Cyn groaned and sank down to her haunches as she glared miserably at the grey dawn across the lake. She would have sprawled across the grass and tried to recoup precious minutes of lost sleep if it wasn’t for the mist rising from the grass promising that such an action would be most uncomfortable.

She looked over and saw Warrick was similarly unenthused by the current situation. Misery loved company, but misery would rather have company somewhere warm, preferably unconscious. It certainly did not want to be crouching in wet grass at the near the small grove of trees that grew around the edge of the Freeland property.

Juniper, of course, wasn’t showing any signs of fatigue, though she was hugging herself and shuffling back and forth in the age old ‘trying to keep warm’ dance. Melissa sat against a tree with a mask of complete indifference on her face.

It had been like this all week. Alexis had gotten it in her head to ‘train’ them in both basic combat and tactics as well as in their powers. But instead of holding this training after school or on weekends, both of which were socially awkward, but not inductive of sleep deprived madness, she had taken to waking them two hours before they’d normally need to get ready for school so she, Ian and Laurel could oversee their training.

“You’ll get used to it soon.” Alexis seemed to read Cyn’s mind. She had just finished draining her thermos of coffee, which indicated that she also needed to get used to it. She was standing opposite the teens with Ian and Laurel beside her. Laurel was holding her tablet computer like a clipboard while Ian was rolling a hand truck full of pie tins into place.

“In the meantime.” Alexis continued. “let’s see if we can kick your reflexes into gear.” She gestured for them to stand. As they did so, she explained the objective of the morning’s session. “You’ll see that not far back from the tree line here, we’ve hung up colored posters; yellow for Cyn, blue for Warrick, white for Juniper and red for Melissa. Each tree has three posters on it. If all three of your posters get torn down, you’re out. You can use any of your powers or anything you can find around here to protect your posters, but you can’t tear down other people’s posters.” She looked deeply satisfied with herself for coming up with this. “Any questions?”

“Yeah,” Warrick piped up. His eyes were still squinting with sleep. “What’s with the tin pie plates?”

“They’re what’s going to tear down your posters.” Ian laughed as he called up his powers and a light but steady breeze lifted the lightweight cookware into the air, wobbling unsteadily.

“Also, Warrick, no getting help from Isp and Osp.” Laurel added.

The young man looked back at the posters, which were spaced out over a decent running distance. “Aw man, but they’re part of my powers. They need to train too.” Osp uncoiled from his arm to give what passed for a nod from a being with no head.

“Not today.” Laurel said. “They’ve got minds of their own and you watching them take care of your problems isn’t going to teach you anything.”

“But I’m already stupidly powerful.” Warrick kvetched. “I can turn all the pie plates to…” he reached into his back pocket and took out a small stack of index cards. He flipped past the top one, which had a miniature version of the periodic table on it. “… Lithium…” he found the element he was looking for. “and make them burn up in the air.”

“And the explosion would catch your posters on fire and you’d lose.” Ian pointed out. He tried to make the pie plates orbit one another and only succeeded in clanging them together.

“That’s the point of the exercise.” Alexis nodded. “To learn the best method to use based on the situation.”

“Otherwise, you’ve only got two settings; gentle breeze--” Ian added. All the pie tins but one dropped. The last wobbled in air for a moment. Then it rocketed away from him, colliding with a tree with enough force to completely deform into a crescent. “… Or Hyper-death. And Hyper-death isn’t going to be an option for a hero, is it, Warrick?”

Warrick nodded his understanding. It was a basic conceit of most prelates; at least ones in comic books. Real heroes don’t kill. Anti-heroes killed when it was necessary, many villains killed with abandon and both would be stopped in the act by honest to goodness Good Guys. In any of the rescue missions that LSI undertook and against the occasional poorly armored sociopath they found themselves thrown up against, the ‘lithium bomb’ trick would be markedly unheroic to deploy.

“Any other questions?” Alexis asked. There were none. “Good. Let’s begin.” She nodded to Ian who levitated a handful of tins and directed them toward the poster covered trees. As soon as those were on their way, he sent another volley.

Cyn slipped out of her shoes and shifted her feet to a more pigeon-toed configuration – better for jumping. She was cold, wet and tired, but she’d be damned if she’d be the first out. She leapt at the first one that neared a yellow poster and batted it down.

Juniper froze in place and focused on the incoming projectiles. Thin crusts of frost formed on them and the added weight made them too heavy for the meager zephyrs Ian had summoned to keep them aloft. They clattered into the grass.

Melissa looked on in frustration as a tin flew overhead, out of her reach, and missed a red poster only by grace of Ian’s poor aim. “What am I supposed to do?” She complained. “I can’t jump that high and my powers are useless!”

“This is about creativity, Melissa!” Alexis shouted encouragement. “If your powers won’t help, use something else!”

Grimacing, the redhead looked around and found the tin that had just missed hitting her poster. She retrieved it just in time to see another tin hurtling toward one of her posters on the other side of the course. With a mustering of effort, she threw the tin in her hand like a discus. It hit the incoming plate and knocked it off course – directly into a blue poster.

“Hey!” Warrick shouted as he turned a pie plate to slag with his power. It was harder to target with so many plates in the air, but there weren’t so many as to make it impossible. “Does that count?”

“She didn’t aim to knock it down.” Ian shrugged. “You’re down by one.”

“Damnit!” Warrick groaned.

Laurel’s tablet computer warbled. “Uh… doorbell.” She said, checking the icon that had popped up. “I’m running the evaluation, would you mind getting it, Alex?”

“Sure.” Alexis said. “Back in a minute.” She summoned her black heat and flew off back toward the house.

Flying, the trip across the sprawling Freeland grounds only took a few minutes. She landed, dismissed the black heat and hurried to the door. As she did, she mused that she had chosen to fly completely on instinct. Since the revelation of Life Savers, Inc and the fallout thereof, she had relaxed the ‘no powers’ rule more than Laurel had already and the younger residents’ enthusiasm about their powers had rekindled her own fondness for hers.

Not for the first time, she wondered what her life would be like if she hadn’t had her powers. Before discovering the Academy’s dark secret, she had used them casually to the point that she didn’t remember the last time she’d used a stove or microwave.

It gave her a great sense of relief to be comfortable using them freely (though not openly) again. Even with the Damocles Swords of the Academy and whoever had sent the strange dog-beasts to Mayfield hanging over her head, she had to admit she was feeling better about her place in the world.

At least she was before she opened the door.

He stood with the stoic granduer she remembered him exuding a month before when she and Ian had met him at General Pratt’s ROCIC headquarters. It was the same feeling she’d gotten from him six months prior when he burned down Ian’s house in his search for her.

Jonathan Edward Tyler stood on her doorstep, dressed in an overcoat and dark suit. He held a briefcase in a vice-like grip – as if it contained the mysteries of the universe.

