RKMBs Forums .::Important::. Writer's Block Hero Revolution [Selling Out] #6

ROLL CALL:
• Tobias Christopher AKA T.C.
• Danny Hearn
• Mick Harrison/Mxy
• Naecken
• Kristogar Velo
• Larry Lance AKA LLance
• Pete "the Chimp" Glover AKA Monkey's Paw
• Sonja Ljzavet
• Sam Dawson AKA Shift

Missing:
• Edulcore Cicciotto AKA Eurostar (believed to be deceased)
• Nowhereman (quit)

Supporting Cast:
• Shirley Francis (Mick's girlfriend)
• Li'l Jo (Tobias' cat)
• Kristofer Schanz (a ghost that only Pete can see and hear)
• Dr. Henry Quantos (scientific advisor via computer-linkup)
• and introducing Kit Piper (financial advisor)

The Caribbean nation of La Perdita is one of many islands in the West Indies in the same chain as such other isles as Barbados, Grenada, Martinique, St. Lucia, Dominica, Anguilla, and many others. It is not a large island, nor is it the smallest one, but it is adequate for its purposes.

It was founded and named after the daughter of King Leontes of Sicily by a group of Sicilians and Spaniards during the Colonial period of the 1600s. Although there was at first some conflict between the native Carib Indians and the European settlers, the displacement of the native population was due to the lack of resistance to the diseases brought by the newcomers, and only a handful of Carib Indians still survive on the island. The main city on the island, Puerta Mibela, was similar to Jamaica's Port Royal in that it was basically a pirate town in the late 17th and 18th centuries, bringing to it a mix of British pirates and slaves from Africa. The island gained its independence from Italy in the late 19th century in a peaceful revolution after slavery was abolished. It also served as a smuggling port used by La Cosa Nostra, the Sicilian Mafia, during the early decades of the 20th century, although some whisper that the Mafia still maintains a presence on the island...

La Perdita's main economy since the beginning of the 20th century has been tourism. Thousands of tourists from Europe, Asia and the Americas visit the small island nation every year, and thus at any time of the year its already-varied ethnic makeup is made richer. The island is a relatively wealthy one, and for this reason and the others given it has a rich cultural mix going back centuries.

The island itself is lush and tropical, and relatively unspoiled, as many other volcanic islands in the Caribbean are. Its one volcano exists on the opposite side of the island from Puerta Mibela and is dormant; this is where the small population of Carib Indians mostly reside. The rest of the population mainly resides along the coasts in several small villages and resorts, as Puerta Mibela is the island's only city. The city has one small airport which is sustainable enough for the regular influx of tourists which move through it every year.

***

La Perdita Airport:

"I tell ya, Pedro, I just can't get a break," a somewhat overweight and slightly balding, moustached black man in a Hawaiian shirt, shorts and straw hat -- whose accent was obviously American -- said to the bartender as he looked out over the beach at all the nubile young women frolicking around in bikinis. The bar he sat at stood between the airport and the city's main beach. "I mean, here I am, you understand, at one of the WORLD'S GREATEST RESORTS, and I'm sitting here at the bar talking to you."

"Mmm," the bartender replied, barely listening.

"Oh, sorry, I didn't mean to offend. You understand, I mean, I could be out there," he gestured at the beach, "with three women hanging off each of my arms right now, if only that deal with the Corleone brothers hadn't gone sour. Aye-yi-yi. Next time I'm going to think twice before getting involved with the Mob. You get me, pal? I mean -- crick -- one false move and you're dead meat! Ha ha ha! I should be grateful that I survived that at all."

"Yeah?" the bartender said absentmindedly as he continued cleaning some glasses and putting them back in place.

"I mean, I should be grateful, but I'm not. And do you know why?" The man didn't wait long enough for a reply this time. "It's because I'm a dreamer, Pedro. I'm a big dreamer... in more ways than one as you can plainly tell," he snickered as he looked down at his ample belly, "but a dreamer nonetheless. And because I'm a dreamer I am constantly in search of ways to fulfill my dreams. Oh, sure, I've followed my dreams and been successful at it many times over the years, although my three ex-wives have done a good job of cleaning out the ol' bank account, but that's neither here nor there. ANYways, as I was sayin', I've followed my dreams and have HAD those dreams come true in the past. But I discovered a certain thing. Wanna know what I discovered, Pedro?"

"My name's Jorge."

"I discovered that each time I accomplished one of my goals, it just wasn't enough! Well, if that don't beat all! I mean, we all grow up thinking if we can only get to that certain age, if we can only get a certain amount of money, if we can only get that certain girl, that we'll be happy and content to leave it at that. But that ain't the way it works at all! And you wanna know why? You wanna know why, Pedro?"

"Jorge."

"It's because mankind was both blessed and cursed with an unceasing desire for something better than he's already got! This was made painfully clear to me as I reached each of my goals and found that, like that Irish band once sang, I still haven't found what I'm lookin' for! Hee-haw! Yeah, I know, I know, it sounds crazy, but it's true! I guess that's why I've never been able to settle down with any one woman at any one place for too long. Nope, I'm a rolling stone, and wherever I lay my hat is my home. All I can hope for is for that next sweet deal to walk right in that door, and when it does, Pedro, when it does, I'm gonna be ready for it!"

The door swung open from the airport side, and nine tired-looking newcomers strolled in and sat themselves down around two tables. A short, homely-looking man broke away from the group and walked up to the bar.

"'Ere, me son," he said in a vaguely Scottish or Irish brogue, "me friends and I likes ta have a bit of fish and swig ta fill our puddocks." He took a big wad of bills from his coat pocket and casually flipped through several hundreds until he reached the twenties, then he pulled out three and placed them on the counter.

"I'll have some menus sent over right away, sir."

"Thanks, bud'y."

"Excuse me, sir," the man at the bar said as he watched this transaction of currency and noticed the odd assortment of characters sitting at the table the little man was with, "but I couldn't help hearing your accent. Are you a Newfoundlander?"

"Aye, that I am," the little man answered with a toothy grin. "M'name's Pete. Some people call me 'the Chimp,' whatchamafore."

"I can't imagine why, my good man!" the man answered. "My name's Kit Piper. My card," he said, pulling out an impressive looking business card and placing it into the former street bum's gnarly hand.

"'Kit Piper, Esquire,'" Pete read aloud, "'Entrepreneurial Business Agent, Pay the Piper Incorporated.' Well, that's a right nice card ya have there, Mr. Piper."

"Please, call me Kit! Pete, I'm going to have to be straight with you now," Kit said, looking seriously into Pete's eyes suddenly. "As soon as I saw you and your companions walk through that door I knew as certainly as when Moses saw the burning bush that Fate had walked right on in with you."

"Whu--?"

"And by Fate, Pete, I mean that I can see that you are quite a remarkable specimen. Oh, some may say you're not much to look at, but I say it is only a FOOL that says such a thing, and I'll fight to the death anyone who says such a thing, just bring them on, I'm ready for 'em!"

"Eh?"

"I shouldn't get ahead of myself, though, Pete, I'm know for doing that, so you'll have to bear with me here. Pete, I'd like to ask you a question. Mind if I ask you a question? Good. Pete, how would you like to take that wad of bills you have in your pocket and triple it? Quadruple it, even?"

"Well, I--"

"I know what you're going to say, Pete, I can see it in your eyes, you're clearly a noble soul. The little people. How is your having more money than you know what to do with going to help all the little people of the world? And it's a very good question, a very good question indeed. Well, I can tell you that for each and every dollar that you double, a dollar will go to help the little people, all across the world."

"Ehh, act'ally..."

"Say no more, Pete, say no more. Next you'll be asking me how all this is going to help your friends over there? What's their role in all of this? Well, between you and me, Pete, you weren't the only one who caught my eye as you fellas walked in here, no sir. I can see by the tired expressions on those very unique faces of all'a you and yours that you're tired of the same old sales pitch that goes nowhere, aren't you? Of course you are. I am too! Well, I swear on my mother's grave that I shall never tell a lie to you, Pete. I swear it. That goes for your friends, too. Why do I say this right now? Because I believe that trust is the most important thing in this world. Without trust, you've got nothing. NOTHING!"

"Ehh, right..."

"Of course I'm right, Pete, I always try to be right even when I'm wrong. Just a joke there, son, don't take it seriously. Pete, I'm going to say something to you now, something that may even be shocking. A proposal of sorts. You and your friends look to be in need of a guide around this fair isle, and I'd like to be that guide. Now, I know that you don't know me, and I don't know you, but if there's still any trust left in this world, and by God I pray there is, where a handshake still counts as a handshake, I believe we can trust each other. And do you know why? It's because already by talking to you I can see that we have a great deal in common. Yes, Pete, I can see that you are an upstanding man whose heart bleeds, yes, BLEEDS, for your fellow man. You'd do ANYTHING to help the less fortunate in need of what you have to offer, and you have plenty to offer, don't let anyone tell you different. And I already feel that there's a connection between you and me, something that goes beyond words, beyond a mere business partnership, and something that hovers very near friendship."

"..."

"Pete, I'm going to let you join your friends in a minute, but not before I make this guarantee: I will never cheat you, my friend. You can count on that. My word is my bond. May my ancestors come back to slay me from the grave if ever I betray your trust. But I am going to ask you to take a chance. A leap of faith, if you will. If you feel this vibe, this connection between the two of us like I do, and I can see in your eyes that you do, then I'd ask you to make that leap. Oh, it's not a leap into darkness, but a leap into a sure thing, because it's the risktakers, yes, the RISKtakers in this world who get ahead, Pete. I'm sure some slobs get their money through the lottery or gambling, but not you, Pete, you're a man of class and a man who worked hard for his money."

Pete grinned sheepishly and said nothing.

"Well, I want to make sure you hold onto that money, and for that reason I ask you to guard that money carefully! There are a lot of con artists in La Perdita, I'm sorry to say, who would love to seperate you from that wad of cash in your pocket, and it's important that you keep your eyes and ears out for those predators. Be as gentle as a dove but as crafty as a serpent, as my grandpa used to tell me when I sat on his knee as a child. Now, Pete, I'm going to take a chance on you, and I hope you'll take a chance on me. I'd like to talk things over with you in detail later, but if you'll have me, and you'd be crazy not to, I'd like you to sign this business agreement, merely a formality, of course, and we can sort out the details later. Here's a pen."

Pete looked stunned, but he took the pen which Kit pushed in his hand and he quickly signed the document he placed in front of him.

"You've made a wise decision, Pete, my friend, and I could see all along that you would, for as I said, we have a connection, you and me, and nothing in the world can break that. We're like brothers, you and I. Someone picks on you, they'll have to answer to me, and don't be too proud to be calling on your ol' brother Kit, now. I'll bail you out. Pete, I'm going to leave you with my card, and I'm going to be by my telephone early tomorrow morning at eight o'clock AM awaiting your call. We have much to discuss, my friend Pete, and I don't want to hold up you or your friends any longer from enjoying the rest of the day. You look tired, and I'm a firm believer in keeping business during business hours and playtime during playtime hours. Tomorrow morning, then. It's been a pleasure meeting you, Pete, and I look forward to going into business with both you and your companions. It's a beautiful day! Enjoy the sunshine! Later, buddy!"

"Yuh," Pete said, waving back at Kit as the portly man walked out the door, contract in hand. He stood there dazed for a moment as he tried to work it out in his mind, but gave up trying and went over to the tables where his friends were sitting.

"What was all that about, Pete?" Sam asked him as he sat down.

"Ehh... I dinna rightly know."

"You shook hands with the guy," said Kristogar. "Must've been about something."

"Well... I think we's gone inta business with 'e."

Everyone stopped eating and stared at Pete. Finally someone broke the silence.

"What?" asked Sonja, glaring at the little man.

"What do you mean we've gone into business, Pete?" asked LLance.

"Well, I, ehh... we shooks hands, an'... an' we makes plans fer tomorra morn, an'... an' he's gonna be our guide on this isle... an' he's gonna double me money an' alla rest'a yers, also..."

"What are you saying, Pete?" Kristogar asked very seriously. "You didn't... SIGN anything, did you? Never sign anything! God!"

"Oh yeah... that, too," said Pete. "I signs 'is contract. Plumb forgot. Shite."

"Oh, bloody hell," said Mick, putting his head in his hands. "Who's bright idea was it to let 'the Chimp' handle the money?"

"Well, as I remember it, Mick, it was Pete's money in the first place," said Tobias.

"Don't blame Pete, guys, he's not used to business," said Sam. "And all I want to do right now is finish my food, look up my relatives and find the place where we're going to be living."

"This does not bode well," growled Naecken.

"Nonsense," spoke up Danny. "All of you seem to forget one thing about Pete -- he's the luckiest man in the world. If anything, this is probably just the thing we need to get this little club of ours finally organized. Maybe this... what's his name, Pete?"

"Ehh... Kit. Kit Piper."

"Maybe this Kit Piper fellow is a straitforward, honest businessman," added Danny. "Judging from what I've seen of Pete's luck, it was probably the best move for all of us. I say don't knock a gift-droid in the mouth, or you might wind up with a missing finger."

"Hm. Maybe..."

"SHUT UP AND EAT!" complained an amused Sam.

[ 05-07-2002: Message edited by: TheTimeTrust ]

They were all tired and said nothing to each other as they walked to the part of town nearest the airport. Mick's girlfriend Shirley met them at the grocery store Sam had told her about when they had left the airport, and there was now ten of them (though Shirley was a civilian). Although most of them had never seen the beautiful tropical island that is La Perdita or its gorgeous capital city, Puerta Mibela, they were almost all too tired to do anything more than glance around. Finally they hailed some taxicabs and Sam's cab led the way...

To be continued......?

[ 04-24-2002: Message edited by: TheTimeTrust ]

A taxicab pulled up to a large apartment building, out stepped Sam, Mick and Shirley. Sam threw a few dollars to the driver and took a few steps toward the run down complex.

“Fourteen stories.” Sam said, his voice keeping a monotone beat.

