RKMBs Forums .::Important::. Writer's Block The Hero Revolution Christmas Special #1

Dec. 15th, 2003.
Victoria Xiang’s office
Vanguard HQ
Puerta Mibela, La Perdita

“You’re saying you want Vanguard to sponsor a two day metahuman Christmas festival?” Victoria Xiang’s eyebrow arched as she looked on with a slight air of disbelief at three men that sat in front of her desk.

Kit Piper, Otto the bearman, and Jake, the owner of Jake’s Place, the downtown metahuman bar looked back at her. “Well, you see, it’s not just for metahumans, Miss X,” Kit began. “It’s for everyone.”

“It’s not just a Christmas festival, it’s open to anyone’s beliefs, Christmas, Hanukkah, Festivus. . .” Otto continued, turning towards Jake. “Right,” the humanoid catfish continued, “And Vanguard won’t be the sole sponsor. Several of the companies from the business district of Puerta Mibela will be sponsoring the event, including my own. Vanguard would be one of many.”

“I don’t know. . .” the president of Vanguard International thought on the idea, holding a pen to her mouth.

“There’ll be rides, food, music,. . .” Otto continued.

“It’ll be great publicity.” Kit offered.

“Perhaps it would, at that. All right, gentlemen, you’ve sold me. Vanguard will help
sponsor your holiday festial.” Victoria Xiang stood up and shook each man’s hand in turn, smiling at the thought of what good a festival like this could do not only for Vanguard, but for the community of Puerta Mibela as well.

"I'm not sure if I fully understand this celebration," Adem said while holding a box. Leslie reached in and grabbed another ornament to hang over the doorway.

"What's not to understand about Christmas?" she asked, balancing herself on a step ladder. "It's the best holiday of the year. You spend time with those close to you and let you know how much they mean to you. Isn't that right?" She crinkled her nose up at the couch facing the big screen TV.

"Don't forget the decorations, carols, TV specials, and presents," Phil added as he continued to watch the Disco Steve Annual Christmas Party Special. "What's not to like?"

Different thought for a moment. "So, it's a celebration of capitalism and commercialism." Finally, something he could relate to.

"No!" Leslie protested.

"Actually, that's about it right on the head," the telekinetic reaffirmed.

"No, it's not, Phil Smith!" Leslie continued in protest. "It's about friends and loved ones. We give presents, but we give presents that shows how we feel about each other. Or presents that we think someone needs." (Which explains why underwear has become an accepted gift for the Holidays.)

Adem continued his contemplation as Leslie emptied the box of its last decoration. "That finished that," she said climbing down the ladder. "The rec. room is ready for the Christmas cheer. And look who's standing under the mistletoe."

Leslie was in fact standing under the mistletoe that she had just hung over the doorway. "You'd better get over here, Mr. Smith, before some other handsome man stands by me and receives his kiss."

"I'm the luckiest man alive," a voice suddenly appeared. Leslie looked beside her to see Michael "the Luchadore" Fortenberry standing next to her with his patented thumb's grin and gesture.

"Part of me wants to be jealous," Phil said, holding back his laughter. "But the majority of me finds this extraordinairly humorous."

Leslie shrugged. In an act of Christmas joy and good will, she gave the masked man a slight peck on his masked cheek. That mattered not to the man a thousand kindergarten crushes but one brain cell. His lips let forth a *Tee hee!* before his body gave up to the unrelenting force of the *THUD*.

"Just when I thought I had all this Christmas stuff worked out," Adem mused to himself.

One Day Ago

Priest wasn’t exactly sure what to think. He eyed the room around him as he simply waited, sitting on a cold cot in Dr Quantos’ personal lab. Wires and machinery were strapped all over the large meta’s body, which had been bruised and battered during his run in with an Annunaki in Anctartica. Priest brushed his right hand over his bald head and then simply looked at his hand as it shook. He clenched his chest in pain, and as if on cue, the machines beeped and lit in unison.

Priest wondered just how he was still alive, of course that thanks would go to Phil Smith and one Leslie Kline. They jump started his heart and kept his mind hanging on. But they only delayed the inevitable. Since Priest made the jump to this time period, in an attempt to save his future, he has been without necessary medication and machinery that he had used to keep his powers in check and heart beating.

His original plan was to kill the one who would be responsible for his future’s death, Danny Hearn, and then to find a way home. Plans tend to change. And Priest was able to con the ultimate con man with information about the future in exchange for his membership into the organization. Football game winners, political race outcomes... Things that Priest had extensively studied over his many years of schooling. And with over 80 years of knowledge, Priest could keep Mr. Kit Piper supplied with enough info to keep the greedy man happy for a long time.

Knowing very well that he would have less than two years before his body couldn’t take anymore damage, Priest knew that he had to either kill Danny or find another way to stop what was to happen. But Danny had to go and save Priest, make his question what he had, needed to do. Conflicted, Priest decided to wait it out, little did he know that every action began to tilt the future and change it. Now, who knows what the future holds. An empty slate. I guess one could tell those that think they know what will happen to, leave the past buried.

Finally, Dr. Quantos entered with Anna, one of his usual assistants and Grissom Montag. The two men were arguing on the topic at hand. Dr. Quantos than stopped and proclaimed, “That could work!”

This brought a smirk to Priest’s face, who was completely dumbfounded on what was happening. The few days since the fight in the artic had been a blur filled with a lot of resting in the medical center. Now he woke up in the lab with two of the smartest minds of this time arguing about something.

Grissom approached Priest with a smile, “Rise and shine sleeping beauty” The tech wizard jumped onto the cot besides Priest, “Care for some food?” Grissom pulled a sandwich out of thin air (somewhere Luchadore would be very confused and look high and low in the kitchen but never find his lunch). Priest shook his head, so Grissom took a large bite out of the sandwich.

In between chews, “I know it’s a bit early, but the guys and I got you an early Christmas gift.”

Priest eyed Grissom, who had always been accepting of the future lost soldier. Priest knew that he could trust the man next to him.

“We didn’t wrap it, but…” Grissom waved to Anna to retrieve the “blue prints” from the other room. Slapping them on a stand, Grissom introduced Priest to pictures of his new heart and matching chest plate. Priest was speechless. He had gone over every variation to save his own life with his knowledge of the future but keep reaching dead ends because materials he needed hadn’t been invented yet. But ironically, older more basic technology would be the perfect thing to save his life. Some of the World’s greatest minds have trouble thinking backwards.

Grissom continued, “I put it together while you were out cold, I hope you don’t mind my looking through your personal notes. Dr. Quantos has been here every step along the way to ensure that it wouldn’t do more harm than help and the association known as Vanguard International has been kind enough to foot the very expensive bill.” With a wink he added, “Gotta love our medical plan, eh?”

Priest was truly choked up, “I don’t know what to say.”

“You don’t need to say a word mate,” Grissom patted Priest on the back, “Just live long enough to make a difference, its all any of us can really do, Priest.”

“Jon.” Priest smiled at Grissom, “You can call me Jon.”

With a laugh, Grissom replied, “Well, Jon, I can’t promise that this will be painless, but you will be asleep though the worse of it, for a few hours. This time tomorrow you should be better than new, well, better than recently at least.”

They shared a laugh, “Thank you. Thank you all.”

"To be honest, Adem," Phil said, "there's a lot more to it than that."

"Here it comes," Leslie chuckled. "And I thought Tayden would share this part with us."

"Christmas is a purely arbitrary day," the telepath said. "But it's a day designated by the church-"

"-To co-opt pre-existing pagan festivals," Grimm finished for him, entering the room and cracking open a Heineken.

Phil shook his head. "-To celebrate the birth of Jesus Christ. Christmas. The Christ Mass of the church year."

"Someone has a religious side we didn't know about," Brianna said mockingly from the next room. "You a closet Catholic?"

Phil shook his head. "I'm no saint, that's for sure. I met a preacher once, though, and he helped me get going in a better direction than I was headed in." He tried not to remember what had happened that same day - the manhunt, the fight, the chase, and most of all losing Gabriela the first time. "Since then, I've been trying - at least as much as I know how - to do what God wants me to. I figure it's the least I can do, considering how many times I've been bailed out by what could only have been divine intervention."

Leslie smiled at him. "You're just full of surprises, aren't you?"

Phil grinned back. "Is somebody curious?"

Grimm held up a hand. "Hey! You two wanna get it on, get a room! You're killin' the holiday ambience - and if I hear any mushy talk I'm gonna lose my beer here. That means ass will be kicked."

Adem eyed the avatar of Death curiously. "You appear to be somewhat affected by your consumption of alcohol."

"Yeah, dude," Michael 'the Luchadore' replied. "You're sloshed."

"Just gettin' started," the undead biker replied. "When you're fuckin' Death, you can get piss drunk whenever you want without worrying about your liver or being able to drive and shit like that." He shrugged. "Makes the holidays that much more cheerful - for me, anyway." He took another swig of his Heineken. "Workin' on Number Nine for today."

"Getting back to what I was saying," Smith interjected, "Christmas isn't just a time for getting things or even giving things..."

"Like buying your girlfriend pink underwear or something?" Michael asked.

"Scarlet," Leslie murmured when nobody was looking. "Tyrrhian scarlet."

"What was that?" the Luchadore asked as his, Grimm's, and Brianna's heads all snapped in the ex-bounty hunter's direction.

Adem merely looked on, vaguely confused, while Phil Smith stared at the ground, his face rapidly approaching the shade of a lobster.

Leslie looked around nervously. "Ummm... nothing." She turned to Phil. "Keep going. The true meaning of Christmas...?"

"I think it's time for a new conversation," the telepath muttered.

Leslie looked over at Brianna. "So, what's your plans for the holidays, Bri?"

Brianna shrugged. "There's no sense in going back home for a break. There's no one to go home to." She looked outside. "This is just too strange for me, though. I know it's Christmastime, but look outside! It's warm, the sun is bright --"

"This is an island," said Phil.

"Yeah well so is Ireland and you don't see me wearing and shirt and shorts there in December."

A light went on in Leslie's head. "Speaking of your wardrob, Bri, maybe we can hit the mall to expand your clothing collection."

"...How commercial of you," was all Phil said.

"Hush," replyed Leslie. "Come on Bri. We can pick up stuff for the festival at the same time. What do you say?"

Brianna rubbed the back of her neck, as though ashamed of something. "Well, I don't know if I can afford it..."

Grimm looked at Brianna, puzzled. Then he remembered -- she didn't understand the concept of a bank account yet. "Your checks have been deposited, Banshee. You have five thousand in your checking account, the rest is in savings."

Brianna's eyes lit up. "Cheques?" She looked at Leslie and grinned. "Well, I suppose I need a few items..."

"Of course."

"And we need to pick up some more items for the festivel..."

"Naturally."

"And I'll need some help from someone with great fashion sense..."

"I'd be glad to help," said Luchadore.

Leslie and Brianna looked at him. "Right...well, Bri, grab your purse."

"I don't have a purse."

"Well I think I know where we need to start..."

Leslie was dragging Brianna around Puerta Mibela's biggest shopping center. Luchadore was following them, dragging several bags of clothing, bedding, and decorative items. Luchadore, with his muscular frame and golden mask, looked rediculous carrying bags from Bed Bath and Beyond and JCPennys. But then again, one of the girls he was tagging behind had a wingspan, and the mall patrons were use to metas. "Well this has been exciting. I can hardly believe it. I think I must have twelve new outfits already. And enough things to decorate my room. You were right, it did look sort of ordinary. So I take it Phil is getting you something special for the holidays?"

Leslie smiled. "He will if he wants to live. What about you? Anybody getting you something special?"

Brianna rolled her eyes and blushed. "Unlike you, there's no one kissing me under the mistletoe. And I am not refering to Luchadore."

"Come on," said Leslie. "A girl with your looks, single? I mean, you don't wear the most flattering things -- off-duty, at least -- but what, were you raised by wolves?"

"No -- nuns."

Leslie nodded. It all made sense. She stopped by a store with gold and pink trim. "Luchie, wait outside, will you?" She grabbed Brianna by the wrist and dragged her into Victoria's Secret.

Brianna's eyes widened. "They make red underwear?"

"Jeez, you really did live under a rock. Look, Bri, you're a sweet girl. There's nothing wrong with showing off what God gave you. Just...pick something that you like." Brianna pulled something lacey from a pile of undergarments and looked at it. She stuck her tongue out, looking annoyed. "Honey, you are not a size seventeen. Let's move on here."

Five minutes later, the two girls were in another section of the mall. Leslie was tossing pants into Brianna's arms. She laughed. "I fell so awful. Here I am, spending all this money on me, when I should be buying things for other people!" Dropping the pants, she grabbed Leslie's arms. "This is my first Christmas with friends -- do you understand? The twenty-fifth of December was just another day trying to pay for food for my family. And there are no holidays in prison." Leslie smiled warmly and Brianna continued on. "I'm going to buy gifts for everyone this year. I'm going to have fun this year."

"Well then, what are you going to buy? And for whom?"

Brianna sat down. Behind her, Luchadore groan and nearly passed out. He managed to drop several of the bags. "Well...I'm not to close to everyone...not yet anyways...but I want to get Drake something -- and Drax, if I can ever manage it. And Tayden should get something too. Grissom and the doctor have both been kind to me, they deserve something. Too bad Raptor's not here, or I'd get him something as well." Brianna smiled. "And something for you and Phil, of course."

"Get him A Christmas Story on DVD," said Leslie, rolling her eyes. "I'm sure he'd like it." Once again, Leslie was hit by inspiration. "Hey, you understand Christmas pretty well, right?"

Brianna nodded. "Yeah. Why?"

"Get Adem something. Nothing too material. Get him something that will help him understand Christmas, okay?"

Brianna nodded. She looked at Luchadore, struggling to pick up the fifteen bags they had already collected. "Maybe we should have brought Blackwulf..."

Today – Downtown La Perdita

The shopping district is radiant during the holiday season and is blooming with residents of the Island and more importantly for the Island’s income, tourists. Decorated with a mix of heritages and for a wide variety of events just about any man or meta would feel comfortable and welcome in the Island’s graces. The sidewalks were over flowing, to say the least. The seas parted as a large man rushed down the pathway to a small shop whose doors were closing.

“Wait!” the voice yelled.

The old shop keeper paused as the giant man known as Priest tripped and fell at his feet, boxes poured down over the soldiers, the heroes head.

“I hope you don’t have any breakables son,” the friendly face stated, and offered a hand to Priest. Priest gathered his boxes and wiped his hands clean over his loose Christmas themed Hawaiian shirt (snowman in a sea of blue show with little Santa hats). A matching Santa hat rested on Priest’s head.

“I made sure that those would be delivered.” He said with a smile, “A guy my size isn’t good with fragile items.”

“I can see that,” the friendly shop keeper added, “Now what can I help you with?”