Her instincts won out against her logical thought as she drew out her black heat. She knew that the last time they had met, he had been a reluctant ally, but the image of Ian lying prone, badly beaten at that man’s hands had burned itself into her mind’s eye with greater meaning over the past month.

“Ms. Keyes.” He said evenly, despite the evident hostility. Regarding her through the smoky black lenses of his sunglasses, he continued “I apologize for showing up so early and unannounced. But I had something here you need to see and I couldn’t trust sending it online.”

The insistent tone of his mobile phone drew Simon Talbot from a pleasant dream whose details faded even as his hand emerged from his imported quilts to feel for the earpiece. Locating the errant receiver, he placed it in his ear and sat up. “Talbot.”

The room’s sensors detected him sitting up and began to gradually raise the lights.

“Understood.” The director of Project Tome slipped out of bed and stretched. Without his suit, which was tailored specifically to conceal it, he cut an impressive figure. The words ‘Greek god’ would not have been out of place when describing him. Even if he didn’t show it off, he prided himself on his physical fitness and strength.

“No. That won’t be necessary. I’ll handle the rest personally.” He touched the ear bud to disconnect the call, and then strode over to the glass doors leading to the balcony. As he reached to open them, he caught a glimpse of his reflection in the glass. Smiling an avaricious smile at his own visage, he threw the doors open.

The cold November air was bracing on his skin. If it made him uncomfortable to stand in the cold clad only in boxers, he gave no outward indication of it. He could feel the reigns of destiny sliding into his grasp and that feeling infused him with enough energy to brave the most brutal of arctic storms.

He hadn’t imagined things would come together so quickly. Less than year ago, Project Tome had looked to be foundering; the bio-mapping process had been a distant dream, efforts to ‘disappear’ the dozens of descendants the project had ‘archived’ out of desire to explore their powers had reached critical mass, foreign agencies were undermining the Academy’s usefulness, and to top it all off, four of the most highly valued descendants the Project had managed to archive had been stolen while they were awaiting transit to the newly built processing facility. The most bitter pill about that debacle was that by all accounts, Alexis Keyes’s discovery of the A14 group had been accidental!

The mere thought of that unfortunate confluence of events made him glower. As well as the pharmaceutical, applied physics, and electronics divisions had been doing, they were, for the most part, there to make bank for the Project’s prime directive.

But in the past two months, the tides had changed in his favor. Bio-mapping protocols were now in place (though one of the subjects had been lost in transit), new facilities had come online, allowing for more creativity in duping the families of ‘archived’ descendants and fouling much of the foreign interference, and just now, a single phone call from one of his monitoring stations had placed the lost A14 group back within his reach. And the only resource he had to risk to retrieve them was Wright’s team of loose cannons and sociopaths.

Life was good. Talbot strode back into his posh suite, leaving the balcony door open. The lights were up to a normal level now, letting him take in the granduer of his domain as he crossed it. There was a painting of Sir Isaac Newton sitting under the infamous apple tree above a solid oak table whose only purpose was to support a decorative vase. He walked up to it and put his thumb on the rendering of a prominently displayed apple.

There was a tone to indicate that his thumbprint had been confirmed and the holographic painting faded from view. The glass plate it had been projected onto slid downward, granting access to the space within. Talbot reached into the air conditioned ingress, ignoring a rack of test tubes filled with red liquid, several ampoules filled with unknown agents, and a stack of keycards to extract a black box the size of a deck of cards.

Item in hand, he stroked a finger over the engraved plate at the bottom of the picture frame. The glass covering slipped back into place and Sir Isaac returned to his study of gravity.

Returning to his bedside, Talbot opened the drawer in his nightstand and took out a flat, silver machine whose top was dominated by a touch screen and a slot for data tabs— the home version of a corporate holographic projector. With a deft move, Talbot flipped open the box to reveal the data tabs, each matte grey with a silver tip and no larger in any dimension than a stick of gum. They had barcodes and a series of numbers printed on their labels. Talbot knew exactly which one he was looking for and slotted it into the projector.

The imaging device hummed to life and moments later, a pale, translucent globe of light formed in the air about two feet ahead of the projector. Black letters formed: ‘BLACK DATAFILES LEVEL 01 SECURITY – CONTINUE?’

Talbot tapped the touch screen and the letters disappeared, replaced by six thumbnail images with the header: ‘RESEARCH GROUP A14’. He moved a finger deftly over the touch pad and a cursor appeared within the globe of light. He moved it over the first and fourth images, shifting them down, out of the way. Then, with a new gesture, he selected the four remaining images and enlarged them. One more gesture moved the position of the globe until the dossiers were spread out in an arc around him.

He’d read them a thousand times. So much, in fact, that he could recite them if necessary. But right now, he just needed to see them: Melissa Forrester (A14-0009), Cynthia McAllister (A14-0013), Warrick Kaine (A14-0011) and Kareem Utt (A14-0010). They weren’t strictly speaking the most powerful of their kind. They weren’t even the most powerful that had been archived. But the alphanumeric designations of the research groups were about priority – value to the Project – instead of about sheer brute force. And Talbot could count the number that were higher priority on less than one hand.

Very soon, they would be back where they belonged. Or, in some cases, enough of them to work with would be where it belonged. Bio-mapping would be a waste of time on one in particular.

Satisfied with his glimpse at his quarry, Talbot switched off the projector and replaced the data tabs in his safe before moving to the closet to pick out a suit to wear for the beginning of his endgame.

Before getting dressed, however, he tapped the ear bud still in his ear. “Call. Brother Wright.” He instructed. Much to Talbot’s consternation it took three re-dials (he had no patience for voicemail) before he heard an annoyed ‘what?’ on the other end of the phone.

“I thought you were my people person, Brother.” Talbot said, full of good humor from his impending conquest.

“I’m sorry, but those techs call me at all hours whining about the requests I put in. It’s dulling the edge on even my personality.” He sighed. “Sorry to complain. What can I do for you sir.”

Talbot toyed with telling Wright the truth, but decided that cluing his little group of misfits into high level security files would be an unwise move. “I’ve decided that your team needs a test run – just as the inugami program did.”

“I only terminated them to keep their remnants out of the hands of civilian authorities—“ Wright began.

“I know.” Talbot cut him off. “And I both understand and appreciate that. But it still remains for your team to acquit themselves as a unit in more than combat simulations before they go for the targets I most intend to field them against.”

“Alright…” Wright said tentatively.

“Good. Get dressed and mobilize your team. I want them at the Bravo site by nine, ready to transport. I’m also sending you two inugami from strain CS-025 and a specimen collection kit. The objectives are simple: locate and capture Life Savers, Incorporated and anyone who associates with them. At all costs, I want a tissue sample from the one called Facsimile.”

