“Welcome to the Dayspring College Arts and History Museum, if you need any information, please don’t hesitate to ask.” Juniper beamed with her brightest smile. The middle aged man on the receiving end gave her a polite smile of his own and accepted the museum pass she held out for him.

Juniper watched him swipe the pass and enter one of the glass elevators that ferried patrons up to the museum proper before sitting back down in her chair. “He seemed really nice.” She commented.

“You’re really good at that.” Warrick was transferring some pamphlets from a box to their proper slots in the kiosk beside the admissions desk. The desk was a large semicircle with a low counter filled with cubbyholes for mail directed to the curators and other employees of the museum. It faced the large, glass, half dome the made up the entrance and the tiled floor bearing a giant sized image of the Dayspring College seal; a phoenix with an astrolabe clutched in its claws.

“Good at what?” Juniper asked, turning idle quarter circles in her swiveling chair.

“The greeting thing.” Warrick said.

“It isn’t hard.” The brown haired girl noted. “You just smile at people and say what our little script card says.”

“Yeah, but most people make it sound fake.” Warrick pointed out. “Not a lot of people are really comfortable smiling at strangers. Me included, it just feels…”

“Weird?”

“I was trying to find a nicer word…”

“You don’t have to though.” Juniper shrugged. “I know it’s weird. Cyn tells me all the time in case I forget.”

“You know she doesn’t mean that right?” His task completed, Warrick started breaking down the box as he came around and took his seat at the other end of the desk’s arc. “Cyn likes you. Really. It’s just how she is.”

“I know.” Juniper smiled a quiet, reflective smile this time. “But she’s also right. I like being weird. And usually, people smile back.”

“Maybe you should look into making a career of this.” Warrick suggested.

“Nah.” She shook her head. “As good as this feels, being in Snackrifice has shown me that I really want to be on stage. Maybe not singing, but something in entertainment, you know? Hey, you told us you were in plays; I guess before you went to the Academy?”

“Yeah, Freshman and Sophomore years of high school.” Warrick nodded.

“Maybe you can… give me some pointers or something?”

Warrick raised an eyebrow. “You want to go into acting?”

“Maybe. It’s pretty early to think about a career or anything, but I’d love to see what it’s like. I’m even thinking of signing up for Ms. Weis’s Drama class next year.”

“I was actually considering it myself.” Warrick admitted. “The school doesn’t have any higher level art classes.”

A door behind them, off to the side of the elevators opened and a man in his early sixties appeared, wearing a dress shirt, tie and slacks.

Juniper saw him before Warrick. “Professor Demetrius!” she called. “Thank you so much, again, for giving us this job.”

The professor smiled and came over to them. “Miss Taylor, you don’t have to keep thanking me. I’m really glad to have the help and Miss Keyes’s recommendation was proof enough for me that the two of you are the right people for the job. She was the best teacher’s aide I ever had when I taught at Columbia.”

“But still, it isn’t as if you had to.” Juniper said, “There were probably dozens of people lined up for this job.”

“During the regular year this is true.” Professor Demetrius conceded. “But during summer session the students that normally work for me are at home and the summer students have no time or a reliable enough schedule. You fit the bill perfectly.” He glanced at the clock on the computer screen in front of Warrick. “Say, shouldn’t you kids be at lunch?”

“Ms. Keyes and Mr. Smythe should be here to pick us up.” Warrick said, “all of us from the… uh, boarding house are going out to celebrate our first day on the job.” He looked around. “But… well, we’re the only ones here. We can’t both go to lunch at the same time, can we?”

“There’d be no one to watch the desk.” said Juniper.

“Hmm…, that is a bit of a problem.” The professor said, “You see, normally, the students that ran the desk took lunch here.”

“But the sign says ‘No food or drink in the museum’.” Juniper pointed to the sign posted at the elevators.

Professor Demetrius smiled. “My, you two really are as conscientious and responsible as Miss Keyes said, I see. But don’t worry about that; the ground floor and the sublevels are research and work levels. The museum starts on the second floor, so don’t worry about eating here. In fact, there are takeout menus in the upper right hand drawer there.” He indicated with a vague gesture.

Warrick opened the drawer and was confronted by a pile of menus.

“I recommend Otto’s Gyros, personally. They have good prices and they use real lamb.”

One of the glass doors up front opened, causing a tiny light to flash behind the desk, in case those manning it weren’t paying attention. All three glanced up to see Alexis coming across the floor.

“Of course, those won’t help us today…” Juniper murmured, dejected.

Professor Demetrius smiled widely. “Ah, Miss Keyes, good afternoon.”

“Professor.” Alexis returned his enthusiasm. “I didn’t know you’d be around. I just came o take the newest members of the staff to lunch.”

Before the professor could answer, the door he’d entered by banged open. A man dressed in a slick grey dress shirt, black tie and designer trousers came through amid a bluster of palpable frustration. He blue eyes blazed as he compulsively ran his fingers through his heavily moussed black hair.

“You. Desk clerk.” He snapped his fingers in Juniper’s general direction. “Did a package come for me today?”

Juniper looked behind her to the shelf beneath the cubbies. Several packages had come in that day. She had no way of knowing if any of those were his, but she felt a sudden need to just hand them all to him just to make him go away. “Uh, I’m sorry, I’m new here, sir.” She said with all the sunshine she could muster. “What’s you name?”

“Madigan.” The man snapped. Then his eyes settled on Alexis. “Madrigal Madigan.” His tone softened dramatically. Striding up to her, he took her hand like the most stereotypical male lead in the most stereotypical romance movie in mankind’s history.

Professor Demetrius gave him a withering look. “Alexis Keyes, this is Dr. Madrigal Madigan, head of our restoration department. Madrigal, this is Alexis Keyes, my former teacher’s aide and the caretaker of the young girl you just roared at.”

Dr. Madigan’s eyes widened a bit with shock as Alexis forcibly extracted her hand form his. “Oh… uh, y—“he turned and did a little bow at Juniper. “You have to excuse me, young lady. I’ve got eight different restoration projects, a staff that all took their summer leave at the same time, and this scepter was supposed to be on my desk a week ago. I am, understandably, stressed.”

“Stress really doesn’t excuse rudeness, Dr. Madigan.” Alexis said curtly.

“Oh, I know, I know.” Madigan shook his head, “I have no excuse. None at all. I mean even though I was also distracted by the sight of an incredibly beautiful woman, I should have—“

“Madrigal!” Prof. Demetrius spoke up. “Professionalism, Madrigal. I know you aren’t my subordinate, but I will speak to the board about your manner if it comes up.”

Madigan huffed and ran a hand through his hair. “As if they’ll care. I’ve garnered more acquisitions for the university than any other staff member—any two staff members in fact.”

“Found it.” Warrick set a wooden crate as long as his arm and two hands wide on the desk. There were bits of straw sticking out of it. “At least I think this is it, the address is to ‘Mad-Mad’.”

“That would be me, yes.” Madigan, ground his teeth at the mention of the nickname. “Shelley Michaels, an old college friend of mine is in charge of a dig in Greece.” He rapped his fist on the crate. “Yet another acquisition, I might add.”

“You have your package, Madrigal, just get back to work.” The professor sighed.

“In a moment.” Madigan said, eyes still fixed on Alexis. “Ms. Keyes, I’m terribly sorry if I offended you or your lovely children… Perhaps I can make it up to you over dinner?”