“Well, sorry that I’m late,” Priest gestured towards the ‘Closed’ sign that hung from the door, “But I’ve heard from a buddy of mine that you have the BEST cookies and I was wondering if I could get a crate load of ‘em?”

The shopkeeper laughed out load, “Now, what kind of grinch would I be if I said no! In the holiday spirit I shall be right out with a full ‘crate’ Montag’s favorite cookie…”

“How did you know…?”

“He comes by a lot, talks about his friends, family. Plus he is the only one who would describe my cookies as the BEST,” Priest laughed. “Plus,” the older man added, “He left a lasting impression on my granddaughter Anne.”

Priest’s jaw dropped as the old man went in to get the cookies. The older man’s words traveled with him, “He reminds me a lot of me in my youth.”

Priest waited outside, slightly leaning on his large stack of presents, all wrapped and looking perfectly in the holiday spirit. Taking out a list, he flipped it open and it fell halfway down his body. Many names were crossed off, including Phil, Leslie, Tayden, Dr. Quantos, Mick, Shirley, Otto, Ed, Jake, Blackwulf, and the B-Team (as a single entity). Going down the list, Priest put a slash through Grissom’s name and rolled up the list.

Grimm he thought, What do you get a biker who happens to be the avatar of death and incidentally has a skull for a face for the holidays?

Before he could answer his own question, he was greeted by a familiar face, also a darker green turtle like face, that of BHAGHHH-RUPTH. Before Priest could say a word, he was hugged by the once lord of the flies.

“I never got to thank you for saving my shell!” he yelled, “You sir are one heck of a fighter.”

Priest patted Big B on the shell, “You fought one heck of a fight yourself, and saved a lot of people. Sorry I wasn’t sooner to lend a hand.”

“Nooooooo problem, its cool, I got a battle scar that drives the woman crazy.” with that, Bhaghhh-Rupth lifted his shirt that read “Kiss me I’m Italian” revealing a large wound on his “stomach” area. It had already healed at a rapid rate.

Priest laughed and opened the top of his shirt, revealing a metal plate on the left side of his chest. Knocking it with his knuckle, “I got a bit of a battle scar myself. To tell you the truth, saving you actually in turn saved my life. We owe each other a lot.”

That put a smile on Bhaghhh-Rupth’s friendly turtle-like face.

“Doing some last minute X-Mas shopping?”

“Yeah, not really sure what to get an avatar of death.”

“Same here. I’m stuck on what to get my beloved Octivia.”

“I can’t say I’ve been that good with the women in my time…”

“No? I should introduce you to Octivia’s sister Letia…”

“That’s okay…”

“No really, I think you would like her.”

Priest cracked an uneven smile.

“She’s adopted.”

Two men laughed together as the old man returned with a crate of his cookies. Priest happily paid the man with a team credit card. Bhaghhh-Rupth helped Priest with his boxes and the two men walked off to finish their late holiday shopping.

Later in Doctor Quantos' office. . .

Grimm laid back on the operating table as Doctor Quantos leaned over his face. "There, how's that?" Doctor Q asked. "The left eye is sticking a little bit. Kinda off. . ."

"Hang on a moment. . .there. Got it. What do you think?" Doc Quantos held a small hand mirror up to Grimm's face. Grimm reached a hand up and touched his cheek. "Amazing, how did you get it to look like me. . .um, the old me. . .you know. . ."

"It's a special polymer I began developing after I left Mandelovia. It adapts to specific features such as bone structure, skin color. . .I appreciate you helping me test it out."

"Not a problem, Doc, I just hope it lasts longer than the first one you made for me."* ( Shirley Kicks Ass.) Grimm chuckled slightly.

"You know, I don't think I've heard you laugh before." Quantos said as he sat down in his chair with a cup of coffee. "Usually don't have much reason to. . .not since. . ."

"Right. . .you know, as a man of science, I never believed in beings like you before." Quantos sipped from his coffee. "I never believed in stuff like me, either. But. . .here we are. . .So, how's Charley doin?" Grimm said, abruptly changing the subject.

"She seems to be coping well. Dr. Huerta and Tayden have both been a big help for her. She's supposed to be at Axel's birthday party tonight. You could see for yourself how she's doing. . ."

"Ah, I probably won't be around. I'm about to go on vacation for a couple of weeks. Speaking of which, the guys and I got you a little something. It's not much, but we figured you'd get a kick out of it." Grimm handed Quantos a small box. Henry took the box and slowly unwrapped it, then lifted the lid off of it and reached inside. He removed a small picture with a wooden frame from the inside of the box. Quantos smiled as he saw the photo of himself, standing next to the man he'd come to think of as a son, Kristofer Schanz. "Very thoughtful of you boys. Thank you."

"Well, I gotta run, Doc. Some people I have to see. You enjoy the holidays, ok?" Grimm stepped out into the hallway, and pulled a small mirror from his jacket pocket. "Alice, is Z around?" "She is ready, Grimm." "Let's do it. . ." A blueish-white portal appeared in the hallway with a slight Boom! and Grimm stepped inside of it, vanishing as the portal closed behind him.

Brianna's shopping trip was almost done. Luchadore's mask was hidden by all the bags he was carrying. "Now..." said Leslie, doing all the calculations in her head. "Who's gifts haven't you purchased yet? Let's see..."

Brianna looked up from the top of a dressing room. "Pass that other skirt. All I have left is Tayden's and Adem's."

"And mine."

"I got yours."

Leslie raised an eyebrow. "When was that?"

Brianna finished getting dressed. "When you were picking out pants." Brianna looked down. "Um Leslie, are you sure this is a skirt?"

"Yeah...why?"

"It's...kind of short...maybe it's some sort of fancy belt? I mean, it's really short. I'd kind of feel weird wearing it."

Leslie rolled her eyes. "Oh come on! What do you call that thing you wear on duty, huh? I mean, I know it's an ice skater's dress, but Michelle Kwan you are not."

Brianna stepped out of the dressing room. "Yeah well Grissom said it would be light enough for me to fly in, and I thought it would be rude to refuse."

Brianna couldn't understand was Leslie was groaning and hitting her head with her hand. "Grissom...okay, that explains everything." Leslie decided to change subjects. "So what are you getting the ex-angel and the alien?"

Brianna and Leslie kept walking. "That is sort of tricky." Brianna stopped to think for a moment. "You know, I was so happy to join Vanguard, but Adem's case is so different from mine. I flew here by choice, he crashed by accident. I feel sorry for him, really. I know he'd rather be home. Back as far as a gift...something to make him feel welcomed, I think."

"And Tayden?"

"What kind of gift? I have no idea..."

"No," said Leslie, nudging her elbow into Brianna's side. "What do you think of him? You know, 'birds of a feather...'"

Brianna laughed. "I don't know really. I mean, it seems only natural I feel good around him...he has that aura of his. But recently...I don't know...it's like...it's like...we think alike. Like our paces match. Does that make sense?"

Leslie nodded. "He is kind of cute."

Brianna snarled and pushed a bag into Leslie's hands. "Thanks Cupid, but I'll call if I need your help. Now let's hurry up with these errands. Luchadore is going to collapse if he has to hold Drax's prime ribs any longer."

the barrio, Puerta Mibela

Hector excitedly dashed into his family's two-room shack. "Mama! It's the Christmas Visitor!"

Ana Veracruz put down the dough she was kneading and made her way outside. To her amazement, her son - for whom she had never been able to afford so much as a new shirt - was twirling around excitedly, holding up a brand new soccer jersey that would have cost almost a hundred American dollars.

"Where did you get that?" the concerned mother asked.

"I was playing with Carlos and Jaime," Hector explained, "when someone tapped me on the shoulder. I turned around, but I couldn't see anyone. I saw footprints in the grass and followed them to the end of the alley, and I found this!" He held up the bright red jersey with his name lettered on the back.

Ana's eyes widened. "I don't believe it!"

"And that's not all!" Hector went on. "Juan, Fernando, Carlos, Rebeca... all of them got presents too!" His eyes sparkled. "And all from the same invisible man!"

Ana Veracruz was puzzled. Invisible people weren't new to La Perdita, but since when did anyone care about the children in the barrio? For almost a week now, this 'Christmas Stranger' had been handing out presents many of these children could never have had otherwise. It was a mystery, to be sure, but a welcome one.

New Orleans

"Working late, aren't we, Detective?" Sergeant Reynolds asked.

"Just wrapping up some paperwork," Frank Patterson replied.

Reynolds made his way over. "You know, tomorrow's Christmas Eve, and..." He paused.

Patterson's desk was covered with articles culled from both respectable newspapers like the New York Times and tabloids like the Weekly World News. All of them featured 'The Unidentified Man' prominently, and all of them wondered if he was still alive.

"Still can't get over that, can you?" Reynolds asked.

Patterson looked up. "Over what?"

Reynolds shook his head. "The one that got away. New York. Smith."

Patterson chuckled and shoved the clippings back into a manila envelope. "It's... nothing."

"You think he's still out there, don't you?"

"Well, I know he's still out there," the detective replied. "He was here." Patterson sighed. "I was this close to him." He looked down. "I'm just wondering what happened after that."

"I've been asking around since then too," Reynolds replied. "I'm sure you know rumor has it he's been working with some sort of metahuman mercenary group for some time now."

"The MBL?" Patterson asked.

Reynolds shook his head. "Not them. Some team based out of the Caribbean." He thought a moment. "V something... Victory... Vanity..."

"Vanguard," Patterson said.

Reynolds looked up. "That's them. They were just in the news. Something big went down in Antarctica, and they were there."

"Do you know where they're based?" Patterson asked.

"Oh, yeah," Reynolds answered. "Everyone does. They've got a damn website." He pointed to a map on the wall. "La Perdita. If you're really going to spend your Christmas vacation tracking this guy down, that's where to look."

Patterson smiled. "Let's go, then."

Reynolds' eyes widened. "Are you kidding? Over Christmas? My wife would kill me!"

Patterson picked up an obviously fake tabloid photo. The headline above it read Unidentified Man ELVIS In Disguise?

"Do you want to have to read any more of these?" he asked. "Or would you rather spend Christmas in search of a modern-day legend?"

Reynolds rolled his eyes. "I'll call my wife," he said. "I know I'm gonna regret this."

"Relax," Patterson said. "How many times have you been able to bring sunblock on your Christmas vacation?"

It was December 23rd, the busiest shopping day of the year.

Even in the bustling tourist-filled capital of La Perdita (or perhaps I should say especially in the bustling tourist-filled capital of La Perdita) called Puerta Mibela, the spectre of crass commercialism reared its ugly head on what should have been a time for joy and spending time with friends and family, but which turned out to be one of the most stressful times of the year. Working mothers and grandmothers everywhere filled themselves with extra-strong coffee to stay up late in order to finish wrapping presents at the last moment while missing out on spending time with their kids and grandkids. Grandparents died of heart attacks and other ailments, while homeless people slept in dingy alley shacks a block away from a store filled with expensive toys which, if they were sold, could feed these homeless people for a full month or more.

It wasn't as if the so-called "Christmas Spirit" was completely absent from the streets of Puerta Mibela -- it was just that it wasn't as evident as it should have been. Advertisements and cheesy Christmas-themed movies and music drowned out the genuine love that should have been prevalent between the people. The situation was different in the other villages on the island, which were much poorer and less developed yet, strangely enough, all the more richer in love.

Axel wandered around his old haunts in downtown La Perdita, still in disguise with sunglasses and a hat. There weren't too many people who would recognize him, anyway -- he had changed since he was the youngest member of La Perdita's premiere super-hero team, the PSI-Unit. Axel looked up at the building with the star-shaped roof in which he and his team had been headquartered. Yet he did not attempt to go in. He couldn't remember why, but there was something dangerous about that place. A name flashed through his mind -- or, more properly, a title -- the Colonel. But who, or what, was the Colonel? Axel couldn't remember. The name filled him with fear, though.

After staying indoors at the Vanguard Complex for a long while, Axel had finally decided to look up some of his team's old government contacts and try to read their minds. He wanted eventually to make it known that he was still alive, but he knew he had to be cautious for some reason. Faint memories of his torture a year and a half earlier which had thankfully been mostly blocked from his memory told him to be very, very cautious about making his presence known until it was safe to do so.

Axel was somewhat surprised, however, to find that none of his old direct government contacts were still alive. The only man who was not part of the PSI-Unit Project who was still around was Lucius Maddox, the Minister of Defense. He had been the Parliament's official PSI-Unit liaison, though Axel never liked the man very much. He always seemed to carefully guard his mind when he was around him and the other psychics, even moreso than most people would. It was strange that anyone connected with the PSI-Unit was gone, and that the PSI-Unit building was still closed up and apparently deserted. Axel and the other PSI-Unit members had the codes for the building, but only Axel was still left. What if everyone had been locked out permanently?

The boy shivered and turned around to quickly walk back to the Complex, no longer feeling comfortable there on the streets, busy as they were with Christmas shoppers. He jumped as if startled as a hand grabbed him from behind, though.

{{Axel,}} a voice whispered in his mind.

Axel's heart was thumping furiously fast as he turned around and saw a tall man with long grey hair towering above him. His eyes bulged at first, but he squinted as he looked at the man who was silhouetted by the sun. The man seemed to be smiling. Not a cruel smile, but a kind one. And a familiar one.

{{Marc?}} Axel replied through telepathy.

{{Yes, it's me, Axel,}} Marc replied, still smiling. Marc had been one of two psychic trainers (along with Tanya) who had trained the PSI-Unit team in the beginning and had overseen them directly along with Dr. Hugo Brechert when they began protecting La Perdita. He and Tanya, though they were much older and were considered more like teachers or instructors, were the unofficial eighth and ninth members of the team.

{{But -- but you disappeared! You and Tanya disappeared when the others died! I thought you had died, as well!}}

{{We are still alive, Axel. We got off the island just in time.}}

{{What do you mean?}}

{{Something... something very bad has happened to your old headquarters, Axel. I can't tell you about it, but Vanguard International will have to confront it sooner or later. They killed everyone involved in the PSI-Unit Project, Axel -- everyone except Tanya and me. Just before we escaped the island we removed all memories of our existence from everyone on the island who had known of us, and we went back to our employer, our master -- the man who had sent me and Tanya to help with the PSI-Unit in the first place.}}

{{Who?}}

{{You will meet him soon enough, lad. I can tell you that you were not the only survivor of the team, however. Kevin and Brianna, as well as Dr. Brechert, escaped the island themselves at the same time.}}

{{They did? Where are they?}} Axel's heart lifted up in joy at the thought that he was not alone any longer.

{{Unfortunately, Axel, they've disappeared. Neither Tanya or I can find them anywhere on Earth. I'm sorry.}}

Axel's face, which had lit up with hope, now became downcast again at the thought. He really was the last member of the PSI-Unit to survive. He had never wanted it to be this way.