Wright made a sound indicating that he understood. “And our cover?”

“Use the one we discussed.” Talbot smiled. It was his own little theatric flourish in the proceedings, considering that his little birds were calling themselves Prelates.

“You mean…”

“Yes. Operation: Redeemer has been approved.”

-- • --

The Bravo site was a group of hangers some thirty miles south of Project Tome’s east coast headquarters. Normally, it was only manned by a skeleton crew that maintained the facilities and aircraft. It had been transformed into a hive of activity in preparation for the launch of Operation: Redeemer.

Wright walked down the short ramp leading to the concrete floor of Hanger 2. Off to his right, he saw a gang of handlers coaxing one of the promised inugami into a cargo container.

This beast looked nothing like the specimens he had deployed a week ago. It was indisputably larger, measuring perhaps thirty six inches at the shoulder. The orihalcite armor protecting it was lighter, only applied over its skull, claws, ribs, and a narrow strip of overlapping, spiked plates going down its spine. A ruff of shaggy, grey fur rose up around its neck, deepening to a darker grey on the rest of its body. The champron over the creature’s face was also very different. Lenses covered its eyes and glowed a soft green – digital imaging was in play there.

Tearing his attention away from the beast, Wright looked straight ahead, to the stack of supply crates where his team awaited. Only one seemed to notice his arrival and the only indication he had of that was that she had shifted to keep him in her field of vision.

Latonya Haynes, codenamed Shine wore a white sports bra and a pair of biking shorts of the same color. Aside from that, her skin was totally exposed; white and finely scaled. She was a protomorph; the moment her powers manifested, she transformed irrevocably into something clearly inhuman. The white scales were just the start; her fingers and toes ended in claws and all the joints in her hands were double jointed, a whip like, reptilian tail poked out of a hole cut in her shorts, twitching nervously. Wright had never seen her hair – since before he had arrived, she kept her head shaved clean and according to rumor, buffed.

Aside from the minimal attempt at covering her private parts, she wore two other accessories; a pair of specially fitted gauntlets that augmented her formidable claws with orihalcite (specially ordered by Wright), and a pair of dark goggles with smoked lenses. Other effects of her transformation had left her eyes so sensitive to ultraviolet light, that she was unable to function without them.

As Wright came closer, the others took notice of him. One, a giant of a man, standing just under eight feet tall, stood up, and gave a stiff salute. When no one else joined him, he shot them all a glare.

“At ease, War-torn.” Wright said. “You don’t need to do that for me. I’m your handler, not your CO.”

“Doesn’t give us the right to disrespect you, sir.” The giant said with a hint of a Scots accent. Marcus Dumoulin, known among the Enforcer Corps as War-torn, returned to the crate he’d been using as a seat. He had blonde hair and wore a simple, black bodysuit, the kind with special connectors needed to synchronize a pilot with powered armor. War-torn was a brick hit house, blessed with exceptional durability and accelerated healing, but his strength hadn’t increased all that much in proportion with his body, thus, a powered armor frame had been issued to him.

A cackle came from a black haired man seated at the top of a stack of crates. “There’s a line between respect and groveling, Mark.” Jeremy Brown, codenamed Launch, wore his usual garish ensemble, consisting of a green jumpsuit, purple vest and tatty half cape covered in a green and purple flame design. He wasn’t paying much attention, instead marveling at the new wrist mounted pulse guns Wright had requisitioned for him.

“Excuse me if some of us have a little discipline.” War-torn rumbled, glaring up at his heckler.

“He’s right though.” Shine said in her low, rasping voice. “You practically beg for praise like a dog instead of earning it like you’re supposed to.” She jerked a clawed hand in the direction of the inugami being loaded into the transport for emphasis.

“I don’t have to take this from someone who’s been reprimanded for roughing up people for being too pretty.” War-torn snapped.

“You’re one to talk.” Trent Kinsey, also known as Wolf, interrupted. Dark haired and in his late twenties, he wore a no nonsense expression as he frowned at his teammates. The blue light from his inhibitors cast a strange pallor over his face. “After what happened with The Soliloquy and Rapscallion? I’m surprised they let you get to rank one after wailing on two semi-famous prelates on live television.”

“If it was necessary for psionics to ‘protect’ civilians from criminals—“War-torn started.

“The government would field an agency full of them.” Launch cut him off with a bored tone. “Yes, we know, Mark. Shut up about it already.”

Wright rolled his eyes. He’d borne witness to this argument time and time again before and after combat simulations. All five of the team had at least a general distain for the others, but readily turned a blind eye on their own transgressions. It never occurred to them that expansive disciplinary problems were the common thread between them.

Speaking of disciplinary problems… He turned a glance to the final member of the team.

At twenty-nine, Jonathan Jones, AKA Manriki, was older than his teammates, save the thirty-one year old War-torn. That didn’t mean much, however, considering he was also the one with the most strikes against him. With only a minor strength telekinetic ability, that was further limited by the fact that he had to maintain physical contact to exert it, his dossier revealed that he only barely passed muster to become a cadet. Little had been expected of him and so little had been asked of him—until he discovered that flexible items, like ropes and chains were awesome weapons when combined with his power. Then much had been asked of him, mostly along the lines of ‘please stop beating rogue psionics to death’ and ‘remember, strangling targets into unconsciousness is not a valid form of apprehension’.

Manriki watched his teammates verbally spar with passive annoyance, occasionally rattling the chains looped though every available space on his costume. Only one of those was orihalcite – the metal was simply too hard to work and too expensive to fabricate the dozens of chains of varying lengths Manriki carried. The rest had been constructed of ceramics for this mission.

“Do you have anything to add?” Wright asked the chain wielding sociopath. Manriki shook his head ‘no’. He didn’t particularly care as long as he was getting a good fight. So satisfied, Wright cleared his throat. “Alright, task group.” He said in his most authoritative voice.

The bickering ceased. As hot as some of the assembled tempers were, all of them were eager for action. Shine leapt up to one of the crates in the stack holding Launch aloft to get a better vantage point.

“Good to see you’re all as ready for this as I am.” The master manipulator said. “I won’t waste any of your time then.” He began to pace back and forth in front of them, making sure to look each of them in the eyes (or goggles) in turn.

“Today, we will be debarking from the Bravo site and landing in Mayfield, Virginia; approximately one hour’s flight by heavy transport from here. Your objective is the draw out and capture the prelate,” he made sure to look directly at War-torn when he said the word, “team known as Life Savers, Incorporated, designated, Alloy, Facsimile and Zero.”

He continued pacing, building his voice as he continued the briefing. “There are several prelates who may attempt to interfere with this task. Two have designations; Void-storm and Occult. Two other unknowns have also been noted. You have all the information we have regarding them. Instructions are to capture if possible any of these collaborators.”