The light behind the desk flashed and Warrick and Juniper looked up in unison, exchanged a glance, and started snickering.

“Parking here?” Ian announced to no one in particular as he came in, “Sucks. A lot.” He looked the place up and down for size, and then smiled at the kids. “Congratulations on the first day, by the way. I’m proud of you two. Really.” He made his way to Alexis’s side and put an arm around her. “Hey, Alex? Why are they laughing?”

“No reason.” Alexis stifled a laugh of her own.

“None at all.” Juniper grinned.

“Oh, Ian Smythe, I’d like you to meet Professor Demetrius. Professor, this is my boyfriend, Ian.” The two men shook hands and exchanged pleasantries. “And this…” Alexis said, nodding in Madigan’s direction, “Is Dr. Madrigal Madigan. The professor was just introducing us.”

Madigan took Ian’s proffered hand. “Boyfriend? Huh.” He said flatly.

Ian quirked and eyebrow and returned fire. “Madrigal Madigan? So… you’re Mad-Mad?”

The quiet distain in the man’s eyes became hatred. “Yes, apparently. Only by the grace of my grandfather did I escape with the relatively normal middle name, ‘Adam’.”

“You should use that one.” Ian quipped and turned to Alexis. “So are we ready to go?”

“We can’t go.” Juniper pouted. “Someone has to watch the desk.”

Professor Demetrius chuckled. “You know what, don’t worry about it, Miss Taylor, I’ll take your place until you get back.”

“Really?”

“Of course.” The professor said, “This is your first day and the two of you didn’t realize this was going to happen.” He made a shooing motion. “Go on.”

The teens thanked him profusely and headed out with Ian and Alexis. Moments later, only he and Madigan were left.

“Getting a bit soft on the hirelings, aren’t you, Demetrius?” he smirked. “Or maybe you’re starting to realize that you belong behind a desk.”

“Just get back to you work, Madigan, and I’ll worry about this.” The professor snapped.

“Of course.” Madigan chuckled, “but we know its true. One day, I’ll have you chair as Director.” With that, he took up his crate and headed back down to the restoration wing.

Despite being a neat dresser and thinking himself to be suave, Dr. Madigan’s actual office made most disaster areas look like they belonged on the cover of magazines about good housekeeping. The tables were covered with pieces in need of restoration and in some cases reconstruction, his desk was awash in paperwork and both had begun to colonize the floor with their castoffs some time ago.

Fuming, Madigan made his way to his desk, threw aside some papers, and set the crate on it. For a few minutes, he just sat in his chair and stared at it. At some point in the distant past, he’d been excited to receive it, but now it was just another museum piece to authenticate and put in the queue to eventually be restored.

Eventually, because all of his staff had went on vacation at the same time and immediately afterward, acquisitions had come poring in. And because they’d come pouring in, he hadn’t been able to duck out for the week like his staff had.

Taking a pry bar off the sideboard behind him, he started to open the crate up. As he did he imagined he was levering off that smug prick, Ian Smythe’s head off. His mind wandered. Clearly, he wasn’t worthy of the pale jewel he’d managed to snare.

Just by looking at the man, Madigan could tell he didn’t offer Alexis any sort of intellectual stimulation—he was probably a drop-out. The poor woman was just deluding herself if she thought that Ian Smythe was what she deserved.

The top of the crate popped off, carrying with it a layer of straw. It also revealed the scepter. It was about the length of a man’s arm with an arrow straight shaft that terminated in a dull spike on one end and a scrolled column at the other. Attached to the column was a pair of grime covered olive branches that held an even grimier sphere in place. The sphere was a separate piece, freely movable in the space between the branches.

Sighing at the sad state the device was in; Madigan gingerly extracted it from the crate and set the crate aside. Reaching into his desk, he brought out some cleaning tools. He might as well get started.

He started with a light brush to dislodge the looser pieces of dust from the branches. It wasn’t fair, he ruminated, Ian Smythe never had to sit in what was essentially an underground tomb and do work his underlings should be doing. And if he did, his tomb would be properly ventilated.

An errant stroke of the brush pushed a layer of grime away from the central sphere, revealing a glint of amber stone. His interest piqued, Madigan brushed away more of the detritus covering the sphere until he could clearly make out what looked disturbingly like the pupil of some huge cat in the center of the stone.

Somewhere in his brain, he was noticing that the room had suddenly cooled to a comfortable temperature and he was breathing much easier. But he didn’t have time to ponder it.

Because the eye blinked at him.

-- • --

Fight or flight is a powerful reaction in a person. It drives muscles to do things they’ve never done before. It dumps adrenaline into our systems in a last ditch attempt to spur some sort of survival instinct in the unresponsive slab of meat called the body human.

Madrigal Madigan’s fight or fight response was essentially as useless as that of a horror movie victim in the face of the fist sized amber eye that examined him. It screamed at him to run, or smash the thing. It roared out for the legs to back away and ordered the arms to spring up defensively. Finally, it begged the mouth to at least scream. It was thoroughly quashed by something far beyond its ability.

Instead, Madrigal’s hand came up and extended his index and middle fingers to touch the scepter’s shaft. Where before he had felt the cold of stone, he felt a living warmth.

A ripple of light, the same color as the terrible eye in the stone came from his fingers. It washed along the scepter, and where it touched, the centuries of dust and grime and sediment flared away as if it had been burned. Beneath was white, exquisite marble. The amber fire reached the top of the device and cleansed the olive branches, revealing them to be delicately worked copper. It continued on to reveal the entirety of the eye-stone before dying out.

“What in the world…” Madrigal murmured. His curiosity was suddenly overwhelming and before he could think better of it, he snatched the scepter up in his right hand and held it so he could peer into the amber stone and the eye trapped within.

A little chuckle escaped him. Suddenly, none of this seemed as frighteningly surreal as it had moments before. “A self restoring artifact.” He quipped. His gaze drifted over the other projects that were piled up in his office. “If only they all did that.”

There was a series of amber flashes in the room, starting small and burning like tiny wildfires across the artifacts pending restoration. When they died out, mere fractions of a second later, they were… different.

Madrigal gaped, his attention rapidly fluttering between the suddenly transmuted items and the artifact clutched in his hand. After some debate, he hurried around his desk and over to the painting Twilight Rising by a mid-twentieth century painter, Campbell.

It had come into the museum in poor shape, having survived a fire, but spending quite some time buried in ashes and subjected to the elements. Madrigal had estimated the restoration would take eight months at best. But now the faded colors were brilliant, the blues and blacks crisp against the woodland greens and browns of the trees in the nighttime forest. Even the poorly preserved and cracked frame was restored to its former glory.

Turning, Madrigal set eyes upon a stone statue of a man carrying a boar over one shoulder. Before, he could not have known that it had been a boar, so harsh had the passage of time been to the piece. Every detail had returned to perfection as if it had just been made that day.

When he tried crossing the office to examine another piece, Madrigal stumbled on a pile of papers that had been sent to the floor by the glacial advancement of paperwork on his desk. He cursed and glared that the papers.

“I’ve been meaning…” He looked at the scepter in his hand, and then smiled. “Hmm…” he pondered, then flicked his hand in the direction of his desk. The amber flames engulfed it and suddenly, the desk was exceedingly tidy. The stacks of paper were still there, but now they were arranged in neat towers on the desk.

