can see info, right?"

"More or less," Icarus said.

"Then you could probably find some information?" Ozzy asked. "Like, on where we might be able to find some of the other members of Vanguard?"

"Maybe..." Icarus said, shrugging his shoulders. "It'll take some doing. Honestly, I'm kind of making this up as I go along... discovering these things almost by accident. Once I get more control, though... sure..."

"Any idea when that might be?" Ozzy asked.

Icarus shrugged. "No clue, Oz..."

Ozzy sighed, leaning against the stove.

"Uh... Oz?" Icarus said, pointing at the stove.

Ozzy looked down, noticing that his hands were resting right on top of the red-hot iron stovetop. Moving his hands, Baxter noticed that they were now glowing with the heat.

"...interesting..." Ozzy said.

Victor plunged a finger into his mouth, removing it and holding it in Ozzy's general direction. Raising an eyebrow, he remarked, "Indeed."

Once again, both Ozzy and Icarus looked from each other to their teammate, their looks those of confusion and slight unrest.

Smiling again, Reilly pounded his hand on the table. "How 'bout them vittles, Baxter? Getting hungry here!"

At that moment, the scarred Lykopis entered the room from behind Victor.

"Lykopis," Reilly said, not bothering to look back.

"Am I the only one who gets creeped out when he does that?" Lykopis asked.

Icarus shook his head, while Ozzy just smiled and waved.

"I was getting ready to make something," Ozzy said, pointing to the stove. "You want anything."

"No... I'm not really hungry," Lykopis said, sliding into a seat beside Icarus.

"That makes two of us," Icarus said.

And the four of them sat in silence.

"Wonder what the alien's up to...?" Victor finally said aloud.

Post deleted by The Indestructible Man

"Adem?"

Ozzy stepped out onto one of the main open roof areas on the east wing of the castle. Gone were the catapults, or watchtowers that would have been associated with such a place centuries ago. A reinforced pool, bar...

Naturally... Ozzy thought.

...and reclining chairs encircled what was obviously one of Montag's more preferred social areas of this summer home.

But, right now, the only occupant of this party-pad was a single alien, standing near the granite railing, staring up into the night sky.

He didn't respond to Ozzy's voice, choosing to instead continue looking up into the night.

Baxter watched him for a moment, and then, casually walked over to stand next to him. Shoving his hands deep into his pockets, Ozzy followed his stare skyward. Above them, the beautiful canvas of the night sky spread forth, painting a symphony of beauty to behold.

"...looking for your old neighborhood?" he commented, still admiring the view.

"**()--__++**"

"Yeah...I know what you mean..." Ozzy nodded. "...sometimes...every so often...I wouldn't mind looking up my old address, too..."

The two friends stared skyward for a bit in silence, the cool night air biting along their heads.

"So, uh...we're doing a bit of cooking downstairs...collecting our thoughts...trying to...you know...suss out a plan..."

Adem made no indication he was listening.

"...and, you know me....burned the toast again...heh.."

The waves of the ocean hit the shore in the distance, keeping a slow white hum of noise to divide between the wind's howl.

Ozzy sighed, finally looking down.

"Come on man...I know shit seems bad right now...but, you know me....it's ME!" he emphasized with a slightly sad smile. "I'm gonna screw this up. I...we need someone down there that can keep these guys going....you're the only one of us that can get this together...."

Adem's lips wrinkled a bit, his eyelids lowering somewhat...

"Listen...I..I'll even learn this language of yours, if you want..." Ozzy offered. "...make it easier to communicate, you know?"

Adem's mouth finally broke into a small smile, shaking his head in what appeared to be disbelief. He turned, and looked at Ozzy, staring at him for a moment.

"^^}}{{\\|\|+==()()(**" he said with a wry smirk. Then, giving Ozzy a single slap on the back, he began walking towards the stairwell door.

Ozzy followed him briefly with his eyes, frowning.

"What was that?" he asked, turning to follow. "....did you just say something smartass?"

Adem continued walking, Ozzy pacing behind him.

"Did you?"

"((^^*^^*^^)()"

"...you don't think I could learn your language...right?"

"**0()(^^^"

"That's it, isn't it?!"

"***^)()("

"I could, you know!"

"{||\||}**"

"I could too!"

"**^^)*(__"

"Oh shut up..."

"{{}***^^()()**"

"Shut it!"

Darkness.

Oblivion.

This is the hour of nothing.

Please place your shoes in the kitchen sink.

Don't listen to the screaming in your brain.

Just toss it under the train.

Seasons in the abyss pass by untold.

There are great darknesses. And within these darknesses, something begins to move. . .to open. . .

The eye. Massive, it stares into you, filling you uncomprehensible dread.

Huge. It's fucking huge.

Words I can't understand. How is it speaking? How am I hearing it?

Darkness again.

Blurred, half memories coming back through a haze. Someone is speaking. Someone is talking. Who? What the hell are they saying?

A name? My name? What the hell. . .

And then things get really crazy.

Everything starts to swirl and coalesce into a technicolor explosion as I'm rocketed along through. . .something. A long tunnel? I don't know. . .

After what seems like hours/days/years/millenia, I'm virulently expelled back into reality. It feels something like being born. Again.

It takes a moment to realize there's nothing solid beneath me. Yet.

I hit the ground. Hard. After several moments, the shock wears off and I begin to pull myself up out of the massive hole I've made in the ground.

I look around, not knowing where I am or really caring. But there is a vision in my head. A place. I hope it's nearby because it looks like I'm walking.

I take a moment to wipe away the dust and dirt that cover my torn jeans and my black leather jacket. Stopping at a small puddle, I wash off my face and catch a glimpse of my reflection. My hair's a little longer and slightly unkempt. Plenty of time to get it cut.

Face seems no ok. No damage, scarring, or bruises. Goatee's not bad either. But like the hair it needs a trim.

The man called Grimm couldn't but smile a bit at his reflection. Standing up and trudging along down the road he found himself on, an old, familiar tune began to play in his head.

"Well, let's see what that bald bastard's gotten me into this time. . ."

Post deleted by The Indestructible Man

Grimm slowly trudged up the long walkway leading to Montag Manor. "Big." he thought. He happened to catch sight of a familiar crest that he'd seen a few times and a bit of recognition seemed to dawn on him. "Montag. Figures. He's got his sticky fingers in everything."

Grimm headed on up to the doorway.
***************

Inside

Ozzy Baxter slowly trudged back down the stairs and again entered the kitchen where Icarus and Victor had resumed their game.

"Still no luck with Adem?" Icarus asked, turning as Baxter entered begrudgingly.

"No. It's been hours and even the simplest of words and letters don't come out right. It's like he doesn't want to know how to say them." Ozzy plopped down onto a stool and glanced up at the two.

"But you guys seem to be coping."

Icarus Sidewinder frowned enigmatically as his head filled with new sensory input.

"What's wrong, Icky?" Baxter asked.

"Someone's at the door." He said a little worriedly.

The group rushed towards the front door, Reilly following as best he could.

They found Grimm, already inside, muttering to himself. "You'd think a big thief turned security expert would keep his home locked up. . .Baxter?!"

Ozzy stopped short, recognizing the newcomer, but not quite being able to place him. Sidewinder and Reilly soon followed, as did Lykopis from another side. "I saw someone walking up to the house. .." She began.

Grimm looked them all over briefly.

Ozzy. "Still doing the metal thing, I see.

Icarus. "Walking erector set."

Reilly. "Blind fury."

Lykopis. "Xena chick."

"Well, I gotta say, for once, it's nice to be the normal looking guy in the room." Grimm commented, plopping down into a plush chair in Montag's den.

"Who is this?" Reilly asked, briefly peeking into infra red again and seeing only a black silhouette.

Ozzy squinted and thought for a moment. "Grimm?"

"Right the first time, Baxter. No flies on you, I see." Grimm answered, leaning back with his arms folded behind his head and closing his eyes.

"What do you want here?" Ozzy asked again, finally beginning to recall something of this guy. But he didn't look. . .or act like this.

"Well, a shower would be nice. Also, something to drink, assuming Montag keeps anything decent in this dump. . .maybe a nap. . ."

"No, no, I mean, why are you here?"

"Isn't it obvious?" Grimm leaned up a bit. "I'm here to lead the brand spanking new Vanguard!"

"Who the hell do you think you--"

Ozzy stopped Lykopis' advance with an outstretched arm, still staring at the new arrival.

"...Skully?"

The man calling himself Grimm opened his eyes again, looking straight at Baxter.

"Yes. No. Take your pick."

"Man...what...what's happened? Where did you come from?" Baxter began. "You remember us? Vanguard?"

"Well, I don't remember you looking like the Tin Man, but, otherwise...sure..."

"Do you remember the last year?" Ozzy asked point-blank.

Grimm's eyes went narrow...a new experience for Ozzy...as he seemed to try and remember.

"...no..." he finally said. "I mean...I remember you...Vanguard and all...but, one minute I'm doing my 'Death' thing...the next, the bald smoker is chatting me up something awfully cosmic..."

"Prometheus?" Lykopis asked. "You've seen him?"

Grimm nodded, looking around.

"Yeah...he filled me in on the situation...said you guys might need some help...so...here I am." he shrugged.

"Right...well..." Ozzy sighed. "...let me introduce everyone...this is--"

"Lykopis ala' the She-Wolf...Victor Reilley, the iceman, Icarus Sidewinder, the hot-shot...and I know Adem over there....how's kicks, Spock?"

"**(0){}||\"

Grimm's eyebrows arched a bit.

"...sure, well, I'm sure you can get a cream for that, or something..." he grinned.

Ozzy stared at this old teammate...a rather transformed teammate...with curious eyes.

"Hey guys?" he addressed the esemble. "Could you give me a few minutes alone with Big G?"

Everyone sort of shrugged, and cleared the room, leaving Ozzy and Grimm alone. Baxter sat down across from him, hands folded as he elbowed down on his knees.

"Grimm...you okay?" he asked sincerely.

Grimm looked at him, seeming to think about it for a moment.

"Actually...I haven't been this good in a long, long time." he replied honestly. "I know...I know Mxy has fucked up some things royally for the planet. But...and I don't know how...it looks like I actually came out of this a winner........for once."

Baxter nodded, looking down a bit.

"Have you seen any of the others?" he asked.

Grimm shook his head, sighing.

"No. No, the last thing I remember was darkness...a fall...splat...and I'm picking myself up off the ground outside."

"So...this Prometheus...he sent you here just like us, huh?"

"Seems that way."

"I wonder why..." Baxter queried.

Grimm thought for a moment.

"Well, if he's the one dropping us here...he obviously wants us together for some reason."

"To stop Mxy? To fix the world?"

"Could be, man...could be..." Grimm nodded. "...either way..."

He paused, a small smile coming over this new face.

"...it's good to see you, Ali..." he continued, holding his hand out.

Baxter took the shake with a smile, and a small chuckle.

"For once, Grimm, I think I can say the same about you..."

"Ha!" the large laughed.

"Man...you really have changed...haven't you?"

"Well, hopefully not my godlike tolerance for alcohol!" he suddenly bellowed with a gruff joy, the likes Ozzy had never seen from the man. "Where's the whiskey?"

Ozzy laughed, getting up and searching out a crystal cantor sitting on one of the fine oak desks. Two glasses poured, he handed the other to Grimm, both men staring at the caramel liquid for a moment.

"To the good old days..." Ozzy offered.

"To new beginnings..." Grimm countered.

The glasses clinked together, as they threw back the smooth liquor.

"*KAFF*!" Ozzy choked a bit, Grimm already pouring them another.

"Did I ever tell you about the time I drank Thor Odinson under the table?" Grimm asked, throwing back another.

"...what?" Ozzy rasped, still dealing with the second slug.

"Yeah, it was...fuck, I don't know how long ago..." Grimm began, lost in relvery. "...I'm in an Asgardian tavern, right? And there's this gorgeous piece of enternal sin sitting next to me, if you know what I mean........"

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

New York City

One Grissom Montag sat at his desk, flipping through thick texts of history, and rumor. His eyes perused through pages on the Masons and legends of groups called The Illuminati. He sighed, his calculating mind crunching information and facts...spinning them off into theories and possibilities.

Grissom Montag did not like surprises. And he certainly didn't like uninvited guests. The stranger had caught him with his pants down. Literally.

Not again.

After a few moments, Montag leaned back up in his chair with a sigh, and persed lips.

"...I'm going to have to fire this security staff, aren't I?" he asked aloud.

Then, looking up, his eyes settled on a dark corner of the office.

"If you want to sneak up on someone, I would suggest actually finishing your smoke beforehand..." he drolled to the darkness.

A few footsteps, a small chuckle, and a bald figure clenching a cigarette between his teeth walked out from the shadows.

"Don't blame your staff..." Prometheus replied. "...it would make no difference."

Montag stared at the intruder with a calm calculation.

"You have thirty seconds to tell me why I shouldn't shoot you where you stand." he stated evenly, a pistol secure and leveled in his tight grip.

"I'll do you one better Mr. Montag...ten seconds..." Prometheus replied, striding over to his desk, holding a tan slip of paper. "I'm simply here to give you a message...a nudge, if you will..."

He layed the paper on the desk, still staring at Montag.

"...get ready for a new world..."

And with that, he turned, walking back into the darkness.

Grissom glanced at the folded paper, and then back at the shadows.

"The door's over there, you know..." he motioned to his left.

After a moment, Prometheus came striding quickly from the shadows, headed for the door.

"I'm so good at the dramatic entrances...but the exits...." he mumbled out of the corner of his mouth, opening the office door, and walking out.

Grissom watched the door close, and after a moment, picked up the paper.

It read:

Only eleven people know the truth of the world. Ask yourself...what is 'Vanguard'?

Grissom studied the strange message for a moment, finally clicking his intercom on...

"Miss Jovanka...have security stop the man that just left my office..."

"Sir?" his assistant replied for just outside the office.

"The man that just left. Don't let him leave the building."

There was a pause...

"Ummm...sir? I've been here all evening. No one has been in or out of your office the entire time."

Montag said nothing staring at the paper.

"Sir? Is everything alright?"

There was a pause...

"Yes...everything is fine.......have the security staff fired, would you?"

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

"Weapons." Lykopis stated evenly. "We need weapons if we're going to find out the problem here."

"I know...I know..." Icarus nodded, rolling his eyes.

"Then why do you keep leading me into libraries and pornographic dens?" she insisted.

"Look, I'm just following the information as I see it!" Icky replied curtly. "Okay?"

He continued his pace down a third hallway, Lykopis and Victor following.

"But, you know...that was a phat den...what a big screen, eh?" he commented, elbowing Victor.

Victor turned his head as if he were looking at Icarus. Icky caught the pseudo-stare, and got serious again.

"There." he said, stopping. He turned to his left, towards a pair of locked doors. "Something is feeding into here..."

"What is feeding? What are you going on about?" she asked impatiently.

"Energy...electricity....a security system, I believe..." he said. "Something important has got to be behind these doors.."

"Weapons?" she asked.

"Do I look like I have x-ray vision?" he replied sarcastically.

"If it is tapped with security, how should we open it?" she asked.

"Well, fuck girl...if Gaunt can get by the front door for us, I'm damn sure we can get in here..."

"Don't call me girl...boy..." she hissed.

"Jeez, you haven't changed THAT much, huh?"

Meanwhile, during all the banter, Victor was turned completely around looking at the bookshelf that lined the hallway.

He sniffed the air a bit, reaching out a hand. Pausing, as if perusing which novel impressed him the most, his fingers glided over the edges of literary spines.

"..I think..." Icky mumbled, trying to pry his finger through the edges of the doors on the opposite side of the hallway, "...if I can just get..."

Victor reached out and pulled out a copy of 'A Gentlemen and a Scholar'. With that, the bookshelf suddenly vibrated, and slid open.

Icky and Lykopis stopped what they were doing, turning completely around to see...

"Gun powder." Victor stated evenly. "Armory."

Before them, a vault of weapons spread forth, like the Fort Knox of all wars. Rifles. Pistols. Blades of all types. Even missle launchers, lined the walls in perfectly neat stacks.

"...whoa..." Icky muttered, a devilish smile spreading over Lykopis' face.

"I wonder what's in the other room?" Icky asked, thumbing towards the doors they had previously been trying to unlock.

"A security system...like you said..." Victor replied.

Icky took a step forward into the armory, Victor suddenly reaching a hand out to grab him.,..

"Stop!" he barked. And then, cocked his head to the side with a very deep sigh.

"..what?! What is it?" Icky asked, looking back at him confused.

Victor simply pointed down at his feet. Icarus looked down, noticing he was standing in the middle of a tiny, laser tripwire.

Lykopis rolled her eyes, as Icarus stammered a bit.

"I...I...HOW THE HELL WAS I SUPPOSED TO KNOW?!"

"You are the one who can see informatoin, correct?" Lykopis replied with sarcasm.

"This is all NEW to me, thankyouverymuch!" he retorted. "And how the hell did blind-guy over here know anyway? Fuck!!"

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

New York City

Again.

*beeeep*

Grissom pushed the intercom...

"Yes?"

"Mr. Montag? This is Alex with security..."

"Alex? Who are you? Where's Bob?"

"Uhh..sir, you fired Bob. I'm your new head of security."

"Oh. Right. Yes. Sorry. What is it?"

"Sir, we're getting a feed from your summer home in the British Isles...someone's tripped a silent alarm."

Montag frowned.

"Patch me into the feed. My office laptop...now..."

A second, and the video feed came up...

"...etting Victor lead us around from now on..." a tall, regal female spoke, pulling a few swords from his armory wall.

"Oh, right! Fuck, listen to BLIND guy. Sure! Why not?!" an obviously hot tempered blonde man, with what appeared to be circuitry running over his face and hands.

"Icarus. Would you care to join me in the dark? Call me the blind-guy one more time." a very cool voice replied from just out of camera range. "And if I were you two, I would step out of the camera's line of sight..."

The female and the blonde kid looked over...around...and finally straight up at Montag....

"Oh....for gods sake..." the woman sighed angrily, suddenly tossing a blade into the camera.

Everything went black.

"Shall I alert the British authorities, sir?" Alex the new, and somewhat nervous, security chief asked.

Montag studied the blank screen for a moment. Then, he glanced over at the slip of paper on his desk.

"Sir?"

"No. Thank you." he replied, quickly cutting the intercom off.

He paced for a moment, lost in thought. Then, he reached for the comm again...

"Miss Jovanka?" he said very calmly. "Have my jet fueled and ready within the hour..."

"So, you were in-"

KLANG!!!!

"Ahhh, cut that out!" Baxter scolded as Grimm tried unsuccessfully to thump his forehead again before giving up and pouring another drink.

"Does it hurt?" Grimm asked.

"No, it's just annoying as hell." Baxter replied.

"Oh." Grimm seemed a bit deflated by this.

"Do you rust?" He asked after a moment.

"I don't know." Baxter replied after a moment.

"Are you metal all over? Like inside? Your eyes? Your muscles? All that?"

"I don't know!" Baxter tried not to choke while laughing.

"Huh." Grimm muttered.

"So you were in Asgard, then? It's real?" Ozzy finally managed to ask while Grimm focused on the alcohol.

"What? I was?" Grimm asked, looking around perplexed.

"That's what you said earlier. Surely the whiskey hasn't got to you already!" Baxter roared.

Grimm studied the glass for a moment.

"It's not the whiskey." He downed it and poured another as Baxter choked down his own.

"It's like. . .some things are crystal clear, perfect. directly in focus. So realized, I could almost touch them. Then others. . .others are very vague. Like half remembered dreams. Does that make sense?"

"Too much." Baxter nodded in agreement, pulling down another of Montag's bottles. "What about Haven?"

"Haven?" Grimm squinted, looking at Baxter. "What do you remember about Haven?"

"Not much," Baxter shrugged. "I was only there the once, and it didn't last long. But you seemed to like it."

"Mmm." Then, after a moment, "Haven's gone."

"What do you mean gone?" Baxter asked.

"It's gone. It's not there anymore. Wherever it was. . .now it's not. Fuck, I need another drink."

"Have you called Bree yet?" Grimm asked a bit more quietly.

"No, I haven't . . .so you remember her, too?"

"Come on Baxter, I think I'd remember my own wife!"

Ozzy doubled over in a spit take as Grimm roared with laughter.

"You ass!" Baxter responded after a moment, breaking out in laughter of his own. "I'm gonna have to clean that!"

"Eh, Montag's rich. Let the maid do it. He's probably got one specifically for every room." Grimm looked around before spying an old bookcase.

"Hey, wonder what ol' Griss' has been reading up on." He walked over and looked over several shelves before finding something that caught his eye.

"Just the thing for a little late night reading before bed."

"Whatcha got?" Baxter's curiosity piqued.

Grimm held the book up into the light where Baxter could see it. The title read Eldritch Horrors and Other Things That Ought Not To Be by E. Gaunt. "I grew up on this guy's stuff. He was great at setting mood, but a little repetitive and wordy." Grimm offered as he noticed Ozzy's face drop.

"E. Gaunt? Let me see that." Ozzy grabbed the book and looked at the author's photo. "It's him. This is the guy from our team. The one that left after we arrived here. Lykopis said he was mad. . ." Baxter stumbled over the words a bit before Grimm took the book back.

"Come on, man." Grimm chuckled a bit. "Edmund Gaunt died in 1940. Cirhhosis of the liver. He was a heavy drinker. It's all documented. I'll see you in the morning."

Grimm wandered off down a hallway, presumably to find a bed that wasn't taken. "Don't see any ghosts without me!" He yelled after a bit.

"Ozzy, my boy," Baxter started, pouring another drink, "everytime you think life can't get any weirder . . .Heh."

"Five hundred twenty-five thousand six hundred minutes, five hundred twenty-five thousand six hundred, moments of tears. Five hundred twenty-five thousand six hundred minutes, How do you measure, measure a year, Damnit now that song's going to been stuck in my head all day...... oh excuse me sir" he said as he almost walked over the door man, who was attempting to block his entrance " that quite alright sir i'll get the door myself. No no i insist. There's no need to get rough, I'm not trying to take your job! Jeez man I'm just trying to get inside."

Sir your kind are really not welcome here, go find some other place to sleep.

"I'll have you know, I have no intentions of sleeping here, though its quite warm and that bench in the park over there does kind of give me a back ache." he exclaimed pointing in the direction of the local park

As the doorman turned to look, the bum walked right thought the front doors of the musim. His long hair was matted and took on a tarnished silver quality in the soft light. his beard, witch had a small twig entangled in it, reached out in every direction from under an overcoat that was three sizes to big. The man walked past Egypt wing, one of the most popular sections, and as he stroled along the Excalabor excibit, How Life Was in King Auther's Day, he just laughed. Just wandering along seemingly without purpose until he came to a small room. All in all it wasn't a remarkable room, lightly decorated with some fourtenth century furnichor, a few relecs that really don't belong, and a large ornate mirror that spred the lenth of the wall.

He stood there for a moment combing is hair with his hands, straiting his pants and tucking in his shirt. After he felt that he was apropreatly groomed he stared at his relfection."man it's been a long year. I've been trying to get ahold of you for some time now. Some crazy shits been going on here man, things seem ..... out of place. Have you been paying attention?" wagging a gloved finger at the air.

"I have, and they just don't add up. It's like watching a remake of your favorite movie, only the movie is your life. Hell look at me, ok bad example. But you know what i meean. I'm still the same, and yet I know i'm the same. Me! no big deal for the avarage joe but I have a slight habbit of losing it, as you well know. So its not all bad.

Some people passing by stoped and stuck their head in the room to see what the comotion was, only to find a man speaking to his own reflection. Most people just walk away a few stayed to watch. He would pace back and forth recaping events over the past year, and then go into an overly dramatic recap of how it didn't make any since, and would be impossible in any normal world.

"But I know its not right and I'm not even sure what exatly is wrong. .... and I don't know how to fix it." He paused for a moment, growing a little iratated

"Look, just let me talk to the boss for a minute, he'll know what to. he'll know how to fix this. So if you'll just be kind enough to pass the message along....?"

No reply came

"Come on theres no need to be rude, it's not like i'm asking the impossiable here. Fine! Don't talk to me. I'll find a way to make them see its wrong. Oh i know what your thinking "their never going to belive you" well thats ok, I'm used to people thinking i'm crazy. Everone alway think i'm lost in my in world."

Sinking his head into his hands,"but i'm not, i'm lost in someone elses. I don't like it here, please Alice.......... I....I just want to go home." he sobed. "Why can't I go home?"

"Poor man's lost his mind" a young lady said as the small crowd drifted away, leaving Cross to his misery.

"Then God said, 'Let there be an expanse in the midst of the waters, and let it separate the waters from the waters.' God made the expanse, and separated the waters which were below the expanse from the waters which were above the expanse; and it was so. God called the expanse heaven. And there was evening and there was morning, a second day."
Genesis 1:6-8 (NASB)

Throughout the history of time, one simple fact has been made more than evident. Cavemen, drawing on the walls with charcoal and animal feces, knew it as well as some of the world's most brilliant minds - Albert Einstein, Steven Hawking, Galileo Galilei, and Copernicus, to name but a few. It is simple in premise yet ultimately beyond broad in scope. It whispers in our ear every day, regardless of whether or not we choose to acknowledge it.

That fact, stated as simply and as complexly as possible is this: "The sky is big."

This fact is one that Icarus Sidewinder had not only embraced, but had based his entire young adult career on.

Based.

Past tense.

...and that is this young man's tragedy.

Just ten hours (or one year, depending on how you look at it) ago, he was an experimental test pilot flying missions on his custom-built jetpack for a private European consulting firm called Vanguard. He was is Spain and, despite the prerequisite amount of young angst, was fairly content, all told...

...that is, until, he awoke, quite literally, in the void, permanently entangled with all manner of wires, chips, servos, lights, and various other mechanical gadgetry that he had never before seen, much less heard of.

Vanguard was no longer together. Hell, Vanguard had probably never even existed. Time had gone screwy... and everything he knew had been rewritten. His life was forever changed. Everything he'd ever known was no wrong: black was white, up was down, and short was long.

The Counting Crows had it right, Sidewinder thought, lying on his back as he gazed into the starry night sky stretched out above him. 'You don't know what you got 'til it's gone...'

Momentarily, almost as an afterthought, he glanced down at his new high-tech self. How had he gotten this way? Had he signed up as an experimental guinea pig? Had his father even bothered to try to talk him out of it? Was his father even a scientist-slash-inventor in this 'brave new world'?

...so many questions...

...all of which seemed to disappear once he looked up into that lofty parchment stretched high above. He sighed. Having no family, no team, no past, and - quite possibly - no future was one thing... but not to have the skies?

Perhaps that was what was hardest for Icarus Sidewinder.

"You miss it, don't you?"

Icarus craned his head back to see the form of Lykopis, dressed in a simple sundress, standing at the door to the roof that he himself had entered by. Her eyes seemed... softer in the moonlight. She almost seemed less primal and more (dare he think it?) feminine.

"Yeah," Icarus said, looking back into the sky. "Yeah, I do."

Footsteps slowly made their way over to where Icarus lay. Sliding down beside him, the She-Wolf pulled her knees to her chest, looking out over the wooded forest surrounding the back half of the castle.

A long silent pause drifted over the two of them like the passing breeze, which gently blew the Amazon's hair, haloing her face in its tresses.

"A penny for your thoughts?" the Amazon asked.

Icarus smiled and held out a hand. "Let's see the money first..."

Lykopis rolled her eyes. "It's an expression, Icarus," he sighed. "And I thought Adem was bad..." she muttered under her breath, though just loud enough for Icarus to hear.

"Hey!" the pilot retorted, leaning up on his right elbow, so they were facing each other. "I resent that!"

"I'm sure Adem would too," Lykopis countered with a grin.

Slowly, she began to laugh. Then, after a few moments, Icarus sniggered... and the two teammates shared a few minutes of genuine laughter for the first time since having been brought into this world.

After the laughter subsided, another pause. And then:

"Seriously," Lykopis said, looking down at Icarus, "what are you doing here by yourself? The only time you were ever by yourself or away from a mirror, you were locked in the bathroom, yelling at anyone who might have thought about disturbing you..."

"Well," Icarus said, "firstly, in all fairness, sometimes I would use a mirror during that too. Let your imagination go where it will..."

Lykopis let out an audible groan as Icarus continued.

"Secondly," he said, "it's like you said. I miss it. The sky. As shaky and hot-headed as I undoubtedly always am... was... whatever... I always felt at home in the sky. It was my refuge, y'know? And I come here to find myself... grounded."

