RKMBs Forums .::Important::. Writer's Block Vanguard: MURDER MYSTERY!

"Adem! We've missed you!" Banshee wrapped her arms around the alien, knocking him slightly off balance.

"Damn alien's a chick magnet." Icarus pouted.

"So I've noticed." Tommy Foxe muttered under his breath.

Victor Reilly merely smirked a bit, glancing over at Banshee's rearend.

Edmund Gaunt walked over into a side corner of the room and melted into one of the shadows.

"While we're waiting, I got us some refreshments!" Brute Force returned to the living room, carrying a cooler filled with beer on one his broad shoulders.

As Jeff walked over to grab a beer from the cooler, he vanished in a burst of white light. "What the hell was that?" Brute Force wondered, scratching his head as Robo Squirrel zoomed around the room, scanning for the vanished man.

"Hell, if I know? Adem?" Drake asked, all eyes turning towards Different.

"Oh, what? Me? Since I'm alien, I automatically know what's going on, right?" Adem looked pleased as punch at this, which probably meant that he wasn't, not that his teammates really knew. "I'm a detective, not a scientist. . .Jym!" He screamed into his comlink.

<Yawwwnnnn. . .Good morning, Adem.>

"Jym, what just happened here?" Adem asked, growing excited.

<What just happened where?> The AI responded.

"Here! On the island, this man was here and now he's gone and we don't understand why."

<Ohhhh, that. Funny, isn't it? >

"Jym, I'm going to infect you with all sorts of nasty viruses when we get back. . ."

<It was probably a temporary flux in the timeline. Possible side effect of subspatial travel. I must remember to ask Will about this.>

"Will?" Phil asked, walking back into the room after checking his email. Again.

<Doctor Paragon.>

"Right. . .right. . .Can we get on with this?" Grissom finally proclaimed.

"Hey," Banshee looked around the room. "Wasn't Ozzy here a second ago?"

"Pigeon?" asked Montag. "Remember wot I said about the fourth wall?"

"No," said Brianna. She looked thoughtful for a moment before her eyes lit up. "Oh." She winked at Montag. "Right..."

Victor turned to Phil. The telepath was eyeing the British assassin cooly. "So. You're a telepath."

"Among other things," said Phil. He raised an eyebrow. "You're an interesting subject yourself."

Then I'm sure you've already seen the images in my head. "Believe me, it's not the first time I've heard that."

"I would say so. It's kind of interesting, really. Everyone gives off certain brainwaves and signals. Brute Force's excitement practically gives off lightning. Brianna's primitive brain dominates when she's scared. Back when Ozzy was on the team...I could almost hear him singing the theme to Rocky to himself." Phil smirked. "It's like I can see a faint 'karma' around everyone. The epitome of their inner personality. But you? No 'karma'. I can read your louder thoughts, I could probe you mind if I wanted to, but no outer aura. You're incomplete, my friend."

"Incomplete?" Victor shrugged. "Or maybe I'm not loaded down with extra baggage."

"I'm not surprised Paragon made you head hancho," said Grissom to Drake. "I heard the team practically flocks to you."

Drake blushed and looked down. "Yeah, it is kind of weird. I mean, I didn't want to be the sort of leader that got a ego trip every time we went on a mission. I never wanted to be the prick leader that bullied everyone into fighting."

Grissom nodded to the shadows in the corner. "I find it hard to believe anyone could bully him into doing anything."

Drake laughed. "True enough. But I can't descibe what goes on. It's not like I'm constantly giving order. It's more like...like I'm setting up the chesspieces..."

"...and then letting them unleash their own weapons," finished Montag.

"Exactly." Drake leaned over slightly passed Montag and noticed Brianna was talking to Adem. "So things are going well with the 'pigeon'?"

Montag smirked for a moment. "Watch it, buster. She only lets me call her that." He shrugged. "I think things are going well." The ex-mercenary gave a cold stare to Drake. He telaported another drink into his hand. "Not that I've gone soft or anythin'."

Drake grinned and took a sip of his own drink. "Not till hell freezes over. To leadership -- may the friends we lead to battle --"

"--forgive us if we feck things up," said Grissom, grinning.

"Scan incomplete."

"I will not ask you again," said Guant. Robo Squirrel's lasers criss-crossed over Gaunt's body, and he sneered every time they ran along his face. He was obviously restraining himself from blasting the robot into pieces. "Go away."

"Robo Squirrel is attempting to reconfigure settings. Please wait for a moment while Robo Squirrel resets scanners."

"You asked for it," said Guant. Instantly a thin black shadow crept from behind Guant. It wrapped itself around the robotic rodent before pulling Robo Squirrel into a shadows.

"Robo Squirrel does not require THAT close of a loo--" The rodent was tossed into the shadows. Guant smirked.

Icarus walked towards Guant. "I saw you do that."

Guant turned his head toward the pilot. "You want to join him?"

Icarus took a step closer. "I use to think you were completely scary. Now I just think you're just mean." He walked away, looking for some more drinks.

"I... I can't... I can't find any word for what I have just heard!" shouted Graviton slamming his open hand over the desk in the communication center of the Strikeforce satellite. "You behave just like we have found Merlin did! Coercing them into helping us in that way! And who made you leader? Who said you can take decisions like that on your own?"

Hero's expression hardened, and then suddenly mellowed up. "It was a decision of the moment. I saw how hostile toward us they were, and we need their help... you know that. Plus, the Strikeforce as an institution has a lot to be forgiven by then, but if they don't meet us, they would never trust us, even if we clear up their name with the UN as of now. And in any case, I will take all the blame for that."

Graviton's eyebrows raised up, in a surprised face. "I didn't think that... but still, I am sure it would be better to cease the tricks and the blackmailing..."

Hero frowned. "There is more... among Merlin's files there is nothing about my brother and the Vanguardian with the skull face" lied the young powerhouse. "That man is still wanted by the International Court for what he did to my brother... or, better, for what Merlin showed the world of what he supposedly did. It's a fact that deserves to be investigated... after all, it could be just another lie."

"We can't give them temporary freedom, and then apprehend him once he set foot here, Brandon! What kind of behaviour would be that?" said Graviton, horrorified by the line of though of Hero.

The New Zealander Strikeforcer raised the open hands. "No, no, what do you think? I was simply talking of working next to him, and asking him and the others that should have been present there... like that Baxter... I want to hear their version of the facts... after all, we know just what Merlin said to us."

Graviton shook his head. "And obviously you want to be the one that will investigate... you, the brother of the first Hero, believe to have the unpartial vision to judge his supposed killer? I don't think it would be wise, son, to let you work near those metas..."

BLAM!

It was the open hand of hero to slam over the desk, this time. And, this time, the desk broke, the two halves going to opposite side of the room.

The young superhero raised his index finger just under the nose of the German size-altering professor. "Don't even think to keep me far from those freaks, August! One of them maybe killed my brother, and I want to know!"

Graviton looked dismayed at Hero, which was leaving the room. "How that man had changed in the last months?" wondered Von Braun, remembering the shy young when he first arrived on the satellite more than half a year before.

Hero turned, just before crossing the door. "It's time! Call those Vanguardians and beam them up!"

A vibration and a loud humm signalled the teleportation device was working. Seconds later, a group composed of most of both Vanguards faded into the open space in the middle of the teleportation room.

The Vanguardians found themselves surrounded by several teleportation tubes, perhaps twenty. The more curious ones noticed there was a circular base like the one on the top and bottom of every tube on both the ceiling directly above the group and the floor below their feet, that turned the center of the room into one big teleportation device, surely reserved for situations like these. The rest of the team was looking at their host in front of them.

"Hello," the purple costumed man said, "my name is Brian Dead. Welcome to the Strikeforce 3's Space Station. 'The Station' for short."

"Hello," Brute Force said, waving hello.

"Uh, are you reading from that piece of paper?" Tommy asked.

Brian froze. He looked down at his piece of paper. It said nothing about what to say in case of questions not regarding the Station's many advantages, like its ample restrooms, handicapped bathrooms, and fully-equiped cafeteria. "Hello, my name is--"

"You already said that," Drake said. "Take us to your leader, please."

Brian flipped the piece of paper (fold-in brochure would be a better way to describe it). "Please follow me and I'll take you to the meeting room, where the rest of the mighty Strikeforce awaits you." With that he exited the room, and the rest of the people in it followed.

"Huh..." Phil said, looking at the installations as he walked, not the least bit impressed by what he saw. "I imagined something more... advanced."

"Yeah, our old headquarters was better equiped than this joint..." Griss added.

"Well, to be fair to them, it's not exactly an easy task to build something that could be compared to our old headquarters," Phil said, before letting out a long sigh full of nostalgia.

Bri lightly punched him in the back of his shoulder. "All right, all right! It was great, we get it! Stop making me feel bad!"

"Don't make me take you down, Philly..." Griss said.

"Yeah, we didn't build this anyways," Brian, looking back at Phil. "This is an abandoned Soviet Station the UN gave us."

Phil rolled his eyes. "Well, that explains it..."

The team reached the meeting room where, quite apropiately, they met the a larger part of the Strikeforce, to make a lame pun. Hero, Graviton, Freak and ACK were.

"Welcome to our humble base of operations," Graviton said. "I know you haven't had good experiences with other incarnations of our team, but I'm hoping we can leave that in the past and work together in this case," he said, offering a hand to whoever took it.

Drake immediatly stepped forward and shook hands with the German scientist. "I'm willing to give you guys an oportunity, and I think I speak for the rest of the team." Graviton smiled. "However, we've agreeded to never let our guard down until we fully trust you. I'm sure you understand."

"We do," Hero said. "Now, please take a seat... Let's get to business."

After putting all the facts in the table, the group finally came to the following conclusion.

"We don't know shit."

"Brian, stop playing with the uber-computer monitor!" Hero yelled. "So, getting back on topic, here's what we got: three murders, all executed differently, with no apparent relation between the victims, joined by nothing but these..."



"It couldn't possibly be a coincidence..." Adem commented. "The clues are made from the same kind of paper and are all the exact same size. I don't think that the fact that each one of the murders happened in the 'area' of each one of the teams is a coincidence either... Someone wants us to work together, for s--"

*BEEP BEEP*! Adem's comm device started sounding. "Uh, I'm sorry..." *BEEP BEEP*! "Ian? This better be important..."

"It sure is, Adem, mate!" came Ian's voice from the small speaker. "Remember how you asked me to run tests on the victim's blood to see if she was a meta?"

"Well, yes," Adem said. "Was she?"

"No, not really... But, stay with me. I took, just in case, samples of blood from other parts of the crime scene... and guess what?"

{WHAT?!} came an excited little voice from Adem's wrist.

"The blood on the wall... it belonged to a meta."

"Could you be a little more specific? There was plenty of blood staining the wall..."

"I mean the blood forming the letters. All of it comes from a meta!"

Adem rubbed his chin. "Hmmm..."

"Are you telling us that he wrote all that. . .on the wall. . .with his own blood?!" Drake looked disgusted. Or confused. Or both. Sometimes with Drake you couldn't tell.

"That's what I'm telling you, mate. Sharp one, aren't ye?" Mcgregor's voice crackled over the speaker.

"Were there any unusual samples in her body, Dr. Mcgregor?" Drake suddenly snapped to attention, focusing on something Tommy Foxe had said earlier that day.

"Like wot? Drugs? Why would you think she was on drugs? What are you saying?" Mcgregor's voice became very high pitched and fast paced, his accent making him almost unintelligible.

"No, no," Drake shook his head. "I was thinking more like a specimen of something. . .bodily fluids perhaps. I don't know. It was just a thought."

"I could look again, if ye like." Mcgregor seemed to calm down again.

"Please do, and send what you find to Tommy Foxe. He'll be checking another lead for us."

****************************
"So, your name is Brian Dead?" Grimm asked, startling the Strikeforce member.

"GAH!" Came Brian Dead's response. "Er, uh, I mean, yeah." Brian looked down at the floor nervously.

"Like the gang members we fought earlier today. . ." Grimm rubbed his skinless chin with the tips of his fingers. The metal of his gauntlets making an odd noise against the bone.

"You. . .met them? The Dead?" Brian asked, looking up.

"Oh, yeah. Tracked them all the way from the mainland US to La Perdita. We caught a bunch of them. But not all."

"Oh." Brian answered, looking out one of the large windows, towards Earth."

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

"You see, it's a Z, a Q, and a P. Obviously the killer is spelling out a word for us. Or perhaps jumping down the alphabet. I'm not sure." Graviton stated, looking at the letters in front of them.

"Are you sure, mate?" Grissom asked. "I mean, wot if he's just leadin' us around by the nose and it doesn't mean anything."

"I very much doubt that." Graviton answered. "All killers of this type are obsessive compulsives. They leave signatures whether they mean to or not. They can't help themselves."