Smiling, Madrigal took the top paper off one of the stacks and looked at it. It was a budget form that was about a week overdue. He’d been too swamped to fill it out. Now he waggled a finger over it and in a flash of amber, it was done. Another gesture completed all the paperwork.

“You know,” he said to no one, “I’ve been here for six years and I’ve had to put up with a particle board desk this entire time, while Demetrius and those other old men get real desks in oak and mahogany.” He waved his hand and his desk changed.

There was a moment’s contemplation. “Of course, I’m better than them anyway, so I should have something unique; more befitting for a superior mind such as myself. Maybe… cherry?” he made it so in another flash of light. “Or ebony, perhaps.” Yet another flash made his thoughts reality. “But really, Madrigal, you’re thinking too small. You can do anything now, can’t you?” With a thought and a gesture, the entire room was suddenly meticulously clean and orderly.

“Yes, I can.” He confirmed to himself. “So why am I constraining myself to wood and tradition?” One last blast of amber energy lit the room. Madrigal observed his new, solid platinum desk. “Perfect.” He intoned, and then span on his heal to face the door. “Just as the world should be: at my beck and call. Now to make a few more… corrections.”

Madrigal laughed. It wasn’t a pleasant laugh to hear with human ears. It had the kind of wrongness to it that makes a hyena’s ‘laugh’ unsettling and ensures that they’ll never be mistaken for humans at dinner parties.

“I would really just like to say how proud of the two of you I am.” Laurel beamed across the table at Warrick and Juniper. The residents of Freeland Houses, save one, were gathered around the table at Hidalgo’s; a Mexican restaurant that was Juniper’s current favorite.

The aforementioned smiled and gave her thanks before continuing to perform amateur alchemy involving several different hot sauces and peppers that had been placed on the table only for decoration. The fumes from the concoction hinted that it would be more than capable of removing paint, scoring metal, or offending a minor deity.

Cyn, seated between the two teens of the hour formed and lowered a set of transparent eyelids to keep from tearing up. “It’s still pretty low that Melissa blew you guys off.”

“Well, she must really like Terry to not be here.” Juniper said, finally pouring her terrible tincture over her enchilada. “I for one am happy for her. We should support her.”

“We both know she doesn’t like anyone. She’s just using this as an excuse to snub us again.” She scooped a laden chip out of her ‘entrée’, a platter of nachos marketed toward small parties of people, and glowered at Juniper. “Even Kareem managed to be here for you two and she didn’t. That’s all I have to say about it.”

I would really rather not be used as an example in this manner. Kareem communicated to all present.

“At least she’s finally getting out.” Warrick offered.

Cyn scoffed. “I can’t believe you guys!” She looked around at her friends, her mentors and where Kareem was presumably situated. “We’re a group—a team—kind of a family even, and she’s completely cutting us out. Doesn’t that make you angry?”

She poked Juniper in the shoulder. “Jun, seriously, if Adel wanted to go somewhere on say, my birthday, you’d come to my party, right?”

“Of course.” Juniper smiled and nodded.

“Damn right, you would.” Cyn smiled. She clapped a palm on Warrick’s shoulder. “And Warrick; if copper-top—“

“Her name’s Tink, Cyn.” Warrick complained, “You know she doesn’t like when you call her that.”

“It’s a term of endearment.” Cyn insisted. “Anyway, if Tink wanted to do whatever it is you two do for fun, you’ve still come to my party, right?” Warrick nodded. “See? Because we’re friends and care about each other.”

“You were two hours late for my party.” Juniper ventured.

“I was stuck in a cab!” Cyn whined.

“I know.” Juniper said. “I was only saying so because you had a good reason and I’m sure Melissa has a good reason too.” She gave a little shrug and went back to her meal.

Letting lose an exasperated sight, Cyn directed her next question to where she figured Kareem would situate himself. “What about you, Kareem?” she demanded. “Melissa used to keep you company and now… is she ever around, even for you?”

We still talk. Kareem noted. And like Juniper, I am just happy that she is finally adjusting to her situation. Any other response would be selfish… on my part at least. He added the last part in truly diplomatic fashion.

Defeated soundly, Cyn sighed and slumped in her chair. An awkward silence hung over all of them.

“So,” Ian said, riding to everyone’s social rescue again, “Have the two of you thought about what kind of car you’re working toward?”

“That… could have gone better.” Alexis said by way of apology as she walked Warrick and Juniper back up the sidewalk toward the museum’s entrance. “I think Cyn is just having problems dealing with having to do things on her own lately.”

Warrick nodded, trotting along with his hands in his pockets. “Last year, we pretty much did everything together and when we couldn’t she could call the rest of the gang or drag Melissa off somewhere. This year, we’ve got this job, Kay and Lisa aren’t available as much for some reason; even JC’s out of town for a couple of weeks.”

“I think Melissa getting a boyfriend was the last straw.” Juniper chimed in. “She isn’t going to go insane or anything is she?”

“I don’t think so.” Alexis shook her head. “I think we just have too…” She trailed off as they reached the door. “Huh?”

Juniper noticed the same and read the legend printed on the glass doors aloud. “The Madrigal A. Madigan Memorial Museum? Didn’t this used to say ‘The Dayspring College Arts and History Museum’? I’m pretty sure that’s what this place is called—at least that’s what it says in the little speech we’re supposed to say.” She glanced at the other doors. “They all say that.”

Warrick frowned and looked around. “I don’t get it. It’d take more than an hour to change all these doors…” he stepped back and looked up at the bronze lettering over the entrance. “And way more than an hour to change that too. Not to mention that no one seemed to like that Madigan guy anyway.”

“This is incredibly strange.” Alexis agreed. Through the glass doors, she saw Professor Demetrius at the desk. “Maybe the professor will know.”

They opened the door and didn’t make it halfway across the room before the feeling that something was monumentally wrong overtook them. The seal on the floor, once the Dayspring Phoenix was replaced by pair of stylized M’s. None of them really noticed, especially not Alexis, who gasped and dashed to the desk. “Professor Demetrius?!” she called.

The Professor didn’t respond. He didn’t even blink. Not dead, something else. He was held in place, mouth open, finger raised as if he was admonishing someone. But he was perfectly still, like a photograph in three dimensions.

“Professor?” Alexis came around his desk to his side and tried shaking him. Not only didn’t he move, but the cloth of his shirt didn’t seem to yield to her touch either. “What happened here?” she demanded of the living sculpture.

“Do you like it?” A voice as oily as a properly prepared serving of fries asked. The elevators seemed to burn away in amber fire, replaced by opulent staircases that curved gracefully upward to the second floor.

Madrigal Madigan stood at the place where the stairs converged. He was garbed in red and platinum, with a crimson silk poet’s shirt, suit pants and a platinum sash. His wingtip shoes shone like diamonds and his hands were loaded down with rings. The scepter was thrust into his belt, the amber stone thrumming quietly. “I call it ‘Silent at Last’. It’s my contribution to what I feel is a shameful lack of quality sculpture at this establishment.”

“You did that to him?” Juniper asked. The temperature in the room dropped several degrees.

Madrigal thought, seemingly seriously on the matter for a second and then cut loose with his hyena laugh. “Yes, I suppose I did. But it isn’t for you to criticize, clerk. Because it isn’t for you. It’s for the lovely Ms. Keyes.”