"Not to mention all the new hardware," Lykopis said.

Icarus furrowed his brow in thought. "Well, honestly, as bad as all that is, it would be almost... bearable if I had that solace, y'know? Instead, I've been reduced to a fact checker and you know as well as I do that Spock was always better at that stuff than I was..."

"True," Lykopis nodded, "but it is hard to take on status as a 'fact checker' if one is unable to communicate effectively with the world around him."

"I guess," Icky sighed, rolling onto his back again and gazing into the stars. "It's just not a role I'd ever thought I'd find myself in."

"Well, do you honestly think that I would ever have seen myself as a counselor?" Lykopis countered. "Do you honestly think that I would ever before now have been up here talking with anyone - especially you - about their... feelings?"

Icarus' eyes rolled over towards Lykopis as his eyebrow arched in thought. "Now that you mention it, that is kind of odd..."

"This world... this 'Mxy' has changed us all, Icarus," she said, "and not necessarily for the better. It is as Ozzy told me earlier: we are not alone so long as we have each other."

Icarus smiled. Reaching over, he took the Amazon's hand in his own and gave it a squeeze. "Thanks, Lyly."

Releasing her hand, he turned back to gaze at the stars, a twinkle in his eye.

And, slowly, the Amazon, too, reclined, laying beside her teammate as the two watched the stars go by in silence...

INTERLUDE -- Claremont, California

The Amulet of Cernunnos. The finest-wrought piece of La Tene-period Celtic jewelry ever found and the archaeological find of the lifetime. It could revolutionize the cultural study of a people so often ignored in favor of Greece or Rome. But, in the wrong hands, it would be little more than a trinket for the Black Market.

"Alright, Doc, hand the thing over and nobody gets hurt!"

Professor Richard Merrick knew these weren't the right hands in his lab.

"Sharon," Merrick calmly enunciated as he held the hefty amulet in his hand, "get out of here. I'll do what I can to hold them off."

"Sorry, doc. Your bitch stays here!"

The eight thugs moved in as Merricks fiancee made a move to run. As one grabbed her, the professor knew it was past time for words. Shoving the amulet into his shirt for safe-keeping, he grabbed a chair and swung.

Richard Merrick was a fabulous archaeologist, but a horrible fighter. He missed entirely, and the crook's fist connected -- hard. As he flew back, the breath went from him. He saw how Sharon struggled as he lay there. There had to be something he could...

AUGH!

Merrick's chest felt on fire as tried to stand up. Grabbing it, he felt something hard. How?

"Alright, doc! Give us the gold, or the lady gets it."

"I'll give you something, alright..."

Merrick smiled as he stood up. Where he had torn at his chest his shirt was ripped, and the amulet was buried into his skin itself. His blood felt on fire, as gold met flesh.

"...courtesy of the God of the Wilde!"

The middle-aged man swung into action. His senses were alive, and his reflexes more so. He kicked and punched like a pro, taking the crooks off guard, and loving every minute of it.

"Meta freak! Waste him!"

Then something happened.

BANG!

It was all so quick. The thief panicking and firing, Sharon's scream as she fell, the rage.

The rage.

The Hunt.

From tiny holes along the edge of the amulet pured wooden branches, like rivulets of oaken blood wrapping themselves around Richard Merrick. Around shod feet formed wooden hooves. Around bloody-knuckled hands formed thorny claws. Across his head draped a helmet of branches and a crown of oaken antlers.

Where had stood a meek archaeologist before now stood, seven feet of blood-soaked wood encircling a heart of shining gold, the Wild Huntsman.

"What -- oh God..." one crook stammered as his last words on this Earth as wood fortified like steel pierced his heart.

As two men foolhardily chose to stand their ground and fire useless guns at their adversary, the remaining five bolted. They would not get far. As they did, the gold runes on the amulet glowed blue with a faintly audible hum.

The hunt is on, the oaken spectre moaned in a voice from nightmare. As he did, the spectral image of five gostly wolves flickerly to life like blue flame and chased down his prey. It was all over in a moment.

As the dead was done, living wood began to crack and tear as it fell off Merrick's body. From the frame of the Wild Huntsman, the archaeologist came tumbling out, his body pierced and bleeding in a hundred places, the amulet lodged in his chest growing cold once more. As he dragged his body over to his now-dead love, only one thought came to Richard Merrick's mind.

"What have I become...?"

End INTERLUDE

The sun rose high over the mountains, long shadows streched out across the valley. He love it here, every little detail. How the fog would gather around the lake, early in the morning, creaping through the dense woods surounding it. slowly riseing to join its cousins in the sky. Some days he would wake up early just to feel the dew settle around him as he sat on this "porch". Like most of the cliff side, it was covered in large vines twisting around like a pit of snakes in a constant dance. A thick, rich green, moss covered the floor and walls. His home was an intrecate system of small caves that converged in a great cavern. This was were he would hide when the pressures of life started getting to him. Here, over looking his own personal oasis, nothing could reach him. A few times he's thought about bringing someone here. Let them see just how magnificent it really is. He almost asked Z once, but in the end he decided to keep this place for himself. Anyone else would just complecate it. They wouldn't be able to aprecate how the limbs of the trees would sway together in the crisp breeze coming down the mountains. How the stag would prance about defending his territor from the younger bucks, or how in spring time the whole valley would fill with the sweet smell of, bologna?

"what the...?!", Cross exclaimed as he jerked awake. Takeing a moment to let his eyes focus to his suroundings, he found himself lying in an eight by ten cell. As reallity came flooding back, he recalled the events of the last several hours. how security had come and, as they escorted him out the meusim, the smirk on that smug doorman's face. How that neferious bastard took a simple vow of unyeilding wraith and vengence, as a personal threat and had him arested on the spot. He wasn't that worried though, the cops never keep the homeless for more than a day. Most, feelling sorry for them, give them something to eat before sending them back to the street. The stale sandwitch sitting on the bench ment they were ready to set him free.

It was late now, not that it really mattered much, just something that crossed his mind as he walked down the street. A lot of things have crossed his mind over the past year. A lot of things he's had to accept. Some little things, like how it is impossible to get anything without money. How it is almost impossible to get a job without valid identifaction. And, as crazy as it sounds, you can't get a valid I.D. without first having some form of valid I.D. You need a birth certificate to proof you were born. Your standing right in front of them!

A small smile spread across his face as he walked past the park that had been hid home for the last week. No, he thought, not his home. Home was a place were your friends were close by. Were you belong.

It was time to move on now.

As he made his way up the exit ramp, his mind wondered back to the Order. The Old man inpaticular. No matter how much was going on, or how busy he was, he always took the time to come down to the gardends and listen to him. Or tell some insanly funny story that would make him feel better, and show him how things always seemed work out on their own. Cross wondered if anyone else knew what a great sence of humor the Scion really had. He thought about the others too. How Z would hide the fact that she smoked from everyone, traveling lightyears away for a few puffs. But would always let him bum a cigarette, from her. How Graham would always talk ahead of the conversation.

He missed it. The non stop action, the crazy adventures. The fact that at any given moment some world shattering event could take place. He liked being part of something, important.

He stoped there for a moment, under the street sign. He knew sooner or latter that he would find whatever he was looking for. Looking up he read the sign," Amsterdam 200 kilometers. Heh, why not? Couldn't be any worse than the last time" laughing, he continued down the road.

The light continued to flash red on the small control panel in the wall. Sighing heavily, the man reached up a flipped the switch turning it off. "Montag. Again. These vandals never seem to learn."

He pressed a button on his intercom.

"Yes sir?"

"Carol, mobilize the Raptor Corps. There's another disturbance at Montag Manor."

"Will do, Mr. Kavanaugh."

The intercom went silent as the man leaned back in his chair. He pressed the button again.

"And Carol? Tell them Peter's in charge of this operation."

"Yes sir."

Brendan Kavanaugh leaned back in his chair and smiled. By the morning, his son would either be a complete disgrace, or the hero he had always longed for him to be.

Some Guy Who Isn't Grimm Because Grimm Already Went To Bed reclined in Grissom's massive tan leather armchair with a glass of double-malt in his hand. Ozzy Baxter, stretched out on an exorbitantly-expensive leather sofa, held up his nearly-empty glass to the light from the fireplace and mused on the intricate patterns of reflected light cast onto his lap through the bottom of the glass.

"So he let you off with a warning, huh?" Ozzy asked.

"The cop took one look at me and decided not to push the issue," Some Guy Who Isn't Grimm Because Grimm Already Went To Bed replied with a shrug.

Ozzy chuckled as he sloshed the last remaining bit of whiskey around the bottom of the glass. "I can imagine."

"You might want to be careful," Some Guy Who Isn't Grimm Because Grimm Already Went To Bed said. "I don't wanna know how much that rug costs."

Ozzy laughed. "You underestimate my catlike prizefighter's reflexes, amigo." He sat up, very slightly. "Almost empty. I could juggle these glasses if I wanted to." He sloshed the mouthful of whiskey around the bottom of the glass. A little dribbled onto his finger. "Oops." He transferred the glass to his other hand.

It slipped.

Ozzy jumped up. "Fuck!" He lurched forward to catch the glass, which tipped over and spilled its contents toward the Persian rug a few inches away.

The glass and its contents froze in midair.

Ozzy looked at the motionless glass, puzzled. The spilled whiskey rose back into the glass, which rotated upright and slowly glided over to the nearby end table.

Ozzy looked at Some Guy Who Isn't Grimm Because Grimm Already Went To Bed, dumbfounded.

Some Guy Who Isn't Grimm Because Grimm Already Went To Bed simply pointed to the doorway behind Ozzy.

His face and form still hadn't aged a day. Eternally twentysomething, with the same piercing cerulean gaze and bemused smirk. But his hair and eyebrows were snow white, as white as the suit and shoes he wore. He smiled and nodded. "Ozzy."

"Damn!" Ozzy shook his head. "Where the hell did you come from?"

Some Guy Who Isn't Grimm Because Grimm Already Went To Bed nodded. "Philsy."

"Hey, Some Guy Who Isn't Grimm Because Grimm Already Went To Bed," Phil Smith stepped into the room. "Yeah, you would not have wanted to explain that spill to Griss. I once 'overheard' him reflecting on all the history that was made on that rug."

Ozzy raised an eyebrow and looked at Some Guy Who Isn't Grimm Because Grimm Already Went To Bed, who chuckled and nodded.

"I sort of let myself in," the telepath explained. "Seems to be all the rage today."

"I thought one of the kids turned the security system on," Ozzy said.

Phil smirked. "Who do you think helped Grissom design his security system?"

Some Guy Who Isn't Grimm Because Grimm Already Went To Bed regarded Phil's hair and clothes quizzically. "New duds. New do. 'Bout time."

Smith ran a hand through his hair. "I didn't have much of a choice about this," he replied. "The clothes are just personal preference."

Ozzy picked up the glass on the end table and examined it curiously, as though he were measuring the number of spilled drops and not finding any. "I see you've still got the touch... so to speak."

Phil shrugged. "So to speak. I can do a few more interesting things these days too." He looked Ozzy over. "I see I'm not the only one with a new look." He turned and observed Some Guy Who Isn't Grimm Because Grimm Already Went To Bed, puzzled. "Definitely not the only one."

Some Guy Who Isn't Grimm Because Grimm Already Went To Bed drained his glass. "It seems like a lot of things have changed for a lot of people."

Phil nodded. "And that's what I'm here to talk about. There are some things you need to know-"

He was cut off by a muted crash of shattering porcelain from some other room, followed by angry voices and a distinctively canine growl.

Phil shook his head. "It can wait. I think I'd better see what's going on."

"Don't hurry back," Some Guy Who Isn't Grimm Because Grimm Already Went To Bed called as the telepath strolled out of the parlor.

Ozzy chuckled. "The more things change..."

"The more they stay the same," Some Guy Who Isn't Grimm Because Grimm Already Went To Bed finished for him as he poured himself another glass. "Want another?"

The Next Morning...

Phil Smith's arrival was miraculous, at best. At least as far as Ozzy was concerned.

For the past twelve hours...ever since finding themselves in this strange new world...Baxter had convinced himself that they were alone. That Icarus, Adem, Victor, Lykopis, and Edmund were the only ones left. That this was all that remained of the only family he had ever known. That this was the only remaining vestige of Vanguard.

Then, Gaunt had disappeared. Or, had he ever been here in the first place? A question better left for another day, he surmised. Either way, another brick had been taken. Another piece of the foundation of what he was holding onto.

The past.

Adem was becoming more and more distant. Was there something wrong? More than his new speech impediment? Was there something more? It was like he was...fading. Like he simply was becoming less and less interested in everyone around him. He was turning inwards. And, for all the affection he had for his best friend....there wasn't a thing he could do one way or another.

Icarus was dealing with a newfound curse....or was it a blessing? He seemed to be handling it better than Ozzy thought he would. Baxter had made a mental note to get to know Icarus a bit better. He may have previously misjudged this young man. There might be more substance to him than his original impression.

And, blind or not, Victor was as he had ever been. Quiet. Aloof. Seemingly content as the observer. And, as ever, Victor made Ozzy nervous. There had never been anything Baxter could grasp about the man that made him feel comfortable in his presence. But, like it or not, Reilley was one of the family. And you don't toss out your crazy uncle just because he drinks alot...

...or stares at you with blind eyes...

Then there was Lyly. There seemed to be a melancholy to her. As if the burdens of the moment were becoming too much for her to bear. At least, that's how she was at first. It had taken a few hours, but, she seemed to be coming back to her old self. Strong. Regal. Hard.

A bit too hard, sometimes, Baxter believed. There was a vibrant, powerfully emotional woman behind those sad, ancient eyes. Hidden beneath that vest of iron she kept locked around her heart, Lykopis cared far more than she wanted others to believe....more than she seemingly wanted to, herself. Guess that's what happens when you watch a few centuries worth of friends and family fade to dust. Was Vanguard any different? Was she prepared to love them as much as she had before? Was she prepared to watch this family, too, fade to so much dust as the years went on? Again, questions for another time.

So, the night had progressed, and their situation was beginning to set in. Alone in a world they knew nothing about...no friends...no contacts...no allies......hell, even their old enemies probably no longer existed. Or, worse yet, didn't even remember them.

That was the worst part, Baxter believed. No one remembered them. It was bad enough that Vanguard had probably saved the planet, and everyone on it, countless times with absolutely no thanks. No appreciation. And, in turn, had compounded more animosity from various factions throughout the planet. Yeah, that was bad enough. But, it was the name of their game. Metas had never been trusted. probably never would be. And, they could live with that. Ozzy could live with that. No one had ever trusted him, either. No one except these people.

But to not be remembered at all? Or, worse yet, how were they known? Was his ex-wife still out there? Did she remember an Ozzy Baxter? Was there ever one in the first place?

Who was he in this new life?

Questions, questions, questions.... the bald stranger had complained. And he was right. There were alot of questions left to be answered.

But, a few of them had already been revealed.

Grimm....not the one he remembered...but Grimm nonetheless. He had been lead to them. He was back. And, with his appearance, a certain weight seemed to lift. It was then that the first real smiles began to appear. Says something about a new world, doesn't it? When someone as...creepy...as Grimm used to be...when someone like him could be the catalyst for happiness where none had previously existed. It certainly was a new world.

Grimm's entrance had provoked more action among them. More levity. And, more planning. They seemed to be getting their hold on the situation, now. Getting their bearings. And now, with Phil Smith popping up like this, seemingly remembering as they did...things seemed to be getting even better.

There were more of them, now. More family. More Vanguard. And, this of course proved that...if Grimm and Phil were still here, and remembered them....couldn't there be more?

Eleven people remember the world... Prometheus' words echoed in his memory...

Montag Manor
The Kitchen

"...so, with Philsy here, that's eight of us we know remember the old world..." Baxter continued. "...so that leaves....three?"

"Three plus eight does equal eleven, Baxter, yes..." Lykopis drolled.

Yep. She was back to her old self alright.

"Yes. Thank you, your highness. I may be slow, but, I remember some basic math..." Ozzy replied sarcastically.

Grimm chuckled, leaning back at the huge oak table, arms folded. Phil sat next to him, holding a glass of specially brewed ale that Grimm had located.

They had all gathered together at the dinner table. Introductions had been made. And planning had begun.

"My point is...maybe some of the other Vanguardians are out there....maybe they remember too. And, if so, we should find them."

"Mr. Baxter--"

"Ozzy."

"...Ozzy..." Phil continued, with a smile. "...while I think everyone here certainly wants to believe that there are others out there....you can't expect it to be other Vanguardians. I mean, do you know what the odds are of the last three being specifically Vanguardians?"

"{**}))+__)_00..." Adem spoke.

Everyone paused, looking at the alien. He, in turn, simply rolled his eyes, and made the 'move on' gesture with his hands.

"I agree with Smith." Victor suddenly spoke up. "It's highly implausible that it is specifically members of our organization that remember like we do."

"Why?" Ozzy frowned, looking around at everyone. "I mean, so far...here we are!"

He looked back and forth at everyone.

"I think I'm going to have to go with Ozzy on this one..." Grimm commented.

"Why?" Phil asked, turning to look at him.

"Well....for one thing, the one constant among us all is meeting this 'Prometheus' guy..." he shrugged. "....so, I'm thinking he must have something to do with our memories."

Adem...who had been scribbling furiously on a piece of paper, finally slid it forcibly towards Ozzy. Baxter picked up the page...

"The question isn't whether it's plausible...the fact that we are all here should certify that it's a confirmed fact." Baxter read off. "For some unknown reason, Prometheus is freeing the minds of, specifically, Vanguardians."

"Okay, yes...you have made your point." Lykopis agreed. "But, this raises the question....can we believe what he told us? That there are only eleven like us?"

"We have no reason not to, Lyly..." Baxter shook his head. "...and as far as I'm concerned, if that's all we have to go on, then, we go with it."

"Just choose to believe the word of a complete stranger?" Phil asked.

"Until I'm shown something that proves different, yes." Ozzy nodded.

"Got it."

Everyone looked at Icarus, who...until this moment...had his eyes closed. He was now looking up at Lykopis.

She leaned in, folding her hands on the table.

"I...asked Icarus to find out more about us...about our missing friends." she explained to the group. "With his ability to read this...information, as he calls it...I thought this should be the first step in determining where we go from here."

"Good thinking." Grimm agreed.

She looked at Icarus.

"What have you found?"

"Not as much as you would want." The young man looked a bit worn out now, as if the strain had been considerable. "Fragments here, pieces there. I've tried scouring every corner of the internet...at least the parts I could access in short order..."

He took a drink of water, leaning back in his chair to look at everyone.

"I can find no mention of Vanguard." he stated evenly. "Not in reference to any of us, or any group we could have belonged to."

Everyone stared at him, not sure they could believe their ears.

"No...Vanguard......at all?" Phil asked again with worried eyes.

"Nope. Nowhere. No La Perdita. No European branch. Nothing." Icarus continued. "And, it gets worse...."

Ozzy cocked an eyebrow. "Worse?"

"There's no EPS. No Mandelovia. No MBL. No Strikeforce. Absolutely no grouping of metas......anywhere...."

"There are still metas, right?" Ozzy asked.

"Yes, there are definitely metas out there. Plenty of reports of them." he said, pausing and looking down at the table. "...and one report in particular you should all hear..."

He paused again, taking a deep breath...

"Drake Marshall, the Nightwatch vigilante....the greatest meta hero America had ever known......was killed protecting his city...three years ago." Icarus explained.

"Who." Ozzy demanded with cold eyes. "We know he's dead. Who killed him?"

"I...there was no picture...but, it's a 'supervillian', if you'll forgive the term....goes by the name of 'The Fist'." Icarus explained. "Big time weapons dealer and con man. That's all I can get on him."

"Where is he?" Lykopis asked. "Did they get him?"

"Still at large." Icarus said. "Wanted by every nation on the planet for some crime or another."

Ozzy sighed with a heavy heart, falling back into his chair. Drake had been his idol for years. A true hero in his eyes.

And if it was the last thing he did....Ozzy would find this bastard. Find the man that took his hero.

"What about Tommy?" Lykopis asked.

"Thomas Foxe...." Icarus began, 'reading' aloud. "....died of a heroin overdose seven years ago."

"Oh god." Baxter mumbled, resting his mouth in his palm.

"Yeah....." Icky nodded, a mortified expression crossing his features. "....poor old Tommy..."

Everyone remained quiet for a moment. It wasn't so much that they were paying their respects for the dead. But, more that they were trying to let it all sink in.

Two of their own. Gone.

"What about my team?" Phil finally asked. "Bri? Danny? What about those guys?"

"I can't find much on them yet..." Icarus shook his head. "...understand guys, it's not like I can reference a keyword for Vanguard. I'm having to search individual instances for individual people. Do you know how many people are named Daniel Hearn in the world?"

"Maybe they're still on La Perdita?" Grimm offered to Phil. "Maybe they just live on the island, or something..."

"No, I doubt that..." Icarus interrupted. "...I mean...I doubt anyone lives on that island."

"What?" Phil frowned.

"The volcano there erupted nine years ago, reducing the entire island to a barren rock...." he said. "....at least that's all I've been able to find on it..."

".......oh......." Phil muttered, looking downtrodden.

"What is it they say?" Grimm said, holding his ale up a bit. "You can never go home again?"

No one said anything for quite a while....

The crisp air in the south of Spain breezed softly across the tall grass surrounding Montag Manor. Somewhere off in the distance, a magpie warbles a morning tune as the sun peeks lazily over the horizon, as though seeing whether today was a day worth getting out of bed for.

He would not be disappointed if he chose to stay up this day.

___________________________________

Inside the castle, the seven remaining members of the group that had been known in another time and another place as 'Vanguard' stood in silence. For the most part, they were incapable of speech at this point. The magnitude of change the last few hours had brought them came crashing down on their heads like a tsunami as Icarus had 'read off' his discoveries to them.

Drake Marshall. Nightwatch. Drax. Dead.

Tommy Foxe. Dead.

La Perdita. Base. Home. Gone.

It was Phil Smith that decided to break the silence. "So... what next?"

"Honestly," Ozzy said, "I don't know. Any number of things might work. I mean, where can we go? La Perdita's gone. There's no more Mandelovia. Nothing..."

"))(@&#$?" Adem chimed in, his hand dramatically poised on his chin.

"Oh, for God's sake, man, just write it down!" Ozzy said, holding out his hand to intercept Adem's note as it landed in his metallic hand.

"What about Munich?" Ozzy read aloud. Then, looking back at Adem, "What about it?"

"William," Lykopis said. "The brownstone. The European branch."

"Weren't you just listening?" Icarus chimed in. "There is no Vanguard here. At all. What makes you think there's anything in Munich worth looking for?"

"It was merely a suggestion," Lykopis said. "There is no need to be hostile..."

"I'm not being hostile!" Icarus countered, raising his voice. "I'm just saying that we need to think about this rationally!"

"Children!" called Ozzy in a loud voice, speaking over the two just as Lykopis was opening her mouth for rebuttal.

Instead, the Amazon shot Ozzy the dirtiest look in the history of dirty looks and, with a voice that would give an Eskimo a chill, said, "What did you just call me?"

Ozzy looked momentarily abashed... but only momentarily. Within seconds, he had regained his composure. "I just call 'em like I see 'em, your highness," he said curtly, turning his attention from the optical 'death rays' being bored into the back of his metal-coated skull.

"There may not be anything worth seeing in Munich..." he stated, "but that doesn't necessarily mean that I want to abandon what may be our best lead so far."

"Okay," Grimm spoke up, shrugging his heavy shoulders. "So... how do we get there, genius?"

Ozzy paused, biting his lower lip - a metal ting sound emitting as a result. "I don't know," he admitted after a moment. "It's not like we can just hop a train or anything. Not without selling a few of old man Montag's artifacts first..."

"Sorry to interrupt," Victor Reilly interrupted, his head cocked slightly to the side, "but I think getting to Germany is likely to be the least of our worries at the moment."

Everyone turned a confused expression toward Victor. "And what is that, Vic?" Ozzy asked.

At that moment, as if on cue, a sonic blast dropped the seven assembled to their knees, each clutching the sides of their heads with agony. Stained glass windows shattered. A fifteenth-century Ming vase on the mantle crumbled. And several men clad in black repelled into the room through every possible opening, swarming by the dozens.

A short chirping sound later and the sonic bombardment had stopped. Looking up, the members of Vanguard found themselves at gunpoint... or gunpoints actually. Well over five dozen semi-automatic machine guns were trained on them from several impossible angles.

"Breathe wrong and you die," a voice from just behind them said.

Slowly, the seven turned, coming face to face with...

"Grissom!" Phil said, a huge smile spreading across his face.

The blonde Brit cocked an eyebrow and tilted his head. "Who the hell are you?" he asked. "And what the fuck are you doing in my house?"

Ozzy leaned his head forward. "You mean... you don't know us?"

"Should I?" Grissom asked, crossing his arms across his chest.

"Well," Ozzy said, "we know you..."

"Oh, bloody brilliant, mate!" Grissom said, rolling his eyes. "You know the richest man on the planet! Good for fucking you! I wager you to find seven people on this fucking planet who don't know me! That'd be the biggest surprise!"

"So..." Phil said, "you don't know us? At all?"

"Are you daft, son?" Montag asked. "Did your mummy drop you on your head too much as a child? Or do you just like to repeat what the big boys say so you feel like part of the conversation?"

Phil's eyes narrowed. Ozzy placed a hand on his shoulder. Looking back, Phil saw Ozzy shake his head and mouth the word, 'don't.' Phil nodded shortly, but definitely did not look happy about it.

"Now, as this is my house, I'll be asking the questions," Montag said, arms behind his back. "If I don't like your answers, you die. One snap of my fingers," Montag gestured a three-fingered hand for emphasis, "and I will have found a great source of fertilizer for the greenhouse out back...

"First things first - who are you and what are you doing in my house?"

"We're Vanguard," Phil spoke up, his voice clipped. "Or at least... at least we were..."

"...did you say 'Vanguard'?" Montag asked, pursing his lips in thought.

"I didn't stutter," Phil said angrily.

Ozzy sighed. "Shut it, Smith!"

"Oh, no," Grissom said, narrowing his eyes. "Let him keep talking. His brains would look good splattered on that tapestry on the far wall!"

Phil tensed a bit, now looking a bit more hurt than angered. The look of confusion on his face was almost heartbreaking for Ozzy. Before him, Phil saw his best friend berating him, threatening death... Ozzy knew how much that had to hurt.

"You know a bald git, then, I take it?" Grissom asked. "Cigarettes, long coat...?"

"Prometheus," Ozzy said. "I wouldn't say that we know him... but he's the reason we're all here..."

Grissom's face curled into a sneer. "So he's your ringleader, eh? Doing his bidding, are you, breaking into a stately mansion owned by the world's wealthiest man and owner of the most efficient global security network? What are you, then? Some kind of suicide squad?"

"No..." Ozzy said, "we're just people with too many questions trying to find answers..."

"And you thought you'd find 'em here?" Grissom raged, spittle flying from his mouth, glistening as it hit Ozzy's chrome face. "Well, I'm sorry to say it, but you are sadly fucking mistaken!"

"...fuck this..."

No sooner had the words escaped Victor Reilly's mouth than the man vaulted into the air, turning a somersault and landing directly behind Grissom Montag. Quickly reaching out a hand, Victor's fingers enclosed around a Bowie knife attached to Grissom's belt, which the assassin unsheathed, pressing the blade against Montag's Adam's apple.

The whole action took exactly five-point-three-nine seconds.

"Okay, you limey bastard," Reilly's cool, even voice droned in Montag's ear, "I'm calling the shots now. Disband the troops. Tell them to leave. Or I swear there will be fucking murders... starting with yours."

The look on Grissom's face was more aggravated than fearful. Looking out at his men, he spoke to the one standing directly opposite him. "Mr. Kavanaugh, redeploy the troops to the far eastern side. Set up a loose perimeter - surveillance only - and, no matter what you may see or hear, do not engage. Are we clear?"

"But, sir..." the man who was obviously Kavanaugh responded.

"Do. Not. Engage," Grissom said, arching an eyebrow. "Understood?"

A pause. Then, Kavanaugh nodded. "Sir," was all he said as he waved an arm in a militaristic fashion. Less than thirty seconds later, eight individuals remained in the kitchen of Montag Manor.

"Well?" Grissom asked, looking around at the faces surrounding him. "What ransom are you looking for?"