“Damn man, I can’t believe your relatives are giving us this building, this place is great.”

“Yeah, about what I said before,” Sam hesitated, “My relatives are gone. They died a while ago.”

“I’m sorry.” Shirley put her hand on Sam’s shoulder.

“Nah, it’s ok. Over two years have passed. I just really didn’t want to tell the others, not yet. I can’t even remember most of the their names, let alone share secrets with them.”

“When the others get here, could you just make sure that no one uses, or even goes into the top floor.”

“Yeah sure man.”

“Ok, now I’m gonna hit the streets. It’s been a while since I was ‘home.’ Let yourself in.”

Sam threw Mick a set of keys and began walking into the heart of the City. As he disappeared into the distance, two other taxis pulled up to the complex.

"You guys might as well know -- I'm not planning on being the official cook, here," Shirley said.

"Maybe Sonja can help you," said LLance.

"What's THAT supposed to mean?" Sonja scowled at LLance.

"Uhhhhh..." LLance stammered, "that is, I meant to say, uhhh... maybe we can each take turns cooking...?" LLance grinned and kept on looking at her.

Sonja's face grew hot with anger. "LLance. Stop. Looking. At. My. Breasts."

LLance grew embarrassed. "Sorry. I -- I just can't get them out of my mind..."

"Just shut up while you still can, man," whispered Tobias. "She'll eat you alive."

"I can dream, can't I?" LLance said as he watched Sonja walk up the stairs in front of him.

"What do you mean 'ours'?" Shirley asks looking inside the room "There's only one bed in there... unless by 'we' you mean you and the cat..."

"No way!" Tobias said "Li'l Jo is staying with me..."

Kristogar comes out of the room next to Mick's.
"This room seems good, I think I will stay here" he says.

"All right!" Mick says, raising his hand for a 'high five' "We're gonna be neighbors!"

Kristogar looks at Mick's raised hand for a second.

"Now that I think about it" Kristogar says rubbing is chin "I think I will stay in the next floor..."

Lance, looking excited, is about to say something to Kristogar, when he adds "...and I think I will take the whole floor for myself, if you don't mind..." and then walks away.

"That's funny, I was just gonna suggest that--" Lance says.

"Don't worry, pal, you can stay next to me!" Mick says "We can be neighbors!"

"High five!" they both yell at the same time.

"Are they drunk...?" Sonja asks Shirley, looking at the two men.

"I wish..." Shirley answers.

The dust drifted in the wind.
No one had occupied this floor for some time he´d been told.
And that was just the way he liked it.

The sun shone through the open windows, wich had wooden shutters on the outside.
Fresh air was replacing the stale dusty smell.

He relaxed, and started to meditate.
The meditation technique was similair to something his friends called Transcendent Meditaion wich was popular throughout the more creative and artistic societies in Europe.
By focusing on a single circle,imagined ofcourse, made of light, he focused his mind and relaxed.
The deeper he went, the more details were added on to the circle. A few lines, a interconnecting circle, a few curving lines, until he had assembled a complex symbol.
Each time he did this the symbol had to be created exactly the same, preferrably with an additional line or circle.

The others soon gathered in the kitchen to make dinner...

[ 04-26-2002: Message edited by: T5 ]

The cab stopped at the red light.
Sweat pearls on his forehead irritated his eyes.

This time it had been to close.
She screamed to much, and the neighbours called the police.

They arrived way to fast, and he had barely had time to get away through the back window and down the fire escape.

He must be more carefull in the future.
Maybe cutting the tounge will make it more harmonius...

The cab started again and ever so slowly (in his mind) found the adress he had asked the driver to take him to.

Ignoring the cab driver´s question if he wanted change, he rushed up the stairs of a rather scruffy looking apartment building.

He walks down into the cellar and opens the adjoining apartment house´s door and slips out through the back door.
Then walks a few blocks to his real house.

As he opens the door to his apartment, he can sense that someone is inside it.
With no lights on he can´t see anyone at least in the hall. Maybe in the kitchen?

Slowly he enters and closes the door behind him.
In his right hand he holds his trusted italian butterfly knife.

The sense of someone being in the apartment grows and grows...until he can allmost taste it...

He dare not switch on the light in the chance that he may be alerting the intruder to his presence.

Something moves in the darkness...a form without a form...something familiar from his dreams...dreams of violence and inhuman lusts, that he just had to experince for real...
The dark shape looms over him and whispers with a voice like two grinding mountains;

"Hello Conrad. Welcome home."

His screams never reached the outside of his apartment.

...end of interlude 2...

[ 04-26-2002: Message edited by: T5 ]

The words echoed in the mind of Sonja, while she was looking at herself in a big mirror she found in the room she choose on the 13th floor.

She had undressed, and was observing her big tattoo, the image of an ancient sumeric demon, extending from her neck to the ankles. Red skinned, long bearded and short horned, the figure had a vague resemblance to Naecken.

Naecken.

Sonja slowly took a small disk from her bag on the bed.

“Put it on Naecken’s forehead at the crucial moment I told you about” said the future Eurostar, days ago, in the Malvan-X building in Mandelovia.

After the collapsing of the building, while the others where looking for Eurostar’s body, she succeeded in digging out the disk from the debris.

It was the first thing from which building her investigation, but only now she had the time to look at it.

“The dinner is ready!” the voice of Mick shouted from one of the lower floors.

Sonja quickly dressed her up, put the disk in the bag, and joined the others in the dining room.

[ 04-27-2002: Message edited by: Sonja ]

Street lights and candles illuminated the beautiful brick pathways that streeched for miles along the roads, empty with cars but filled with people. A mix of late teens to families and older couples.

Vendors and entertainers moved through the crowd, people laughed and appluded.

A little boy sat on a chair, restless and excited. His parents only feet away, "Stay still, its almost done!" "It looks so much like him!" A beautiful young woman, with light brown hair, stood behind a pad, sketching away with charcoal and chalk.

Sam smiled and made his way into the line behind the young boy's parents.

Within a few moments, she was done and gently blew the extra chalk dust off of the picture, which bore a striking resemblance to the young man, who smiled with glee, and was finally able to jump to his feet and watch the near-by clown. The boy's parents gave the young woman a 20 for her services and than an extra 10, just because.

"Next?" her voice was sweet with almost a pince of innocence for one her age.

"I guess that would be me, luv."

The young woman turned, as the shock of a two years lost friend was there.

"Sam? My god!" She wrapped her arms around him, almost taking him off his feet.

"It's great to see you too-"

Before Sam could finish she slapped him across the face.

"Yeah I deserved that." He said, with a smerk and rasied brow.

"I can't believe that you would just go like that, no goodbye, no nothing!" She closed her sketch pad and continued, "Two years, no calls, nor letters. I thought you were dead."

"I wish I had been, trust me luv the last two years have been anything but." He turned away "Never once thought that I would be back here. Never wanted to even think about...'here.' Ya know?"

"Yeah," she leaned in closer to him, her hand sliding gently across his cheek, "but you left so much behind."

"I'm back now luv, can't we just continue where we were?"

"I'm sorry, but too much has changed."

"Wh-?"

A figure moved towards them, a taller man, clean cut and tan.

"Michelle? I've been-" He paused at the sight of Sam, "No way! Sammy? How have you been buddy?"

The large built man, Clark, wrapped his arms around Sam, almost lifting him off the ground.

"It is good to see you too man. But I still need air-"

"Welcome back! You moving back here, or on vacation, or-"

"I'm back man, not sure for how long, but I'm back."

Michelle smiled, "When you do go, don't forget to say bye this time."

"Never again." Sam answered, for a few seconds their eyes met.

"Michelle, the movie is gonna start any minute-" Clark, a little uneasy turned toward Sam, "Your welcome to come along too man, its-"

Sam backed up, "Nah, I have some stuff to finish up back at the old place. And I-"

Michelle brushed Clark's arm, signing for him to go ahead, that she would catch up to him.

After Clark had taken a few steps away, Michelle put her hand on Sam's shoulder.

"I'm sorry, things have changed a great deal."

Michelle's voice seemed softer, her own words almost hurting her.

"Welcome back, you better keep in touch!"

She hugged Sam again, holding their bodies close together for a few moments. Upon releasing him, she quickly moved into the shadows in the direction Clark had gone. With a simple wave, she was gone.

I'm sorry, things have changed a great deal.

Things, they would never be the same.

[ 04-27-2002: Message edited by: GoozX ]

"Huh?"

"Don't go anywhere."

*yawn*

"For Christ's sake...DON'T WAKE UP THIS TIME!"

"Doe" sat bolt upright in his small bed in the eastern wing of the EPS compound. He rubbed the back of his head and scanned the room for activity. Nothing moved among the white walls or steel furniture. His black jumpsuit was still draped across the back of the chair where he had removed it earlier.

"Just another goddamn dream."

Doe laid back down to return to sleep, but after tossing and turning for 15 minutes he decided to get an early start on his day. Grabbing his suit he looked at the diving watch Walker supplied to him. It read 3 a.m. He stretched, finished dressing, and stepped out of his quarters to join the night crew for their last few hours on duty.

The guards posted outside his door stiffened when he emerged, but otherwise showed no outward signs of emotion. Doe grabbed the shoulder of the man to his right and whispered into his ear, "Doesn't it just suck to be guarding me?"

Doe strode off in the most ominous and forboding manner he could manage, barely able to keep from laughing at the thought of how the story would be exaggerated in the barracks when the man got off duty in an hour. He imagined that in the subsequent retellings the man would be using his incredible willpower to hold off a psychic assault from a mysterious, nameless metahuman.

There was nothing more satisfying than being a bastard.

He turned a corner and headed past other member's quarters just as Vidalia Owens stepped out of her room, also apparantly unable to sleep.

Almost nothing.

Doe started to speak to her, but she hurried off the opposite direction towards the hydroponics sector. She was cradling a sickly looking daisy in her hands, so Doe just smiled and gave her a nod before going on his way.

Man I'd like to get me a piece of that...damn she's hot

He exhaled and shook his head to clear his mind, a few laps in an electrified pool would be a nice warmup, and would clear his head for the day. He couldn't go around being flippant when people were awake, he had a reputation to uphold after all. Maybe under different circumstances he could laugh around people besides himself, but as long as he was an executioner, hunted man, and hired gun he'd have to keep himself calm and controlled. Things got very ugly if you felt too much.

It wasn't like he had saved the woman by refusing to kill her. Someone else had just done it, and in a much messier way. The only thing he gained by sparing the prostitute was a life on the run. She hadn't looked that much like his mother anyway.

I just need to hit the pool.

"Field team report to COC. Repeat. Field team report to the COC for immediate assignment"

Fuck...

Sam was greeted by Mick vocie as he entered the Apartment Complex. He couldn't tell exactly what floor Mick was on, but it had to be the second or third. His voice was too loud to be any higher.

Sam stepped onto the huge spiral staircase to the second floor. He slowly walked up and upon reaching the top he noticed many of the others entering Apartment 203.

Just outside the door, Lil' Jo ate from a small bowl. He purred as Sam passed, finally used to the young man's scent.

The "gang" was sitting around a huge old wood table. Mick brought out a few different plates.

"Ah, I hope you guys don't mind rice and beans," Mick cracked a smile, he forgot to mention to everyone his limited knowledge in the cunary arts. "I also made some hotdogs and stuff."

Sam took a seat at the table, for the first time in a while he almost had the feeling of a... family.

Apartment 101. Pete "The Chimp" snored loudly as he slept on an old shag carpet with a ragged grey blanket to keep him warm; he was also fully-clothed. Although the apartment was fully furnished Pete couldn't get used to sleeping in a real bed, having slept on the streets of more cities around the world than he could name.

His snoring seized even as he heard a voice calling out to him...

"Pete."

"whu--?"

"Pete, get up."

"Whu... whoozat?"

"Pete, get up now!"

"I'll be over now, d'once," Pete mumbled while half-asleep.

"PETE!"

"'m goin', 'm goin'!" Pete said loudly as he rose and grabbed his blanket, thinking that he was still on the streets and being told to "move along" by a member of the local constabulary. That is, until he tripped over the sofa and fell on his face.

"Ouch! I been clobbered!" Pete groaned. "Where I at now, bud'y?"

"Pete..."

"AHH!" Pete shouted as he jumped a foot in the air. Before him stood a figure of a man who was transparent. He was tall, blonde, and seemed to be hovering just over the floor. "Oh... 't's you! Where you been lately? I been missing ya!"

The spectre seemed to laugh slightly. "I'm never too far away from you, Pete. It is my mission to watch over you and make sure you use your luck for good. You and I are connected because of it. Such is my fate after my death."

"Walll, ya better get yerself a new mission, me son. Ye're liable to scare me out of my wits one o' dese days!"

"Pete, don't you remember what you were going to do today? You have an appointment with Mr. Piper."

"Whadda you care?"

"Let's just say... we think it's important that you keep this meeting."

"Who's 'we'?"

"Call him, Pete," the ghost of Kristofer Schanz said as if from a distance. Seconds later he vanished slowly like a camera fading to black.

Pete sat there and scratched himself for a couple of minutes. Then he finally found the card in his wrinkled clothes which Kit Piper had given him the previous day (although his clothes were very expensive, Pete has the unique ability to make any clothes look shabby). He left his apartment and went outside to look for a telephone. The telephone lines were hopefully being installed this afternoon with individual phone numbers for each apartment, although the electrical and water lines had already been taken care of by phone a day before they arrived.

Pete found an old rotary public telephone and inserted a quarter. He grumbled and rubbed his eyes as he dialed the numbers on the card he held in his hand. He knew that irritating spirit would keep hounding him about it until he did. "Hi it's Pete," he said, and waited on the phone for about three minutes while Kit Piper talked. Finally he said, "Okay, stay where your at and I'll come to where you to."

"Where's Cicciotto?" Walker demanded. No sooner had the words escaped the man's mouth than the doors wisked open, revealing the groggy Italian, dressed in his standard EPS-issue bodysuit, which was brown in hue. "Glad you decided to join us, Cicciotto..."