Trying in vain to keep her composure, Alexis fixed a baleful glare on the madman. “What the hell do you mean, it’s for me? Undo this now!”

Madrigal looked genuinely hurt. “You don’t like it?”

“No!” Alexis intoned. Minute particles of black heat began to form around her unbidden.

“Oh.” Madigan shrugged. “Oh well then, I guess that was just for me then. I’ll make you something better.” He flicked a finger and an amber fire washed over the seal in the center the floor and from it sprang a twenty foot, marble statue. On casual inspection, it was a sculpture version of the central figure from Botticelli’s The Birth of Venus, but there was one key difference…

“Uh, your hair’s a lot shorter than Venus’s.” Warrick muttered offhandedly.

Black heat lanced out in a beam the width of a fist, shattering the statue into a pile of marble rubble. The rising mist of darkness surrounding Alexis swirled and built in intensity as she turned her attention back to Madigan.

“Undo what you did to Professor Demetrius.” She demanded. “Or I’ll do the same to you, Madigan.”

Madrigal’s only recompense was a look of bemusement. “What a temper. And a psionic to boot. Truly, Alexis, you are a woman of many surprises. But not to worry, we’ll have plenty of time to get to know each other.” He chuckled, which wasn’t any better aesthetically than his laugh. “With this kind of power, we probably have forever.”

“What the hell are you talking—“Alexis was cut off in mid-sentence by an amber flash that left her frozen in place like the professor.

“Of course, I can’t have you accidentally igniting me in that time.” Madrigal noted.

Warrick summoned the tentacles, which snapped out from under his sleeves and cracked the air. “That’s it.” He declared. “You’re going down, pal.”

“Huh.” Madrigal considered. “Another psionic. It would be interesting to see how our powers stack up against one another. But, as they say, true love waits for no man. So my paramour and I will have to see to you later.” He snapped his fingers and both he and Alexis disappeared in a flash.

The two young psionics looked at one another in shock.

“This is very bad.” Juniper said. “We have to call the others.”

“Yeah.” Warrick nodded, “Especially Mr. Smythe.”

-- • --

The tires on Ian’s wine colored sedan screamed as he cut in and out of traffic along Dayspring Avenue, away from the college. Impatiently, he drummed the console of the vehicle’s built in communication’s hub as the ring rang.

“Come on, Laurel, come on…” he snarled at the phone.

“Mr. Smythe?” Juniper asked from the passenger seat. She had a death grip on the grab handle above the door. “If we don’t know where we’re going, do we need to drive like this?”

She didn’t get an answer as Laurel answered at that moment. “Hey, Ian, what’s up?” She chirped.

“Trouble.” Ian intoned. “Some guy kidnapped Alexis.”

“What?!”

“He attacked her and Juniper and Warrick when they got back to the museum. He used some kind of magic to freeze her in place, then teleported with her. Is there any chance you can track her?”

“I don’t have you chipped, if that’s what you’re asking.” Laurel said, her intellect already gearing up for battle. “Can you tell me something about this baddie? Maybe I can narrow down the search.”

“His name was Madigan.” Juniper shouted so the driver focused microphone could pick her voice up.

“Right.” Ian agreed. “Madrigal Madigan. He works at the museum.”

“That helps a lot.” Laurel said. “Dayspring has an open directory of their teaching staff and most of the museum’s senior staff is made up of professors.” She found the correct database and entered the name. “Got him. Madrigal Adam Madigan, head of the restoration department. Current residence is 3610 Wexler Avenue, Apartment 819. I’ll send the address to your car’s navigation now.”

“Perfect.” Ian said, increasing speed.

“If we’re going to be using our powers, won’t we need our costumes?” Juniper asked.

“No time.” Ian said.

“No, she’s right, Ian.” Laurel said. “You especially are far more effective with your costume than without and be honest; do you think Alexis would want to be the cause of our cover being blown?”

“But he’s got her right now!” Ian argued. “I’m not going to waste valuable time getting dressed up for this fight.”

“Ian, we don’t even know that he took Alexis back to his place.” Laurel admonished. “I care for Alexis too, but I care enough to know that we need to deal with this intelligently. Alexis isn’t a shrinking violet; if Madigan can kidnap her, he can more than stand up to us in a straight fight. We have to approach this delicately.”

“You’re my friend and I love you like a sister L, but I’m a walking hurricane and this guy has Alexis. I don’t have a delicate setting right now.”

Something about the exchange roused Warrick, who had been thinking over what had happened while sitting in the back seat. “Mr. Smythe, didn’t you tell us once that… unless we learn the right way to deal with a situation, we’ve only got two settings; ‘gentle breeze’ or ‘hyper-death’?”

“Yeah?” Came the terse reply.

“Well, you said hyper-death wasn’t the choice a hero would make. And Ms. Brant has never been wrong before…”

“You’ve said that plenty of times too.” Laurel added. “Though I’ll be honest and admit I have been wrong. Hyper-cognition isn’t omni-cognition. But I can tell you that I have spares of everyone’s costumes in my car. You don’t have to go all the way home; I can get them to you—I’m still in the city too.”

Ian chewed his lip and watched the city flash by him as he navigated through traffic. He knew what he’d said. He knew what he’d meant. But Alexis being kidnapped by a magic user with powers he didn’t understand wasn’t part of that package.

Well old man, a voice in the back of his mind piped up, it just became part of the package. Not only that, but plenty of other unforeseen, terrifying things in the future as well.

His hands gripped the wheel and his inner monologue continued.

Whining and begging for it to stop wouldn’t make it stop. Nor would rushing in blind and stupid. He’d fail that way. And let people down. Let the woman he loved down.

After what seemed like ten minutes, he spoke. “Laurel, can you find me the nearest alley wide enough to drive through?”

“I can.” Laurel said, already pulling up the relevant screens. “But why?”

“Three of the Descendants don’t need costumes.” Ian noted. He opened the sun roof, allowing the wind to rush in. “I want you to alert Cyn and Kareem and have them head for Madigan’s place. Have Melissa try and get to where Juniper and I will be meeting you to get our costumes.”

“What about me?” Warrick asked.

“What about the alley?” Juniper nearly echoed him.

Ian noted the alley Laurel had found was coming up. “Warrick…” He pointed to the sunroof.

With a thought, Isp and Osp were summoned. “Yes sir.” Warrick said, knowing instinctively what to do.

The car turned sharply into the alley; control servos in the wheel wells buzzing loudly as they prevented fishtailing. Warrick sent a mental ready signal to Isp, who snapped out of the sunroof and grappled an overhang, pulling Warrick from the speeding car.

The moment the car was gone, Warrick called his armor. A manhole cover, several sets of security bars and a handy spool of copper wire became the trademark armor of Alloy.

Still in the car, Juniper turned around in her seat to watch. “Wow…” she mused. “So what do we do now, Mr. Smythe?”

Ian practically threw the car into traffic on the next street. “Now we hope the Mad-Mad Madigan is home when the Descendants knock down his door.”

“Welcome to my home!” Madigan said proudly as he and Alexis emerged from a pillar of amber flame.

They had appeared in an opulent gallery with marble floors, a fountain and assorted statuary. A great arch encircled a conspicuously out of place, ordinary door, replete with a series of chains and deadbolts.

Even more strange, a sliding glass door and window stood in the middle of said gallery. Despite this, the door opened out onto a balcony that offered a view of the Mayfield skyline. The whole thing was an unsettling perversion of geometry and physics.