"No ransom," Ozzy said, shaking his head. "No money, no jewels... though we do like the house." Grissom sneered. "All we're looking for is passage to Munich."

Grissom blinked. "That's it?"

"Along with any help or influence you can provide," Ozzy said with a shrug. "We're hoping to find some answers there..."

Victor Reilly turned the knife he had pulled from Grissom Montag's belt over and over in his hand. He realised that the cold spot he had seen in the small of Montag's back could easily have been a mobile phone or coin purse. In which case, he probably would have gotten his teammates killed.

Victor wondered briefly whether he should feel guilty about not actually caring whether or not that happened. He then remembered that he wasn't capable of feeiling guilt, and reverted back to his usual status of detached observer.

"And Mister... Reilly, is it?" Montag asked.

"Yeah," Reilly said, keeping his head forward and not bothering to turn it toward the speaker. There was no real point if he couldn't see them.

"May I have my knife back? I need it. For slicing apples and such."

Victor paused for a moment, weighing up whether or not to actually give it back. He decided that a man of Montag's resources was best to keep as an ally, tactically speaking. At least, as much of an ally as is possible after breaking into a man's house and liquor cabinet.

Victor threw the knife across the room towards Montag. It stopped in mid air inches away from the man's face, held in place by Phil Smith's telekinesis.

"Sorry. I'm recently blind, you see," Reilly said.

Grissom Montag strode down the red cobblestone pathway, leading to the east area of his estate. Victor kept in pace just behind him, keeping in time with the footsteps in front of him.....and Montag's calm heartbeat. If Grissom reserved any fear or trepidation for the moment, he certainly didn't show it. His oft-normal air of arrogance and elitism held fast, keeping his eyes sharp...and his nose a bit higher in the air. This was not Grissom Montag. At least, not the one they remembered.

Lykopis, Phil, Grimm, and Icarus followed suit a few feet behind, the morning sun glowing over the horizon of the glittering ocean far out behind them.

"Shouldn't one us be keeping a guard on Grissom?" Phil half-whispered, striding next to Grimm. "I mean...you know...someone besides the blind guy?"

Grimm glanced at Phil.

"I didn't see anyone else taking command of the situation..." he replied. "...and I'd watch it with the 'blind guy' cracks. He can hear you, you know..."

"Phff." Phil dismissed. "...no he can't..."

Victor's head tilted slightly around....just enough to catch Phil's eye. Then, resumed it's blind stare ahead, eyes hidden under the black bandana.

Phil went very quiet.

Further back at the doorway of the estate, Ozzy had paused, talking with Adem...

"Here?" he asked again. "You're staying here?"

Adem nodded once again.

"Um. Okay, man. If that's what you want..." Baxter shrugged. "...we...we could probably use your calm brain with us, though....just so you know..."

Adem just smiled.

Ozzy finally nodded with a sigh.

"Okay, just...stay out of sight, man." he said. "I think this staff of Montag's will try and secure the place after we've gone. Stay hidden."

Adem stared at Ozzy for a moment. And...for just the briefest of seconds...it looked like Adem was showing a sincere...affection...for his friend. Was it a trick of the light? Or did Adem actually take Baxter's concern to heart?

He handed Ozzy a piece of folded paper. The top said: 'Don't read until you're in the air.'

Baxter opened his mouth to question, but, Adem quickly held up another piece of paper that read 'Trust me, Ozzy'.

Baxter finally nodded with a small smile.

"Okay." he said, turning to catch up with the group. "See you when we get back."

"Be cool, man..."

Adem watched him walk away. Then, after a moment, took time to look around at the beautiful morning that was beginning.

Another beautiful day on Earth... Adem thought, turning and walking back inside the manor.

A sleek Concorde...obviously refitted with a special hydrolic landing gear...sat gleaming in the morning sun, just off to the east of the estate. The group approached it, the landing gear beginning to lower on cue.

Suddenly, the crack of sniper fire rang out in the air, everyone freezing in place....including Montag.

There...just to the right of Victor's head...a small spinning slug of metal hovered in the air...halted dead in place.

Even as the slug fell lifelessly to the ground, Phil checked his own nose with a finger.

"Hmmm...no nosebleed this time...I think I'm getting better at this stuff...." he commented.

Grissom, his face contorted with extreme irritation, scanned the rocky range of hills and precipaces across the estate. He stopped, spotting the squad he had ordered to hold position. It looked like the head of the unit was yelling frantically at one of the snipers.

Grissom wrinkled his lips, reaching into his coat pocket...

"Anh!" Victor quipped, clamping onto his wrist.

Montag cocked an eyebrow, slowly revealing only a cell phone in his grasp. He stared at Victor briefly, Reilley finally releasing his grip.

Grissom hit a speed dial button. After a second, he mumbled something into the phone, clipping it closed and sliding it back into his pocket.

Another gunshot suddenly pierced the air, as the Vanguardians saw the head of the squad put a bullet into the sniper's head, killing him instantly.

"....I told them not to engage..." Grissom commented to the stares of disbelief from the Vanguardians.

The group boarded the plane with no more incident, Phil making his way up to the cockpit. The pilot stared with wide, nervous eyes as the stranger entered.

"Don't be afraid, I'm not going to hurt you." he offered calmly. "I just need to borrow your seat, if you don't mind."

The pilot gave up his seat to Phil, Icarus escorting him off the plane. Once the door was sealed, Smith fired the turbines, the jet's systems coming smoothly online.

"...you know how to fly this thing?" Icarus asked, closing the cockpit door behind him, and taking the co-pilot seat.

"I can fly anything..." Phil replied, hitting a few switches, as Icarus put on his headset.

"Know what you mean..." Icky nodded, hitting a few more of the switches for him.

Meanwhile, back in the wide, expensively furnished cabin, Victor and Grimm took a seat on either side of Montag, the irritation of such obviously catching up with him.

"What?? Do you expect me to bail the fuck out at three-thousand feet?" he griped.

"With you, anything is possible.........jackass..." Grimm commented, fastening his seatbelt.

Lykopis frowned, sitting in the seat across from them.

"Seatbelt?" she asked. "You? Really?"

"Who's flying this thing?" Grimm responded with a drollness.

Lykopis stared at him blankly for a moment. Then, fastened her own seatbelt. She glanced over next to her.

"Okay, Ozzy?"

Baxter sat perfectly rigid, hands clamping the edges of the armrests, eyes locked perfectly straight ahead at nothing.

"Fine. Fine." he responded, as he tried controlling his breathing.

"Want to hold my hand?" Lykopis asked, offering her palm.

"No. No, I'm fine. Really. Fine." he repeated with the exact same tone, still looking straight ahead.

The plane lurched a bit as it began its run for take-off. Ozzy immediately grabbed Lyly's hand, squeezing it in an iron grip.

Lykopis squinted slightly from the pressure, looking at Grissom.

"...umm...do you have any alcohol available?" she asked, bobbing her head towards the terrified Baxter.

"I have only the best liquor and wine on board. Do you have seven-thousand dollars for the bottle?" he replied dryly. "No? Didn't think so..."

She scowled a bit, wondering if her foot could reach his groin from across the small table seperating them.

The jet was airborne within two minutes, beginning its initial climb, everyone quiet with a slight nervous energy.

Baxter breathed in through his nose....out through his mouth. In through his nose....out through his mouth....

"Fuck." he breathed in. "Fuck." he breathed out.

This repeated itself for a little while. He suddenly remembered the note Adem had given him. With a concerted effort, he let go of Lyly's poor hand, and pulled the note free. Opening it, it read, very simply:

"Good-bye, my friend."

Ozzy stared at the note for a great length of time. And...although he would never admit to a soul....he strained to keep a tear in place.

After a few minutes, he replaced the note quietly, and with a deep sigh, resumed gripping the armrests. The tear fought its way to the crest of his eye, but, never dropped...

".........................fuck........................" he choked out with a whisper.

Grissom Montag had a brain for planning, but even the best schemes stray. He had not predicted that he would be in one of the fastest planes on the planet with a motley group that had broken into his house only to demand passage to Germany. He leaned over to the fridge, pulled out a chilled glass, and proceeded to pour himself a single glass of wine in front of the others. "What do you daft buggers expect to find in Munich, anyways?"

Lykopis could only shrug. "Answers, really. Something very important has been taken away from us."

She wanted to be very careful with her words. There was no privacy in this cabin, so there was no way for them to avoid Montag for very long. On the other hand, communication had to begin eventually. It was just a matter of balancing what Montag needed to know in order to help them.

Lucky for the team, Lykopis's tanned legs, dark hair, and regal bearing did give her an advantage over Montag that the others didn't. She rearranged her legs and brushed a loose strand of hair back. "That is a 1899, is it not? From the Orvieto vineyard, judging by the color. You were right about stocking the plane with only the best." She paused a moment to make sure he was listening. "I think I have about eight bottles left after last year's Midsummer's Ball."

It worked. Montag pulled out a second chilled glass and poured for Lykopis. "You have a good eye for the finer things in life. So what's a high-class mynx like you hanging around with characters like these?"

Lykopis took a sip before answering. "I ask myself that all the time." She set the glass down in front of Ozzy. Lucky for him, Montag was too distracted to notice. "So, this Prometheus...you have met this man?"

"That uppity little git. I don't know how he got into my office." He took another sip. "I still think you're on his payroll, you sneaky tart." Lykopis frowned. Looks like Montag was being just as cautious as she was. "What, did you expect me to warm up to a little high-class flirting? You're no Vivian-fecking-Leigh, so stop with the simple charm and get to the fecking business."

Oh, I wonder what sort of noise you'd make if I kicked you down south! Still, a lady must keep her cool. Lykopis looked towards the cockpit, where Phil was seated with Icarus. Like Phil, she had her doubts on Prometheus. "I am sorry you think that way. He has made contact with us, yes."

"Lyly," said Ozzy, leaning towards her. Lykopis was fraternizing with a possible threat, and that was making the plane ride even worse.

"We need answers from him," she said softly. She turned towards Montag. "And like it or not, you need answers from us."

Victor and Grimm shifted in their seats at the same time, reminding Montag of who was in charge. He seemed insulted at the very idea of these characters in his private jet. "Alright, fair enough, lass. Prometheus approached me recently. Gave me some sort of coded message that I don't understand." He tapped on a pocket, where the paper was folded and safe. "So what's your story?"

Elsewhere.

The doctor pressed the 'record' button on his cassette recorder and sat it neatly on his desk.

"I'm keeping a record of all this just in case. Just in case what? Well, in case I die or something. Or I become involved in a seventeen car pile up and lose all my ability to talk, or write, or tango.

"Where to start? Well, at the start I guess.

"With Sean. Sean was a normal kid. Loved being outside... running, playing frisbee, I don't know. Whatever kids do when they're outside.

"When he was fourteen, Sean developed an apparent metahuman ability. He could run. Fast. Faster than it seemed possible for a human to run."

The doctor paused from his note-taking for a moment as he approached a bookshelf on the other side of the room. He reached a hand up and pulled down a few old copies of science magazines. He found his own face staring back at him from the cover of the first one, alongside the caption 'An Exclusive Interview With the World's Foremost Metahuman Researcher'. The doctor laughed to himself.

"Sean's body couldn't handle the strain. Within a year of developing his metahuman ability, he had broken nearly every bone and torn nearly every tendon in his body.

Within two years, he had experienced three massive heart attacks.

Within three years, he was dead."

The doctor went silent, and put the magazines back on the bookshelf. His gaze moved across the enormous shelf and lingered on a photo of himself and Sean, arms draped over each others' shoulders at one of Sean's sporting meets.

The doctor had been very proud of his son. He had naively thought it a blessing when Sean's power manifested itself.

"Sadly, Sean is not the only case," He continued. "There's the girl who was rapt to learn that she could fly, only to lose her ability in mid air and fall to her death. The man who could turn invisible, only to become completely blind when light passed directly through his eyes and be hit by a truck. The list goes on...

"These metahuman 'powers'... these 'abilities'... are a curse. The genetic abnormalities that cause them, whether man-made or simply a natural mutation, are a disease.

"These metahumans need to be cured. We need to figure out what causes these curses in each individual subject and somehow reverse the effect.

"Some metahumans will consider this an attack. They don't realise the harm that is being done to them and by extension humanity through the application of their powers. And so they must be cured by force, the source of their freakish abilities studied and removed. Or at least neutralised.

"I know that this will make me some enemies. I know that not all metahumans will take kindly to losing what they perceive makes them special. I am well aware of the risks.

"So this is why I'm keeping this record. Just in case. I know I may not survive this."

Doctor Ian McGregor walked back across the room and pressed 'stop'.

The flight had taken around two hours, the supersonic jet landing without incident at Grisgot, Munich's international airpot. Grissom having ordered a limo to meet them on the tarmac, the motley group was able to bypass the normal security measures of entering the country, and continue their journey downtown.

"It must be nice not having to present a passport wherever you go..." Baxter commented.

"It has its uses." Montag replied curtly, sitting...rather cramped...across from him between Victor and Grimm.

"Well, don't worry...our use for you is almost at an end, Mr. Montag." Lykopis added, watching the city speed by outside.

Grissom gave a dark smile.

"And then what, my dear?" he asked dyly. "You dispose of me?"

"Yes."

Everyone paused, looking over at Victor. He continued staring straight ahead. "What?"

Lykopis just turned her attention to Montag.

"We are not murderers, Mr. Montag....unlike some people." she addressed him in kind.

"Heh....how small your minds must be to house such naive morality..." he dismissed. "....murder is killing someone who doesn't deserve it..."

No one said anything, Lykopis turning her attention back outside.

Up front, Icarus manned the wheel with Phil in the passenger seat.

"You know the speed limit, right?" Phil asked, Icarus speeding along his way.

"What, are you my mother?" Sidewinder grimaced.

"Do you want to be pulled over?" Phil retorted. "'Oh, hey officer...what? Oh yes, this multi-billionaire in here with us is our hostage. Is that a problem?'..."

"Listen, have you ever brushed your teeth while pulling six-G's? No? Didn't think so...."

"Amateur..." Phil sighed.

"Oh piss off, Stringfellow Hawk..." Icarus sniped.

"...who?" Phil frowned.

Icarus glanced back and forth between him and the road.

"Stringfellow Hawk...you know....Airwolf? The badass helicoper?" he asked incredulously. "TV show...back in the 80's?"

Phil looked straight ahead in thought.

"Jan-Michael Vincent?"

"Yeah! And Ernest Borgnine...remember?"

Phil scrunched his mouth in further thought.

"Wouldn't I be Archangel, then?"

Icarus paused, his eyes searching the back of his mind.

"...what?"

"The guy in the white suit....he was called Archangel..." Phil replied. "...Jan-Micahel Vincent was Stringfellow Hawk..."

Icarus continued to stare straight ahead.

Phil continued to stare over at him.

This went on for another moment or so.

"....piss off...." Icky finally breathed.

Five minutes later, the limo came to a stop in front of Paragon's Munich offices. But...it wasn't, was it? The brickwork was the same. The doors where they should be. But, something wasn't right. Too many windows?

The Vanguardians stepped out of the posh ride, surveying the building in front of them. Lykopis looked it up and down, a growing concern beginning to creep over her.

"Well...I guess we should check inside....see if William is even here..." she commented, pulling a shawl from Montag Manor over her back-scabbard. "...everyone hide their weapons..."

"What about him?" Victor asked, Grissom still sitting inside the limo.

Lykopis looked back at the smug man inside the limo.

"We bring him with us..."

"What?" Grimm frowned. "That's stupid."

"You have a better suggestion?" she asked the hulk of a man.

"I'll stay with Montag...don't know how well my shiny bod will go over with the public, anyway."Ozzy assured them, glancing around at stares from the street sidewalks.

"As will I." Victor added.

"Okay, fine." Lyly nodded, Ozzy and Victor climbing back into the ride.

"Just us three, now, smiley..." Baxter grinned from across Montag's seat.

"Oh........joy....." he drolled.

Lykopis, Grimm, Phil, and Icarus made their way through the front entrance of the building.

"So..." Phil began, his voice lowering as they entered the foyer of what looked to be a lobby. "...did anyone think to call ahead? You know, just to see if he's here?"

"I tried." Icky replied. "The old number is wrong, and I couldn't find another listing..."

A young woman sat at a huge counter that ran from one end of the room to the other, her head down busy with paperwork.

"....Penny?" Icky began, his eyes widening.

The woman looked up. It wasn't her.

"I'm sorry? Can I help you?" she asked, beginning to take in these strange people in front of her.

"Yes...." Lykopis half-smiled. "...we're here to see William Paragon..."

Outside....

"...so I said, 'Why should I pay for the whole hour?', at which point this chick turns to me and says...get this...---"

Grissom's phone suddenly began chirping, cutting Ozzy off.

"Oh, the wonder of small miracles..." Grissom sighed sardonically, reaching for the phone.

Victor glanced in his direction as he did so, but, simply conceded to letting him answer.

"Montag." Grissom stated evenly in the phone. "What? Yes....yes, I know. reschedule it for Tuesday. Tell them I'm...."

He paused, Victor still staring in his general direction.

"....tell them I'm tied up right now....yes, that's right..." Grissom said. "Ah, Miss Jovanka, while I've got you, connect me to office 737.......yes, thank you..."

He paused, waiting for the line, looking up at Ozzy and Victor.

"Shareholders meeting..." he explained simply.

Back inside....

"Bought out?" Lykopis asked. "What do you mean he was bought out?"

"I'm sorry, m'am..." the receptionist explained innocently. "...William Paragon sold this firm years ago."

"Sold it....to who?" Icarus asked.

The phone suddenly chirped, the receptionist holding up a finger to the group.

"Montag Industries, how may I direct your call?"

Lykopis' eyes widened..

"Dieses ist Grissom Montag, Ich bin außerhalb Ihres Bürohauses im Augenblick....Ebin Alarm, den die Behörden gefallen..." the voice stated evenly.

The receptionist paused, her mouth open a bit...

"Die Leute, die gerade gekommenes Innere haben, sind Terroristen, rufen Sie die Polizei jetzt an."

The phone suddenly went dead.

In the limo...

"Victor?!" Ozzy asked.

Montag grimaced, Victor clutching his hand so tightly that the cell phone was cutting into the skin.

"...I speak German..." he stated very evenly to Grissom.

Montag smiled through gritted teeth.

Back inside...

"Montag Industries??" Grimm in disbelief.

"Ummm...one moment, please..." the receptionist said very nervously to the group in front of her, pressing a few switches on her phone.

Lykopis studied her. The receptionist's fertive glancing....back and forth between them. The sudden look of panic.

Something was wrong.

"Dringlichkeit des Niveaus eins." she spoke into the phone, before hanging it up.

She turned with a faux pleasantness to the Vanguardians.

"If y-you'll have a seat..." she offered, clearing her throat a bit, and motioning towards the lobby sofas. "....I'll see if my manager can help you w-with your--"

"It's a trap." Phil suddenly stated.

"Everyone out!" Lykopis barked, the four hurrying for the door.

As they were running, Phil noticed the security cameras following their movements...

Outside...

"ARGH!!" Grissom yelped in furious anger.

"REILLEY!" Baxter barked, grappling with Victor's clench around Montag's arm. "ENOUGH!"

"He's called the authorities." Victor replied, still calm and cool. "We haven't much time."

As if on cue, sirens drifted in the background, getting closer.

Ozzy jumped out of the limo, just as the other four were running down the office steps...

"They're coming!" Ozzy and Lykopis said at exactly the same time to each other.

"What the fuck do we do?!" Baxter asked, looking down the street at the speeding police cars heading for them.

"We need to get out of here...NOW!" Phil yelled.

"STOPPEN SIE, WO SIE SIND! BEWEGEN SIE NICHT!!!"

Everyone jerked around to twelve security guards pouring out of the office building with guns drawn. Just as this was happening, four police cars screeched to a speeding halt, beginning to cordone off access to the street. Innocent civilins began scurrying from the area, as three more came around the corner down the street.

"Ah fuck." Baxter sneered, he...as with the rest of them...watching as they were being surrounded on all sides by the authorities.

"AUS DEN GRUND! JETZT! TUN SIE ES!" the officers were yelling, guns all pointed in their direction.

"Nein! Nein, there's been a misunderstanding!" Phil tried to reason with the surrounding officers.

Victor suddenly reached in, grabbing Grissom by the collar, and whipped him out. Held in front of the man like a shield, Reilley pulled his own pistol, pressing it against Montag's temple.

"Or....not..." Phil sighed with a roll of his eyes, flapping his hands by his side.

"Order them to back off. Now." he stated cooly in the man's ear.

"Fuck. You." Grissom replied with a smile.

"Victor!" Lykopis yelled. "No! This is only going to make it worse!"

"You should listen to your pretty little girl..." Montag breathed. "....you kill me...you think they won't open fire?"

Victor's upper lip sneered a bit.

"BEFREIEN SIE IHRE GEISEL, ODER WIR ÖFFNEN FEUER!" the main officer yelled.

Twenty-seven police officers.

Six Vanguardians.

"Okay.....what the fuck do we do?" Ozzy asked...

Back on the main street, the authorities were swarming, cordoning off side alleys and stopping traffic. Ten more squad cars had arrived on the scene, and Interpol was just beginning to get involved. Many questioned people on the street, while others were conducting interviews with Montag's office staff.

Suddenly, a single motorcycle roared past, flying by at over seventy-miles-and-hour. The police all began to scramble as the cycle bypassed their barriers. But, the Interpol agents began to calm them, chattering explanations in the native dialect.

One of the policemen sneered, looking off at the motorcycle roaring in the distance...

"...fucking prämiejägers..." he mumbled.

The cycle cruised faster and faster, roaring with a jerk as it shifted into the next gear. The single rider was a thin-framed woman, a black helmet hiding her features. Clad in a tight-fitting brown leather jacket, her posture remained leveled and narrow towards the handlebars. Black jeans tucked neatly into black boots hugged the sides of the bike, even as the back tire began to scream with a hard right. The bike banked, and half-jumped into a narrow alley, flying with abandon.

The chase was on again.

Meanwhile...the Vanguardians, and their new ally, continued a quick pace down one of the back alleys of the city.

"Why the fuck are we caring this tard with us?" Grimm asked, thumbing towards the unconscious Grissom. "He's only going to slow us down."

"I agree." Baxter nodded. "We need to loose the baggage, and get out of sight."

Lykopis looked at Victor, still carrying the limp figure over his shoulder.

"Victor, they may be right." she began. "We may want to--"

The sudden growl of engine pistons cut her off, as everyone jerked their attention towards the back end of the long, narrow alley. A black motorcycle was suddenly bearing down on them, roaring faster and faster.

Lykopis eyes narrowed, as she quickly ripped her sword from the backscabbard, bringing it to bear. The motorcycle was coming closer and closer....increasing speed....with no indication of stopping.

Suddenly, the female rider revved the engines a final time, and, in one motion, backflipped straight off the back.

Lyly's eyes flew wide...

"BREAK!" she barked, flinging herself against the alleywall, the loose motorcycle screaming past.

Grimm did a squat-and-jump, his massive legs vaulting straight up....Icarus and Phil jointly tackled Merrick to the side...and Victor tossed Grissom, quickly jumping up into a mid-air split, the cycle roaring past and under them all...............except for Ozzy, whom it slammed straight into, sending he and the machine into an uncontrolled slide right down the center of the alleyway.

In the seconds this had taken place, the rider landed square on her nimble feet, pulling twin uzi's from behind her back, and bringing them to bear....

...Grimm's feet slammed into the ground as he landed, Victor also hitting the ground in front of him....

"Victor--DUCK NOW!" Grimm shouted, bullets beginning to whine from the guns.

Reilley had no more been on the ground for a second, before he was flinging himself behind a garage bin. Metal slugs bit and spat at Grimm's chest with no effect, as the giant launched down the alleyway.

The rider continued firing as Grimm got closer and closer, bullets beginning to richochet dangerously close. Grimm rared a fist back, throwing it around to take her head off. The cat-like rider jerked her upper torso back just enough for the fist to whiz right past her helmet visor. Dropping the guns, she quickly grabbed Grimm wrist and shoulder, and using the apex of his swing, slammed him onto his back.

She had no more done this when she had to jerk back once more, but too this time too late. The blade of Lyly's sword slashed straight across the front of her helmet, breaking the visor. The rider's head snapped to the side from the force of the strike, turning her body to continue to motion with a fluid grace. By the time she had twisted all the way around, she ripped the broken helmet from her head. Grimm jerked back up only to meet the helmet shattering against head, as she backhanded him with it.

Stopping her spin with a single foot planted against the wall, she lunged back away from a second blade strike. That's when Lykopis saw the single, long thin katana blade being unsheathed from the rider's back. It came out, and across with such skill and motion, Lykopis had to take a single step back to avoid a cut.

The rider immediately ran forward, jumping off Grimm as he once again tried to sit up, her foot slamming his head back into the pavement. She came down with a few more swings at Lykopis, both women meeting blades with even cracks of metal.

They sparred back and forth for a moment, the blades flying too fast for anyone to really see. It was during these brief seconds that Lykopis could finally make out a clear face. The rider was definitely female. Quite striking, with high cheekbones, and nimble features. Her skin, an albino white, was a stark contrast to what appeared to be a flash of dull, reddish eyes, and obviously-dyed spikey hair of blue and orange streaks.

This mystery woman faked a lunge, and Lyly immediately picked up a specific style of Akido in her movements and stance. Their blades met a few more times, before they both halted with their swords locked against each other.

"....very nice...." Lykopis nodded. Then, with a quick motion, Lyly simply twisted her wrist, forcing the sword from the rider's grasp.

Lykopis sword now sat perfectly edged against this woman's throat, as the only sound was that of their panting breaths.

"....now that I have your attention..." Lyly began. "...would you care to tell me why you're attacking us..."

The rider stared silently at her, briefly looking at everyone assembling behind Lykopis. The entire fight had taken no more than two minutes, and most of them weren't even sure what had happened.

Grimm rose up behind the rider....pissed...off...

The woman suddenly jerked backwards from Lyly blade, quickly pulling a .357 Magnum from her belt, and, in one quick motion, spun and shoved it at Grimm.....who caught her wrist....

....but not before she had shoved the barrel straight into his mouth....

"Stop." the woman finally spoke. "All of you."

Lykopis' eyes narrowed with irritation, motioning for everyone behind her to halt.

"Now..." the woman began. "...I know that big ugly here looks tough....and he's got to be to stop a few hundred bullets on that building he calls a chest..."

Grimm stood there, still grasping the woman's wrist, but, with her finger on the trigger, he wasn't moving.

"...but, I have my doubts about his tonsils deflecting a .357..." she continued.

She looked back and forth between them.

"Anyone want to find out?" she breathed.

No one said anything.

"Good." she stated evenly. "Let's get down to business."

"My name is Nadia Li. Bounty hunter." she announced. "And I'm only after one thing."

"_{...godDAMMIT...}" Baxter's voice came from down the end of the alley, as he pulled himself free of the cycle that had slid him for over a minute and a half. "_{Fuck that bitch up!}"

"Him." she said.

Everyone looked back down the alley, watching Ozzy trying to untangle his shredded shirt from the jagged mesh of the exhaust pipe.

"Quite frankly, Miss Li, I simply don't care what you're after." Lykopis said, taking advantage of the distraction. "You attacked us first. I see no reason to indulge you any further............Phil...."

Her hand suddenly jerked straight out of Grimm's mouth, as she inexplicably pointed it at her own temple. Her expression made it crystal clear that this was not by her choice.

"...nnngh.....stop it..." she strained, using her other hand to try and pull the gun down. To no avail.

"Pull the trigger?" Phil asked, stepping up next to Lyly.

Grimm, still rubbing his mouth, quickly backhand Nadia so hard she slammed into the wall, and bounced into the other, before hitting the ground completely out.

"....bitch..." Grimm mumbled, as he dug a finger in his mouth, checking his teeth.

"....nnnnn...." Montag began to moan, Victor looking over where he had dumped him.

"What the FUCK was twisting her tit?" Ozzy asked, catching up with everyone.

Sirens in the background confirmed the authorities were getting closer.

"We need to go!" Merrick insisted.

"Fine. Leave them both here..." Lyly nodded, pointing at Grissom.

The group hurriedly left, leaving Grissom Montag and Nadia in the alleyway...

Reports were being filed, and the streets in front of Montag Industries, Munich Division, was beginning to clear of sight-seers. A few ambulances sat parked in front of the main drive...