Cicciotto shot Walker a dirty look and slid into the seat next to Vidalia Owens, who now found herself between Doe and the Italian. She smiled at the man, who seemed to brighten at her regarding him. Walker raised an eyebrow at this and began his briefing, pressing a button on the tabletop.

A large holo projector raised from the center of the table and lowered from the ceiling. Another few button presses and the lights dimmed. The holo emitter burst to life, revealing a sort of desert terrain, surrounding a lone standing complex... seemingly in the middle of nowhere.

"Where is this place?" Vidalia asked, raising a finger in the air.

"It looks very familiar," Reynolds said, leaning forward to get a better look.

"I was about to say the same thing..." Tweed remarked, stroking his chin.

"Well, it should," Walker retorted, steepling his fingers. "What you see before you is known, in most government circles, as the Side-Show. You original EPS members may recognize it as being similar in structure to the Zoo, a military installation we visited in our earlier travels..."

"The Zoo..." Doe muttered, twiddling his thumbs absently. "...of course..."

"Now, as many of you know," Walker continued, rising from his seat to make this speech, "upon our arrival at the Zoo, we obtained a sample of what I like to call the Pathogen."

Walker pressed another button on the tabletop, which changed the image on the holo projector from the Side-Show to a picture of a black cell - the cause of the Pathogen virus.

"This 'virus' or germ - whatever it is - is quite powerful and potent," Walker continued. "Many of us, Cicciotto especially, saw the level to which it empowered the metahuman freak at the Zoo. Now, as it stands, there is no way we can really test the effects of this Pathogen on metahumans, and, to be quite honest, our data is limited."

Another button press. This time, the image changed to a brain, similar to that of a human, but a bit more advanced. A metahuman brain. The hologram showed the emission of the Pathogen into its brainstem. In a span of about two seconds (fast motion), the brain had turned completely black. After about ten more seconds passed, the brain began to wither and wither and wither... until there was nothing left but ash.

"We think that these are the effects that the Pathogen has on the metahuman brain," Walker explained. "Still, as I stated earlier, our data is sketchy, at best. So, this is what I propose. Our mission is to turn the Side-Show into a metahuman testing facility. We split into separate teams, and, from there, proceed to inject the Pathogen into one metahuman per team. From there, we will observe, thanks to I.G.O.R.'s hacked surveillance and a few of Dr. Curie's own special spy nanites, the transformation that these metahumans undergo during Pathogen infection. Any questions?"

A raised hand from Reynolds. "Why do they call this place the Side-Show?"

"Good question," Walker said, clasping his hands behind his back and beginning to pace. "Irrelevant, but good, nonetheless. Before your time, the circus included a few very different types of acts. There were the usual clowns, elephants, acrobats, and high-wire acts, but there was also something called a 'side-show'. Here, for the small price of about a nickel or a dime, people could see what everyone affectionately called 'freaks'. Among these 'carneys', as they were also referred to, were the Elephant Man, the Bearded Lady, the World's Fattest Man (who, as I understand it, ate chickens whole), as well as various midgets and Siamese twins. For the very reasonable aforementioned fee, normal people of the world could sit back and watch these 'freaks' put on display and exploited for monetary gain. Now, in this brave new millennium, we are keeping this wholly capitalistic tradition alive by naming this government institution by the same name as the beloved 'freak tent'. Does that answer your question, son?"

Reynolds, not really knowing how to respond to Walker's schpiel, only nodded.

"You mentioned 'monetary gain,'" said Tweed, the former crimelord. "What exactly did you mean by that?"

"Well, in this day and age, the wealthiest of the wealthy watch every weekend on a special Pay-Per-View station as these metahumans battle to the death," Walker explained. "This way, not only does the government get rich, but the carnal need for bloodshed among the lusty billionaires is satiated."

"Intersting," Tweed said, taking a swig of his coffee.

"Indeed," Walker nodded his assent. "Any other questions?"

"Where's the new guy?" Turner piped up, placing his brown fedora on his head. "This... Richards guy?"

"Mr. Richards will not be accompanying us on this morning's mission," Walker replied. "As things currently stand, he is still on official training status. Anything else?"

"Yes," Cicciotto said, defiantly holding his hand in the air. Vidalia placed her hand on his arm, in an attempt to silence him, but instead, Cicciotto rose, a man seemingly full of conviction.

"Yes, Mr. Cicciotto..." Walker said, bemusedly tilting his head to the side. "And what can I do for you?"

"You expect me to waltz into this facility and essentially destroy my own people?" the former "hero" exclaimed, emphatically slamming his fist on the table, sending a small fissure through the metal. "I was the leader of the Revolution! I am not without great powers and even greater convictions! I refuse to be bound by a small demon such as yourself! Your impish ways and twisted mind cannot rob me of my sanity! Of my convictions! Of my salvation! I am a man! I am a metahuman! And nothing you say, nothing you do, and nothing you show me can make me waver in my beliefs!"

The entire room was frozen in silence. Tears began to form in Miss Owens' eyes. Not tears of joy or of conviction or of love. Tears of fear. Turner lowered his hat over his eyes and feigned sleeping. Reynolds and Tweed exchanged a knowing smirk. Doe merely crossed his arms and kept a straight face.

Walker stood at the head of the room, an amused little smile evident on his features. He reached down, very slowly, to the tabletop, pressing yet another button. The lights brightened. The holo projector returned to its rightful place in the table and in the ceiling. A side door opened and in walked a wormy, balding man in an EPS-issue orange bodysuit. In his arms, he carried a baby with miniature asps swarming from its head.

Dr. Walter Curie walked across the room, placed "Eddie" into Dr. Walker's arms and then produced a syringe filled with a viscous black liquid.

"So, you're saying we should test the Pathogen now and save ourselves the trouble?" Walker said, bringing the needle of the syringe to the child's neck. The clone gurgled in joy as his father figure brought the pointy object closer to his flesh.

Closer.

Closer.

Closer.

Closer.

Closer.

"WAIT!" came Cicciotto's pathetic plea. "I will do as you ask..." With that, the Italian slumped into his seat, covering his face with his hands. Vidalia made no move to comfort him, but instead stifled her tears and turned her attention to Walker.

In accordance with Cicciotto's submission, Walker lowered the syringe and placed it back in Curie's hand.

"Very well, Cicciotto," Walker said, giving the babe a peck on the cheek. "It is good to see that you can be a team player..."

Cicciotto was too caught up in the emotion of the situation to hear what the man was saying.

"Now," Walker commanded, "I want you all in the jump rooms in fifteen minutes. That's 0330. Got it? Good. Dismissed."

[ 04-29-2002: Message edited by: Chewy Walrus ]

Should I open the blinds? Let some light in?

Probably not. It just seems like something I shouldn't disturb... like the rooms have been this way for quite a while now, and who am I to come in here and mess with things?

I wander down the hallway to the last room on the floor... 707. I like the symmetry of that. I think this will be my room.

I walk in, and put my suitcase down on the bed. It's only a single case, and it's relatively small, but it holds all my possessions in the world.

Some clothes (the stuff I got from Gus McKellan the first day I arrived in this year, plus some stuff I've bought since then), and some cash that I saved from my wages from the circus.

I open the blinds, and throw my arm up over my face as light splashes into the room and momentarily blinds me. I turn and go to unpack my suitcase.

Should I? Is unpacking it really necessary?
Probably not.

What's the time? I need to know the time. A quick search shows me that there is no clock on this floor. I should go back down to the ground floor, where the others are. See if there's a clock there.

When I arrive at the ground floor, I hear some voices coming from the kitchen.

"-give it back, Lance!"

"It's my toast, Mick!"

"No it isn't! It's mine!"

"Is not!"

"Is too! I put it in the toaster a few minutes ago!"

"This is the toast that I put in the toaster a few minutes ago!"

"Then where did my toast go?!"

"Maybe someone else ate it!"

"Why would someone else eat my toast?"

"I dunno. Maybe Mxy did it."

"Don't be silly! Why would Mxy-"

There's a brief pause.

"Hi Lance!"

"Hi Mxy!"

"You got any more of that toast?"

I decide to keep walking, to the living room. Shirley, Naecken and Tobias are sitting on the couches, watching TV. Lil' Jo is curled up on Tobias' lap.

"Hey guys... does anyone have the time?" I say as I enter the room.

None of them have the time. Ah, well. Maybe there's a clock on one of these walls...

Suddenly, the sound of shattering glass distracts me. We all spin towards the source of the noise... one of the windows that face out onto the street. A dark shape is flying through it. The shape slams into the wall opposite, and lands on the floor.

"DUCK!" Tobias yells, from the couch.

"Wait..." Tobias says, holding the object up in the middle of the room

I didn't even get a chance to duck.

"Just a ball..." He says, looking at the ball and laughing.

A child's face appears at the window.

"Uh... hi... my name is Paulo. Can I have my ball back mister?" The kid says. Tobias throws the ball back.

"Well, that was an anti-climax..." I say.

Vidalia comes near me, her eyes still wet. "You shouldn't talk that way to Walker" she whispers to my hear.

"You shouldn't worry for me, lady. Walker can't harm me. He can only keep me in check menacing my son. If not for that, I could destroy this place in a matter of seconds". I know that this is not the truth, that Doe can play with my body like a puppeteer on his puppet, but this is a good moment to introduce my son into the talk.

"You... you..." The expression of Miss Owens quickly turns angry. "You don't understand? If you keep talking this way, Walker will harm not only you, but all of us, also. God only know why he wants to test the serum on those freaks, and not on us. So, I'm telling this once for all, don't make Walker mad, if you feel something for... not only for your son". Said that, Vidalia goes away.

But the image of her green, deep eyes shining of tears is still in my mind.

What did she mean? That she cares for me? Why I am so joyful? I tough of coming near her to rach my son, but now... now I am really curious to know her better...

...what's happening to me? I should be mad for how Walker menaced Eddie, or for the crimes he wants me to commit...

...but the only thing I can think about are those green eyes...

A young dark girl with multi colored pearls in her hair, takes out a small carpet and shakes dust out of it.

Inside a old woman calls for her;
"Flower? I need your help in here."
"Sure, Ma Kalunga, just a second..."

The day was warm and the gravel road outside the shop dusty.
She squinted her eyes, and looked down the road...

"The one with many faces is here..."

25 miles due south of Santa Fe, New Mexico

A massive blue portal opened in the subbasement of the government installation known as the Side-Show. Three men stepped out of it, eache outfitted with a bodysuit. Two of these men - one dressed in grey and the other in orange - wore white lab coats over their bodysuits, while the other (his suit crimson) wore a brown trenchcoat and fedora.

They were Dr. Charles E. Walker, Dr. Walter Curie and Agent Turner, respectively, and they belonged to an organization known as the EPS.

"Alright," Walker said after putting a microphoned headset onto his head. "Status check. Respond."

"Team One reporting from the ventilation system," came the sweet voice of Vidalia Owens through the headset. "Doe, Cicciotto, and I await your further instructions..."

"Excellent," Walker said into his microphone. "Team Three, report..."

//Team Three has successfully arrived in Containment Block Triple-Z. Agents Tweed, Reynolds, and I.G.O.R. awaiting further instructions.//

"Alright, EPS, listen up," Walker whispered defiantly. "Your mission is to inject at least twenty-one people per team with the Pathogen. That means seven people a piece. Understood?"

"Roger that," came Vidalia's voice over the headset.

//Copy that.// came I.G.O.R.'s reply.

"Very good," Walker said, smiling as he produced a metal case from his pocket. Inside was a tranquilizer gun and seven darts, each containing the viscous black liquid that was the Pathogen. "Team leaders distribute your contents to your team. Doorways will open at your exit points at 0400. That gives us one half hour to do the job and get back to your rendezvous. And let's try to spread these victims out, shall we?

"Record the ones you hit in the mic recorder. Each dart has a special tracker nanite that Dr. Curie made. They'll help us keep track of metabolism and whatnot, so we can more effectively watch the spread of the virus. Any questions? No? Good. Let's go..."

Containment Block ZZZ

Two small doorways opened at the feet of Tweed and Reynolds as two metal gun cases dropped at their feet.

//I leave you two to your work...// the I.G.O.R. satellite said, buzzing before the two mens' heads. //Do not forget to rendezvous here at 0400. GO to it, agents...// With that, one of I.G.O.R.s probes went zipping down the hallway and further into the containment block.

"So... what do we do?" Reynolds asked, picking up the case and opening it. He slid the darts into his cargo pants pocket and tucked the gun into the front of his pants.

"You've got me," Tweed said, loading his gun and placing it in his pocket. "I guess we just find some people and shoot 'em with these darts..."

"But I thought we didn't wanna kill 'em..." Reynolds said, looking around.

"The darts aren't poison, smartass," Tweed quipped, walking over to a nearby bulkhead. "They won't kill, but they will infect the victims with the Pathogen..."

"I see," Reynolds said. "And how do we get these metas out to shoot at 'em?"

"Like this," Tweed said, pushing a button on the bulkhead. In the corridor of the containment block, all the doorways swooshed open as metahumans of every age, size, race, and gender poured out into the hallway.

Tweed cocked his gun and fired into the crowd. A little girl of about six, standing around, confused, fell as the dart hit her in the chest. Tweed let out a little laugh.

"Like shootin' fish in a barrel!"

Ventilation Shaft

"What now?" Doe asked, glaring daggers at Cicciotto.

"Don't look at me," Cicciotto said, holding up his hands. "I'm here against my will..."

"Alright, guys," Vidalia said, producing three metallic gun cases from her brown satchel. Each member got one and unloaded its contents. "Here's the plan. We spread out. Everytime you hit a metahuman, hit the record button on your mic. Say the estimated age, gender, height, weight, and race of your target and move on."

"Fine," Doe said, kicking out a vent grate and jumping onto the floor below. In a few seconds, he would do a thing similar to Tweed, only he wold release every meta in the building... more variety...

"Cicciotto?" Owens said, looking expectantly at the former track star.