Phil Smith was silent. He stared at the letters in front of him as Montag and Graviton talked. Something bothered him. Mentally, his mind raced, jumping from person to person in the mentalsphere, racing down wires of thought, conscious and unconscious, until he found what he looking for. With a smile, he reached onto the table and turned the last letter completely around, so that it was not a P which stood in front of them, but a d.

"What are you doing?" Graviton asked.

"Playing a hunch." Phil answered unemotionally. "I knew I'd seen something like this before, but I just couldn't remember. It sparked a trace of memory in me. . .something. . .something. I couldn't remember what so I did a quick mental search. That," He said, pointing at the d. "Is the first letter in a band logo. The Doors. Famous for their lead singer's drug use and obsession with, among other things, killers."

"Yeh, killer on the road. . .doo doo doo doo.. .something. . ." Grissom half spoke-half sang. "So you're telling us our killer's a music fan?"

"Why not?" Phil answered, folding his arms across his chest. "Stranger things have happened to us. . .much stranger. . ."

Susie Evans is 11 eleven years old, and she doesn't like her new life. Ever since her mother, Joan, married her boyfriend, a very tall sir called Will Chamberlain, they've been living with her "new family" in their giant house. Will (or "Daddy", as Susie's mom insists she calls him) is okay, though not particularly expressive. For Susie, the problem are her new brother and sister.

Her sister, Rachel, is 15, and hardly ever talks to Susie. In fact, most of the time she doesn't even acknowledge the girl's existance. Following her mother's advice, Susie has tried being nice to Rachel on several occasions, but that only seems to make things worse. If Susie ever talks to Rachel, she goes from completely ignoring her to being overly aggressive in a matter of seconds. The last time this happened, one day during breakfast, Rachel took Susie's doll Petunia and threw her out the window and down to the house's garden. Susie didn't say anything about this to her mother or to Will, because if she did then Rachel would hate her forever, and, since Susie is scared of the giant garden, Petunia is probably still lying somewhere between the bushes, unless one of the dogs found her and chased her around the grass for days and days.

Her brother, Johnny, is even worse. He's 12 and does nothing but mock Susie all day long, or at least so it seems. Sometimes his attention is distracted by something else for a while, but he always comes back to annoy Susie sooner or later. He calls her names, repeats her words, and even throws her small things sometimes. Susie gets the impression that annoying her is the first thing Johnny does in the morning, because every single day she's waken up very early not by the sound of an alarm clock or the loving voice of her mother, but by the screaming of her new brother as he enters her room and starts running around only to annoy her.

This is why Susie thinks it's weird that, when she opened her eyes a few moments ago, she saw the numbers 11:54 in the electronic clock in her night table.

As Susie walks out of her new room, still dressed with her pajamas, hoping she's not in some sort of trouble for over-sleeping, she notices that the house is very quiet, even quieter that it is on Sundays and days like that. Then she remembers it's a school day, and she realizes she's definitely in troubles for not waking up to go to school. Everyone's probably away at work or school, and they left her alone in the house as punishment for what she did (or didn't do, she's not really sure).

But what if they're all just sleeping, Susie thinks? Maybe everyone overslept like she did. Both Rachel and Johnny's doors are open, but Susie doesn't want to go in and check if they're there, because if they're still asleep and she wakes them up they would get really angry at her. So she decides to walk up the stairs to her mother's room and see if she and Will are there. If they're still sleeping and she wakes them up, they'll probably be very grateful to her for saving the day.

As Susie walks up to her mother's room, she fails to notice the little red drops on the expensive carpet that covers the stairs. When she reaches the room, however, the red staining the carpet, the walls, and, more importantly, the master bed's sheets, is a lot more difficult to miss, and, indeed, it paints a view Susie won't forget for quite some time.

“We got something,” Graviton said, breaking the tension that filled the room by replacing it with something worse.

“Damn...” Grimm said.

“It would be foolish to expect the killer to stop now,” Gaunt said. “We were waiting for him to strike so we could act as soon as possible, so let us put the grieving aside and concentrate in finding the criminal.”

“Who was the victim this time?” Drake asked.

“Victims,” Graviton corrected. “A family in New England. Girl woke up to find her adoptive father, brother and sister dead. Her mother was in shock...”

“She was raped,” Hero added. “The cops found this in the crime scene...” Hero showed a printed page with a scanned picture in the middle.



“I just called our UN liason...” he continued. “They're pulling some strings to clear the way for us to check the scene.”

“Let's go, then,” Drake said.

A subteam was formed, and a few teleportations away they were at the doorstep of the small mansion where the killings took place. “The lock was picked,” Adem said.

The detective standing on the doorway laughed. “Did ya figure out that one all by yourself, pal?”

Adem looked at him and smiled. “I was just thinking out loud, Detective Brunson.”

Brunson looked at the gang behind Adem. “So this is the 'special group' they asked us to clear the way for...” he shook his head. “Why don't you metas just let us do our jobs? TV says you Strikeforce types are normal folk... but I know better.”

“You'll have your chance to examine the crime scene after we've left, Detective,” Adem said. “This won't take very long.”

“Care to tell us what you've found so far?” Phil asked. Please say no.

The detective sighed and walked from the doorway to the entrance hall, as he took a small notepad from his coat's pocket and opened it somewhere near the middle. “First of all... the lock was picked... but The Bat-Man here already knew that, din't ya?” he said with a cynic chuckle.

As the detective talked, Adem seemed more concentrated with visually examining the inside of the house from where he was standing in the entrance hall...

“Place's big as you can see, Daddy was loaded, but they had no help around the house 'cept a gardener that comes on mondays,” the detective continued. “Yeah, I know. Beats me.”

In front of Adem, there was a not so wide but very tall wall with several expensive things decorating it, including antiques, African masks of all sorts, and colorful ceramics. A small table by the wall showed equally expensive small decorations. The floor was cream white ceramic.

“Guy used cheap boots, we know that 'cause of the faint imprint on the tiles. He goes from the doorway to the first door over there...”

To his right, Adem could see a hall with three open doors, the first with a small wooden pink sign in the shape of a heart hanging from it...

“Then to the second...”

...the second with several posters, a “DO NOT ENTER” one being the most prominent...

“...he ignores the rest...”

...and the third door with nothing at all. At the end of the hall there was a doorway that quite visibly led to a kitchen.

“...and goes up the stairs.”

To his left, Adem could see a set of spiralling carpeted stairs that led to a single opened door.

“Anyways, the vics were killed in their sleep by multiple stab wounds. The rooms weren't disturbed in any other way, except for... you know, the rape. When he was done he just walked out the door. Some piece o' work we got here.”

Adem looked back at Brunson. “Where are the survivors?”

“'round the back with a shrink and some of my guys. Kid told us everything she saw, but the woman ain't talking. Still in shock.”

Phil nodded, to no one in particular. “I'm on it.” He turned around and walked out to the garden.

“Oh, yeah...” the Detective added. “We were getting to the garden when word came that we shouldn't touch shit so you can do your thing. There's probably nothin' there, but ya never know.” He started walking towards the entrance door. “Lemme know when you're done here so the grown ups can do their job, 'kay?”

“Will do, Detective Brunson,” Adem said with another disturbing smile.

It hit the detective just as he was walking out the door: how did the 'dirty meta' know his name if he didn't introduce himself? “Well, I'll be damned...” he said to himself “...maybe he ain't that bad...”

“This is the woman,” the cop said to Phil, showing him the visibly disturbed thirty-something woman sitting on the back seat of one of the police cars with the door open and her feet on the street. Her arms were closed and she shivered from time to time, which was probably why there was a blanket on her shoulders that made her look like she had just escaped a fire, when the truth was even worse.

Phil walked up to her and crouched in front of the woman. He closed his eyes, though he didn't really need to.

Joan? My name is Phil. Please don't be scared, I'm here to help.

The woman didn't show any kind of reaction.

I know you don't want to think about what happened, but if you do that just one more time you'd be helping us find the person who did this.

No reaction.

Do it for your daughter, Joan. She'll feel safer when we find this... I woke up to some strange movements and noises. My husband moves a lot during sleep, you know, so I didn't think much of it at first... he wakes me up every night. I knew something was wrong when I heard the muffled screaming. When I opened my eyes all I could see was blood. He was already dead. The first thing he did when he saw me looking at him was put his hand over my mouth, just like he did to Will. I didn't have time to scream. He had plastic gloves on... Can you describe him? He was wearing a black and white suit... mostly white. He was very careful not to stain it when he moved. His face... His face was demonic, but... strangely familiar.... His eyes were big and white and he had a dreadful white smile full of pointy teeth... the face was mostly red and blue and... and... It's okay, Joan. You've given me enough. Thank you.

Phil opened his eyes and stood up.

“See? I told you...” the cop said. “She's not talking.”

“She doesn't need to,” Phil replied.

Suddenly something odd in the garden caught his eye. One of the family dogs, tearing apart something made out of painted wood. But it wasn't what the dog was chewing what caught Phil's attention... but what it had in its mouth. Blood.

“Shit...” Phil said when he noticed the trail of blood in the grass that went from near where the dog stood to the street. He carefully followed it, and found it disappeared in the middle of the street. “I wonder what Adem makes of this...”

"He killed only the man and his offspring," Adem looked up as he contemplated. "The wife and stepchild were allowed to live."

"He knew about the family," Grissom chimed in with disgust in his voice.

"We can theorize that he knew all of his victims. To what extent, I'm not sure. He obviously knew Cavalli's routine to pre-plan the attack using a third party." The alien stood stareing at the body of the man laying in his bed. "He knew which children were Will Chamberlain's biological offspring. He knew Emma Sigfried was going to be staying at a residence that isn't her primary home. And he knew Merlin enough to not only get on board the Space Station, but to get close enough to shoot him right in the head."

"What's the connection?" Graviton asked, trying to keep from looking into the bedroom.

"Little if any," Different answered. "Method of attack is only similar in two instances, but one was perpetrated by someone other than our mastermind. Alternate murder weapons, no link between victims, two females compared to four males. The only pattern is with the pieces of paper. The only clues except for the message in Berlin."

"Has that Scottish bloke finished playing with that blood sample?" Grissom asked. He tried his best to keep his mind off the scene in front of him.

"No. He's trying to determine whether there's enough of a sample to trace the effects the gene has on the body. If we know what our murder can do, maybe we can catch him."

Graviton stepped out of the room and into the hall. "Seems like all he wants to do is make fools of us. Probably laughing at us as we speak."

"More than likely," Adem agreed. A buzzing noise came from his arm.

{Have I got something for you.} Jym's face said with a smile.

"Show it to me," Different commanded.

{Say please.}

"No."

{Um... well, okay. I did those cross references you asked for on those symbols with the new parameters. Bang Bang and the first symbol brought up this:}



{A musician known as David Bowe performed under the character name of Ziggy Stardust in the 1970's. Get this. He was supposed to have been and alien or something. Silly humans. The song Bang Bang was not released until 1987, well after the persona was dropped.}

"So he is a music fan after all, eh?" Montag ran his thick fingers through his hair.

{I also found these entries with everything else you gave me.} A conical beam of light emitted from the screen and formed a rotating triangle of floating, holographic pictures.





"How did you get these?" Graviton moved closer to examine the images. "Some sort of top dollar government database?"

{Google.}

Phil ran up the stair and came to a halt at the bedroom door upons seeing the holgraphic projection. "Neat," he said to himself.

"Grissom," Adem said turning to the ex-theif and handing him a spatial transducer, "I need you to go to Isla de la Luna Roto."

Graviton turned to Phil, who had moved up next to the Strikeforcer. "Isla de la Luna Roto? What they hell is there?"

Smith rubbed his neck a little uneasily. "Mick."

Grissom felt uneasy. Why did they choose him for this mission? He wasn't Mick's best friend... In fact, I can't even remember if they were even in the team at the same time.

But the truth was, he felt uncomfortable because, close friend or not, Mick was still a teammate, and part of him (a very big part) felt bad about coming to the Mental Clinic for Metahuman in the Island of the Broken Moon with such a difficult mission.

These were the thoughts in his mind as he walked through the clinic's cafeteria, when...

"Grissom?" The former thief turned around and saw a familiar face.

"Shirley!" Montag said as he opened his arms to greet the former secretary of Vanguard International that ran towards him.

"What are you doing here?!" Shirley said as she hugged Griss.

"Oh, eh..." after a pleasant moment Grissom remembered why he was so uncomfortable with this mission. "Just checkin' on Mickey, y'know? I was in the neighboarhood..."

"Well, come here, seat!" Shirley said, pulling Grissom to her table. "I haven't seen any one of you guys for months... We have a lot of catching up to do."

Ten minutes later...

"You and Bri?!?" Shirley exclaimed. Grissom was glad she had already swallowed her coffee.

"Yep."

"I mean..." Shirley looked at him as if he'd just told her that Grimm went to a Justin Timberlake concert "You and Bri?!?! What happened to Tayden?"

"Who?" Griss said with a smile full of satisfaction. "But enough 'bout me. Can we go see Mick?"

"Well... You can see him, but he can't see you."