“I apologize for leaving you in my office,” Madigan continued. “I had to pop out and make sure my place was presentable.” He laughed inhumanly at his own joke. “I’m sure you’ll be comfortable here. In fact, I can do anything and everything to make you comfortable.”

A wave of his hand caused a plush lounge to sprout fully formed from the floor. A table, looking very much like a pedestal, sprouted beside it like a mushroom and was suddenly topped with a bowl of fruit.

“I assure you my dear, that every moment with me will be a moment spent in the…” his eyes strayed disconcertingly, “In the bosom of luxury. Come, sit.” He gestured to the lounge a handful of times before realizing that due to his machinations, Alexis couldn’t do as asked, though he was sure she would if she could.

“Oh.” He realized. “So very sorry.” He gestured and she disappeared and reappeared, dressed in a toga reminiscent of one an actress in a Roman themed high school play would wear, and in a reclining position on the lounge. “There. Better?”

There was no reply. Again, it took Madigan a moment to realize what was wrong. “Oh.” He said again. “Well, I suppose I can let you talk.” Amber fire danced over Alexis’s head.

The only change was that her expression, one of frozen rage, became a darker, more brooding fury, the kind a caged panther gives to the peccary in the next cage. It was a look that said, ‘I will get out of here and when I do, we’ll do lunch.’

It was lost entirely on Madigan. “Well, how do you like it? Isn’t this a billion times better than what that Smythe fellow can offer?”

“Not a billionth better.” Alexis said in a low hiss. “He wouldn’t freeze me, or kidnap me, or attack innocent people.”

“I haven’t attacked a single innocent person.” Madigan said haughtily. “Not physically at least.”

“What about Professor Demetrius!?”

“Oh, come now, he’s not innocent—he’s insulted me many times.”

“That makes him guilty?”

Madigan grinned and span the scepter in his fingers. “I’ve got the scepter. I’ve got the power. Of course, that also means I make all the rules.”

“And I guess I’m not innocent either?” Alexis pressed. “You attacked me and froze me like this.”

“To be fair, my love, you attacked me first.” He looked defensive for a split second, and then his mood brightened. “But don’t worry; now that our first fight is out of the way, there will be clear sailing for the honeymoon. Speaking of which, which should I conquer to mark the occasion; Hawaii or Jamaica?”

“Are you just not paying attention, Madigan?!” Alexis shouted, “We aren’t getting married! I don’t love you. I have a boyfriend and he isn’t you!”

“Can you call me Madrigal?” Madigan asked, “It’s more familiar, you know?”

Alexis fumed. She wanted to call up some black heat and put him on his back and out of her misery. But thanks to whatever spell he’d worked, the nerved that let her do so were seized up. “Listen!” She roared, “I. Have. A Boyfriend. And… and I love him.”

That got Madigan’s attention. His eyes flared with an amber glow, which completely subsumed the natural blue of his eyes. “Smythe!” He growled, his voice full of distain. “You always bring him up. Even after all we’ve shared? All we’ve meant to each other?”

“You’ve known me for less than three hours!”

“Three of the most beautiful hours of our lives!” Madigan almost bawled. “And still you wont’ give him up!” He stamped his foot. “Fine! If it will convince you to give up on him, I’ll bring him right here. And he and I will duel to the death for your heart!”

He held out a hand and gave a mighty flourish.

Nothing happened.

Madigan blinked. “That’s never happened before.” He waved again and made a chair appear. He sat down heavily.

Alexis shot him a wicked look as soon as the horror of imagining Ian summoned and slaughtered had passed. “What’s wrong, ‘Madrigal’? Did you just find a limit?”

“I think I did.” Madigan admitted. He pointed and a stone statue of Ian appeared in a flash of amber. “See? It’s still working. I want a statue of him, it shows up. I want to smash it,“ He pointed and a pulse of amber reduced it to rubble. “And my will be done, right? But if I want him here…“ He waved.

Nothing happened.

“Nothing. It seems I can’t summon actual people and things, only make them.” He looked dejected. He looked suddenly ecstatic. “Wait, I know! I’ll make a challenge appear in the sky above the city! That will bring him here!”

He rushed to the sliding door and stepped out onto the balcony. With a grand, sweeping gesture, he pointed to the sky. “Hear my decree, people of Mayfield!” He crowed, “Ian Smythe must meet me, Madrigal Madigan and duel him to the death over the hand of…” He blinked at the sky. Nothing had been written across the blue expanse in mile high, flaming letters as he’d expected.

Dejected, he turned and started back into the room. “Hmm… maybe I should take some time to learn about my newfound divinity before I try to crush the puny and insolent governments of mankind under my glorious heel, my love.” He sighed.

“I’d also invest in a speech writer and a therapist.” Alexis groused. “You’re deluded. You don’t even understand what that thing is and does and you’re playing with it like a toy. I think it’s cracked your mind… or cracked it worse. You weren’t this animated earlier.”

“I wasn’t a fledgling god earlier.” Madigan countered. He walked into the room and crossed it slowly, like a child coming inside from playing. “But at this moment, my love, I need to stay on task – that is, drawing Ian Smythe to my doorstep so I can grind him under my heel like a government.”

A retort was forming on Alexis’s lips when a knock came at the door.

Madigan’s eyes strayed to the scepter. A wide grin crossed his features. “I knew it wouldn’t fail!” he exclaimed.

-- • --

Taking time to ensure that the scepter was well in hand and to give Alexis a satisfied smile, Madigan seized the doorknob. “I’ve been expecting—“ He threw the door open and his face fell. “You aren’t Ian Smythe.”

The person on the other side of the door was a slight, pale woman in a conservative dress-suit and a bowler hat. The odd welcome didn’t seem to faze her at all. “No sir, no I am not—“ Her hands stabbed out and grabbed Madigan’s free hand and shook it hardily. “My name’s Galina, but you can call me, Gal, Mr. Madigan; Gal Incognito. May I come in? Of course I can,” She invited herself in before Madigan could say a word. Without missing a beat, she continued. “And that’s because you are very, very lucky to see me.”

For the first time, she noticed the room and let out a low whistle to cover her astonishment. “My, my, my, Mr. Madigan, these are lovely digs you have here.”

Still deeply confused and all together broadsided by the intrusion, Madigan nodded very slowly. “Er, yes, it’s Athenian…” His trained eye trailed around the room and something deep inside took in the myriad glaring anachronisms, crossed styles and simple shoddiness. That something shuddered in disgust. “…I think.”

Alexis was just as bewildered by the turn of events as Madigan until she felt a familiar presence nearby.

Do not worry, Ms. Keyes, Kareem’s mental voice came to her; Cyn will keep him distracted while I discern what kind of mystic effect you are under.

No, Kareem, Alexis warned, he’s as crazy as he is dangerous. Trying to fight him full on won’t help things. Tell Cyn to get out of here and I’ll try to outsmart him.

While I have no doubt that you can, Ms. Keyes, I’m afraid Mr. Smythe wouldn’t accept us doing anything less than our level best to try and save you.

On the Astral Plane, Kareem perceived a series of amber glowing nettles thrust at random through Alexis’s astral form. It would be time consuming and difficult to remove the. He proceeded cautiously.