"I'm sorry," Cicciotto said, jerking out of a momentary daydream. "I was just thinking... I --*"

"Get down there and shoot some metahumans, Cicciotto!" Vidalia ordered, suddenly all business. "This is work time and you need to go to work!"

She stopped suddenly, realizing the harshness in her tone. "Look, Ed, I'm sorry. It's just... if you don't do your job, Walker, well, he'll hurt your son. Hurt you. Hurt us. Just... just go. Do what he wants. Be back in a half hour..."

"I'm on my way," Cicciotto nodded to her. His body then took the form of hydrogen and slipped further down the ventilation shaft.

Owens just shoot her head, fought tears and launched herself out of the exit that Doe had made earlier...

The Subbasement

"Alright, gentlemen," Walker said, loading his gun, "the jailbreak sequence should be active by this point. In a few seconds, we should here klaxons blaring. At that point, we move to the main levels. Start making our move. Mr. Turner? An exit please?"

Turner's eyes rolled back into his head as a chunk of floor a few meters away fell from the ceiling and into the subbasement. A metahuman in the cell above that part of the floor fell too. Walker wasted no time in shooting the 'thing,' causing it to fall to the ground, hurt, stunned, and only in momentary pain.

"Alright, gentlemen," Walker said, holstering his sidearm. "Let's move."

We descend into the subbasement. The freaks have 'officially' been let out of their cages. I tilt my fedora down, covering the tips of my eyes. I really don't want to see this, the scum of life.

My trench coat hits the ground to a small beat that is lost in the hysteria. There is no end to the number of freaks. Walker and the Pussywhip are lost in the crowd, never the less, I'll do my share.

All these freaks shoulda been put out of their misery a while ago. At least I'll gave a few the chance to die innocent, never the less it will be painful as hell, but they will never have to take a life at least.

Fuck it, what do I care. I close one eye and fire, catching a huge man-ape in-between the eyes, SHOTGUN!

He falls to the ground like a ton-o-bricks.

Look at this 'heavyweight.' Click, that fat lady is doing no singing tonight.

I wonder how much of this Pathogen is needed for the very much 'larger' metas? Whatever, I'll leave the science to the assholes.

I empty the rest of my rounds, popping two into this little weasel that reminded my of an old English professor, even though in truth I never took English. Oh well, what am i gonna do.

Than I see a group of afraid little brats. Mutated beyond belief, in their own prisons of unconsciousness. Locked up. Blocked from civilized society. No way ta live. I pity them to no end. They will grow into savages who must kill to live. So young. So sad.

"Turner!"

It looks like Walker needs assistance. Before I turn, a bolt is shot from my eyes. The brats, the children, are gone, only ash remains.

In the long run they woulda thanked me.

[ 04-29-2002: Message edited by: GoozX ]

"SIR!" Mxy yells at the fridge "I'm going to ask for the last time, PLEASE GIVE ME THE CHEESE!"

The fridge doesn't answer.

"FINE!" Mxy yells as he walks away in anger "I don't need your stinking cheese anyway..."

He doesn't see Shirley coming into the kitchen, and they bump into each other.

"Hey there" she says.

"Hey... there..." he replies.

"So... how did you like the couch, Mick?"

"Craig T Nelson?"

"I mean the couch you slept on last night, silly! You think you'll get used to sleeping on it every night, Mick? Cause I was thinking you could come over to the bed tonight..."

"Oh, yeah, THAT couch..." Mxy answers, confused "...oh, and please call me Mxy"

"Mxy? I thought that was your codename or something... You want it to be your nickname too?"

"Sure... I mean, I should be called Mxy when I'm Mxy to avoid confusions, don't you think?"

Tobias walks by and overhears the conversation.

"'When you are Mxy...'? What does that mean...?"

Tobias remembers Mick told him Shirley isn't aware that he and Mxy aren't the same person. He quickly gets into the kitchen.

"Hey there guys!Mxy!I mean Mick!I need you to do something for me!Come with me!"

"Call me Mxy when I'm Mxy, dude..." Mxy says as he and Tobias walk away from the kitchen.

As soon as they get where Shirley can't hear them, Tobias starts whispering...

"Call Mick, Mxy..."

"But I don't wanna call Mick -- do that, Lance?" Mick says, and then looks around "Where's Lance? Ooooh, I hate when that happens!"

"Mxy almost blew it, man" Tobias says, going straight to the point "You obviously still haven't told Shirley about him..."

"He did? Daaamn... What did he say?"

"I'm not sure but Shirley's pretty confused... You gotta do something about this, man"

"...I probably should..."

"You should do something NOW, before it's too late!"

"You're right. You're right. Is she in the kitchen?"

"Yeah"

"Ok. I'm going in. Wish me luck..."

Mick walks into the kitchen and closes the door behind him. The door stays closed for the next two hours...
From outside the kitchen (actually, from most part of the building), the rest can hear several "I hate you!", "How could you?", "I'm sorry babe!", and Sam swore he could hear his fridge talking for a moment.

Then Mick opens the door and walks out.

"How did it go...?" Tobias asks.

"Well, lets just say I'm not her favorite person right now..." Mick answers "...but we're still alive"

"Not if you decide to keep something like that from me ever again..." Shirley says from behind him "You don't have any other people living inside your head you wanna tell me about, do you?"

"Nope"

"Then everything's OK" she says with a kiss "...but you're still sleeping on the couch for the next century..."

"I'm so glad to hear that" Tobias says with a smile.

"Yeah... And, hey, buddy..." Mick says "I might wanna borrow that cat of yours later..."


Somewhere Else...


"Still in there?"

"Still in there" Red Scorpion answers.

"Sigh... I don't know why I bother asking anymore... He's been there for, what, a week...?"

"Maybe the old basssssstard realizzzzzed hisssss plan wassss ssssshit and decccccided to run away while he could..."

"Don't count on that"

"Why not?"

"The door just moved..."

"Oh"

The huge metallic door opens, and a naked man surrounded by shadows comes out of the dark and mysterious room behind it.

"Ahhh..." he says "That's what I call a good--"

"Nap?"

"No, you fool" the man continues "A good banquet. The midwest terrorists were delicious. And the englishman... oh, I haven't had something like that in years..."

The man grabs a cape to cover himself, and starts walking around the room as he continues talking.

"And, some days ago, I had some exquisite robots... resembling dogs or something like that"

"Robotsssss? I thought you could only have..."

"You thought well. There were human brains inside them. I have to get myself some of those..."

"A brain? That's obvious to anyone..."

"Oh? Do I feel resentment? Ah, but it's justified. I have forced you to wait for too long, and I'm afraid I'm going to have to ask you to wait some more. But don't worry, my loyal friends. I was just having a taste. The next time I get in there, it will be the real deal..."

The four villians assambled in that place felt a chill after they heard those words...

Naecken settled for a left over bed and some curtains, saying that he would fix things later, but right now he needed a walk.

Sneaking through the shadows of unlit streets he managed to get to the outskirts of the town.

He walked along the gravel road towards a hill.
The view would be great from the top...
A feeling of loss came over him as he wished he could just fly up there instead of having to walk all the way.
He could probably jump that distance though...

A short run and he flexed his legs...and managed to jump over the hill and into a small vegetable garden on the far side of the hill.

Covered with dirt and carrots, he caught a glimpse of a huge dog looking at him in surprise.
A few seconds later it began barking.
Naecken decided to jump back again when he heard a voice behind him. It was a little girl.

"Hey, mister. Don´t steal, or you will end up in hell!"

"Eh?...I didn´t mean to..."

"Oh? You mean you´re poor and have no food?"
The dog kept on barking but had the sense to keep away.

"No. I´m just trying to get to the top of this hill."

"Oh....you look strange."

"Get away from her!!!" a deep voice bellowed from behind.
The sound of a shot gun loading, made Naecken turn around to see the agressor.

"Get away from my daughter!" a thick bearded, middle aged man said.

"I mean no harm, I just want to get to the top of this hill. I missed and and accidently landed in your garden...look I can fix it and be on my way."
He bent down and started to repair the damage he had made to the rows of carrots that had been displaced.

The man looked at him in surprise.
"Uuh. Look man, if you need food just take a few, I have some water over in the well there. But keep your hands were I can see them."

Naecken decided to make his visit here short so he grabbed a few carrots and jumped again. This time landing on the spot he aimed at.

Below the bearded man looked to the top with his mouth open.

Naecken meditated an hour and enjoyed the scenery.
The surf hitting the reefs further out was soothing, and the chiccadas sawing made him feel sleepy.
Hearing voices coming closer he then decided that his little outing was over, and jumped down to the gravel road. Creating a huge skidmark in the road.

Later on that evening he went to his room and went to sleep.

Sam decided to try to make friends with the dark mysterious guy, and so knocked on Naecken´s door.
When no reply came, he carefully opened the door to see if he was asleep, only to find a pile of carrots on the bed, and Naecken asleep on the floor...

...it was now the next morning, however, and Pete hurriedly chomped down as much food as he could while he began talking to his new friends:

"So y'shee--CHOMP-MUNCH--I need a couple'a ya--CRUNCH-SLURP--ta come with me--SNORK-CRUM--an' e'splain ta dis Piper buddy--SCHNORFEL-SCHWEITZER--allabout what we need ta get--HOOORK-FLUB--our li'l club in order..."

Shirley just stood there disgusted at the mess he made of the kitchen table. Everyone else was impressed at how much food he could stuff into his little body.

"Well, uh, Pete," began Larry Lance, "I know it's your money and all, but... are you sure we can trust this guy? I mean, you're lucky and all, but you're hardly infallible."

"Whuddubuh?" Pete said with a mouthful of ham sandwich as he looked up for a moment from his meal.

"EEEEeeeewwwwww!" Shirley finally said and ran out of the kitchen.

Danny watched her go and turned back to Pete. "Lance means that your luck can only go so far. I'm not sure I agree with him, though. It seems that we've been on the run for so long that we need some stability so that we can figure out what to do with our gifts."

"I doubt we need to bring in a two-bit, washed-up salesman to show us what to do with ourselves, Dan," said Kristogar, who had just walked in after overhearing the conversation. "And, Pete, you're not going anywhere."

"Mmm?" Pete mumbled while slurping up a bowl of soup.

"Hey, Kristogar, that's kind of harsh," said Sam. "I know I'm the newest member of our little former circus troupe, here, but we're all equals here, and I've gotta have my say. Pete's a good guy. A little bit frazzled from the curveballs life's thrown at him, but he's a good guy nonetheless. And it may be true that all the money he now has was granted to him by pure luck, but it's still his cash, and I know that if it were my money I'd hate to have anyone else tell me what to do with it."

"Listen... Sam..." Kristogar said carefully. "I know you consider Pete a friend, but... we can't have one guy who just happens to possess a great deal of incredible luck to set the course of destiny for our group. This should be something we all decide together, especially ever since Edulcore's death."

"Pete's not just our friend, Kris," said Danny, "he's our teammate. And he's a human being. Why do you talk about him as if he's not sitting right in front of you?"

"Geez, guys, I can't seem to do anything right today, can I? Well, Pete? What do you think? You've been fairly silent on the matter so far."

"Oh... uhh... welll..." Pete began, wiping the food muck onto the sleeves of his tailor-made Armani shirt, which now looked like it had been purchased at the Salvation Army Thrift Shop. "I likes ya, Kristogar. I likes all'a'ya. But what I don't likes is ta be a pain ta any'a'yers. If'n this is such a problem, I'll give all'a ya my money an' controllin' stocks o' BountyLand Foods an' thad free trip inta space from the Russians I won if it'll keep ya from arguin' wid' each udder. It's not like I needs it me'self anyways."

"You don't have to do that, Pete!" said Sam.

"Are you serious, Pete?" asked Kristogar.

"Dead serious, buddy."

"That's... very generous of you," said Kristogar.

"Pete, are you sure about this?" asked Danny.

"Tha's what I said, innit? Mebbe we could creates some kinda... uh... foundation er sumthin', ya know? Sumthin' which would funds the group an' keeps the peace. Thad way none'a us would have that ta argue 'bout any longers. An' we could use all'a thad money to pay ourselves a nice little salary, not ta mention each of us ownin' shares of our own company that we could profits from if we wanted. Tha's all I'm sayin'. An' if we wanna begin a company we'll need someone with some bus'ness experience an' all ta help run it fer us. But he'll be workin' fer us, not the other way 'round."

Nobody said anything for a few moments. Finally, Kristogar spoke up:

"I like it," he said simply. "You know, I really like this idea a lot. I'm still not sure about this Piper guy, but... this could really work to our benefit. Do you still have his phone number, Pete?"

"Yah, bu'y, I'm goin' ta meets 'im as soon as I finishes muh grub."

"Well, I think I'd like to go with you," said Kristogar.

"I'm coming, too," said Sam, adding, "Well, I am the only one of us familiar with this island."

"Okay, then, it's settled," said Kristogar. "As soon as we're done with breakfast, the three of us will go to meet Kit Piper and figure out if he has anything to offer us. If not, we can figure something else out then."

Turning into Hydrogen obviously means I can’t carry the gun. There is no way a cloud of gas can hold a solid object. If that WOULD be possible, I could take Eddie and disappears from the sick world of Walker.

I will return to the gun, sadly. There is no way I can escape Walker orders. I left the gun and the costume in a secure, dark corner, and currently I am running down the ventilation shaft.

There is something I have to do before. I must put to sleep the guards.

All I have is turn into sleeping gas, and pass trough the lungs of every guard in this complex. Sparing the metas and my comrades. An intelligent tank of sleeping gas, that’s what I am for Walker.

The task is easy, and soon the half hundred guards and civilian personnel of the base are knocked down, and I am back to the costume and the gun. And the seven, poisonous darts with which I must play God.

Choosing the life of seven human being, to infect them with a monstrous disease. I will gladly shot these darts into Walker, Turner and his acolytes. But this poison will not kill instantly, so it will not help me.

Uhmmm….

Well, time to choose my seven subjects. I turn into clay, and began to move along the corridor.

Noise. Screams.

A multitude of people running toward my direction.