“Two inugami units have been provided to me to deploy at my discretion. If you feel you need the support, call for it. Also, be advised, the subject Alloy is a metal controller – do NOT and I stress this, bring any metal with you on this mission.”

Taking a breath, he began to issue the final, most important instructions. “Be advised, the enemy have ingratiated themselves with the city of Mayfield. The citizenry including the local law enforcement will be on their side. Do not expect any aide from them, only hindrances and obstacles. For that reason, we will use that to our advantage. We will come to Mayfield in the guise of rogue psionics, wishing to extort from the town. Make no mistake; this is necessary for the completion of our duty. But for it, we will be feared. We will be despised. We will be villains.”

“Someone explain to me again why Captain Flambé is here, in our house when Laurel keeps everything about us hidden from the outside world?” Ian fumed as he glared at Edward who sat near the main server bank of Laurel’s workshop.

When Alexis had called, Laurel had left him the task making sure the teens did their meditation exercises before getting ready for school. He’d arrived over an hour later to receive the rude surprise of seeing the man he hated most in the world sitting in the workshop, talking to his best friends.

“Ian…” Alexis touched his arm in an effort to calm him down. “I don’t like it either, but he may have brought us something that may help us. Shouldn’t we at least hear him out?”

Ian put his own hand over the one Alexis had put on his arm. “I don’t care if the General trusts him, I don’t. And I don’t like the sound of that ‘may’.” He glared at Edward. “Either the thing you bought here helps us, or it doesn’t. What’s with this ‘may’?”

The older man gave Ian a level look. He wanted nothing more than to put the stupid boy in his place, but there were some things more important than pride. “That hard drive is copied from the personal computer of Samuel Paige, Deputy Director of the Enforcer Corps. If this Project Tome General Pratt told me about really does have its claws in the Corps, Paige is my bet for one of their men.”

“You still aren’t convinced?” Alexis asked, incredulously. “After everything we told you? After everything the General and Dr. Masters told you?”

Edward heaved a sigh. “Patricia Masters is a close friend of mine. General Pratt is a man I respect greatly… but I… there used to be good people in the organization. We did a lot of good protecting public from psionics out to use their powers for personal gain at the expense of others.” He grimaced. “I don’t want to believe that we’ve all been pawns for this shady organization.”

“We’ve all been pawns on one level or another all our lives.” Laurel said, fingers flying over the keyboard and touch pad as she decrypted the contents of the hard drive. “Face it, Tyler, your great, great grandpa, or some other relation thereof had his DNA scrambled so some government or other could get a super soldier. You blood is the end product of someone playing with your genes and that’s about as pawn as you can get without standing on a chessboard.”

“That’s not as direct as what we’re talking about.” Edward said. “I’m going to need good, solid evidence before I accept that I’ve been working for the black hats.”

“The four kids we got out of deep freeze under your nose isn’t enough hard evidence, sparky?” Ian asked. “And just so we don’t stray from the subject, you still haven’t told us how you found us in spite of Laurel’s air tight security.”

Edward shrugged. “Same reason you didn’t bother changing your names. Everything’s done electronically now. It isn’t that hard to bypass even the most sophisticated cryptology in the world if no one considers old fashioned leg work and paper trail following.”

“You found us by just asking around?” Laurel asked, as she finished her decryption. File icons began to appear one by one on her monitor. “I’m genuinely impressed.” She caught a hard look from Ian. “You’re still a bad, bad man, but I’m still impressed.”

She opened a word processing file and scanned it. “Hmm… it’s a high level memo addressed to a set of IP addresses outside of the Corps network complaining about recent promotions of certain Enforcers…”

“I recently put in my own complaints about what I assume to be the same people Deputy Director Paige is mentioning.” Edward added. “Part of the corruption I was talking about. That bunch is an incident waiting to happen.”

“I’m sure.” Laurel nodded out of hand. “What’s this? Deep Nineteen?”

“Deep Nineteen?” Edward sat up, curious.

“That rings a bell?” Laurel asked, opening the correspondent file. It was a set of blueprints.

“Not exactly. Deep Eleven is the nickname of the Enforcer Corps HQ. I always thought it had something to do with its placement in the Academy subbasements, but this is too big a coincidence to be ignored.”

“What is this Deep Nineteen?” Alexis asked, leaving Ian to come look at the blueprints.

Laurel scanned quickly over the page, noting the design specifications printed in the margins. “They’re calling it a research facility… located in the Catskill Mountains. But from the looks of all this – containment cells, blast doors, guard emplacements – it looks like a prison.”

Reluctantly, Ian moved up to the others as well. “Based on what we saw at Florida, that’s about par for the course.”

“This is ten times the size of Florida.” Laurel said. “And it doesn’t just consist of surgery bays and stasis cells – it looks like they’re prepared to contain people fully awake and functional.”

“Why would they want to do that?” Alexis asked. “That doesn’t make any sense.”

“I don’t know, Alexis.” Laurel frowned as she looked over the Deep Nineteen schematics. “Yet.”

“You know anything about this?” Ian asked Edward, managing to bite back the added insult.

The Enforcer shrugged. “The Enforcers keep a training center in upstate New York, that’s the closest I can think of. And before you ask, all rogues we capture are processed and imprisoned at the Braddock Island Facility.”

“Braddock Island?” Alexis asked.

“Artificial island complex in the Gulf of Mexico. It’s equipped with the most up to date safeguards against the full spectrum of powers.” Edward shot Ian a look. “And it’s fully within federal prison standards and regulations.”

“So there’s no way this place is a mislabeled detention facility.” Laurel confirmed what she already suspected. “Which begs the question; why does the Deputy Director of the Enforcer Corps have the blueprint of Tome’s research facility?”

Edward ground his teeth. “Because he’s pulling double duty working for the bad guys.”

“Smart boy.” Laurel said. “Got it in one. This is pretty damning evidence that some of the upper echelons of the Corps are in bed with Project Tome. We already know that the Academy itself is also under their auspices and I bet some of the Enforcers are also on the wrong side.”

“Let’s not go down this road…” Edward said darkly.

“Do the handles Avatar and Impact ring a bell?” Ian demanded.

“What about them?” Edward snarled.

“We read their ID’s after we ran into them in Quinn Bluffs, Florida.” Alexis supplied. “…after Impact tried to kill a twelve year old girl.”

Edward studied the ground for a moment. “I knew Gina Sheldon, Impact. She was—“The alarms on one of Laurel’s computers sounded, cutting him off.

“Story time will have to wait.” Laurel said, apologetically as she rolled her chair over to the console.

“What’s going on?” Edward demanded.

“Astral plane early alarm.” Laurel said, typing swiftly. “We’ve had some trouble with a couple of baddies that we can track via the Astral.”