"What d'you mean?"

Shirley looked down at her coffee. "His treatment demands that he stays in a semi-comatose state for months... Maybe years."

"What?" Griss replied, a bit shocked. "Shir, I'm so sorry..."

"Oh, don't worry about him. He's in some sort of dream state..." She smiled for a second. "Who knows what's going on inside that crazy head right now?"

"So... he hasn't left the clinic any time recently, I'm guessing."

"No, that'd be impossible."

But Grissom still wondered... "How's anything impossible for Mick, tho?"

"He's still 'just' a meta. I'm not supposed to mention this to anyone, but... They're giving him a secret drug that inhibits meta powers. It's highly experimental and only exists in this hospital, but it sure does work."

"What about Ktl...?" Grissom thought out loud. "Uh, I mean, I seem to remember Mick telling Grimm that Ktl was still out there somewhere and that he'd be avaliable if the bastard ever came back... right?"

"Oh, God, we should have told you guys about that..." Shirley took her hand to her cheek. "Mick and his therapist realized in the first part of his treatment that Ktl was actually Mick's brother Karl... This was before the effects of the drug started to kick in, so the shock of the realization made Mick teleport himself to his brother's house... He found Karl dead by his own hand, with our wedding invitation in his hand."

"That's bloody horrible..."

"Yeah, but at least it means Ktl won't be a problem anymore... if Mick is sure Ktl's dead, then he's dead."

"That's good to know."

Shirley lowered her glasses and looked at Grissom. "Griss... What's going on here? What are you not telling me?"

Grissom stood up and placed his hand on Shirley's shoulder. "Nothin', luv... Nothin' for you or Mick to worry about. Trust me. I wish you guys the best... And you hang in there, I know you're strong. He'll be back in no time, you'll see."

She smiled again. "Bye, Grissom. It was nice seeing you."

"Nice seein' you too" Grissom huged her again, then walked away in a rush.

"Nice guy, that Griss..." Shirley said to herself.

Phil walked slowly from the road back towards the garden, following the trail of blood. He wondered what it meant, and why it ended so abruptly. One would expect the blood to slowly trail off, not just... stop. Theories raced through his brain.

"Eewww... beep." Robo Squirrel said, approaching Phil.

Phil looked up. "Hey, guys," He said. Robo Squirrel and Victor Reilly had appeared next to him.

"Robo Squirrel detects trace amounts of a fuckload of blood."

"It's just blood," Victor replied. "Surely you've seen it before."

"Well, there's not usually this much..." Phil answered, his eyes following the trail back to the house. His eyes lingered for a moment on the woman sitting in a police car, wrapped in a blanket. He quickly looked away when she looked up and met his eyes.

"It's terrible, what happened to this family..." Phil said. His voice was choked up for a moment, as he remembered the vivid mental imagery he'd gotten from the mother.

Victor watched Phil react. He'd initially been shocked by the incident, yes. But that had since subsided. Now he saw looks on his teammate's faces that he guessed translated to sorrow, to empathy, to vengefulness.

"It happens," Victor finally said, shrugging. He walked off to find Adem.

A moment later Adem was approached by Victor, and then by Robo Squirrel and Phil.

"What do you make of this?" Phil asked, pointing at the blood trail on the road. Adem walked towards it, a curious expression on his face.

"Did you get a description from the woman?" Adem asked Phil as they walked.

Phil projected the mental image he'd gained into Adem's mind. Plastic gloves, black and white suit, demonic face, white eyes.

"What about the hair? You get anything on the hair?" Adem asked.

Phil stopped in his tracks, picturing the image in his mind. "No. There's just... a white void where the hair should be."

Adem nodded, and kept walking, stopping when he reached the point on the road where the trail stopped.

"What do we think? Flight? Teleportation?" Phil asked.

"Not sure yet..." Adem replied.

Meanwhile, back at VE headquarters, Ozzy Baxter was sitting on the couch with a beer, watching the soccer on television.

"God, I'm bored..." He said to himself. "I'll bet those other guys are out doing something interesting..."

*Written by Mxy, with minor additions by Grimm


Phil and Grimm decided to take a walk around the town to see if they found anything suspicious. Maybe the killer was badly hurt and stopped to rest somewhere. Hero insisted in coming along. It seemed logical that the killer would flee to the poorer parts of town, since people there in general 'don't
see anything', so they went that way.

“I understand that you killed the former bearer of my name,” Hero finally said, interrupting the somber silence of the walk.

“Yeah, well,” Grimm replied, “I'm guessing you now know that the guy wasn't as good as the media painted him...”

“I know that now, yes,” Hero nodded, a sad expression in his face. “He was also my brother.”

“I didn't know that,” Grimm said. “That doesn't make me regret what I did, though. He was a criminal, just like that whole Strikeforce.” Hero looked down and said nothing. “If it's any comfort... you seem to have turned out a lot better than your brother.”

“Thanks,” Hero faintly said. He wanted to forgive this man, he really did... He knew it was the right thing to do, but he just couldn't do it. Brandon Mullarney's face contorted in pain, anger, and confusion. He looked up at the former Vanguardian next to him.

"Listen," Grimm stopped him before he could start. "Your brother was in the act of killing a teammate of mine. We were in the midst of a war, do you understand? The Strikeforce invaded a country we were bound by an obligation to protect at that time. It was kill or be killed. Your brother. . ." Grimm paused for a moment, "Your brother would not have hesitated to do the same. The difference is. . .he would've done it without the extreme circumstances."

Rationally, Mullarney knew this was true. But emotionally, he wanted to speak up, to throw these accusations back in this person's. . .face. Or what passed for one. "How do you know these things? How can you? What. . .are you? You're not a metahuman. . .what are you?"

"I am the shatterer of worlds." was Grimm's only reply.

The three men continued walking in silence for a while.

Suddenly Grimm stopped walking. The others were a bit ahead of him, so they didn't notice. Grimm turned around and looked at the street around him. It seemed completely empty... but he couldn't help feeling there was something
strange about it. They had walked for some time now, and reached a not particularly classy part of town. All he could see was trash cans and a dirty alley. The only thing that seemed out of the ordinary was the piece of black wood lying on the street. It was a stick, maybe some sort of cane.

Following nothing but an irrational hunch, Grimm bent over to pick it up. It was a cane, topped off with an ornate, silver skull. As soon as he touched the piece of wood, his hunch was confirmed when a familiar blue energy erupted from the can and traveled back and forth between it and his hand.

“This is fucked up...” Grimm said, looking at the now glowing cane in his hands.

He looked down to the street and saw something even stranger: there was a small black arrow painted where the cane used to be. Grimm saw Hero and Phil were already a block ahead of him. They didn't seem to notice he stopped
walking, so they wouldn't mind if he disappeared for a second.

Grimm followed the arrow through the alley, and when he got to the other side he saw another arrow below him, this time pointing to an abandoned building.

“I think I smell a trap...” Grimm said. He grabbed his axe and walked into the building without hesitating. “Let 'em come.”

******************
“Where's Grimm?” Hero asked.

“He was just here...” Phil replied. They turned around to see if he had stayed behind, but there was no sign of the big guy. “He probably went for a hot dog.”

“This is not normal...”

“Ah, leave him alone, he's a big boy,” Phil said. “Besides, he's Grimm. What could possibly put him in danger? Don't sweat it.”

And that's when they heard it: a loud explosion...

...followed by the sound of a building crumbling...

*Also by Mxy

Hero lifted a giant piece of rubble, the twentieth in only about
fifteen minutes. “No sign of him. I can't see him anywhere.”

Phil knew he was telling the truth... and he also knew Hero didn't have anything to do with whatever happened to Grimm, though he did sense conflicting emotions regarding him inside the New Zealand Strikeforcer. “I can't feel him anywhere near here, either. We better go back and tell the others...”

******************************
The last thing Grimm remembered was a building crumbling on him. Few things could take him down. A building crumbling on him was one. At least, temporarily. The first thing he saw after coming back to self was almost complete darkness. He was lying on some sort of metal bed, looking up to a dark ceiling. He could see something moving back and forth several feet above him, making a pendulum-like
sound, but he couldn't tell what it was because of the darkness and the distance.

Very soon he found out that he couldn't move his arms or his legs: a very strong kind of metal strapping him to the bed, combined with his current weakened state, were to thank for that.The only light in the room came from a small lamp near his 'bed'. Since the rest was completely dark, he couldn't tell how big the place was.

“Hello?” his voiced echoed for about ten seconds. This was a very big place.

“Hello,” a male voice replied.

“Who's there?” Grimm asked. “Could you give me a hand? I'm in a bit of a situation...”

“I know,” the man said, walking closer to Grimm but not enough to be illuminated by the lamp. “I put you in that situation.”

If Grimm had eyeballs, he would have rolled them. “Figures.”

“Ha. You're taking this awfully well for someone facing death.”

“Well, you know what they say... After the first time it kinda loses it's novelty,” Grimm replied very calmly. “Not to be nitpicky, but technically you're facing Death, in case you didn't get the memo, so when I get outta here I'll kick your ass to another dimension. Maybe you're the one who should be worried, ya know?"

“Oh, but there is something that could hurt you, my Skull Faced friend... You'll realize what it is soon enough, I don't want to spoil the surprise.”

“Whatever,” Grimm said, still keeping his cool. “So, who hired you? I get guys like you after me every so often... I give you props for being the most articulate one, though.”

“You still don't realize what this is, do you? This should clarify
things a bit more... It's a little something for your friends, once they find you.”

The man walked up to Grimm, always careful to keep his face in the shadows, and placed a piece of paper in the Death Avatar's chest.



“You.” Grimm said.

“Moi.” the man replied. “I'll leave you alone now, if you don't mind... I've got a busy day coming. Ta-Ta, Number 5.”

Grimm heard the footsteps of the man walking away. “Oh! Before I go, a little advice...”

In that precise moment Grimm happened to realize that the thing hanging from the ceiling like a pendulum was actually approaching him more every second. It was now close enough for him to realize what it was..."Shit." It was the only thing he could think of to say.

“Careful with that Axe, Grimm.”

Grissom was locked in a bathroom stall trying to work the spatial transducer Adem had given him to get back to the murder scene. Between the road he had to walk to get from the docks where he first 'landed' to Mick's clinic, and the long walk he had to take to find a place with a men's room (he didn't want to teleport in the middle of the street... an old lady in the docks almost had a hear attack when she saw him materialize, and he didn't want any dead grannies in his conscience), this little side mission had taken a lot more time than it apparently should have.

"Ten minutes, he says..." Grissom said to himself under his breath, frantically pushing buttons in the transducer. Adem had explained him how to work the machine, but he was so upset he wasn't thinking clearly. "You'll be right back, he says..."

The ring of Grissom's cellphone interrupted his monologue. He moved his hand towards the side of his head, and when it got there the cellphone was pressed to his ear. He answered it with a loud "WHAT?".

"What...? Hey, Foxe..." Grissom raised an eyebrow, confused. Then his expression changed suddenly to a more alarmed one. "Bri?! My Bri?! Ok, where? I'm there, mate! Thanks!"

Grissom quickly closed his cellphone, teleported it back to his pocket, and returned his attention to the transducer, that he worked in but a few seconds. His vision faded out...

...and faded in on top of a building. He looked around. The place was very spacious and completely empty. No sign of Bri, or whoever was attacking him like Tommy just said.

Suddenly Griss' cellphone started ringing again...

"Hello again, Mr. Montag," the same voice he had heard in his previous conversation said.

Grissom's thoughts returned to what he first thought when hearing the man's voice during the last call... It didn't sound much like the little he heard of Tommy's voice when they met a few hours ago. He stopped thinking about it when 'Tommy' mentioned Bri was in danger. When it came to Brianna, Grissom didn't act rationally. Grissom was now thinking he'd just made a huge mistake. Still holding the phone to his ear, he started moving his free hand...

"Don't even think about it, Mr. Montag," the male voice said. "Stay still."

"Oh, yeah?" Grissom replied. "Or what?"

"You've probably deduced by now that I'm watching you from a nearby building, Mr. Montag. What you probably don't know is that I'm watching you through the visor of a long range sniper rifle."

Grissom said nothing.

"One movement, Mr. Montag... One movement and I'll shoot you."

"What do you want?" Grissom said after a while, careful not to move anything but his mouth.

"I'm afriad you won't get to find out." the voice said. "Right now I just want you to move a single finger or sneeze so I can shoot you. I'd appreciate if you didn't take long... I've got a busy day ahead."

"You're him, aren't you?"

"Brilliant deduction, Mr. Montag. Indeed I am. I'll leave the obligatory clue once you're done."

"Well, Kiefer..." Grissom mocklingly said "You got me on a tight spot now. Isn't it time for you to tell me your master plan, mate?"

"All I'll tell you right now is that I'm smiling... You know what they say... 'First you must learn how to smile when you kill'..."