I ply over the wall, the gun buried inside my thickness, aimed on the passage.

These peoples…

Many looking normal, but there are a few… few monsters, I would call them…

The metagene is surely not a bless for everyone…

… oh God, which ones I must shot?

There is a scaled man, very similar to that monster that cloned my blood to create Eddie. Out of his dress comes a long tail, and he has fangs out of his mouth.

ZAP!

The dart hits him, and I feel a heavy burden over my shoulder. What I have done!

Could aesthetic be my judgment criteria? It seems unfair…

Then I see a big muscled man trying to stop a young blonde girl to the wall and to rip her shirt.

OK, he deserves this.

ZAP!

I shot him, and he falls for an instant on the ground. The girl jumps away, and to my amazement, begins to shot some kind of fire from her eyes, killing the people in front of her to open up a way to run.

Merda, what I have done!

So much for playing God.

There’s no way I can be honest in this. And I can’t stop, nor I can make suicide. There’s my son to care for, and Vidalia, too.

Vidalia… strange as I becoming attached to her hour by hour… but she seems so fragile… and she is so beautiful…

Presto… I must finish this work quickly.

Three very massive men, dressed with leather costumes and steel chains pass.

Gladiator, they seems. If the show Walker talked about was something like a Roman circus, they might be like gladiators… executioner of innocent metas brought here for the enjoinment of perverted peoples… who knows? But it’s a choice like any other… so…

ZAP!

ZAP!

ZAP!

Two more darts.

How much I would pay to put these into Walker and Curie!

The crowd of metas has dispersed.

I must find others.

I turn into human form, and walk further… No one on this floor. I become granite, and break the ceiling, landing on the lower block.

Here the situation is hot. There is a sort of battle between two factions of metahumans.

They are free, they should help each other to find a way out, and instead they fight…

I am disgusted… what good a Revolution could to them? Maybe Turner was right… held them in check; never let them to walk among the common people…

Wait… what I am thinking… they are like captive dog… they have been kept to a chain for too much long…

Yet, the fury in their eyes… the brute force they express… I don’t know what to think.

Zap!

I shot aimlessly in the crowd. And it’s a child to fall down.

I vomit.

I can’t do this. But there is one dart left.

I don’t want to continue this senseless carnage. But I am sure there is some sort of video-recorder in this suit, I can’t just shot at the wall hoping Walker will never know…

Merda merda merda…

I return to the upper floor, to look for the killing girl I saved. She deserves the plague, at last. I put the gun on a shelf, turn around the corner, then become gaseous, floating out of my costume, and began to look for her. I will find her, and will make her following me to the place where I left the gun. Then I will hit her. Any other way, I could end hitting someone other.

And I swear I will not poison any more innocent today.

…………………………

Zap!

…………………………

It’s meeting time, Doe has not yet returned, there is only Vidalia waiting for me.

“Have you done the work, Ed?”

“Look at my face, Dalia” I whisper, handling her the gun. “What will happen to these innocent?”

“The only thing it’s important is what will NOT happen to me, you and Eddie” says the girl, coldly.

“Maybe you are right. Report to Walker that I failed with my last subject”:

“What?”

“After I shoot her, she took fire, and in a matter of seconds she was reduced to ash. Surely an after effect of the plague on her particular metagene”.

……………………………

Doctor Curie later confirmed that the tracker nanite was among the ashes of the woman.

Carefully I give them a shake each and say;
"Good morning my dear brothers, another day of wonder awaits us, and nothing will keep me from mothers pancakes, so hurry up out of bed.

I help them make their beds, and then we troop down to the kitchen where mother is just putting the plates on the table.

"Punctual as allways, Juanito. I wonder what would happen if I served something else for breakfast." she says smiling and ruffles my hair.
My little brothers giggle at me, and I give them a warning glare.

"Today I want you to pay your respects to our new neighbours down the road. I have made a fruitpie for them, and I want you to deliver it with my warmest regards. Tell them to come over tomorrow for dinner when your father has come back."

"Yes,Mom."
Can we go as well?" asks Pedro with his face full of pancake.

"That´s allright, but you must behave. Remember they are new to this place, so you must give them a warm welcome so they feel at home. Now eat up and brush your teeth. I don´t want you to be late for school because of this."

We wolf down our breakfast and then leave, with the pie in my hands, wrapped up in a red and white squared cloth. It smells wonderfull.

I walk down the street with my two brothers running in circles around me, giggling about nothing in particular.
As we approach the tall buiding, three men emerge from the inside and one of them says;

"Don´t worry Danny, I will make sure we don´t do something we will regret. See you for lunch."

He wraps a arm around a smaller guy who seems to come from here, but I have never seen him.

"So Sam, where is this place?"
"Oh just on the other side of the Costansa Square. Nothing posh or anything..."
"Mmmm...I didn´t think so."

We walk up to them and I start to say,
"Emmm, excuse me, my na..."
"Some other time kid, we are in a hurry. Sell it to someone else." the third man says.
"But mother..."
"Not now, okay?"

I watch them march away into the town center, and I look down at the pie. Not knowing what to do.

We could follow them and wait until they are ready. but my brothers need to go to school on time.

"Come, I will take you to school instead."
With loud protests and a few tears later, I wave to my brothers as they enter the school yard. Their teacher waves back and says;
"Juanito!! Say hello to your mother from me!"
"I will!" I shout back.

Then I hurry back to the town center.
Carefull not to topple the pie, I run slowly, but I´m just in time to see them walk under a building that´s under reconstruction.

That´s when it happens...a huge cement block starts to topple and threatens to fall on the three newcomers.
I must stop them. if they take a few more steps the block will surely flatten them.
I run...

One of them stops and complains about something in his eye...a fly or something...but the other two continue to walk...

I look at the pie, and make a hasty decision.
My aim is true and well...
It shoots thru the air...straight into the taller man´s face, just seconds later the block crashes down on the pavement a few meters in front of them...

The look of surprise will never leave my memory.
Fighting to hold back a roar of laughter, I walk up to them and say;

"Welcome to Perdita." and then I run off.

Ciccioto had taken out the guards making it a straight shot for Doe to get down to the lowest levels of the containment block. He ran to the end of the hall where the ventilation shaft ended and pushed the button for the freight elevator. He looked over his right shoulder to see a security camera staring him in the face, he hoped IGOR had properly convinced all the security measures in the compound to transmit false data, or he'd more to deal with than he planned, and that would take extra time.

The elevator arrived carrying two laughing guards with mp5 submachine guns. Their laughter was cut short as their arms swung the guns up to Doe's face and then back down to the floor. Doe stepped into the elevator, pressed the "down" button, and kicked the headless corpses aside.

**<<Hey Johnny, what was the punchline to that one huh?>>**

"The damn fool was in radio contact..."

**<<Johnny? You there man? ... Hey I think we have a problem in Block E, get some men down there. Johnny? Hey Johnny man, come in...If you're fooling around the Colonel will have your ass dude.>>**

Doe reached down and grabbed the radio.

"Dude? What the hell do you think this is, a surf shop?"

**<<Johnny? Who the fuck is this man! Put Johnny on now!>>**

"I thought that highly trained black ops guards would be more than 19 years old...and that they would be more used to their comrades' heads being blown apart by a cranky meta who didn't get his nap last night."

**<<Alright fucker, you're dead man. We know where you are and you're dead.>>**

"I was counting on you saying that."

Doe incinerated the radio. His plans had changed slightly, but only in terms of body count. This would take a bit more time. The elevator reached the end of its descent and opened into a dimly lit, cavernous stone room. In the center of the room was a large pit, sunken about 20 feet from the surrounding ring. At either end were elevators such as the one he rode, and 3 corridoors led off from the upper ledge around the pit.

This was the colliseum. This was where the metahumans were forced to come and fight each other in duels to the death for the amusement of greasy bastards in leather recliners who laughed at the plight of these poor demihumans while having sex with his mistress.

Doe liked it.

These corridoors would be where they kept the strongest of the strong, the champions of the pit. Doe around the upper ledge to the hallway on the far side of the freight elevator. There had to be times when the spectators called for a battle royale, he need only find the proper switch to open all the cages in this hall. Searching the bank of controls he finally found it in the upper right. Slamming his fist onto the button he ran to the other corridoor and did the same.

By the time the gladiators had ran out to the pit area the guards were pouring in from the third hallway. Doe stood in the center of the pit waiting for them.

"Hello everyone. I'm so glad you came to join us. To the metas on my right this is your chance to defeat your oppressors in open combat, if you win you'll be free. To the military personnel on my left these metas want to kill you, if you win you can live."

Doe jumped towards the ledge, propelling himself with a gust of wind, and when he landed hurricane force gales burst from the 3 corridoors sending all the would-be combatants crashing thirty feet to the pit floor. Growls and grunts came from the gladiators while injured officers attempted to organize their men.

**<<Doe, this is Walker. You've strayed from the mission parameters.>>**

"Nice observation sir."

**<<Get back-->>**

Doe shut the radio off. The combat below him had already begun. Gunfire was mixed with screams and grunts. He walked to the edge, making sure that any stray bullets coming his way met with a wall of impossibly thick air. Holding his hands in front of him he concentrated for a split second then released. Electric napalm coursed through everyone in the pit flaying tissue and melting bone. Steel fused to flesh, then both turned to ash. When it was done Doe tossed his dart gun onto the mound of dust thirty feet below him.

"You all lose."

Making his way back up to the redevous point was uneventful. He met with Owens and Ciccioto, then all three continued back to the extraction point where a very unamused Walker was waiting.

"You! Doe, what do you think you were doing! You didn't get a single percent of your quota and you strayed from mission guidelines. Explain yourself."

Doe grabbed a palm computer from Curie and scanned the list of those the nanites had infected.

"Appears to be a lot of children. Their advanced metabolisms should tell you all you need to know, I really don't think we needed any more. Besides I think I did you a favor, you're now one step closer to being the only underground metahuman operation in the country."

"Listen here 'Doe'. I give you orders and I expect them to be carried out. I can't be undermined by rogue operatives or the EPS may no longer be a 'safe' place. I can't have my men dishonoring me."

Doe's jaw clenched and his eyes became hard as steel and sharp as knives. Walker motioned with his arm behind him.

"Turner, show Mr. Doe what I caught."

Turner brought forward a slight man who's head lolled to one side, but all present could detect the oily eyes and black blood from his dart wound.

"It seems this man has developed as a host for the Pathogen. I'm going to study him further, but I thought you would like to see my latest experiment. Isn't he wonderful Doe?"

"You're just like my father you bastard. No, you couldn't hold a candle to my father. This place is a second-rate operation compared to the Lunar Circle. I 'dishonored' you?! What did you expect when you hired an assassin to lead your team! I kill people and I could kill you."

Walker smiled and answered in a soft voice. "I give you what you want, a safe place, and you give me what I want, a metahuman with the power to play God. I said nothing about letting you lead a squad or even letting you see the light of day again for that matter. Now shut up Doe, or do I need Turner to set you straight?"

"Listen you bumbling fool, I have a name. Since when have you needed Turner to enforce your will? Since when have I not been good enough? Why do you need this new one?! Are none of us good enough?!"

"No. Perhaps you forget the reason for your existence John Doe, to procure enhanced humans for study and use. None of you will be good enough until you eradicate metahumans from the planet."

"Maybe I'll just start with you instead, and my name is Cole Lochlan, bastard."

Cole advanced towards Walker, but Turner moved to intercept by sending an electric blast from his eyes. Cole brought his hand up, dissipating the charge and then grabbed Turner around the eyes, squeezing his temples between his thumb and forefinger.

"Stay out of this Turner."

Lochlan turned his head towards Walker, who looked surprised, but not afraid. As he did so Turner grabbed his arm and flung him around into the wall, cracking the stone. Cole used the falling debris as a weapon, blowing chunks of stone and mortar into Turner with gusts of wind. When he spun away from the wall Turner caught him with a swift kick to the ribs. Cole rolled with the impact, coming to his knees about four yards away from the rushing Agent Turner. At the last second he froze the air around him into a swirling field of icy knives. As Turner ran into this trap Cole dove towards a momentarily stunned Walker and pressed a button on his belt. Turned doubled over in pain and began to bleed profusely from his mouth, ears, and nose. When the pain had stopped he propped himself on all fours.

"Just like last time, using something from outside the field of play to win."

"I win anyway necessary."

Walker smirked. "So do I."

He pressed a different button on his belt and was visibly upset when nothing happened. He began frantically mashing it to no avail. Cole stared at Walker when a realization dawned on him.

"Oh, this is where I fall down."

Lochlan made a mockery of falling to his knees and screaming in pain before doubling over in laughter instead. He stood up and unhooked the collar from his neck.

"How long..."

"I figured this out after about the first night. And as there is no reason to continue the charade..." Cole threw the collar far behind him where everyone heard it snap upon the stone.

"I admit I misjudged you...Cole was it? You're more resourceful than imagined, and you were an assassin you say? For something called the Lunar Circle?"

Cole ignored him. "Mr. Walker, sir. I know this is your operation, but in lieu of killing you now I'll take your word of honor as a scientist. The EPS is yours, but the missions are mine. I'll be the warden of this little prison you have going. All decisions in the field will be made by me, anyone not willing to agree to that can operate in other areas at your discretion." At this he shot glances to Turner and Ciccioto.

Walker folded his hands. "I don't believe that will be too much of a problem. Curie?"

Curie pulled a rather large weapon from his lab coat and approached Lochlan from the back. He fired it at point black range and Cole crumpled to the ground.

Walker turned around. "Well, now that's over...boy had a decent idea though...I.G.O.R. activate doorway."

In his half-conscious state Cole could just think, "Damn I should have taken that swim..."

[ 05-01-2002: Message edited by: Avatar ]

When we materialize back at the headquarters, somewhere beneath Chicago, I think I have still the expression of amazement on my face that Doe’s (or should I say Cole?) has caused.

I couldn’t have hoped for anything better to cover my innocent cheat. And also to having Vidalia coming even more close to me. What Doe has done should have evidently scared her, and she’s holding my hand since we departed from the Side Show.