“Please don’t be a spellcaster…” Ian whispered hopefully.

“Your wish is my command.” Laurel said. “No spellcasters—“

“Spellcasters?” Edward almost shouted in his surprise.

“Long story.” Alexis said by way of explanation.

“—but this could be worse.” Laurel finished. “We’ve got two of those hellhounds from last week… And they’re airborne.”

-- • --

Any student of primary education and most office workers can attest to the fact, that despite science’s findings on the subject of time dilation with regard to days of the week, Friday is the slowest day of the week. Mondays are an annoyance, but relatively quick. Tuesdays and Wednesdays move at a regular pace, because no matter what happens, there is another day of work on the horizon. Thursdays move swiftly, thanks to the anticipation of the coming last day of the week. Fridays, however come to a screeching halt, by virtue of the fact that Friday is dedicated to waiting for Friday to end.

This sentiment, if not the actual words were pretty much what were running through Warrick’s mind as he sat in Mrs. Breeden’s Chemistry class. It wasn’t that the subject matter was boring—it was, after all, the only subject he was one hundred percent certain he’d be able to apply in real life. But Katie Breeden was the most boring teacher he had ever had. Her droning voice threatened to lull him to sleep as she went about explaining ionic and covalent bonds.

In an effort to stave off the siren’s song of slumber, Warrick occupied himself with testing the elements in the locked supply cabinet with his metal sense. It had recently occurred to him that his metal sense was most akin to a sense of taste and each metal had its own ‘taste’. Sodium had a certain tang, iron and its alloys had a plain, but not unenjoyable sensation, mercury was cooling and smooth, and aluminum was slightly bitter.

He was in the middle of learning that he never wanted to encounter potassium sans the other matter that made up a banana when the bell rang. He glanced up at the clock. There were still ten minutes left in class.

“Attention, students.” The voice of the assistant principal came over the intercom. “Please report to the gymnasium in a calm and orderly fashion. Due to an incident involving what appear to be rogue psionics in the area, the mayor has declared a state of emergency in the ten block radius cordon between Sweetbriar Street and Third Avenue. While we are in the affected area, there have been no direct threats made to the school. Please proceed quickly to the gymnasium while we await further instructions.”

The other students looked at each other in confusion. A faint mumble ran through them.

“Did you hear that, Kaine?” Kay asked, leaning over to him. She was the only member of their group that had the class with him.

“Yeah.” Warrick said, “crazy.” He glanced out the window, which looked directly across the street at a storefront. If he listened carefully, he could hear car horns blaring. Something bad was happening and he needed to find some way to get to it.

“Okay, class.” Mrs. Breeden said, “You heard assistant principal Fairbanks, get your things together.” The students began filing out into the already crowded hallway. Warrick saw the crowding as a chance to make his escape, but Kay stuck close by him.

“Do you really think it’s psionics?” she asked, “what powers do you think they have? It’d be so cool if we could get there and watch… provided we don’t get squashed or burned or something first.”

“It could be anything.” Warrick said pensively, looking around for any excuse possible. Then he saw his out—the one place even Kay wouldn’t follow him—the boy’s bathroom. “Uh, look, Kay, I’ll meet you and the guys in the gym, I’ve got to take care of… you know…” He nodded in the direction of the bathroom.

“Man, your bladder’s got crappy timing.” Kay shook her head. “They’ll probably have a TV set up with news coverage of whatever’s going on and you’ll probably miss all the action on the account of being in a stall.”

“I doubt I’ll miss anything.” Warrick said, with all surety as he ducked into the bathroom.

Twenty minutes earlier

A large panel van, boldly displaying the grinning sun logo of Brilliant Frozen Foods pulled into a space outside a modest storefront on Regent Street. Its driver wore a navy blue hooded sweatshirt pulled far over their head. It passed casual inspection, but someone paying more attention would notice that the driver was also wearing oversized goggles with nearly black lenses, giving her a bug-eyed appearance, not to mention her shockingly pale skin.

“If we’re villains, shouldn’t we be near the diamond exchange, or a bank, or one of the robotics firms around here?” Launch spoke up. He shared the very back of the van with War-torn and his powered armor. “I ask only because we’re the lamest villains ever if we’re going to knock over…” He glanced out the window. “Mac’s Hardware.”

“City of Mayfield Police response to financially sensitive zones is thirty percent faster than to general commercial zones.” Shine responded. “Also, going after banks or commodities exchanges will bring a Federal response, which is the opposite of what we want.”

“We want a prelate response.” War-torn said, flexing his fists inside the armor. As he was already preternaturally tough, his power suit consisted only of the strength enhancing frame.

“Which is why we’re four blocks from the local high school. If the so called ‘heroes’ are slow to react, a couple of shots in that direction will bring them running.” Shine declared.

“Let’s just get this over with.” Wolf said, disgustedly. “This isn’t what I signed up for; pretending to be a terrorist, taking orders for a man whose only directions on an important op like this are ‘create a disturbance to draw the rogues out’… This doesn’t smell right.”

“All I know is that somewhere in this city, there’s a group of people that think they can take the law into their own hands.” War-torn rumbled, “And I plan to show them the error of their ways.”

“Don’t you ever shut up about that?” Manriki’s voice was low and almost inaudible.

“None of you have any understanding of the important of obedience—“War-torn began.

“Are you even aware of how funny it sounds for a man from the British Isles to be lecturing a van full of Americans on civil obedience less than two years from the Tercentennial?” Shine turned around in her seat to look at War-torn.

“Oh god!” Launch groaned. “Okay, we are NOT going to get into a civics discussion here. We’ve got a job to do and for once it’s a fun job. There is absolutely no reason for us to get into War-torn’s issues with prelates, or Shine thinking she’s smarter than everyone. We are here to get the attention of Life Savers, Inc, got it?”

The group all glared at Launch. He glared right back at them.

“And I suppose you know exactly how you intend to do it?” Wolf sniffed. “Because Wright certainly didn’t.”

“Simple. Watch and learn, dumplings.” Launch smirked as he pulled his purple and green cowl over his head and engaged his wrist mounted cannons. With that, he threw the van’s door open and stepped directly into traffic.

An oncoming sedan screeched to a halt. “What the hell’s your problem!?” the driver shouted, leaning on his horn.

Under his mask, Launch smirked as he leveled one of his weapons and blew out the car’s front tire. The other performed a similar operation on a utility truck approaching in the other lane. The big vehicle went into a spin and slammed into two parked cars on the other side of the street.

Not giving any of those around him time react, Launch switched on the voice amplifier attached to the collar of his costume. He cleared his throat and was pleased to hear the sound echoing off the walls of the buildings around him. Grinning now, he strode into the other lane of traffic, mentally measuring out a safe distance from the van.