Steady on, Montag... the Sandcrawler said, standing as perfectly still as he possibly could. You've kept this up for longer than fifteen minutes before during that Mecca theft a few years back. Now, granted, you've been out of practice for a long while, but you should be able to keep this up for a bit longer anyway.

Grissom Montag was in a pickle, to be certain. He'd been in pickles before, mind you, but - for some reason - his mind always seemed to gravitate toward the pickle he was currently in. Odd thing, that.

He wouldn't feel so bad about moving if he knew exactly where the shooter was. If he could guess the trajectory of the bullet, he would feasibly be able to teleport the bullet out of harms way with little to know effort. This killer was smart, though. He knew a thing or two about how Grissom's powers worked... and that was how Grissom had come to be in this pretty little pickle in the first place.

Of course, there was always the possibility that the man was bluffing - that he had no sniper rifle and wasn't really in an adjacent building watching him. Of course, that was an awfully big gamble and, after seeing what had happened to Cavalli and the Chamberlain family... and hearing what had happened with Sigfried and Merlin... well, Montag knew this wasn't the kind of gamble that he could come out on top of.

No... this situation would take cunning and ingenuity. But, fortunately for him, that was the kind of thing that the Sandcrawler did well.

Keep 'im busy, Montag, Grissom thought. Keep 'im talking...

"I take it Brianna's okay," Grissom said, said into his cellphone, trying to keep the man on the other line occupied while he was able to work something out.

"Of course she is, Mr. Montag," came the voice on the other end. "It was all a part of what I like to call 'a clever ruse'..."

"You seem to have planned all this out to the letter, eh?" Grissom asked.

"Oh, indeed," the killer said, "This is not an endeavour one can just waltz into unprepared for. No... this sort of thing is quite an undertaking..."

"I should say so," Grissom said, attempting to concentrate on something in his pocket... without looking like he was attempting to concentrate on something in his pocket. "So, what's with all the classic rock stuff, eh? David Bowie, the Doors, Queen, Pink Floyd... John Lennon. Pretty big fan, I should think, yeah?"

A menacing chuckle sounded from the other end of the line. "You mean you haven't figured that out yet, Mr. Montag?" the killer laughed. "How disappointing. Although, to be frank, I'm amazed you've figured out that much already..."

"Why go through all the trouble of leaving clues if you don't want anyone to figure this out?" Montag said, finally pinpointing exactly what it was he was looking for. "I mean, you're like the goddamn Riddler... only a tad more subtle."

"And much more mysterious, apparently." Grissom could almost hear the man on the other line sneering at him. "This is not a compulsion, Mr. Montag, if that's what you mean. Quite the opposite. This is recreation for me, sir."

"That's kinda sick, mate," Grissom said, 'porting his desired tool into its proper position.

"You have no idea, Mr. Montag," the killer retorted. "You have no idea..."

"No," Grissom said, still holding steady. "But I'm sure I'll find out soon..."

"Oh, really? And how do you propose to do that?"

A slow smirk slid across Grissom Montag's face as his left foot hovered about an inch above the ground... right above Doc Paragon's subspatial inducer.

"Well," Montag said slyly, "one good thing definitely came out of your little ruse, mate."

"And what might that be?"

"I figured out how to work Vanguard Europe's subspatial inducer..."

As soon as these words left his mouth, his foot lowered, depressing the transport button on the inducer. A loud gunshot sounded as the scenery atop the building faded...

...and rematerialized as the refreshing, wholesome landscape of a suburban neighborhood in New England.

Grissom's smile widened as he lifted his foot and looked at the subspatial inducer underneath it. "You, my little beauty," he said, leaning down to pick the gadget up, "are never leaving my side again!"

Slipping the device into his pocket, he made his way for the door of the Chamberlain household.

"Curious..." Adem said, rubbing his hand over his chin thoughtfully.

"I honestly can't see how this makes any sense at all," Phil said. "It doesn't add up. We've got a German callgirl, a random drunk, the head of the United Nations, a normal New England family, and now a Death avatar!"

"Don't forget a British ex-thief..."

The assembled members of Vanguards International and Europe and the Strikeforce turned to see Grissom Montag standing at the door, a bit sweaty and panting like a wild dog.

"Griss!" Phil called out, taking a few steps toward his friend. "What the hell happened?"

"I had a little run in with our mystery killer," the Sandcrawler said, stepping into the room.

That was all it took for the group to erupt into a cacophony of questions.

"...get a look at him?"

"What was his name?"

"...match the description..."

"...up with all those rock..."

"...say where he was keeping Grimm?"

"WHOA!" Grissom said, shoving his arms into the air. "I'm really not at liberty to answer any of those questions right now... because, to be completely honest, I don't know the answers."

"Why not?" Drake asked.

Grissom began to relate the story of what had happened while trying to get Mick out of the Asylum and the following encounter with a man he thought was Tommy Foxe, to the escapade on the rooftop.

"How'd you get out of there?" Hero asked.

"You stepped on the inducer, didn't you?" Adem asked, raising an eyebrow.

Grissom smirked and gave a wink. "I'll never tell."

"Still, Mr. Montag," Graviton chimed in, "even if you are a suspected victim, there's no way of knowing who is doing all of this..."

"Maybe not," Grissom said. "These murders were planned out to the last detail. The killer said so himself. These aren't just some random killings."

"What do you propose, then?" Adem Different asked, crossing his arms across his chest.

"Have Jym run a search on all the victims thus far..." Grissom said. "Sigfried, Cavalli, Merlin, Chamberlain, Grimm, and Montag. See if there is any sort of link between them all..."

"And what about Grimm?" Phil asked. "How do we find him?"

"Well, I'm assuming we've checked his communication device for a homing beacon," Adem said, looking around at each person.

Phil and Hero exchanged confused looks.

"I thought you --"

"Well, I thought --"

Phil buried his head in his hands. "Aw, geez..."

"So are we going?" Victor Reilly asked, pacing back and forth as Grissom and Hero sat in front of the computer.

"What do you care?" Phil asked, sitting on the other side of the room.

"I don't. I'm just bored," Victor answered.

"Fair enough," Phil answered.

"Okay... got it," Hero said, standing up.

"To the rescue!" Robo Squirrel chirped, and sped out the door.

Aboard the Strikeforce transport, Adem Different, Edmund Gaunt, Phil Smith, and Graviton conferred. Various members of Vanguard International, Vanguard Europe, and the Strikeforce were gathered round them.

"One by one, what do we know?" Graviton asked.

"Our killer's a music fan." Phil began.

"Emma Sigfried. Head bashed in with a hammer. The killer wrote "Bang Bang" in large letters on the wall in his own blood. The blood was bright red. What does this mean?" Adem said excitedly.

"The blood was fresh." Phil answered again.

"Meaning?" Adem said, leaning into the VI member with a somewhat creepy smile.

"A metahuman with regenerative abilities." Gaunt answered from the shadows.

"Who is a music fan." Phil said again, stepping back from Adem.

<Search results for songs about bashing someone's brains in with a hammer, oh, effervescent one.> Jym piped in from Adem's wrist.

Adem made a motion that on his world had the same meaning as rolling your eyes and sighing. "Thanks, Jym. What have you got?"

<Maxwell's Silver Hammer sample: Bang! Bang! Maxwell's silver hammer
Came down upon her head.
Bang! Bang! Maxwell's silver hammer
Made sure that she was dead>

"Maxwell's Silver Hammer is a Beatles song." Lykopis offered. "I. . .saw them once or twice."

"Beatles. As in beating someone's head in with a hammer?" Victor Reilly offered.

"Quite." Graviton observed, holding his chin.

"Now the clue to the second murder. . ." Adem began again.

"Rick Cavalli." Phil put forth.

"Yes. . .Cavalli. . .was the first letter of the Ziggy Stardust logo." Adem continued, pacing.

"Gods, Bowie was gorgeous when he was young." Lykopis mused.
". . .What?" She said, noticing everyone looking at her.

"Jym. . .while we're talking, I want you to search the Vanguard files and cross reference the terms metahuman, regenerative abilities, and music lover."

<Right away, your loquaciousness.>

"Jym, do you even know what that word means?"

<Of course I do. I'm offended at the very suggestion that I would use a word that I don't know the meaning of.>

"What does it mean, then?"

<Hey, look at the time, gotta go. . .lotsa work to do. . .>

Meanwhile, Reilly, Phil, and Robo Squirrel were teleported outside the place where Grimm was supposed to be. It was an abandoned hangar near New England.

"Robot Squirrel suggests that we hurry so we don't get there too late to save our teammate," the robotic animal said, hovering ahead of the other two members as they approached the hangar. "Beep."

"The place is huge..." Reilly said. "It will take us a while to find your friend."

"Actually, it's almost completely empty so that wouldn't be a problem," Phil replied. "But we don't have to worry: I've already located Grimm."

"How... Right, telepathy," Reilly seemed slightly annoyed.

"Exactly. And, by the way, I'd stop that bullet before it got anywhere near my head, so I'd start thinking of other scenarios if I were you."

"Oh, I am. They're just coming too fast for you to notice."

"Robo Squirrel hates it when mom and dad fight. Beep."

"Hanging out with Jym didn't do you any good..." Phil commented, rolling his eyes.

The Vanguardians entered the hangar through a side door.

It took Victor and Phil's eyes a bit to adapt to the darkness. They heard Robo Squirrel's buzzing getting ahead of them. He obviously didn't have that problem.

"Grimm? The cavalry is here!" Phil exclaimed. Then he heard the Squirrel's buzz stop.

"There," Reilly said. He grabbed Phil's shoulder and showed him the center of the hangar, where Robo Squirrel, observed Grimm standing still next to a lamp that provided a faint light. He was free from any restraints, but he just stood there looking down and holding his axe with both hands. He looked... off.

As they approached Grimm, Reilly and Phil noticed the remains of a metal bed that lay behind him.

"That's what was holding you?" Phil asked.

"Yes," Grimm replied. "It took me a while to free myself. I just needed a little... motivation."

That's when Phil realized what was different with Grimm. There was a horrifying scar in the middle of his chest, a dark substance resembling blood pouring from it. The same dark substance stained the edge of his axe.

Grimm bent over and picked up a small piece of paper from the floor.



He looked at the paper in his palm for a second, then crushed it by forming a fist.

"I'm done catching my breath," he said in the most disturbing voice anyone in the room had ever heard. "Let's go get this motherfucker."

The four Vanguardians were teleported back to the station, where they found Adem 'thinking out loud' with the help of Jym, in front of all the others, that simply observed with eagerness and curiosity.

{Ziggy Stardust:
So where were the spiders while the fly tried th break our balls?
Just a beer light to guide us
So we bitched about his fans and should we crush his sweet hands?

Ziggy played for time, jiving us that we was voodoo...}

"Voodoo..." Adem repeated. "Metahuman zombies crushed Cavalli's hands. The clue we found in that scene was the logo of the band called 'Queen'... And in the next murder scene..."

{Bohemian Rhapsody:
Mother, just killed a man
Put a gun against his head
Pulled my trigger, now he's dead}

"...Jack Merlin was found shot in the head," Adem contined. "The clue in that murder scene showed the logo belonging to 'The Doors', and in the next murder..."

{The End:
The killer awoke before dawn
He put his boots on
He chose a face from the ancient gallery
And he walked on down the hall

He came into the room where his sister lived, and then he
He paid a little visit to his brother, and then he...
He walked on down the hallway, bay-beee!!!}

"No need to get excited, Jym..."

"{I'm just being loyal to Ian Astbury's interpretation... Jim is dead, and we need to face that and move on, man.}"

Adem nodded slowly, no clue as to what Jym was talking about in his head. "Continue, please..."

{He came to a door
And he looked inside
"Father?"
"Yes, son?"
"I want to kill you"
"Mother? I want to--"}

"I think that's enough," Adem interrupted. "Everything there seems to be consistent with the murder scene. First the daughter, then the son, then the father. The clue in that scene pointed us in the direction of a band called 'Pink Floyd'..."

{One of the early songs is called 'Careful With That Axe, Eugene'. It consists of nothing but a pendulum-like noise raising in intensity, followed near the end of the song by a horrible scream.}

"And that fits Grimm's experience, I'm guessing?" Adem said, looking at the death avatar.

"Accurately," Grimm replied, putting a hand over the now closed but still horribly large scar in his chest. "The clue he left me was a 'J'..."

"Can I see it?" Adem asked.

"Uhhh, no..." Grimm scratched the back of his skull.

"But it doesn't really matter, does it," Grissom added, "'cause we already know he wanted to kill me with a bloody Johnny Lennon song, the bastard..."

{Working Class Hero:
There's room at the top, they're telling you still
But first you must learn how to smile when you kill
If you want to be like the folks on the hill}

"The killer didn't have a chance to leave a clue this time, obviously," Adem said. "So we're back to square one. Even after all we now know we don't know who the killer is, who his next victim will be, or even how he's supposed to kill them..."

{Well, fuck me in the ass and call me Cindy!} Jym exclaimed, completely out of the blue.