Anyway, what happened confirm my toughs. Walker’s team is ready to explode any moment from now. Maybe not all is lost; the light of hope, that for me has been off for long, now is burning again even if very dim. I must be ready. I’m sure I will hold my son. I don’t know if it will be soon, or later, tomorrow or a year from now.

But I will.

The metal walls reflect a distorted image of Vidalia Owens and Ciccioto, their hands locked together. Turner notices this out of the corner of his left eye. He laughs to himself for a moment, The 'HERO' really has no clue what he is getting in to, before wiping a mix of dust and ash from his coat.

His palms are black, his arm bruised. But this fact doesn't upset him, not in the least.

He licks the side of his lip, cleaning off the dried blood, which was a gift from his quarrel with the man once known as Doe. The taste, as disgusting as it might be makes Turner smile (as only he could).

Blood. Life. Reality.

Turner quickly descends a level into one of the many kitchens. The doors hit their stoppers with a thud as Turner rushes into the room. He pulls a drawer open, almost taking it off its hinges. He has found his goal.

A sharp knife.
Turner throws his old fedora on a counter and removes his coat. He rolls up his left sleeve and tightly grips the knife in he right hand.

Turner digs the knife into his arm and slices across his shoulder, stopping before the mussel. He does the same in the opposite direction, creating an X which is slowly hidden under a layer of blood.

Turner grins his teeth at the pain. His eyes light up with life.

For the first time in a long time he has felt something, anything.

"The La Perdita Wildlife Sanctuary".

I decided to indulge myself in some tourism, and so here I am. I look down at the brochure in my hand.

quote:

---

...Established in 1973 as a refuge for a few rare species of endangered animals, the La Perdita Wildlife Sanctuary has since grown to become a home for more than two dozen varieties of animals, from all over the world. The Sanctuary has proven to be one of the island's most popular tourist destinations, and attracts countless visitors every year...

---

I walk through the open gates, handing five American dollars to a man at the ticket booth. He stamps my hand, smiles, and lets me in.

"This is amazing."

"I know, Hal."

"We don't have anything like this in 2083."

"I know."

He's right. We don't. Conserving endangered species to a back seat to progress in terms of humanity's collective ideals.

...in many ways, the humans of the past are more advances than the humans of my present...

Well, I guess now is as good a time as any for some practice.`

An emu stands in it's enclosure, foraging about in the grass. It looks up when it realises I'm there, and cocks it's head to the side. Given the emu's rather long neck, this act is almost comical.

"Beak," I say. Hal complies, and after a moment of pain and shifting molecules, my face has been given an emu's beak.

"Feathers", I say, the word sounding mumbled and incoherent through the beck. Hal knows what I mean, at least. Again, the pain comes, and then my body is covered in feathers.

At least I'm getting used to the pain. It doesn't seem so bad anymore.

I decide not to try for emu's legs. I don't want to have to take off my shoes.

A small child looks at me, with an expression of shock and confusion on his face. I quickly tell Hal to retract my new features.

I wander over to the enclosure that seems to house some sort of moose. One of the moose (mooses? Meese?) is standing under a tree near me.

"Moose antlers..." I say.

A second later, I become top heavy and fall to the ground.

"Reverse..." I mumble, and pick myself back up. Note to self- centre of gravity changes when you grow something heavy on yourself. Got to work on those balance issues.

I wander for hours, trying out new animal parts at every cage I come to. Monkey's tails. Bird's wings (I can fly! How cool is that?). Lizard's scales. Crocodiles teeth (cut my gum pretty bad).

The sanctuary is huge, covering several square kilometres of the island. The enclosures are all huge, and each is designed specifically for it's animal. They obviously have the best interests of the animals in mind... Trying to conserve them. Trying to breed them. I notice that a large portion of the animals are injured, apparently being nursed back to health before being released into the wild.

And, once again, I'm reminded of just how different this time is to my own.

I wonder what the time is? I need to know the time. I decide to ask a stranger.

"Excuse me, do you know the time?" I say to a man who passes me.

"It's four thirty, buddy," He says, checking his watch.

"Thanks."

I should head back to the hotel. I head for the park's exit, but on the way, I pass the giraffe enclosure...

I just have to try it. Just this once.

A moment later, I'm looking down at all the onlookers. It's amazing how many shocked and confused faces you can see when your head is up this high.

I reverse the neck, and head on home.

Waves upon waves of Aurora lights flowed across the night sky of Island.
The listening post, Urtråkig, found itself engulfed in radio static and stormy winds.
The listening post was situated on the brink of an enormous crater.

Inside the grey box called "Base1" Agent Winter sat with his earphones on, listening for anomalies in the airspace around the crater.
His jacket had a small patch with the sign "Trans-D Dep." on it.

The rythmic signal he had been listening to started ever so slowly to increase both in pitch and speed.

He activated his intercomm;
"We have a 4th Shadow scenario, I repeat we have a 4th..."
The intercomm died and all electricity shut down as if blasted by a EMP wave.

Agent Winter cursed loudly and put on his coat and headed for the door, when his colleague came into the room.
"Hey, man. What´s happening? Why hasn´t the reserve generator switched on?"
"I don´t know, but I´m going to find out." he said putting his boots on.

Outside the sky was lit up like a christmas tree, and the wind howled in his ears.

Cursing out loud again he entered the hut where they kept the generator.
It all seemed in working order.

Suddenly the sound of the tractor starting, was heard.
He went outside again, only to see his friend running after the tractor, waving his arms.
He decided to go inside and fix the generator, whoever had stolen their tractor wouldn´t get very far. This base was in the middle of a glazier, and the next morning when the wind should clear up, he would go after him.

The tractor drove for hours until it reached the coast. No one stepped out of it.
It just stood there until morning.

The Aurora lights had disappeared and the wind slowed down to a breeze.

a small fishing boat was anchored about two miles from the shore.
The being who stole the tractor decided it was time to change mode of transportation, and entered the boat´s radio, causing havoc with the settings and interupting a football game.
It son familiarized itself with the functions of the communication aparatus, and decided to ask for help.

The fishermen sat with their mouth open in shock when their radio suddenly said;
"Hello friends, my name is T5, and I need to travel far. Will you help me?"

"This is great! Wonderful! Fabulous!"

Kit Piper was positively beaming after listening to the story of this group of exceptional people as told by Kristogar Velo, Pete Glover, and Sam Dawson in an outdoor cafe, where they had had a long, late lunch. They had given him the full story from the beginning, although none of them had been with the group quite that long. Kristogar had been filled in on most of the details, however, and although he was at first wary of this "two-bit, washed up salesman," there was something very charming in Piper's way. As Sam whispered to him, though, he was a bit too "Hollywood" in his manner.

"I knew there was something about you folks, I just knew it!" Piper exclaimed. "I knew it the first moment I laid eyes upon all of you."

"So... back ta bus'ness, bud'y," said Pete. "We's thinkin' about creatin' a foundation or somethin-or-other ta keep us busy, y'know? Sumthin' ta use our gifts fer helpin' people, while keepin' us in da ranks o' da employed. Only, none o' us got any experience in bus'ness."

Kit Piper rose from his seat in an excited manner and began waving his arms around as he spoke: "I can see it now! A consulting company! Only, you're not just any consulting company, you're specialists in high-risk assignments! Not mercenaries for hire, per se, but a crack team of adventurers who will perform assignments too dangerous for ordinary individuals to perform. You'll investigate the mysterious forces of nature with your varied abilities and charge a necessary fee to those who employ your services. Although you're based on the beautiful tropical island of La Perdita, you operate WORLD-WIDE! Yes, a consulting company-slash-adventurers organization... With our own little Pete at the helm!"

"Welll... act'lly, I'm givin' up my money fer my friends," explained Pete. "It's goin' directly inta that foundation I talked about."

"Such a charitable figure of a man you are, sir! You put me to shame!" Piper said, quickly adding, "I, of course, would be glad to operate as your financial advisor, however, as your humble employee! But who shall run the organization? Kristogar?"

"We've already talked this over, uh... Kit," said Kristogar. "Any major decisions we need to make for the team will be made by group consensus. And as far as any assignments go, we have agreed that different team leaders will be chosen based on the assignment. Conceivably, all of our members will have a chance to lead. The 'head' of this organization will essentially be the team itself."

"Democracy in action! I love it!"

"Maybe Shirley can be our secretary or something," suggested Sam. "It would be better than her last job, that's for sure."

"Yup, and Doc Quantos already agreed ta be our scientific consultant, even though he lives in Canada," said Pete.

"First of all, though, we would need to fix up our apartment building. We're supposed to be getting our telephones hooked up and our computer equipment today, but we should see if we can adapt the basement into a training and exercise room. And we might want to scout around for an outdoor training facility for more serious workouts with our powers."

"Of course," added Sam, "we have to run everything past the rest of the guys and gals when we get back before we can agree to anything."

"I understand completely, sir," Kit said very seriously. "As a family man myself, I understand that any major decisions of this magnitude need to be discussed. If you will allow, however, I would like to begin working on setting up the consulting company. If your fellow members should say no, I would most certainly abandon the project."

"That should be fine," said Kristogar.

"Excellent! Now, all we need is a name! La Perdita Consulting? Puerta Mibela Consultants? Any thoughts?"

The three looked at each other. "Well, we've never actually given our little team a name, beyond the nickname of 'the Revolutionaries,'" said Kristogar. "I guess we've never really had to think of any before."

"I don't think our consulting company necessarily has to be the same as our nickname, though," said Sam. "'Revolutionaries Consulting Group' doesn't really work."

"I kinda like Puerta Mibela Consultants," said Pete. "Only... it's too long, eh?"

"How about Mibela Consultants?" suggested Sam.

"No... the name doesn't really signify what we need," said Kristogar. "However... what if we take out the vowels and use the remaining consonants? That leaves us with something like... MBL Consulting, Inc. It sounds more... powerful, I think." As Kristogar Velo said this, he wore a sly grin on his face, as if remembering something from his past.

"MBL Consulting? I like it!" said Sam.

"Aye, me too," Pete said.

"Beautiful!" said Kit. "MBL Consulting it is!" He shook each of their hands, and they parted ways.

The three men walked away from the outdoor cafe, and Pete started giggling suddenly. He whispered to Sam, pointing at Kristogar. Sam looked at him and broke out in laughter.

"BWA-HA-HA-HA-HA-HA-HA-HA-HA-HA-HA!!!!!!"

"What. Is. So. Funny?" a very cross Kristogar said.

"There's a...BWA-HA-HA-HA!!!...there's a... HA-HA-HA-HAAAA!!! ...piece of... BWA-HAA-HAAAA--"

"WHAT? A PIECE OF WHAT?"

"Heh-heh. Ye got a piece of pie in yer hair, mate," Pete said grinning.

"Oh bloody hell..." Kristogar muttered as he shook his hair out for the fourth time since this morning, "...this never ever happened when I worked for the little blue guys..."

[ 05-08-2002: Message edited by: TheTimeTrust ]

"So... I got all'a yer phones hooked up, an' the IT wiz is comin' by later to hook up yer high-speed, Broadband Internet service. All I need is yer signature on the dotted line, Mr. Christopher... WHOA! That's one hell of a bill! Hope ya can pay fer it."

"Don't worry about the money, we can cover it. And, hey, call me T.C.," said Tobias as the telephone men and women removed their equipment just as the computer people began installing PCs, laptops, scanners, monitors and various other devices in the 14-floor apartment building. It was Dr. Henry Quantos who suggested that they do so with Pete's wealth. "And thanks a lot, man! Now I can call home!"

"Glad ta be of service," replied the telephone guy. "Ya got my card if'n there's any probs, okay, pal?"

"Great! Thanks," T.C. said as he watched the phone people go.

Tobias Christopher took a brief tour of the apartment building as he checked out the telephone installation work that had been done as well as the computer installation work that was currently being done. He carried a small pad of paper and a pen and wrote down notes as he went...

"Now, if I can remember my Dante correctly, this should be the ninth level of Hell reserved for the treacherous, otherwise known as the basement: Laundry room and run-down old gym... could use a swimming pool and hot tub, not to mention some fixing up. The elevator seems to be working all right, though it's WAY too dark for my liking down here. Got to install a few more lights or something...

"First floor: The eighth level of Hell, reserved for the Fraudulent: the Lobby, the unused landlord office, mail-room, maintenance room, and Pete's already-dingy apartment. The phones and computers seem to already be installed, but some of the lightbulbs need to be changed, and the tilework in the lobby looks to be a bit worn...

"Second floor: Seventh level of Hell, for the Violent: Main dining room, kitchen, and walk-in freezer unit. Formerly used for conventions, now the dining room of the Revolutionaries. Everything's installed already. The kitchen is temporarily stocked, but we're low on many supplies. Plus, the gas stove should be looked at. There's also some kind of horrible stench on this floor, like something died. I hope that's not in the kitchen. There's also a game room with a TV and a whole lot of boxing and wrestling memorabilia in this place. I should call a collector and have this stuff appraised. Might be worth something...

"Third floor: Sixth level of Hell, for the Heretics: Mick, Shirley, and Larry Lance's apartments on this level (of COURSE they're going to find a place close to the kitchen). And with a few posters up and some party music playing in the background, this floor already looks like it's gonna be Fun Central. Computers already installed...

"Fourth floor: Fifth level of Hell, reserved for the Wrathful and the Sullen: Kristogar Velo's floor. Well, he only occupies one of the four apartments on this floor, but it's a large three bedroom one. Everything looks all right, and everything appears to already be installed. He should be happy when he gets back. May want to take a look at that leaky faucet in his bathroom, though...

"Fifth floor: Fourth level of Hell, reserved for the Hoarders and the Wasters: (I probably fit into the latter category...) Sam's old family apartment and the apartment of yours truly, Tobias Christopher, and his cat, Li'l Jo, as well as two unoccupied ones. Everything looks good, and my computer's currently being installed. Needs vacuuming...