"Ich bin fein..." she dismissed, pushing the hand away.

"Nr., sie haben a brusied stellringknochen, belastete ligamente in Ihrem untereren ansatz, und eine geringfügige erschütterung..." the paramedic said, re-applying the white gauze to the back of her head. "Und das ist, was sie für das tragen nicht Ihres sturzhelms erhalten."

Nadia grimaced as he applied the peroxide to the small cut in her skull. She was sitting in the back opening of one of the ambulances, the medic attending in front of her. Standing just behind the paramedic, a lone Interpol agent stood watching.

"And you couldn't I.D. any of them?" the agent asked in English, calmly surveying their resident tracker.

She glanced at the paramedic, and back again. "Are you sure he can't understand?"

The agent looked down at the back of the paramedic's skull. "Hey you...I want to gang-fuck your wife until she screams your son's name..."

The man didn't flinch, steadily going on with the business of tending to his patient.

"Satisfied?" the agent said.

Nadia stared at the agent.

"....you know, I could put a bullet in his skull right now, dump him here in the ambulance, and no one would know..."

And the medic's hand....paused...

"I...Ich denke, daß ich hier... getan werde..." he said nervously, packing his gauze and bandages, hurrying on to the next ambulance.

The agent watched him with suspicious eyes, Nadia grinning. He turned back to Nadia with a sneer.

"Could you identify any of the rest?" he sighed impatiently.

"No." she shook her head. "There was one in a white suit that struck me as familiar. But, I didn't get a good enough look at him."

The agent nodded.

"You should go over the FBI intelligence list we compiled of these freaks....see if you can find him there..."

"No..." she stated firmly, coming to a stand, and throwing her jacket back on. "...he's still out there."

"Li, he's gone." the agent sighed. "They could be anywhere by now."

She pulled her collar tight, cutting her eyes up at the man...

"...I'll find him..." she replied with a low tone, sliding a thin pair of sunglasses over her eyes.

She held her hand out with an open palm...

"Keys?"

He stared at her for a moment. Then, relented, digging out the keys to his car...

Over in the next ambulance...

"....and you tell Harcourt I want that bleedin' analysis in my hands in three hours! I don't care if he has to swim the fuckin' channel naked to get here--THREE hours!" Grissom Montag barked into a cell, swatting another paramedic hand away.

"Listen, bugger off!" he snapped, clutching the phone to his chest. "I said I was fine! Go! And carry your medevil torture tactics with you!"

The medics shrugged, some scowling, as they backed off....leaving only a single Interpol agent standing staring.

"That goes double for you, twat!" he hissed at the suited agent. "I've given you my fuckin' report."

"Forgive me, Mr. Montag....but, you don't seem very shaken for someone who's been kidnapped at gunpoint, flown a few thousand miles, and used as a possible shield for weapons fire..."

"It was by knife-point, actually..." he corrected with sharp tones. "....and maybe I 'appened to be born with a sizable pair, unlike you poofy 'erberts..."

The agent wrinkled his lips in irritation.

"Now....P-i-s-s O-f-f." Montag finished, immediately returning to the phone. "Teagan?! Of course I'm still here you miserable cow!"

The agent just turned and walked away, Grissom seemingly finding something on the other end of the line to give his tantrum pause...

"....och'...okay, okay..." he sighed, his temper seeming to even off. "....yes...yes, I know you've been trying to lose weight Teagan...yes, dear...I do apologize...I can be an insensitive curr, at times.......oh don't be like that Teagan...you know I can't run things without you..."

Montag shuffled his feet a bit....

"...yes, I know...I should think before I speak. I know. You say that all the time. I know I should listen to you more. Yes, I promise I will never call you that again....yes, I promise. Now, put your things back in your desk. You know I cannot do this without my superhuman girl."

He sighed, rolling his eyes a bit.

"Okay...yes, now listen, I need you to do something. Something very, very important..." he began. "...get the manor security footage from Bob and---...yes, right, Alex. Just get the footage, and then contact that specialist we use sometimes....what was his name? Yes, right, that's the one. McGregor..."

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

Approximately seven miles away...six Vanguardians were riding a service lift with one Richard Merrick...

"Okay...we're here..." Ozzy stated. "...now, does someone want to tell me what that was all about back there?"

"...does it looked chipped to you?" Grimm muttered to Phil, who was staring up into his top row of teeth.

"She said her name was Nadia...." Lykopis sighed. "...a bounty hunter, it seems..."

"Well, what the hell was she bounty-ing?" Ozzy asked. "Don't tell me that was about Montag...cause, if so, fuck! He can make people drop out of the sky, if she was that quick to get on the scene..."

Lykopis looked over at Baxter.

"She was after you, Ozzy."

Baxter paused, staring at her.

"...me?" he asked with furrowed brow. "Why the hell would she be---.........oh shit, wait..."

He snapped his fingers a few times.

"The Yakuza." he exclaimed. "Has to be. If there was never any Vanguard...then, Miss X never paid my debts...and Paragon never paid her....and........wait a sec...if that's it, then why aren't I still hanging in that fucking sewer?"

"It's pointless to speculate, Ozzy." she answered. "Maybe you escaped somehow? Maybe it's something else. Maybe it's not even the Yakuza."

He nodded, still trying to work everything out in his head.

"Besides..." Lyly continued. "...we have more pressing concerns....such as...what do we do now?"

Everyone kind of went quiet, unsure of the answer.

"Merrick, right?" Phil turned to the man. "You said this was your apartment loft?"

"That's right..." the doctor nodded.

"Okay, so, if you're wanted by the authorities...as you said you were...wouldn't they think to look for you here?"

"They've already been here....the place was ransacked..." he explained.

"Then, they're probably still watching the place, wouldn't you think?" Icarus added.

"No one is watching." Victor interjected.

"Oh, come on!" Icarus said with an exasperated tone. "How the hell do you know? I hate to point this out again, Vic, but....you're blind--"

Icarus's words were immediately choked off, what with Victor's thumb and forefinger forcibly grasping his esophagus, and all.

"Reilley!" Lykopis snapped. After a brief pause, Victor released Icky.

He coughed a little, rubbing his strained throat...

"...*cough*...you KNOW man..." he rasped, suddenly coming into a face-to-face confrontation with the somber teammate. "...you may scare everyone else with this 'Terminator'-thing you got going....but, one of these FUCKING days, I'm going to get tired of your act and---"

"And what?" Victor interrupted, suddenly taking a single step foward, to where he and Icky were almost meeting noses.

Icarus paused, the black bandana hiding Victor's sightless gaze from him.

"...and start IGNORING you COMPLETELY!" he finished rather unimpressively. "Ha! *cough* Yeah, motherfucker! SEE where you'll be, then, huh?"

Victor said nothing, and made no change in expression. But, he immediately took a step back from the man.

"...mess with me again..." Icky added under his breath, doing a quick fake-lunge at the man. _{"...bitch..."}

The two said nothing else to each other, Merrick glancing over at Lykopis as she turned back ahead.

"...nice group..." he commented to her.

She tilted her head with a subtle nod and shrug.

The lift doors opened to a hallway, the group following Merrick down to his door. They entered a wide, spacious loft, with large bay windows lining the far wall.

"Make yourself at home..." he stated pleasantly. "...bathroom is over there....beer's in the fridge. I'm going to change clothes..."

Lykopis looked over at Phil.

"Is Victor right?" she asked. "Is anyone watching the building?"

Phil shook his head with worried eyes.

"I....I don't know..." he finally said. "...my telepathy has been acting....wonky. Ever since Prometheus dropped me off into this world, I haven't been able to maintain a direct or indirect telepathic link. And passive scans always come back blank."

"Weird." she commented.

"Yeah...." he nodded.

"What about in the alley? With Nadia and the gun?"

"That was all TK..." he explained. "...I couldn't see into her mind anymore than I can see into yours."

Lykopis furrowed her brow a bit with worry.

"This world is going to take some getting used to...."

Ozzy Baxter slumped back in a chair in Merrick's apartment. "Okay, what we need is. . .is. . ." Ozzy struggled to make sense of the jumbled memories clashing with his new reality.

"Time." Grimm stated matter of factly.

"Right!" Baxter snapped up. "Time and. . ."

"Information." Grimm said again. "Sidewinder. You can tap into information now, right?" He asked.

"For the umpteenth time, yes." Icarus responded sitting in a chair with his face in his hands.

"Then get up and get to work!" Grimm picked Icarus up by the scruff of the neck and lifted him off the ground with one hand. "Feel sorry for yourself some other time. I need you to patch into the information networks and find out where the police are and what they know about us. Can you broadcast as well as receive?"

Grimm dropped Sidewinder as the young Russian landed on his feet, beginning to snap out of it.

"I don't know!" he barked, stopping when seeing the pissed off looks from his teammates.

"Then I suggest you find out." Grimm leaned in towards Icarus' face. "Because if you can, you're going to be part of our ticket out of here. I want you to scramble the police, interpol, all of them. Feed them as much disinformation as you can to get them off of our trail."

"I don't speak German!" Sidewinder counted.

"But I do." Reilly stated from where he sat, balancing a knife on his fingertips.

"Reilly, you tell us what they're saying and you tell Sidewinder what to tell them. Who's most familiar with Munich?" Grimm continued as the group looked on dumbfounded.

Lykopis, Merrick, and Smith all started at once as Grimm and Baxter looked at each other. "Well?" Grimm asked.

"I'd say Ly-Ly, but I'm not sure what Merrick or Phil know about the place." Baxter responded, rubbing his fingers on his chin and making a small squeaking noise as he did.

"Okay, then. Lykopis, Merrick, your job is to find us the quickest and safest way out of Munich. Phil, I have another job for you."

"And what would that be?" Smith answered.

"We need whatever connections you might have in this upside down world. We're not exactly inconspicuous, in case you haven't noticed."

"Some things never change, do they?" Phil smirked a bit before regaining his serious demeanor. "So we need I.D.s, passports, disguises?"

"All of the above."

"Where do we want to go?"

"Anywhere. I don't care. As long as it's the fuck out of Munich."

Lykopis was about to leave when Ozzy lightly grabbed her arm. "Lyly?"

She shivered, and then winced with emberassment. "I'm sorry...your hands are cold."

"Sorry." They looked at each other. "You'll be okay out there with the new guy, right?"

She nodded. "I think so."

"It's just that...this place is new to us and I don't want to see you get scratched up --" he winced at the poor wording. "Um...I just fucked that up, didn't I?"

Lykopis ran a few strands of hair over her face, in a pitiful attempt to cover the scar. "That's okay. I'm almost use to it by now."

"Just be careful -- "

She gave a little wink and turned around. "It's okay, I'm a big girl, I can tie my own sandles and everything." She turned to Icarus. "Icarus?"

"Yes, your Majesty?"

Lykopis ignored the slight sarcasim. "I think you'll be able to figure everything out. I bet you'll find a whole bunch of information for us by the time I get back."

Icarus grinned. "Uh...thanks. Really, thanks." He looked at Grimm and smirked. "See, at least she think I'm capable."

Lykopis motioned to Merrick. "Come on, let's get this started."

On the elevator ride down, Lykopis studied the strange Celtic ammulet on Merrick's chest. "Late Iron Age if I am not mistaken. Second century before Christ, maybe? Hard to tell, really."

Merrick was impressed. "Are you a historian as well?"

Lykopis gave a lopsided grin. "Well, sort of. I've been around since before Philip of Macedon became ruler." Merrick stared at her in confused amazement. "I am an Amazon, so to speak. I do not age. I may look like I'm twenty-seven, but really I'm over three-thousand years old."

"Three thousand?"

"Yes, I -- wait, are you laughing at me?" Lykopis was insulted. No one had ever laughed at her before. This new world was going to take some getting use to.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry...heh...you look real good for your age." Lykopis's brown eyes went red for a moment. "I'm sorry, really. It's just that I don't believe in Amazons."

"And I don't believe in Celtic Huntsmen coming out of professors. You are calling the kettle black, pot."

"True enough." The elevator door opened, and Merrick led Lykopis out of the apartments. "What do you suppose our next step is?"

Lykopis looked at the busy streets. Strange. It seemed like only a few days ago, she had been here, a member of Vanguard Europe. How things had changed. No Penny, no Paragon, and now no Vanguard. She was missing it all?

"We need to get out of Munich...but to where? We have no other connections. We have each other, like Oz said, but there is no one left to help us."

What was it that she learned, hunting with her sisters and mother? "Lykopis, pay attention. Look at how Jocasta hunts. Be more like her. If you're prey goes to ground, give it no ground to go to."

That was Vanguard. A prey animal without a place to hide. And if there was no Munich branch of Vanguard...what other shelters were missing? Her estate in Greece? Drake's home in America? Sidewinder's father's home?

"Montag," said Lykopis to herself.

"What?" asked Merrick.

"We're being chased and we have nowhere to hide. But what if we're not the prey? What if we become the predator?" She grinned. "And Montag should be pretty easy to find."

Merrick readjusted his ill-fitting coat. "Wait, you kidnapped Montag after breaking into his house. He's the richest man on the planet. He's going to be after you. Why head towards him?"

"Like I said, we can't hide anymore. Not until we know what we're in possesion of on this planet. Where is Montag's center of operations?"

"All the big companies are based in New York."

Lykopis frowned. "New York?" She was hoping it was London, which would be a lot easier to smuggle into. "Fine. We need to buy train tickets to Hamburg. Come on."

Wait, can't we just rent a car? "Hamburg? Why Hamburg?"

"Because that's where the Port of Hamburg is located." She rolled her eyes. "You think I'm going to put Ozzy in another plane?"

"So...you think we should all take a train...and then, buy tickets for a boat?"

"Ha!" Lykopis began walking a faster pace. Merrick had trouble catching up with her gait. "No, I'm thinking that we buy tickets to the train...and then sneak on a cargo ship bound for New York. That can't be too hard to find."

"This doesn't sound particularly legal."

Lykopis grinned. "That's the best part about this group. We make illegal look so good." She tapped the metal on his chest. "Besides, with your brawn and my brains, what's the worse that can happen?"

"...cheers..."

Ozzy and Grimm tapped Guiness bottles together, both sitting back in their comfortable LazyBoys across from each other. Baxter turned the bottle up, taking a few gulps with a satified sigh.

"So...don't you feel a weensy bit guilty ordering everyone to go do important things while we raid Merrick's beer?" Ozzy asked with a grin.

Grimm belched from his swig, shrugging.

"Nah...I mean, how the hell else were we going to get to the beer so easily?"

"Ha!"

Grimm smirked, looking out of the bay window to their left.

"Besides...you and I...heh...what use are we right now?" Grimm added, staring out at the cloudy gray.

"Do right...." Oz nodded, taking another drink. "...there's nothing to hit."

"Yep." Grimm nodded once.

"Yep." Baxter nodded back.

A moment, and both broke into a chuckle, taking more drinks.

"I'll tell you something....which I'm pretty sure you already noticed, working with her before and all.....but Lyly's got a nice set on her..."

"Ooooh yeah..." Ozzy agreed with a dirty smirk on his lips.

"You ever hit that?" Grimm cocked an eyebrow.

"Ha! Ha! Ha! Ha!" Ozzy laughed so hard, beer almost came out of his nose. "Are you fucking kidding me? Hell no!"

"Why not, man?"

"Well, first of all...." the boxer shrugged. "...it'd be like doing my sister. Second, I don't think I'm that invulnerable..."

"Wait---....your sister is a hot, six-foot-five Amazon?" Grimm tried to clarify.

"You know what I mean, fucker..." Baxter rolled his eyes, giving him the finger.

"Heh..." Grimm grinned. "...no, really...I don't. That's a fine piece of--"

"Okay, okay!" Ozzy interrupted, holding his hand up. "Let's not just completely break her down to meat, alright?"

Grimm paused, staring hard at Ozzy.

".........holy shit........" Grimm chuckled.

"What?" Ozzy frowned.

"You like her."

"...what?!" Baxter shook his head with disbelief.

"You like her."

"Haven't you heard a word I've said?"

"You do. You like her..." Grimm smiled wide, leaning back gratified at pinpointing this. "...all this 'sister'-talk is just a good excuse to not acknowledge it."

"No I don't!"

"Yes you do."

"No I don't!!"

"Yes you do."

"I swear to FUCKING god, Grimm....I do NOT like Lyly in that way, okay?!" Baxter insisted. "Haven't you ever had a...a..female-friend that you didn't automatically want to just jump in her pants?"

"Yeah, sure." Grimm nodded, taking a drink.

"Thank you..."

"I was in love with her." Grimm added, cocking an eye at the man.

Ozzy sighed very loudly, burying his face in his hands.

"I am not in love with Lykopis..." he stated, his words muffled by his palms. He looked up at Grimm with a serious expression. "....we're just kindred spirits, that's all. She's a fighter. I dig that. I respect that. I understand that."

Grimm just stared at him with a smirk, leaning casually back in the recliner with the bottle resting against his lips.

"She's proud, and regal..." Baxter continued. "...she's seen stuff that we can't even imagine..."

Grimm dipped into the bottle for a moment, never taking his eyes off Baxter.

"....and she keeps her self locked down so hard, and so tight, that when she gets frustrated by little things, I just know it's her frustration at herself for not being able to let go around everyone...."

Grimm continued to stare, listening, casually blowing against the top of the bottle trying to make it whistle.

"...and I understand what it's like to have a life, and a family, and watch it all go to hell...or in her case, age to dust....I just watch her, and I just know there's so much passion and...and...desire absolutely frothing at the seams to get out. Can you imagine what it's like? Can you? I mean, FUCK! You and I...we live, what? Eighty-years, max? And look how...how...passionate we are about the smallest little day-to-day things. Sports. Parties. Sex. All the things that make it worth getting up every day, you know?"

Grimm turned his bottle up, completely downing the beer, still watching and listening.

"But her....damn....she's been around for centuries. Centuries, man. How much passion does someone accumulate in a lifetime? What about a hundred years? Three-hundred? She's so incredible. To be able to hold it all back. To torture herself every minute, of every day....to only be able to find that fire in the heat of battle...but nowhere else. God, what a woman."

Grimm's eyebrows were raised all the way up, balancing the empty bottle on his fingertips...an amused expression lining his mouth.

"What a person." Baxter continued, seemingly now lost in his own personal revelry. "I can't help but be impressed. I can't help but dig her. I swear, I love that woman."

Ozzy stopped...dead...cold....his mouth still open. He stared at the hardwood floor for a brief, agonizing few seconds, before finally looking up.

"I KNEW IT!!! HA! HA! HA! HA!" Grimm yelled, pointing straight in his face. "You fucking LOVE her! HA! HA! HA!"

"THAT'S NOT WHAT I FUCKING MEAN, YOU ASSHOLE!!" Baxter yelled back.

"...You lo-ve her.....you lo-ve her...." Grimm sang with a mocking tune, waving his hands around merrily.

Baxter jumped out of his chair, beginning to pound on the man head.

"Hey!" Icarus barked, leaning out of the doorway of Merrick's home office. "Do you mind?! Some of us are trying to work in here!"

"Have you got anything yet?" Grimm asked, holding Baxter by the throat.

"Well.. no, not mu---"

"Then shut the fuck up and get back to work!!" he barked.

*Knock-Knock-Knock*

They all froze, staring at the front door. After looking at it, back at each other, and back at the door again, Grimm easily shoved Ozzy off, getting up. Victor and Icarus came out of the office.

"...............yes?" Grimm asked very carefully, peeking through the eyehole.

In the fish-eye lens he could make out an older woman standing in the hallway. She looked somewhat distraught.

"{Dr. Merrick...it's Pauline from 7-G...}" she said through the door. "{...M-May I come in?}"

Grimm looked back at everyone with a shrug.

"It one of Merrick's neighbors..." Victor said very calmly, translating for the rest. "...she's asking to come in."

"Well, get rid of her..." Grimm insisted. "...the last thing we need are visitors."

"Dr. Merrick ist nicht hier im Augenblick. Bitte später zurückgekommen." Reilley replied loudly enough for her to hear him from across the room.

"{...I...I'm sorry...I really need to come in for a moment.....please...}" the german voice replied.

Victor frowned. Having been blindly facing the kitchen up to this point, he turned his head towards the sound of the voice behind the closed door. He concentrated, the infra-red spectrum beginning to peel back the heat signature behind the door and wall.

....the woman's signature.........and a second signature, flat against the wall...

Victor sneered, ripping his Beretta from its holster...

"Everyone down!!" he yelled, opening fire at the wall.

Pauline found herself shoved down, Nadia falling back-first to the floor as plaster began exploding from the wall above her.

Victor popped the clip, running towards the door as he slid a new one in. He rared his foot back to kick right through the doorway, but, a fraction of a second too late. Nadia kicked the door in, catching him off-balance, the splintering door knocking him into Grimm. She fired off two rounds from her .357, Icarus diving hard behind the sofa to avoid the slugs.

Ozzy leapt from his crouched position, running to tackle her. She quickly tossed a four-stringed-bolero at him, the cables of the weapon wrapping around him instantaneously. She side-stepped his now uncontrolled dive, his body flying past hers straight into the wall.

Grimm was up, now holding the seperated door in both hand. He swung it wide towards the bounty hunter, even as she ducked. A few steps back to find her balance, and Grimm was already on her again.

This time she ran straight at him, before he could bring the door completely down. And, like a runner stealing homeplate, she slid straight under him, cup-checking him as she slid between his legs. Still in motion, Grimm came fully around with the door, catching a rising Victor in his path instead. The man slammed into the ground with a grunt.

"FUCK!" Grimm barked. "...sorry Vic..."

Nadia was already across the room, side-kicking Icarus in the gut to put him back on the floor again. She turned, Ozzy stampeding towards her. With his arms still tied tightly to his upper torso, his head was bowed like a bull....intent on literally ramming her head-first.

Nadia just stood there, letting the boxer get within a few inches. And, with an almost bored grace, took one step to the left.

Ozzy careened straight through one of the bay windows, falling the four stories with a pavement crunching stop at the bottom.

Nadia could not pause to see, as Grimm started swinging. Her nimble, cat-like reflexes were too fast for the massive brawler. His teeth gritted with an undetermined anger, his fists kept missing their mark as she dove, dodged, and twisted. Finally, she spun just far enough out of his reach to hit a button on her wrist watch.

A small beeping sound came from below, Grimm following it down to his crotch. A small pack of plastique was attached firmly to his package. He looked up at the woman.

She merely smiled, blowing him a kiss.

A sudden roar of thunder and fire erupted from Merrick's apartment, Nadia backflipping just ahead of the fireball, straight out. She landed on the fire escape a story below, grabbing the rail to keep from falling. A smoldering ball of flame and smoke fell past her, Grimm on his way to the ground below.

"I don't care how tough he is..." she muttered to herself. "...that had to hurt..."

Inside the destroyed apartment, Victor crawled through the wreckage, keeping under the smoke. Fire alarms and shrieks of neighbors could be heard in the background. Immediately following, a sprinkler system kicked-in, the cool wash soothing Reilley's senses. He made his way towards the opening Grimm's body had made, pausing as he heard coughing.

He tilted his head right a bit, something moving in the apartment.

"...Icarus?" he asked.

"*cough*...*cough*...Victor?...that you?" Sidewinder's voice came back. "....where are you man? I can't see you....all *cough*....all this smoke...I can't see where you are...."

"I know how you feel." the man replied cooly. Surprisingly, he then turned, crawling back into the wreckage, following the sound of Icky's coughing. Finding the man laying in the corner, he pulled his leg free from a piece of flooring it had been caught on.

"Come on....work with me..." he said, holding Icarus under his arms, and slowly dragging the man out towards the open air.

Rolling Icarus out onto the fire escape below, he followed, landing in a grunting crouch next to the dazed man.

"Are you hurt?" he asked, black soot smeared over his face, and haphazardly across his singed fatigues.

"*cough*...no...no, I don't think so..." Icarus replied, lying there trying to catch his breath. It took a minute, but he finally looked over at Reilley. ".....you saved my life....."

Victor made no change in expression.

"Yes."

Icarus stared at him for a moment more, before finally looking away.

Meanwhile, four stories below....

Ozzy strained and grunted, trying to break the metal coils that bound him. To no avail. Finally, with great effort, he pulled himself up in a sitting position, suddenly noticing Nadia walking up with a casual stride. He roared, fumbling up to his feet. But, before he could get all the way up, she hit another button on her watch. All four of the ball-bearing magnets that held his coils in place suddenly popped open. With a hydrolic piston fire, each one launched seperate wired-spikes into the ground, effectively anchoring him in place.

Another switch, and they retracted, forcibly yanking his body flat into the pavement.

Baxter squirmed and strained and turned, to no effect. He was bound tight and good.

Captured.

"WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU WANT WITH ME?!" he shouted furiously.

"Oswald Johann Baxter...A.K.A. 'The Fist'..." Nadia began in a formal voice. "...you are under arrest for the murder of Edward Drake Marshall..."

“WHAT?” yelled Ozzy, his brain refusing to process the words the punk haired-albino skinned Asian had just pronounced.

But Nadia was not paying him any attention, confident in the quality of the magnetic wires. Her eyes moved faster from the big man on the ground, not far from her, to the smoking hole four level up in the building, where she knew there was a man able to see across wall. And since infrared detection is a much more believable thing in biology than x-rays vision, she moved four step backward, positioning herself over the grating of the underground subway. “It makes me so Marylyn” she grinned to Ozzy.

Grimm was back on his feet.

Nadia raised a Nokia 9500, one finger ostentatiously pointing to a button. “Before you or Daredevil up there move, listen to me carefully. I am paid just for tin man. I don’t fucking care who you are, so I suggest you to ran and find a new hide. The firemen will be here in six-eight minutes, depending on the traffic. But, you hear?” she said, pointing up the index finger of the hand not holding the cellular, and moving it around. There was a big noise of sirens.

She continued: “Before coming to pay you a visit, I had some crooks on my payroll going to rob a bank on the next block. Poor them, I also told the police. Now there are half a hundred leather-helmets armed to the teeth just fifty metres from here. If I press this button, a pre-registered message will alert them to come here to take Baxter, and they will… in thirty to forty… seconds.”

She looked deeply at Grimm. “Check. Your move, now.”

"So. . .all you want is Baxter?" Grimm asked, looking very thoughtful.

"Are you stupid as well as ugly? That's what I said." Nadia responded.

Grimm pondered for a moment, before shrugging his shoulders and saying, "Take him."

Nadia and Ozzy both looked at Grimm in surprise.

"Yeah, take him. He's useless. All he does is whine and cry and slow the rest of us down. Shit, I've been thinking about dumping him for days now." Grimm kept going.

"Grimm, you sonuvabitch!" Baxter began screaming obscenities at his teammate.

"And you won't interfere?" Nadia asked cautiously.

"Not a bit." Grimm responded.

"Perhaps you are not so dumb after all, then. I will take Baxter n-urk!" Nadia found herself unable to move. She tried to press the button on her phone, but found herself unable to move. Her eyes darted around, looking for answers as Grimm approached with a wicked grin on his face.

"You set my balls on fire. Fuck you, you stupid cunt." Grimm reared back and clocked Nadia on the jaw, knocking her out, although her body still stood in place.

"Good work, Phil." Grimm said, as Smith stepped into view, offering Grimm his overcoat.

Grimm pulled the coat on, tying it over himself before walking over and pulling Ozzy loose. "Dammit, Grimm! Why didn't you tell me you were bluffing?!"

"How was I supposed to do that without letting her in on it, Baxter? Or giving away Archangel here?"

"She was totally checking out your package, Grimm." Phil remarked as he telekineticly lifted the three up to the hole where Reilly and Sidewinder waited for them.

"She must been looking for the burn marks. . ." Grimm answered.

"What about the phone? The call? The sirens? The cops?" Baxter asked again.

"Icarus?" Grimm asked.

Sidewinder looked up, a light over his left ear shining green, before giving the high sign. "No cops on the way. She was bluffing. The fire engines will be here any moment, though."

"You knew. You asshole. You knew she was bluffing the whole time." Baxter punched Grimm on the shoulder.

"Watch the coat!" Phil exclaimed. "White leather is expensive!"

"How did you know she was bluffing?" Baxter continued.

"I didn't." Grimm responded. "She'll be out for a while. But I don't want her coming after us again before we get a good lead. Phil, bring her up here along with what's left of her restraints."

"Dammit, Grimm--" Ozzy was continuing.

"Look, Baxter, we don't have time to sit down and explain everything right now. You guys might be more familiar with each other than I am, but it's obvious to every flipping body that you guys have a lot to learn about teamwork! Now chill the fuck out and sit down for a while!"