Meanwhile, Cyn, as Gal Incognito, was flitting all over the room, examining the various Greco-something pieces Madigan had furnished his home with. “This is really beautiful.” She stated, picking up a bust of Athena. “though I think it’d go better over the door there.” Her attention finally fell on the door to the balcony, which was a good fifteen feet from the apparent wall of the room. “Wow, now that’s really something.” She said with genuine awe.

“You think so?” Madigan puzzled. “I was thinking of actually putting it back against the wall after I made the room larger – it’s a very uncomfortable feeling, walking behind it.”

“No, it’s perfect just the way it is.” Cyn assured him. “Totally… non-Euclidean. Can we actually go out there?”

“I don’t see why not…” Madigan hesitated. “B-but we can’t be too long, I’m to marry my beloved and then conquer the planet, you see…”

“Really?” Cyn asked, taking time to smirk at Alexis. “Well, I promise not the keep you.” A bemused grin came over her face. “Congratulations, by the way, you’re the first person I’ve ever met who honestly wanted to take over the world.”

Leading her to the door, Madigan’s old arrogance returned. “Well, obviously; no one in history has held the power I have. The legends say that Alexander carried the Aegis, but the closest he came was conquering Asia minor. My scepter makes the Aegis look like a child’s rattle.”

He threw her a sly grin. “You’re very fortunate, you know? You’ll be the first to gaze with me upon my dominion.” He threw the doors open and strode out to do just that. Only to gaze upon a length of dark metal shaped crudely like a mallet speeding toward his face.

There was a sound like—well like a sledgehammer hitting a deranged man in the face—and Cyn had to step to the side as Madigan sailed past her. She glared at the balcony railing as Alloy was lifted onto it by Isp.

“What happened to ‘dangle him over the edge so he wouldn’t dare use his powers on us?”

“He shouldn’t have talked crap about the Aegis. Osp loves the Classics.” Alloy shrugged. “Besides, a hit like that had to knock the guy out.” He walked past her into the room, Osp trailing behind to give the tentacle version of an indignant nod to Cyn as he did.

“Whoa, speaking of Classics, I thought this guy was a historian.” Alloy added, looking around.

“I think he’s forgotten all that.” Alexis said from the lounge. “Whatever powers he has, they’ve rotted his brain.”

“You words hurt, beloved.” Madigan said petulantly. All eyes snapped to where he’d landed. Tiny tongues of amber flame burned here and there on his person, particularly over the freshly forming black eye Osp had given him. Where the flames burned, his pain ebbed and his wounds healed.

Unsteadily, like a puppet being pulled up by the strings, he rose to his feet. “But you won’t have to keep up your front of aggression once I’ve dealt with my rival.” He pointed a determined and accusing finger at Alloy. “Pretending to be the white knight riding to the maiden’s rescue won’t help you, Smythe.”

“Me? Heh. No.” Alloy glanced at Osp. “See? This is why you can’t go hitting normal guys like that. One too many times with his brain rattling around in his head and now he thinks he’s Don Quixote.” The tentacle slumped by way of apology.

“I don’t have time for games, Smythe. I have to go and find a priest to marry us over your corpse. So why don’t I end this quick and “He held up a palm. “Destroy you!”

Nothing happened.

The room was deathly silent for a while as everyone held their breath waiting for something to happen.

Madigan creased his brow and snarled. “Right!” With another gesture, a stone block materialized above Alloy in a swirl of yellow flame. The tentacles caught it, albeit unsteadily and held it safely above their host.

More amber energy coursed over the block, transmuting it to lead. Suddenly, the tentacles buckled, letting the weight land on Alloy’s shoulders. The armored prelate went down on his knee where his armor locked, leaving him effectively pinned.

Cyn gaped for a second before turning to Madigan. She didn’t make a sound as the guise of Gal Incognito was replaced by the golden splendor of Facsimile. Diamond tipped claws reached out as she leapt for Madigan.

An iron shield appeared on Madigan’s arm and with strength that couldn’t have been entirely his, he repelled her, sending her skidding on her back to Alloy’s feet.

“Can’t you just shape that thing off of you?” She chastised her partner.

“I’ve been trying.” Alloy groaned. A silver-white glow emanated from his helmet. “I can’t do anything to it though. Probably because it’s magic.”

“You should have stayed out of the way, Ms. Incognito.” Madigan stalked toward the pair. “I would have given you a place in the wedding party; I was thinking Empress of Italy, if my love doesn’t want it. I seem to remember Incognito being an Italian name.” He twirled the scepter in his hands. “Not that it matters now.”

Facsimile rolled onto her shoulders and kipped up into a fighting stance. “It really doesn’t. You’re not even going to rule this apartment once you go to jail.” She shifted away her wings and redistributed the mass to increase her reflexes and agility, making her form more lean and lithe.

“A shapeshifter, eh?” Madigan said mockingly. “Well I’ve got a new shape for you.“ Amber fire awoke around her and when it died down there was a six inch tall, plush doll version of the golden prelate.

“Fax!” Alloy gasped. His surprise and anger was echoed by Isp and Osp, who extended their tips into blades.

Madigan looked mockingly impressed at the display and used his power to create a sword of his own out of the shield. “You want a real duel, Smythe? I’ll be glad to give you one.”

The tentacles moved, but not in Madigan’s direction. They lashed upward, slicing the lead black into thirds, the two end pieces of which came crashing down to shatter the floor on either side of Alloy. They then handily removed the remaining third, allowing Alloy to stand.

“You son of a bitch.” Alloy intoned, clenching a fist. The white light in his eyes intensified. His breath fogged and his armor steamed in the cool room. “First the professor. Then Ms. Keyes. Now Facsimile.” His voice was cold and angry, without a hint of his normal Brooklyn accent. “Someone has to put you down.” The room shook as the beams and struts that still anchored it to the building in the real world vibrated sympathetically with his powers.

“Someone certainly does.” A voice said from the balcony. The air moved, blowing the dust thrown up by the shorn lead block onto Madigan’s face. The crazed rogue cursed and created a cape to cover his eyes and nose with. Chaos flew into the room on the wings of a zephyr. “But that someone’s going to be me.”

The light in Alloy’s helmet dimmed. The room ceased its seizure. “But he just killed—“

“How many times do I have to tell you?” A tiny voice demanded. Facsimile—all six inches of her—flew into his line of sight. “Immortal, remember?”

“I—But—Wha?” was all Alloy could say.

I am almost done, Ms. Keyes. Kareem said. There was only one amber nettle left to remove and that one didn’t pose and threat of permanent damage to her person.

Please hurry. Alexis urged. We’ve been lucky so far, with Madigan wasting time on trying to use powers he doesn’t have. But pretty soon, no matter how crazy he’s become, he’ll get serious.

“Remarkable recovery, Ms. Incognito.” Madigan mocked as he leveled his sword. “And an impressive effort, whoever you are. I’ll be kind and give you a warning: back off now and I’ll let you be my serfs. My fight is with Ian Smythe right now.” He indicated Alloy.

Chaos looked at Alloy. “Ian Smythe?”

“He thinks I’m Ian Smythe.” Alloy shook his head.

“Don’t try and fool me, you coward!” Madigan threw himself toward Alloy, sword raised.

“He’s not trying to fool you Mad-Mad.” Chaos interposed himself between them and delivered a right cross to the villain’s face, turning him around just enough to receive an uppercut form the left. Madigan tumbled backward, landing on the lounge, his head resting on Alexis’s calves.