When he reached a point he was confident in, he stopped and gave a flourishing bow to the cars backed up behind the wreck he’d just caused. The smarter civilians were running. The dumber ones were blowing their horns and shouting epitaphs at him. “Ladies and Gentleman of Mayfield!” he began.

He looked around as if no one had reacted. He could see that they were, but he had already planned what he’d do since getting this assignment. “Ahem!” He cleared his throat, then called up his power. His psionic ability allowed him to fly on an invisible wave of sonic force, but to actually get into the air, he had to launch himself in the air on a pulse of the same. Hence his name.

The side effect of this pulse was suddenly apparent. A wave of raw, intangible force erupted from him, lashing out in a twenty foot radius. Store windows exploded, pavement cracked – and the sedan Launch had just disabled was upended, coming to crash into the hood of the car behind it.

For his part, Launch soared three stories into the air, coming to a hovering stop to view the destruction he’d wrought. Without missing a beat, he fired his cannons into the sidewalk, pulverizing the cement around fleeing feet.

“Now that I have your attention,” He snickered. “We are the Redeemers and we just love your city. In fact, all it needs is…” He blasted out a few more windows. “a little bit of remodeling. However, we’re very civic minded people.” Laughing at his own joke, he continued, “So all you have to do to stop this from happening to your own neighborhood or place of work is to walk—no, flee on down to City Central and urge your councilmen to vote ‘no’ on our Mayfield demolition plan by sending us the minor, minor sum of ten million dollars. Each. There’s five of us.”

Wolf watched the spectacle, wide eyed. “He’s given this a lot of thought.”

“He’s pretty much got the right idea too.” Shine admitted, opening her door. As she stepped out, she shucked the sweatshirt, letting the early morning light touch her skin. “Redeemers, let’s get to work.”

The Present

Regent street and its intersections with King’s Way Rd and St. Croix Ave were in shambles. Cars were overturned, windows broken out, street vendors’ carts torn to shreds by orihalcite claws. Launch had strafed three blocks in either direction with his cannons while Shine, War-torn and Manriki split their time between doling out property damage and driving off police responding to the disturbance.

Mayfield was behind the times in law enforcement; there was nothing in their arsenal that could combat a number of psionics working in tandem. War-torn just took the bullets they sent his way, while Shine dodged them with inhuman reflexes.

Wolf, for his part hung back in the van, reading over some files that had been passed on to him from higher up on his palmtop. Life Savers, Inc apparently had a heavy hitter on their side that Wright either didn’t know about, or hadn’t bothered to inform them about.

Grimacing, Wolf put in a call to Wright. “Sir, how long will it take for our inugami to arrive once we’ve called for them?”

“The transport is still in the air.” Wright assured him. “The cloaks are holding just fine; MPD and the FAA haven’t made a sound about it.”

Wolf considered asking Wright about the targets, but realized it would be a waste of time. Closing the laptop, he stepped out of the van. “Any sign of the targets, Launch?” he asked via his com.

“Not a hero in sight!” Launch shouted back via his voice amplifier. “Maybe I should fly over and open up on the teen set at the high school to get their attention.”

“Lets not.” A voice shouted. The Redeemers looked to see the figures of Life Savers, Inc standing on the roof of one of the embattled buildings. Facsimile, in her usual, gold skinned and winged form was the one speaking. “Trust us, you have our undivided attention.”

“Just like you’ll have the guards’ undivided attention when we put you in jail.” Alloy added.

“Big talk, prelate.” War-torn sneered. “Take a look; you’re out numbered five to three.”

Isp and Osp turned their non-heads to look at Alloy, then back at the marauding villains. They thought something sour at him. “I know it’s five on five,” Alloy whispered to them, “Doesn’t mean they need to know.”

“Can we move past the exchanging petty insults phase of this?” Facsimile asked. “Just let me know which one of you is supposed to be my thematic opposite, the flier or the white chica?” Earlier that morning, she wouldn’t have thought the old cliché would ever happen in real life, but the man with the chains seemed to be made to fight Alloy.

“I can agree with a woman that wants to get down to the fight.” Manriki said, unhooking his orihalcite chain. With a mighty swing, he launched it at the roof top. It writhed like a snake under his power and the spiked tip of it lanced neatly into the brick there. Grunting, he began climbing.

“Dude, seriously do your homework.” Alloy said, focusing his power on the chain. “You can’t expect to try this with a metal—“ He blinked behind his visor. “It’s the same freaky metal we got off those dog monsters…”

Shine clawed her way up the wall faster than Manriki could climb his chain, coming to perch on a corner of the roof in a catlike crouch. “Orihalcite.” She named the metal as she flexed her claws. “Purportedly the most indestructible metal on earth.”

“You had something to do with those monsters?” Zero finally broke her silence.

“The inugami? Just a test run to see how good you were.” Shine said as Manriki gained the roof.

“We’re the final exam.” He said, making his extracting his main weapon from the building. “Emphasis on the final.” He whirled he chain and threw it in Zero’s direction at the same time Shine leapt at Alloy.

The young heroes reacted to the sudden attack with celerity Shine hadn’t planned for. Alloy stepped out of her way, allowing Facsimile to meet the alabaster skinned villainess’s charge.

“Sorry,” The golden warrior grinned, letting Shine waste time raking her with her claws. “You don’t get to choose your partner for this dance.” She grabbed Shine in a bear hug and lunged off the roof with her.

Meanwhile, Manriki found his chain fouled by the sudden interference of a metallic tentacle that smacked it off course. “Zero, get to the street and help Fax with those baddies. I’ll take care of this guy.” Alloy said to his companion as the other tentacle moved to trip the chain wielding enemy.

Zero nodded and ran for the fire escape on the other side of the building.

Alloy watched her go, and then turned back to Manriki who was surprisingly holding his own against Isp and Osp. “Now who’s out numbered” he asked.

“You.” Launch’s voice boomed as he began to fire on the armored hero.

Wolf watched the one called Zero disappear from view. She’d have to come down on the other side of the building—alone. The others had their quarry well in hand. He’d had to deal with her. He touched the inhibitor on his chest, pressing the raised knob inward and slowly turning it. “Decreasing inhibitor level to Sixty-five percent.” He announced.

Pain wracked him as the transformation began. His blood boiled as his ribs expanded, distorting his skin as it darkened and sprouted a short pelt. His skull deformed as well, his jaws jutting outward into a muzzle as his teeth became sharp. At this level, he was still quite human, albeit with the senses and endurance of a wolf.

Growling his approval of his partial transformation, he stalked off in search of his prey.

-- • --

Facsimile and Shine crashed down atop the utility truck Launch had caused to crash earlier, badly denting its roof. Shine managed to land on top of Facsimile and was quick to leap to her feet, balancing on the truck’s cab.