Baxter fumed a bit, before sitting down in a chair. After a moment, he held a hand in front of his face.

Reilly continued to feed Icarus what to say to keep the authorities running in circles for the time being.

Smith and Grimm began checking Nadia for any concealed weapons or devices before jury rigging the restraints she'd used to hold Ozzy earlier and her tying her to one of Merrick's chairs.

"Baxter," Grimm offered, briefly looking up from his work.

"What, you jackass? What the hell do you want now?!" Ozzy screamed. "You want to make another smartass comment? Huh? You want to ridicule me some more? Because I have just about had enough-"

"I'm sorry about Marshall." Grimm responded, finishing his work.

"Yeah, me too." Ozzy said.

Reilly lifted an eyebrow at this but decided to hold off on following up on it for the moment.

"We all done here, then?" Phil said, finishing up with Nadia.

"Yeah, get us out of here, Phil. Icarus, see if you can locate Merrick and Ly-ly. We've got to get out of this damn place before anything else goes wrong."

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

Forty minutes later, when Munich firemen made their way to Merrick's apartment, they found only an unconscious Asian woman in her underwear, tied down to a chair by metal restraints.

They would remember that picture for the rest of their lives.

Lykopis and Merrick made their way to the train station in Munich. They were about to go up the giant steps when Lykopis stopped in midstride. "Do you have cash?" she asked.

"About seven euros in my wallet. Why?"

Lykopis frowned as she checked her pockets. Nothing. "I was just thinking that cash would be a good idea. If we use your credit card, the police are sure to track us."

"You're right. What should we do?"

Lykopis bit her lip. "You know this town better than I do. But didn't we pass a few pawn shops about a quarter mile back?"

Marrick nodded. "Yeah, but don't we need something to sell?"

Lykopis just smiled and grabbed his wrist. "Don't worry, that's my job." Merrick followed. It was funny. His fiance used to drag him around shopping the same way.

"So...uh...I'm kind of curious about everyone else on the team..."

"Oh, I guess I should have mentioned more about them, eh?" Lykopis wasn't paying attention and was nearly hit by a car. Drivers in Germany had a reputation for not caring about pedestrians. "It's just that Mxy has gone and messed everything up. And I really thought I knew this group! I mean, just look at Icarus."

"He seemed kind of immature."

"Well, you should have seen him before all this. It's like he was still in puberty or something. The mental maturity of a tweleve year-old.

"I think he's grown up a little. I suppose he's always been the baby of the group." She gave a little laugh. "Sort of reminds me of someone I use to know, a long time ago.

"You're right, he is still a little immmature. But he's trying to make sense out of his own body. Can you imagine waking up...to that?" Lykopis shrugged. "Plato said there were two types of people. I've always seen life as a tragedy. But Icarus? Heh, he always saw it as a comedy. Perhaps it's time to stop snapping at him for being that way."

They were still pretty far from the pawn shop. Merrick didn't realize he was feeling for the piece of metal underneath his shirt. "Yeah, I guess people have different response to pain. So did everyone else change as much?"

"A few days ago Ozzy was flesh and blood, same as you and me. Well, not quite the same, actually. He's always been tough to beat in battle -- damn near impossible because he's so invulnerable. I don't know what happened to him here."

Merrick quickened his pace to keep up with Lykopis. He wanted to learn more about the people he was with. "You think it might have something to do with that woman?"

"At least he hasn't changed on the inside." Yet. Lykopis could still remember the day when her cousin, Jocasta, reveiled her metallic hands and told Lykopis of her own hidden agenda. Lykopis never understood what was more revoulting -- her own cousin plotting to kill her, or the twisted pieces of metal shining and clicking where there ought to be flesh and blood. And now, both Icarus and Ozzy are like her. Please let him stay the same! He might get on my nerves and he might boil my blood, but please, Goddesses, let him stay the same!

"I think he'll miss Adem. We'll all miss him, of course, but those two were thick as thieves sometimes." Lykopis realized she was missing Adem as well. She still was unaware of the note he had given Ozzy before they went to Germany. Ozzy was the only one who knew he wasn't coming back.

"What's the name of the creepy guy again?"

"Victor? Oh, he's always been like that. Well, except for the blindness. That's new." Lykopis winced. "He wasn't as creepy as he is now. But he has always been that detatched."

"But he can't have feelings, right? So he's not scared or worried that he's blind?"

"He's...readjusting, I suppose. To compenstate for his loss."

They continued their walk. "What about the others?"

"The last time I saw Grimm, he was walking around dead. Granted, he still acts the same, but who knows what Mxy's done to him."

"Both he and Phil were on a different team, so I only met them a few times, and those were usually in the heat of battle."

"Not exactly the best time to get to know someone?"

Lykopis gave a loud laugh. "Ha! I couldn't disagree more! People reveil their true selves in battle. It's the most honest form of communication on the planet. The vagabond fights differently than the king. The thief and the warrior have different paces. You can tell so much from the way they hold their sword."

Merrick was impressed. He still didn't believe that Lykopis was really who she claimed to be -- but her knowledge was still respectable. And her eyes lit up in some eery way when she talked about battle. "So, really, you won't know how everyone's changed until you see them in a fight."

Lykopis nodded. "Which hopefully won't be anytime soon." Did I just say I wanted to avoid a brawl? Mxy must have done more damage than I thought!

They reached the pawn shop. 'Big Gunther' was written in gold letters on the window. Merrick did the math in his head. Tickets to Hamburg were fifteen euros. Ozzy, Grimm, Icarus, Victor, Lykopis, Phil, and himself...seven people. "We need a little over a hundred euros."

Lykopis nodded. She leaned on the counter. It was covered with dirty magazines, crumbs, and drink rings. "Hello? Is anyone here?"

No one answered at first. Lykopis called again, and finally, a stout older man eating some potatos entered from the back. This must be Big Gunther, thought Merrick to himself. "Are you buying or selling?" he asked in German.

"Selling." she said quickly.

The man looked her up and down for a moment, and then went back to his potatos. "Sorry, the place is full enough, we're not accepting anything else."

Lykopis was not use to hearing the word 'no'. "Wait a minute, please." She lifted up her pants. Both the stout gentleman and Merrick leaned forward. An dagger with an ornate sheeth was strapped to her leg. "This is a seven-hundred year old dagger used in what's now the Middle East." Now it was her turn to lean forward. "Seven. Hundred. Years. Old." The man was practically drolling. Merrick suspected it wasn't the knife. "I'm sure you're just interest the carot."

"Don't get my wrong pretty lady, I like antiques as much as the next man...let me just go in the back and test the gold. Please, have a seat! Have a drink...one moment." He rushed into the back room, heaving like a winded horse.

"Great," said Merrick. "You just handed the guy a sword worth more than my car. That'll keep him fed...for at least a day or two."

Lykopis just stood there in the plush chair Gunther had offered. "I can't believe I'm selling this." She looked up at Merrick, expecting pitty. "I killed forty angry soldiers to get that knife. Forty. And it wasn't even just regular soldiers, the shiek sent his royal guards to kill me. And it turns out, they were all his nephews. I had no idea I was slaying half the royal family."

"So then what happened?" asked Merrick in mock amusement.

Lykopis had to think about this for a moment. "The shiek came to fight me. He was taking all of this very personally. I mean, he still had his horses. Well, then I killed him, because he wasn't just going to let me walk out of there. Hmm. I just now realized I killed off an entire dynasty in a single day." Damn, I was good.

The stout man came back, still breathing heavily. He pulled another ugly chair and pushed it towards Lykopis. She could smell the potatoes and cheese coming from his breath. "It's all good! All genuine! So, forty euros for the pretty lady...and her friend."

"What?" said Merrick and Lykopis at the same time. "That thing is worth at least two thousand dollars!"

Gunther grabbed the food he had left on the counter and put some in his mouth. "Huge difference between buying and selling. But you won't get a better deal anywhere else on this street." He rubbed one of his chins, as if to confirm the notion.

"Three hundred." Lykopis learned to swindle money from the best. How hard could it be?

"Forty-five."

It could be hard after all. "Two-fifty. You're getting a deal."

Another bite of potatos. "Fifty. You look too desperate."

Lykopis was getting distracted by the heavy breathing. Plus, he had gotten mashed potatos on the blade. She was getting unnerved. "Two hundred. Or I'll find someone else."

"Two hundred for a little butter knife! What kind of fool do you take me for!" Merrick realized that the man had his fat fingers around Lykopis's knee. "Unless you have something else to offer? I'm a very loney man."

Lykopis looked like she wanted to be struck by lightning then and there. Merrick just wanted to laugh.

The party boarded the train, and Ozzy sat down next to Phil. "Thanks for helpin' out back there," the former prizefighter said.

Phil shrugged. "I spent too long trying to find all of you to lose any of you."

"Fair enough." Ozzy shook his head as the doors hissed shut. "D'you ever get tired of being you?"

"Come again?"

Ozzy chuckled. "Do you ever get tired of being so level all the time, you know? You seem to have it together pretty well."

Phil raised an eyebrow. "The hell are you talking about?"

The train lurched into motion, forcing Icarus to grab hold of a seat to avoid toppling down the aisle.

Ozzy frowned. "You know what I mean, right? From what I've seen - and granted that hasn't been too much - you seem to be in control of the situation most of the time. How do you do it?"

Phil let out a burst of uncontrollable laughter.

"I'm serious, man!"

The telepath regained his composure and looked at him. "You wanna know the truth? I fake it."

"You fake it?"

Phil nodded. "Right now? I'm a fuckin' mess, dude. I'm scared shitless. The whole damned world has been fucked up beyond all recognition. I don't know what the hell's goin' on anymore. I spent forever trying to track my teammates down, because I thought that would make things okay. But guess what? Now I can't seem to use my powers properly, and I'm finding out everyone else is just as fucked up as I am."

"Join the club."

Phil shook his head. "Ever since I regained control of my own mind, this team has been the only constant source of stability for me, the only thing that kept me going until Leslie came along. Now I look at the newspapers from as far back as possible, and there's nothing to show that the team that's kept me going ever existed. I don't know what to do. I don't know what's going to happen."

"Well, what about before that? Back when everything was 'normal', you were always on top of things. Right?"

Phil laughed again. "I'm not just being modest here, Oswald. Sure, I have powers that let me do some pretty cool things. But that doesn't mean I'm anything that special. To be honest, I've pretty much always pretended to be someone who's got it together... more for myself than for anyone else."

Ozzy shrugged. "I'm no prize, Philsy, but I've never felt the need to pretend to be anyone other than who I am."

"I'm not so secure with myself, Ozzy," Phil replied. "I used to pretend because I didn't know who I was and I hoped that somehow it might become who I was. Now that I know who I am, and that it's definitely not something I'm proud of, I've been pretending in the hope it might somehow cover up the truth about my past."

"What a crock of shit!"

Phil's eyes narrowed. "Excuse me?"

"Here you are, with all these powers, with the opportunity to help everyone else make sense of all the stuff that's goin' on, and you're concerned about how you might look in a pressure situation." Ozzy folded his arms and shook his head. "That's pretty sad, dude."

"What would you suggest?" Phil retorted crossly.

"I'm tryin' to sleep, Philsy!" Grimm said from two rows up. "Quit bein' a whiny bitch!"

"Fuck you!"

"I love you too," Grimm replied. "Shut it."

"Asshole," Phil muttered.

"All I'm sayin'," Ozzy answered, "is that it's a new world now. All bets are off. Who cares if you don't always have an awesome catchphrase for every situation, or if you aren't undebatably in command of every single situation? Who cares what you look like?"

Phil didn't answer.

"'Cause quite frankly, I'm usually not watching you. I don't need you to look good. I just need you to do your thing and keep doing what you can to help the rest of us." Ozzy leaned forward. "Look, I know you're scared. Hell, I'm scared. But we've got more important things to do than be scared right now. I don't know all the particulars of what you found out about your past - you might tell me, you might not, doesn't bother me either way. But we can't be worried about ourselves. We're all here for each other, okay? You don't have to impress me or anyone else. Just be who you are, man."

Phil looked at the floor. "But... what if I don't like what I am?"

"Then you'd have more in common with most of us than you realize," Ozzy replied with a smirk as he donned a pair of headphones and fired up his iPod.

Phil looked out the window for a good portion of the ride to Hamburg.

“Can we get audio on this?” Ian McGregor asked.

In a small office on the east side of Munich, McGregor stood shoulder to shoulder with Grissom Montag. Sitting in front of them, one of Montag’s security personnel was fiddling with the audio controls on a thirty-two inch LCD screen.

The three were watching the security footage of Vanguard’s intrusion into Montag’s house.

“Thanks,” McGregor said as sound began emanating from the speakers alongside the screen.

”I’m like… a hub…” one of the figures on screen said.

“That’s one’s funny looking,” Montag said, pointing at Icarus Sidewinder. McGregor raised his finger to his mouth, urging Montag to be quiet.

On the screen, Icarus held a hand to his ear, moving it slowly back and forth and mimicking a headset. "Remember how, on our way up here, I could... hear things? See things?"

“Interesting…” McGregor whispered.

“That’s just creepy,” Montag said.

“Indeed,” McGregor replied.

“You’re telling me he can sense information… but he didn’t know he was being filmed?”

“I get the impression that they’re finding themselves recently… altered. I don’t think he’s in full command of his abilities. Yet,” McGregor explained. “Okay, now that’s interesting,” He added, pointing at the screen.

“What?”

“The shiny one.”

On screen, Ozzy Baxter had his hands planted against the burning stove. He didn’t even seem to notice the flames pressed right against his hands.

“And that one looks straight at him,” Montag said, pointing at Victor. “Isn’t he supposed to be blind?”

McGregor stared silently at the onscreen appearance of Victor Reilly. “Yes.”

McGregor kept his gaze fixed firmly on Reilly.

“What? Something familiar about that one?” Montag asked.

“Maybe.”

Schweinfurt, Bavaria. Somewhere in the middle of Germany.

The sleepy small town railroad station was nearly deserted. Gone the commuting people, mainly students from the nearby villages returning to their homes, the station had taken over it’s sleepy mood, helped by the fist sun of the incipient spring.

Only a party of strange looking people remained under the large metal shed covering the main dock at the first track. Sitting on wooden benches painted green, the seven people, six men and a woman, were all silent and still. Every ten seconds, the face of one, in no particular order, lift up to look at the large clock hanging outside the wall. It would have looked at it for an instant, then it would had shaken slightly, it would have taken a lost-any-hope look, and then would have returned to concentrate over the pebbles in the railroad track.

It was ten past four in the afternoon.

The silence was broken just by the monotonous song of a male collared dove, defending his nest territory from the top of a large spruce in the station’s garden.

Do-doooo-do.

Do-doooo-do.

Do-doooo-do.

Do-doooo-do.

Do-DOOOO-do.

Do-DOOOO-do.

Do-DOOOO-do.

Do-DOOOO-do.

“ENOUGH” shouted one of the people, the larger one, standing up and walking to the railroad side. He kneeled, took one boulder in his right hand and, all of a sudden, he cast it to the bird, in a perfect parable.

The bird took flight just one instant before the boulder touched his perch, to fall miserably on the ground, a few inches from an officer who was checking parking disks on cars in the parking lot behind the station.

The bird posed a few branches away and began to net its bottom’s feathers.

The officer angrily looked at the man, still in a pitcher plastic pose, receiving a mix of applause and laugh from his companions. The officer’s anger build up, but the size of the man counselled him not to bother.

The man smiled.

The dove suddenly started to sing again.

The big man shouted. “Sixteen. Fucking. Hours! Five. Change. Of. Trains!” His eyes were fixed over one of his companions, who just shrugged.

“Grimm, for that ridiculous amount of money, these tickets were just what we got. It’s a miracle they were enough for all!”

“Merrick is right. We got all what we can from that slimy! And you should just thank I had something to sell” replied the only woman, a tall beauty.

“Right, Lycopis”, said Merrick, nodding. And, again to Grimm: “It would have taken that money for just ONE ticket, for one of the fast trains. There was no way we could afford them”.

“And don’t forget we are less of a target using secondary ways. We are in the middle of nowhere, now, and it’s very probable whoever is following us has no idea where we are” explained another one, a young man with short hairs.

“Phil, that woman has resources above the average. How the hell she has found us in Merrick’s home?” asked Grimm.

Phil shook his head.

“Maybe we have bugs on our body. Tracking devices,” suggested another one, older, his eyes moving around strange paths.

“No Victor, we are clear. I would feel anything like that,” added the one looking younger in the group, trying to conceal his appearance under a fedora hat. But there were evident gleaming strings of metal covering his features.

“And don’t you feel anything about our assaulter, Icarus?” asked Grimm to the young man.

The young men shrugged. “I don’t know the slightest about her… even her name… it’s difficult to start a search about her…”

The six people continued to talk, waiting for the next train. Just one remained silent all time, seemingly lost in distant thoughts.

Then, he stood up.

“Where are you going, Baxter?” asked Grimm.

The other opened his arms. “We drank a lot at Merricks home…” he replied, believing it was a sufficient explanation.

Grimm’s head bended on one side. “No, not alone:”

“Grimm, I’m an adult. I don’t need you acting mommy…”

“And I don’t need you acting childish. That wore can be around here right now…”

Baxter shook his head. “No, nooo… you chained her in Munich, she had no way to find where we go… she will be searching us there, if any…”

“Don’t care. Phil, go with him,” ordered Grimm.

The man known as Phil Smith looked at Grimm. It seemed it has to reply something, but then he shook his had and said nothing. He stood up, and shrugging at Baxter, looking at the sky, followed him toward the toilets.

The place was ample and empty. Ozzy entered one of the smaller rooms and Phil remained outside, confident there was no one in the place. Otherwise, he would have felt.

One minute had passed, when a bolas tightened to a rope fled around Phil Smiths neck.

The man’s eye opened way, the mouth gasped for air. The heavy bolas, hanging from the neck like an oversized necklace ornament for an instant seemed to levitate, pushed away by telekinesis, but it had just the effect of tying more the rope around the neck. And then, the lack of blood to the brain cut off the masterful mind of Phil from his body, and he fell to the ground, senseless.

Nadia Li looked at her Rolex. Two minutes more safe, then the other people could come to check.

As expected, the door opened, Ozzy Baxter alerted by the thud of the body of Phil over the pavement was coming out, but he had still the trousers opened and he was trying to close them.

The tip of an electrical whip hit him on the back; he screamed, stumbled upon his own trousers, which were falling at knee level, and fell to the floor.

Next to the main door, now closed, was Nadia Li. Covered in back leather, a wicked smile on the face.

“It looks soon I will have the money for the boob job and something more, thanks to you, honey”.

The whip produced a long arc in the air and fell again over Ozzy, who endured a big pain. But before the woman was able to snap the whip again, the metal man took the end of it in his right hand and hauled it back.

Nadia pointed her feet to make resistance. Ozzy, with the other hand, ripped away his trousers and get back over his legs.

Nadia gritted his teeth. This time was Ozzy to smile.

A pull, and then the rope of the whip was passed around the arm, so that it was shorter, pull after pull.

The distance between the two fighters was shortening second after second.

Nadia was pushing harder over the charge button, but as much Ozzy had visible pain when electricity discharged from the tip of the whip, he was holding up.

Nadia was sweating. “Are you ready to punch me like you did with Marshall, Fist?”

The pull over the rope loosened.

Nadia pulled harder, regaining the whip and sending Baxter to roll over the ground.

The man was again on his feet in no time. But his expression had changed. It was like… begging…

“I can’t have killed Drake” shouted desperately Ozzy.

“Ah no?” said Nadia. And with an ample gesture, dozen of pictures fled for the room, landing all around the man. “Look at the hamburger!”

Ozzy froze. What he was seeing… it was unbelievable. The picture were footage of a security camera… and like in the frames of a comics, there were depicted the last battle of Drake Marshall with the Fist. The green armoured hero head to head with the metal skinned gangster… up to the point where Marshall was killed punch after punch, until his whole body and his face were just blood dropping masses of chopped flesh.

A tear crossed the gleaming face of Baxter.

“The tin man has a soul?!” noted, cynically, Nadia. And then, out of patience: “care to dance?”

Ozzy raised his eyebrows, and looked at her, but there was no trace of fury. “No. Not anymore. I am guilty. Take me”

And saying that, he raised his hand, one next the other, offering her to handcuff them.

Nadia was astonished. “It ends like this?”

Ozzy just nodded.

“Do you believe I’m going to trust you?” asked Nadia, eyeing his Rolex. One minute and forty-five seconds had passed.

“Do what you want, I will not fight” replied Ozzy.

_______________________________________

One minute fifty-five seconds later Grimm rushed in the bathroom, only to find Phil Smith tied like salami to one of the radiators, still senseless.

Of Ozzy Baxter there was no trace.

The sun bathed a soft glow over the airfield, the frosty mid-morning air beginning to warm with the coming day. The pilot walked with a casual stride, half-reading the folded newspaper in his clutches, sipping on his first cup of coffee. Nearing the Sesna, he slid the paper under his arm, using his free hand to dig into his pocket for the keys. That's when he was suddenly grabbed from behind, a firm hand clamping over his mouth.

"Keys." Victor's voice hissed into his ear.

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

The containment van cruised on a small, open road, seventy-miles out of Munich, headed for the city. Traffic was non-existant, the van taking this quiet route for exactly that reason. In the back of the van, two Interpol agents sat across from each other silently. One was reading a morning paper, while the other fiddled with his Ipod.

Sitting next to one of them, the slick Asian frame of Nadia Li rested comfortably, a cell phone plug in her left ear. Every so often, she would nod and murmur something to the voice on the other end. Across from her, Ozzy Baxter sat silent, head down in thought. A massive, thick metal collar wrapped around his neck, connected down to an interlocking bolt-lock on his chest, and one in the middle of his back. His arms were behind him, locked into two thick titanium stocks that were being held by the bolt-locks.

He had said nothing since being captured.

Up front, the two drivers chatted back and forth, making small talk about the night before...

"{And you bought it for her?}" the driver asked, sipping on his coffee.

"{I want to actually have sex again, right?}" his passenger replied, shrugging.

"{Heh...see, that's what I'm saying...FUCK marriage, you know?}" the driver insisted.

His partner wrinkled his nose, and rolled his eyes, waiting for the normal diatribe about the ills of marriage. He wondered how long he would have to listen this time.

Luckily for him, the answer was four-point-seven-seconds.

That was the exact amount of time it took before their bodies were suddenly ripped straight out through the windshield by an invisible force.

The van rocked, tires suddenly locking up in a loud shriek of rubber. Everyone in the back were immediately thrown forward from the sudden descent in speed.

The enormous vehicle slid on smoking tires, slowing and slowing, until it finally slid to a final, jolting stop...

...an inch from the outstretched fingers of Phil Smith.

The back doors of the van suddenly ripped outwards, Grimm tossing them behind him with little care. Ozzy squinted from the sudden sunlight, as Grimm's massive hands clamped onto the restraining collar. His teeth gritted, as he slowly began rending the metal.

Nadia was pulling herself off the floor of the van, checking her nose for blood, when she felt the sharp tip-end of Lykopis' blade resting on her jugular.

"I wouldn't..." Lyly's voice came from the silouetted figure above Nadia.

The two Interpol agents were still a bit dazed, barely making out Victor's presence entering the back of the van. They didn't have too long to find their bearings, as his heels make single, quick jabs at their temples, releasing them of their consciousness.

"...Grimm?" Ozzy asked, just now getting a handle on the situation.

Outside, Phil signaled the Sesna in the adjacent field, Icarus nodding in the cockpit, hitting buttons to fire the engines.

"...hang...uff!...hang on a sec..." Grimm replied through gritted teeth, his massive strength making slow work of the thick titanium.

"How...how did you.....how did you find me?" Ozzy asked.

"Icarus was able to track Li's cellphone signal..." Lykopis replied still holding the woman at bay.

The metal collar finally snapped with a final grunt from Grimm.

"Okay...." he breathed, hoisting Ozzy by the shoulder. "...let's go..."

"No."

Grimm paused, looking back at the man.

"What do you mean, 'no'? Come on!" he barked, literally jerking Baxter out of the van.

Lykopis began backing away, sword still out.

"Don't bother trying to stop us." she said to Nadia.

"I won't ever stop coming for him. I promise you that." she replied to the Vanguardian.

"And we will never stop taking him back." Lykopis smirked, stepping out of the back of the vehicle.

"Grimm...GRIMM!! STOP!!" Baxter yelled, finally jerking away from the giant's grip.

"What the fuck is wrong with you?!" Grimm yelled in kind. "We don't have time for this! We have to go!"

"I'm not going!" Ozzy replied.

"Ozzy? What's wrong?" Lykopis asked, walking up to the man.

He stared at her, glancing at Grimm for a moment, and back again.

"Lyly...." he began, his face contorted with guilt. "...I...I did it."

Lykopis opened her mouth to contradict him...

"No." he stopped her, holding a finger to her mouth. "I did it. I...I murdered...Drake Marshall. I've seen....I've seen the pictures.....the evidence."

"Ozzy, you don't know that to be true..." Lykopis insisted. "...they could fake anyth--"

"Why?" he interrupted. "Why would anyone...anywhere...fake those....fake what I saw."

The brutal images still burned in his mind.

"I killed him. Me." he said, his voice dropping to a rasp. "I killed my hero."

Grimm sighed with exasperation, flinging his arms against his side. Lyly just stared at the man, searching his eyes for something. Anything, besides the pain and torture that she saw.

"I killed my friend..." he whispered, looking down. "..I'm guilty."

"Come on!!" Icarus yelled from the field.

"Ozzy...we..." Lykopis began.

"Go." he said, suddenly looking straight back up into her eyes. "Just go. Now."

The two stared at each other for a moment, an unspoken emotion passing between them.

She took his hand, and held on to it even as she was stepping away. The fingers finally slid from her grasp.

"...this isn't over..." she said.

And Ozzy could have sworn he heard her voice crack a bit.

He smiled, watching her leave.

"I know." he finally said quietly.

She gritted her teeth, and with that, turned and ran towards the plane. Grimm just stared at the man another moment longer. Then, giving him an understanding nod, turned as well.

"...be strong..." he remarked over his shoulder, headed for the plane.

A small, sad smile came over Baxter's face, watching as the plane took off, climbing into the sky.

"Back at you..." he breathed.

Then, turning, he walked back over towards the van. Standing there in the back, staring at him with an obvious perplexion, was Nadia.

They looked at each other for a moment in silence. Then, Ozzy climbed back into the van.

"I.....I don't understand..." she finally said to the man.

He didn't look at her. He just sat there.

"No.....you probably wouldn't...."

Adjustment.

The last couple of days had been all about adjustment for the group that had once been known as Vanguard. To be sure, the burdens on their shoulders were far weightier than those of most anyone else on the planet. In the past 48 hours, they had been flash forwarded one year into a future that none of them had ever experienced, into bodies that simultaneously were and weren't their own. Coping with new powers and limitations, the group had essentially been rediscovering themselves... as well as realizing that, metaphorically speaking, they weren't in Kansas anymore.

Vanguard, it seems, was not the only thing to change. The world around them was... different. Vanguard had never existed as a formal group. La Perdita was a lump of lifeless igneous rock. No one had ever heard of Mandelovia. Grissom Montag was a millionaire. Penny was one of his myriad employees. Tommy Foxe had died of a drug overdose. Drake Marshall had died at the hands of their friend Ozzy Baxter.

And, to top it all off, the group was falling apart at the seams. After Prometheus replaced them back into the 'real' world, Edmund had essentially vanished and Adem had decided, for reasons all his own, to leave. Ozzy was taken by a government mercenary known as Nadia for his crime... and went willingly, filled with remorse at being responsible for the death of his hero.

Icarus, Lykopis, and Victor were the only members of Vanguard Europe still left.

They were not alone, however. They had been joined by two of Ozzy's friends from the original Vanguard: Grimm and Phil Smith. While both remembered the world as it was, they too were incredibly different. Not that Icarus knew one way or the other, having never really gotten to know either. Oh, he'd met them, sure... but he really only knew their names.

Then, there was this Merrick guy. Apparently, he was just a man from this present timeline. Whether he had existed in the old world is uncertain and, at this point, irrelevant. He had helped rescue the group from a barrage of Munich law enforcement officers. Lykopis was now in the back of the plane, attempting to explain how the group had come to be and what they knew up to this point... but something told Icarus that it would probably just leave the man confused and only make him want to leave. A story like theirs was just too unbelievable to be true.