{{Well,}} Axel said, {{at least you and Tanya are still alive.}}

{{That we are. And you will see both of us once in a while, Axel, but La Perdita is your home. You've found a good father-figure in Dr. Quantos.}}

{{Yes.}}

{{Let him take care of you.}}

{{And friends? All of my friends have died. Well, all except one or two I've made since I came back here.}}

{{You'll make friends with others, Axel. Give it time. Even Vanguard will embrace you as one of their own in time.}}

{{No. No, I don't think so, Marc. I don't want to be a hero any more. It's... it's just... I can't do it. I've seen too much death -- too much pain, it's... I can't.}}

{{Don't worry about it now, Axel. When the time comes, you will know what to do.}} Marc smiled at Axel and flapped his baseball cap down over his eyes as a playful gesture. {{You'll do just fine, lad. If I've taught you anything, it's how to survive. Don't try to go it alone, though, Axel. We all need others in order to live a full life. Independence is a fine quality, but it is not the best quality a person can have. You will soon learn how to depend on people the way you and your friends depended on each other in the past. You will learn to trust again. And now I must go.}}

{{No, don't go, Marc. Come back to the Dawson Apartments with me! I'll introduce you to Dr. Quantos.}}

{{It's best that I don't meet anyone here, Axel. I will see you tonight, though, after your birthday party. Speaking of which--}} Marc pulled out a wrapped gift-box from his long coat and placed it in Axel's hands. {{--happy 12th birthday, lad! According to some cultures, you are now a man. Or, at least, you will be very soon. I will come calling tonight. Farewell.}}

The gray-haired man named Marc suddenly disappeared from sight, teleported away to places unknown.

And Axel found himself holding his first birthday present in two years, alone again in the crowded city streets.

Axel's 12th birthday party on this day, December 23rd, was a small one. He was, after all, hardly known to any of the Vanguardians, so those who showed up briefly enough did so out of their respect for Dr. Henry Quantos, who had become the boy's unofficial guardian ever since he showed up. And Axel himself found it difficult to relate to such different individuals all at once, so he wasn't bothered by the fact that the Vanguardians who showed up for his birthday party did so only briefly before going on with their own personal lives. He was pleased by an unexpected gift, however:

"Hey, Axel," said Tayden, carrying a box with wrapping-paper and a ribbon around it in his arms, Drake Marshall standing next to him, "the team pitched in and picked this up for you."

"Wow," the boy replied, genuinely surprised by the notion. "Thank-you! Thanks everyone! What is it?"

"Just open it up," Drake said, a few other Vanguardians stepping over to watch.

Axel quickly tore the wrapping paper open and found a short box with a lid and holes on each end to carry it. He pulled the lid off and found that the box was full of comics. The 12-year-old picked out one comic at random and said, "COOL! Disco Steve Adventures!" He quickly flipped through several issues and said, "Holy cow -- the whole series is here!"

"Heh, yeah," said Drake, "Doc told us you were a fan of the show, so we figured we'd track down the comic based on the series for you at the local comic-shop."

"There's even a Dynamiteens mini-series in there, featuring Disco Steve, Trivia Lad, and... uh..."

"Timmy Trust, the Time-Boy!" Axel finished. "Wow! Thanks! There's even a LocoMotor Golden Age Special and even one featuring Giovacchino the Super-Cat, too -- cool!"

"Don't mention it," said Drake. "Well, I hope you had a happy birthday, Ax. See you later, pal."

"OK, bye."

Dr. Henry Quantos walked up to Axel and whispered, "That was nice of the guys, wasn't it, Axel?"

"Yeah," the boy replied. "I guess I misjudged some of them a bit."

"Now open up my present, Doll-Boy," said a pretty 12-year-old African-American girl who stepped up next to him and was an inch or so taller than him.

"H-hi, Denyce," Axel said, blushing. He took the present she gave to him and opened it up. "Hey, it's a couple of Walkie-Talkies -- cool!"

"Yeah, just give one to me, and we can talk whenever we want," Denyce said. "Latisha got something for you, too. Here." She gave him a small box, which he unwrapped. He looked at the blob of dried clay, not sure what it was he was looking at. Denyce whispered in Axel's ear, "She made it herself in school -- it's supposed to look like your dog."

"Oh. Ohhhh... it -- it looks just like Mandy!" Axel said loudly, looking at the 8-year-old Latisha Piper, who was standing just behind her dad, Kit Piper, and smiling shyly. The boy walked over to them and said, "Thanks, Latisha. I really like it."

Latisha looked at him once then looked down at the floor, still smiling but remaining silent as always. It was almost a year ago that she had seen her mother die right before her eyes, and she hadn't spoken a word since.

"Thanks to you, too, Mr. Piper," Axel said.

"Hey, kid, call me Kit," the man said. As Axel walked back over to Denyce, Kit leaned over to Priest and said, "Now there's something I'm not too sure I like."

"What?" Priest asked him. "Because she's too young to date?"

"Well, yeah, but it's also the other thing..."

Priest didn't understand.

"The boy! He's a bit... y'know..."

"Short?" Priest said, still looking confused.

"He's white!"

Priest laughed. "Oh, that. Y'know, I hadn't really noticed. It's not much of an issue where I come from."

"Hey, it's not an issue with me, either," Kit said defensively, "except when it comes to my little girls, y'know? I don't really want any blue-eyed, blonde grandchildren runnin' around when I'm an old man."

Priest just laughed again and took another sip of fruit punch.

Denyce was still talking with Axel. "Hey, aren't you gonna open up that other gift over there?"

It was the present that Marc had given him. "Uh... no, I'm saving that one till later."

"Okay, whatever."

"It's getting a bit late, baby," Kit said to his oldest daughter as he tapped his watch. "We gotta get you back home. It's a busy couple of days ahead if we're gonna be able to reach your grandma's place in time for Christmas. The flight's early tomorrow morning."

Denyce sighed loudly and said, "Fine! I guess I gotta go, Doll-Boy. Take care, huh? Have a great Christmas."

"You too," Axel replied as he watched the Piper family leave.

"Dad, why can't we just live here?" Denyce could be overheard as they left the room. "Like Axel does?"

Kit Piper laughed and said, "No chance o' that, baby... no chance o' that..."

"I guess the party's over now, huh?" Axel said, looking at Dr. Quantos.

"Well, almost, but not quite..." Dr. Quantos said with a wink.

Axel began, "What do you m--?"

"HO-HO-HO! MERRY CHRISTMAS!" a booming voice shouted from the corridor beyond the door.

"HA-HA-HA! IT IS BEING A VERY MERRY CHRISTMAS, DA?" another voice sounded, equally as loud.

"What th--?!"

Suddenly, the double doors to the lounge flung open, and in stepped two large, beefy men in Santa Claus suits. One had a golden beard that appeared to be real, and the other had purple skin and an obviously fake beard.

"We two kings of La Perdita are..." the first Santa sang in a stiff, formal manner.

"...being bringing gifts we be traveling far!" the other Santa added in a thick Russian-like accent.

The first Santa shook his head and said, "It's 'bearing gifts we traverse afar,' you dunderhead."

"Who is being calling a dunderhead, comrade?" the second Santa said. "It is YOU who are being the dunderhead."

"I don't know whose idea it was to pair me up with an immigrant who cannot speak the English language, but it speaks volumes of the ineptitude of this organization."

"Mason?" Axel said, recognizing the first Santa Claus.

"Aye, lad," the first Santa said, his irritation quickly washing away as he saw the 12-year-old boy. "I wouldn't miss your 12th birthday for all the riches in the world!"

"Awesome! Now my birthday really is complete," the boy said, taking a gift that Mason Templar handed to him. Axel looked up at the man with obvious hero worship in his eyes. Templar, an adventurer and expert on ancient artifacts, had come across a cult several weeks ago and rescued Axel from their clutches after he discovered the boy's existence. Axel had been kept a prisoner by the cult for more than a year by that time and was eternally grateful to the man he considered his hero. Mason Templar, however, was not a father-figure like Dr. Quantos was for Axel. Templar had kept a professional distance from the boy, preferring to hire others, such as Mrs. Guadalupe, to take care of Axel.

"I'm glad to see you've been reunited with the Dr. Quantos you spoke of earlier," Mason said, stepping up to the Canadian doctor and shaking his hand. "Pleased to meet you, Doctor."

"And I you," replied Henry Quantos. "Thank you for all you've done for Axel. He owes you his life."

"Oh, that!" Mason laughed loudly. "It was nothing I couldn't handle with the sharp end of my sword! Deuced strange that I've never been able to track those cultists down ever since, though."

Drake Marshall stepped back into the room for a moment, saying, "Sorry to interrupt, but I forgot my jack--" He looked surprised as he looked at the first Santa. "You! What are YOU doing here?" He and Tayden had met Mason Templar several weeks ago when the adventurer had hired a group of Vanguardians left behind in La Perdita while the rest of the team had been at E.P.S. Headquarters in Chicago. Templar had shown himself to be arrogant, rude, and utterly lacking in respect for others, but he had paid the team well.

"Why, if it isn't the fluffy white dragon himself -- Drake Marshall," Templar laughed loudly.

"Well, technically, I'm not the dragon -- that's Drax -- but, well... what are you doing here, anyway?"

"First and foremost, young man, I'm here to attend the celebration of my young protege's 12th birthday," Mason Templar said, winking at Axel. He then addressed the group that was still in the room (all of whom had stopped talking amongst themselves and were watching and listening to this loud man whether they wanted to or not) and said in a loud (as usual) voice, "Secondly, I've come to become one of you! Ha-ha! I've come to join Vanguard International!"

"Oh, that's just great," Drax mumbled inside Drake Marshall's mind. "Just when things were starting to get peaceful around here, we have to sign up another 'Jerk Bell'..."

Quote:

---

As Mason Templar enters the scene, here ends Axel's part in the Christmas Special. Please read AXEL MAGUS AND THE HEIR OF NOSTRADAMUS to follow Axel's 'solo' adventures (filled with lots of guest-stars)...

---

Drake leaned heavily on his cane as he walked into a storage area of the headquarters. So, are you going to open it this time?

"Why not? It's almost Christmas."

You come in here almost every day we're in town. You look at it for a couple minutes and you walk back out. Same thing every time. It's been months now.

"You really need a hobby.you know that?"

And when I point that out you make a joke. What are you afraid of?

"When I open that, I'm admitting it's over. I'm giving up. I'm never going to walk into battle again."

You really think that? You think opening that box is the end?

Drake thought for a moment. Searched for some wise ass comment. Some goofy remark to hide behind. All that came out was "Yeah, Drax. I guess I do."

You have trouble seeing yourself. How others do, I mean. What's in that box isn't an end. It's refusing to give up. It's staring one more enemy in the face and telling it you haven't surrendered. I'm big, and I'm strong and I can fly...but I'm just a dragon. You're the hero. You're the one who goes out there and risks everything. What's in that box won't change that. So open it. Use what's in there so you can keep going. You keep telling me that the world needs me. But it needs you more. You've never given up before. Don't do it now.

Drake walked up to the box. It opened easily and he looked at what was inside. It wasn't so bad, really. It was sleek and futuristic. Drake sat down in his new hoverchair. "Not bad. So, what do you say we get back to the party?"

I thought you'd never ask.

Outside the party.

Tayden sat on the porch looking deep into the sky; past the stars and into another world. A Christmas outside the gates of Heaven was different, words could not begin to describe just how different it is. Suddenly a rush of anger and fear sunk into Tayden’s mind and soul. Turning, he noticed that Tobias Christopher had just exited the party. The young man’s expression was seldom, there was only a hint of sadness within the eyes of the hardened boy, who was forced to grow up too quickly. Through all of the hardships of his life, he has had to remain strong. Keep up a brave face. It is the only way to move on, to live.

Tayden got up to greet his teammate.

“Everything okay?” Tayden asked, knowing very well that Tobias would give him an answer that would gloss over his real feelings.

“Yeah, I’m fine.” Tobias sat down on the porch and begins to tighten his shoe laces. For once taking his time, not in any particular rush.

“The holidays have a weird effect on people,” Tayden sat down next to his teammate, “They are both the happiest and saddest time of the year.”

“Tell me about it.”

“Also means a new year is coming.”

“Time flies.”

Tayden looked at Tobias, he didn’t need his powers to tell him just how much pain the young man was in.

“It does.” Tayden tried to choose his words carefully, “The pain of lost love never goes away, I’ve watched lives over countless centuries and I know that much. You don’t have to be down on yourself for moving forward and living.”

“It still doesn’t seem fair.”

“Nor will it ever.”

“Life isn’t fair?”

“Life is living. Moving forward but remembering the past. Celebrating the good times and keeping an eye on the bad times, don’t want to repeat them, ya know.”

“Guess not.” Tobias finished tying his shoes and leaned back, “I’m leaving for a little while.”

“For the holidays?” Tayden asked.

“Yeah, but maybe for a little longer.” The young speeder took a breath, “I have to go find someone whom I have been avoiding. Lucky.”

“Your son?”

“Yeah. I love him with all of who I am, but I’ve been afraid. To face him, to remember the past, the pain. But I have to do this.”

“The team will be fine while you’re gone. You have to do what feels right.”

“I know. Since the war, things have settled and seem peaceful for now. I’ll have my Comm. Link and I can be here in seconds if I’m needed…”

“Always the hero.”

Tayden and Tobias shook hands, the conversation giving Tobias some peace.

“So, don’t give away my room just yet, I'm hoping to get back into it soon.”

Tobias turned and walked away, not in any rush, but knowing exactly what he must do and where he must be.

Adem walked through the crowd. His tall frame towered above everyone he passed. His mind churned with thought as he tried his best to understand this concept of Christmas. Conflicting views of its purpose and meaning is all he had received from his inquiries. "This is one myster I'm not sure that I'll be able to solve."

{So far, all of my own research has proven as useless. Refrences to people known as Jesus, Santa Clause, St. Nick, Chris Kringle, Rudolph, Frosty, and others clutter up any data I can find on this holiday. What is it with these Earth peoples? Why can't they just make up their minds?} Jym's voice shocked passersby who had been close enough to hear his reply come from seemingly no where.

The alien stopped in front of a store. "Well, might as well get this over with." He stepped inside and was engulfed in the madness.

December 24th, Christmas Eve:

"This team is going to participate in what--?!" the booming but amused voice of Mason Templar echoed in the meeting room.

Phil Smith sighed. "It's a two-day Christmas Parade, Templar," he said. "And it begins today."