"Sixth floor: Third level of Hell, reserved for the Gluttonous: As yet unoccupied, but the empty cardboard boxes in some of the unoccupied apartments currently being used for storage could be a fire hazard. Sheesh. It looks like a garbage dump in this place...

"Seventh floor: Second level of Hell, reserved for the Lustful: Six unoccupied apartments and Danny's Apartment 707. He might be disappointed with the comparatively primitive so-called 'state of the art' computer being installed for him, though. It must look like an antique to him. This floor must look like a museum to him. It seems to be a bit damp, though. Damp and dark. Have to keep an eye out for fungus...

"Eighth floor: First level of Hell, also known as Limbo, the entrance to Hell. Strangely enough, nobody wanted any of these seven apartments. The power's turned off, and everything appears to be spick and span. Strange creaks in the hallway, though, and it's unusually cold in here; sends chills down my spine. May have to ask Sam about that one. Now on to Purgatory...

"Ninth floor: First level of Purgatory, where the Proud go. As yet unoccupied. Looks to be the nicest level yet, even though the power's turned off. I'm surprised nobody took this one, although it is fairly isolated, as most of the higher level apartments are...

"Tenth floor: Second level of Purgatory, where the Envious abide. Naecken's apartment's on this floor, and no computers except a little laptop. Nice view from the window, but there's a nasty stain on the rug. I'll have to call the cleaners tomorrow...

"Eleventh floor: Third level of Purgatory, where the Wrathful go. Nobody lives here yet. Everything looks okay. Next...

"Twelfth floor: Fourth level of Purgatory, for the Slothful. (That sure doesn't include me. I'm almost getting winded.) Whew...

"Thirteenth floor: Fifth level of Purgatory, for the Avaricious and Prodigal: Sonja Ljzavet's apartment, which... I'm afraid to go into on account of that she'll KILL me if I do. But the phones appear to be hooked up and one of the computer chicks is hooking up a couple of computers...

"Next... the fourteen floor: The sixth level of Purgatory, reserved for the Gluttonous: No access to it as yet, as per Sam's request. I've still gotta ask him about that. No phone or computer hookups, or even electrical. I guess there's no reason for it if nobody's living up there."

Tobias went up the stairs, bypassing the locked door to the 14th floor and reached the roof. It was still sunny and beautiful outside.

"The seventh level of Purgatory, for the Lustful... also known as the Roof: Great place to hang out and use the ol' binoculars for oogling the babes! Good for catching some sun if the beaches are too busy, too. There's a greenhouse up here for growing plants, and a few laundry lines. We might want to look into whether this roof can support some kind of flying craft, though. God knows that would be handy for traveling long distances. And we should be able to afford it now...

"I guess the only place I can go now is either up to Paradise or back down into the bowels of Hell," Tobias joked to himself. "Man, I can't believe I remember that copy of Dante's Inferno they gave me at the juvie center when I was a teenager so well. And I just realized that I'm talking to myself... I'll stop now."

[ 05-07-2002: Message edited by: TheTimeTrust ]

I’m lying on the bed in my compound. Next to me is Vidalia, snoring. We have made love this evening, for the first time, now she sleeps, while I’m not able to. The sex is fantastic with her, and not because it was months I had not made love with a woman.

When was the last time?

Lorelei, at the circus.

The circus.

I wonder where they are, now. The European tour...

What was his name? Wong, I think. The owner...

Why all this time I never tough about them? About MXY and Naecken, my friends. And Danny, Tobias and Kristogar. And that loon, what was his name? Nowhereman, right. And the new guy, Larry Lance. And what about the woman, the one that arrived to reveal Danny was kept prisoner at Malvan X. I allowed her to join our ranks. What was her name? I don’t remember.

Why I have never tough about them all this time? Like something or someone preventing me to even remember them... And now that I am thinking about it... more I fell in love with Vidalia, more the experiences of the past seemed distant... could love be so totaling, so exclusive to exclude my past from my life? And why I have fall so deep for this woman.

I turn to her, sleeping next to me, her long blonde hair, usually tied, now free to flow over the pillow. I watch her sensual lips, her firm breast...

...and suddenly something moves in the shadow, at the rim of my field of vision.

I turn, and, black in the black, there is the dwarf I dreamed about sometime in the past, standing at the foot of the bed, and watching me silently. I jump to seat on the bed, Vidalia still sleeping.

The dwarf extends his right hand toward me. I catch it, and he makes me to come out of my body, like my body was a sort of dress. I turn back and I am still there, lying next Vidalia.

The dwarf still don’t say a word. We are flying up and up, across all the floor of the EPS Headquarter, to the surface. We are heading to the slums, to the poorest part of the city, and then into the sewers.

And there, there is a whole city made of caverns, holes in the grounds, where people lives.

Metahumans. Many of them I have seen before. The ones I helped to freed from the ZOO.

And they talk. They talk about the killing of many metas in a secret prison in the south. They says that among the killers there was the Eurostar. They says I am a traitor, and that the Revolution had died.

I cry, and all become dark.

When I reopen my eyes, I am still in my compound and Vidalia is still snoring gentle.

Wow, luckily it was a dream. It was months that I had not this kind of dreams, but before, they were common.

Better to come back to bed.

And only now I notice that my body is still in the bed, while I am outside. I walk toward it, and enter it like coming inside a car. I try the opposite, and it works. I can enter and exit my body at will. My soul enter and exit my body at my will.

Incredible. But I am not in the mood for joy.

This means what I have seen and heard in the slums was for real.

This means I have betrayed my own people.

[ 05-09-2002: Message edited by: The Eurostar ]

Ljzavet was staring out of the window, to the horizon and the distant sea. Suddenly she turned toward him, shouting very mad at him: “I can’t believe it! I really can’t be-li-eve it!”

Kristogar raised an eyebrow. “What you can’t believe?”

“What I can’t believe? You ask me what I can’t believe? You are really asking me what I can’t believe?” said the woman, very upset.

“Actually, yes.”

“You have founded a company! Heroes for hire! And you want to publicize it! You are selling out our location to our enemies! No, not selling... giving it for free!” The girl was now screaming directly into his face, altough she had to stay on the tip of her own foot to be at the same level of the tall man.

“I know.”

“You know! You know! And you, knowing it will be our death, you have allowed that... that idiot to sell us as mercenary? There are forces you can’t ever begin to understand that will be over us the very next day your MBL will appear over the internet!”

“What forces, Sonja? What do you know that we don’t? And, while you are at it... who are you?”

“My business. And we were talking about...”

“It can’t be your business, Miss Ljzavet, not until you live among us. Who are you? Why you were spying on us in Mandelovia? Why your tattoo seems to disappear every once in awhile? What forces you were talking about?” asks Kristogar, cold as ice, still standing in the middle of the door.

“And you, Velo? Who are you? You have never told us. You arrived to the circus, asking to join the metahuman team when the guys where only trying to find a safe spot to hide. You arrived with other two persons, where are them now? You seemed their best buddy, where they have disappeared?”

“Ehy, ehy. You weren’t with us at the time, how can you know?” asks Kristogar. His cold face has given room to an upset expression.

“Uhm... Tobias told me. Don’t ask me to reveal my secrets until you are not ready to reveal yours” said Sonja, and soon a smile appeared to light her face.

“Deal” whispers Kristogar, and turned to leave the room. Then stopped, and came back.

“Well, Sonja. About the company: first, La Perdita is one of the few nation in the world where metahumans have equal rights. Here, we are safe from any interference from the United States. This nation has an elite security agency, composed exclusively of metahumans with psychic powers, there will be no secret mission from any hostile country.
Second, Naecken is sure Eurostar has not died. We are unable to locate him, we hope that making us public he will find us, and the same is for Nowhereman, should he be returning. I have faith in that man.
Third, my goal, the motivation for which I have joined this group of fugitive, is to help to form a team of superheroes.
Please, don’t laugh.
Metahumans are not to be feared, we know it, but the people at large, the so called normal people don’t, and they want to isolate, or eliminate them.
Eurostar understood this, out of his experience, but his background as a communist had him to imagine a revolution, to free the metas.
He basically wanted the metas freeing themselves. This, in my humble opinion, would cause more fear among the normal people.
I want to free the metahumans world, too, but talking directly to the normals, instead of the metas. I want to set examples, and inspiration. I want the people to look at the metas as their big brothers, I want people to feels protected by the fact that there are people with gifts, that looks over their peace.
Basically I want to fulfill the plan of the USA gov., but by my own means, trough my own way.”

“What plan are you talking about?”

“Sorry, I can’t reveal, Sonja” and with a sad face, Kristogar Velo left the room.

Then he paused a moment, turned back, looked Sonja in the eyes and said “I can’t reveal it. Yet”.

[ 05-09-2002: Message edited by: Sonja ]

"This is Georgio, I have found the right temporal-triaxial coordinates of the lost agent. She seems to have been here longer than me, which suggests that the time-differential synch is slower here.
I´m jumping downstream in time to locate her bio signature."

The gang looked at each other.
Then Tobias asked;
"You...get headaches? Aren´t you supposed to be this composite being, made out of devils and angels and stuff?
"I am. But this isn´t really a headache as you call it...It´s more a splitting sensation as if part of me wants to tear itself out of me. It hurts but I endure it. But ever since we got here I have felt better. Please pass the salt."

Danny hungrily consumed the portion of salad on his plate.

"Lamb, Danny?" Lance said, offering him a freshly cut slice.

"No thanks, I'm a vegetarian," Danny replied, in the third person.

"Really?"

"Yes."

"Really?!"

"Yes!"

Shirley sat next to Mick, and was offering him a second helping.

"Any more, Mick?... it IS Mick, isn't it?"

"Of course it is!"

"Well, it might have been Mxy..."

"Why would it be Mxy?-"

A brief pause.

"Hi everyone!"

"Hi Mxy!"

"Man, that never stops being funny..." Tobias said, laughing.

"But on a serious note everybody... Sonja has raised a legitimate concern..." Kristogar said, shooting Sonja a quick glance, "When she says that she thinks this new... endeavour may be a risk."

"Correct. We could be opening ourselves up for those who wish to track us down," Sonja added.

"Right..." Danny said, as if expecting more from Sonja's sentence.

His expectation paid off, as she continued...

"...but Kristogar has partially succeeded in reassuring me about these concerns. But I do think we should all be aware of the possibility of risk before we proceed... so we can all agree on the plan."

The group was silent for a second, contemplating.

"Well, yeah, but... anythin's a risk then, innit'..." Pete finally said.

Everyone looked at him.

"Yeah. Well. Y'know. We could all fall down offa bridge or sumthin', or get stampeded by one o' dem bulls or sumthin'... all I'm sayin' is, y'take risks every day. Doin' all sorts of stuff."

"Well, most people do. Not so much you," Danny said to Pete.

"I take yer point, but then, you take mine... there's gunna be a slight chance o' risk, we all know dat... but there's gunna be a bloody huge chance o' helpin' people out wid stuff, isn't there?"

"He's right," Tobias said, speaking to everyone at the table, "The good we can do far outweighs the potential danger."

Everybody voiced their agreement. The group seemed to have come to a final concensus.

"Well, that's settled then!" Kristogar said, sounding excited about the new venture.

I’m standing in front of my body.

Out of it.

I have made practice in the last few day. I come in and out of my body at my will.

What is what I define “I”. My soul?

What did really happened when the meteor destroyed the Malvan X building?

Did it kill me?

Is the Time Trust able to take a dead back to life?

I doubt it.

What did happen to me?

Three are the alternatives.

First. I died. I exclude it, only God can give life back, and the Time Trust is not God.

Second. I didn’t die, but my body was destroyed, and only my soul survived. Can a soul survive separated from his body? I don’t think so.

Third. If a soul can’t be separated from his body, what I call my soul is still my original body, at null density. Kristogar Velo, one time, speculated that I could change the density of my body, and of other objects, transferring its or their masses to an other place, or dimension. I must deduce, from that, the fateful day in Mandelovia I shifted away, along the whole asteroids, the complete mass of my body. So, it is still somewhere, only I am not able to reach it.

This brings me to the crucial point. When I asked to the Time Trust to have my body back, in order to rescue my son, he gave me this incredible shell, instead of having me recuperating the mass of my true body. I can believe someone with access to a technology with the know how for this marvel, could not restore my body to full functionality.

The question is: why?

The only answer I can think of, is that in order to rescue Eddie, I need this body and this new powers instead of my old one and my control over density. He knows, this is past, for him.
The problem is, with the old powers I could have taken Eddie from the EPS Headquarter undetected. With the new one, I can’t. I am at the complete mercy of Lochlan, and also I can’t take Eddie with without turning solid, becoming subject to the powers of each other member of the EPS.

I am at a total standstill.

Yet, the Time Trust knows what happened, and gave me this body. So this body is the key.

These powers are the key.

But, if these powers would easily allow me to destroy the whole EPS Headquarter, they can’t permit me to save my son.

[ 05-12-2002: Message edited by: The Eurostar ]

I sit in front of Walker and Lochlan.

I called for a private meeting with them.

Just after having tough about my condition for the ten thousandth time, the answer struck my head.

There are no chains to hold me, I am prisoner only of my mind. And it’s time to be free.

I need to clean my name, I need to help the revolution start anew. The days of tears end today.

The look on the faces of my two jailers is cold as ice, but I know they are perplexed, dying to know what I have to say.

I stay silent for minutes. I want to have them uncomfortable.

Then I stand up. “I need to leave. Bring me my son, and I will go”.

Walker laughs, Lochlan point a finger toward me. My seat breaks into crystals, as the meta has dropped the temperature around my place near zero Kelvin. But I was not there anymore. I turned into air, and now I am hiding inside Walker lungs.

The notion that I can turn into cyanide quickly comes to my mind. No. I don’t kill. I don’t need to.

Eh? What I just tough? I don’t kill because it’s bad.

Anyway. I turn in my human form.

“Hum. You know I can kill you in a hundred different way, Cicciotto” says Lochlan, coldly.

“I can avoid that in an hundred and one different way, Lochlan. I have been trained to think fast, you know it, Lochlan.” The meta grimaces.