New world. New abilities. New team. New struggles.

Adjustment.

"...ain't it a bitch..." Icarus sighed, gazing out at the skyline ahead of him.

"Beg pardon?" Phil spoke up from the pilot's seat beside him.

"Just talking to myself, Snow White," Sidewinder answered, not really bothering to make eye contact. "No need to concern yourself..."

Phil raised an eyebrow. "Something on your mind, Icarus?" he asked.

"What the fuck do you care?" Icarus said, eyeing the gauges beside his station. "Besides," he said, finally turning toward Phil, "can't you just read my mind?"

Phil's eyes narrowed in frustration. "No, for your information, I cannot." Now it was Phil's turn to avoid the gaze of the other. "For some reason, while my telekinesis has improved exponentially, my telepathy in this new place has... regressed."

"Well," Icarus said drolly, "sucks to be you, doesn't it?"

The formerly Unidentified Man tightened his jaw and furrowed his brow. Then, he flipped on the automatic pilot and spun to face the younger man next to him.

"Listen, kid," he said evenly, yet forcefully, "you're not the only one suffering here. We're all hurting. This is a time of adjustment for all of us..."

"Y'know, that's really easy for you to say," Icarus said. "What happened to you? Your hair changed colors? Your powers switched off a bit? Let's go through my changes, shall we?

"One: I can't fly. Two: I can hear, see, and transmit information in my head! Three: I am a fucking cyborg with no more hope of getting a date again. Ever! And, four: I am absolutely worthless in a fight!"

"How so?" Phil asked. "Surely, you know basic hand-to-hand combat skills, yeah?"

"Sure," Icarus said, "when I'm in the air! As long as I'm grounded, I'm not good for shit! I mean, even back in the old days, I had a gun!"

"Yeah," Phil said, running a hand over the spot where his old shoulder holster would have been.

"Seriously, when that Nadia bitch showed up, I would've given my right arm to have a gu-- AAAHH!"

A pain shot up Icarus' right arm. His grip immediately released from the controls of the plane, where his hand had been resting. His eyes clamped shut from the pain, which seemed to be twisting his arm inside out. The sinews and bones that made up his arm felt like they were being ripped out and reformed altogether.

Suddenly, the pain was gone altogether.

"...whoa..." came the whispered voice of Phil Smith from somewhere beside Icarus.

Slowly, one at a time, Icarus opened his eyes... to see that his hand had been transformed into something resembling a small cannon.

"Yeah," Icarus said, nodding slowly. "'Whoa' works..."

"What?" Victor asked, hearing the astonishment in Icarus' voice but not being able to see what exactly was unusual.

"Um... my arm," Icarus said, holding it out from his body in Victor's direction.

Victor held out his hands and ran them up and down Icarus' arm, feeling his way around the cannon.

"Is that a...?" Victor began.

"Yeah."

"I see."

"Well, that'll come in handy if that bitch who took Ozzy comes after us," Phil said.

"She won't," Grimm answered.

"You're right. I suppose she has what she wanted."

"What about those guards who were with her?" Icarus asked.

"They're dead," Victor said.

"What?!" Grimm replied.

"You asked me to incapacitate them. I did so in the most efficient way possible."

Everybody went silent.

The man who would be Artemis Cross casually rested on a bench. The evening sun freckled though the canopy of green leaves above him, glittering in haphazard patterns off his silver piercings. His foot bobbing to a silent beat, he sat there content in his own little world.

A shadow passing in front of him broke his quiet revelry. He looked up to see a woman nervously looking at him...

"So...uh...hey!" she began, her gentle voice trying to find some level of authority in the words. "You look lonely..."

Cross stared at her in the same way a child would view a complex mathematical equation.

"No, not really." he replied innocently.

She seemed momentarily stunned by the response, obviously trying to regroup her approach.

"Oh...oh...uhh....well, b-big....umm..yeah, big boy..." she tried again. "...if you're looking for a good time, I know where you can find one..."

She paused, shaking her head with a confusion.

"No...no...I mean...no, I mean...if you're looking for a good time...I..wait..." she sort of stammered, trying to remember something obviously complex. She took a deep breath, nodding with some form of mental acceptance. "Are you looking for a good time? Yes. Yes, that's what I mean. Are you looking for a good time..."

"Always!" Cross nodded with a goofy grin.

"Oh." she said, seeming to find some surprise in his positive response. "Oh, yes...well...I know where one is....I...no. Wait...oh...what am I supposed to say? Ummm..."

She bit her lower lip a bit, trying to figure out what the proper response was...

"Well, if you're looking for a good time, then I'm the woman for you." she stated in a very rehearsed fashion.

She then paused, tilting her hip out to the left a bit, obviously trying to show off her curve in a sexy manner. It came across as a back spasm.

"Are you in pain?" Cross asked, his brow furrowed.

Her expression fell a bit, letting her posture resume its normal off-balance tilt. And, finally, just sat down on the bench next to him.

"OH....poot." she said with a disappointing sigh. Her head hung low, trying as she might to wiggle her feet out of the platform stilts that seemed to have been surgically planted to the bottom of her feet.

"What's wrong?" Cross asked, turning in his seat to watch her.

"Oh, nothing..." she replied. shifting uncomfortably in the tight, neon-red skirt. "...I just suck at this..."

Cross was becoming more and more lost.

"You seem to be sitting, just fine." he shrugged sincerely.

She giggled a bit, looking over at him. The small smile on her face obviously shone through the gaudy make-up she was wearing. And, it sparkled more than the fake-gold earrings she pulled at.

"No, silly..." she finally said. "...I was trying to proposition you..."

"Proposition me...for what?" he asked, curious at this enigma that had made herself comfortable next to him.

"Well....for sex..." she explained, seeming to find more embarrassement that he didn't understand.

"Oh." he said, his face going into a thoughtful expression.

"I guess I didn't do it right..." she sighed, looking back down again.

Artemis thought about this for a moment, then turned back to her.

"You could try again, if you like?" he offered.

She glanced over at him, unsure of his sincerity.

"You....serious?" she asked cautiously.

"Absolutely." he nodded with the same dumb grin.

Her smile suddenly widened, like finding that red bicycle at Christmas. Then, she bolted back up on her now bare feet. Cross got a better look at her, now. She was much shorter than her incredible height had at first suggested. A smaller frame than her poor attempt at being sexed-up. But, the smile. The smile was real.

She cleared her throat, as if getting ready for a recital.

"Okay....okay....okay..." she breathed to herself, trying to find her moment. Then, she opened her eyes with steady determination.

"So...you looking for a good time...big boy?" she asked, finding more confidence in her words this time around.

He grinned, nodding.

"Better...much better..."

"Really??" she squealed. "I didn't flub the end?"

"No, no...the 'big boy' was perfectly paused..." he nodded.

She squealed again, twirling in place with a childlike glee. Artemis just smiled, enjoying her innocent joy.

"So?" she finally asked, still a bit breathless with the achievement.

"....so?" he asked curiously.

"....so....are you?" she prompted him. "Interested?"

"In a good time?" he made sure.

"Yeah..." she nodded, still grinning.

"Always!" he responded exactly as before.

"Oh!" she nodded, the reality suddenly sinking in. "Okay, great...let's go..."

Cross looked back and forth.

"Go where?"

"It's up to you....uhh...your...place?" she offered weakly.

Cross narrowed his eyes.

"Is this about sex again?"

"Well........yeah..." she shrugged.

"Oh." he said, glancing away in thought. "Okay. Well then, no. I'm not looking for a good time."

Her expression crashed.

"Did I...did I do it wrong? I can do it again!" she fumbled.

Artemis stared at her for a moment.

"Actually, I kind of liked it when you were sitting down here..." he replied, patting the seat next to him.

She paused quizically, finally sitting down next to him.

"You...I'm not really..." she began, stammering a bit. "...I'm not sexy enough, am I?"

"No, not at all." Cross replied. "I think you're hot."

She seemed to find some joy in this.

"You're just saying that..." she shrugged off.

"No I'm not." he stated matter-of-factly. "You have a killer ass."

"I do?!" she squealed, suddenly looking back up at him, all the previous excitement returning to her expression. "Really?"

"Without a doubt." he assured her. "And your tits are truly happening."

She giggled a bit again, looking down at her own modest bossom.

"...they're real, you know..." she added in a quiet modesty. "Wanna feel?"

"No thanks." he said, his grin becoming wider. "But, I would like something from you..."

She looked up with anticipating eyes. "...yes?"

"Your name, please."

She stared at him for a moment, to see if he was joking. But, as with this entire exchange, his sincerity had not altered.

"Ummm...Candi." she finally said. "Candi Cannon."

"Candi Cannon." he repeated with a nod. "That's a neat name."

She shrugged, looking away a bit.

"It's just...my stage name." she admitted.

"Oh? What stage is that?"

"The Red Room...down near the east bay..." she explained. "...well, it was...it closed last week..."

"Never been there." he said. "What's it like?"

She shook her head, trying to find the words...

"Like any other strip club, I guess..." she explained innocently. "....it's sort of...red. Lotsa red carpet and stuff."

"I like red." he nodded.

She looked back up at him again. And this time, she really stared at him, trying to find a handle on this odd man.

"So....what's your name?" she finally asked.

"Artemis. Artemis Cross." he said, offering her a hand. She shook it with a gentle grip.

"I like your name. It's...neat." she finished, mimicking him.

"It's just my stage name." he shrugged.

"Ha! And what stage is that, Mr. Cross?" she responded in kind.

"Life." he smiled.

She paused, her quizical expression returning.

"You're not from around here, are you?"

"Nowhere near."

"So...what are you doing? Here, I mean?"

He looked around, as if searching for the answer himself.

"At the moment....waiting on the bus..." he finally admitted.

"The bus?" she asked, looking around, herself. "But...this is the park..."

Artemis seemed taken back with this information, suddenly looking all around him. They were, indeed, sitting on the bench in the middle of the city park.

"Well...guess that explains why it hasn't come by in the last seven hours..." he nodded.

She began giggling, he in turn finding something humorous in her laughter.

"I like you....you're funny..." she said innocently.

"And I like you because you think that..." he replied.

She laughed even harder. He matched it, to an almost disturbing degree.

After a moment or two of this, she turned to a forward facing position again. He did the same. And the two sat there quietly for a few minutes.

"So....where are you going?" she finally asked.

He shrugged.

"Down a path less traveled..."

"...what?"

He looked over at her.

"Oh, sorry. I thought you were speaking metaphorically." he explained. "Umm...no idea. I have no idea where I'm going."

"I know how you feel..." she nodded, folding her arms.

".......metaphorically?" he asked to make sure.

She grinned at him. Then, finding some emotional hiccup in the moment, her expression fell.

"I need to get out of this city..." she mumbled mainly to herself.

"So, what's stopping you?" Cross asked.

She looked up at him, not actually prepared for this man's sincere interest.

"Nowhere to go, I guess..." she admitted.

"I know how you feel." he nodded. "Literally."

They both smiled. And Cross knew that he liked this girl.

"You know...since neither of us has anywhere to go...why don't we go together?" he offered.

She paused, studying him.

"But...but I don't even know you..." she stammered a bit.

"Well, I don't know you either." he replied in kind. "And, don't try anything with me, I'm telling you right now. I'm not that kind of guy..."

She broke into laughter again, Cross just grinning. Mainly at making a successful joke.

"So...seriously?" she asked again, "You want me to just up and take off with a stranger? To...to anywhere?"

"And everywhere." he said. "Your choice, of course. Go nowhere here....or go nowhere with me...somewhere else."

She thought about this for a few moments, still not quite sure she felt comfortable with the situation.

"How...how do I know I can trust you?" she asked.

He studied her in return, finally leaning over to whisper something in her ear.

She jerked back with an excited giggle, rubbing her ear.

"What was THAT??" she cooed with a flushed pant.

"My real name." he stated seriously.

"It tickled my...my...my head..." she replied, shaking her head back and forth a little.

"That's why I don't say it often." he shrugged.

"And...and you said it to me? So that I'll trust you?" she asked.

"Yes."

"....that's an odd form of trust..." she admitted.

"What's more personal than someone's name?" he asked sincerely. "I'm giving you my real name freely, as a sign of trust."

She thought on this for a moment. Then, she leaned over looking straight into his eyes.

"Twyla."

"Twyla?" he asked.

"That's my name." she said. "Twyla Jones."

He held his hand out, shaking hers again,

"Pleasure to meet you Twyla."

She grinned.

"Ready for our journey?" he asked, standing up.

"Yeah...yes." she said, finding some type of refreshing confidence in the statement. "Yes I am."

"Good...let's go." he nodded, beginning to walk.

"Wait..." she stopped him. "...I just need to get some things from my place first. Is that okay?"

"Sure, I don't see why not..." he shrugged. "...which direc--"

A burst of wind suddenly ripped at his hair and face, cutting his words off. After blinking a few times, he looked up at her.

She was still standing there. But, now, she had a bag thrown over her shoulder.

"Ready." she smiled. And, in her eyes, he could see that she was terrified of what his next reaction would be.

"That was......fast." he admitted.

"....yeah..." she replied with a cautious expression.

Cross smiled.

"Neat." he said, offering his arm out.

She gave a relieved smile in return, wrapping her arm through his.

"Neat..." she agreed.

The two set off down their new path...

"You did what?" Icarus asked, the cannon on his arm slowly transitioning back to its more traditional hand-shaped state.

"I killed the two agents who were helping the bounty hunter take Ozzy," Victor replied.

"Why?" Icarus shouted out across the cabin of the plane, his voice strained with alarm.

"They were a threat. They were armed and obviously well trained. We needed to eliminate them to have any hope of rescuing Baxter."

"We asked you to incapacitate them," Grimm said to Victor, rising from his seat. He had to lean forward to keep his head from hitting the ceiling, which somewhat ruined the assertive look he was going for. "Incapacitate. That means, like, knock them out cold or something. Tie them up. Punch them in the kneecaps, I don't know... but killing them? Fuck."

Victor cocked his head at Grimm, and held out his hand. "Hi. Victor Reilly, human killing machine. Have we met?"

"Human? Ha," Icarus said quietly from his seat.

"Excuse me?" Victor replied, rising from his seat to match Grimm's stooped but still imposing stance.

Icarus craned his head around to be facing Victor, leaving Phil with the controls of the plane. Victor continued to stare off into space, his eyes focused on nothing in particular.

"I said 'Human? Ha.'" Icarus said, louder this time.

"And what exactly in the name of fuck is that supposed to mean?" Victor asked, his voice rising above its usual monotone for the first time since they had found themselves pushed forward a year.

"It means a human would actually give a damn if they had taken two innocent lives," Icarus began, his voice rising in pitch and volume as he spoke. "A human would wonder if those men had wives, or children. A human would think twice before murdering someone. Human? You're more machine than I am. And I'm beginning to question why the hell we keep you around."

Victor dove forward down the aisle of the small plane, placing his hands against the seat backs to propel himself towards Icarus. Judging by where he'd heard Icarus' voice from, he made a calculated guess and lunged at the pilot's seat.

As Icarus stood to face his challenger, Victor felt two strong arms wrap around his chest and pull him back.

"Calm the FUCK down, Reilly!" Grimm said, struggling to keep the blind assassin under control.

Victor wriggled around in Grimm's grip, finding himself face to face with the big man. Victor pulled his head back then drove it into Grimm's forehead. With a yelp of surprise, Grimm momentarily lost his grip on Victor. He threw out his right arm and wrapped it around Victor's throat, choking the life from his opponent.

"Stop it, damn it!" Phil said, swivelling around his seat and leaving Icarus with the controls. With a blast of telekinesis, Victor and Grimm were torn apart and sent to the floor in the aisle of the plane.

"Shit!" Icarus exclaimed as he struggled to compensate for the violent shift in the plane's weight balance.

"Damn it, Smith..." Grimm said, rubbing his head where he'd hit it against a seat.

"You!" Victor said, standing and pointing an accusatory finger at Phil Smith. "Don't use that fucking telekinesis against me again."

As Victor lunged at him, Phil pushed his attacker towards the back of the plane with all the force his mind could muster.

Victor tumbled backwards, over Grimm, and came to a violent stop against the back wall of the plane.

The plane shifted again, and Icarus tried hard to compensate.

"Fuck!" Victor yelled, standing up and running forward.

Phil just shook his head, and stepped down the aisle to face Victor.

As Victor passed him, Grimm shot out a hand and grabbed his wrist, jerking him to a sudden stop. Victor turned around and raised a fist, as Phil came within arm's reach of them both.

"ENOUGH!" Lykopis yelled, standing up from her seat. She pulled a knife from her belt and pressed it against Phil's chest, as she simultaneously unsheathed her sword and pressed it against Victor's throat.

She made eye contact with each of them in succession.

"Enough," She said again, through gritted teeth.

"Gaovulte's Bones!" Grimm cursed under his breath. Then, a litttle louder he said, "I thought you Vanguards were supposed to be professionals! And here I find myself cramped in a tiny plane with a group of whiny children!"

Lykopis' steely gaze never wavered from Reilly as she responded to Grimm. "Is that why you're here? To whip us into shape like some demented drill sergeant? Is that why Prometheus sent you to us? Because I'll damn sure tell you right now I'm more than a little sick of your mouth."

"Prometheus? Prometheus?!" Grimm asked, before bursting into a fit of laughter. "You assume much, Princess. I never said Prometheus sent me here."

"But Ozzy said. . ." She replied, turning away a bit as Reilly moved a hand towards Lykopis' knife.

"I wouldn't." Phil warned him. Raising an eyebrow for effect (which was completely lost on Reilly since he was blind).

"What did Baxter say to you, Princess? I'm curious. What did he say about me?"

It was at this moment that a large shadow passed over the small Cessna, darkening the entire plane.

"I think we have a bigger problem." Icarus called from the cockpit.

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

Simultaneously

"Raptor Corps, attennnnshunnn!!!!!!!" The older man in the blue military type garb sounded as the corpsmen did as he ordered.

"You all know the drill. Grissom Montag is paying us quite a bit to ensure that these criminals do not make it out of Europe alive. Kavanaugh. You're in charge here. Don't screw up, boy."

"I won't, sir." Kavanaugh answered, his lip wavering just slightly. He hoped the officer didn't notice.

"Raptors, dismissed!" The officer called as the squad ran towards the loading bay. Each man pressed a small bird shaped fetish on the left breast of his uniform and was instantly covered in light weight plastisteel armor as silvery wings sprouted from their arms.

The loading bay of the ship opened as the Raptors launched themselves into the air, taking flight and circling the small plane carrying the Vanguard members.

Pulling their weapons from their holsters, the Raptors began firing upon the craft from all directions as Icarus struggled to keep the plane in control.

"Phil, a little help up here?" Icarus asked as Smith made his way back up front and slid in next to the Russian.

"Their craft is massive." Lykopis looked upwards out of one window.

"What suggestions do we have for dealing with this?" Reilly sat now with his arms folded.

"Well, I could open the door and throw you at them. . ." Grimm offered.

"Your humorous quips are less than effective." Reilly shot back.

"Who said I was joking? C'mon, killer. Let's go take a trip." Grimm smiled a bit. "First one to the ground alive wins."

"Down!" Lykopis shoved the two to the ground as bullets ripped through the body of the craft before it soared upward and reversed, heading for the larger craft's open bay area.

"What are you doing, you maniac?" Phil asked as Icarus released his seatbelt and formed his hands into guns again.

"Just keep us on course, Phil. We're can't outrun them in this crate. I'm gonna step outside for a bit."

"You're insane, Sidewinder!"

"Like the rest of us aren't!" Sidewinder jumped out the door, aiming for the nearest Raptor as Phil piloted the small Cessna into the larger crafts open area, looking for a safe place to land.

Several Raptors followed the craft in, firing upon it the whole time.

Phil Smith slid into the pilot seat beside Icarus, latching his safety belt and running his hands over several controls, aiding in the plane's new bombardment.

Beside him in the cockpit, Icarus Sidewinder's mind was reeling.

Flying enemies, he mused to himself. Damn, what I wouldn't give for a--

Suddenly, the pilot's train of thought screeched to a halt. Slowly, he held his hands up in front of his widened eyes.

'I'd give my right arm for a gun,' he thought. Even as the thought ran through his head, his right arm began to morph and change before his eyes. The pain was still present and the pilot gritted his teeth, grunting slightly as the change neared completion.

"Well, I could open the door and throw you at them," Grimm mused from somewhere behind him.

Then, the pilot got a wild idea. An insane idea. But, then, he thought to himself, everything about this world is insane already... so really, this is just going with the flow...

He reached his left hand down, throwing off his seatbelt. As he did so, the Cessna rocked slightly, bombarded by the Raptor's fire. He reached his right arm out, wrapping it around the back of Phil's chair to keep from falling over.

The telekinetic looked up at Sidewinder warily. "What are you doing, you maniac?"

Icarus grunted, nostrils flaring, as he willed his left arm to form into something resembling a minature Howitzer. "Just keep us on course, Phil," he said, looking over at the man. "We can't outrun them in this crate. I'm gonna step outside for a bit."

He walked out of the cockpit and over to the plane doors, changing his first cannon into a hand just long enough to open the door before changing it back again.

"Y-you're insane, Sidewinder!" Phil called back, over the hissing of the air.

Icarus looked back, a gleam in his eye. A cocky smirk, the one he'd been known - and hated - for, spread across his face. "Like the rest of us aren't!" he almost laughed.

And, with that, he threw himself from the plane, hurtling himself toward the ground below.

"Icarus!" Lykopis yelled, rushing for the door. "No!"

"Don't worry about it, Your Highness!" Grimm hollered, attempting to be heard over the roaring winds. "He can fly... right?"

"No, you imbecile!" she turned to him. "He can't fly with this new technology! He's... he's not able!"

"Two hundred says he makes it," Grimm said with a smile.

Lykopis glared at him coldly, turning toward the cockpit to see if she could gain a fresh perspective on their situation from there.

"Betcha Ozzy would've taken that action," the mammoth biker grunted, leaning against the inside of the plane.

_________________________________________

"OH, SHIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIT!"

Icarus Sidewinder was in a freefall. He had, however, managed to pull some of the Raptors away from the plane, as a number of them followed him downward.

Rolling his body upward slightly, he took out quite a few with the guns protruding from his arms... but, sadly, it was like shooting a Hydra - everytime one fell, two more seemed to take his place.

Okay, Icarus thought, clamping his eyes shut, still firing wildly in as many directions as he could. Let's see if we can get this to work... Rockets: deploy!

Icarus opened his eyes. The ground was coming toward him with a building velocity.

"Shit!" he said aloud. Okay, think. Wings!

Nothing.

Jets!

Nada.

Uh... Rockets! No, wait, I did that one already!

The ground seemed to loom before him now, filling the pilot's field of vision. Straightening himself into a clean dive, he gained even more velocity, as though to drive himself straight into the ground, feet first.

"C'mon, you motherfucking techno-bitch!" the pilot screamed at himself at the top of his lungs. "JUST FLY ALREADY!"

Had the pilot not been screaming uncontrollably from the adrenaline and the pain, he might have noticed that something was happening. Behind his back, what sounded like pistons began whirrings and firing. The hoarde of rapidly-approaching Raptors began to slow as they noticed what appeared to be two large cylinders sliding out of the falling man's shoulder-blades. From what looked like a collar around his neck, metal plating began sliding up above his neck and then down in front of his face, forming a helmut of sorts.

Then, as if by sheer force of will alone, flames began to streak from out of the bottom of the young pilot's cylinders, helping him to gain velocity at an alarming rate.

Noticing the flying leap of speed, Icarus opened his eyes to see himself flying right into a cluster of Raptors. Raising his guns, both defiantly and victoriously, above his head, he began firing point blank through his flying attackers.

Yelling with pure exhiliration, he rocketed upward in the sky, spreading his arms wide. The grin on his face, though masked by his helmut, was the biggest smile Icarus had ever displayed.

He had gotten the sky back.

Though attacked on all sides, finally, he was home.

A bullet ricocheted off the side of his helmut, bringing him back to reality.

"Alright, you wannabe sons of bitches," Icarus said as the Raptors began closing in, "you're in my house now!"

Icarus aimed his cannon at the nearest Raptor. The sights were dead-center on the man's chest, but Sidewinder recalled the conversation with Victor from a few minutes ago. Plus, the rediscovery of his wings made Icarus a little more generous than usual. He aimed a little to the left and shot off the Raptor's right wing. The Raptor spiraled down towards the countryside below, slowing down once his pulled on his parachute.

"One down, way to many to go." Icarus barreled and rolled, the pack still following him. "Time to taste some Sidewinder Pie, boys!" He aimed the cannon again.

Back in the plane, Grimm looked at Lykopis and grinned. "He hasn't gone 'splat' yet, Highness."

It was hard to tell if Lykopis was getting tired of her new nickname, or if she was slowly starting to like it. She took another glace through the cockpit window. The Raptor's carrier was still in front of them. "Phil, can you take the plane over the carrier?"

"What did you have in mind?"

Lykopis grinned. "Just a war tactic I saw when one of Sun Tzu's generals was defending the western border." The cockpit was dead silent. Lykopis rolled her eyes. "It's like that scene in The Empire Strikes Back with the big robots on the snow planet."

"Oh," said everyone at the same time. Lykopis made her way to the door.

"I'm coming with you," said Grimm.

Lykopis looked him up and down, as if judging how capable he would be in a fight. "I suppse. Drop down there first."

"Of course, you Majesty." Grimm leaped from the plane and landed on the Raptor's ship. He dented the hull as he hit the thich metal. Lykopis waited until he was steady before jumping. She misjudged the wind, and nearly fell off the plane head-first. Snippets of her life began to play as she contemplated her death, when she felt pressure on her thin ankle. Grimm was dragging her from the edge. "You're quite light, Princess." He had to shout this, because the roar of the engines and the wind was deafening.

"Thanks," Lykopis shouted in reply. She tapped the hull with her nails. "This is where you're brute strength might come in handy."

Grimm didn't say anything, but slammed his fist into the metal. He had struck it right where two pieces of metal were joined, and as a result, both pieces flew off the ship and into the sky. "Now what?"

Lykopis was silent, but she began bending her hips and legs in an unusual mannor. Grimm was confused by the show, but then realized Lykopis was trying to shimmy her way into the ship. "The hole's not big enough. Let me punch it again."

Lykopis was already half way through. "Don't worry, I've snuck into smaller places than this."

"So what's with the freaky body movement? Some sort of extinct form of yoga you learned from a Ninja ghost?"

"Hardly. A gyspy circus girl taught me this. I can use it to get into any --" Lykopis was almost through the hole, but her bust wouldn't fit through. "I suppose I was a little thinner last time I did this." It was too much for Grimm. He began laughing at the silly sight. All his needed now was a beer. "Stop laughing! All I have to do is breath --" Whatever Lykopis did worked, for she fell into the ship with a faint pop.

Grimm stuck his head through the hole. "Are you in the cargo bay?"

"No, there's some panelling between the interior and the exterior. But there are wires everywhere." Lykopis grinned. "So, which wires should I pull?"

"C'mon, c'mon, c'mon, c'mon..." Phil grunted under his breath through gritted teeth. "Anywhere... just... anywhere!"

"Problems, Sparky?" came the eerie voice of Reilly behind him.

"Not at all," Phil piped up, notably perturbed. "Just - y'know - trying to find a place to land to keep you alive!"

"It's a big piece of land," Reilly said, feeling around and sliding into the co-pilot's seat. "How hard can it be?"

Phil's eyes narrowed as his hands tightened on the steering column. "It's not exactly the easiest thing to do. There are a lot of factors. Finding a piece of ground that is level enough. A that is long enough so that we won't hit anything on the way down. Then, there's our current velocity, wind conditions..."

A loud THUMP! broke Phil's concentration, a slight yelp escaping his lips, as a member of the Raptor Corps bounced off the windshield of the jet. Icarus Sidewinder soared by, gun-arms firing almost wildly, though miraculously hitting their intended targets. He grinned wildly as he caught Phil's eye, letting out a loud, "WOOOO!"

Reilly merely grunted, heading toward the back of the plane, amazingly able to keep his balance.

Richard Merrick, on the other hand, was not so lucky. Clinging to a bulkhead, his eyes were clamped shut and his jaws clenched. Still, his lips moved as though in silent prayer. Smirking slightly, Reilly slid beside the relative stranger.

"I'm pretty sure there is no God, y'know..." he said coolly.