Mason Templar laughed loudly for an inconsiderately long time and finally said, "You're all a bunch of pansies, aren't you? A 'parade'? A 'parade'? Why don't all of you try tying daisies to your hair and prance through the bumbleberries? HA-HA-HA-HAAA!!! And here I believed I was joining a team full of men who love adventure! Tell me, you can't be serious about this, can you? I mean, it must be a joke, right?"

"It's no joke, newbie," Phil said. "We just finished saving the world and lost some good men in the process -- the team needs some down-time..."

"Fine, fine! No need to lecture me, young man -- I understand fully," Mason Templar bellowed. "But if I might make a suggestion?"

"Shoot."

"You may wish to make a new order of team uniforms for the new year, in keeping with your current priorities. I suggest you get something in pink or baby blue! Ah-HA-HA-HA-HA-HA-HA-HAAAAA!!! 'Christmas Parade,' indeed..." The voice of Mason Templar trailed off as he left that room.

December 23rd

{Rather frightening, is it not?} Jym said as he and Adem witnessed the utter carnage of last minute shopping. {I believe that my memory processor has somehow intigrated data from Antartica into my visual sensors processor.}

"You mean that you're having a flashback?"

{Well, if you must nitpick, I would affirm that statement. It works a little different for me. I am, after all, an artificial intelligence.}

"Have you noticed....?" Different's voice trailed off as he nudged his way through the blob of erratic humanity.

{Noticed what?}

Adem's gaze took in all that was around him. His face scrunched up a bit. "This. All of this. It seems..... out of place. At least in relation to the rest of the island." He began to reach for a state of the art steroe system that sat on a shelf when it was snatched just inches from his hand by a wild woman foaming at the mouth with some strange Yule Tide disease. "It's like a pumpkin in a rose garden."

{Agricultural analogues. Interesting.}

"I've been reading. Did it work?"

{It lacks a certain poetic emphasis.}

"But did you get my point? Do you understand what I mean?"

{I believe so, yes.}

Different began to push his way back out onto the street. "This planet is so backwards. There are so many things that look the same on the surface but lack the same soul they had back home. I don't know if I can understand this place enough to participate in this celebration."

{There is another possible solution.}

"That being?"

{Celebrate the holiday in a fashion that you can understand.}

"A very ingenius idea. It causes me to wonder where you got it from."

{While you've been reading, I've been watching TV. Diff'nt Strokes, Brady Bunch, and The Cosby Show.}

"And that's helped you understand this holiday?"

{And the planetary slang. Outta sight!}

"Despite the source, I just may have to use your suggestion."

{Wha'chu talkin' 'bout, Adem!}

In the hallways of the Vanguard HQ, a bluish-white portal opened and two figures stepped out bearing packages. "Still don' see why we had to carry that git wiv us. . ." Nida Zbinden mumbled, motioning behind her with her head.

"Because I wasn't about to carry all of this stuff by myself." Grimm answered.

"Comrades, am having trouble being making it through. Portal!" Blackwulf's torso loaded down with presents hung in midair, the purple giant halfway through Z's spatial wormhole.

"I don't suppose you could make it any larger?" Grimm asked the avatar of space.

Z held her hand up to her face and sighed.

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

"What do you mean you're not going to the festival? They want someone from Vanguard to be the grand marshall?" Phil asked incredulously.

"That's far too public an event for me. Besides, my vacation starts today, Phil. I'm leaving for two weeks. And frankly, after all that business in Antarctica and Mandelovia, I'm surprised no one else is taking one." Grimm responded to the telekinetic over Z's smacking gum.

"But the grand marshal. . ." Phil began again.

"Let Kit do it. Or Miss X. Or Doc Quantos. Or you. . ." Grimm responded handing Phil a large present. "That's for you and Leslie, by the way. C'mon, Z, most of the rest of these are going under the tree." As the two avatars walked off towards the den area fixed up for the holidays.

Phil carefully opened up the package, to see a large, hardbound book with a red cover. He glanced over at the title. "Kama Sutra for the 21st Century Lovers?" He looked down the hall at the rapidly dwindling forms. "Since when did he become such a smartass?"

Brianna and Leslie were placing gifts underneath the tree. "Tell me, did either of you two buy anything for anyone else?" asked Grissom.

Brianna stood up after placing the wrapped boxes underneath the tree. "For your information, we were quite charitable." Of course, both of the girls were dressed in new clothing, which did not really help their case.

Grissom decided to change the subject. "Brianna, we do need food for the festival." Brianna looked somewhat embarassed. "Well...you know any good dishes?"

"Um...potatoe soup."

"Well that sounds good. How do you make it?"

Brianna seemed lost for words. "You take a potatoe and boil it in water."

"And then?"

"You eat it."

Note to self. Never ask the Irish ex-inmate for family recipies. "Well...how are you at decorating?"

Phill frowned "We still need a grand marshal for the parade."

Drake hovered into the room in his new chair. "I hate it when people talk about me when they don't think I can hear them. And before you ask, that was a joke about my last name, not an offer of my services."

Brianna gaped a bit. "Drake you're..." She stopped, a bit embarassed atwhat she'd been about to say but Drake just smiled.

"Sitting. Yeah, I know. But hey, there are worse fates than a comfy chair. It was a present from my girlfriend. Don't worry though. I brought stuff for everyone. Some of Wisconsin's finest items. You should open the round ones now. I don't want them to go bad."

The round gifts were distributed as the others were placed below the tree. Leslie was the first to open a large wheel of cheddar. "Thank you Drake. It's very cheesey. Uhm, in a good way."

"Like I said, Wisconsin's finest."

Adem made his way through the hallway to Grimm's room. His fist tapped on the door lightly. Waiting was not a problem for Adem. He had great patience. Plus, Grimm was very prompt in answering. So...... waiting wasn't a problem at all.

"So," the alien started out. His head bent down a little so that he could look through the doorway. "I've been doing my best to assimilate myself to this apparently important Earth holiday. As I understand it, gifts are not customarily opened until the day designated as Christmas, which locally seems to be the twenty-fifth of this month."

"Yeah, that's generally the way it works," the avatar replied. He was about to turn and retreive the alien's gift, "But sometimes...."

Adem continued seemingly without hearing the rest of Grimm's sentence. "That's how I added it all up, yet I must give you your present right now. I hope that this isn't a major infraction of the holiday ritual. I also hope that my not boxing or wrapping it can also be overlooked." Different's left hand, which had been hidden past the door frame, appeared bearing a gift. It was a light colored puppy of mixed breeds. "I think that the circumstances proved it best that I didn't."

The alien handed the puppy to the avatar. It immediately began to tremble upon being placed in Grimm's hands. "I don't know what to say," was his reply. It was not just a matter of courtesy. It was the truth. At that time Grimm really didn't know what to say.

"I was told that the best gifts are those that are needed the most," Different explained. "Your demenor seems glum at times. Some of my psychological research has stated that pets have been known to help with such moods. Happy Christmas." Adem turned and walked away.

Just before he left, Grimm received a call on the com-link. It was Miss X, requesting him at her office.

"Yes?" he said coldly, as he opened the door, the puppy under his left arm. As the leaf opened indoor, he saw first Miss X behind her desk, a worried look on her face, then Nuriko, her light strabismus making her face even more mysterious. And finally appeared the back of a man of medium height, with long white hairs, wearing a costly Armani suit. There was something familiar in that features, though Grimm, but the sensation lasted a mere moment, and was instantly confirmed when the man turned to face Grimm, revealing the fierce expression of Jack Merlin.

"Mr. Grimm, I presume" said the man, a broad, false smile enlarging on his face, his right hand darting toward Grimm, ready to shook his own.

Grimm merely nodded, his hand resting firmly on his side.

Victoria Xiang stood up. "Grimm, Mr. Merlin has come with an offer I can't value by myself. It's something the team should decide over, and I want first hear your opinion about it. You see, Mr...."

"I have come to say that I have admired vastly your performance during the war, Mr. Grimm. Your personal and the one of your team. I never have seen such incredible gifts among metahumans, and even more such skill in using them. Not mentioning your strategy, your team-play, the high level of thechnology at your disposal..."

Grimm raised an open hand, to stop the flood of words. "Mr. Merlin, I have personally killed one of your men. We have captured all the ones you had in Mandelovia, and we have destroyed your own orbital ship. I don't see how you can come here to..."

"Now now now" said Merlin, his both hands raised and opened toward Grimm" that exactly what I have admired. My men where not first time folks. They were the best of the world. And yet you beat them so easily. I have no regret for what you did. we were on opposite side of the battle at the beginning, but then we have fought on the same side. The Strikeforce One has been destroyed, Mr. Grimm, Hero has died at your hand, but the world love them as anything else before. The people at large feel secure now, because they know there are gifted people ready to protect them from anything bad and evil could appear to harm them and their style of life. Plus, Mr. Grimm, there is a lot of money involved..."

Grimm frowned, even if it was technically impossible. Merlin noticed it instantly, and did a last second save.

"...money that could be used to buy the best technology the world has to offer. The founds from the UN, from the USA, from Europe and Far East countries are huge. The threat from the Metahuman Brotherood for Liberation is something that worries the whole world, and the whole world wants a new Strikeforce. To make it short, Mr. Grimm, do you want that Vanguard will become the Strikeforce 2?"

Adem set his presents for the rest of the team under the tree. It was green, decorated with lights and ornaments, and made of plastic. Certain concessions have to be made when celebrating in the tropics.

"I hope you got me that new DVD player I was asking for," Phil said as he entered the room. His smile stretched across his face.

"How is disappointment handled on Christmas morning," Adem retorted with a sly grin.

"Huh!" Phil laughed. "But enough of the Holiday banter. Griss needs you down in the computer room. They're at it again."

The two made their way downstairs to the main computer room. As they approached, red, blue, green, and white lights sparkled through the open door. "Would you stop it?!" a British voice also flowed out.

Upon entering, all of the monitors in the room could be seen flickering in one or many of the colors except the center one. That one was blocked by the angry frame of Grissom Montag. "This is not a bloody playpen! It's the nerve center to the entire network!"

{It also happens to be my home.} Jym's face replied. {As I have noticed, it is customary for people during this season to decorate their homes with bright, flashing lights of these colors. It is supposed to bring out the spirit of Christmas in everyone.}

"I can't run my bloody tests on the system if you've got those blasted blinking lights on every monitor!" Grissom took a breather as a cigarette manifested in his mouth and his Zippo lighter in his hand.

"What seems to be the problem here?" Adem asked without really needing to. It proved to help break up conversations between other people when they are arguing. It was a tactic used in almost every culture throughout the universe.

"He's the bloody problem! He's invaded my system yet again."

{It is called spreading the Christmas cheer, you Grinch. Besides, it is not your system. It is my home.}

"Listen," Adem began before the argument had a chance to become even more heated, "you two need to work this out. Jym, you've put yourself in another computer matrix. You're going to have to make room for all the things it's supposed to do. Grissom has to run updates and checks on the building's systems. He needs the mainframes for that. Give him a hand.

Grissom, he's an AI from my world. They're pains more times than not, but useful. My civilization has thrived by learning to compromise with them. The two of you are going to have to learn to work together."

{It could be possible.}

"Eh.... Well, I guess." Montag said as he took another drag.

Adem walked out of the room. Phil came up behind him, "That was pretty impressive work. You get that from one of those psychology books I gave you?"

"No. I just asked myself, 'What would my mother do in this situation.'"

"You called me in here for this?!" Grimm looked at Miss X with a sneer as Nuriko struggled to repress a snicker. Miss X silenced her bodyguard with little more than a sideways glance. All the while, Grimm's "present" struggled to escape from under his arm.

"Mr. Grimm, I know-" Jack Merlin began again.

"Do you now? Well, I know you have a lot of nerve coming here with an offer like that after showing that bullshit video of yours, attempting to take all the credit for stopping Naecken."

"If you would just listen to what I'm offering you. . ." Merlin began again.

"Page Priest and Blackwulf. Tell them we have some garbage up here that needs to be taken out." Grimm said, walking out of the Miss X's office and slamming the door loudly behind him.

"It is as I told you it would be, Mr. Merlin. They are fiercely indepent minded people. Now will you be going, or do you need to be shown the way out?" Victoria Xiang replied pleasantly.

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

Jack Merlin's body flew through the air and slammed into the pavement at the far end of the Vanguard complex's parking lot. "And be staying out, comrade Merlin!" Blackwulf and Priest dusted off their hands and laughed together. "You want a brew before the party starts?" Priest asked jovially. "Who isn't needing refreshing beverage after this workout?" Blackwulf roared, closing the door and following Priest back inside.

"You will regret this, oh indeed, you will. . ." Merlin sneered, picking himself up off the pavement and dusting off his suit.

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

Priest and Blackwulf pulled a couple of beers out of the refridgerator and sat down at the kitchen table, next to Tayden, who was eating a sandwich.

"Ah, Priest, I was just headed out and I wanted to give you this." Grimm said entering the kitchen. Z followed behind him, carrying the puppy.

Grimm handed Priest a small package, which the scarred warrior accepted and opened. A confused look crossed his face. "Lionel Ritchie's greatest hits?!"

Tayden nearly choked on his turkey sandwich laughing. "What's so funny?" Priest asked the former angel.

"You don't like it?" Grimm asked, raising an eyebrow on his prosthetic face mask.

"No, I like it, I just. . .how did you know? I don't remember telling anyone that." Priest replied, still baffled.

"Intuition." Grimm answered, the mask now showing a smirk. Tayden laughed again from his chair.

"Yeah, well, here." Priest tossed a small keyring with two sets of keys dangling on it to the avatar, who caught them with one hand. "What are these for?"

"It's out back in the lot. You'll know it when you see it. A little something from Griss, the boys, and I."

"Ok, well, I'm heading out. You guys enjoy the holidays and tell everyone I said Merry Christmas. C'mon, Z." The two avatars walked out the door and into the parking lot.

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

"Is that. . ." Z asked.

"Yeah, I think it is. Climb in, Z. We're going to Haven in style!" Grimm walked over to the driver side of a large, black Humvee and unlocked the door. Z climbed in on the driver side, still holding the puppy, while Grimm placed a few presents in the back. "Let's go!" He cranked the ignition and the two drove out of the parking lot and into a spatial wormhole and vanished.

The roads of downtown Puerta Mibela were empty. But people were crowded along the sidewalks. Some brought their children, some brought alcohol, but just about everyone brought blankets and cameras to enjoy the parade. The sun was out, and there was no sign of rain. Perfect parade weather. Everyone sipped on their sodas or beer, waiting for all the grand sights.

The parade portion of the celebration ran along downtown Puerta Mibela and ended at the city limits where there was a small carnival -- complete with a fairground and midway. Each sponser had their own vehicle, and most of them had a stand in the midway.

Vanguard's car was parked in a garage while the decorations were being placed on the outside of the vehicle. "I wish we could have used the Stormloader," said Drake.