Now it’s Walker’s time to talk. “Do I have Eddie brought here, Cicciotto. Only the head, perhaps?”

I watch him in the eyes. “Touch my son and I will blown up this place. With you and your minions inside.”

Walker smiles.

Ouch. I didn’t expect this.

“You needed 83 days to notice that, Cicciotto? You don’t think fast, I am sorry. Oh. Well. Plan B”. And said that, Walker presses a button on the desk. “Dr. Curie, bring here the kid.”

The man in the orange suit arrives, holding my son. Eddie is sleeping, the snakes all curled up on his little head.

What are Walker intentions? This is not proceeding like I tough.

He takes Eddie, stand up, and walk toward me. And hands me the baby!

I take him. It’s the first time I touch my son, it’s the first time I smells him. He is soft and rounded and smells good. He is beautiful and small and light. He snores and in the open mouth I see four little teeth. I feel tears running down my cheeks.

“OK, now you have your clone, let’s go, Cicciotto!” says Walker, with a false gentle voice.

And I find that I can’t even think about leaving this place.

Vidalia!

I can’t leave her! I can’t think of being far from her!

“Vidalia comes with me!” I shout, but all is falling over me.

“Do you think she wants to leave this place, Cicciotto?”

“I can force you to release her” I whisper, but I know that’s impossible. “What’s happening? What’s happening to me?”

“Vidalia Owens is an empath. She can controls emotions. The emotions of others persons. Sadly, she can’t control really well her own. You have seduced her with your dull tricks, she has fallen in love with you, and her powers have tied the bond between you two to the point you can’t even think of being away from her. Now you are forced to stay here by what you, I am sure, considers the strongest force in all creation: the force of love.” Walker laughs.

He wins.

But I can’t leave that even this time he wins completely. I jump at him still holding Eddie with my left arm, and touch him in the neck with the right hand.

He jumps, too, a step behind, his hands going to the neck. There is a single drop of blood, there. Lochland stand up, alarmed, Walker shouts: “What have you done to me?”

I stay silent for a moment, and then explain. “At the SideShow, the last dose of the Pathogen, I didn’t shot it. I adsorbed it within my body, enchased it, and micro-filtered it to separate the nanite from it. Then I planted the nanite on the dead body of one girl victim of a metahuman, and set fire to it, to cover my deception. And, I think mostly to Lachlan’s show, it worked.
I just planted that dose in you, Walker”.

Walker is still, horrorified by what happened. Lochlan asks: “Why? He will not die for now, he will…”

I cut him: “I don’t want Walker to die. I could have poisoned him before, I don’t want to kill him or any other. What I just done is an insurance. An insurance that he will not study what happen to the metahumans affected, but will also find a cure, an antidote. When he will find out one, I will personally bring it to the metahumans affected. That way, I could repair to the evil I committed.

Walker’s looking at me still mad, but with a different light, like he understands my motives. “You know that even if I find an antidote, could be very difficult to produce. If I can produce only a small sample, I will use it on myself, and not on any of your freaks…”

“That’s obvious. But you forget that with this body I can process anything chemical. Just find the antidote, I will produce all the quantity needed”, I explain. Now Walker is looking at me with something I would define lust.

Walker leaves the room in a hurry, followed by Curie. I have given them something to works on.

Lochlan is looking at me. “You are still a puzzle for me, Cicciotto. Sometimes you seem very stupid, some times even too shrewd. You seem to have the moral code of a comic book character, and then you could risk yourself and the kid in a stunt like this one. You said you don’t want to kill anybody, but injecting the Pathogen inside Walker, you can cause his death. How do explain that?”

I smile. “I had to find a way to cure that peoples. I am not a scientist, I can perform complex task with this body but I don’t know even how to begin the creation of an antidote. But I have seen Walker at work, I have seen his dedication. I know he’s the best. So, I am pretty sure he will find a cure. I know he will not die. And then, no other ones hit by the Pathogen will die. Now, since it looks I will be your prisoner forever, I will return to my compound”

I look at my son, who now has opened his big, rounded blue eyes and is looking at me, uncertain about smiling at me or crying.

Lauchlan cough, than says: “Cicciotto, I find you too romantic, but I appreciate your intentions. You believe we are the devils, but that’s not the truth. We find and enlist metahumans, to train and prepare them. We teach them how to use their powers at best. We don’t commit crimes, unless the subjects don’t deserve it. I know that you still will deplore it, thinking that jury and judge can’t be the same, but just think this: what when there is no time to bring something to a court? What when you have to act or to die or leaving others to die? Wouldn’t you do the same?
Everyone here apply his justice. Stay with us, and you will have the chance to apply yours.”

“Sorry am not speak English” I say, sarcastic. “Are you telling me that you are not bad, and you perform good actions?”

“If you put it that way… basically, yes”, he says.

“Show me, and I will be with you” I say.

And I can’t stop to think that I just made a deal with the devil.

"Charles, why are you doing this?" Curie asked, carefully measuring a particular biologial catalase on his chemistry set.

"Because that conniving, overzealous yop infected me, you dolt!" Walker said, angrily walking over to where Curie stood, finishing out his measurements.

"That's not what I meant..." Curie said, handing the catalase to Walker, who smiled, tranferring the test tube to his own station.

"Then what did you mean?" Walker asked, pouring the catalase into a prepared solution.

"This whole thing with Cicciotto," Curie began, slipping his hands into the pockets of his lab coat. "The mental torture. The kidnapping. The holding hostage of his son. The emotional turmoil. Why are you putting him through this?"

"I'll tell you why!" Walker said, jabbing a finger in the man's face. "To be devoted unwaveringly to the cause at hand, that Italian filth must be broken! Mentally, yes. Emotionally, definitely. Physically, possibly. Spiritually, if need be."

Walker stirred the solution in the beaker before him lightly as it turned from a hunter green to a rich amber hue. "Everything that Cicciotto knows, or thinks he knows, he knows only because it is what I want him to know!"

"How so?" Curie asked, running the beaker to the test area.

"Agent Owens. Cicciotto cares deeply for her. She is an empath, a manipulator of emotions. Under my order, she has placed Cicciotto under a spell of sorts. He is in love with her. He has sworn himself to protect her. She is now his undoing, and, coincidentally, his new reason for staying with us."

"To what end, sir?" Curie asked, pouring a minute amount of the solution into a test beaker. "What makes you so certain that he will stay?"

"Well, at this point, he is confused. Ms. Owens will see to it that he either continues in this feeling of confusion or simply rebuts it with her fierce love signals pumping into his brain twenty-four seven," Walker sneered, rubbing the tips of his thumb and forefinger together.

"And what if she falls in love with him?" Curie asked. "What if she is already?"

"She's a whore, Walt," Walker said emotionlessly. "And as such, she's one of the greatest actresses the world has ever seen. Not only do whores fake orgasms, but so well that they actually dupe the poor fools into believing that they are the best lover since Romeo or Don Juan." Walker chuckled for a moment before he continued. "However, it is also known that whores are incapable of true love, by the romantic Hollywood definition. They know only physical, raw, unbridled, animal instinct, which they often confuse for love."

"You sound so sure, Charles..." Curie said incredulously, placing the test mixture in the hypodermic needle that Walker had been tapping.

"If you only knew how many times every other male in this complex felt the same way, Walt..." Walker said, a grin appearing on his lips. Curie was a bit taken aback, but quickly regained his composure.

"You mean she...?" Curie paused, thinking it through. "And you?" His eyes grew wide and he gasped as Walker chuckled.

"As I said, Walt, she's a whore..."

"So, why the lie about the antidote?" Curie asked. "Why tell him you hadn't already discovered the Anti-Pathogen?"

"He's so predictable, isn't he?" Walker said, having cooled down considerably from talking to Walt. "When he came back with one fewer subject, I knew something was amiss. I figured he'd gotten cocky and done something foolish, which was obviously what he did. However, like he himself said, his body can only reporduce the chemical - not the biological. The Pathogen itself is biological, as is it's Anti-Pathogen."

"So, he can't make any more of either?" Curie surmised.

"Exactly," Walker said, dipping a cotton swab in some peroxide and tounching it to his arm. "Which means that no harm will come to me and we can still garner the desired test results from the infected metahumans at the Side-Show."

"You're still ignoring my preliminary question, Charles," Walt said. "Why lie in the first place?"

"To make him feel superior," Walker said, swirling the swab around, covering an area of his flesh with the peroxide. "Watching him with that look on his face, like he had finally beaten me." Walker chuckled again. "That was priceless. It was all I could do to keep from laughing in his face! As long as he thinks he has an upper hand, then there is no way that he feels threatened. And he feels more inclined to stay."

"You seem to have had this all planned out from the beginning," Curie said, sucking the amber-hued test mixture into the hypodermic needle.

"Like I said, Cicciotto is too predictable," Walker said, as Curie walked over to him with the syringe full of Anti-Pathogen. "By the way, have Vidalia come to my office as soon as this is over. I want 'Eddie' back in his 'playpen' as soon as possible."

"Yessir," Curie said, poking the needle into the prepared area on Walker's skin. Charles winced as Curie depressed the liquid into his veins. Walker smiled as he closed his eyes and thought about what was happening inside of him: The biological catalase was serving as a strengthener to his proteins and, as such, to his blood cells. Specifically, his white blood cells, which were now, undoubtedly, targeting the black Pathogen and erraticating it fully from his system.

"You know what to do with the rest of that, I presume?" Walker said, his eyes still closed.

"Yessir," Curie replied, placing the beaker with the amber-hued Anti-Pathogen onto a Bunsen burner. Turning the flame on, the scientist watched slowly as the liquid turned from amber to hunter green, siginifying the death of the catalase within the mixture. Curie then poured the mixture into a large vat labelled 'EXCESS BIOCHEMICAL STORAGE' and sealed the lid.

"Done, sir," Curie commented as he finished his task.

"Good," Walker said, sitting up and rolling his sleeve back to its regular position. "The formula?"

"To complicated to memorize," Curie said, holding up the floppy disk which contained the Anti-Pathogen formula. Walker smiled as the scientist plugged in a powerful electromagnet and set the disk atop it.

"Very good, Curie," Walker nodded, pleased. "Using magnetic current to erase the disk. Impressive. Most impressive."

"Thank you, sir," Curie said, nodding to the doctor. "That should be the last of the Anti-Pathogen."

"Excellent," Walker said, walking through a nearby door, which led directly to his office. As he slid into his chair, Walker turned once again to his former co-worker. "He thinks himself a revolutionary, Walt. Little does he know that his so-called 'revolution' is about to fall..."

"Indeed, sir," Curie nodded, a huge smile on his face. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to summon Agent Owens for you..."

"Thank you, Walt," Walker said as the orange-suited man began to exit.

"Oh, Walt!" Walker called after him as he was about to leave the room. Curie turned and looked at his boss with an arched eyebrow. "Did you leave me those files I asked for? On the damned 'revolutionaries'?"

"Oh, yes," Curie said, pointing to a disgarded stack sitting next to Walker's desk. "Everythign Tri-Vex hacked from the Malvan-X mainframe is right there for your perusal."

"Thank you, Walt," Walker smiled, waving his friend away. Bending down beside his desk, the doctor pulled up the first file, reading the tab attatched to the name.

"'The Animal-Man'?" Walker raised an eyebrow as he read. "Fascinating..."

The young american with a khaki shirt and trousers fell face first into the mud.
Sometime ago his left shoe must have come undone, and that foot was full of blisters and cuts.
He sat up and gave the sky a silent curse.
His clothes were torn in several places and his face bore the look of frightfull deperation.
Continuing his stumbling down the street he found the place he looked for... a small herbalist shop.
Gratefull for a roof over his head, he sighed and sat down on a chair infront of the counter.
Water pooling around him from the dripping of his clothes.

Flower heard the door bell tingle as he came in and greeted him with a towel.
"Did you find your sister, Mr Bigs?"
"Biggles. No. I came close...to close it seems. They threw me into a swamp, full of teeth."

Flower smiles.
"So now you come to Ma Kalunga for help eh?"
"Well...if ther is any chance th..."

"Not again!" The dark husky voice of Ma Kalunga interupts.
"And stay away from my daughter. Or I will give you curses upon curses until you will beg me for forgivenes for the last time you needed our help.
"You´re still alive and have a beautifull daughter to help you." He smiled at Flower.

"That´s quiet enough of that..." Ma Kalunga says and takes arm with a firm grip, and leads him out of the shop.
"Hey, you can´t let me go out in that...it´s the bloody end of the world out there." he protests.
"Not my problem this time, man. Go see those americans or whatever they are that moved into town yesterday. Apparently they are trouble-shooters of some kind. Trick them into helping you instead." She slams and locks the door. A frown and a snort later and she disappears into the back of the shop.
"Never let that man into my shop again!"
"Yes, mother." Flower sighs.

Biggles looks up into the gray sky and curses again. The sky rewards him with a thick lightning bolt.
Taking that as a sign, he hurries down the street to see where these newcomers are staying.

Two boys carrying groceries comes towards him, and he asks where the new gringos live.
The younger boy of the two starts to snicker and says;
"Juanito here threw mothers pie into the gringos face, and..."
"Shut up, Pedro!" Juanito yanks his brothers arm.
"They live in that high building at the end of the street. You´can´t miss it. We have to hurry home now." And with that they half jog home with the full bags.

Biggles stumbles on and stops in front of the door to the building, when...

"...so I say to the guy, 'Hey, that's no proctologist! That's my wife!"

"Heh. Tha's a good one, tha is, Lance..."

"Hey, what's up with the lying down guy?"

"Uh... did I do that?"

"I think you did, Lance..."

"Shut up, Mick!"

"Guys, I'm NOT Mick! I'm ---*. Thanks, Larry..."

"Heh. That never gets old..."

"Shut up, you guys, and let's get him into the house."

"Oh... right..."

As Mr. Biggles blacked out, he felt four pairs of hands grab him, one pair on each of his limbs and hoist him into the air...