"What song is that?!" Brian Dead said.

"...Jym...?" Adem said, raising an eyebrow while he looked down at his wrist, his way of demanding an explanation.

{Uh, sorry... That's what Dr McGregor says when he makes a great discovery...}

Adem just shook his head semi-diagonally, trying to replicate the way humans shook heads the best he could.

{B-Beep...?}

"...just tell us what you found..."

"I still can't believe it," Drake said, he and his teammates waiting while the other teams made preparations. "We didn't know Link for long, but I think I got a good idea of what he was like when we were in the Avaddon."

"We can never fully know other people," Lykopis said, crossing her arms. "Besides, think about it. It all makes perfect sense."

"I know..." Drake said. "I remember he kept humming a Led Zeppelin tune back in the ship. But still..."

"It does make perfect sense," Gaunt added. "I felt his psychic impression in the first murder scene... I couldn't recognize it at the moment, because there was something different. What was once a possitive charge in his persona is now deeply negative. That detail clouded my vision at the time, but there's no mistake now that we know the truth: it is him."

"What I don't get is..." Drake said, "What about the mental image Phil got? The raped woman remembered him as some sort of demon."

"Remember the collection of african masks the Chamberlains had in their house?" Adem asked. "The song Fox based his murder on says that, before commiting the murders, the killer 'chose a face from the ancient gallery'. I think he used one of the masks so the woman wouldn't remember his face. Later he dropped it when one of the dogs bit him in the garden..."

"That explains the piece of painted wood the dog was tearing apart..." Drake said.

"Also," Adem continued, "I recall Phil saying the woman didn't remember the killer's hair, and instead all he saw was a white void... Perhaps Fox's grey hair simply looked white under the lighting conditions at the time of the rape."

ACK walked into the room. "We're all set. You can leave for Amsterdam now..."

The first thing that stroke Drake as he walked into Fox's house was the little security the place had. The reason for this followed very soon: in spite of his wealth, Link Fox lived relatively simply.

After looking around for a bit (the most valuable thing he found was the special edition box set of some Beatles albums), Drake spoke into his communicator: "The house is clear."

"Very well then, off to plan B..." Adem said on the other side.

"Hold on," Drake said.

"What is it?" Adem asked.

"Let me check something..." Drake walked out to the balcony.

"Drake Marshall," Link Fox said, sitting back on a beach chair next to a large pool (apparently the only big luxury he gave himself), wearing a bathsuit, a white shirt, a short sleeved light brown jacket, and a pair of sunglasses. Drake looked at the grin he'd always seen on Link's face, a grin that now, after what he knew, looked more disturbing than anything else he could think of.

"Link Fox. Gerardo Gorm." Drake said.

From the shadows inside a small changing room near the pool came Edmund Gaunt, The Shadow Chancellor.

"Edmund! Long time no see. How ya been?"

Something landed, he didn't know from where, on Link's right. He turned his head and saw the warrior Lykopis standing mere feet from him, holding an imposing sword.

"Milady," Link nodded.

"Don't move," came Adem's voice from behind Link's chair. He didn't need to turn to recognize it.

"Adem? The whole gang's here!" Link exclaimed. "Where's Ikky? Don't tell me you guys fired him..."

"You will stand up, rise your hands, and come with us," Gaunt said.

"This is the worst surprise party ever..." Link rolled his eyes.

Lykopis took a quick step forward and moved her sword to place the edge dangerously close to Link's throat. "You will come with us and you will answer for your crimes, murderer."

"Whoa, whoa, let's not get ahead of ourselves, please!" Link said, raising his hands. "Now, I'm sorry I don't have drinks or apetizers to greet you, but I gave Quentin the day off, plus you kinda caught me by surprise. There's no reason to start calling people names, ok?"

"You want reasons? I'll give you six," Gaunt said. "Emma Sigfried."

"Who...?"

"Richard Cavalli."

"Wait..."

"Jack Merlin."

Link sat up and moved up his glasses. "Jack is dead?" His grin was gone.

"Willian Chamberlain."

"Cham...?"

"John Chamberlain, the fourth"

"Oh, shit..."

"And Rachel Chamberlain." Gaunt looked down at him with despise. "Is that enough for you?"

By now Link had removed his feet from the beach chair and was resting his elbows on his legs while covering his mouth with his hands, as he looked down in horror. "Yes. Yes it is."

"What does this mean, Link?" Drake said. "Please explain this insanity to me."

Link raised his head and looked up to Drake. "It means he's back."

"Who... is back?" Adem asked.

Link sighed, a long and painful sigh that shattered what was left of his relaxed persona. "It started in the 90's. The 1890's, I mean.

"During my missions with the Rogues... I suppose you know of them by now... I travelled the world and explored many places I'm guessing few of you have even heard of. I got plenty of pussy, too, although that's not here nor there." His grin returned for a short moment, only to disappear once he got back to the subject at hand. "After we broke up, for several reason, I continued to travel on my own and had many adventures. My system for finding adventure was following rumours and fantastic stories, that led me to meet strange places and stranger people.

"But without a doubt, the stranger one of the stories I heard was the one about myself. I heard it constantly: a person of my exact same characterisitics, minus my charming personality, terrorizing people like a savage. What was stranger was that I heard the story in places oceans apart one from the other. Finally, I followed one of the leads and found this individual. Indeed, he was a savage inarticulate version of myself, running around in rags and scaring people when he wasn't bumping into walls. What a bizarre situation, I thought.

"Then it hit me: what happens when you split a worm in two? Exactly. For every lost body part I'd lost and left behind in the past, and I'd lost a lot, there was a brainless replica of myself with my same powers. It took me little more than a decade to hunt down and kill these extremely handsome monsters. Luckily, their bodies weren't exactly flesh and blood, but a poor imitation of it instead... they could heal any wound, but a simple fire would destroy them forever.

"After that I was always careful to burn every lost body part after the end of my adventures. By the 1920s I was semi-retired and had almost forgotten of my clones. Then something happened that took me out of my retirement: by chance I stumbled into a worldwide conspiracy to send the world into chaos.

"I assembled a team of people like myself, much like Mr. Kaleidoscope did 30 years before me, and lead it to the heart of this conspiracy. We were truimphant, and after our first mission was over we agreed to stay together and protect the world from the shadows. Because of our similar goals and pecularities, we soon became a group of friends more than a group of teammates. Sound familiar?

"One day I returned to our secret headquarters in New York after a short vacation, and found it devoid of its characteristic activity, empty. I started checking my friends' individual rooms, for the faint possibility that they might all be doing something individually... and that's when the nightmare began.

"I still remember clearly walking into each one of their rooms and finding them murdered in the most horrible ways. I cried each one of their deaths and continued to search the headquarters for any clues that might lead me to the killer. And then I got to my room... and found myself waiting for me.

"He was one of my duplicates, no doubt... But he was different. His eyes were red, a devilish kind of red, and what's more, I could recognize something in him that the others didn't have: a spark of intelligence. We simply stared at each other for what seemed like an eternity, my face filled with horror and his with a strange kind of satisfaction I've never been able to understand. What was most disturbing was the knowledge that my friends died thinking I'd betrayed them. If he was able to beat every one of my friends, this duplicate was tougher than the other ones: it would take more than a fire to get rid of him.

"As I was about to make my movement, he shot me in the stomach, and before I fainted, he kneeled next to me and whispered in my ear: 'Don't worry. I'll only kill you when you have nothing to live for'.

"I spent the next years searching for him, to avenge the death of my friends, but I couldn't. That's when I started suspecting that the only purpose in his life was tormenting me: he didn't mind waiting for decades, if it meant getting me when I least expected it.

"I don't know if I've explained you why my powers work or how I've lived this long... The thing is I have absolute control over my freakish metabolism. That means I can accelerate it when needed, to heal any wounds, and I can also stop it at will to prevent aging. As a consequence of this, the only isntances in which I age are when I'm healing myself. During the following decades I didn't age at all. I was completely retired from any kind of adventurous activity, and I hardly had any human interaction at all.

“My life was miserable. I didn't want to form any kind of relationship with anyone for fear that they might be killed by my replica, but also I guess I was hoping that, if I made my life miserable enough, he'd finally come for me and take me like he promised. I was fooling myself by thinking this... If I wanted, I could have killed myself by accelerating my metabolism until I died of old age, but, though I thought of that many times, I never did it, because for some reason my faith in the future was never lost... and I think he knew this, and wanted to wait until even that faith was gone to finish me.

"My loner period ended in the 60's... when I discovered rock and roll music. I heard the Beatles on the radio in 1964, and just had to see them by myself. I returned to the UK, and spent that year seeing bands like The Who and The Stones, always keeping my distance from other people, out of fear of doing them harm.

"But we humans are made for human interaction. I just couldn't help it. I made friends, I took part of the revolution of the flowers, and even made my own band, and then... nothing happened. He didn't strike. I allowed myself to be happy for the first time in decades. I still missed my days as an adventurer more than anything, but I knew that doing that would be pushing my luck.

"One day, in the 70's, a strange young man appeared at my door. He had been tracking me down for a month. He spoke of a great threat, an immediate danger that was threatening the world, and how my experience was needed to prevent the destruction of society. I told him I would think about it. I knew the dangers full well... but how could I turn my back to the world? We agreed to meet again in a week, after I'd had plenty of time to think. Before a day had passed, I decided I would do it.

"The following week he appeared dead on my doorstep. There was a not over his corpse... it said 'Just a friendly reminder.' And you know what I did? I listened to him. I left saving the world to others. I didn't even consider going back to my adventuring times after that. If anyone ever approached me with any kind of proposition of that matter, I'd refuse to listen and walk away. After that I never called myself Gerardo Gorm again, to make sure that nobody searching for any surviving Rogues could track me down.

"That's when I started amassing my forutne and living the good life. As materialistic as the 80's were for the world, they were even more materialistic for me. I decided to stop worrying and enjoy myself... and why not? It was only saving the world what seemed to get on my personal killer's nerves. You have no idea how many times I wished my business rivals would just ask me to join their superhero team during the 80's... All I had to do was say yes, and I'd have one less rival.

"But... people change, I don't care what others say. When I heard about The Revolutionaries running around America while I was sitting comfrotably in my living room, I could barely contain myself to look them up and join them. And then they changed their name to Vanguard and opened a branch in Europe, not too far from myself. In my eyes, that was a sign. But still, I couldn't endanger their lives. So what could I do?

"And then I came up with the perfect plan. Surely adventurers must need people who pay for their expensive gadgets... And, how about that, I happen to have lots of money. So I decided to join Vanguard Euope, but instead of being another gifted adventurer, I was just a crazy powerless millionaire. How could my double even suspect it was me?

"But I didn't count on my secret coming out during our first mission. I quit the team as soon as we got back home. What else could I do? I'd already endangared you by giving you that knowledge, and every day I stayed with you would only endager you further. My only comfort was the certainty that you're better than any other team I've ever been part of, so if the killer decided to strike you he'd get one heck of a fight.

"But now... You're telling me Jack and the descendants of the other Rogues have been killed by someone like me. It's him. There's no doubt. I didn't directly kill those people, but in the end it's my decision of joining your team what caused those deaths."

Drake sat next to Link. "Not all the other descendants are dead, Link. We figured out who the next victim would be and we're protecting her.”

“But if he sees any of you with her...” Link began.

“Don't worry,” Drake said. “We have a plan.”

Dr Gretchen L. Stevenson-Murray lived in a one bedroom apartment in Chicago, occupying a building in which she was surrounded by dozens more one bedroom apartments. Most of them were occupied. But, for tonight, the one next to her was empty of any tenants except for Adem Different and Victor Reilly.

A foot and a half of solid plaster separated the two apartments, but Victor stared into Gretchen’s room as easily as if there were a clear window built into the wall.

“Is the woman still asleep?” Adem asked softly.

“Yeah,” Victor whispered in response. Adem nodded.

“You watching the door?”

“Nope,” Victor said.

“Good. He’d want to arrive through the entrance with the least resistance… least chance of being spotted by anyone else in the building… so, the window,” Adem said.

“We’re on the second to top floor. He could work his way down the fire escape and not be spotted at all,” Victor said, whispering. Adem nodded again.

“…which he’s doing right now…” Victor added. His X-Ray enhanced eyes were fixed on the outside wall. Victor watched the Link Double work his way down the fire escape, being careful not to make any noise. The killer stopped when he reached the level next to Gretchen’s apartment.

Victor Reilly leaped forward, pressing the subspatial inducer in his left hand against the wall in front of him. He jammed the button down with his palm as he did so, disappearing from before Adem’s eyes and reappearing on the other side of the wall.

The Link double chose that moment to charge through the window of Gretchen’s apartment with his shoulder down, smashing the glass and hurtling through the other side. He came to a rolling stop on the floor, stood up, and brushed himself off.

…just as Victor Reilly came rushing from the other side of a solid wall and tackled him in the midsection.