Leslie laughed. "Do you want to drive it downtown?" Drake shook his head. "Didn't think so."

Tayden looked up in the sky. "Where's Brianna? Did you send her on some arrends, Leslie?"

"Yeah. I told her to get some stuff we can throw --" Leslie caught Luchadore's frown. "--give the children. Our budget looks good, I just told her not to get beads. Everyone throws beads at these parades."

Sure enough, Brianna was seen in the air, carry a large bag. She did not look happy. Her face was pale, and her wings were flapping frantically. "Uh-oh," said Tayden. "I think that load's a little too big for her..."

"Look out!" cried Brianna. She tucked her wings in and rolled onto the grass outside the garage. The bag didn't move after she landed, but Brianna rolled until she hit the wall of the garage.

"You okay?" asked Tayden.

Brianna rubbed her forehead. "Just my ego." She looked at Leslie. "Well, I didn't buy beads. What do you think?"

Leslie looked in the bag. "Well, they aren't beads." She lifted some of the items out of the bags. They were toys. All were made out of cloth and painted wood. There were ballerinas, soliders, horses, lions, dogs, and cats. "They're...they're kind of cute Bri. Where did you find them?"

Brianna grinned. "You'd be surprise at the skills of some of the artisans outside of the capital. There's a small shoppe owned by some old man -- I swear he's pushing eighty. I bought everything in the store." Brianna picked up one of the ballerinas. "It's so stupid, but I use to love playing with my mother's doll. It was a balleria, dressed in green and made of porcelain. I guess that's why I bought them all."

Brianna seemed puzzled by her own words. She looked up at everyone and grinned. "Why, I suppose we need to finish the car soon. And who's going to dress up as Santa? I went by the HQ to pick up the costume."

I'm not putting those on.

"Come on Drax, the kids'll love it."

Brianna looked worried. "He doesn't like them?"

Drake flashed a lopsided grin. "Don't worry, I'll convince him."

No you won't! It's embarassing!

"Well, Grim ain't here so you're the only one who can."

Fine,but you owe me.

"Sure, sure. I'll just swap our places so our feathered friend here can put them on you."

Drake triggers the switch and he disappears, hoverchair and all, and Drax appears in his place. Brianna putls a large pair of reindeer antlers on his head. "There! You look cute!"

The huge dragon smiled a little despite himself. "CUTE? I USUALLY GO FOR MENACING."

This is Joshua King for Meta Television, on location in Puerta Mibela, La Perdita for the big two day holiday festival. We're here in the downtown Puerta Mibela area where the mayor is about to name the grand marshal for the parade.

"Thank you, thank you all for coming today. At this time, I would like to announce our choice for grand marshal of the parade. . .Bghh. . .Bahhgghh. . .Beeghhh. . .oh, the giant turtle guy!" The crowd erupts in cheers as Bahhghhhruptha takes the stage in an Elvis costume. "Thank you all so much. . .I've found a lot here in Puerta Mibela, freinds, a job, love. . ."

Wow. That's crazy. Giant turtle guy gonna lead the parade. Who thinks of that stuff? What do you mean we're still broadcasting?"

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

The temple of Haven

The tranquil stillness of Haven is readily apparent to even the most jaded of observers. The lush, green fields, the babbling brooks, the bright azure sky, the large, black humvee ramping over the hills. . .

The humvee hit the ground rolling and drove on leaving large tracks behind it. The headed for the temple before swerving left and going into a 180 degree spin, the occupants watching the surroundings go by. . .the temple. . .the forest. . .the temple, Turkish now standing in front of it. . .the forest. . .the temple, Turkish a little closer. . .the forest. . .the temple, Turkish now in front of the vehicle. . .the forest. . .and the vehicle slows to a stop in front of the prophet, Turkish Stringfellow.

"May I ask, what is the meaning of this?" Stringfellow asked as Grimm and Z got out of the vehicle. "We wer' jus havin' a little fun, Turk. Grimmy got a present and we wanted to test 'er out." Z answered, between smacks of gum.

"Do you realize what you've done, bringing that here? Rowena could suffer from the exhaust fumes and the tracks worn in the ear-"

"Oh, Turkish, settle down. It's nothing that will last. Not here anyway." The avatar of life answered, stepping out of the backseat of the vehicle.

"Rowena?! You were party to this?! What would the Scion say?" Stringfellow seemed flabbergasted.

"Why don't you ask him yourself? He's right here, in the back."

"Turkish! You must see this thing called a dvd player. Quite remarkable invention, really." the Scion's voice called from the back.

"Hmm. Well. . .perhaps we could go for another drive?"

“Snow would be nice,” Kit said as he climbed up into the sleigh. The fake white beard was wrapped tight around his face. The thick red and white coat made him begin to sweat in the tropical heat. “The only time I got to see snow in New Orleans was when it was on TV.”

“What is this affinity towards snow?” Adem asked, passing up a large bag.

“It’s just not Christmas without it,” Piper answered while adjusting the big black belt encircling his waste. “At least that’s what all the people with snow say. We’re hit with a non-stop blitz of snow and reindeer when it gets to this time of year.”

“Can we please just get this over with?” Drax asked very impatiently. Kit nodded. The large, feathery, white dragon disguised as a large, feathery, white reindeer pulled the sleigh on its hidden wheels out behind the rest of the parade.

“My.... don’t you look rather festive,” Ozzy said as he approached. His eyes were fixated on Adem’s suit. It was a holiday inspired three piece with a red jacket, pants, and vest. The shirt and tie were a beautiful emerald green. “Someone’s been hit right up side the head with Jingle Bell Fever. Aren’t you afraid of looking weird?” The six foot, eight inch alien peered down at Ozzy with his orange eyes. “Yeah. I know. Stupid question. Why aren’t you in the parade?”

“Not enough room in the car or sleigh. Besides, I’m just not comfortable enough being part of an exhibition like that. You?”

Ozzy coughed nervously. “I do better not to put myself on display like that. Bad things happen that way. I still haven’t lost the taste of Japan, if you know what I mean?” Adem didn’t. “We still have some time before they reach the carnival. Want to grab a drink or card game until then?”

Adem shook his head. “No. But I would like to practice that door thing some more. You never know when it will come in handy. Especially during a big event.”

“Yeah, you’re right,” Ozzy snickered. “Give me a minute to set up the practice door, ok?” He turned, giggling like a school girl with a big secrete, and went back into the headquarters.

{Why must you act a fool for him?} Jym’s voice asked.

Adem held up his sleeve, upon which appeared a small monitor with Jym’s face. “What can I say? It’s fun. And he’s not getting hurt. He enjoys it just as much as I. Maybe even more.”

{Yet, I do not see you pretending to be of sub-standard intellect for anyone else.}

“What can I say? He reminds me of my brother-in-law.”

{How so?}

“He’s not that quick at noticing when he’s gone too far. And he seems to want to do the right thing, but can’t seem to figure out how. Not to mention that he’s cheap.”

{Cheap? I have never noticed that.}

“You haven’t smelled his cologne, then. And I’ve been assured by everyone else that the odor is not very pleasing to the human nose.” Adem began to walk towards the building.

{Wait a minute! I thought you hated your brother-in-law.}

“I did. I mean... do! I do! Oh shut up!”

“Come on, guys!” Uncle Otto yelled into the cave. “We’re missing the parade!” He looked at the watch strapped to his wrist with yarn. “Aweeee geez!” he let out as he looked up towards the road leading to town.

A car pulled to a stop and three men climbed out of it. Another man climbed down off the top of it. “Is being beautiful day for ride, no?”

Dr. Huerta walked up to Otto and presented him with a gift. “We thought that with the rocky friendship we’ve had, a small token such as this was in need.”

“Bah!” Otto replied as he waived off the gift. “I could care less about your stupid team. We have surpassed your B-Team. We are the next generation of superheroes.” The bear rose his hands in the air dramatically. “C-Men! ASSEMBLE!”

“I...... uh.... I’ll be..... be out in a...... min..... minute!” Master Beta called out from the bathroom.

“Has anybody seen my body? I can’t find my body! Could somebody check in the kitchen?”

Otto lowered his arms, slightly embarrassed.. “It’s..... it’s our day off.”

Huerta sighed. “Listen, Otto, I’ve told you over and over. After the Spanish class. When you guys formed your team. After we got back from Antarctic.. We are not a superhero team. I work for Vanguard as a psychologist, counseling its employees. Blackwulf is the weight trainer. Michael and Johnny are...... well, Michael and Johnny. This illusion that you have of us being some sort of team is all fantasy.”

“That’s a lie and you know it!” Otto protested. “Anniakin saw you guys fighting hell spawn in the cemetery last Halloween.”

“It could have been someone else,” Head-Fall-Off Boy called out from beneath the couch. “It was pretty dark. And the Frankenstein mask did block my vision. And I was behind a tree. And...”

“Ok, enough! I get it!”

“Otto,” Huerta said in a friendly and sincere tone that he had been taught in Grad school, “do you want to know what I did .yesterday? I spent forty-five minutes listening to someone go on about fish sticks and their greater purpose in society. Johnny washed and waxed the Stormloader. Michael was turned into a workhorse and made to carry around shopping bags all over Mibela. And Blackwulf.....” Huerta and Otto looked over to see the purple giant relieving himself onto the rock face of the volcano in which Otto’s home bore into. “Well, he was being Blackwulf. Does any of this sound exciting at all?”

Otto looked back at the doctor with a rigid look carved on his face. “The fact that you would come all the way out here only to lie to me is unbearable.” Otto paused, as if pondering something, for a moment. He reached into his fur and pulled out a tape recorder. With a click of a button, he spoke into it, “Possible catch phrase number 134: ‘It’s unbearable,’ with over accentuation on the bear.” With another click he returned the recorder. “You guys are always hanging around each other. Thick as thieves, you are. And why would everyone else call you the B-Team if you were not in fact a team?”

“Because it’s a joke,” Huerta replied, a look of weariness crossing his face. “It’s like when you nickname a bald guy Curly or a fat guy Slim. And the reason we’re always together is because they are my patients. I’m their psychologist. They can’t be left alone for two minutes by themselves. See?”

Huerta pointed to Johnny and Luchadore. Johnny was holding a large shell up to Luchadore’s outstretched tongue. A crab claws jumped out of the shell and clamped down on the masked man’s tongue. Mike began to scream and run around. Johnny laughed until his arm caught on fire and joined Luchie in his dance of pain.

“Is that what you want to be around every day, all day?” Huerta asked the bear.

Drag-Racer stepped out of the cave in a blue miniskirt with flashing red lights around the seam. “Does this make me look fat?” Otto and Huerta only stared at him. “Fine! I’d like to see you find a dress to match these shoes.” He pointed down to his high heel with the toe that curled up into a point and dangled a bell above the center of the foot. The other men still just stared. “Pffft. What do you know about fashion. I guess I’ll just have to go change.” He turned around and went back into the cave.

"Okay, Adem-ant..." Ozzy's off-hoarse voice cracked. "...you're up."

The two men stood in front of the main entrance to the complex. Adem's immense frame did little to hide his expression of guilt.

"It is over." the alien said in a neutral tone.

Ozzy frowned.

"What do you mean?" he asked. "What's over?"

"This exercise into pleasing." he replied, just as neutrally. "Jym has informed me that there is no reason to continue this avenue of expression."

Ozzy stared at him.

"I...I don't understand...." he said, still frowning. "I thought you wanted to understand how to open--"

"I understand."

"Oh. Well, good." Ozzy smiled.

"I have always understood."

Ozzy paused.

"You...have?" he asked very slowly, trying to make sure he was deciphering the man's intent correctly.

"Of course." Adem shook his head 'No', getting the expressive action backwards. "It is a door. A moveable barrier designed to seperate one compartmental dwelling from another."

"But...you said that, where you're from, all doors open by themselves...." Ozzy said, the tone in his voice falling a bit.

"They do." he explained. "However, they have not always done so. The evolution of compartmental travel is one of the most common understandings. Millions of years ago, we too had doors such as these."

Ozzy's face began to degrade into a stone-cold stare.

"You....then...why...why did you let me believe...?"

Adem shrugged. Although, he kicked his head backwards with the movement, defeating the intended casual expression that he was attempting to emulate.

"I have learned from this Holiday Festival Christmas Time, that it is important to share happiness with another." he explained. "Since you found great pleasure in instructing me on this manuever, I assumed that I was providing you with happiness."

Ozzy stared at him without a word.

Adem stared back, wondering if his eyes were performing some unusual trick that was causing Baxter's silence.

"Did I not provide you with happiness?"

Ozzy stared at him a bit longer.

"Fuck you." he finally said, immediately striding away.

Adem watched him leave, dispassionate as usual.

"Jym...why does Oswald Baxter desire to mate with me?" he asked his palm.

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

As the parade marched slowly through the outer city district of Puerta Muebela, the entire populace lined the streets with a roar of festivity, and cheer. Children laughed and jumped with glee trying to catch the showers of candy that the floats poured into the streets.

For many present, this wasn't just a Christmas celebration. Many citizens of La Perdita had answered Vanguard's call of help. Many had fought valiantly to protect their planet, and, in extention, their homes here on this tropical isle. A few had perished. And, their deaths would always be mourned, as well as honored.

But, for now, this was a celebration of life. The life that those metahumans had given. The life of those that had survived.

And, as the floats of metahumans passed, the cheers of fun and excitement were dwarfed by the cacaphony of celebratory praise, as the citizens honored their fellow neighbors.

Their heroes.

One such hero...not that he would call himself that...pushed his way through the mass of humanity, walking directly into Jake's Bar.

"Fire extinguisher?" Doctor Huerta asked, the doors's closure muffling the noise.

Jake chuckled a bit, walking out from behind the bar. His broad jubliance echoing in the near-deserted establishement.

"Bates, again?" he asked, swinging the storage closet open.

Huerta just rolled his eyes, nodding in agreement.

"Here, I'll fix 'em..." Jake replied, extinguisher in hand. "...watch the bar for a moment, eh?"

Before Huerta could reply, Jake was already out the door.

"Oh...uhhh...okay..." the good doctor replied, slowly stepping back behind the long, mahogany bar.

Almost immediately, the doors swung open again, Ozzy striding directly up to a stool.

"Jeezus Kriste' give me a beer!" he sighed with an serious air of anger.

Huerta half-smiled, staring at the man.

"Ah...Mr. Baxter..." he said pleasantly. "...we meet again."

It took Ozzy a brief second before he recognized the bartender.

"Oh...hey...Hammond, right?"

"Huerta, actually..." he smiled. "...and, what is your desired preference of poison this fine evening?"

"Got Guiness on tap?"

Huerta glanced behind him.

"I believe we do..." he replied, fetching a mug.

"So...this your side-job?" Baxter asked, watching the man pour the most exquisite beer he had ever laid eyes on.