Facsimile wasn’t down for long. The few injuries she hadn’t prevented in the fall healed within seconds and she lashed out with a low kick which Shine easily leapt over. Not giving her foe any time to counter, she buffeted her with her wings and threw a few quick punches.

Shine dodged all of the blows as if Facsimile were moving in slow motion. That was a benefit of her altered physiology; her skin absorbed UV radiation and used it to augment her reflexes. On a cloudless summer day, they almost bordered on precognition. “You’re slow.” She snapped at Facsimile. “Unless you mean to be hitting air.” To punctuate her point, she slashed the golden prelate across the chest with her metal claws.

Re-assimilating her wings into her body, Facsimile struck a fighting stance she’d only just recently learned from Alexis. Her wounds were already closed. “So I can’t hit you and you can’t hurt me.” She added the mass from the wings to her muscles, which made her appear more tone in the process. “This could go on a long time.”

“At least until you get tired.” Shine confirmed. “They you’re mine.”

“Or, I can do something you can’t dodge.” Facsimile pointed out.

“Like what?” Shine snorted.

“This!” the heroine took a step and slipped between the cab and body of the truck. Flexing her enhanced muscles, she used the body as leverage to kick the cab free of the bolts securing it. Metal sheered and the truck cab rolled forward, throwing Shine to the sidewalk.

Rolling with the fall, Shine came up in the three point stance, only to have to dance to the side as shards of blasted brick fell from above. “Check your fire, Launch!” She shouted up at her overzealous teammate. She didn’t hear his response over the sudden ringing in her ears. The force of the impact knocked her into the already broken window of a clothing store.

“Can’t dodge what you can’t see.” Facsimile noted, wielding the dented no parking sign she’d just used to smack Shine up side the head.

Alloy ducked behind a vent for cover as pulses of energy from Launch’s wrist mounted blasters rained down on the roof. Manriki had also taken cover behind a tangle of pipes.

“Your partner is nuts!” Alloy shouted over the sound of cracking roofing material. “He’s going to hit you too!”

“I don’t expect that he cares.” Manriki shrugged. His orihalcite chain unraveled at his command to attack the besieged hero. Isp and Osp easily deflected the incoming attack, which tore into the vent Alloy was using for cover.

“Guess he won’t mind if I take you out of the game before he has a chance to.” Alloy focused on the pipes Manriki was hiding behind and they came to life. Bands of the metal looped around the chain wielder, locking his arms and legs in place. “Gotcha! One down, one to… hey, the shooting stopped…”

“Right you are tin can.” Launch’s voice said. Alloy looked out over his cover to see that the green and purple clad villain had landed in the center of the roof. “With Manriki out of play, I figure I can score some points with the big bosses by taking you out all personal like.”

“That’s not going to be easy.” Alloy retorted. Isp snaked out and shaped itself into a spike, which it planted firmly into the roof. Before Launch could question what was happening, the tentacle flexed and hauled Alloy airborne, throwing him like a giant, metal missile.

Launch took a knee, letting his attacker pass overhead. “Nice. Didn’t know you could do that.” He admitted, turning to face Alloy. “Of course, it’s fair, considering you didn’t know I could do this!” An explosion of force blossomed up around him as he lifted off, blowing both his quarry and his ally off the roof.

“Now for the finishing blow.” Facsimile balanced on the window shelf of the store she had knocked Shine into, sign held high. ”Sweet dreams, sister.”

“I’m getting the feeling that I’m being ignored.” Facsimile didn’t have time to look for the source of the rumbling voice before a beefy hand clamped down on her shoulder and span her around. War-torn sneered at her as he wrested the sign out of her hands. “Maybe this will show you some civility.” With that, he caught her by the arm and flung her across the street.

The gilded girl collided with a parked car, landing amid a shower of safety glass. “Strong guy, huh?” she queried, getting to her feet. “I bet you’re tough too. Sucker punches aren’t going to do much, are they?” War-torn nodded. “Good.” She snarled. A stiletto of horn sprouted from just behind the wrist of each of her arms.

“That’s not going to help you either, you dumb little git.” War-torn started to lumber forward. Behind him, Shine climbed out of the window, having just regained her senses. Their death glares at Facsimile were interrupted by the roar of sound that usually accompanied Launch’s devastating take-off.

That was immediately followed by a Doppler scream that made everyone involved look up. An armored figure was streaking downward from the roof toward the street, proceeded by what looked, from a distance, like a pair of silver streamers. As they watched, the ‘streamers’ looped themselves into twin circles around the falling form, making a pair of flimsy looking wire wheels. The wheels hit the ground and rolled, coming to a stop against the side of a building at which point, they deposited their charge on his feet.

Alloy shook his head to clear the disorientation of his landing. “Nice save, boys.” He complemented the tentacles, who gave happy nods in response. He didn’t have time to continue the conversation, as he caught sight of War-torn and Shine squaring off against Facsimile. “Who the hell are you guys? And why are you after us?” He shouted.

“Our bosses want you.” Shine said casually, crouching in a ready position.

“Personally, I’m fine with tearing down a couple of nobodies that think its okay to go fight crime because there’s nothing good on TV.” War-torn added.

“Don’t start that again.” Launch came to hover over his allies, wrist blasters extended.

“What?” Facsimile snapped, irately. “Are you serious? Are you really that stupid? First, has anyone in the history of ever risked their lives for the good of others purely because they were freaking bored?!” She held up a finger to count off the many things wrong with War-torn’s sentiment. “Second, do you even know who we are and what we do? Check the name, you brick head. We’re Life Savers, Inc, not Crime Fighters, Inc. The only time we fight anything is when lunatics like you threaten a bunch of people.” She ground her teeth in frustration. “And this is your big justification for kidnapping prelates and smashing people’s shit? What is wrong with you?!”

“Uh, Fax, I think the crazy and twisted bastards train left the moment they named their dog things ‘inugami’. But that’s beside the point. If these guys are after us, we can’t let them separate us. We need to get to Zero.”

Facsimile glared at the assembled villains. “You’re right. Mind carrying me? I had to eat my wings for the muscle power.” Inside his helmet, Alloy blinked at her odd phrasing, but extended his hand to her.

“And just how do you expect to get past the three of us?” Shine queried.

“Simple.” Alloy said. “If you guys were too dumb to attack while Fax here was venting. You’re definitely too dumb to deal with this—“He seized control of the much abused truck cab that was lying idle behind Shine with his power. A tendril of liquid metal formed out of the door and lashed around Launch’s feet, dragging him down to the ground.

The villainous flier cried out at suddenly being grounded. “You son of a—you can’t keep me on the ground, I can just…”

“Launch, don’t!” Shine shouted, but it was too late. Launch activated his power, only to find that the tendril around his legs, enhanced by Alloy’s power kept him tethered to the ground and well within the radius of his explosive burst. All three Redeemers were thrown violently off their feet.