The two went sprawling to the floor, Victor making his way to his feet first. He drove a knee into the Link’s sternum and pulled a knife from his belt, driving it straight into his opponent’s throat.

The Link just grinned and grabbed Reilly’s throat, throwing all their weight to the left and rolling. He threw his knee into Reilly’s kidney, pushing Reilly to the ground while standing up.

The Link made its way across the room to Gretchen’s bedroom door, throwing the door open and marching into the room.

He found himtself greeted by the sight of Adem Different grabbing a confused looking Gretchen from her bed and pressing the button on his subspatial inducer.

“No!” The Link yelled. Reilly grabbed his head from behind, slammed it against the door frame, and whirled the Link around, snapping his neck and throwing him to the floor of the living room. The Link was still for a moment, and Reilly wondered briefly if his work was done. This delusion was shattered when the Link sat bolt upright and climbed once more to his feet. It ran at Reilly, who ducked and drove a fist into his attacker’s abdomen. The Link stepped backward then drove an elbow into the side of Reilly’s head. Reilly grunted in pain then drove his knee into the Link’s crotch. The Link grabbed Reilly’s shoulders and threw him down to the floor.

As they both stood up, Reilly heard the apartment’s front door slam open behind him. He ducked as a dagger flew above his head and lodged itself in the Link’s heart. Reilly turned around to see Lykopis in the doorway.

“About time,” Reilly said, grabbing the Link’s arm and yanking him towards Reilly, who pivoted and turned the killer towards Lykopis.

Lykopis screamed and drive her sword into the Link’s side, cutting him clean through. He fell in two halves onto the floor, spilling dark blood all over Gretchen’s carpet.

“I wouldn’t want to be stuck with the cleaning bill!” Victor said. Lykopis glared at him.

“What? It’s what superheroes do. Battlefield wit,” Victor said.

Lykopis continued to glare at him.

Their attention was suddenly caught by the two Link halves on the floor, as each began regenerating itself.

“Shit…” Victor said as the legs grew themselves a spine, then muscles, veins, skin, a head…

Within moments, the two European Vanguardians found themselves staring at two fully formed duplicates of Link Fox.

Both the Links charged at Victor and Lykopis, who stepped backward into defensive stances. Lykopis had her sword outstretched and drove it into the shoulder of her attacker, while Victor ducked and shot out a leg, tripping his. He tried to throw all his weight down and hold the Link to the floor, but the Link simply threw his weight backwards and sent Reilly sprawling to the floor. Reilly stood and grabbed a piece of broken glass as the Link ran at him, and held it out, driving the glass into the Link’s stomach. The Link grabbed Reilly by the midsection and span him around, towards the apartment’s broken window.

As Reilly was about to fall through the opening, he grabbed the Link’s arm, and the two fell out onto the fire escape. Reilly winced as the broken glass in the window frame cut into his side, and winced again when he realized they were thirty-two stories up.

The Link grabbed Reilly’s neck and threw him over the edge of the fire escape.

Victor Reilly fell two stories then grabbed the steel railing of the thirtieth floor fire escape. He hauled himself onto the platform and lay there for a moment on his chest, then span around and got to his feet when he heard footsteps coming down the steel steps.

The Link appeared, clutching a ten inch long shard of broken glass. Reilly sidestepped to the left as the glass was thrust at him. He grabbed the Link’s arm and pulled the Link towards himself, smashing the hand that held the glass against the rail twice. The glass was dislodged and fell clattering to the steel platform.

Reilly ducked, grabbed the glass, and shoved it upwards into the Link’s thigh. He watched as the flesh healed around the wound, leaving the glass lodged there with only a few inches exposed. The Link backhanded Reilly across the face, sending him down. Reilly held out his leg and tripped the Link, grabbing him as he fell and sending the two towards the stairs.

They fell through the opening and down the steel steps, Reilly yelping in pain as his head hit several of them on the way down.

They stood simultaneously when they hit the platform of the twenty-ninth floor, Reilly grabbing the Link around the neck as they did so. He hauled the Link over the rail and tried to drop him, only to find the Link grabbing his arm and dragging them both over.

Reilly grabbed the edge of the platform and the Link grabbed Reilly’s leg. They dangled there for a moment, neither knowing what to do.

The Link grabbed the piece of glass that was lodged in his leg with his one free arm and drove it into Reilly’s thigh, swinging his weight towards the platform as he did so. Reilly screamed, and let go of the steel platform. The Link swung in towards the platform on the twenty eighth floor, landing on his feet and standing up.

Reilly grabbed the platform as he fell, finding himself dangling from the fire escape once again. He doubted the few metres closer to the ground would help him much if he was to fall.

The Link stood above him, still clutching the glass shard.

“You had nothing to do with this,” The Link said to the hanging Reilly. “You could have walked away and no harm would have come to you. But now…”

The Link kneeled down and swung the glass shard towards Reilly’s hand.

Victor let go before the glass could make contact, finding himself in free fall.

He silently admitted to himself as he fell that it was probably a bad idea. He extended an arm and grabbed for the nearest solid object, flailing uselessly at several levels of the fire escape as he passed them. He finally grabbed the steel rail of the seventeenth level platform, screaming as he felt his shoulder dislocate. He pulled himself up and over the rail, coming to rest on the platform. He grabbed his left shoulder with his right arm and tried to pop it back into place.

“Bloody hell…” He said to himself as he heard the Link descending from above. Standing up and leaning his head over the rail, he noticed that his opponent wasn’t even taking the stairs. He was climbing down the outside of the fire escape like a spider, lowering himself down the outside of each one then jumping to the next.

Reilly braced himself against the solid concrete wall of the building as the noise got louder. The Link soon appeared, lowering himself from the eighteenth floor platform with one arm then dropping to the platform on which Reilly currently stood. He lunged at Reilly, who stepped to one side, grabbed the Link’s head and drove it into the concrete wall. The Link drove an elbow back and Reilly ducked, smashing the head into the wall again. The Link spun around and kneed Reilly in the midsection. Reilly doubled over in pain for a moment, and then swung a solid right hook into the Link’s face. The Link ran at Reilly, tackling him around the chest and sending them both over the rail once more.

Reilly was ready for it this time, and he grabbed the rail as they went over. He held himself there on the edge of the eighteenth level platform, then descended to the seventeeth as the Link fell.

The Link smashed his head against the sixteenth floor’s steel platform, and continued falling. Eventually he reached out both arms and grabbed the rail of the twelfth floor, hauling himself up.

“DIE ALREADY!” Reilly yelled downwards, and headed for the stairs. He ran downwards at speeds a normal man couldn’t match, quickly headed for the twelfth floor.

The Link grinned as he heard Reilly descending, and walked slowly up the stairs towards the next platform.

They met on the thirteenth, Reilly diving off the top stair and driving his shoulder into the Link’s chest. The Link pivoted as Reilly struck him, pushing his elbow downwards into Reilly’s back and sending Reilly’s head against the steel bars of the rail. Reilly grunted once in pain, turned, and kicked the Link in the crotch. The Link staggered backwards, coming to rest against the rail. Reilly ran forwards and drove all his weight into the Link’s chest, really not caring this time if they went over the edge.

Which they did.

Reilly extended his arms and reached for the eleventh floor rail. He missed, but succeeded in grabbing the tenth. He ignored the pain coming from his left shoulder.

The Link tried the same thing, but Reilly shot out his leg and kicked the Link in the chest, sending him a few feet away from the fire escape. The Link’s arms shot out uselessly at the ninth floor railing and then the eighth, trying to grab hold of a steel bar that was several feet out of reach.

The Link came to an abrupt halt when he fell into the concrete path circling the building.

Reilly slowly hauled himself onto the steel platform, knowing that the Link was not dead. That it would soon regenerate.

“Damn, I could use some help,” He said to himself as he clamped one hand over his still bleeding thigh.

Lykopis drove her sword into the leg of the Link she was facing, pinning it to the floor. It pulled the sword out itself and stood up, running at Lykopis with her own blade pointed towards her. She ducked and turned, driving a fist into the Link's side. She grabbed her sword and kicked the Link in the small of his back, sending him against the wall.

She ran to the front of the room and turned off the light switch.

"What do you hope to accomplish? You are as disadvantaged as I," Said the Link as it moved along the wall, in the shadows.

Lykopis remained silent as an arm extended from the shadows behind the Link.

Edmond Gaunt grabbed the Link around the throat and pulled him backwards, dragging them both into the shadow world.

The Thin White Duke (for that was how he'd come to think of himself over the last few decades, not as Gerardo Gorm, or "Link Fox," and most certainly not as "The Worm") continued to struggle against Gaunt's shadow tendrils. The Shadow Chancellor was in his element here, in complete darkness, and at his strongest. Yet, he had never faced a foe of this level of demonic strength. Or, if he had, it had been quite some time. In simple terms, he was not used to this level of struggle against his abilities.

I will kill them all, The Thin White Duke thought, as he attempted to hold off a shadow tendril from his face, All the Vanguards, all the Strikeforcers, and then, oh yes, then at long last my brother, what fun you and I will have. . .

"You. . ." Gaunt stated very simply as he tried to drag the raging beast further into his darkness, "You shall finally be called to pay for your crimes. . .foul beast of the pit. . ."

The Thin White Duke laughed at this, how could he be a lowly beast, he thought, when he was so much better. . .than everyone else?

"HHHYYYAAAIIIIIII!!!!!!!" Lykopis' blade flew through the air and severed the Thin White Duke's head from his body. The still laughing head flew through the air of the darkened room and bounced off of a wall before rolling into a corner.

"That will teach you to mock an Amazon." She said sheathing her blade.

"I'm afraid I already know how. . ." The Duke's head crawled out of a corner of the room, it's neck regenerating as wisps of flesh, muscle, and bone carried it towards her.

"Athena. . ." Lykopis gasped out in shock.

The Duke's body continued struggling against Gaunt's tendrils. "Not quite the usual effect, is it?"

Lykopis couldn't tell whether it was the Duke or Gaunt who had asked, at the moment, didn't care. . .

As the body grew a new head and the head grew a new body, the apartment's door opened and a third Link, the one Reilly had been fighting, walked in.

"I'm sorry for my rudeness..." the first one said, as the two naked Links walked to meet the clothed one.

"We haven't been formally introduced yet," the second one said, as the clothed one removed his shirt while the other two neared him.

"Since my brother calls himself Link Fox," the third one said, the skin of the three Links joining together through their chests as the one standing in the center 'absorbed' the other two, "I shall call myself..."

"Maxwell Wolfe," all three said with a voice that was suddenly one.

He started calmly buttoning his shirt. "Now, where is that pesky Dr. Stevenson-Murray?"

"Somewhere safe," Lykopis said. "But we're right h--" Maxwell ran towards the window. Obviously he didn't have a reason to stay in that place anymore. Acting in reflex, Lykopis severed Maxwell's right arm with her sword. This didn't stop him for a second: he jumped through the window and roughly landed in the roof of a colliding building.

Lykopis was about to jump herself and follow him, when she remembered something. "The arm..." she said, pointing at the severed extremity as it started growing a new Wolfe.

"Leave it to me," Gaunt said, covering the arm in darkness and making it disappear. Lykopis looked out the window and saw that Maxwell was already gone.

"He's running that way!" Lykopis heard Victor yell. He was standing on the fire exit of the apartment above Stevenson-Murray's and pointing towards the figure of Maxwell running west through the Chicago rooftops.


Maxwell Wolfe wasn't running because he was a coward - he was running because he didn't like wasting his time. None of his four remaining targets, or even his 'brother' Link, were currently in the building. He had no businness with the people there. At least, not yet.

As he landed on yet another rooftop, he saw something materialising in front of him. He ran past it, only to find more things materialising all over the rooftop. He looked around and realized he was suddenly surrounded by members of the Strikeforce 3, Vanguard International and Vanguard Europe... including Link.

"You will stop right now," Link said.

Maxwell grinned. "The current death avatar... Mr. Montag... Mr. Smith..." he said. "You're right, I think I am staying."

Wolve was surrounded by a dozen of assorted members of three different superhero teams, forming a circle around him.

No one was saying anything. At least twenty four eyes were fixed over the man that for days had kept the most gifted metahumans of the planet at bay, unable to stop murder after murder, blind to the evidences that the man left over the crime scenes.

Now he was there, circled, but not yet captive, among them.

The man who killed many descendants of a team of heroes like themselves, that predates them by more than a century. A team whose mebers, many of them, where direct ancestors of some of themselves... and that shred the same camaraderie and adventure seeking spirit... and sense of family... of Vanguard itself.

Out of the shadow, Maxwell Wolfe, the evil duplicate of one of them, was finally an easy target. No more charades, no more puzzles and enigmas.

Now it was one toward many.

Wolfe, frowning, rotated his face, looking at his adversaries. Four of them were the ones designed as victims of his next murders; triplicating the number in such a small place was not an easy task.