I am not sure he is at fault for all this. Kareem took note of Madigan’s astral body. He is… infested with the astral form of… I cannot begin to explain what the object on his hand looks like on this side, but it has bonded itself closely to his essence. As long as he holds it—

Then we’ll have to make him stop holding it. Alexis concluded.

Madigan drew himself up into a sitting position on the lounge beside Alexis. “You were right about this much, my love; I need time to discover the uses of my power.” He stroked one of her leg’s lovingly, “Not that I need my full power against the likes of them.

It was all Alexis could do not to kick him and reveal that she was free of his control. Instead, she relayed instructions to Kareem to relay to Zero and Codex. Outwardly, she greeted him with a winning smile. “Oh yes, you’re so mighty.” She said through clenched teeth.

From beneath his visor, Chaos glared at Madigan’s brazen antics. “That’s enough, Mad-Mad. How about I just knock you out by thinning the air around your head?”

A flicker of amber flame surrounded Madigan’s head. “You can try. But maybe I’ll just turn this entire room into a vacuum and kill you that way.”

“That would kill you too.” Mini-Facsimile pointed out.

“The scepter will protect me.” Madigan stated indignantly.

“Like it destroyed Alloy?” the pint sized prelate asked. “Or the stone block crushed him?”

“Or like it wrote your challenge in the sky?” Alexis chimed in. “Or summoned Ian? Besides, that would kind of kill me too.”

“You’re pretty bad at what you do.” Alloy rubbed it in. “I mean in comics, reality warpers are top tier villains. It takes an arc or longer to take one down.”

Madigan ground his teeth. “Stop! I still have a supreme power that dwarfs that held by mortal man! I still transmute—“He waved a hand and one of the fallen slabs of metal took on a golden sheen, “base metals into gold! I control the universe at my whim!”

“And yet, I’m going to knock you on your ass without even using my powers for anything more than flying up here.” Chaos noted, balling up a fist to do just that. “I don’t care what powers you have, if you use them for evil—which, incidentally includes attacking old men, vandalizing museums and kidnapping—you get an ass-kicking. That’s how it works. Some call it justice, some call it karma. In this case I’m going to call it gratifying.”

Amber flashed in Madigan’s eyes again.

“You still don’t understand do you?” the villain asked.

“I understand completely.” Chaos said. “You’ve got this power overwhelming you think makes you a small god and you think that makes you right, no? Stop me when I get one wrong.”

“You will understand.” Madigan rose from the lounge. “That I am a god!” Chains made of amber light erupted from the air and looped around Chaos, binding him in place and forcing him to the ground.

Grinning wickedly, Mad-Mad unconsciously ran a thumb over the scepter’s glowing eye. “And god demands a sacrifice.”

-- • --

No sooner were the words out of Madigan’s mouth than Alloy stepped up between the madman and his intended victim. Facsimile hovered over his shoulder, displaying tiny, but definitely sharp claws.

“I don’t really care what you think you are.” Alloy said as Isp and Osp shaped themselves into bludgeons, “You’re going to have to go through me if you want to ‘sacrifice’ anyone, pal.”

“If you’re a god,” Facsimile added, “I’m freaking Tinkerbelle. And let me tell you, it’ll take a lot more than saying ‘I don’t believe in fairies’ to put me down.”

An ugly sneer came to Madigan’s lips. “That can be arranged if you don’t step aside.” He turned a special, delving gaze on Alloy. “We’ll still have our duel, Smythe. I just have to deal with this ruffian who’s insulted my divinity one too many times to be ignored.”

Without warning, Isp and Osp swung together with Madigan’s head the intended meeting place for their duel strikes.

Crazed amber eyes flashed and Madigan bent over backward in such a way that would make a professional gymnast weep blood. The tentacles clashed together with a horrible din. Before they could reorient themselves, Madigan dropped his sword and grasped Osp. Amber flame wreathed his arm as he effortlessly hauled on the tentacle, using him to lift Alloy and whip him around above his head a few times before throwing him into the far wall. The armored prelate smashed through the wall and into the apartment beyond.

The villain smirked satisfactorily for a split second before suddenly crying out in pain. In the melee, Facsimile had taken advantage of her current size and skimmed around Madigan before setting claws on his leg, trying to scratch her way to his Achilles tendon.

With a snarl of rage, Madigan grabbed her by a wing and flung her away. She sailed past the lounge only to be caught in a birdcage that spontaneously grew upon a pedestal in her path.

A gesture form Madigan caused the cage door to slam shut. His face was a mask of unbridled rage. “So many interruptions!” He pointed a shaking finger at the restrained Chaos. “I’ll kill you first. Not as a sacrifice, but as a dowry tribute for my blushing bride.” A new sword appeared in his hand and he stalked toward his foe.

Alexis couldn’t wait any longer. She sent one last instruction to Kareem to relay and threw herself into a standing position, praying Madigan wouldn’t question why she was free of his spell. “Wait!” she cried out, putting a restraining hand on his arm.

Amber flared in Madigan’s eyes as he looked toward her. “One moment, my love, this won’t take long.” He explained.

Alexis thought fast. “But—but, uh… if his sacrifice is my dowry, shouldn’t I be the one to kill him?”

“Huh?” Chaos started to protest but was silenced by a glare from her.

“Really, my love?” Madigan asked, almost giddy. “You want to end this infidel’s life for my honor?”

Rubbing up against his side like a cat, Alexis summoned her most seductive smile. “Of course, Mad-Mad. Anything for you. He insulted you and that can’t be allowed to stand, can it? I mean he doesn’t even deserve the honor of being killed by you.”

“I like the way you think, my love.” Madigan agreed. He offered her the sword.

“Oh, I have my own method I prefer.” Alexis cooed, taking Madigan’s hand and leading him to the other side of Chaos. Madigan directed the chains to turn him to face them. “You’ve seen it, dearest.” Alexis continued, running a finger along the madman’s jawbone. “At the museum. I can call up a cloud of gaseous particles that produce incredible heat on contact. My black heat.”

“Oh, I remember.” Madigan said.

“Good.” Alexis said. “You’ve seen it break stone. Now get ready to see what it can do to a human being. First, we need to take proper position.” Forcibly, she put his hand, the one holding the scepter, around her waist, resting it on her hip. Then she settled into a shooter’s stance, stomping her feet on the marble as she did.

Madigan did the same. He was so entranced in what was going on that his ears didn’t register the sound of frost crunching under his heels.

Black heat began to form around Alexis’s out stretched arm. “Good bye, Chaos.” Alexis said coldly. “My gaseous black heat is lethal when a dense mass of it impacts flesh.” Her eyes locked with his, even with the visor in the way.

She let fly with a bolt of black heat as thick as her wrist. It struck Chaos and enveloped him in a cloud of darkness.

“Glorious!” Madigan exclaimed. “Worthy of my goddess!”

“You think so?” Alexis asked. Before he could reply, she turned the blast on the floor, which shattered like thin ice beneath them. As gravity took over, Alexis let the black heat expand over her and grabbed Madigan’s wrist, the one she’d let rest on her hip.

There was a sickening pop and said wrist dislocated, the scepter flying free of numb fingers. Madigan let out an unearthly wail as he crashed through the floor to land in the middle of the apartment below between Zero, Codex and the rather bewildered elderly woman who lived below him.