His eyes suddenly opening, Merrick turned to the assassin. "Excuse me?"

"I'm just saying," Reilly said, "praying won't do you much good..."

"I'm not praying," Merrick said, curling his lip in contempt. After a harsh stare at Reilly, his eyes clamped shut again. "I'm trying to summon them... but it's so damn hard..."

"Summon...?"

Merrick's eyes snapped open. Turning toward his window, they widened. "Them..." he said, pointing.

"Uh... you're gonna have to help me out here," Reilly said numbly.

"Oh," Merrick said, noticing Reilly's bandage as though for the first time. "Right. Sorry."

From the cockpit, Phil cried out, "What the hell...?"

"The Ghost Dogs," Merrick said in hushed awe. "I... I can sometimes summon them, though, admittedly, I'm not so good at it."

Outside, the spectral canines appeared as though from the ether. They began to scatter, tearing apart the members of the Raptor Corps.

Suddenly finding himself face to face with a snarling canine, Icarus Sidewinder, having just bested another member of the Corps in a head-on game of chicken, faltered... and found himself suddenly falling once again, a pack of rabid apparitions in hot pursuit.

"Merrick," Phil called from the cockpit, "something you'd like to tell us?"

Merrick's eyes, however, were locked on the falling form of Icarus. "They're going after the pilot... what was his name?"

"Icarus," Reilly said.

"The Ghost Dogs," Merrick said again. "They are going to kill him."

"So stop them," the assassin shrugged.

"I can't," Merrick said, rising unsteadily. "But I know someone who can."

"Oh?" Phil yelled back. "And who might that be?"

"...the god of the Wilde!"

No sooner had the words left his lips than Merrick began to transform. Where feet had once been, hooves now stood. Claws emerged slowly from where his fingernails were, blood dripping from them as though from nowhere. As he grew in stature, his own antlered helmet appeared on his head. Once there was Merrick. Now, only the Wild Huntsman stood.

If Victor Reilly could have seen it, he might have even been impressed... though he would assuredly would have told you otherwise.

"M-merrick?" Phil called, looking over his shoulder.

Without saying a word, the Huntsman leapt from the plane, a Ghost Dog appearing beneath him as his steed.

"That man is insane," Phil said, turning his attention back to his piloting.

"Then you're gonna hate me," Reilly said, a quick chop forcefully landing directly atop one of Phil's major nerve cluster, effectively knocking him out. Pulling Phil out of the pilot's chair, Reilly assumed command of the small plane.

Switching to infra-red, Reilly now beheld a bevy of activity. Red blobs flew in and out of his field of vision as Icarus and the Huntsman continued battling the Raptor Corps.

Then... he saw it.

A large red spot. What he'd been looking for.

The Raptor Corps' airbourne base of operations.

"If you want something done," Reilly said, pulling up on the controls as the red spot grew larger in his field of vision (such as it was), "you've got to do it yourself..."

Two of the Raptor Corps sat at their stations with mugs of coffee in hand. "So there I was," the first Raptor was explaining, "right out of college and no place to go. I just wasn't cut out for the pros like I thought I was. I could have joined the military, but I really just don't like those uniforms. They look gay. Not like these. These are kick ass uniforms."

"Definetly," the second Raptor agreed before taking another long sip of his hot coffee.

"So, that's when one of Montag's executives came up and recruited me. She promised me travel all over the world, great pay, and full dental."

"That's important," the other Raptor interjected.

"Ummmm-hmmmmmm," the first agree with a mouth full of coffee. "Exactly. Probably the most important thing to a group of hired mercenaries is a comprehensive health plan. Teeth can get knocked out, limbs shot off, eyes burnt out with a hot poker, you know. It's a crap shoot out here."

"Yeah, did you hear about Paul?"

"No, what happened?"

"Columbian drug lords fed his balls to piranhas."

"Ouch!"

"Yeah!"

"See, that's what I'm talking about. Show me an insurance company that has a box like that for you check off for coverage. And all these drug lords and African warlords always feel like they have to be clever and sadistic, like they get RACK points for it or something."

"What points?"

"RA.... Nevermind. It's an inside thing. Where was I?"

"You'd just been recruited."

"Ah, yeah. So, like I said, five years ago she comes up to me and offers me all this money and..... Did I forget to mention it was Yvette who recruited me?"

"The redhead with the big...?"

"Yeah! That's the one!"

An electronic buzz broke the conversation as a red light flashed.

"Contact at three o'clock!" the second Raptor called out as he looked at the screen before him.

"Got it," the first replied as the small jet came into his sights. The barrels of twin machine guns blazed alive with fire. White streaks of tracer rounds cut through the sky and sliced the left wing of the aircraft into pieces. The jet dropped from view. "So, how did you wind up in the Raptor Corps?"

The second Raptor turned away from his screen. "I.... um...... I was drafted."

"You..... you were what?"

Victor's head pounded in pain as the strain of his infra-red vision faded away. He could feel his body falling in a crazy spiral. He lamented aloud, "Maybe I shouldn't have knocked out the telekinetic."

Grimm looked up. The ship had taken an odd turn and was heading right for the Raptor's airborne base. At least, it was on a ramming course with the larger ship until the Raptors pelted the hull with bulletholes. "Great."

Grimm surveyed his surroundings. The Huntsman and Icarus were attacking the stray Raptors, but now the guns were done with shooting the ship down and were aiming at the men.

"That means Victor and Phil are still on board. Ly, you might want to hurry it up."

"I haven't done this in seventy years. And this isn't at all like a German Focke-Wulf."

"Lykopis, Victor and Phil can't make it on their own!"

"This connects to the cockpit." Grimm could hear the muffled sound of a hatch opening, followed by a gasp from the Amazon. "AHHHHHHHHHH!"

He couldn't see much from the hole he created, so he leaned forward. Lykopis was lying down on the floor of the ship. Two Raptors had Uzis aimed at her head. A third had a taser in his hand and gave Grimm and lopsided grin. Call off your two freaks or the lady gets it.

***

Everyone was too busy to notice the ship crash into the sea. Victor grabbed Phil by the collar. His infa-red was no good here. "Get up...get up...or we'll both be dead."

There was a slooshing sound at his feet, and then Victor felt something cold creep into his shoes. Water. Still carrying the unconsious Phil, he grabbed the wall, hoping to find the opening.

The plane shifted, and the entire cabin filled with icy-cold water. Victor let out a gasp before he was submerged. The water pulled him away from the wall. Where was the open door? It had been on his left, but now there was only cold steel. He was disoriented. Where was the door?

Things were going downhill.

Victor grabbed Phil and held him close, still holding his breath. He tried to raise his hand and slap Phil across the face, in an attempt to wake him up. The water slowed his arm, and Phil remained as unconscious as ever.

Victor held his thumb and forefinger close together, and pinched the flesh of Phil's neck. Still nothing.

Gritting his teeth, Victor pulled a knife from his belt, and stabbed Phil in the thigh.

In the sky, Icarus had one of the Raptors on his tail. He was having trouble shaking him, and wondered whether he'd be better off just turning around and facing him directly.

He turned in mid air, raised his gun arm at his opponent and firing.

The bullets struck the Raptor's wing, sending him spiralling downwards.

"Ha!" Icarus yelled, before another Raptor slammed into him from the side.

"Shit..." Icarus muttered to himself, trying to free himself from the soldier's bear-like grip.

Below him, the surface of the water swelled and ruptured, as two men broke the surface.

"You goddamn psycho!" Phil yelled, as he threw his arms over a floating piece of the plane's wing and climbed up onto it, straddling it like a surfboard.

Victor just flailed in the water, not being able to see the wing where Phil had found refuge.

Phil elected not to help him.

"I'll deal with you later. Icarus is in trouble," Phil said, looking upwards. Looking around, he noticed a piece of the plane's engine floating nearby. It was about two feet long and cylindrical in shape.

Phil tore it from the water with his mind and send it hurtling upwwards into the sky.

Icarus was surprised to find that the soldier who had been holding him was suddenly struck in the head by a flying piece of metal.

Phil watched as the the soldier fell, trying desperately to exert some control over him. Levitating an entire person in heavy body armour, especially when they were travelling with such momentum, was hard. But Phil could at least try to guide his fall.

As the falling Raptor neared the ocean floor, Phil slowed his fall and brought him to a sudden stop on his floating wing. Phil tore the wings and the armour off the man, and left them in a heap on the huge metal surface upon which they sat.

"Who the fuck are you people working for?" Phil yelled at his captive. He was finding that someone who's recently been struck in the head by a missile can be frustratingly non-responsive.

Victor swam towards the sound of Phil's voice, and eventually found the wing and clambered onto it.

"Who?!" Phil yelled, slapping the man across the face.

"W... wha'...?" The man said in response.

"Damn it!"

While Phil spoke, Victor was fiddling with pieces of the armour. Running his hands across them, he started to get a rough idea of what shapes they were in. He found the wings to be especially intriguing.

"Not... saying anything..." The Raptor in Phil's arms said.

"The hell you're not," Phil replied, before punching the man in the stomach.

A noise from behind him caught Phil's attention. He turned around to find Victor with the wings and the torso piece of the armour strapped to himself. He was attaching what he'd guessed from the weight and smell to be a small engine to the bottom of the wings. He ran his fingers across the row of buttons on his chest.

"What the hell are you doing?" Phil asked.

Victor just slammed his palm against his chest, and took off into the sky.

"Great. Now the blind psycho has a jetpack," Phil muttered under his breath.

In the cockpit of the Raptor Corps ship, Grimm was stepping out of the hatch with his hands raised. A glance over his shoulder revealed a fourth man was standing behind him, pistol raised. The man was just in front of the hatch that led to the outside world.

"Just... just leave her be, guys," Grimm said, as he stepped slowly forwards.

"You know what? No," One of the men said, and zapped Lykopis with the taser. He pushed her forwards, and she collapsed into Grimm. They both fell backwards.

The man behind Grimm opened the hatch door and they both fell outside, as the door slammed shut behind them.

Victor tried shifting his weight to the left, and found himself banking much more sharply than he had intended.

"Shit!" He said, as bullets whizzed past his head. He looked up to see Icarus carving an arc through the air above him. Victor attempted to follow, swerving wildly to the right and nearly losing control as he tried.

Grimm assessed his options, which currently consisted of:

A ) Fall and die.

B ) Something else.

He elected go with B, hoping he could fill in the details as he went.

"HELP!" He screamed.

Victor heard the scream, and looked towards its source. Straining his infra red vision, he noticed two shapes pressed together, falling rapidly. One of them sounded like Grimm. He guessed the other was Lykopis.

Icarus heard it too, and headed straight for them.

Grimm was debating whether or not to pray, when he felt a hand grab him under the right shoulder. He looked up to find himself face to face with Icarus.

Icarus shot out his other hand for Lykopis, just missing her.

"DAMN IT!" He yelled.

Lykopis came to and found herself falling. Her thought process was much the same as Grimm's was upon finding himself in the same situation.

She was shocked to find Victor Reilly swoop in and grab her by the shoulders.

"It's cool, I think I'm getting the hang of this..." Victor said.

Beneath them, Phil was threatening to telekinetically stop a man's heart.

"Unless..." Phil added. "...you tell me who sent you."

"WHO SENT YOU?!"

Phil's words crackled with an exhausted frustration, even apparent over the finely tuned speakers. His face contorted to the point of breaking, his flushed cheeks bled dry by the varying distortion of the satellite uplink.

And Grissom Montag peered at the screen, looking through the eyes of Smith's captive.

"It's a very clear reception, given where they are..." Tegan commented, standing over him.

He nodded slightly, forefinger still propped against his upper lip in thought.

"Sir?"

Montag glanced up briefly, and then back at the screen again.

"...later, Tegan. Thank you." he dismissed. She said nothing, simply collecting the forms back into her hands, and leaving the quiet office.

"I DON'T WANT TO HAVE TO KILL YOU! TELL ME!!"

"No." Grissom mumbled, tapping a command into his keyboard. "No, you are not in control here, Mr. Smith. Not today."

Ten miles out in the Mediterranean Sea, Phil's face froze with momentary confusion. His captive was beginning to convulse, eyes rolling back. Veins began popping out all over his neck, and face. And to Phil, it seemed like he was about to......

"....fuck...." he spat, suddenly throwing his prisoner forward, immediately falling backwards into the water.

A plume of water suddenly erupted with enough force to toss Phil's telekinetic bubble in a brutal flotsam of fleshy-red foam. The shockwave slammed into him at over a hundred-miles-an-hour, punching the wind from his lungs, and clouding his mind in darkness.........his body slowing sinking into the cold sea.

"Raptor Corp....this is Uncle." Montag's voice spoke over every Raptor comm in the area. "Phase One observation is over. Execute Phase Two."

The Corp air carrier began a banking turn to make another final pass over the engagement area, all airborne agents turning as well in a unified formation.

"Bring them home."

"Drop me!" Grimm shouted at Icarus, their eyes locked on the sudden explosion that had engulfed Phil. Icarus released the mammoth form he had been straining to keep aloft, spinning back to take on more of the Raptors.

"WE NEED TO GET TO LAND!" Lykopis shouted over the natural air turbulence. "HEAD WE---"

Her words ended sharply, as two Raptors physically rammed them at over seventy-miles-an-hour. Victor instantly lost his hold on her, and Lykopis found herself falling again.

Grimm plummeted straight towards the water, eyes locked on where Phil had submerged. Hitting the water feet-first, he twisted and turned, scanning feverishly for any sight of the man.

A metal tether fired out, latching onto Lyly's ankles, binding them together in mid-air. A second fired, and latched her wrists together tight. A flick of a switch, and the two coils magnetized, jerking her into a hog-tied, submissive position. She began to struggle. But, a high voltage surge down the coils quickly ended that.

"{Subject Beta secure.}", one of them said, the two hauling their prisoner towards the carrier.

Grimm burst back up to the surface to grab another breath of air, when he suddenly found himself being rained upon by small, golf-ball-sized metallic spheres. He quickly dove back down, as two Raptors made a fly-by of his position.

He had gotten no more than a couple of feet down, when they activated the spheres. And, immediately, his course was halted, as the water thickened, and went stark white around him. Grimm strained to go back up, his body finally succumbing the sub-zero temp that quickly cocooned him.

Above the surface, the two Raptors fired tethers at the same time, grappling hooks locking into the now-floating chunk of frozen sea water. With a bit of strain on their jet packs, the blob of ice slowly rose up and out of the water. Clearly visible inside, Grimm sat locked in a swimming motion, caught like a fly in amber.

"{Won't he suffocate?}", the one Corp soldier asked over their commlink.

"{Negative. The Temp Spheres are feeding the O₂ from the water directly to him, while keeping the ice solid during transit.}"

"{The boss thinks of everything...}", the first one replied. "{Subject Alpha secure.}"

The God of the Wilde quickly faded away, succumbing to four missles that had honed onto his position with ease. Dropping like a stone towards the sea, one of the Raptor's paused.

"{What about him?}"

"{Negative. He's not on the list.}", another replied.

Both turned, and flew back off, letting Merrick drop to his probable death.

Icarus dropped two more Corp soldiers with professional shots, turning to see his crew being captured, one by one. Before he could respond, though, he saw Grimm's frozen form, and immediately panicked.

"Phil." he grunted. And with a grit of teeth, and a roar of thrusters, he shot straight down towards the sea...

"AAGGHH!!" Victor screamed, struggling against the anti-grav field that held him aloft, his body spinning around with no point of hold or reference. Multiple electrical charges surged and fired through his body. After about seven of these, he finally succumbed. Trickles of blood from his eyes and nose, his breath went shallow as he faded into unconsciousness.

"{Be sure and keep him in that thing, too...}", one of his captors added to the other holding the field tight. "{...this one's a mad dog.}"

"{Subject Epsilon secure.}"

Okay, okay....water mask...goggles...fins...scuba gear....ANYthing!, Icarus thought, his mind racing frantically, as he roared past two Raptors in pursuit. The churning sea frothed below, racing to meet him. Aaannnnnnddd.....NOW would be a good time!

The two Raptors veered off, as Icarus' form vanished into the sea below. They looked at each other, a bit confused as to what to do.

"{Uhhh...Command One...this is Raptor-847....Subject Foxtrot just took a splashdown below the hard deck. Please advise.}"

{847, Command One....Uncle is recalling Raptor Corp. Will advise subjects Foxtrot and Charlie unobtainable. Sterilize area, and fallback to carrier for extraction. Over...}

"{Roger that, Command One. Sterilization commencing...}"

The two Raptors nodded at each other, and, immediately began firing off marble spheres into the sea around them. After deploying a few hundred, they both jetted upwards in unison, waiting for certain height before hitting a switch on their wrists.

The sea below instantly erupted in a foaming ball of flame, as an explosion in the equivalent nature of eighty-pounds of TNT thundered under the waves.

All of the Raptors swarmed back to the carrier in formation. Once loaded, the massive craft veered up into a cloud bank. Ten minutes later, a refueling plane met them. Ten minutes after that, they extended four seperate sets of turbines, and went supersonic.

Headed for North America.

One hour after that, on the coastline of Bremerhaven, Icarus Sidewinder emerged, hauling the limp form of Phil Smith. Icky's left hand was locked over Phil mouth and nose, a strange suctioncup-like device extending from his palm. A pop of pressured air, and he removed the hand, lying Phil onto the rocky shoreline with care. All of his special extensions folded back into his body, wearily collapsing next to the man with a sharp exhaustion that sucked his consciousness away...

Laughter.

Amid the darkness that embraced him, Phil Smith heard laughter. It was an odd sound. Almost foreign. One that he had not heard in many days.

Or over a year, depending on how you liked to look at it.

Phil had been displaced, moved forward one year in time... into a world he did not know.

Something had happened. A godling known only as Mxy - a teammate of Phil's from what seemed like another life - had sneezed... and as a result, had recreated everything.

His best friend, Grissom Montag, was no longer the man he knew. He was now power hungry, independently wealthy, and a complete and total bastard.

Not only that, but he'd changed himself. White hair, a proclivity to white suits... and no telepathy. That was odd. To suddenly hear nothing but... silence. He felt like his mind was totally empty - void of everything that had once filled it.

The voices. He longed to hear them again.

But, for now, he would settle for the laughter.

...he only needed to wake up.

Bolting upright, Phil Smith's brow was covered in cold sweat. The laughter he had heard in his sleep had grown louder. Looking around, Phil was able to soak in his surroundings.

He appeared to be in a quaint bedroom. Posters adorned the wall, a pot of flowers - daisies - sat in the window sill, and clothes lay scattered about the floor. Looking back, Phil noticed a discarded brassiere hanging from the headboard of the bed he had been in.

"I'm in a girl's room..." he muttered to himself.

The laughter sounded again... a sweet, angellic laugh that, unbeknownst to him, brought a slight smile to his face. Rising from the bed, Phil took one step before he realized that he was only wearing his boxers.

Looking around, he saw no male clothes in sight. Reaching into the closet, he pulled out a bathrobe. Wrapping it tightly around his body, he exited the bedroom and headed to the direction of the laughter.

As he walked through the hallways, he noted that the walls were covered in shelves and each of those shelves were covered in books, leather-bound and exquisite. Running his hand across one of the shelves, he realized that the books were not old... but new. Pulling one from the shelf, he opened it. Inside, the pages were blank. They were textured to the touch.

Homemade, Phil thought. Nice.

Closing the tome, he noticed a foil stamp of the fleur-de-lis on the back. This volume had been handmade. This was something special.

The laughter came again... only this time, it was joined by another. Phil recognized the second laugh, though not as well he might have. The telekinetic made his way toward the kitchen.

"--so there I am, right beside this guy, and, he runs right into the Hoover Dam!"

Icarus Sidewinder stood, his hands illustrating his story as well as two hands flailing about could.

Icarus had been changed in this strange new world as well. Somehow, machinery had been grafted to his skin. His brain ahd been connected to the Information Superhighway. He could get information. The machines on his skin enabled him to fly and create guns on his hands... among other things. Phil had a feeling Sidewinder's potential had yet to be actualized.

The pilot's rapt audience laughed again, that singular melodious laugh that had brought Phil from his coma-like state.

She was... gorgeous. Her hair was vibrant red and her eyes a brilliant green. He smile was infectious, contagious, and completely alluring.

Turning her eyes momentarily from Sidewinder, she notes Phil as he stood numbly in the doorway. Her full, red lips spread into a smile.

"Well, hey, stranger," she said, a German accent clinging to her words. "Welcome to the land of the living."

Icarus turned slowly, looking Phil over.

"Hey, Mindjob," he said, a wide smirk spreading over his face. "Nice PJs."

Phil suddenly became aware of the robe he had pulled out of the closet in the bedroom. It was pink. And fuzzy. With lace trim. His face reddened as he looked back at the two.

"Don't worry," the woman said, rising from the table. "I've had your suit cleaned and pressed. I'll run and get it."

As she exited, Icarus began to laugh.

"Seriously, man," the pilot chuckled. "Nice wardrobe! I think you should make that your signature color!"

"Shut it, Sidewinder," Phil said, looking around the room. "How long have I been out?"

"About five days," Sidewinder said. "We washed up on the shore of Bremerhaven... it's in Germany, by the way."

"...I know where Bremerhaven is, Icarus..."

"Oh, well, I didn't, so I thought I'd share," Sidewinder said, sliding around the wooden kitchen table, motioning for Phil to do the same. "But, yeah, Elisabeth found us on the shore during one of her morning beachside walks... and dragged us here, to safety. I figured we'd remain in hiding until you came to and we got some information on the others... whichever came second."

"The others?" Phil said, looking around. "Are they...?"

"I don't know," Icarus said, shaking his head, suddenly a bit stoic. "I've been searching the regular channels since I came to a few days ago. I've got nothing. Heck, I haven't even been able to find any info about that group that highjacked our plane... other than stuff on your typical conspiracy theory sites."

"So, that leaves us...?" Phil asked.

"At square one, Brainfreeze," Icarus said. "Unless you've had any sort of revelatory breakthroughs in your sleep?"

Phil rolled his eyes as Elisabeth walked back into the room. Smiling, she slid a garment bag onto the tabletop.

"I've never understood men in white suits," she said. "Stain magnets."

"Well, not all stains, know what I mean, Else?"

Elisabeth laughed, that angel laugh of hers. Phil found himself momentarily resenting that it was Icarus' crude humor causing such a harmonious sound. Phil cleared his throat and the woman stopped laughing.

"I don't think we've been formally introduced. Though Icarus has told me a bit about you, I very much doubt he's had time to do the same for me," she said, extending her hand. "I'm Elisabeth Weiss. My father is Gerhardt Weiss, the bookmaker."

"So, all those books I saw out in the hall...?"

"Handmade," Elisabeth smiled. "My father has quite a gift, I must say."

"Impressive," Phil nodded.

"Hey, Else," Icarus spoke up, "I need to have a few words alone with Philsy here..."

"Say no more," she said, holding up a hand and sashaying to the doorway. "If you gentlemen need anything, I'll be in my father's workshop, checking on the new paperstock. Bon chance."

"Thanks, Else," Icarus smiled, shooting her a wink. And with that, she was gone.

"Now," Icarus said, making sure the female had cleared the doorway, "any ideas on finding out what they've done with our friends?"

Victor was the first to wake up. He snorted some of the dried blood from his nose. There was no point in looking around at his surroundings. He wasn't spinning around in the anti-gravity field anymore, but he sort of jiggled in it, like fruit in jello. If he begun to start moving to much, he was worried that the spinning might begin again.

"Grimm? Phil? Lykopis? Anyone?"

They had transfered Lady Lykopis to a straightjacket. Hearing Victor say her name began to wake her up. "Victor?"

"I'm too tired to use my infared. Who else is here?"

"I can't turn my head very well...they went and put something around my neck...but Grimm's here." She could barely see him in his icy cage. "He's not going anywhere anytime soon." Her neck was aching and stiff. "I can see out one of the windows. We must have been unconcious for over six hours. It looks like it's dawn."

"What direction are we going?"

Lykopis squinted. "I can't tell...west, maybe?"

"Then we're headed for the Atlantic coast."

Lykopis began laughing. "If it's even still there. This world is upside-down. I hate it."

"You hate lots of things." Victor thought about escape routes. If only Grimm was conscious. If only Lykopis could move. If only he could escape this damn bubble...

His ears began popping, and Victor realized the plane was landing. After several minutes on the runway, the main hatch opened. Several guards armed to the teeth were lined up before them. The sargent look around and point two fingers to each of the Vanguard members. Two guards ran up to each one and began dragging them off the plane.

Victor turned his head to the sargent. This was a rather morbid sight, as Victor was unable to truly stare at him. "Mind telling us where the hell you're taking us?"

"Grissom Montag has an interest in seeing you."

...and then the world exploded!

"MICHAEL HARRISON!" Shirley yelled.

"What?" Mick, sitting in his favorite couch, wiped the barbacue sauce from his pear as he adressed his wife. He tried looking away from the midget wrestling in TV as he talked to Shirley, but he just couldn't resist glancing at the petite warriors every couple of seconds.

Shirley simply gave him the 'you know what I'm yelling about' look. It's exactly like the 'you didn't flush' look, except with slightly less arched eyebrows.

"Oh, come on, hon!" Mick protested. "We've been married for, like... I don't know, a year... I think we've reached a level of confidence that allows us to fart in front of each other, you know?"

Shirley sighed. "First of all, I've never farted in front of you, and I never will..."

"Well, there goes that fantasy..."

"SECONDLY," Shirley raised her voice, "farting has nothing to do with confidence. It has to do with you being a pig. And with those nachos, I suppose."

"It's just bodily gas! What's the big deal? I'm sure you fart too, when I'm not looking..."

Shirley blushed. "I don't!"

"You never fart?"

"NO!"

"Actually, I think that's imp--"

"I NEVER FART!" Shirley interrupted, visibly upset. "Don't change the subject! This is about you, not me! YES, it is a big deal when you fart in front of me, because it makes me feel like we're living in a pig sty. It denigrates our home!"

"Denigrates our...? You know, Larry was a much better roommate than you."

"Oh yeah?! Then why didn't you marry him?!"

"His ass is so flat..."

Shirley crossed her arms and did her best to look hurt. "To think that implying my ass isn't flat is as romantic as you get..."

"Aww, honey!" Mick sat closer to her and carefully placed his hand over her leg. "I can be romantic... look, from now on, I'll only let out ninja farts, ok? Silent... but deadly. That way the sound won't bother you."

"Oh, how considerate of you! The smell is a problem of its own, you know? In fact... move away a little, could you? BESIDES, remember what happened that time you sneezed? The consequences were felt all over the universe! What if something like that happened when you farted just now?"

Mxy chuckled. "Bab--" Shirley elbowed him in the ribs. "I mean... Shirley, I think I have enough control of my powers by now to avoid that sort of thing... Not to brag or anything, but I'm getting pretty good at it. I haven't turned anyone into a cow in a month! A couple of apes, sure, but at least they're bipeds..."

Shirley stood up and walked to the window, just to make sure the world was still out there. "Honey, you might wanna take a look at this..."

Grunting, Mick left the couch with the difficulty of a 70 year old and walked towards Shirley. "What?"

"Look out."

There was nothing outside. Not a white void, no infinite blackness. Nothing.

"Oh. Whoops."

*sigh*

Mick and Shirley whirled around with an abrupt start, the sound of the rather too-calm sigh reminding them that...suddenly...they weren't alone.

"What is it with you, anyway?" Prometheus asked, slouching sideways in the loveseat he had just appeared in.

He lit a cigarette.

"Excuse me!" Shirley sneered. "We don't allow smoking in this house."

"And I don't allow universal destruction in mine..." Pro shrugged. "....but, I think we're beyond manners at this point."

He paused, wrinkling his nose.

"...did someone fart?"

"You." Mick stated.

"Wasn't me..." Prometheus shrugged.

Shirley continued to stare at the man with a stern gaze of disapproval. Pro glanced at her a few times. Her stare was making him uncomfortable, with its faultless, unblinking intensity.

"You're Prometheus."

"And you are the guy who just erased a small portion of existence..." the bald visitor replied, taking another drag.

He looked at Shirley again. She folded her arms, and cocked an eyebrow.

"Oh for fucks sake..." he rolled his eyes, dousing the cigarette against the nothingness it had come from...

"So, you're saying that..." Mick realized the person he was talking to had disappeared. "...hello?"

"Where did the bald guy go?" Shirley asked.