"Believe it or not, I have a Ph.D." Huerta replied, setting the pint down in front of him.

Baxter just grunted, tossing the entire pint back with one immense gulp.

"...another..." he said between belching.

Huerta's eyes narrowed with interest at the display, pouring another pint.

"So...you're what? A surgeon? A shrink?" Ozzy asked, grasping the new pint.

"Psychologist. Psychiatrist. Babysitter. Depends on who you ask...." Huerta said with a sly smile.

Ozzy slammed the empty glass down.

"Another?" Huerta asked.

"Please..." Ozzy nodded.

He looked around the near empty bar, admiring the 'homey' feel of the place.

"Nice bar..."

"Well, it doesn't travel through time and space, if that's what you mean...." Huerta shrugged, handing him his third.

"What?" Ozzy frowned.

"Nothing." the doctor replied. "Old joke."

Baxter grunted, staring at his beer.

"Fuck old jokes." he said with a low tone. "And fuck new ones, as well."

He downed his beer again. Huerta poured him another.

"Far be it from me to pry, Mr. Baxter..." Huerta began. "...but I can't help but feel a certain lack of Christmas cheer from you..."

"Oh!" Ozzy held his beginning-to-feel-the-alcohol-finger up. "And fuck Christmas!"

"Come on, Scrooge..." Huerta smiled, handing him the new beer. "Can't be that bad, can it?"

Baxter threw the drink down his throat, coming back eye-level with the doctor.

"Where tha' hell do I start?" he began.

"At the beginning, as all good stories do."

Ozzy stared at the man.

"Are you making fun of me?"

"Do you think I'm making fun of you?" Huerta replied.

Ozzy stared at him a bit longer, the alcoholic glaze beginning to creep into his threshold.

"...shrink..." he replied.

"Excuse me?"

"Shrink....if someone asked me, I'd tell 'em you're a shrink..."

Huerta chuckled, beginning to clean an errant mug with a washcloth, for no apparent reason.

"And what should I tell this increasingly hypothetical 'them' about you?"

Baxter stared at his beer.

"I...don't know."

"You don't know?"

"That's what I fucking said!" he repeated a bit louder. "I don't know!"

Huerta stared at him with that friendly ease that was so common to his expression.

Ozzy stared back for another moment, or so.

"...sorry, Doc..." he began, his voice falling into a world of defeat. "...didn't mean to get all 'angry-drunk' on you..."

Huerta just smiled, patient and understanding as always.

"You've obviously never been around Mr. Montag during soccer season."

Ozzy said nothing staring into his beer with a look of depression.

"You know, it is a well-known fact that suicide rates climb in proportion to the vicinity of the holiday season..."

"Heh...if it were only that easy..." Baxter began.

"If only, huh?" Huerta agreed, peering down at the man.

Ozzy looked up at him.

"I...I don't want to be here, Doc..." he said, his voice hinting at desperation.

"Where do you want to be?" Huerta asked with as much casual flare as he could muster, finding himself more and more interested in this man before him.

"...I don't know..." Ozzy shook his head. He flipped the mug up, downing the beer.

"No, I'm sorry..." Huerta shook his head. "...you've already used that answer. Care to try for another?"

Ozzy sighed, belching in unison.

"Thirteen years ago." he finally said.

"Thirteen years ago?"

"Yeah...that's where I want to be....thirteen years ago..."

"Mr. Baxter, that's a 'when'...not a 'where'..."

"Sez' you..." Ozzy replied, his voice beginning to slur a bit, even as Huerta continued pouring more. "...thirteen years ago is a place....it's where it feels good...to be alive....where I was happy..."

Huerta said nothing, allowing the man to talk freely.

"...before...before I was stupid....oh god...so...SO...fucking stupid..." he continued, lost in this fragment of depression.

He looked up at Huerta.

"I cheated...ya' see..." he said. "...I...I gambled it all away....my scholarship....my life....my family...friends..."

Huerta just nodded, still cleaning the glass.

"...I was a boxer..." Ozzy said. And, at those words, his voice rose a bit. The depression seemed to fade, just briefly, with the fire that crept into his faintly bloodshot eyes. "...I was the best in the college circuit....the fucking best..."

Ozzy seemd to pause on this memory, trying to hold on to that fragment of fleeting hope.

He quickly slammed his flat hands down onto the hard wood.

"...an' LOOK at me now!" he exclaimed. "Now...I'm a prisoner...juss' another bitch in thess' freakshow..."

He grabbed the fresh pint, throwing it back.

"...even alien-boy...Adem Different..." he said, contorting his voice into a bizarre, mocking approximation of Adem's unique tone. "...even he's just dicking me about..."

Ozzy stared up at Huerta, his demeanor quite intoxicated now.

"...ah thought I wuz' helpin' 'em..." he almost pleaded with Huerta. "...yeah...shoore'...it was pretty fuckin' funny at first...thought it wuz' kinda'...nice....that someone wuz' that in'cent....you know? But...he knows what a door is..."

"Adem knows what a door is?" Huerta asked, intrigued.

"OH!" Ozzy held his finger up, his eyes wide with warning. "He does! He knows what it is! That fukin' lying bazterd'..."

Ozzy just slumped to the bar, forehead down against the cool wood.

"...I...juz'...wanted to...fit in..." he said, his voice muffled by the wood. "...I juz'...wanted to...be useful..."

Huerta watched him for a moment, as Ozzy rolled his forehead back and forth on the bar.

"...I juz'...wanted....to make a friend..." he explained. "...someone who's...trapped...like me..."

"Another beer?" Huerta asked.

Ozzy slowly lifted his head up, staring foggily at the man.

"...I...dun...know..."

"Ah, ah, ah!" Huerta cocked his finger up. "Already used that one, remember?"

"...do...do ya' think I shoold...?"

"Oh, by all means..." Huerta replied, setting another beer down in front of him. "...of all the people I know, you have such a horrid life, I don't blame you a bit for wanting to drink yourself unconscious..."

Ozzy stared at him, gradually reaching for the mug.

"...ah...come on...." he said. "...yu' must know...other people wif' livze worse than mine..."

Huerta pretended to think on this a minute.

"...I don't know..." he said. "...I mean, you ARE forced to live on a tropical isle, with free food and lodging..."

Huerta smiled.

"Sounds pretty rough to me." he said.

"...ahh...okay..." Baxter's slurr sounded, even as he still tried to hold the glass. "...point....but...yu' don' understand...my life..."

"Is shit, yes I know." Huerta nodded. "Again, I don't blame you for giving up..."

Ozzy lurched out of his barstool, falling over backwards.

"Fuck you!!" Ozzy slurred, trying to understand why he was flatback against the floor. "I don't give up! Goddamnit I never give up!"

Huerta walked calmly from around the bar, helping the man to his feet.

"I wuz' the gobdamned CHAMPION!" Ozzy raised his fists into the air, causing Huerta to have to brace against his swaying form that much more.

"Were you?" he asked. "From where I'm standing, all I see is a man that has been beaten down by an unfortunate set of circumstances...."

Huerta locked eyes with the ex-boxer.

"...beaten in the first round..."

Ozzy stared at him, a multitude of emotions washing over his face.

"...no one...no...one...beatz me..." he said in an even tone.

"Oh? And why is that, Ozzy?" Huerta asked.

Baxter leaned in, the alcohol from his breath overpowering his rancid cologne.

"...cause...I'm a fighter..." he said, his voice low and even.

Huerta stared back with an equal expression, leaning in close to his left ear.

"...then..." he wispered. "...start fighting..."

Baxter swayed a bit, staring at the man's even expression. Thoughts swam like molassas through his hazy mind, as he rested a reassuring hand on the doctor's shoulder.

"Ya' know...." Baxter began. "...you're a good guy, Doc..."

Huerta smiled fully.

"...depends on who you ask..."

A low chuckle began to build in Ozzy, a smile finally crossing his face, even as the door to the bar swung open again.

"I swear, Doctor Huerta..." Jake sighed, toting an empty extinguisher. "...I've never seen a more accident prone mess of a man in my life..."

Huerta laughed, helping Ozzy onto the bar stool.

"...iz' he talkin' about me..." Ozzy slurred.

Huerta just shook his head, laughing a bit.

"So, any customers while I was away?" Jake asked, taking his spot behind the bar again.

"Just one..." Huerta replied, nodding towards Ozzy.

"Need another?" the bartender asked Ozzy.

Ozzy just nodded his head, holding his palm out towards the man.

"...hell...no..." Baxter belched, still swaying a bit.

Jake nodded, checking the tally Huerta had scored.

"Let's see....fourteen pints of tap...." Jake mumbled. "...that'll be one-hundred-and-forty-dollars, my good man..."

Ozzy's eyes widened.

"A HUNDRED AND FUCKIN' FORTY?!" Ozzy exclaimed, Huerta calmning him.

"Sorry, mate." Jake shrugged. "Do you know how expensive it is to get Guiness imported? I have to go through a black market dealer just to get it onto the island."

Ozzy patted his pockets, looking up at the bartender.

"Juz...juz' put it on the company tab..." he said. "...Vanguard..."

"No problem...I just need to see your account card..." Jake offered politely.

"Card?" Ozzy asked.

"Well, yes....your expense account?" Jake explained. "I set this system up with Piper over a year ago."

"Uhh, Ozzy's new..." Huerta explained with a calm smile. "...he doesn't have a card yet..."

"Well, I'm sorry, but--" Jake began.

"I'll cover Mr. Baxter's tab, Jake..." Huerta reassured the man, handing him his own expense card.

Ozzy peered over at the doctor, even as Jake ran his card.

"...great....now I owe you, too...." he said.

"You can work the beer off by regularly attending sessions with me." he explained. "I need the practice...and you need someone to talk to....it works out great for both of us."

Ozzy just smiled.

"...I wasn't talkin' about the beer..."

Out of Sight, Out of Mind

Probably not enough to settle the score.

But he could never hope to settle the score.

I have to try.

Presents, presents everywhere. Toys of all kinds, all far more expensive than any of these children could ever hope to have. A negligible expenditure to him - the others had no idea what kind of assets he controlled. Far more than he could ever spend.

May as well use it to help someone.

It was only money, after all.

Money... money taken from criminals, from thieves who stole children's innocence, and all too often their lives.

Lives he could have... should have saved.

It was easy, too easy. Slip in and out of houses unseen, hide the children's presents, leave clever hints. They had taken to the 'Christmas Visitor' right away, and to them it was some sort of a game, their own unique Christmas tradition to include with stockings and mistletoe and all the others.

But to him it wasn't a game. To him, every gift he gave, every smile he brought to a child's face, was one tiptoe of a step toward redemption. Or so he hoped.

Maybe, he told himself, he might have children of his own someday. Maybe then, he might understand it all, and finally be healed.

If that were possible.

<a memory>

"It's rather disturbing, to be honest," Quantos explained as he buried his eyes in the test results, refusing to make eye contact.

"I've gotta know," Phil insisted.

"In all honesty," the doctor insisted, "I don't think you'll want to know this."

Phil looked down. "I may not have peace once I know, but I'm certain I won't have peace as long as I don't know."

Quantos sighed. "There's no natural explanation for it, but however your genetic structure was altered, the result is completely unimaginable to known science. I've done spectrometry, multi-frequency imaging, even radioisotope decay analysis, and I still can't shake this." He tossed the stack of papers down onto his desk and looked at Phil, his expression the look of a bewildered, disconcerted, and slightly fearful man. "Sometime in late 1945 or early 1946, your body's maintenance, repair, and growth systems stopped what they were doing and began acting very strangely. Somehow, you developed an almost limitless capability to repair damage - given adequate time - to your cells and tissues, and absolutely ceased to progress or develop in a manner that one would expect..."

Phil held up a hand. "You lost me with 1945."

Quantos nodded. "Yes. You were alive in the year 1945. And since either '45 or '46, you haven't aged a day. Because you can't. You can't age, and from the looks of it, dying of natural causes is quite simply not a possibility for you."

Phil couldn't even grasp what Quantos was saying for a long moment. He looked down at the floor. "So... what does that make me?"

Quantos sighed and looked away. "There's no scientific description at hand for it. I believe Webster's dictionary would call that... immortal."

<the present>

The parade was probably under way already. He might be missed if he didn't leave soon.

The Christmas Visitor carefully laid the neatly-wrapped gift on a makeshift table made from three banana crates and slipped out the door unnoticed.

Another house, another present, another stop on this train ride on a track that apparently had no definite end.

If you didn't pay taxes and couldn't be sure of death, what could you count on in life?

He slipped away from the barrio and allowed himself to become visible again as he started toward his car.

"Well," an unfamiliar voice said softly from behind him. "This is news. I came to catch the Christmas Visitor and found you instead."

A camera whirred and clicked as he turned around. "Who might you be?" he asked.

"Chris Stanfield, Weekly World Informant," the man replied. "You don't need to bother with telling me who you are."

"Well, if you decide you need names," another voice said from behind them, "I'm Detective Rick Patterson, New Orleans Police, and it'd be a good idea to step away from that man."

Stanfield looked indignant as he turned. "I'm a journalist trying to cover a story! I don't need out-of-jurisdiction lawmen telling me to back away from someone I want to interview!"

A fourth voice chimed in. "Well, Mister Stanfield, there's no limit to my jurisdiction."

"Who the hell are you?" Stanfield asked the newcomer as the subject of his 'interview' paled.

"I'm Special Agent Steve Fisher," the fourth man replied, "and it'd be in your best interests if you - and you, Detective - would step away so I can have a few words with Mister Smith here."

{I told you that you should not interact so much with these humans.} Jym’s face showed a smug look. Adem didn’t notice. He refused to look at the screen. Instead, he kept his eyes ahead and made his way down the streets of Puerta Mibela. {They are emotionally fragile creatures who are unable to separate their emotions from their responsibilities. Wars have been started over land, women, and which side to butter toast. It’s true. I read it in a book.}

Different continued to walk on, realizing that his assimilation into this society was going to be harder than he thought. Several things was all so very similar, yet there were subtleties that could cause drastically different reactions. The nuances were everywhere and presenting horrible barriers that he had to overcome. He had been relegated to keeping his hands in his pockets when meeting people. The custom of his own race was to place your palm against the forehead of the other person. This was more than a gesture. When aggravation or other heightened states of negative emotions were present among his people, their foreheads would burn feverish. The greeting of the hand to the head not only meant ‘hello’, but it served as a tell tale sign of how the rest of the encounter may progress. Alas, here it did not mean such; so Adem kept his hands tucked away until he could break the habit of his customary greeting. And this was only one small thing that he had to contend with.

The Farris wheel of the carnival came into sight. Lights flashed. Sounds exploded. Scents rode on currents of air, colliding with each other, making a potpourri of corn dogs, funnel cakes, and cotton candy. Almost the entire population of the town had converged on this one spot. The fairgrounds began to glow with artificial luminescence as the sun slipped into the sea far to the west.