Cold sight he received in return. Blue, brown, green, grey eyes narrowed... even empty sockets seemed to shut down, taking aim.

A blue glowing axe, a crossbow, a longbow, plain guns, laser gauntlets and other kinds of weapon were slowly adjusted to point, ALL, toward the elegant assassin.

But no dart, arrow or bullet were shoot.

A wisp of wind raised some paper litter from the roof floor, and let it fly across the assembled warriors.

No eye blinked.

No muscle moved.

"Sissies" muttered one of the warriors, disgusted by the lack of action right when the assassin was finally there.

Hero charged at supervelocity at Wolfe.

When his right arm bent behind, to gain momentum, his eleven comrades blinked.

When the arm began to spring forward, the mouths of his comrades began to open.

When the fist connected with Wolfe's jaw, eleven tongues were pushed between the teeth, and air expelled from the lungs. "Nnnnn...."

And when the body of Wolfe finally fled high up in the air, the mouth of all the Vanguardian and Strikeforcers open up wide, letting out all the remnant of the air. "... ooooooooooooooo!"

Hero looked around. All the others were looking up, all their face looking ashamed. Only the visor of ACK was pointing at him. "Idiot!" hissed the Strikeforcer.

Wolfe fled up in the air, and Hero's eyes widened up when he heard that the man was still laughing.

The ample hyperbole of his flight lasted mere moment. When the body finally connected with the ground, Hero understood. Finally.

The body splattered over the asphalt of the street below, just before a truck rode over, splkitting the mess in many parts.

And from any detached part, new Wolfes grew.

Drake Marshall looked to his left at his teammates in Vanguard Europe. He shifted his gaze in the other direction, glancing at Vanguard International and a few members of the Strikeforce.

He looked back at the wall of Links.

“Move,” He said.

Drake. You mind if I open up the lines of communication between all of us? Came Phil Smith’s voice in Drake’s head.

“Do it,” The Vanguard Europe leader said out loud. Everyone on the rooftop, save the multiple Thin White Duke’s, suddenly heard Phil’s voice echoing in their heads.

Fan out. Close in on them from the sides. Contain them!

Tiberius ran a few steps then jumped, creating a huge arc above the heads of his teammates. He came down on top of one of the Links, crushing the Link into the concrete of the roof. He span around, pivoting on his left foot, and drove his right fist deep into the skull of another.

He ducked as Bruteforce leaped over him, tackling one of the Links to the ground. Bruteforce picked his chosen target up and held him several feet off the ground with one hand, then threw him hard to the left.

Lykopis, her sword readied, caught the Link that Bruteforce had thrown with the tip of her blade. The Link reached around, grabbed the blade, and twisted itself off, driving his foot into Lykopis’ stomach as the wound in his stomach regenerated.
Icarus! Two o’clock. Help Lykopis.

The Link stood over Lykopis, readying itself for an attack, when he was tackled from behind by Icarus Sidewinder. Icarus grabbed the Link and took them both over the edge of the rooftop.

He rocked through the sky for a moment before driving the Link through the glass of a building down the street.

A family of four gathered in front of their TV set was startled by the sight of Icarus and the Thin White Duke crashing onto their living room floor.

“Sorry. I need your fireplace,” Icarus said, grabbing the Link’s head and pushing it into the fire.

Graviton. There’s four escaping down the fire escape on the other side of the building.

The Strikeforcer didn’t miss a beat before stepping off the building and growing fifty feet tall, finding himself standing comfortably on the ground when a moment ago he had been falling towards it from a great height. He clamped his hand against the side of the building, holding the four Links in place where they were.

Another suddenly jumped from the rooftop onto his head.

“I got it,” ACK said, flying off the rooftop and grabbing the Link, cutting a sudden turn in the air and heading back towards the building, driving the Link into the concrete of the building’s wall.

A shrill beep from the air above the rooftop caught everyone’s attention.

Robo Squirrel was descending from above, as his haunches parted and a flame thrower extended from his little silver abdomen.

DUCK!

Gaunt, Adem and Bruteforce did as Phil instructed them, ducking as Robo Squirrel’s flame roared over their heads and ignited the Links they’d been fighting.

Victor Reilly ran the length of the rooftop, grabbing a loose Link by the neck and sending them both over the edge.

“Idiot,” The Link hissed at Reilly. “You’ll die and I won’t.”

“Well… I have back up,” Reilly said, and let go of the Link’s neck as Brianna grabbed his leg and deposited him on a nearby fire escape, while the Thin White Duke fell to the asphalt below.

Lykopis felt blood in her mouth as one of the Duke's punched her in the checkbone. That will leave a bruise tomorrow. Another kick forced Lykopis on her knees. Assuming I'm alive tomorrow. Her ankles were now at the edge of the roof. One hard push and Lykopis would find herself in serious harm. Shrieking, Lykopis drove her sword upwards into the Duke's arm.

The Duke merely paused to watch he arm regenerate. "Stupid bitch. Haven't you figured it out by now?"

Lykopis grinned, blood trickling down her mouth. "Yeah. But Mr. Smith said I should stall."

The Duke turned around to see Robo Squirrel and his flame thrower. Lykopis, still grinning, rolled out of the way as the Thin White Duke erupted into flames.

"You know, Robo Squirrel, I think I like you."

"Would Lykopis like a bonding hug?"

"I said I liked you. As much as I like my can opener." Lykopis pushed herself up from the edge of the roof when she noticed something. Phil, can you see what I see?

Sure enough, she heard the telepath's voice in her head. The gas truck down on the street below us? Whoa, that could be useful. Now, go help Adem.

Elsewhere, Grissom Montag and Drake Marshall were fighting Dukes of their own. Until they 'heard' Phil and 'saw' the truck. Opportunity knockin', gentlemen.

Ideas were spinning through their heads. Phil, watching their plots develop, stood back and was amazed from all the head-spinning. "Drake," said Montag. "I think Gravitron is quite capable of lifting that truck."

"And I think Bree is quite capable of breaking it open."

Montag punched another Duke, sending the spinning body towards Gaunt. "And I think Robo Squirrel is quite capable of igniting the spilled gasoline."

You know, the whole point was to keep everyone organized. Plus, one of the Duke's could have overheard your plan.

Sometimes, chum, said Montag in a swaggering manner, it feels good to do it old-school.

"Whatever," said Phil. He then realized that he was speaking instead of thinking. Crap. He saw where Gravitron had begun reverting to his normal size. Don't shrink down quite yet, Gravitron. I have a minor request for you...

Tiberius rammed a finger-a-piece into one of the Duke's eye sockets, shattering its two front teeth with a thumb. Gripping the roof of its mouth, the quiet man flung the being into two more mirror images of itself. He kicked a bare foot around, clipping the edge of one of the many roof vents, metallic fragments spraying three more oncoming clones.

"Damn...you're pretty ruthless..." Brute Force commented, tossing a clone off the side with far superior strength.

Ty leapt straight up twenty-feet, seemingly backflipping on nothing but air at the apex of his vault. Coming down in a stealthy crouch, BF sprinted past his vision clotheslining another two.

"I fail to see how we are to conquer an adversary who cannot be truly killed..." the man replied with a hint of indignity, shooting a set of pointed toes through the esophagus of a Duke.

Two clones reached out for him from behind, their hands jerking with the sudden intrusion of steel crossbolts. Tiberius spun at their pained grunts, knuckles from his backhand collapsing a jaw and cheekbone of one. Brianna's shadow flashed over the granite pavement of the roof, sound briefly deadening out to a faint whine. Sonics ranging three levels just below pure white sound raked past Ty as the second clone's skeletal structure crumbled into powder.

Four more clones rushed in unison across the roof, BF clearing three of them in their tracks. The fourth leapt over the massive Vanguardian, coming down on Tiberius. The incredibly agile stranger caught the Duke's wrists in tight grasps, immediately snapping them backwards. Kicking his foot straight into the creature's stomach, he drove his toes through the skin, and into the clone's intestines.

The creature merely laughed harder and harder, still pushing against the newest Vanguardian. Tiberius clenched his teeth, and, a strain of his own making begin to form on his face. A vein protruded sharply from his forehead, his face rimming with a crimson exertion. And, slowly, the creature began to shake. And, the power of Tiberius crawled deeply into the Duke, slowing his metabolism. Slowing it faster, and faster, the clone convulsed as he felt his form beginning to petrify.

Flakes of ashen skin begin peeling away, as the body started decaying within Ty's grasp. And, he strained, grunting loudly now, as his forced his neo-physical awareness deeper into the creature, literally shutting down the bio-rhythmic pressure of his circulatory system. Halting his synaptic network. Forcing his cellular structure to age and decay, faster, and faster....

And, in a billow of ashen flesh, the Duke crumbled into heap of powdery gray.

Tiberius staggered for a moment, falling to one knee.

"Hey...you okay?" Ben asked, flinging two more over the rooftop towards the gas tankers below.

Before he could respond, a Duke suddenly sprung up from behind, leaping at the defenseless Tiberius. It leapt up, and, as it came down on him, six metal slugs ventilated its cranium. The limp heap of bloody flesh landed against Ty's back, and rolled off. He cocked a quick eye around to see Icarus Sidewinder roar straight up past the roof.

"Watch your back, rookie!" Icky yelled, spinning his pistols in place. "I won't always be around to save your ass!"

Tiberius cocked an eye, an undignified snarl crossing his upper lip...

Graviton moved the tanker truck into position and Phil telepathically activated the hose and moved it into position. Grissom grabbed the hose and aimed at the approaching Dukes.

Everything set? Montag glanced at Phil.

No civilians around. Dr. Stevenson-Murray is safe aboard the Strikeforce satellite. Our people are moving out of the way, and no gas mains around. Let 'er rip! Phil responded as the Sandcrawler unleashed a torrent of gasoline upon the army of snarling Dukes.

Drake Marshall turned from where he'd been fighting a Duke and looked on in horror. "Smith! Montag! No. . ." But his voice was lost in the torrent of screams pouring forth from the angry Dukes.

He thought hard at Phil as ACK fired his flamethrower at the clones of Maxwell Wolfe. What the hell are you doing?!

Drake, is there a problem? Phil responded as the Dukes began bursting into flame.

Dammit, you should've let Gaunt corral them first! Now they'll be. . . The wall of Thin White Dukes surged forward, as the flaming clones continued chasing after the combined groups, now while on fire. . . .loose and on fire. Marshall continued his thought while slapping the side of his head.

In the middle of all this chaos the Vanguardians struggled to contain, the original Maxwell Wolfe, the only clothed one (obviously, since his clothes didn't share his powers), struggled with Link Fox in a possibly endless battle of equals. They simply stared into each other's eyes as they stood pressing each other's arms and immobilizing themselves.

"Why?" Link asked, gritting his teeth and sweating because of the fire that surrounded them.

"You broke our rules, brother..." Maxwell replied. "Do you think I'm stupid? Do you think I wouldn't have heard about it? That you could have gone back to your old habits and go unnoticed? I have very good connections... Very good ones. While I considered the possibilities of how to punish you for disobeying me this time, I found through one of my connections that someone, a very important someone, was willing to pay for the lives of the descendants of the Rogues... Perfect timing. I don't need the money, of course, but I saw in this little contract a beautiful possibility... What I enjoyed the most about slaughtering your friends in the past was the look on their faces as they thought I was you during their last moments... The same look I saw in Little Jack Merlin's face this time... I've always wanted to make that moment last longer, and now I have: I made your new friends think you were a killer and hunt you down... I bet there's still doubt in their minds as to whether you planned this or not... Even if you defeat me, that doubt will always be there... They'll never look at you the same way again... Never."


"This is going nowhere," Adem said, observing the fight from above, never having left the rooftop where he materialized along with the rest of the team what seemed like days ago. "We must change the situation."

Hero, standing next to him, nodded in agreement.

"I don't understand why we're just standing here with all that's going on down there!" ACK said, also standing on the rooftop. "I just wanna give that fucker a piece of my mind..."

"We need a team to stay out of reach from Wolfe, in case things get out of hand," Hero replied.

"Uh, boss... Don't you think they're already out of hand?!" Brian Dead asked.

"Wait!" Adem said, before Hero could reply, listening to an earpiece coming out of his wrist. "Jym just found something on the Mandelovian legend!"

"What is it?" Hero asked.

"I don't know what to make of it..." Adem said, still listening to Jym. "However, Link possibly might."

"We need to get him here," Hero said. "We must distract Wolfe to--"

"I'm on it!" ACK exclaimed. He jumped off the rooftop and activated the jets in his boots to fly towards Fox and Wolfe as fast as he could.

ACK tackled Wolfe, leaving Link standing in confusion. Holding Wolfe to the ground, ACK looked back at Link and yelled, pointing at the rooftop: "THEY NEED YOU UP THERE!"

As Link ran towards the building, trying to think of a way to get past the burning Dukes and get to the rooftop, Hero flew to him and picked him up, taking him to Adem in no time.