“Swank.” Facsimile noted as Alloy had the tentacles swing them away. “That worked so well.”

Wolf knelt behind an abandoned car on Cray Street as bullets ricocheted around him. It had been swiftly evacuated in the minutes before the local authorities had thrown up their cordon around the ten blocks immediately surrounding the initial altercation. Apparently, the police had used Cray as a fallback point once it became apparent that they were useless against the Redeemers.

Now that he was alone however, it seemed that they were feeling a bit braver. Snarling his frustration, he scanned the area. He didn’t have time for this. He needed to find the prelate girl before she disappeared… or worse.

There was a roar and a humanoid shape was thrown off the roof above him. His enhanced vision recognized it immediately; Manriki and he was bound. Heeding his duty to the team, Wolf ignored the flying lead directed at him and leapt from cover toward his falling teammate. He easily cleared fifteen feet as he tackled the sociopath out of the air and into the cover of a vendor’s cart.

“Son of a bitch, I’m going to strangle Launch.” Manriki groaned.

Ignoring him, Wolf drew on his slightly augmented strength to pull the piping from around his confederate’s arms. “Come on. You can help me hunt down that Zero girl. She’s around her somewhere.” He sat up just in time to catch a bullet that bounced off the wall behind him in his arm.

Pain lanced through him, tinting the world red in his vision. The projectile had connected with the part of the anatomy commonly referred to as the ‘funny bone’, though anyone that ever suffered damage to it knew that the bad pun only added insult to the incredible pain.

The blue lights on his inhibitors flickered and dropped to a lower level – thirty-five percent. Wolf’s body rippled as the dense biological matter in his bone and marrow transformed into sinewy muscle and a copious ruff of grey fur. His combat boots split to reveal clawed feet, while his gloves did likewise for his hands.

Manriki tried to become invisible to the sight of the amalgam of man and wolf that stood before him. He’d only ever seen Wolf drop his inhibitor to fifty percent and that was gruesome enough, but now, he could see the bone and muscle twitch as it forced itself into a new form.

Wolf didn’t care about Manriki. He wanted revenge for the (now healed) injury he had just received. “Who did it?!” He roared, lifting and throwing the cart at the dumbstruck police. “I’ll kill you all. You’ll be my meat!” He took a step toward them when a new pain shot up his leg. This pain was new, cold. He turned to see the cloaked and half masked visage of Zero standing at the end of the street. She held several fragile looking daggers of ice between her fingers.

“You’re after me, right?” She asked, as if trying to remind him. “Right.”

Slavering in rage, he readied himself to charge. “Right. Come here.”

“Come get me.” Zero taunted.

Howling in rage, the wolf-man barreled toward the cold based prelate, yellow eyes gleaming with feral determination.

For her part, Zero kicked off the wall next to her and slid sideways with incredible quickness on a sheet of ice that formed a long line down another alley. Wolf overshot her, crashing into a street light that bent and collapsed under his weight, as the prelate skated away down the alley. His prey was rabbiting. The hunt had begun.”

Extricating herself from the windshield of the car Launch’s explosion had catapulted her into, Shine glared at her compatriots, who were in similar, if not worse states. “You are a compulsive ignoramus, Launch.” She seethed.

“Yeah.” War-torn taxed his suit to the limit to lift the car that had rolled over him. “You let all their talk get to you.”

Still shaken from being at the epicenter of his own blast, Launch staggered to his feet. “It was a clever trick, but it won’t work twice. Come on; let’s get back on their trail before they get too far.”

“You just wait until we’re out of range before lifting off this time.” Shine huffed as she took off down the alley.

“… one of the group, calling themselves the ‘Redeemers’ has apparently transformed into a werewolf like monster and is now chasing Zero down the alley crossing Jameson Street.” The voice of a reporter was saying as shaky helicopter footage showed the great, furry beast careening down an alley. “Whether this creature is in any way related to the monsters reported on in the week before Halloween is anyone’s guess…”

Liedecker muted the television in his office as the door opened and Brill ushered Calvin Singer, AKA ‘Scuff’, AKA Sky Tyrant in. Singer looked much the worse for wear; his cheeks were hollow, bags had formed over his eyes, and his skin looked like he’s tried to scratch it off. Even as he stood there, he scratched his left bicep furiously. A slight crackle of pinkish electricity around the area formed when he did.

“Scuff.” The crime lord said jovially. “So good of you to make the trip from Gear’s warehouse in such good time.” Since his ‘accident’ with “Nightshade”, Scuff had spent most of his time at the mechanic’s workshop, having the hardware the unstable woman had fused to his person examined and occasionally upgraded.

“I was hoping your call meant your people had some sort of breakthrough with the cure.” Scuff said hopefully. The last few months were hell on him. Keeping the mechanical parts of him from sprouting on his body at random took almost all of his concentration and that combined with Liedecker’s threat to withdraw his offer of a cure if he divulged what had happened to him had estranged his family and made his girlfriend leave him. The only escape from the phantom pains he experienced was fully allowing the armor to encase him.

“We’re still working, my boy. And I promise you I’ve got my best science boys studying the things I took from Nightshade’s little lab.” That was true. While he certainly wasn’t wasting more than one or two on working on restoring Scuff, he had committed a hefty division of his think tank to studying Nightshade’s—for lack of a better word—‘magic’.

Scuff hung his head in defeat.

“Right now, it’s time for business.” Liedecker continued. “Do this job for me, and I’ll see what we can do about your itching problem at the very least.”

The afflicted man perked up. Every bit of relief was welcome. “What do I have to do?”

Liedecker picked up his remote and pushed a button. The news story rewound itself to the first images of the Redeemers terrorizing the populace. “Twenty minutes ago, these sumbitches decided to start a little crime wave. I don’t really care about a catspaw here or there, I really don’t.” the master of the underworld shook his head, “except, these ain’t normal freelancers and those shops you see them wrecking? Those shops pay me good protection money to ensure that doesn’t happen.”

“Isn’t protection money paid so you don’t personally trash the place?” Scuff was generally confused.

A steely glare silenced him. “I don’t pay you to ask questions, Singer... but I’ll answer you this one time. I am a business man and those men and women are my customers. Now, I sold them protection and I didn’t specify from whom. Being a man of my word, I cannot in good conscience allow this sort of breech of their confidence to go unpunished.” He nodded to Scuff. “Get me?”

Scuff simply stopped fighting the change. Pink sparks raced over his body as the black Sky Tyrant armor encased him from the Astral Plane. It was different now, transformed both by Morganna’s mechanizations and by Gear’s tinkering into a bulkier, but far more deadly configuration. “I got you.” Scuff’s voice boomed form the speakers.

End Issue #11