Mick rubbed his sauce stained chin. "Hm, I think he's not allowed to appear in anyone else's posts. That's gonna make moving the story forward very difficult..."

Shirley stared at him in confusion. "You have no idea how much it arouses me when you talk like that."

Shirley grabbed Mick's arm and pulled him towards the bedroom.

"Oooh," he said as he let himself be dragged, "the fourth wall ain't the only one getting screwed tonight..."

"...I'm still here, you know..."

"GAH!!" Mick spittled everywhere.

Just not in the way Shirley enjoyed.

"Don't do that!" he exclaimed, not able to come up with a more profound way of expressing himself.

"Listen, nothing personal..." Pro shrugged. "...but, I just find that when I let someone else perceive me outside of my own grasp of the universe, they usually end up having me sound like I was written by Warren Ellis, or something..."

"You mean like you end every story understating how cool you are, and how you could take on God and kick his ass?"

"More or less, yeah..." Prometheus said, lighting another smoke. "...I'm just waiting for the day I'm said to have kicked a frozen nosferatu's nads off..."

"No smoking!" Shirley yelled.

"My god, Mick...could you write her less...you know....nitpicky?"

Pro sat in the house's porch, absently looking at the nothingness in front of him. Mick walked out with a bag of ice.

"Here," Mick said offering Pro the ice.

"Thanks." Pro put the bag over his black eye. "Ow! Why can't you wife simply slap people, you know, like normal women?"

"No idea, man..." Mick adjusted his jaw with his hand, remembering something. "I gotta keep ice in the fridge 24/7, just in case I say something wrong."

"Is she still...?"

Mick looked into the house through the window. "Yep."

"Can I...?"

"Yeah, go ahead..." Mick sat next to Pro.

"Oh, thank God." Pro took another smoke and lit it in record time. He let out a sigh of relief.

"...unless she walks out, that is."

"If she walks out, I'll eat it."

"Heh. So... " Mick looked at the lack of reality beyond his house. "About that..."

"Yeah," Pro sat up and adjusted his composition, appearing more serious. "We should probably start working on rebuilding."

"But there's like, nothing left, you know...? What can we do?"

"Oh, Mick," Pro grinned. "I thought you of all people would realize that the question is... What can't we do?"

"Hmmm..." Mick pondered outloud....as opposed to internally thinking, which would not convey well in a narrative sense. "...well, you with hair, for one..."

Prometheus cocked an eyebrow at him, taking a slow drag.

"I mean...a full-fledged godling...and you can't give yourself some hair? What's that all about?"

"What are you trying to say?" Pro asked very calmly.

"Nothing, nothing..." Mick dismissed. "...soooo....the universe..."

"And lack thereof, I would say..."

"Yeah..." Mick nodded. "....where should we start?"

"I, for one, always start with what I know."

Mick nodded, pondering....silently, this time.

"So...John Constantine and Doctor Who ripoffs?"

"...homages, thankyouverymuch..."

"Right. Homage." Mick rolled his eyes.

"And what have you got, eh?" Pro asked.

"Ummm....pithy godlike characters with an everyman slant?"

"Check."

"....hmmm....fourth-wall-crushing diatribes and fully-functional secondary support characters?"

"Beautiful."

A small fart squeaked out, mini-universes appearing and collapsing in the nothingness.

"....cosmic gas...."

"...and how..." Pro sighed, taking a drag.

The door suddenly opened, Pro immediately swallowing the lit cig.

"What was that?!" Shirley exclaimed, looking out to where the universe had appeared and vanished in the blinding few seconds.

The two men stared up at her, smiling innocently with the exact same fearful expression.

"Nothing, dear...nothing...go back inside..." Mick assured her.

Shirley stared at Pro for a moment, who's face was becoming slightly redder now.

She finally stepped back in, closing the door.

Pro immediately opened his mouth, a veritable cloud of smoke billowing forth.

"You okay?" Mick asked.

".....yep...." his hoarse voice choked.

"Was that smoke still lit?"

"......yep....."

"Hurts doesn't it?"

".......yep......"

"So, how do you recreate a universe from the ground up?" Mick asked. "I've never done anything that big."

"I find that hard to believe," Pro said, cocking an eyebrow like only THE Prometheus can cock and eyebrow.

"For real. I made an amusement park in the back yard once. That's about the biggest thing I've created out of nothing."

"Well, let's see..." Pro stood on top of his seat to get a better look at the empty canvas in front of him. "It usually begins with a bang..."

"Yeah, I'm not farting again. I get the feeling the next one may come with a little icky surprise..."

"Your ability to convey disturbing mental images remains unparalleled..."

"Why thank you!"

"...Thankfully, a gas release of the other kind should suffice."

"Oh, I'm great at those!" Mick stood up, swallowed, and inflated his chest. "Ok," he began, mantaining his akward posture, "what do you want me to say...?"

"I'm sorry?"

"Just tell me something to say... Trust me, you'll love this trick..."

"Um..." Pro scratched his baldness.

" Hurry up... I can't hold it for long..." Mick began shaking, as Pro shrugged. Mick opened his mouth, and let out a deep, gutural sound. It was a burp, yet at the same time it seemed to say 'HELLO, PRO!'.

Suddenly, a sea of changing colors and undefined shapes filled their surroundings. Raw reality, fresh from the oven, ready to be molded. Faces, objects, places and landscapes constantly took form and disappeared in an instant.

In front of this impressive view, Pro turned to Mick. "That's a good start, but... 'Hello, pro'?"

"Yeah, it's no 'let there be light'... Gimme a break, I only had a couple of seconds to come up with something."

"Fair enough..." Pro shrugged again. He lit a new smoke, staring into the celestial smorgasbord. "Okay...we need to start with the outline."

"Outline?" Mick frowned. "Of what?"

"The universe." Prometheus replied, never looking away from the rainbow mish-mash of idea-blood that pooled in random swirls.

"Ummm......okay." Mick said with a sigh. "Outline the universe. Sure. No sweat. No problem. No big deal, and all that..."

They stood there in silence for a moment...

"...you're wondering what the outline of a universe--"

"--looks like, pretty much, yeah..." Mick nodded.

"Well, it's up to you Michael."

"Me?"

"You destroyed the last three universes,,,I suspect you might as well decide what this one will look like..."

"Three?!" Mick turned with a startled expression. "But...but...wait. I count only two...the sneeze...and the fart..."

"You're forgetting the one with TOMB..." Pro added.

"...what?! I did that? When?!"

"How old are you?"

"Well, since you're writing this post, I'm about twenty-five.....why?"

"Then, it was seven years ago, roughly..."

"...I was...eighteen?"

"Yes..."

"Okay, roll this dialogue along for me a bit.....how did I destroy the TOMB universe at eighteen?"

"Remember when you lost your virginity..."

"Sure...I---..............................oh. Wow. Yikes. Okay." Mick's face went blank with realization. "So...whoa...you mean....the first time I--"

"Yep."

"--with a girl--"

"Right."

"....it destroyed the--"

"Uh-huh."

Mick stood there for a moment, choosing to ponder this for a moment. His mind ended up drifting to thoughts of crusty towels and bottles of lotion.

"Wait....what about when I was.....back in the teens...you know....taking everything out for a spin---"

"Why you didn't destroy the universe through cosmically terminal masturbation?"

"...d-u-u-u-d-e..." Mick spun around making sure no one had heard that. Even though there was no one left in the universe who could hear it. It was a male instinct he wouldn't fight.

"Let's just say that you hadn't quite evolved to your prime yet..." Prometheus grinned. ".......of course...it did juggle a few timelines..."

"Okay..." Mick sighed, trying to accept how detrimental his bodily functions were to existence. "Wait!"

Pro gave him a sideways glance.

"How did we get on the subject of my meat-slapping ability?" Mick asked. "Weren't you going to explain how to outline the universe for me?"

"Well, you may notice that when I write dialogue, unless I have a specific point to make, I generally just let it flow naturally...real-time rambling as it comes to me..."

"Hm. Yeah, I probably noticed. But, I can't confirm one way or another until I'm the one writing the post."

"Understandable."

"So....back to the point...how do I outline the universe?"

"As I've said, it's your choice. You can make this universe any shape, size, and context you wish..."

"What about...you know...all the rest?" Mick frowned.

"Like what?"

"You know....the details. How many galaxies? How many timelines? How many planets, and who lives on them, and all that?"

"Ah, yes...well....those are finite points that can be made as we go..."

"I see."

"Do you?"

"Not at all."

"Yeah..." Pro sighed rather mournfully. "....I get that alot from my posts..."

He and Mick stood there in silence for a moment.

"So?" Pro asked.

"Yes?"

"Are you going to do something?"

"I don't know....I might have a bit more dialogue to add when I'm the one writing the next post. Let's just wait and see if I have anything to say, first, before we go re-working the cosmos..."

"Fair enough..."

"What do you two think you're doing?" A voice asked from behind the pair.

"GAHHHH!!!!!!!!" they screamed in unison, surprised at the interruption.

"Skittish, huh?" Grimm plopped down beside the pair and popped open a Guinness, offering a can to the others.

"I hate it when he does that. . ." Mick said, attempting to slow down his heart rate.

"He knows, that's why he does it. . ." Pro rolled his eyes and lit another smoke. "How ya doing, Certain Doom? What's with the dramatic appearance?"

"Yeah, how did you get here? I thought everything was gone but us?"

Grimm took a swig of his beer and swallowed, letting out a long sigh. "You two haven't just been creating. You've been destroying as well."

Grimm looked at Mick, who tried to avoid looking him in the eye and failed. "Oh. . .right. . ."

"Someone's gotta clean up the messes you've been making." Grimm took another drink, draining the can. He crunched it in his fist and tossed it over his shoulder before opening another.

"Cosmic janitor. Heh." Pro expelled a cloud of smoke.

"That's one way of seeing it." Grimm took another drink as Mick pursed his lips together before belching out a "Grimmmmmmmmm". . . making all three laugh.

"Yeah, it's more fun making the messes. . ." Grimm tossed away the second empty can before reaching into the box for a third. . .

Elsewhen. . .

A pair of gloved fists continued to hammer away at a crystalline prison as cracks splintered and grew. Harder and harder the fists struck until the crystalline wall finally gave way under their assault.

The wall shattered and exploded outward as the occupants burst forth into freedom and unfamiliar surroundings. The leader dropped to his feet, holding his shredded hands up in supplication as his teammates prevented him dropping to the floor.

Chewy Walrus had just punched their way to freedom from the confinement. "TOMB. . ." he managed to stammer out. . ."Let's get funky!"

"How's it going?" a man asked as he flew up on his surf board from the cosmic void.

"GAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!" Mick yelled out again.

"Don't tell me he scared you too," Grimm said almost as if his face changed to a look of disbelief and pity. But it didn't. Because it's just a skull.

"No," Mick responded once he caught his breath. "I just thought about the time that Shirley wanted me to watch Beaches with Bette Midler, and I frightened myself." The group just stared at him for a moment.

"It does kinda give me chills," Prometheus finally admitted.

"Me too," Grimm whispered just a little too loudly.

"Riiight," the stranger on top of the flying carpet said. "I was just passing by and wondered what you guys were doing over here."

"We're recreating the universe," Pro proudly stated as a cigarrette hung from the corner of his mouth.

"Really?"

"Yep," Mxy answered with a big smile on his face, "but I'm the one doing most of the work."

"Are you sure that's what you're doing?"

"Of course it is!" Grimm bellowed out in anger. "What the hell else would we be doing sitting on the front porch of a house in the middle of the limitless void of nothingness?"

"Well, it kinda looked like you were just standing here."

"Just standing here?" Pro erupted. "We're in the process of orchestrating a cosmic symphony of neutron stars, a bouquet of nebulae, a.... a..... a...."

"Panorama?" the stranger asked as he sat cross legged on top of his hovering banana.

"PANORAMA!" Pro screamed out as if he has discovered the word himself. A panoramam of quasars and black holes."

"And it's all coming out of my blackhole," Mick smiled as as fart squeeked out from between his cheeks. A wobbly scene of stars coalescing into an unstable galaxy.

"We're callin' that the Ass End of the universe!" Grimm pointed and cheerfully proclaimed as though he had a big, goofy smile on his face. But he didn't, of course.

The stranger repositioned himself on the flying sofa to lay across it. "I'm just saying that you guys have been just standing there for a really long time."

"Non-sense. We've been restoring existence. You apparently are unable to understand our delicate and complex plans by simply 'just passing by'. Now can you?" Prometheus snuffed his cigarrette out on the hand rail, reached into his coat pocket, and fished out a fresh smoke.

"But I've passed by at least 20 times. And you're always in the exact same place each and every time. You've been out here for a while."

"I bet dinner's cold by now," Mick mumbled to himself.

Pro waived for him to be quiet. "Well..... constantly destorying and creating universes takes a lot out of you."

"Especially me" Mick added. He tried for a burp/fart combo, but could produce neither. "Oh," he weeped as he hung his head in disappointment.

"I'm just here to smash stuff," Grimm shrugged as he popped the top off another beer. "What about you? Are you here to create the universe too?"

"Me?" the stranger asked as he bobbed around a little bit trying to maintain his balance on his skies. "No. I'm just bored. I was just passing by and wanted to see what you guys were doing out here. That's all."

"Hey?" Mick's head popped back up. "Weren't you just riding a sofa?"

"Yeah! And a banana before that," Pro chimed in.

"I remember that banana," Grimm added. "Because I was hungry. And looking at it just made me hungrier."

"I couldn't decide which was funnier!" the stranger yelled as he paddled his canoe away from the house and back into the void.

"Have you guys lost your minds?" a familiar voice echoes in the nothingness.

Mick turned around, “Who the heck are you?”

“I’m that guy, sorta.” he mentioned, pointing towards Prometheus. “Long story, only about 3 of us remember it.”

“Okay…” Mick replied, getting an even bigger headache.

“Gooz? I thought you were destroyed 2 universes ago?”

Gooz approached Prometheus and shook his hand.

“I was, than recreated a couple of times, now I think my son is leading a team in another mixed universe that might be on hold within this one or could even be a universe that Mick has yet to create or might even create after this one. I’m not sure really, but I think we’re all pretty confused about this.”

“I’ve missed you trying to piece things together, Gooz.”

Gooz shrugs and turns toward Grimm, “Hey dude.”

Grimm turns away from the black and silver clad hero.

“Oh yeah, I forgot, you’re still giving me the silent treatment.” Gooz turns to Mick, “Dude, when creating the new universe-“

“Gooz, wait a second, we can’t tell him what to create.” Prometheus cut in.

“No, I’m not. Just giving him a friendly suggestion.”

“Isn’t that the same thing.” Gooz turns toward Grimm, “Back me up here G.”

Grimm simply looks at his big hammer and ignores Gooz.

“If Rypta was here, I’d have some back up.” Gooz muttered to himself.

Prometheus hit himself on the head, “Is anyone else going to show up?”

“Diner is READY!” yelled a voice with a thick Italian accent from inside the house.

“No! Not him! If is him, I am giving up” muttered Grimm, with an angry look on his face, because all skull looks angry.

“Euro!” shouted Gooz, leaving the porch to come inside Mick’s home. On the couch Shirley was reading Cosmopolitan, happy that the Italian had come from out of nowhere to relieve her from cooking duty. Unless he was going to leave the kitchen all messed without cleaning up... the though gave her chills down her spine.

“Euro, what are you doing here?” asked Gooz with a smile.

“Cooking, it seems. I guess the Writer wants me to be here, without imposing his view over the recreation of the Universe... And you?”

“Well, I am really just an older... or was it younger... sometimes I confuse even myself... version of the bald one, the one that doesn’t want to be in other one’s posts, so I can say I am here to facilitate the writing... actually, I wanted to give a suggestion on the recreation of the Universe, but it seems the three amigos out there wants to do it on their own...”

Euro shrugged. “Just when we are going all 52, Infinite Crisis and One year later in the other thread, I wonder why a new Universe is needed, but who cares, I go where the writing is... it is just so weird that there is actually writing in this forum.”

“Well, Euro, to say the truth, I stated somewhere that breaking the fourth wall is so out of fashion, I am not really comfortable to continue this conversation...” said Gooz.

“Ok, Ritchie, no problem, I can revert to character mode easily. How’s Quinn?”

“Well, I think he’s finding his way...” replied Gooz, nodding. “And Eddie?”

“Fine, thanks” said Euro, nodding himself. The two continued to nod for a few seconds.

“Well” broke the silence Euro, “it looks the meal is ready. Call the others, Ritchie!”

"Fuck off!" Captain Sammitch called from the next room. "I have leftover pizza! The Ohio State game's coming on!"

"Aren't you going to tell us what happened to your characters?" Ritchie asked absently.

"Can't be arsed," Captain Sammitch replied. "I'm still working on your avatars for Hollywood: The Game. Besides, were I to actually use my characters in the main story again, Pro would just Byrne them down to fit his story better, or retcon 'em outta existence, or retcon the FUCK outta the universe or something."

And then Sammitch's pizza started talking.

"HEY! What the fuck is goin' on here, EH? Can't a guy get some fuckin' peace? JESUS Christ, you'd think being such a obscure fuckin' character they'd leave me outta shit like this!"

The pizza jumped off the table and walked away, muttering insults to his wife.

ONE HOUR LATER...

As the dance inducing rythms thumped from the speakers, the fifty people who slowly but surely appeared in Mick and Shirley's house kicked their legs out as the conga line snaked through the kitchen, back out through the hallway, and began to ascend the stairs to the second floor.

"I could have sworn that everyone was destroyed," Prometheus said, rubbing the top of his bald head with a deeply perplexed look on his face. "Vanished. Dissolved in the acid flood of nothingness."

"This must come as quite a shock," Grimm said as he fished another glass of punch out of the punch bowl. A party hat adorned his head while streamers wrapped around his neck.

"I'll say," Mick added. "Since when did this house have a second floor?"

"We need to be serious here for a moment," Pro said.

"I am! I've been here a while and never once do I remember seeing a second floor."

"It's where our bedroom is!" Shirley yelled from the kitchen as she attempted to keep the rowdy conga line from knocking over her fine china cabinet.

Mick gave a sidelong glance to Pro. "That proves nothing."

Captain Sammitch walked into the kitchen and slapped his head. His already red skin just below his hair line showed that he'd been doing this same motion for the past hour.

"What distresses you?" asked Euro.

"My pizza got up, talked and walked away," Sammitch began, "And is married."

"We've faced much weirder things, haven't we?"

"That's not it. I had already taken a bite of the pizza."

"Oh?" asked the Italian cook, hero, sometimes drug-addict, once family of characters.

"From how he was walking, I bite between his legs..." Sammitch disclosed further, "Does that make me gay?"

Elsewhere

Ritchie sat on a stoop infront of the house that floated in nothingness, a white vast nothingness. Next to him was his alter, but not really, sometimes, personality, the bald (by choice!) god-like being Prometheus.

"We really fucked up Devin, (shakes his own head) I mean Pro." Ritchie started.

Prometheus looked at him.

"Whatever."

"Whatever? You usually have something very deep and inspiring, life altering even to say."

"Maybe something will come to me."

"Yeah, maybe."

Both men continued to sit, looking into the vast nothingness. Yet strangly, it was a relief. A clean slate.

Six years.

It had been, roughly, six years since the writer had sat down one night, the spirits of vineyards and cannabis driving his mind forth. Six years since the desire to create and explore had blossomed on the screen in front of him. Six years since he created an avatar, of a sorts. An accidental personality that, little did he know, would mold and craft his digital persona into a dream all its own.

Time has passed. And, here he sits again...wondering. Writing. Wondering about writing. Wondering if he still has that itch. Wondering if the block that binds his fingers is merely a self-imposed sentence, born of life's responsibility and erratic schedules. Wondering if he could do it again. If he could find that freedom of flow and glee, allowing the old familiar sear of burning neurons to dance as gracefully as they so effortlessly did....six years ago.

Or, could the deadness in his imagination be true? Had he said all he could possibly say? Was there nothing left to explore? Was the regime of centered and focused writing too much of a hassle now? Was it too much trouble? And...even worse...could it be that what he once was...what he could once do without pause...was it all just too easy? Was actual truth in writing and sincerity to the craft much more of a struggle...much harder work, than he had ever realized?

Is this what it's really like to be a writer? Is it actual....effort? Work?

But, then, as he would type these words, a spark of realization jumps into his mind between breaths. What if he had plenty more to say? What if he had infant ideas that could be nurtured into something proud and strong? What if he had characters and stories just waiting ever-so-patiently, in the back of his mind? Waiting to burst the dam of denial and flood the streams of his veins with excitement and a nervous energy?

What if he had new foundations to build.... but, was using the wrong tools?

Old tools. Old toys. Old men, with old ideas. Bald heads and cigarettes, and immortal words spoken through mortal lips. You can only go back to the well so many times. And, try as he might, the writer never could resist swinging the old bat. Hitting the old tunes. Saying familiar things.

You can never go home again. How true.

So. What if this writer...six years into the game...decided he needed to put the old toys down, and play with new ones? New characters. New ideas. New tools.

Forever my favorite, and always my temptation. But, if I respect you, and honor what I loved about you to begin with, then I have to let you go. You name will live on. But, your character will not.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Gooz..." Pro began, pausing to take a deep drag from his smoke. ".....time to move on."

Gooz cocked his eye at this familiar man sitting next to him.

"Time to let go." the neo-godling said, coming to a stand. "I've done all I can with who I am. I've said all I can say. I've created and destroyed all I ever could. And, more still."

"What are you saying?" Gooz asked, somewhat perplexed at this sudden change. "You're leaving us?"

"I am, yes." Pro nodded. "Not the writer. Not Devin. But, me...Prometheus...yeah. It's time."

Gooz did not speak, for to do so would be presumptious of the writer. If he had any thoughts or feelings on the matter, it would be his own to express.

Prometheus slid his old familiar coat off. He stared at it for a minute or so, as if trying to see every memory he had ever made wearing it. Lifting the worn material to his face, he took a long, deep inhale...savoring this final moment with an old friend.

"You old thing..." he smiled. "...I think I'll miss you most..."

After another moment, he finally turned and dropped it into Gooz's lap.

"Do with it as you will." he said. "You, above all others, deserve it."

As Gooz studied the coat with a wary expression, Pro looked down at the pack of cigs and silver-embossed lighter in his palm.

"But...I won't miss YOU at all!" he suddenly hissed, raring back and throwing the items as hard as he could. They insignificant character props floated off into the nothingness from whence they came.

Pro watched them fade. Finally, satified they were gone, he took a deep breath, exhaling loudly.

"Yep." he nodded, hands on his hips. "That about does it."

He turned to Gooz, who stood to face him.

"Before I go...let me do you a favor..." Pro stated. He suddenly snapped his fingers.

Nothing happened.

"There. Done. Our shared history was always fun...but confusing." he explained. "I've just relieved you of that burden. You are now, and forever more, your own character with your own history."

"Well..." Gooz opened his mouth finally. "...what if I liked the shared history?"

"Hey, if you like it, you like it. Keep it. Fine. Whatever." Pro shrugged. "I'm just saying...if you...we...are going to create a new universe to play in, you may want to start with a clean slate. That's all. Less mess to deal with. But, it's your call. I'm just saying this is an 'out' for you."

"Okay.....thank you.....I guess." Gooz nodded.

Prometheus smiled.

"No, Gooz....thank you." he stated very firmly. "You are the very first friend I ever made on the internet....well, that my writer ever made. Of anyone, you actually helped me with this character in more ways than you know. I've always enjoyed bouncing ideas off of you and playing with this dual-character idea. It was a hell of a lot of fun."

"You....you are still going to write with us, right?" Gooz asked, eyes narrow. "There's an awful finality to the way you're talking..."

"New characters. New ideas. But, hell, what do you expect?" Pro asked, furrowing his brow. "I've poured my heart and soul into this character. I am sincerely going to miss him. Not writing him, mind you. Just going to miss him."

Gooz nodded. They both stared at each other in silence for a moment. It was almost like a great joke about them kissing should be written at this moment. But, in all fairness, Pro gave the man a well-deserved hug, and, turned towards the edge of the patio.

"You know, the funny thing is...for the last six years...I've actually had hair in real life. I've just recently shaved my head bald..."

Palamedius Lokai Xalivaryn smiled rather broadly, and, simply stepped off into...

....nothing....

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Good-bye Prometheus.

"He'll be back. They always come back." Grimm muttered between throwing down cups of punch. "Needs more vodka." Grimm began pouring more alcohol into the punch bowl as Mick frowned, his hands in his pockets.

"Now who's gonna guide me in recreating the universe?" He muttered to himself.

"Recreate the universe? Screw that, let's party!" Grimm grabbed an attractive, buxom, redheaded girl and the two fell into the conga line as Shirley franticly tried to redirect it away from the upstairs of the house.

"I knew this was a bad idea." Chewy Walrus said to no one in particular. "Hey, punch! Don't mind if I do!"

Mick stood in the now empty living room, staring off into space and gripping a small object tightly in his right hand. Shirley walked into the room, attempting to clear away some of the confetti and streamers laying around.

"Mick? Where is everyone? Where did they go? And where did they all come from?" Shirley walked up to her husbands's side. "What's that you're holding?"

"They're gone, Shirley. They were never here. None of them were. None of us are really here at all." Mick looked around the empty room as his voice echoed slightly from the walls. He looked down into his hands at the tiny snowglobe showing a small tropical island with the inscription: Welcome to sunny La Perdita!

"Doctor, has there been any change?" Shirley asked, walking up to Mick's door in the sanatarium. "No, Mrs. Harrison, I'm afraid not. See for yourself."

Shirley looked through the small hole in the door to see Mick leaning back against the wall. He was mumbling something to himself over and over again.

"Mxy. . .Mxy. . .Mxy. . ."

Finis

At the omniversal endpoint, sits a structure rumored to have been built by the gods themselves. Suspended in place between two black holes sits the holding place for the cosmically insane. This is. . .THE ASYLUM.

In the midst of a break-in lead by the former director of the Asylum, an alien known only as Mr. Smiley, his followers (known collectively as the Lunatic Fringe), have fought the Asylum's hunter teams for hours. However, the main team has now located Smiley's hiding place and prepares to end this incursion.

Rant-The vampiric cyborg acts as point man for the team.

Red Dragon-A martial artist with an unknown destiny.

Terror-Female pyrokinetic and Rant's lover.

Blackwulf-Genestealer and the team's powerhouse.

and Grimm-field team leader.

"I'm ready. Let's take him down and end this now." Rant began to mist up and headed down the nearest corridor.

"Wait." Grimm stopped and motioned for the group to do the same. "There's a side door to Mortis' office right here. We should let him know."

"Greem, is everything being okayes, comrade?" Blackwulf asked as his body underwent a periodic mutation and he grew scales.

"I'm not sure. I feel like there's something left undone. . .it's hard to explain. Dragon, open the door and let's go in."

"Okay, if you think that's what we should do. . ." The team entered the chambers to discover Mortis speaking to. . .Grimm!

Quote:

"Something is not right. You should not be here now. You're lost in the castle."

"How do you know that?"

Just then, a door opened in the other side of the room. Five figures walked in: A short black man, wearing a black martial artist uniform with red trim. A short, pale man dressed all in black (He looked vaguely familiar, but Grimm couldn't quite place him.) A tall woman with red hair, wearing a black pleather outfit with flame designs, A large hairy man with a purpleish tint to his skin, and another figure who hung back in the shadows.

The short pale man walked up to the desk, "Hey, Grimm, you got lost in the castle again, huh? Happened to me just last week. Don't worry, the bossman here'll fix you up." Then, turning to the man behind the desk. "We've found him. He's hiding on one of the lower levels. We think he's killed two guards. We're going in now."

"Excellent," the man replied. "Bring him to me when you're done."

The man (judge?) then turned to Grimm. You must go now. This is not for you to see yet. A guide has been appointed for you. There is a task you must face before returning to your friends."

The man gestured, and another door Grimm hadn't seen yet opened. An old man, with a long beard and white robes walked in followed by a grey android.

"Greetings. I am one of the caretakers of the castle. And this," he said motioning to the being behind him. "Is the Time Trust. He will enable you to find your right path home. Walk with us for awhile."

"Um, sure, I guess." Grimm said following the two out of the doorway.

The others turned to look at the person still in shadows. "Man, it must be eerie to see yourself that way, huh, Grimm?" said the short, black man.

"Like you wouldn't believe, man." Said Grimm, stepping out from the shadows. "Now let's go kick some psychotic ass."

And they did.