"Jym found something!" Adem exclaimed, unhooking the earpiece coming out of his wrist and letting Jym speak out.

{"In the future the legacy of the Rogues will have to confront a threat spawned from their original adventure. The only object capable of destroying the threat will be the very same one that created it."}

"Well, that's convenient..." Brian rolled his eyes.

"Spawned..." Link thought about what Jym just said. "Of course! Get Montag and give him a transducer! I need him to go get me something!"


"I don't know if you're aware of this," ACK whispered to Wolfe, as he pressed the Duke's neck to the cement with his arm, "but you killed the only mentor I've had in my life. I don't know if I can kill you... but now that I have you I'll make you suffer as much as I can. Unlike the weaklings you've fought so far, I was trained to be a soldier for the Strikeforce 1... I know a lot of ways to make a man scream in pain. I know things that would make your sad little murders pale in comparison. I promise I'll make you cry."

With his throat pressed under ACK's heavy metallic arm, Wolfe managed to get one word out: "...Try...".

"Knife," ACK said in reply, and in an instant a blade came out of the side of his arm, the same side he was pressing to Wolfe's throat... ACK moved his arm sideways, slashing the Duke's neck horribly, but being careful not to cut his head off.

However, Wolfe's face remained static, no sign of pain crossed it for even a second. Instead, he simply took advantage of the fact that he wasn't being pressed to the ground anymore, and threw his head back, directing the blood that sprayed from his neck to ACK's helmet.

With his visor covered in Wolfe's blood, ACK took a step back in blinded confusion. "OPEN VISOR!" he yelled, and as his order was complied by his armor, he saw something the size of an M&M coming his way. Before he had time to tell his visor to close again, the small object was already inside his helmet. He heard it fall into the dephts of his armor.

ACK looked at Wolfe in confusion. "What...?"

"A small explosive device of my design," the Duke said. "Granted, its explosion won't be very big... But I'm guessing the chain reaction started by it inside your armor in about ten seconds will destroy this whole area and everyone in it..." He grinned. "Except for me and my brother, of course."

ACK's eyes widened. He stood still, full of shock and not knowing how to react. There wasn't enough time to take off his armor... And, even if he did that, he wouldn't have time to escape from the explosion caused by the power supply in his armor's chest.

Hero had heard everything through the SF comm buildt into ACK's helmet. "ACK! FLY AWAY! NOW!"

ACK didn't move.

"I'M GIVING YOU AN ORDER!" Hero yelled into his comm, watching from the rooftop.

ACK closed his eyes, as tears started pouring out of them. He opened his mouth and softly whispered at Hero through his comm. "I don't regret a thing."

ACK started his jets and flew into the sky. When he was several feet above the ground, a small explosion in his armor, followed by a gigantic one, covered the sky.

While everyone looked up, Hero looked down at Wolfe with fury. He flew to him in superspeed and, after the Duke was tackled to the ground for a second time, Hero started furiously punching his face.

The Duke didn't even attempt to defend himself: all he did was laugh, while his face healed itself after every punch and before Hero could connect the following one. Hero incresed the velocity of his punches to superspeed, causing the blood that jumped after every punch to cover him and the street that surrounded them. After a minute, when he stopped for a second to catch his breath, he saw in horror that the Duke's face remained unaltered, as did his horrible grin.

"I'VE GOT IT!" Grissom Montag yelled, as he materialized a few feet near Hero and Wolfe, holding something covered in old rags.

Wolfe's eyes widened as he recognized the shape of the thing Montag was holding. Taking advantage of Hero's temporary distraction, Wolfe took another small explosive from his trouser pocket and pressed it against the ground. The resulting small quake took everyone by surprise except him, including Montag, who fell to the ground and dropped the object he'd just retrieved.

Wolfe ran towards Grissom and the object, and kicked the thing to send it as far as he could. Five burning clones were now taking Hero's full attention, leaving Wolfe free to have his way with Montag.

Wolfe stepped on Montag's chest before the brit could stand up, and looked down at him. "We meet again, Mr. Montag."

"Oh, fuck you, you cunt," Grissom replied.

"I guess this means my brother finally figured it out... Too bad your incomptence costed him his only chance to stop me."

Grissom closed his eyes took a deep breath in.

"What are you doing?" Wolfe asked.

Grissom started gritting his teeth, as he pressed his eyes shut.

Wolfe started laughing. "What kind of sorry display is this? What do you hope to--" Wolfe felt weird. He didn't know what it was, but... something was off. Then he looked down and realised there was an ancient sword partially covered in old rags coming out of his chest. "You-- You can't-- It was--"

“Never fuck with a Montag,” the former thief whispered in a vicious voice only heard before by a select few.

Spitting blood and hopelessly trying to pull the peculiar sword off his chest, Wolfe stumbled around, clearly weakened. He fell on his knees and, as the burning clones fighting with the Vanguardians quickly turned into ashes, the same thing started slowly happening to him.

Link stood in front of his defeated brother. "I remember you now. I remember how this started."

Quote:

---

Originally posted here (my last post in the page)

“I don’t need my mental abilities to destroy you...” Agent ß said to the shocked Rogues, “I am a Mandelovian Agent! I can turn every one of you into dust with my bare hands!”

At that moment, Nigel Montag, standing behind ß, drew his sword and jumped to attack the Agent. Worm, Mr. Grimm and Mr. Chamberlain did the same thing, the lad from the left and the two men from the right.
Agent ß sent a mental wave to his right, pushing Grimm and Chamberlain outside the pillar and down to Hell itself. He then turned back and grabbed Montag’s arm, pressing it with uncanny strength, making the pirate drop the sword he was holding. Before it could reach the ground, ß made the sword fly to his left, reaching Worm and slicing the boy’s left hand.

“All right, I lied,” Agent ß said, holding Montag’s sword with one hand and Montag himself with the other, twisting the pirate’s arm and forcing him to stay on his knees.

Worm screamed in pain as he watched his hand fall down to Hell’s flames. He was used to pain, but never like this. Not only was the wound more serious than any other wound inflicted to him in his short life, but the blade that made it, Montag’s sword, was unlike any other blade the Worm had ever felt.

Normally, Nigel Montag would be working on freeing himself from Agent ß’s grasp. Instead, he just stared at Worm with wide open eyes.

---

"Our memories are the same up to a certain point, you know..." Wolfe weakly said, life quickly fading away from his self. "Then it all went to Hell for me... literally. Meanwhile, you were living our dream, and I was suffering because of it. Your decision to be an adventurer, to join the Rogues... it condemned me. Every day I spent down there... what kept me alive was the promise I made to myself to destroy you once I got out. To make you go through the same Hell I went through. To make you feel what I felt."

Link shook his head. "Before you go, I want you to know you were wrong about two things," he said. "First, you took the legend too literally... The heirs of the Rogues aren't actually their genetic descent... The heirs to their legacy are the people right here, not the ones you killed. If whoever hired you expected to prevent the Mandelovian legend from coming to be, then you've failed miserable, because now we're stronger than ever. Second... I'm sorry about what happened to you back then... But with what you've done since, you deserve that and more."

Wolfe didn't reply. He didn't even seem to be understanding what Link said, if he could even listen to anything at this point. "Hell was..." he said to no one in particular, absentmindedly looking down, "It was horrible."

"Well, too bad," Link said, kicking Wolfe in the face and making his whole head crumble in ashes, "you're going back there."

United Nation Building, Geneva, Switzerland

In one large office a man stand by a rather tall window overlooking the Lemano. His eyes wanders over the flocks of waterfowl resting over the frozen waters at the lakeside. He looks at his wristwatch, cough, and then turns, to face another man sitting near his desk.

"Sirs, it's time" he says, and then take a remote and set on the plasma TV monitor on the opposite wall.

A pleasant newswoman on CNN is talking. Behind her, a picture with the face of Jack Merlin takes all the screen space. "..., General Secretary of the United Nations, has today announced the death of General Jack Merlin of Strikeforce fame, killed a few days ago by a metahuman killer, whose identity has not been revealed, but that it is claimed to have been stopped by the like of Strikeforce 4 members together with the infamous Vanguard organisation. Following the announcement, a shocking revelation has been released by UN press office, claiming that Jack Merlin was discovered to have secret plans for world domination, involving a secret army of metahumans being trained in a secret base in the Sahara desert, that has been disabled and brought to justice. Moreover, all the charges issued toward Vanguard International, concerning the role in the war with Mandelovia and the seize of Manhattan has been revealed false, and the ban over the organisation has been suddenly removed. Proofs of the actual, fundamental role of Vanguard in the defeat of the demon Naecken has been released to the press..."

The man press a button over the remote, and the TV screen turn blank. He revolves over his chair, to face the other man.

"Happy, sir? Is it what you asked me for, right?" hisses the man.

"Yes, Mr. General Secretary. I think our agreement is fulfilled. Vanguard is cleared to the face of the world, and that is what we asked. These..." says the man known as Graviton, handling a closed envelope to the UN leader "... is the evidences of your involvement in Merlin's plan. I assure you we have no copies, but you have just to accept my word for that."

The UN leader takers hastily the envelope from the superhero, and put it in a drawer of the desk.

Then his expression soften a little. "Are there any chance you would reconsider your decision? The world still need a Strikeforce..."

"No, sir. The Strikeforce was just the toy of one of the most dangerous person the world has ever seen. And of people who trade with him. There is no pride in being part of that team. Let it die along with his creator.
If you need people to save the world, I suggest you to look over the yellow pages of la Perdita".

With that, August Von Braun, or Graviton, as it is best known, leaves the office, going straight for the exit of the building. There is a young woman, not tall, but very beautiful, waiting for him.

"How was the reaction?" Asks Graviton to his assistant, the ex-Strikeforcer known as Ladybug.

"The people in the bar didn't even noticed. I had to fight with the barkeeper to let me put the TV over the CNN, but then no one even said a world about it. They kept talking about the Six Nation Competition" explains the woman.

Graviton shrugs. "If people thinks rugby is more important that their lives..."

Ladybug looks at her watch. "It's time, August."

"Ah, right, I nearly forget it, Ursula".

Keeping an eye over the watches, they stroll toward the lakeside, fighting the arctic cold brought by the Siberian winds,

"Now".

They raise at unison their heads, to a precise point of the sky. In the darkening blue, they saw a bright star shining for a moment, and disappearing.

"In Merlin's plan, there should have been all of us up there, now, Ursula. Blowing up with the satellite."

"I know. It's like we should thanks that clone for being alive, Auguste."

"I don't like your sense of humour, Ursula. I don't like it at all. Let's go, the train for Berlin should be arriving."

Jack Merlin and the Strikeforce: the end.

Puerta Mibela, La Perdita

Hero looked at the little piece of paper in his right hand, then raised his young and handsome face toward the one, pale and largely decaying, of his team-mate, Brian Dead. "It's here. Top floor."

The dead Strikeforcer gave a long stare to the tall, but otherwise quite ordinary, building. "This is their headquarters? he asked, perplexed.

"From what I know, they have not an headquarters. Not anymore, since the time of the ban. This is the place of their leader, the British with tree fingers" said with his New Zealander inflexion Brandon Mullarney, or Hero, as he was known world-wide.

"You mean Montague?"

"Yes, him. He occupies the penthouse."

The walking corpse nodded. "Ok, I am going to ring the bell" he said, taking a big breath.

"No" exclaimed Hero, stopping Brian taking firmly the arm with the index finger pointed to the bell button. With a crack, the arm broke in two.

"Sorry! I didn't want..." hero was visibly embarrassed. Brian Dead took the arm from Hero's hand with a hard look, and pressed it to the stump, actually reattaching it.

Hero smiled, all red in face. "well, I ma happy it was not permanent..." The phrase was welcomed by an even harder look of the other Strikeforcer. "Good start for this party... I know it will be a nightmare" observed the heroic zombie.

"Oh, come on, we are in the Caribbeans, they know how to party here... " tried to comfort him the New Zealender.

"They will not even talk to us..." said Dead, looking up to the top of the building. "Why do you stopped me?"

"They invited us, right? Why they shouldn't be welcome us? We fought with them, right?"

Dead did not answered.

"And I stopped you because we don't need the elevator. I know how to make an entrance!"

With those words, Hero took Dead over his ample, muscular arms, flexed his legs, and jumped, heading straight into the sky, to land over the terrace outside the living room of Grissom Montag.

As the feet of Hero touched the floor, the weight of the two superheroes, pressing the tile of the balcony, set on alarm the sophisticated defensive system implemented by Sandcrawler Security around the apartment, targeted at anything heavier than a pigeon. Half a dozen automated laser ray-guns converged over the spot of the augmented pressure, and fired.

An instant later, the eyes of the assembled membership of Vanguard International and Vanguard Europe were fixed over two burned and naked figures standing in the middle of the Japanese roof garden of their host.

One, the paler, turned his head toward the taller and tanned one.

"You know one thing, idiot?" said Brian Dead.

"No, what?" wondered Hero.

"You really know how to make an entrance."