Codex and Zero ignored the falling villain for the moment and focused on the flying scepter. The air became positively frigid and Codex took careful aim with her grapnel launcher. The launcher’s pinion flew true and smashed into cold-brittle marble, shattering it into shards.

Instantaneously, flames of crimson streaked over the faux Greco antechamber Madigan had created, restoring it to the modest, if richly furnished state it had held prior to Madigan’s reality warping reconstruction.

A frantic gust sent the cloud of black heat rolling away from Chaos. “Did we win?” he asked, seeing Darkness hovering above him. She responded by flying down to hug him.

“Madigan’s out of it.” Codex called from below. “And I mean really out of it. He looks catatonic. That’s on top of the wrist and what looks to be a broken ankle. I’m going to call the paramedics… and the Superhuman Intervention Unit just in case.”

“Sorry about your coffee table, Mrs. Vogel. “Zero said to the elderly woman who was busy observing the gaggle of prelates and the giant hole in her ceiling. “We’ll fix everything of course.”

Codex nodded as she dialed her phone. “Of course, ma’am. We can either make arrangements for you ourselves or we have a Payments Direct account where you can just send us the bill.”

Facsimile stretched her now-proper sized arms and cracked her neck. “You okay, Alloy?” she asked as Isp and Osp set their friend back on his feet.

“Just more dents in the armor.” Alloy replied, walking over to her. “Good to see you’re out of Thumbelina mode.” Beneath his helmet, he grinned. “by the way, Gal Incognito?”

“What? He fell for it, didn’t he?”

“Because he was crazy.” Alloy chuckled, but he trailed off. His eyes caught a flash of amber. Looking closer, he saw the round capstone from Mad-Mad’s scepter rolling toward the open balcony door. “Shit!” he exclaimed, quickly taking control of the balcony railing and using it to scoop up and surround the errant jewel.

Chaos and Darkness looked up to see what was happening.

“Son of a bitch, that thing tried to get away.” Chaos muttered disbelievingly.

What in the world is that thing?” Darkness wondered aloud. “Ephemeral said that it was controlling Madigan. Infesting him.” She kept a safe distance from it as Alloy wrapped more and more metal around it and began transmuting the wrought iron into sterner stuff.

“Sounds like some new magic woogie.” Chaos said disdainfully. “Any info on it, Codex?” He shouted down the hole in the floor.

“I’ll have to consult the Book of Reason when we get home.” Codex admitted, “But I don’t think so.”

“Damn.” Chaos replied.

“Talk about a challenging first day on the job.” Alloy said, eying the now fully encased magical item suspiciously.

The street in front of Madigan’s building was cordoned off to allow the Superhuman Intervention Unit transport to land. The Descendants, including Darkness, now in her proper uniform, stood on hand to watch and give the SI Unit marines their accounts of the events. Both attracted no small number of gawkers and amateur paparazzi.

The reinforced titanium cylinder with a lead core that imprisoned the amber sphere was gingerly lowered into a hazardous waste canister by a marine in a loader frame. “This kind of feels like one of those video games.” Alloy commented offhandedly to Facsimile. “You know, where you get a flashback scene of the Ancients sealing the terrible evil thing that took out Atlantis away ‘forever’. Except in the present, the thing’s out and taking over the planet.”

“Maybe that’s how Mad-Mad got it.” Facsimile offered.

“Well that’s not going to happen this time.” The marine in the loader frame said, overhearing the conversation. He was in his late twenties with a ginger crew cut. “ROCIC has all the proper facilities for unstable SI paraphernalia.”

“SI paraphernalia?” Facsimile echoed.

“Crap people use to give themselves super powers.” He replied.

“Ah.” Facsimile nodded.

“So what about the… not unstable ones?” Alloy asked.

“Sorry, that’s classified.” The marine shrugged.

Across from them, Chaos and Darkness watched as a raven haired woman and a dark skinned man wearing the insignia of a Lieutenant Colonel loading a gurney holding a moaning Madrigal Madigan into the transport. It had been decided to take him immediately into custody in case he retained any residual abilities.

“How much…” Darkness asked absently as she looked on, “How much of that do you think is my fault?”

Chaos put and arm around her shoulder. “Ephemeral said the thing pretty much had a lot of control over him; tore him up pretty bad on the Astral side coming loose too. I honestly wouldn’t put money on any of it being your fault any further than the thing used his lechery to take a better hold.” He gave her a small squeeze. “I mean, I know I say you drive me crazy, but that’s more of a metaphor.”

“I know that much.” Darkness noted, not really responding to his affectionate advance. “But was it possible to have safely separated it from him? Was I too quick to break the scepter?”

“Hon, he was trying to sacrifice me to himself. I think the time for negotiation was over. Besides, Ephemeral says it’ll be slow going, but he’ll heal.” Seemingly getting nowhere in comforting her, he removed his arm from her shoulder. “Anyway, I have to admit, tonight is the prime reason why you’re the leader of this group. I was ready to just kick ass and while she would have come up with a winning strategy, L would have taken a while getting to it.”

“You really think it was a good plan? It was pretty spur of the moment. And, might I add, I wouldn’t have been able to enact it if someone wasn’t set on bringing the cavalry to kick ass.”

“No, it was a good plan.” Chaos nodded absently. “Though, I’ve got to ask; why didn’t you have Ephemeral tell me about it? I mean if I hadn’t gotten your hint and dropped density on your black heat… well, I’d be cooked.”

Darkness hugged him, causing a ripple of flashes from various cameras and other recording devices among the crowd. “Sweetie, if you hadn’t gotten those hints… well you would have been pretty much too dumb to live.”

“Ow, my pride.” Chaos said, lightly as he returned the hug. “But seriously, you wouldn’t have really let the bolt hit me, right? You do have that much control over it, right?”

“That’s what we call faith.” Darkness laughed. “Faith... and knowing that you have a ballistic cloth costume.”

Meanwhile, Codex had just finished exchanging information with a blonde female member of the SI marines when the Lieutenant Colonel approached. “The General sends his regards, Codex.” He said, giving her a nod. “Lt. Col. Randal Barnes; called Rand in the SIU.”

Codex shook his hand. “Pleased to meet you. So this is the Central East Intervention team then? Unit Ten?”

Rand nodded. “For the past three months and the next three. We rotate every six.”

“Ever seen anything like this?” Codex asked, gesturing at the canister being loaded into the transport.

“Not as such, no.” Rand admitted. “We’ve mostly hit on tame things like overgrown wildlife and spark jockeys running out of control in towns without prelate coverage. This is out first… what did you call it?”

“’Reality Warper’ was the term Facsimile and Alloy used.” Codex informed him.

“Yeah,” Rand shrugged. “Anyway, I’m sure the General will know more than myself. This reminds me…” He removed a flat format disk from his breast pocket. “General’s orders – I was to deliver this directly to you.”

“What is it?” Codex asked reflexively.

“Outside of my clearance.” Rand admitted.

Inside the transport, Madigan groaned. “I know.” He rasped, the cavernous interior of the cargo doors making the sound audible to folks on the street. “I know who she is.” He moaned. The black haired marine hit the ramp button to close the bay doors, but it was too late. “Facsimile!” Madigan crowed as the doors closed, “Is Gal Incognito!” The doors clanged closed and sealed as he drifted back into catatonia.

End Issue #24