Adem stood at a distance, watching the festivities. In front of him was a large gathering of a species that he had yet learned to understand and interact with. They were a puzzle that he was, as of yet, unable to solve. It would have been simple for him to turn around and walk back to the headquarters. That would have been the easy way out. But Adem knew that there was no such thing as an easy way out. Walking away would not solve any of his problems. It might, in fact, heighten them. No, the best and most logical solution was to participate in total immersion. That was the best way to go. That was the way he went.

Jake's place was nearly empty. Just Jake, Huerta and Baxter sitting on the opposite sides of the bar, looking distractedly at the Tv, showing images of the parade.

This is Anita Guadalupe for Channel 7 news from the streets of Puerta Mibela for the first annual metahumans parade, celebrating the alleged contribute of La Perdita's metahumans to the cause of the War to Hell. Stars of the parade are the Vanguardians, the amazing heroes that took the place of the PSI Unit in the hearts of la Perdititians since Hurricane Jason, last year, when they greatly contributed to the safety of the population of the island

The images of the colorful parade were replaced by very noisy shots of various Vanguard members fighting vampires and helping people under pouring rain and fierce winds.

Since then, the government of La Perdita has shown respect and gratitude to those "mystery men", granting them nationality and a special status for operating on the island. In exchange the company has converted an unused warehouse into a state-of-the-art hospital at their own expense.

Images of the Glover memorial replaced the shots from the Hurricane. In a small picture window, the parade could still be seen.

But right after the completion of the hospital, it was destroyed by an unidentified force. That episode brought the first attack to the presence of Vanguard International on the island...

The images showed then a middle aged politician, the name "Lucius Maddox, minister of defense" superimposed.

"Frankly, I'm shocked and outraged that we've rolled out the red carpet for these shady foreigners. They call them 'Vanguardians' now... *snort* ...but they fail to 'guard' anyone! Where did they come from? What do we know about them, anyway? Who are they on the run from is what I want to know. Did they build Glover Memorial just so it could be virtually destroyed? They're certainly no 'Vanguardians' for La Perdita, but I can certainly believe they're some kind of 'vanguard' for a dark future for our fair island nation if they remain here. They seem to be little more than magnets for danger and destruction. And we in the government have no control over their actions, unlike the PSI-Unit who were created through a government program to protect our island paradise from these kinds of meta-terrorist threats. We certainly never had these kinds of problems before those foreigners came here..."

The images were back on the parade, the giant white furry form of Drax filling the screen.

Those events gave strength to the Anti-Vanguard movement, lead by Maddox itself, called "Concerned Citizens of La Perdita", but the temporary popularity of the group dwindled fast as the President and most of the members of the Parliament seems to favor Vanguard presence... a moment please... we have news incoming from the United Nations palace in New York...

Drax disappeared from the screen, replaced by the Council chamber of the UN. At the podium, General Secretary Kofi Hannan stood near a white long haired man in the grey and silver uniform of the Strikeforce. Jack Merlin. The Strikeforce leader pointed his index finger to a big screen behind them.

"Ladies and gentlemen, we are reunited here, today, to witness the tragedy behind the War to Hell, that caused millions of deaths on the soil of the great nation that houses this honorable organization, and costed the life of most of the agents and soldiers of the Strikeforce 1. We are here to discover who WAS Naecken, and who ARE his allies hiding in the shadows, ready to bring the war again toward our nations and peoples...

The screen showed images of an aircraft carrier, with French flag. Superimposed there is a date, 09-08-2001, and the words: "Courtesy of French Republic Marine. Merlin were commenting and translating the language used in the reel.

Aboard in the radar room a young ensign sits at his station observing the radar systems.

"Sir...Sir, we have a bogey on our trail. It´s coming up fast and straight for us, Sir!"

A elder officer bends to have a closer look at the screen.

"Good work, ensign. That was very quick of you. It´s moving at twicw the speed of sound. Alert the fliers to send a team of planes to see what it is. Should it prove to be hostile, just wing it and pick up the pilot. We don´t want a international incident on our hands. Well done lad."

Orders are issued as pretty soon two jetfighters are deployed to intercept the unknown aircraft.

"We have the bogey in sight, Sir. It seems to be glowing...and Sir, its not a plane, Sir."

"No, Sir. It´s not a UFO...It seems to be a man with wings."

"Yes, Sir...It could be a Meta, Sir."

"Its coming closer, should I fire, Sir?"

"Roger that, Sir!"

The two missiles suddenly turn and head for the second jet fighter instead.

The young pilot manouvres his fighter like never before but its a no win situation.

The telekinetic force directing the missels works much faster than the controls of a plane...soon a ball of fire is seen plunging towards the waves.

The other fighter opens his guns and fires at the meta, still flying onwards to the battle ship.

The bullets collect themselves into a larger ball, about ten times a bowling ball and then flies through the cockpit of the fighter. Smashing up both the equipment and the groin section of the pilot.

The jet hits straight on the command deck, killing the commanding officer and thirteen other officers in a huge ball of fuel ignited flames.

He lands on the flight deck, and is soon met with heavy side-arms fire, from the marines aboard.

A suggestion is made within him, and he lets the energy in his eyes engulf the marines, who are left crying on their knees, some even hysterical with laughter.

This was the first time Naecken was seen, ladies and gentlemen. The count is on nearly twenty person killed on his first apparition. Next time, he appears on Chicago O'Hare airport. Please, pay attention to the metas backing him.

The screen showed then images from CNN.

"CNN Late Breaking News 10-16-2001, 1,30 A.M.

An accident labeled by Chicago Police Department as “metahuman outbreak” is occurring right now at the O’Hare International Airport, in Chicago. It is unclear what is really happening, being a huge whirlwind of changing colors right above the arriving facilities, and fire everywhere, the only thing that we have been able to record.
Also, it’s interesting to note the presence of a few cows. Come back later for more news."

"Have you noticed who was standing in the mid of the fireworks? Naecken, right. And the ones with him? The man with the top hat? And take a look closer at this man...

The face of one of the metahumans is enlarged, and then superimposed with a shot of a man in his twenties, wearing a track runner suit. The two matches perfectly.

"Infamous olympic medallist Edulcore Cicciotto, the Eurostar, as it was called at that time. And who was the target of that metahuman outbreak? No one other that Eduardo Frederico, the only man in the world that had been able to challenge Ciccotto's superiority on the tracks, and that was present that night in the airport. I'll leave you the conclusion"

The images now shift to amateur footage of a circus show, where a blue skinned giant performs next to a long haired young man with top hat.

After much research, we have found where those renegades were hiding. A circus. We have followed the track of the circus though the country at that time. It left a path of destruction. Let's see: December 2001, the circus is in Chicago. The metahumans prison known as the Zoo is destroyed, and hundreds of very dangerous metas are set free. Like it has been proved, they will lately cause the holocaust the city is sadly well known for. During the night, two of the biggest banks in the city were robbed. More on this later. Christmas of 2001, the Circus is in Thunder City, on the east coast. That very night, the Tri-Vex Company tower, the leading, at that time, facility regarding genetic research, and responsible for the discovery of the metagene and for exposing Cicciotto as a meta, causing the retire of all of his medals and his fall into disgrace, was destroyed by a group of people dressed as Santa and his elves. There is just one picture of that group...

The screen showed a grainy black and white picture on a newpaper of eight people, one Santa, one tall man dressed as a reindeer and six elves.

... but their facial features and heights matches perfectly with those of the Sardella's bros, their circus cover. The reindeer, no needs to point it out, is Naecken. he same night, again, a bank in Thunder was depleted of all the deposits. January 2002, the Circus left the continent and resurfaces in Mandelovia. Yes, ladies and gentlemen, Mandelovia. You start to see a connection? After the arrival of the circus in Mandelovia, that once democratic nation decides to give its back to the rest of the world, becoming an isolated dictatorship. And the runaway group of metas becomes something more structured, without leaving their hidden purpose. Please, pay attention...

On the screen appear the screenshot of a website, with the name MBL, images of the tiny island nation of La Perdita.

The MBL! Mercenaries at the sold of ruthless dictators! Financing themselves in any odd way, for the purpose of starting a revolution that should put them in charges of the world. MBL: Metahuman Brotherood of Liberation! See this:

Footage from a security camera. On the bottom it reads Chicago Windy City Bank, and the date 01-10-2003. Seven men dressed in colorful costumes entered and robbed the bank, shouting their names.

As you have clearly seen, Cicciotto and Naecken are among them. But that's nothing compared to what went after... at

Quote:

---

Walt Disney World, Orlando, FL, USA, 9:36 AM.

The men casually strolled through the open gates with the rest of the crowd. When they approached the ticket booth, the man in the tuxedo simply said something to the booth worker and smiled. The men entered the park without paying.

"Ok, remember the plan, spread out through the park, act casual. When I give the signal, go." The man in the tux, gave the orders to the rest of his crew who followed them implicitly.

The large, muscular man with the ram face and horns, scratched absently at the blue paint that he had to wear for the sake of this job. "Stuff itches; I hate it." He mumbled. His partner in the red spandex outfit and mask seemed to preoccupied to notice.

At precisely 12:00 PM, "Nowhereman" gave the order. The Metahuman Brotherhood of Liberation struck.

"TC" used his abilities to slow down a crowd of people in front of a roller coaster, while making the ride go ever faster and faster. Finally, it skipped the tracks and jumped the side of the railing.

"Naecken" used his brute strength and horns to bring down as many buildings as he could, while "Eurostar" used his metagene to mimic the abilities of his many of his partners as possible.

"LLance" stood and shrugged off a blow from a security guard. The guard's hand felt like he'd broken it. If he had been able to look, he might have seen what would appear to be a metallic sheen where his hand had struck the man's face. "LLance" proceeded to pummel the guard mercilessly.

"Danny" began summoning as many temporal duplicates of himself as he could to maximize his destructive capability.

"Velo" unleashed massive amounts of concussive force beams from his hands, lashing out at anyone or anything in his sight. At one point, he carved the initials "MBL" on the side of a half-standing building.

"Mxy" used his hallucinogenic abilities to cause entire crowds to voluntarily commit suicide, some gouged out their own eyeballs, while others walked directly into "Velo's" force blasts or "Naecken's" Charging body.

By 3:37 PM, the entire park was a ruin. The meta human terrorists had allowed a local news crew to film the carnage, broadcasting live, then did away with them as well. As "Eurostar" ran the camera, "Nowhereman" addressed the viewing audience.

"This is a warning to the norms. The day of the metas is coming. We have been gathering power for months. We have done small acts, here and there, but no more. Now we shall strike, and strike hard. The government has had their chance, and failed. The day of the Metahuman Brotherhood of Liberation is at hand. Be ready, for the MBL is here!"

---

And then, we had the destruction of Promethan City and Athanon City, on the east and west coast of America."

The screen shows the face of Naecken, now red, asking the world to surrender.

And Paris, too, would have fallen, if not for the intervention of the late and lamented Hero, Frank Mullarney, the greatest hero our planet has ever seen, who single handedly destroyed the falling meteor before it strook the city of lights

The screen shows Hero waving his hands above the crowd just after the save, and then the images of his funeral, with millions of Parisians crowding the streets around the burial site.

Finally, we can show you how Hero died, defending the world from the evil forces of the MBL and Mandelovia...

The screen is filled by the green tinted images of light enhanced night shots. Hero, in the shining uniform of the Strikeforce, respond, blow after blow, to another man, of similar build, totally naked if not for what seems a very ripped shorts. Finally Hero fall dow, but is visibly still alive. Then, his opponents is joined by a taller man, who seems to wear a death mask. The man raises a two side Axe, and fiercely push it on Hero, craking his sternum.

A chilling silence permeated the chamber of the UN council.

Cold bloodily killed when he was out of commission, totally ignoring Geneva's conventions. That, ladies and gentleman, is how Hero, the man who saved Paris, was killed. And the man which killed him, wearing a so appropriate death mask respond to the name of Grimm, the NEW leader of the MBL, stepped to leadership after the men and women of the Strikeforce gave their life to destroy Naecken once and for all.

Ladies and gentleman, we have won a battle, not the war. This Grimm and his men, the MBL are still alive. They hide in the ilsand of La Perdita, and have re-christened their movement Vanguard. But their goals are the same, supremacy for the meathumans and to rule the world, with their sordid allies of always...

On the screen appeared image of a Mandelovian check point, with huge banners hanging down from the buildings reading "Welcome Vanguard!" and "Mandelovia Loves You!"

So, let me get this straight: the victory in Antarctic doesn't make this world safer than before. The Metahuman Brotherood for Liberation still exist, going strong and preparing their new moves safely hiding in the Caribbeans. Within months, the new Strikeforce 2 will be ready to take care of any problems should arise. In the meantime, I ask this honorable convention to order the nation of La Perdita to surrender the associates of the so called "Vanguard International" to Interpol, to be judged by the Den Hague International Courts for the crimes commited all around the planet!"

The images on the TV at Jake's place shifts back on the newswoman of Channel 7, the parade still going behind her.

I... I am speechless. Julio, is there any reaction for the Government?"

The images went to the studio, a newsman looking very worried and sweating.

Yes, Anita, Minister of Defense Lucius Maddox has announced a press conference in half an hour

Exactly five minutes later, the cell phone of Kit Piper began to ring. "Kit, I'm Victoria. Leave the parade immediately, and go to the Presidential palace. You have an appointment with the President in less than ten minutes. Pay well attention to me, this is what you have to do...

As Kit was walking steadily away from the crowd, still dressed as Santa, from a few windows of the buildings above the parade, rotten fruit and vegetables began to fall over the colorful assemble of celebrating metas.

Rowena smiled and laughed while playing with the puppy, rolling around on the ground and chasing it back and forth.

A large shadow fell across her face. She looked up and smiled. "Hi."

"Uhh, hi." Grimm scratched the back of his head sheepishly. "Um, I just came to say bye." He looked around nervously.

"You're leaving?" She asked, standing while holding the dog in her arms. The puppy began to whine in Grimm's presence and tried to hide in Rowena's arms. "You've only been here a few hours and you've spent much of the time talking with Scion. I thought maybe we could go for another ride. . .just. . ."

"That's. . .that's what I need to talk to you about. You know, this whole life-death bond thing. . .I know you had a special relationship with Wun and I know I'm his replacement and we're supposed to be. . .uh. . ." Grimm looked off over the cliffside, struggling to find the words. "Look, it's not that I don't like you or anything. You seem like a really cool person. But all this," He gestured around Haven with his arms "All this kind of came upon me while I was in the middle of trying to sort some things out. There's. . ."

"Someone else?" She finished for him, mildly disappointed, though not totally unexpecting the news.

"Yeah. Someone I've been putting off dealing with because of. . .you know."

"Because you weren't sure of who and what you were. And now that you know, you want to see if there's still a shot." She finished for him, smiling again as the puppy licked her face.

"Yeah. You're not upset?"

"Everyone comes into the roles of the avatar in their own way. They have their own ways of dealing with the unique roles. You're so much like Wun, but so different. You seem, looser, more relaxed." She touched his cheek with her hand. "Artificial." She looked a little perplexed.

"I can't form the face on my own. Well, I can, but they don't last. Anyway, like I said, I need to go. . ." He started to leave.

"You will be honoring your agreement with Turkish, though. To visit Haven more." She seemed to say more than ask.

"Yeah, we can hang out a bit if you want. Talk about all this. . ." He said as they walked toward where Z waited near the humvee.

"I'd like that. Oh, here." She started to hand the puppy to him, as it instinctively pulled away from him.

"Ah, you keep him. He seems to like you better anyway." Grimm began to open the car door. "Merry Christmas." He said to her.

Rowena reached an arm around Grimm's neck while holding the frightened pup in the other arm and kissed Grimm on the cheek. "Merry Christmas."

He climbed into the vehicle and motioned to Z who opened a portal and in an instant he drove through it and was gone.

"Grimm has left already?" Turkish asked walking up behind the ladies. "He did not stay long."

"No, but he came." Rowena looked at the ground as they walked. Z now playing with the puppy.

"Is that enough?" Stringfellow asked, looking at her.

"For now, it will have to be." She answered evenly.

"Oh, but he left you this." Rowena smiled again and held a small envelope out to the Prophet. The envelope seemed to float towards his waiting hand. He opened it and reached inside, pulling out. . . "Lakers tickets. Season passes. For two. Hmm."

"So, will you be going to Camelot any time soon?" She asked.

"I don't know what you mean." Turkish answered curtly, placing the tickets in the envelope and folding it inside his robe.

"Oh, you know what I mean." She began to prod him.

"I think it's time for the monks daily meditation." He attempted to change the subject.

"Daily basketball game, you mean." She continued.

"Basketball? Really, I don't know where you get these ideas. . ." They continued off towards the temple.

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

A small town in Germany, where a touring theatre company has stopped for the holidays. Nestled in a small hotel away from the larger cities, they are about to receive another visitor.

The tall, dark man pulls up to the hotel in his black humvee and parks. He looks down at the note in his hand and checks it again, as he has constantly since driving down the road. He gets out and walks towards the hotel, looking for a specific room number.

"What's german for 42? Ahh, there it is." he mumbles to himself. "Alexandra Dawn Cantrelle. Room 42. This is it. Now or ever." He knocks on the door. "Just a minute!" he hears from the inside. A bolt is unlatched and the door opens.

A dark haired young woman with pale skin and an hourglass figure looks up at him. "Hi. I almost didn't think you would come. It's been. . .months."

"I almost didn't come. But after Mandelovia, the Antarctic, everything with Chance and Mick, and. . .everything. I needed to get away for a while. I needed to see if this would work."

"Well, you gonna come in or what? It's Christmas Eve, and I think I brought some mistletoe. . ." She smiled devilishly as he entered, the bolt locking behind them.

Familiar Faces

"I can't believe this!" Stanfield whined. "The exclusive of the year, and..."

"Shut up!" the other three growled, almost in unison.

"I can't let you leave, Smith," Patterson said. "I came to solve a mystery, and I have to get to the bottom of this." He looked at Phil. "Here you are, alive and kicking, while just about everyone in America is convinced you've been dead for a year and a half. I've finally got a chance to find out what happened to the Colombians, and how you escaped from the Hudson, and what happened to Gabriela Riviera, and..."

"That case was closed," Agent Fisher replied slyly. "As a matter of fact, most of your casework, as I recall, mysteriously vanished shortly after that decision was made... probably part of the reason you were transferred to New Orleans." He shook his head. "No, I think the mystery is pretty much solved." He looked over his shoulder. "I know your partner's been taking photos of us for the past two minutes, and you've probably got a video camera rolling..."

Stanfield's eyes widened. "Pictures? Film???" He turned to the detective. "Is there any chance you can share your negatives with the Informant?"

Phil turned to the tabloid hack and punched him. In the face.

"Thank you," Fisher said as Stanfield slumped to the ground. "As I was saying, detective, you've got pretty strong evidence that Phil Smith is alive and well. But to be perfectly honest, I think it would be in your best interest if you didn't pursue this any further." He adjusted his dark sunglasses. "There are... higher levels of law enforcement involved now, and there is another matter, one of great importance, where Mister Smith here might be able to render us valuable assistance." He turned and glanced at Phil. "In which case, any debt he might owe to society would be paid in full, and we would have no further need of him." He looked down. "To answer one of your questions, Detective, Gabriela Riviera is dead." Fisher paused. "One of my men committed... a serious error in judgment and shot her. For which he was later punished."

He shook his head. "You won't find Gabriela Riviera alive," he confirmed, confident that not even Phil knew the whole truth. "Go home to your family, Detective."

"They're here with me," Patterson retorted, "and I'm not leaving this island until I talk to you!" He pointed at Phil as he left.

"Well," Agent Fisher said as he turned, "that's taken care of..."

He spun back around as Phil connected with a vicious right hook. Before the MAW man could react, Phil had swept his legs from under him, vaulted over his head in a gravity-defying martial-arts move, and flipped Fisher over his shoulder to the ground.

Fisher shook the stars from his field of vision just in time to glimpse the business end of a Browning .44 Hi-Power.

"In case you're forgetting, Agent," Phil sneered, "we've got unfinished business."

Fisher sighed. "I figured this would happen," he lamented. "You're so predictable now, you know that?" He chuckled. "So one-dimensional. You still can't get over the fact that she's gone, and you insist on blaming me for your mistakes."

Phil raised an eyebrow. "What?"

Fisher nodded. "It's true. You know full well that I didn't pull the trigger when Gabriela was killed. I didn't even order it. Neither of you was to be harmed. It was an unfortunate misunderstanding. I had a proposition for you then, and I have one for you this time as well."

"I know you, Fisher," Phil insisted. "You've got your own little agenda here, and the only interest you've ever had in me was trying to co-opt me so you could build up your own metahuman army and hunt down any metas that didn't fall in step with you."

Fisher laughed. "How did you ever track down those Colombians? For that matter, how the hell did you get away from that manhunt?" He shook his head. "My role is to prevent just such a thing from happening!" He paused. "But apparently it has. Which is what brings me here."

"If this is about Vanguard," Phil said coldly, keeping the gun pointed at Fisher, "we're gonna have a problem..."

"Put it away, Phil," Fisher said flatly, rising to his feet. "You couldn't bring yourself to shoot me before, and I know you won't now." He dusted himself off. "It's not about your friends on this island. There's a much bigger game afoot here. Although it involves you to some extent, there's a much more serious problem that I need your help to deal with."

Phil slowly lowered the gun. "What problem might that be?"

Fisher smiled. "Strikeforce."

Phil's eyebrows went up as he holstered the gun. "I'm listening."

Somewhere on a bed, a girl named Rachel thought about the guy named Danny she had fallen in love with a little while ago. She wondered where he went and why her calls weren't being returned. She wondered, and she was sad again.

Somewhere in an office, Henry Quantos looked down at a photo of his friends. One of them was young man he'd once known named Danny. Henry wondered where he Danny was.

Somewhere watching a parade, a former angel named Tayden wondered where his old leader was. He hoped that he was happy.

Somewhere in Jake's bar, a bartender wondered why that damn animal guy hadn't come in to fix up his tab. He wondered, and was pissed off.

Somewhere on a flight of stairs, an avatar of death named Grimm walked up towards his room. As he walked, he wondered where his predecessor as leader had gone.

Grimm opened the door to his room, and found someone waiting for him, standing on the opposite side of the room.

"Danny..." Grimm said, stopping in his tracks.

"That's me," Grimm's old friend replied.

Grimm stepped forward and through his sizable arms around his old friend. Danny squirmed, then returned the hug.

"You've been gone," Grimm said, stepping back from Danny.

"How observant of you," Came the reply. Grimm chuckled slightly.

"We've missed you."

"I'm sure you have."

"How was the thing? The grandfather thing?"

Danny laughed. A hollow laugh devoid of real humour. "It was... interesting," he said. "But that's not the real reason I went to Melbourne. Not the sole reason, anyway. I had... other business to take care of..." Danny said, trailing off without going into further detail.

"You went off and had a damn solo story, didn't you?" Grimm asked. Danny nodded. "Boring bastard," Grimm finished. "Nobody actually cares, you know."

They both laughed. Then they stopped laughing. And there was silence.

"So... Chance," Danny said.

"Yeah," Grimm replied, his head dropping.

"And Mick."

Grimm remained silent.

"Damn..." Danny said. There was silence again as he choked back a sob. "So do you want to keep it?" Danny asked.

"Keep what?" Grimm said in reply.

"The team. The leadership. The ego trip," Danny said.

"Why? You don't want it back?" Grimm asked.

"That's not really up to me," Danny said.

Grimm finished Danny's thought. "It's up to them."

Sometime after, at Victoria Xiang's office...

"Here's Anita Guadalupe, for Channel 7 News. The appointed press conference by Minister of Defense Lucius Maddox has been abruptly cancelled. Mr. Maddox has announced a public rally at Seaside Square for nine P. M., this evening.... a moment, please, they are giving me a press release just arrived... the government of La Perdita announces that the company called Vanguard International has no ties with the so called Metahuman Brotherhood for Liberation. The company has proved invaluable for the welfare of the island on many occasion. The "proofs" given by the UN organization are, for the part concerning Vanguard, completely inaccurate if not false. The Government of La Perdita wants also to stigmatize the continue campaign of hate toward the metahuman population of the world that the rich nations of the world are orchestrating, and confirm the role of the island into the creation of a complete integration for the metagene carrying men and women of good will."

Miss Xiang offed the TV, and smiled at Kit Piper. "It took much trouble to accomplish this, Kit?"

"Nothing more than a big headache. I though it would have been impossible to convince the President that it was not Grimm the one that was killing off that Strikeforcers, but I managed to. But I don't know if they will be true to their statement, Miss Xiang. Now most of the people are at the festival, just the meta-haters have seen the TV. It's tomorrow that we'll know what the people at large think..."

"One problem at a time, Kit...one problem at a time"

“Bloody fine mess those Strikeforce bastards have put us in,” Grissom said as he walked down the hall. “Where’s Grimm when we need him?”

“He took his vacation,” Tayden answered. “He needed it, after all.”

“Eh,” the Sandcrawler replied. “Can’t really ask Danny to take up the reigns, can we? Comes back to find out about all the carnage that happened while he was away. And now this.”

The two stopped and peered into the Rec. Room. Danny was sitting across the table from Adem Different. The Aussie from the future peered at the stranger, trying to filter in all the information he knew about this new team mate.

“So,” he finally began, “you’re from another planet?”

“Another galaxy, in fact.” Adem replied.

“And this computer, Jym, came with you?”

“Not a computer. An AI. And, yes, he did arrive with me, much to my dismay. But we’ve been working together to make the best of the situation. He does whatever research I need and relays the data to me.”

“So he, what, talks to you on some alien radio frequency to your brain?”

Adem held up his arm to show the materializing screen on the sleeve of his suit. “No, he uses this unit. It’s more practical. Imagine how silly it would be for me to converse with a voice in my head.”

Danny’s expression angered a little bit. “Wanker.”

“What?”

Tayden and Grissom finished ease dropping and continued on down the hall. “Without Grimm around and Danny being too out of the loop right now, what are we going to do about this Merlin guy?” the ex-angel asked.

“Well, I still have some mates in the RAF and elsewhere,” Montag answered. “Let me ring them up and see what they’ve got on this Strikeforce and Merlin.”

Vanguard's vehicle made its way to the end of the parade route. There were still enough toys to toss to the children waiting at the end. Brianna looked at the last ballerina doll, smiled warmly, and tossed it to a petite-framed girl trying to jump as high as her friends. Her eyes lit up as the doll dropped in her hand, and Brianna was forced to laugh as the girl shouted with joy and pretended to fly along with Banshee.

She found Leslie already heading the midway. "What sort of game are you playing?"

"I've got to toss the ball in one of those baskets."

"That's two you've missed. You're not doing very good."

Leslie looked at Brianna and stuck her tongue out. "I know that, Bri." She missed the third basket. As if on cue, the man in charge of the stand gave her the biggest stuffed tiger he had.

"Wait a minute," said Brianna. "You lost."

Leslie didn't looked surprise. "And? I have 'charm' powers, honey. Come on, you try. Lose a game. You'll still get something to take home."

Brianna walked towards another stand and gave the man standing there a dollar. She was given three golf balls. "Just toss them into the glasses."

Brianna missed the first one. Leslie smiled. Brianna missed the second. Stomping her foot, she tossed the last one, which made it into the smallest bowl at the top.

"I won!" screeched Brianna. The glass cracked and the others wobbled before she could catch herself.

"Smallest glass gets the biggest fish!" said the man. He handed Brianna a large goldfish in a plastic bag and a bowl.

Leslie didn't say anything. "You're right," said Brianna. "I got something to take home."

"Okay, fine, win a prize the normal way." She smiled at Brianna. "But I can still beat you at the BB gun range."

Brianna looked at her new pet. "I dunno...I've never had a pet all to myself before...I better get him settled back at the HQ. I'll come back for the Christmas Eve stuff, okay? I'll come back around eight or nine."

***

Brianna looked at the fish in the bowl. He was swimming around, getting aquainted with his new habitat. And since fish only have a ten-second memory, he was constantly surveying the bowl. "Hmmm...I need to name you something. Let's see...um...um...um...I can't think of anything." She shrugged. "Oh well. You'll just have to be 'Fish' until I can think of something a little more smarter."

Tayden spotted Brianna's door open and peeked in. "What are you doing inside, Bri? What aren't you with everyone else at the midway?" He spotted the fish. "Oh, I suppose you've been to the midway."

Brianna looked in his eyes. "What's wrong?"

"What?"

Brianna laughed. "I'm not a kid. You don't have to talk to me like I'm one. Something's got you nervous. I noticed Grissom was like that when I came in. You're both acting like parents that want the kids out of the house. What's got you on edge?"

Tayden didn't answer at first. Brianna realized something very serious was going on. "I'm sure you want to go with Leslie and help out with the festival."

"Tayden," said Grissom on Tayden's communicator. Brianna turned her head so she could hear better. "I've got a buddy from the RAF online, seems they've already been digging on Merlin's new posse...I've got some other sources that can corfirm the new group."

Brianna looked at Tayden. "The Strikeforce is back?"